#Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction

[undercoverpena]

10. cranberry cocktail

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter ten of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3k chapter warnings: SMUT. 18+. jo's bad use and knowledge of DIY. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is called jo made herself horny. see author note at the end.

prev chapter | series masterlist

It’s difficult not to smile as you approach.

His voice, mid-singing—almost competing with the radio that lingers under his voice—had been travelling out as you walked up to the building. Louder when you pulled open the door, sliding the sunglasses from your face.

A few blinks and your eyes capture his, singing dying out, leaving the original artist blaring around in the background.

Still, you're unable to stifle the smile. Not as you walk closer or as he puts down the tool in hand; least of all when you realise he's looking only half as abashed as you would be if he caught you mid-rendition, watching him dial down the volume on the radio as the door closes behind you.

Frankie had shown you this place once before. Your voice, light, teasing, hand in his: “You’re showing me where the magic happens?”

“I’ve shown you where that happens.”

“Not that magic—or, well, I hope you’re not about to tell me there are even more videos on a different site I need to watch. I’ve been forced to rewatch things lately.”

He’d explained, with a soft smile and a twinkle in his eye, how he’d turned the garage into a workshop. The hours, the pieces he’d started with and the things he’s managed to build, find or bargain for along the way. Even lingered his thumb over the height chart for Luca, the one he told you he began when he first bought the run-down house he made a home.

It was impressive then, but you hadn’t appreciated it as much as you do stepping in today.

You'd been too busy then, watching, studying him. Spotting the way he trailed his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes widening as they tried to smile before his lips as he pointed out highlights he knew you’d have seen from certain videos you’d mentioned.

Now, it's all lit by soft, mid-morning sunlight, looking homely, loved, worn in and appreciated—everything you’d expect from him.

Even if things are out, such as plasterboard and wood leaning against odd edges, everything else has a place. Just like the scent that wanders around and flows as if there’s a constant candle burning, one which includes notes of freshly applied paint, the essence of sawdust and leather. A blended aroma that subtlety clings to his clothes—and then lingers inside your own. A thing which brings comfort, until it seeps in sadness upon the realisation that it's faded from a sweater, bedsheets or your throw after a few days of not seeing him in person.

"Hi, handsome."

He grins, a hello escaping out as his knuckle tips your chin up, your smile back presses to his mouth. Tasting his lips, how they’re tinged with coffee. Frankie planting it more intently as your hands find their way around his waist, heightening it, fingers grasping your cheek.

You swear you could kiss him forever. A thought you know you have continuously, almost every time his mouth finds yours. But you mean it.

Completely. Utterly.

Your palms sliding around, fingers brushing over dry, hard paint specks buried into the soft, beloved cotton of his tee.

“So,” you say when you pull away, teeth biting your lip—finding yourself staring at him, as though his face alone answers everything.

In some ways, you're adamant it does. In others, you know it will.

A feeling that thrums more and more intensely as weeks rack up into months, as your heart flutters in your chest when his eyes hold yours for a second longer than normal.

“What has prompted this little requested visit?”

Grinning, he traces his thumb along your jaw. “Thought you could drill some holes—for your cupboards?”

Smirking, dragging your tongue in a sweeping motion across your lip, you tap your fingers on his waist. “Drill, ay? I didn’t… exactly come dressed to be in your workshop.”

“Wait,” he says, eyes widening, mouth pulled into a line as he brushes his fingers down the fabric of your summer dress that rests along your collarbone. “This isn’t an everyday DIY outfit?”

Grinning, you nudge into him, head shaking—hand grasping a handful of his tee. “No.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, voice dropping, charm encasing each letter as his hands find a home on your hips, “I’ll make sure you don’t get messy.”

A soft laugh escapes you, feeling the way his thumb continues its gentle circling on your cheekbone.

“You on cleanup duty, then?” you reply, the words muffled against his lips. He hums in response, a sound of agreement that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Without pulling away, he gently guides you towards the bench—hands on your side as his chin rests on your shoulder.

One glance at him, and he offers you a comforting smile. Before it comes over him, that voice—the one from the videos. All lightly, but sternly instructing you. Talking you through the steps, before he tells you to pick up the black and orange drill from in front of you.

A lick of warmth slides up your spine, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you press closer to him, your body beginning to buzz from the way he’s pressed against you—his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist.

“We’re going to begin with drilling the holes for the handles.”

Rolling your lips, you rest your head against his. “Okay.”

“What you’re gonna do is lightly ease the drill in.”

“Is that so?”

Clearing his throat, you swear you hear your name, it followed quickly by a “Stop.”

“Stop what, Frankie?”

It’s a grunt. A thing buried in his throat before he takes a measured sigh. His hand rises, gripping the top of the power tool before lining the drill bit with the marked wood.

“Being a tease—now, lightly pull the trigger.”

Blanking your face, staring at him with confusion. “So, push it in and out?”

You watch it hit him—slowly. It washes over him in a few blinks, your hips wiggling against his before he groans again. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m very innocent, Morales.”

“Mierda. You’re the opposite of innocent. And no, it’s straight down. Not in and out—we’re not… we’re not fucking it.”

Giggling, you bite the inside of your cheek, adjusting your stance as you swear his groin pushes into your ass on purpose. Finding a way to mumble an okay, you shift your shoulders in preparation. Asking, finger hovering over the trigger of the drill, if you squeeze it lightly as you feel him nod.

Swallowing, you give it a test. A little click. Hearing it, before you see thin crinkles of wood coming away from the pressure.

“Like that?”

Somehow, all beyond you, you manage to keep your voice steady. It all unwilling to tremble—even though his breath is dancing over your neck. Even though his hold on your hip is tightening.

Then there’s the heat pulsating through your dress—the warmth settling into your bones, skin and muscle from his touch. Your body remembering, recalling—able to know just from his presence what he can do, what he has done, how he can unravel you and make you become a mess all from his fingers, mouth and—

“Bit more pressure this time, baby.”

“You can’t say that.”

Snorting, the air dances over your skin as you swear you feel him smirk. “Oh, Rainy. I can.”

You swear his voice drops an octave.

Sweeping the words over you, making your body tense, muscles twisting in on themselves as you try to focus on the drill in your hand. Stare down at the piece of wood he’s set up for you until it’s a blur. Nodding. Finger over the button, knowing you just need to squeeze—

Perfect, he whispers.

And fuck it makes your thighs press together. Makes something rumble inside of you at the same time as the drill fires to life.

The noise is all loud, alarming—deafening. A hole deepening in the wood.

“That's it, just like that. Perfecto, hermosa.”

Even with how loud it is, you can only hear him.

How he layers so much emphasis on the P, the letter is still skating over your skin by the time the rest that follows it has left his tongue.

You can only swallow. Remaining aware, and yet focused in, on how his hand slides down, fingers teasing the end of your dress—a quickly thrown-on thing, an easy option that meant you could arrive here sooner.

“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing it against your neck as his hand slides under your dress, palm flat to your thigh, dragging it up, and up.

Some part of you, all distant, feels him take the drill, hears a click, before it’s out of sight, out of fucking mind.

Then it’s just thick fingers you focus on, how they slide, rub, torture over your underwear—feeling like minutes, hours, days before he manoeuvres. Before he’s forcing elastic to cut into your skin, before you feel him trace along the places you need him desperately.

“Frankie…”

He drags his nose against the side of your face, feeling the exhale flutter against your jaw before he makes you gasp before it grows into a shameless whine.

“This not what you wanted?”

Swallowing, your eyelids quiver. Some part of you, a present part of you that isn’t lost in the way he’s stroking up and down your slick folds, occasionally catching your clit, that he isn’t going to let you come like this.

Even if he's told you he likes the way you sound, has confessed that he likes watching you unravel; his favourite pastime, his favourite movie and soundtrack.

“Need to hear you, Rainy?”

“Want you,” you pant, breathless.

He fans hot breath on your skin. “Want me to fuck you here, baby? On my bench. Hmm?”

You’re fluttering, desperately to squeeze him—fingers or cock, you’re not in a frame of mind to be fussy.

Mind changing, singing, practically bellowing: please, please, fucking, please. Body thrumming, vibrating, legs desperate to shake—if not for the fact they’re keeping you upright. Your fingers find a place on his bench, digging, barely making a mark against the rest on his workbench. But it’s stable, rigid.

“Tell me, baby,” he says, softer, dripping it into your ear like honey—all encased in air that seeps inside of you and makes you forced to chase his lips.

It’s against them you say please. Kissing a y, an e and a s against his mouth, licking past his teeth, hips rocking into his fingers as he circles and circles and circles—

Then, nothing.

Retraction, emptiness. A desperate whine emerges, rising from the back of your throat until it fuses with the air.

An explanation almost demanded, but his belt buckle undoing silences you. His clothed cock presses against you, feeling how hard he is, the size of him making you clench your thighs as cool air kisses the back of your legs when he grabs a fist full of your dress.

“Gonna get rid of these.”

It’s deft, his finger—hooking in the band of your panties as he drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, letting it fall the rest of the way as the fabric finds a home around your ankles. For a moment they just remain there, not entirely confident you can step out of them until he holds you steady, talks you through it:

One foot, then the other. That's it, baby.

Because your body is on auto-pilot, doing things for you, for him. Like parting your thighs as his hand rests on your back as he softly urges you down. Your forearms find the bench, hingeing at the waist, lying your chest flat on his bench, sawdust filling your nose and stitching itself into the upper part of your dress as you turn your head, flakes sticking to your cheek.

And for a moment, an expanse of time, you forget how to breathe, how to be, where you are as you stare at him.

This man, this person who one day you didn’t know and the next you did—is now yours, all yours. Mine, he’d said in bedsheets after the conversation in the kitchen. Like that you’re mine, Rainy. A man you trust, like, lov—

Frankie, who is all handsome, broad and fucking kind, is now looking at you as if you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted to devour in his life. Do it, you silently plead, beg, metaphorically getting on your knees as he washes you in almond-brown eyes.

He’s a sight you couldn’t have ever made up, least of all this one. Fingers, thick—one wrapped in a bandaid—pulling down on the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes, casting half of him in a shadow that makes you almost moan. There’s just the tip of his nose, just his mouth on show, lips spread and curled into a smirk as he lines his cock at your entrance.

You sure? He asks, fingers brushing over your hip, keeping the fabric back, as you smile, nod, and whisper for him to make you feel good before he eases the head of his cock in. It's then your mouth parts around a silent cry of his name, pussy welcoming each inch of him, opening, as you let him slide all he wants to give.

“Know you can take me,” he hushes, “I’m good at measurements, calculations—“

“Fuck.”

“Fuck, you like that.”

Whining his name, he smirks. Because both the feel of him and the act is something you couldn’t have ever concocted. Fuck, a year ago you wouldn’t believe the person you are either. Not this confident being almost laid down on his workbench, feeling this good, this attractive, all bold—asking for this, for what you want. No flicker of shyness or nervousness.

Then there’s him. A sight your mind is struggling to process. Frankie with his teeth glistening with spit as he stares down at you, as he sweeps that burning gaze over you and grunts at the feel of you. One hand, large, slightly calloused, finding meaning on your waist, the other holding your dress up your spine, pressing down, light, but firm—don’t move, baby, stay still.

As if you ever would.

The stretch is welcomed, a dull ache answered, all buried to the hilt. Remaining there, still.

“Move, please—fuck, Frankie, I beg of you.”

He chuckles. A low laugh.

But he does, pulling out before driving back in, making your vision swim, blur. It all overwhelming. Both the sensation and everything else—scents, sounds and touch. His hips slowly moving, his belt buckle clanging and it’s easier to find yourself draped over the bench, cheeks on the wood, inhaling it—the scent that lives in his clothes, in his fingers and aura.

Frankie, just Frankie. Your Frankie—

“So g—fuck—good for me.”

Your fingers dig, grasp—his cock kissing that spot inside of you that forces your toes to curl in your shoes, your mouth managing half of his name before it fades to a moan. All breathy, doused in whimpers and yes’s falling in a verse that leads to a chorus.

“Feel so—oh, good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

“Perfect. Feel perfect.”

He moans—low, tinged in a grunt, a hiss, your name etched somewhere in the sound—as he pulls almost all the way out, drawn out, an emptiness beginning to register before he thrusts in. Somehow deeper, somehow filling you more perfectly as you squeeze your grip on the bench.

And you’re close, all light and boneless—but heavy and alive, so alive you feel like fire courses in your veins and you could become more flame than a person.

“Come for me, baby. Right on my bench—fuck, you feel good, so tight—need y’to come. Right here.”

And it crashes against you, all of it. Suddenly unable to smell a thing, hear a thing—you just feel. Feel the sensation of just him and the tip of him hitting that spot which makes you arch as pleasure, all blinding and molten lava rushes through your blood, and flows into your muscles.

All numb and yet tingly.

It takes a moment, but your senses come back one by one, panting, breathless—muscles tired and depleted—as you feel his hips stuttering, the strained noises from behind forcing your eyes open.

He’s a picture, a work of art—a statue that should be carved by someone with talent. Sun streaks in and basks him in a golden hue, illuminating that heart patch on his jaw—the way his tongue is pinned between pearly white teeth, and the vein in his neck throbs angrily as he reaches his own climax.

You clench, aware of it, ogling and admiring pushing him over the edge as he curses, tensing, rigid, pace lost as he spills inside of you, happily taking it all, wishing to wring him dry and ensure he’s empty. Greedy, desperate and fucking needy.

Before his body finds refuge on top of yours, heart hammering against your spine—hat falling, tumbling off onto the floor as the two of you catch your breaths. His hand finds your cheek, stroking his thumb against it.

“Never… I’ve never done that before.”

Smiling, you gaze at him as best as you can. “I like how you drill,” you say, playfully, feeling his laugh rumble through him before he kisses your hairline.

It’s light—perfect.

Feeling the laugh bounce from bone to bone inside of you before he turns and eases you up, chest to chest, murmuring against your lips about a shower, about cleaning you up. And you keep smiling, even more so when he checks your chin and cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing over and over.

“You promised me I wouldn’t get messy.”

Thumb pausing on your cheek, he smirks. “I can clean you up, baby?”

Smirking, you shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “How are you planning on doing that?”

He tilts his head, before slowly grasping the bench, descending to his knees. Your mouth unable to stop itself from falling open, all wide, surprised as he presses a kiss to your knee.

“Might want to hold onto something, baby,” he says, writing it against your inner thigh. “Might take me a minute to make sure you’re all cleaned up.”

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while we still have some more chapters of these two, I've been experimenting with a few things and while it won't have any bearing on the main series, there will be some smutty-one-shots that can be read as and when, and if so people wish. they won't require reading of the series, but rather allow anyone to enjoy two people who are becoming comfortable with one another, exploring a few different things. i'm not sure on when the first will be out, but it won't replace normal uploads for them. but rather just be small little things i'd love to include but would feel shoe-horned into my plan. also if there's anything you'd love a bit more of, whether it's a bit more on rainy/frankie or their relationship, my inbox is always open. thank you for letting these pair into your heart.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #francisco morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Domestica - A Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 1,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday, you're the best gift he can ask for. Warnings: No outbreak (happy birthday bb), smut, domestic fluff, Joel's POV. A/N: This absolutely planted in my brain and I couldn't do anything until I wrote it out. Masterlist

Heavy footsteps down the stairs, the jingle of his belt as he buckles it, the sound of a metal fork clanging against a glass bowl as eggs are whisked, the sizzle of bacon frying in the pan, Sarah gently humming a tune as the the orange juice pitcher glugs. Breakfast in the Miller household every morning plays all of the familiar sounds he loves to hear. 

Every morning he wakes up reaching for you, but you’re an even earlier riser than him. The side of your bed empty, the plant that used to sit half dead on the bedside table now blooming and healthy, akin to how he feels about his life ever since you entered it. 

——

He wraps his arms around you as you stand at the stove flipping bacon in the pan, sneaking a kiss to your neck as Sarah’s back is turned away. “Mornin’,” he breathes against your ear loving how you instantly mold to his body.  

Your body fits so perfectly against his, no matter what time of day. Innocent morning hugs while Sarah’s around, lazy evening cuddles on the couch after dinner, smoldering night time hips meeting as he enters you. 

“Happy birthday,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you softly thud your head against his broad chest. “You forgot to buy pancake mix, so it’s eggs and bacon for breakfast.”

“Fine by me,” he says against your head, kissing the top of it before pulling away to pour himself a cup of coffee. He refills your empty cup without asking, adding a heaping spoonful of creamer and a sprinkle of sugar, knowing exactly how you take it. 

The best present he can be given today is seeing his girls at his table, you making Sarah giggle as you tease her about the actor she has a crush on. His hand on your thigh choosing to eat one handed because you’re still wearing your sleep shorts, those same shorts he peeled off your body last night before bed. 

The diamond on your finger glinting in the sunlight pouring in from the windows, he moves his hands up to it to pet the hard stone, proud of himself for finding the ring of your dreams. He remembers the tears welling in your eyes as he asked you to marry him, those same eyes he looks for in a crowd, the same eyes that brighten when they see him. 

“Bear, did you remember to grab the extra pack of highlighters I had in my desk?” He loves how you have your own pet name for Sarah. He loves how you’ve stepped right into being a coparent with him, leaving him feeling like he’s no longer struggling underwater slowly being drowned by his job and trying to be the best single parent he can be. He loves that Sarah loves you as much he loves you. You’re his gift that keeps on giving.

“Yep, thank you!” she winks at you, he loves how he can instantly tell the two of you are scheming together and how bad the two of you are at playing coy.

“I gotta get ready before it’s any late,” you rise from the table. “Be good today Bear,” he’ll never tire of seeing the way his daughter smiles as you kiss the top of her forehead. He swears your influence has kept her just as sweet in her teenage years as she was as a little girl. 

“I’ll be up later to say goodbye after Tommy gets here,” he says as you bend over and kiss his cheek. 

——

He can hear the shower on, a song quietly playing on the shower radio that you sing along to. The mirror’s fogged up, he can smell the sweet scent of your body wash wafting through the air mixing with the steam. “Baby, I’m leaving now,” he speaks over the song. 

“Okay,” you open the shower door, naked and soaking wet, his hands tighten into frustrated fists because he can’t join you. “Still going to be late?” 

“Afraid so,” he stands outside the tub, the walls of it his own blockade stopping him from being any later. 

“Well, Sarah and I will go get a cake for you so at least you’ll have that whenever you get home,” you lean forward, your body dripping water on the floor and his boots.

“Thanks baby,” he wraps his arms around you, he doesn’t care how wet you’re getting his shirt, it’ll be a nice reminder of your body against his as it dries. 

“I love you,” you look up at him and smile waiting for a kiss. “Have a good birthday day.”

“I’ll miss you,” his lips brush against yours, restraining himself to keep the kiss from turning heated. 

A honk from outside rattles him out of the daydream of stripping off his clothes and joining you, pushing your naked body against the wall and fucking you against it.

“You better get going,” you lean away and step back under the water. 

“Shit,” he adjusts the crotch of his jeans as you giggle at his predicament. 

“Goodbye birthday boy, love you,” you shut the shower door, going right back to singing your song on the radio. 

He stomps down the stairs annoyed that the last vision he’ll have of you on this birthday morning is you naked and smiling at him while water drips down your body. 

——

That night after tucking Sarah in with a kiss on her forehead and a stroke of her soft cheek as she sleeps, he walks into his room to find you laid out on the bed, only the thin sheet covering your body, your eyes staring at him with a smirk on your lips. You look like a temptress, and he’s fallen under your spell. 

“Happy birthday baby,” you whisper as you climb on top of him.

The gasp you let out as he enters you, shared moans muffled by each other’s lips, your slick squelching as he fucks into you, his tongue lapping up your wetness, the slurp of your lips as you suck him. Nighttime in Joel’s room plays all of the familiar sounds he thinks about during the day. The thought of seeing the way you smile whenever he sticks his cock in you gets him through the worst of days. 

——

In the early morning he wakes up sweaty and panicked, panting for air terrified from his nightmare. You turn over, and grab the hand on his chest, soothing him back to sleep with your sweet voice and soft body against his reassuring him he hasn’t lost anything. 

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller smut #no outbreak #no outbreak!joel miller

[littlemisspascal]

New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

@eff4freddie @sixhours

New Works Added ✨

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

@morallyinept Javi G Te Quiero 

@mermaidgirl30 Javier Javi’s Playground / Joel Captured in the Woods

@mandoalorian Javier But Daddy I Love Him!

@ghostofaboy Javier + Dave + Marcus P Hold Please...

@penvisions Frankie Coffee and Candor

@undercoverpena Frankie Up Sky, Low High

@alwaysbethewest Frankie + Javier Crossing the Streams 

@autumnleaves1991-blog Frankie Frankie Drabble 

@mothandpidgeon Joel The Outlaws

@frenchiereading Joel Muscle Memory

@wheresarizona Joel But Now I’m Your Daisy

@tightjeansjavi Joel My Joel

@toomanystoriessolittletime Joel Rain Confessions

@secretelephanttattoo Marcus M Afterword

@wardenparker @absurdthirst Whiskey A Night to Remember

@beskarandblasters Din Packin’ (In More Ways Than One) + Guilty as Sin

@backtothefanfiction Din Not That Easy

@tropes-and-tales Din Shadow and Light

@rayslittlekitten Dieter Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls 

@bluestar22x Dieter Unknown

@janaispunk Oberyn Delicate

@chronically-ghosted Pero Iron and Charcoal

#my library #joel miller #javi gutierrez #javier peña #frankie morales #marcus moreno #agent whiskey #din djarin #dieter bravo #oberyn martell #pero tovar #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Ten

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Summary: Of all the ways you managed to dream up in your head about seeing Dave again, this was never how you would have imagined it actually playing out.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI. (SPOILERS IN THE TAGS!) Angst. Alcohol consumption. Brief violence and mentions of blood. Dave's feelings deserve their own warning 🫠. Dave's idiocy also deserves its own warning (we're working on him okay?). Dave gets a little pushy/forceful/needy with Reader but there's no actual threat or non-con, but figured I should mention it (you are held against a wall at one point but never physically hurt or threatened). Mentioned smut (including sex toys, anal play, light bondage, etc.).

HUGE thank you to @janaispunk for beta'ing and just being amazing in general 💜

Notes: This chapter starts off with Dave's POV and switches to Reader, I just figured we could use a little insight into Dave.

~ DAVE ~

Knelt down on one knee on the lawn of his ex-wife’s house, Dave could give a shit about the wet grass stain he could feel seeping into the denim of his jeans as he wrapped his arms a little tighter around both his girls, giving them one final goodbye hug. He pulls back slightly, frowning when he sees their wet faces staring back at him. He has to swallow the hard lump in his throat to hold back his own tears that want to fall so he can be strong for them so instead he plasters on the best smile he can manage and brings both hands up to ruffle the hair on both their heads.

“Don’t be sad Angels, I’ll see you again in two weeks okay?” he assures them and they both slowly nod their heads. He knew it would be hard dropping them off today after having them for the entire summer, not only for them but for him as well. It was going to be difficult to go from seeing them every day back to once every two weeks. Not to mention he was now saying goodbye to the only distraction in his life that was holding him together these past couple of months.

“I miss you already Daddy,” his youngest, Alice pouts before her chubby little arms wrap around his neck once more and squeeze. Dave lets out a little chuckle and hugs her back tightly before pressing a kiss into her hair.

“I miss you too, babies,” he sighs.

“Why don’t you girls go inside and wash up now,” his ex-wife Carol finally speaks up from up on the porch at the front door. “Dinner’s almost ready. Steve’s making your favorite,” she announces and both girls' faces light up like kids at Christmas as they finally pull away from their father.

“Sketti and meatballs!” Alice shouts excitedly.

“Bye Daddy,” his oldest, Molly, says one final time, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she takes her younger sister by the hand and leads her up the porch steps and they disappear into the house.

“Said the magic words huh?” Dave chuckles, standing up to his feet and dusting off his jeans.

“Sketti and meatballs” Carol shrugs, a fond smile on her lips. “You look good,” she says after a moment. “Better than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dave trails off, not wanting to get into why he came to her all but desperate a couple of months ago to let him take their children for an extended summer vacation. “Thanks again, I had a really great time with them.”

“Of course,” she nods. “Did you want to stay for dinner? I’m sure Steve made enough to feed an army. God knows I love him but that man can’t measure pasta to save his life,” she jokes of her new husband and Dave lets out a small chuckle but shakes his head.

“I should probably get going, let you guys have your family dinner.”

“Ok well… the usual time then? Two Saturdays from now?” she asks and Dave nods.

“I’ll be here.”

“Okay. And Dave?” she says just as he turns to head back to the driveway.

“Yeah?” he answers, turning back to face her.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure,” he smiles, unconvincing even to himself before he heads down the driveway and gets into his car.

He hadn’t been very candid with her about why he suddenly needed to “get away” and wanted to take his kids on an impromptu summer vacation, but she read him like a book anyway. “What’s her name?” is all she’d asked when he’d shown up on her doorstep a couple of months ago looking tired and distracted. “Doesn’t matter” he’d carelessly shrugged back, not meeting her gaze. Carol had pursed her lips and hummed her agreement but otherwise didn’t push. She knew better. Dave wasn’t exactly one for expressing his feelings, even when they’d been married.

The weeks that follow since bringing his kids back to their mother seem to pass by in a blur as he throws himself full force back into his work, even working on the weekends that he’s not with his kids, mostly as a distraction rather than a necessity. He doesn’t want to be reminded of what his Saturday nights used to be, before. And despite his ex-wife’s wishes he knows he’s not taking proper care of himself. He’s working too much, drinking too much (apart from the days when he has his children of course) and certainly not eating enough. He feels pathetic. Like some lovesick puppy and it’s definitely not a feeling he’s used to. Hell, he didn’t even feel like this when he got divorced or when his now ex-wife got remarried. He bought them a damn wedding present and danced with his daughters standing on his feet at the reception hall. Not that he was thrilled to be a divorced Dad or anything, but he couldn’t argue with Carol when she told him he wasn’t giving her enough of himself. He did feel like shit for months after the separation but after a while it faded and he was able to carve out a new life for himself and he was fine. Happy might have been a stretch, but he was existing just fine.

He of course hadn’t expected you and your husband to turn up barely a year later and turn his whole life upside for several months. It had started out as just fun. Blowing off steam, getting his dick wet, he was far from complaining about any of it. He loved how obedient you both were to him immediately, filling a void in him that he hadn’t engaged in nearly as much as he wanted to. Sure he’d had some rough fucks in his day but that was different than what he had with you. Having a partner - partners - that you built a trust with just brought everything to a new, heightened level and that, well, he hadn’t quite experienced before. But along with trust, of course other feelings start to emerge, feelings Dave had long since given up on expecting to have at this point in his life. And having these feelings for a fucking already married couple did not help his situation any. It was a mistake, he realizes in hindsight, spending your birthday with you both. An entire weekend wrapped up with you, spending the night together, waking up together, having meals together, it was… well, for Dave, it was everything. Everything he never even knew he was looking for and of fucking course he had to find it with two people who already had each other.

And now? Now what the fuck was he doing? Drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of overpriced bourbon at a bar, by himself, on a Friday night. Just like he’s found himself the past countless Friday nights, hoping he’d wake up the next morning and be able to forget about the two people who had apparently taken up permanent residence in the tight cavity of his chest, refusing to be let go.

He was fucking pathetic. And probably needed to get laid, too. That was one thing he could surely do something about easily enough. He’s been coming to this same bar every Friday night for a month now and one cute waitress in particular never seemed to stray very far from his table and he wasn’t that great of a tipper. He’d barely managed a second glance in her direction his past few visits but maybe tonight he should change that. The drinking wasn’t enough of a distraction anymore and this week was his off-week from seeing his kids so he didn’t have that to keep himself occupied either.

Mind made up he signals the waitress over to his table - whatever her name was. She’d told him probably a dozen times but fuck if he could remember it. It didn’t matter, after tonight he doesn’t plan on seeing her again and he’ll make sure she understands that before he actually leaves with her. For now, what’s the harm in a little fun? A decent pair of tits and a tight pussy is all he needs to get his head back on straight he thinks. And judging by the way the waitress basically comes bouncing over to him the moment he waves her over, it isn’t going to be much of a challenge. The only challenge for Dave will be when he closes his eyes as he sinks inside her, hoping, praying that it’s no longer the image of you that’s emblazoned on the backs of his eyelids.

~ YOU ~

It’s been nearly four months since your birthday. Since you last saw him.

In the time since that first weekend after Dave had disappeared from your lives, you and Marcus had found your rhythm again. Your lives are back to normal and, realistically, maybe even better than they’ve ever been. You were communicating so much more now and your physical relationship (which, you’d never had much of an issue with to begin with) was definitely thriving. Due to the increased communication, the two of you were always not only willing, but eager to talk more while in bed about anything you were particularly craving and put in the effort together for each other. It had really started the night Marcus had taken charge (a week after your birthday) and fully blossomed from there. There was one Sunday morning back a few months ago where the two of you laid in bed together with your laptop in front of you and were online shopping for fun new sex toys you both might enjoy. You filled your cart without judgment or shame and Marcus hastily typed in his credit card information when you were done browsing. The moment you heard the ‘swish’ of the order confirmation being sent, Marcus snapped the laptop closed, tossed it to the far corner of the bed and then all but pounced on you.

Early on when the two of you were still navigating your post-Dave waters Marcus had even asked you if you still wanted someone else in your lives. The role Dave was meant to (and had initially) played, you assume he meant (before it had gone and gotten complicated). You could tell by the way he asked you, his voice unsure and hesitant sounding, that it wasn’t something he wanted. And in all honesty, you didn’t want it anymore either and you were quick to assure him of that. Not only was Marcus indulging and fulfilling anything you desired, but whoever it was, they’d never be Dave anyway. It didn’t have to be said out loud that he was the only extra piece you’d both ever want in your marriage, you both knew it already.

Sunday mornings seemed to be when you’d find yourself thinking of and missing Dave the most, when you’d look around your bedroom in the aftermath of what your Saturday night had been. Saturday nights had become your routinely scheduled evenings where you and Marcus would get extra adventurous in bed, typically breaking in more of your new toys you’d purchased and just letting loose and taking out all your stresses of the week on one another.

One particular Sunday morning you remember lying next to Marcus who had just opened his beautiful sleepy eyes and you brushed his hair back from his forehead and then let out a little giggle followed by a sad sigh when your gaze caught site of the black fuzzy handcuffs that were still looped around one of the spokes in the headboard.

“He would’ve loved to see you like that,” you murmur, eyebrow raised playfully and you actually see Marcus’ ears turn pink and he bashfully hides his face in the pillow for a quick moment and laughs.

“You think so?”

“I know so baby. God you were so hot, at my mercy like that.”

Your blood begins to run hot just thinking about it again now. How he’d submitted to you. He’d laid down on his stomach, arms stretched above his head where you’d cuffed him to the bed and then you sat back on his thighs, massaging his ass with one hand while the other prepared the lube and the plug that the two of you had picked out together on your impromptu online shopping adventure a couple of weeks earlier in the other. It was the first time he’d ever let you do anything like that to him, though you’d discussed it a few times beforehand, and you were both pleasantly surprised how hot you found it.

You’d slowly fed him the plug, all the while gently rubbing his back with your free hand, soothing him and telling him how well he was doing for you. You still can’t erase from memory the way your breath hitched when he replied in a low, quivering voice, “yeah, I’m being a good boy?” God, the way the arousal instantly flooded you it was a miracle you were able to continue what you were doing and not abandon it all together to take care of yourself.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you assured him, hand leaving his back to smoothing across the globes of his ass instead

Once you’d gotten it all the way inside and ensured he was comfortable you’d began to slowly maneuver it partially out and then back in, over and over again until it got to feeling so good for him that you’d gotten off his legs and let him get up on his knees when he’d begged you to let him fuck you.

You slid underneath his body, never uncuffing him, wriggling up the bed until you were face to face and left the plug seated deep in his ass as you helped guide his leaking tip to your entrance and he pushed inside. His hands were able to grip the spokes in the headboard so he had some leverage while still held captive in his position and he railed into you deep and hard, moaning like you’d never heard him before for the entire time, like he was on an entirely different plane of pleasure he hadn’t yet experienced.

Afterwards when you both lay spent and chests heaving with exhaustion you’d uncuffed him, gently removed the plug and gathered him in your arms, letting him cling to you with his head resting on your chest. You kissed and played with his hair, murmuring into the top of his head what a good boy he was for you and he just held you tighter until you’d both fallen asleep.

You loved your playful, risque and experimental Saturday nights, but you also loved the quieter, more intimate times as well. You loved waking up on a Sunday morning and lazily making love for hours, refusing to leave the comfort of your marital bed for most of the day. You loved weeknights sprawled out on the sofa relaxing after dinner and watching TV when you’d start necking like teenagers until he’d shove your pants down and slip inside of you, fucking you slow and deep until you both came and then he’d carry you up the stairs to bed. You loved nights when you were both too exhausted from your work days to do much of anything but still wanted to be close so you’d make out a little until he got hard and he would push inside your warm heat and then just wrap his arms around you and hold you until you’d both fall asleep with him inside you.

At the end of the day, well and truly, this had been what you both had wanted, originally. Dave was meant to come in, spice up your love life a little bit, teach you both a couple of things and then leave you to your lives with your newfound sexual knowledge. He’d done that, and yet, there was no denying that you still felt like a piece was just missing now.

A Dave York shaped piece.

You didn’t like to bring him up often to each other anymore. All it did was cause sadness for you both. You’d talked a lot early on and had eventually both admitted out loud your feelings you had for Dave but now there was no use bringing up his name anymore. He was gone and you had to accept it. It didn’t mean you couldn’t miss him, because oh, you missed him. All the time. But there was no use dwelling on something you had no control over, you had to move on. And you had, for the most part.

Or so you thought, until one Friday evening when your work colleagues managed to drag you out with them to a bar and there in the flesh, across the room of the dimly lit tavern, sat the one and only Dave fucking York.

You’d nearly spilled your drink on yourself when your head had turned and you saw him in your peripheral. He looked handsome as ever, wearing dark jeans and a white button up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, top couple of buttons undone showing a teasing amount of perfect sun-kissed skin. Wherever his “emergency sabbatical” took him, it was apparently somewhere spent mostly outdoors in the sun you presume. His face looked a little thinner as well, his features more sharp and refined and you have to wonder if he’s been hitting the gym a lot more recently.

The only thing, frankly, that didn’t look good on him right now was the tiny blonde currently seated in his lap holding up a tray of shots you assume were meant for another table before Dave had intervened when something pretty caught his eye. You could practically feel your blood boiling at the sight before you, those deft fingers that knew your body all too well pulling and teasing at the belt loops of the tiny denim shorts the waitress was wearing while she threw her head back in laughter at something he’d said, eating up whatever attention he was willing to give her and you can’t say you blamed the girl. When the sly, sexy grin crossed his lips and he buried his face in her hair to undoubtedly whisper something absolutely filthy next to her ear and you saw her bite her lip in response, it felt like a hard slap across the face and everything happening around you instantly turned to white noise as you focused all your attention on the man across the room who, far as you could tell, hadn’t noticed you yet.

Before you do anything you quickly dig into your purse hanging on your chair for your phone and send a text to Marcus letting him know that Dave is here. His reply of ‘holy shit’ comes back near instantly but before you have a chance to type anything further you hear a loud voice bellowing from behind you for service, waiting for their shots apparently, and the tiny blonde regretfully starts to peel herself off of Dave’s lap to attend to her duties. Unfortunately Dave’s eyeline drifts to where the voice comes from, which you happen to be right in the cross hairs of. You see the tiniest flicker of shock etch across his features before his carefully crafted mask slips perfectly back into place and he gives you a small shit-eating grin that you wish you had the courage to slap right off of him. Eyes not leaving yours he simply picks up his beer and pulls another sip from it before he reaches out, grabs the hand of the waitress about to walk away and tugs her back into his lap, wrapping a possessive arm around her. His gaze never leaves you, even as his head tilts down to press his lips to the girl's shoulder.

Asshole.

Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them. He’s being a prick on purpose and you simply hate him in this moment. Dave York was a lot of things, but you’d never known him to be mean. Until now.

Not able to look at him another second you hastily push back from the table, your chair screeching across the hardwood loud enough to stop the idle chit-chat amongst your table of coworkers as they all stop to stare at you, having no clue what’s going on.

“I’ll be right back, just… need some air,” you explain curtly, not offering anything further or waiting for anyone to offer to accompany you.

You vaguely hear one of them calling your name questioningly as you stand up from the table and storm off towards the exit, passing Dave who’s now downing the entire tray of shots like they’re water.

Good, drink yourself half to death, you fucking idiot.

When the cool evening air hits you the moment you step outside it's like a brief reprieve and you take a deep breath, tears freely spilling down your cheeks now that you hastily try wiping away with the back of your hand. There’s a small crowd standing outside the front doors smoking cigarettes and vape pens but the chatter amongst them halts to a dead silence when the door slams shut behind you in your haste to get outside. Not in the mood for any onlookers, you quickly head off in the opposite direction and take the left turn down the alley at the side of the building for some privacy until you can catch your breath and, god willing, get your body to stop trembling. You realize too that you’d left your purse and your phone inside and you can’t possibly go back in there right now, not like this.

“Fuck,” you sigh into the desolate alley, stopping to lean your back against the cool brick and hanging your head, burying your face in your hands. The emotions of it all, of seeing him again, hits you like a ton of bricks and you let out a loud sob, your legs practically buckling from underneath you causing you to slide down the wall and squat down, elbows resting on your knees and face still buried in your hands as the now quieter sobs continue to rack your body.

You’re feeling just about every emotion under the sun right now and they’re all pouring out of you at once. You’re angry, jealous, sad, irritated, but maybe worst of all you’re reminded of just how fucking badly you still miss him. How badly you weren’t over him. And you hate yourself for it.

“Gotta light?”

That voice… of course you recognize it the second you hear it, even with his words slightly slurred and your face practically buried between your knees, and of course he had to follow you out here. The moment your head raises to look at his smug smirk with the cigarette dangling between his perfect lips you scowl, quickly rising to your feet and taking the two short strides over to where he stands in the middle of the alley and you snatch white stick from his mouth and immediately snap it in two, tossing it carelessly to the ground between you.

“Hey!” Dave barks at you, his voice sharp and loud as it echoes off the walls of the tight alleyway.

As if he has any right to be the one pissed off right now.

“Oh you don’t even smoke,” you argue back immediately, not in any type of mood to be taking shit from this man.

“I’m a social smoker,” he shrugs and you doubt even that’s the truth, he just wanted a reason to follow after you.

“You’re an asshole,” you bite back, not missing a beat.

He scoffs. “Somebody’s in a mood. Maybe you need that cigarette more than I do.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He’s on you before the last syllable even leaves your lips, both his large hands on your shoulders shoving you backwards until your back hits the wall and he’s crowding your space, leaving barely an inch of space between your two bodies that are now breathing heavily with adrenaline. You can smell the alcohol on him and you know he’s had a lot to drink. If you weren’t half buzzed already you could probably get there just by the smell wafting off of him.

“Think you’d rather I fuck you, hmm? That where all this attitude is coming from Baby?”

His hips force yours further into the unforgiving brick behind you as his hands leave your shoulders to grip your waist instead and you can feel the hard outline of his obvious desire pressing against you. You bite your lip to suppress the moan that’s begging to escape your throat but it slips through anyway; barely registering but he hears it. Of course he does. You can see the way the corner of his lip turns upward into a sly grin.

“There’s my girl.”

“I’m not your anything! You fucking left Dave. You left!” You raise your hands up to shove hard at his chest but he’s like an immovable wall.

“I know.”

His voice is suddenly soft, dare you say, remorseful sounding. You hate how your resolve and anger instantly starts to wane the moment he lets his guard down even the slightest bit.

“I know,” he repeats it again, softer, quieter, his forehead coming down to rest against yours where he slightly shakes his head back and forth. One hand lets go of the grip on your waist and he gently rubs the back of his knuckles up and down the top of your arm, just a barely-there touch that’s already causing goosebumps to raise on your flesh.

“What do you want?” you ask, trying to sound stronger than what you know you’re actually capable of right now. “Why did you follow me out here?”

“I want what you want”. His voice is suddenly at your ear and an involuntary shiver runs through your entire body. “Come home with me,” he tries, his voice slurring just slightly and you roll your eyes and attempt to put space between the two of you again. This time he’s not expecting it and you do manage to push him back a few inches and he wobbles on his feet.

“A drunk fuck so you can disappear again the minute it’s over, you think that’s what I want?” You’re practically screaming at him now, but you don’t care, he deserves it.

“C’mon,” he huffs, sounding annoyed as he quickly crowds your space once more, this time he manages to grab your hands and hoist them above your head, pressing them into the wall so you can’t push him off you again. “One last time for old times sake, huh? Let me fuck this attitude right out of you”

“I’m married, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Hasn’t exactly stopped us before,” he smirks and then lowers his face down so he can nuzzle into you, his nose grazing your ear and his smooth cheek brushing against yours and for a moment you feel yourself melting into his soft touch.

Your voice lacks the conviction you know it should when you rasp out a quiet "Dave, stop”. You won’t go home with him, you know you won’t. You’d never hurt Marcus like that (again), but the smell of his familiar cologne on his shirt collar, the way his warm skin feels pressed against yours and how your body seemingly just fits into the contours of his own you can’t find it in you to immediately try and push him away again either. It’s been so long, you want to just feel him. Just for a moment.

“Kiss me,” he tries, voice suddenly at your ear before he moves just slightly until his lips hover on yours. He doesn’t force it on you, waiting for you to make that final move and close the distance between you. It takes everything in you, but you manage to turn your face away and you hear his desolate sigh in response, hot breath fanning your cheek.

“Take a hint buddy,” a deep voice suddenly interrupts and both your heads snap to the side where you see an enormous man standing at the opening of the alley, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He must be a good six inches shorter than Dave but easily has over 100lbs on him. He’s a very wide, stocky man with a long ponytail and a studded leather vest over top of a faded t-shirt and covered in tattoos, looking like he belongs in some type of biker gang. You immediately recognize him as the man from earlier who tried to summon the waitress from Dave.

He fishes a lighter from his pocket and brings the flame up to light the cigarette and takes a long drag before breathing a large cloud of smoke out.

“She’s not interested,” he repeats when Dave doesn’t loosen his hold on you. “And you’re paying for those six shots by the way, prick.”

“What, you think she’s saving herself for you?” Dave laughs, incredulous. His hands suddenly leave yours, allowing your arms to drop down to your sides and he takes a step back from you, fully turning towards the man who’s now taken a few tentative steps into the alley. Dave reaches a hand into his back pocket fishing out his wallet. He pulls what looks to be a fifty from the bill fold, scrunches it up to a ball and throws it in the direction of the man standing in front of him before closing his wallet and returning it to his pants.

“There, now fuck off.”

“What’s your problem man?” The bystander asks, flicking his cigarette away and taking two long strides forward, the fifty note left crumpled and forgotten on the ground.

“My problem? My problem is fucking assholes who can’t mind their own business. Go fuck off and get your micro dick sucked somewhere else.”

Your brow furrows as you listen to Dave seemingly intentionally picking a fight with this complete stranger. This was not the calm, cool, collected Dave that you’re used to.

You didn’t like whoever this Dave was.

“Wanna try saying that to my face, shithead?” The shorter man challenges, taking another step towards Dave.

“Dave, just leave it,” you try but he waves a flippant hand at you, not even bothering to look in your direction.

“How bout I get you a stepstool and you say it to mine, small fry.”

“Don’t need a stool to lay you out right here on the pavement,” he challenges right back, taking yet another step closer until they’re just inches apart, the shorter man apparently not intimidated whatsoever and likely rather comfortable in a fight, you assume. What he doesn’t know, however, and what you do, is Dave’s extensive military training. Even drunk you have no doubt he could easily kill this man and barely break a sweat, if he wanted to.

��Leave it alone Dave, c’mon, I mean it!” You try again but you might as well be talking to the wall behind you, as neither of the men are paying you any attention any longer. Ironic, since you’re half the reason the fight started in the first place. Men.

“Tell you what,” Dave begins, voice smug. “First one’s free,” he finishes, raising his arms up in the air, defenseless.

Before you even have a chance to plead with them once more the other man swings, clocking Dave right in the gut that has him doubling over for a few brief seconds before he quickly rights himself again, and, to your astonishment, starts laughing.

“That it?” Dave laughs, back to his full height again. “C’mon, again,” he goads.

This time the stranger's fist connects with Dave’s face, causing his head to swing left with the impact he puts behind it. You quickly scramble over to Dave who lets out another chuckle as he wipes the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and turns back to face his foe.

“Pussy,” Dave taunts before spitting blood to the ground at the man's feet. “Why don’t we call the waitress out from inside, she probably hits harder than you do.”

“Dave!”

You watch it happening like it’s in slow motion, how the man grabs Dave’s head with both hands and smashes it into the brick wall and Dave, for whatever reason, doesn’t even fight it. It makes you think of those videos you had to watch in Drivers Ed as a teenager, how the drunk driver in the scenario is typically the one to survive a collision because their response time is so slow their body just lets go and goes with the flow rather than bracing for impact. The part that really tears you up inside though is you don’t even think it’s the alcohol, you think he’s doing it on purpose, wanting to get hurt. You hear the loud smack as his forehead hits the brick and you instantly surge forward, taking the brunt of his weight as he collapses into you and you both slowly slide down to the ground with him in your arms because you can’t hold his weight.

“Get up, you piece of shit!” the stranger yells, furious, and you scream, covering Dave’s body with your own where he lays in your lap as the man winds up to kick Dave while he’s down.

“Enough!” A third man’s voice shouts and relief floods your whole system as you recognize it’s Marcus. In a flash he’s crossing the alley, grabbing the stranger by his shirt and shoving him into the brick and holding him there. Marcus was definitely ‘a lover not a fighter’, but he could certainly hold his own when it came down to it if need be. You’re not scared any longer.

“You alright Honey?” he asks, quickly chancing a glance over to where you’re kneeled on the ground with Dave’s head in your lap, surveying the laceration above his eyebrow.

The man in Marcus’ grasp looks at the two of you confused, then when he notices Marcus’ wedding ring where his fists are cuffed in his shirt, his eyes widen in disbelief.

“Holy shit, is this your wife? I just did you a favour pal,” he scoffs, lightly shoving at Marcus and Marcus backs off just slightly, letting go but staying close in case the man wants to go at Dave again who’s practically unconscious at this point.

“Look it's fine just… go back inside please,” Marcus huffs before he turns back to you and frowns. “Think we can get him up?”

Between the two of you and Dave’s slight cooperation (as much as he can manage with not only how intoxicated he is but how he surely just got few screws knocked loose thanks to that brick wall) you manage to get him up and he looks around a little disoriented, shaking his head while you and Marcus flank either side of him and hold him up.

“Marcus? You’re here,” Dave slurs and then turns his entire body into him and practically collapses into his arms in what you think was meant to be a hug. Marcus manages to hold Dave upright, both his arms holding under Dave’s armpits to keep him on his feet.

“I’m here,” Marcus croaks out. “I’ve got you.”

“The fuck?” the stranger mutters, shaking his head as he watches what must surely be a very strange reaction to a husband finding another man hitting on his wife in a dark alley. “Good luck with… well, all of that pal,” he says with a wave of his hand in the direction of the three of you before he turns on his heel, bends down to pick up the discarded fifty and heads back out of the alley and presumably back toward the bar.

“I’m drunk,” Dave suddenly breaks the silence, pushing back slightly from Marcus and wavering on his feet. His brows furrow in confusion and he wipes at his forehead. When his hand comes into his eyeline and he sees blood smeared on it, his features scrunch up again. “And I think I hit my head?”

“It’s ok, do you think you can help us get you to the car? It’s close,” Marcus tries to explain to Dave who manages a small nod. You get behind Dave and lift one of his arms up and turn him slightly, draping his arm over your shoulders as you move with him to stand at his side, Marcus now holding up the other. Thankfully Marcus had hastily just parked the car in a loading zone directly in front of the bar after you failed to answer any of his texts or calls so the walk was quick and you managed to get Dave shoved into the front passenger seat. You quickly run back inside to grab your purse and phone and say a quick goodnight to your coworkers and then hurry back out to the car. Dave mumbles off his address once Marcus slides into the driver’s seat and Marcus gives a non-commital grunt of acknowledgement before he pulls away from the curb and drives away. Barely two minutes later Dave’s head is tilted all the way back into the headrest and he’s passed out. You lean forward from the backseat to address Marcus.

“We can’t take him home like that. What if he has a concussion or something?”

“I’m not taking him home” Marcus quickly responds, shaking his head.

With a satisfied sigh you lean back into your seat.

What a fucking disaster.

Barely ten minutes later Marcus pulls into your driveway, hitting the button clipped to the sun visor to open the garage. The last thing he needs is for his neighbors to see the two of you dragging a bloodied half unconscious man into your home in the middle of the night.

You only manage to get him as far as the couch on the main floor, an upstairs bedroom too harrowing of a feat to attempt you presume with Dave’s inability to offer much of his own assistance. With a loud grunt you manage to drop him down to a seated position on the sofa and he immediately falls back into the soft cushions.

“Stay with him, I’ll get some water and something for his head,” Marcus says and you nod your head.

He’s only gone a minute or so, taking a little longer because he couldn’t find the Aspirin bottle right away, but when he returns with two extra strength tablets and a full glass of water he stops in his tracks just inside the living room.

Dave is flopped on his side, face resting on your lap facing where Marcus stands while your hands delicately card through his hair.

He’s murmuring quiet little ramblings with his eyes closed, something about “fucked up” and “so sorry” and you just gently hush him, running your fingers through his sweat damp hair.

“We need to clean him up” you tell Marcus when you notice him standing there. There’s blood still smeared across his forehead but thankfully not very much, he hadn’t been actively bleeding for very long. At least you know he doesn’t require any stitches.

Marcus sighs and crosses the room, getting down on his haunches in front of the couch in Dave’s direct eye line.

“Hey Buddy,” he tries softly. “Need you to sit up for me, have some water and take these.”

Dave grunts, noncommittally, but ultimately does try and push himself up. You both help until he’s back into a seated position and Marcus hands him the two white tablets. Dave stares at them for several seconds before tossing them back into his throat and swallowing without water. You tisk at him and shove the water glass into his hand.

“Drink,” you order. He does. He finishes near the entire glass in one go and your eyes widen in surprise.

“There,” he sighs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can I go now?”

You’re so frustrated you could smack him. One second he’s being a total asshole, the next he’s trying to kiss you, then he’s purposely getting the shit beat out of him, then practically crying in your lap, and now he’s back to being obstinate again.

He was right about one thing. He is fucked up. And you don’t think it’s just the booze.

“I’m sorry, no,” you shake your head, trying to sound less angry than you feel. The last thing you need is to pick another fight with this unpredictable man right now. “Baby, you’re bleeding”

The endearment slips out completely by accident. You don’t even notice you’ve said it but both Dave and Marcus do, their widened gazes turning to you at the exact same moment.

“Dave,” you quickly try to correct, shaking your head.

He lets out a little snort and nods his head, like he’s willing to let you get away with your little slip up.

“You hit your head really hard, you can’t be alone tonight. If you can make it upstairs you can have the guest room, if not, we can make up the couch. In the morning you’re free to go, I promise.”

“Fine,” he relents, shoulders dropping.

“Think you can help us get you upstairs?” you ask and he nods his head. Both you and Marcus throw one of his arms around your shoulders and help him up, taking each of the steps up the staircase slowly. Dave seems to be somewhat coming out of his fog and much more helpful this time, thankfully. You’re pretty sure it’s just the alcohol working against him now, his brain mostly cleared from the fog of the head trauma. Once you reach the top of the stairs you go to turn towards the guest room but Dave plants his feet and attempts to twist his body away from it, toward the direction he knows your and Marcus’ master bedroom is instead. You and Marcus both share a look behind Dave’s back where you’re holding him and after a moment Marcus gives you one solitary nod, acquiescing to Dave's wishes.

Once inside the room you unravel yourself from Dave as Marcus sits down on the edge of the mattress, bringing Dave with him to sit next to him. You head off to the bathroom to wet a washcloth and come back into the room to gently wipe away the blood and dirt at Dave’s forehead.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” you mutter as you clean him up best you can, shaking your head slightly. He doesn’t answer and you don’t expect him to, nor do you really even want him to in his condition. He needs to sleep it off, maybe you’ll get some clarity in the morning.

Once he’s cleaned up Marcus lifts Dave’s arm off of him and puts it into his lap. He isn’t sure what to do next so he leaves Dave there and wanders off to the bathroom to find you where you’re rinsing off the washcloth in the sink.

“What do we do with him?” he asks quietly.

“Well… honestly it’s probably better we’re in the same room anyway, that way if something happens in the middle of the night we’re there,” you reason and Marcus nods.

“Ok…” he sighs, following after you as you exit the bathroom and flick off its light.

You stop just outside the bathroom when you see Dave passed out in the middle of your bed, all his clothes - including his shoes - still on and you sigh.

“I got it,” Marcus says, going to the end of the bed and untying the laces of Dave’s shoes before placing them on the ground. That’s all you undress of him though, he’ll be fine sleeping in the rest of his clothes. Marcus was already in sweats and a t-shirt but you were still in work clothes so go over to your dresser and fish out a pair of pajamas and quickly change. Once you’re ready for bed you turn out the lights and both you and Marcus crawl in on either side of Dave. You can’t help but reach a hand out and brush it through his hair as his light snores fill the quiet, darkened room.

Fuck, you really missed him.

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl @harrington-thedad @missyorkswhore @disassociation-daydreams

#dave york #marcus pike #ppcu fanfiction #dave york x marcus pike x reader #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #dave york x you #dave york smut #marcus p #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling. 

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy. 

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it. 

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way. 

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up. 

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs. 

Liam folds. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants. 

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat. 

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.” 

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.” 

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak. 

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?” 

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.” 

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins. 

“Fuck you, Miller.” 

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.” 

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes. 

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.” 

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.” 

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.” 

“You should’ve thought of that before.” 

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.” 

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?” 

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.” 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.” 

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.” 

“You can’t leave, where would you go?” 

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world. 

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes. 

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. 

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color. 

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded. 

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate. 

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart. 

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything. 

And it seemed like you were no exception. 

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners. 

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear. 

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there. 

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam. 

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much. 

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self. 

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another. 

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel. 

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down. 

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.” 

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you. 

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.” 

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?” 

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.” 

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow. 

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.” 

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.” 

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue. 

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?” 

“God, yes.” 

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard. 

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most. 

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh. 

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.” 

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion. 

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed. 

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?” 

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.” 

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue. 

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight. 

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin. 

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.” 

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?” 

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.” 

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely.  “Don’t make me say it again.” 

You sink to your knees immediately after that. 

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek. 

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. 

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.” 

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.” 

“Get on with it then.” 

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock. 

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth. 

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.  

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.” 

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—” 

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses. 

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.” 

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.” 

“Is this pussy mine?” 

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.” 

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning. 

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?” 

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!” 

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking. 

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger. 

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?” 

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust. 

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words. 

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously. 

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?” 

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.” 

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.” 

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him. 

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.” 

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.” 

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!” 

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!” 

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself. 

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.” 

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful. 

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone. 

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—” 

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out. 

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips. 

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls. 

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.” 

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss. 

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss. 

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?” 

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you. 

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm. 

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides. 

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together. 

“I think he left, sweetheart.” 

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.” 

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[thot-of-khonshu]

Sundress Season (Joel Miller x f! reader)

18+ MDNI

I got bored and horny and wrote a little drabble about Joel railing you in his car while you’re in a sundress. Hope you’re all well.

It’s almost sundress season.

And Joel Miller never considered himself an ass man, but boy did yours convert him to worship.

You were out running errands all day and he just couldn’t help himself to look. Opening doors for you was a requirement as a man from the South but he’d take an extra moment to watch you walk away.

Watch the fabric hug your ass with no lines as a barrier. Your long, smooth legs cross and uncross while at lunch, barely able to eat because he was already so god damn hard for you.

You ask him if he’s okay, he tells you he’s not really hungry. He says he’s feeling off which technically isn’t a lie because he cannot remember the last time he was this hard in public if ever.

You hold his hand when you go back to the truck. He opens the door for you. You watch him from behind as you slide in. The hem of the dress slightly higher up your thighs than it was earlier.

High enough for Joel to see you went commando. You gave him an innocent smile.

Why, you had no idea buying this dress would cause your boyfriend such disarray.

Except when you tried it on and your best friend and the sales associate discussed how fuckable you looked.

Whoops, guess you forgot.

Joel drives the two of you home, the tension growing thick. His hand sliding higher, and higher, and higher but not quite where you need it. Tease.

You come home and he parks in the garage. You’re on top of him before he can even turn off the ignition.

You grind into him, moving in motion so his cock rubs at your clit in the sweet spot.

He whispers dirty things into your ear. That you’re a dirty girl and you’re fixin’ to get fucked so hard you won’t be able to walk.

He tells you to keep the dress on when he slides himself into you. Taking and taking and taking. Watching you lose yourself on him, your strap falling off your dress and one of your tits falling out. You look divine. He knows it every minute of every day but he just loves you so much and can’t believe you chose him.

You cum on his cock, slow and throbbing. You grind into his pelvic bone because even though it hurts a little you’ve bottomed out. You can’t get enough of him.

He starts to cum inside you after watching you get yourself off on him. Pulsing into you and feeling his warmth. His want.

When you go inside to clean up, Joel makes you promise you still won’t take the sundress off.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[stylesispunk]

"You're always on my mind"

Joel Miller x f!reader.

summary: You are Joel's reason to live and he is yours.

word count: 3k

warnings: some fluff and heavy angst.

a/n: I'm still on my writing break, but I couldn't take this one out of my head, so you have it here. I don't want to go into details because it would spoil the whole fic, but this is pretty much based on a movie, and by the name and the song, you may get the idea which one is it. Reblogs and comments are appreciated, so please come here and tell me your thoughts. Happy reading 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Finding such beautiful things in a world like this was not an easy thing to do. In a world like this, there was no spare room for distractions but survival.

In a tarnished world, you were a rose blooming from frozen ground, when neither the coldness of the cryptic winter could end your sweetness.

You were there even when your heart broke at the sight of him, defeated and lost without his Sarah; without the tiny baby he raised, he died in his arms that night of September.

You were there when he became cold, and Machiavellian, a distant ghost of the sweet man with the gleamy brown eyes that smiled at you without a warning, was just off and gone.

And you were broken for him, anxious and afraid of him letting his life go away because the pain of tightening his chest might have been stronger than his love for you.

He was hurting you by hurting himself, and he knew it. He knew he was hurting you; he was aware of the pain he was causing just by looking at your somber gaze, lost in state. Yet he couldn't care or see beyond his own pain. He had lost his daughter and his baby, and he was losing you as you slipped through his fingers.

He had tried to end his life, but he failed. He was going to leave you behind, and he didn’t think about it. He had decided he was going to die and find solace in the thought that he would be reunited with his daughter in a peaceful world while leaving you in a tarnished reality full of monsters and nightmares. Alone with your fears and pain suffocating your lungs. Alone, just by yourself, as if he wasn't the only reason you had to survive.

After the bullet rubbed the skin of his temple, you became silent. You weren’t able to look at the scar marked on his skin, let alone look at his eyes.

And Joel’s heart was constricted against his ribs. Once he failed, he woke up from his trance, and he became aware that he hadn’t been looking after you as he should, but you were silent and you were on his mind.

You weren’t talking, but he knew you were broken because of him.

One day, you were coughing, and Joel's heart contracted against his ribs, and his breath stopped as he listened to your complaints.

"You're sick," he said, looking at you, pacing angrily at him mostly.

Silence.

"You should drink water or

"Or one of those things is going to come after us, I know," you replied without giving a look.

“Do you want to get yourself?"

"Killed? Yes, maybe I do want that." Your voice was motionless, as your eyes kept staring at the flames from the fire flying away to the sky.

"Don't you ever say that; you hear me?"

Silence, defeating silence.

"Answer when I talk to you, please.” He looked for a glimpse of the spark that used to adorn your gaze. Joel's voice trembled with emotion as he stepped closer to you.

"You can't give up," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away from him, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows across the walls of your makeshift shelter.

“You were going to give up,” you whispered once you weren’t facing him.

Joel's heart sank at your words, the weight of them heavy in the air between you. He reached out a hand, hesitating, before gently resting it on your shoulder.

"I... I know," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "I was lost. I was so consumed by my own pain that I couldn't see beyond it. But seeing you... seeing how much I've hurt you... it's woken me up."

You felt his touch, gentle over your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to face him. The wounds were still raw, and the pain was too fresh.

"I'm sorry," Joel whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I promise to do better. To be better."

Silence hung heavy between you, but it wasn't the suffocating silence of before. It was a silence tinged with possibility and the hope of redemption.

Slowly, tentatively, you turned to face him, searching his eyes for any sign of sincerity.

"You tried to kill yourself, Joel!" You called out "You are in pain, but I am too! Sarah was mine too; maybe not by blood, but she was my daughter too." You sobbed, not being able to contain the tears from spilling. "You were going to leave me alone. Here and-"

He cut you off by pressing his lips against you, expressing all the love he held on his chest and on his whole body for you.

"I love you; I love you; I love you," he murmured against your lips, recomforting, "I'm sorry."

As Joel's lips met yours, a flood of emotions washed over you: love, sorrow, forgiveness, and hope. His kiss was a silent confession, a promise to be there for you, to fight alongside you, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

Tears mingled with the warmth of his embrace as you melted into his arms, feeling the weight of the world begin to lift from your shoulders. In that moment, you realized that, despite the pain and the struggles, there was still beauty to be found in the love you shared.

"I love you too," you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with emotion. "I forgive you."

Joel pressed his forehead against yours, holding your face in his palms with such a delicate touch. "We keep each other alive," he murmured.

"We keep each other alive," you echoed softly, the weight of his words sinking in.

He kept the promise. He would live for you, and you would live for him; you were each other's reason to stay alive in a mad world.

With time, he let his guard down. Settling in a place like Jackson, in a world like this, it seemed like a dream and a nightmare at the same time. There were people laughing, wearing nice clothes, and sleeping under a safe roof, and yes, it was nice, but Joel didn't want the conformity to ruin his careful routine.

But he couldn't help it. It was impossible to resist his sights in the mornings when the first rays of sunshine peeked through the window, directly at you on your side of the bed. He was astonished by you, by the effortless beauty of your creases and your ends, by your peaceful demeanor, next to the warmth he would provide. 

While his achy bones and silver hair reminded him that he was getting old, you looked the same, as if time and pain never took their toll on you.

"You always do that," you murmured, your voice drained from sleep.

"Do what?" was his question, smiling.

"Staring," you blinked your eyes open, trying to wash your sleep away. "It's creepy"

"I love watching you sleep, so I can remember what you thought the day was."

You chuckled; the sound resonated in Joel's ears.

"Sorry if it creeps you out," Joel said, his smile softening. "I just... I can't help it. You're beautiful, even when you're asleep."

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching out to tousle his hair affectionately. "You're such a sap, Joel."

He laughed, leaning into your touch. "Maybe I am. But I mean it. You're the reason I’m alive.”

Your smile dropped. “Don’t say that.”

Joel's expression softened, realizing he may have touched a sensitive nerve. He gently took your hand in his, his eyes searching yours with sincerity.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you," he said softly. "But it's true. You've been my anchor through the storm, the light in the darkness. Without you, I don't know where I'd be."

A tiny smile graced your lips as you looked at him, studying his face, the creases on his forehead, and the silver hair growing. Time had hurt Joel, but it made him look beautiful to your eyes, and you felt a sadness within your body.

“What do you want to do today?” Joel asked, smiling at you.

You took a moment to compose yourself, letting Joel's words sink in before responding. Despite the weight of his declaration, you knew his love for you was genuine, and it filled you with warmth.

"I don't know," you replied, returning his smile. "Maybe we could take a walk around the town? It's been a while since we've explored together."

Joel nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "That sounds like a great idea. It'll be nice to spend some time outside, away from these walls.”

Joel didn't like how people ignored him. His protective instincts kicked in as he noticed the way some people in the town seemed to ignore your presence. He tightened his grip on your hand in a gesture of solidarity and support. Even though he knew that you were the only one who could see him, he couldn't bear to see you being overlooked and dismissed by others.

“You seemed tense,” you joked, nudging his neck with your nose as you walked.

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for your ability to find humor even in difficult situations.

“Yeah, well, I hate how people look at me as if I were," he replied, his voice tinged with warmth as he squeezed your hand gently.

“You know why,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before turning his attention back to the path ahead.

Just then, Tommy noticed Joel walking and approached him with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Brother! Where are you off to?" Tommy called out, his voice breaking through the silent atmosphere in Joel’s little world.

Joel glanced at Tommy, offering a small smile in return. "Just taking a walk," he replied, gesturing the way.

Tommy's smile widened as he nodded, noticing Joel’s cheerful humor. "Nice to see you out and about.” He downed his head for a moment. “Are you okay, right?”

Joel looked at Tommy for a moment, waiting for the words to come out of his lips: “Better than ever.”

"Yeah, Tommy, I'm doing alright," Joel replied, his voice laced with false cheerfulness. "Just enjoying the day."

Tommy nodded, though a hint of skepticism flickered in his eyes. "Good to hear, Joel. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."

With that, Tommy bid them farewell, leaving Joel to grapple with the weight of his secret once more. As they resumed their walk, Joel couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that gnawed at him, knowing that no matter how much he longed for connection,.

“Don’t be mad. He’s just worried,” you said, picking up on Joel’s behavior.

Joel sighed softly, grateful for your understanding and support. He knew you were right; Tommy meant well, and his concern was genuine. Yet the weight of his secret still pressed heavily on Joel's shoulders, a constant reminder of the barrier that separated him from the rest of the world.

"I know," Joel murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "I just wish I could... I’m the big brother.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering a silent gesture of comfort. Joel found solace in your presence, in the way you understood him without needing words.

"I'm lucky to have you," Joel whispered, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You smiled at him, not speaking more words, and you continued your walk together, hand in hand. 

Once you were outside the walls of Jackson, you led the way. As Joel noticed the surroundings, his apprehension grew with each step. Memories of that fateful day flooded his mind—the pain, the fear, and the aftermath.

"I don't like this place," he said, his voice tinged with apprehension as he halted abruptly in his tracks.

You turned to face him, noting the five-foot gap that separated you. "Please, “you implored, your fingertips gently caressing his cheeks. His eyes closed, savoring the warmth against his skin, oblivious to the tears welling up.

"Love," he murmured, his voice trailing off.

“Please, tell me you still have that sweet love inside you," you pleaded, still tracing delicate patterns on his face.

"You know I don’t," he finally answered, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

As the warmth of your touch withdrew, he opened his eyes, meeting yours with a mixture of fear and longing. Tears shimmered in your eyes, and Joel felt his heart clench.

"It's been a year, Joel," you whispered, but he shook his head, unwilling to accept your words.

"You need to let me go," you urged gently.

"I can't. I don't want to," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart ached as you listened to Joel's words, knowing the depth of his pain and longing. You wished you could ease his suffering; you wished you could erase the sorrow that weighed so heavily on his shoulders. But you also knew that holding on to the past would only prolong his agony.

"Joel," you said softly, reaching out to cup his face in your hands once more.

“I can’t,” he repeated. “This is the only way I can have you,” his tears falling down his checks.

"I can't just let you go," Joel protested, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. "I was so happy that you were mine.”

Your eyes softened with understanding, yet they were also filled with a profound sadness. "I know it's hard, Joel. But holding onto me like this is only hurting you more. You deserve to find peace."

Joel's gaze faltered, torn between the desire to cling to the memory of you and the need to find a way to heal. His heart ached with the unbearable emptiness that consumed him, a void that seemed impossible to fill.

"I don't know how to live without you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering him a silent anchor amidst the storm of his emotions. "You don't have to do it alone, Joel. Let me be a part of your memories, but also let yourself live for the present."

Tears welled up in Joel's eyes, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your words. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded, a flicker of hope stirring within his heart.

“Close your eyes,” you told him, grabbing the same hand you had put on the wedding band the day you got married, when the world hadn’t ended.

As Joel closed his eyes, a sense of calm washed over him, knowing that whatever was to come, he was not alone. He felt the warmth of your touch and the gentle pressure of your hand in his, and he let himself be enveloped by the love and comfort you offered.

With a trembling breath, you began to speak, your voice soft yet filled with emotion. "Joel," you whispered, your words carrying the weight of a lifetime of love and memories. "I want you to know how much you meant to me and how deeply I loved you."

Tears streamed down Joel's cheeks as he listened, hanging onto every word and every syllable that passed your lips. He felt his heart ache with bittersweet longing, the pain of losing you mingling with the warmth of your love.

"You were my everything, Joel," you continued, your voice breaking with the intensity of your emotions. "And even though I'm not physically with you anymore, I will always be a part of you, guiding you and watching over you."

Joel's grip tightened around your hand, his chest constricting with a mixture of grief and gratitude. "I love you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

And then, as you finished speaking, Joel felt a shift in the air—a gentle breeze that seemed to carry your presence away. He opened his eyes, expecting to see you standing there before him, but to his dismay, you were gone.

"No," Joel whispered, his voice echoing through the empty space around him. "Don't leave me."

But there was no response, no comforting touch to reassure him. You were gone, leaving behind only the memories and an ache in Joel's heart that would never truly heal. And as he stood there, alone in the silence,.

Ever since that tragic day, when you had died while patrolling with Joel, he had been unable to escape the relentless grip of grief. It was a stupid accident, one he could have prevented if he had been faster, but he wasn't, and he was paying the price.

Right now, every moment and every breath seem to echo with your absence. He had held himself to the memories of your laughter, your touch, and your presence by his side. Everywhere he turned, he saw traces of you. You were there, and he could touch you, but now your goodness fades away with the air. He longed for the comfort of your embrace, the warmth of your smile, and the sound of your voice calling out his name.

But there was silence. He turned around, and with the heaviness in his heart and tears spilling down his checks, he walked back alone to Jackson. This time, there was no reminder of you by his side. Tears blurred Joel's vision as he trudged along the familiar path, the memories of that day replaying in his mind like a relentless nightmare.

But no amount of regret or self-blame could bring you back, and Joel knew that he would have to find a way to carry on without you by his side.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears still streaming down his cheeks, Joel resolved to carry on, to face each day with courage and determination, knowing that even though you were gone, your love would always be with him.

You were always on his mind.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller series #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #Joel Miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal

[beskarandblasters]

Does Your Mother Know?

No Outbreak!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Ways to help Palestine

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by Does Your Mother Know by ABBA + part of @freelancearsonist’s ABBA Drabble Challenge! For more music drabble challenges you can check out my Taylor Swift one, my Phoebe Bridgers one , @wannab-urs’s Hozier one, and @fhatbhabie’s Selena one! So many music challenges we are keeping y’all FED!

Summary: Joel finds a pretty young thing on the beach to spend some time with on his vacation.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader wears a bikini & a dress, no outbreak AU, ambiguous beach location, both reader and Joel consume alcohol, age gap (20 years), oral sex (F and M receiving), semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is on birth control, pet names (sweetheart, baby), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

He watches you walk out of the ocean, the sun hitting the droplets of water rolling off her skin. Your bikini, a tad too small, emphasizes your breasts. He’s staring at you, eyes squinting from the sun. And that’s when he realizes he’s not wearing his sunglasses. 

Fuck. You caught him staring. 

Your lips curve into a smile. You place a hand on your hip, fingers toying with the strings on your bikini bottom.

And now you’re coming over to him, bounding through the sand and hips swaying as you walk. He scrambles for his sunglasses. He wants to ogle you in peace. But he can’t find them. 

God damn it.

“Hi,” you say, standing in front of his beach chair. Your voice is syrupy sweet and he knows he’s done for.

“Hey there,” he says, looking up at you. His eyes immediately gravitate to your breasts. 

“Who are you here with?” you ask, jumping straight to the point.

“My brother.”

“And where is he?” 

“Went off with a girl he met last night,” he says, finally finding his sunglasses. 

“Maybe you should do the same.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, sliding the sunglasses on and looking at you again, “What about you? Who are you here with?”

“Family reunion,” you say. He subconsciously lets out a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry I’m not here with a boy,” you add, playfully rolling your eyes.

“What? Oh no I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you’re about,” you say, kneeling beside his chair and placing an arm on his bicep, “I caught the way you were ogling me just now.”

He stutters briefly before spitting out a measly, “I was not.”

“Don’t even try that shit with me,” you giggle, “I saw you.”

He chuckles, glancing at your hand on his bicep, and says, “Sweetheart, I just have to ask… How old are you?” 

“Old enough.”

He cocks his head to the side and smirks. “You’re cute but I need a number.”

“Twenty-five. I’m in grad school. What about you?”

“Forty-five. That a problem for you?”

“Nope,” you smile. 

-

You make plans that night to go to the resort’s beachfront bar at eight. He goes back to his room after parting ways with you, showering, and making sure to get all of the sand off. The whole time he thinks of you in that damn bikini. He wonders what you’re going to wear tonight. Surely something that will drive him insane. 

Before you separated you exchanged names. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel!” you said before turning and walking back to your room, your hips swaying again as you walk. 

That’s his kryptonite, you saying his name. Joel never knew his name could sound so good. 

-

He waits at the bar for you, wearing a button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone. He’s got that post-ocean smell about him, the saltwater making his curls extra fluffy. You’re a little late, only about five minutes or so. And for a split second, he wonders if you stood him up. 

But his heart just about stops when he sees you. 

A fucking knockout you are. Blue and white lace dress, sandals on your feet. Your skin is shiny, especially under the disco ball hanging above. How is it that this pretty young thing wants anything to do with him? 

“Hi, Joel,” you say, placing your hand on his arm again. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he says, his jaw on the floor. He can’t hide his desire for you. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he continues, eyeing you up and down. 

“Thanks!” you giggle, giving him a twirl, “Sorry I was running late. Had to make up a lie about where I was going tonight.” 

“Oh?” he says, grabbing your waist and pulling you close, “Where are you supposed to be tonight, naughty girl?” 

“Shuffleboard,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“You blew off shuffleboard with your family to hang out with me?” 

You lean in close and whisper, “Can you blame me?” Your breath tickles the shell of his ear. Just like that, he’s putty in your hands. 

“N-No,” he says, with a shiver down his spine, “Drinks?” he says, turning and looking at you. 

“Sex on the beach,” you tell him.

You grab a table while he orders your drinks. He comes back with a Miller Lite for himself and your cocktail. But after a few sips, one of your favorite songs comes on; Dancing Queen by ABBA. 

“Let’s dance!” you say, jumping up from your seat and holding out your hand. 

“I don’t dance,” he chuckles. 

“I’m not taking no for an answer!” you say, pulling him towards the dance floor. 

You dance with him, bodies pressed together and laughing the night away. He thinks about your family, your mother… and what they would do if they saw you with an older man. He wonders what Tommy would think of him if he saw him with such a younger woman. 

But then he looks at you, how you smile at him with the disco ball above shimmering your features. He can see in your eyes that your feelings are big, your lust for him so prevalent. He should be taking it slow. But he can’t. Not when you give him that look, not when you flash your dazzling smile at him. 

Suddenly the crowded dance floor is too much for him and he wants you all to himself. After a few songs, he grabs your hand and leads you back to your table. You’re laughing with each other, giddy and over the moon. How he wishes this night would never end. 

“You’re not a bad dancer!” you say, semi-shouting over the music and downing the rest of your drink. 

“You’re a natural,” he says, finishing his beer. 

As if you’re reading his mind, you lean in close and whisper in his ear again, “What do you say we get another round and get out of here?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, eagerly standing up and heading back to the bar. You giggle as you watch him, stumbling a bit as he orders your second round and closes out the tab. 

He comes back with the drinks and hands you yours, interlocking his hand with his. 

“My room?” he asks, “I assume we can’t go to yours.”

You lean in and finally kiss him, whispering against his lips, “What about the beach?” 

You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? 

“Yes,” he says a little too quickly, pulling another laugh out of you. 

You walk hand in hand down the beach. You’re a little tipsy, the sway of your hips a little messier than before. For once, Joel is thankful Tommy dragged him on this trip. 

You lead him all the way to the private cabanas on the beach, only guarded by a rope. There’s no one else around. Sex on the beach under the moonlight— this trip can’t get any better. 

“You’re sure about this? Like you’re not worried about getting caught?” he asks, lifting the rope for you. 

“We’d be giving them quite the show,” you shrug. 

God, you drive him wild. 

You set your drinks down on the side table by one of the cabanas, lying down on the padded furniture. You kick off your sandals and Joel watches as you sprawl out, the skirt of your dress riding up a bit. His cock twitches in his shorts. A bit of your cleavage peeks out from the neckline. He needs you now. 

“What are you waiting for?” you ask with a smirk. 

“Just taking the view in,” he says, mirroring your grin. 

But he can’t anymore now. He needs to taste you. He needs to make you shiver. 

He gets down in between your legs and pulls your dress a bit more. And that’s when he notices you’re not wearing any panties. 

“No panties? Naughty girl.” 

“You couldn’t tell I’m a naughty girl by where we are right now?” you laugh. 

But your laugh is cut off by a slow lick up your cunt. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you against his face. He devours you, nose rubbing against your clit and tongue circling your entrance. The soft breeze from the sea tousles his curls and you moan under the night sky, back arching up and thighs trembling already. 

In no time you cum against his face, whimpering thanks to his skilled tongue and his perfect nose against your clit. He stays between your thighs for a moment after you’re done coming, lapping up your release. Your skin is tingling, cheeks hot from the intense orgasm you had but also the adrenaline. He pokes his head up and you catch a glimpse of his wet facial hair under the moonlight. 

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he says, going back in for another taste.

Another shiver runs down your spine. 

Once he’s satisfied he lies next to you. Once you’ve caught your breath you waste no time getting up and straddling him now. 

“Your turn,” you say, inching down his legs and pulling his cock out of his shorts. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined; long, thick, and uncut. 

“You sure?” he asks, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“Mhm,” you say, swirling your tongue around the tip, “Only been thinking about this all day.”

“Fuck,” he moans. You maintain eye contact with him the whole time, sucking him off like such a good girl. He thinks about what you just said. 

Only been thinking about this all day. 

How did he get so lucky? 

Your hand wraps around the base, stroking the part your mouth can’t fit. A mixture of his pre-cum and your saliva rubs down his shaft. He tries to burn this picture-perfect moment in his mind forever; you suck him off under the nighttime sky with the beach behind you. You suck in your cheeks and suck him off harder, moaning when more pre-cum leaks out of his tip. If he’s not careful he’ll bust right here right now. But he wants to cum inside you if you’ll let him. 

Just when he’s teetering on the edge of orgasm he stops you, hand caressing your cheek. 

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he says. You take him out of your mouth and swipe the wetness off your chin. 

“Are you ready?” you ask. 

“Baby, I fuckin’ need you,” he says. 

Hastily you straddle his cock again, sopping wet cunt hovering over him. The head teases your entrance and you just can’t take it anymore. You sink down onto his cock in one swift motion, hands resting on his chest. You both sigh at the feeling; his cock enveloped by your warmth and you feeling full. 

You rock your hips back and forth and his hands hold your waist. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, you know that?”

“Y-Yeah?” you ask, voice high pitched from your arousal. You lean forward, face inches from his, and ask, “Be honest, you were thinking about this when you saw me get out of the water earlier, weren’t you?”

“Maybe.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“It didn’t happen exactly like this in my head.” 

“No? What was your little fantasy?” you ask, rocking your hips harder. 

“Fuck… Right there on the beach.” 

“In front of everyone?! Naughty boy you are, Joel,” you say, kissing him. He sneaks a nip at your lip, hands migrating from your waist up to your breasts. He was thinking about these all day, watching the way they sit so pretty in your ill-fitting bikini top. 

You move your hips like a goddamn angel. And his cock fits inside you perfectly, hitting the most sensitive spots inside you. If you keep moving like this he’s going to cum soon. 

You don’t stop. You only pick up the pace, sitting up and placing your hands on his chest again. 

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna make me cum if you’re not careful.”

“So?” 

“I can?!” 

“I’m on the pill,” you smirk, leaning in for one final kiss. You cum together in a harmonious symphony, his cock pulsing his cum inside you. You both moan into the kiss, riding out your highs with the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. This is heaven. 

Eventually, your hips slow to a stop and you pull yourself off of him, lying beside him with his cum running down your thigh. He pulls you close, right into his chest. You smell his cologne and press a few sloppy kisses to his neck. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, rubbing your back. 

“So are you,” you giggle. 

You spend a while talking and getting to know each other after the mind-blowing sex you just had. But between all the energy you just exerted and the alcohol, you’re tired, drifting off to sleep in his arms. 

Before you completely fall asleep he asks, “When do you leave?”

“Sunday,” you yawn. 

Three days left together. 

He knows you can’t spend the night here but for now, he’ll let you take a little nap. He wants to spend as much time as he can with you before you return to your family. His pretty young thing for the remainder of his trip. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🩵

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #no outbreak!joel miller

[frannyzooey]

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (COMPLETED)

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[undercoverpena]

you think that the only thing javier peña likes about you is how you feel around his cock. when in fact, javi likes a lot of things about you—your smile, the way you dot your i’s, that you make him coffee (remembering how he takes it), that your laugh is sweet. but mostly, he likes the feel of your hand in his. how you slid it under the table—when he’d been close to unravelling—being an anchor, a root, not realising how much it meant. and he won’t change that, won’t correct your thoughts or confess the truth. it’s too dangerous. better to keep you at arm's length, just for now, at least. or so he tells himself when you fall asleep next to him, heart trying to double in size.

#angst with jo 🎶 #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javi peña #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #narcos x reader #Pedro Pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Walkway

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader (Reader is a teacher in Jackson, has long hair.) Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It’s your birthday, Joel takes you out to the Tipsy Bison, kisses (and does more to) you in the rain, and takes you home to give you a gift (it's sex, the gift is sex). Also, the thought of Joel spitting whiskey in someone's mouth happened and I had to write it out. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Warnings: smut, drinking, consent first, degradation second, followed by so much praise, hair pulling, spitting, Joel calls you a slut, fingering against a brick wall, F receiving oral, I watched that doggy style Narcos gif (for research) a lot, unprotected p in v, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), Joel’s canon age, Reader’s in her 30’s. Words: 4,300 A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first published fic. I'm currently working on a grander scale fic with these two, I hope to have the first chapter out within the next couple of weeks. I just really wanted to get this out there! Thanks for reading and a big thank you to @ohheypedrito for all of her help and also to our phones for not overheating when I send 40 texts at once with ideas for fics. Hope you enjoy, can't even blame the feralness of this on the full moon.

Edit: I posted the Masterlist for Elks, my work these two are included in.

***

“Was turning 21 as fun as they’d show in movies back then?” You’re cuddled in next to Joel on his couch sketching in your notebook while Joel reads a book about Native Americans that you found him. You always do this, a random question or thought to break the comfortable silence.   

“Not for me, bought a 12 pack of Bud Light and split it on my porch with Tommy. Sarah was only a toddler then and I had work in the morning. Didn’t have the money or the time to go to a bar. ‘Course I don’t think a lotta people did anything the way they’d show in the movies.”

“I always wanted to have my 21st birthday at a bar, ya’ know? Wait until the clock strikes midnight and order a weird named shot.”

“Well, I reckon we could do that at the Bison tomorrow night. Might not be your 21st but I’ll get you whatever you want to drink, and the best part is you can drink before midnight.” Joel pulls you in closer and kisses your forehead, “What do you say, let me take you out for your birthday sweetheart.”

“Yes, please,” you sigh into his shoulder, “sounds amazing.”

“Wear that little blue dress I know you have hanging in your closet.”

The drinks flowing through you making you downright giddy, alcohol making you bolder, your body and your inhibitions becoming looser, your hands becoming addicted to touching Joel, first his leg, then his thigh, now his lower stomach, right at his waistband. You haven’t been this tipsy in a long time, your face feeling flushed and red more from your desire than any drink you’ve had tonight.

“You better knock that off before I take you outside in the rain and fuck you against the building, darling,” Joel huffs into your ear. His fiery warning massaging your neck causing your heart rate cooled by your inebriation to pick up. 

“Sooo, keep going?” You slur back. 

“If that’s what you really want,” Joel puts a forceful squeeze on your upper thigh, a layer of your dress laying between his skin and your skin. If you weren’t both sitting at the bar, and maybe in one of the more darker corners of the saloon you’d surely hike your skirt up and let him learn just how bad you want him.

It feels so good to let go with him, to giggle openly at his jokes, stare at his profile as he talks with a friend or two who stop by to say hello, or place your hand on his broad back just because you want to touch his soft blue denim shirt. 

You watch as his tongue darts out and licks the leftover whiskey off his top lip, Joel’s movements becoming a little slower thanks to the amber liquid he’s been drinking all night. Some droplets glisten on his mustache, you fight every urge inside yourself to not lean over and lick them up. 

“It’s what I want,” you respond as you move your hand back and forth across his waistband.

“Jesus Christ, I’m about ready to throw you over my shoulder and run home,” Joel says as he takes your hand into his and pulls it away.

“Not so fast. You told me you’d fuck me in the rain, that’s what I want for my birthday,” you whisper into his ear with a breathy giggle.

“Can’t fuck you out here in public. Small town ‘n all, but I’ll make you feel good,” Joel takes a last swig of his drink, puts the glass down and knocks his fist on the bar to let the bartender know you two are leaving. He leans forward and drawls into your ear, “Now finish your drink if you want me to show you just how happy of a birthday I can give you.” 

You nod and gulp your drink down. You’re so wet, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this turned on before. Joel grabs your arm with the perfect amount of pressure, you’ve never been so happy to get outside into the pouring rain. 

——

It’s absolutely storming outside, your footsteps sloshing in the puddles on the ground. The rain pelting your’s and Joel’s bodies as you walk through late night Jackson. It feels like you’re the only two people in the whole town as you make your way farther away from the bar. The bulbs of the string lights reflecting off the water gathering on the sidewalks making your path towards Joel’s house golden. You don’t rush, the two of you not scared away by the downpour, the drops cooling your burning skin. Joel turns down the street before his, pulling you behind one of the storage buildings, it’s darker back here, practically pitch black thanks to the rain clouds blocking the moon and the nearest light source being three buildings down. You’re pushed up against the brick, Joel’s hand gently cradling your head to block it from hitting the wall, he’s such a gentleman. 

“Happy birthday baby, I need you to tell me you want this, ‘n you’re okay with this, I have plans for you and I need you to tell me you want it.” Joel instructs you, all you can see is his eyes and the faint lines of his facial hair, the rest of him camouflaged by the darkness surrounding the two of you. 

“I want it, more than anything. Please,” your voice straining as you beg. 

“Tell me you want me to have my way with you,” Joel speaks into your slack mouth as he rubs his arched nose against yours. 

“I want you to have your way with me,” you moan against his wet shirt, “so bad.”

“Good girl, now, m’not gonna fuck you here, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop and I need to have you in my bed tonight.” Joel starts to move his hand down your body lifting the hem of your dress. “But, you are going to cum for me right here.” Joel captures your mouth with his. His hand starts to trace the outline of your panties, you mew out a cry as his fingers slip through and begin to pet you right where you ache the most. His hands are so big, his fingers so long and thick, always putting the right amount of pressure, moving the way you need him to move. Joel Miller is a capable man, everyone knows that, but nobody, except for you, knows just how capable he is. 

Joel sticks a finger in you, though his finger is thick and feels so good, you need more to fill you. 

“Another,” you instruct in between fevered kisses. Your pussy clenches as Joel pushes another finger in you. “Yessss,” you moan out against his lips.

“That’s my good girl, gotta get you stretched out f’me.” Joel begins to kiss his way down your chin and neck stopping at your chest, your hard nipples jutting through your wet dress. Joel takes one into his mouth, sucking the fabric and your tit deeper into his mouth. The sloppy wet sounds of Joel’s suctions making you want him more.

“Another finger,” you shudder out. “Three? You really want it tonight, don’t you?” Joel mumbles against your chest as he sticks a third finger in. It burns, it burns in the best way. You’re ready for him, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all night. You bite down on your lip as your legs begin to shake, Joel can tell you’re right on the edge and twists his fingers inside of you as he finger fucks you harder. 

Your orgasm bursts forward your whole body going stiff as you try not to wail out into the night.

“That’s iiiiiit baby,” Joel pulls his fingers out of you and softly pets your pussy from hole to clit.

He removes his hand from between your legs bringing it up between the two of you resting his finger tips against your lips, you open your mouth and begin to lick. His tongue meeting yours as you both clean his thick digits covered in you. He takes his hand away leaving just your mouths to taste each other. His kiss turns tender, your kiss turns desperate.

Joel pulls away resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful birthday girl. Let’s get you home, my gift’s not done.”

——

Your body practically chills with the promise of what is left to come. Joel grabs your hand and you take it depending on him to lead you to his home. Every step you take you feel your wet core heavy with lust, you’re soaked from the rain and from Joel, if you could drown like this, you would go down with the sinking ship. His house comes into view, your body tingling in anticipation at the site as the both of you speed your footsteps up in perfect agreement. 

He throws open the gate, you’re following so close you almost trip on his heels making your way up the walkway and steps. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks the doors, you take the opportunity to run your hands all over his back and sides, rubbing the wet cloth of his shirt as it molds to his body. The door swings open and you both shuffle into his living room gasps escaping your mouths, both out of breath from your dash home and your mutual want for each other. You step out of your wet shoes and shake your hair out. 

“Take your dress off, right now.” Joel huffs out as he tosses his keys on the console table and begins to kick his boots off. 

You strip yourself of your baby blue frock as fast as you can. You’ve never had a reason to wear such a revealing piece of clothing. You don’t know why you held onto it, let alone grabbing it from the communal clothing rack, never thinking anything, or anyone, would be worthy enough for you to dress up for. Joel’s worthy, so worthy. 

“Feel like I’m a little underdressed here…” your words grab Joel’s attention as he moves his hands up to his chest to begin to unbutton his denim shirt. He gets one button taken care of before he rips it open. Shame, it’s your favorite shirt, you'll have to fix it for him later. You watch as a button rolls underneath a table, before you can note where it lands, your attention turns back to Joel to find him stepping out of his jeans and underwear leaving him completely naked. 

What a sight, what a fucking sight. There’s only a lamp on in the room, Joel’s body being cast in amber color and shadow, one side of him on full display glowing in the light, the other more difficult to discern. He moves forward stalking you. “Now I’m the underdressed one here. Take them off for me,” he says as he moves to pick up a bottle of whiskey from his shelf. 

You follow his instructions shucking your underwear down your legs and leaving them pooled at your feet. 

“Good girl,” Joel says as he begins to walk towards you unscrewing the lid off the bottle. He stands in front of you and takes a drink. “Open your mouth,” he orders as he grabs your hair and tips your head back. He takes another pull from the bottle, this time he raises his mouth over your mouth and begins to dribble drips of whiskey down from his mouth into yours. A moan raises from your throat, causing Joel to tighten his hold on your hair and arch your head back even more. He spits the rest of the whiskey straight into your mouth, you happily swallow his spit and liquor down. He unwinds his hands from your hair, takes another drink and kisses you, the whiskey and his tongue spilling into your mouth. Joel pulls back and takes his last swig before resting the bottle on the table. “Get upstairs.”

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life, tripping over your feet as you rush your way up, Joel’s naked form hunting you like prey up each step.

The sight of Joel’s bed brings a new wave of goosebumps to your skin. 

“Bend over on the bed darlin,” Joel turns on a lamp in the corner and pulls it closer. “Need to lick and fuck you with my tongue.” 

You move over to Joel’s side of the bed and bend forward, your ass sitting high in the air and your face in the sheets, you inhale the smell of Joel on his sheets. You swing your hips in giddy anticipation of what’s about to happen. 

You feel his body lean over yours, his erection laying over your lumbar. “Okay baby, once again, need you to tell me you’re good with me having my way with your body,” he tempts into your ear. 

“Fuck, y—yes, fuck, of course I am good. So good.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s heavy body lifting off of yours as he kneels between your legs. You feel his hot breaths on you where you’re aching for him the most, you widen your stance egging him on to touch you. “Look at you,” Joel licks your thigh, “so fuckin’ wet you’ve spilled out into your thighs.” 

You scream a pleasured yell as Joel’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your thigh and sucks your skin into his mouth. The pain is perfect. He loosens his bite, kissing and licking the spot, the sensation making your body quiver. 

“Okay baby?”

“Y-y-yessss,” you answer.

“Whaddo you need sweetheart?” 

“Lick me,” you beg out, “please.”

“‘Course. Where do you want me to lick you?” Joel questions as he nuzzles his head against your ass cheek, giving it a small bite.

“My pussy. Pleeeaaase,” you’d say you sound pathetic but you couldn’t care less, your lust overshadowing any type of pride.

“Mm, you sound so needy baby, you sound like you really need my tongue on you, huh?” His teasing drawl drives you crazy, your body won’t stop moving, absolutely radiating tensity from your want.

“Please,” you implore, sobbing out. 

“Alright baby,” his hands grab your cheeks and spreads them, widening his view of you. “Prettiest thing I ever seen, love your pussy.”

This act feels so depraved, everything on display for him, legs and cheeks spread wide, your pussy exhibited for him like it’s an art piece.

You literally scream into the bed, biting down on Joel’s comforter as his tongue finally meets your core. This, thiiiiiiis is what you’ve been wanting all night. Joel moans against you, not being able to hold himself back as he tastes you, his fevered licks exploring your cunt, his large tongue mapping every inch of you. He’s absolutely conquering you, the noises of his lips and tongue smacking against your wetness soundtracking his journey. 

He can feel you getting close your hips beginning to cant as your orgasm begins to crest. You knew it wouldn’t take long, between the alcohol buzz and Joel’s tongue lapping up your wetness and cum from earlier, you knew you’d be a goner. 

“Mmf, cum for me,” Joel speaks against you, his mouth full of you, too busy to pull away to clearly speak. You don’t think he can get any closer to you, his tongue working your orgasm up in intensity with each swirl and dash against your clit. You feel it, it’s here. Your legs instantly collapse, thankful that the rest of your body is resting on the bed. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut and then begin to rapidly blink as your orgasm shatters through you. Joel flattens his tongue against your clit as it pulses. You’re too turned on to make a noise, Joel stepping in for you and groaning as your juices seep out of you. 

“Did so good baby,” Joel says leaving one last kiss on your clit before standing up behind you. You want to flip over to look at him, you haven’t seen his face since you laid down on the bed. You have no energy, you’re just a shell of a woman, the only sensations you can feel is the pool of wetness in between your legs and your light inebriation.

Your attention gets pulled to the sound of Joel spitting in his hand, followed by a hiss coming out of his mouth. When you realize exactly what he’s doing, you summon the strength needed to turn over. You flip over, your back thudding on the mattress your legs still spread wide, feet resting on the floor. And there…. there…. THERE he is, standing in the middle of his room, one large hand wrapped around his hard cock softly stroking as he watches you with hooded eyes. You know you just came, but the sight makes your pussy clench with desire. 

Joel jerks himself off as his eyes roam your exhausted form. “Been thinking ‘bout this all day. You all laid out in front of me heaving for air after cummin’ all over my tongue,” slow strokes matching his lazing words. “Just about canceled our night out when you opened your door in that little blue dress, looked like you were wearing the sky, baby.” 

You bite your lip as all of your senses are so overtly overwhelmed by lust. The sight of Joel’s handsome face watching you, the hazel flecks in his eyes twinkling in the golden light of the lamp. The smell of the rain on your skin mixed with the heady scent of your arousal and Joel’s sheets. The taste of Joel’s whiskey tongue still in your mouth. The sound of Joel’s fist pumping along his hard cock. The feel of the aftershocks of your orgasm still quaking your body. It’s so fucking much, you need Joel inside you. The thought of feeling him stretch you causes a whimper.

“Yeah baby? Havin’ a hard time over there?” Joel stops stroking his hard length, his hand pauses on his shaft. “You want me to fuck you now?” 

“Pleeeease,” you keen out. 

“Alright sweetheart.” Joel confidently strides over to you, dick still in hand. He stops right at the edge of your feet. “Turn back around ’n get on all fours in the middle of the bed f’me.” 

You follow his instructions eager to please. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can feel Joel enter you. 

“Good girl,” he praises as the mattress dips lower with his weight behind you.

Your heart is pounding so loud, your whole body thrumming, you gulp down a breath of air trying to calm your need. You feel Joel’s cock brush against your ass cheek, he’s so close to fucking you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you real good and hard now. Happy birthday baby.”

And just like that, Joel buries his cock inside of you, you’re absolutely stretched around him. Your clit already worked over by Joel’s tongue, now your hole deliciously stinging while it flutters around his cock. He begins thrusting, tender and slow full strokes. Entering and exiting, swirling the head of his cock right at the entrance before plunging back in because he knows you love the feeling. Joel’s groans and your cries join in song as he begins to pound faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together match the rhythm. 

“Feel so fucking good, always so perfect for me. S’a good girl, always take it so good,” Joel grits out. 

He grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist as he pounds into you. “No one knows how fucking slutty you get for me behind these walls. They think you’re one of those innocent little teachers.” Joel pulls your hair harder causing a scream of ecstasy from you. “You love this, don’t you?”

You do. It’s so rough, so different from how gentle he always is with you. It feels like a luxury to be treated this way by him. 

“Y-y-y-yes, God I love it,” you whimper.

“That’s right. That’s what I like to hear. So pretty so smart. So much smarter than me, now I’m makin’ you stupid with my cock, right baby?” 

Everybody knows Joel Miller as the strong, silent type, a man of few words, somebody who doesn’t do chit chat. But with you in his bed naked and wailing as he slams into you, Joel Miller won’t shut up.

“Doin’ so good for me. So pretty, so perfect f’me. So wet for me.”   

“You made me so wet earlier, I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the barstool.” Your words coming out as tortured weeps, so lost in your ecstasy you struggle with every word spoken. 

“Fuuuuuck.” That got him good. He pounds you even harder, the bed frame shaking violently against his wall, your body and cunt acting as if it’s the only barrier between Joel knocking a hole in the plaster. “Had I fuckin’ known I would have made you stick your face on that chair and made you lick yourself up as I fuck you against it.”

That’s it, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Joel’s deep timbered accent grunting those deviant words as he grabs you and begins to roll his hips into your cunt. Your body is strung so tight and rigid in all places besides your hips and core, pumping and rolling along with Joel’s as he fucks you. You’re close again, your panting breaths letting Joel know. 

“Baby, if you gotta cum, cum,” his grip on your hips pressure into you. 

“Going … going.. going to,” the only words you can say as your third orgasm radiates out of your body, your pussy is the epicenter, tingles firing through your veins, your hands fisting the blankets at your detonation. Slack jawed and fucked senseless you rally the strength to not disintegrate and fall into Joel’s bed. Your world has been shattered by Joel, but your body survives for him, your legs and arms shaking under gravity and your weight as they deal with the fallout. 

“C’mere baby, lemme help you.” Of course he can tell you’re struggling. He reaches his hands around, clutching your stomach and pulling you up against him. Your back up against his chest, his hand seeking out your breast, the other wrapping around your torso and clutching you to him. He holds you as he fucks into you, his nose brushing against your ear as he puffs and grunts against your neck. “Fucking. Love. You. So. Much.” Each word matching a thrust into you. Your hands find his and grip them, you’ve never felt more loved and protected. Joel Miller has got you.

You feel the familiar shudder in Joel’s movements as he edges close to his climax. His labored breaths getting louder and more fevered against your neck. You’re absolutely wrecked, but the angle of Joel’s cock inside of you mixed with the feeling of the shudder in his movements as he edges himself brings forth another orgasm. Words are gone, just sounds, whatever your throat can muster up and out of your mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Joel repeats. His hands squeezing yours so tightly, his chest heaving against your back, his strong thighs straddling yours, his nose pressing into your ear. You feel his body tense as he pulls out. His release coating your pussy as his whole body surrounds you. Hot breaths huffing against the side of your face in between featherlight kisses. “Love you,” a whisper in your ear so delicate and sweet as he lets go of your hands. Your body falling forward without his support, your arms catching you before crashing down on the bed. Joel gets up with a groan as you lay yourself down on your stomach, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs out before rolling over on your side to watch Joel. He stands arms akimbo in the middle of the room. He’d look like a Greek statue if his shoulders weren’t rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous and he looks just as wrecked as you feel. 

“Probably shouldn’t have gotten up as quick as I did,” he chuckles. “Damn well feel like I’m standing in the middle of a earthquake.” You love the casual banter he puts forth seconds after being deep inside you, his cum still covering your core. This is love. 

You smile at him, your cheek resting on your hand as a makeshift pillow. You’re exhausted… the whole night and your four orgasms catching up with you. Eyes feeling heavy, matching your limbs you begin to drift off. 

A wet sensation in between your legs jerks you awake. “Sorry baby, just want to clean you up,” a whisper just as light as Joel’s tender attention as he washes you lulls you back to sleep. 

——

“Baby,” Joel’s low voice gently wakes you up along with a soft kiss to your forehead.

You groan as you stretch your sore muscles under the sheet, opening your eyes to find Joel gazing down lovingly at you. He’s backlit by the filtered morning sunlight shining in through his bedroom windows. What a way to wake up. “Happy birthday sweetheart, I’d let you sleep all day but I need to give you my present.” His face is so bright and cheerful, a boost in your confidence provided by just how happy he looks when he’s with you. 

“Thought you gave me your present already last night,” you yawn. 

“Sweet girl, that was a present for both of us. Now come on, get up.” You grab his offered hand and reluctantly get out of bed. Joel wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, his hands splayed across your back as you nuzzle your face in his warm chest. “Happy birthday.”

A/N: THANK YOU for reading my first ever fic. My inbox is always open. :)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal

[wardenparker]

For Her

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10k Warnings: Cursing, food, panic attack, references to unplanned pregnancy, past pregnancy, mentions of Sarah, general post-outbreak mood. Summary: Low on supplies and needing rest, Joel and Ellie stop in a colony he has heard about to restock on their journey west, but Joel finds far more than be bargained for within the city walls. Notes: We are so, so excited to debut our first Joel fic! We’ve been looking forward to this for ages and can’t wait to explore with the character some more!

There aren't many things that are better now than they used to be. Most comforts are gone and there hasn't been any such thing as safety in twenty years, but Lake Erie is more beautiful than ever and sunrises over the water do have a certain amount of appeal that they lacked before now. You had come here on camping trips with your family as a kid and can't remember it ever being this pretty. Not that sunrise is typically your favourite time of day, but the little bundle wrapped in blankets in your arms seems to love it, and she coos happily now at the rising pinks and oranges in the sky while she wiggles her little fist in the air. Everything is better now that she's here, and you press a kiss to her coffee-brown curls. The rest of the world may be in shambles, but you're going to keep this little bundle safe and sound.

******

Joel's eyes are wary, watchful as he looks around. The rifle in his hand lowered, but still ready to lift and fire, the safety switched off and his finger on the trigger guard. "How much we got?" He demands, peeling his eyes away from the surroundings to glance down at Ellie where she has the supplies scattered out, taking count after a bag had been lost during the last run in with a group of clickers.

"Not much." Ellie frowns at the spread, realizing that the pack they'd lost was the one with most of their food. "We have a couple of days here, at best."

"Shit." Joel hisses, tapping his hand on the guard as he thinks. Trying to decide the best course of action. "Gimme the map." He huffs after a second, holding his hand out so he can look at it.

"Here." Joel's map is marked out in codes and colors that Ellie still hasn't figured out yet, but she's been trying ever since they left Boston. She hands over the map now and starts repacking their supplies. "We just crossed the border into Pennsylvania."

"No shit we crossed the border into Pennsylvania." Joel grumbles at her, aware that the moss covered sign they had passed thirty minutes ago proudly proclaimed them to be inside the boarders of the old state. He shuffles the rifle onto his back and starts studying the map, trying to remember where she had told him there was a colony the last time he left the Boston QZ.

"Cranky." Ellie rolls her eyes as she ties up the drawstring on the bag and shoves it into her backpack.

"Shut up." He grunts, running his finger along the road that the two of them are on. Tracing it up to a small town on the edge of Lake Erie. "Lake City." He taps the map as he remembers her smile as she talked about it, making it seem like it was a haven. "I know a place." He decides, folding the map back up and holding it out to the girl. "They should have supplies."

"A lake?" That perks Ellie up, and thoughts of an actual bath in the fresh water and clean clothes are suddenly at the forefront of her mind. "Fuck it. Let's go."

She hikes her pack up higher on her back and steps past him like she's eager to get there. Making him look after her for a moment before he huffs in amusement and starts to follow. "Hey kid, wait up." He orders, not wanting her to get too far ahead of him.

"You got longer legs than me, old man." She throws the taunt behind her with a smirk, not bothering to turn around and look at Joel. "Catch up."

******

It takes nearly three days to get to Lake City. Joel had to keep the girl in a warehouse for an extra six hours when a group of clickers had come by, huddled down and silent as they wandered through. His finger on the trigger and his body in front of her to protect her if necessary. By the time the tall, cobbled together walls come into view, he can barely see twenty feet in front of his own face. It would have been better to have found a place to bunk down for the night, but the supplies were gone and the girl's stomach had been growling for hours.

The watch lights on the catwalk at the top of the walls outside Lake City aren't exactly anything fancy. There's no FEDRA presence here and therefore no Fireflies. No one waving their gun around or murmuring codes around alley corners. The community of Lake City takes care of itself - self-sufficient and self-supporting in every way they can manage from crops and farming to security and back again. There are two people on the catwalk tonight, carrying two of the only guns in the colony to make sure that no clickers come near the gates. They aren't expecting to see anything, and are chatting between themselves about some gossip or other when one of them stands straight up and points the barrel of his rifle down at the two figures approaching the gate. They don't have the movement patterns of any clickers he's seen, but no one takes chances anymore. "STOP!"

"We're alive!" Joel calls out, lifting one hand up and holding the rifle securely with the other as the two of them slowly approach the light. Squinting at the spotlight that is aimed towards them and he moves his hand to shield his eyes from most of the harsh light.

"I can see that." The voice calls out from the top of the wall. "Put down your gun and stay where you are!" The other figure on top of the wall moves out of sight, presumably to come down and inspect the new arrivals.

"I ain't dropping my gun." Joel calls back, not willing to unarm himself. "Not a chance."

"Hold it out. Finger off the trigger. Stay where you are." The voice from the wall instructs. Down below, the much smaller city door swings open, revealing a smaller figure clad in mismatched armor with a gun directed at the new arrivals. "Stand down." The smaller figure orders from behind their helmet.

Joel holds the rifle out, finger lifted into the air but his eyes are watchful, making sure that no one makes a sudden move. He doesn't trust anyone.

It's not until the figure gets closer that they stop, standing stark still in the open field in front of the gates. They don't speak and Ellie keeps herself from fidgeting. She just keeps her eyes moving between Joel and the person in armor until they nod and turn back to the wall. "Let them in!" The figure calls, without testing or checking or finding out anything.

Your eyes widen when you recognize Joel, grateful for the visor that keeps him from seeing your face and potentially recognizing you as well. Although maybe he wouldn't even remember you, you don't know. It was one night well over a year ago, when you were coming down through what used to be New England and ran into him on the road. The idea of sharing supplies and safety in numbers for one night had ended up with the two of you tearing each other’s clothes off and spending all your frustrations in passion. A night that has ended up being far more consequential for you than it ever could be for him.

Joel frowns, standing straight and immediately moving towards Ellie. The protective stance easy for anyone to see as he eyes them. It's unusual that anyone would let people into their colony without questions or testing. Even without the FEDRA influence. "Thank you." He nods towards the figure who is seemingly giving the orders. "We're just passin' through. Need supplies."

“When was the last time she ate?” Deflecting more than slightly, you nod toward the girl, wondering if she’s his. If you aren’t the first woman that had a night with him and ended up living with the consequences.

"Yesterday." Joel answers, making Ellie cut her eyes up at him.

"She can answer for herself." She blows out and looks back at the figure dressed in tactical gear. "Yesterday." She repeats without a hint of irony.

"Then we'll get you something to eat." You nod back to the gate and start walking, knowing that no one left in the world would be dumb enough not to follow. There's shelter, food, and safety on offer for them inside the colony walls. It's literally what they came here for.

Joel looks at Ellie, nodding towards the figure that is retreating. "Well?" He huffs, "better follow." He readjusts his rifle and starts out after the gear covered leader, frowning slightly as he watches their gait. Something seems familiar about it, although he doubts he will run into you here. You had told him that you were planning on going west.

"This place is weird," Ellie mutters, though she follows at the promise of food. "No test and no interrogation? Weird." Inside the gates, the third member of night watch usually doesn't do much. They're there for support, and to keep the rotation going so the people on top of the wall are always alert. Tonight, though, he looks completely appalled that you're opening the gates for new arrivals. "They need food," you tell him, keeping your helmet and visor in place so no one can see how poorly you're dealing with him appearing out of nowhere. "And someplace to sleep. They'll be gone again in no time."

"Keep your eyes open." Joel watches the person's back warily and cuts his eyes around. "Stick by my side. I don't know what's going on, but I don't trust 'em." If this place is half as lax with security as they seem, it's a wonder that it's still standing. Although it seems a lot cleaner than the FEDRA Boston QZ. Hard to see in the dark, but he imagines it's as picturesque as you had described it.

"Shiiit." On the other side of the gate, Ellie stays at Joel's elbow as they follow the guard through to another room. An empty table and a few chairs standby but not much else, and they stand apart from the furniture when you turn to nod to them. "Someone will bring you food and show you where you can sleep. And they'll lock the gates behind you when you leave tomorrow." You have no expectation that he'll stay here, and even though you had dreamt plenty of times of this man coming to find you - and all the tenderness that that might bring with it - you aren't going to say a word. Not when you have your own secret.

"That's it?" Joel shifts slightly, eyes narrowing as he glances around the room suspiciously. "You're just gonna...let us stay?" His tone is disbelieving and it should be, nothing is free in this world since the Outbreak day. "What's really goin' on here?"

Your head drops a little, and you hate him for being so cautious that he can’t just accept the proverbial gift horse he’s being given. “You want to be turned away? Kicked out for asking questions? Fine.” You point to the door. “Get out.”

Joel doesn't move, just stands there watching. Rocking his jaw for a second before he purses his lips. "Lift your visor." He demands, his gut telling him that he knows why he was just let in. "Show me your face."

You could say no. It would be easy. Two letters. One syllable. But you hesitate. “Put down the gun,” you bargain instead. At the very least you don’t want him blowing you away the second he’s confronted with his past.

Instead of putting it down, he takes his finger off the guard, simply holding it by the pistol grip and he lowers it towards the ground in a relaxed position. "As good as it's gonna get." He tells you simply.

It draws another sigh from your lips, but since the Joel you knew was as thorough a son of a bitch in every way as you had ever met, you know he won’t let it go. If you try to retreat he’ll just follow you and pull the helmet right off your head. “I’m not looking for trouble,” you tell him honestly, but pull up the visor on your helmet with two fingers anyway.

Joel's slight scowl immediately softens into a mixture of confusion and satisfaction at being right. Your name comes off his lips in a soft whisper as he takes half a step back in surprise. "You're— you were supposed to be going west." He mumbles, looking you up and down as if what you were wearing would tell him the story of the last year.

Astonished but quietly glad that he actually remembers you, you shrug your shoulders as nonchalantly as humanly possible and take your helmet clean off. No use hiding now. “Circumstances change.” Motioning to the girl beside him, you try not to look to curious or affected by it at all. If he had a wife that he was stepping out in, you don’t want to make waves. “For you, too.”

"Who, her? Joel points at Ellie and shakes his head. "No, she's cargo." He huffs, not wanting you to believe that this girl is his. "Transporting her." He doesn't want to admit it, but you look good, softer - even with the harsh tactical gear.

“Well…I’m sure you’re not aching to rehash old times.” Although now that he’s seen your face, you have to admit that you are. “I’ll go get your food.”

"Wait." Joel steps forward almost instinctively, not wanting you to leave right away. He's wondered about you since that night, no matter how he's tried to just forget about it. Wondering if you had gone west like you planned and he wonders what had kept you here.

"Well, that's interesting." Ellie huffs, making him turn around and glare at her.

"Unless you need to go." Joel adds, feeling foolish.

“I’ll see if Zach can take over on the catwalk for me.” As much as you’re trying to guard yourself, you do want to talk to him again. You’ve literally dreamt of seeing him. Of a night or day just like this when he would come walking up to the colony gates looking for you. Except he wasn’t actually looking for you. He’s just hungry and transporting some teenager. “Sit with you for a little?”

Joel nods, slightly relieved that you aren't just walking away. "Yeah." He rasps out. "That'll be good." You turn around and walk away, leaving him with a smug Ellie, smirking at him like she knows something he doesn't. "What?" He demands harshly, sending her a glare that would make other men piss themselves but she just smirks harder.

“Who’s your pretty lady friend?” Ellie snickers, enjoying the hell out of Joel’s discomfort. He doesn’t show his cards often, but she loves it when he does.

"None of your fuckin' business." He grumbles, relaxing a bit now that he knows you're here. He sets the rifle down and shuffles the back off his back, relishing the relief from the weight. "I don't ask you about your life."

“It means something,” she argues, taking his relaxation as a signal that it’s safe to plop down in one of the folding chairs at the table that takes up most of the room. “You’ve fucking slept with your finger on the trigger. Now she’s here and you’re all trusting? It’s worth asking questions about.”

"It means I've met her before." Joel counters, shucking his jacket and rolling it up to tie to his pack. He wishes he had known you were here. He would have tried - well, there was nothing he could have done if he had known. It wasn't like he was going to pick you flowers and bring them to you like a beau coming to court you. You had one unforgettable night and for all he knows, you've got someone in your life.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughs. “From old times.”

"Aren't you like 13?" He rolls his eyes and pulls out a chair to sit down, groaning slightly at how good it feels on his back. "A year is old times to you, kiddo." It's shocking sometimes how much she can remind him of Sarah. The sass is a little sharper, but the smart mouth of the teenager has made him snort several times when she wasn't paying attention.

“So you knew her a year ago?” Ellie has been quick to pick up on his dropped facts, realizing he does it when something scratches at a particular thought or memory.

Joel narrows his eyes at her in warning but she just raises her brow at him. "Last time I was outside the walls." He admits, reaching up and rubbing his jaw with his hand. "She told me about this place."

“So she’s why we’re here?” Interesting that Joel actually listened to someone long enough to even absorb what they were saying. He’s not exactly chatty.

"No." Joel shakes his head, looking around the room. "We're here for the four-star accommodations." He jokes, knowing the girl doesn't have a clue what he is talking about.

“And for dinner.” Appearing in the doorway with three bowls of soup, some bread, and glasses of clean water, you carefully balance the tray until you can get close enough to the table to set it down. Luckily you’ve been in and out of this room enough times that you know exactly how many steps it takes to get from the door to the table. Six.

Joel leans forward and takes one of the glasses of water but he doesn't touch the soup or the bread. He trusts you, but that's not why he isn't eating. Instead he moves a bowl and a large portion of the food in front of the kid and nods to her. "Eat."

Ellie doesn’t have to be told twice, applying herself to the meal that’s available to her enthusiastically in the hopes that Joel will forget she’s in the room and talk freely. Gossip is the best she can do for entertainment half the time.

“You too.” The second bowl of soup and the last of the bread is set down for Joel, and you take the third bowl off the tray for yourself before handing out spoons.

"After the kid eats her share." Joel takes a sip of his water, knowing that he won't eat a bite until she is full. He hadn't eaten yesterday so she could have more. He could do without.

“Joel.” You would roll your eyes but you know what it is to be hungry. “There’s more in the kitchen. There’s plenty. Please, eat.”

He watches you for a moment before he nods, pulling the bowl towards him and immediately starts eating with the same tenacity as the kid.

You have to wonder how long they've been out in the wilds. It's a long way from the Boston QZ and they had said yesterday was their last meal, but you aren't sure it wasn't longer ago than that. Instead of asking questions you just have your own bowl, letting the silence be filled by nothing more than the sound of eating for now.

Joel is a fast eater. Has always been one. Oftentimes swallowing down meals to beat a timed clock to get to work on time, or to have a few minutes to rest before the lunch break was over on a job site. So he's the first one that is pushing the bowl away, not completely satisfied but the hollow ache is gone for now.

"There's more," you remind him, not trying to push but wanting - for your own reasons - for him to be taken care of.

"Maybe in a few minutes." Joel nods his head towards the girl. "Don't want her to throw it all up. Waste of food."

The girl grumbles and makes a face, but doesn't say anything, and you nod for now. "So...you're headed through? On your way from Boston to wherever?" For some reason you just can't bring yourself to ask if he would stay, which is what you really want to know. Even for a single day.

Joel looks at the door and then at Ellie for a moment before he looks back at you. "Got to get the kid to the Fireflies." He tells you quietly. "Just left Pittsburg and had a little trouble there." He admits, the run in on the road making them abandon the car when it crashed into the bookstore.

"Shit." Your shoulders fall a little, finding out that he's been in danger, but you don't reach for his hand like you want to. "Do you need to lay low for a little bit? How much trouble is a little trouble?"

"It wouldn't hurt." Joel acknowledges, knowing that he had pushed the kid hard for the past week, wanting to put as much distance between them and the city. "Be even better if you had a car we could have."

"I can ask around." A few people have pieces they've been cleaning up to sell to travelers exactly like him, but you had sold yours before the baby was born to get formula powder, diapers, and the other necessities that came with raising a child. "There's...there's room at my place but..." When you exhale you shudder slightly, suddenly terrified at having to actually tell him what happened. Never having thought this day would actually come, you hadn't exactly prepared a speech. "There's something you should know first."

Joel tenses immediately, knowing that news is never good. This time he is expecting to hear that you have some man in your life. That you don't need him bringing up the past. "You don't have to worry about it." He tells you immediately. "Won't say anything about it." He doesn't want you to think that will say anything if you hadn't been free to have him touch you like he assumed.

"What?" It takes you a second, but your mind catches up to his defensiveness relatively quickly. "No, no...that's not...that's not it at all. It's actually...kind of the opposite of that." Glancing at the girl he's got with him, you swallow a solid ball of nerves and try not to grimace. "Not sure what you're okay with me saying..."

"Well if it's something to do with where we're stayin' she's gonna find out." He frowns, trying to figure out what the hell has you so flustered. "Might as well tell 'er now."

"That's fair." But it still makes you blow out a slow, anxious breath and look down at your hands in your lap instead of even trying to look him in the eye. "It's just...if either of you has an issue with being around a baby...I'll find you somewhere else to sleep."

"A baby?" Joel's eyes widen and he frowns. "You found a baby out here?"

"Not quite." Found isn't really the word you would use. "I..." Your fingernails bite into your palms, nerves making you close in on yourself. With no idea how Joel will react, you just dive in headfirst. "She's seven months old. A-and her name is Caroline."

It doesn't take long for Joel to put the pieces together. You look like you're about to shit a brick and twisting your hands together nervously. Seven months old plus the eight—nine months carrying her. Puts her conception right at the time where he had been outside the walls and met up with you for one night. Joel's chair scrapes the floor as he pushes it back abruptly and turns to stalk out of the room, needing fresh air before he passes out.

"Oh fuck," Ellie murmurs, eyes going wide as she looks between you. Whatever gossip she thought she was going to get, this is way better. "It's not like I could just call you." Immediately ready to defend yourself, you're also ready to collapse inwardly from the anger and hurt on his face. "Show up to a FERPA QZ unauthorized and they hang you, so it's not like I could go to Boston, either." Calling the baby Caroline had been your nod to the city where her father supposedly lived, and she's had Sweet Caroline sung to her as a lullaby every night of her very short life.

Your words stop him from leaving, his back turned to you and he tries to breathe but all he can see Sarah's lifeless eyes, unable to protect her. "I-I need— to go-out-outside." Joel chokes, out, stumbling for the door.

"Joel!" Turning to follow him right away, you pause only for a second to point a finger at the girl. "Stay here," you tell her firmly before going after the man who has no idea how to navigate the colony he's about to be ambling around blindly.

Joel hits the door, stumbling into the colder night air, stumbling off to the side and bends over as he tries to suck in lungfuls of air and put his head between his knees at the same time. Blind panic taking over as all he can hear is the rapid, panicked breaths of his dying daughter's last breaths, not realizing it's actually his own breathing.

"Joel." Shooting after him, you find him hyperventilating against a tree in the courtyard beyond the gate. This isn't the first time you've ever seen somebody have a panic attack - it's a regular occurrence to a certain extent - but since it's the first time you've ever had to tell a man that you gave birth to his child, you're a little shaken. "Joel, you gotta breathe, okay?" You kneel down beside him and gently put your hands on his shoulders, trying to figure out if touching him will be soothing or just spook him more. "Deep breaths. Long, steady exhales."

"I c-can't – you— you— ba-bab-baby—" Joel closes his eyes and stops breathing at one point before he starts to drop down to his knees in the dirt. Inhaling roughly and sounding like a man starved of oxygen finally getting a breath. Trying not to pass out from the rush of oxygen to his brain and he clenches his fists on his thighs.

"I don't want anything from you." What the hell could you even ask for? Child support? That's fucking laughable in the world you live in now. Dropping to your knees in the dirt next to him, one hand is one his back but you're trying to search his face for some kind of reaction beyond panic. "Caroline and I are as good as anybody can be with the way the world is, okay? You just concentrate on deep, looong breaths."

"I don't— I can't—" Joel chokes out a sob and his hand wraps around his watch. The last thing he has from his daughter. "Sarah." He manages, trying to steady his breathing.

"Sarah doesn't need to know." Finding out he does have someone waiting for him is a disappointing twist to your gut, but you can't be focusing on yourself right now.

He shakes his head, shoulders slumping down and he takes a moment before he manages to take an even steady breath. "Not—" He stops himself and reaches for your hand. "She's okay?" He asks. "You're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod and squeeze his hand, wondering what the hell is going through his mind. "Yeah, Joel. We're okay. One of my friends is watching her while I'm on night shift, but we're good. She's...she's my angel."

Joel closes his eyes and absorbs the news that once again - twenty years later - he's a father. He nods, squeezing your hand back before he opens his eyes, more in control of himself than he had been minutes before. "Okay." He rasps out.

"You don't owe us anything, and I'm not asking for anything." He hasn't taken his hand back and you're shamefully glad about it, enjoying the warmth of him again after so long. "You just...you deserve to know she's yours."

He doesn't think that you would lie about something like that. You weren't that type of person. "I— Ellie—" He twists his head around to find the girl outside and staring at him with wide eyes.

"You guys are safe here." Whoever this girl is she's more than just cargo, but you're not going to ask questions. You always got the feeling that Joel was into far more dangerous shit than you could ever stomach, and while that was part of the sex appeal it did also mean you weren't going to stick your nose in his business.

"You shoulda stayed inside." Joel manages to sound like himself when he addresses Ellie but the girl just shrugs.

"But I didn't." She counters back with a smirk. "I wanted to see you freak out over having a baby. Old fart."

"Accidents happen in the world." Shit happens, you know that, and while Caroline was unplanned you wouldn't trade her for the world. "We all process shit differently, Ellie."

"He doesn't." She mutters, some of her joy fading as Joel stumbles to his feet and turns to her.

"Take your time." Your hand on Joel's arm is solid and would be comforting if it weren't for the situation at hand. "I'll take Ellie back inside. Give you...ya know...time to absorb."

"No." Joel shakes his head, the same calm that he normally shows settling back over him. "I'm good." He looks towards Ellie and grimaces. "Can the kid get a bath?" He asks, knowing it's been a while. "Some clean clothes?"

"Yeah, of course." Anything he needs is his, you know yourself well enough to know that you'll give him anything you can without sacrificing what Caroline needs. "A bath, clean clothes, food, place to sleep, whatever. I meant it, you can stay with me as long as you need to."

The invitation to stay shouldn't be appealing, but it is. Right now, Joel just wants to see this daughter of his and get some sleep. He's exhausted and now that his stomach isn't growling, he wants to rest. "Okay."

"Go grab your packs from the room," you urge them both, glad to see Joel looking a little more like himself again. "I'll go check in with Zach and then I'll show you where you're staying."

Joel is quiet as the two of them collect their things, ignoring the obvious looks from Ellie as she tries to catch his eye so she can grill him. He can't do that right now. Meeting you back out front and Joel holds the rifle loosely in his hand. "Lead the way."

******

The small house you've been living in is one of the lakefront cottages that some rich family once upon a time must have used for vacations. It's a little thing with just enough room for you and Caroline and your friend who drops in a few times a week to look after the baby so you can relax or work your night shift for the security team. A lot of your time is spent with the other mothers in the colony anyway, giving a whole lot of proof to the phrase 'it takes a village'. "This is it." A half mile from the gates, you point out the little house that once had white paint and blue shutters, and now looks exactly like the windswept relic that it is. "Home sweet home."

It's the closest that he's seen to normal since the outbreak. His face relaxing even more, and he gives a small half smile as he looks at it. "You sure you want us in your space?"

"You have more right to it than anyone else." The shrug you offer him is a little lax, but it's the best you can do. "And Ellie here needs a good night's sleep."

"I'd fucking kill for a pillow." Ellie moans, her eyes fluttering in at the idea of it. "Hey." Joel bumps her shoulder and frowns at her.

"No, it's alright." You wave him off, not wanting him to worry about propriety when you pull the front door open. "There's a spare bedroom with a whole bed with blankets and pillows and everything for when my friend stays over." Nothing is exactly high quality, but at least it's there. The glancing look you give Joel, though, is cautious. "I can sleep on the couch so you can have a bed. It's okay."

“I’m not takin’ your bed.” Joel huffs. “I’ve slept in worse places than a couch.” He’s not going to kick you out of your bed, not when you’ve got a baby to take care of. “Keep your bed, honey.”

What you really want is to offer to share it, but you're not sure if that would be weird to say in front of the teen. "Kitchen and living room down here, bedrooms and bathroom upstairs." You lead the way into the house with your voice lowered and point down the left side of the hallway. "That's the guest room and the bathroom, Ellie. Knock yourself out. There's a towel in the cupboard after you're done and I'll find something of mine you can wear for pajamas. We'll wash your clothes at the lake tomorrow."

“I get a bed to myself?” Ellie’s eyes are wide and she’s not too interested in a bath but she knows she will feel better. “For real?”

"It's not big, but it's all yours." You nod and watch her disappear down the hall at top speed. "She's sweet. Mouth of a sailor, but sweet."

“She’s a pain in my ass.” Joel corrects you, even as he smirks listening to her squeal of delight and the heavy stomping of her feet since she knows she’s safe.

"Do you..." Motioning toward your bedroom door lamely, you can hear your friend on the other side murmuring softly. "Do you want to meet your daughter?"

Joel takes a deep breath and after a moment, he nods. Just one short tilt of his head. Exhaling slowly so he doesn’t freak out again.

When you open the door two sets of eyes find you immediately. Your friend Emma is confused, obviously, but Caroline's little face lights up and she starts babbling happily the second you appear. "Home early tonight," you explain, offering both girls a smile and reaching for the little bundle in Emma's arms. "How's mama's little angel tonight? Did she wake up wanting snuggles again?"

A baby. It’s been nearly thirty-five goddamn years since Joel has interacted with a baby. Unable to do anything but watch as a little human, a miniature version of you - thank God - coos and babbles at her mommy. Hands grabbing and an occasional squeal coming out of her tiny, yet forceful, mouth.

"She got a little fussy a half hour ago," Emma tells you. Her eyes never leave Joel, though, regardless of the fact that she's talking to you. "One a.m. like clockwork." Bundling Caroline up in your arms is easy. It's like the most natural thing in the world despite how scared you had been to bring a baby into this insanity of this world around you. "Well, I got news for you, baby girl," you coo at her and bounce her softly in for your arms. "You have somebody extra special to meet." Stepping just barely to the side, you nod to Joel and smile. "Emma, this is Joel." The introduction is simple, but that's because your friend knows exactly who Joel is to you. Why he's so important. "Caroline, baby," you press a kiss to her forehead. "You wanna meet your daddy?"

Joel can't even spare a glance for the girl once he sees the kid. Fear, joy, bone deep sorrow and relief that she looks healthy all bloom in his chest at the same time. Eyes focused on her, absorbing every minute movement as you interact with his daughter. He moves forward, barely an inch, without even realizing it. Leaning in so he can see her better. See the child that he had created with you even though he had pulled out and thought that he had been fast enough. He knows that's not foolproof, and the evidence is right in front of him.

“Do you want to hold her?” Not knowing anything about Joel’s life before the Outbreak, you have no idea if this is the first time he’s held a baby or the millionth. He might hate them for all you know. Some people do, after all.

“No.” Joel rocks back and shakes his head immediately. “I’m— I’m dirty. I shouldn’t. I’ve been outside and who knows what I’ve picked up.” The idea of infecting this innocent baby makes his heart pound. “I— no.”

“Okay.” The panic on his face is unexpected, and surprisingly disappointing, but you nod and continue to bounce Caroline gently. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…you don’t have to be her father. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s not—” Joel cuts himself off and sighs. “I’ve been traveling for weeks. And had to— the clickers….” He mumbles, looking down at his filthy hands. “I need to clean up.”

“I’m gonna go.” Emma murmurs, grabbing her sweater from the old rocking chair and eyeing the two of you awkwardly. “Come by tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You nod, reaching to squeeze her shoulder with one hand in silent thanks for everything she does to help you. “Thanks, Em.”

Joel listens as she goes down the stairs and out the door. Alone with you after over a year and there’s this baby in your arms. Taking him back to his early twenties, reminding him of when Sarah was that size. He clears his throat. “I— can I clean up?” He asks, knowing you might not have clothes for him to wear but it would be good to scrub the filth from his body.

“Y-yeah, of course.” You have your own bathroom, attached to your bedroom, and you know for a damn fact that if you hadn’t repaired this place yourself when you got to Lake City you’d be sharing it with at least one or two other families. But you put your foot down and you leaned on the pregnancy sympathy and you got it for you. Or really, for Caroline. “Through that door. I’m not sure if I have clothes you can wear, but I’ll look.”

“Thank you.” With one last look at the baby, Joel strides into the bathroom and closes the door. Amazed that there is a private space for you, that he’s got a baby he helped create. The mirror above the sink is old, the silver coating peeling but he looks into it and wonders when the hell he got so many grays in his hair.

Caroline frowns heavily when Joel disappears from her limited line of sight, and you coo at her quietly while he cleans himself up. “It’s okay, sweet Caroline,” you murmur, cradling her close. “Everything’s okay. He’ll be right back, baby girl. Don’t be sad.”

In the bathroom, Joel strips down, eager to be clean for the first time in who knows how long. The water isn’t warm but it’s fresh. Making him groan under the spray and watch as swirls of dirt and filth rush down the drain.

The sound of the shower running only lasts a few minutes, but you knock on the door when he’s done and call his name quietly. “Joel? I’ve got some things that might fit you. I’ll leave them in the bed for you while I get Caroline a snack, ok?”

“Thank you.” Joel calls out, stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist. It’s the cleanest he’s felt in a long time and the lure of clean clothes is hard to resist.

******

You’re downstairs with a happily babbling little girl thoroughly enjoying her applesauce when Joel appears in the doorway, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. He looks like an entirely new man - fresh and clean like he just washed up after work and it’s a completely normal day in a completely normal world. If not for the peeling paint and candlelight, you could almost pretend the Outbreak had never happened. That this is just life with your baby and the man who gave her to you.

"Hey, uh..." Joel frowns slightly, feeling awkward and not wanting to overstep in any way when you have been so kind to him. "I left my clothes in the bathroom. Didn't— they need to be washed." He explains, lifting a hand to run it through his squeaky-clean hair.

“I’ll take them to the lake tomorrow when I do Ellie’s.” You offer, assuming they’ve been traveling hard and will need to rest. Joel isn’t a gentle kind of guy.

"I can wash our clothes." Joel tells you. "You don't need to add more to your plate for us. You already have enough." His eyes turn back towards the baby and he is still startled by the large dark eyes watching him. Reminding him again of Sarah as a baby.

“Then we’ll go together.” That’s fine with you, it’s an excuse to spend more time with him. “This one keeps things plenty messy.” You grin and blow Caroline a kiss. “Don’t you, sweetie?”

Joel nods and licks his lips slightly as he watches the girl react to it. Waving her hands and grinning at her mother. She's getting sleepy, her eyes starting to drift closed before she wakes herself up and waves her arms around with a squeal. It makes Joel smile, just a tiny one, but he does.

“Looks like it’s bedtime.” There aren’t baby monitors or fancy cell phones to use as video equipment anymore, but you have Caroline’s bassinet set up in the corner of your bedroom and that’s all you need, putting her in her basket-turned-carrier anytime you leave the house together. “If you’re tired, we can talk tomorrow?” There hadn’t been much talking with Joel a year ago. It was fast and needy and amazing, but it certainly wasn’t romantic dinners or dates strolling through the park philosophizing about life. Wanting to know him now is just because of Caroline, you tell yourself, even though you know that’s a lie. You hadn’t ever stopped thinking about this man. “If you want, I mean.”

He wants to talk to you but he's also knows that you need to sleep and so does the baby. "Yeah." He nods, shuffling slightly. "We can talk in the morning. Go put the baby to bed and get some rest." He suggests, not hearing Ellie upstairs and he knows she's probably passed out.

“Sure.” You nod, hoisting Caroline up in your arms and picking up the hat of applesauce to put it back in the barely functioning refrigerator. “Just, um…” A smile cracks your tired face when you look at him, you just can’t help it. “It’s good to see you, Joel.”

"It's good to see you too, honey." He remembers calling you that during that one night. It wasn't like he didn't remember every single second of that night after he had left you. He isn't in love with you, that would be foolish, but you had stayed in his mind and now he's seeing you again.

“There’s blankets and extra pillows on the couch.” You want so badly to have just the casual intimacy that would allow you to kiss his cheek, but that night was a long time ago and things are different now. Or at least you tell yourself that they are, because it makes you behave yourself. “Good night.” You turn for the stairs, gently patting Caroline’s back as you go, wanting her to settle in and sleep through as much of the night as possible. You don’t know if you’ll sleep, with Joel so near, but she should be able to have wonderful dreams.

******

Joel, when he's not popped any pills, is a light sleeper. Not sure when it is, but the sun is still down, jerking awake and listening for a moment for what had pulled him out of restless dreams of Sarah when she was a baby. Then he hears it again. A small cry. Not loud enough to really upset the household but the first unhappy sounds of a baby. Grunting, Joel rolls off the couch and stands. Starting to slowly make his way up the stairs. Expecting to hear your voice as he goes, but he still just hears the kid. Until he pushes the cracked door open and sees the small light, the baby moving in her bed in a corner and Joel looks over to see you sprawled out, still asleep. Another small grunt makes his head snap back towards the cradle and he moves towards it slowly.

She looks up at him with curiosity - not scared of him or disliking the look of him, apparently - just upset that in this exact moment there is no one holding her. Whatever the reason, whether it was a bad dream or an upset stomach or general discomfort, little Caroline reaches up her arms to ask to be held as another small cry escapes her trembling lips.

He doesn't hesitate more than a second, watching her as he reaches down and picks up the small girl. Instantly flashing back to when he routinely carried around another baby. He cradles his daughter in his arms and cuddles her close. "Hey baby girl." He croons softly, not wanting to wake you up but happy that she isn't crying now that he's holding her.

It’s sometime after that, that the nightmare starts. You’re oblivious to the world while you sleep heavily in your bed, and the nightmares come out of nowhere. Memories of the Outbreak mix with Caroline’s birth, with terrifying thoughts of losing her or seeing her turned as a child or even a full grown woman. Fear of infection grows in you exactly like the fungus the whole world has grown to fear, and you wake up in a panic that has you covered in sweat. Only to see Joel sitting in the rocking chair under the window with Caroline against his chest like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong in the first place.

"You woulda liked her." His hand is firm on her back, the warmth from her little body against his skin keeps him grounded. "Or she woulda loved you. She woulda fussed and cooed over you like you were the most precious thing." He thinks Caroline likes the rumble of his voice, the vibration from his chest. "She always wanted to be a big sister."

“Wha—what?” You can hear Joel talking but can’t quite make it out. Digging your way out of the mire of nightmares is like slogging through mud. “Is everything okay?”

Joel startles slightly, not enough to disturb Caroline, but he turns his head towards you. "I didn't wake you, did I?" He asks, frowning slightly at the thought. "Didn't mean to."

"No." Wiping one hand down your face, you shift to sit up in bed and get a better look at Caroline in his arms. "No, I, um...nightmare." You shrug one shoulder lamely.

"I was tryin' to let you sleep." Joel looks back down at Caroline and then back at you. "She got a little fussy but she was good as soon as I picked her up."

"I don't normally sleep so deeply." Damn nightmares kept you from hearing Caroline, which you hate, and you scrub both palms down your face in dismay. "I'm sorry she woke you up."

"Don't worry about that." Joel can't help but lean his head over, running his nose over her soft head and down her cheek. "I was just talkin' to her. Tellin' her about things."

"What kind of things?" Instantly you wish he was sitting on the couch or in bed with you so you could cuddle up together. A domestic thought that makes you wish you were a family.

Joel rubs her back gently when she squeals and then settles back down against his shoulder, chuckling softly. “I was tellin’ her about…Sarah.”

"Who is Sarah?" He had said the name earlier, but you weren't about to interrogate him in the middle of a panic attack.

He closes his eyes and nuzzles the baby again, remembering how soft and sweet they could smell when they are clean and sleepy. “She…she was my daughter.”

You don't miss the was in the sentence, and you suck in a cautious breath. "I'm sorry." Now that you have Caroline, you can't imagine the pain of losing her. No wonder he panicked when you told him he had another.

“It was a long time ago.” Joel mutters softly, his eyes opening and finding yours, seeing the sorrow in them. “She woulda been 32, laughing her ass off at her old man finally givin’ her the sister she asked for for Christmas every year.”

Before the Outbreak. You swallow, nodding as you absorb this new information. “If she was anything like you, she’d rib you mercilessly.” What little you do know of him, Joel teases as a sign of affection.

“Endlessly.” Joel knows what it’s like being a single parent, he hasn’t forgotten. “Her mother…left us when Sarah was three months old.” He decides he owes you this, you are connected with him in a way that fundamentally changes things. “I raised her, she had a...a way that just made me marvel at how smart she was. Quick witted.” His foot pushes off the floor and rocks the chair gently. “Until….”

“You don’t have to tell me if I’m you don’t want to.” If it will hurt you. The last thing you want is to hurt him in any way. Not when…when you feel about him like you do, and when he’s given you something as incredible as Caroline.

The baby squirms, capturing his attention for a moment and he rubs her back soothingly. “It’s okay. She— the day it happened – ‘Outbreak Day’ – it was my birthday.”

“Shit.” Shifting forward in your bed, you instinctively reach out to touch his knee. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know how it was.” Joel grunts. “Chaos. A plans crashed and the truck we were in flipped.” He can see it, plain as day. “Her ankle was hurt so I carried her and the Army— they—” He closes his eyes and squeezes them tight. “They shot us.”

“Assumed infected.” You sigh, looking down at your hand on his knee before realizing it’s probably an overstep and recoiling. “The Army took at least one person from all of us. People who could have survived. Who were fine.”

“They killed a twelve-year-old girl.” Joel hisses. “My baby girl.”

“And they killed my seventeen-year-old sister.” He’s not the only one who lost someone, but it’s obvious that his loss is still as fresh as the day Sarah was shot. “I-I’m sorry, Joel. I am.”

“I’m sorry about your loss.” He rumbles out softly. “We’ve all lost people.”

“We have.” You can agree to that without hesitation. “But…we also gained someone. Tiny and fussy and she’s got the best laugh in the whole world. I’m just…I’m glad you got to meet her.”

“I’m sorry.” Joel shakes his head, even as he cuddles her closer. “I didn’t mean to – I shoulda pulled out sooner, I guess.” He knows that he could have gotten you pregnant from precum but he still feels guilty.

“I appreciate that, but…now that’s she’s here? I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” The times of being angry with him for what happened are far behind you at this point. You knew the risk you were taking having unprotected sex - you had just wanted Joel too desperately to care.

“I never expected to see you again.” He admits quietly. “Thought you would be out west somewhere. Thought about it some.”

“You thought about me?” You probably sound more surprised than you should, considering how often you think about him, but you had assumed he would have forgotten about you fairly quickly. He had nothing like your reason to remember.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Joel frowns slightly and tilts his head at you. “Thought we had a good night. Conversation…what happened after.” He smirks slightly.

“I thought we had a fantastic night.” And you hadn’t wanted to let yourself be overly sentimental in dreaming that he might still think about you sometimes. “I just didn’t know what you were going back to, so I kind of…didn’t want to let myself get sentimental, ya know?”

Joel snorts and shakes his head. “Some things you just don’t do.” He murmurs. “End of the world or not.” He and Tess hadn’t been exclusive, hell – she hadn’t even really been in his bed for a month before he had met you. Not that it matters now.

"Doesn't mean you couldn't have met somebody else since." There had been a million different ways that you had talked yourself out of getting maudlin over his memory or overly attached to fantasies of him, and you shrug a little while you watch him rock your now sleeping baby. "It was easier not to let myself dream about you."

“Naw… nothing—” He clears his throat. “Nothing that actually matters now.”

"I'm not expecting you to drop everything because of her." That's not something you would have asked of him even in the time before, and you're certainly not going to ask it of him now. The world has changed, even if people are fundamentally the same. "But we won't say no to visits now and then if you're still traveling."

He’s quiet for a minute, stewing as he contemplates what to do. “I’ve got to go.” He admits after a long moment. “Get the girl to the Fireflies.”

"Yeah, you said." It hurts more than you want to admit, because you want him to drop everything and stay with you. To be with you and Caroline. It's such a juvenile fantasy in some ways, but the way you've felt about Joel for the last almost year and a half is undeniable. "But like I said...if you ever came back this way...we would be glad to see you."

He can hear it in your voice, twisting his head so that he can look at you. “She’s important.” He tells you quietly, hoping that he can trust you. “Special.” He adds meaningfully.

“She seems like a good kid.” A little foul-mouthed maybe, but you had been too, at her age. And that was without the world collapsed around you. “I just want you to know you’re welcome here, that’s all. Caroline is…she’s your blood. And if you want to know her, you should be able to.”

He should be grateful that you are telling him that. That he can live his life and not worry about the baby he’s fathered. But it irritates him. “You aren’t goin’ west anymore? You could.”

“I can’t protect her on my own.” It’s something that you struggled with. The change to your plans to go west and find what remained of your family had been abandoned when you figured out that your sickness was pregnancy and not any of the thousand other things it could be. “I stayed and worked on the house so she could be safe. I have no business going west anymore.” As much as it hurts you, you really can’t. Caroline instantly became and will always be your first priority. “Not until she’s older, anyway. A lot older. And by then who knows what will have happened.”

“I’ve got to get to Jackson. My brother Tommy, he’s missing’ and that’s where he was last.” Joel shuffles Caroline so that she’s cradled in the curve of his arm.

“Wyoming?” He said west, not south, so it’s an informed guess. And an ironic coincidence, if it’s true. “I…I used to have people out there. I don’t know if they’re still there or still alive, but they were in Jackson last I heard.”

Joel nods, confirming he meant Wyoming. The idea of traveling with a baby isn’t a pleasant one. It makes things hundreds of times more complicated, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to leave the two of you, wondering what would happen to you.

“Could I send a letter with you, maybe?” Just being able to tell your surviving family that you’re okay - safe and with a baby - would be such a relief. “If you don’t run into them or can’t find them, that’s fine. But just in case?”

Joel is quiet for a long minute, mulling over everything. “If we had a car, we could go. All of us.” Joel murmurs quietly, unsure of your willingness to travel with Caroline.

“You want us to go with you?” It honestly wasn’t something you had expected. If anything, you would have been ecstatic to have him come back to you when everything was over.

“Only if you think you can handle it.” Joel tells you quickly. “It’s not going to be stroll. It’ll be dangerous. And the baby will need to be protected.”

“I’ve been out there before,” you remind him. It’s how you met, after all. Or at least it’s where you met. Out in the wilds. “It’s how I know I can’t do it alone. But two of us? That’s…that’s different.”

Joel looks at you, “how much can we get?” He asks, wanting to know about supplies. A car, horses, whatever could be had here.

“A lot of people want this house.” A safe place to live is invaluable, and this one has the benefit of the small garden Emma helped you start. “I’ve got good food stores and medical supplies. Clothes, soap, a knife and an axe.” You had built up this house to be where you raised your daughter, so you had stocked up supplies, too. “We could trade the house for a car and whatever else we need.”

“If you’re wantin’ to stay here, I won’t blame you.” Joel strokes the baby’s face gently and smiles when she reaches up and grabs his finger while she sleeps. “It’s a nice life you have here and it – it’ll be hard out there.”

“This is as good a life as we can hope for anymore.” That’s true, and it makes a part of you ache that you actually aren’t very happy here. You have everything you need, Caroline is safe, and there’s less violence than in a lot of other places - but you feel isolated regardless. Even the friends you’ve made feel like placeholders compared to your family. “But I really don’t know.” Is it worth giving up security for happiness? How will you know which will make Caroline happier?

“If you want to go, I’ll get you there.” Joel promises you, serious about that. He will do anything to protect you and the baby. Ellie too. “I promise.”

“I miss my family.” It comes out small, more ashamed than you’d like, as you watch Joel cradle your daughter in his arm. “I think I’d give anything to have my family back. Anything but Caroline.”

“Nothing wrong with missing family, baby.” Joel hums quietly, thinking about Tommy….and Sarah. “Sometime the only reason to go on if for people we care about.”

“Do you keep going for Tommy?” It’s an intensely personal question, but the connection you share with him now just as intensely personal as you could have with another person.

“I did.” Joel admits, his brother the most important person in the world to him until recently. Or tonight.

“Did?” You ask, your eyebrows knitting together, wondering why he’s talking like his brother is dead when he just said he was going to find him.

“Did.” Joel murmurs softly, leaning down and pressing his lips to Caroline’s forehead. “Now I’ll keep going for her.” He tells you, looking up when he pulls away from his daughter.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger​

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #The Last of Us #TLoU #doing our best to be canon compliant

[heartshapedbabydolls]

My sad old man❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #hbo #dilfism #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo

[psychedelic-ink]

hornee joel request: soft to feral!joel. he's is an acts of service man who sometimes tries to start with softer touches in the dark, but as he gets more worked up those touches become rougher, more desperate. to the point he's got you bent in half, hands on the back of your knees, not even bothering to get fully undressed. gruff, whiskey-scented praise in your ear ("you like that, girlie? that feel good?"). also I heartily agree with pussydrunk!joel anon lol

alright, so when I first read this when you said "to the point he's got you bent in half" my brain immediately jumped to him bending reader over a surface of some kind and only understood what you meant after reading it again but I've already started writing it, sorry for misunderstanding your request! my bad but I hope you enjoy it still <333

𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 1.2k

summary: It starts with soft touches hidden by the dark. In a world where finding one bed is considered lucky, it means that you and Joel frequently share one. He offers to sleep on the floor, or a tattered couch every time and every time your answer is the same. No. 

warnings: rough sex, piv, joel being joel, angry sex, you-almost-died sex, feral!joel

It starts with soft touches hidden by the dark. 

In a world where finding one bed is considered lucky, it means that you and Joel frequently share one. He offers to sleep on the floor, or a tattered couch every time and every time your answer is the same. No. 

Then it starts. His large hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, his confined cock hot and aching under his jeans. It’s only that at first. Grinding, accompanied by heavy breathing. His scarred hands sneak under your shirt, he grips your breasts, flicking your pebbled nipples with the tips of his fingers. When Joel comes he makes a choked-out sound, swallowing his groans either by biting into your shoulder or breathing heavily through his nose. 

It’s just that. 

Until it’s not. 

You expect to die when a clicker tackles you to the hard ground. It makes a jarring move to bite you and you manage to swerve away from it. But you know you can’t hold on for long. This is it. The end. 

A gunshot echoes, then another one, and then another, until the clicker’s lifeless body falls limp on top of you. Joel shoves it away with a kick, lifts—no—he yanks you up from the ground. So hard that your shoulder ached from the sheer force of it. He’s angry, livid even. 

He doesn’t look at you for the rest of the evening. Barely glances at you when you give him his portion of expired Chef Bouyardee. He just scowls, the crease between his brows deep. 

Frustrated, you drop your plate and head further inside the deserted house. Heading into the first room, you notice it probably used to be a study room. Dust covers every surface and you step forward, touching the wooden table. It must’ve looked beautiful before the outbreak. Your fingers leave a trail of shiny wood in its wake. 

You pull away and shake your head, frustrated. 

Joel finds you. Crossing the room with large steps, he grips your waist. He pulls you flush against him, lips finding the skin between your shoulders and neck. You let out a sigh. 

“You’re not mad anymore?” 

“I told you to fuckin’ stay put,” he grunts, pushing you towards the table. “I’m fuckin’ furious.” 

You smell alcohol on his breath. He must’ve taken a couple of swigs before he came to find you, instead of eating. 

You can feel the dust from the table on your skin as he bends you over it. His large hands grip your hips, pushing you down further against the wood. Joel tugs down your pants until the pair hangs loosely over your knees. Kicking your legs further apart, he slides your underwear to the side and enters you in one swift thrust. You gasp, arching your back in response. Pain blossoms between your legs and your head spins. Hints of pleasure prickle at your skin, forcing a choked-out moan from your lips. He moves with an intensity that makes your body quiver, pushing you further and further against the table. 

"You like that, girlie?" he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Does that feel good?"

You shudder at how deep his voice had gone. You nod frantically, moans ripping from your throat. He pulls out enough so it’s only the head of his cock stretching you, and with one sharp thrust, he sinks into your heat. You jerk forward, nails clawing at the table. 

“That’s it, take all of it,” he grinds into you, cock dragging against the soft spot that makes you see stars. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? For me to fuck you hard that you forget how shit the world is.” Joel makes a point of emphasizing every word with the slam of his hips. “Sweet thing, you are. Sweet, but fuckin’ reckless.” 

You can feel the splinters of the wood against your skin, but you don't care. Your nerves are on fire —you only feel him and nothing else. The sound of smacking flesh fills the room, his teeth deep in your shoulder as he wraps a hand around your throat. Joel pulls you until your back is flush against him, you hear his belt scraping against the floor with every hard thrust. Your lips part with a gasp. Your lungs expanding with the feel of his hand under your shirt. 

Suddenly his hips still. You’re surprised at how fast tears flood your eyes, blurring your already hazy vision. You whimper, and his cock twitches at the sound. 

“You gonna listen to me from now on?” he asks. “Are you gonna behave?” 

“Yes,” you whimper, sniffling. “I will just…move, please.” 

You lose your grounding, the room around you turning upside down. You find yourself sitting on the desk, your knees being pushed up until they touch your head. Your spine aches, however, the feeling is quickly forgotten when he pushes himself back inside. He feels bigger somehow, thicker.

Joel doesn’t say another word after that. He jackhammers his hips into yours like you’re a toy for him to use. Your breathing grows heavier, every nerve in your body coming alive. Between half-lidded eyes, you notice him looking down, watching his cock disappearing into your dripping cunt.

You’re shaking when his thumb starts circling your clit, heat swirls in your stomach, your muscles tense. Your body tingles with your nearing orgasm. It’s a steady push until Joel decides to part your folds as he fucks himself impossibly deeper. 

Tiny black dots dance across your vision and you cry out. Suddenly everything feels a hundred times more intense, your aching sex a ball of flame. Your fingers seek him out, a need to touch, to feel his heat against your skin. But you can barely reach his thighs with the way the two of you are positioned, the tips of your fingers desperately trying to take a hold of the tense muscle. 

You let out a shaking breath as your orgasm hits you like a truck. It doesn’t come in small, building waves. It’s violent and vivid, the pleasure needling into your skin. Joel finally grants you your wish and releases your legs, as they fall and frame his broad waist, you weakly wrap your arms around him. Only after the fact do you realize he leaned in for your embrace. Craving it as much as you do. 

He keeps still until your tremors have subsided, his lips etched into your neck, kissing and nipping the soft flesh. He’s still hard, cock throbbing deep inside of you. 

“You good?” he breathes out. 

“Yeah.” 

“A’right.” 

You don’t expect him to pull out, hence you’re not ready to be left empty. But the sight he provides you is worth it, he grips his cock, his fist moving in solid, fast, strokes over your stomach. 

He grunts as he comes, spurting his hot cum over your stomach in thick, white streams. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of him. His body shudders, his grip on his cock tight as he continues to stroke himself. His eyes are closed with the intention to hide his bliss, his lips parted. You hear the groans he tries to bite back, and arousal sets your body aflame once more. 

He finally finishes, and his hand falls to his side, his breathing heavy and deep. Both of you too frightened to say a word. 

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[thot-of-khonshu]

Friendship Defined (Joel Miller x f! reader)

Summary: You and Joel have been friends with benefits for months. The blurred lines have you questioning what exactly makes a friend just a friend?

Warnings: 18+. MDNI. Mentions of sex (oral, p in v), mention of periods, fwb! Joel, non outbreak AU, implied age gap, fluff

Word Count:~800

Author’s Note: Thank you to the lovely @swiftiscruff ( @swiftispunk & @joelscruff ) for coming up with this idea.

This one shot is dedicated to all of you.

I’ve been in this fandom for a few years now and as much as I’ve wanted to I still have trouble putting myself out there to make friends in the fandom. I usually just put out my stories and go about my day.

Well I want that to change!

This was such a beautiful idea and such a great reminder of how wonderful fandom can be. To be able to connect with so many talented people is such a gift and I want to try to get to know you guys more. This is my official post to put myself out there - so if anyone wants to come into my asks or DMs or message me on Discord please do!! I wanna be your friend lol!!

To celebrate this momentous weekend of friendship and fandom, I’ve created a Joel one shot all about friendship. With benefits lol. Enjoy!!

Joel would always introduce you as his friend. 

Friend being a blanket term but it did seem to fit into your large, intricate clusterfuck of whatever you were. 

Sure, in the literal sense you were friends. Ever since you met Joel through his little brother Tommy, a group of you would go out every Friday to the same bar for a beer and darts. 

Then when Tommy met Maria and everyone else in your group started to couple up, you had more time to spend together. 

It started off with friendly dart competitions that lasted a bit too long. Shots that would start to last until closing time. A shared Uber to one house because “it’ll save money”. 

Cut to Joel eating you out on your kitchen counter. And getting fucked in the shower that next morning. And then suddenly several times a week you’re trying to plan strategic ways on how to exit at different times so it didn’t seem suspicious. It didn’t matter, though. Tommy knew and would take the moment Joel left to fuck with him about it.

So if everyone else knew, why didn’t either of you know what this was? You didn’t want to bring it up because the idea of him getting freaked out and ending things made your chest tight.

You were so in your head about this arrangement that one night after leaving Joel’s house after watching and the Fast and the Furious and then having the ride of your life on his dick afterwards, you came home and immediately opened your laptop to do some soul and site searching. 

Is this still technically a friendship at least according to Merriam-Webster terms? 

friendship

noun. friend· ship ˈfren(d)-ˌship 

1: the state of being friends

….Google search number two: 

friend

noun. ˈfrend 

plural friends

1: one attached to another by affection or esteem

There are several other definitions for the word friend. 

2: One who is not hostile. 

Joel was never hostile with you. He was adorably patient when you took too long to decide what you wanted when you went out to dinner. He never hesitated to say sure when you wanted to try what was on his plate. 

The hardest he’s ever pressed onto you was when your ex boyfriend showed up at the bar one night. Once he made a beeline to talk to you, Joel’s massive hand snaked around your waist to pull you into him so he could know any talk with you tonight was off limits. You were off limits. 

The idea of Joel being so possessive made you so wet that you blew him in the alley that night. 

3:  one that favors or promotes something (such as a charity)

It takes you back to one of the first times you had slept with him. You were sprawled across his bed as he peeled your leggings from your body. You spread open for him as he pushed your thong aside to fit his thick finger into your hole. 

He curved his finger into you and came closer, feeling his breath on your clit.

Instinctively you blurted out, “You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

Joel looked up at you with a serious expression.

“None of my other exes really liked to do this.”

Without hesitation, Joel settled between your thighs again.

“Well then I guess I'm going to be your new favorite.” And with that, he slid his finger back inside you, this time with more intent. You let out a moan as he teased your clit with his finger, reminding you of why he was indeed your favorite.

4: a favored companion

You think about the late nights picking up french fries at McDonalds when you convince Joel out of the house past his bedtime on Saturday nights. You remember the nights you had your period and he still wanted you to come over so he could cook you dinner; your cramps dulling as he soothed you on the couch. 

You think of how nice it is to just be with him. Laying naked and vulnerable, hearing things he hasn’t even told Tommy. 

You go back to Google. 

“What is the definition of a romantic relationship?” you type, the clacking of your keys sounding louder than ever. 

Before you can press enter, your phone rings loudly and startles you. It’s Joel. You pick up. 

“Hey. Just checkin’ in.” He says. “You left kinda quick so I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Yeah.” You feel your heart swell inside your chest. You can’t stop grinning. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

“Oh…” You can see the crease form in his forehead when saying that. “You didn’t have to go or nothin’, I just didn’t know if you were sick.” 

“You’re my best friend.” You tell him, unaffected at how random that must seem for Joel to hear. “You know that, right?” 

But instead of being suspicious, Joel's voice softens. You’ve only heard this voice in passing, with Sarah on the other end.

“Yeah, I know. You’re my best friend too.”

You didn't realize how much that simple affirmation meant to you until you heard it.

There was a pause on the other end, a moment of shared unspoken understanding, a thick air of tension and want, and then you both spoke at once.

"Would you like to come back over?"

"Hey, I was just about to ask if I could come back over," you blurted out, suddenly feeling a little bold. “Maybe spend the night?”

The two of you laughed together; you closed your eyes and envisioned the crinkle in his eyes. His soft brown eyes are on you as he shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell are you still doing at home?

“I wouldn’t want anything more.”

That’s what friends are for, right?

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