#And probably that comes with her dads being UNHINGED | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gracieheartspedro · 1 year ago

Text

Who We Are

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.

word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.

author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!

“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors.

You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses.

“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age.

Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.

“Well good, keeps you busy.”

You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.

Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare.

You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes.

Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice.

“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”

His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself. You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response.

“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily.

You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed.

When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained.

“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm.

“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.

“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”

Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”

Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds.

So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long.

You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired.

You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually.

Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink.

“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door.

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man.

You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one.

When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.

But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough.

“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”

You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms.

“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head.

“Just weak.”

Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older.

When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief.

“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”

She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”

“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly.

Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment.

She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed.

“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods.

“Always is, kiddo.”

The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some.

It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics.

But for now, you should get some rest.

Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts.

You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have.

You need to remind the council of all your father does.

You need him to get better.

You need him.

“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce.

You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”

Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer.

“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”

“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”

“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”

Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death.

“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”

Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family.

“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”

You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?”

You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either.

“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”

“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms.

“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”

“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side.

Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”

Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital.

You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller.

He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”

Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”

He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him.

It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.

“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.

He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”

You didn’t even think that far.

“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”

You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face.

“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question.

“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”

“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”

Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more.

As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime.

He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands.

You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time.

Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile.

“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”

“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”

You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.

“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”

It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”

His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you.

“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”

“Roger that, kiddo.”

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls.

He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse.

“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”

Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun.

Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.

You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company.

Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson.

“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”

He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt.

“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”

“How is Ellie doing?”

You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage.

He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”

You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot.

“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”

Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him.

“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”

You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were.

“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”

He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”

You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits.

Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy.

“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”

But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself.

The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in.

You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice.

“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit.

Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”

That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious.

He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes.

“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud.

He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”

You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now.

“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”

You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish.

“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”

You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”

You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake.

“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.

“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse.

He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward.

You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof.

“Is this yours?”

He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”

You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you.

You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings.

That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it.

“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”

How could you ever say no to an offer like that?

You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”

Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.

He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away.

When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view.

“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”

He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure.

“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”

You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time.

“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”

He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you.

You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”

He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that.

“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”

You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face.

He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable.

“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”

You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”

You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours.

“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire.

“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”

You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it.

You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually.

Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man.

Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls.

After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember.

He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing.

You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there.

He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly.

It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you.

The second day starts off a bit rough.

When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.

You are panting like you just ran a mile.

“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”

“You were sleeping!”

“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked.

You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”

He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”

After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller.

You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life.

When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind.

When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia.

“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say.

You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you.

He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly.

“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him.

“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”

“I cannot wait.”

The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame.

“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”

He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket.

He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day.

He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds.

He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?

He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.

“You okay, Joel?”

You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city.

“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”

You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep.

You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him.

You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion.

Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him.

“Can I help you?”

You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”

“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”

You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses.

Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night.

“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”

The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances.

Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much.

“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”

“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now.

“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”

“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”

You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”

He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.

He wanted to keep looking.

“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind.

You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy.

“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”

Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard.

“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”

You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”

You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit.

You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask.

“When was the last time you were here?”

He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions.

“Over a year ago.”

You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”

You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.

“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?

It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew.

You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”

“Who?”

“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense.

“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital.

You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you.

You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town.

You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him.

Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward.

“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up.

You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”

“What do ya’ mean?”

You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same.

“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”

The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him.

“Right, of course.”

When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run.

You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding.

To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side.

You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety.

“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”

You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack.

“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back.

You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read.

levofloxacin

amoxicillin

“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”

He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”

You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through.

You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”

“Yeah, right behind you.”

Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie.

You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything.

Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it.

It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials.

You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room.

“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”

You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it.

“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”

Then you hear it.

Click. Click. Click.

Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him.

Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern.

You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body.

She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire.

You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came.

You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City.

“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum.

You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing.

You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step.

“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”

You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods.

When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body.

“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”

You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip.

He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you.

“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you.

“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully.

“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”

He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”

“Why not?”

Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything.

Right?

“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”

You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”

It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat.

When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind.

You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire.

You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel.

When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you.

“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice.

“You all clean?”

You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”

He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”

“Use mine.”

Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”

“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”

He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”

You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body.

“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”

He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”

Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in.

He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”

Joel can not do this.

You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?

You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked.

Why were you doing this to yourself?

Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”

He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again.

“We can’t.”

You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”

You two know better. You know better. You know better.

You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better.

It’s almost like you two silently made the decision.

“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him.

Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”

His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel.

He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this.

“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”

He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”

It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation.

But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window.

This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste.

He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”

You can’t help but giggle a bit.

“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”

It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.

“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”

He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted.

As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away.

“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap.

“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”

He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment.

“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”

You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want.

You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth.

When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big.

“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas.

Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips.

“Joel, what are you doing?”

You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”

Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out.

You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does.

When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows.

“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him.

When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair.

“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance.

“Joel, please.”

He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”

You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious.

“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears.

“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”

When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him.

“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more.

You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach.

“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”

Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.

“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”

The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive.

As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.

The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm.

“Yes, Joel!”

His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over.

The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach.

“Shit.”

You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky.

“I came inside you.”

You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”

He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that.

Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess.

You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button.

Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess.

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air.

“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”

You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you��re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin.

When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you.

You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open.

Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors.

“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”

All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”

“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”

You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you.

“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”

He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you.

“Yeah, we are all set.”

Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him.

He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend.

“We have to get home,” Is all he says.

And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again.

You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself.

Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky.

The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest.

You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home.

“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”

He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you.

“What do you mean?”

You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks.

“Tell them what?”

He has to be messing, right? You think.

But no, he’s deadly serious.

“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together.

“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”

If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”

When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life.

You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already.

The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father.

A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive.

When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week.

“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”

You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter.

“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ��bout it?”

You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel.

“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid.

You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit.

Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables.

As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you.

Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked.

“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”

“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”

“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”

“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”

“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”

He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it.

“You won’t what, Joel?”

He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud.

“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about.

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then.

“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”

Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”

“Joel-”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”

Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal.

You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home.

For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong.

You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door.

“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”

She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”

Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”

Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly.

“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it.

Joel stands there, your bags in his hands.

You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially.

“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”

“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”

Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up.

You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left.

“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle.

It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom.

He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all.

“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys.

The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray.

“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”

You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one.

“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”

“Baby-”

“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”

Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions.

“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”

He can’t let you make this mistake.

But you’re not easing up.

“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want.

“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”

You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you.

Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you.

You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him.

“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy.

“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”

Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips.

You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.

“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips.

When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”

The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice.

“Yeah?”

You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door.

“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”

Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question.

“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”

“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit.

The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby.

Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him.

“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages.

“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”

“Dad-“

“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”

You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air.

“Sorry?”

Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought.

Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”

“Dad, he’s not dum-“

“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”

You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets.

You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?

Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him.

He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads.

“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“

“I’m a dead man.”

Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly.

“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”

You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”

Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face.

You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this.

And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for.

“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief.

You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles.

“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.

THE END

or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:

No One Fucks With My Baby

#joel miller fic #joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel last of us smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #post outbreak joel #dbf joel #dbf joel miller #gracieheartspedro #fic: who we are

4K notes · View notes

dustydaddyyy · 1 year ago

Text

sweetheart | joel miller x fem! reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you're home from college for summer '99 to visit your parents, when your eye wanders upon their next-door neighbor, joel miller.

a/n: basically just porn with some plot that started at 2k and ended up becoming 13k. enjoy these 13k of unhinged depravity :)

warnings: (18+) SMUT (extended warning are under the cut), age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 32), swearing, mentions and consumption of alcohol, use of petnames (mostly sweetheart and one darling), probably inaccurate descriptions of the southern US, reader's mom is kind of annoying, reader kind of seduces joel (ish), neighbor!joel (is this a warning?) single dad! joel (what about this one?), reader babysits Sarah a few times

extended warnings: smut, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (pls in the name of the lord practice safe sex people), some (relatively tame) dry humping, couch sex, definitely some praise kink (we're moving on), for sure some soft!dom!joel, but also a pinch of dom!reader (👀), a lil cockwarming, maybe like a bit of a breeding kink if you really, really squint and i think that's it! please let me know if i've missed any. no use of y/n in this fic.

"Is this really how you're going to be spending your entire holiday?"

You bite back a groan as you look at your mom from where you'd been laying down on the lounge chair in the garden, book dropping from in front of your face so you can peer at her from behind your sunglasses.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask her, and she shrugs as she continues to water her rhododendrons.

"You've been home a week now," she tells you pointedly, "And you've sat more in that chair than I have all year,"

"I'm on break," you say matter of factly, "That's kind of the point," Your mum lets out a hum as she continues watering her flowers, which you ignore as you bring your book back up in front of your face.

It's hot out in the Texas sun, almost too hot, but having come from the constant cold and rain in Seattle, you find yourself not caring too much as you bask in the sunlight. You're not wearing much, dressed only in a bikini top and pair of old shorts, that are maybe a touch too snug, but survived your parents' move from Galveston. They'd moved to Austin at the end of last summer for your father's new job. You hadn't been to the new house over Christmas, your parents having come up to visit Seattle for the holidays, instead. Austin and Galveston weren't such different cities, it was all still Texas, but the one thing you found yourself desperately missing, especially now in the heat, was the ocean.

Somewhere in one of the neighbouring gardens, the sound of a lawnmower being turned on fills the air. You ignore it, putting down your book for a second instead and watching as your mother shuffles over to the flowers lining the wooden fence which separates your neighbour's garden from yours.

"I'm getting a drink," you declare, swinging your legs over the side of the sun lounger, "Can I get you anything, Mom?"

"I'm alright," your mom says with a wave of your hand, and you nod, before turning on your heel and going inside to get your drink, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. The house is delightfully cool as you open the screen door. On your way to the kitchen you pass the living room, finding your dad passed out on the couch, fan on full blast and TV displaying the U.S. Golf Open.

You bite back a chuckle as you step into the kitchen, filling up a glass of water before chugging it down, wiping the rest off your chin, before filling it up again. You spend a couple of minutes leaning against your counter taking small sips, before your ears perk up at the sound of your mom's voice from the garden. It's faint, like she's talking to someone, and you frown slightly as you think about who she could be talking to, considering your dad is in no state to have conversation with anybody, right now.

You shrug it off, taking a few more sips before you go back through the house the way you came, your mother's voice becoming clearer as her laugh floats through the screen door. The sun bears down on your face once more as you step back into the garden, your eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright light as you close the screen door behind you.

"–there you are, peanut! I was just telling Joel about you, come and say hi. . ."

"Goody," you mutter to yourself as the screen door clicks shut.

"–you remember I told you about Joel, don't you, honey? He lives next door with his daughter, Sarah,"

You bite back a sigh, before plastering a smile over your face as you turn to the garden to meet another undoubtedly middle-aged, pot-bellied man.

Either way, you're not expecting the man standing by the wooden fence; he's pretty young, maybe early thirties, with dark, scruffy hair and an equally half-kept scruffy beard and mustache. He's a handsome man, with dark, warm eyes that scan your face and an angular jaw and nose.

"Sure, I remember" you let out, smiling at him sweetly, "Pleased to meet you,"

"Hello," he returns your greeting with a slight nod, and his voice is deep and gravelly, tinged with that telltale Texan accent, "Nice to finally meet you, your mom sure does talk about you a lot,"

You give him a dry, sarcastic smile, raising your brows slightly. "She sure does like to talk,"

Joel lets out a chuckling breath, corners of his mouth twitching in amusement as your Mom rolls her eyes.

"Always so dry, that one," she comments, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you sit back down on the sun lounger.

"Your mom said you were home from college for the summer. . . How long you visiting for?" Joel says with a clear of his throat.

You go to open your mouth as Joel waits patiently for your answer, but your mom beats you to it. "Until about mid-August. . . good to have her home, she hadn't been down here at the new house since we moved, you see. . ."

Joel's gaze lingers on you for a second before his eyes turn back to your mother, whose animated conversation you tune out, as you pull your sunglasses back down onto your nose, and pick your book back up, stretching your bare legs over the lounger.

Your mind is anywhere but the book, however, and you make sure to hold it at such an angle that you can still peer over the spine, eyes shamelessly rolling over Joel's form from behind your sunglasses. He's wearing an old, dark green t-shirt that's covered in white paint splatters and looks like it's several sizes too small, but you don't find yourself complaining as your eyes linger over the bulge of his biceps under the shirt, broad chest stretching out the faded logo on the front. Your eyes travel down his torso to the shorts he's wearing, and you're pretty grateful for your sunglasses because you find your gaze lingering down from his belt to his zipper, material bulging slightly outwards–

"–Peanut can do it, can't you darling? She's real good with kids,"

Your mom's voice startles you out of your philandering thoughts, and eyes, and you pretend to look up from your book, heart skipping in your chest for a second as the idea that you'd just been checking out your parents' ridiculously attractive neighbor .

"Huh?" you let out, rather dumbly, lowering the book, and your mom makes an impatient noise.

"Joel's sitter called in sick and we've gotta be at the Council meeting after dinner," she explains, "You can watch Sarah for a couple of hours, can't you?"

"Uh–" you struggle to find your words for a second as Joel looks at you, before he puts up his hand in a reassuring gesture.

"Don't worry," he ensures you, shaking his head, "I ain't going to interrupt your evening plans, they don't need me at the council meeting, anyway–"

"Plans!" your mom says through a surprised chuckle, shaking her head "She doesn't have any, don't you worry,"

"Thanks, mom," you grumble under your breath, and again you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth twitch in held back amusement at your comment, before you clear your throat and nod, offering him a tentative smile, "Sure, I'm happy to help,"

"You sure?" he asks, and you nod, "It's just a couple hours, I'll be back before ten,"

"No worries, I can do that. . . uh–. . . how old is Sarah?" you ask, cringing slightly at the fact that you don't know, but Joel doesn't seem offended.

"She's eight," he informs you, and you nod again, "But don't worry, it won't be much work. . . she usually only stays up a couple of hours after dinner and then crashes,"

"Yeah, no problem," you reassure him, smiling slightly, and Joel gives you a grateful look.

"Perfect! She'll be over after dinner, then," your mom beams, and he nods, clearing his throat.

"Thanks a lot, you're doing me a real favor," he comments, but something in Joel's tone tells you he would've rather stayed home with his daughter than attended a 3-hour long community council meeting chaired mostly by the middle-aged ladies of the neighborhood,

"No worries," you tell him with another sweet smile, and Joel's eyes linger on your face for a second, before he clears his throat, wiping his hands on his shorts and looking back at your mom. "Right. . . gotta get back to this lawn, but I'll see you both later, then,"

"See you later, Joel," your mom beams, and you give one more saccharine 'bye' in his direction before he disappears back into his garden. The minute she hears the lawn mower turn back on, your Mum comes to sit on the edge of your sun lounger.

"He's nice, isn't he?" she says, and you give an affirmative hum as you continue reading, "Handsome, too. . .been living out here 5 years,"

"Interesting," you say, and your voice sounds far from interested, but your mom doesn't pay it any attention as she continues.

"No wife, though. . . Betty said he's just raising Sarah on his own, has been his whole life. . . she thinks the wife ran away, or something, one of these nutjobs that abandons their own child–"

"Mom," you interrupt, putting your book down as you tip your glasses down your nose and give her a look, "You shouldn't be gossiping about this,"

You mom looks guilty for a second, before she purses her lips haughtily, getting back to her feet. "You're right, I suppose. . . well, either way, we gotta do what we can to help him out, don't we? Can't imagine it's easy being a single parent,"

"I'm sure it isn't," you comment, before you close your book with a small smack, deciding that reading in the vicinity of your mother is going to be impossible, "I'm gonna head back in. . . grab a shower, before dinner,"

"Sure, peanut," your mom says with a nod, before she redirects herself back to pruning the rosebush.

You make your way back inside the house, past your dad in the living room and up the carpeted stairs to your bedroom. It's not decorated exactly the way your old one in Galveston used to be, but it still has your old bed and dresser, and your mom has hung a couple of paintings you did when you were in middle school on the walls. You drop your book on the dresser, letting out a sigh as you walk over to the window to open it and let some air in.

Your room is on the left side of the house, closest to the neighbor's garden, and as your fingers grip the edge of the window to pull it up, they stall as your eye falls on Joel as he mows his lawn. Your eyes widen slightly as you see that Joel's isn't wearing the olive-green shirt anymore, having instead discarded it in a heap on one of his faded deck chairs, leaving him in nothing but those shorts. You watch as the sun glistens on his sweat-drenched skin, accentuating every contour of the muscular physique that had been hidden away by his t-shirt earlier.His strong arms flexing as he grips the lawnmower's handle, his movements deliberate and confident. The rhythmic sound of the engine fills the air, blending with the gentle breeze and the sounds of the kids three houses up playing in their pool. He moves with a surprising grace, a sensuality even in such a mundane task as his forehead creases with effort and focus.

You're almost mesmerised as you lean in closer, breath fogging against the glass of your window. He stops for a second, hand coming up to wipe some sweat from his brow, and in that split second he looks up, hand shielding his eyes from the sunlight, almost directly at you. You fumble slightly with the windowsill, eyes quickly moving away as you push the window up and open, pretending not to see him and fussing with your curtains, instead. Your eyes move back down for a split second, heart pounding in your chest at the idea he may have caught you staring at him, but Joel is already focusing on his lawn mower again, continuing on his way across his garden.

"It's open, come on in!" comes a shout from inside the Miller house as you stand in front of their screen door, and you push it open gingerly.

Stepping across the threshold, the first thing that catches your eye is the haphazard mix of shoes strewn under the coat hook, ranging from Size 9 boots crusted with mud to a pair of bright pink trainers with glitter laces. The house isn't much different from yours. The stairs to the second floor are in the same place as your parents to the right of the hallway which you assume continues into the living room and kitchen. The wall is decorated with a mix of children's drawings, a few faded posters and various pictures of Joel and a young girl with curly black hair and a beaming smile.

"Sarah, where's my watch?" Joel's voice echoes from upstairs through the hall, and there's hurried steps on the landing upstairs, "I told you to stop playing with that thing!"

"I didn't take it. . . It's in your dresser drawer," comes another voice, a young girl's, from upstairs. There's the sound of thundering steps as someone hurries down the stairs, and you look up from where you'd been taking off your shoes to be faced with the young girl from the photos. She's older, but the smile is unmistakable as she stops three steps short of the ground, grinning brightly at you.

"Hi!" she lets out, and you give her a cautious smile.

"Hey there," you return, trying to keep your tone from being awkward, "I live next door,"

"Dad told me," she says with a nod, "He's almost ready, he gets really scatterbrained when he's in a hurry is all,"

"It's no problem. . . so do I," you say with a chuckle, and her smile widens as she contemplates you.

"You're really pretty," Sarah blurts suddenly, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Sarah," comes Joel's voice from the top of the stairs before you can open your mouth and respond, "That doesn't sound like it's any of your business, now does it?"

Joel cleans up nice. Gone are the faded t-shirt and frayed shorts, and they've been replaced with a pair of dark jeans and a plaid blue short-sleeved button down, albeit still wrinkled in some places. His hair still looks damp, and either Joel forgot to run a comb through it or he just doesn't care enough, because his curls are an unruly mess on his head, but it suits him. He's fastening a watch on his wrist as he comes down, and it takes a decent amount of willpower not to let your eyes run across the length of his muscular arm as it flexes with effort.

"It's alright, Mr. Miller, I don't mind," you say with a slight laugh as Joel hurries down the stairs, Sarah jumping the last few steps ahead of him. At your use of his last name, his head snaps up suddenly, eyes boring into yours.

"Joel," he corrects almost immediately, his voice soft but with a sharp undertone, before he grimaces, "Please. . . Mr. Miller makes me feel. . . old,"

"You are old," Sarah teases, before she turns back to you, "So do you?"

"Have a boyfriend?" you ask her, and she sighs, rolling her eyes.

"Duh,"

"I don't right now, no," you say, chuckling slightly.

"Oh," Sarah sounds put out, her eyebrows knitting into a frown, "Why not?"

Joel lets out a tutting sound as he stops a few steps away from you, slipping his feet into a pair of shoes hastily.

"Sarah, enough," he chides her, giving his daughter a look, "Go and do something else rather than harass your babysitter,"

"I'm eight," she grumbles, "Don't even need a babysitter. . . you're just grouchy because you have to go to the community meeting and hang around all the old biddies,"

"Sa-rah," Joel hisses pointedly at his daughter, giving her a glare, but you laugh, shaking your head.

"I don't blame him, I'm not a huge fan of the old biddies myself," you tell Sarah jokingly, wiggling your eyebrows at her, "Besides, a handsome man like your dad? I'm sure they stick to him like flies in a honey trap,"

Sarah lets out a giggle, her nose scrunching. "Oh, they love him,"

"Okay, alright," Joel says with a roll of his eyes as he grabs his keys off the small table in the entrance hall, "You're both being very funny. . . Sarah, why don't you go do the dishes in the sink you were supposed to do half an hour ago instead of standing here talking smack,"

You chuckle slightly as Sarah giggles again, before she darts off down the hallway to what you assume in the kitchen.

"Right, okay. . . she's had dinner already, there's some ravioli in the fridge if you get hungry, there's beer if you want–" Joel stops midway through his sentence, his brows knitting together as he regards you, "Hold on, can you even have beer?"

"I'm twenty-two, Joel," you say with a half-sarcastic, half-reassuring smile, nodding, "I can have beer,"

Joel's face doesn't change for a split-second as he seems to process this, before mouth opens into a nervous chuckle as he stuffs his keys in his back pocket. "Right, makes sense, sorry. . . uh–. . . that's it, right? My number's on the landline speed dial if anything happens, and I'll be home before 10,"

"Got it," you say with a nod, "Enjoy what I'm sure will be an absolutely riveting meeting about the neighborhood lawn maintenance standards,"

Joel grimaces, before chuckling dryly. "I'm sure I won't,"

You give a giggle as he steps towards the screen door, opening it up.

"See you later," he says, and you nod.

"Bye," you say in a honeyed tone, and you watch him walk down the walkway towards his truck. Your eyes follow him as he gets in the car, feeling something pool in your lower belly just at the sight of him. Then, Sarah's voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

"You coming?"

Turns out, Joel's babysitter ends up being sick for a lot longer than he'd anticipated, which means you end up spending a lot more of your days and evenings in the Miller household than you anticipated doing this summer.

It does nothing but encourage your growing attraction to Joel, like adding kindling to an ever-growing fire with every second you spend in his presence, and after two weeks of babysitting Sarah a few nights and a few afternoons, you feel yourself start to get bolder.

You're braver with your touches, the occasional light brush of your fingers against his arm becoming more deliberate, hands lingering during a conversation or shared moment of laughter. You've noticed that Joel reacts to you, as well, albeit in a much more restrained way, but it does nothing to deter you.If anything, his restraint only encourages you to push further, a little more each time. It's like a challenge, and shit, do you enjoy a challenge.

It's Wednesday evening, and you're in the entrance house of the Miller house again, kicking off your shoes as you hear Joel move around upstairs.

"Hello!" you shout into the house, and almost immediately you hear Sarah's footsteps race through the corridor, before she comes tearing around the corner. When she catches sight of you, more specifically what you're wearing, she lets loose a screech of excitement.

"You look so good!" she lets out in a squeal, her feet stomping on the spot as she looks at you, "He isn’t going to know what to do with himself,”

“Yes, thank you, if you could keep your voice down about it that would be great,” you tell her as you take off your coat, giving her a look, and she giggles.

“He’s too busy running around the house getting ready to eavesdrop,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “When are you going to meet him?”

“Don’t know yet,” you return in a mockery of her dreamy tone, before rolling your eyes, “I’m here watching you first, he’ll come pick me up after,”

Sarah’s eyes shine with excitement. “You mean I get to see him?”

“You better be in bed snoring when that happens missy,” you tell her, your hands coming to your hips as you give her a stern look.

“Who better be in bed when what happens?” comes Joel’s voice as he appears at the top of the stairs, before hurrying down like he always does. This time, however, as he’s fastening his watch strap, his eyes momentarily move expectantly onto Sarah.

“Nothing, Dad,” Sarah lies surprisingly well, “Just that I’d better be in bed by the time you get home,”

“Which won’t be very late, by the way, probably around te–” Joel’s voice stalls in his throat as his gaze falls on you, and his eyebrows fly up his forehead, “What are you all dolled up for?”

He’s not wrong that you’d gotten dolled up for the evening, but it wasn’t for babysitting; you were having drinks with someone you knew through a friend later, after babysitting.

“It’s part of my very elaborate plan to seduce you,” you say simply, shrugging innocently but corners of your mouth pulled into the beginnings of a smile.

There’s a split second of silence where Joel’s eyes widen slightly, before Sarah bursts into laughter, and a full smile starts spreading over your features.

“Well I gotta say you’re failing pretty desperately, then,” Joel counters, and Sarah breaks into another round of laughter as your jaw falls open in shock and almost theoretical offense.

“You jacka–” you stop yourself, suddenly very aware of Sarah’s younger ears as you hold in your swear, pressing your lips together into a grudging smile, and it makes Joel chuckle slightly as he gets to the bottom of the stairs.

“Careful. . . little ears are listening,” he says the last part in an airy voice as he passes you by, and you scoff, shaking your head.

“Sarah, please go away so I can call your dad a name,” you tell her after a second of silence, and Joel lets out a sound of protest as he puts on his shoes, Sarah laughing again before she dutifully turns on her heel and runs back down the hall.

When she’s gone, you turn to Joel, leaning slightly towards him to ensure he hears you.

“Jack–ass,” you enunciate, and he nods with a smirk.

“You started it,”

“Sarah told me you have a date,” you say, smiling, “You sure it’s only going to be 10?”

“Once again, my eight-year-old shares my business with the entire world,”

“I’m not the entire world, I’m me,” you chime in, and Joel snorts.

“It’s not that kind of date,”

“Oh,” you let out, making a small grimace of disappointment, “Boring,”

“Thanks,” Joel says with a dry smile, and you make another face, this one apologetic.

"How do I look?" he asks you, holding his arms out semi-nervously, and you bite back a smile.

"Very pretty," you say half-seriously, and he rolls his eyes at you.

"You're funny," he tells you, pointing a finger at you and shaking his head, "Alright, I think I'm off then,"

With that, Joel goes to turn on his heel, but suddenly he feels your fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling gently.

"Joel, wait," you let out through a breathy laugh, taking a few steps forward so you're standing in front of him suddenly, your fingers releasing his wrist. Joel goes stiff, but you don't notice as you bring your hands up, one falling on his shoulder gently and the other moving towards his face, before he feels your thumb swipe over the edge of his jaw, "You've got shaving cream–. . . there you go,"

Joel's eyes watch your face as you chuckle slightly, before you tut as your eyes fall to his shirt, corners on your mouth twitching upwards into the beginning of a smile.

"–and your collar's crooked," you say, your hands moving to straighten out the lapels of his shirt, letting out a chuckle, your voice a little lower and a little deeper than Joel's ever noticed before, ". . jesus Joel,"

When you're satisfied with the correct shape of his shirt collar, your eyes move from his jaw to find him staring down at you. You're suddenly very aware of Joel; how close he's standing, the way his eyes are trained on yours, lingering, the way he smells. He smells really good, a mix of sandalwood aftershave and ––

You can't help yourself as you sniff the air, before your eyebrows crease slightly, eyes full of sudden question. "Do. . . do you smell like strawberry?"

You watch as Joel's cheeks color a slight pink, lips pursing with an expression as if he's been made, "I ran out of shower gel. . . had to use Sarah's,"

Your lips press together and Joel can tell you're trying desperately not to smile, but he can see the laughter in your eyes as you look up at him, twinkling with amusement.

"Very manly," you manage to bring out, giving him a teasingly reassuring smile, and for the first time that evening Joel's shoulders deflate of tension as he lets out a laughing scoff, shaking his head and looking away, smirk growing on his lips as he hears you start to laugh.

"You are a mean woman, you know that?" he tells you, and for the first time, you hear something in Joel's tone, something. . . friendlier. It’s teasing, almost flirty.

"I was joking," you let out with a chuckle on your own as he turns back to laugh at you, raising a single eyebrow as his eyes meet yours.

"Didn't sound like you were joking, sweetheart," he says, and you feel something in your stomach at the sound of the nickname rolling over his lips.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” you tell him, sarcastically, and when you find yourself looking into his eyes a split second longer than you should, you swallow, pulling your hands away from his face, and taking a step back.

"Thanks," he says, clearing his throat as he steps towards the screen door.

"Anytime," you say, giving him a smooth, playful smile, covering up the moment of tension that passed between you just now, "You look great, Joel. . . she's a lucky woman,"

He gives a little scoff, raising his brows slightly. "I'll be back by ten,"

“I believe you,” you tell him sarcastically as he steps over the threshold, “Bye, Joel,”

Joel is late.

Only by half an hour. You’d already texted the guy you were meeting to tell him it would be later and that you’d keep him in the loop, but that doesn’t stop you making sure all your things are ready to go already an hour before Joel even gets home. It’s 22:34 when his keys sound in the front door, 20 minutes after he’d sent a one-word text that he was on his way back, and you’re sitting on the couch watching a rerun of the Wire.

You look up as Joel walks in.

“Hi,” you let out in a softer voice as you sit, pulling your denim jacket off the couch armrest, “How was it?”

You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes run over the exposed skin of your shoulders and chest in your thin-strapped dress for a small moment before he looks back up at you and gives a nod.

“Nice,” he tells you, and you nod with a smile, pulling the jacket on and getting up off the couch, “Did Sara behave?”

“No complaints,” you say with a laugh, “Kid’s an angel,”

Joel smiles slightly as he nods, before he watches you grab your bag, which had been lying by the couch and sling it over your shoulder, “You headed home?”

You stifle a small yawn, before smiling with a shake of your head. “No, I’m headed into downtown. . . meeting someone for drinks,”

“You should’ve told me!” Joel lets out in surprise, eyes widening slightly, and you chuckle softly, waving him off.

“It’s really fine, he can wait a half hour,”

“How are you getting downtown? Do you need a ride?” he offers, but you shake your head, before you pull your phone out of your back pocket to look at the plastic display.

“I’ve got one,” you say, and your voice is almost a little timid, as though being picked up by your date from Joel’s was somehow more embarrassing than at your own house.

“He picking you up?” Joel asks, and you nod.

As if on cue, a set of headlights flash through the living room window as a car pulls up on the side of the curb on the opposite side of the street.

“Do you need me again this week?” you ask, looking back at Joel from where you’d watched the car pull up. Joel shakes his head.

“Don’t think so,” he comments, before his brow creases for a split second, “But try not to get abducted on your date, I’d like to keep the option open,”

“I’ll try not to,” you reply through a knowing chuckle, before walking past him towards the front door, hand on the knob.

“If I suddenly stop answering texts, call the police,” you say half-jokingly, and Joel turns to give you a look and points his finger at you as you open the door.

“That isn’t funny,” he tells you in a half-serious tone, and you snicker once more before you step over the threshold.

“Goodnight, Joel,”

Joel watches you walk down the front path, denim jacket pulled tightly over your shoulders against the evening chill, legs bare under your dress. He watches you get in the car parked on the curb, greeting whoever is driving with the same blinding smile you sometimes give him, and Joel feels something rear up slightly in his chest. It’s like a shock through his body, and he averts his eyes as the car drives off, shuffling back into his living room with a mild frown on his face as he pulls out his mobile. It's a cheap, battered Nokia model that Joel doesn't use enough to replace.

You’ve barely turned the curb when your own phone buzzes, and you pull it out of the pocket of your jacket.

from: joel. 10:39 PM

pls call if getting murdered

You can’t stop the slight chuckle that falls over your lips, and it makes the guy driving you look over, giving a tentative grin. “What’s funny?”

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head with a smile as you type a reply, “Just something stupid,”

to: joel 10:40 PM

i’ll try my best

You don't see Joel for the rest of the week, which is really only a few days if you think about it.

You hear his truck, the sound of his deep voice floating through the Miller's open back doors and windows as he hollers through the house for Sarah or Tommy, you can even hear them come up their front driveway if you're in the living room, but you don't see him.

You haven't seen Joel, and yet you think you're going a little crazy, because you're still thinking about him.

You don't know what's consuming you, but every time you hear him around the neighborhood, your thoughts redirect to him, to your interactions. . . and then your mind starts to wander. . . you think about how his hands might feel running over your body, gripping the dips of your hips, how it would feel to kiss him, trace your lips over the curves of the muscles in his chest–

"Kiddo, you still with me?"

Your dad's voice interrupts your train of thought, and your mind returns to the present situation, which is you putting the plates your dad is handing you in the dishwasher.

"Hm?" you return, and your Dad chuckles.

"What's got you so deep in thought, hm? You've been absent all day,"

You give a shrug, taking the plate he's handing you and leaning over to slot it into the dishwasher. "It's nothing Dad. . . just thinking about my book,"

"Since when is book code for boys?" your dad chuckles, and your eyes widen as you look at him, thinking you've been made.

But how the hell could he know what you'd been thinking?

"What?" you bring out, and your dad smiles knowingly.

"You've been like this ever since you went out for those drinks," he tells you, raising an eyebrow, "You may be older, but you're still my little girl. . . I can read you like a book,"

You make a note of how happy you are that your dad can't actually read your thoughts like a book, because you're pretty sure if he could he'd be shipping you off to a convent right about now.

You give a small smile. "You got me,"

You figure it's easier to explain you've been thinking about some guy you'd had three drinks with and never plan on calling again instead of confessing to your dad that last night you'd had the possibly dirtiest dream about the very man he likes to invite over for monthly poker nights.

"You seein’ him again tonight?" your dad asks, and you shake your head with a chuckle.

"No," you say pointedly, "Tonight it's just me and some friends,"

"Alright," your dad says with a nonchalant raise of his hands, before your eyes fall on the clock hanging on the wall.

"I should be going soon, actually," you say, and your dad nods, "Laura said she'd be by around eight thirty–"

At that precise moment, you hear a honking noise from the street, and as you peer through the window, you see Laura's fern green Toyota Corolla parked on the curb in front of your house.

"That's my cue," you say with a smile, before grabbing your purse from the dining table and leaning in to kiss your dad on the cheek, "See you later, dad,"

"Have fun honey," your dad says, and as you walk to the door of the kitchen, he adds, "If you need a ride home, call me, alright?"

"I will," you holler over your shoulder, before you step through the corridor and swing the door open.

It's somewhere after 8:30 PM, and the sun has only just started setting in the sky. It's mid-July, so it's still warm out, but you find that the evening heat and humidity is a little less oppressive than during the day. Nevertheless, you're not wearing anything but the silk slip dress you'd had on all day, deciding not to bring a cardigan at the last minute, guessing you’d be fine.

Laura honks again as you step out of the door, and as you make your way towards her car, she leans out the driver's seat and whistles. "Well hello there, hot stuff!"

You let out a laugh, shaking your head and your cheeks burning slightly as you wave her off. You'd met Laura at college in Seattle; you'd been in the same statistics class, and it had been pure chance when you'd become friends after you'd pointed out her Texas Longhorns shirt, which had led to you telling her your parents had just moved to Austin from Galveston, which happened to be where Laura was from.

"Shut up," you tell her jokingly as you pull open the car door, before getting in, "How are you doing?"

Laura is a short girl, with fair, freckle dotted skin and hair the color of rust. Her usual chartreuse green eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, and she gives you a smirk as she tilts her head down, giving you a look over them.

"All good here, doll," she says, before pushing her sunglasses up her forehead into her hair, "How was your day?"

"Good," you say with a nod, before you watch as Laura's eyes shift to something over your shoulder, eyebrows creeping up her forehead.

"Is that your neighbor?" she asks, and you turn in your seat to look at where she's staring, "You never told me he looked like that!"

True enough, Joel is standing in his driveway talking to Tommy, who's leaning out of the window of his truck, cigarette between his lips. He's wearing those same ratty beige shorts you've come to know so well, and a grimy grey t-shirt covered in black grease marks, undoubtedly from working in the garage all day. He still looks good, despite the sweat and the grime, shirt hugging his biceps and chest in just the right way and hair mussed on his head.

"It's criminal," you mutter, and Laura laughs, before you watch as the Miller's front door flies open and Sarah bounds down the path, purple backpack slung over shoulder.

"That his daughter? The one you babysit?" Laura asks, and you hum in agreement, "Jesus. . .who knew they made daddies so yummy, these days,"

"Maybe we shouldn't be staring," you realize suddenly, very aware of the fact that Joel could move his head any minute and spot you ogling him. He's probably already noticed you when Laura had honked at you from the front door.

"Hey, it is my human right to stare at your hot neighbor," Laura defends, before giving you a look, "You tried anything with him yet?"

"Laura!" you let out, trying to act as though you hadn't been flirting with Joel for the better part of two weeks, but she doesn't buy your tone, and lets out a full laugh.

"I knew it!" she says, shaking her head again with a smirk, "I can't blame you, doll. . .anything?"

"No," you say pointedly, "I mean, maybe. . . probably not,"

At that precise moment, you hear a call of your name, and your eyes widen to watch Sarah giving you an enthusiastic wave from where she's half-way into the passenger seat of Tommy's truck. You try not to look too guilty as you wave back at her, eyes shifting to Joel for a second only to find him looking at you with a half-amused smile. Laura gives another short honk and waves herself as your eyes shift quickly back to Sarah, before chuckling to herself, polite smile plastered on her face, "He's looking at you,"

"Drive, please," you mutter back through your smile, and she snorts as you turn back to her.

"You ready to have some fun?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows, and you giggle, humming.

"As long as it involves a significant amount of drinking, I'm happy," you tell her, and she laughs loudly.

"Trust me," Laura says with a chuckle, before turning back to front and shifting the gear, foot stepping on the gas, "I know just the place,"

To give Laura credit, the bar is fun.

It isn't too busy, nor too empty, and the music is good, at just the right volume to have a conversation without having to yell.

You're about three beers in, one of which was paid for by one of the two guys that had sidled up to you and Laura about half an hour ago. They were cute enough, and Laura seemed pretty taken with the one she was talking with, but your conversation was not nearly as riveting and you quickly felt your mind drifting.

Joel had been floating through your thoughts for the past few days, and seeing him earlier had lit something electric in you; he seemed to occupy your brain like a parasite, thoughts never straying far from his face, his lips, his arms–

Joel (?!)

You feel something like a jolt pass through you as your eyes register his familiar face, and you blink a few times to assure yourself it's him. But he is there, it isn't a figment of your imagination, he's standing on the other end of the bar by one of the tall tables, and he's looking at you.

You feel your cheeks start to burn as a bashful smile overtakes your features, and you look away from him with laughter in your eyes as you turn back to the guy talking sitting opposite you.

"I'll be right back," you tell him, your smile changing slightly but your voice staying honeyed and soft, "I'm getting another beer,"

"Okay," he says, looking almost a little relieved, and you bite back a smile at the fact that the poor dude is probably just as bored as you are wing manning his friend, and jumping at a chance to disrupt the semi-awkward silence.

You get up from your seat, grabbing your almost empty glass and making a beeline for the bar. From the corner of your eyes, you think you see Joel moving as well, but you don't look his way as you give the bartender a smile, setting your glass down.

"Can I have another, please?" you ask him, and he nods as he takes your empty glass from you.

Then, to your left, someone clears their throat, and you turn to find Joel standing there, giving an amused smile.

"Hello," he tells you with a chuckle, and you press your lips together in a bashful smile as you nod.

"Hi, Joel," you tell him, chuckling slightly, "Long time no see,"

"I know," Joel muses, setting his own glass down, "Was wondering when I'd run into you like this,"

When, not if.

"Didn't think you were much of a bar person," you comment, and Joel's brows raise slightly.

"You makin' assumptions?" he asks you, and you shrug, making a joking grimace.

"Just sayin', Joel," you reply, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards into the beginning of a smirk.

Your conversation interrupts for a second as the barman sets down your drink, and you pay for it. Then, you turn to Joel, beer in hand.

“Well, I'm going to enjoy my beer, which I can have," you say, your tone a joking reference to earlier.

"Yeah, yeah. . . what gets me is that you only think you've been made now," Joel says with a subtle raise of his brow.

"Oh?" you let out, and the corners of Joel's mouth twitch upwards into that smirk again.

"Sweetheart, I've been watching you all evening,"

Oh.

The moments his words reach your ears you feel something sending a small shockwave through your system, and your thighs involuntarily clench, which you try to cover it up with a small scoff.

"Guess I'm not as subtle as I initially thought," you mutter, and Joel lets loose a soft chuckle as he shakes his head.

"I've seen you throw back like 4 beers already, aren't you starting to feel it a little?" he jokes, and you scoff.

"This is my fourth, so no,” you say pointedly, before you press your lips together in a second of silence, "Okay I may be starting to feel it,"

"Alright," he says with a laugh and a raise of his eyebrows, before he finishes the beer at the bottom of his glass, setting it down on the bar next to you when he's done.

"You let me know when you want to go home," he informs you, and your brow creases into a frown as you stand up a little straighter.

"What?” you ask him, and Joel gives you a look, "Joel, no–. . . I'm a big girl. I came here on my own just fine, I can find my way home,"

"I'd still feel better if it were me taking you home," Joel replies in a tone that makes it clear he isn’t going to argue about it, and you suppress a sigh as you feel a shiver run down the back of your neck at his words.

Christ, this man had you in his grip.

"This is sort of ridiculous. . . I'm an adult, you know," you tell him eventually, and he gives you a dry smile.

"Indulge me, sweetheart,"

He's been a lot more liberal with the nickname lately than you think he's ever been, and it does something to you; every time it falls over his lips, your heart skips and your breath falters, leaving you scrambling to act completely normal about it.

"Fine," you give in, shaking your head with an eye roll, before you push off of the bar, your fourth drink in hand, "But I wouldn't wait around, Joel,"

Joel does wait around, and rightly so, because after another two hours, you've had enough.

You're not quite drunk, but you find that the alcohol you have drunk is not combining well with the exhaustion of a bad nights' sleep. Laura's been talking to the same guy who'd been by your table for about two hours, and even though his friend had tried chatting you up again, you'd been too distracted by Joel standing on the other side of the bar to be even remotely interested in what he was saying. Finally, you decide to bite the bullet.

"I'm sorry," you tell the guy with a small smile, before putting a hand on Laura's arm, who is deep in conversation with the other guy, "I think I'm headed home,"

"You all right?" she asks immediately, and you nod with a small smile.

"Yeah, just exhausted. . . lack of sleep catching up to me a little," you tell her, and she nods.

"Alright, I'll take you home," she says with a nod, reaching for her purse but you shake your head, giving her arm a squeeze.

"No, no! You stay here and have fun. . . Joel offered me a ride home," you tell her, and you watch as she bites back a smile, raising an eyebrow as her eyes quickly flick over to the bar to look for him.

"Okay," she says knowingly as she looks back at you, before she tries to cover up her smirk, "Get home safe, doll,"

“You too,”

You excuse yourself, and spot Joel leaning across the bar slightly, saying something to the bartender over the music, not immediately noticing as you walk to him. He only turns to look at you as he feels your fingers graze his arm lightly to get his attention.

"So," you say, your tone joking, "You still want to get out of here?"

To your surprise, Joel's mouth twitches into an amused smile at the double-entendre, which makes you smile slightly, and nods.

"Sure," he says with a knowing look, before he finishes off the rest of his beer, setting it down and saying goodbye to the bartender. He turns to you, pushing off the bar and motioning wordlessly for you to walk ahead, which you do. As you step through the thinning crowd of people in the bar, you swear you can feel Joel's fingers graze the small of your back, but the minute you notice, they're gone again.

The minute you step outside, you shiver slightly, and Joel frowns at you as you walk towards his car.

"Didn't you bring a sweater?"

You shake your head. "It wasn't this cold when I left. . . besides, I left my usual cardigan on your couch, I think,"

Joel had only noticed it the next morning, when he'd been sitting in front of the TV with his coffee and suddenly his nose had filled with the smell of you, which had startled him, until he'd spotted your cream cardigan stuffed unceremoniously in the corner of the couch.

Joel gives a hum as you reach the car, and you waste no time getting in the passenger seat, the car offering little extra warmth. Joel gets in, and for a second there's silence as he fastens his seatbelt and puts the key in the ignition, starting the car.

"Sarah at Tommy's tonight?" you ask him, and he hums as he puts the car in reverse, arm coming against the side of your headrest as he turns to look behind him. You feel something flutter in you as your gaze falls on the side of his face, but his eyes remain focused on behind him, oblivious to his effect on you.

"She's at a sleepover," he tells you, "Tommy just took her there,"

You nod in understanding, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you process this information, and finally Joel turns back to the wheel as he pulls out onto the road, eyes crossing yours furtively.

"Thanks for taking me, by the way," you say, and Joel nods, "Didn't mean to put an end to your night,"

"No problem, sweetheart. . . it was getting kind of stuffy in there, anyway," he tells you, and you chuckle lightly, before you turn to look out of the window.

"Spoken like a true old man," you say, under your breath, but Joel obviously still hears it, because he snorts.

"At least I'm not drunk after 4 beers," he counters, and your head snaps to look at him as you frown jokingly.

"I'm not drunk," you defend, and Joel chuckles.

"Really? Is that why you sat through an hour and a half of almost silence?"

You feel your breath stall in your throat for a second as you register that Joel had been watching you, and at least for the majority of the night for him to know this.

You purse your lips, shaking your head with a grudging smile. "He was boring. . . besides, I didn't do it for me, thank you very much, my friend was having a great time with his buddy!"

Joel nods with a hum. "You’re a good friend, then,”

His tone has a hint of teasing sarcasm to it, and it makes you raise your eyebrows in challenge.

"Well what about you, then?" you counter, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he glances at you from the road for a second.

"What about me, sweetheart?" he inquires, and you snort, shaking your head as you look out of the window.

"I saw you turn down, like, four women," you say pointedly, before giving a sarcastic chuckle, "Not good enough for you?"

Joel just shrugs. "Nobody special,"

You let out a bark of laughter, looking back at him. "Joel Miller is picky, is he?"

Joel doesn't look at you, but you watch as he pursues his lips, corners of his mouth twitching into a smile as he shakes his head.

"Not picky," he says simply, and his eyes cross yours for another split second, before they go back to the road, "Just had my eye on something better,"

It feels like something kickstarts inside you at his words, and you try your best to keep your smile from growing as your eyes drift back to the road with a hum and a sarcastic nod.

Finally.

In no time, Joel is pulling into your familiar street, and your heart is beating a million miles per hour as he turns into his driveway, headlights illuminating his garage door. Your hands feel sweaty as he switches off the engine, and when the lights die and plunge you back into the darkness of the evening, you start to feel nervous. What if you'd been reading it wrong? What if you were about to try something that would end in a decidedly awkward situation and forever taint your trips home?

You watch as Joel starts to speak, and you panic.

"Do you mind if I come in for a sec?" you ask, and Joel's words die in his throat as you hastily add, "To get my cardigan. . . I kinda need it tomorrow,"

Joel closes his mouth, and you can't quite decipher his expression in the dark of the car, but you hear him let out a measured breath. "Sure,"

Before you know it you're standing on Joel's porch as he unlocks the door, and he motions for you to go first as the door swings inwards. The house is dark but still recognizable, and you don't even think twice as you take off your shoes, not quite decided on whether you do it out of pure habit or because you’re finding an excuse to stay. If Joel notices, he doesn't say anything about it, and as you walk deeper into the hallway, he points at the kitchen.

"Put your cardigan on the kitchen table," he lets you know, "Thought it would remind me to come over and drop it off, but uh–. . . I ran out of time today,"

"That's okay," you say with a chuckle as you walk in the direction he's pointing, before stepping sideways into the kitchen. As you flick on the light, you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps in the hall before you hear the unmistakable creak of the couch as you assume he sits down, followed by a slight groan.

"You all right?" you call as you locate your cardigan, and you hear him hum.

"Glad to be home," he returns, "That bar gave me a headache,"

You stall in the kitchen door for a second, before you turn back on your heel and reach for a glass in the cabinet, filling it up at the tap with water. You take a deep breath, steeling the nerves bubbling in your stomach as your mind races with the thought of Joel sitting on the couch just past this room, legs undoubtedly spread and back leaning against the couch.

"The bar?" you ask, your voice humorous, "Or the beers?"

"Not usually a drinker," Joel says after a second as you switch off the tap, and make your way out of the kitchen with the glass in hand, your cardigan forgotten in the kitchen, "But Jerry kept buying em', and hell, saying no would just be bad manners, wouldn't it?"

You chuckle as you step past the threshold of the living room. Joel is sitting exactly as you imagined him, except his head is thrown back and his hand is pressed against his forehead as he lets out another heavy breath. You can just about see the rise of his bulge through his jeans when he's sitting like this, and the desire that overcomes you makes the nerves you'd felt earlier in your stomach disappear into a puff of smoke.

"And yet this is your first glass of water…getting behind the wheel after more than 3 beers?" you say in an almost chastising tone as you come around the couch. "How irresponsible of you, Mr. Miller,"

Hook.

From the corner of your eye you notice Joel's thigh clench under his jeans, foot digging into the carpet but not moving from the way he's sitting on the couch as his head moves, hand coming back down to rest on his thigh as his back straightens slightly. His eyes have moved to you, and you can feel them watching you as you put down the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch, standing straight. His gaze tracks you, so that when you're standing, Joel's eyes meet with yours, expression unreadable as you raise your eyebrows expectantly for an answer.

"Don't do that,"

His tone isn't easy to discern; the timber of his voice is a little deeper than it was a second ago, but you can hear the conflict between desire and restraint in his tone, which makes you bite back a smirk.

"Do what?" you return with a shrug, playing dumb, and you swear you see the color of Joel's eyes darken, and he clears his throat, pursing his lips.

"It's playing with fire," he warns you, and you let out a small breath of laughter as you take a step towards him, sitting on the couch, so that his head angles slightly to look at you as you get closer.

"Playing with fire," you muse jokingly, before you bend down ever so slowly, fingers going to close over an empty mug that had been left out on the small table destined for the lamp and remote. You have to bend slightly over Joel to do so, and your knee grazes his as you reach, Joel's eyes leaving your face for a second as they move over the curve of your back, and the rise of your ass, "What does that even mean?"

Line–

"It means you have to behave around me," he tells you, and for a minute you hear his usual stern tone bleed through the low and heavy pitch of his voice.

"I have to behave?" you ask, fingers leaving the mug on the table as your head moves to look at him with a raised eyebrow. Then, you move, leaning slightly over him, and Joel feels your leg move, knee coming to rest on the couch beside his thigh as your eyes never leave his, "I don't have to do anything, Joel. . . 'can do whatever I want,"

With that, you move again, leaning slightly on your knee and putting a gentle hand on Joel's shoulder in order to bring your other leg up onto the couch, so that you're straddling him, thighs over his and hands on his shoulders. It's risky, you know that, and at any moment you're half-expecting Joel to push you off of him, but he doesn't. He stays still, his eyes fixed on you.

"And what is it you want?" Joel asks, and his voice is raspy, almost breathless as he stays stiff beneath you, but you think you feel the tips of his fingers graze over your knee slightly. Your hand moves from his shoulder down his chest, nails digging slightly into the material of his shirt as you drag them down.

"I want you to touch me," you breathe, and your tone teeters on desperate, the pent-up frustration from all of this week coursing through your veins, "Please touch me, Joel,"

–and sinker.

You can see it in the darkening of his eyes, the clench of his jaw; you know you've got him right where you want him.

"Sweetheart," Joel's voice is low, a barely controlled grumble that comes from deep down in his chest, teetering between warning and wanting as he feels your palm move over his chest lightly, "This is wrong,"

You look at him, eyes low and searching his as your nails dig into the material of his shirt. His words and the tone of his voice fuel a fire in your belly.

"I know," you whisper, and Joel can feel your breath tickle his lips, before you lean forward, lips brushing past his cheek as you lean down to whisper in his ear, "Tell me to stop. . . tell me you don't want me and I'll stop,"

Stop.

Joel wants to say it, but somehow, the words refuse to cross his lips as you take it a step further and rock your hips against him, and then he's had enough. His hands move suddenly, planting themselves on your hips firmly, fingers digging into your exposed skin as he holds you in place, stopping your movements suddenly. You pull back slightly, so that you're looking at him again, and for a second you can read it all in his eyes. They flash between lust and guilt, and for a minute there's nothing but silence filled with Joel's measured breaths.

And then, at last, Joel Miller gives in.

His lips are on yours in a second, hand moving to the back of your head to pull you in, his other arm snaking around your waist as he sits straighter and pulls you flush to him. It makes your hips move against the hardening bulge in his jeans, the sudden movement of your panties against him making you let out a small moan of surprise into his mouth as he pulls you impossibly close. Your sound is swallowed by his mouth, moving with a desperate fervor against yours, taking advantage of the parting of your lips to let his tongue explore your mouth. He practically devours you as his palm covers almost the entirety of your lower back, the heat of his skin seeming to come through your dress. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in the curls of his hair as you try and grab as much of him as you can.

It's messy, desperate, all clashing tongues and teeth as nearly two weeks' worth of tension comes to a head. You roll your hips again, this time slowly, and as you feel Joel's bulge grow underneath you, he pulls away from your lips to draw in a sharp, throaty breath.

"Fuck," he groans, eyes pressed shut for a second, before he tangles his fingers in your hair and uses them to pull your head back slightly, exposing your neck to him. Joel wastes no time running his lips over the edge of your jaw, kissing down into the crook of your neck and the column of your throat as his hand moves from your back to your shoulder, pulling down the flimsy strap of your dress. His hand moves with it, before tugging on the neckline of your dress. You let loose another moan at the action, his mouth kissing over your collarbone and moving to the side down the top of your now exposed breath.

You let out a strangled moan as Joel's lips close over your nipple, teeth grazing over the tip as he bears down on it, his hand cupping under your breast, fingers kneading into your skin.

"J–Joel," you stutter out as pleasure courses through your chest, your fingers tightening in his hair as his tongue draws illicit shapes over your nipple, before his mouth moves in hastened kisses back across the center of your chest, up your collar bone, until finally you feel his lips brush the bottom of your chin. The grip in your hair loosens, your head angled back down enough for his lips to meet yours in another searing kiss.

It's even more intense than the last, and it steals your breath, every move against his body like a shock, skin igniting with his wandering touches.

You mentally take note of how happy you are that you wore a dress tonight, because there’s nothing more than the thin material of your panties separating you, and you can feel Joel's bulge through his jeans. As Joel kisses you, his mouth slowly tracing kisses back down your jaw line, you reach for the button on his jeans, popping it, before your fingers move to the hem of his shirt. You tug, and Joel pulls away from you for a second to help you pull his shirt over his head, before he's kissing you again, your fingers undoing his fly.

It's one big rush, almost frantic, but for some reason, you can't wait any longer. Your fingers run under the hem of his underwear, while Joel's hand moves down between the two of you. Your body freezes suddenly as you feel the pads of Joel's fingers graze over your entrance. You had been so busy trying to get his pants off you hadn't even noticed him moving your panties to the side, but you can feel him as he pushes the tip of his thick, calloused middle finger inside of you.

You let out a stuttering gasp at the feeling, and you feel Joel smirk against your lips.

"Needy little thing, aren’t ya?" he whispers as he sinks the first knuckle between your folds.

Your only response is a whimpering sound as Joel pushes on, until finally his entire finger is buried in your pussy. Your eyes widen slightly at the feeling as your lips part in a breathy gasp.

"Fuck," you whisper out, and your eyes press shut and hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders as your feel Joel's finger curl inside of you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks, his voice deep and velvety, his tone like music to your ears as you feel his other hand press firmly against the small of your back, keeping you close to him.

Joel clearly knows what he's doing, because in a mere manner of minutes he has you keening against him, a combination of expletives and his name falling over your lips in pleasured breaths. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with every stroke of his finger, and the combination of the friction and the feeling of the pad of his index pushing inside of you as well almost sends you over the edge.

"Ah–. . . oh god, Joel," you stutter out, and you feel him smirk against your skin as he kisses down your neck back towards your breasts, recognizing the way your back stiffens and your thighs clench around his, your hips rolling over his hand desperately as he curls his fingers inside you again, working you open.

"Come on, sweetheart, I got you," he breathes against your chest, trailing your collarbone with his tongue, before his head dips, "Be a good girl and come all over these fingers, hm?"

With that, you feel Joel's mouth close over your nipple again, and your orgasm crashes through you. Joel does nothing to silence your sounds of pleasure as they echo through his living room, eyes pressed shut and brow furrowed as your head tips back slightly. Your chest heaves for breath as pleasure consumes you, your hips stuttering against his hand, and his head moves, eyes watching your face with a victorious expression, enjoying the sight of your blissed-out features. Eventually your moans become pants as your heartbeat starts to slow down, and you feel Joel kiss you again, your mouth opening to let him in willingly as you feel his fingers pull out of you, making you gasp slightly against his lips.

It takes a second for you to catch your breath, but not much longer, the weeks of lingering touches having filled you with so much anticipation neither of you can wait any longer to feel the other. You move off him for a split second to allow him to lift his hips so you can drag the waistline of his jeans down, Joel's lips leaving hungry kisses against yours. Neither of you bother pulling his pants down all the way, and as your hand wraps around the length of him, Joel lets out a stuttered gasp, fingers ghosting over the hem on your panties before moving them to the side again.

You slowly lower yourself until you feel the tip of him press up against you, before your hips stall at the feeling, your mind seemingly registering only for the first time tonight how big Joel might be. He definitely feels bigger than you'd anticipated, and your hips freeze for a second at the thought. When you look back at Joel, his eyes are already on your face, analyzing every frown, every twitch of your features to gauge a change in your mood.

"You all right there, sweetheart?" he asks you, and his tone is so different from a second ago when he'd been talking you through your climax, so gentle, it throws you a little off guard, "You still want to keep going?"

You feel your chest warm at the question and the feel of his hands placed gently on your hips, dress bunched up to your waist as his hands caress the skin underneath with gentle strokes. A smile creeps up on your lips as you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips.

"Yes," you let out a whisper, before you move your hips down and the head of his cock pushes past your folds.

Your mouth parts as you sink down onto Joel, his fingers digging into your skin as you watch his eyes close and a frown furrow itself deep in his brow. He doesn't push you down, and lets you control the pace as you work yourself down his length, which feels impossibly thick, but you find yourself enjoying the slight burn of stretching around him.

Finally, with a final push down of your hips he's buried to the hilt. The guttural groan Joel lets out, as he throws his head back slightly against the couch, mingles with your own moan as you dig your nails into his shoulders.

"Holy shit," Joel rasps out, "S'tight, baby,"

You just let out a whimpering hum, barely coherent as you feel Joel's hips press against your ass, skin igniting where it touches against his.

He brings his head back to look at you.You're a sight to behold like this, sitting in his lap, dress hiked up to your hips and flimsy straps halfway down your arm, exposing the tops of your breasts. Your eyes are shut, brow creased in effort and concentration, full lips parted in pleasure.

"There you go," Joel goads as you try and adjust to the feeling of being impossibly full, teeth biting down into your lip, "Knew you could do it,"

"Jesus, fuck, Joel," you stutter out, closing your eyes slightly as you feel him press his forehead against yours, perfectly still as he's buried into you as far as he can go, "You're so deep,"

"I know, sweetheart, I know" he coos, and you feel his hand run soothingly over the skin of your hip, "Is that what you've been thinking about every time you're over here, hm? How deep I'd feel inside of you?"

"Y–ye–. . . oh fuck, yes, Joel," you bring out as his hands gently roll your hips, making you whimper as you throw your head back slightly, eyes pressed shut, "Not just when I'm here. . . been thinking about it all week, Joel,"

"That so?" he hums, and you feel his lips leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck, "You been touching yourself thinking about me?"

The question makes your cheeks burn, and you open your eyes looking down at Joel. His eyes shift to yours as he looks up from where he's kissing your neck, a smirk spreading across his face as he catches sight of your embarrassed expression.

"Don't go shy on me now, baby," he tells you with a deep chuckle, before you feel him move your hips upwards slightly, pulling out halfway and waiting, "Been rather bold, haven't you. . . ? Bein' all flirty, pushin' up against me when you know I can't do anything about it. . . now, answer me,"

"Y–yes," you bring out, and with that, Joel pushes down on your hips suddenly, burying himself to the hilt once more, eyes never leaving yours. You can't stop the loud, desperate moan that falls over your lips and echoes through the living room as he does, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure courses through your body, and Joel watches with a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"That's bad, sweetheart," he says in a mockingly chastising, shaking his head, "Maybe you don't deserve it, then, hm? Maybe I'll just teach you a lesson instead,"

Joel's head dips again, one hand firmly on your hips, keeping you in place in his lap, the other moving up to cup your breast. His lips close over the sensitive skin of your nipple, you gasp slightly, before a moan builds in your chest. You try to move your hips, desperate to release some of the friction, to feel him thrust into you again, but Joel's hand is like a vice.

"No, baby," he rasps against your skin, before you feel his teeth nip at your nipple slightly, "You sit tight. . . don't get to move yet. . . not until I say so,"

You let out a plaintive whimper as you feel him flex inside of you, your walls fluttering around him desperately in anticipation.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're squeezing me so tight," he groans, but still he doesn't move his hips, or let you move yours, lips resuming the onslaught on your breasts.

"Joel," you let out in a whine, and you feel him smirk against your skin.

"What is it darlin'?" he asks you, fingers digging into the skin of your hip, "Want me to move, hm? Why don't you beg for it?"

Joel watches as your eyes open, and you use your hand, tangling it in his hair to move him off your breasts, angling his head slightly upwards, looking down into his eyes.

"I don't beg," you tell him, your voice hinting at authoritative, and you can see in his eyes that Joel likes that you're challenging him.

You feel his hand move from your chest down between you again, and you can't stop the sudden gasp that escapes you as you feel the pad of his thumb press down on your clit, rolling over it slowly.

"You do now," Joel says, raising a single eyebrow as he smirks at you, your eyes widening at the feeling of his finger drawing steady circles over your sensitive bud.

Fuck this, you think to yourself. You need Joel to move.

"P–please," you stutter out as Joel's finger speeds up, and his chest rumbles as he chuckles deeply.

"Please what, sweetheart?" Joel hums, and you give him a look, eyes flashing with slight frustration at his insistence, which makes him smirk wider, eyes knowing as he waits for you.

"Please move, Joel," you let out in a breath, "Please just fuck me,"

"Atta girl," he says finally, and then, Joel releases his grip on your hips.

It isn't gentle, and it isn't slow; your hips stutter, and he thrusts up to meet them as he pulls you down on him over and over again at a fast pace. Your brow creases as your eyes shut, arms wrapped around Joel's shoulders as you push yourself up and down his cock desperately, the feeling of him filling you repeatedly almost too good for words. Joel isn't holding back anymore, either, and both of his hands are on your hips, pulling you down onto him just as hard and as desperate as your own movements.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you let out in small breaths, "God, Joel,"

The noises Joel is making under you are downright sinful. Deep throaty grunts with every thrust, like music to your ears, as his arms wrap tightly around your waist, keeping you close to him as you move in a rhythm.

"Shit, baby. . . that's right," he mutters, before moving one of his hands to run over your cheek, fingers burying into the hair at the nape of your neck, face so close to yours he's practically grunting into your mouth, "Feels so fucking good. . . pussy s'made for me,"

"It's all for you, Joel," you bring out between moans as he pushes up into you, "Fuck, oh god,"

The feeling of Joel is beyond words; you feel every vein, every ridge as he slides in and out of you, tip repeatedly hitting a spot deep inside you, that makes your vision spotty. You're almost ashamed to say it doesn't take long before you feel yourself getting close, and when Joel's thumb presses over your clit again, rolling in slow circles, you find yourself tipping over the edge again.

"That's right," Joel whispers against your lips and you moan into his mouth, legs shaking from your orgasm.

You know he isn't far behind you, either, by the way his thrusts are caught between speeding up and slowing down. His breath becomes shallower as his fingers dig into the flesh of your waist. As your walls flutter around him, you lean down, lips grazing from the corner of his mouth across his jaw and towards his ear.

"Come on, baby," you let out, your tone between breathy and sultry as you use the nickname he'd been using all night on you, "Want to feel you coming inside me, Joel,"

"Fuck, yeah?" Joel groans as he hears you let out another moan in his ear, your orgasm only just subsiding, "Fuck, shit. . . I'm coming,"

Your name falls over Joel's lips in a faltering breath as his hips stutter. His brow creases suddenly as his eyes press shut, before he buries his mouth against your shoulder, teeth nudging against your skin. His arms tightens around your naked chest as you feel him twitch against you, Joel's hips suddenly pressing against you so desperately he nudges something inside you that makes you whimper.

"Fuck–ah!" Joel lets out, followed by a whimpering groan against your ear as his teeth sink further into your shoulder, "Shit. . . sweetheart, ooh, fuck!"

He comes hard inside of you, no sounds filling your ears but his blissed out, whimpering moans for a second, which gradually turn into pants as his forehead comes down to rest on your shoulder, his breath against your skin.

Trying to compose yourself, you take your own regular breaths as your heart rate slows down.

"Jesus," Joel whispers to himself as he looks up from your shoulder. Then he's facing you again, looking into your eyes as you chuckle slightly, still trying to catch your own breath.

"Good enough for you?" you joke as you raise an eyebrow, and Joel gives you a look, before his forehead falls against yours.

"Sweetheart," he grumbles jokingly, his arms tightening around you as his eyes close and he lets out a contented breath, "I'm going to need you to do that like, 10 more times,"

You can't stop the small laugh that crosses your lips as you lean forwards and kiss him. When you pull away, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth, which makes him groan deep in his chest as you pull away with a smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth.

"I think I can do that,"

writing this took it out of me, so reactions are sooo appreciated and feedback is more than welcome ღ k

a special shoutout is owed to @cutetomholland for her incredible help proofreading, so say thank you otherwise ya'll would be reading some straight shit teehee

#i hope people like this ahhhh #sponsored by joel miller brainrot™#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal

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evilminji · 4 months ago

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I just Literally Galaxy Brained :D???

Oh? My? God?

So here I am, on a Star Wars kick, when I Ponder my beloved Danny Phantom. As ya do! Who? I wonder? Could I mix into the star wars universe?

WHEN IT HITS ME.

You know who LOVES kids? Just... will Burn Down Planets for this kid they literally JUST met? Mandolorians. Know where you can find a SHIT ton of those, genetically? The GAR!

Those are CLONES, baby! WE got a Clone! She's feisty and adorable! Smol! Bites! Got them big ol tooka eyes and itty bitty hands! Likes to fly, explore, and fight! She's BASICALLY born for this!

Tell me they would collectively look at this tiny feral child, with her poofy lil hair and chubby cheeks, fangy lil grin and biting tendcy, and go "is BABY!" Come on, tell me. I'll call you a liar.

And you KNOW the Force and Ectoplasm are probably messy EXs. Dani could TOTALLY use they "why should you allow me in? .....because they're not the boss of you" argument to GREAT effect.

Here, Skywalker. Kenobi. Watch this mysterious child... foooooor.... uh, Reasons! Yes. I, the Force, definitely have valid reasons for doing this! I am NOT just being a petty bitch! #SoundsLegit

But? Gasp! The child is a Cadet?! A BABY Clone! Of WHO? A legendary warrior king, from what context they can gather. Made by his enemy. Sent to kill him. Forgiven then adopted. Ooooh, lots of life lessons there. Clone rights and forgiveness and such.

But more IMPORTANTLY, to the GAR?

BABY CLONE! Is BABY!!!

We are ALL Buir now! All of us. Biggest family in the galaxy. Dani is cool with it, congrats New Fenton's! On the Be-Fenton-ing! Tremble in FEAR, scrubs! It's OUR HOUSE NOW!! Mwahahahaha! *cackles from her perch on top of a table*

But... wait... what is that glowing stuff that you're getting low on?

Oh? This? New beloved Highly Unhinged Jedi Friends and Clone Dads? Oh it's just my LIFE SAVING MEDICINE that I NEED TO LIVE that I never told you about! :D

*horrified silence*

*PANIC*

It's okay. It's OKAY! Everybody STOP SCREAMING! W-well just reverse engineer... *machine makes the equivalent of a Dunno noise* FUCK! Okay! New plan! Dani, sweetie, lil warrior, what do you remember about your medicine? What does it DO, exactly?

Unstable clone.

Okay! Okay, that's a start! THEY are stable clones. Right? Right!

.........r-right? Are... are they SURE? Cause, I mean, it's ONE thing when it's just THEIR health on the line... but when it's their YOUNGLING? Their lil tooka Dani? Their ade? Are they SURE? How sure. Bet HER life on it sure?

....no. No they are not. They don't trust the long necks NEARLY that much. Time do do a DEEP deep scan. Best they can find. They got to make SURE. Boba might be the only STABLE clone... assuming the sleemo even told the truth about that.

And? They LEARN some stuff.

Like about the chip in their head's. Supposedly an "inhibitor chip". Sends Skywalker into a karking rage, cause that looks a whole lot like a slave chip to HIM. Dani says they can CHECK. Then doesn't wait for an answer as she sticks her HAND into someone's head to just... pluck it out. Hand it over to be sliced.

Dani, sweetie, c-can you do that for the rest of us? Sure!

But! The race is ON. To either figure out how to contact the original, stabilize Dani, or synthesize Ectoplasm in a universe that DOES NOT HAVE IT. All while unknowingly? Absolutely Fenton CURB STOMPING Ancient Sith Plans into oblivion.

As is the Fenton Way.

This IS The Way~☆

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @spidori

#dp x star wars #star wars x dp #dpxsw #star wars prompt #danny phantom prompt #danny phantom star wars prompt #minji's writing

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motorsportbarbie13 · 17 days ago

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What's A Soulmate? Part 4

In which you finally come back home.

Warnings: alcohol use. angst. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word count: 1.9k plus social media posts

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - What's a Soulmate - Part 3 - Master List

LittlestSainzSis honey, i'm home. user433 isn't it weird she's working for McLaren and not Ferrari??? >>>user3928 nope! hope this helps! user2918 press officer job right out of school? must be nice being a nepo baby >>>user328 she literally worked for Carlos and Lando for two years before going to uni at NYU??? And she has a double degree in PR and business??? >>>usesr322 just say you're jealous next time, it'll be quicker. McLaren So glad to have you back in the paddock!!

LittlestSainzSis fast cars go vroom OscarPiastri so you're who Zak was yelling at to get behind the barrier over the radio??? >>>LittlestSainzSis oops!

LittlestSainzSis that feeling when you wake up and realize it's race day!! user3928: face card never declines user298: blah blah, proper name, place name, back story stuff LandoNorris: don't let that cute face fool you, she was yelling at Oscar and I ten seconds after I took this. >>>LittlestSainzSis neither of you were listening!!! God, this is 2019 all over again, isn't it? >>>user992 ariana what are you doing hereeeeee??? >>>user9383 seriously the first time Lando's in the comments in literal years. tf??? >>>user938 so we're all just going to ignore him calling her cute??? okay???

LittlestSainzSis the boys are ready for race day!!! McLaren best press officer award goes to you bby! >>>user382 admin is unhinged today, I see user0392 i just love seeing Lando back on her feed. >>>user3938 seriously. i feel like mom and dad are back together again. >>>user3844 i'm so glad i don't have to be a child of divorce anymore.

LittlestSainzSis caught someone being a grumpy gills today during the presser. LandoNorris i was probably hungry >>>LittlestSainzSis i think oscar had just told you he was getting sushi with Lily tonight and you got all pouty >>>user948 not her selling out Lando in the comments user938 Chaos Gremlins back to terrorizing paddock! war is over!

Miami May 2024

“Fifteen times Lando Norris has stood on the podium, but never on the top step, until now! It’s a landmark day for Lando! Lando Norris wins for the first time in Formula One! It’s victory in Miami for Norris and McLaren! The British drivers dream is realized and at the 110th attempt, he’s done it! He’s won it! Look what it means to Zak Brown! At long last, Lando is your winner!”

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Alex Jacques call the end of the race in your headphones, his voice filled with glee and excitement that matches the feeling in the McLaren garage. After yesterday’s DNF for Lando, it had been pretty doom and gloom on his side of the garage.

Your heart had ached when you caught sight of him that afternoon, sitting in the glass enclosed conference room that the team used to go over race data. He had been all alone, spinning aimlessly in one of the chairs, face drawn and shuttered. You had wanted to go to him then but hadn’t worked up the courage.

Things were still…delicate between the two of you. After that first night in Australia, Lando had kept his promise to win your friendship back. You more often than not found your morning coffee order sitting at your desk waiting for you during the week with a silly note written hastily on a posit in his chicken scratch writing that only you seemed to be able to decipher.

A few treats and free coffee weren’t going to be enough to bring back that casual intimacy that you and Lando had though, you both knew that. The walls you had built up so high around your heart designed specifically for the British driver were still solidly in place and you refused to go running back into his arms so easily.

And then, Miami happens.

The hot sticky humidity clings to your skin as you watch Lando climb out of the car behind the black and white number 1 sign, the first time he’s been able to park his Formula 1 car right in the middle of parc fermi. You’re not entirely sure where the humidity of Florida ends and the tears still falling from your eyes begins, you’re such a mess.

If you were to think too hard about it, the fact that you were a complete puddle of jumbled up emotion would surely scare you a little. Those walls, they couldn’t be crumbling now, could they? They couldn’t be slowly tumbling down, allowing for the while possibility of allowing Lando back into your life like he had been before?

You don’t have time to get too lost in those dangerous kinds of thoughts though because soon after he hops off the car, he’s running straight over to the garage crew and leaping into their waiting arms. He’s waited for so long for this, so many poor performances, so many mistakes and problems with the car had sent him spiraling for so many years. There had been too many nights you had spent with him when he was barely more than a teenager, sat on the floor lamenting about how shit his car was, how shit his driving was, and if he was destined to be one of those midfield drivers that never won anything in their career.

All of those doubts are erased now and your tears are falling again as the weight of what he’s done settles over the paddock. His engineers and mechanics eventually place him back down on the ground and he’s hugging Zak next, the CEO of McLaren more of a father figure to him by now. Will gets a hug too, his engineer since he joined the team five years ago.

And then, icy blue green eyes snag yours and everything else falls away in a muted hush. He’s smiling at you, that megawatt grin making his eyes crinkle up at the corners. It’s one of those genuine Lando smiles that you haven’t been on the receiving end of for far too long. Your heart stutters to a stop when you realize you’re his next target. What is he doing? You think frantically, mortified that you’re about to be the center of attention if he does what you think he’s going to do.

And he does. He throws his arms around your shoulders and buries his head deep into the crook of your neck, a move that has camera shutters clicking furiously all around you. You, of course, instantly find your arms wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him to you despite the metal barrier between you.

“You’re here.” He sounds surprised that you’d miss this moment.

“Of course I am. My best friend just won his first Grand Prix.” You whisper into his ear as the crowd continues to grow louder.

Lando pulls back then, tears shining in his eyes. The weight of your words settle on his shoulders and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you the way he is now. He tucks a strand of hair that’s fallen out of your pony tail behind your ear, looking at you like you’ve hung both the moon and the stars in the sky just for him. “I’m so glad you got to be here for this, pretty girl.”

God, that nickname. It’s the first time you’ve heard it in years and it does significant damage to those carefully constructed walls.

You smile up at Lando, a little bashful that everyone is watching you two talk so closely together. He returns the smile before turning around to answer a question from one of the officials. He needs to take care of post race inspections, which he does but not before turning back and tossing a wink at you over his shoulder.

LittleSainzSis It has been a pleasure and privlidge watching you grow over all these years. Life may have taken us in different directions over the last few years but when I say there is no place I would have rather been this afternoon, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Your friendship means the entire world to me, Mr. Norris. I'm so proud of you. One win down, so many more to go. LandoNorris so glad you got to be there today, pretty girl xo >>>user948 WE GOT A PRETTY GIRL COMMENT. >>>user0383 i can die happy now user0832 i'm sorry but guys, she literally just friendzoned him so hard in that caption. >>>user9383 yeah, poor lando

LittlestSainzSis You're going to smell like champagne for weeks LandoNorris worth it user948 EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THAT FACE. explain yourself lando norris. user928 did we mean to post this on main ma'am??? user9482 @/littlestsainzsis giving us what we all crave: lando thirst traps. >>>littlestsainzsis don't say i never give you guys anything ever again ;) >>>user9482 omg hi queen

LittlestSainzSis find yourself a man that looks at you like Lan looks at that trophy user0382 LANNNN??? >>>user9484 I am unwell CarlosSainz He's sleeping with it tonight, isn't he? >>>LandoNorris who told you that??? user9383 i feel like i'm interrupting something here... user0309 this picture is...a choice...

The music of the Miami night club pulses through your body as you sink deeper and deeper into the VIP booth later that night. Lando hadn’t given you any room for arguments after all the media duties were done. You were coming out with him and the rest of the team to celebrate. You had barely tried to refuse, not giving him much of a fight because you secretly wanted nothing more.

Now you sat in the leather booth situated high up in the dark Miami Beach night club that had invited Lando out the moment he had crossed the finish line earlier in the day. There were what felt like thousands of people, most of them were there to celebrate with Lando, hoping to get a glimpse of the driver.

Alcohol burns at the back of your throat, blurring your vision nicely as you wait for Lando to return from the bar. You had insisted that he wasn’t the one who should be making drink runs tonight but he had insisted on getting you another one and hadn’t taken no for an answer. Carlos is sat next to you, nursing a drink while talking to Charles on his other side.

A small glass is set down in front of you, drawing your attention away from the DJ booth, where you had been starting.

“Vodka sprite for my pretty girl.” Lando murmurs in your ear, the words sending a cool shiver up your spine.

You desperately tamp down the way that being called his makes you feel. You cannot be going down that road. Not now when the friendship between the two of you is so fragile. You knew what it was like to lose him in your life and you weren’t sure if you were willing to risk losing him again.

The same worries you had back before it all went sideways worm their way back into your consciousness. He was too important to you, too integrated into your soul that when he disappeared, it left you broken in a million pieces. You couldn’t risk that again. This had to be strictly platonic between you if it was going to work. You couldn’t afford to lose your best friend again. Those walls around your heart needed to be reinforced and brought back into working order because there was no way you could let this happen.

“Dance with me?” The question is a husky one, whispered in your ear so no one else is privy to it.

You know it’s dangerous. You should say no. But the vodka already in your system convinces you that it’s fine. It’s just Lando. So against your what your sober self would consider the best judgement, you feel yourself nodding, allowing Lando to tangle his fingers with yours and pull you out onto the dance floor.

If you had been paying better attention, you would have seen the looks Carlos and Charles exchanged behind your back. They were well aware of the frosty relationship that Lando and you had over the last few years and this was a development no one had seen coming but everyone had been hoping for all the same.

The EDM beats are strong and sensual as Lando leads you out onto the floor, hand firmly gripping yours. He finds an open spot and pulls you towards him, the heat of his body radiating off of him in waves. His hands land on your hips, fingertips gripping at your skirt a little harder than really necessary. You shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want his hands on your hips, his breath mingling with yours, his curls so dangerously close that you could easily rake your fingers through them. You shouldn’t and you can’t because he’s left you before and he could do it all over again. He’s abandoned you and didn’t come back and every sane thought in your body is screaming at you that this man is dangerous. He is dangerous to your heart and your head is thrashing around so loudly but it’s drowned out by the music.

You simply can’t fight it when he pulls you impossibly closer, hands sliding from your hips lower, lower, lower until it’s almost indecent. The alcohol blurs the edges of your usually sharp judgement and it’s not helped by the fact that this man seems to have cast a spell over you. You can’t want this. Can’t love how the weight of his hands feel on your skin. Can’t adore how his lips tick up at the edges when he sees you walk into the garage during a race weekend.

This is Lando after all. Your best friend. Your best friend who abandoned you once and had only barely just come back begging for forgiveness. You can’t allow him to knock down those walls so quickly, can you?

His lips flutter over the damp skin at your temple, dusting the slightest kiss there, almost as if it’s a test. A test to see if you push him away or allow him in.

A test that you fail.

Because the moment his lips touch your skin, it feels like a bucked of ice water has been splashed over your head and you realize what the fuck you’re doing. Its too hot. Too close. Too much and you simply can’t have him touching you anymore. No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Panic races through you as you stumble back out of his arms, logic finally winning out over your own heart’s stupidity.

The delicate balance you had struck with him shatters in an instant because you both knew there was supposed to be more between you but you’re desperately scared and Lando is so wretchedly full of regret he can’t stand it.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you manage to choke out before fleeing.

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16

(Some of the tags aren't working? LMK if you want to be added/removed but I'm like 99% certain I have everyone!)

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #slow burn fic #friends to strangers to lovers

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drowningkeyborad · 2 months ago

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De Rolo Kids Headcanons

Disclaimer: These headcanons have no set timeline in the CR universe. I just like to keep them safe in my back pocket.

Vesper De Rolo

The oldest child

Part of me thinks that she has some mild case of ‘Only Child Syndrome’. For a while, it was just her, Percy, and Vex. Then the twins came along. I don’t think there is a canonical confirmed age gap, but given that Vesper is about 30 in her last canon appearance; I ballpark the age gap between her and The Twins at about 9-10 years.

She’s the oldest child AND eldest daughter… so that’s a lot

Her white hair comes from Vex being pregnant with her while she was a Champion of The Dawnfather.

Paladin Class. Worships the Dawnfather and can often be found by the Sun Tree.

Vesper and Vax’ildan II bond over their respective faith practices.

Takes after both her parents in the best ways. But this can also backfire.

Spends most of her free time reading or painting. Her preferred reading material is non-fiction and history.

She’s just as unhinged as the rest of her siblings, but tends to keep it out of the public eye better than the others.

Loves painting. Like REALLY loves to paint. Her room looks like the inside of Rapunzel’s tower in Tangled.

Yeah, turns out those paintings were linked to oracle powers–

Anyway– that means she’s off on an adventure! She likes to take her siblings with her, when they’re old enough. Leona and Vax’ildan II are her favorites to travel with.

Despite the 9-10 year age gap, Vesper and Wolfe bond over being the ‘Eldest Daughter’ and ‘Eldest Son’ of the De Rolo family.

Gwendolyn and Vesper have a very close relationship, despite having the biggest age gap of all the kids. They share a love for history and fashion.

Has no real interest in politics, but given the order of her birth, she pays close attention in the case she might have to replace her Aunt Cassandra’s seat.

Heavy Weapons AND Heavy Armor girlie!! Will smash your skull in and look cute while doing so.

Wears her white hair in a messy side braid. Just like her mama <3

Wolfe Kristoff De Rolo

Contrary to most headcanons I’ve read about him; this boy is his father’s son. The Einstein of the new generation.

Demisexual

Definitely found old blueprints of Pepperbox and thought “I could do better”. And he did.

Fighter/Artificer Multi Class

Acts the most ‘Noble-like’ out of all his siblings.

Will throw money and his family name at all of his problems. (“My father will hear about this.”)

“I’m gonna k*ill myself.” – Wolfe, at any minor inconvenience

The most sought after bachelor in Whitestone. Weekly, Percy and Vex are approached by other nobility with the proposal of a political marriage of Wolfe and their own heir. If it’s not nobility; it’s townspeople trying to catch the inventor out of his Workshop to ‘get to know him’.

Wolfe has threatened to Crash Out if either of his parents even considered one of the offers.

Very well-versed in both engineering and politics.

Accidentally invented the Printing Press at the age of twelve… He was trying to make a stamp for his dad and it just got out of hand.

Took a really nasty fall when he was younger. Probably climbing on something he wasn’t supposed to. Resulted in a broken arm and busting his head open.

Has a scar on his forehead from the fall. His brown hair turned white where the scar meets his hairline.

Big into hair & skin care. Always has lotion on his person at all times.

Dresses like Percy in Vox Machina Origins. Thigh high boots people…

Take the demon-murdered family-torture trauma from Percy, keep the brains, add a healthy noble upbringing, and tune up the cockiness by ten; ya get Wolfe.

Hear of Hearing! Boy is around heavy machines and gunfire all day. Sounds like he’s yelling most of the time, but his family knows it’s because he cannot hear them.

Learned Sign Language because of his hearing loss.

Has to spray Gwendolyn with water like a cat to keep her out of his Workshop.

Jealous of how free spirited his twin sister can be. He wished he could naturally let go of his worries the way Leona does.

Leona De Rolo

Middle child. Literally. Between Wolfe being two minutes older than her, then followed by Vax’ildan and Gwendolyn– Leona is smack in the middle.

A bi queen

She loves hunting, target practice, etc. Anything to get a bow in her hands.

Thick-ass glasses and she HATES them! They’re so annoying when she’s trying to hunt/fight in the rain or snow. Still has a deadly aim though.

Very competitive. She’s the reason the De Rolo family can’t have a game night.

Fighter/Ranger Multi Class

Good fucking luck trying to tame her lion’s mane of hair. Vesper, Vex, and Gwendolyn have all tried to help her tame it, but it just gets put into a messy ponytail/bun/braid.

Very much a tomboy. Takes to wearing suits and more masc-leaning clothing. Hasn’t worn a dress or skirt since she was like seven years old.

Wolfe has even commented on how she pulls off suits better than he does.

She would never tell him, but that compliment has stuck with her for years.

Often has to push/tackle her twin out of harm's way because he’s hard of hearing.

She and Vex bond over their shared love for the woodlands. There was a time the two of them were camping together, and Vex opened up about her own twin brother. That was the first time Leona had ever seen her mother cry…

She silently vowed to never let something like that happen to Wolfe.

Doesn’t care much for engineering like her father and twin, but she will willingly listen to them ramble on about whatever rabbit hole they’ve both fallen into.

A small, dark part of her is jealous of Wolfe and how he seems to be admired by everyone. Everywhere.

Will kill anyone for looking at any of her siblings in a way she doesn’t like.

She and Vesper travel together the most out of the siblings. Sometimes they’ll go on separate journeys and end up meeting in the middle anyway.

Leona and Gwendolyn love to pull pranks together.

Vax’ildan Frederick De Rolo

Trans.

Trans, and I cannot be convinced otherwise.

He 100% chose the name Vax’ildan.

He’s very quiet. Usually lost in thought or just observing the people around him.

Stares at people.

Really good perception (checks).

Cleric/Paladin Multi Class

Cleric of the Raven Queen… Yeah, Vex was real happy about that…

His family calls him “Danny” or “Freddie”. He understands that “Vax” is reserved for their dearest friend.

Wolfe calls him “Danny Boy”. It’s Vax’ildan’s favorite nickname.

Mama’s boy to the max. Vex, like all parents do, says she doesn’t have a favorite. But everyone knows it’s Vax’ildan II.

Vex was the first one Vax’ildan II came out to as trans. Then Percy, then his siblings, etc.

“Yeah, dude, we already knew.” “...What?”

Just like his uncle; Vax’ildan II had been/is watched by the Raven Queen.

When he accompanied Vesper to her faith work, he would often wander off and be found by the Raven Queen’s Shrine.

Ravens follow this poor kid everywhere. To the point that Leona has offered to shoot them on multiple occasions.

Fell through a frozen lake when he was about ten years old. It scared his family to death, and he was grounded to sleeping in his parents’ bed for like a month (Vex physically would not let him go.)

He tried to explain that he was “-following the guy in the raven cloak who had daggers.”

The reality of the situation didn’t hit him until a few years later, but he still felt no dreaded fear for when it happened.

The only one allowed to come-and-go into Wolfe’s workshop as he pleases. Likes to sit in the back and read his books.

I could write a whole book on this kid.

Gwendolyn De Rolo

Daddy’s girl 100%. It's canon.

The little game that Percy and she play during parties is just training her for trouble.

Rouge Class through-and-through.

Learns how to use a rapier from her Auntie Cassandra

Around the age of fifteen, she starts asking to go by just ‘Gwen’. It’s much less of a mouthful, and something about dropping the lengthy name took a weight off her shoulders.

The age gap between her and the rest of her siblings puts a little bit of a strain on things when it comes to relatability. What would an eleven year old Gwendolyn have in common with a twenty-six year old Vesper?

They all make it work though.

Aside from Vesper; Vax’ildan II is the next sibling that Gwen is closest to. No one else in the family has the same level of spying skills and likes to gossip as much as she does– except for Danny. They talk shit about other people all the time.

Danny and Gwen’s relationship is similar to that of Cassandra and Percy.

I can see her picking up bow skills from both Leona and Vex. Having her as a Rouge/Ranger multi class would be deadly.

Cuts her hair when she’s older and likes to keep in short afterwards

Can rattle off years worth of history of about any city/town/ceremony site she steps into.

Despite her family not seeing her as anything other than their sister/daughter; Gwen feels, in a deep part of her, that they look down on her for being a Tiefling. More so WHY she’s Tiefling.

She and Leona love to pull pranks on the rest of their siblings together.

#vox machina #percy de rolo #vex #vex'ahlia #de rolo children headcanons #vax'ildan de rolo #vesper de rolo #wolfe de rolo #leona de rolo #percival de rolo #the legend of vox machina #cr c3 #percy x vex #critical role tlovm #headcanon

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liesmyth · 2 years ago

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locked tomb characters ranked by how cringe they are

because this post by @wifegideonnav reminded me that they’re all losers, but some are even more losers than the others

Hot Sauce: 1/10. This girl is cool in all possible ways and definitely future lead researcher material. No cringe, zero notes.

Pyrrha: 2/10. By far the least cringe of The Olds. Yes her nicknames for Nona have dad joke energy but she’s very earnest about it and it’s cute.

Juno Zeta: 2/10. Total MILF. Very smart and should know better than to get flirty with We Suffer, but I get it.

Marta Dyas: 3/10. A complete badass with a very sensible outlook on avoiding unnecessary forms. Call me Judith because I would also make a pass at her at the first possible chance.

Commander Wake: 3/10. She made Pyrrha fall in love with her, seduced ever-loyal G1deon into hatefucking and galvanized a dying resistance movement. She was genuinely nice to Gideon those 3 seconds they interacted in passing! Then she had to go and hide under the bed of a mentally ill teenager.

Dulcinea: 4/10. Her horniness for revenge is epic. Let down Pal as nicely as she could and managed to outwit Cytherea when it mattered. Not cringe at all.

Camilla: 4/10. Yes, she could kill you in seconds but she did once sell cigarettes, her most liquid asset, for about a third of their market value.

Alecto: 4/10. Scary eldritch woman-shaped creature with a sword, comes highly recommended by Pyrrha Dve. Loses points for confusing Middle English and thinking John was the best possible Sailor Earth when he was clearly the worst.

G1deon: 5/10. Utterly willing to burn for what he believes in. Yes, he probably needs some perspective but he made sure the baby had enough air before kicking Wake out of the airlock and Matthias Nonius thinks he’s an okay dude.

Pash: 5/10. She has that freedom fighter swag and the cool hair but she is a terrible bodyguard coasting on nepotism, sorry to say.

Palamedes: 6/10. He didn’t clock the serial killer pretending to be his ex because he was too busy going to painfully extreme lengths to avoid interacting with her.

Naberius: 6/10. My controversial opinion is that Babs is the least cringe of the Third House throuple. Yes he looks and acts like a peacock but he puts up with Corona snacking on him for no reason and is still nice to her, and gives Ianthe solid romantic advice.

Nona: 6/10. Cringe in the unselfconscious way of a young teenager, and put this ability to use making Pal fess up to his nurse kink. She will never be cool but it’s part of her appeal.

Mercymorn: 7/10. Speaks in onomatopoeias. She knows she is insufferable so she’s gonna do her best to make sure to be the most insufferable person in every room. Once called John Gaius “the best man I who ever lived” to his smug face and not even blowing him up later makes up for that.

Ianthe: 7/10. Looks like a wet rat. Hopelessly dramatic but she pulls it off. Declares her love for Harrow at every turn in the most transparent possible way then pretends she’s just being snarky. Some cool points for actually getting shit done

Coronabeth: 7/10. Terrible taste in love interests. Her freedom fighter era was hot but she thinks pompadour hair is a good look? Also, the way she spent her whole life lying about necromancy speaks of extreme conflict avoidance. Cringe move.

Judith: 7/10. She deserved to suffer and has suffered more than she deserves. It’s cringe how she clings to her imperialist brainwashing but she gets a point for rightfully understanding she should be wary of Corona, something Ianthe still can’t even grasp.

Ortus: 7/10. Yes he quotes his own epic poetry WIP at people but he also had to grow up on the Ninth with nothing better to do. Genuinely a very nice guy.

Cytherea: 8/10. Her unhinged vibes are very hot but she killed a couple of nerds and two teenagers instead of anyone who was actually dangerous. Cringe of her!

Silas: 8/10. Smarmy cloud-looking motherfucker. He is a child Pope and I guess he can’t help the inherent cringe of the Eight. But that’s still no excuse for bringing a portrait of John all the way to Canaan House just to hang it in your bedroom, dude.

Gideon: 8/10. Babygirl is a horny virgin with the vocabulary of a nerd. Harrow is bones over tit in love with her and she fails to notice after living in Harrow’s brain for eight months. Gets points for managing to maintain impressive biceps on a diet with no protein.

Augustine: 9/10. Extremely cringe because of how hard he tries to pretend he’s not cringe. Cigarettes on a space station and effectively performing swag don’t make up for how much he clearly wants to suck John’s dick. Which he did at least twice.

Harrow: 10/10. Spent most of her life being mean to Gideon because she was too hot to deal with and lobotomized a coffee shop AU into existence. Thinks Ianthe Tridentarius is beautiful. Once built a bone cocoon to sleep in after not drinking water for two days. Should’ve told God months ago that she just didn’t want to eat his fucking biscuits and stop offering.

John: 10/10. Unfortunately, this scale only goes up to 10 but we all know it’s not enough. Deeply cringe in a myriad of ways, chiefly among them the way he inflicts his barely veiled incest kink on all his friends. That one dad joke was gold, though.

This was getting too long but for the record: Aiglamene is cool and so is Abigail Pent. Magnus is not cool but he’s a fun time. The Terrible Teens are exempt from judgement on account of being 14.

#i wrote this on my phone on the metro spelling what's spelling #will this finally be the post I send to L. to convince her to read the books?#tlt memes #the locked tomb #tlt

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holostarz · 11 months ago

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my problem is i think most of p5s ships are cute and thats why i almost always am down for some form of polythieves

usually i just lump all the guys together cause all those ships are just so good to me??? and i mean like, every combination of them, even without ren. ill ship ryuji and yusuke. and i also love goro with either of them. ryugoro and akekita are so rare but theyre so nice?? they all just. clenches fists. theyre so good ot4 pegoryugorokita

goroann besties is real in my heart. also goroharu being like the Cursed besties ever in the end like. my god they have such a wack and unhinged platonic soulmates/kindred spirits potential. goromako rivals forever my guy they are so fucking funny. and ryukoto is kinda cute...

i think shumako is nice but its just not my cuppa tea. they are dear friends and i do love the image of ren and makoto being a bit rivalcoded and butting heads over phantom thievery and how to lead the team best. and goro is weirdly the one who can actually somehow stop arguments before they happen and get them to compromise.

makoto is NOT the mom friend okay she is the bossy and protective older sister friend. and she is smart and sensible but not immune to her friends infecting her with Stupid. ren is the mom friend. and the dad friend. best of both things. :)

ren: its hard raising 8 kids when youre in high school and an 18 y/o whos like if a divorced widow was a boy 😔 sojiro: what happened to your husband??? ren: he was lost at sea goro: ren, look at this dog i saw on my way here ren: i can still hear his voice

meanwhile i love futago half siblings headcanon. so while goro and makoto are a little more sibling rivalry coded, futaba is still goros actual gremlin sibling who will bully him to death. meanwhile, futaba is actually adoptive siblings with ren. these two are WAY more sibling coded than goro and futaba ever.

and when futaba starts trying to do similar Sibling dynamic things with goro. goro is like ??? "ren, futaba just came in here. stared at me. burped. and then left. what does this mean." and ren is like. "oh is there food? theyre probably telling you theres food and to come out if you want some. or if this is your first time seeing them today they could just be greeting you." and goro is like ????? but louder this time

i love shujin trio poly... and i default to them being the OG Cule. shuann? v cute love them. ryuann? also cute and honestly v funny of how messy i imagine their hookups being. like they keep breaking up and eventually finding their way back to each other. sometimes i see them as sibling coded, too, more than anything else. overall i just love these three together they are the tomodachis of all time they are partners for life

i also love ryuharu. and harukita (yuharu?) theyre really cute.... then theres good ol makoharu and annmako (makoann?) and i love them too... honestly love hifumi and makoto too?? i think they would be huge fucking dorks together... perhaps.... rivals, even?

goro and hifumi being friends... good shit. hifumi and yusuke being close friends? plz... and ren and hifumi are just. wahh i love them theyre so good. even futaba and hifumi could be cute, honestly.... wtf

and we cannot forget ANNSHIHO,,, forever. my GORLS.... lesbiabs of my heart.

anntaba is a rare one but theyre also v cute to me... and if they arent girlfriends i love the idea of futaba having a crush on her and then realizing those feelings are actually just Admiration and Gender envy. i also love the idea of morgana finding out his crush on ann is ALSO GENDER ENVY RELATED.... we love nonbiney morgana. hope is genderless

ren: my CAT IS TRANS!? NOT CLICKBAIT?

and makoto is always being an older sister to futaba. yutaba is nice, too. i honestly see futaba and yusuke being aspec and theyre platonic soulmates and in a qpp. and ofc sumitaba my beloved... i love sumitaba a lot

i adore ryusumi too like oh myg od,,.. wahh.... the sweeties. sumikita is so rare but like. i think they could be kinda cute too?? sumigoro is V platonic soulmates to me like my god theyre so. clenches fist. honestly whole royal trio tbh is just. "they can make each other worse" and each of them thinking "thank god im the normal one here" thats it thats the whole dynamic. and its so funny.

shusumi is cute too but honestly i think i prefer both ren and goro have somethin of a platonic soulmates or older sibling dynamic with sumire. they have adopted her okay. sumiann isnt one i see a lot either but they.... THEM.....

any mishima ship is super funny imo but like, theyre cute. love yuuki having a crush on ren but like. the game makes it near impossible for you to actually be fucking nice to him so i always get the vibe that ren would rather keep him at a distance, even tho they appreciate him and care about him.

its okay tho cause i say hes good friends with the OG trio + shiho and they vibe. yuuki crushing on goro, to his own horror? hilarious. and weirdly enough shiho and ren?? idk what their acronym is. but. oh my god. theyre actually weirdly cute? but i see them having disaster twins energy. theyre absolute menaces.

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beautifuldisaster88 · 8 months ago

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A Match Made In Hell

Pairings: Dark!Rafe x Female!Reader (She comes off sweet and innocent but is actually a psychopath)

Summary: Rafe Cameron fell in love with the OBX's sweet and innocent kook princess, but what was it about her that drew him in? When she turns out to be just as psychotic (if not more than Rafe) as him, what will happen? Will the once peaceful and quiet Kildare Island be turned upside down? Will anyone find out the truth about her? Or will her sweet and innocent persona be enough to fool an entire island?

Warnings: Dark themes, mentions of torture and murder, murder, mentions of weapons, weapon use, details of torture and murder, unprotected sex P in V, knife play, mention of branding, drug use, to sum it all up they're both psychopaths! Read at your own risk.

A/N: I used the name Sky/Skylar, but you can picture reader however you want. Other than describing how she dresses and acts, there isn't much physical description of her. Fair warning this is longer than I originally planned for it to be . Guess you could say I went overboard with this shit. However, I did try to shorten it more, deciding to end it where I did, otherwise it probably would have turned into a full blown story.

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!!!!MDNI!!! 18+

With Rafe Cameron, what you see is what you get. The eldest of the three Cameron siblings, Rafe was unhinged, a psychopath. From trying to drown his sister, Sarah, to murdering Sheriff Peterkin, beating those dirty Pogues to a pulp any time he had the chance, pulling a gun on his dad, to actually shooting Sarah. The list of crimes that the Cameron male had committed only continued to pile up. The good thing about being a Cameron? It meant that Rafe got away with murder, literally. He was a true psychopath and everyone knew it.

Then you have Skylar Rose, Outer Banks sweetheart, the kook princess. The Rose family held just as much power on the island as the Cameron family, if not more. Skylar or Sky as everyone called her was the complete opposite of Rafe. She was the definition of innocent, wearing white flowy summer dresses, nails always perfectly manicured, flowers usually adorned in her wavy beach wave hair, makeup always perfectly done and perfectly applied glossy lips. The Rose girl always had a smile on her face that was brighter than the sun, greeting everyone that she passed on the island, both Kooks and Pogues. If someone needed help, Sky was the first to lend a hand, no questions asked. She loved babies, animals, stuffed animals, anything that was pink and sparkly. She was the Outer Banks angel, untouched by any guy. That was until Rafe Cameron made her his own.

You see, under all those innocent layers laid something dark and twisted. While others only saw her as innocent, Rafe knew that there was more to Skylar Rose, and he made it his mission to bring out her true nature, which took less persuasion than he expected.

The couple was trouble together, feeding each other their psychotic desires behind closed doors. So, what happens when people start going missing on the small island and bodies start turning up? Normally, the Cameron men, Rafe and his father Ward would be the first that the people of Kildare County would blame, but with Sky now in the picture, it left the residents of the island puzzled. They truly believed that Sky had Rafe under control. Oh, how wrong they were.

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It was a typical Friday night on Figure Eight. Rafe had convinced Topper to throw a party at his place, bitching that Ward refused to let the Cameron male throw anymore of his parties at Tannyhill, at least when Ward was home. With Sky giving the Thornton male her sweetest and most innocent smile and pleading eyes, Topper folded within seconds. Both Rafe and Sky knew that she had everyone on the island wrapped around her dainty perfectly manicured finger.

The Thornton house was crowded with kook party goers, music blaring throughout every room. The liquor was overflowing and the drugs at anyone's disposal. It was your typical kook party. Sweaty and dancing bodies everywhere, people hooking up wherever the fuck they pleased.

Sky was currently perched on Rafe's lap, curled up against her boyfriend as he made his usual drug deals, white powdery lines scattered across the glass table in front of them. She was dressed in her usual attire, wearing a white babydoll dress that Rafe bought her that morning, adorned with thigh high stockings with pink bows at the top, knowing how much her boyfriend loved when she wore those damn stockings. Her hair was worn down that night, small pink and white glittery flowers throughout. It was no secret that Sky was the hottest girl at the party. Hell, she was the hottest girl on the island, but everyone knew she belonged to Rafe, meaning she was off limits.

"I'm telling you man, this yayo is top of the line shit. Best you'll ever have. We just got a new shipment, cut straight from Columbia. You won't find this shit anywhere else on the island, yeah?" The Cameron male said to the group of kooks surrounding them, each one reaching for their wads of cash.

Rafe possessively squeezed her bowtie stocking clad thigh, not liking the way that Chad was eying his girl. His jaw tightened, eyes immediately darkening. The squeeze he had on Sky's thigh was so tight that it was sure to leave bruises.

"Yo, man. Ain't you afraid of corrupting little miss innocent with this shit, Rafe? I mean, has she even seen this shit in person before?" Asked Chad, your typical frat kook.

Chad might have been too stupid to realize but Rafe couldn't stand the asshole, his eyes always on Sky. The Cameron boy wanted nothing more than to slam Chad's head through the glass table, but this was business, so Rafe tried his damnedest to remain professional, not wanting to lose out on a deal.

"You do realize who the fuck she belongs to, yeah? Baby Girl here might be innocent, but that don't mean she's fucking stupid. How 'bout you worry 'bout your fuckin' self and let me worry about my girl, yeah? Yeah."

Sky felt her boyfriend tense up, knowing that he had one thing on his mind. Murder.... and Chad was tonight's victim.

"Not yet, Rafey. His time will come later." Sky purred in his ear, making the blonde nod. No one had ever been able to keep Rafe under control, except his Skylar.

Getting back into business mode, Rafe let out a dark laugh, playfully smacking his girlfriend's thigh as he looked from her to Chad.

"Shit, she might be innocent but you best believe my girl here knows all the ends and outs of this shit. Who the fuck you think packages everything and cuts the shit up so perfectly? You're looking at my business partner, man. I taught her everything she knows.Y'gonna buy some or just eye fuck my angel, huh?"

Chad's eyes immediately widened and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, quickly peeling his eyes away from Sky as she giggled into Rafe's neck. He might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he knew not to piss off Rafe Cameron, especially when it came to his girl, no matter how badly Chad wished he could fuck Sky.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, give me 3 G's worth, man. I-I wasn't eye fucking your girl, Rafe, I wouldn't do that. Everyone knows that Skylar belongs to you. I... I wouldn't do that, man."

Rafe snorted, knowing damn well he knew what he saw. Still, he reached for a stack of little baggies that were filled with the white substance. Before he handed the merchandise to Chad, Sky held out a dainty hand, motioning for Chad to place the money in it. He hesitantly looked from her to Rafe, earning a nod of approval from the Cameron male. Once the cash was in her hand, Skylar quickly counted it.

"It's all there, Rafey. Give Chad his goodies so that he can be on his way. Even though I know Chaddy here could have at least bought 5 G's Worth, but he chose the cheap route this time. Oh well." Skylar hummed, shrugging her shoulders as she placed the wad of cash in her little pink bunny shaped backpack that Rafe had bought for her. While Rafe handled dealing the cocaine, she handled the money. The pair being the perfect business partners.

Rafe threw the stack of baggies tied around a pink rubberband (Skylar's doing, of course) at Chad, giving him a death stare.

Rafe then turned his attention to his girlfriend, trailing kisses from under her earlobe and down her neck as he whispered. "Daddy needs his fix, angel. Gon' let me do some lines off those perfect tits, yeah?"

"Here's your shit. Now fucking scram." Rafe spat, shooing Chad away with his hand.

It was almost like a scene from a comedy movie, the way that Chad hurriedly stood, practically tripping over his own two feet, mumbling about how sorry he was and how he didn't mean to disrespect Rafe or his girl. It took everything in the Rose girl to not burst out in giggles.

Her giggles filled the air, Rafe barely able to hear them over the booming music, but not even the music could drown out Rafe hearing those angelic giggles. She bit down on her bottom lip, whimpering at how his mouth felt against her soft skin. Being the possessive man that he was, Rafe made sure to leave marks along her neck, marking what belonged to him.

"Whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets."

"Atta girl. S'good for Daddy. Gon' have to reward you later, hmm?" He whispered, his hand trailing further up her thigh, earning a small moan from her.

Sky reached into Rafe's pocket, pulling out a small baggie filled with white powder. Leaning back against the arm of the overly expensive couch, she began to sprinkle lines of the white substance on her cleavage, involuntarily squeezing her thighs together when Rafe let out a low groan. He leaned his face in closer, lining his nostrils up perfectly with the two white lines before snorting one, followed by the second. He then ran his tongue slowly over each breast, cleaning off whatever remained of the white powder. Of course, he had to give those perfect a few nips.

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Hours later as the party began to die down, the couple decided it was time to put their plan in motion. Both of them coked out of their minds, not to mention the mixture of alcohol and other substances. They had their ways of making sure nobody ever saw Sky snort white lines up her nostrils. She had a reputation to uphold being innocent after all. Thank God that Sky knew how to fool everyone, making them think that she was just tipsy from the half empty bottle of beer that Rafe handed her, not knowing that it was actually a mixture of different types of alcohol.

She made her way through the house, drink in hand as she searched for their victim, humming along to the music as she flashed her million dollar smile at everyone. When she spotted Chad, she put on her innocent act, strolling over to him as her tits bounced, barely contained by the thin material of her dress, ass peaking out from under. Before even approaching Chad, she knew that he was putty in her hand.

"Chad! There you are. I've been looking all over for you. I wanted you to try this new drink mixture I made and tell me what you think. Also my way of apologizing for Rafey's behavior. He tends to get a tad bit overprotective of me." Her voice came out sweet, so innocent sounding. Little did poor Chad know, the drink in her hand had a few extra ingredients, courtesy of Barry.

"Oh, uh, hey Sky. Where's, uh... Where's Rafe. He know you were coming to talk to me?" Chad asked nervously, looking around for any signs of Rafe. When he didn't see the Cameron male, he instantly smirked, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking her out.

She giggled sweetly, adding on the charm as she flashed her million dollar smile once again, perfectly straight pearly whites on display along with her deep dimples. She twirled a strand of hair around her dainty finger.

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"Relax, Chaddy. I told Rafey that I was going to look for you. He's busy finishing up his last deals for the night. I just want you to try my new mix, not like I'm asking you to take me upstairs to an empty bedroom."

"Yeah, yeah of course I'll try it, sweetheart."

Got him, Sky thought to herself. This was just too damn easy.

"Fuck, Chad here is a lot heavier than I expected, baby. I swear, if he makes me break a nail or even chip my nail polish, 'm gonna go after his whole fucking family." Sky huffed as her and Rafe dragged Chad's unconscious body out of the bed of Rafe's truck.

"Baby Girl, Daddy already told you that you don't have to do any of the heavy lifting. That's what y'got me for, yeah?"

She immediately scrunched up her face, shaking her head from side to side with a strained huff.

"m'not letting.. you do all the.. heavy lifting yourself, Daddy. Whatcha take me for, some sort of weak bitch? Huh? Is that it? Cause 'm not weak, Rafey."

Rafe let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head as he smirked. She was a fiery one and he loved it.

"Shh, shh. Not what I'm saying at all, Baby Girl. I know that you're strong. Y'just got your nails done this morning and Daddy just doesn't want you fuckin' 'em up... 'specially 'fore you get the chance to wrap them 'round my cock. That's all." Rafe reassured her. "This should be good. Drop him here, angel."

Skylar didn't need to be told twice, she dropped Chad's unconscious body, shrugging as she heard a loud thud from his body hitting the concrete floor of the abandoned building. She immediately began inspecting her nails, making sure there were no chips. When she found no damage done to her nails, she looked up at Rafe with a huge grin, holding up both hands for him to see.

"Look, Daddy. No damage done." She beamed, before her face scrunched up in a cute little pout. "Too bad they'll be covered in blood soon. Oh well." She shrugged. "Least I know how to get 'em clean."

Rafe chuckled, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her flush against his toned and muscular body, running his hands down her back and cupping her ass. He leaned his face in to kiss along her jaw, before capturing her lips.

"Yeah, well, just know I plan on fucking you before we get cleaned up. You know what Y'do to Daddy when you're covered in blood." He purred in her ear, making her whimper.

"Daddy! Now 'm wet." Sky whined, making the Cameron boy chuckle.

"What's new, Baby Girl? You get wet just think' 'bout me. Don't worry your pretty little self, Daddy will take good care of you... After we're done with Chad."

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Straddling Chad's lap, Skylar ran the cold blade across his jawline, pouting that he still wasn't awake. Reaching back her other hand, she slapped Chad hard in the face, the sound bouncing off the empty walls of the abandoned building.

"Chad, time to wake up. I wanna play. Won't you play with me?" She whined, grinning like a maniac as the male groaned.

Chad's eyes slowly fluttered open, his head pounding as he tried to regain his focus. Not recognizing his surroundings, his eyes widened when he saw Skylar in his lap, knife pressed against his throat. Sure enough, Rafe was standing a few feet behind her, looking like a true psychopath.

"W-what the fuck did you put in my drink you crazy bitch!? Get the fuck off me! You're both fucking psychopaths!"

"You know, Chad... You should never call a psychopath a psychopath... Makes them angry. I don't think you want to make us angry, now do you!?" Skylar pressed the sharp end of the blade deeper against his neck, breaking the skin. She grinned as she watched the crimson liquid trickle down his throat.

"Look, I didn't do shit. Just let me go. I-I promise I won't tell anyone. I swear, man. Just let me go."

Rafe clicked his tongue, stalking over closer to where Chad was tied to the chair.

"Can't do that, man. You crossed a line tonight. Eying my girl like a pussy starved virgin. Ya pussy starved, Chad, huh? That it? Well guess what?" Rafe asked, reaching a hand out to cup Skylar's pussy under her flowy white dress. "This pussy, yeah, this pussy belongs to me. Even has MY name carved into her thigh. You fucked up, man, and now Y'gotta pay the price. Them's the rules, yeah?"

"Rafe, you got it all wrong, man.. I... I was-"

Chad was immediately cut off by Skylar slicing open his throat, pouting as the crimson liquid squirted all over her white dress.

"He talked too much. Made me bored." She shrugged. "Great!" She plunged the knife into his chest, ignoring his gurgled cries and pleas as he choked on his own blood. "You!" STAB. "Ruined!" STAB. "My!" STAB. "Favorite!" STAB. "Fucking" STAB. "Dress!" With one last stab to Chad's abdomen, she trailed the embedded blade down his stomach, ripping him open in two as his insides pooled out of him.

Rafe's cock was painfully hard, pressing against his jeans as he watched his girlfriend take Chad's life. It wasn't how they planned it, but he always let his Baby Girl do as she pleased. As much as Rafe wanted to be the one to kill that fucking douchebag, he couldn't deny how fucking hot his girl looked.

"You can stop now, angel. Chad's no longer with us. Pity that there wasn't much torture. M'proud of you though. You did so good, Baby Girl. Get that sweet ass over here and let Daddy reward you."

"M'kay, Daddy." Sky hummed, climbing off Chad's lifeless lap. Her once white dress now drenched in the frat boy's blood.

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Rafe teased Skylar, running his red tip over her slick folds, his precum mixing with her slickness. He groaned at the sight of her pretty glistening pussy, the most perfect pussy that he'd ever seen. The blonde was obsessed, willingly admitting to her that he was pussy whipped.

"Rafey, stop teasing!" She whimpered, already writhing beneath him just from his tip gliding along her slick folds.

"Gotta admire the view before I destroy that pretty pussy, yeah? So soaked f'me already, Baby Girl and I've barely touched you. Sucha fucking slut for Daddy's cock, yeah? Yeah, you are. Got you practically coming undone and I haven't even fucked you yet."

"Rafe, I swear if you don't fuck me right no-"

"You'll what? Hmm? You ain't gonna do shit, Baby Girl. I fucking own this pussy and if I want to take my time, I will, yeah? But, since you did so good tonight I won't make you beg."

With that, he slammed his cock deep inside her, not even giving her time to adjust to his size before his hips thrust roughly, slamming in and out of her tight hole. He practically came at the loud moans that rolled off her tongue.

Sky gasped when she felt a cold metal against her abdomen as Rafe slammed his cock deep inside her sopping cunt. She grinned knowing that the cold metal was her knife. It wasn't the first time that the couple did knife play, or even gun play at that. When it came to sexual situations, there wasn't much that was off limits for the pair.

Rafe snaked an arm around to grab her by the throat, squeezing hard as he yanked her head back, wanting to see her face as she came undone. Her once bright doe eyes were as dark as his.

"Hold still for me, Baby Girl, yeah?" Rafe groaned, eyes rolling back from how perfectly her pussy wrapped around his big cock. "Wouldn' want to nick that flawless skin."

Rafe took the blade in his hand, running it along her inner thigh. He felt her walls tighten around him, practically milking him. She obeyed him, trying to stay as still as possible, even though it was almost impossible the way Rafe was roughly thrusting in and out of her.

"Fuck, you gonna cum already? Sucha fucking dirty whore, gettin' off on my cock and having a fucking knife against your skin. Cum for Daddy, wan' you to soak my cock, Baby Girl."

"Mhm, 'm gonna cum daddy." Sky whimpered, feeling the familiar tightness in her stomach.

She threw her head back against Rafe's bare and sweaty chest, mumbling a few curse words as she came undone. Rafe supported her body with one strong hand, pounding into her soaked pussy harder, each thrust more sloppy than the last, letting her know that he was also close.

"Fuck!... Rafe!"

Sky screamed out his name in the most pleasurable way as she came, soaking Rafe's cock. Rafe was right behind her, moaning her name as he emptied his load deep inside her pussy, painting her walls white.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

It had been well over two weeks since the couple brutally murdered Chad. Missing posters were posted all over the island with Chad's picture. Sky and Rafe had even joined the search party for the frat boy, knowing damn well nobody would find him. After chopping his body up, the couple fed him to the gators. Still, they had to make sure they came off just as concerned as the rest of the island.

The couple were sat at a table at The Wreck, eating their lunch when a breaking news alert appeared on the TV. Both their heads snapped to the screen, listening closely to the news report.

"Residents of Kildare County, we come to you with breaking news. What you're about to hear and see might not be suitable for everyone. Kildare County Sheriff's department was called out this morning when a hiker in the woods came across a severed hand. After further investigation it was discovered that the hand belonged to missing teenager, Chad Smith. We take you now to a special report from Sheriff Shoupe."

"The Sheriff's department received a call this morning from a caller who wishes to remain anonymous. After arriving on scene, Deputy Plumb and myself took the severed hand to evidence. After running the hand for prints it was discovered that it belonged to Chad Smith. Deputies searched the area in hopes of finding a body, but came up empty handed. Without knowing how long Chad's body was out there, we're assuming that the gators got to him before we did. As of now we don't have any suspects and don't expect foul play to be at hand. According to our reports, Chad was last seen leaving a house party and was heavily under the influence of drugs and alcohol. Our best guess is that he passed out and maybe hit his head. If anyone has any information, we ask that you please contact the Sheriff's department. We'll update you with any new information we come across. As of now, we're ruling out homicide. Our thoughts and prayers go out to Chad's family and friends. A vigil will be held this Friday evening on the beach. Thank you."

Rafe and Sky peeled their eyes off the screen, immediately looking at each other with proud grins. Little did everyone know, the couple planted the hand, knowing that someone would soon come across it. There was no way that Chad's murder could be pinned on either of them, the pair too smart to leave behind any evidence.

Sky gave Rafe a faux pout, sticking out her bottom lip.

"Poor Chad. Who would do a thing like that? It's so, so sad." She hummed, running a finger down her cheek as a faux tear.

Rafe grinned as he let out a low chuckle, reaching over the table to take Sky's hand in his, absentmindedly drawing shapes on the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Mhm, real sad. Eat your food, Baby Girl. Gon' need your strength for tonight. Got something special planned."

Sky perked up, looking at her boyfriend with a bright smile, but only Rafe knew the darkness behind that innocent smile. Leaning across the table, she whispered.

"Please tell me that it's finally Sophia's turn. Can't stand seeing her check you out anymore, Daddy. You're mine."

Rafe chuckled, nodding his head as he brought their hands to his lips, peppering the back of hers with kisses.

"Mhm. Daddy's gon' let you play with that bitch tonight. Let her know who the fuck I belong to."

"Yay! Thank you, Daddy. I love you, Rafey."

"I love you too, Baby Girl. More than anything."

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx #rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #psychotic!rafe #dark!reader #not so innocent

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