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[katykatyykaty]

WHY 🥵 DOESNT 🥵 THIS 🥵 HAPPEN 🥵 TO 🥵ME

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[be-loved-moon]

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal photoshoot #pedro pascal hot

[harryleatherfit]

Upper East Side || AU || Frankie Morales

Chapter 3: Guest Star

word count: 2770

warnings: abuse of weed, mom trauma, bridgerton… relationships

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List🪩

—-

On a day where Laylah had her afternoon classes, you decided to walk around the New York streets alone, going into different stores and exploring. It was good for you, being able to find yourself in little slivers in this terrifying city. Raleigh could never compare to Time Square itself.

The thought of being able to reinvent yourself gave you chills. Back at home that would’ve scared the shit out of you, but this idea now makes you want even more.

Headphones in and listening to House Song by Searows, you find this cute bakery called Matildas, a croissant sounded fucking spectacular. You walk and look around, inspecting the ambiance. All the artwork and lighting finds little crevices in your heart.

An older lady comes up to the register, “How can I help you today sweetie?”

“Could I have a butter croissant and an espresso?” You ask.

“6.95, sweetheart.” She says.

You hand her the money star eyed.

“Like what you see? We just fixed it last month, we’ve gotten so much more business with this aura, younger folks like you tend to be drawn here.” She smiles.

“Yeah this place, it’s spectacular, it's like outer space. I can’t quite describe it but it’s just safe. Away from the bustling city, a hole within a hole.” You study.

“Exactly right! No one’s ever said that before, but that’s just how I feel.”

You turn to her and grab your food. “My name’s Matilda.” She says. You tell her your name and shake hands.

You take a bite of the croissant and your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

“Well Matilda, this is about the best buttered croissant I’ve ever had, so thank you for making my day brighter.”

“Honey, would you like to work here? I say that because you have something about you, and my gut is always right.” She says.

You think about it, it's not far from your dorm, the pay wouldn’t matter. You could always get another job or sell fucking feet pics to survive here. Matilda seems to be a higher power sent to you.

“I would absolutely love to!”

------

“Laylah you wouldn’t believe it, like she just gave me the job and I gave her my number when I’m available and she immediately set everything up, I couldn't believe it!.”

Matilda said she would start you off with 20$ an hour, as shocked as you were, that money was definitely needed to stay at this school.

“Damn mama, look at you go, sugar me up sometime soon?” She asks.

“You fucking wish.” You laugh. “Wanna come on a run with me? I wanted to see if I could go all the way to the bridge and back, watch the sunset and possibly get dollar pizza.”

“Fuck yeah and we could smoke.”

“Tonight I’m good. I kinda want to go with a clear mind, smoking’s made me a little more anxious about everything. You can though, I seriously don’t mind” You reply.

“Oh baby, baby. Trust, I understand. We go with clear minds, I completely understand. No pressure, but when you do want to smoke, I’m always here too.”

This is what you loved about Laylah, she always respected what you wanted to do and vice versa. Smoking was something you loved, but you only did it on days that you could truly decompress without any worries. It was a reward for working so hard.

In high school you smoked so much, you were only sober for homework and when you fought with your mom. Smoking then saved you from reality. You’d go to class high, you go to work high, you’d take as many blinkers as you could before sleep. Just to numb the pain and sadness.

But your reality now was to be sober. It felt good. You were healing from that part of your life and you couldn't feel more refreshed.

A day you said no to weed, was the day the earth met the moon.

You both stay with each other and run to the bridge, listening to your music together watching the sunset, maybe this life wasn’t meant to be bad after all.

--------------------

You walk into your first morning class and you see Ms. Roylance with 2 people huddled at her desk.

You recognize that hair from anywhere. It’s fucking Timothee Chalamet.

Everyone walking in is awe struck, but you all were remotely instructed to not oggle him and take a seat until class was to start. You were instructed to compose yourselfs, but you didn't expect the person Ms. Roylance was to bring in Timothee Chalamet.

Guest teachers were to happen a lot with this kind of school, and it makes sense that he’s here since he went here just some years ago.

Then the other person was… fucking Mr Morales? Didn’t he have classes?

You saw Nina in the back prettying herself up and taking pictures of TImothee, you felt embarrassed for her.

This was not the time to fuck with your head, your stomach was in shambles.

“Class class, I know this is very exciting but today I have invited Mr Chalamet to sit in on some scene work, he was once a beloved student of mine and he asked himself to come in. We have Mr. Morales is here today because we are discussing the Macbeth set. As of now I will post the audition material, slots for you to sign up, and today will serve as your workshop.” Ms Roylance explains.

He was wearing a mouth watering cardigan. How could a man so scary look so damn good in any article of clothing.

What would he look like without any clothing?

Back to class, get yourself together.

“So today we have some scenes printed out, different monologues and you will perform for us and we’ll critique. Timothee, anything to add?”

He laughs, that usual Timothee nervous laugh, “ Hey everyone, don’t be stressed at all. Pretend I’m not here. Act like we’ve been friends for years, pretend you hate me, I’m serious. I’m proud of you all for putting in the work and putting yourselves out there. We’re all proud of you.” He points at himself, Ms. Roylance and Mr. Morales.

Uh Fish, yeah not so much.

They move to the back of the room and it's you and your classmates in the middle staring at the front, preparing yourself.

“Ok we have this love scene from a new netflix show that hasn’t been released yet, it’s a loving scene at the end of the season where the pair realizes they are in utter love with each other, but watch out this ones a tear jerker! We’ll run this one a couple times just to see different versions. Any hands?”

You and Nina immediately shoot your hands up, along with some of the men, Ms Roylance pairs Nina and this kid Josh to go first, she hands them the script to go over it. Then she pairs you with Mattias.

He seemed sweet, he was in a few of your other classes so you felt like you could go over this scene pretty well.

Ms Roylance hands you the sheets, and it’s pretty long. Nina and Josh will go first and then you and Mattias. Good, being first would screw you over.

You and Mattias read over the script, being a scene for King George and Queen Charlotte, you both were intrigued. You guys also fangirled with Timothee being there, but serious enough to fully understand what this scene was asking for you guys.

There was a kiss at the end, you both being comfortable with that. This was the reality of acting. He had to make himself look disheveled, but from there you were prepared.

It was time for Nina to go and they started. Feeling the piercing brown eyes back you look down not to think of anything in the room that is happening. Mattias grabs your hand in a friendly way to encourage you.

When Nina and Josh finished you didn’t even realize, you took the whole time calming your heart and focusing on the present.

“Now Mattias’s group!” Ms. Roylance says. The whole room was looking at you both.

You had to block Mr. Morales out more than Timothee.

You heard whispers from the back and that gave you your kick to look down and immediately whip up to Mattias. You are Queen Charlotte now.

George: Charlotte, you’re not listening to me

You falter in step and seriously look him in the eye.

Charlotte: I am. I have heard that you wish I had not come. That you want me to go. That you do not want to see me. I have been suffering and alone and believing I am a failure as a wife and as your queen because you stay from me as though I am a disease. And then today, it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps there is another reason. A better reason. Perhaps you stay away from me because you care for me. Perhaps you stay away from me because you love me.

You slow your speaking pace, putting tension within your words to get Mattias’s attention. Love is serious, it ferociously hurts people, he looks sick in his heart.

George: I’m trying to protect you. I.. I cannot. We cannot… This conversation is.. I can’t do this. I never wanted to marry.

Mattias puts his hands to his chest. And stands up walking away from you, you’re searching for his eyes. Eye contact is what will kill your heart.

Charlotte: Do you love me?

George: Please, stop!

But you can’t stop, you must continue.

Charlotte: Is it because you do not believe that I could love you? I do. I love you, George. I love you so much that I will do as you wish. If you do not love me, say you do not love me and I will go. I will go back to Buckingham House. And we can live our separate lives, and I will have this baby alone, and I will make do and fill my days and survive. All on my own. I will do that. But first, you have to say that you do not love me. You have to tell me that I am utterly alone in this world.

You’re a mother, a wife, a lover, but most of all in this situation, you become home and a protector, a healer for a man that has never been taken care of. You start to tear up, as does Mattias. The emotions and words of Charlotte getting the best of you.

He stands up and gets closer to you.

Goerge: I am a madman. I am a danger. In my mind, there are different worlds creeping in. The heavens and Earth collide. I do not know where I am.

You prepare yourself for everything. You come back to reality and forget that the person you crave is watching you act? Was this how you felt about him?

Charlotte: Do you love me?

George: You do not wish a life with me for yourself. No one wishes that.

Mattias has outdone himself with this, he has made himself look helpless and broken, he looks like he is not accepting what he truly needs.

Charlotte: George!

You yell it out loud, the buzzing in the room stops, it's deafening.

Charlotte: I will stand with you between the heavens and the Earth. I will tell you where you are. Do you love me?

You feel tears trickling down.

George: I love you! From the mo.. From the moment I saw you trying to go over the wall.. I have loved you desperately. Face crumbling into emotion.

He gets closer to you, making the air feel unbreathable in the room. You’re standing there searching for the soul in Mattias’s eyes.

George: I cannot breathe when you are not near. I love you, Charlotte. My heart calls your name.

And finally Mattias kisses you. It was a good kiss, but there was so much tension, you relaxed in his hold and felt your character.

“And scene.” You say.

The whole room cheers. You’ve never felt more accomplished with your life, more than Cabaret. You search for Mr. Morales and you can’t believe he’s even cheering for you.

You immediately clear your tears up and congratulate Mattias, almost cheering that Nina looks pissed off.

The class comes to an end and as you grab your things to leave, Ms Roylance calls you over.

“Hey, that was amazing work today with Mattias, Timothee wanted to ask you about it.”

Mr. Morales was so close to you, you got goosebumps. You could imagine his arms wrapping around you, holding you so closely your hearts could feel each other.

But he never felt so far from you. He didn’t smile when you got back to them, he frowned and his eyes stayed the same, nothing furrowed in his look- he just manages to observe you. This cycle drives you crazy.

You immediately feel tired, giving all your work into that scene but you have to give Timothee your full attention.

“Mr Morales and I have to leave but you guys are free to stay here and chat.”

“Frankie it was nice seeing you man, we have to go see that show this weekend.” Timothee calls to Mr. Morales.

Frankie Morales rolls off the tongue so well.

“Kid you have to come here more there's so much to see, the boys and I want you over for drinks, just text me.” He responds.

“I’ll bet you on that old man!”

They walk out and you smile at the world star celebrity, “So Timothee Hal Chalamet, what would you like to ask?”

“Not the middle name!” He groans. “That’s just foul,”

“Not as foul as seeing your favorite actor in your AM class when you just woke up!”

“Touche.” He says back.

“I’ve seen all your movies, you’re honestly kinda why I’m even here in the first place, seeing you act made me believe I could too. The way you make people feel through the screen is what I want to do.” You mumble.

“That’s my honor.” He smiles. He gets to the point.“So what made you cry?”

You think about it for a second, was it in the moment or because you forced yourself, or because you were about to shit your pants?

“What made me cry was realizing how much Charlotte loves George no matter what, that unconditional love is so rare these days that reading the text made my brain scream. Many people will cheat on you or leave you for little things, and personally I couldn’t deal with that. Me myself, I’m pretty fucked up and if someone told me they would stand with me no matter where I was in life, I would probably raise hell and cry a lot.”

“Because you’ve never felt that before?” He asks.

“Yes because I’ve never felt that.” You look into his eyes, “Feeling for George and Charlotte in this scene ultimately made me fully consume the characters.” You finish.

“Wow, that breakdown is what a true actor does. Well done. Frankie hyped you up so much that I had to come see you.”

“What?” You ask.

“He didn’t tell you? He called me today since I was free and in the city, and he was talking about this brilliant new girl that has ‘taken the department by its feet’. I’ve in my 25 years of life heard a man talk that long about someone.” He goes on.

Frankie, Mr. Morales, was thinking about you? And to Timothee Chalamet?

“Wait, you do know that he talks about you, right?”

“Timothee, we’ve barely spoken 10 words to each other.” You respond.

“Oh shit shit, maybe I fucked up, um don’t tell him I said anything to save both our asses. But yeah he kinda just went on and on and I knew that he had some spectacular. When you were in the scene he was telling me about how serious you are with acting so I’m happy I got to see it.”

How does he know how serious you are?

“I have to run, but this was not time wasted, if you need help with anything as Frankie, or shit Mr. Morales and he can give me a holler. I need to see you in this industry soon.”

“Thank you, seriously Timothee, this means the world.” You praise him.

He leaves and you’re left in your acting class alone, with every worry in the world.

—-

previous || next

authors note- you guys don’t understand how bad I want to jump into their relationship but… you know. this is kinda a filler, but trust i want to develop this backstory really good. and of course i had to make their scene work in class be the george and charlotte scene…. that made me cry my brain out🙈🙈 don’t even @ me for putting timothée. i kinda just wrote this for myself but it’s okay don’t worry. the smut is brewing!

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[jempathetic]

I feel like this is everyone in the world rn

This is also not Steve Harrington or anyone, that's me

Gotta be real I keep maladaptive daydreaming about him and it's not good for me fr.

#Pedro pascal #pedro pascal is daddy #pedro pascal is hot #pedro pascal art #pedro pascal simp #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanart #Pedro pascal meme #twitter memes #Memes #pedro pascal hot #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal memes #Pedro pascal my king #Art #meme art #art meme #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #The mandalorian

[miguelo-hara]

He’s a very cooperative and fulfilling scene partner, acting partner, you know. It’s pretty crazy.

—  requested by anonymous

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #star wars #hot ones #swedit #pedrohub #mytmedit #myswedit #myppedit #myedit #interview #userclo #tusercora #userelio #useremi #userjoanne #usernik #tusernicky #tuserpolly #they both did great 😌

[a7estrellas]

PEDRO PASCAL First We Feast: Hot Ones

#pedro pascal #hot ones #interview #pedropascaledit #ppascaledit #dilfsource #flawlessgentlemen #agh that look #he is doing it on purpose

[pedrohub]

PEDRO PASCAL on Hot Ones.

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[vivwritescrappythings]

Saying Thanks

Joel Miller x afab!fem!reader

Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

tw: smut, fem reader, afab reader, unspecified age gap, reader is smaller than Joel (shorter, can be picked up by him), oral (m! receiving), p in v sex, crying, fighting, blood, drinking, Joel may be out of character but I don’t care, not proofread.

Word count: 8.1k

minors, fuck off

masterlist

—

Joel was seething. You’d never seen him like this, rage burning in his gaze and his hands balled into fists at his sides as he was pushed toward the door. Of course you’d seen him in fights before, dealing with raiders and infected on patrol was a bloody business at best, but the second the new guy, Jake? Jack, at the Tipsy Bison put a hand on you—just touching your arm—Joel exploded.

You didn’t even have time to blink before the man grabbing your arm was on the ground, ugly bruises blossoming on his face. You didn’t even launch into action to get Joel off of him, shock leaving you frozen. You only remained plastered against the bar, gaping at Joel’s savage expression and the way his fists bludgeoned Jack's face. The drink in your hand spilled over the sides a bit, a sticky combination of fruit juice and alcohol coating your skin and absorbing in the sleeve of your sweater.

You were already tipsy, your face hot and your eyes a bit glassy. You were more loose with your expressions, the careful filter you kept starting to deteriorate. By the time a bar fight broke out, you were already more than a few drinks in, your heart pounding in your chest along with the soft music and a thin layer of sweat starting to prickle at the back of your neck.

Joel had stayed quiet that night, sticking to the secluded booth in the back of the bar that he usually haunted. There was no acknowledgement of each other, his chocolate-colored eyes had landed on you for a moment when you walked in, shadowed over by his dark brow in its permanent scowl. As always, he didn’t speak to you despite the fact that you spent most mornings together patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

He wasn’t your biggest fan, even going so far as to complain to his brother when the two of you had been assigned together. Tommy was giving you a shot on the patrol, you were newer to Jackson and needed a job. You could handle a gun and didn’t seem completely clueless, so he figured he would stick you with Joel to see if you made it out on the other side.

But, nevertheless, Joel was now being pulled off Jack by a few other patrons. They hauled him up by the collar of his canvas jacket, his knuckles bloodied and a snarl on his face as Jack scrambled away. You still stood wide-eyed and dopey, your voice caught in your throat as you struggled for something to say.

Joel wouldn’t look at you, eyes drilling into Jack as he was shoved toward the door. He kept hissing threats through his teeth, snippets of ‘I’ll break your fucking arm if you ever touch her again,’ audible above the music as he grappled with the men trying to contain him.

Your gaze traced the outline of his aquiline nose, the way his lips were pursed beneath his dark mustache. It was a struggle to push him out the door. You flinched when it slammed shut behind him, spilling more of your drink.

“You better get your damn dog on a leash.” It was one of the older women in the neighborhood, her brows drawn and a disgusted expression on her face as she regarded you. You finally snapped out of your shocked stupor, looking at Jack’s bloodied and swollen face as he was picked up and put into a booth.

What was Joel even thinking?

You downed your drink in a few gulps, setting the empty glass on the bar before pushing yourself away from the bar top. Wind swept inside the Tipsy Bison as you forced the door open, providing a moment of relief from the humid heat of the bar. It was starting to get cold out, dried leaves swirling in the breeze as autumn settled into the bones of Jackson.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as you peered out into the darkness. The leaves crunched under your shoes as you took a few tentative steps, the sweater you wore offering you little protection from the wind.

Joel leaned against the wall of a nearby business, his head tilted back and his throat bared to the dim light of the moon. He was sucking in deep breaths through his mouth, his bloody knuckles limp at his sides. His jacket was off-kilter from where he’d been thrown out the door, his hair mussed.

“Joel?” You approached him like you would a wild animal, on high alert and prepared for any sudden movement.

He looked at you with a bored expression, the moonlight catching on the silver hair that splintered at his temples and in his patchy beard. You hesitated, stopping your approach for a moment before pressing on until you were a few feet in front of him. His dark curls stuck up in every direction, they were a little long now that winter was approaching.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your weight settled so one hip popped out to the side. You sounded more aggressive than you intended to, the words coming out like an accusation rather than a question.

It was times like this that made the age and size difference between you and Joel apparent. He stood up straight, towering over you a bit as he cleared his throat. Sometimes he made you feel like you were still just a dumb teenager instead of a woman in her mid twenties. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice a deep grumble with a slight southern twang to it.

A scoff leaves your mouth before you can even stop it, the alcohol reducing your filter to near non-existence. “What do you mean, Joel? I watched you beat the shit out of that guy for what? Touching my arm?” You were a little too loud, your voice ricocheting off the buildings around you. Under different circumstances, you would have cringed and apologized immediately, but something forced you to soldier on.

Thankfully no one else was outside that night—it was too cold and still too early for the Tipsy Bison to have a last call. It felt like a standoff. His dark eyes were trained on your face, his mouth drawn into a scowl. You usually backed down to him, acquiescing to his stubborn nature.

“And so what if it was?” Joel grumbled, his attitude matching your own. The way he crossed his arms made his biceps bulge under the fabric of his jacket—your breath hitched for a moment before you glanced away.

You shook your head, disbelief coloring your expression as his words settled in. “You don’t even like me!” You can’t help but gesture wildly, your hands moving like they had minds of their own.

He ignored you regularly. There was an unspoken rule of only acknowledging one another on patrols together. The woods outside of Jackson were the only place that Joel would actually talk to you, otherwise you acted like perfect strangers in town.

His jaw clenched as he pushed off the wall, taking a few steps closer to you. “Who said I didn’t like you?” he asked, his voice lower as his head dipped toward yours.

He couldn’t be serious.

Your eyebrows shot up, disbelief making you smile incredulously. “What, so ignoring me in public and complaining about me to Tommy is how you treat your friends?” You were moments away from leaving and letting Joel find a new patrol partner.

You spent too much time defending Joel from his reputation as the town pariah, arguing that he wasn’t the animal everyone thought he was. He had a hard time blending in, bigger than most everyone except for his brother and unapproachable to a fault. It seemed that Tommy and Ellie were the only people he willingly spoke to, otherwise keeping largely to himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he heard the rumors going around about him—speculation that he used to be a hunter, a smuggler, a heartless killer. You never had it in you to ask him about it.

Not that he would tell you, anyways.

Joel’s scowl deepened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His silence did nothing but rile you up, it felt like an admission to the fact that you were right. You huffed, the autumnal breeze making dried leaves stick to your jeans and your breath clouding in the air.

“Well, Joel, you should really figure out how to act like an adult,” you snapped, shaking your head as you started to turn away from him. “You’re way too old to be beating up boys at a bar for touching someone you don’t even give a damn about.”

The Tipsy Bison called to you, warm light spilling out the windows and the people moving inside. Your friends were still in there, giggling with one another at the bar. You could see others nursing Jack in a booth, pressing ice wrapped in towels against his face as his blood turned them pink.

“I didn’t like how he was grabbing ya,” Joel finally said after you’d taken a few steps away. The admission made you stop in your tracks, looking back over your shoulder at the man. He looked sheepish as he admitted it, his gaze on the floor like a toddler getting scolded. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before redirecting his eyes to the sky. “You didn’t… you didn’t hear how he was talking about you… didn’t want you with a guy like that.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your lips parting slightly. Your head tilted up to look at him properly, eyes narrowed slightly as you evaluated him. He seemed shockingly sincere, the awkward expression on his face sealing the deal. “Careful Joel, I’m almost starting to think you care about me.”

There was something in the way his eyes shifted to meet yours that almost made your heart stop.

“Never said I didn’t care,” he mumbled, one of his baseball mitt hands coming to rub the back of his neck. The blood on his knuckles was drying, turning to a rust color under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but purse your lips, tilting your head to one side. It was hard to understand, the alcohol making you feel like you were buzzing as you mulled over Joel’s words.

He cleared his throat again, shuffling a little closer to you in the process. “When I talked to Tommy, I wasn’t complainin’ about you,” Joel said. His cheeks were flushed, making you wonder if he was cold or just from the alcohol. He was notorious for sucking down bourbon like it was water, especially on nights when he had nothing to do the next day.

“You weren’t?” you asked, probing the older man a bit. You had only walked by when Joel was talking to his brother, catching your name in their hushed whispers and Joel’s strained expression. You’d assumed it was because he was stuck with you, a newer recruit, a woman.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. It felt like you were pulling every word from his throat. “Tommy… he uh… he put us together because he thought it would be good for me,” he said, hesitating between parts of his sentence. “Thought you’d be good for me.”

“Good for you?” The alcohol made your voice soft around the edges, the question tumbling out of you before you had the sense to stop it. Joel stepped closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He was close enough that you could see the scar on his ear, the scars littering his bloodied hands and the ones across his nose. Sure, you’d seen them on patrol as you walked shoulder to shoulder, but for some reason you find yourself trying to memorize every detail about him in the moonlight.

“Yeah, sweetheart, good for me,” Joel mumbled, looking down at his boots for a moment before making eye contact with you again. Sweetheart. The nickname rattled around in your mind, echoing in time with your heartbeat. You would’ve punched anyone else for calling you sweetheart, but it sounded good coming from Joel.

Your face heated up, an odd smile quirking up the corners of your mouth as you struggled to find words to say. “You’re a liar, Joel,” you manage to spit out.

He let out a chuckle, the kind that hardly made any noise and just let out a sharp breath of air. You earned one every now and then, it always made you beam when you could get him to chuckle on patrol. “Yeah? I could’ve switched a long time ago,” Joel murmured, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Tommy offered to let me switch.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a sliver of your combative nature rising up your throat. You wanted to argue with the older man, inform him that he was wrong.

Joel must have picked up at the way your jaw twitched, your expression twisting. “It’s nice to listen to ya blabber in the mornings,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been. It was almost easy to forget what happened in the Tipsy Bison, the way you watched him beat Jack’s face into a pulp.

You huffed, shaking your head. There was a small smile on your face as the heat continued to rise on your cheeks. “Then why do you act like I’m a stranger when I see you around?” you asked Joel. You scraped your teeth over your lower lip, scuffing the toe of your shoe in the dirt.

Joel’s face fell a bit, his eyes softening as he became serious once more. “You don’t want to be around me anyways, people would judge ya.” It was like he didn’t want to admit it, his voice low and mumbling.

You hummed your disagreement, deciding to be bold and step even closer to the huge man in front of you. He towered a head over most people in Jackson, strong and wide and sturdy. You looked over his tanned, weathered skin, his dark curls that were starting to show age through scattered silver strands. “You don’t seem too bad to me,” you said, nearly a whisper.

You saw how Ellie looked at him like he was her favorite person in the world. If that girl could trust him, then so could you.

Joel’s warmth radiated onto you in the cool evening, the smell of bourbon on his breath and blood on his hands. He shook his head, maintaining the closeness you’d established. “Sweetheart, you know most of the shit they say about me around this town is true.”

You’d figured as much. You’d watched Joel kill raiders without a blink of an eye and jump into action whenever infected approached the high, protective walls around Jackson. The first time you’d witnessed it, his precision took your breath away. Now it was something that you had come to depend on.

“I assumed as much,” you said with a shrug, folding your arms over your chest and tucking your hands under your armpits to keep them warm. “Never mattered to me,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment.

You considered going back to the bar to avoid the chill, but you didn’t feel like having to answer questions about you and Joel all night. Everyone would want to know what he said to you out here, would have their own ideas about why he did it. There were a few breaths of silence. “But, I should probably go home.”

“Not gonna go back inside?” Joel asked, nodding his chin toward the Tipsy Bison. His gaze was still focused on you. You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, glancing back at the bar. It had lost its appeal.

“Just home, Joel. Have a good night… thanks for protecting my honor and stuff,” you said with a small smile. There was a lightness in the way you spoke, your eyes sparkling in the darkness.

You started to walk toward your house, living in the opposite direction from Joel. “Make sure you clean up those hands of yours, don’t want to have to get another patrol partner any time soon,” you said without looking back, dead leaves crunching under your feet with each step.

You heard his heavy footfalls behind you until Joel fell into step at your side. “Mind helping me out? Not great at first aid,” he said, holding his knuckles out in front of him. They were blown apart.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, grabbing one of his wrists to inspect his hand as you walked. His wrist was warm and thick in your hand, he didn’t pull away. The wounds overlapped a number of scars beneath them, a snippet of Joel’s past violence. “Were you trying to kill him or just teach him a lesson?”

“I don’t pull my punches,” Joel said with a noncommittal shrug, making you roll your eyes. Of course he didn’t. Joel definitely taught him a lesson. You dropped his wrist, not giving him a response as you followed the path to your home.

Your house was one of the smaller ones, the yellow paint starting to peel off the siding and the wall around Jackson casting a shadow over it in the moonlight. Joel was grumbling about your proximity to the wall as you opened your front door and flicked on the lights.

“Take off your boots before you track mud in, I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” you tell Joel, toeing your shoes off before you head to one of the bathrooms. You can still hear him complaining as his heavy boots hit the floor, his lumbering footsteps going to the kitchen. The layout for all of the homes in Jackson was relatively the same, the sub-development it had been converted from seemed fairly cookie-cutter.

Joel sat patiently at the counter as you brought in the first aid kit, setting it down on the stone countertop and flicking it open. He seemed calm and unconcerned, more like a seasoned veteran to first aid than a novice. “I find it hard to believe that you’re bad at this,” you murmured, opening an alcohol wipe to start cleaning his knuckles.

Joel placed his big, catcher’s mitt hands flat on the counter for you to work. His jaw tensed a few times as you wiped over the largest knuckle on each of his hands. “I’m here for your gentle touch, sweetheart,” he muttered, sarcasm biting his tone and making you laugh.

“I’m not a nurse for a reason,” you said, smearing ointment onto the wounds with your fingertips. You tried to be careful, not applying too much pressure to the irritated skin.

Joel chuckled, watching your movements as you pulled out a roll of gauze and loosely wrapped his wounds to cover them. He flexed his hands as soon as you were finished, the gauze stretching tight when he made fists. “Good as new,” you said, leaning against the countertop. You both looked down at his bandaged wounds, lingering in the closeness before you stepped away.

“Now, you should hold off on bar fights for a while.” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you grabbed a wine bottle from one of the shelves in your kitchen. You grabbed two glasses without asking, methodically going through the motions of opening the bottle and pouring.

It felt like you and Joel were sprinting head-first at a line the two of you had never crossed before. There was a shift from coworkers to something else, and it started the second Joel pounced on Jack. You found yourself studying his face as you handed him a wine glass, categorizing his features as you took a sip. He was handsome, but he always had been—you just didn’t let yourself recognize it.

“No promises,” Joel grumbled, taking a long drink. You watched him swallow, your eyes partially lidded before you remembered yourself. You felt your cheeks and ears heat up as you took another drink, unclenching your fist at your side and focusing on the stretch of the bones and ligaments.

“You really didn’t need to beat Jack up, I can handle myself,” you murmured, your lashes fluttering as you redirected your gaze to Joel.

He just snorted softly, shaking his head. His expression twisted into amusement, the papery wrinkles of his crow’s feet becoming pronounced. Your brows furrowed, your head tilting as you prepared to argue the fact that you could, in fact, defend yourself. “His name is Jake.”

Embarrassment made blood rush to your face so quickly you almost felt light headed. A sheepish smile settled on your features, a giggle working its way through your throat. “He even let me call him Jack like… five times the other day,” you said into your wine glass, a guilty look on your face.

“Poor boy’s got it bad then,” Joel said, smirking at you. His dark eyes appeared even darker in the lighting of your kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I think you scared him enough,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. You picked your glass up off the counter, walking out of the kitchen to your cozy living room.

Joel came to sit on the couch as you stoked a fire to life, burning some of the dried kindling you kept in a bucket near the fireplace to coax the logs to life. You could feel his eyes on your back as you crouched, the flames breathing warmth over you as they crackled. The combination of his gaze, the fire, and the wine you kept sucking down in mouthfuls made a sweat prickle at the back of your neck as you stood up straight.

He made himself comfortable, lounging on the couch with an arm draped on the back of it. He’d brought the bottle of wine, it sat on the coffee table next to his empty glass. One of your eyebrows arched as you sat next to him, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could twist and bring your knees and feet up onto the sofa.

“You really made yourself at home.”

Joel cracked an easy smile, the fire illuminating the deep shadows of scowl lines on his forehead. You felt the urge to smooth them out with your fingertips. “I’ve got a habit of doing that,” he said, his dark gaze sliding to the fireplace. One of the logs popped, sending sparks through the hearth.

There was a lapse of silence where you reached over and filled up his wine glass again. You felt surprisingly comfortable next to him, relaxing your side against the cushioned back of the couch as you faced Joel. “The ladies at the Tipsy Bison called you my guard dog.”

That made him outright snicker. “Yeah? I’m your guard dog, huh?” he asked, clearly teasing. The way his flannel clung to his shoulders was heavenly, wrapped around every well-defined muscle like a second skin. The wine was staining his mouth purple, you were enraptured as his tongue darted out to catch any remaining drops on his lips.

You cleared your throat, blinking as you nodded. “Said I should get you on a leash,” you mumbled, the heat on your cheeks spreading to your neck and ears. You gulped the wine to break some of the tension, your nose scrunching as you swallowed.

There was a shift, it would’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention.

Joel stretched a bit, tilting his head back as he finished the rest of the wine in one gulp before setting the glass on the coffee table. When he sat back, he’d moved closer to you. Your knee was nearly touching his thigh, that inch of empty space feeling electric.

“Do you want me on a leash?” he asked, his voice deep. There was something different to his tone, the harsh edges of his voice rounded out more than usual. The question made your breath stutter in your chest. The sincerity in his expression caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to speak, only silence coming out. “If there was anyone who could convince me, it would probably be you, sweetheart.”

You choked on your wine, awkward and clumsy as you sat up straight to prevent it from coming out of your nose. Part of you felt like Joel had turned you inside out as you spluttered, confusion and self-consciousness running rampant.. Finally you got a hold of yourself, sucking in wet breaths with tears in your eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was sweet and soft when he asked, as though he hadn’t caused it. You nodded, waiving off his concern as his paw of a hand grabbed your shoulder. His touch was napalm, igniting your skin through your thin sweater.

“Just surprised me,” you choked out, wiping away the tears with the heel of your hand as you sniffled. Joel’s hand stayed where it was, his thumb rubbing along your collarbone over the black fabric. He did nothing but hum his acknowledgement, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

Another cough rattled through you before you could breathe again. Joel’s eyebrows were raised as he watched you, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You are so full of shit, Joel Miller,” you finally said, pushing his shoulder lightly.

He still was touching you, leaning forward into your space as he did so. Your breaths were shallow, apprehensive and giddy in all the right ways.

“You think I’m full of shit?” he asked, smirking.

“I know you are.” You couldn’t help but flirt, batting your eyelashes and smirking at Joel. You felt electric, lightning just crackling under your skin with the potential thrill of him reciprocating. Sure, you were risking a decent work relationship, but you could get a new patrol partner.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand creeping toward the back of your neck. The stretch of his fingers to the meat of his palm spanned nearly three-quarters of the circumference of your throat, something that should’ve chilled you to the bone. Excitement sparked in your belly as you swallowed against the firm press of his thumb on your windpipe.

“You don’t seem like an ‘on the leash’ kind of guy,” you murmured, the feeling of the gauze you’d wrapped around his knuckles rubbing against your soft skin making you shiver slightly.

“No, guess I don’t,” Joel agreed, his dark brown gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth and back. It was so quick, but the thrill that followed made you feel like you were glowing. You slicked your tongue over your lower lip, making it shine in the firelight.

The way he spoke made you press your thighs together, the stiff seam of your jeans pressing against you in the perfect way if you shifted how you were sitting. Joel moved as well, his thighs spreading just a bit, a palm quickly smoothing over his lap in an action he probably didn’t think he would notice.

“Sweetheart, we should just get this out of the way.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion before Joel was pulling you toward him, his lips slotting over yours. A soft, startled noise was muffled against Joel’s mouth, shock dissipating quickly as your eyes slid shut. His mustache tickled your upper lip as you accidentally bumped your nose against his.

When he pulled back, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Your face felt like it was on fire, a goofy grin gracing your features as your gaze flickered over him.

Joel’s other hand crept onto your jean-clad thigh, a calloused thumb stroking along the frayed hole at your knee. “So, was that weird for you?” you asked like an insecure teenager, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you waited for his answer.

Your heart was pounding, the irrational side of your brain wondering if he was able to hear it. He surely felt it against his palm, his heavy hand resting near your pulse as he kept you close on the couch. He smiled at your question, shaking his head no as he pulled you back in for a second kiss. It was quicker, a messy stamp of his mouth over yours.

“Didn’t think you’d be into an old man like me,” he said with a chuckle. If you didn’t know better it almost seemed like Joel felt bashful. The apples of his cheeks were dusted pink, whether it was from the kiss or the wine you didn’t know.

Your eyebrow arched, a grin still on your face. “You’re not old,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. Your hands were pressed into your lap, part of you not knowing what to do with them. You looked up at Joel through your eyelashes before your gaze dragged down his torso and to his jeans. The flannel he wore was thin, the fabric well-worn and not tucked into his blue jeans.

“I should, um, thank you,” you murmured, shifting to put your empty wine glass on the coffee table.

Joel chuckled, still watching you like a hawk that set sights on its prey. “Last I checked, you were just lecturing me about fighting your own battles,” he teased, curiosity shining deep in his chocolate eyes as you got off your couch.

The wine must have gotten to your head, because you would’ve thought you were losing your mind. You moved to stand between Joel’s legs, slowly sinking to your knees on the squishy gray carpet that covered your living room. “I don’t have to thank you if you don’t want me to, Joel,” you murmured, your hands hovering over his thick thighs for a moment before resting on them.

He looked dumbfounded and giddy, his hands already resting on the black, leather belt he wore around his waist. “No, sweetheart, you’ve got a…uh… promising idea,” Joel said with a smile, shifting his legs so they bracketed you and his knees pressed against the coffee table.

You laughed softly, hands roaming up his muscular thighs to where his belt rested just under the soft layer of fat covering his stomach. “You sure? I can always get back up,” you said teasingly, working your fingers under the tongue of his belt and pulling the buckle open. It clinked as it fell off to the sides, you didn’t bother pulling it from the belt loops.

Joel shook his head, leaning back farther into the couch and shifting his hips toward you. “M’sure,” he answered, preoccupied on the way your fingers popped open the button of his jeans and worked the zipper down.

He was already hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim and toward his thigh. You reached into his black boxers, pulling it out of its confinement with a satisfied sigh.

He was big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with. You held the base of his cock, fingers against the curly, dark hair that covered his pubic bone and ran up toward his belly button. It was hot to the touch, the head already leaking precum that followed the path of the prominent veins down his shaft. It was more pink than the rest of him, the head a shade darker than the rest.

You licked your lips, almost embarrassed to find yourself drooling as you braced your forearm on his thigh and kitten-licked at the underside of Joel’s cock. He grunted at the contact, his hands digging into the plush cushion of the couch as his hips twitched toward your face.

“Eager,” you mumbled, a smile on your face as you looked up at Joel through your eyelashes. He was already looking down at you, his lips parted in anticipation and his breaths heavier than they were. You licked the tip of his cock again, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. There’s something about the way that Joel lets a breath out through his teeth that makes you feel like you were set on fire.

You let out a breathy chuckle, wrapping your lips around the head of him and hollowing out your cheeks on your descent toward his lap. It was a lot to take, your eyes watering as you swallowed more of Joel’s cock. His moans and sighs were enough to keep you going, your lips curled over your teeth and your head bobbing up and down.

One of his hands found the curve of your jaw, calloused fingers tracing it before hooking around the back of your head. You were fine with his direction, letting Joel gently press your head down to dictate your speed.

The taste of him was salty and heady, a musk that was distinctly Joel filling your nose as you drooled and sucked his cock. It was slick with your spit, the mix of your saliva and his precum coating your lips and chin. You still had your hand wrapped around the base of him and moving in tandem with your mouth, ensuring you could get everything that your throat couldn’t fit.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you suck cock like you were made for it,” Joel said, his words punctuated with soft sighs and moans. It made you want to live permanently with his praise, your gaze flicking up to meet Joel’s for a moment.

He was completely blissed out, his head tilted back toward the ceiling as he bit his full lower lip between his teeth. His Adam’s apple kept moving erratically in his throat, like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or not. His hand still cupped the black of your head, half-thought praises falling frantically from his lips. Joel was barely speaking in sentences, some words falling to the wayside of his soft grunts.

Feeling emboldened, you moved your hand away and tried to relax your jaw as your head descended far enough that your nose was pressed firmly against Joel’s pubic hair. It smelled surprisingly clean, just the undertone of musk clinging to the dark, curly thatch of hair as you resisted the urge to choke around his cock.

It was thick and heavy in your throat as you swallowed around him, eliciting groans and his hand pressing tightly against the back of your head. Tears burned in your eyes as Joel’s thick cock twitched in your throat, your hands spread flat on your thighs as he moaned your praises.

Joel barely thrusted his hips toward your awaiting mouth, your eyes slipped shut so you could focus on relaxing your throat. Lungs burning, you finally pulled off to suck in deep breaths. Your hand resumed what your mouth had been doing moments before, taking Joel in your fist and using your saliva as lubrication.

“Look at how pretty you are,” Joel murmured, his southern accent thicker than normal as the hand on the back of your head shifted to cup your cheek. Your eyes were watery with a few tears tracking down your face, your lips swollen and saliva coating the entirety of your chin.

You smiled, stroking his cock as you struggled to regain your breath. “Didn’t know you were such a good girl,” Joel drawled, dragging his thumb through the saliva on your chin and smearing the pad of it across your parted lips.

“When I want to be.” Your voice was thick and raspy, your eyes partially lidded. Your knees were digging into the carpet, his legs keeping you where you sat.

He smirked at that. Joel gently moved your hand away from his cock, his arms winding beneath your armpits and lifted you back up to the couch. You squealed in the back of your throat, surprised by his strength as he settled you against the arm of the couch and twisted to face you.

Large hands yanked your sweater over your head to reveal the black bra you wore, a soft groan coming from Joel. He didn’t waste time, finding the back closure and popping it open. You helped him, guiding the thin straps down your arms and tossing the garment aside.

“Christ,” Joel mumbled, his thick fingers brushing over one of your nipples. A jolt of electricity traveled down your spine at the touch, warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You were impatient, panties already soaked through and feeling uncomfortable as you popped open the button on your jeans. “Joel, I need you,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him as you shimmied your pants and underwear over your hips.

“So impatient,” he muttered between presses of your lips, pulling away so he could look at you properly. The firelight illuminated the curves and shadows that littered your body, stretch marks and scars visible on your skin. Self-consciousness reared its ugly head for a moment, your gaze fluttering away from Joel’s intensity as he just stared at you.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you toward him until your back hit the couch. “Joel…” you whined as he pressed your thighs apart, his dark eyes focused on your sex.

He spread the slicked lips apart with his thumb, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “Look at you…” he mumbled, hardly even talking to you. He let go of your other thigh, his fingertips teasing your clenching hole to gather some of the wetness dripping down you and smearing it across your clit.

You gasped, your back arching at the contact against the nerves. Joel’s fingers were calloused and thick and warm, drawing tight, slow circles over your clit as his other hand pressed into the crease between your inner thigh and your pubic bone. It kept your hips from squirming away from him.

“You’re so sensitive, sweetheart,” Joel said, the smile audible in his voice. You’d kept your hands over your face, your moans muffled by your palms as you resisted the urge to snap your thighs closed. You felt vulnerable and exposed under him.

“You’re teasing,” you mumbled, your hips twitching in an attempt to get more friction from his calloused fingers. He kept his touch agonizingly light, making you whine and whimper in your desperation for more from him. He chuckled, fingers dipping to tease your entrance again before trailing back up to your clit.

“Let me see ya,” Joel said, his hand leaving the nestle of your thigh to wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. He held both in one hand, keeping your wrists captive against your sternum.

Your breaths were heavy, his fingers strumming over the swollen bump of your clit pulling moans from your throat. Joel’s eyes were partially lidded as he looked down at you, a smirk growing on his face at your desperate expression. “Joel, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around empty space as you wished he would just fucking fill you up already.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue against his teeth with mock disapproval. “If you’re so desperate, get up and turn around, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you up by your wrists. “My knees aren’t what they used to be, help an old man out.”

You’d normally take that opportunity to make a joke at his expense, but you just let him move you around like a doll. He guided you so you were kneeling on the couch, your chest pressed against the back of it. You arched your back as much as you could, sticking your ass out and hoping you looked pretty as you looked at Joel over your shoulder. He didn’t even bother getting undressed, just standing up behind you and taking his cock in his hand.

His other hand still rubbed over your cunt, smearing your arousal over your swollen lips and onto your inner thighs. Much to your relief, he pressed two thick fingers inside you. The sensation made you groan, resting your weight on your elbows and your knees as you pushed back against his fingers. They slid in so easy you were almost embarrassed.

“You’ll take me just fine, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, approval echoing in his voice. He crooked his fingers to press and massage the spongy spot inside of you, making your mouth fall open and your legs jerk.

You twisted enough to glare at him, Joel covered in shadow from the fire crackling behind him. “Quit being an asshole, Joel,” you said through your teeth, making him chuckle.

“Where are your manners, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a sigh before grabbing your hip with a hand. His wet fingers smeared against your heated skin as he pulled you back a little more, making your back arch like a bow pulled too tight.

He slid the blunt head of his cock between your folds until it tapped against your clit, making him when you whimpered. Joel finally granted you what you wanted, lining up with your entrance and pressing his way in. His cock caught, sliding in so slow that it made you squirm.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Joel’s big hand slid up and down your curved spine, calloused fingers feeling each and every notch of your vertebrae. Your pussy fluttered around him, stretched out and so eager as he bullied his way inside of you. The breath you took in was frantic and overwhelmed, it felt as though he was pushing all of the air out of your body. The two fingers he had pressed inside of you as a test didn’t prepare you at all for his thick cock.

You could hardly breathe, you’d never taken a cock this big inside of you without any preparation–but you were too impatient to wait for him to stretch you out on his fingers. You were pathetic, whining and wheezing as your hands clenched against the cushions on the back of your couch.

You’d never felt anything better in your life.

After what felt like ages, Joel was fully seated inside of you. His coarse jeans were pressed against your soft thighs, the two of you breathing heavily like you’d run a marathon.

“You’ve gotta relax. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my dick off,” Joel said, slowly grinding his pelvis against the swell of your ass. You nodded, trying to take in deep breaths and get used to the feeling of being stretched full.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you focused on becoming pliant, your taught muscles slowly releasing. His beard rasped against the back of your neck as he kissed you there, a moment of intimacy to calm you down. It felt like a reward, your breaths slowing as you unclenched around Joel and welcomed him deeper.

The sound you made when Joel pulled out and pressed back in was pathetic. It felt like he was sawing you in half, carving a space for his cock inside of you with each thrust. There was some caution to his movements, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he grit his teeth.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Joel said, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against your neck. Each thrust coaxed a gasp from you, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch as you took whatever Joel is willing to give. Your vision was blurry from the overwhelmed tears brimming your eyes.

The sound of your bodies smacking together filled your living room, the open belt still threaded through Joel’s pants clinking on the off beat. He maintained his pace like a machine, drilling into the gummy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head.

Your nipples were sensitive, rubbing against the coarse fabric of the couch cushions with every thrust. The noises you made were absolutely undignified, the sounds of someone being fucked completely stupid. He was filling you up so perfectly and the knowledge that it was Joel, your hardass patrol partner who never gave affection to anyone, it made you feel like you’d touched a live wire.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” Joel said, a wide hand reaching around you to fondle your breast. He used it to bring you back, curving your spine so the back of your head was pressed against his collarbone and you looked up at where the wall and ceiling met.

You felt helpless and primal, your mind scattered a million different places. “So good,” you gasped stupidly, hardly able to form words. Your hands grabbed his forearm and fisted in his flannel behind you, an effort to anchor yourself to him.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. You were vaguely aware of tears running down your cheeks, your mouth hanging open as you struggled to stay afloat. You were already lost, a sea of sensation pulling you under with only the places where you and Joel were pressed together serving as your lifeline.

Joel’s free hand reached around your belly, finding your neglected clit with practiced ease. You moaned his name like a broken record, your eyebrows furrowing. He rubbed it hard and fast, matching the pace he was rutting into you with. You already felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already shaking from head to toe and your grip tightening around his forearm. “Joel I’m—yes, yes, yes—“

It felt like your whole world shattered as you came with a shout, your muscles convulsing. You clamped around Joel’s cock like a vise, your hips twitching wildly. Pleasure flooded through you from head to toe, warm and fuzzy and all-consuming. The sensation was simultaneously too much and not enough, Joel steadily fucking you through it as your vision went white.

Joel had to pull himself away from you, letting you slump forward on the couch cushion as you came down from your orgasm. You were clenching around nothing, whining at how cruel he was to leave you empty.

The wet, sticky sounds coming from him made you turn your head as you went boneless on the couch. Joel’s cheeks were red as he tugged at his cock, a hand squeezing the flesh of your ass. His dark eyes were focused on you, all loose limbed and spent.

He finally noticed you looking, his mouth open and panting. He took in your fucked out expression, your eyelashes clumped with tears and cheeks red. He’d made a mess of you, the dazed look on your face his undoing as he let out a grunt. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he came, spurting thick come over your ass as his fingers dug into you.

You sighed as you felt his hot come land on your ass and back, pooling in the curve of your spine. You were still floaty and out of it, vaguely aware of him milking the last spurts of his spend from his thick cock.

“Jesus,” he grumbled, swaying for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to you. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest as you went perfectly limp.

You nuzzled against his neck, humming your affection as his hand rubbed up and down your back. The motion smeared his come along your skin, his fingers rubbing it in like body lotion. It was like he’d stuck your brain in a blender, the mush of the aftermath hardly able to form more than feelings as you pressed your forehead against his beard.

“I’ll beat up the whole town if this is the thanks I get,” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your temple. His barrel chest shook beneath you with a chuckle, his hands never straying from your body.

“No one’s gonna want to touch me with a ten-foot pole,” you muttered after a moment of silence, it took you a beat to even process what Joel was saying. He snickered, seeming pleased with himself as you melted deeper into his embrace.

“Good, I should be the only one touching you,” he said, making warmth bloom in your chest. “Unless I’m assuming things.”

You smiled, a sleepy look still on your face as you wound your arms around his neck and snuggled in closer. “So this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing?” you asked, sounding shy as you said it.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how many times I had to go home after patrol and take a cold shower just because you bumped my arm or bent over to pick something up? Felt like a damn teenager.”

You giggled, picking your head up to look at Joel properly. He looked so soft and sweet around the edges, that normal fire and flintiness was gone from his dark eyes. “You gonna stay tonight?”

He pulled you in for a kiss, it was sweet and over all too soon. “If you’ll let me,” Joel said, sounding earnest.

You nodded, tucking your head back against his neck. You were starting to succumb to your drowsy state, your eyes sliding shut as you puddled into Joel. You were vaguely aware of him lifting you off the couch, his good-natured grumbling about carrying you up the stairs filling your ears.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #joel tlou #I pictured show Joel but you can picture game Joel #they’re both hot #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction

[katykatyykaty]

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal hot #pedro pascal memes #i love you pedro pascal #eddington #ari aster #pedro is daddy #pedro is mayor #reelect pedro #Ted garcia

[softiepedrito]

King of my fucking heart

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pascalispunk #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #the last of us #the mandalorian #pedrito #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #hes so pretty #HE'S SO FUCKING HOT #AND THE LONG HAIR??? #so hawt #OH GAWDDDDD

[harryleatherfit]

Upper East Side || A.U

Frankie Morales

Chapter 7: Call

word count: 2823

warnings: smut, mentions of p and v sex, mentions of squirting, mentions of abuse, emotionally abusive mom, mentions of calorie counting, mentions of disowning, horrible daughter mother relationship, mentions of abusive dad, let me know if i’ve missed any

rating: mature, 18+

Laylah uses they/them pronouns btw!

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List🪩

———

Frankie POV-

She’s my girl. He thought.

Frankie was stretched out on his king sized bed, in his lonely brownstone. All the possibilities that were in the back of his head came true. He finally got to kiss you. His body was on fire with you in that bathroom. He brought his fingers to his swollen lips, remembering the crevices of your lips, reminiscing on your smell.

After the bathroom together, you both walked out of the crowd lingering in the back where no one could know who you two were. It was magical. The sensual club made you both feel alive, your bodies moving together, in rhythm never failing to fall apart. Kissing so much- the language your lips spoke was fluid love.

Is this love, what the fuck is this?

Frankie rethought the whole night to himself. He vowed he would never say the love word, ever fucking again.

This is a quick, short lived thing. Just fun. Love is complicated.

His last girlfriend left him with no notice, he came home one day and she was completely gone. Blocked on every social media, a note saying “you were too easy.”

That took Frankie years to recover from, he had given his all into his relationship with his ex, he started himself over again. To finally be left in the end and having to start from square one.

But he eventually learned that quick fucks here and there would do the trick, he didn’t need the emotional attachment, and his job kept him busy most of the time.

But he felt different about you. You gave him that jumpstart to his heart. Something he hasn’t felt since childhood. He’d been alone his entire life, he didn't know what love is, but when your eyes connect it feels like the walls of his heart are repairing themselves.

The more he thought about your body, the way you felt on his fingers, the walls of your pussy enclosing every time he spoke appraisal towards you.

He snaked his hand to move his pants down to his thighs, along with boxers. Finally letting his cock free from entrapment.

He hissed when the cold draft of his room met the skin of his dick, still so raw from being hard with you.

He picures you by his side, propping yourself on his thighs, rubbing your pussy lips back and forth on the head of his cock. Your pussy so perfect, always so ready for him. He loved that you weren’t fully shaved. It made him feel like he was with a real women and made him want to fuck you more. He hated how women were so ashamed of body hair, it’s natural and nothing to hide. He loved that you opened up to him after being so shy, he embellished in the feeling of you being so comfortable around him. Eating your pussy out was a next level of heaven for Frankie, your hairs brisking against his jaw. Making everything ten times more erotic. He dreamt of your first time together.

“Fuck baby you’re so slick for me. Every damn time, this pussy could quench the whole Sahara desert. Does my cock make this much of a mess from this plump pussy?”

“Frankie, fucking slip it in already I won’t say it twice. Please I’ll be such a good girl. I promise.”

“I guess a good girl knows what she wants? You think you’ve earned my cock?” He asks, and immediately slips in his throbbing cock inside your cunt. He could imagine the feeling of your warm pussy eveloping his dick immediately, accepting its invitation.

He couldn’t last for much longer, the thought of you bouncing on his cock, squirming every time he thrusted into you, you screaming bloody murder, that's how good he would make you feel.

And finally, the thought of you squirting all over his cock and soaking his bush immediately made white spurts of cum shoot out and cover his hand.

“Fuck, fuck fuck baby. Shittttt.” He had to catch his breath, he was so delirious on the thought of you, his orgasm fully took the life out of him.

He felt sexed out, but he needed you, not just for sex. Not how biologically men usually need women. Men only see women as objects and sex toys, and the times he fucked around, he felt bad. He felt like he was a part of the problem, but he would do anything to be better for you. He needs you to breathe, you light his soul on fire. He can see the passion in your eyes, and he knows he will do anything to earn it.

-----

You got home and immediately fell asleep, the sleep crash you got after being high taxed your body. Waking up foggy but still remembering every moment with him.

Your body felt so relaxed after being with Frankie. You never had a man touch you like that before, and you couldn’t believe how much he enjoyed himself. The whole night you thought your eyes were mistaking themselves.

But no matter what, he always made your heart jump a beat when he spoke. And you get to see him again today.

You notice that Laylah is already gone and note on your night stand saying

“Sleep in, I have coffee waiting for you at rehearsal. Last night was interesting. xo.”

Shit. A lead being late for the first rehearsal would not be okay.

You pack your shit together, along with some snacks to tie you over for the day, you look messy and dead in the mirror.

Perfect

“It’ll be okay.” You look in the mirror. You walk out the door and speed to the arts center. Seeing Frankie is your main motivation for the day.

-----

You walk through the school building and find the entrance to the theater, opening the door to find the whole company sitting at tables. Double-shit. On time apparently, is late.

Everyone looks towards you, murmurs abrupt into a never abyss. You’ll never understand this damned school. You find Laylah sitting in the far corner, and as you advance towards her you can hear someone walking behind you. Frankie.

He just walked down from the booth, perfect timing as fucking always.

His presence behind you made your body jolt, your insides churn with desire.

You can’t read his expression, his eyes and mouth are always downturned. You can’t tell if he’s happy or not, he stops abruptly next to you, “Your neck looks colorful, huh?” He whispers, looking in his peripheral.

Shit, you didn’t even bother to wear anything to cover your chest or neck, Frankies hickeys littered your entire upper half but no one knew that. And he just walks past you, taking a seat next to all the directors.

You closely follow taking a seat next to Laylah, you see Nina in the back taking coffee and food orders. Of course she’s sucking up, she’d do anything to assist or be a little pet. Her dad could get her anything at this school.

“All okay?” Laylah asks in a whisper, “You look a little, well, just a little tired and a little bruised.” She laughs.

“Yeah, I'm tired .” The last thing you need is for them to find out you had sex with Frankie. “Can’t believe she’s here.”

“Yeah don't pay attention to her, she’ll see we have coffee and she won’t even come up to us. Here, let me just wipe off your mascara.” She licks her thumb and cleans your eyes.

This is what you revelish in, the simplicity and purity of two humans taking each other. Laylah always took care of you.

“Okay people, first rehearsal.” Ms Roylance begins, “We have Mr. Morales here for his tech team, Mr. Garcia, and Mr. Davis for help. Today may be a long day, so plan accordingly and we’ll break at 4 for an early dinner.”

Nothing you’re not used to.

“I’ll first talk with the lighting team, then props and set design, costumes, makeup, and videography. Check your emails, I already sent out the itinerary for today.” Frankie stands up, walking around the group. You have the perfect sight of him, but you don’t dare trying to meet his eyes. The closest you challenge yourself is the zipper on his jacket. He doesn't deserve anything more.

“First actors, we’ll start with working on intimacy for Lady Mac and Mac. I’m sure this won’t be an issue for you two.” She catches your eyes.

You nod toward Mattias and smile, remembering your in class scene with him, and how easy it came to you both. This pairing made sense.

“And from there we’ll work with some King Duncan scenes. I’d expect us to get out a little after our dinner break but no later than 7! Costuming and make-up I expect you all to go heavy today.”

Groans were heard from the room.

“Hey!” Frankie shouts. “You all signed up for this, we don’t choose the hours, this is what it takes to put a show on broadway in a couple months. We know you all have classes here, we know you have jobs. If you give us respect, we’ll give you respect.”

The more he talked, the more you were turned on. He’s so stern with his words. His tough love made you want him more.

“That being said, it's hard start in 5 minutes.” Roylance closes off.

-------

“Ok Matias, I want you to just hold her cheek a little closer, just to make the audience want more from you two.”

You’ve been working on this scene for a few hours now. Correcting and implementing notes.

“Is it okay if I move a little downstairs to get to him before this?” You ask Roylance.

“Sure, do what you like, note that ASM’s.”

The stage managers and carpentry crew were working all around the actors and the theater was bustling with urban life. You felt immersed in this world.

Matias is so close to you, you both are sharing the same air to breathe.

“Is this okay?” He asks, “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah you’re fine, and during the show I don’t care how you touch me, whatever makes it look the most real.”

“Testing, testing 1,2.” Frankie calls over the god mike.

You look up to him and he’s glaring at you. Hand over his chin and licking his lips.

Jealous?

Matias is still holding you, so you get closer to him going along with your characters dialogue and notes from Ms. Roylance. Hoping that Frankie is watching your every move, what was he gonna do?

You rub circles on Matias’s shoulder and double take to Frankie, he’s standing now. Hunched over in the booth and you chuckle.

Your phone starts to buzz in your pocket, you search for it, the lit up screen…

“Mom?” Why the hell would she be calling you?

“Um Ms. Roylance, I’m so sorry for this, may I excuse myself, I have to take this phone call I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh no it’s okay we should break for dinner anyways.” She puts her hands around her mouth, “Company, hour dinner break be back at 5 sharp.”

You run off into a secret hallway in the back of the auditorium, “Hello?”

“Is this my daughter?” She seethes through the receiver.

“Yeah, this is her.” You scoff.

“Why the fuck did you not tell me you were leaving UNCSA to go to NYU, you know that 10x the amount, how the hell are you going to pay for that?”

“Well Alyssa, after I left for college I believe we served ties and you didn’t seem to give a shit that I left. You didn’t pay for UNCSA, I did so I always find a way to pay for college.”

“No sweetie, you wanted to leave like a little brat and you didn’t want to follow my rules. You wanted to eat whatever you wanted, you wanted to stay out all hours of the night, you wanted to engage in illegal activities, you wanted to whore around and I bet that’s how you pay for college. You chose to leave.”

You couldn’t believe that 3 years later she still fucking cares how you go on about your life. “ I understand that I turned 18 and I tried things that you weren't a fan of. And as a teenager I was disrespectful, but listen here, you will never ever get to terrorize me again. You sheltered me my entire life, you were the one that gave me an eating disorder, you bullied me from a young age. You couldn't control your own life, so you controlled mine. Dad left you because of that. You are your own fucking fault. No amount of your manipulation will make me feel bad for you.

“You’re a disrespectful little shit that doesn't know her manners, I’m glad I disowned you. You aren’t my daughter. The day you stopped counting your calories was when I stopped loving you. You aren’t going to make it in the acting world-

“Well fucking watch me bitch.” You yell through the phone and hang up.

Tears are streaming down your face and you pray no one could hear you. Your mothers voice could be practically heard around the world when she would yell at you. Your screaming matches growing up got the cops called once or twice.

What was her purpose of calling you? Just because you left the state doesn’t mean anything to her. She called once or twice when you were in Winston- Salem, just to see if you had booked anything or to see how your grades were, but she knew you would never come home again. There was no reason to. Your dad was abusive growing up, and when he finally left you were left with your emotionally abusive mother, there was no want to go back to a dead childhood.

There were days you missed your mom, the days where you felt like a little girl and not a full grown adult at the age 10, but that was rare.

You stand up and step out the hallway, the theater is empty, you grab your things and decide to head to the booth. It would be an easier place to annotate your script in peace and cry. No matter how much you didn’t care about your mom, she always could find this crevice in your body that would make you cry for hours uncontrollably. You had an hour of peace.

You walk up into the booth, “Shit stick, what's wrong? I tried looking for you.” Laylah was sitting in a chair in front of the lighting board and this techie guy was sitting next to her.

“Oh hi um, sorry I don’t mean to intrude, you probably don’t want to hear this.” You say toward the man.

“Oh no problem, I have no one to tell, you can say anything I don’t mind.” He utters.

“Yeah babe, don’t mind him. Seriously you can talk, it's safe here. I saw Nina walk out 10 minutes ago, what's on your mind?”

You wish you could talk about Frankie, but that's far from voicing to anyone, even your best friend and her random man friend. So your mom it is.

“My mom called.”

“Shit, what’d she have to say?”

You start to break, “Well she was aksing about UNCSA, and NYU and then she went into just her manipulative shit as always and-” Snot drips down your face, “Fuck” You wipe, “She just has this way of always reminding me of how I was such a shitty daughter and she will never let down my childhood, I’m sick and fucking tired of her.”

“Hug?” Laylah asks with her arms out.

You embrace her and stay there for a while. “Can I hug too?” The man asks.

“Bring it in” You voice with a smile.

“This is Bryce, by the way. We have a class together and he does lighting for the show. We got your coffee together this morning.” Laylah reveals.

“Well hello special man,” You give your hand to shake his,”Ever so pleased to meet you.”

“And you.” He laughs.

“Well thank you for this, I can sit in the corner, I was gonna just annotate my script and put in my headphones so you guys can get back to business.” You wink.

“We're about to leave to get Boba, but you have your fun with your script date!”

“I’ll tell you all about it tonight.” You yell after them.

If Laylah dates Bryce, you’d be happy. He looks like a good fellow? Fuck what were guys your age that are nice supposed to look like? He looked fine, you’re glad Laylah is exploring.

You get your pens and markers out and dive into the world of Macbeth, expecting the next 50 minutes to be a world of disaster.

——

previous || next

authors note: this is kinda a filler and shorter.. and i haven’t read through it for mistakes…..BUT i’m out of school and i have so much time to write, and i have many chapters planned 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️

#frankie morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal hot #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfics #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfics #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal au #pedro pascal fandom #fanfiction #teacher x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales au #frankie morales x reader #joel miller #musical theatre #upper east side #new york city #acting au #acting fanfiction #triple frontier #NYC #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal daddy #pedro pascal x you #pedrito #mando #tlou #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[awesomesauce-n-sassypants]

I love that a practically half-defrosted, feverish 60 years old man can emerge from a coma purely because his baby girl is under threat, and just... follow up with whatever deranged shit that was... 

That’s hot.

#tlou #the last of us #joel miller #can you imaging losing the apocalypse to a 60 year old half dead freshly defrosted man #like man #you survived the fungi and the not so fun guys just to lose it to a rabid senior citizen that moves like a serial killer version of batman?! #pedro pascal #hot shit #this show and game is and was something

[ayo-edebiri]

#Pedro, NO!!!

#pedro pascal #ppascaledit #byaurore #hot ones #userbbelcher #userconstance #userjasmine #usersugar #tuserdee #tuserpris #tuserrobin #tuserrachel #tuserrynn #userkam #nessa007 #tusercora #tuserpolly #userallisyn #dilfgifs #usermandie

[trashcora]

PEDRO PASCAL on Hot Ones

#pedro pascal #hot ones #pedropascaledit #ppascaledit #tloucastedit #gotcastedit #swcastedit #dilfgifs #chewieblog #userconstance #tuserpolly #userksena #usermagsam #xuserannie #useraurore #userjoanne #*edits #interviews

[a7estrellas]

PEDRO PASCAL ⏤ Strange Way Of Life | Reunion: Directing a Key Scene

#pedro pascal #behind the scenes #strange way of life #extraña forma de vida #pedropascaledit #ppascaledit #mancandykings #underbetelgeuse #Pedro as Silva was so freaking hot!

[thebusylilbee]

im sorry but HOW am I supposed to blame Joel when he looks like THIS ??? when he's got his beautiful big brown eyes all wet and sad because he thought he was about to lose a daughter again ?!? like HELLOO ??? he can commit all the atrocities he wants he's allowed !!!

#ive said it before and I'll say it again : #Pedro being able to have both strong hot dad energy AND sad meowmeow energy is too much he's too powerful #the last of us #like good lord... #joel miller #the last of us spoilers #pedro pascal