can’t stop thinking about all the little ways apocalypse!johnb displays casual dominance.
it’s the little things, like the hand he always seems to have on the back of your neck. it’s gentle most times, standing around the camp together with the warm caress of his palm cupping the tepid skin there, rubbing a thumb along the bottom of your scalp whilst he listens to pope talk about the control tower updates. you like it, it makes you feel held without making a big scene of things. love and pda was a touchy subject now that so many people had lost someone, or were just suffering from loneliness so you didn’t wanna rub it in everyone’s faces that you’d found eachother. the gentle touch keeps you near to him, the way he likes it.
john b just does things for you to help get you ready and speed the day along. something you notice, is the way he’ll lay out an outfit for you on a cold winter morning as you stand there in pyjamas all puffy and half awake, watching in silence as you adapt to being conscious. you’re sure it’s roughly 6AM — but he’s moving around quickly throwing your things together so he can take you out into the woods within the fences and reach you how to shoot. you can tell the visage of sarah’s passing still haunts him, which is why he gets these random trauma fuelled bouts of sudden desperation to teach you to protect yourself, just incase. you pout grumpily because when it was john b who was dressing you, he would never let you dress cute during the literal end of the world. you’d mutter out something about it ‘stifling your creativity’ which he’d ignore as he starts to pull your pyjamas off to help you change. he’d pile warm layers on warm layers that would keep you comfortable in the morning chill which was honestly sweet — given that he was dressing you like a little teddy bear in those fuzzy sweaters, thick jeans and boots that you’d replaced the laces with ribbons. you didn’t really mind, not at all.
aside from this, he doesn’t let you come anywhere that he deems too dangerous — meaning it was rare you ever got to leave the gates to kitty hawk — no matter how often you whined about it. “look, okay — the answer is no. you’re not coming. no way.” he was hard on you because he cares, and felt it was his duty to keep you safe.
when he eventually lets you out with him he’s practically got you on a leash, gripping you by the shoulders and lecturing you if you take a step too far. he mellows out if it really does feel safe, only pulling you back towards him to bring his water bottle to your mouth, mopping you up when some dribbles out. “need to stay hydrated, okay — can’t afford to have you passing out.”
when you stop listening or go into your occasional daydream, john b isn’t afraid to check you. especially if it was important. you’d zoned out while jj stands before the entire camp, briefing all the campers you’d collected on some new weapons that had arrived from a successful supply hunt. he was the weapons master after all, so he really knew his stuff. you knew john b was stood at your side with that same tense look, brow creased and arms folded — but when you begin staring off at the treeline his attention turns to you, unfolding his arms to lightly grip your chin to point it back to the front. “listen up. this is no joke.” he’d warn.
overall, he’s mega patient with you. as you might imagine, you’re always thrilled to see him when he comes home from a long supply hunt or anywhere really that he had to travel to, which sometimes can take up to a week. john b, being the guy he is always has some kind of news to tell the group — so usually he barrels back through the doors immediately talking at everyone with this new information. this of course doesn’t stop you from running to his side and throwing your arms around him. the routledge boys flow state remains unbroken, continuing to ramble at the group as his hand rubs your lower back, letting you cuddle into his side. you knew he’d give you his full attention later on, laying with you quietly talking on the hammocks outside your shared cabin — but for now you didn’t mind. sometimes the casual nonchalance turned you on.
his dominance can shine through in real gentle ways sometimes — your boyfriend squatting down infront of you when you’re sat on the floor of your shared little cabin, cleaning his weapons for him wearing your dirty little white nightgown that you’d scouted on one of your few supply runs. his knees click when they bend and he’s a little tired looking but he smiles big anyway when he brings his backpack to his front, rifling through it until he pulls out a new girly trinket he’d found for you on a trip. you’re unsure as to whether or not he’s talking so gently because he’s exhausted — or because he’s just so sweet on you but he holds your gift up and barely raises his volume to say “hey, got you something. do you like it sweetheart? found it just for you ‘cause you’d been so good this week bubba.”
he often comforts you when you get upset over him returning home with a dead rabbit slung over his shoulders. “okay, oh god — you were not meant to see that.” he deadpans when you catch him in the act — but soon he’s got you scooped up on his lap (with the rabbit cooking outside over a fire) as he rocks you back and forth. “look, we have to eat sweetheart. i swear i didn’t wanna kill that bunny but we don’t have much choice right now. you can close your eyes the whole time. i’m gonna feed it to you. okay?”
of course, some dominance is just far from casual — like when he’d return from a pharmacy run during the week with his pockets stuffed with condoms so he can put your legs over his shoulders and stuff your aching cunt. “i know baby, i know it’s— it’s definitely been a while. haven’t been able to find protection i can trust literally anywhere but i’ve got heaps now, so i can fuck that sweet little pussy the way you want. i know you missed it sweet girl, i know.”
