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auteurdelabre · 22 hours

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The Boy is Mine | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~7k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become obsessed with the new DEA attaché.

Tags: oral (m receiving), stalking, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation (f), we're humping a pillow y'all, light spanking, javi's gun makes an appearance, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, no use of Y/N, reader is a photojournalist, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i told myself i was going to take my time with this but i've been hyperfixated on this song and music video since it dropped... imagining my favorite pedro boy and... well i cranked this sucker out so fast. oh to break in to javi's apartment and blow him into oblivion 😫 let me know what you think! i might write a part 2 if there's interest for it xoxo mwah enjoy queridas. 🖤

You’ve never seen a man so handsome. So determined. So capable.

So perfect.

You knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that he was the one.

You’d been waiting outside of the embassy in the pouring rain for over an hour trying to catch him while on his break, wanting to get a quote from the new DEA attaché on his plans to tackle the Cali cartel.

That’s why you’re here in Colombia. Fresh out of grad school with a masters in photojournalism. Your advisor had presented to you a great position in South America involving documenting the war on drugs and its subsequent effects. Despite Pablo Escobar’s death, this so called war remained relentless, and with your ability to capture photos that truly are worth a thousand words, your advisor knew you’d be perfect for the job.

So here you are, immersed in a beautiful country, working your dream job. It had its bad days just like anything else but your passion and prowess made those hard days worth it.

When he finally did emerge from the government building, you shivered and it wasn’t because you were soaking wet from the rain.

Your handbag did little to nothing to shield you from it as you held it over your head and jogged over to him.

He immediately blew you off, quickly eyeing your appearance before giving you a simple ‘no comment’ which would usually piss you off and have you press further–– however, you were left in a trancelike state by merely being in his presence.

He was more handsome than you could have imagined. You didn’t know what he looked like before arriving, solely going off the description given to you by your boss then what little his secretary had told you when you called to ask for a meeting earlier (which you were denied).

Brows cinched together in a perpetual frown, pouty lips turned downward in a scowl with chocolate brown eyes that make you miss the warmth of your hometown.

He had taken your breath away entirely, leaving you standing there in a puddle of both rain and arousal as he darted off in the opposite direction.

That was all you needed, really, to be thrown into pit of absolute delusion and wanton want for Javier Peña.

You watch him relentlessly. At first, it began with scouring through the archives, reading any printings that involved him, seeing his photograph on countless articles and video footage of him giving press conferences.

The more you dived in to the professional life of the agent, the more devoted you became.

Then the following started. To and from work. Late nights at the bar. While tracking down leads. You can’t help yourself, you are obsessed. Everything this man does is fascinating, further deluding you into a infatuated trance.

You don’t know where this side of you came from. You’re usually so unproblematic and independent, your sole focus being your career with little to no time to even fathom romance.

There’s just something about him that flipped this twisted switch within you, rendering you a cock-thirsty, lovestruck mess.

One night, you watched him bring another woman home and that’s when you realized how palpable your obsession had gotten. The jealousy that bubbled in your chest became unbearable. So much that it led you to get out of your car, climb the fire escape of his luxurious apartment building and onto his balcony.

You observed from the other side of the glass door, in the shadows, as he took this woman on his couch.

A plethora of toxic emotions swirled within you. Envy and arousal the most intense, your thighs clenching together at the sight of his bare torso against the gentle, warm light of the singular lamp that’s on.

There’s a sheen of sweat that glistens over his tan skin. He is so chiseled with a softness that makes you want to run your tongue against every dip and ridge, all the way down to the enticing trail of hair that leads right to what you crave the most.

You sighed, fantasizing about being in that lucky bitch’s spot, with his hands running all over you, kneading and squeezing your curves, the scratch of his mustache having your skin curl beneath the coarser touch. You managed to control the whimper that threatened to slip up your throat in the off chance that it got you caught.

It’s not until you felt your pager in your pocket that you returned to reality, the buzz forcefully pulling you from your erotic daydream. With a final glance at their moving bodies, at him, you swiftly descended the fire escape and to the nearest phone booth.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Since that night you’ve been insatiable. You just need one taste, a small micro dose of him to keep your hunger at bay.

It’s not until a few days later that you return to his apartment. He’s away for work in Cali (you followed him to the airport, watching him board the plane behind your thick sunglasses and a newspaper) leaving his place empty with no surveillance. You ascend the fire escape again, the city lights of the capitol twinkling in the distance.

Slipping your gloves on, you expertly pick the lock of the balcony door before suavely entering the space. You’ve been practicing on your own at home in preparation.

It’s neat and clean. Not much personality to it which is unsurprising considering how stoic this man is. His hardened demeanor amongst the many things about him that drive you crazy. There’s never a break in his expression, always painted with typical tension and weariness.

You wonder if you could be the one who is able to crack him. To get a reaction out of that handsome face.

After surveying the entirety of the open space, you sneak down the hallway and push open the door of his bedroom.

Immediately, his smell engulfs your senses and your eyes flutter close at the scent. It’s comforting yet enticing; nothing different than what other men smell like but there’s something about Javier specifically that you just can’t describe.

It’s so satisfying. A fucking aphrodisiac.

Walking deeper into the room, you diligently rummage through his belongings, beginning in his en suite bathroom.

With every little piece you study, you learn more about the agent. What toothpaste he uses, the brand of razors that he buys, the specific shade of blue of his towels. Little things you wouldn’t be able to catch during your, plainly put, stalking.

Back in the room, you open the drawer that stores his shirts, your fingers running along the front of a brightly colored pink one that’s neatly folded at the top. You imagine yourself walking around in this and nothing else, the softness of the fabric hanging from your curves, unbuttoned enough to expose the swells of your breast and maybe even a nipple slip to tempt him even further.

Would he think you look sexy in his clothes?

You now stand at the foot of his large bed, the window behind it casting the silver of the moonlight against the mattress tantalizingly, as if urging you to go full on goldilocks by climbing in it and pretending it’s a bed you share with him.

You stare and you stare, lower lip pinched between your teeth before you gently crawl onto it, lowering your chest so it brushes against the duvet as your nose trails up up up until it’s at his pillow, inhaling deeply as you get a more potent smell of him.

A sweet moan pushes through your lips, your clit throbbing in tandem with your heart as you lose yourself entirely, your mind already conjuring an erotic fantasy.

Your lips against his thick neck, licking and biting the salty skin while he fucks you in missionary. The details become so vivid; that familiar furrow of his brows as he concentrates on your soaking cunt swallowing his cock, fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he praises you for taking his dick like the good little slut that you are.

You whimper, grinding your hips against the mattress, the friction delicious against your clit, while your nose remains buried in the pillow. Deciding that you need more, you lift your head momentarily to grab one of the other cushions and then slip your jeans off; tossing them on the floor and placing the cushion in between your legs.

Positioning yourself at the perfect angle, you bring the pillow he sleeps on up to your face and begin to grind down on the one in between your legs.

Drifting back to your lewd thoughts, you picture him beneath you while your hips move at a sensual pace. You know you’d take him bare, needing to feel every vein and divot… how thick he is breaking your pussy open while simultaneously molding it to fight perfectly tight around his cock.

His mouth on your bouncing breasts, nipping and sucking on your nipples while his large hand runs down to land a harsh slap against your ass cheek, groping the skin to soothe it before repeating the action again and again and again.

You move faster against the pillow, your now ruined panties only adding to the overwhelming sensation as the fabric rubs against your needy pussy.

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips in a gasp when your face leaves the pillow, your body needing fresh air but you being selfish and wanting to suffocate in his scent. You know your wetness is smearing all over the pillow but you really don’t give a fuck at the moment, too caught up in your own pleasure and delusions to think of how wrong this is.

But it feels so good.

A hand creeps under your shirt and bra to massage your sensitive tit, stomach tightening as your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

You think of his devilishly curved nose and how fucking magnificent it’d feel nudging against your clit while you ride his face. That position specifically has always made you a little nervous due to the thickness of your thighs and ass, but you just know that he would be able to handle it like the sex god that he is.

His tongue would lap over your slit hungrily, kissing your folds before wrapping his lips around the flesh of your clit and sucking hard. The phantom sensation of it is enough to get you to hump harder against the pillow and bury your face into the one in your hands once more, your cunt clenching around nothing as euphoria washes over you.

The room is filled with your muffled moans and cries of his name as you come undone, hips wildly thrusting against the cushion as your juices absolutely soak through it. It’s an out of body experience, really, as you attempt to return back to earth.

You’ve never came that hard, especially not on your own.

Breathing heavily, you take what feels like eternity to calm your shaking body down. Once your mind is a little clearer, you wobble off the bed and proceed to wash the pillow you just marked like a possessive cat, lounging around his apartment until you’ve made sure everything is as he left it before swiftly making your exit.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

His return comes in the form of a news broadcast. You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when you hear the anchorwoman report that one of the Cali godfathers, Gilberto Rodríguez, has been arrested thanks to the joint efforts of the DEA and Search Bloc.

The kitchen knife falls from your hands and onto the cutting board as you scurry over to the boxy television set in your living room, fingers twisting the knob to increase the volume as he appears.

You’re kneeled in front of the screen, face damn near pressed up against it as you intently watch him command the room. He stands behind a podium with microphones pointed at him from every direction, cameras shuttering, an array of men on either side of him and a large crowd gathered at the front.

“I promise you… the other three godfathers will fall.”

You nod your head as if he is speaking only to you, “That’s right baby, you tell them. So hot.”

You stand, attention still fully on him as that familiar stir of arousal begins to heat up within you.

He’s home and your resolve is wearing thin. Thin enough that you decide to say fuck it.

You need another taste.

Dinner is long forgotten as you go to your room, pulling open the closet and grabbing a solid black box from the top shelf.

You purchased this little number when your fantasies had begun. Wearing it around your apartment while you teased yourself, roleplaying him coming home after a long work trip and using your pussy to help him forget the horrors of his job.

Using a realistic looking dildo, you imagined it to be the man of your dreams while you fucked yourself with it in a myriad of positions.

The outfit is simple. A short, black leather dress with a corset bust and sheer sleeves that cover your shoulders and arms, doing a great job of making you look sexy. The skirt falls at your upper thigh, exposing your nylon clad legs paired with simple black heels. You slip on your mesh gloves, your red acrylics popping against the black, almost see through material.

The ensemble looks divine against your skin but you feel like something is missing. Taking one, long look at your face you realize that you’re not ready to fully reveal yourself to him, so you turn back to your closet and your eyes light up once you see the cat mask you wore to a costume party not that long ago.

You smirk at the idea.

A sexy little cat burglar. Breaking in to take what she wants.

Putting it on, your reflection stares back at you and you feel like a whole different person. The corset cinches your waist just right, your thighs curvy and inviting beneath the stockings, tits pressed together and almost spilling out the top.

The lacey mask covers half your face, leaving your glossy lips exposed with cute kitten ears at the top.

You’d fuck yourself, honestly. This new wave of confidence does nothing but fuel your determination.

Walking over to the opposite side of your room, you tilt your head up to take in the shrine of photos you’ve made of him.

Most come from you and your camera, all those days you spent watching him and documenting his every move. Others are from newspapers then there’s some messy sketches you did out of boredom.

Your finger comes up to trace his sharp features on one of the pictures, lingering on his nose and your pussy tingles as you breathe out a wistful sigh.

You can’t wait to try him.

Throwing on a black trench coat, you leave your apartment and take the familiar route to his. It’s raining, but not harsh enough to spoil your plans. Just a light drizzle.

When you arrive, your heart sinks at the fact that he isn’t home yet. Of course. He was just on TV! You hadn’t really thought this plan all the way through, absolutely blinded by your desire.

Whatever, you take the time to touch up on your makeup and fix your hair. The night presses on until finally you see his jeep coming down the road and pulling into the garage of the building.

With a final look over in your rearview mirror, you exit the car and cross the street to make your way up the familiar ladder, careful not to slip against the slick surface with the heels you have on.

Thankfully there’s no one out tonight, and if there was you aren’t sure how the hell you’d explain what you’re doing. You don’t even know how to explain it to yourself.

The butterflies in your stomach wildly flutter once you make it to his balcony, rain droplets adorn the glass door and you crouch to keep yourself hidden.

He walks in not long after, looking exhausted as ever as he pulls his tie loose around his neck and tosses his keys into a small bowl at the entryway table. His expensive dress shoes are kicked off, suit jacket slipping from shoulders revealing how broad he is. You bite your lip.

He stalks across the apartment, not even glancing in your direction, unbuttoning part of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves. His figure is a little blurry due to the condensation on the door but you don’t care, you’re under his spell as you watch him pour himself a glass of whiskey.

Wetting your lips, you can almost taste the spicy liquor as he drinks it in one shot before pouring himself another. Except this time it’s on the rocks.

Would the ice make his lips cool? Surely. A shiver dances down your spine at the thought of them pressed against your heated skin.

The orange street light casts softly into the space, the shadows sharpening his features and making him look more rugged and masculine and just downright fuckable. You want to so badly break through the glass and take a seat on that chiseled jaw, to have him harshly grip your ass as you fuck yourself on his tongue.

He disappears down the hallway and into his office, giving you the opportunity to sneak in like last time. You give yourself one final pep talk before fully committing, slipping off the trench coat and tossing it aside.

After picking the lock, you very diligently and quietly slide the door open and enter, shutting it behind you.

Just like the cat burglar you pretend to be, you suavely follow his trail down the hallway, leaving a wet trail of your own from the rain, stopping at the cracked door of his office.

You see him hunched over his wooden desk, back facing you, deep in thought at whatever documents lay sprawled against the surface.

His back muscles tense with every subtle move he makes, your dark eyes taking him in entirely from his slutty little waist to the curls at the nape of his neck.

You can tell he’s been frustratingly running his fingers through his hair since it’s sticking up in some places making it look so sexily tousled.

You want to tug on it, run your fingertips against his scalp while he devours you whole.

So lost in your observance of him, you don’t catch the moan that escapes you and his head snaps up at the sound.

Your eyes widen and you take a delicate step back, still watching as he reaches for the gun that’s nestled against his lower back.

Trying not to make too much noise, you make your way further down the hall and into his bedroom, heart in your throat as you climb into his bed, laying on your side with your body weight propped up on one hand as you anticipate his presence.

This is it. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you laid eyes on him.

The first thing you see is the silver tip of his pistol as the door opens further, then he comes fully into view with that goddamn scowl on his face that makes your skin tingle.

His breath hitches once he lays eyes on you, large hands squeezing the weapon as you sexily wave at him.

“Hello agent.”

Your sweet voice fills the space, the muted sound of the weather picking up outside serving as the perfect white noise to set the ambiance for this scene.

“Who the fuck are you and how the hell did you get in here?”

Oh, his voice. So smooth yet raspy like the whiskey and cigarettes he can’t live without.

“An admirer that saw you took down of the godfathers and decided to come thank you in person.”

His gaze narrows, gun lowering slightly as he contemplates whether you’re a threat or not.

You are, but not in the way that he thinks.

“How did you get in?”

“That’s a trick I’m going to have to keep to myself.”

You shift your body, moving to rest on your knees and you watch as his eyes lustfully trace the contours of your figure. You’re absolutely keening beneath the heaviness of his stare, loving the fact that you have his undivided attention.

It doesn’t even worry you that he’s got a fully loaded gun pointed right at your pretty face. If anything, it just turns you on even more.

“What do you want?”

“I already told you. To thank you in person.” Your eyes roll and his jaw tightens.

“Thank me in person?” He echoes your words with a dry chuckle, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Let me show you.” Your tone is hushed and dripping with suggestion, slipping off the bed slowly and sensually.

You watch his adam’s apple bob at your change of position, letting him see you in your full get up, watching intently as his eyes land on a different part of your body with every second that passes.

“Drop the gun, Javier.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I could do right now.”

You cock your head to the side, eyes narrowing behind the mask as you contemplate your next move.

He’s standing on the rug that’s spread out against the wooden floor which gives you an idea.

“Please? I’m not going to hurt you.” You whine with a pout, beginning to lower yourself to the ground as if showing him your unwavering submission.

The seconds that tick by feel like hours as you attentively take each other in. Then you hear it, your ears twitching at the faint sound of the safety switching on and it’s enough to spur you into action.

You don’t know where this newfound strength comes from, probably the adrenaline you feel of simply existing in the same room as him. You yank the rug, causing him to lose his footing as he falls onto his back with a loud thud, the gun slipping from his grasp and sliding across the floor.

He groans out in pain but you don’t care, pulling him closer, then fully on your knees as you begin to crawl over to him.

“I told you to put the gun down.”

He’s still on his back, making no attempt to move as you draw closer. He does lean up on his forearms, dark eyes fixed on you, watching as you shuffle on your hands and knees until you plant your hands on his shins and work your way up.

You barely graze the hardening bulge in his pants, causing him to shudder, and white heat licks at your core knowing that in this moment; he wants you too.

The two of you don’t break eye contact as you straddle him, gloved hands falling on his pecs.

“I’m not usually like this…” you begin in a gentle murmur, running your open palms anywhere you can, relishing in feeling his taut body beneath yours after fantasizing about it for so long, “Shit, it’s like news to me, but I can’t ignore my heart anymore.”

One of your hands wraps around his tie, tugging on it harshly until you’re nose to nose with the man that’s been living in your head rent free for the past few weeks.

His lust blown brown eyes search yours, as if trying to discern your identity which you assume he’ll never figure out. You’ve only ever had that one interaction and even then he had barely paid you any attention.

You feels his breath fanning across your mouth, so badly do you want to press your lips against his but you suppress the urge.

You continue to play with him, enjoying this sense of power you have with how complaint he’s being.

You expected for him to be fully dominant, which you know he’s capable of being since you watched him fuck the shit out of that one girl. But it seems like this, your taboo act and the suddenness of it, is affecting him in an entirely different way.

You put pressure against your palms, having him lay flat on his back and you hover over him, taking in all the small details of his charming face.

The frown lines, hairs of his mustache, blemishes and faint scars. Every little detail making you fall harder and harder for him. He has no idea just how much he means to you.

“What game are you playing at here, gatita?” He gives in, entranced by this enigma of a woman that’s perched over him. His calloused hands grip at your outer thighs, blunt fingernails almost ripping the fabric of your stockings.

You hum at his touch, loving the sound of the pet name, gently rocking on his lap and clutching his shirt in your fists.

“One where you’re the prize, handsome.”

You lean forward, sticking your tongue out and slowly licking a broad stripe from his chin all the way to the tip of his nose, curling your tongue when you flick at it.

His chest vibrates with a groan and you smirk at the feeling of his cock twitching underneath his pants.

“You looked so good on the news tonight. I couldn’t help myself.”

You undo his tie, toying with the notion of wrapping it around his wrists to detain him, but with what you have planned on doing to him tonight, you’d rather keep his hands accessible.

Maybe next time.

You toss the silky fabric aside to focus on unbuttoning his shirt. He does nothing but remain silent, his chest heaving up and down while he suppresses the primal urge to take over and fuck this sweet little thing that’s dropped herself on his lap.

And you know he’s more than capable of switching the roles. He’s strong and skilled, could easily flip you onto your back and proceed to exert his dominance over you.

But you’re the one with the grand plan here, not him, and he’s indulging in your shared fantasy by letting you do whatever it is that you want, lost in a horny daze of his own.

The silence is comfortable and it further builds the sexual tension. You finish getting his shirt undone, opening it wider to get a better look at his toned body.

“So hot. You drive me crazy, agent.” You’re so wet, the slickness of your arousal seeping through the flimsy material of your thong smears against his fancy dress pants.

“Y tu, kitten, look like something out of a wet fucking dream. I have to be dreaming.”

You giggle, blushing at his words as some coyness slips into your facade.

“You’re not dreaming, papi, I promise you.”

Leaning down once more, you begin to leave wet kisses against the cut of his jaw, suckling on the warm skin then running your nose along the length of his neck.

You take in a deep breath, smelling his cologne atop of his sweat and natural scent and you feel so high.

No amount of cocaine comes close to how Javier Peña makes you feel.

You suck a love bite against a protruding vein in his neck, a grunt pushing past his lips at the sensation of your teeth grazing the skin.

Satisfied with your possessive marking, you lick from his jaw all the way up to his ear, biting down on the lobe.

“Now I’m going to taste you.” You purr seductively, leaning back to look down at his absolutely wrecked face.

His puppy eyes stare up at you like you’re the only woman in the world, a goddess that’s decided to bestow such an erotic experience onto him. He knows you’re about to ruin his body for any other woman that comes after you.

You decide to be a little theatrical, slowly pulling off your gloves to reveal your pretty hands and fresh manicure.

He can’t help but bring his large hand up to grasp your wrist, pulling your hand closer to his face as he studies your nails before gently nipping at your fingers then slipping two digits into his mouth, running his tongue all over them and sucking them softly.

You gasp at the sensation, not breaking eye contact while he smirks at your reaction. Suddenly, lighting strikes and the room is illuminated for a split second in the white light.

You both look so feral, suspended in this vivacious moment.

Pulling your hand away, you let it drag down his pouty bottom lip, pinching the delicate skin before shuffling back on his lap.

You hover again, this time at eye level with his chest as you place soft kisses against his brown skin, tongue peering out to lick his pecs then down his soft tummy.

His hips buck involuntarily and you pull back, tilting your head to the side as you look down at him.

“Stay still or this little kitten is going to find someone else to play with.”

A litany of curses fall from his lips in both English and Spanish but you pay it no mind, your attention on his belt as you unbuckle it then pop the button of his dress pants.

Leaning down, you bring your face until it’s right at his crotch and you catch the metallic zipper between your teeth.

Slowly pulling it down, your eyes flit up to him and he’s intently watching you, his own tongue hanging from his mouth like a dog in anticipation of what you’re about to do.

You press your nose into the fabric of his now exposed boxers, nuzzling your face against his erection and his breath catches in his throat.

Your wetness managed to penetrate through his pants and onto his boxers, so you kitten lick your arousal from him and he lets out a guttural moan.

Basking in the sounds of his pleasure, you continue until there’s a giant wet spot on the cotton.

Deciding that it’s time you get what you came here for, your fingers hook at the band of his bottoms, dragging them down to his mid thigh and he assists you by lifting his hips.

His cock is so fucking big. Your eyes widen at the sight as it rests against his left thigh.

It’s thick, like you imagined, with ridges and veins that are begging to be traced by the tip of your tongue.

The color of it is a little darker than the rest of his body, the weeping tip plush and leaking with excessive precum from your foreplay. It’s cut with a subtle curve, long enough to where you know if he angles it just right; he’d bruise the fuck out of your cervix.

“Mmm,” you hum, licking your lips like a woman who has been starved for far too long.

“Que pasó, nena? Cat for your tongue?” This asshole, teasing you as if he’s not the one at your mercy.

But is that really the truth? One would observe that you’re the one at his mercy; considering your obsession with the DEA agent.

“It just looks so delicious,” you purr, bringing your hand to hover your face.

Meeting his gaze, you seductively lick your palm, wetting it with your saliva before wrapping it around his throbbing length.

“Mierda,” he hisses, head dropping back against the hardwood floor as you begin to pump him in languid motions, getting a feel for what he likes. Attuned.

His flesh feels warm and smooth beneath your small hand, your thumb swipes over his tip as you collect some of his precum.

You bring it up to your lips, sucking it into your mouth and you whimper at the taste. Salty, heady, intoxicating.

You need more.

Your hand leaves his cock as you position yourself in between his strong thighs. His dick stands erect, waiting for you to lavish it in your attention.

Leaning down, you poke your tongue out to run one long, broad stripe from his balls all the way up to his head.

He shudders, fists clenching at his sides while his slit spurts out more precum.

“I got you all wet, baby.” you gloat with a gentle laugh, repeating the motion a few more times.

Each groan of his and twitch of his body influences you to keep going, placing open mouthed kisses all over his base and up and down his cock. Making out with it.

You let a wad of spit fall over his tip and watch as it drips down obscenely over his length, bringing your hand back to pump him a little faster with a tighter grip. Your saliva drips from in between your knuckles.

“That’s it, gatita, just like that pretty girl.” He’s getting more vocal now and you’re intoxicated, drunk off his praise.

You slap the fat head of his cock against your pursed lips a few times before letting your tongue lap at the slit then sinfully lick around the tip.

Your tongue continues its assault on his girth, lapping every inch of it like he’s a refreshing mango popsicle on a hot summer day.

The attention is then shifted on his balls as you continue to jerk him, the tip of your muscle outlining the sensitive skin before you suck one into your mouth softly.

“Puta madre, bebita, esa boquita feels like fucking heaven.”

You whimper, nuzzling your nose against his sack and taking in his musky smell. Your mouth waters, drool leaking from the corners as you reposition yourself back over his hard cock.

You part your lips, taking him slowly, inch by inch as you savor the weight of him inside your hot mouth. Your hand remains at his base while you swallow him whole, tongue lapping around the bits that it can reach.

It’s not until you feel him tickle the back of your throat that you pull back slightly, sucking your cheeks in and beginning to set a slow pace.

Up, down, up, down.

He’s so fucking big, you’re not able to take him fully down your throat… yet. You’re gonna need a moment to break open your mouth enough to fit him.

He continues with his praises. The sweet filth that fills your ears urging you to be a good girl and to suck his cock like your life depends on it.

Because it does. All you want to do is lose yourself in him, to become nothing more than just Javier’s plaything.

Tears pool at your tear ducts from the messy head you’re giving but it doesn’t deter you. You just blink them away and take him further down your throat.

You splutter and gag as he presses against your uvula, causing him to inadvertently bring his hand down to the back of your head, fisting your hair.

You wince but the pain feels delicious on your scalp. You pull away and his saliva coated cock falls from your swollen lips with a trail of spit connecting you two.

“I want you to fuck my face, Javier. Can you do that for me?”

You bat your lashes, biting on your lower lip as you look up at him.

Your back is arched sexily, giving him a good view of your ass behind you as you remain on your knees in between his legs.

“Si, gatita, whatever you want.”

He gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding you back to his cock.

He slips back into your mouth easily, his hips bucking upward to fully bury himself down your throat.

You breathe through your nose as he begins to set the pace, much harsher and faster than what you’ve been doing on your own.

The filthy sounds of his groans mixed with your gagging and squelching of your mouth fill the room and it’s like music to your ears.

You fucking love this. Love the way he’s fucking your throat and using it to get himself off.

His other hand falls down to tenderly caress your cheek, cupping your jaw and that sets off an explosion of fireworks against your needy pussy, moving your hips against nothing. The simple act is enough to get you closer to your own orgasm.

Your fingernails dig into his meaty thighs when he manages to fully situate himself into your mouth, the tip of your nose brushing against his coarse pubic hairs.

He keeps you there, depriving you of oxygen and your jaw aches with how it’s been widely unhinged for the past however long.

You don’t care about your pain, you only care about tasting his cum when he finally releases inside of you.

“I’m so close baby, god damn it I could die in this pretty little mouth. Such a filthy whore, breaking into my apartment just so you can suck my cock.”

You whimper, the sound vibrating around his shaft and you bring one of your hands down beneath your skirt and panties, rubbing tight circles against your engorged clit.

He goes back to thrusting in and out of your throat while you pleasure yourself; both of you teetering on the precipice of your respective orgasms.

The hold on your hair tightens as his climax begins to peak, and the burn of it is enough to send you over the edge first.

You splutter and groan all over his cock while you cum, your release coating your fingers and dripping down your folds and onto your inner thighs.

“Fuck I’m about to cum. You better swallow every fucking drop gatita. Isn’t that what you came here for? Ah-shit, to milk my cock like the perverted bitch that you are?”

If you hadn’t cum already you would be now with his abrasive words and rougher thrusts of his hips.

“I bet, fuuuck, bet that pussy tastes so fucking sweet and feels as heavenly as this mouth. Ay gatita sucia, you gonna let me destroy your tight little cunt or are you going to leave me with just a taste of your boquita?”

You want to respond, to tell him that you want nothing more than to have his cock break you open, to render you a mess that can’t walk for days after getting fucked hard by him.

His thrusts stagger and he cums with a primitive growl, his hot seed spilling into your mouth and down your throat.

You moan at the feeling and he holds you flush against his pelvis while he empties his balls into you.

When he’s finally drained, you tentatively let him fall from your mouth with a lewd pop, some of his spend still resting on your tongue.

You climb up his body again, noticing the bead of sweat dripping from the tip of his brow and down his chiseled cheeks. His lips are swollen, much like yours, from chewing on it due to the intensity of your ministrations.

His dark eyes are swimming with lust and adoration, shallow breaths exhaling from his nostrils.

You open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out so he can see his cum against the pink muscle before you retract it and swallow exaggeratedly, smirking as you bring the back of your hand up to wipe the saliva and other fluids that coat the bottom half of your face.

“Thank you for keeping us safe from the narcos, agent.” You whisper, reaching for your gloves to slip them back on.

He watches intently before he raises the hand that had just cupped your cheek affectionately to the edge of your mask, beginning to lift it up to expose your identity.

“Quien eres, gatita?”

You stop him by grasping his wrist harshly, shaking your head.

“Un secreto,” you whisper back, close enough to where your lips are softly brushing against each other.

Moving his hand away from your face, your eyes gaze into his one final time before you lean in to press a sweet kiss against his lips.

It’s everything and more, the feeling of his mouth slotting against yours in the most passionate kiss you’ve ever shared with anyone.

You pull back before things get heated again, your mission now complete until the next time.

“I’m going to leave now,” you begin in a hushed tone, “and you’re going to stay right here. You’re not going to follow me out or stop me. Are we clear?”

Another tilt of your head and you can see the resistance in his stare, how badly he wants to keep you here like a pet. His kitten.

But he nods ever so slightly, his finger twirling a strand of your hair around it before tugging on it softly.

“Will I see you again?”

Yes, but you don’t reveal this to him so easily.

“Only if you do something worth warranting a visit.”

With that, you rise from his lap, your long legs on either side of his waist as you look down upon this man you just wrecked without giving him your name or letting him get a good look at your face.

His eyes trail over you, trying to etch the image of you in his mind for the lonely days that are about to come.

He won’t forget you, that’s for sure. You’re about to infiltrate his mind in the same manner in which he infiltrated yours.

The soft click of your heels can be heard as you depart from his bedroom, leaving him with his soft cock out and pants down his legs.

Before closing the bedroom door behind you, you stop and look at him over your shoulder.

“Goodnight agent.”

The minutes tick by antagonizingly slow before he scrambles to get up, grunting at the subtle pain in his back as he picks his gun up and places it on the dresser.

He follows your wet trail down the hallway and to the glass door of his balcony that you purposefully left cracked; an answer to his earlier question.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

He smirks when he sees the heart shape you’ve left against the surface.

Translations: gatita (kitten), sucia (dirty), boquita (little mouth), Que pasó, nena (what's wrong baby), Puta madre (motherfucker).

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auteurdelabre · 2 days

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Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

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auteurdelabre · 2 days

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AS LONG AS YOU WANT (Part 3 - FINAL) Joel!Miller x f!Reader

chapter summary: The truth comes out

tags: enemies to lovers, miscommunication trope, fluff, HEA

a/n: This shit is fluffy AF y'all. A little love letter to the sweetheart that sent me a donation (I won't name ya unless you want me to!) that really touched me. I think it's a fitting finale to our sweet little story that all began as a gift to my heart @katiexpunk.

series masterlist here

AS LONG AS YOU WANT PART III

The next morning the door is pushed open without so much as a knock. You're elevated on your back, feeling every touch of pain that crackles along your body. Your head is throbbing and you need to pee so badly it hurts.

"Who is it?"

"Me," a young voice replies, accompanied by the sound of boots being kicked off and a jacket being hung over a chair.

"Come in," you call. "I'd offer you a drink but I can barely fucking move."

"Yeah, I heard."

Your eyes go to the door frame to see Ellie entering with an armful of snow-flicked books. Her cheeks are pink from the cold.

"What are you doing here?"

"Joel sent me," Ellie explains, pulling the chair next to your bed so you can look at her easier. "Wanted me to drop this off."

She places a gently clattering container of pain pills on your bedside table. You hold in a growl of irritation.

"I don't need those."

"Joel says that if you say that then I'm supposed to tell you that he's already gone today to get the Teton Village medicine so you can take these ones now."

Joel went on patrols in this weather? You can see the blustery day from your bedroom window, can hear the strong winds on your roof. Your face contorts into a confused scowl.

"But the s-"

"He also says for me to remind you that he's a good rider," Ellie says imitating his deep rasp, amusement in her young teenage face. "And that he knows how to handle the fuckin' snow."

Ellie smiles broadly, amused at your momentarily awed reaction.

You scoff. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Ellie smiles. "He says not to miss his handsome face too much while he's gone."

You feel a heat go to your cheeks as you pretend to laugh along with her. His voice echoes in your mind.

You think I'm handsome?

Ellie hands you one of the pills from the bottle. You take it reluctantly, swallowing it dry.

When the pain ebbs slightly a short while later Ellie helps you to a standing position so you can use the toilet. You decide to shower yourself up the best you can before returning to the bedroom. Ellie is just finished changing your sheets.

Gratitude for both her and Joel sears through you. That they would go to all of this trouble for just you.

Wrapped in a fuzzy towel you pad over to the dresser. You pull on a nightdress over the towel before dropping it down to the floor, drying your feet. You think about crouching down to pick it up but you can't chance it. Just the thought makes your side ache.

Your attention is drawn to the pile of books she's emptied from her bag and heaved onto the bedside table.

"What're those?"

“You’ve never seen books before?”

“Ha ha,” you mock drolly rolling your eyes.

“They’re from our place," Ellie tells you before bringing them over. "Joel thought you'd want some new reading material."

Something slithers through your body at this comment. Joel is being so thoughtful, remembering things about you and he’s going to all this effort... But why? Was it just for you? And if it was, how do you feel about it?

You let yourself search your body and brain for a reaction and are surprised because You feel... Warm about it.

That's probably just the medication.

When you come back to stand next to the bed Ellie gives you a scan.

"You okay?"

"Yup," you say happily. "Just feeling good."

"Oh yeah?" Ellie holds in a laugh. She watches you roll awkwardly back into the bed, eyes glazed.

"Thanks for doing this Ellie. The books and pills and my bed and everything."

"Joel would be upset if I didn't," Ellie admits, moving the pillows under you until you're half seated. She darts a glance at you. "He cares a lot about you, you know."

"Mhm," you offer noncommittal. You're feeling that same loopy sensation from before. The one that has you feeling loving towards everyone. "I care about him too."

"Really?" Ellie sounds surprised.

"I think he's so handsome. And his mouth is so soft, Ellie. I wanna kiss him all the time."

"Gross," Ellie is trying not to laugh at your obviously drugged state. "I thought you two couldn't stand each other? You're always starting in on each other when I see you."

"He's annoying," you say with a pout. "But he's good inside. He just hides it."

"Oh yeah?" Ellie is tilted back in her chair secretly screaming in amusement. She's known you for over a year and never gotten so much as a hint of your affection for Joel.

But now that she thinks about it though it all seems so obvious. The way the two of you always seem to find one another in a crowd, even if it is just to argue. The way Joel gets up extra early on patrol days and uses extra shampoo. The way you both go pink in the cheeks when you have a disagreement, eyes flashing.

How didn't she see it before now?

Her surrogate father figure means a lot to her. He always has and always will. She wants him to be happy. She thinks about the two of you together and it brings a grin to her chapped lips.

"What's your favorite thing about Joel?"

She pulls the sheet up to your waist, amused at the dreamy look that's taken over your features.

"How well he takes care of things. Like, how he takes care of you and the horses and the community," you're slurring now. "He's got such a big heart."

"He does," Ellie agrees, thankful that it's not just her who knows it.

"I think about him all the time," you murmur, head tilting against the pillow. "But I try not to."

Ellie finds her amusement giving way to something deeper as she watches you fall into a medicated sleep. But not before you seem to momentarily come back to yourself.

"Don't tell him," your drugged self begs slowly. "He can't know. He doesn't see me like that."

///

Ellie drops by every day with food and to help you out of bed when you need it. You're doing much better however, and a lot of that is in thanks to the pills. They make it possible for you to sleep without waking.

Gemma also returns daily to check up on you, thankful that you're taking the pills and sleeping.

Your body begins to mend and soon you don't need the pills at all. You keep them right there on your bedside table just in case. But you plan on returning then to Gemma when you're completely healed up.

After a week you're able to get to the washroom independently without doubling over. You're able to shower and to wash your hair.

Joel doesn't stop by.

By week three Gemma is only visiting every couple of days to ensure that you're healing properly. Ellie comes by with food daily but she doesn't stay long as she's started helping in the community garden after school.

And in all this time your thoughts draw to Joel. His eyes when he looked at you over his whiskey glass, the curve of his smirk, his finger in your mouth. All of these jumble up in your mind leaving you irritable and confused.

You'd almost convinced yourself he liked you. Almost could have believed that there was a mutual attraction underneath the bickering.

He went and got the medication didn't he? Wasn't that something?

But maybe it hadn't been for your benefit. Joel feels similar to you about the community of Jackson. Putting it first before your own interests. Maybe that's why he headed out in a snowstorm.

Probably.

Because he hasn't been by to see you since that night. You don't blame him - it's not like you're friends. You're patrol partners and he felt responsible to see you didn't die that day in the stables.

It shouldn't bother you that he hasn't come by since.

But it does.

///

Week four is when you feel good enough to go out for short walks. You decide to get food from the dining hall. The pain is fairly minimal, but you're breathing is a bit labored.

It takes you three times as long to get there but you feel very proud of yourself. Folks greet you, but politely. You don't know many of the people that live here; you've always been more of a hermit.

Ellie spots you when you shuffle towards the drinks station and she waves you over.

You slowly make your way to their end of the table, shooting a wan smile that Ellie returns. Joel meanwhile has his head facing down to his meal, his countenance withdrawn.

"Come eat with us," Ellie insists.

"Not really up to it today," you confess. "Was kinda just trying to stretch my legs and grab something to take back. Give you a break from having to bring me food every day."

"I don't mind," Ellie shrugs. "I like feeling useful."

Joel is studiously ignoring you, his eyes on his plate. You don't know why but this upsets you. Joel is always finding some way to tease you or throw a sarcastic comment your way. But right now he's so quiet, so still.

"Well I appreciate what you've done for me," you say, tucking the sandwich into your pocket. "Both of you."

Joel feels himself straighten, his heart picking up speed, his entire body prickling at your nearness. He can smell your soap, see the way your face looks so much healthier now that you've been getting regular sleep.

"No problem," Ellie replies. She shoots Joel a look before kicking his shin under the table. By the time he gets what she's trying to communicate you're already gone.

///

"She told me," Ellie says to Joel for the twentieth time that morning. The two of them walk over the frost covered landscape.

Ellie has finally told Joel about your confession. She shouldn't have betrayed your privacy but seeing the two of you walking around so oblivious is frustrating to Ellie.

"She was high as a kite," Joel mumbles, unable to look at her.

"So?"

"She didn't mean it."

"She did so," Ellie insists. "She likes you Joel. Thinks you're handsome and kind and-"

"Ellie just drop it," Joel throws over his shoulder.

He doesn't want to nurse this pathetic crush of his anymore. It doesn't matter what you say when you're on medication. In the cold light of day you don't want him and that's fine. He's been single a long time.

And yet...

When his walk with Ellie ends and he starts up the stairs of the porch to head inside his house something tugs at him. It makes him mumble to Ellie about grabbing something from the shop, ignoring the knowing smirk on her face.

It tugs him hastily towards your home, to your front door and when you invite whomever is outside in, it tugs him by the collar to stand beside your bed watching you place a mug of tea down on your bedside table.

He takes in the nightdress you wear, the dark under your eyes. He sees the blanket pulled up to your collar, looking cozy and warm. Somehow that thought turns him on more than he can explain, just knowing your skin would be warm and soft and…

"Hey, everything okay, Miller?" Your eyes scan his face as he stares at you without speaking. "You seem... Weird."

Joel swallows a scowl. This is what he rushed over here for? This was the woman who really really liked him according to Ellie?

I'm a fuckin' idiot.

"Yeah I'm fine. Just... Checkin' in on you."

"Oh." You seem surprised at this, smiling faintly. "Yeah, well, I'm getting there. I feel pretty good most days."

"S'good," Joel nods, shuffling slightly. And he means it, he is really glad that you're okay. It makes the coil of rope around his heart go slack. As if now he can properly breathe. His hands go into his jean pockets and he clears his throat awkwardly.

"You went to a lot of effort," you tell him, feeling shy. "Before. With the medication.'

Was it for me?

"Yeah, well, we needed more meds," Joel reasons, unable to look you in the face. "And I had nothin' better to do."

Of course it wasn't for me.

You're so stupid thinking that there was anything there. You want to shake yourself silly for thinking that there was any chance Joel Miller sees you as anything more than an annoyance.

"Right, yeah." You sigh softly. "Well, thank you. I got a few days of really good sleep, managed the pain. Couldn't have done that without your help."

Joel makes a small grunt of acknowledgement in return.

He doesn't want to stick around too much longer. He feels awkward enough knowing that in the sober light of day you want nothing to do with him. It's made worse knowing that he so easily and readily would have opened his heart if you had given only the slightest indication today.

"Well, get better soon," he mumbles. "Patrols need as many people as possible."

You try not to look deflated. Everything he’s saying today hits you like a punch to the gut. You give a weak smile, nodding up at him.

"Right."

"I'll send Ellie by with some more books next week if you want." He motions to the books scattered on your bed, some dog-eared, many finished.

"You'll probably be done with all these by then."

You want to deny this offer, not wanting anything more from him. But he's correct, you read quickly and these books will surely be done by next week.

"That would be nice, thanks."

He gives a short raise of his fingers before he's turned and preparing to walk out the door into the chill of the day.

"Joel?"

He stills mid-step at the sound of your voice. He turns, hearing you tentatively approach him. He's surprised to see you out of the bed, bare feet padding over to him. You’re wearing a thin nightdress and he fights everything in his body not to stare at the way he can see the tight buds of your nipples through it.

"I never really thanked you for everything," you say softly as you approach, chest heaving nervously. "The doctor, the soup and drink."

You're so close he could wrap his hand around your neck and pull you to him. His fingers twitch against his thighs at the thought. His feelings for you are coursing through him and he's having a difficult time reminding himself that you don't want him like that.

"So thanks," you finish lamely, gaze unable to drift from his. It feels like his dark brown eyes are hypnotizing, drawing you into their depths.

Your eyes move to his mouth, that pouty, soft-looking mouth that haunts your fucking dreams. You realize with a shiver that you want Joel. You need to feel what it is to kiss him. Suddenly you can't help yourself.

A hand snakes out to his collar, tugging his face down to yours. Your mouths collide because you are desperate to see if Joel's lips feel as soft as they look.

They do.

They're so soft and they go firm as he kisses you back, groaning gently into your mouth. His hands travel to your waist, quickly banding around your lower back, pulling you into his hips. You smile against his lips, hands moving from his collar to grip his neck, needing more of him.

Joel feels like he’s on fire in the best possible way. You’re so warm in his arms, just like he imagined. And you’re pulling him against you, needy for him like he is for you. He backs you against the wall, careful to be gentle as he does. He licks into your mouth, his hips grinding against yours.

“So fucking sweet,” he murmurs against your mouth, one hand on your lower back, the other cradling the back of your head so that he can taste all of you. Every crevice, every sensation, everything that’s you. His hand slides to your hip, urging one leg to band around his waist, his thickness rasping through his jeans against your clothed core.

“Oh f-fuck,” you groan as his mouth goes to your jaw, pressing desperate kisses down the side of your throat. Joel feels as your hands go for the buckle of his belt and his mouth comes back to capture yours once more. As your tongue greedily dabs against his and your hand slides underneath his jeans you feel Joel suddenly tense under you.

"Wait what-" Joel pulls back, his hands gripping you by the shoulder, looking into your face. He peers into your face a long while before his eyes fly to your bedside table behind you, fixing there before you see his face fall.

You see the way his brows rise and the almost pained look in his eyes as he speaks.

"I gotta go."

Before you can say anything to him Joel has scrambled to buckle his pants and then rushed out of the room. You can hear his boots slapping against the porch steps as you glance over at your bedside table.

There you see the collection of books, a glass of water, the opened pill container, a hairbrush. You don't know what upset him so much but you feel a rush of shame go through you. It has nothing to do with what’s on your bedside table, it’s that Joel realized that he doesn’t want you like that.

You were an idiot to think Joel Miller cares for you.

///

After six weeks you’re feeling back to your normal self. You tell a very excited Maria that you’re ready to get back to patrols but added: “Do you think you could swap my shifts though? I’d like a new partner.”

It hurt having to ask her that, but it felt necessary. Maria hadn’t questioned it – it was commonplace to switch people out from time to time. The man currently filling your spot with Joel would continue on in your place and you’d be moved to D-Watch.

It seemed like a perfect plan until the next day when you rose very early and headed to the stables.

You wanted to take your time saddling Glimmer as it’d been weeks since you were riding. You wanted to make sure you weren’t rusty for whoever your partner turned out to be. Glimmer looked happy to have the company in the pen this early, the dappling sun dancing around the paddock.

You were just releasing the cinches on the saddle when you felt the sound of footsteps making their way into the barn and then the heavy presence of someone behind you.

“Since when’re you back on patrols?”

Fuck.

"Hi Miller,” you sigh. “And to answer your question, since yesterday.”

Joel watches you saddling up Glimmer, his dark brows furrowing. “But it ain’t your watch today.”

“It is starting this week,” you answer breezily, wishing he’d just go away and leave you alone.

You don’t want to be talking to Joel right now. Just the memory of how you threw yourself at him last time makes your cheeks burn.

"What the fuck... Why?"

“I wanted to try something new,” you lie, still not facing him.

You hear the sound of his boots dragging, his body warm behind you. You hate that your stomach jumps at his nearness. You hate that your body yearns for his despite everything that’s happened.

“Anway, I’m busy,” you tell him as you reach for Glimmer’s breast collar.

You wait for Joel to turn around or to say something caustic. But instead you hear the sound of his feet drawing him closer to you. A feather light touch of his hand is at your shoulder, resting there. It compels you to stop what you’re doing and listen.

“I don’t want you to switch.”

His deep voice is soft and almost wounded. It makes your motions still and your head tilt to the side, about to respond.

Out of nowhere Glimmer rears back, sending you throwing yourself backwards in anticipation of a kick. Joel grabs her bridle, forcing her to still.

“Calm now, girl. C’mon, shhhh.”

She gives a sharp whinny, settling almost immediately. Joel pats her muzzle, murmuring soothing words before making sure the flank cinch is tightened properly.

He turns to look over at you, confused to see you cowering beside the stable door. You’re on your knees, half bent and eyes squeezed shut. As he watches, you tilt forward as if you’re about to vomit and you let out a low moan of what sounds like pain.

“Fuck.”

Joel rushes over to you, falling to his knees before you. “Are you hurt?”

"Just ... Just go away, Joel," you sputter before dropping to your knees. You need him to go away. You need the world to go away so you can get your bearings.

"Is it the ribs-"

"No!" You moan, feeling as the cold sensation grips your lower body. You let out another strangled noise, feeling like you heart is going to burst out of your chest.

"My h-heart," you sputter.

You don't know how to say the words: this has happened before but no one has ever been here to witness it. And for some reason this morning's is so much worse than you remember the last one being.

“I get these sometimes,” Joel explains, urging you to sit up and face him. “It’s just panic. Take a minute and breathe.”

“I-I a-am b-b-breathing,” you managed to choke out, even as you feel your chest constrict. You feel frantic, like you’re going to explode if something doesn’t happen quickly. Joel recognizes the look and his hands move to rest firmly on either side of your neck, forcing your eyes to his.

"Copy me. Inhale.... Exhale."

The panic is overwhelming, your entire body starting to break out in chills. You're scared and you grip onto Joel's shoulders as if he's a lifeboat and you're at sea.

"Joel, I-"

"Breathe with me, baby," Joel instructs. You feel his thumbs on either side of your jaw, grounding you. "Are you listening? In... And out... Just like that. Yeah, good girl. Just like that."

You breathe in slowly, watching his mouth as it form a perfect little ‘o’ shape. You exhale along with him,

"In.... And out ..."

His mouth. His perfect, pouty lips forming the words. The feeling is overwhelming, the desire to press your mouth to his is quickly edging out the panic you’d been feeling. He holds you in his strong palms and you feel boneless, his voice lulling you into a calm state. You gaze at him with glassy eyes.

"In... And out..."

Joel is so worried that you're going to pass out. You've gone from hyperventilating to sudden slow and deep breaths. But after a few moments he thinks you must be in the clear.

"There you go," he murmurs, gaze lingering on your face. Your skin is so soft under his hands, your eyes meeting his with lowering lids.

You continue to stare at him, unable to find the right words. Joel smiles crookedly.

"Guess I know how to get you to listen to me now. Just gotta catch ya in the middle of a meltdown."

He's trying to lighten the tension because your faces are so close to one another, he can feel the warmth of your breath huffing against his face.

You want to press your mouth to his but he gently releases your face, leaning back to regard you.

"Let's get you home. I-"

But you’re not moving from where you sit kneeling against him, your hands still on his shoulders.

"Why don't you visit me anymore?"

Joel doesn’t know exactly how to respond to this. He can tell that you’re obviously stressed and he doesn’t want to add to it. But on the other hand he has no desire to keep anything from you.

"Didn't know we were friends enough to visit," Joel shrugs.

"But you did the first few days," you reason, fingers digging into the warmth of his jacket. "The soup, the whiskey. Then that last time."

"You miss me or somethin'?" Joel teases lightly.

"Yeah," you say in a voice so gentle it could have been a sigh. "I do miss you, Miller. The place feels good when you're around. Better than good, it feels right."

There. You've admitted it. No matter what happens at least you know you've shared how you feel with him.

Joel stares at you for a long moment before he stands, suddenly overcome. You bring yourself to stand across from him, watching as he begins to pace in front of you, lower lip slightly protruding in thought.

"You know that night you got hurt?” Joel asks, darting a glance at you. “And I took you back to yours?"

"Obviously."

"You uh, you surprised me that night,” Joel confesses, his cheeks reddening. “You kissed me."

Your eyes blow wide. "What?"

"Yeah. You said a lot of stuff 'bout wanting to kiss me for a while and,” Joel licks his lips nervously. “You asked me to stay the night with you."

You're in total shock about this. You have no recollection except for waking up and being needlessly unkind to him due to the surprise of seeing him in your bed. You cover your face with your hands, humiliating overtaking you.

“Oh my – Joel I’m so sorry-“

“No, no nothing to be sorry for,” Joel says almost desperately. “I mean . . .I just. . .That’s why I was there when you woke up," Joel explains.

“Because I guilted you into it,” you moan, burying your face in your hands further. “And then I forced myself on you.”

“You didn’t force anythin’.”

You want to jump into a fit of infested bloaters if it means this conversation can be over. All this time you thought Joel liked you and it’s because he’s what? Embarassed that you threw yourself at him in a drugged episode?

You’re surprised when you feel his large hands overtaking yours, dragging them from your heating face. He looks so concerned, so nervous. It makes your heart pound. He holds your hand in his, thumbs absently trailing over the knuckles.

“I liked you kissing me. I liked being there with you when you woke up,” he finally confesses throatily. “I liked holding you. I like being around you. . . Even when you drive me crazy and you talk shit. I only like patrols ‘cuz you’re on ‘em with me. I don’t want you to swit-”

Before he can even finish his sentence you’ve jerked forward, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth to his. Joel responds immediately, his lips slotting between yours instinctively as his arms go around you.

But then you feel him tense again and your body stills. Joel wants to kiss you back so badly his entire body goes up in flames. But all too soon he pushes you from him gently.

"You don't actually want me," Joel tells you flatly, swallowing thickly. "It's the pills. Like last time."

What?

“You get like this when you’ve taken the pill,” he explains. “Makes you more emotional or somethin’. I dunno. I just-“

"Joel I haven't taken a pill in weeks," you say, brows furrowed. "I haven't needed them."

Joel peers down into your face, uncertainty etched there. "Last time I came over to see you, those pills-"

"I hadn’t taken any that day."

"They were open.”

“I was counting to see how many were left. I wanted Gemma to know when she came by so she could use them in the pharmacy.”

Joel stares at you a long moment and you begin giggling nervously when you see his eyes darken. Immediately his hands on either side of your face, pulling you into a searching kiss as you whimper. And just like in your bedroom he backs you against the wall, pressing his frame against yours.

He kisses you in the way he’s been aching to do since he last saw you, teeth clacking in over-eager need, tongues and grunts and your hands fisting in his hair, needing all of each other. His knee goes between your thighs and you rest there, hips grinding.

"Fuck, I wanna do so much with you," Joel rasps against your jaw, planting sloppy kisses there. His teeth graze your pulsepoint and he groans when he feels your body trembling against him, your pelvis canting towards his.

"Do it," you beg brokenly. "Please, do it."

You want his hands and mouth everywhere on your body and he wants you in his bed right this fucking instant, but he feels how you move in his arms, still slightly stiff from your injury.

"Not until you're officially all healed up," Joel murmurs amazed that you’re here in his arms. "Can't risk it."

"You think pretty highly of yourself, Miller," you tease, grinning broadly when he does.

"Not Miller," he says giving you a full-lipped kiss as he circles your waist gently with his arms. "Not when I'm lovin' on you."

You grin up at him, feeling your eyes water at the sincerity in his expression. You run your hand through his greying curls; your thumb gently tracing over his cheek.

"Alright then," you whisper. “Kiss me again, Joel."

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auteurdelabre · 2 days

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hello!!

i saw that you’re turning stff into a novel!!! that’s wonderful! Congratulations!!

Is it still possible to see it or download it through ao3 or anything by chance? I just wanted to check cause it’s become one of my comfort stories and i’ve loved revisiting it!!

Hello love!

Unfortunately I have removed it from all platforms! I'm so glad that it meant something to you and I really hope you like the next incarnation of it!

Love Emma

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auteurdelabre · 2 days

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Hi!❤️

Will a secret kind of pain remain on ao3?

I hope you don't mind that I downloaded it, I really love that story, I must have re-read it

at least ten times, so I would like to keep it if that's okay with you of course

And for the record, I think It was really well written❤️

A secret kind of pain will remain on a03! As of right now the great removal of 2024 is complete heh heh. I'm really delighted you like that story!

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auteurdelabre · 2 days

Text

IMPORTANT INFO

Hi y’all, I just wanted to pop on here and say I have removed some of my stories from here and A03 and there are several reasons!

I am turning STFF into a real, full-length original novel! Same story, different names for legal reasons. It’s because of you and your support that I feel I can do this! The second I am finished you will ALL be alerted! That being said, I will absolutely be adding little vignettes for those of you who still miss the characters from the story!

Some of the other stories I deleted were because I really didn’t like the writing in them. Either I thought the plot was sloppy or poorly written and/or I hated the characters and I’m just not proud of them. I really only want to be showcasing the work that makes me proud.

I also deleted some that were WIP’s that were over six months old and/or I had no intention of finishing. I can’t speak for other authors on here, but seeing this wall of stories I had put upon myself was giving me so much stress it isn’t funny. It was making all this start to feel like a chore instead of a relaxing, creative outlet.

So I hope that clears things up if you noticed them missing, and I’m sorry if I removed some of your favorites! I hope you’ll give my remaining stories a go because they are the ones I am most proud of.

I love each and every one of the 1,500+ of you that follow me on here! I got fun stuff in the works with my current stories which WILL be updated and finished. And once those are done there’s a good chance I’ll bring some back of my old WIPs.

Love, Emma

pedro tax

#emma updates #emma writes #something to fight for fic

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auteurdelabre · 2 days

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ENEMIES TO LOVERS MISCOMMUNICATION MUTUAL PINING IDIOTS IN LOVE WHAT?!

the good thing about being told that writing about a certain cliché or concept should be avoided “because it’s overdone” is that you can simply. ignore that and write about it anyway if you so desire. like it is that easy

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auteurdelabre · 3 days

Text

Hey everyone just so you know THESE ARE THE KIND OF COMMENTS THAT PUT ME ON CLOUD NINE. I AM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET AND REREADING YOUR COMMENT. I LOVE SEEING MY STORY THROUGH YOUR EYES. THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO LEAVES ME COMMENTS AND YOU DESERVE SOMETHING FOR THIS AMAZING IN DEPTH COMMENT..... Hmmm.... I got an idea.... I'll be back...

SO MUCH TO LOSE PART 12

rating: 18+

tags: mentions of death, mentions of violence, fingering, dirty talk, jealousy, angst.

a/n: I'm sorry y'all lunch with friends ran late and it's definitely not the afternoon anymore! But here it is! I know y'all have waited a long time for this so I hope its to your liking. It's over 12,000 words and I swear I could write more but then I'd never publish anything. You know your comments and reblogs make me continue on, so please don't forget to do one of the other or even better, both!

masterlist here

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

"Wake up."

You jolt awake, eyes blowing wide. You instinctively go for the clock at your beside at home but it's not there. Nothing is where it usually is. As your sleepy mind clears you see two brown eyes staring down at you.

"Time to go. Get dressed."

You clothes are dried and laying beside you on the couch and the dead fire. The already dressed Joel leaves the room likely to give you privacy. You get dressed in a hurry, pulling your clothes and boots on before stumbling after Joel.

"Did you sleep much?"

"Yep. Plenty."

You don’t believe him. There are large circles under his eyes and he yawns so wide that his jaw cracks. You think maybe he got an hour tops.

You follow him down to see the horses huddled up together in the center of the room. Joel obviously used two of the blankets from upstairs because they’re thrown over each of the horses’ backs. They give a soft whinny as the two of you approach.

“Sure am missing breakfast,” you muse with a sleepy smile. “Even that oatmeal that sticks to the roof of my mouth.”

Joel’s mouth curls a bit at one side in amusement. You busy yourself with kissing Chestnut’s muzzle once more before you feel Joel tap you.

“Here.”

You glance over to see Joel holding a piece of jerky out to you. You take it gratefully before pausing.

“Wait, isn’t this your portion?”

“Ate mine already.”

He’s lying.

He gave you all the jerky. Let you drink the rest of his coffee. Even shared his precious whiskey.

“You sure?”

Joel hefts the saddles onto each of the horses, making sure that they’re secured as you gaze at him in question. He feels you staring at him and instead of his usual snark he just glances over gives you a nod.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

You and Chestnut follow he and Midnight out the house, helping the horses to slowly maneuver down the icy steps into the snow. Even after the storm it comes to above your ankles. Joel frowns, looking down at it.

“We’re gonna have to walk ‘em back. Don’t trust that they won’t hurt themselves in all this.”

“Of course.”

You trail after him, eyes stuck on the ground in front of you.

Joel leads, you follow.

And instead of angering you or making you feel small and useless, it makes you bloom. Like a flower warmed by the sun, its petals unfurling. You feel yourself smiling to yourself a big, toothy grin that you’re glad Joel can’t see. He’d ask you why and you’re not sure that you could answer him sufficiently. You don’t quite understand it yourself.

The walk back is long, especially with the horses moving unsteadily over the snow. Thankfully Chestnut is easily led, unlike last night. The worst of the storm is behind you, leaving only the crunch of icy snow and trees heavy with white.

Your cheeks and end of your nose are pink from the cold, the scarf tight around your throat. Your fingers are warm in your gloves and you're relieved that everything dried sufficiently in front of the fire last night. You glance at Joel’s broad back, suddenly fixated on an errant thought.

“Joel can I ask you something?”

He visibly cringes. “What?”

“How did you get so good at shooting and fighting?”

His shoulders relax. “Practice.”

“You didn’t fight or shoot before Outbreak Day?”

“Only when I had to get Tommy out of scrapes,” Joel says quietly and you notice he’s slowed his walking until you’ve matched paces and you’re both walking side by side. “I did some boxing when I was younger. Didn’t have much time when Sar- when I got older. The shooting came after. A necessary skill when you’re smugglin’.”

You nod, knowing that he was about to bring up his daughter. Despite the closeness you feel, you have no desire to delve into that very heavy topic. You’re curious about his smuggling as well, but you don’t want to bring that up either as it seems strangely personal.

“You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon,” Joel continues on as if you’re a particularly engaged student. “A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.”

To you a book is a book, a candlestick a candlestick. You don’t see things as potential weapons, only for their intended uses

“I never really thought of that,” you admit. “Although I wish I was more of a natural at shooting.”

"Needed to keep up with your lessons," Joel murmurs and you think you hear a softening of his tone. "I could try teachin' you again."

"I've already got someone teaching me," you tell him, back straight and standing tall. You tell Joel this in the pathetic hopes that it will impress him, that he will see how you’re really trying. But instead he scowls at the air in front of him.

“If it’s that Luke boy you’re better off goin’ in blind,” Joel says, eyes fixed in front of him. “He couldn’t even hit a nail straight. Some fuckin’ cabinetmaker.”

Luke is most assuredly not a boy; he’s at least thirty five. Joel calling him a boy makes you smirk despite being irritated at the insult to your friend.

“You don’t even know Luke.”

Joel looks sullen and you're confused that he's angry again. You really can't anticipate his moods.

The two of you continue on in silence and you think that Joel seems a bit irritated for some reason you can’ unearth. Likely just exhausted like you are after a stressful day and uneven sleep.

"Thought you wanted to be a good shot?” Joel says suddenly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You need a competent teacher."

"I have a competent teacher and it isn't Luke anyway," you bite off, a line of irritation slicing between your brows.

"Who? Aaron? Greg?" Joel's voice is hard edged. His pace increases with every name said. "Kevin?"

“If you must know its Jennifer,” you sigh, irritable from your poor sleep and Joel’s sudden sullenness.

"Jennifer?" Joel's brows untie his features relaxing.

“I know how much you hate me bringing her up,” you sneer. “But I can’t really avoid it now can I?”

Joel gives a grunt by way of reply all the while your mind drifts to your friend. The girl who likes Joel and has for a long while. Jennifer the girl who has always been up front and honest with you.

What will you tell her?

He's quiet with you on the walk back and you wonder if he's distracted like you. He's likely tired like you are, muscles aching from the lumpy couch. Now you know how those muscles feel against your cheek and the memory makes you feel tingly.

In your distracted state and the slick of the snow you tumble, landing on your hands and hissing. Angry tears well in your eyes and you wince at the way your wrist smarts.

"Fuck."

Your knees and are wet from snow and you miserably wait for the chastising or rolled eyes shot your way by Joel. Instead you hear the crunch of snow and he's there half-crouched in front of you, one hand on Midnight's reins, the other held out to you.

You stare at it a moment, the glove wide and cracked with age. Then finally you take it, lifting your eyes to his. You're surprised to find concern.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You good to keep goin'?"

"Uh huh."

He nods and then he turns, dropping your hand and striding back with the horse towards the trail.

You watch the back of Joel's head as he saunters ahead of you, listening to his quiet murmurs to Midnight and fixating on the loose curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. You're captivated by the interwoven strands of dark brown and grey that glint like tinsel in the light of the morning.

You're concerned that the thought of Joel makes your belly grow warm and tighten. The man who previously drove you insane with irritation now lingers in your thoughts almost pleasantly.

He shared things with you. Things you have a feeling he doesn't share with many others. He told you about Tess and he wanted to know about you. So what does that mean? Does he see you as more than just a pleasurable release?

Do you want him to?

You don't know how to feel about Joel right now. And you don’t know what you’re going to tell Jennifer if she asks.

When you cross into Jackson City cold and exhausted a few hours later you're surprised to hear loud commotion behind the wall and electrified fence.

"It's them!"

"Open the fucking gate!"

You and Joel exchange a brief look before the entrance is opened to you and you stalk forward. You see the large group gathered at the wall on the other side, thankful that the snow has been shovelled.

The entrance to the gate is full of the other patrol members looking like they're about to head out. You glance behind you to see the snow storm kicking back up just as the gate is closed and locked securely behind you. You glance back at the

Tommy is giving a relieved huff of air as he sees you both slowly make your way inside the walls, the horses trailing after you.

Jennifer is atop Glimmer; talking animatedly to a new patrol person you don't know. She looks beside herself, her eyes red-rimmed. When she turns back and sees you she lets out a choked sob and scrambles off Glimmer before she runs in your direction, nearly tackling you into a tight embrace.

"I was so worried," she says, voice shaky. "Luke and I were up all night just waiting for word. I was gonna go with the search party and-and-"

"I'm here in okay," you say with a slight laugh, your arms banding around her as she hiccups a cry into your shoulder. "I swear I'm okay."

You notice the timid form of Ellie over Jennifer's shoulder. She sees you first and casts a brief smile at you before her eyes search the crowd for Joel. When she hears him snapping at Tommy to give him breathing room you see the tears she blinks back. You watch as Ellie slips through the crowd chasing after his voice.

When she gets to him there's no hesitation on his part. He brings her into his arms and murmurs something into her ear. Ellie's face crumples but she buries it in the front of Joel's jacket, her tiny hands gripping the front of it.

She loves him so much.

You catch his eye over Ellie's head, not missing the gentle nod he casts your way. It warms you deeply. Things feel different between the two of you.

'I'm so glad you're okay," Jennifer says wiping the tears from her cheeks and drawing your attention back to her. "I just ... I was so scared."

"Me too," you nod, surprised to find yourself choked up. You haven’t had friendship like this before – the kind of tenderness that comes with true companionship. You wonder if this is how every friendship is supposed to feel and if so, you mourn that it took you this long to stumble upon it.

The tall, lanky form of Luke steps forward from the murmuring crowd his face breaking into a relieved expression. He jogs over in your direction and takes you aback by gathering you into his arms and rocking you tightly against him.

“Thank fuck!”

You giggle in his neck, inhaling the soft, warm scent of coffee and wool from his scarf. He holds you like this for several moments, tenderly and with affection.

"I know you wanted an adventure but honestly," he says with mock irritation into your hairline.

Laughter bubbles from the three of you, relieved and silly. You hug him back tightly, thankful for the relationships you've built, thankful for the levity he's bringing to the moment. Grateful that you found he and Jennifer at the end of the world.

You hear a throat clear behind you and you turn in Luke's grip.

Joel stares back at you, mouth in a thin line. He's got Ellie tucked under one arm, Tommy at his side and several of the others attempting to talk to him. But he’s still, the only movement his dark eyes taking you in.

You break away from Luke and move towards Joel, feeling overcome with emotion. Last night could have been so terrifying if not for the broad man standing in front of you. A sensation of deep gratitude curls around your ribs, lessening the anxiety you would normally feel in his presence.

"Thank you for everything, Joel."

You give him a warm smile, even going so far as to touch your hand to his forearm. Ellie watches this, a faint smile settling over her lips as your glove makes contact with his jacket.

You wait for that same quiet kindness from Joel that accompanied you home this morning and are confused when he pulls back from your hand stiffly, his voice melting into that familiar husky baritone.

"Mind movin' outta the way sometime this year?"

And just like that in the blink of an eye the old Joel is back. That same haughty glare, the same squaring of his jaw. You deflate, shoulders slumping before you move backwards.

Nothing has changed.

He strides by your group, the feel of his leather jacket dragging across the back of your glove.

"Must be exhausted after last night," Jennifer surmises, watching after him a moment. "You must be too."

You watch after Joel and Ellie, seeing the rigid way he walks beside her now. You think of Joel’s changeable moods and you exhale softly.

"Yeah," you nod. "I am."

///

Jennifer insists on walking you home and makes sure you are taken care of. She draws you a bath and leaves to bring you back a warm lunch from the dining hall. She makes sure your bed is changed with fresh sheets, warming them with a water bottle from her place. She even offers to sleep on your couch in case you need anything that first evening back.

“You don’t have to do that,” you insist that evening before the fire, your robe tightly around you and socks toasty from being propped up by the flames. It reminds you of how cold you were with Joel only a day ago.

You’re close to falling asleep but you like having Jennifer in the house, nearby. You like the sound of clattering dishes and her chirping away about something in town before she’s tucked up on one side of the couch, her hands around a warm mug of tea.

“I can’t thank you enough for all of this,” you tell her, feeling moved.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something to me.”

Jennifer smiles and you watch how the fire warms her face in an entirely different way than Joel. Instead of looking intimidating, it’s like she softens in the warm light. She looks sad though in a way you don’t recall from before.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” she finally says with a cracked chuckle, her long neck bobbing as she swallows.

“Yeah right. You have so many friends,” you say. “I’ve barely ever seen you alone. You always have company.”

“Company, but not real friends,” she tells you. “Not ones who don’t judge me.”

You recall your initial judgments of the beautiful, blonde Jennifer. That she was giggly and frivolous and that she lived to gather men. You’d had no idea of her tough upbringing, of all she sacrificed, of her talents, of her unending support. You wonder how many others you judged in your life and missed out on the pleasure of knowing.

“I judged you,” you tell her honestly. “When I first met you I thought you were a vapid, pretty flirt.”

Jennifer is immediately laughing across from you, wiping the tension from your face.

“Yeah but everyone makes judgments like that with strangers! I made judgments about you before I got to know you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I thought you were an antisocial bitch,” Jennifer says with a crooked grin and you can’t help but bark out a laugh in reply.

“What?”

“You never spoke to anyone, never smiled. You were always reading or walking off by yourself.” Jennifer smirks. “You intimidated the shit out of me.”

“No,” you say in awe. “I intimidated you?”

“Of course!” Jennifer giggles. “So serious and always reading. Plus you just carried yourself in a way that felt. . . it felt like you had walls up, you know?”

You realize that Jennifer is very astute amongst her other gifts.

“Then I saw Ellie with you that morning,” she adds. “And I figured, maybe like Joel there was more to you than met the eye. Then I heard you were on patrols with Joel and the rest is history.”

Yeah, the rest is history.

You can’t help but curl your lip in amusement. Who knew a chance patrol pairing could lead you into a friendship you’d never thought possible? Jennifer shuffles back on the couch, looking cozy in her latest fashion piece (a cable knit looking sweater with felted strawberry accents).

Jennifer is quiet, staring into the fire. She seems strangely stoic today and you feel like it’s not just from your disappearance. You give her a sidelong glance, lips pressed tightly together. She looks off into middle distance, her normally mirth-filled eyes suddenly hollow.

"You okay, Jen?"

She doesn’t reply, only turns her head to glance in your direction when you prompt her with a gentle tap to her wrist, settling back into the couch before turning to look at you head on.

“Just a tough time of year,” Jennifer acknowledges as she tosses a twig in the fire. She looks different tonight, like a ghostly version of herself.

You surmise that perhaps with the approaching holidays she’s feeling down in the mouth. It's like that with lots of folks. You shift your body to face her, showing her that you're listening and you wait for her to talk, holding the silence for her.

She looks to be fighting an internal debate.

"I shot a kid."

She says it with a choke, as if the words are fighting to come loose from her throat. These weren't the words you'd been expecting from the beautiful, flirty Jennifer. These words are ugly, twisted and cold.

“I’ve only told a few people,” she adds, chin wobbling.

You stare at her, eyes unwavering, waiting. Words aren't your strong suit. All you can offer her is a steady silence. She absently scratches at the side of the warm mug she holds.

"This was years ago around this time," she continues, her eyes downcast. "I was with my brothers and we were going through to one of the safety zones. We'd found this old market, had some tinned goods. My brothers go to check out the back and I go down an empty aisle thinking I might find something useful."

Jennifer swallows harshly, her teacup held so tightly her knuckles look parchment white.

"All of a sudden this kid comes out of nowhere. Couldn't have been more than ten. He's skin and bones, wild eyes saying these words over and over, a bunch that I don't understand. He had a knife in his hand and I thought he was trying to come for me. I didn't even think, I just raised the gun and I shot him between the eyes."

You can almost hear the echo of that gunshot in the silent room now.

Jennifer is staring over your shoulder, like she can see the ghostly apparition of the fallen child behind you. It makes goosebumps rise along your body, and you continue to keep your even silence. You know that she doesn't want you embrace or your pity, just your presence.

"My brother's told me I did what was smart,” Jennifer whispers. “Told me to move on. But his face when he was dead, his shrieking, it just kept playing over and over in my head. When I went to bed, when I woke up. It felt wrong."

Tears slide down her cheeks now, as quick as she brushes them away with the edge of her sweater, new ones appear, soaking into the wool.

"I came to Jackson a few months after that. My brothers wanted to keep goin', they heard about some place in Canada that they thought would be a better fit for us. But... I needed a fresh start where no one knew me, where I could be someone totally new. They were upset to leave me, but I pretty much insisted on it."

You shift in your seat, listening intently. Jennifer has this sickening look on her face and you know behind her eyes is a memory of this terrible experience. It makes you want to hold her hand but she’s folded into herself and you don’t want to force her into anything.

"So I was living here in Jackson a few months and I’m at the dining hall one night and I hear this woman speaking another language. At first I barely notice, but then I realize this word keeps popping up. Pomoz. Pomoz. Same as that kid."

At this point Jennifer places her empty teacup on the aged wood coffee table. She stretches her long legs before pulling them to her chest. She sniffs again, unable to meet your gaze.

"Turns out he was speaking Polish. So I tell the lady the sentence that has been haunting me for months and months and I ask her for the translation." Jennifer swipes along the bottom of her runny nose with the back of her sweater.

"You know what he was saying?"

You don't move. Not even to shake your head.

"He was saying help me. I'm lost." Jennifer's lower lip trembles. "Pomóż mi, zgubiłem się. He was just a kid begging for my help and I shot him dead without thinking."

Now the sobs come, wracking her slim body as she curls into herself.

"That little b-boy died on a dirty supermarket floor alone and scared because of me."

You can't help it if it isn't in your nature; your hands go to Jennifer's and hold tightly. And when her warm teardrops land on the back of them you move forward to wrap her in your arms. You haven’t held someone to comfort them in so long that it feels foreign to you, but you grip her tightly, letting her tears soak the front of your nightdress.

You don’t offer her saccharine words of comfort, you don’t give her pity, you just hold her until the tears stop flowing and her breathing returns to normal. Even after all of that you continue to hold her until she squeezes back, letting you sit there in the quiet night.

"Thank you," Jennifer finally says in a croaked voice before pulling back. You tilt your head at her.

"For what?"

"For letting me talk about this stuff and not judging me." She pushes her hair from her glassy eyes.

"You did what anyone else would have done," you assure her honestly. “I know you don’t believe it, but you did. How could I judge that?”

"I think you're the first person who I ever told this to who didn't look at me like I was a piece of shit," she says with a forced laugh. You shake your head.

"I could never look at you like that.”

She gives you a wry smile. "Oh yeah? Why's that? Cuz I taught you to shoot?"

You give her a weak smile in return.

"Because... You reminded me about the good parts of life. Of having friends and singing and drinking tea. You made me leave my cave and come blinking out into the sunshine again."

Jennifer looks moved by your words, her large eyes growing glossier.

"I think that's why I wanted to get to know you," Jennifer observes with a sniffle. "It felt like you were outrunning something too. Trying to forget."

You look at your hands in your lap before giving a resolute nod.

"Yeah."

"Sometimes I think that's why I like to distract myself with crushes or teaching people to shoot or makin' dresses," she muses. "Being alone with my thoughts too much is..."

She doesn't finish that thought but she doesn't need to.

You couldn't understand more.

And then its like she’s trying to push back this burdensome memory and she forces a smile to her face. You can see her adopting this persona, this safety person that she hides behind. Happy, bright, Jennifer who flirts and shoots and rides horses and drinks beer at the Bison. And you let her slip into this character because you are no one to judge how a person chooses to survive.

“So tell me, what was it like being there with Joel at night?” she asks with a sidelong smirk in your direction. “I know he’s not your favorite person.”

Before when Jennifer asked you about Joel it used to irritate you. You thought she was using you for your information. But when she asks you now there’s nothing but amusement, like two grade-school girls discussing their crush from third period biology.

“I thought about you actually,” you grin toothily. “Thought about how you’d give anything to swap spots with me.”

Jennifer does a fake swoon, falling dramatically backward; the back of her hand on her forehead and you can’t help but bust out giggling. Jennifer giggles right back, sitting back up and bouncing in her seat.

“Tell me everything!”

You can’t tell her everything.

You give her the bullet points; the thundersnow, the horses, Joel’s calves. You leave out that you were both naked under the blankets sharing whiskey, you leave out that he went down on you for hours and you definitely leave out the part about waking up against him and falling back asleep.

“He took really good care of me,” you finish up honestly. “I thought he was gonna be a jerk but he was great.”

“Really?” Jennifer almost beaming, like she’s proud she was right about him all along.

“Yeah, I was really scared and he was really patient that night.”

“See? I told you there was something to him.”

“I guess,” you shrug. “I think it was a storm thing though. He’s gone back to being an asshole so I wouldn’t hold my hopes up.”

“Did he mention me by any chance?”

You think of how to frame this. Yeah, Joel did mention Jennifer but none of his comments were particularly flattering. But when you recall how he looked at her coming back you think it might have been to cover up his feelings. He doesn’t seem like someone who can come out and express how he feels properly.

“Yeah, actually. You came up a few times.”

Jennifer giggles to herself and you know she wants to ask more about this but you’re tired and yawning and not long after she insists you go to sleep.

Your bed has never felt more comfortable but sleep takes its time coming to you. It keeps replaying the night before; the way Joel’s dark eyes reflected the fire, the strength of his hands on your body, his tongue between your legs.

You wish your mind didn’t keep going back to last night because all you can focus on is that Joel made you come, asked for nothing in return and then in the morning made it seem like nothing happened. Then as soon as you entered inside Jackson City he made it seem like he was furious with you.

The way he acted makes you wonder if you'd imagined all his kindness and his soft touches. But no, you can still feel the sensation of his tongue between your folds, his calloused hands on your thighs, the husky groan ordering you to come. You can't stop thinking about it, actually.

It’s there lulling you to sleep, a warmth simmering in your belly.

///

You sleep in the next day, well past the breakfast hour. You don’t mind though, Jennifer had you stuffed with food up until she left at midnight telling you she could stay if you needed her to. You’re still not used to this kind of friendship, still wary that it seems too good to be true.

A glance out the window shows that some snow has fallen since yesterday, but nothing too much. Outside your street is barely touched, the sun shining gently on the earth’s creation.

You get dressed quickly, padding yourself with extra warm clothes, your red scarf and your jacket. You pull on your boots dried by the previous day’s fire and you step into the chilly mid-morning.

You like to go to the quiet parts of Jackson for your walks, enjoying the solitude. It’s in the outer part of Jackson without being in the forest, a place you never venture to. It’s an abandoned neighborhood with old houses, fencing and more.

A sharp bark is at your back and you turn to see the familiar panting dog clumsily making his way over to you through the snow.

“Hey Buckley,” you coo when he gets close enough.

Buckley is a famous figure that roams Jackson City, a dog that belongs to everyone in a way. You think you heard someone say he was a border collie mixed with something else. He’s not always in town, often he’s found by the hydroelectric dam when he’s not snoozing at Gustavo’s feet listening to the banjo.

“You being a good boy?” you muse, scratching the back of his ear when he cocks his head.

He’s a friendly dog, rarely without his prized tennis ball. He doesn’t have it with him now, and you assume he’s lost it in the snow. You shake your head at him with a soft huffing laugh.

“You wanna join me on my walk?”

Sometimes it strange to walk through the underdeveloped parts of Jackson City. The ones with power lines that poke out like jagged tombstones. The asphalt that’s cracks when you walk on it during the hot months. But you come to stand before one of your favorite buildings, the ranch, smiling as the gentle breeze turns your cheeks pink. Buckley follows at your heels, the two of you slowed down by the snow.

You avoid the forest for obvious reasons, but you enjoy walking by the old ranch because it reminds you of the kind of place you read about in books. You think that it would be nice to live in it one day. You found it once during one of your morning walks when you first arrived at Jackson City, and it’s been a sort of touchstone for you ever since.

You walk up its creaking porch steps, your fingers touching the porch swing. You can imagine it spruced up, drinking lemonade while you watch the sunset. It’s a nice fantasy, but it will remain just that. You have no building skills, you are a single occupant and you imagine when Jackson City gets big enough they’ll reserve this place for a big family or turn it into something vital.

You walk inside, immediately at ease with the gold sun of the morning that filters in through the grimy windows. The entire place is built with that warm, honey-colored wood. Threadbare carpets litter the spaces, old furniture still standing. Buckley remains outside, keeping watch as is his prerogative. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him inside anywhere.

You move over the creaking floors, taking in the dusty floors before you touch the sails of the decorate boat resting on the mantle above the hearth, a little tradition of yours. Moth-eaten curtains hang like sad bits of hair over the windows, and you gasp a little when a rat skitters by in the dining room, going to hide in one of the old cabinets. With all the cold weather they are urged indoors and you have no desire to hurt them; that’s Buckley’s job.

You’re about to head upstairs when something in the next room stops you. The kitchen area creaks with the unmistakable sound of slow, heavy footsteps. Immediately you straighten, hands going for a gun that you’re not carrying.

Fuck.

What are you gonna do? Panic threatens to seize you until a voice; low and husky is there at your ear, quelling your heartbeat.

You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon. A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.

Your eyes go wide, taking in the mantle behind you once more. The candlesticks aren’t that heavy, the sailboat decorative. There are some books in the next room but you’ll be seen. Then your eyes drift down to the hearth and you feel relief when you see the fire implements there. You grab the poker, sure not to upset the other brass items into clanging.

The footsteps are continuing getting closer and you force yourself to remember what Jennifer has been teaching you: slow your breathing, focus, think of something that takes you to that quiet place.

Homemade pies.

Lavender soap.

Sunlight on a summer morning.

Joel’s eyes.

Before you can consider this train of thought a figure suddenly makes their way around the corner of the room, looking curiously at their surroundings. You raise the poker above your head, charging at them with a furious shriek.

The man jumps back from you, watery pale eyes bulging out of his ruddy skull. He falls backwards onto the ground, holding a hand up to shield his face as you prepare to bring the poker down on his head.

“Please! Please! I live here! Please don’t hurt me!”

Something in the frantic way he yelps stills your motions, your breathing ragged as adrenaline courses through you. You lower the poker to your side, still not releasing it entirely.

He’s short and portly and he doesn’t look particularly frightening lying there quivering on the ground.

“You don’t live here,” you tell him sharply. “This place is empty.”

“I meant I live here in the community,” the man squeaks. He can’t be younger than sixty. “Well, in a sense. I-I mean, we just got here y-yesterday. I was just looking for the soap maker; I was told she’s nearby?”

You don’t sense any real danger from this man and now you step forward, holding a hand out to him. He winces at first, thinking you mean to hit him. Then he realizes you’re not threatening him and he takes your hand gingerly.

“I’m sorry,” the man says with his voice wobbling as you pull him to a stand. “I didn’t mean to startle.”

“It’s fine. I’ve just never run into anyone here. Raiders have been seen nearby and it’s a bit high tension around lately,” you explain.

“Oh I see,” the man nods. “That explains the welcome.”

You can’t help but laugh softly at that.

“I'm Arthur," the man says shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.

Normally you would keep to yourself, but today feels different. You feel different. It prompts you to keep your face pointed to the pale man.

"You said you were new to Jackson?"

"Wife and I just arrived last night," Arthur says with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. "I'm still getting my bearings. She was so excited to have running water so I was looking for soap. Someone in town told me there’s a soap maker in this direction."

“I’ll show you the way,” you say, placing the fire poker back with the other instruments beside the hearth.

“Really?”

“Sure. Follow me.”

The two of you walk into the chill of the day, Buckley standing to attention when the two of you exit. You introduce Arthur to the dog and the two of you start on your journey. Arthur is a slow walker, especially in the snow, so it takes a bit longer than you normally would.

But strangely you don’t mind. You think you might be feeling powerful from earlier; you knew what to do in a time of panic. It makes you smile, your entire disposition cheerful as Arthur talks on next to you.

“I’d like to find some work as soon as possible.”

"Of course," you nod. "You have any experience in anything?"

"Not unless someone wants their portrait done," Arthur says with a smile that shows his crowded incisors. "Back in the QZ I did some teaching. Art classes and the like."

"They could always use someone like that here," you reason.

"You think?"

"I'm sure of it. Maybe at the school? What does your wife do?"

"Penny was in the business sector before the outbreak. In the QZ she did more manual positions, disposal that sort of thing. Do you think you could find her work in something similar here?"

"Oh, I'm not in charge if that sort of stuff," you smile. "But I know who is. I'll see her this week and tell her you're eager to help out. Can I get your address?"

They live at 64 Pine and while Arthur is more of the creative type, he and his wife both have experience with cooking as well. You make a note of this for when you see Maria later this week.

Normally Maria would be on top of this sort of thing. Before Douglas' she always gave the tour's to newcomers, always had them sorted with a job before the end of their first week. But now she's distracted and subsequently Tommy is too.

People like to give, she told you that first week. Makes them feel like they’re part of something.

You and Arthur chat companionably with Buckley trailing at your ankles through the snow. Arthur and his wife have been together for thirty five years, and they’ve made it from the Virginia QZ.

“Things were just too hairy over there,” Arthur says with a shake of his head. “Me and Penny figured we couldn’t keep living like that. We heard about Jackson City through an old CB a friend had. Seemed too good to be true.”

“I get that,” you nod. “The first month I was here I barely left my house. I was convinced my place would be given away the second I walked out the door.”

“The beds!” Arthur says with a dramatic emphasis on the words. “And those clean sheets? Everything is just so. . .Fresh.”

You’re at the soap maker’s home now and while it’s still early, you can hear Hannah rustling about inside. You know if you stay she’ll insist on having you in for coffee and you feel as if your social battery is already at its limit.

“This is where I’ll leave you,” you say indicating to the home ahead. “Inside is Hannah and Herb, they’ll set you up with some soap for you and your wife.”

“Thanks so much,” Arthur says pumping your hand in his.

“Can you make it back okay on your own?”

“I’m sure.”

You smile, about to turn and head back home when something stops you. You twist around, calling after Arthur who raises his brows.

“Do you ever draw portraits?”

“Of course,” Arthur nods.

“I mean, of people you don’t know,” you say, squinting as you try to recall the term. “Kinda like sketch artists did for the police back before?”

“I can’t say it’s a specialty, but I love a challenge,” Arthur says with a little skip to his step. “And considering you were kind enough to show me here I’d love to do it for you.”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling shy. “I might just take you up on it.”

///

You’re surprised to see Maria knocking on your door later that afternoon. She’s got a sleeping Douglas strapped to her chest with a sling and she’s carrying a pie in one hand.

“I would have been here the second you got back but I only heard from Tommy what was going on late last night,” she says when you invite her in.

“No problem,” you insist warmly. “I think he was doing it to save you some stress.”

“Yeah well he got an earful,” she says with a frown. “How could he not tell me my friend was missing during a storm?”

Friend. Another friend. An embarrassment of riches. You try to tamp down the pleased smile that bleeds across your face and instead give a gentle rub to Douglas’ head, giggling as he grunts and scrunches his nose.

You tell Maria about Arthur and Penny and she nods as she feeds Douglas.

"Yep, 64 Pine. I just sent them over a welcome basket and Tommy's gone there to give 'em jobs."

"Great," you smile. Your eyes go to the gently babbling Douglas in Maria's arms. “How does he get cuter every day?”

“Must be a Miller thing,” she says laughing. “I saw a picture of Sarah once and she was so adorable.”

This intrigues you to the point of distraction.

“You saw a picture of Sarah?”

Very few people had photos or memorabilia from their homes that survived Outbreak Day. You don’t know anyone personally who has photos of their family.

“Yeah, Tommy went back to Texas a while back. Got some stuff from his old place and he found a photo of Sarah to bring back.”

“Joel must have been so happy.”

“He didn’t take it,” Maria shrugs. “Think it was too hard for him.”

You fall silent for a moment, your irritation with Joel waning. It’s hard to be angry at him after everything that happened. You sometimes forget that he had a life before, that he had a daughter he’ll never see again. Despite your animosity for how he treated you earlier, you’re not devoid of compassion.

You just wish you could understand him.

You’re still pondering this hours after Maria has left when there’s a knock at your door. It creaks open when you call out to come in and a familiar set of light eyes greet you. Luke grins at you expectantly.

“You still up for shooting?”

“Oh shit, I forgot,” you place your teacup in the sink and hurriedly pull on your scarf and jacket.

“We don’t have to,” Luke starts. “Jenny can’t make it, but I thought it’d be good for us to get the practice.”

You flush happily at the thought of being alone with Luke. You enjoy being with him, it’s easy and uncomplicated.

You follow him down the street heading to the outskirts of the city, both of you armed with guns borrowed from Jennifer.

"So Jennifer isn’t going to shoot today?" You ask curiously.

"Nah she said something about running behind in textiles. Dunno what exactly,” Luke shrugs, before smiling back at you. “You going to the town meeting Wednesday?”

Town meetings have been going on since Jackson City was founded. A place to bring up impactful town business, updates, celebrations and more. You've only been to one, finding it pretty dull for the most part. But as you become more a part of the community you find you want to know more of what goes on around you.

"Yeah I think I will."

The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm that afternoon and you’re surprised at how easily the conversation flows even without Jenny there. Luke is funny and sweet and when you shoot your first can he’s right there to lift you into his arms and spin you around.

“That was amazing!”

“I can’t believe it!” you say, pink-cheeked and delighted.

You’re still on a high when you head back into town an hour or so later, chatting animatedly about how your shooting is actually improving thanks to Jennifer. You wish she had been there to see it today.

“Not just one can, but four,” Luke whistles in amazement as you both make your way to the center of town. “And I could only got one.”

“But it was really far away so it counts as two,” you insist with a giggle. Luke grins down at you, pulling you into a companionable side hug.

“You’re too kind.”

Your entire body lights up with the contact of Luke's arm around you. You’re about to say something more when a gruff voice sounds out from behind you.

“You sign those guns out?”

You and Luke spin to face the speaker.

Joel.

He’s standing there, leather coat done up looking intimidating. His dark eyes are going to where Luke holds you around the shoulder.

Instinctively you take a half step away from Luke, feeling strangely wrong-footed at having his arm around you, as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Luke is busy looking at Joel in confusion. “Huh?”

“The guns you’re carryin’,” Joel says sharply, tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth as he appraises the both of you, taking a step closer. “They gotta be signed out if you’re practicin’. Need to keep track of ‘em for safety.”

Everyone who comes to Jackson City knows this, it’s taught during your welcome. Public weapons used for patrols need to be signed out from the armory, the ammo is doled out in specific numerations to keep the city stocked and prepared.

“They’re Jenny’s,” Luke explains patiently. “From her own collection. She lends them to us for practice.”

“Ammo too?”

“Yep.”

Joel makes a grunting noise in Luke’s direction, but his eyes don’t leave your face. You feel your cheeks prickling with embarrassment at being talked down to. And for what reason? Why is Joel being such an asshole this week?

“Is that all, Joel?” you challenge, feeling your hackles rising.

Joel frowns at you, jaw ticking and then without a word he strides past you and Luke, ducking into one of the shops that line the main street. You watch him leave, stiff-shouldered and long-legged and you shake your head.

“Man that guy is such an asshole,” Luke murmurs to you as the two of you continue your walk towards the other shops. “What’s his problem?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

///

Midweek one early morning you decide to pay a visit to Chestnut with a contraband carrot. You’ve been worrying about him since you returned from that overnight patrol shift, but your visit shows he’s no worse for wear. He clops over to you and cheerfully takes the carrot as you pet him.

There's something comforting about the scent of hay in the paddock, of Chestnut's glossy eyes and the strength of his ribs under your palm. Something that grounds you when you're here alone, listening to the strangely relaxing sound of him munching on his carrot. You've broken it in half, concerned that you might upset his diet.

He deserves it after all he went through last week.

You feel eyes on you and you glance over your shoulder to see Midnight circling around his paddock. Chestnut continues to snack away on his carrot piece, not even acknowledging when you drift over to Midnight.

"Hi, boy."

You take the other half of the carrot and move closer to where Midnight stares balefully out at you from the corner of his paddock. He watches you with widened eyes, making a huffing noise as you near, hand outstretched with the carrot half resting in the center of your palm.

Midnight's known you for months, but he still treats you like a stranger to be wary of. For a moment you wonder what his story is.

"Here you go," you coo, balancing on the fencing separating the two horses. "You deserve a treat too."

The glossy black head swings slowly, the scent catching him and it's not long before he begins inching towards you.

With a soft smile on your lips you hold your palm flat and feel the velvet brush of his mouth as he takes the carrot piece. You feel victorious by this minute surrender and smile toothily at the creature. You think about stroking his mane but decide you'd best not push your luck.

You turn when you hear your name being called and you're delighted to see its Ellie. She comes jogging towards you, looking as if she's getting ready to go to school.

"Hey, I haven't seen you in the dining hall lately," you greet as she comes your way.

"Nah, wanted to hang out with Joel this week," she explains and you hold in the urge to make a sympathetic face. You know his disappearance must have rattled her.

She looks at Midnight relaxing in his paddock and stretches out her fingers in his direction. You watch in quiet amazement as the creature ambles over to her, allowing her to start petting his twitching side. Ellie sure has a knack for taming the untamable.

"You like horses?" you ask Ellie, watching as the girl pets Chestnut’s ears.

“Yeah, I can ride too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sorta. Winston this soldier back in the zone gave me lessons.” She glances up at you. “How do you know how to ride?”

“When I was really little my parents got me riding lessons. I loved it, kept going with it. Did some competitions. I was still riding up until Outbreak Day.”

“Wow. That’s awesome.” Ellie gnaws at her chapped lower lip, scratching absently at her covered arm. She looks like she’s trying to summon up the courage for something and then you both speak at once.

“Are you okay?-“

“-You wanna come over on Thursday night?”

You pause, her words hitting you belatedly.

“Where? To your place?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods. She smiles at Chestnut, her eyes disappearing when she does. “For a special dinner.”

You and Joel Miller together in the same house again? After he’s been such a colossal asshole to you for no reason this week?

Not a chance.

“We could do dinner at my place,” you suggest airily. “I could make us something special.”

“Nah, I wanna do it at mine. On Thursday. I’ll make us all something really special.” She looks nervously at you. “Could you bring dessert?”

The request makes you huff a laugh. “Like what?”

“A cake?”

You grin as you watch her pet Chesnut, but you don’t reply. Thoughts of being in Joel’s home don’t really fill you with ease or cheer. She pauses when she sees your hesitation.

“Joel wanted me to ask you to come.”

This gives you pause and your brows rise to your hairline.

“Joel invited me to have dinner with you both?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods resolutely. “You know Joel. He’s a grumpy asshole and he’s shit at communicating. But he told me to invite you, so can you make it?”

Is it possible that this is Joel extending an olive branch? Maybe he feels bad knowing how bizarrely he’s treated you this week. Maybe he’ll even explain why he’s suddenly been so frosty.

You consider this, eyes stuck on Chestnut’s mane as your fingers twirl in it. You can feel Ellie’s hopeful expression facing you and so you sigh quietly before flashing her a tentative smile.

“Chocolate cake okay?”

///

Town meetings take place inside the old church at the edge of town. The chapel itself is filled with creaking pews and tall stained glass windows.

People use it on Sundays, those that still believe in something in this empty world. You don't attend; you stopped believing a long time ago. During town meetings though the religious iconography is removed and placed off to the side.

Down the steps is the large recreation space used for dances and parties and the like. You've never gone to any, finding the idea too intimating since you didn't know anyone. The space is mostly filled, as all town meetings are. It's recommended that one person from each family attend to keep appraised of what's happening in the community.

This evening you and Jennifer slip into the end of a pew near the back, the back of your knees braced against the chilled wood.

"Oh there's Luke," Jennifer whispers, hitting your shoulder with hers gently. "Must've come with the guys."

You follow her eye line to see Luke sitting with some of the guys you recognize from breakfasts with Jennifer. He's laughing with them, chatting casually. He looks handsome tonight, his hair brushed back and his muscled arms crossed over his chest. You can't help but notice the way his mouth curves, looking so inviting.

You surprise yourself with how attracted you are to him this evening. You can't explain it, but you wish his hands were on you. Wish he was taking you to bed.

You worry that Joel's actions the other night have opened something in you, something that craves a man between your legs, a tongue tracing the buds of your nipples, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh.

You squirm slightly in your seat before focusing your attention elsewhere when a flash of red hair catches your eyes and you stand, making your way across the aisle.

“Hi Arthur," you greet with a smile. He's sitting with a tall woman with very red hair and is covered in tattoos. Delicate black lined things that wrap around her one arm and across her neck. She's like walking artwork that you can't stop staring at.

"Oh it’s you!” Arthur beams up at you from where he sits. “This is my wife Penny I was telling you about."

The woman turns her bulging eyes at you, yellowed at the corners. She smiles and gives you a crooked smile.

"Pleased to meet you," she says with a sharp drawl. "My husband says you’re to thank for the soap?”

“No no,” you laugh. “I just showed him where to find it.”

“And she didn’t bludgeon me even when she had the chance,” Arthur adds. The three of you chuckle together and you can’t help but watch the images on Penny’s lean neck jump when she laughs.

"Those tattoos are beautiful," you tell her, momentarily hypnotized.

"Arthur did them for me back in the QZ," Penny says with a shy grin. "Stick and poke if you can believe it. Self taught."

"Really? That's really impressive, Arthur."

Arthur ducks his head, looking momentarily shy. He pushes his glasses up his long nose bashfully.

"He makes everything he touches pretty," Penny says proudly. "S'the thing I love most about him."

"That's such a beautiful idea," you say without thinking. You bid them farewell before taking your seat next to Jennifer who’s deep in conversation with one of the women you’ve seen in the dining hall.

You scan the chapel and see that Maria sits in the front row, her baby strapped to her front. People talk to her but she looks strangely overwhelmed. Maria has never been like that, always been strong and confident. You try to catch her eye, to give her a reassuring smile but she doesn't turn in your direction.

Tommy pushes into the chapel by eight and ambles to the front of the room. He gives Maria a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before stepping behind the podium and waving at the gathered collective. When they see him the voices dim and he shoots a grateful look at the crowd.

"Hi y'all, thanks for comin' out on this cold night when I know you’d rather be at the Bison." He pauses as light chuckles fill the room. "We got a few things happenin' this month and I wanted y'all to be aware."

There's a shuffling behind you, a scrape of boot against wood grain. The pew creaks gently as a figure is seated down, his very presence setting your pulse skyrocketing.

Joel.

You'd know it just by the cadence of his walk; that light drag at the end of each step. The scent of leather from his jacket and almond from the soap he uses. The way the air seems to warm and grow heavy where he sits.

A part of you wants to turn your head, to confirm it's who you think. But the other wants nothing more than for Joel to stay away until the dinner with Ellie. After the way he's been treating you this week you don't want to be anywhere near him and his volatility without her as a buffer.

You feel the ends of your hair catch against the pew and you shift, running your hand absently through your crown to loosen it as you turn your focus back to Tommy at the front of the chapel.

"Well to start us off, we got some new blood here tonight and I wanna introduce 'em," Tommy says giving a small smile to the left side of the room. "This is Arthur and Penny. They come from Virginia. They're gonna be helping out in the school and with sanitation. Welcome to Jackson city."

Arthur and Penny stand up in their pew. The two of them give shy waves as the group claps, some calling out well wishes of welcome as Arthur goes pink in the cheeks.

"They're the sweetest couple," you comment.

"I love her tattoos," Jennifer replies as she claps. "So beautiful."

The couple sits and the clapping ebbs. Tommy looks down at his piece of paper of notes hurriedly scrawled.

"Now I'm gonna turn things over to Jacob Linden," he says before stepping down from the podium and taking his place next to Maria. You watch as his arm goes around her, holding her to him.

Jacob Linden is a sweet man of about sixty with narrow grey eyes and pale blonde hair. He always wears blue jeans and a sweater, even in the heat of the summer.

His partner passed years before he got to Jackson City and he wears a small locket with his photograph in it to remember him. He touches it now, a little nervously as he steps up to the podium.

"One of the ideas I've been kicking around is having a bi-weekly music night," the man says almost shyly as he looks around at all the faces. "A time for the town to come gather and listen to people play. Maybe in the dining hall after meals?"

There's murmurs of interest around the room. You and Jennifer exchange smiles at the idea, knowing very well that you'll attend. Jennifer is always going on about how there's nothing to do in the evenings in town except drink.

"I'm wondering if there are any musicians who'd like to join in?" Jacob asks tentatively. "We'll take turns deciding what tunes to play and you'll have all the coffee and tea you can drink."

You're surprised when amongst a few others, Luke shoots his hand up. Jennifer must be taken aback as well because she leans over to you, her voice warm in your ear.

"I didn't know he played."

"Me neither."

"Shhhh."

You both flinch at the volume of Joel's shushing. Several nearby people glance over their shoulders in your direction and you feel your cheeks pink. Jennifer shoots you an admonished look and you hold in your eye roll to the best of your abilities before turning your attention back to Tommy at the front of the church.

"Now, next up, I'm sure you've heard the rumors of Raiders up on the patrol routes."

Gentle whispers move around the room like hissing campfires being extinguished.

"So I need y'all to be even more vigilant than usual," Tommy explains. "That means you see anything and I mean anything strange, you come and tell me or Maria, Hank or Joel. And you can spread that around."

You hear him shift on the bench behind you. It's like your ears are so attuned to him that even as Tommy goes over the safety procedures all you can focus on is the shift of Joel's weight in the pew, the scrape of his boots on the ground, the rough way he clears his throat.

You don't know why but you're pissed off. Maybe you're anxious about the raiders, nervous about patrols tomorrow, whatever it is, you feel like a bow pulled extremely taut and Joel’s presence plucks irritatingly at the string.

"Do you think Luke wants to grab a drink after this?" Jennifer breaks into your thoughts, head tilted towards your shoulder. “I wanna ask him about his playing.”

“Me too, I was-”

Before you can say anything more you hear Joel give that same annoying noise and it feels like it's aimed directly into the back of your head.

"Shhhh."

For some reason this is your limit. The grating sound has you twisting around in your seat and fixing him with a glare. He sits with his face arranged in a look of casual indifference; you only know that he's paying attention to you by the steady gaze of his dark eyes.

"If you can't hear, sit closer next time," you hiss. "Not our fault you're half deaf."

You don't miss the sharp intake of breath from Jennifer or the narrowing of Joel’s gaze on your face.

Before he can say anything back to you, you slide from the pew towards the back of the church. You need a minute to calm down because irritation is boiling your blood. You know you’re going to say something rude if you stick around.

You give polite smiles at the few people you pass on your way out, your feet taking you to where it's quiet in the alcove. You think this is where they must have prepared communion or something similar, but now it just houses extra chairs and tables. The window is barely seen over the dented wood tables with their rusty metal legs.

You close the door after you, trying to quell the furious beating of your heart.

What the fuck is his problem? Is he so regretful of what happened that night that he’s doubling down on being a prick? And why the fuck is he having you over for dinner if he obviously despises everything you do?

There's a scrape of feet behind you and the air attains that same heavy, warm feeling. You turn, not surprised to see a furious looking Joel closing the door behind him. His lips are twisted into a thin curve of displeasure.

Fuck this.

You go to walk by him when he jerks out an arm, slapping his palm against the wall in front of you and effectively cutting you off from your exit. He stares you down as he cranes his neck towards you, forcing you to keep his gaze.

"Where do you get off talkin' to me like that?" Joel says between gritted teeth. He looms over you, everything about him saying submit. And normally this would work, normally you would cower but tonight you're at your limit.

"I'll talk to you any damn way I want," you say, cheeks a blotchy red.

“You sure fuckin’ won’t.”

“I sure fucking will,” you snap back, keeping your voice low enough not to carry into the chapel.

Joel gets up in your face, his nose practically touching yours.

"If you wanna run your goddam mouth, I'm gonna fill it."

It flies out of Joel’s mouth before he's had time to realize what he's said. He regrets it the minute it hits the air. It's there in the telltale opening of his lids just a fraction too wide, is in the pink crawling up his neck.

But you’re completely over it, over Joel, over the entire situation. He makes you cum how many times? Let’s you open up to him? And now he’s acting as if you’ve done him a cruelty?

Fuck him.

"With what, Joel? Your cock?”

Joel’s eyes fly open wide.

“I don't want anything to do with you or your cock ever again," you bite off. "You're selfish and arrogant-"

"Enough."

Joel’s jaw is ticking something worrisome, his hands in loose fists at his sides. But he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. He’s just a man like all the rest of them.

"What?” You sneer broadly. “Worried you can only keep it up if the woman’s on her knees doing all the work or half asleep, Joel?”

"Shut the fuck up."

You've never spoken to anyone like this in your entire life, but letting Joel have it right here in this moment feels good.

No, it feels better than good, it feels amazing.

Years of repressed anger and frustration are bubbling to surface and you feel heady, almost powerful from it. It feels better than sex or lust or forgiveness. It flows freely from you like a song, brutally cutting notes that slice into Joel and he winces.

"It's the truth," you laugh cruelly. "I mean when's the last time you fucked properly without having t-"

You break off as Joel's hands slap on either side of the striped wallpaper beside your arms, coming to box you in against the wall. His face is so thunderous that any laughter in your expression withers away like fruit on a vine.

There’s the sound of muffled laughter outside of the room in the chapel. Tommy is charming the audience, but all you can focus on is the man in front of you. Of his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Of his steely gaze and wide palms as one slides off the wall and comes to grip your hip.

And before you can properly think, Joel is crowding you against the wall, his pelvis pressing harshly into yours. You stare up at him, body trembling but you’re concerned because it’s not in fear.

Your nipples tighten, your pupils blow wide and all you can focus on is the heavy bulge that he presses between your thighs.

“You think I can’t make you come like a little slut for me right here and now?”

Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, his gaze on your mouth before flicking to meet your eyes. He continues to pin you there, mouth slightly ajar as he begins to unbutton your jeans, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers rest on the zipper, pausing only to watch your expression. When moments pass you realize he's waiting for you to tell him to stop, trying to call your bluff. But instead you tilt your head back in silent challenge.

You'd expected fury in the face of your combative non-verbal reply but are met with something altogether different from Joel.

Lust.

You see only a flicker of it in Joel's gaze, the darkening of his eyes before his face lowers to yours. His fingers lower the zipper of your jeans and now your bravado leaves you as you tilt away from him, your eyes fluttering. You feel his warm breath on the side of your face, slow and heavy. He waits there, fingers stilled on the zipper’s tongue.

You don’t move, your cheeks flaming as you realize what’s about to happen. You don’t know how to act or what to do.

“Why you actin' all shy now?" Joel mocks against your earlobe. "You think I didn't hear you in the bathroom playin' with yourself all those times on patrol? Think I don’t know how bad you wanna come right now?"

Your face feels so hot you feel it would sizzle if a droplet of water landed on it. Joel has known all this time? Every time you thought you were had privacy he's known? Has likely heard the whimpering cries you give out when you climax. For all you knew he could have been standing outside the door listening. Why does that thought make your stomach swoop?

"I don't-" you start but the words are sticky on your tongue.

But now the zipper is lowered and his fingers move swiftly down the front of your panties, hitting the slick of your cunt almost immediately and curling. You give a huff of surprise, finding your thighs widening without thought to take more of him. He slides his fingers to the knuckle, groaning when he sees it’s making your eyelids flutter.

"Maybe I don't have to try that hard after all," Joel croons. "Looks like you've been waiting for me."

“Have not,” you deny weakly, jaw clenched and glare fixed on your face.

“Then I should stop,” Joel mocks as his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of your squelching cunt. “Right?”

You say nothing, finding it near impossible not to touch him. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, fingertips leaving half-moon crescents in his skin through the fabric. Your face is buried in his neck, trying to stifle your moans.

You feel Joel’s smug smile against your temple as his thick finger curl within your velvet slot, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his pumps. He groans softly when you arch back, hand at his collar for purchase.

“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Joel chants, his warm breath buffeting your face.

He tilts his head, tongue going to the side of his mouth in thought. You wonder what he sees when he stares down at you, pink cheeks and glassy eyes? The sheer desperation in your glazed expression? You feel your release being coaxed forth, sweet and syrupy but something holds you back.

You feel that ripple of pleasure begin but you nervously tense everywhere and Joel’s face flies towards yours.

"I know what you feel like when you're close," Joel rasps, his full lips crushed against your ear, breath hot. "Don't fight it."

You feel your pulse ticking wildly in your neck and you wonder if Joel can sense it. But you need something from him, something that you didn’t realize. You turn your gaze to his, imploring.

"Tell me to come," you whisper, hips rutting against his hand. "Please Joel, tell m-me-"

You break off with a sharp gasp and his wide hand immediately goes to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds from escaping into the chapel while the other works between your legs in that same steady way.

"You're gonna come for me," Joel rasps against your ear. "Right here, with the whole town on the other side of this wall."

Your eyes roll back in your head at the command, pleasure flooding you everywhere. Joel's fingers are sliding in and out of you, curling to hit that sweet hidden spot your own fingers just can't reach, thumb rubbing your clit.

"You're gonna come on my fingers right here," he continues, breath hot in your ear when he sees your reaction. "Cuz I said so."

You can't speak since his hand is still sealed over your mouth but you can nod shallowly, hips rolling as you begin to climb that pleasured peak that has your body tensing. He feels it, his dark eyes moving from your face to where his fingers enter you over and over, curling and coaxing.

Your hands fist in his flannel when you feel that white stripe of pleasure overtake you. And despite how inappropriate this is you feel yourself falling off the edge.

"Go on then," Joel groans huskily. "Be a good girl and do it."

At those words all that tension that's been building in your lower belly suddenly releases, sending you jerking against Joel, gasping against his palm.

"Mhm," Joel murmurs approvingly. His praise sets you off, your next orgasm overtaking the first, bleeding into one another and your legs tremble. He holds you in place with his hips, his fingers moving slickly between your thighs.

Joel's broad hand moves from your mouth to cradle the back of your head, forcing your mouth press against the skin of his neck, muffling your cries. You continue to twitch, your whimpers seeping into his skin like ink on paper.

"Uh huh, just like that," Joel murmurs, his fingers keeping their steady pace as your pelvis ruts against his hand faster and faster. "Just like that.”

Just like that. Just like that.

Nothing else exists except for his voice and your pleasure. Not the townspeople, not the warning of Raiders that set you off, not the fear of the unknown. Just Joel's warm, steady voice telling you to come.

“I know you can gimme another one.”

Just like that night of the snow in, he consumes you leaving you whimpering his name into his neck, fingers gripping his flannel for dear life as he coaxes your next orgasm from you.

"Give it to me," he demands, groaning as you arch into him. "S’mine."

Your entire body tenses at that husky order and your release comes over you in waves. Your eyes roll back, and you cry out, your mouth sealed against Joel’s taut neck. You can hear him far away, murmuring that’s right and good fuckin’ girl.

You feel your pussy pulse around his fingers, milking them. Arousal drips down his wrist, his fingers not ceasing their steady continuous rhythm until you give one final shake, exhaling heavily against his palm.

Finally you go limp and his fingers slow and finally slide from between your legs. You realize that you're still fisting his flannel, your mouth still open against his warm neck. You raise your head, eyes heavy and glazed. You do it just in time to see Joel slide the fingers coated in your glossy arousal between his lips and suck, his eyes fluttering closed.

Your knees buckle.

He catches you, a flash of amusement in his honeyed voice.

"Steady," he mutters against your cheek. "Steady."

You stare up at him, your breathing still deep and uneven as he holds you against him. You tilt your head back slightly so you can better view him. Joel looks completely fucked out, cheeks flushed, his dark curls falling into his eyes that sweep your face, lingering on your parted lips. Like magnets you feel as he drifts towards you, his mouth so close to yours you can feel the warmth of his breath on your tongue.

Suddenly the sound of creaking pews, chatter and footsteps sound out.

The meeting is over.

Joel's hands immediately fly from your body at the sound and he steps back, straightening to his full height. The darkness is back in his eyes and that displeased countenance he wears like a mask firmly settles over his features.

“Don’t wanna keep you from gettin’ drinks with your boyfriend,” he rumbles darkly.

He strides away from you quickly, his boots scuffing along the floorboards until he's outside the room, the door closing behind him with a snick. You assume he’s rejoined the rest of the group as they exit to avoid suspicion, but you can’t do the same because your legs feel like rubber.

You stay leaning against the wall, face flushed and pulse ticking. Your breathing is shaky as you look around the room, the same and yet changed.

What the fuck just happened?

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auteurdelabre · 4 days

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Max Phillips vampire fic enters the chat

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