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yelena-bellova · 1 year

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Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Violent Innocence

Plot: A separated Joel and Y/n work different angles to try and best David and his men.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, implied attempted SA, insinuated abuse, c*nnibalism, knives, guns, blood, wounds, language, loss of a child, ptsd, (16+)

A/N: This was a hard, hard chapter to get through, guys. If the quality of my writing isn’t up to its regular standard, it’s because it was truly emotionally taxing to write. I’ve also left out descriptions of certain events/discoveries/dialogue in an effort to keep the 16+ rating.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist who does not have their age/range in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I advise everyone to take a breather, or just skip to the end of the chapter, if it’s too much to handle. Ep.8 was traumatizing and I don’t fault anyone for not wanting to put themselves through it again. I’m so looking forward to finishing out this series with y’all and the finale tonight. Thank you thank you thank you for your constant support and encouragement ☀️

——————

Unlike the movies, where the main character on the verge of death is miraculously returned to the living, Joel did not wake with a start. Still lost in the haze of blood loss, hunger and medicinal side effects, his eyes hurt to open. He registered the room, remembering being dragged down a flight of stairs and falling into a mattress.

One memory dripped down before the flood unleashed.

Ellie and Y/n.

Stay awake.

Men coming.

Leading them away.

Kill them.

The footsteps on the floor above startled Joel, the ticking clock and the realization that Ellie and Y/n were gone motivated him to roll off the bed. He stifled a groan, hurrying to his feet, clutching the knife that Ellie had placed in his palm. He wobbled his way to the rear of the room, falling against a water heater that could conceal him.

Joel listened for the footsteps over the blood pounding in his ears.

They crept through the room.

He waited…until the man finally passed the heater.

Joel couldn’t have possibly known that it was the same man who, five minutes before, had clubbed Y/n and ordered David’s men to shoot her and Ellie. But he slashed his knife through him as if he’d watched it happen.

After wrestling the man to the ground and assuring that he was dead, Joel rolled off him, wheezing for breath. He tried to gather his thoughts on his back. There were more men, all looking for him, Y/n and Ellie. They weren’t back yet, which meant they’d either been kidnapped or killed. Most likely kidnapped, so long as Ellie’s bite wound hadn’t been visible. Tortured, maybe, or worse.

Joel inhaled as deep as he could and began to drag his body across the floor towards the stairs. Towards his girls.

—————————

Y/n leaned her head back against the concrete wall, wondering why the fuck there was a cage inside a kitchen.

She’d carried Ellie into it, the butt of David’s follower’s rifles pressing into her back as they forced her in. They’d both been stripped of their winter coats and weapons. She had yet to get any answers as to why they wanted them there or what they were planning to do to them. Ellie hadn’t woken up, leaving Y/n on her own to try every conceivable possibility to escape. None had succeeded.

David entered then, finally gracing Y/n with his holy presence. He pulled up a seat across from the cage, smiling politely.

“How is she?”

Y/n turned her head, indignant at the fact that David’s men had shot at them, caused Ellie’s injuries, and yet he had the nerve to inquire about her wellbeing.

David tried a different approach, “I know this all must be a bit strange…”

Y/n bristled, “I lived in Texas, I’ve seen a lot weird shit, but, uh,” Y/n took a look at her surroundings, “Yeah, a jail cell next to a butcher’s block is an unusual feature.”

“We only use it when necessary,” David held up two innocent hands, “I’d love to explain our community more to you, but it’d be nice to know your name first.”

“Beyonce,” Y/n answered without hesitation.

The preacher chuckled under his breath, “You’re very quick. Stepping in to portect your daughter, your…what, your husband? Boyfriend?”

Y/n had been interrogated so many times, had sustained so many injuries in FEDRA lockup, that there weren’t many tactics that could work on her. David trying to get a feel for her and Joel’s relationship was a waste of breath.

He sighed, tapping his hands against his knees in wait. “You know we’re not here to hurt you,” he said softly.

“Gee, I wonder where I would have gotten that idea,” Y/n retorted, “What with my fucking head splitting and my kid unconscious on the floor.”

“An unfortunate turn of events, yes,” David corrected her, “But we’re protective of our own. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Y/n didn’t move a muscle, staring David down, “Oh, yeah. We’re one and the same there,” she cracked a smile, vengeance practically dripping from her lips, “And that should scare you.”

David, however, only found her threats mildly amusing. He exhaled with a small laugh, Y/n rather preferred being underestimated. It caused people to leave their weak spots exposed. She was sure if she looked hard enough, she could find David’s.

Beside her, Ellie finally began to stir, drawing Y/n’s attention. She scurried to place her hands on Ellie’s back, helping the girl to sit up.

“Me and your mother were starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up,” David said.

Ellie’s vision was blurry and her entire body hurt, her words didn’t carry their usual edge as she told David, “Let us out.”

“Well, that’s certainly the goal,” David nodded, “Hungry?”

“Why are we in a cage?” Ellie hazily took in their surroundings.

“Because I’m afraid of you,” David gave the same calm smile he’d given Y/n, “You’re a dangerous person. You’ve certainly proven that. The others want me to kill you two for what’s happened.”

Y/n held Ellie steady as she got to her knees, neither of them particularly alarmed by David’s words.

He leaned forward, “Did you hear me say the others wanna kill you?”

“Yeah,” Ellie breathed.

“But I stopped them.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie said on behalf of both her and Y/n.

“Why don’t we just start with your name?” David asked once more.

Ellie didn’t miss a beat, “Eat shit.”

“Hey,” David’s voice rose, “Listen to me!”

As he got to his feet, Y/n did as well, coming to meet him at the cage wall as Ellie scurried to the far end of their prison. Y/n wanted to rip into him purely for startling the girl.

“You can’t survive on your own,” David continued, his eyes looking past Y/n to land on Ellie, “No one can. But I can help you,” his gaze finally flicked up, “Let me protect you two.”

“We don’t need your help or your protection,” Y/n enunciated every word clearly.

“And we’re not on our own,” Ellie added from behind Y/n.

David nodded, “Right. Your friend,” his face changed to accommodate faux concern one might use on a child, “And how is he?”

Behind her eyes, Y/n’s mind flicked to Joel, beads of sweat around his temples, breathing so frighteningly shallow, his tan skin deathly pale. She couldn’t admit to the fear pooling in her belly that against David’s men, Joel might have lost the fight.

“I can see how much you care about him, so I know it hurts,” David continued, l having broken Y/n and Ellie’s first line of defense, “But even so…you gotta face reality.”

David turned and began to circle the cage. Ellie and Y/n moved as one, Ellie crawling in the opposite direction and Y/n standing in front of her as a shield.

“That part of your lives, it’s ending,” David went on, finally stopping on the other end of the cage, “And what I’m offering you is a beginning. But if you can’t find a way to trust me, then yes,” his eyes scanned Ellie, “You are alone.”

Without another word, David walked off through a door in the kitchen, leaving Y/n and Ellie to themselves.

Y/n was on her knees immediately, holding Ellie’s face in her hands and checking her head.

“Definitely got your bell rung,” Y/n lightly ran a finger over the pink bruise at Ellie’s hairline.

“What the fuck do we do?” Ellie asked, unconcerned about her injuries.

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Y/n replied, stroking a quick hand over Ellie’s hair, “I’ve already tried to window up there,” she pointed to a small pane of glass above them, “I can’t break it. Guns are over there in the corner,” she gestured to the edge of the room. And I can’t-“

Y/n was cut off by Ellie, throwing her arms around her body. The girl pressed the side of her face into Y/n’s chest, her short breaths warming Y/n’s skin through her layers.

Of all the horrible memories Y/n carried from September 26th, 2003, there was one in particular that lived in her chest every second of every day. As she had clutched Sarah in her arms, with Joel trying to assess her mortal injuries, Sarah had tried desperately to speak. Her lips pressed together, only able to make a humming sound. Y/n had shushed her, telling her that it was okay, she was okay, they’d all be okay…and that had been the last of it.

Whatever Sarah had needed to say died on her lips, but lived on in Y/n’s mind. She had spent so long, playing the memory back, watching the girl’s mouth, listening to the buzz in her throat, unable to rest until she knew what she’d wanted to say in her final minutes.

It took her one year to figure it out, and twenty to accept.

Mom.

Y/n had failed Sarah just as Joel felt he had failed. She’d spent the last two decades telling herself she could have jumped in front of them, she could have yanked Sarah out of Joel’s arms, she could have attacked the guard…all things her brain knew there hadn’t been enough time for, but guilt and logic never agreed on anything. Y/n had begged God, the skies, the earth, the universe, anyone, for a second chance. For some miraculous, mind-bending turn of events to send her back to that day and save her daughter.

And as she cradled Ellie in her arms, pressing a kiss to the girl’s head, she knew her second chance lay not in the past, but in the future.

“We’re gonna get out of this,” Y/n said, speaking with a strength she hadn’t in twenty years, “I promise.”

David was right about one thing, they had to face reality.

Joel wasn’t coming to save them.

They were on their own.

And Y/n would be damned if she failed to save someone she loved again.

————————————

Joel had tried to keep his violent side hidden from both Ellie and Y/n during their time together. He’d slipped with the FEDRA guard in Boston, remembering the terror in Y/n’s eyes as she’d watched him beat the young man to death. Whether or not he knew it, he’d tried from that moment on to be better.

But now, with their lives at stake, Joel didn’t care about better.

Every punch he drove into the raider’s face he had tied to the chair was pure rage, the only thing strong enough to keep him upright. The pleas of the bloody pulp of a man fell on deaf ears.

“Stop…stop, please…”

Joel rammed his fist against his cheek once more, silencing him.

“Leave him alone,” the raider who Joel had yet to touch urged from the other side of the room.

“You’re next,” Joel muttered, withdrawing the knife from his belt with a spine-tingling smirk.

“Please,” the man he’d been hitting begged, “I don’t know any girls.”

Joel was a human lie detector, having seen both the best and worst of humanity. He didn’t have to second guess whether it was the right decision to drive his knife into the man’s knee.

“Marco,” the guy tried to call, his voice strained from his screams of pain.

“No-no, no-no-no,” Joel cooed, his soft tone contrasting the roughness in which he pulled the man by his hair, “He can’t help you. You focus right here. Or I’ll pop your fuckin’ kneecap off.”

The man’s breath trembled as Joel gripped him, knowing that betraying David came at its own cost. “They’re alive,” he admitted.

The hope spread through Joel, but it couldn’t outmatch the anger that doubled at the thought of Y/n and Ellie being held and tortured. “Where?”

When Joel didn’t get his answer quick enough, he reached down and twisted the knife in the man’s leg.

“Ah! Fuck,” he squealed, “Fuck! Ah! The town!”

“WHAT TOWN?!” Joel screamed into his face.

“Silver Lake,” the man panted, wincing after.

Joel reached into his pocket, taking out his map and unfolding it.

“It’s not a real town name,” his victim said, his speech slow from the ache in his jaw, “It’s a resort.”

Now that was a word Joel hadn’t heard in a long time, “A resort?”

Feeling each precious second that Y/n and Ellie were still breathing slipping away, Joel removed his knife from the man’s leg and forced his mouth open, slipping the handle in. “You’re gonna point to where we are,” he held up the map towards the guy’s head, “And where your resort is. And it better be the exact same spot your buddy points to.”

Joel had a death grip on his hair, pressing their foreheads together and feeling his near-attacker’s body tremble with fear. Trying his best, the man aimed the blade at the map, pinpointing their location. Fear could always deliver results.

Joel sat back, examining the drip of blood that served as a marker. His body ached with exhaustion, but his chest felt the same pain it had for the last three months. The kind that was usually a precursor his panic attacks, except now, adrenaline was all that followed.

“That’s where we are,” the man whimpered, “I swear. Go ask him, he’ll tell you. I’m not lying.”

There had never been a question as to whether or not Joel would show mercy. These men had seen Ellie and Y/n, knew where they were being kept, they might have even laid hands on them.

Joel slid the blade into the man’s chest without a second thought.

Marco unleashed a string of expletives as Joel caught his breath.

“Why the fuck did you do that? He told you what you wanted,” Marco whined.

Joel took clumsy steps across the room, reaching for the lead pipe Marco had carried in with him that now lay across the couch.

“You motherfucker, fuck you,” Marco spat as Joel strode towards him, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

“It’s okay,” Joel nodded empathetically, calling on the same disarming tactics he had in his days as a raider, “I believe him.”

In that moment, Joel wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t the villain.

He was a father and a husband.

And he brought the pipe down with all the fury one could possess.

—————————

Ellie was relentless.

“El,” Y/n insisted as the girl continued to try and pick the lock, “I already tried that.”

“Well, maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” Ellie replied as she tugged on it.

“Yes, ‘cause this is just so pleasant,” Y/n spread her arms out to the cage, “Look, we’re not getting out of here like that. We’ve gotta wait for him to slip up.”

Ellie looked over her shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“He thinks we’re two little lost lambs or sheep or whatever, all alone without anyone to protect us,” Y/n explained, “We’ve gotta wait for the exact right moment when he fucks up and gives us an opportunity.”

“Okay,” Ellie nodded before quickly turning back to the lock.

Y/n slapped her hands against her legs, “I just gave you the plan.”

“I thought I felt it jiggle,” Ellie insisted, shaking the lock a few more times before coming to a sudden stop and stumbling backwards towards Y/n.

Y/n caught her in confusion, “What?”

She followed Ellie’s line of vision across the room to the chopping block, falling south to the floor. Y/n’s stomach turned at the sight…

An ear.

An actual fucking ear.

In all his perfect timing, David entered just then, carrying a tray and sliding it under the cage walls. Two bowls of soup and a cup of water.

David followed Ellie and Y/n’s eyes down to the butcher’s block, frowning when he realized what they were looking. “For what it’s worth,” he gestured to the bowls, “This is just deer meat, I swear.”

Ellie and Y/n were separately connecting all the dots of why they were being held where they were. They could have been trapped anywhere in the town, their weapons stripped from them and beaten into submission. This was a purposeful choice.

“You’re going to chop us into little pieces,” Ellie stated.

“I’d rather not,” David answered, “Please, just tell me your names.”

Y/n forced herself to exhale, wondering how the hell he could be so focused on a trivial detail.

“If you wanna judge me-“ David shrugged.

“Judge you?” Ellie raised her voice to a scream, surging forward to grab the metal bars, “You’re eating people, you sick fuck!”

She kicked the tray across the floor, it landed under the chopping block. David backed away from her anger.

“Yes,” David replied, “There are only a few of us who know. But I would’ve told you, sooner or later. I guess sooner.”

“You’re a fucking animal,” Y/n seethed, finally finding the strength to speak.

“Well, yes, we all are,” David said, his sociopathic calm tone beginning to worry both Y/n and Ellie, “That’s sorta of the point,” he took in Ellie’s disgust, “It was a last resort. You think it doesn’t shame me? But what was I supposed to do? Let them starve? These people who put their lives in my hands, w-who expect me to keep them save, who love me?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ellie shot back.

“You don’t believe that,” David shook his head, “I don’t think your friend would either. Didn’t he take another man’s life to save yours?”

“Your men fucking attacked us,” Y/n added, her tone sharp.

“He was defending himself,” Ellie replied.

“He was defending you and your mother,” David corrected, even though he was calling on Y/n, his eyes were locked on Ellie’s, “But you knew that. You see a lot. So do I. And you know what I see when I look at you?”

Y/n watched the conversation in wait, it was beginning to alarm her that he was focusing all his attention on Ellie.

“Me,” he continued, “You remind me of me. You’re a natural leader, smart…loyal. Violent.”

Ellie froze at his words, while Y/n took a step forward.

“Keep going and you’ll see how violent I can be,” she threatened.

“Now, see, your mother,” David gestured to Y/n but never once looked at her, “She is deeply afraid, faking her confidence with threats. But that’s not who she actually is. I could unlock this door, hand her her gun, and she still might not be able to do what she needs to to protect you.”

Y/n’s nostrils flared at the assumption that she wouldn’t break his neck to save Ellie.

“But you, on the other hand…” David continued speaking to Ellie, “If I let you out of that cage right now, put that knife of yours in your hand, you’d stick me in a second. You have a violent heart. And I should know…” David took slow steps towards the cage, his eyes alight, “I’ve always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth.”

“Right…” Ellie muttered, “By God.”

“No,” David breathed, “By Cordyceps. What does Cordyceps do? Is it evil? No. It’s fruitful. It multiplies. It feeds and protects its children, and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.”

Y/n’s blood heated to a boil, her cheeks warming with rage. Cordyceps had taken everything and everyone she had ever loved. It was the purest form of evil nature had ever created. She wanted to cut through David, whispering the names of all her lost family into his ear as she did.

But this wasn’t her opportunity.

“Why are you telling us all this?” Ellie asked, she still believed it was a conversation between three people.

“Because you can handle it,” David said, Y/n may as well have not even been in the room, “The way the others can’t. They need God, they need Heaven,” David took another step towards the cage, “They need a father. You don’t. You’re beyond that. I’m a shepherd surrounded by sheep, and all I want…is an equal. A friend.”

Alarms rang in Y/n’s head so loud, she thought they were real. But Ellie was playing the game that Y/n had told her to, and she couldn’t stop her.

“What about our friend?”

“Like I said, loyal,” David nodded before taking another slow step towards them, “I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They’ll spare him.”

Ellie looked up to Y/n, convincingly filling her eyes with hope, before looking back to David. Y/n quickly adjusted her expression to match, pretending as if Joel’s safety was the only thing that mattered.

“Really?” Ellie took a step forward towards David, “They’ll just let him go?”

“Yes,” David answered confidently, “If he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go.”

It wasn’t hard for Y/n to whip up some tears, taking a choking breath in and following Ellie towards the metal bars.

“They do what I tell them to do. They follow me,” David was getting closer and closer, his gaze fixated, obsessed with Ellie, “And they would follow us. Lord knows, I could use the help. I-“ he chortled, gesturing to below the chopping block, “Look what’s happened.”

David extended his hand, gripping one of the horizontal metal bars between him from Ellie and Y/n. They stared down at it, considering their options.

“Think of what we could together,” David said, his voice alive with passion, “As strong as we are. We’d make this place perfect. We’d grow, spread out. And we’d do whatever we needed for our people.”

Ellie reached to grab the other side of the bar, her hand perilously close to David’s. Y/n had to fight every instinct to rip her body behind her own.

“Imagine the life we could give them,” David said wistfully, moving his hand to slide over Ellie’s, “Imagine the life we could build.”

David may not have been watching her, but Y/n made effort to drop two tears down her cheeks and sniffle as if it was the most beautiful idea in the world…

“Oh,” Ellie whispered, reaching a nearly shaking palm up to David’s hand, hoping that Y/n sensed that the moment was upon them.

Ellie pushed David’s finger back, a sickening crack erupting in his hand. As he cried out in pain, Y/n dropped down to her knees, pulling him in by his belt and grabbing the keys off their hook. Unfortunately, he wriggled out of Ellie’s grasp and reached through the bars, grabbing Y/n by the throat and squeezing. Y/n gagged and choked as his fingers tightened, but she still held onto the keys.

Ellie struck a blow to David’s abdomen, causing him to drop Y/n and stumble backwards. In the sudden movement, Y/n dropped the keys to the floor and nearly fell. David was quick to come back, grabbing Ellie’s hair and slamming her face into the bars twice before throwing her down.

“You little cunts,” he seethed, picking up the keys from the floor, “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

Y/n coughed violently, earning each and every breath back, but bent over Ellie to make sure she was alright. The girl’s blood painted the floor of their cell.

“Ellie,” she said, crawling past Y/n and towards David.

David turned, “What?”

“Tell them Ellie is the little girl,” the girl crawled to the bars, raising her voice, “Who broke your fucking finger!”

“How did you put it?” David asked, his tone mocking them now, “Hmm? ‘Tiny little pieces?’”

He stormed out of the room, slamming it behind him and leaving Ellie and Y/n to contemplate their impending doom.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, rubbing her already sore neck and forming a plan in her dizzy head. “Okay, when they come in, I’ll take them and you fucking run.”

“No,” Ellie replied quickly, stumbling to her feet, “No, we-“

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here,” Y/n continued, emphasizing each of the last words, “And you’re going to run.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you,” Ellie yelled, shoving Y/n’s arms.

“And I’m not asking,” Y/n yelled back, feeling her fate slowly approaching. If it bought Ellie time, it was all worth it.

She gripped Ellie’s shoulders, wrenching her closer and locking eyes with her. “You. Run.”

———————————

The snow outside had picked up, nearly blinding Joel as he trudged through the ice, clutching his abdomen the whole way.

He’d made it to Silver Lake, against all odds, but didn’t know the first place to look. He kept his good ear peeled, trying to listen for Y/n or Ellie’s cries, but the storm made that impossible. Leaned up against one of the resort’s buildings, trying to catch his breath, Joel tried to think clearly about his next move.

Then his eyes caught the trail of blood in the snow and logic went out the window.

Joel followed the crimson that led him to the building’s door. He broke the lock with the butt of his rifle and entered, clicking on his flashlight and drawing his pistol. He crept through the shed, bending down once to search under a table and finding only old clothes and useless supplies. Then, he spotted a nearly identical trail of blood leading into the next room.

All the while his heart thudded with fear, fear of failure.

Joel made no noise as he entered the room, shining his flashlight ahead to find what was left of one of their horses. They’d captured Y/n and Ellie while riding. The picture of their kidnapping was beginning to fill with color.

Joel shone his flashlight past the horse, finding tarps over equipment and…something…hanging on the other side. He moved around the animal’s body to get a closer look…

His stomach turned.

He had to fucking hurry.

—————————

David stormed through the door with James right behind him. Ellie and Y/n scurried away from the cage’s front. Y/n hadn’t expected a second set of hands, it made her entire plan impossible.

“No! No! No!” Ellie screamed, pressing herself into Y/n’s body in fear.

David and James wrenched the two of them apart.

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone might hear them and come running, “No!”

“Get off of me!” Ellie shrieked, kicking at both of the men, “Get off of me!”

If Y/n had been on 10, Ellie’s pleas dialed her up to 12. She picked up her entire body weight and let herself drop to the floor, bringing James with her. He stumbled, but regained his footing and dragged Y/n out of the cell, kicking and screaming.

“No!” Ellie yelled, biting down on David’s all-too-close hand.

“Ow,” the preacher cried out, but stayed undeterred in his mission. He pulled Ellie out of the cell.

Y/n wrestled against Jame’s firm grip, flailing her arms as she tried to reach around and scratch him. She’d tear him to pieces with her hands, if the chance came.

“You motherfucker,” she cried, trying to catch her leg on anything that might slow them down, but he lifted her onto the chopping block as if she was nothing. James held her hands down at her sides, giving Y/n the opportunity to spit in his face.

“Wait, wait,” Ellie begged as David dragged her towards the block.

“Shut up,” James growled, narrowly dodging Y/n’s head butt.

David lifted Ellie up and dropped her harshly on Y/n, knocking the wind out of the woman with Ellie’s weight. He forced Ellie’s hands into Y/n’s, lining the two of them up.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Ellie begged, Y/n’s coughs sputtering in her ear, “Don’t! Don’t do it! Please, don’t do it!”

“You had your chance,” David spoke over Ellie as he raised the cleaver above his head.

In her struggle for oxygen, Y/n let out a final cry. For Ellie, for Joel, for her grand failure to save all of them.

This was how it ended.

“I’M INFECTED!”

Ellie’s words echoed off the walls, David simply scoffed at her.

“I’m infected,” Ellie said once more, her voice low, “And now so are you.”

David glanced down at the bite mark Ellie had put on his hand. Y/n caught it too, fighting the urge to smile. The girl was smarter and quicker than she or Joel had ever taught her.

“Roll up my sleeve, look at it,” Ellie insisted, “Look at it!”

Biting down on his lip in frustration, David slammed the cleaver down beside Y/n and Ellie’s heads, causing both of them to flinch away. He tugged Ellie’s right sleeve up, revealing the ever-present mark that Cordyceps had left on her.

“God’s will,” Y/n strained, smirking below Ellie.

James looked up at his leader in concern, “David…”

“No,” David shook his head, “No, she would’ve turned by now. This isn’t real.”

Unable to speak without them hearing her, but needing to signal Ellie that she was on board with the plan, Y/n squeezed the back of Ellie’s hand twice.

“It looks pretty fuckin’ real to me,” James continued.

Ellie pressed her hand back into Y/n’s.

This was their opportunity.

Ellie reached to her side, grabbing the cleaver and lodging it in Jame’s shoulder. Y/n threw the girl off and kicked both feet into David’s stomach, buying them a few precious seconds to escape. Bullets chased them as they flew through the door.

Y/n and Ellie ran through the rest of the kitchen, making it out into the dining room. They went from door to door, banging and pulling furiously. Nothing.

Hearing David’s footsteps down the hall, they rushed back into the kitchen to look for any weapons. Ellie reached into a wood burning stove, grabbing one of the crackling logs before Y/n shoved her out of the room and down behind a wall.

The kitchen door squeaked, announcing David’s presence. Without her gun, Y/n knew she didn’t stand a chance at going up against David, but she could buy time. She crawled away from Ellie, ignoring the girl’s frantic looks and moved behind a table, popping up once she heard David’s steps.

“You’re very determined,” David’s calm tone continued, even as he clutched the cleaver in his hand, “I’ll give you that.”

“What a parent won’t do for their kid,” Y/n shrugged, “Right, Father?”

As Y/n put a period on her sentence, Ellie stood up from her spot and threw the burning log at David, missing him and giving Y/n the chance to duck down and crawl away. Ellie had, however, succeeded in starting a fire that quickly began to eat through the drapes of the dining room. Ellie crawled back, spotting Y/n and hurrying in her direction.

“There’s no way out, Ellie,” David called, moving away from the rapid fire, “The doors are locked and I have the keys.”

While she couldn’t see the flames, Y/n could smell and hear them. They were spreading as if nature herself had started it.

“Ellie?” David called tauntingly, “Ellie.”

Y/n knew that if there was any chance for escape, it would only come for one of them. David would have to be preoccupied with something else to let anything slip through his fingers and that anything had to be Ellie. Reaching down into her boot, she remembered she still had her knife on her.

She drew a deep breath and begged for Joel, dead or alive, to forgive her.

It was the only option that ensured Ellie’s salvation.

————————

Joel couldn’t move fast in the snow, the winds threatening to shove his fragile frame down into the ice. With every step he fought, trying to see something, anything through the gust of snowflakes.

In his mind, he was begging and pleading with the universe to give him a sign, a direction..he felt more and more panicked with each passing moment that he was too late.

Joel walked a little quicker, ignoring the stabbing pain in his stomach.

He couldn’t lose them.

—————————

“Ellie…” David called again, “I know you’re not infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive.”

Y/n belly crawled on the floor of the restaurant, away from Ellie and closing in on David’s voice. She clutched the knife in her sweaty palm.

“So…how did you do it?” David asked the room, “What’s the secret? Or are you just that fucking special?”

Y/n was near enough to the bar that she could see the panels swing open and Ellie’s legs trailing in. She was smart enough to try and find a true weapon.

“No one likes being humiliated, Ellie,” David continued his tirade, forgetting Y/n’s presence entirely, “You don’t know how good I am! You don’t know what I could have given you! If you had just let me!”

Y/n continued her army crawl before crouching behind the wall nearest to David, waiting for her perfect chance.

“Well, I have news for you,” the “pastor’s” tone softened back to its pulpit pitch, “None of us are dying today. You see, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided you do need a father, and your mother needs a husband.”

Y/n tightened her grip on her knife, waiting, waiting, waiting…

“So I’m gonna keep you two,” David promised, “And I’m gonna teach you.”

In her years, Y/n had heard and witnessed truly disturbing events. Nothing could have terrified her more than the sick headlines about corrupt preachers, using the Word of God as a deflection, coming to life in front of her.

Y/n leapt to her feet, spininning around the wall’s end and stabbing David’s shoulder from behind. The man cried out in pain, but didn’t fall as Y/n had needed him to. He faced her, swinging the cleaver past her before gripping her throat with one hand and shoving her up against the wall. Y/n struggled ferociously, speed kicking his legs until he dropped her. He wrenched her back, throwing her to the floor, and let one of the heavy dining tables fall straight onto Y/n’s abdomen. The pressure crushed her, stealing all the air from her lungs, and left her sputtering and choking for breath.

David leaned down, his lips grazing Y/n’s ear in a way that had only ever been reserved for Joel. “I’ll deal with you in a moment,” he growled.

Y/n was too breathless to speak and the table was too heavy for her to lift. It was almost guaranteed that David had cracked at least one of her ribs. She flailed about under its weight like a bug being crushed, frantically trying to escape.

With a lack of oxygen, her ears began to ring and her eyesight began to blur. From across the room, she could see David and Ellie’s figures fighting, with Ellie’s being shoved to the floor.

Y/n’s lips tried to form the girl’s name.

The corners of her vision began to darken just as David pinned Ellie down.

Her screams poured the air right back into Y/n’s lungs.

With strength only a mother whose child was endangered could have, Y/n strained to push the table off of her. She raised it enough to shimmy her abdomen out, letting it fall on her legs with a pained groan. She pulled and pulled her body out from under the surface, Ellie’s cries of terror giving her all the power she needed to roll the rest of the way. She grabbed her knife, stained with David’s blood and crawled across the floor.

David’s back was blissfully turned.

Ellie couldn’t see Y/n.

The flames were consuming the restaurant.

Y/n inched her way closer.

David said something Y/n couldn’t hear over the fire.

Ellie screamed louder.

Y/n reached her hand out, ripping David back by the collar, stabbing him in the chest with her knife and wrenching him off of Ellie.

Ellie reached above her head for the cleaver.

The rest passed in a set of thirty blood soaked seconds.

When it was over, Y/n stumbled to her feet, reaching down to pull Ellie up with her. The room was filled with a gagging smoke, the fames mere seconds from bringing the whole building down.

Y/n rushed them out through the kitchen, the back end was their best chance at escape. Down the hall were two large black doors, the lack of lock allowing Y/n to shove her and Ellie’s trembling forms out.

The cold air greeted their heated skin, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Y/n clutched Ellie to her as she maneuvered them down the stone steps and into the snow.

They both screamed as a pair of strong arms grabbed their bodies, tugging them backwards.

“No! Get off of me!,” Ellie shrieked, the reality of David’s death ceasing to exist under the strange touch.

“No! You fucking-“ Y/n tried to shove Ellie behind her, turning around and fighting hard against the figure before she even looked up.

Adrenaline somehow granted Joel enough strength to turn Ellie around in his arms and restrain Y/n’s hands.

“It’s me,” Joel coaxed as Ellie slapped his chest.

Y/n eyes turned up at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes finally. “Ellie,” she breathed, awestruck.

“It’s me,” Joel repeated to Ellie, her hits finally stopping as she finally returned to reality. Joel took her face into his hand, cupping her cheek and drawing her gaze to him, “Hey, look…it’s me. It’s me.”

Ellie let out little whimpers as she took in his presence, miraculously in front of her.

Y/n ran her hands over Joel’s arm, in utter disbelief that he was actually there. His hand that rested on her back slid half an inch, the movement giving her the assurance that he was real. He had come for them.

“It’s okay,” Joel told Ellie, the girl mumbling and stuttering in shock.

Ellie didn’t think twice before looping her arms around Joel’s neck and burrowing her face into his shoulder. Y/n did the same, keeping one arm firmly around Ellie.

“It’s okay,” he promised once more, taking the full force of their embrace as if it were the very air he breathed. “It’s okay, babygirl,” he said to Ellie, “I got you. I got you.”

Y/n sniffled into Joel’s shoulder, feeling his hurried kiss press against her temple. She had gone from her most vulnerable to her most safe in the course of a single minute.

After a few seconds, wishing it could last longer, Joel pulled back to look at them both. He took in the blood on both their faces, there were big bruise marks on Y/n’s neck and she was clutching her stomach. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t been there sooner to spare them the pain of whatever they’d gone through.

“Okay,” Joel said softly, taking off his coat and wrapping it around Ellie’s shoulders.

Y/n finally noticed that Joel was carrying both his rifle and all three of their backpacks. She hurried to grab hers and Ellie’s, slipping one on her shoulder and carrying the other.

Joel and Y/n got on each of Ellie’s sides, wrapping an arm around the girl and setting off into the snow. The adrenaline began to fade in Joel’s body, weakening him once again till he was limping. The searing pain in Y/n’s chest ached with every breath, she had to time each inhale in between her steps.

But it didn’t matter to either of them. They locked their hands around each other’s arm, tightening their hold around Ellie, and took slow, unsteady steps towards the river.

—————————

That night, they sought shelter in a different neighborhood, hiding in someone else’s former house.

Y/n and Joel sat upright against the freezing concrete wall, Ellie sleeping soundly between them. They each kept one hand on her as they had soothed her to sleep, but they kept their hold long after. They needed the physical reassurance that she was okay.

All day, Y/n had held it together as they journeyed as far from Silver Lake as they could. She was too determined to get the three of them the hell out of dodge to fall apart. It wasn’t until Ellie had fallen asleep, under the safety of Y/n and Joel’s protection, that the weight of what had almost happened to them fell onto her.

Joel felt the trembling from Y/n’s hand gently shake Ellie’s body. He peered across her into the dark, the moonlight catching on her face to perfectly illuminate the silent tears down her cheeks.

As she stifled her sobs, Y/n felt Joel’s fingers intertwine with hers over Ellie’s torso. She squeezed her eyes shut, his touch sending her emotions right over their edge.

Joel squeezed, trying to tell her that in the silence, in the pain, he was there. He was there for the first time in twenty years for her to lean on.

Y/n squeezed back, savoring the press of his calloused fingers into her palm. They had come so close to losing one another, but they were alive. They were alive, they were together and if that was the only thing they had to hold onto, they’d cling to it like life itself.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @themultifandomofmadness @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags cont. in comments)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us spoilers #twenty years later

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jtl-fics · 1 year

Text

Math Nerd AU

I’ve got quite a few time travel AFTG fics banging around in my head but by far the funniest one is this:

Neil dies in 40s to a drunk driver after a respectable professional Exy career, two olympic golds, a very successful and healthy relationship, a steady post-injury career as Ichirou Moriyama’s preferred accountant (kept himself squeaky clean) and years to get his shit together. He wakes up back early on into his runaway life with his mom and is immediately like “oh no I’m NOT doing this shit again.”

He makes a lot of changes, mostly for Andrew’s benefit but also gets Mary to the Hatfords, and gets himself set up in Ichirou’s confidence again because man he’s gonna play Exy again but Ichirou was actually a very solid boss if you’re competent and Neil is very good at managing finances.

Ichirou had plans for Neil. He’s waiting for his father to pass before he brings Neil fully out in the open as one of his since his father is still demanding that the Wesninski heir be given over to his brother and Ichirou is not about to let the only accountant who has ever gotten him a completely legal tax refund go to the NEST. He’s also not about to let the Butcher near Neil so he puts Neil off in the middle of nowhere with a steady paycheck and orders to graduate highschool. Neil picks Millport.

Hernandez still notices that no one ever comes to Neil’s games and that the kid is driven but doesn’t make any real attachments with his teammates despite Millport becoming the Arizona State Champs the year Neil leads the team. So he sends tapes to Wymack and Kevin. Neil is surprised to see them since he’d planned on never getting anywhere near Andrew after he set things up for the blond. (Killed Drake, paid some people to legally adopt and look after Andrew, got CPS to investigate Tilda properly, paid off the right people so that the couple who took in Andrew took in Aaron too, and paid for them to move out to SC (it’s close to the twins remaining family) and then Tilda managed to die on her own from an OD and the twins got the money without Andrew needing to have any part in it.)

Neil ends up signing for the Foxes despite Ichirou having plans for Neil to start attending University of Texas (Great Accounting Program) in the fall. Neil of course completely fails to tell Ichirou this since Ichirou hadn’t said anything beyond finishing highschool and if he had plans for Neil then he should have told him.

Neil, the utterly self-sufficient adult that he is, proceeds to just be the most bizarre stabilizing force the foxes have ever encountered. He knows all about their shit, their issues, their triggers, and how to help them. The Foxes all kind of crave that stability and Neil can take whatever they say unflinchingly. He’ll give as good as he gets but he also makes team breakfast pretty much every morning after he finishes his absurdly early run. Kevin is in heaven with his Striker pick (Neil in this thing is so incredibly boring and well-adjusted that Andrew just cannot believe that he’s a spy so Kevin and Neil start night practices almost immediately & Neil shows Kevin drills that he and Future!Kevin had made and Kevin is just like “I am so good at picking talent. I am a god.”)

The 3 things that make this so funny (at least to me) is:

1. All the Foxes just like not understanding why the hell Neil is a Fox (They’re glad he’s there but it feels like a clerical error that such a nice well-adjusted guy is on the team) until they see him without a shirt and until immediately after the Kathy Ferdinand show where Ichirou shows up and is like “Palmetto doesn’t even have a nationally ranked accounting program!? Also what if this sport gives you a TBI and you can’t do my taxes anymore????”

2. Andrew is just inexplicably and infuriatingly smitten, enamored, crushing, heart-eyes for this BORING ASS MATH NERD. Neil’s sense of humor was honed against Andrew so he’s got like a direct line to Andrew’s funny bone. He never has never once for even a second confused Aaron and Andrew (and they’re a lot closer in this fic because there’s no Tilda angst and the ‘parents’ handled getting Aaron’s rehabilitation handled off the books so he could have a future in medicine.) Even after the whole mob accountant reveal Andrew is seething because even with that Neil is just incredibly well-adjusted and normal despite all the insane shit going on with him. He propositions Neil when Neil mentions having a past male significant other but Neil has the AUDACITY to get all sad-eyed and say that he can’t be with Andrew because his heart still belongs to some CHUMP in his past. (Cue Current!Andrew having an unknowing bitter hatred / rivalry of Future!Andrew and swearing that he’ll woo Neil away from a guy who’s probably in the mob or shitty because Andrew hasn’t seen any evidence of Neil’s SO reaching out to him but he knows Neil isn’t lying)

3. One of the reasons that Andrew is inexplicably and infuriatingly attracted / smitten to Neil is that Future!Andrew did not really spend a lot of time in the future after Neil died and he’s slowly seeping through until Neil’s confrontation with his dad and then Future!Andrew fully wakes up and he’s PISSED because at least in the original timeline Andrew was inexplicably and infuriatingly attracted to the mysterious freshmen who was hiding his appearance, looked like he was seconds away from running across the country at all times, and had a whole aura of danger around him. Now he’s revealed that he’d have fallen for Neil no matter what because he fell for Neil when he was just a BORING ASS MATH NERD and WORST OF ALL Neil went and made him jealous of HIMSELF because Neil didn’t want to cheat on Andrew with ANDREW. What an asshole. He’s gotta kiss his entire face off and tell him that he’s never allowed to cross a street without Andrew again because if a drunk driver is going to take one of them out then it’s going to take BOTH of them out.

#AFTG #All For The Game #Andreil #AFTG fic #Fic Idea #Neil is so happy that Andrew is here #Andrew has never been more embarrassed in his entire fucking life #He was jealous of HIMSELF #They get together immediately and act like an ancient married couple.#Andrew rocks Neil's entire world the second he's out of the hospital #math nerd au #In a Masterpost #Math Nerd - Initial Plot - 01

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vivian-pascal · 23 days

Text

Bloody mess ║part i ║

welcome home sunshine.

vampire!joel x f!reader

summary: Living in Jackson hasn't always been the best. You sheltered there for only about three months and just yesterday, your group had told you they were heading out and that you needed to stay. When they don't return, you go looking for yourself. Walking through the snowy hills, you find an abandoned mansion, but you're not alone.

warnings: fixing wounds on readers body, some explicit imagery reader imagines, talk of past life, some angst, reader is a virgin.

Walking through the cold, wet, snow for days on days on days. You weren't sure what was real anymore. All you could see was the misty clouded air, all you could feel was the freezing wind on your skin. You're not even sure how you're still living. It's been days since you had any source of food and water and you had no supplies for hunting. All you have is a small blanket to shelter yourself.

You've been walking for almost three weeks, no stops, just walking on and on until your legs give out. Ever since you left Jackson it's been hell.

You're pretty sure your group left you to die. Otherwise they would've come back and came looking for you but they didn't. So, you took matters into your own hands and decided to leave the safe, warm, Jackson.

You're young, inexperienced in almost everything about life. Your body, society, even how to do taxes. You were eleven when the outbreak started, now you're twenty one. Trying to thrive off of frozen berries or even snow. Whatever you can find, you try and salvage that.

Your feet are numb at this point. Every single movement could be fatal to your cold skin. It's almost nightfall, you try and look around but the snow is coming down to heavy. You're about to give up until you squint your eyes a little more and spot some lights.

You immediately start running as fast as you can toward the warm glow.

Your feet start to bleed as they hit the ground over and over again leaving a red trail behind you. The wind blows through your hair making you unable to see as you run faster than ever to try and catch up to the inviting light.

You look up and see the cast of the bright glow shining nearer to you. Your feet pick up more speed as you dart towards it. When you finally make it, you look up and collapse. Your vision goes black.

Your eyes slowly start to open. When you look forward, you see a person. Your body's initial reaction is to make away and go as far away as you can, so you do. But when you try and lift your legs and run, the stranger forcefully holds them down.

"Shh, Shh, its okay." The strangers voice puts you to a halt. It's a man. He has a southern drawl and something about it makes you feel, tangy.

When you look up at him, he smiles softly. You rake your eyes over his entire body to examine him. His hair is speckled like salt and pepper as it fluffs up. He has a little stubble around his chin and neck area. His shoulders are broad as they're covered by a green and brown flannel.

His hands are holding onto your bare legs as you look down and see the size of them. One hand almost covers your whole calf. You gulp as you see that he is very much larger than you and could easily kill you. Even though he may not seem like it, you never know.

"W-Why are you holding m'legs?" You shiver as you are still cold from being in the snow that long. He chuckles softly as he runs a hand up and down your freezing skin.

"Well, it seems as though you may have a little bit of frostbite on your feet and the bottom of your legs. Thought i'd fix that up for ya before it gets worse." He smiles as he dips a piece of cloth into some warm water and slowly starts to dab it on your skin.

You've heard the term 'frostbite' before, but no one has actually told you what it meant. You grew up in Texas and they never really got snowy winters when you were younger so you never learned what it was. It was only when you had gotten to Jackson that someone had to warn you about it.

"W-Whats that?" He looks up from where he's dabbing and gives you a confused look.

"What, frostbite?" You nod at his statement and he looks at you with wondering eyes. "Well, its basically when you're in the cold too much an' your skin gets irritated and freezes over. You could loose a limb to frostbite if your not careful enough. That's why I'm carin' for it now before it's too late."

You look down at where he returns his actions of putting the warm water on your frozen skin. You take this moment to look around at your surroundings. You're in a room, it's dark inside with dark walls and red curtains. There's a little fireplace next to where the man sits. You assume there must be windows in here because you can see a crack in the curtain as you look and see the snowy, night sky.

"What's your name." Your head shoots back to the man as he looks at your face for an answer. You gulp as you tell him your name. He smiles as he repeats it back. "That's a lovely name you got there, m'names Joel."

"Joel." You repeat it once more before he soothes over your frozen skin again. It sounds nice to say it. Joel. You've never heard that name before but you think it sounds rather, warm.

"So" He begins. "Where ya from?" He places the cloth down as he slowly begins to massage your foot. "I'm from Texas." He looks at you and begins to chuckle.

"No way, m'from there too darlin'." Now, many folks have called you that nickname before as a term used in your family, but the way he said it, it made your body shiver, and not from the cold.

"Where about in Texas ya from?" You gulp as you watch his calloused hands rub along your feet. Your not quite sure what you're feeling right now, but you know you just want something.

"Oh, uhm, Austin." He smiles with his teeth this time. You didn't notice anything about them at first, but when you look closer, his K-9 teeth seem to be more like...fangs?

"I'm from there too." He hollers which makes you jump a little. His eyes go soft when he sees you flinch. "Sorry darlin, just got a bit excited. Don't usually meet people that are from the same place as me." You give him a small side smile as he places his hands back down on your feet. So he's met other people here too? Maybe it's not just you in the house.

He picks up a dry cloth and wraps it around your feet. He ties it together and lets your feet hang down. You stay still as your eyes rake over his body once more. He looks down at your lips then to your eyes.

"Well you're all set." He gives you a reassuring smile as he begins to stand up. You sit up from your pillow and begin to examine your bandaged feet. "Thanks, uh Joel." He looks back at you and smiles. "Sure thing. F'ya need anythin, I'm just across the hall. Don't go wandering, don't want ya gettin lost, again." His eyes seem to flicker red at his last words.

What could possibly be in here? You shake your head as you slowly examine your room once more. You begin to stand up but immediately fall back down from the pain that shoots through your body. You pick your feet up and lay on the sofa that you were just on.

Closing your eyes, you dream about your old life at home. How everything was normal and you didn't have to worry about things coming after you and getting infected. You dream about your first kiss, how it would be like. You dream about Joel.

The wide span of his hands, his southern drawl. You want to know how it would feel like if his hands weren't just on your legs. You want to know how it would feel if they were between them. You jolt awake from the dreams you were having.

Why were you having them? This wasn't normal, was it? You sit up from where you were laying and plant your feet on the ground. When you begin to stand, your feet don't seem to hurt anymore. You take a step forward, then another. No pain. So, you start to walk around a little.

You walk towards one of the red curtains and pull it aside. The view from outside is absolutely breath-taking. You can easily see every town and landscape from where you are.

You walk around your room some more and pick up a candle. The fire you had on before is long gone so there's no use in trying to light it.

You walk towards your bedroom door and slowly open it. The door creaks as it widens and you quickly step out before It makes any noise. There's a candle just outside your door and you reach for it.

When you look ahead, you can see Joel's room and the staircase. You slowly tip-toe towards the stairs as you make your descent down them. Walking down each one, you can feel like it must be lined with some kind of carpet. The soft, fur on your wrapped up feet can easily tell you that it's covered.

When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you look to your left, then to your right. The candle isn't shining that much light but on the right your sure you can make out a tiny room. You quietly start to walk towards it.

Carefully turning the knob, you realize it's locked. You stop your movements immediately. You hear a noise. "Whose there." You whisper quietly as your hands start to shake. When you lean against the door, you can hear tiny whimpers and screams coming from the inside of the room. Your heart rate begins to pick up as you back away from the door.

You candle light blows out as you run into the wall behind you. You're in total darkness. You try and reach out in front of you, trying to sense if anyone is there. Suddenly something cold catches your hand.

Your breathing stops as you look into the darkness in front of you. A hand covers your mouth as two red dots gaze into your eyes.

"I thought I told you not to go wandering, didn't I?"

tags!!

@morallyinept @mermaidgirl30 @rav3n-pascal22 @mountainsandmayhem @amyispxnk @pinkcrystal44 @guelyury @iamsherloocked @itsokbbygrl @heartpascalispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @brittmb115 @kotourasan123 @simplewanderer @ursagittariusgirlfriend @tupelomiss @heartramen

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #pedropascal #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #vampire #vampiric #vampirism

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 11 months

Text

A Weight Off Your Shoulders ║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| A WEIGHT OFF YOUR SHOULDERS | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 7.0k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), cheating, negative body image, negative self-talk, discussions of body image struggles, the savagery of puberty, but mostly just indulgent pussy worship lmao, etc.

| SYNOPSIS: [AU no outbreak] After finding out your fiance was cheating on you with the younger, skinnier intern at his work, you pack up and head home to Texas where you meet your friendly DILF neighbor Joel. He doesn’t seem to mind your fuller physique, but you’re still plagued with insecurities that have followed you for most of your life. Can he make you forget about all that for just a moment or will you stay wracked with self-conscious, negative thoughts? Spoiler: We all know Joel is a smooth talker and is down to do whatever it takes to convince you that you’re perfect just the way you are.

✧this is the first installment of a oneshot collection✧ ✧◦◦�� Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 5 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

The moving van’s AC went out about 75 miles ago, and you can’t bother getting too upset about it. It goes right along with the absolute dogshit spectacle your life has become. The sweat trickles down your back as you keep your eyes focused on the road. The GPS says it’s not too much longer. Your ass is sore from sitting and driving all day, for the past three days.

It should’ve been two at most - more like one and a half at even a leisurely pace - but the engine had started smoking and making an awful clicking sound somewhere in between Colorado and Oklahoma. You waited 6 hours for the moving truck company to meet you and switch out vehicles. At least the van hadn’t gone up in flames and destroyed all your messily packed cardboard boxes.

The string of down-on-your-luck events provided you with some sort of distraction from the reason you were cooped up in this incinerator of a vehicle and heading home to Texas where your parents still lived, a far cry from the life you had carved out with your fiance - ex-fiance, you correct yourself – in Colorado.

Ah, yes. Mike. Michael, you think to yourself bitterly. He always hated whenever anyone used his full name instead of his nickname. You were at that level of petty, insulting him in any way that you could. You knew you’d never get close to matching his efforts at hurting you, though.

It had been a great relationship for the first few years. You had met him at his job where you were logging unpaid internship hours so you’d have something to put on your resume when you graduated with your finance degree. Math and economics had always been easy and interesting to you, although it didn’t make you very popular at parties.

Mike– No, MICHAEL, had been sweet and teased you about how you were “too cute” to be an accountant. You had thought to yourself on numerous occasions that accountants could really use a PR overhaul. Most of your coworkers were nerdy introverts with a dark sense of humor and a penchant for getting ripshit wasted after The Hellfire Summit was over. (That’s what you all called Tax Day.)

But you weren’t “too cute” to be an accountant. Too cute for Michael, maybe, but definitely not some knockout. You had always been on the heavier side starting in middle school. You were vertically challenged, which meant there was a lot less real estate for any additional poundage you racked up through puberty. Your mom had done her best to not give you a complex, but you weren’t stupid and it wasn’t hard to figure out why she was so insistent on you being in sports throughout most of the year. You had taken to soccer pretty quickly, and the endless running kept your weight from climbing into absolute fat pig territory. Not that you didn’t think of yourself that way regardless.

While all your other teammates cried about their boobs not growing - something you had absolutely no way of relating to - you cursed the puberty gods for not giving you a growth spurt of 6” so you could be tall and lean like your friends. By the time college rolled around, you just stuck to running as a stress reliever, but it wasn’t the same level of activity that had kept you smaller throughout high school. The bathtub jungle juice frat parties and 2 am pizza slices didn’t really help matters, either. You put on a respectable “freshman 8,” but your hips and ass delivered it as more of a “freshman 23.”

Michael always talked about how he liked “somebody that didn’t just order a salad,” whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. You didn’t pay it much mind, though, when your sex life was pretty good together. He made you come more than other guys you’d been with, but it wasn’t hard to exceed expectations when the bar was so low it was in hell. And yet, Michael had found a way to sink it down ever farther.

You should’ve seen it coming. In hindsight it was so painfully obvious that something had changed for the worse. You had chalked it up to him getting nerves after FINALLY proposing to you. You were so happy when he finally asked you to marry him. Even his 15 year old son from a previous relationship had made a remark about his dad “finally growing some balls” and proposing.

A wash of sadness rolled over you at the thought of Ethan. He was such a good kid, and you had become attached to him after being with Michael for so many years. You’d moved in together, and Ethan thoughtfully cleared off a shelf of his video game things so that you’d have a nice spot in the living room for some of your DVDs and books. How on earth that was the child of the piece of shit cheating scumbag Michael was beyond you. Ethan must have taken after his mother more than you previously knew.

Michael had been married before and had Ethan with his ex-wife Patty. They had just “grown apart” as he’d put it. They got together when they were young, and it wasn’t until his 38th birthday party that he realized they just weren’t meant for each other anymore.

You’d been upset at first to learn that Michael had started seeing you before he had “made it official” with Patty that things were over. You weren’t into the idea of being the other woman, and you didn’t blame Patty for hating your guts. Of course she would assume that you knew they were still married and that they had a young son together. You were the homewrecker whore, and it was humiliating to tag along to family events where Patty and some of their mutual friends gave you a not-so-subtle stink eye.

The friends that did readily accept you weren’t exactly top of the line human beings. Luke had clapped you on the back once after having three too many beers and cackled about how he knew Michael wasn’t crazy for switching things up and breaking things off with Patty “for you.” When you shrugged his sloppy hand off your shoulder and asked what the fuck he was on about, his shit eating grin was the icing on the cake when he slurred, “Well’ya knowwwwww what’hey say, dontcha?” You shook your head, nonplussed and not really interested in learning “what they say.” He giggled and leaned in close when he revealed that “gotta be takin’ care’uhhh him ‘cause they say thah big girls give’thuh bes head ‘cuz they’re al-huways hungry.”

Trevor had intervened before you slammed your mojito into Luke’s Neanderthal brain. “Hey man, fuck off. Don’t be saying shit like that. Fuckin’ rude, dude.” Luke had made a fuss about how he was “jusss jok-eeen,” but Trevor wasn’t having it. “Whatever, man. Everybody knows you don’t go around talking about girl’s bodies, you fucking idiot. And you’re watching too much porn if you think she’s fat. She’s normal, man. Real women aren’t walking around like stick figures with tits and ass glued on.”

You groaned while Luke howled with laughter at Trevor’s defense of you. Calling you fat was somehow worse than big girl. Luke hadn’t said fat. Trevor hadn’t either, but his off the cuff remark that clarified what “type of big” you obviously were only drove home the idea that you took up too much space, one way or another.

Michael had taken a while to propose, and he always claimed that, while he loved you with his whole entire heart, he was nervous about getting married a second time. He started getting snippier with you and not wanting to have sex as often. His job was stressful, and he had been working tons of overtime to help pay for his part of the wedding. Thank god you kept your finances separate and never actually did walk down that aisle.

His late nights at the office were verified by his bigger paychecks, and you didn’t have a reason to be suspicious. You did think it was a little strange when he started getting up early to go to the gym so he’d “look nice for the wedding.” But hey, what a breath of fresh air, right? A man being the one concerned about how he was going to look in his wedding photos? Hitting the gym at an ungodly hour just to shed a few pounds? It was kinda like some weird form of feminist allyship, subverting societal body expectations. Right?

When you popped in to surprise him with a late dinner at work one night - you still had your keycard from your unpaid internship that nobody had remembered to disable – you found him balls deep in the tiny little blonde you later learned was the daughter of some higher up in the company that was “following in his footsteps at the company with an internship.”

Michael was such an uncreative asshole that he couldn’t even come up with a different meetcute for the leggy, fit blowup doll he’d replaced you with. At first you were enraged, but that quickly dissolved into despair. You were supposed to be getting married in 8 months. He was supposed to be the love of your life. You had wasted your 20s on this piece of shit, waiting around like a moron for him to decide he wanted to spend his life with you.

So here you were, sweating your ass off, moving your shit several states away, and starting at square one. The dark, moody sky made you roll your eyes. You figuratively and literally had a little black cloud over your head that followed you everywhere. If the impending bad turn of weather could just hold off for a little bit, you could get your “FIRST NIGHT IN NEW PLACE” box unpacked and inside unscathed.

Of course it started pouring buckets about 5 minutes after you’d parked the van in the driveway of your rental. Your new home. Where you lived by yourself. Alone. That’s all you were now. Alone. You dragged in your soggy cardboard box of necessities, only unpacking your phone charger before plopping down on the bare mattress your parents had been nice enough to drop off before your arrival.

You spend the first night at your place crying yourself to sleep.

Texas had gotten hotter since you’d left. No way was it always this hot. You used to play outdoor sports here, for chrissakes. There was no way on earth it had always been the same temperature as Satan’s ballsack in a pair of wool underwear. Maybe it’s hotter because you’re fatter than before your inner voice suggested. You were drenched in sweat by the time 11am rolled around and you’d finished unpacking your small collection of belongings. You never realized how much of your Colorado apartment was mainly Michael’s stuff until you had to clear all your shit out for the move. Humble beginnings, I guess you think to yourself.

Your tank top stuck to your drenched back, and your thighs were slightly chaffed from the hard rub of denim over and over while you moved in. Your stupid, fat thighs and the stupid, fat chubrub they gave you. That unfortunately was something that hadn’t changed about Texas. You always carried your weight in your hips and butt, and your thighs came to join the party shortly thereafter. You had gained a few pounds after dating Michael for a year or so, settling into that comfortable couple space where you sometimes go for donuts when you know you shouldn’t or indulge in breweries too many weekends in a row.

You were fat and happy together, though. Now you were just fat and sad all by yourself.

You stared at the lawnmower and imagined it bursting into a ball of flames. Your landlord had agreed to knock $100 off your rent if you mowed the lawn once a month. It was a no brainer, even if you had never mowed a lawn before. How hard could it be? Turns out, very.

You gave yourself a pep talk through figuring out how to put the gas into the stupid thing, but it had petered out into an irritated chant of “you piece of shit” and “fucking work, goddamit” when you couldn’t get it to start. You’d pulled and pulled and PULLED the stupid chord, but it wouldn’t start up. You wanted nothing more than to finish your chore and head inside before it got way too hot. You’d planned on already being finished by now. Michael had always made quick work of it, and if that room temperature IQ fuckwit could figure this out then so could you. Maybe.

When you pulled back again and nothing happened, something sort of cave woman happened in your brain, and you started kicking the mower in a fit of frustration. “FUCKING-PIECE-OF-SHIT!” you yell, accentuating each kick to the machine with a malice-laden word. When you propped your hands on your hips and took a step back to really give it a good, solid glare, you saw a man the next house over watching you with an amused look at the edge of his property.

“Need some help?” he called out, his smile growing.

“EVERYTHING’S GOING REAL FUCKING GOOD OVER HERE, BUT THANKS FOR THE OFFER,” you quip with way more acidity than this man deserved.

He took your stinging remark in stride and just smirked more. If he wasn’t so good looking you probably would’ve yelled at him for real. You needed a break and didn’t really care for your handsome neighbor to watch you fail at life, so you wordlessly stomped inside and plopped down with a bottle of water in hand. Was it too early for this water to turn into a beer? 11 am. Damn. You were pretty low these days, but you weren’t sure you wanted to take a trip down “drinking by yourself before noon” lane.

You sigh and play with the bottle cap as you try to ignore your growing embarrassment of being so rude to your hot neighbor. The sound of a lawn mower finally registers in your brain, and you scramble to the window to confirm your suspicions. Yep, there was your fine as fuck neighbor pushing your broken lawnmower around your backyard. It was definitely broken. He must have fixed it. It definitely wasn’t that you were entirely clueless about all this.

You groan and muster up some resolve before heading back outside. You wave at the absolute DILF-iest of DILFs you’ve ever seen in your life to get his attention. As though he was expecting you, he calmly turns off the engine and jerks his head up once in your direction.

“What are you doing?” you blurt out.

There’s that smile again. Damn, he must practice that in the mirror because holy shit it is very hard to think right now with him looking at you with it.

“Bein’ friendly to my new sailor-mouthed neighbor,” he drawled casually.

Goddamit. His voice was smooth and deep up close. And his hair, oh my god his hair. Peppery brown and slightly disheveled and wavy in all the right spots. And his eyes? Those puppy dog brown eyes that you thought just gave you a quick once over? You were kicking yourself for not being nicer earlier.

“Look, you don’t have to–”

“Name’s Joel Miller. What’s yours, sweetheart? And tell me quick, ‘cause I really think it might turn into Popeye if you don’t give me an alternative,” he teased.

Popeye? What on earth– Oh. Christ almighty. Right. Popeye. The “sailor man.” Because you have a “sailor mouth.” Okay, now the DILF was knocking out some dad jokes? You needed to find the box you’d packed your vibrator in that plugs into the wall after this little interaction.

“Kinda wanna tell you that you can call me whatever you want if you’ll just teach me how to turn that stupid thing on,” you say, motioning toward the traitor of a lawn mower.

“Hm, anything I want, huh? Temptin’. Maybe next time I’ll give ya a 101, but lemme just finish this up right quick.” Without giving you the chance to argue, he ripped the chord with a salivating flex of his bicep and resumed his task.

You awkwardly walked back up to your porch and tried to busy yourself with something. You didn’t want to go back inside and wait for him to finish. That’d be rude, him out in the sun doing your chores while you cooled off in the AC inside. You gave enough “lazy slob” vibes as it was. Luckily it didn’t take him much time at all to finish, and his sweaty brow was very distracting as he clambered up your steps. You had to keep your jaw shut when he pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe it across his forehead, revealing a respectably toned middle. He was fitter than you by far. Not that that was a hard feat.

This DILF to end all DILFs had a toned body that shouldn’t have been such a surprise to you after seeing his muscular arms as they maneuvered the lawn mower. You suddenly felt self-conscious in your tank top and denim shorts. You were sure you were bulging out all over the place and looked like a sweaty pig. You hated how easy it was these days to get down on yourself, but seeing the blonde bombshell Michael had traded you for was all you could compare yourself to. The phrase “you can’t compete where you don’t compare” turned over and over in your head.

“See? Easy. Now about that name…” he trailed off, smiling now with a mischievous, friendly look.

“Oh. Yeah, um. Roxanne. But Roxy is fine,” you say.

Joel tilted his head as though he was considering how your name stacked up to how you looked, to see if it fit you or not. Heat crept up your cheeks under his gaze, and a fresh wave of insecurity engulfed you.

“Pretty,” he remarked.

“Huh?” you ask, sounding dumber by the minute.

Joel just keeps smiling at you, no matter how braindead you sound. “I said pretty. Your name’s pretty. Fits you,” he said.

You really wanted to believe this man was flirting with you, but it was wishful thinking.

“Hmm. Th-thanks. Um. Do you want money or?” you clumsily offer. You didn’t want to send him off empty handed after he just did you such a big favor.

“Two beers,” he posed.

You went inside and grabbed two cold beers from the fridge and loped back outside, extending them to Joel. He opened them both and made himself comfortable in one of your patio chairs. He set the second bottle on the arm of the chair next to him and pulled a long swig from his bottle. You watched the bob of his adams apple as he swallowed, and you knew your panties were gonna be absolutely wrecked by the time you finished your beer.

“Thanks.”

“Cheers.” He tipped his bottle towards you and leaned back, comfortable as ever as if this was his porch and not yours. “Didn’t see ya movin’ in. Musta been in the middle of the night to unpack a whole house without anybody knowin’.”

“Eh, not hard to move when you’ve got less than 20 boxes of shit,” you shrug.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. He clearly hadn’t been thinking you’d come into your new place with bare bones belongings. Someone your age would have at least a few pieces of bigger furniture and a couple of boxes of niche hobbies.

“Rest of it comin’ later, or…?”

“Nope. That’s it. Just me and my less than 20 boxes and a piece of shit lawnmower.”

Joel chuckled, and you found yourself giving him a small, shy smile.

“So you the neighborhood watch captain? Keep tabs on all the fresh meat?”

He laughed like heading up a community group was as likely for him as you figuring out that lawn mower by yourself.

“No quite. Just didn’t realize I had a new neighbor, is all. No car in the driveway. House has been up for rent for a few months,” he explained.

“Oh, yeah. I had a moving van, but I had to turn it back in to them a few days ago unless I wanted to pay for more days. They gave me a ride back. My parents are supposed to let me use one of their cars.”

You and Joel chatted back and forth about the neighborhood, how you’d grown up here and were now back - although you dutifully omitted the reason why - and what you did for work. When he told you he worked in construction with his brother in their small family business, it made a lot of sense. No wonder he was so toned.

Joel actually laughed when you told him you were an accountant. He didn’t believe you at first. When you started citing federal tax law addendums, he held his hands up in mock surrender. You laughed at his teasing. It felt nice to just interact with somebody without having to talk about your recent breakup and all the hard changes you’d been navigating.

“Should make you the poster girl for accountants because damn if I don’t imagine a blue haired lady sportin’ a big pink cardigan and goofy lookin’ glasses whenever I hear the word ‘accountant.’ You’d be the perfect brand image overhaul, sweetheart.” He chuckled, and you did your best to not think about how Michael had once told you that you were “too cute to be an accountant.”

“So, you got an accountant helping with your family business? Or are you just cookin’ the books?” you joke.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Nah, we got some somebody at H&R whatever, but the bigger we get the more it seems they wanna charge. Lots of confusin’ shit with all kinds of tax laws. Wouldn’t know if we were gettin’ ripped off by ‘em, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You weren’t sure why you offered. Maybe because he had been kind enough to offer you help and then mow your lawn for you even though you had been an ass. Regardless, you offered to look over some documents and paperwork if he really wanted another set of eyes on it. You dismissed him with the wave of a hand when he started talking about paying you for it.

“Two beers is my rate, Joel,” you say with feigned solemnity.

“Two beers? You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart. I know you’re worth it, though. You free this weekend? Saturday mornin’?”

And that’s how you ended up with plans to help Joel go over his company’s financial information in two days time when Saturday rolled around.

Joel was singing your praises when you’d already found two instances where they could save some money by changing a few boxes on their taxes and getting things more streamlined with a different organization method for W2’s. You had applied for a few jobs in the area, but most of your pending applications were for virtual jobs that you could work from home. It was good to keep up practice in the meantime.

Joel made you lunch - a nice turkey sandwich with cheddar cheese. He’d mistakenly offered provolone, which you’d chosen, only to find that he had run out and could only offer cheddar instead. You teased him about being an awful host, but really you were glad to not have your favorite cheese on the sandwich because it would help you not eat as fast in front of him.

You hated feeling like this. You’d spent so many years of puberty pacing your bites with those around you, afraid to eat faster than everyone else. Nobody even gave a shit. You were just so terrified of being humiliated for being the plus sized girl who got that way in the first place because she inhales her food.

“You always eat like a baby bird?” Joel questioned through a large bite of his own sandwich.

“Only when I’m trying to concentrate on taxes and finances,” you lied with a fake giggle. You felt like Joel clocked your put-on nonchalance, but he thankfully didn’t say anything even if he had.

You tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it away from your stomach. You caught Joel watching you do this, but again, he didn’t comment.

He did, however, raise a brow when you insisted you were “too full” to finish the entire sandwich. He played it off with a “damn, you really wanted provolone, huh?” You stuck your tongue out at him but dropped the playful demeanor the second he took the plates to the kitchen. Of course you were still hungry, but you weren’t going to gorge yourself in front of your super attractive neighbor. It wouldn’t kill you to cut a few calories here and there anyway, that familiar voice in your head points out.

Stupid, fat thighs the voice adds quickly, helpful as always.

You’re quick to adopt a smile when Joel comes back, but you aren’t sure you were quick enough for him to have missed the sad, fat, and alone girl’s real expression before flipping the switch.

It’s Saturday number two of your pro bono accounting skills. Well, it was actually a Thursday since Joel had some construction something or other this Saturday, but every day was a weekend when you were unemployed.

You had already hung out with Joel three times this past week and shared a few celebratory beers over your work from home job offer that you’d accepted and would be starting next week. Conversation came easy with Joel. He talked about his daughter, who was away at school for the semester, and you realized he must feel very lonely without her home. At least you could relate to him on that level.

You tell him the reason for your move back to your home town. He actually seemed genuinely pissed off when you told him Michael was cheating on you with a pretty little blonde thing and had been for months. You scoffed when Joel said it was Michael’s loss to have fumbled a girl like you.

“Hey,” he asserted, making you pause from the sip of beer you were about to have. “I’m serious. He’s a dumbass for havin’ let you slip through his fingers. You’re funny and smart and got a good head on your shoulders. Sure, you can’t figure out a lawn mower, but we can’t all be perfect.” His goofy grin was a sweet little addition to his playful teasing.

Maybe it was the beer talking, but you couldn’t hold back. “Yeah, well. There’s something you left out of that list there, and it’s probably the reason he did cheat on me.”

Joel shook his head in confusion. He wasn’t sure what he had left out.

You laughed hollowly to yourself, swirling your beer mindlessly as you spoke. “Funny. Smart. Good head on my shoulders. But not pretty, right? Not attractive. Not skinny enough.”

Joel’s expression shifted into something sympathetic and warm, and you hated yourself for having just let that word vomit happen.

“To be honest, sweetheart, I didn’t wanna say anythin’ that might make you uncomfortable. But I can give you a list a mile long with all the things that are beautiful about you. Inside and out.”

You flush at his appeal to your assets, but you know he’s just being nice. You were pathetic. You were going through a breakup from a relationship that had ended because your fiance was shoving his dick into his coworker. Of course Joel was going to try to boost your self-esteem and give you compliments.

When you didn’t respond, Joel placed his large, warm hand over yours. You looked at it and up to him. He grazed his other hand, a ghost of a curve against your cheek, like he wanted nothing more than to stroke your face and cradle your neck while he drew you into a long kiss and grabbed at your—

No. No he wasn’t. He was just being nice.

“I mean it. That prick is gonna look back and regret losin’ you.”

You wished you could believe him.

When Joel brought you a turkey sandwich for lunch on your second day of helping him, he made sure to point out the provolone. “Got it special for my girl, huh?”

Your tummy flipped at the way he called you his girl, but it was just another one of his terms of endearment that he probably used with everyone. He’d called you angel, sugar, honey, sweetheart, and even Popeye a couple of times. It didn’t mean anything. You weren’t special.

When you pushed your half eaten sandwich away, Joel set his down and waited for you to look at him.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“No, it’s great. Thanks for the provolone, by the way. You didn’t have to do that. Really. I’ll um, I’ll just save the rest for later. I’m good for right now.”

Joel’s jaw clenched from side to side before he leaned over in the chair next to you.

“Darlin’, you should eat somethin’. Half a sandwich ain’t shit.”

You shrugged and insisted you weren’t hungry. Joel chewed his cheeks against his molars for a moment before adjusting in his chair and leaning in even closer than before.

“This about that asshole? Messin’ with that blonde?”

You froze at his words. You heart was about to leap out of your chest.

“N-No,” you lie. “I, um, I’m not sure what you mean, Joel.”

“What I mean is you got the idea that you’re not beautiful. That you can’t compare.”

You took a deep swallow to clear the lump in your throat. Your eyes were getting a little blurry. Dammit, you really didn’t want to cry in front of Joel. Not over this stupid bullshit.

“Just leave it, Joel,” you mumble, turning your attention back to the papers on the table.

“Not gonna do that, sweetheart,” he said firmly.

When you looked back at him, there was a dark hunger in his eyes. His usually lax, friendly features were drawn into a stony scowl.

“I meant what I said the other day. You’re beautiful. Everythin’. Everythin’ about you is beautiful.”

“Look, I appreciate you being nice and trying to make me feel better, but you don’t have to–”

“You think I’m lyin’?” he challenged. You swallow hard at his commanding tone, and his words went straight to your pussy. You shook your head, feeling a little more convinced Joel might not be embellishing his opinion of you.

“Jus’ … Hard to think of myself that way, after…” You want to tell Joel every last detail of your life. Every time someone made you feel like you were eating too fast. Every time your friends got flirted with in the mall while you quietly hung at the back of the group. Every time you put something back on the rack after seeing how it accentuated the shape of your body too much to be a cute garment anymore.

Joel turned and was now angled directly at you with a knee tucking itself between your legs. His sinewy, large arm crossed your chest, his hand firmly planting onto the arm of your chair. He dipped his mouth right next to your ear. “You give me the word, sweetheart. Gimme the green light, and I’ll show you just how gorgeous I think you are.”

You’d been here before. The guy begging to show you a good time but only ever ending as a hookup. You were never girlfriend material, but you were a warm, round body for them to get their rocks off for the night. You knew Joel was different. He wasn’t like that. But you still can’t bring yourself to say yes.

“Tell me,” you whisper. Joel pulled back to look at your face. “Just your words.”

“After you let me kiss those sweet lips of yours?” he countered. You nod yes. It was only a kiss.

Joel stood and grabbed your hand, leading you to the couch. He tried to pull you onto his lap, but you knew he’d change his mind about all of this the second your too heavy body crushed his.

He tilts your chin for you to look at him after you sit. His eyes searched for any hesitation or unease. You can’t handle another rejection, so you lean forward. Joel meets you halfway and presses the gentlest of kisses against your mouth. It was feather light in a way that conveyed an intent to go slow rather than a hesitant partner.

His tongue gently flicks against your bottom lip, and you swallow a moan as you let him in. The kiss is agonizing in its slow, mindful pace as Joel makes no rush of exploring every part of your mouth. You suddenly feel very needy. You haven’t been kissed like this in a very long time. You pull at Joel’s shirt, dragging him on top of you as you lay back on the couch. His broad chest easily envelops you, and his large hands twitch with restraint to not smooth over every inch of you.

His grip tightens around your waist as he delves into a hungrier kiss. When he pulls back to adjust his body parallel to yours, the sight of your reddened mouth and blown out pupils almost have him crumbling into you.

“Tell me,” you breathe. “I just-I just want to feel pretty.” You curse the goblin part of your brain that tacked that pathetic sounding plea onto the end of your comment.

“Want me to start slow or you want me to tell you exactly what comes to mind?” he questioned with a flick of his tongue against your earlobe before drawing it into his mouth and sucking.

“Ohhh–ssh-shit– the s-second one,” you manage.

Joel’s deep chuckle sends goosebumps all over your body.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout the first time we met. Wanted you even then. Kept thinkin’ about us sittin’ on your porch. The way you were holdin’ onto that beer bottle? All I could do was imagine how your pretty fingers would look wrapped around my cock,” he murmured into the shell of your ear. “Bringin’ it to those pouty little lips of yours. Goddamn I thought about your tongue on me, baby. Takin’ me in real good in your mouth. Lickin’ this cock that gets hard just for you. That wet, warm mouth just for me.”

Your breath hitches in between Joel’s incredibly specific and detailed account.

“And when you were havin’ that little spitfire spell’uh yours, kickin’ the lawn mower?” he continued, earning a moan from you in half arousal and half embarrassment remembering your temper tantrum that day. “When you kicked it, your tits jiggled all in that little tank top you had on. Had to stop myself from marchin’ over right then and there and shovin’ my dick right in between ‘em and fuckin’ ‘em.”

You would’ve rubbed your thighs together just for the friction right now, but Joel had slotted himself in between your legs and was pushing his hard-on against your clothed pussy in a teasing grind that was driving you insane. Your hips canted at the hint of contact.

“Sittin’ in those cute little cutoffs,” he groaned low. “Your thighs spreadin’ on the seat. Wanted to grab you up and make my face your new seat, baby. Wanted those thighs on either side of my face while you rubbed your pretty little cunt all over my mouth.”

“J-Jesus christ,” you whimper. This man was giving you the dirtiest play by play of all the ways he’d envisioned himself exploring your body. Your pussy had already bottomed out by the time he got to the part about the lawn mower.

“‘N I jus’ know, baby, I just know it. Know your pussy is made to take this cock, baby. I know it’s perfect. Know it tastes so fuckin’ sweet. Know I’d fuck you ‘til you couldn’t think straight. Make you come on my cock over and over.”

Okay, maybe you could let him do more than just describe how much he wants you.

“‘N then after I work my tongue over you, ‘n after you take this cock so good, I’d grab you up, all to myself. Soft skin against mine. So soft, baby. Pull you in close and never let go. Press you right against me, hold you all night, cuddle up real close. Then wake you up with my dick hard against your perfect ass and fuck into that sweet little hole all over again.”

“Joel,” you whine.

“Hhmmm?” he drawled innocently, but you could feel his smile against your skin.

“I-I think I changed my mind. About telling me and not showing me. I think that, um, I think I’d really like for you to show me h-how much you want me,” you mumble against his cheek.

“S’that right, honey? You want a little show n tell now?” he teased. For good measure he rocked himself against the apex of your thighs, causing your hips to jerk up involuntarily to meet the movement. He chuckled at your eager change of heart.

Joel wasted no time nibbling and sucking your neck and his hands snaked up your shirt and under your bralette. The pads of his thumbs circle your pebbled nubs, and you let out a choked sigh. He shoved your clothing off with a few tugs and stopped to marvel at your bare top half. “God, even better than I imagined.”

His greedy eyes raked over every inch of you, a reverential gaze at your curvy figure. Heat spread between your legs when he dipped his mouth to your chest, leaving a wet trail with his tongue and lips in a freeform pattern before drawing your erect nipples between his teeth. Your back curved off the couch in a jerk at the delightful tease.

His hands covered large swaths of your abdomen where he enthusiastically massaged and kneaded into your flesh like he couldn’t grab enough of it at once. You lifted your hips when he pulled your shorts and panties off, and you would’ve been self-conscious about being completely nude while Joel was still fully dressed if you hadn’t seen the way his eyes glazed over with want as he absorbed the sight of you.

“Goddamn,” he breathed. “So pretty. Been wantin’ to drink this pussy from the first time I saw you.” His eyes flitted up to your face with a degree of effort as though he had to tear his gaze away from your heavenly body. He searched your features, checking in and making sure you still wanted this. You nod in consent, and no sooner is his tongue lapping between your folds.

You fist a handful of his hair at the overwhelming feeling of wet heat against you, and Joel groans in a deliciously lewd way that takes you even closer to the limit. He lathes against your heat with the fervor of a devout addict, and you come with a slamming jolt when he simultaneously slips two large fingers into you and sucks your clit.

“There’s my girl,” he coos, working you with a steady drag and push of his fingers as you come down from your high. “Knew you’d look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone, baby.” Your first orgasm quickly rolled into a second when Joel drove a third finger into you with a steady thrust. You cry out, clenching around the painfully sweet stinging stretch of his fingers.

You grab desperately at the tent in his pants. “S’about you today, baby,” he murmured into your thigh where he’s planting slow, sweet kisses.

“Please, Joel. Want to see you. Taste you,” you rasp out, still pulsing weakly around his digits. You groan when he pulls his fingers from you and laps all the glistening slick from them before standing in front of you. You sit up in a rush, eager to see more of him. He obliges and unfastens his jeans. His impressively thick

length made you gasp when he sprang it free from his underwear. You don’t hesitate to fit as much of him into your mouth as you can, and he lets out a satisfied hum when his tip nudges the back of your throat.

“Shit, I’m gonna come, baby,” he croaked. Apparently working you over had done a number on him already, and it made you want him even more. You wordlessly released him in a sloppy, wet pop from your mouth and tilt your head back, stroking his length with one hand and fondling his balls with the other. When his breathing picks up and he’s on the edge, you stick your tongue out expectantly and continue to fist him until his hips stutter and jerk, his spend cascading onto your cheeks, lips, and tongue.

You both just sprawled out on the couch like two chalk outlines haphazardly jutting into odd angles on pavement. You giggled when Joel asked you if you believed him now, and you said he had indeed made a believer out of you.

That was the first night you stayed over his place, and just like he had told you earlier that day, he scooped you in close to him, cuddling and shamelessly grabbing at your belly, thighs, and anywhere else he could reach while he peppered the back of your neck with kisses. It was the first time in a very long time that you didn’t once think about how much space you took up.

This one’s for all my baddie thickies out there!

I have hope that one day Miss Thickums® will come to love on herself a bit more because she deserves it, dammit. Also that and the fact that I get down bad for a lil Rubenesque cutie ha ha.

I hope y’all liked this little pairing! I have been working on Endless Night and Feral Woman but couldn’t get this idea out of my head so I just churned it out. I’m a sucker for fluff and praise, so this was a nice detour from my heavier series (but you should def go check those out too lmao).

I have so many more ideas for this pairing. I just know that AU friendly DILF neighbor Joel Miller has always been a “more cushion for the pushin” kinda guy and would love to nibble every pudgy roll on your body. His favorite spot is your lil muffin top. That’s my headcannon, and I won’t hear any differing opinions.

Let me know if y’all want more from these two. :)

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #joel miller hbo #the last of us fanfiction #oneshots

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contemplatingoutlander · 2 months

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On Billionaires and "Tyrannical Freedom"

Another excellent commentary by Jamelle Bouie. As such, this is a gift🎁link that anyone can use to read the entire article, even if they do not subscribe to The New York Times. Below are some excerpts:

This week in Texas Monthly, I read a troubling profile of Tim Dunn, a 68-year-old billionaire Texas oilman and lavish financier for right-wing extremists in the state. “In the past two years,” Russell Gold writes, “Dunn has become the largest individual source of campaign money in the state by far.” He has spent, through his political action committee, millions of dollars targeting Republicans who don’t meet his ideological litmus tests of opposition to public schools, opposition to renewable energy and support for tax cuts and draconian anti-abortion laws. A pastor who once said that only Christians should hold leadership positions in government, Dunn sees himself as someone who is on a religious mission of sorts and has devoted his time and wealth to imposing his ultraconservative politics and fundamentalist beliefs on as many Texans as possible. [...] I was disturbed. There is his wealth and influence, yes. But there is also his worldview, captured in the opening scene of the piece. Dunn makes an unfavorable comparison between human societies and bee hives:

By itself, this passage reads as fairly innocuous. But when read with Dunn in mind — a straightforward Christian nationalist whose allies in Texas politics are leading the charge to ban books, suppress the rights of L.G.B.T.Q. Texans and restrict reproductive health care — it takes on a more ominous cast. The passage, in that context, seems to capture the perspective of a man who does not believe in democratic freedom — a freedom rooted in political and social equality — as much as he believes in the freedom of the master, which is to say the freedom to rule and subordinate others. It’s a tyrannical freedom, one that rests on the idea that the world is nothing but a set of overlapping hierarchies, and that if you do not sit at the top of one, then you must be made to serve those who do. You’ll find freedom within your role, and nowhere else. This is not a new or foreign conception of freedom — it is...one of the more dissonant notes in our collective heritage. The issue, today, is twofold. First, we have a powerful political movement, led by Donald Trump, that defines itself in terms of this freedom. And second, we’ve allowed such a grotesque accumulation of wealth that figures like Dunn can wield tremendous influence over the political system. I’ve written before that the fight to save American democracy will involve more than beating Trump at the ballot box. Finding ways to radically limit the political reach of the super wealthy is part of what I mean. [emphasis added]

#right-wing billionaires #christian nationalists #tyrannical freedom #tim dunn #texas #jamelle bouie #the new york times #russell gold #texas monthly #gift link

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thatgoblin · 4 months

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Summary: When John goes on a cattle run, you and Simon get some time to get closer.

Warnings: Past sexual harassment, smooches, cuddles.

“What is she doing?” I mumbled, watching the movie on the TV. “How is that even comfortable to stand like that in heels?”

“I don’t think it is comfortable, Sweetheart,” Simon said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in my lap. “It probably feels like she’s walking on glass. The woman deserves an Oscar for acting through the pain.”

“Really.”

Simon was the only one home with me for a week and a half. John had to haul some cattle across the damn country with a friend, only known as Soap from what I had gathered, of theirs to make sure they got the best prices from a buyer in Texas. I hated that he’d be gone for so long, but I also knew that it meant we’d get a big paycheck and would keep bills at bay another month or two longer. That was something no one really talked about with ranches and farms. There were so many bills ranging from utilities to taxes that you’d think we were making bank with the herefords that we sold. If anything it just barely got us by.

But that was the other thing about owning and working a ranch or a farm. You didn’t do it for the money, you did it because it was what you loved. It was because we loved the life we were living that the money didn’t matter so long as we could make our bills on time. It didn’t leave much room for big vacations or big toys that some, much larger, ranchers had. We didn’t need those though. We were happy spending our evenings together in front of the TV after a long day of working while laying with each other.

It had been nearly three weeks since I’d arrived and I had settled even more. There was no more hiding emotions or ducking affection. I talked out my feelings and even gave my own touches of affection. In getting more comfortable with the two Alphas, I began to let down my guard more and more. To the point that we even walked around in towels. Only towels.

I wasn’t ready to take that next step of plain ol’ nudity, but I did enjoy watching John in his towel that skirted above his knees. He was strong and hairy, his arms and legs covered in dark sandy hair that didn’t do a thing to hide the very solid muscles that let him easily carry Simon around as much as he liked. My favorite part was his belly. It wasn’t flat or chiseled, but a healthy bit of roundness to it while having soft hair trail down to his groin. He looked breathtaking with his freckles from being out in the sun so much, as well as a few scars kissing over his belly and back. On warmer nights like that night, before fall was really taking hold, they’d both sit on the sofa with no shirt on while I was in short shorts and a tank top.

And Simon. That man was much larger than his clothes made him look. Covered in tattoos, not just his arms, he was nearly completely covered from his ankles to his neck His arms and legs were just as thick as John’s were, giving them equal power to pick me up to throw me on their shoulders. I always complained and swatted at them, but I actually didn’t mind. Not that I’d tell either of them that. While emotions were more readily displayed, I was not ready to actually work with my attraction to them. They were handsome Alphas and I was lucky they were just as sweet and caring, but I had never had a romantic partner, let alone kissed anyone.

Until I figured out how to actually go about flirting, I was not going to pursue anything else.

“Do lines like those really work?” I asked, staring at the TV with a frown as an actor gave an actress some cheesy pick up line that she giggled at.

“They might get a laugh at least,” Simon said. “But they don’t really work. I’m sure you’ve heard your fair share of bullshit lines growing up from the Alphas and Betas.”

“I guess,” I said, not really remembering any lines like in the TV show. Usually it had been along the lines of the kids making fun of me for being an Omega, but I would then beat the snot out of them. When I got older, the teasing turned sexual and there wasn’t much courting happening till after high school. Even then, most of the time the Alphas and Betas that tried would just come up to me to say they thought I would be a good Omega for their pack and that we should mate. There wasn’t a lot of romance like the TV shows.

“What’s the worst line you’d ever gotten when someone tried to court you?” Simon asked, turning from the TV to look at me. He shifted in his seat fully to face me, propping his face up on his fist with his elbow on the back of the couch.

“Uh. . . Probably the one I got from Matt Keller in my freshman year of college,” I said. “He basically just told me he wanted to see my stomach swell with his babies.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon groaned, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I broke his nose,” I said with a smirk.

“Good. He deserved worse, but at least you gave him a taste of it,” Simon said with a nod. “Was there any courting that you thought maybe someone could actually be a decent person?”

“Not really. It was a small town and I was the only Omega. Not a lot of people really cared how I felt or what I wanted, so I just ignored just about every person who tried to “court” me because it wasn’t really courting. It was just a proposition to be a mate or the Omega of a pack, which neither interested me and I made sure everyone knew it. Not that it stopped them from continually trying,” I said with a shrug. “I didn’t get to go to house parties or prom or sleepovers because I wasn’t allowed to. Partially because my parents didn’t want me to come home knocked up and partially because none of the other parents wanted me around. I always caused trouble by getting in fights, even if it was to defend myself. They didn’t see it as being a proper Omega.”

“So, no magical kiss with a prom date under the stars while necking in the front seat of your El Camino?” Simon asked with a raised brow.

“That’s strangely specific, but no. I did not. I stayed at home and worked on school. It was all I had really and I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to take it away,” I said. “I wanted to work on my dad’s cattle ranch. I wanted to run it, so I didn’t really make time for finding actually good romance or friendships really. . . That’s kinda sad, isn’t it?”

“Naw,” Simon said with a chuckle. “Things have changed. Despite your experience in the small town sphere, Omegas have more freedom of open choices in the bigger cities around the world. You would be able to go to college without Matt Keller giving you that horrific pick up line. Which means, no awkward flirting and courting that is.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, setting the bowl of mostly corn kernels on the floor before moving to put a foot in his lap and letting him do the same with me. Well, my foot was in his lap, half his leg was in mine. The man was long. “No cheesy one-liners from you or John about how you can make my night wild?” I asked with a giggle as I began to rub his foot while he rubbed mine.

“Sweetheart, you’ve seen our wild nights,” Simon said with a smirk. “The most wild we get is changing our sleep spots.”

“Then am I really missing out on anything?” I asked. “I mean, we kinda skipped the whole courting process. Save for being bonded and legally married, there’s not a lot of reason to use those one liners.”

“Would you really want them anyways?” He asked.

“Not really,” I said after a moment of thought. “I’d rather have this honestly. It’s easier and feels like a more solid foundation than just courting a few weeks then bonding. At least this way, I actually get to know you and John and you get to know me. We’re not strangers just forced together because of our sex organs. . . Even if it did kind of start out that way.”

“Do you like what we have going on?” Simon asked, his fingers working my arch. “This whole situation of us together without the sex organs part?”

“I do. I mean, it helps that I don’t have heats, but I figured before this you and John. . . You know, ‘took care of each other’ for that stuff,” I said, looking down at Simon’s foot as my cheeks heated up a bit.

“Now what do you mean by that?” Simon asked, snickering as he tickled the sole of my foot a moment. I nearly kicked him in the face as I gasped and glared.

“Do NOT do that, Simon Riley,” I snapped, jerking my foot back hard. “You know I’m ticklish as hell on my feet! And you know what I mean.”

“I’m going to need you to explain this one to me,” Simon said, giving me a devilish smirk, letting me settle my leg before going back to rubbing my foot. For as serious as he could be sometimes, Simon was a bit of a teaser that would always get me when I wasn’t expecting it.

“You’re seriously making me do this?” I asked with a huff as he wiggled his foot in my hand. “Fine. I assumed before I moved in that you and John. . . Did stuff. . .”

“Like?” Simon asked, egging me on.

“Like sex, okay?” I grunted, rolling my eyes. “I figured you two had sex with each other before this.”

“Was that so hard?” He asked with a grin. “And yes, for the record we did. Still do when you’re busy with something and we’re alone.”

“What!?” I cried. “How!?”

“Well, when one Alpha and another Alpha love each other VERY much-”

“Oh shut up, I know how sex works,” I said, slapping his calf playfully. “I meant how are you having sex and I’m not noticing?”

“You are surprisingly good at focusing on chores and don’t seem to question us spending a lot of time in the barn with the horses,” Simon said with a chuckle.

I sat there in stunned silence as Simon grinned at me. It took a moment for me to soak in the realization of how dopey I felt that I had missed that giant indicator. It all added up and I was none the wiser till Simon had to spell it out for me.

“In case you’re wondering, we made sure that we could work around you till you were ready or if you’d ever be ready,” Simon said, his fingers digging into the ball of my foot to get my attention.

“Ready? For what?” I asked, suddenly finding myself lost and flustered.

“You really don’t know how to flirt or have a conversation about this stuff, do you?” He asked as I kept staring at him with a slight frown.

“About sex? Absolutely not, I was lucky I learned anything from sex ed in school. . . and that’s not what you’re talking about,” I said, groaning as Simon laughed at me finally catching up. “Look, I’m not on the up and up about sex and romance, give me a break.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be nice,” Simon said with a hum. “But as I was saying, we were working around you. We didn’t want to force anything or make you uncomfortable. That didn’t mean we were going to go celibate though.”

“Understandable, if not reminding me how oblivious I can be sometimes,” I said with a nod.

“No problem,” Simon said with a hum. “But now I’m curious, have you ever had sex or fooled around before?” He asked.

“Absolutely not,” I said with a snort. “I never understood the appeal of it the way it was shown to me. Rough and claiming, just doing it because of the excuse that it was a base instinct for everyone. I mean, I never wanted to be with someone like that. Someone that only wanted the knot and didn’t care about much else in sex. I’ve read more sex positive books about Omegas and figuring out what worked for them, but I just. . . I didn’t feel safe to experiment with anyone, let alone kiss anyone.”

“Well, if it helps, I know two Alphas who would happily volunteer to help you experiment,” Simon said, raising a brow and smirking. Oh no. Oh fuck no. That was a face of his that I could not look at without blushing because it was plain as day that he was getting ready to get cheeky with John or me.

“I’m sure you do,” I said, clearing my throat to look away towards the TV. My hands idly kept working his foot, but Simon’s hands were being evil. They slowly slid up my calf and began pulling me towards him. I was determined to ignore him though, sitting up straight and rigid as he managed to pull me halfway into his lap after pulling his own foot away. “Can I help you, sir? I’m trying to watch TV,” I said, as he settled me with my back to his chest, keeping my gaze forward and not on Simon.

“I just want to give my friend a hug,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to his bare chest. The skin to skin contact felt nice and before I realized it, I was turning my head to scent his chest as I purred. “Have you really never been kissed before?”

“I mean, by relatives,” I said.

“I meant romantically,” Simon sighed softly, looking down and nosing at my hair.

“Yeah,” I said, looking up at him. “Never been kissed. Most I’ve done is with you and John by sleeping in the same bed and holding hands.”

“Would you like to be kissed?” He asked. I had to think about that. It was everywhere on TV, in schools with young couples, people on dates, but I didn’t know if I wanted it.

“What’s it like? Romantically?” I asked, moving to sit in his lap side saddle so I could see him.

“It’s like you’re closer than a hug,” he said, his thumb stroking my arm as he took a moment to think of his words. “It feels nice. It’s as if you’re connecting to the person on a deeper level. It’s hard to describe really.”

“Closer than a hug, but not as close as sex,” I said, trying to help.

“Basically. It’s something you have to experience for yourself. I know that some of my favorite memories of me and John are us kissing. Just kissing. Nothing leading up to anything, just us curled up together like this and kissing. One time we were in line for a concert in the rain and we did our best to wait it out, but the bar closed it off because they were at capacity,” Simon said, looking at the TV as he remembered the details of that night. He had a smile on his face, a fondness of the story he was telling coming through. “We were mad because we had been in line for so long and were on a short leave between our military work, but after a minute it didn’t matter because the place was quickly shut down for being over crowded. Even if we had made it in, we would have still been kicked out.

So, we cut our losses and ran back to the truck. We were both soaking wet and it had to be nearly freezing. After we get into the truck and I turn it on, our heavy breathing fogs up the windows so we have to wait for the heat to kick in. John said something about it being a sign, but I just blew it off. He was more cautious back then. We were. . . Hell, I think we were 23 or so when this happened. I asked him what kind of sign it was. He said it was a sign that we were supposed to be together. Apparently concerts getting canceled and freezing rain meant long love signs,” Simon chuckled.

“We got the truck going, we defrosted, so we headed out. We were probably about 10 minutes from home when the truck slid into a ditch. I was going maybe 20 miles an hour, but the curve of the road had us sliding so slowly that we just sat there holding on as we came to a stop. John said it was another sign, I said he was being stupid, but as we were about to pull back out a lorry truck came sliding past us, barely missing the truck then kept going. John and I sat there for nearly half an hour till the rain had stopped and a salt truck drove by. I managed to get us back on the road and made it home safely.”

“Where’s the kiss?” I asked, frowning. I had been waiting for that part specifically. Was it a rain drenched kiss or maybe one by the fireplace where they laid together to warm up? I was invested and needed to know. “You were telling a story about you and John kissing.”

“Was I?” Simon asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re a horrible man,” I huffed, rolling my eyes at him. He laughed, shaking his head at me before continuing the story.

“We got home, walked inside, looked at each other for a moment before we held each other close. It was our first real date and our first real brush with death off the battlefield,” Simon said after a few beats of silence. I knew they were retired military, it wasn’t hard to figure that out after seeing dog tags and the gear they had with them. But I never asked about their time in the service or pushed about it. I thought that if they wanted to talk about it, they would. “We kissed each other when we laid in bed, holding on to one another like we might drift away. There had been kisses before, but that one. . . That was our first kiss as a couple. We were together for the first time officially and weren’t hiding it.”

“That’s really sweet,” I said, smiling at him. “It was a relief for you both, then. The kiss, that is. After everything, you could still kiss one another.”

“I guess you’re right,” Simon said, that fondness back in his face. “I kiss him good morning and goodnight every day, but those small moments are my favorite.”

“I want that,” I said, looking forward as I rested my head on his chest. “Small moments of connection with someone. I want that.”

“That’s something that John and I can offer you, if you want it from us,” Simon said, nuzzling the top of my head. “We want to give you that. We want to be that for you.”

It was another door to step through, a choice to make on where I wanted this relationship to go. I wanted it. I wanted them.

Looking up, I nosed at Simon’s cheek as I moved to straddle his lap. We went slow, his arms holding me as I shook a little. Scared and excited as we just shared the same space.

“I’ve gotcha, Sweetheart,” Simon said softly before he pressed his lips to mine.

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leclerced · 19 days

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angst in the carhop AU ?

the pressure from race wins and WDC points gets to lando and oscar and they break up mid season , how does reader cope with this/ work around it esp with lando and oscar living in texas and her living with them ? is she responsible for them getting back tg or do their trainers and friends get in on it ? maybe lan is visiting one day and she misses calls from oscar and he shows up but lando is there and he gets jealous?

-🪼🪼🪼

omg breaking up with each other and not her... how do they do it? mclaren drivers fighting each other for the championship? multi 21 moment? where are they when they do it? how do they tell her? do they ask her to pick one or do they know they're just going to have to work out something so they can both keep seeing her? what does it mean for their future? so many thoughts...

lets talk living situation since you said they live together. they're rich enough to have multiple properties and it's good for investment reasons and shit. monaco is a tax shelter and because irl he lives there, i think lando would maintain residency there rather than legally move to america because of that. oscar would probably keep his place in the uk bc irl he hasn't moved anywhere that i know of. so post break-up, they'd both go back to their old places when the other is at the home in texas. they're not home very often anyways so it's not the biggest change. (does any of that make sense?) she does her best to spend equal time with each of them like switching who she talks to on the phone every night and who comes over on non race weekends.

i think at first, she wouldn't meddle. they're together constantly so they can talk and work things out on their own when they're ready. she believes they'll work it out on their own. she would want to, especially during nights where she's listening to one of them rant about the other. sometimes they're angry over a race result, that the other got an upgrade and they have to wait, etc. and she's pretty sure they're going to run each other off track the next time they race. other times, they're just sad and apologetic, and that's when she has hope they'll make up with each other.

she thinks about trying to trap them, make plans with both of them to come home so they have to sit and listen to her. but she's scared that'd piss one or both off, and that's the last thing she wants. there's just too much tension during the season for anything to be resolved. they'd interact when needed for work, interviews, and promo, but keep the interactions limited. they try to talk but they're both still angry about a lot of things, so they're just running in circles until they give up again.

then, winter break rolls around. lando has all these big plans to go skiing and mountaineering with his friends and invites reader but she can't suddenly take weeks off work without notice. she gets a couple of days off around the holidays and agrees to fly out then, but she's working on a big project and can't go jet-setting around the world with him. he understands and they'd make plans to talk every other night like usual and they're counting down the days until they see each other again. oscar's not that type though, got no plans other than to see her as much as possible. as soon as the last race is over and his media duties are done, he's flying back to her.

when lando calls her, oscar leaves the room to give them privacy and she doesn't tell lando he's there, a habit from the season when they always knew the other was there because they weren't. lando takes his absence from their calls as a sign that oscar isn't there and halfway through a ski trip decides to head back home, to her. his friends are understanding, wish him a safe flight and hours later he's unlocking the front door after getting dropped off. it truly doesn't occur to him that just because she didn't mention oscar, it doesn't mean he's not there. he hears them laughing as he kicks the door shut, he can tell they're in the den and it's close enough that they hear the door close and go quiet. he can hear murmured voices, did you hear that? was that a door? is someone here?

he wishes that he'd checked before flying all the way out. he’s not angry anymore, but he saw oscar leaving the track right after the race and heard he was flying home from someone in the garage and assumed that meant the uk, but now he knows it was here. he also assumed oscar didn’t want to talk to him and that’s why he rushed out, before lando even had the opportunity. he’d spent his break thus far fretting about texting him and seeing if they could meet up to talk, he hasn’t even had time to think about what he would say and now that he’s confronted with it, he doesn’t know what to do or say.

before he can figure out what to do, oscar's stepping into the hall with a baseball bat before freezing, "oh, you're not a burglar." he sounds more bored than relieved if anything, like he was excited to use it.

lando just laughs, "were you- did you plan to take down a burglar with a bat?"

reader comes scrambling from the other room as oscar is inspecting the bat, “lando’s here? did i hear him hating on my bat? i'll have him know my aunt gifted me that and she used it three times, so it definitely works."

the absurdity of it all sends oscar and lando reeling, the idea of an aunt of hers attacking three burglars with an old wooden bat. reader just standing there wondering what is so funny like, "i'm serious. there are dents in it, look!" they laugh even harder, oscar drops the bat to the ground in favor of clutching his stomach. reader picks it up with a huff and stashes it back in the closet. when they finish laughing, most of the tension is gone. it's a little awkward, but lando just says, "i didn't know you were here." and oscar replies, "i didn't know you were coming, we ate all the pizza already." the statement eases lando's worries a bit, like if he'd known he would have saved him some. he doesn't know what that means, but it means something to him.

they just avoid the topic for a bit. oscar and reader tell him there's leftover take out in the fridge and go back to the living room and cozy back up on the couch like they had been. lando eats left overs from the fridge from the arm chair and they catch him up on the show they just started before playing the next episode. lando tells them about the ski trip he was on and the mountain he summitted. eventually, reader falls asleep on oscar and when the episode finishes he gets up to carry her to bed. oscar asks if he's coming to bed before he leaves the room and lando knows things will be okay after they talk.

they're both up before she is the next morning, neither could sleep well with the impending conversation on their minds. lando gets up first when he can’t fall back asleep and deems it early enough to go for a run to clear his head. oscar wakes up sometime after that and sees lando's gone, but before he can worry that lando's left, he notices the open dresser and clothes tossed around and knows he's still around somewhere.

he's cooking breakfast when lando comes home, a full spread of bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, french toast. mostly to give himself something to occupy the time, and something to focus on while he waits for lando to return from wherever. lando wants to talk as soon as he gets home, still sweaty and panting from his run. oscar offers him a glass of water when he sees the state of him and lando gulps it down. before oscar can ask if he wants a refill, lando starts apologizing for everything on his part. every time oscar tries to interrupt, lando cuts him off with a, “wait, i’m almost done!” even though all oscar wants to do is say everything is forgiven and he’s sorry too, and also that he doesn’t need an itemized list of all the things lando is sorry for.

reader wakes up to them joking around while finishing up breakfast and she’s a little anxious going into the kitchen, unsure if they’re avoiding the topic and playing nice for her safe or if they talked finally. oscar sees her walk in and makes his way over to greet her, she gives him a good morning kiss and tries not to wonder if lando’s upset or jealous watching them. before she can think too hard about it, lando’s whining that he didn’t get a kiss. reader thinks he’s whining about her, so does oscar, so they pull apart and she makes grabby hands at lando and coos, “come give me a kiss then” and he mumbles, “meant oscar, but i’ll take what i can get.”

#ask #🪼 anon #ln4/op81

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sunder-the-gold · 7 months

Text

How halo-empathy re-contextualizes our Sankta Operators

I'll ignore Ezell (Enforcer) for this post, as we got to know him at the same time as we learned about halo-empathy.

Adnachiel

"In a show of humility, Adnachiel stands helpless in the face of loftier, theoretical topics, though everyone assumes he's just being modest. After all, as soften spoken and kind as he is, Adnachiel gives off the impression of being a clever and considerate young man."

Adnachiel didn't have to deal with that sort of misunderstanding in Laterano, where other Sankta would feel that he isn't being modest when a topic falls outside of his understanding of deterministic, mechanical principles.

On the other hand, he left Laterano before he was the requisite 12 years old for receiving his patron gun. We don't know how long he's lived in virtual exile before he became Infected (and thus exiled for real), but it seems like long enough for him to have adjusted to managing the expectations of non-Sankta.

Of course, that doesn't mean he can stop people from spreading exaggerated rumors about his intelligence and foresight, especially when he's got enough of both in reality.

Probably, his perceptiveness and analysis also helped him adjust to the necessity of watching and listening to other people to guess their state of mind. Philosophical theory is one thing, but facial expressions and vocal tones tend to have clearly observable meanings.

(Though I'm left wondering if his parents lied to him about the reason why they took him away from Laterano as a child. When a potential bully and a potential target both feel each other's emotions, would bullying still happen? Maybe this was an early-writing fluke?)

Arene

Where Adnachiel opened up to other people and studied them in return, Arene displays more introverted, self-focused tendencies.

Arene's troubling lack of sympathy for other people could owe to the several years he's spent exiled from Laterano following his infection with Oripathy, "from an early age". Younger than 12 years old, when Sankta normally receive their patron firearm.

Spending his formative years separated from his parents and surrounded by people from whom he could sense no emotions, with an underdeveloped ability to read emotions normally, and possibly with a unconscious sentiment of Sankta racial superiority, it's perhaps not surprising that Arene displays sadistic, solipsistic tendencies.

His third Archive File further mentions that he "tends to be a little sheepish around some of our other Laterano operators". One assumes this refers to other, unfallen Sankta who not only remind him that other people have internal lives of their own, but that there are some people who can still see right through him.

Ambriel

She's not just evading her taxes; she wanted to live where no one could empathically sense her desire to slack off. Possibly.

For that matter, her choice of weapon not only lets her avoid direct confrontations of a physical, mortal nature… the farther she could deploy from other members of the Lateran Guard or Notarial Hall, the less likely they could see or feel her slacking off.

When the Notarial Hall employed her to watch out for and locate students playing hookie from school, did they hope to inspire her to change by confronting "herself"?

Executor

He and Oren confirm that despite his apparently darkened halo and the unexplained device clamped onto it, he's not fallen. He's very much capable of sensing the feelings of other Sankta. He just doesn't care. Possibly, he thinks that feelings do not change facts, and he bases his decisions on facts.

This does not contradict what he says in his third Trust line. Rather it must mean that when he says, "I cannot understand other people", he cannot understand the reasoning of other Sankta despite knowing their emotional state. His actions could anger another Sankta close enough for him to feel their anger, but he doesn't understand WHY his actions provoked that response.

Exusiai

Texas: "Exusiai is my polar opposite. She seems to get along fine with anyone, but lets very few people close to her." Exusiai: "Texas is a handful. Even when she lets you close, she won't spare more than a few words. It took me a long time to figure out whether we were cool or not."

Exusiai grew up never needing someone to say more than a few words; she could know how they felt. She had to learn how to read someone as tactiturn as Texas because Sankta don't understand subtler body-language or unspoken words within words. Texas outright tells us that Exusiai finds it very hard to really TRUST other people; Texas had to prove herself through actions because Exusiai can't peek into her mind.

Which makes Exusiai's pledge of loyalty to the Doctor more impactful; even without halo-empathy, she's utterly convinced she understands and agrees with the Doctor. ("Leader… No, savior, I pledge this gun in my hand to protect you until the very end of this world.")

Mostima

This explains so much about Mostima, whom probably already wasn't the most social of Sankta. Before she fell, she had the Sankta empathy to assist her. Fiammetta didn't, but Fiammetta was raised by Sankta and knew how to bridge the gap, so Mostima still didn't have to learn anything. But after she fell, she lost almost all connection to other people that she'd taken for granted, and the effort to reconnect didn't seem worth the trouble.

Exusiai goes crazy not just because Mostima won't use her words to explain, but because words are all Mostima has any more and she was never good with them. Exusiai can't feel Mostima's feelings anymore.

This also brings a new dimension to how the Doctor managed to reach Mostima, and convince her that maybe making new human connections wasn't such a hassle (for her) after all. ("…I see now. When I thought of having a friend like you, the spark of joy I felt wasn't fake after all. Scrap what I said before, Doctor. Maybe I do need a bit of warmth in my life.")

#arknights #mostima #exusiai #adnachiel #arene #ambriel #executor #laterano #sankta

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aliypop · 2 months

Text

Fame and Fortune

Word Count: 1,257

Writers Note: In honor of the month Elvis left for The Military.

Warning: None

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: In March 1958, Elvis is in Texas for BootCamp, and Cecelia's as lonely as can be in Memphis.

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

@leapresley

@everythingelvispresley

@dreamondina94

@elvismylove04

@pocketfulofpresley

March 1958 Memphis, Tennesse

"I'll get it!" Carlotta shouted, hearing the phone ring. Carlotta Moreno was many things to Cecelia, her drummer. Her friend, right now, was helping comfort Cecelia while Elvis was away in Bootcamp,

"Presley..."

"Moreno..." Elvis sighed, "Is Cece near?" Elvis asked as Carlotta rolled her eyes, "She's helping your mama with something," Her accent sounded like venom to him,

"I see could you tell my fiance I-"

"I miss you too, El..." Cecelia said, taking the phone from Carlotta as Rosa watched alongside Gladys and Vernon. Cecelia had been wrapping the chord around her finger as she giggled,

"Say, how's my favorite girl?"

"Well, mama's doing fine, but as for me, not good..."

"What's wrong honey?" Elvis was worried as he heard her tone of voice shift.

"You're not here, and it's getting lonely."

"I'm here..." Carlotta mouthed as Cecelia pushed her away playfully,

"I feel the same. I mean, the guys treat me regular sometimes, but I uhm miss your kisses and your honey biscuits."

"Which biscuits are we talkin about?" Cecelia smirked as Gladys cleared her throat playfully,

"Was that my mama..." He blushed as she responded to him. Elvis missed home. He missed his family, his friends, his fiance, but. Elvis knew that in two years. He'd be back, and everything would be back to normal. He'd be asleep with Cecelia on his chest and a nice breakfast.

"Private Presley!"

"I gotta go, Cece."

"Call me this weekend when you get to Fadal's?"

"Always." Hanging up the phone, Rosa and Gladys swooned as Carlotta groaned,

March 1958 Fort Hood, Texas

"Who was that?" A few of the soldiers whistled as Elvis laughed, his face flushed with a rosy tint of red, "Oh, his lady friend?" Another soldier said as Elvis shrugged, "You could say that." He winked as he followed them into the mess hall. Boot camp was taxing and tiring, and as much as he could try to pretend to like it, he didn't. His body ached sometimes, and he'd remember how Cecelia would have told him not to be so rough on himself. Or how she'd be kissing the sore spots on his body with her "Magic" kisses on his skin. But when it came to him going to sleep, he'd imagine he was at home with his cousins and his mama and daddy and his grandmother and his Cecelia, who'd be tucked in his arms singing him songs. But it wasn't the same. He'd stare at the ceiling and count sheep or softly play his guitar. He'd re-read her letters or look at the picture clippings of her that he had on his wall, like a man with a pinup girl, except his pinup was Cecelia.

"I mean... She's amazing," Elvis blushed, sitting on his bed, "I'm gonna marry her when I come back." He looked at her picture as the men began to laugh,

"No offense, Presley, but you're definitely tired." One of the soldiers laughed,

"I mean it, I'm gonna make her Mrs. Presley."

"Don't think that's possible," another voice said, that belonged to a black soldier. "But you got good taste." He smirked as Elvis laughed if only they knew he was serious about it,

March 1958 Memphis, Tennesse

"So I was thinking Pink as a wedding color because Elvis and I like pink!" Cecelia squealed, flopping on the white couch as Daphane, Rosa, and Carlotta sat by her feet, "So blush and bashful?" Daphne asked as Cecelia nodded,

"Yeah... and a Christmas wedding, we'll get married in a chapel and-"

"And you'll kiss him in front of me..." Carlotta mumbled as Cecelia sighed,

"Lottie..."

"Cece..." She looked up at her as Cecelia sighed. In her eyes were their forbidden youth together,

"We're going to bed, Cece..." Rosa mentioned as Daphne followed, "Night girls." She waved as Carlotta stood looking at her,

"Now, back to us..."

"There is no us..." Cecelia looked at her, "I love Elvis, and you know that." Carlotta got close to her. Cecelia could smell her perfume on her skin,

"Mi vida..."

"Elvis is my fiance. You were a fling in the past..."

"Why must you say these things..."

"Because I don't like girls." Saying that broke Carlotta's heart, but it broke hers too. She was lying to herself, and they both knew it,

"So you told Rosa the same thing, huh?"

"Rosa's got a thing for Scotty, and I'm getting married to Elvis," She blushed hard as Carlotta pulled her closer to herself, their eyes meeting as her hand was on her cheek,

"Surrender to me, let's run away..."

"To Texas..." Cecelia gasped, "Carlotta Mi amour, you are a genius !" she kissed her as Carlotta grinned, "I'm going to Texas to see my Elvis!"

"I got a kiss..."

July 1958 Fort Hood, Texas

It had been a few months now, and Elvis was adjusting. He'd go to Fadal's to hide out on the weekends and home to his family on the weekdays to make sure everyone was okay. But he was still missing someone, though he didn't want to sound like he was complaining. Cecelia's Pink Ford was in the wind as Daphne was sleeping in the back, and Rosa and Carlotta were humming to songs,

"I don't see why you're so happy-go-lucky about Elvis..."

"Two things, Coca-Cola and a Quarter," Rosa mentioned as Cecelia blushed. Rosa chuckled as Carlotta was confused, "What does a soda have to do with Elvis?" Carlotta asked as Rosa smirked, turning to face her,

"Well, my little Latin Lover... It's more like his Cock- a Cola and-"

"Okay, no more talkin about my fiance's soda pop plus a quarter and then some." Cecelia blushed as they got to Fadal's place. Cecelia and Fadal had been great friends. Thanks to her mother and promotional skills, no one would know that Cece and her Vagabonds The Garnets were in town, not even Elvis. Now, like herself, Elvis hated surprises, but she figured he'd like this one.

"So... wait, were we talking about his Polla..." Carlotta questioned,

"You'd rather take a Coke bottle than my fingers..." She questioned as they walked up the driveway,

"Sometimes.... Cecelia wasn't listening as she kept walking towards the door,

"You know I could go for a nice tall glass of Coke-" the door had opened as Elvis was still in uniform. His hair was cut lower than what she was used to, but something in her wanted to hold him,

"That's the coke you want?"

"It's not abou the bottle, Carlotta. It's about the flavor... Good night, girls!" Cecelia said as she was in Elvis's arms,

"Someone's thirsty..." Rosa smirked as they walked away,

"What was that about?" Elvis asked as he held Cecelia in his arms, "Oh, nothing, baby... nothing..."She blushed as she kissed him, his hands in her hair as he kissed her sweet lips,

"You look beautiful..."

"And you look tired." She rubbed circles on his cheeks as he leaned into her touch, "Couldn't sleep without'cha." His crooked smile warmed her heart,

"Then let's get you out of this uniform and in bed."

"Yes, captain..."

*Bonus *

"Then I was playin' guitar and I-I..." Cecelia looked down as she heard him snore, "Elvis...Elvis!" She shouted. Softly, he woke up,

"Huh?"

"Did you fall asleep with a sandwich in your mouth?"

"What! No!..." He looked down as she laughed, "Maybe I did..." He kissed her arm and snuggled into her, taking in her scent. There was nothing like being in the arms of the woman he loved.

#oc #fanfiction #new stuff #new #romance #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis the pelvis #poc oc x elvis presley #fanfic #50s elvis #cecelia valmos #elvis au fic #elvis x poc oc #army elvis

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 4 months

Note

Poor little rich boy, didn't even make 80k! That's so *sad!* Should we throw a pity party? Should we tell everyone we know how horribly opwessed you are for having to pay your fair share?

Kindly stop sucking Auth state dick. The people you probably vote for only EVER increase taxes on the low and middle class. The, "Checking your 600$ transactions" bullshit is because of people like you. They said it wouldn't affect us. They lied. Besides, averages are clearly beyond your ability to understand. Do you know why?

Because 70k (or under) in a city like Dallas Texas? That's not even middle class. If you make 100K in most major cities in Cali you are not even really middle class. Especially not as much as you end up getting robbed in taxes. I'm FAR from rich. But communist scumbags like you, want to punish people for earning money. That's all it is. YOU think people deserve to be poor. And given what I made with the COST of where I live, I'd be LOWER Middle class at BEST. But probably on the Higher end of Low class. But THE FED should not be able to STEAL 1/8th of your entire worth over the course of a year. That they will then proceed to send overseas. To places that YOU don't like. Where as I don't believe they should be taking our money like this at all.

Get your head out of your ass. And stop sucking BOOT!

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

Text

A Nebraska lawmaker whose north Omaha district has struggled for years with a housing shortage is pushing a bill that, if passed, could make Nebraska the first in the country to forbid out-of-state hedge funds and other corporate entities from buying up single-family properties.

Sen. Justin Wayne’s bill echoes legislative efforts in other states and in Congress to curtail corporate amassing of single-family homes, which critics say has helped cause the price of homes, rent and real estate taxes to soar in recent years. Wayne said that has been the case in his district, where an Ohio corporation has bought more than 150 single-family homes in recent years — often pushing out individual homebuyers with all-cash offers. The company then rents out the homes.

Experts say the scarcity of homes for purchase can be blamed on a multitude of factors, including sky-high mortgage interest rates and years of underbuilding modest homes.

RISING RENT PRICES PUSH RECORD NUMBER OF AMERICANS TOWARD HOUSING CRISIS, PROMPTING LEGISLATIVE ACTION

Wayne's bill offers few specifics. It consists of a single sentence that says a corporation, hedge fund or other business may not buy single-family housing in Nebraska unless it's located in and its principal members live in Nebraska.

"The aim of this is to preserve Nebraska's limited existing housing stock for Nebraskans," Wayne said this week at a committee hearing where he presented the bill. "If we did this, we would be the first state in the country to take this issue seriously and address the problem."

A 14-page bill dubbed the End Hedge Fund Control of American Homes Act has been introduced in both chambers of Congress and would impose a 10-year deadline for hedge funds to sell off the single-family homes they own and, until they do, would saddle those investment trusts with hefty taxes. In turn, those tax penalties would be used to help people put down payments on the divested homes.

Democratic lawmakers in a number of other states have introduced similar bills, including in Minnesota, Indiana, North Carolina and Texas, but those bills have either stalled or failed.

The housing squeeze coming from out-of-state corporate interests isn't just an Omaha problem, said Wayne Mortensen, director of a Lincoln-based affordable housing developer called NeighborWorks Lincoln.

Mortensen said the recession of 2008 and, more recently, the economic downturn driven by the COVID-19 pandemic made single-family housing a more attractive corporate investment than bond markets.

"When that became the case, housing was commoditized and became just like trading any stock," he said. "Those outside investors are solely interested in how much value they can extract from the Lincoln housing market."

Those corporations often invest no upkeep in the homes, he said.

"And as a result of that, we're seeing incredible dilapidation and housing decline in many of our neighborhoods because of these absentee landlords that have no accountability to the local communities," Mortensen said.

Currently, about 13% of single-family homes in Lincoln are owned by out-of-state corporate firms, he said.

As in other states, Wayne's bill likely faces an uphill slog in the deep red state of Nebraska. At Monday's hearing before the Banking, Insurance and Commerce Committee, several Republican lawmakers acknowledged a statewide housing shortage, but they cast doubt on Wayne's solution.

"You know, you can set up shell companies, you set up different layers of ownership. You can move your domicile base. There's just a ton of workarounds here," Omaha Sen. Brad von Gillern said. "I also — as just as a pure capitalist — fundamentally oppose the idea."

#nunyas news

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bookgeekgrrl · 23 days

Text

My media this week (31 Mar-6 Apr 2024)

lady constance is a seven foot tall badger and knows acab

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

pretty much nothing! It was a rough reading week! The first part of the week I was fairly consumed with the D20 I was watching & not reading much. Then I spent FIVE DAYS reading a little over half of a 258K fic before finally accepting that though it was pretty well written and not bad, I just wasn't into it and the thought of fighting thru another 120K was appalling, so I bailed.

and I did read about 20K of shorter stuff but nothing I want to shout out so.

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

This Is Going To Hurt - s1, e1

QI - series S, ep 10-12

Death In Paradise - s11, e2-3

D20: Mice & Murder - "The Stabber of the Evening" (s9, e4)

D20: Mice & Murder - "The Eye of the Storm" (s9, e5)

D20: Mice & Murder - "Busted" (s9, e6)

D20: Mice & Murder - " I've Been Here the Whole Time" (s9, e7)

D20: Mice & Murder - "Outfoxed" (s9, e8)

D20: Mice & Murder - "The Belly of the Beast" (s9, e9)

D20: Mice & Murder - "Unfinished Business" (s9, e10)

D20: Adventuring Party - s4, e4-10 [Mice & Murder]

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "Infernal Conflict" (s21, e13)

D20: Adventuring Party - "All Pulp, No Juice" (s16, e13)

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

What Next: TBD - The Psychological Toll of Mars

Working - How a Magician Designs Original, Mind-Blowing Tricks

Hit Parade - The Bridge: Like a Revamped Stone

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #7: Kahuna

WikiHole - Greek Easter (with Ellie Kemper, Josh Sharp and Aaron Jackson!)

Welcome to Night Vale #245 - Fridge-worthy

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep7 "Kahuna"

Today, Explained - Making taxes less taxing

I Said No Gifts! - Tig Notaro Disobeys Bridger

⭐ Switched on Pop - Cowboy Carter: This Ain't Country

Consider This from NPR - Measuring The Economic Impact Of Baltimore's Port Closure

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Beyoncé's Cowboy Carter

⭐ Vibe Check - This Ain't Texas, This Is Vibe Check

Better Offline - Wikipedia Is All The Web Has Left ft. Molly White

Wiser Than Me - Julia Gets Wise with Bonnie Raitt

Short Wave - How To Make The Most Of Next Week's Solar Eclipse

Ologies with Alie Ward - Heliology (THE SUN/ECLIPSES) with India Jackson and Michael Kirk

99% Invisible #576 - Chambre de Bonne

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #8: The Catch

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Untranslatable Words

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Ripley

Song Exploder - Shania Twain - You're Still The One

Off Menu - Ep 238: Katy Wix

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep8 "The Catch"

Choice Words - Live in Fear or Love? (with Karamo)

What Next: TBD - Truth Social’s Rocky Week

Short Wave - The "Barcodes" Powering These Tiny Songbirds' Memories May Also Help Human Memory

⭐ Pop Culture Happy Hour - Monkey Man And What's Making Us Happy

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Nevada Week: The Martin

Endless Thread - Nerd Fight

Strong Songs - "The Way" by Meshell Ndegeocello

Today, Explained - The Sephora kids

It's Been a Minute - Is DEI a slur now? Plus, control & basketball

Radiolab - The Moon Itself

Choice Words - Choices We Made: Stay Silent or Sue the Cops? (with Eric André)

Wait Wait… Don't Tell Me! - Chris Pine

Worlds Beyond Number - WWW #9: The King of Cups

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - Fireside Chat for WWW ep9 "The King of Cups"

Under the Influence - Cheeky Advertising

In Defense of Fandom - Season 2 Episode 1: What makes a TV ending?

Dinner’s on Me - Kristen Bell

Dinner’s on Me - Dax Shepard

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Louis Jordan

Ozzy Osbourne

Meshell Ndegeocello

Cowboys + Queens

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nostalgicamerica · 9 months

Note

I don't collect Hummel figurines and I don't have much hair and don't intend to grow it out into an ugly comb-over. I'm a moderate Farmer Labor Democrat, not a Liberal Commie as some would refer to. The current Trump Republican Party is not the Conservative Party of my Father. The current Republican Party is not one of credibility and they don't have a solution to the current problem on the border worth having. Here's a bit of news about the border.

Federal and tribal lands make up 632 miles (1,017 km), or approximately 33 percent, of the nearly 2,000 miles (3,200 km) total. Private and state-owned lands constitute the remaining 67 percent of the border, most of which is located in Texas.

Red States don't want the Federal Government in their faces so, why don't they tax their population and build a wall with their own money? Abbott likes to spend tax payer money sending people to Martha's Vineyard when he could be out there building a wall and sending his storm troopers to root out the illegals. He could enforce eminent domain and take those private lands away from ranchers and build his wall. Let's see how far that goes. Especially in Texas.

I don't care what your political pursuasion is. The establishment Republicans want the open borders, too, on behalf of their corporate overlords. They want the cheap labor.

Republican/democrat; twin sides of the same coin.

For those libs on Martha's Vineyard - boy howdy, they sure embraced those illegals, didn't they? Bunch of butt-munching hypocrites, too. They're all for open borders but keep the bastards out of their backyard. That is until they need their hedges clipped.

Whatever.

This is the last post I'm going to make on the subject (until the next one.).

Cut off the reason why the illegal alien is coming here and the flood would stop.

Also, look up Cloward-Piven. I have an inkling that is why the so-called elite in this country want what is happening.

You and I aren't going to agree on this so just let it go. By the way, this afternoon I'm attending a barbecue at the home of a neighbor. He emigrated here from Colombia 22 years ago. LEGALLY.

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lmaoplsdontlookatme · 2 years

Text

some1 reqd tommy corruption and idg why im having such a hard time but here this !!! general tw for typical violence n whatnot 🤭

(no minors, not work safe)

(requests are open)

It was Stockholm syndrome, you’re sure of it - the way you only slightly flinched away from Thomas, how Luda May’s uneasy stare no longer made your skin crawl, how Hoyt’s harsh words no longer hurt as much as they did before.

You were safe here, probably safer than most other places on Earth. You didn’t have to pay rent or go to work, you didn’t have to worry about taxes or grocery shopping or what new social media app to use. And if the police ever came snooping around, you would let them know that you were kidnapped and were forced to do all the horrible things that you have.

When you first came to Texas, you and a few friends were driving through to get to New Orleans to pick another friend up for a flight but you obviously never made it. You were caught up, quite literally, a meat hook through your shoulder that you could feel grinding against your collar bone as you struggled, watched as Thomas killed your friends that came along. You hung there for two days, watched the sun sink and rise and wished for death as flies laid eggs and maggots spread against your wounds. You couldn’t feel your legs but you knew there was something wrong with your left ankle - you’d caught it in a fucking bear trap and your mind told you that you were in some sort of shitty horror movie as Thomas grabbed you from behind like a toy doll.

When the garage door opens you can’t register panic, fear, much of anything. There was a weak puddle of mud on the dirty concrete floor, blood and where you’d wet yourself as white hot pain ripped through your back and out the front of your chest in the form of the thick hook. There are hands at your abdomen, fingers running along your ribs and chest and around the metal penetrating your chest which makes you cry out. The figure in front of you - Thomas - jumps slightly but that only spurs him on. You’re registering everything now, pain and fear all slamming back to you at once and tears spill over your eyes as you finally see your capture up close.

It only took a few days for Thomas to move you outside from the stifling heat of the garage and into the house - it was so much cooler that you moaned out loud and sobbed a thank you as you were marched downstairs. The days blurred together and you’re thankful you don’t remember most of it. When you’re more conscious, you remember stumbling up the basement stairs in your underwear, Thomas’ hand tight on yours. He lets you sit at the dining table and serves you himself - a plate of some kind of stewed meat and the smell makes your stomach ache so badly you want to puke but you had been a vegetarian for the past six years. When you don’t eat, Thomas takes a seat next to you and motions at the plate - when you shake your head, his fist slams down hard on the table and you jump, leaning forward to take a fork.

Maybe it’s because you’re starved or maybe it’s because you hadn’t eaten an animal in so long, but it’s the best meal you’ve ever had in your life. You finish it faster than you want and Thomas gladly gets you another bowl and when you’re fat and satisfied, he takes you by the hand and leads you to a side bathroom off of the kitchen.

When he pulls back the curtain of the tub, you gasp and shut your eyes as your stomach rolls. It was a body, faceless, naked and cut and you hear Thomas grunt as he manhandles it out of the tub. Your meal comes back up into the sink as the smell hits you and when Thomas comes back, he pushes you towards the tub. You shake your head as you sob and he only picks you up with his hands under your arms and sets you into the tub. You almost slip in the blood and gore that coats the bottom but Thomas has a hand on your unhurt shoulder to steady you. You shower uneasily under his gaze, shaking in the warm water as you fight your nerves and the rest of your stomach coming up.

Around a month and you no longer get wide eyed at Thomas’ approach - there’s barely even a flinch when you look up at him, meeting icy blues under the stretched, rotting skin of your best friend. He doesn’t speak to you, you’re not sure if he speaks at all, but he’s good at making clear his wishes. You were let out of the basement and allowed to enter the connecting kitchen and bathroom as you pleased, having earned the Hewitt’s trust by being quiet, willing, broken.

Three months in is when you put two and two together - you’d had an inkling for weeks but we one day you watch Hoyt coming out of the shed with a paper wrapped package that he throws onto the table and tells you to cook and when you open it, there’s a strange cut of meat with skin still attached, a tattoo that reads ‘matt’ with a heart and you think of hearing the heavy screams from the basement the night previous.

You can’t bring yourself to be sick, not with the bracelet around your wrist Thomas had gifted you, adorned with bones the likes of which you’d never seen in person. Not with the cot tucked away into the little offshoot of the kitchen that was meant to be a pantry, carved bones and animal pelts that was covered with a thick, leather panel courtesy of Luda May offering you privacy.

That night after family dinner, Thomas takes you by the hand and leads you back downstairs. It isn’t the first time he touches you, but the first time you’re conscious and can remember. You touch him back without a second thought and after that, you’re allowed free reign of the entire house.

Five months and it’s cold outside, July having turned into December and you have a Proper room now, the master upstairs that used to be Hoyt’s. Luda insisted and when Hoyt tried to take it out on you, Thomas grabbed him by the throat and threw him against the wall so hard, it broke his arm.

He slept up there with you every night and every night you were compliant beneath him and it got easier and better each time until you took it upon yourself to sit in his lap, fingers at his face as you moan and move against him.

Month six found you staring uncaringly into a set of handsome green eyes, trustful and pleading and your chest was so tight and your blood was so hot at the feeling. The owner of the eyes had his fingers hooked tight into yours as you pulled him into the house, hushing him as you feigned ignorance. There’s a noise upstairs and you’re able to lead him into the basement without any trouble, heart slamming in your chest and when he says he thinks it might be safe enough to take a break, you drop his hand and wipe the sweat from your palms. His face falls as you turn, slamming a knife deep into his stomach up under his ribs and there’s a throb between your legs as dark blood bubbles out between his lips.

Thomas’ heat is almost oppressive behind you but he pushes in close - you can feel how hard he is against your back as the man in front of you drops into the dirt of the basement, scratching at his chest and trying for purchase at the knife lodged into his spine through the gape of his stomach. Your fingers don’t fumble as you flick open your pants and drop them, leaning forward as you reach back for Thomas. With your legs shaking and how hard he fucks you, you find yourself on your knees with your face pressed into the dead man’s sternum, Thomas’ grip harsh against your roots and you cum on his thick cock as he desperately pumps in and out of you because that was your first kill.

Dinner that night was dedicated to you, Thomas putting on his best clothes while Luda dipped into the liquor stash and even Hoyt clapped you on your shoulder, mostly healed, as he tells you that you’ve done a good job. You’re offered first dibs at the family’s insistence and you take your cut of meat with pride, shooting a smile towards Thomas until he nods with permission and you go ahead and take the first bite.

Seven months in and you’re awake early in the cold, eyes on the heavy form next to you, the rise and fall of Thomas’ chest as he sleeps. He really was beautiful in his own way, and you were beginning to really pick up on and admire his characteristics.

A year passes and you don’t realize - you just know the days are growing warmer and somewhere, there was an empty grave for you because surely there was no hope for your search. Not that you particularly gave a shit anymore - you were well fed and the supply was always rolling in the form of nosy visitors, of whom Thomas always gave you a trinket.

And then one day, when you see the front door open and Hoyt’s stolen cop car in the drive, you take the keys out of the running ignition and lock the door without a thought of running crossing your mind.

It wasn’t Stockholm, you knew that now. You had a family, a home, and you were in love.

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