Joel Miller X Oc - Tumblr Posts

Oh my god. 😭 This is so lovely, and extremely unexpected, I barely know what to say?! She looks so happy, and I adore that this was the moment you decided to capture.

Thank you! ♥️♥️♥️

“– something exciting about the afternoon where Ellie left a little earlier than usual, sunlight still spearing through the tall living room windows while Lindsey Buckingham crooned through the stereo speakers and Benny twirled through the motes of dust lazily, a glass of wine in one hand, her hair glittering in the light. She and Ellie had gone to the beach earlier in the day when he’d been occupied with fixing the balcony door, and she’d donned another donated dress for the occasion; a cascade of white with splashes of emerald leaves and blossoms, the skirt loose and flowing, and when she danced, a bittersweet thought struck Joel: that this was probably the closest he would ever get to seeing her in anything that even remotely resembled a wedding gown.”

-As Long As You Love Me by chronicallyonlinewriter

Some OCs simply just reign superior, and I couldn’t get this moment with Benny’s new dress out of my head. I wanted to add her new Stevie shawl but I got overwhelmed by fabric lol

Anyways go read this masterpiece ❤️

I can not wait for the next chapter of As Long As You Follow!!! I keep wanting to ask if you plan out your fanfics ahead of time because they have so much happening in them? Do you plot things out chapter by chapter?

Hi, anon. Thanks! I'm pretty loosey goosey about storyboarding, and I should probably be...better, about that, because then maybe my fics wouldn't be so bloated. I always know general points I want to hit, and how I want to pace things, but I don't often plot it out chapter-by-chapter. (I mean, clearly; ALaYF was supposed to be ten chapters, and it'll end up being seventeen when all is said and done.) I do track things as I go, however. I keep notes of dates and my fics' general timelines so I can reference them later, and not contradict myself, which has been very helpful.

Word: sighed

This one is unfair because you know my characters be sighin' all over the place.

Joel sighed as he holstered his pistol, fixing his wife with a look full of exasperation when she added, "It...might have been a tarantula."

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @sixhours. Have a snip from the next chapter of As Long as You Follow (which should be updated in the next day or two, and if you noticed I just added to the final chapter count again, no you didn't).

Tagging: @march-flowerr @two-birds-alone-together @bumblepony @becomethesun and @hypnotisedfireflies.

I think this segment was entirely my brain just being excited about all of my modern AU plans tbh.

Her exhaustion finally claimed her; her body, previously a taut knot of tension, now yielding to the comforting warmth emanating from Joel. And it felt…nice, in its own way, when she closed her eyes; his shoulder so firm against her cheek, the steady rumble of the engine a rhythmic lullaby. It reminded her of the more heady moments of her youth, of going out on dates with boys that had pickup trucks that made her mother shake her head and tut fretfully, of those days where her worries amounted to nothing more than the wind whipping through her hair and the pursuit of enough joy to drown out the persistent ache that always seemed to exist in her breastbone.

She wondered if this is what it would have been like, if things were different. If fate had dealt them a different hand, if she was older, or he was younger – everything she’d whispered to him on the bloodsoaked floor in that apartment building, this grand fantasy where the world hadn’t ended so catastrophically, yet they managed to find each other anyway. She’d tried to imagine him in his youth so many times before, had held that photo of her husband and her brother-in-law, clean-shaven and beaming, in her hands and tried to imagine what it would have been like to meet that Joel, to date that Joel, to fall in love with that Joel.

Would he have swept her off her feet with reckless charm just like the boys that came before him, who drove her around in trucks just like this, one arm around her shoulders, hand a little too eager to wander? Somehow, she didn’t think so. The image that materialized of him even as a foolhardy boy remained so steadfastly the man she already knew: the same protective instincts, the same aura of safety that had drawn her to him in the first place, the same warmth that he reserved for her and Ellie and shared so sparingly with others.

“Wake me up when you need me to navigate,” she said, her voice punctuated with a yawn. And he muttered something under his breath that, just from the one or two syllables she caught, was filled with irritation, but she felt the fleeting pressure of his lips press against her hair anyway.

Chapter 16 (out of 18) is up! With this chapter, As Long as You Follow (247,126 words) has officially surpassed its predecessor, Go Your Own Way (233,279 words) in length, and I have also officially posted more than half a million words to AO3 (in just 14 months, which I feel like I should be more concerned about, oop). It's been a wild ride, ya'll. Still (hopefully) more to come, though.

Last Line Tag Game

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Thanks for the tag, @sixhours!

You get two lines, because I don't follow rules. From the next chapter of As Long as You Follow:

He always took such care to say the right things to her, to be aware of her feelings, but he was often a little clumsy with it - his love better manifested itself in more tangible ways, with skilled hands he used to construct and hold and soothe and defend. He wasn't always honest with her, otherwise - and she knew it, knew that when he deemed his words to be sufficient over action, they were carefully crafted to cause her the least amount of pain.

@march-flowerr @toointojoelmiller @becomethesun @hypnotisedfireflies @bumblepony and literally anyone else because I can't tag that many people. ♥️

This came across my dashboard and so I am reblogging it again because it makes me cry.

Update: I continue to work on all things! Nothing is abandoned! New chapters will come!

The actual, fun and exciting update: I'm going to start recommending a few AMAZING TLOU fics that you might have missed on my blog every Saturday for the next while.

I hope you find some new great reads to keep you going while we wait for season 2 - our fandom is seriously so freaking talented, and there are SO many incredibly written fics out there that I want to yell about a bunch of them! Please reblog!

These fics will vary re: how closely they stick to canon and what themes they explore, but you can expect them all to be wonderfully written and, obviously, heavily feature Joel Miller.

Some of these, including this weeks, may include mature content - make sure to read and heed the trigger warnings listed on ao3!

I have never really been interested in fan fiction with OCs, so I missed out on this week's recommendation for a long time and I bet a lot of you did too. It's both a wonderfully told Joel love story and a fic that, in my opinion, really honours the world and characters of TLOU.

Go Your Own Way by @chronicallyonlinewriter 232,575 words || 31 chapters rating: mature [see ao3 tags for full content warnings] featuring: post season/game 1 life in Jackson, angst, fluff, action, romance, smut, plenty of protective Joel and parent Joel

You can check out a review from @march-flowerr below, describing some of what makes this story so special: (vague general spoilers re: themes and mature content)

“Go Your Own Way stands, in my mind, as one of the most well written piece of fiction on Archive of Our Own. Nandorluna has such an intimate and authentic take on the existing characters that we know and love (on Joel and Ellie and all the Jackson gang) but it’s her ability to create stunning, well fleshed out original characters that drew me to her story initially. Her main character, Benny, moves across the story in such a visceral and realistic way; her arc spans not just the present canon timeline, but transports us through an entire lifetime: from childhood to outbreak, to first love, to first loss, to heartbreak and grief and then finally, to her heart’s final resting place: Joel Miller.

Zee manages to write about and embrace such difficult topics as assault, pregnancy loss, and grief without ever once making a show of it. She handles each moment with quiet dignity and intense self reflection; she draws beauty from the hollow depth of heart ache and despair without ever once losing the thread of hope that The Last of Us is known for.

At the heart of Go Your Own Way is the love story of Joel and Benny. Zee manages to create a compelling story about brokenness and connection and the raw, rare glory that is finding someone with whom you can begin to fit yourself together with again. It’s a story of family - of people who when left to wander, find their hearts drawn to each other. It’s a story about love - each relationship, from Benny and Alexei’s long friendship, to Ellie and Joel’s turbulent first years, to Benny and Joel’s steadfast devotion for each other, caters to the soul. It’s a story that I’ve found myself returning to, again and again, in all moods and places in life. If I could change anything about it, it would only be that it did have to end after all."

If you read and love this, please please show the author some love and leave a kudos and comment!! Happy fandoming y'all.

I love your fics so much. I wish we got more of Texas in it is all, the settlement there and their government. It kind of felt like you were setting that up to be bigger but then they just left but I WANT MORE because I love fics about what other places became after the outbreak. Are you going to write more about that? Because I would read it!

Hi! I'm happy you're enjoying my lil' fic.

Moreno was supposed to have a slightly bigger role, as the settlement leader, but he works just as well as a character working in the background, always busy. (Fun fact, I had something of a Diego Luna-ish vibe in mind when picturing him.)

There were things about Galveston that I wanted to fit in the story, and then didn't, but I also think that's just the nature of writing - you can't always get all of your ideas onto the page, unfortunately. I would have loved to flesh out The People's Galveston a little more, but I'm also content with what I managed to fit in around the main story.

Also in the Texas chapters, we were supposed to meet a character named Cameron - who was mentioned briefly in GYOW, the brother of Wesley (Benny's deceased former partner). But I just ended up not having the time or space to bring him into things in a way that would have done him justice, either.

At the moment, I don't have any plans for any Galveston spinoff fics or etc. I have to be honest that ALaYF already takes a lot out of me to write, and as we come to its conclusion it also gets less and less engagement, so I just don't think the effort would be equal to the interest anyone might have in it (which I promise is not me whining about it, I'm just trying to be pragmatic).

Benny & Joel

I am absolutely dying over this piece of art that the wonderful @bumblepony surprised me with, commissioned from the amazingly talented @miranhas-art (who has made some of my favorite Pedro character art on Tumblr). Based on a scene from chapter 15 of As Long as You Follow:

Sometimes these evenings were a little different. Sometimes wine flowed a little more generously (for her) while familiar music played from Alexei’s CD player. He danced with her now whenever she asked him to, without protest, because he didn’t have it left in him to ever again deny her anything that he had the power to give. She was at her happiest when he twirled her slowly around the living room, and there was something nostalgic about these steps – something familiar that pulsed under his skin when she laughed as he lifted her arm and carefully spun her, something so free about how she always danced barefoot, her hair swaying back and forth against her back, something special about the way she always kissed him first, because even when he led their steps, she led everything else –

– something exciting about the afternoon where Ellie left a little earlier than usual, sunlight still spearing through the tall living room windows while Lindsey Buckingham crooned through the stereo speakers and Benny twirled through the motes of dust lazily, a glass of wine in one hand, her hair glittering in the light. She and Ellie had gone to the beach earlier in the day when he’d been occupied with fixing the balcony door, and she’d donned another donated dress for the occasion; a cascade of white with splashes of emerald leaves and blossoms, the skirt loose and flowing, and when she danced, a bittersweet thought struck Joel: that this was probably the closest he would ever get to seeing her in anything that even remotely resembled a wedding gown.

Sunburn kissed her shoulders with a rosy glow, a blush mirroring the flush on her cheeks, and when she beckoned for him to join her, curling two fingers in and out as she swayed, he did so with no hesitation, drawn to her like a moth to a flame – though he took her hand, first, spun her around slowly, and then wrapped her up against him from behind, all the better to trail his lips down her neck and over her shoulder, leaving fleeting white marks against her heated and red skin. And there was just something about this that felt different even when it was achingly familiar; there was a rawness to it, an uninhibited surrender in the way she tilted her head back with a longing sigh, finding rest against his shoulder, the way she tipped the wine to her lips and drank long sips, then held it up so he could do the same.

I put these two through so much - and I love that when the opportunity arises, people choose to show them in their better, happier moments. ♥️

Pushing myself to try to finish the next chapter of As Long as You Follow today. I know I take forever to update, but I hope that another 30k chapter helps to make up for that. 💀

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag, @sixhours! Here's a very small snip from the next chapter of As Long as You Follow:

He’d braced himself for the worst; for the sight of her raw grief, for tear-streaked cheeks and a rigid gate, for hands that trembled just as they had at the dam. Her eyes were still rimmed with red, her face blotchy, but when their gazes met she offered a smile – a genuine smile – filled with a warmth that reached her eyes and tugged at his heart. Without a word she hoisted herself back into her saddle, and when he reached out to hand the reins back she wrapped her hand around his wrist and forced him closer to her, leaning across the space between their horses and pressing her forehead against his. For a fleeting moment, the world shrank to the space between them. Everything else disappeared; the horses' startled snorts, the symphony of crickets, all faded into insignificance. There was only the dizzying pressure of her skin against his, the mingled scent of sweat and something more sour, overlaid with the subtle, sweet perfume of her hair and a hint of lilac, all of it filling his senses – until she drew back from him, her eyes locking onto his. “Okay," she breathed, her voice the first thread to pull him back to the present, each syllable bringing with it the reemergence of the cricketsong. “Now we can go home.”

Tagging: @bumblepony @mote-of-star-dust @two-birds-alone-together @lauronk and @march-flowerr (and whoever else wants to share).

Added to the chapter count again, because this story keeps demanding more of me, oop.

Anyway, chapter 17 of As Long as You Follow is up. ♥️ This fic is coming to a close, I promise.

(Art by @mote-of-star-dust.)

Have a snip. As a treat.

Benny bullies Joel into letting her get chickens.

Their names are Stevie Chicks, Atilla the Hen, Chickadee, and Henrietta.

She tells him this very matter-of-factly one morning, and he just looks at her like

That's it, that's the post.

Just reblogging again because it makes me happy. 🥹

Benny & Joel

I am absolutely dying over this piece of art that the wonderful @bumblepony surprised me with, commissioned from the amazingly talented @miranhas-art (who has made some of my favorite Pedro character art on Tumblr). Based on a scene from chapter 15 of As Long as You Follow:

Sometimes these evenings were a little different. Sometimes wine flowed a little more generously (for her) while familiar music played from Alexei’s CD player. He danced with her now whenever she asked him to, without protest, because he didn’t have it left in him to ever again deny her anything that he had the power to give. She was at her happiest when he twirled her slowly around the living room, and there was something nostalgic about these steps – something familiar that pulsed under his skin when she laughed as he lifted her arm and carefully spun her, something so free about how she always danced barefoot, her hair swaying back and forth against her back, something special about the way she always kissed him first, because even when he led their steps, she led everything else –

– something exciting about the afternoon where Ellie left a little earlier than usual, sunlight still spearing through the tall living room windows while Lindsey Buckingham crooned through the stereo speakers and Benny twirled through the motes of dust lazily, a glass of wine in one hand, her hair glittering in the light. She and Ellie had gone to the beach earlier in the day when he’d been occupied with fixing the balcony door, and she’d donned another donated dress for the occasion; a cascade of white with splashes of emerald leaves and blossoms, the skirt loose and flowing, and when she danced, a bittersweet thought struck Joel: that this was probably the closest he would ever get to seeing her in anything that even remotely resembled a wedding gown.

Sunburn kissed her shoulders with a rosy glow, a blush mirroring the flush on her cheeks, and when she beckoned for him to join her, curling two fingers in and out as she swayed, he did so with no hesitation, drawn to her like a moth to a flame – though he took her hand, first, spun her around slowly, and then wrapped her up against him from behind, all the better to trail his lips down her neck and over her shoulder, leaving fleeting white marks against her heated and red skin. And there was just something about this that felt different even when it was achingly familiar; there was a rawness to it, an uninhibited surrender in the way she tilted her head back with a longing sigh, finding rest against his shoulder, the way she tipped the wine to her lips and drank long sips, then held it up so he could do the same.

I put these two through so much - and I love that when the opportunity arises, people choose to show them in their better, happier moments. ♥️

I have torn my way through Go Your Own Way and will start the sequel soon and I am so obsessed with Joel and Benny!

I am curious if you ever thought about what would happen if Benny had kept the baby or if that was ever considered. Joel thought it would have ended them but I don't know, it's hard to think that it would have!

Hello! Thank you!

Spoilers ahead for GYOW, for anyone who hasn't read it:

I think this is an interesting question, and the answer to that is complicated. I personally did not consider having Benny choose to continue her pregnancy - it wasn't what I wanted for the plot, or the characters.

If she did, in some parallel universe, choose differently, I think she would have thrown herself into motherhood 100%. I think she would have allowed her love for her child to override any hatred for their biological father (eventually) and she would have been content with that decision (eventually).

I think Joel would have tried, and that's the best I could say for him.

In the end, I can't say for sure that it would have ended their marriage, but it certainly would have damaged it.

I will probably be posting the last full-length chapter of As Long as You Follow tomorrow, and yes, I am a little sobby about it.

The last full-length chapter of As Long as You Follow has been posted. It's not quite the end of an era, but...we're close to it, certainly. Just one (hopefully much shorter) epilogue to follow.

(Art by @mote-of-star-dust, @ayeleye and @miranhas-art.)

I'm going to miss these two. ♥️

Please say to me that after everything Benny gets Alexei back. PLEASE. 😰

For Your Love

Banner made by @toointojoelmiller

[As Long as You Follow] [People Still Listen to Fleetwood Mac in the Apocalypse]

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Words: 3,227

Summary: She liked him like this, craved it; him pinned beneath her thighs, a vessel steered by her desires. Intoxicating, when she deepened their kiss and then pulled away from him and he tried to follow her, head lifting off the pillow, lips seeking hers even when she was out of reach, his abdomen taut with strain. There was something thrilling about it; about someone so much bigger than herself, built like a storm with muscles that could overtake her in a moment, choosing restraint; something satisfying about those large, rough hands sliding along her skin, so gentle when they didn’t have to be.

Warnings: +18, MDNI, smut, oral sex, face-riding, unprotected PIV. Minor angst referenced. Age gap (Joel is 62, OC is in her mid-forties), my Joel is soft AF and loves his wife.

This is my first time posting something like this as a standalone. This is actually a scene from chapter 18 of As Long as You Follow, but also works as its own piece (in that you don't have to read the whole fic to understand this scene). Enjoy!

◦ ❖ ◦

Dawn was barely a whisper when she crept back upstairs, her skin flushed with warmth, her head swimming from even the miniscule amount of liquor she’d been encouraged to drink. She shed her sweatpants with a clumsy grace, using the wall as an anchoring point, and then poured herself onto the mattress with a sigh, burrowing until she sank into the cool embrace of the bedding.

Unsurprisingly, Joel was awake, his eyes steady and observant as she claimed her pillow. “Hi,” she said quietly, and he quirked an eyebrow. She wondered how long he’d laid here just like this, waiting for her to return; wondered if he’d gone looking for her, or had been patient enough to assume she would come back on her own. But he didn’t resist her when she slid over to him, the cool sheet parting like water around her, pressing her warm skin against his. If he was surprised, he didn’t let on; he fell into her embrace easily, fingers sliding under her shirt to trace the delicate architecture of her ribs, his breath, a warm current, brushing against her cheek.

"Would you do something for me?" she breathed into the hollow of his neck.

“Name it,” was his immediate reply, though she let herself linger in the space between them for a little while longer; let him nuzzle into her hair, his hand gliding across her skin, gripping and cupping softly – let herself feel it, his love and affection. In the end, words were unnecessary. She tangled her fingers in his patchy beard, tilting his chin down so he could meet her lips. He responded instantly, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing completely against hers.

In the cocoon of his embrace, the night's unease unfurled and floated away, dissipating into the shadows. It seemed impossible to find anything to be scared of when they were just like this – because nothing terrible had ever happened to her when she was wrapped in his arms, and she knew with a sudden clarity that nothing ever would. “I love you,” she whispered, and then was filled with frustration because even this didn’t seem like enough to convey the immensity of what he meant to her, and all the ways he had reshaped her life for the better. He kissed her again, a gentle press of lips against hers, and then drew her close, his chin resting on the crown of her head.

“I love you,” he echoed. “Go to sleep, baby.”

And just like that, her mind stilled.

But she didn’t sleep. Whether intentional or not, she’d already given up on it. Joel slept, and she didn’t begrudge this of him, this man who gave so much of himself to everyone and everything – to her, to their family, to his community, nevermind the strain of his aging body. She closed her eyes, but sleep never found her, and when the sky began to lighten along its edges, cool and gray, and the birdsong began to trill through their open window, swept in with the breeze that stirred their curtains, she found herself still wide awake. The room was dim, the branches of the old oak outside casting a slow, hypnotic dance of shadows across the bedroom walls. She watched them shift and change, restlessness pulsing through her veins.

Joel stirred in his sleep, breaking their embrace when he rolled onto his back. She shifted onto her side when he did, taking him in as he lay bathed in the soft glow of the approaching day. He looked so peaceful, his features relaxed, his breath even and deep. She remembered doing this during their very first night together; remembered being so full of nervous energy that she hadn’t slept at all, all at once thrilled and terrified of this man that lay sleeping next to her, uncertain of where he would end up fitting into her life but so eager to find out.

For some reason, she could only hear Ellie’s voice in her head, her recollection of her own early days in Jackson; ‘I just didn’t understand why it was so easy for him – how, after everything we’d been through, he could just turn around and be okay. But I figured…he was pretending, you know? For me.’ And she wondered if he was doing the same thing for her, and had been since they got back to town – pretending, for her sake, holding them both together while she crumbled, replaying the familiar dance they'd performed again and again over the years. It unnerved her just as much as it flooded her with gratitude, and she found her vision blurring, his sleeping face glowing and fracturing before she blinked away these unexpected tears, and suddenly it wasn’t enough just to be close to him.

“Joel,” she murmured, a whisper drifting across their pillows. Her movements were deliberately quiet, slow as molasses as she rolled herself over, her hand reaching for him beneath the sheets until her fingers could trace a languid path across his ribs and the expanse of his bare chest. She watched his face as she moved, searching for any flicker of disturbance. “Joel,” she breathed again, his name stretched taut across her tongue.

Finally, he shifted; his features, pale and sculpted in the muted light that speared through their flimsy curtains, pulling tight, his mustache twitching above parted lips. Eyes that glittered like gemstones blinked open, a small, confused grunt leaving his throat.

“What –” The soothing cadence of her voice, the softness of her hand feathering back and forth across his ribs – none of it mattered; he lurched for an upright position, eyes darting around the room.

“Easy,” she whispered, gently pushing him back down; and he hesitated, but seemed to trust her enough to allow this, settling his head back on his pillow with a groan. “Sorry, just…was seeing if you were awake.”

“Am now,” he rasped, voice thick and gritty with sleep, though his grip on her hand was soft after he fumbled for it, squeezing it as it lay across his chest. “What is it?”

She answered him in movement; a soft, measured shift when she swung a leg over his hips, the sheets whispering against her skin until she settled astride him. There was an exhale of surprise, a breathed oh – that was immediately silenced when she captured his mouth with her own, a gentle conquest, her lips velvet against his. She didn’t linger in preambles, deepening her movements with quiet need, her tongue flicking past his teeth – and he hesitated, just for a moment, his hand adrift until it found its home on the curve of her hip.

She liked him like this, craved it; him pinned beneath her thighs, a vessel steered by her desires. Intoxicating, when she deepened their kiss and then pulled away from him and he tried to follow her, head lifting off the pillow, lips seeking hers even when she was out of reach, his abdomen taut with strain. There was something thrilling about it; about someone so much bigger than herself, built like a storm with muscles that could overtake her in a moment, choosing restraint; something satisfying about those large, rough hands sliding along her skin, so gentle when they didn’t have to be.

“Darlin’ –” She sensed his shift immediately; felt his hands migrate to the small of her back, urging her forward, but she shook her head – though she went to him, offering a rather chaste kiss, a fleeting touch of their lips that only seemed to frustrate him. He groaned softly as she continued an upward journey, peppering light kisses across the bridge of his nose, his brow, his forehead while her hands steadied themselves on his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Just lay back,” she said softly, pressing her lips against his again just to stifle any response he might have had. And there was something there; a puff of air that met her lips, a slight sigh that she felt echo through his throat, because her mouth went there next, nipping and licking as that sigh deepened to a groan. “Quiet,” she chided against his collarbone, and that groan turned into an amused scoff – but he did quiet himself, his hands following her, winding through her hair, twirling the golden strands between his knuckles. She felt the response of his body as her touch grew bolder, the stiffening of his chest and the clenching of his stomach when she softly, so softly kissed the half-moon scar above his hip, but his hands remained gentle, careful not to pull too tightly –

– until she descended too low, finding him already straining against his boxer briefs, and she kissed that, too; felt the twitch of his cock through the fabric right before he reflexively jerked his hips. His fingers tightened in her hair and then let go, and suddenly there were hands on her shoulders, gently trying to pull her back up, and she heard his voice rumble through the darkness, “Sweetness – you don’t gotta do that–"

And she knew, with a mix of tenderness and frustration, what he was doing – shielding her, protecting her in that endearing, infuriating way that was so innately him. But she had no use for his protection – not tonight, anyway. She shook her head, grasped his wrists firmly, and pried his hands away from her shoulders. She didn't release him immediately, savoring the moment, placing a lingering kiss on his knuckles before letting go. He responded with a sigh, his head sagging back against his pillow, his chest rising and falling visibly in the dim light; she saw the rhythmic expansion and contraction of his ribs sliding beneath his skin, felt the nervous jolt of his leg when she straddled it, her own heart pounding in her chest.

“I don’t have to do anything,” she murmured, her fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers, “but I’m not doing anything I don’t want to. Okay?”

She watched him carefully, moved slowly, pulling down the fabric until he sprung free, ready and willing despite the rest of his body’s hesitance. She knew that he was watching her, too; saw his eyes as two pinpricks of light glittering through the darkness, heard the sharp intake of his breath as her hand encircled him, warm and inviting – but she waited for him, waited for those eyes to flutter shut, for the quiet, gasped, ‘fuck’ that signaled his surrender –

– and there was something about it that was so familiar, so nostalgic. She thought about when they were first brought together; remembered that look on his face the first time she straddled him on that couch, mouth parted in surprise, eyes sparkling with shock and yearning – remembered the first time she took him in her mouth, the way he’d bucked his hips so harshly, overwhelmed by a sensation so new, so intense. He'd looked at her on her knees with an awe-struck reverence, as if she were the most precious treasure in the world, and that same adoration shone in his eyes now; his hand guiding the bobbing of her head while her lips sank lower, lower, every movement of her tongue causing a wonderful little gasp to push from his lungs.

There was an intoxicating power in witnessing this strong, capable man become something far more pliant in her hand, a profound pleasure in knowing she was the only one who could unravel him in this way. She enjoyed bringing him right to the edge, his strong legs quivering beneath her; knew that he was so close to bliss, because there was a steady stream of whispered Spanish cutting through the darkness – and she smiled around his cock, swirled her tongue along his salty tip, turning those words into an unintelligible groan.

He was beautiful, she thought; plush lips parted, trembling amidst the salt-and-pepper stubble of his jaw. His head tilted back, pressing into the pillow, the morning light tracing the contours of his strong jawline and glinting off the silver in his hair. She watched his tongue dart out to wet his teeth before a grimace of pleasure contorted his face, felt his fingers tangle in her hair while his other hand clenched the sheets, wrinkling the fabric beneath his desperate grip.

“Baby – hey, hey –” His hands were already in motion, before she could react; gentle but commanding, hinging under her arms and lifting her effortlessly – his arms guided her over his body, and though she longed to stay where she was she yielded to his touch, rising to meet his kiss.

And this, too, was beautiful; his lips eager to reclaim the taste of himself on her tongue, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her tight against him as his chest heaved, his words slurred against her lips, ‘god damn, woman – god damn –’ and she barely had time to feel pleased with herself, to savor her satisfaction before she was being moved again, and she was powerless to stop it, those same strong hands gripping her ribcage, lifting her with ease, then seizing her thighs. Her body responded instinctively to his urgent pull, a gasp escaping her lips followed by a startled shriek –

She was unprepared for the onslaught of sensation that engulfed her, his strong arms wrapping around the backs of her trembling thighs as he buried his face between them. She struggled to stay upright, fingers clawing until she finally managed to grip the edge of the bed’s headboard for support.

He was a man determined, her underwear nothing but a flimsy inconvenience, easily yanked aside so that his tongue could seek out her sensitive flesh, roving and licking and swirling and fuck, it was as though that tongue was made for exactly this; she was already unraveling, delicious waves of heat and pleasure rolling between her legs. When he constricted his arms around her and pulled her flush to his eager mouth, she gasped in blissful agony, his nose gliding along her sensitive bundle of nerves.

It took her a moment to find the rhythm in it; in the way he firmed and loosened his grip on her thighs, the press of his tongue at the crest of every wave created by the way he manipulated her hips - but she found it, she fell in line with it, and then she took control of it just as quickly, hastening her own movements, grinding herself against his mouth as she braced her arms against the headboard, every desperate press of his tongue like an electric shock that ignited every nerve ending in her body.

It was blinding, this release; washing over her like a cool wave as he feasted on her with unbridled hunger, unfaltering even as her hips stuttered, then stilled, until she had nothing else to give him; her entire body pulled tight as a guitar string, stretched to its limit and ready to snap –

She hadn’t even realized that she’d stopped breathing until the air came slamming back into her lungs; she gasped, chest filled with fire, pulse pounding in her throat, forking into her limbs – and before she could even begin to come down, he managed to wrap his arm around her back, hefting her away from him and rolling her onto her back as though she weighed absolutely nothing – he moved with her, crawling over her, a comforting, heavy weight pressing her into the mattress – and she didn’t fit, exactly; their limbs tangled, her head lolling over the edge, but it didn’t matter because there was his hand cradling her neck, holding her up; there were his lips meeting hers, slick with her own taste, and there was him, all of him, filling her senses, his muscles pressed against her –

He rooted himself inside of her in fiery stretch, and she welcomed it, brief as it was; sank her teeth into muscle of his shoulder and cried out with each thrust, unconcerned with the noise of it all because she wanted him to hear her, wanted him to understand exactly what he was doing to her – and when he unspools inside of her, it’s with a cry that was almost primal, that last stuttered thrust pinning her against their sheets, his legs taut, his breath hot on her neck.

He was stifling, when he finally settled; his skin scorching against hers, sweat pooling where their stomachs pressed together, dripping from his neck – and she didn’t care, dragging her fingers lightly along his glistening flesh and tangling them in his stringy hair, holding him close to her trembling body. He panted against her chest, one hand still gripping the back of her neck, the other searching for her unencumbered arm as it rested across the sheets.

“That was – supposed to be –” She drew his arm closer, their fingers interlacing. Her lips traced a path of reverence along his thumb, his knuckles, down to his wrist, punctuating each word with a tender kiss, “– about you – and just you –”

He groaned softly, shifting his head to rest his chin on her chest. “Christ, darlin’ – when’re you gonna learn?” Those dark eyes glittering at her through the sun's first tentative rays that filtered weakly through the curtains. His hand abandoned her neck, slipping under the curve of her lower back, and with a slight grunt, he pulled her towards the center of the bed, rescuing her head from its precarious position near the edge. It was a safe place, she decided; tucked against the hard plane of his chest, his fingers weaving through her hair, his lips a whisper against any exposed skin he could find: brushing her nose, pressing a lingering kiss against the pulse point of her neck. “It’s never just about me.”

She had known the illusion of love well before meeting Joel Miller – she was pretty sure of it, anyway. She’d been held before, just like this; felt the comforting embrace of a man’s arms around her, heard the assurances being made from lips loosened by their intimacy, their bodies slack and spent. She'd tasted the fleeting sensation of safety, and even believed it when it was promised to her – because she’d chosen to, because in the harshness of the QZs she’d called home for so many years, delusion was a wonderful refuge from reality. It was strange, maybe, that there was no choice in this now; no pretense, no manufactured hope while sirens blared outside and neighbors' screams pierced through thin, flaking walls.

In Jackson, the world was distilled to its simplest elements: there was only sunlight that streamed through her curtains, only birdsong that flowed through the open window. Only her husband, the man who put a ring on her finger and brought her back from hell again and again, who took her shattered body and rebuilt it with pleasure and showered her in the kind of love that she’d only encountered in the pages of books.

And when he kissed her again, and again in their sun-dappled bedroom, when he held her face in his hands and promised her that she was always going to be safe with him, it was the easiest truth she'd ever embraced.