gothicmisty

[gothicmisty]

I’m about start nursing school do you have any tips or anything I should know before I start?? I start in 2 weeks and I’m so scared

Give yourself some sort of outlet tbh. I spent a lot of time getting wrapped up into studying and stuff and not enough time just taking a breather. Really stressed myself out.

But you can do this!!

[gothicmisty]

Havin' his baby (2)

neighbor!joel x f!reader series masterlist | ao3 | masterlist

part 1 | part 3

summary: you and joel try to get to know each other after you tell him you're pregnant. warnings: MDNI, implied age gap, i imagine reader in her 30s, joel is older, pregnancy symptoms, ultrasound, POV switch, strangers to lovers. authors note: nursing school is literally kicking my ass but i have a bunch of joel stuff coming out. there isn't smut in this yet, but we're getting there. trust. 4.1k words

The rain taps against the elementary school windows.

You've lived here in Austin your whole life. Rain like this don't happen often. It had been pouring most of the day. Mud puddles around. Streets covered in water. It happened a few weeks a year, maybe.

But the noise is enough to throw you off.

Grading papers. That's what you're suppose to be doin'. Giving out cute stickers to the kids that did good. Trying to encourage them.

Right now, all you can think about is how the hell you're gonna handle any of this.

You could... couldn't you?

Handle all of this. People did it all the time. Hold down a steady job. Raise a kid. There are plenty of single moms out there. Some had families.

You had Joel, especially.

Ever since you told him a week ago. He'd been there. You heard from him every mornin'. First thing he'd say: How are you? You feelin' any better, sweetheart?

It was around 5:30 a.m., like clockwork. You just assumed it was when he was getting ready for work. About to start his day. A reminder to check in.

When you got home yesterday, he was sitting on the porch. Waiting. Just to ask you if you needed anything.

But now, as you're sitting here. Rain still tapping lazy against the windows. That dull headache that keeps creeping back up. It's normal, you suppose. You've gone more than half the day without eating a proper meal.

Then your phone lights up.

Joel: Rained out. You need anything?

You never really thought of it much. How the rain could ruin an entire job site. Guess you always kinda figured construction kept going. Regardless of the weather. Not like storms were very common around here anyway. You pick up your phone. Unlocking it and replying back.

You: I'm fine. Just grading papers. You: Before I forget, my appointment is Thursday.

He answers quick. So quick you don't even have time to put the phone back down. Or reach for the pen next to you to keep going.

Joel: What time?

You: 3:30

Joel: Might run a little late…But I'll work something out.

You: Are you sure? I can try to reschedule. It's really not an issue. Joel: No. I'll be there.

There's a knock. When you look up, it's Miranda. You co-worker. Leaning against the door all your students decorated with different color hands. She's got that look on her face. The one she constantly had that makes you want to roll your eyes. Binders tucked under her arm. Keys around her neck.

"You're gonna be late," she says, like she's counting down the minutes. "Faculty meeting. Pretty sure they won't deal with you skipping out again like last time."

"I'll be there in a few," you tell her, forcing an awkward smile.

Faculty meetings wear you out. Actually, most of the job has been. Peter ate an eraser today. Julie? She cried because she broke a crayon in half. That is the day, helping kids. But lately, by the time you get home. You just want to sleep it off. Go to bed and wake up the next morning hoping you're more alive. You never are. Pregnancy does that. Joel: Do you want to get dinner with me? I'm by the school. You stand up from your desk. Grabbing all your stuff. Awkwardly unlocking your phone to reply back. You: Rain check. Meeting today.

Joel's life turned upside down the second you said those two words.

"I'm pregnant."

He ain't exactly proud of how he handled it at first. Avoiding the whole thing. But these past few weeks, it's all he's been thinking about.

You. Right across the street. Pregnant with his baby.

After more than twenty years on the job, being a foreman is easy. So god damn easy. Keep workers in line, make sure everything is running as it should.

It is good because lately, he spent most days spaced out.

Wondering how you were. If you were feeling sick. If you ate anything today. If you needed anything.

Hell, last night he spent half the damn night googling stuff about pregnancy. Thinking maybe...just maybe. He could be useful in some way.

Prenatal Vitamins. Ultrasounds. What the baby could look like at twelve weeks. More than he ever knew back when Sarah's mama was pregnant.

That was nineteen years ago.

An hour ago, he lied to Tommy about where he was headed. Said Sarah needed help with something in her dorm. Just so he could sneak off. Be here.

The doctors office is chilly. Smells like bleach and hand sanitizer. Joel always hated doctors offices. The blue padded chairs were awful. He shifted in his seat, leg over his knee. Foot bouncing.

"I'm sorry," you say, sitting next to him. "They're runnin' behind. The receptionist said it might be an hour or so."

You pause, leaning closer to him.

"I know it's kinda late," you continue. "Just...needed the later appointments with work and all."

"S'all right, sweetheart," Joel replies. "Left outta work early. Ain't no trouble to me."

You two sit in silence.

A random name gets called down the hall. Little bits of chatter from the front desk.

God, he's nervous.

He shouldn't be. You're goin' through worse than he is, really. Up all night. Barely able to keep any food down. Even your face is pale as you sip on water next to him.

Oughta say somethin'. Anythin'.

"I read somewhere that the sick feelin’ don't last forever," Joel says, leaning back. "And, uh... you're s'posed to take one of them vitamins every day. Helps the baby's brain." 

Christ. He ain't good at this. Talking. But he is trying. Trying to show up. Be part of it. Far as you'll let him, anyway.

"It's a little better," you reply. "Mostly hits at night. Been using a lot of home remedies. They're doin' more than anything else right now."

"That's good," Joel mutters, real quiet. "Been worried 'bout you."

"About me?"

He nods, hand resting on his leg.

Should he grab your hand? Try and help you settle? You've been tappin' your knee up and down since ya'll sat down.

"I also read the baby's 'bout the size of a lime," he says, trying to fill the void. "Didn't have none of this stuff with Sarah. Figured I'd look some of it up...be ready."

It is different.

Way different than this. He don't even remember stepping foot in a doctors office with Sarah's mom back then.

"Joel," you start, voice low. "I'm really freaked out about all this."

Truth is. He is too.

Been up half the damn night for weeks now. Thinking on how it all happened. He doesn’t even know how he’s supposed to act through any of this. Don’t really know you, not like he should.

Most people expecting a baby knew each other in some way. Spent time together. Talkin about nursery colors and names. 

All he knew is you were kind. Got a way with kids. And pretty. God, you’re so pretty. That is the first thing he noticed when you moved in all them years ago. 

"I know, darlin'," Joel says. "We're just kinda...figurin' all this out."

You sigh. He does something bold. Reaches over and grabs your hand. His fingers intertwining with yours.

You squeeze his hand a little. For the first time... he feels like he's helping. It could just be in his head.

"If it weren't for all the throwing up, feeling tired all the damn time," you start. "I wouldn't even know I was pregnant. And that...that's what scares me the most."

For the second time today, this ain’t the time for him to be bad with words. You need something. Something to help you feel better. To calm down.

“I know there’s a lot changin'’,” Joel admits. “Your life…our life. Your body’s goin’ through hell. I get it. It’s hard, I know it is.” 

Neither of you says a word.

But you’re starting to calm down. Your legs stopped moving. You’re still holding his hand, his thumb brushing slow across yours. 

“You thought about tellin’ anyone?” you ask. “Since we’re at the safest point now. Least that’s what the doctor says.” 

That is the last thing on Joel's mind.

Telling anyone. Sarah. Tommy.

How the hell would he even start that conversation? Sarah's off at college. Would she even care? Would she be happy? Or would she just tell him that he's crazy?

And Tommy...fuck. He ain't ready for that talk.

"No, no," Joel says, shaking his head. "Haven't thought 'bout it. Figure it's best to wait. Make sure everythin's alright."

"I should tell my mom," you say, real dry. "Bet that'll be a fun conversation, don't ya think?"

Before he can say a word, the nurse calls your name.

You grab your bag and stand. Looking down at him.

"C'mon," you say. "Are you ready to see your baby?"

Dinner was his idea.

The first time there was an emergency. Sarah needed his help. Something with her car.

A few nights later, you're finally able to.

And you're not about to say no. Not on your day off. Not when you finally been able to keep down more than three crackers and small sips of ginger ale.

Real food actually sounds kind of amazing.

You're at his place, standing in his living room.

Photos of Sarah on the wall. Her blue and yellow colors from high school graduation. A few with Tommy and Joel. Most of it is Joel's out dated furniture.

But he's single. Not much of a reason to fix the place up when it's just himself. Occasionally Sarah.

"Is Sarah doin' alright?" you call out from the living room, walking around.

Strange to think it. But one day, your baby's gonna be here. In this house. Joel's house. And Sarah...she'll be their sister.

"She wanted some shelves hung up," Joel calls out. "Ain't seen her in a whole month or two, maybe."

He's a good dad. That you could always tell.

Didn't have to see it to know. It's the way his face lights up when he talks about her. How excited he is to talk about all the things she's doing. The life she's living.

"How's college," you ask, stepping into the kitchen. "Her new roommate treatin' her better than the last one?"

Joel told you about it. That night at the bar. How the old roommate was a nightmare. Kept Sarah up half the night. Made it damn near fuckin' impossible for her to study.

He nods. "She's doin' better. Needed them shelves for space. Didn't complain' 'bout nothin' this time. Was good seein' her for a bit."

You smile as he sets two plates down on the table. He cooked for you. Joel Miller. Rugged neighbor who is kind of a workaholic. Cooked dinner for you. You can't imagine it's something he does often. It's something so simple, but you knew he isn't always like this.

But it's a way of trying. God, that counts for something.

You take a sip of the water he set down for you. Drinking anything else made you feel nauseous all over again.

He looks at you. He's nervous. You can see it. The way he's adjusting his button up shirt. Running his hand over his neck. And you…you're just as bad. Trying not to let any of it show.

Damn it. It is anyway.

You're learning each other. Slow as water going down the Guadalupe on a lazy river float. This isn't about sex. Hell, those were the easy parts of learning someone. This…this is different. This is sitting with him. Figuring who he is piece by piece. Because you're both about to raise a kid together. For the rest of your lives.

Gotta be on the same page. Cause the last thing you need is the kid running from house to house. Picking the two of you apart about everything.

You drag your fork through what's on the plate. Nerves are keeping you from eating. Joel let's out one of those long tired breaths. Fine. You'll do it. Take the first steps. Make conversation.

"How's work?" you ask, glancing at him. "Heard you been workin' on that project a few streets away from the school."

Joel clears his throat. "Project pays a bit more," he says. "Figured I best start gettin' my hands dirty again, get ready."

That's one of those things you like about him. Not like. You love. You've loved it since you first met him. He's the kind of man who works with his hands. Could fix anything without having to be asked twice.

"How's Tommy?" you question, tapping your fingers on your lap. "He was in a mood a few weeks back."

Joel huffs, shaking his head. "Hell, he's always like that. Man has a stick up his ass constantly, I swear."

You just laugh. "That what it's like, workin' with your brother?"

"Ain't always," he says, leaning back. "He's just been in one of his moods…keeps sniffin' round, tryin' to figure out what's goin' on with me."

Nobody is snooping around in your business. Just your mama, and she's off in a different state now. Your daddy…hell, he was never around much to begin with. Baby sister's a mess. Never checks in unless she desperately needs something.

There is this little part of you. That's jealous as fuck he's got a whole bunch of people in his life that care enough about him. To try to figure out what's going on.

It gives you a little bit of hope, if you're honest. That this kid…your kid. Might grow up with something you never really had.

The two of you stay quiet. Just taking small bites of food. Christ, if there is a prize for being awkward. You'd both have a damn award by now.

Both of you start talking at once.

"Listen…" "I know…"

You let out a little laugh. "We are both bad at this," you say. "Aren't we?"

He tilt his head. "Yeah…We are. Truth is, I barely know ya," he says. "An' you barely know me."

Joel pauses.

"I'd like to," he continues. "Figure out more about the mother of my child."

You sit across from him. Eyes on the food in front of you. Truth is, you only knew scraps of his life. Bits and pieces you'd heard since you moved in.

"Well…" you start slow. "I grew up in Austin. Went to a local college round here."

Joel nods. "I grew up round here too," he says. "Met Sarah's mama here."

You've always wanted to ask about her. But you never did. There isn't a single picture of her. Not in Sarah's graduation pictures. Not in the old ones from when she was little.

You let it go. You don't know him well enough to touch on that part of his life yet.

But…Texas. Texas is another thing you have in common. Another thing you can add to the list. List of things you know about the father of your child.

"You ever just wanna get outta here?" you ask. "I did. For years, actually. But once I got the teachin' job…I don't know. I just stayed."

He's quiet across from you for a minute. Before he finally speaks.

"I wanted to be a singer," Joel says, voice low. "Back before Sarah. Thought 'bout traveling the world."

You raise a brow. Surprised. You've never seen him with a guitar. Yeah, you know he loves music. It is one of the first things you talked about. But being a singer? You never would've guessed.

Suddenly, you can see it.

In a nursery. Pacing back and fourth. A baby on his chest as he's singing softly.

But you? You're not there. Cause that's not in the cards, you suppose.

"A singer?" You reply with a smile. "Didn't think that'd be your cup of tea."

"Teachin'," he says, changing the subject. "You enjoy it? Being round kids everyday."

You picked teaching cause you like kids. Never in a million years thought you'd have one of your own. Now here you are, getting ready to be a mother.

"Yeah," you nod. "More than I thought I would. Guess it's even practice for…ya'know."

You nod toward your bump. Fork already halfway in your mouth. Taking a bite while he lifts his cup. Takes a long drink.

"I can't quit thinkin' 'bout how we're gonna do all this," Joel replies.

You can't stop either.

Two houses? Makes the most sense. Realistic. One house but separate rooms? Could work for a while. Till the baby gets older.

No matter how much you spun that idea. Both of you were gonna want to be there. Always. Both raising the baby. Wanting to see first steps. Birthdays. And there isn't a clear direction for all of this. It isn't written in some book somewhere.

"I try not to think about it too much," you say. "I'm not even sure what we could do."

"I was thinkin' on it all damn day yesterday…" he pauses. "You could stay here the first few weeks after the baby comes. Let me help you out proper."

It's strange, sure. But this isn't one of those times you can just huff and puff. Say you'll handle it all on your own.

"Probably the best idea," you mutter, voice low. "Cause lord knows I got no damn clue how to handle a newborn." "Been a long while since I had a newborn," He says, taking another drink. "But I gotta feelin' you're gonna be just fine. A natural."

You? A natural. God.

Sure, you were great with older kids. But the last time you held a baby was your cousin Judy's at a baby shower. And you panicked the moment she spit up all over you. Handed her back to her mother so fast.

You sigh. Pushing your chair back. That loud scrape against the linoleum flooring.

"Be right back," you murmur, fixing your baggy shirt. As you head for the bathroom, you heard him call your name. When you turn back, he's sitting there. Looking at you. "Ya look real beautiful tonight, darlin'," Joel says, certain. "Got that whole pregnancy glow."

You can't help but smile. Feel that burning starting in your cheeks. He's called you pretty before. That night that started all this. But this? You could feel something. Something you didn't before.

"Thank you," you reply, voice low.

You know he sees it. Sees the way your cheeks are red. His chair pushes back and he stands. "Gonna give Sarah a call back," he says, excusing himself. And just like that, you know…this is only the beginning. The start of Joel Miller being stitched into every part of your life from here on out.

3:41 a.m.

If pregnancy has taught you anything these past few weeks. It's expect the unexpected. Especially these last few days.

Nightmares.

Some real enough that you can feel them. Some so fucking strange they made zero sense. But they're usually what wakes you.

Tonight, you are pulled out of your sleep so fast. You shoot up fast, losing your breath. Your hearts racing. Fast.

You're soaked in sweat. And the damn blanket is making it worse. So you kick it off. Let it hit the floor.

God, you can't even remember what the dream was about now. That's how quick they disappear from your mind. Now all that's left is the panic.

First thing that comes to mind is calling Joel.

You don't even know why. Not really. You just didn't want to be alone right now. Your thumbs already hitting his name in your contacts.

Phone ringing. When suddenly, you realize.

It's the middle of the damn night. He's gotta be up early for work.

Just as your thumb is hitting that red end button. You hear his voice.

"Somethin' wrong?" Joel asks, half-asleep.

No. You just thought calling the father of your child at three in the god-damn morning was a good idea.

"I didn't realize how late it was," You say. "Didn't mean to wake you. I can hang up."

You hear him move. The rustle of the phone. Maybe he is sitting up. Maybe he is trying to get more comfortable to talk.

"Want me to come by?" He asks, accent a little extra thick as he's waking up.

You should say no. Oughta say no. Because there needs to be a line. A boundary.

God, you don't stop yourself though. You don't say no.

"I don't wanna..."

"S'yes or a no, darlin'," he cuts in.

You hesitate. Just for a second.

"Yeah," you breath. "Only if you wan.."

Click. He hangs up, just like that. You stare at your phone in your hand. Does that mean he's coming over or?

You sit up fully. Feet hitting the floor. Slip on those old slippers. The ones with holes in the bottom, but you keep them anyway.

Make your way downstairs. It hasn't been long. Maybe ten minutes, if that. But when you reach the bottom step. He's already there.

Standing there. Hand raised to knock. You open the door before he gets the chance.

It's that quiet tension as Joel walks in and you close the door.

"Y'alright?" he asks, eyes on you.

You just nod. Tugging on your shirt.

Sigh.

One more thing.

Pregnancy is starting to change your body. Fourteen weeks in, there's no hiding it. A small bump, but it's really there.

Eyes right on it. Then he snaps right back, like he didn't mean to stare. It just happened.

He swallows hard.

This is the first time he's seen you since... that night. Even with clothes on the bump makes it different.

"Ain't notice that the other night," Joel says, rubbing the back of his neck. "At dinner, I mean."

"Wore a baggy shirt," you reply. "Not really keen on telling anyone at work just yet."

Kids were always the first to point something out. Don't usually miss a damn thing. It is only a matter of time before they figured it out.

Joel looks toward the couch. "Ya want me to take the couch?"

You shake your head. Not the smartest plan. It's downright reckless, to be honest.

But you turn anyway. Head for the stairs. Not saying nothing, just start walking. And he follows. Quiet footsteps behind you. Just walks all the way with you to your room.

Boundaries. There should be some. But you're breaking them.

You take one side of your bed. Your favorite one by the window. He takes the other. Both of you on the bed. Covers shoved down to the foot on the bed.

"It always this damn hot in here?" he complains.

"Air conditionin' is super shit," you mutter. "Been needing to get it fixed."

It's just sleeping in the same bed. Just the feeling of him next to you to stop the nightmares. If that actually works. Nothin' more. That's what you keep telling yourself over and over. "I can fix it, y'know," he says. "Ain't the first busted air condition' I've had to fix."

You don't really need this help. Never really needed anyone's. You've always been good at taking care of yourself. But now he's here. In your life. Offering help like he's so use to it.

Maybe you oughta just say yes. But you're a hard head. Always have been.

"It's fine," you mumble, staring at the ceiling fan. "I'll get 'round to it."

Joel tries to say something, but stops. Like he is sitting on words, ready to argue with you. But…he choose not to. So, you just lay there. Letting whatever comfortable silence this is settle between you two.

After a while, it's probably his breathing next to you that makes you fall asleep. But it doesn't last.

You wake up maybe an hour later. Heart racing. Takes you a few seconds to take a breather. You feel a weight on your belly. You look down and there it is. His hand, fingers spread right over the bump. Right over your baby.

Fuck, boundaries. Things are suppose to be clean. Keep things about the baby.

"Joel…" you say.

Maybe he's been awake this whole time. Or maybe you're just hearing things. Catching how his breathing has changed. Different from when he was asleep.

"Did I wake you?" you whisper.

"Figured somethin' was wrong," he rumbles, voice scratchy from sleep.

You give a small shake of your head. Not like he can see it in the dark. The only light was from the window. You roll on your side to face him.

Joel's already looking at you. Palm still over your bump.

What's running through your head doesn't make a lick of sense. Could be the hormones. Could be the fact ya'll have shared a bed before. Your hand moves without thinking. Fingers brushing over the facial hair on his cheek. He turns more on his side to you. Words might not exactly be your strong suit. Not in this situation with him. But you could feel every bit of this.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

You lean in. Press your lips to his. Softly, like you're testing the waters. But Joel…Joel isn't soft. He meets you halfway. Kisses you like he needs it. Craves it. His hand slides from your belly down to your hip.

Fuck, you've thought about this enough times, you quit thinking it would ever happen again.

It's rough. His mouth on yours. How his teeth catch your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp.

But the damn alarm on his phone stops everything. And he lets out a loud groan. Pulls back from you to reach over and turn it off. "Gotta get ready, sweetheart," he mutters. You know he doesn't want to. You don't want him to. But work calls.

You let out a loud sigh.

God damn it.

It's too late for that now. Too late to pretend you don't feel it. Cause it's there. Feelings. Feeling you've had all this time that will not go away after this.

Not now.

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[gothicmisty]

So who’s ready for havin’ his baby part 2 👀

[gothicmisty]

Girl nursing school is the DEVIL I’m going through it too please send help 😭😭 (and Joel Miller he will fix it)

It is torture 😭😭😭

But I have a bunch of Joel stuff in the queue I’ve been working on 👀

[gothicmisty]

are you going to write anything else for ‘too sweet’ ?🥹🥹🥹

I’m planning too!! Honestly nursing school has been kicking my butt

[gothicmisty]

I can't wait for part two of havin his baby

Omg I’m so happy 😭😭

It’s coming out real soon!! I’m hoping by this weekend I can have the chapter finished

[gothicmisty]

PART 2 TO HAVING HIS BABY MANIFESTING THIS OKAY BYE

Your manifesting has worked 🙏🏻💕

[gothicmisty]

Havin' his baby

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | ao3 | masterlist part 2

summary: "I'm pregnant." His face. His totally normal face that was there seconds ago. It goes blank. White as a ghost. Joel blinks once. "You're what?" "It's yours," you blurt out, panicking. "I haven't been with anyone in awhile, and you were the last person..." The one in which you are pregnant with Joel miller's baby.

authors note: so, apologies in advance. this is a prologue of sorts. there won't be some smut for a while. i wanted there to be a bit of build up at first. i imagine reader is like 30s. but you can make her younger. but i still hope everyone enjoys!! tags: MDNI, pregnancy symptoms, implied age gap, joel is older, reader can be anywhere between 28 and mid 30s. reader is not described in this just that you have breast and long enough hair(eventually), no use of y/n, lots of pregnancy in this one. strangers to lovers vibes, pregnancy test. mention of being a mother, mentions of ultrasounds. tommy is in a few seconds of this. tbh, this can be either game joel or show joel. word count: 3.2k

The morning felt worse than the few before. You had woken up in the middle of the night more than once–not ‘cause you couldn’t sleep, but ‘cause you couldn’t shake that feeling of anxiety in your stomach all night. 

The clock beside your bed says 7:45. Small bits of sunshine slip through your cheap not-so-great curtains. The summer heat in Texas. God. And your shitty lack of air conditioning wasn't helping you feel any better.

You sigh. 

Not because you spent most of the night tossing and turning. But for the first time in a year, you missed work. Not just a day. An entire week. You had to get a substitute to cover most of your days.

Teachin’ life and what not. 

You were sick. Nauseous. Your head was killing you. At first, you chalked it up to some bad leftover chinese you’d had.  But by the second day?

You told yourself it was just from being around kids. Kids carried all kinds of germs. Practically little petri dishes, never washing their hands.

By day four. Most definitely, you were gaslightin’ yourself. Telling yourself it wasn’t anything serious. Until you realized your period never showed. You were never late. Never. Always right on time. 

Instead of staying in bed. You drove all the way to the furthest pharmacy from your house that you could find. You didn’t want to run into a single person you knew. 

Truth was, you’ve never had a pregnancy scare in your entire life. 

Not even when you were a reckless teenager fuckin’ around with Billy Davis behind your parents back.  Or that long term boyfriend you had up until last year, Jesse. 

Never even needed to look at a test. But there is a first time for everything, you suppose. You looked over all the boxes. 

How in the hell were there so many different brands? Different kinds? Some had two pink lines. Some had a blue plus sign. What is the difference between a digital one and a regular one?

You pick up the digital box. Flipping it over. Reading the words slowly. Was there really a need to know six days early when you already were a week late? 

This was all…confusing. You feel it too. How drained you are. Filled with so much anxiety that this is real. You are really standing in the middle of a pharmacy because you might actually be pregnant. 

So, you do the only thing you can think of. You buy six different ones. 

‘Cause there was no way six tests could all lie to you, right? No way one of them could give you a different result. 

The drive home was terrible. 

Maybe it’s the car making you feel sick. The Texas heat since the air conditioning in your car also sucked too. Or maybe it’s just… really all of this.

After an awkward run in with Mrs. Sims on your way into the house and fifteen minutes of standing in the bathroom. Six pregnancy tests are spread out in front of you. 

The first four are the easy ones, the kind with the little lines. Two pink lines on the first two. A large square pink plus sign on the other set. Positive.

The digital ones were next. Ninety-nine point nine percent accurate. The first one you pick up has a smiley face on it. 

Like that’s supposed to make you happy. Instead of making you want to cry on your bathroom floor. 

The second digital one just confirms your fate. 

Pregnant.

Six different tests. Six different ways of telling you that you’re definitely expecting. 

Having a mental breakdown about being pregnant wasn’t exactly on your to-do list today. Not ever. 

There’s no pep talk you can give yourself. Tell yourself that everything is gonna be just fine. You’re not happy. You aren’t exactly devastated. You are just numb. 

The handbook of life never taught you how to react when you’re finding out you’re pregnant. Especially when this wasn’t part of the plan. Any plan. 

The details from that night aren’t really there. You remember the bar. You remember goin’ into his house.

You’d only gone out to that rundown bar a few streets over because of Rebecca, your college friend. Who wouldn’t stop complaining you never went out. Never enjoyed life outside of work. 

Girls’ night, she called it. 

But you’d seen him.  Your neighbor. Joel Miller. 

You barely know him. He lives across the street. Waves back at you when you’re getting the mail. Greets you with that southern drawl. Says, “Mornin’.” Helps with things occasionally.

He’s always working. Has a daughter in college. Not that you ever saw her, or paid much attention to what was across the street.

Joel Miller hadn’t been much of an interest to you. Not until that night.

That night he was sitting by himself on a barstool. At the same bar you were at. 

He’s older. Dark greying hair. Hazel eyes. Spends more time looking ahead than looking at you. Which was a change for once. 

After two hours, it turned out you had a lot more in common than you would’ve thought. Both of you like older music. Spent half the night talkin’ about old records alone. Your friend? She was long gone. You’d practically ditched her to talk to someone else. So, Joel offered you a ride home. 

When you got back to his house. The night faded away. You had a few more drinks. But, so did he.

But you. You kissed him first. Drinkin’ and makin’ terrible choices was a thing that happened to you before. That’s why you never liked to drink. But on his couch, in his living’ room, you made the first move.

From there? It was nothin’ you can remember.

You didn’t talk after that. Not really. You had to leave early for work, and Joel? He was in the shower when you snuck out. Not your proudest moment pickin’ up pieces of your clothes. Heading back home. 

The two of you would occasionally wave. And smile. The same polite nods you’d given each other before. But weeks went by, and now. You’re staring’ at six positive pregnancy tests on the counter wondering where this all went wrong. 

You weren’t on birth control. It’s not like you remember much of what happened that night.

That feeling of needing to throw up already started creeping’ back. You’ve barely kept down crackers and ginger ale wasn’t helping either.

And now, you’re back on your knees. Throwing’ up into the toilet again. 

You’re pregnant with Joel Miller’s baby. Something you never thought would happen in a million years. But here you are. 

It’s been over two weeks since you found out. Three days since you went to the OBGYN. Who confirmed what six home pregnancy tests already told you. 

The first appointment was how you expected it to be. Normal. As normal as it could be. You were alone. Too scared to break the news to Joel yet. 

You discussed your options. Which you had spent way too much time thinking about. Eventually you decided that you were gonna keep it. Even before the appointment. 

The doctor talked to you about what to expect. At almost nine weeks. 

How the nausea might last until twelve weeks. Maybe longer. 

“Every woman is different. Experiences different symptoms,” she said. 

She gave you some suggestions. How you can take something called B6 to help. A few home remedies that you could try. Even a wristband that you could put on a pressure point.

She sends you for a dating scan the next day. To confirm how far along you are. Though, by your blood work she estimates nine weeks. But you already knew. 

You sit in the ultrasound room. The smell of those lemon scented bleach wipes filled the room. It was cold. Freezing. And the sweet ultrasound tech shows you your baby. A tiny little bean lighting up the black-and-white screen. You cry. Not because you’re upset…but because it’s real. All of it. A small part of it might be due to hormones. 

They send you home with a photo. That flimsy photo paper. One small, tiny photo of your baby. Yours and Joel’s baby. 

You’re back to work. Back to a room full of kids. Pretending that you’re okay. Pretending that Brenda’s lunch doesn’t make you a little sick. Or that really nasty coffee they kept in the teachers lounge. How was it possible that an off-brand made you nauseous? But the name brand didn’t? When you get home, you look across the street. His brown house. The porch lights off. His truck ain’t there. It rarely is. Maybe it was on the off chance he decided to take a day off. 

You take out your phone. Pulling up his contact. Just Joel. The only text you’ve ever sent him is still sitting there. Not like you deleted your text messages.

It’s from over a year ago. Something about the school needing’ to hire a contractor. 

You: Hey.  You: Are you home?

You knew he wasn’t. 

But you needed an excuse to talk to him. After all…you needed to tell him. This was his baby too. 

Joel: Workin’ late tonight. You need somethin?

You leave him on read. But the truth was. You can’t avoid it forever. 

Saturday morning, while you ate your breakfast. You decide it’s finally time. You leave early enough. Head to the construction site he mentioned he was workin’ at. It was a longer project. Said it would be weeks worth of work. 

This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you break over a text message. 

Hey Joel, so I’m pregnant. 

That ain’t the best way to deal with this. You drive thirty minutes out there. When you stop the car, it hits you. God, it hits you hard. Harder than you thought it would. You almost talk yourself out of it. Out of this whole ridiculous plan while sitting in your car. 

You shouldn’t do this. Can’t do this. What if he’s angry? What if he’s upset? What if you start crying ‘cause all these damn hormones racing through you? 

You’ve never seen him angry. Never really been around him enough to know. He’s always been just… himself. Brooding. Seems lonely at times. Keeps to himself. But he’s always just…Joel. 

The courage finally comes. You get out and walk toward the trailer. But Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, stops you. 

You met him a few times. Over at Joel’s. He even stopped to talk to you once when Joel helped you fix a flat tire. 

“You’re Joel’s neighbor, right?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you say, giving a small smile. “Is he here? Need to talk to him.” 

Tommy nods towards the trailer. “He’s here. Had himself a day,” he mutters. “Reckon he’ll be glad to see a face that ain’t mine.”  You swallow hard.

Walking toward the trailer. Do you knock? Just walk in? Why the hell do you feel like such an angsty teenager trying to decide all this? 

But, you knock.  Twice. 

You hear his voice through the door and step inside. “Tommy, I ain’t in the mood to–” he starts, then stops when he turns and sees you. 

You stood there. A tired smile on your face. “Shit, sorry,” he says, takin’ off his glasses. “Thought you were Tommy. He’s been ridin’ my ass all day.” 

“He, uh…warned me you were havin’ an off day,” you say. 

He shakes his head. “Ain’t nothin’ new.” 

You are silent. Can’t say anything or maybe there isn’t anything you can think to say. 

‘Cause his day was possibly about to get worse. Finding out he’s gonna be a dad again, and at work of all places, isn’t exactly the kind of news that’s gonna go over easily.

“What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?” he asks, voice low. “Don’t get a pretty girl showin’ up at my work too often. ‘Specially not a neighbor who didn’t even let me say goodbye.” 

Fuck.

Panic starts to set in. A little bit of nausea too. Was it warm in here? Or are you about to pass out on the floor? Or worse, throw up for the one millionth time. 

“Can I–um–sit?” 

“Course,” Joel says, nodding toward the chair. 

You sit in the old chair. It was metal. Wobbly. But you were fidgeting, picking at your fingernails. Tryin to will yourself to just say it. You take a deep breath. 

“I’ve known for a while,” you mutter, looking at him. “Just didn’t….didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Just say it. Rip the damn band aid off. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

His face. His totally normal face that was there seconds ago. It goes blank. White as a ghost. Joel blinks once. “You’re what?” 

“It’s yours,” you blurt out, panicking. “I haven’t been with anyone in a while, and you were the last person…” 

You don’t finish the sentence. Don’t know if you can. He goes quiet. You get it. You just changed everything in his life with two words. 

It stretches on. That shocked look on his face. God knows how long ya’ll were sitting there for. 

The tick of the clock on the wall.  The sound of construction going on outside. 

He lets out a slow breath. “Well, shit.” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Ain’t usually good with words, ya know that. Sure as hell ain’t right now.” 

You don’t know where to start. If you should apologize. If you should stay quiet. This was such a difficult situation. 

“If you don’t want to be–” 

“No,” he cuts you off, quickly. “Ain’t like that, darlin’. Just surprised.” 

He pauses. “Just strugglin’ to wrap my head around it right now.” 

You get it. If someone dropped this on you at work. On a stressful, exhaustin’ day. You’d be losing your mind too. 

You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact you’re pregnant. 

“How sure we talkin’ here?” he asks. 

“I went to the doctor,” you say. “No doubt about it.” 

Joel sighs. Running a hand over his face. Fidgeting with a pen on the desk. “I know this is a lot all at once,” you murmur. “But it’s…happenin’. I’m keepin’ the baby but I don’t expect anythin’ from you, Joel.” 

“We outta talk ‘bout this I get hom—” 

But Joel’s cut off by the door slamming open. 

“Hell Joel,” Tommy announces, steppin in, shaking his head. “Half the damn shipment’s missin’. Boys can’t do shit without it.” 

“A’right,” Joel says, getting up from his chair. “I’m comin’.” 

Tommy huffs. Muttering something as he slams the door shut behind him.

Joel looks back at you. Hand on the door. “We’ll talk more ‘bout this later.”

It’s been four days since you told him. Not like you’ve seen him. Not once. Every morning when you leave for work. His truck is already gone. You spent the whole day wondering. Did you screw up by telling him? Is this even something he’s gonna want in the long run? Maybe he doesn’t wanna be part of it. 

Between the morning sickness and teaching first graders, it’s been rough. Hard to keep up during the day. You’re sleepy half the time and so fatigued. One cup of coffee was barely helping anymore. 

Pregnancy makes it so you can only have one cup. No more. Limited caffeine. 

It’s a shitty day without it. Not like you can remember the last time you had a normal one. You figure those don’t really exist in these first few months anyway. 

But when you get home that night. Pulling into the driveway. He’s there. 

Sitting on your porch steps. Black t-shirt with the construction logo on it. 

Muddy boots. Jeans that are mostly worn and washed out. 

“Hey,” you say, walking up to the steps. 

Joel looks up at you with those hazel eyes. 

“Know it’s been a few days,” he says. “Ain’t proud of that.” “I dropped a lot on ya,” you reply. “Sorry for that.” 

You sit down next to him. It was something about it, sitting with him. Quietly on the steps. Lookin’ at the cars going down the street. 

He rests his hand on your leg. “Ya doin’ a’right?” he asks. “Feelin’ sick or…any of that?” 

Every single symptom seems to have creeped up on you. If there’s a checklist. You’ve got every fucking box ticked. But you don’t want him to worry. Don’t want him thinkin it’s his problem to fix. 

“Mostly just not feelin’ great,” you admit. “End up gettin’ up in the middle of the night. Throwin’ up. Really, Joel, it’s okay–” 

“You’re carryin’ my baby,” Joel says, eyes on you. “‘Course I’m gonna check on ya. Whether ya like it or not.” 

My baby. 

Words you didn't think you’d hear him say out loud. Words you weren’t so sure if you were ready to hear. 

“I’m just…tired,” you mutter. “Ain’t got much energy between work and this.” 

You two continue to sit on the porch.

Truth is, you don’t know much about him. He doesn’t know much about you either. 

All you know is he’s guarded. Alone. Has a grown daughter you’ve seen maybe twice since you moved in. 

Two people. Two strangers with completely different lives. And now…you’re having a baby. Together. 

“I’ll tell ya,” he whispers. “Didn’t think I’d be doin’ the whole raisin’ a baby thing again.” 

You never expected any of this either. Now you’re gonna be a…mother.

“I got an appointment comin’ up,” you say. “You can come with me. If ya want.” 

“Yeah, darlin’,” he replies, squeezing your leg a little. “Ya just let me know when.” 

Joel’s sweet. You’d expected him to be upset. Maybe even angry. But he surprised you. The way he handled it. The way he was trying his best at this moment. You reach into your bag. Pulling out the photo the doctor gave you. Handing it to him. 

His calloused fingers take it. He looked down at the small black-and-white photo. Your name printed at the top. The tiny blob of the baby in the middle.

“Crazy, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you mutter. “It really is.” 

He goes to hand it back. But you shake your head. 

“Keep it,” you say. “It’s yours.” 

You stand up. Letting out a breath as you stretch. “I feel like I got hit by a damn truck. Gonna go lay down, Joel.” 

If you sat there long enough. You could’ve fallen asleep right there on the porch steps. On his shoulder. With how damn tired you felt. 

Everything felt like it was wearing you out. 

You’re almost at the door when you hear him. “Sweetheart.” 

You turn around. 

“I’m here,” he says. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere. You need anythin’—you just let me know. Kay?” 

“I know.” 

The moment you close the door. You stand there. Waiting to hear his footsteps fade off the porch. 

You wouldn’t trust anyone. Not really. Not in this situation. But for some reason, you decide to trust Joel Miller. Maybe for the first time in your life. You don’t feel alone. 

taglist: @chewie-bars , @aquanatalie , @tupelomiss , @glitterspark , @missladym1981 , @pedropascalsbbg, @onlythehobi , @kungfucapslock , @streamermattsgf, @stories-we-read , @luciebisaku.

(if you wanna be added to the taglist, just comment here. I'm terrible at keeping track of stuff so this will help)

[gothicmisty]

PEDRO PASCAL as JOEL MILLER Season 2, Episode 6: The Price

[gothicmisty]

PEDRO PASCAL & BELLA RAMSEY The Last of Us Season 2

[gothicmisty]

havin' his baby

neighbor!joel x f!reader

masterlist | moodboard | ao3

summary: "I'm pregnant." His face. His totally normal face that was there seconds ago. It goes blank. White as a ghost. Joel blinks once. "You're what?" "It's yours," you blurt out, panicking. "I haven't been with anyone in awhile, and you were the last person..." The one in which you are pregnant with Joel miller's baby.

warnings: pregnancy symptoms, lots of pregnancy mentions, reader isn't physically described, just having breasts and long enough hair to pull, joel is older, reader can be anywhere between 28 and 35. no outbreak, joel is your neighbor, age gap, eventual smut, eventual relationship, lots of smut down the road, p-in-v sex, birth and labor, parenting, sarah is around. (tbh i update tags as I go)

chapter one: everything 'bout to change chapter two: oh, what a thing to do chapter three: chapter four: chapter five: chapter six:

[gothicmisty]

so i have a mostly written out unplanned pregnancy with with joel. would anyone be interested in reading it?

[gothicmisty]

Joel Miller 48/??

[gothicmisty]

Morticia and Gomez Addams 06/??

[gothicmisty]

wip wednesday

lowkey i'm such a sucker for fake dating.

[gothicmisty]

Better Distractions | QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Unable to sneak back into the QZ, you and Joel spend a night together in the city.

Tags: No use of y/n, implied age gap (pretty nondescript but I imagined the reader is in her 20s, Joel is in his mid-50s), reader is afab, some physical descriptions (reader has hair that can be pulled, has a bush because #bushnation, and is curvy if you squint), drinking but no one is really inebriated, bratty reader and sort of mean!Joel, verbal degradation, spit, pussy pronouns, spanking, Joel is uncut, pussy slapping, face slapping (like once or twice), use of good girl and other pet names, choking, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, light dacryphilia, hair pulling, unprotected piv, creampie. If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~5.8K

Read on AO3

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing a follow up to Playin' Games, but here we are! This fic can be read as a standalone, but it does reference the previous installment, so I do recommend reading that first. As always, any and all feedback is welcome! Please like, reblog, or comment if you enjoyed. Thank you for reading! Divider by @/saradika-graphics

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

“They’ve got fucking spotlights,” you mutter with a huff, pulling the binoculars from your eyes and letting them fall to the ground. It’s not like you need them, you can practically see the light from a mile away. This much light in the dead of night is never a good sign, but especially when you’re trying to sneak back into the QZ. 

Joel shifts beside you, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He stands up and looks down at you. “Well,” he begins with a sigh, “let’s go, then.” 

“Go? Where the fuck are we gonna go, Joel?” you ask incredulously. 

“Not towards FEDRA and their automatics, that’s for fuckin’ sure,” he snaps, pulling his 9mm pistol from its holster. “And for fuck’s sake, lower your damn voice.”

You know he’s right, but panic is starting to rise in your chest at the thought of having to spend a night in the city and likely the whole next day, too. There’s no way you’d be able to sneak back into the QZ in broad daylight, forcing you to wait until tomorrow’s dusk. It isn’t safe. You know it, Joel knows it. No point in dwelling on it or even saying it out loud. You get up and shove the binoculars in your pack, grabbing your gun from your ankle holster. There’s a slight shake to your hands and you do your best to still yourself. Yes, you’re dreading a night of having to think about the very real possibility of infected running around, but you’re also worried about what will happen once you return late with the supply.

Joel stares at you, his eyes trained on the line creasing between your brows. For a moment, you wonder if the look in his eyes carries any hint of concern, but he turns away before you can figure it out, going back the way you came. You trail behind him in silence. 

“I reckon they tightened up security ‘cause of the Fireflies’ bombings,” Joel grumbles, scattering broken glass near the door of the apartment that the two of you are holing up in. It seems unnecessary since you won’t be getting any sleep so you’ll be up to keep guard, but you let him do it anyway, knowing it’ll give him some peace of mind. “Y’shoulda considered that.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back into the faded, worn armchair. He’s right and you know it; you should’ve thought of that and planned accordingly, but you took the job last minute out of desperation. Your elderly neighbor, the woman who cared for you in your teen years after your father died, is running low on pain medication, the only thing getting her through the day as arthritis riddles her withering body. You know you can’t make it all better, but you can at least try to make it bearable for her. You need to finish the job. Plain and simple.

“Probably should have,” you begrudgingly admit, looking over at Joel who is now settling on the couch, pulling his jacket off. You try not to stare at the way his denim button up barely contains his muscles and you try even harder not to think about how badly you want to sink your teeth into them. Blinking and looking away, you bite the inside of your cheek. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know.”

“No,” he says, leaning back and clasping his fingers behind his head, “but ya made a good offer.” 

It hadn’t felt great asking Joel for help earlier in the week. Actually, it was pretty fucking embarrassing considering the last time you saw him before that you were begging him to let you come and subsequently soaking his lap. You had put on a good act, though. Very nonchalant, very matter-of-fact. You needed help and Joel is good at what he does—strong, reliable, experienced. You had told yourself that going forward, anything you’d need from Joel Miller was strictly business. No more games, no more tricks to get him to fuck you. If he initiates having sex after a few drinks or a near death experience, that’s fine. That doesn’t count, or so you tell yourself.

Heat creeps across your face when you think about how his hands had gripped your throat, but that blissful memory is quickly soured by the thought of someone else’s hands around your neck when you actually make it back into the QZ. 

“If we even get our end of the deal,” you sigh, picking at the frayed edge of the armchair, “because Wade is going to wring my fucking neck for being late.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” you let out a dry laugh that’s more akin to a scoff, “because Wade’s known for being super understanding and patient.”

Joel shakes his head, glancing over at you. “I’ll break his jaw if he tries anything. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to you.”

Your brows pull together as you look over at him, lips parted as confusion and lust simmer in your belly. Joel has saved your ass plenty of times on jobs and you’ve done the same for him, but this…this comment felt different, it felt protective. 

“Are you flirting with me, Miller?”

Jaw shifting slightly, Joel exhales in amusement. “Jesus, fuck…no. You’re just more useful to me alive.”

That earns a smile from you. Pulling any reaction laced with annoyance from Joel is always satisfying to you and, for some reason, also always turns you on. In the soft glow of the lamp, Joel’s hardened features appear softer. You follow the curve of his nose with your eyes, sweeping your gaze across his jaw. He looks damn good and for a second, you forget about the beating you’ll probably endure in the coming days. Something to take your mind off of it. That’s what you need.

“And how can I be useful, Joel?” you lilt, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Dark eyes flicker over to meet yours and you feel your stomach flutter, pure want bubbling within you. The pause, the silence, seems to stretch on forever as you wait for him to take the bait. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he says, “Now who’s flirting? Y’could keep quiet and watch guard so I can get some shut eye. Been a long day, gonna be a longer night ya keep runnin’ your mouth.”

Either he’s actually tired enough to reject you or he’s playing hard to get. You figure it’s the latter. Joel always likes to hear you beg for it, but you’re not nearly desperate enough to give him that. Not yet, anyway. 

“I’m sure we could figure out a way to pass the time,” you purr. 

“That right?” he asks, completely unamused. 

“Mhm, but I’ll give you a second to think about it. You know, really consider your options,” you reply with a small nod. Reaching forward, you grab a flask from your pack. “In the meantime”—you extend the container to him—“have a drink.”

Joel scoffs, but accepts your offer. “You tryna get me drunk to get in my pants?”

“I don’t have to get you drunk to get you to fuck me, Joel.”

“No, just need to piss me the fuck off.”

“Am I doing a good job?” you ask, biting back a smile.

Joel huffs and takes a generous swig from the flask without even so much as a grimace, shooting you an annoyed look before passing the flask back to you. Nodding, he mumbles, “Still talkin’, so yeah…a real good job, sweetheart.”

Taking a sip, your eyes never leave his. The bootleg whiskey burns going down and you nearly recoil, doing everything you can so it doesn’t come back up. As it pools in your belly, that delicious warm feeling washes over you.

“Christ, this shit could blind someone,” you choke out, shaking your head and taking another gag-worthy gulp. “Did it taste this awful before the outbreak?”

“You gonna ask me?” 

“I just did,” you say, furrowing your brow. 

Joel snags the flask from your hands and takes a sip. You shamelessly watch the way his Adam's apple bobs, your face getting hot with arousal or maybe it’s the effect of the painfully potent alcohol. That’s the thing about drinking with Joel, feelings all start to blend together—anger, annoyance, arousal. That cocktail is what’s truly intoxicating. 

Throwing one hand up before it comes to rest on his knee, he leans forward and you can hear his hips crack with the movement. “No, are ya going to quit wasting our time and ask me to fuck you?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. “Ya know, since you seem t’need it so bad.”

Your mouth is slightly agape and your eyes flicker away, trying to focus on anything except your embarrassment and his dark eyes. With a sharp inhale, you shift in your seat. 

“I don’t need anything from you,” you mumble. A blatant lie. You both know this.

Joel laughs at you. He fucking laughs and you think about throwing the lantern at him, but you’re also enraptured by the sound. Even if he’s mocking you, even if it’s cruel, it carries through the air in a way that has you clenching your thighs to quell the feeling between your legs.

“Maybe I need to shove my cock in that mouth a’yours,” he states matter-of-factly. Your stomach burns at the thought that Joel might want you as bad as you want him. “Shut ya up so I can get some damn sleep,” he finishes. 

Okay, maybe not, you think and try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that’s lodged in your throat. You can’t face him, your eyes glued to the light in front of you. It’s hard to pinpoint when it shifted—when alcohol induced late night fucks turned into this. This need to have Joel when sober, when you just want touch, even if it's one-sided. Even if it's just something that you can disguise as connection.

You must’ve been quiet for too long because Joel breaks the silence by saying, “Will that work? Trade a dick in your mouth for some peace and quiet?” 

A transaction. You can tell yourself that it’s a transaction. Nothing more. A better distraction than alcohol. But also…the alcohol. Drinks are involved. You’re not breaking any of the arbitrary rules you made up in your head.

Finally, your eyes meet his. You blink away any hint of contemplation that might be lingering on your face.

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” you say softly, nearly just a whisper. 

Joel seems to accept this with a low sound from the back of his throat, passing you the flask and standing up. The flask has about a third left, and you down it in one go. The clink of his belt cuts through the room and anticipation bubbles low in your stomach. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. You watch him through hooded eyes as he pulls his leather belt from the loops on his jeans swiftly, letting it drop to the floor.

Taking a step toward you, Joel grazes your lower lip with his calloused thumb and you feel your breath catch in your throat. It’s gentle, soft, but only for a moment. His hand grips your chin, looking down at you.

“Open,” he commands. 

You hesitate, clenching your jaw and your thighs together at the same time. Joel looks so big looming above you, his shoulders broad and still covered by his t-shirt, and you think about ripping it off of him so you can drag your nails down his chest. For a second, you forget that he asked you to do something.

“I said,” he growls and shakes your head so you have no choice but to look up at him, “open.” 

Your lips part slightly and you feel your arousal begin to wet your underwear as his bulge hardens under his jeans. 

“More,” he demands, but doesn’t really give you a chance to open wider on your own. He hooks his thumb in your mouth and pries it open. Leaning forward, Joel spits into your expecting mouth and it pools on your tongue. He nods in approval, something dark brewing behind his eyes. “Good girl. Now, get on your knees and hold it.” 

It takes a certain level of caution to get down without his spit sloshing out of your mouth or going down your throat, but you manage, sinking to your knees on the filthy hardwood. At some point, this was probably a nice apartment. The furniture in the living room matches almost too well, but you can tell it was well made. After all, it’s held up pretty well considering the world ended. You imagine what it would be like to be sitting in the kitchen when Joel comes home from work, bending you over the marble counter and railing you. Get a fucking grip, you think. 

At some point during your domestic daydream, Joel took his shirt off and pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to expose his hard length. Even if you had accidentally swallowed his spit, you doubt he’d notice considering you’re salivating at the sight of him. He strokes himself once, exposing the red head of his dick and the pre-cum beading from his slit. 

“Christ, baby,” he laughs, “ya look so fuckin’ dumb sittin’ there with your mouth open like that.” 

Heat spreads across your face and a small whine escapes your throat, doing your best not to lose his spit. You know you look stupid, you never doubted that. Only he could get you in a position like this and you, honestly, kind of hate him for it.

“Y’let all the boys see ya like this? All cock drunk and stupid?” he mocks you from above, grabbing your cheeks with his thumb and pointer finger. His grip almost makes his spit dribble out of your mouth. “Or am I just that fuckin’ special?” 

Before you even get the chance to process what he’s said, Joel’s threading his fingers in your hair and his cock slams into your waiting, wet mouth. The head of his dick punches the back of your throat and you gag. Tears form in your eyes in an instant. He pulls out suddenly and a string of spit connects his cock to your lips. 

“God—fuck you, Joel,” you hiss, trying to catch your breath and blinking away your tears.

“Don’t you worry now. We’ll get there, sweetheart,” he lets out a small laugh. You ignore the wetness between your legs and the thought of Joel giving you more than just his cock down your throat. “Take this off. Show me those pretty tits.”

Fingers finding the hem of your shirt, you take it off slowly so as to not give Joel any further indication of how badly you want him. Not that it makes a difference—you know your eyes give you away, pupils blown and lustful. Your nipples harden in the drafty apartment. He wets his bottom lip and palms his cock. It drives you fucking insane.

So you decide…fuck it. He already knows you want him and he absolutely knows what he’s doing to you. What game are you trying to win? 

You peer up at Joel and give him a coy yet lascivious smile as you give one of your nipples a slight tug, letting out a breathy moan. Joel’s jaw goes slack and he shakes his head, dropping his cock to grab your wrist and replacing his hand with yours. You grip the base of his shaft firmly and lick a long stripe along the vein that runs up the underside of it, eliciting a groan from somewhere deep in his chest. Holding back a smile, you take the tip into your mouth, the taste of his heady pre-cum makes your clit throb. Joel’s hand comes up to cradle your jaw as you swirl your tongue around the head of his dick. The contrast between this moment and the way he made you choke on his cock just a few minutes ago is stark, and frankly, confusing. You try not to think about it too much, try to just enjoy the moment.

As you begin to bob your head and take more of his length in your mouth, your hand moving in tandem, Joel moans your fucking name. Looking up at him from behind your lashes, you have to, again, stop yourself from smiling. You can’t remember the last time you heard Joel say your name outside of barking orders at you on a run and his low, gravelly voice shoots straight to your core.

A sharp smack to your cheek brings you back to reality. You must have stopped moving altogether because Joel grumbles, “Didn’t tell ya to stop. Keep goin’.”

If he’d given you the chance, you would’ve kept going, but the hand cupping your jaw moves to the back of your head and tangles tightly in your hair. Joel begins to rock his hips in a steady motion, enough to pull any and all control from you, but not enough to gag you like before. 

You find yourself fisting his jeans to ground yourself, hanging onto a thread of control. Truth is though, you love when Joel is in control, when you don’t have to think about anything except feeling him. It’s safe, letting Joel do whatever he pleases with you. Sure, he’s an asshole, but he’s never gone too far. Never really crossed any lines. You haven’t ever set any clear boundaries with him and that’s the thing, Joel just knows. 

His thrusts become sloppy, his hold on your hair tightens, and his groans fill the room. You can feel his impending orgasm, and you begin to move your hips ever so slightly as not to draw attention to yourself, but also, you fucking need some relief. If being turned on could kill you, you’d be dead. 

“Fuck,” Joel hisses through grit teeth. 

You do your best to hum in approval as he fucks your mouth, like you’re begging him to come down your throat, but he stops and tugs you away by your hair. Spit dribbles out of your mouth as you look up at him, trying not to wince from the sting of your hair being pulled. When his eyes meet yours, you can’t help but smile. Joel looks fucked out, absolutely wrecked just from your mouth, and you fucking love it.

He pulls you up to your feet by your hair and you realize then how much your knees hurt from kneeling on the hardwood. You know you’ll feel it tomorrow, a reminder of Joel. Letting go of your hair, Joel’s large palm cups your breast, rubbing circles with his thumb before squeezing hard. His other hand is on your waist, kneading the flesh. You lean into his touch, pressing your bare chest against his. 

“Joel,” you whisper, looking up at him with shameless desire. The pout of his lips looks delicious and you want nothing more than to kiss him. 

Furrowing his brows, he nods and spins you around, bending you over the armrest of the worn chair. You yank a throw pillow toward you, resting your elbows on it so that you can prop yourself up a bit. It smells like mildew and has some questionable stains on it, but you try to focus on the smell of Joel—sweat and cedar. Joel reaches around you, his fingers move deftly to unbutton your pants, sliding them down so they pool at your ankles.

“I know, darlin’,” he coos, although it’s laced with condescension. Joel spreads your folds with his thumbs, taking in the way your pussy glistens in the soft light of the lamp. “Saw you rockin’ back and forth…real fuckin’ pathetic.” 

“You know what, Joel? I think you want this as badly as I do.”

The sound of his hand coming down on your ass registers before the sting. A small yelp escapes from your lips and you choke back the moan that threatens to follow it. With a smile toying on your lips, you look back at him and you spread your legs further apart. 

Joel scoffs and shakes his head, sporting a twisted smirk that doesn’t meet his dark eyes. 

“Oh, I want it baby,”—he spits on the tight ring of muscle and watches it drip down to your already soaking pussy—”but you…you fuckin’ need it.” 

With that, Joel bottoms out inside of you, his hips flush with your ass. Your moan is obscene as he catches you off guard. Sure, you’ve been wet for the last hour, but Joel didn’t stretch you out at all and he’s big. The sheer size of him burns and you fight back the urge to squirm away from him. Joel doesn’t move, though, like he’s giving you a second to adjust. Pushing your hips back into him, you clench around him as the burn melts into warm pleasure. 

“I fucking hate you,” you say, breathy and borderline whiny. 

Digging his hands into the curves of your ass, Joel drags his cock out slowly, leaving just the tip in. He lets  out a low chuckle. “Maybe, but this pussy sure doesn’t, huh? She’s a greedy little thing.” 

You begin to say something snarky, but Joel cuts you off with a sharp thrust, the head of his cock smashing into your cervix with force. A series of expletives tumble out of you as you grip onto the throw pillow in front of you. He picks up his pace, pistoning his cock in and out relentlessly. 

Between moans, you manage to get out, “Y-You were—fuck—hard just from…spitting in my m-mouth.”

“What was that, darlin’? Couldn’t hear ya over the sound of your wet cunt.”

Heat rushes to your face and you give up, succumbing to the pleasure as he hits the spot inside of you that makes your legs feel weak. If it weren’t for Joel’s hands digging into your sides, you would be completely slumped over. Joel’s grunts combined with the slapping of skin and your moans sound like music to your ears. It almost makes you forget about the way the armrest is cutting into your tummy and, in some way, it applies just the right amount of pressure. 

Joel’s pace falters and he drags his dick against your walls, drawing a shuddering breath from you. He can be gentle when he wants to be, precise and attentive to the way your body responds to him. Clenching around his length as he moves in and out of you languidly, Joel moans and leans forward to lift your hips. He reaches around, his hand grazing the hair on your mound before finding your clit. You whimper once he circles your swollen, slick clit with his index finger. 

“Goddamn, s’fucking wet for me,” he says between groans.

Joel’s touch is particularly light compared to the way his other hand squeezes the curve of your hip like you’ll float away if he lets go. You didn’t realize before how badly you needed to come or how close you were, but now, with his thick finger stroking your clit, you feel like you’re going to burst. 

With your breathing becoming ragged and your pussy squeezing the hell out of Joel, he rocks his hips faster, hitting the spongy spot in you and your vision blurs. You moan his name repeatedly as if it’s a prayer, like if you worship him enough he’ll let you come. When he pulls out of you slowly and his hand leaves you clit, your arousal leaks out, wetting your thighs. You whine at the sudden emptiness and your head drops forward, mourning the loss of the orgasm he almost drew out of you.

“C’mere,” Joel mumbles, wrapping his hand around your throat firmly to pull you up. 

Pressed against him, the sweat from his chest mingles with the sweat from your back. You realize, now that you’re close to him, how uneven his breathing is as it’s hot against your neck. Knowing that Joel is unraveling just like you are makes your chest tighten. He brushes your hair away with his free hand and nips lightly at the soft skin of your pulse point. Melting into him, you tip your head back against his shoulder.

“Joel—”

“You wanna come,” he says, cutting you off. Licking the sweat off of your neck, starting from the base of to just under your ear, Joel laughs quietly and places a featherlight kiss on your jaw. “You gonna soak my cock like last time, baby? Tell me why I should let ya.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Joel’s hand snakes down the front of you, pulling at your nipple before landing on your clit. You turn to bury your face in his neck, moaning softly when he draws lazy circles on your swollen bud. 

“Fuck, Joel…I-I’ve been—fuck…” 

“I-I-I—what? Spit it out,” he teases, voice low, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. 

You want to punch him in the face for being such a prick, but you also can’t deny how wet you get from his taunting. It’s humiliating and you fucking love it. His fingers are still working your clit with practiced ease and you can feel your climax building in the lower part of your tummy.

“God, fuck—I-I’ve been good, J-Joel,” you choke out between gasps and moans. 

He laughs cruelly, tightening his grip on your throat. The restriction only increases your pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge. Your brows furrow and you bite down on your lip to hold back your moans, drawing blood, hoping that he won’t realize how close you are. Maybe you can come without him noticing. It’s futile, though—Joel knows your body, the way you tense up before you let go.

Joel’s hand leaves your clit to notch himself at your entrance, your breath hitching in anticipation. You wiggle in an attempt to push him into your pussy, desperate to feel him fill you again. The way Joel fits inside you is perfect, like you were tailored especially for him. Just thinking about it, no matter where you are or what you’re doing, makes you wet. There’s been an occasion, okay…maybe two, where you’ve had to find somewhere private to touch yourself after the feeling of him merely crosses your mind. 

“Good, huh? Ain’t sure about that,” he whispers in your ear. Finally, he pushes into you, coming to a hilt but staying completely still. Your moan comes out mangled as he still has your throat in a vice grip. “Been real mouthy tonight.” 

Loosening his grip, Joel grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. You’re taken aback by how fucked he looks. Curls falling onto his forehead, wet with his sweat. Pupils wide and eyes dark. Lips parted. Veins prominent in his neck as he strains. He’s beautiful and you’re awestruck. 

Breath hot on your face, he leans in, his lips nearly touching yours. Joel’s voice is low, almost threatening, when he says, “Tell me you’re sorry.”

“What?” you ask, but your voice is barely audible. 

Joel smacks your clit, shooting pleasure to your core and you whine. “If ya tell me you’re sorry,” he says, striking your sensitive cunt again, “I’ll let you come.”

“Fuck, okay. Fine.” You roll your eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Another slap from Joel. Another moan from you.

“That the best you can do? C’mon, sweetheart. Like you mean it.”  

Moving his hand to your hair, he takes a fistful and makes sure you’re looking at him. The whole time, his cock is buried deep in you, but he’s devastatingly still.

Sighing, you look at him with the most pathetic pout on your face. Your face is hot and you can’t believe you’re apologizing to Joel Miller while his cock is inside you. But fuck, you want it. Bad. Bad enough to beg. Bad enough to say you’re sorry when you’re most certainly not.

“Joel,” you whisper, “please. Please just—let me come. I-I’m sorry, I promise. Please.” 

“Good girl,” he hums, letting go of your hair and beginning to thrust into you. “That’s my good fuckin’ girl.” 

Setting a punishing pace, Joel fucks into you and rubs your clit in earnest now. Your wanton moans fill the room and before you know it, tears are welling in your eyes as you approach your release. The orgasm you literally begged for. Joel’s smirking behind you, beyond pleased with himself. He steadies you with a hand, kneading the soft flesh of your hip, because he knows that any second now you’re going to go limp. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groans in your ear before peppering light kisses on your neck. Your head falls forward as you desperately grip his forearm for more support. “Let go f’me. God—so fuckin’ pretty when you’re comin’ for me.”

The syrupy drawl, pressure on your clit, and the relentless pounding into your weeping cunt sends you over the edge. With your eyes closed and your face buried in Joel’s neck, you clench around his cock and sweet bliss courses through your body. Fucking you through your climax, Joel’s strong arms are the only thing tethering you to reality, holding your entire frame upright, and it’s impossible to tell if your cries are from pleasure or pure overstimulation.

Humming in your ear, Joel kisses your temple before pulling out of your used cunt and spinning you around. You’re boneless at this point, completely at his whim. Your ass rests on the side of the armchair and his hand meets the small of your back, holding you to him. 

“Did so good, sugar,” Joel mumbles into your neck before leaving a trail of kisses, landing on your collarbone and sucking lightly on the skin there. “Ready f’me to fill ya up?”

He notches his cock at your entrance, pushing in hard and fast. You put your arms around Joel’s neck, still letting him hold most of your weight. At this point, you’re overwhelmed with the sensation of his thrusts, sensitive from your orgasm, but you don’t want it to stop. You could handle Joel inside of you forever, as long as he’s touching you. As long as you don’t have to think.

“You come in all the girls…or am I just that fucking special?” you say, recalling the way he fucked with you earlier. Resting your forehead against his, you bite your lower lip and hold his gaze, finally regaining some sense. 

Joel’s hips rock into you forcefully as he chases his release. With a scoff, he pulls his face away from yours and wraps his fingers around your throat. The hold he has on you is loose, but you’re very aware that it could all change in an instant. You’d be okay with it, you think. Whenever he constricts your breathing, you get to stop thinking for a second. It all melts away. But this…this light touch is unsettling, taunting.

“You’re—fuck…” he curses, “…nothing…you’re nothing to me. Basically a damn pocket pussy.”

He’s bullshit. You know it and you think, deep down, he knows it, too. You bite your bottom lip to stifle your laughter until you break skin, sweet metallic melting onto your tongue. 

“I’m nothing, huh? Then it wouldn’t mean anything if you kissed me right now?”

“Nice try, darlin’,” he says, fucking into you erratically now, your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts. “Don’t ya remember our rules? Or did I really fuck your brains out?”

Honestly, Joel does fuck you until you’re senseless. It takes everything in you to think of something to say back to him when he’s got you like this, but getting him worked up means he’ll fuck you harder, faster. When he’s being callous, he fucks you just right. 

Now, the way he pounds into you is too much. While you regained composure for a second there, it’s all lost. You’re mewling in his ear, doing nothing but proving his point and he knows it. Joel’s hand moves from your lower back to your hip, squeezing ruthlessly, ensuring that you’ll feel it tomorrow. His grip tightens on your throat, stealing your breath away entirely and your moans fade. Silent cries try to escape from your open mouth. 

Lips nearly brushing yours, he growls, “S’what I thought, baby. Really did fuck you stupid, huh?” 

You don’t get a second to even think of a response before Joel’s eyes squeeze shut and he groans as he fills you up, his warm release fills your exhausted, spent cunt. During his come down, his hand drops from your throat and cups your breast like he needs to hold onto you to ground himself. You do your best to catch your breath, but you’re panting. 

“Fuck,” he moans as he slows, cock nuzzling deep inside of you. 

The two of you sit like that for a moment—foreheads pressing together, sweat clinging to bare skin, raggedly breathing in time with each other. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, to remember where you are and why you’re there, and you do your best to stay in the haze for as long as possible.

Eventually, Joel pulls away and helps you up. Both of you are still partially dressed, pants bunched at your ankles, and you smile softly to yourself at how ridiculous it all is. You’re both stuck in a dilapidated apartment in the open city all because of your shit planning, and there he is…Joel Miller with his pants down. Men think with their dicks, sure, but you still feel like it’s an accomplishment.  

It’s silent as the two of you get dressed, completely avoiding eye contact with each other. It’s the first time that you’ll ever be forced to spend the night together after fucking. It’s not like it means anything. No, it’s out of necessity. You’re literally stuck together, but there’s something about it that makes your stomach turn. You wonder if Joel is feeling the same way. If he is, he doesn’t show it at all. 

Once you’re completely dressed, you sit on the couch and curl your legs underneath you. Your panties are wet from Joel’s cum slowly dripping out of you, but you’re content and, frankly, fucking exhausted. You can only imagine how tired he is from standing up and fucking you the whole time. Joel sits next to you and sighs, running a hand over his face.

“Y’should get some sleep,” he grumbles, settling more into the couch.

“I thought the whole point of that was—”

“Just shut your damn eyes.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, but you chew the inside of your lip in an attempt to wipe it off of your face. Your head rests on the back of the couch and within minutes, your eyelids are heavy. At some point, you drift off.

When you wake up, you feel denim against your cheek and an arm draped over your shoulder. You keep your eyes shut, hoping that if you don’t stir, nothing has to change.