#Joel Hatch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suzdin · 3 months ago

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Home Is Wherever I’m With You

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After the tragic loss of your father and home, you find yourself at the mercy of a cold, detached stranger who holds your fate in his hands during a violent snowstorm.

Notes: okay fair warning, I started writing this when I was feeling extremely low, and finished it several weeks later when I was doing better, so if it seems disjointed and sloppily thrown together, that’s why! But I swear there’s a happy ending!

Warnings: ANGST!!! I cannot stress the amount of angst. Suicidal thoughts and ideation, especially at the beginning. Alcohol consumption. Main character deaths; all of them. Lots of depression and poor mental health, mostly with Joel. Angsty!Joel, asshole!Joel, soft!Joel, semi-dom!Joel, protective!Joel, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), face riding, unprotected p in v, creampie, biting/marking, pregnancy heavily hinted at, more angst

Word Count: 7,100+

dividers provided by: @saradika-graphics ❣️

Tags: @ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @berryispunk @chronically-ghosted @morallyinept @natdeandar @guelyury @daddy-dins-girl

Joel crouches in front of the old cast iron stove, his knees groaning in protest as he stokes the embers within using an extra scrap of wood.

He doesn’t know why he’s going through the trouble. It isn’t like he’ll be around much longer. Maybe he just wants to feel warmth one last time before he does it. And this time, he won’t miss.

He’ll be cold soon enough anyway.

He gets the fire breathing again, closing the hatch and settling back into the old leather recliner in the corner, worn and cracking with age, much like himself.

He palms the neck on a bottle of bourbon, taking a hefty swig and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, his face crinkling in rumination as he watches the flames dance behind slats of iron.

Sarah. Tess. Tommy. And then Ellie. He had failed each and every one of them; those he claimed to love, who he vowed to keep safe. He had let them down. He had let himself down.

He takes another pull on the bottle and sets it down heavily on the table next to him, replacing it with his Smith & Wesson, heavy digits curling around the grip.

He traces the scar on his temple with the point of his index finger, feeling the faint indentation in the flesh; a constant reminder of yet another failure.

He lowers his hand back to the revolver, finger circling the trigger guard, dark eyes downcast as he attempts to summon the strength to do what he needs to do. Again.

His hand tremors as he lifts the gun and presses the cold barrel to his temple, thumb cocking the hammer back with a hollow metallic clunk that resonates through his skull and soul.

“C’mon, Joel. Get yourself fucking together for once.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched in a deep scowl.

Just do it, Joel. Pull the fucking trigger.

The ball of his index finger curves around the bend of the trigger, twitching with indecision when the back door to the cabin abruptly flies open, temporarily snapping him out of his psychosis.

It’s just the wind. That’s all it is. A gust of wind from the incoming snowstorm.

He doesn’t move from his space on the recliner. The cold won’t matter in a few seconds anyway. He lifts the barrel to his temple again, aligning it just right…

The back door clicks shut. It wasn’t slammed, like the wind would have done had it been the culprit. It very audibly clicked. Like someone or something shut it themselves.

Immediately following the click, he hears the unmistakable scrape of boots on wood, the revolver lowering from offensive to defensive position.

No sooner do you get the door closed that you notice a faint flicker of light from the adjoining room, your heart beginning to thrum like a jackhammer in your chest. From the outside, in your weary state, the dilapidated old cabin looked abandoned as far as you could tell, realizing too late that it isn’t.

But now you’ve stumbled into someone’s den, and they could very well be armed and aiming to shoot. They could even be cannibals for all you know.

You could leave. You could just leave and pretend this never happened. But you haven’t seen any other shelters for miles… and the storm was only going to get worse.

“Who’s there?” a gruff male voice calls out from the other room, breaking through the stifling silence. You go stock still on instinct, your hackles bristled along your spine.

When you’re able to gather your bearings, you respond with your name, your vocal cords numb and strained from the cold.

“I mean no harm. I just need a place to sleep out of the storm. I promise to leave at first light,” you quickly add.

Joel stiffens when he hears a woman’s voice, his finger still circling the trigger guard as it had only moments before when the gun was trained on himself.

“Are you armed?”

“Just a small pistol and a jack knife. And I’m out of ammo,” you call back truthfully.

Everything is quiet for a moment aside from the crackle of flame and the howl of wind that rattles the windows and bends the outer wood. The silence between you and the unseen man feels like it stretches on for ages.

“Approach the door with your hands raised. An’ when I say, slide the gun and knife over to me.”

“Alright,” you reply quietly, approaching the ajar door in front of you, hands already skyward, kicking the door the rest of the way open with the toe of your boot.

You step forward two paces into the room, the scent of alcohol stinging your nostrils, your gaze settling on a haggard looking man in the furthest corner from you. His hair is wild and askew, eyes sunken in like a corpse, recognizing the hopeless glint behind them; no doubt a reflection of your own. A large pistol is clutched in his meaty fist, cocked and aimed.

“Gun first. Then the knife,” Joel says, his brow angled downward in a dark line, shading the even darker set of eyes.

You keep one hand in the air as the other reaches into the band of your jeans, removing the pistol and sliding it to him, stilling as it hits his boot.

He picks it up, discharging the clip to find that it is indeed empty, as you had claimed. He sets it next to the bourbon.

You slide the knife next, an average, run of the mill jack knife with a four inch blade. He inspects it, noticing a few remnants of blood still tarnishing the steel.

“Who’d you kill with this?”

“I used it to skin hares and squirrels.”

His face pinches with confusion, tilting his head at you like a dog hearing an unknown sound for the first time.

“Y’skinned hares and squirrels with a jack knife?” he questions doubtfully.

“It’s all I had,” you explain.

Joel eyes you warily. You’re definitely not dressed or equipped for this kind of weather. The only thing that seems to be keeping you warm is a thin hoodie, a regular set of jeans, and a pair of boots soaked through with snow.

He sighs. He isn’t going to kill himself with you here. He may not be the nicest or most caring man in the world, but he isn’t about to traumatize you. He’ll wait until you leave. You said you’d leave at first light.

In the meantime, he has to deal with someone being in his space, which he doesn’t exactly want to do, especially in his last hours. But he isn’t about sending you to your death, either. You probably have more to live for than he does.

“Here,” he says, kicking an old wicker chair toward you. “Your feet’re soaked. Take off your boots and warm your feet ‘fore you get frostbite.”

You lower your arms and take a cautious step forward, and then another, slowly sinking into the flimsy and rotten chair, bending to unlace and remove your boots.

You try to wiggle your toes but they won’t move, at least not yet. Joel watches with a scrutinizing glare, his hand still on the Smith & Wesson in his lap.

“What’s your name?” you ask him, pushing your boots aside.

“Ain’t important.”

You cast him a look but don’t press, scooting your sore and frozen feet closer to the stove, feeling yourself starting to slowly defrost.

You thank him for letting you stay.

He ignores your gratitude, dark browns drifting over your frame.

“Where’d you come from?” he asks.

“Ain’t important,” you counter, casting him another glance.

He leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees, pinning you with a deep scowl.

“I’m the one with the gun,” he chides in a deep timbre, his tone brooking no room for protest. “Guns,” he quickly amends.

Your eyes lock with his momentarily, assessing his conviction before deciding not to test it.

“A settlement near Billings.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

He leans back, his gaze unmoving, letting out a breath through his nose.

“An’ exactly what prompted you to run out into a snowstorm with just a hoodie and no supplies?” he asks.

You flinch as if he’d just backhanded you, averting your gaze. If you were looking, you might notice his face softening, if only just a hair.

“Raiders came into our settlement. My father… he gave me the pistol and distracted them while I snuck under a gap in the fence. I didn’t have time to grab anything else,” you tell him.

“And your dad?” Joel asks delicately.

“Didn’t make it out,” you reply grimly, your body beginning to tremor, a combination of repressed emotion and your muscles beginning to thaw.

Joel falls silent, absorbing your words as truth. He can’t find a reason that you would lie about something like that.

“I’m sorry,” he sympathizes, his voice gentling.

You bring your knees to your chest, your chin resting between them, arms wrapped around your shins.

“Thank you,” you say again, your voice hardly above a whisper.

——

Your eyes snap open, realizing you must have drifted off at some point, finding yourself curled into a fetal position directly in front of the dying fire.

A blanket you’re sure wasn’t there before is wrapped around your frame. You’ve no idea where it came from, it’s a bit scratchy and smells funky, but what matters is it’s warm, subconsciously pulling it tighter around your shoulders when you feel a chilled breeze brush over you through the cracks in the wall.

“Mornin’,” Joel hums softly above you.

“Morning,” you echo, shifting as your eyes scan the room, the cabin just as dark and cloaked in shadow as when you arrived. You’re unsure how he knows what time of day it is, but you decide not to question it.

He’s in almost the exact position in the old recliner as the previous evening, his hand unmoving from the revolver still in his lap. You can’t help but wonder if he had any rest at all, not sure if him watching you sleep should be comforting or disconcerting.

You sit up with a stretch, your joints crackling like twigs as you work out the aches of not only having traveled this far on foot, but also sleeping on a hard wooden floor all night.

Better than freezing to death, you decide.

You scoot until your back is flush with the wall, leaning against it as you silently study Joel.

“Thank you for the blanket—“ you begin, but he quickly cuts you off with a hard glare, nudging your dried out boots to you with his foot.

“Boots’re dry. It’s morning. ‘bout time for you to leave,” he says, his voice low and rough.

It dawns on you that it’s still dark because the storm hasn’t lessened at all, banks of snow clogging the windows and doors, blocking out what little available sunlight there is.

Your brow knits together and you cast him a wary glance, bottom lip trembling.

“But it… it’s…”

“The deal was first light, darlin’, and I’ve given you plenty more than that.”

“Please… just… a few more hours? Until the storm dies down some?” you plead, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes, preemptively threatening to freeze your eyelids together.

He’s silent and contemplative for what you feel is longer than necessary, a muscle fluttering in his jaw.

He knows he should send you away, even if it means a certain death. He can’t have you here, swimming in his grief, prolonging the inevitable.

The other option, of course, is to shoot you and then himself, a swift and merciful death that you deserve far more than he does. His fist tightens around the butt of the revolver, an action that does not go unnoticed by you.

“No,” he says plainly.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you say, your voice cracking with emotion and desperation, shifting to your knees as you shuffle a few inches closer to his chair. He did give you a blanket, so there is a human being in there somewhere. “I can’t—“

“I can barely take care of myself, much less another person. Ain’t nothing you can offer me, nothing to barter with—“

“I’ll let you keep my gun and knife. Please. Just a few more hours…”

His jaw ticks again. Your odds are already low as is, but liberating you of your only means of defense, your only means of perhaps obtaining a meal, if only a meager squirrel or hare, would completely diminish any shred of a chance you have left.

He could give you his one and only jacket. Not that he’s going to need it after you leave, anyway.

“No,” he says again, more sternly than before.

His gaze is unmoving from yours, the slow, steady circling of his pointer finger on the edge of the trigger guard doing little to settle your nerves, the conflict apparent behind his dark eyes.

You know you don’t have much to offer. You’re not great at hunting. You’d exhausted your entire clip on what barely qualifies as a meal, leaving you with very little sustenance once the bullet had almost completely obliterated any viable meat.

You can’t fight or shoot worth a damn, either. Your father had tried to teach you in vain, his frustration with you growing to a fever pitch over the years, but it had never been your forte.

Because you never thought you’d have to live without him.

You can scout. Gather. Keep the cabin up, replace rotting boards and rusting nails, keep it clean and tidy. But not in this weather, and not for a few months yet.

So you default to the last thing you know how to do well. The only thing you know without a shadow of a doubt you’re good at, if any of the men at your settlement had anything to say about it before they perished.

You inch closer, your tired knees scraping against the dirty, splintered wood, hands trembling as you hesitantly reach toward his parted knees.

He anticipates more begging and pleading. Maybe a sob story or two.

What he doesn’t expect is for your hands to grab his belt, the meat of your palm ghosting over his crotch as you fumble to undo the worn rungs of leather.

His cock twitches instinctively and he can’t recall the last time a woman touched him like this. Made him feel anything but dead inside.

He moves with a sudden swiftness that surprises and startles both of you, the hand not currently on the revolver grabbing hold of your wrist like a striking serpent, his grip biting into your delicate bones so roughly you realize how effortless it would be for him to snap your wrist, should he feel so inclined.

He rises to his feet, dragging you with him and giving you a hard, reprimanding shake, teeth bared inches from your face.

It occurs to you seeing him fully upright like this just how tall, how imposing he is; worn, threadbare flannel stretched to its limits across broad shoulders and thick biceps.

“Christ, woman, the hell is wrong with you? What kind of man do you take me for?” he growls, a subtle twang piping up in his voice, his clenched fist releasing your wrist with a minor shove. You stumble backwards, catching yourself on the wall.

His nostrils flare, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, his eyes slipping shut as he tempers his simmering anger… and something else he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“Fuck,” he grunts, eyes slowly opening again, rough digits carding through his graying curls. “If it means that much to you… you stay until the snow stops, an’ not a second later,” he nearly spits in your face. “Got it?”

When you easily nod in agreement, he stalks out of the room with a huff, every heavy footfall vibrating beneath your feet, slamming the door shut between you, leaving you standing there in the middle of the room, alone and unsure what to feel.

—

Joel goes into the now defunct bathroom, the traditional porcelain toilet that was maybe brand new decades ago currently unusable, the water in the tank and plumbing frozen solid, the pipes under the earth most likely cracked and warped.

He drops trow and leans forward with the flat of one palm against the wall, the other hand gripping himself.

He lets out a shaky breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in, pissing into the cistern he had dug under the cabin two summers ago, a task only made more difficult by the partial erection he now has thanks to your — albeit brief — touch a few moments ago.

“Fuck, Joel,” he sighs as he empties his bladder, his cock only growing stiffer in his hand as he imagines how good your lips would have felt wrapped around him, what kind of pretty sounds you would have made for him.

“Fuck,” he grits again, cramming his painfully hard erection into his jeans when he’s done.

—

Hours turn to days, days to weeks, weeks to months — “until the snow melts an’ not a day later” — spring not far around the corner, the sun growing brighter and hotter in the sky with each passing day.

Joel’s suicidal ideations were still an ever present plague on his brain, though he kept that part of himself tucked neatly away, as he did most things that were personal and private. He never spoke of Sarah, Ellie, anyone. Never talked about his life before Outbreak.

In turn, you never talked about yours either, aside from what you’d told him the first night, too frightened that you might scare him away simply by opening up, by trying to stitch together what little relationship you had with one another.

The more time you spent with him, the more of a burden you began to feel. It didn’t matter how much you helped out, even if you kept a respectful distance between you, especially when he seemed extra bristly or in his head that day. He was always skulking about, his face pinched in indignation in what you were certain was unspoken hatred for you and your existence.

It was early morning and you were at the edge of the valley, the spot near the treeline that was choked with underbrush, gathering pathetically small handfuls of wild strawberries and huckleberries that were just beginning to fruit. Definitely not enough to have much impact on your aching bellies, but it could be supplemental to whatever protein Joel could scrounge up, which hadn’t been much as of late.

You wipe a fresh layer of sweat from your brow despite the air still being bitterly cold, collecting what meager pittance of berries you can, sucking in a breath of air as you steeled your nerves to head back to the cabin.

—

Joel’s door is still closed when you return. Not surprising, considering how early you’d gotten up that morning, Joel likely still exhausted and aching from the ineffectual hunting trip the previous day.

You place the berries into a bowl on the counter, your fingers curling into the peeling linoleum as you stare out the window that overlooks the southern end of the valley, sun cresting through the twisted and gnarled branches of still-bare trees.

You’ve been milling around the idea of leaving for weeks now. You’ve come close to doing so several times, knowing it would make Joel happy to not have you on his mind or in his space anymore.

Your hand hovers near the hunting rifle slanted against the wall, ultimately deciding against it as you tuck your pistol and knife into your pants, tossing half of the berries into a bag and shrugging on the jacket Joel had found for you on a hunting trip.

You take a final glance at his door before sucking in another sharp breath, opening and closing the back door for what you assume to be the last time.

—

Joel hears you return only to leave again a few minutes later. He thinks little of it, something you do frequently throughout the day when foraging or inspecting snares.

He wishes he could express his gratitude to you, thank you for how much you help out. How much you’ve improved his life just by being here. It kills him to see how you shrink away every time he enters the room, but he understands why. He hasn’t given you a reason not to.

Once he’s sure you’re out of earshot, he resumes pumping himself, hips bucking into his fist seconds before spurting hot ribbons of come onto his lower abdomen, eyes rolling back in his skull, your name a curse on his tongue as he imagines your mouth working him over in place of his fist.

As much as he’s wanted to touch you, sink himself into you every night, he’s been too afraid. Afraid to even speak to you, afraid of becoming attached only to lose you, like he’s lost all the others.

—

When you don’t return by mid day, he begins to worry.

He tries not to. He tries to tell himself maybe you decided to forage a little longer than usual, or maybe you’re at the river searching for freshwater clams since the weather is slowly beginning to warm.

Still, he can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That something is wrong.

He finds the bowl of fresh berries on the counter, evident that you had been foraging at least part of the day. But it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t good enough for him.

When you don’t return by nightfall, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that something is wrong.

This isn’t you.

—

Two days pass and you realize just how badly you fucked up.

The berries barely made a dent in your hunger and the only other food you managed to find were a few wild mushrooms that you’re pretty sure weren’t the edible kind, if the half gallon of resulting vomit an hour later was any sort of indication.

You fucked up. You fucked up royally and you miss the cabin. You miss the warm stove and the bed Joel made for you close to the fire. You miss how he always kept you fed and protected, even if you’re certain he hates you.

You miss Joel. You miss his grunts, you miss the way his face pinches when he glowers. You miss what he looks like when he chews, almost like he’s angry at his food somehow. You miss his smell when he comes home covered in grime and sweat from a full day of hunting.

Dusk has fallen on your second day without food or water, your bones feeling like powder and your muscles like jelly. You’re exhausted, head pounding with a combination of fatigue and hunger as you take shelter from the wind in a small outcropping of rocks, wishing he was here with you.

You’ll go back tomorrow, you decide.

—

Joel watches the sun sink behind the horizon of trees, cloaking the surrounding forest in near darkness.

He knows he should stop to rest for the night. Like you, he left in a rush without grabbing much in way of supplies or sustenance, but had been lucky to graze a buck that he was passively tracking while searching for you. He’ll likely find it soon.

He periodically came across fresh deer imprints in the earth, clean tracks slowly changing to drag marks, indicating the buck was either dead or close to death.

But you were constantly at the forefront of his mind. You were his focus. His reason to keep going. His reason for continuing to live.

And when he finds a perfect indentation of your left boot moments before the sun lowers completely from the sky, he knows he can’t afford to stop now.

—

It’s still dark when you wake up, your eyes coming into focus along the faint edges of what you can see, which isn’t much. Some rocks. Some trees.

You shift, rolling to your opposite side to go back to sleep, tucking your hands under your cheek as a makeshift pillow. A breeze blows over you, made stronger by the funnel of rocks, and you shiver, pulling your jacket tighter.

Snap.

Your eyes fly open again, immediately jumping to your haunches as you palm the pistol next to you.

You train your ears toward the source of the sound, somewhere in the trees, listening intently, your mind on shuffle with all the possibilities of what it could be.

It didn’t sound large enough to be a bear. A puma, perhaps, one who didn’t seem to be hunting you, hopefully, due to how loud the sound was.

Infected? A slim possibility. Rare up here, but not unheard of, which left you with the most likely option: it was human.

You attempt to still your breath, your fist white knuckled around the butt of the gun. It’s too dark to see anything, and all you hear is the soft whistle of the wind.

—

Joel registers the sound of you shifting from somewhere up the incline above him, limbs turning to stone as his mind cycles through all the same scenarios as you.

He lost your tracks halfway through the night, finding himself going in circles, so it’s quite possible it’s not you he’s just stumbled upon.

He slowly removes the rifle from his shoulder, lifting it to half mast in case whomever he’s stumbled across is hostile… or infected.

“I’m armed!” he calls out, lifting the rifle to a defensive position with the butt pressed to his shoulder. “I have no beef with you if you have none with me,” he adds.

You swear your heart stops, tears suddenly stinging your eyes with salt.

“J-Joel?” you whimper, almost imperceptible, but it’s just loud enough.

Joel can only react, unthinking, responding on muscle memory alone as he somehow manages to traverse the steep, rocky incline in seconds without eating it.

You jump upright to your feet, despite how weak you are, and before your brain even has a chance to tell your legs to move, you’re struck by a wall of muscle, thick arms coiling around you and pulling you against his chest.

“Thank god, thank god,” Joel sobs into your hair as he drags you down to the ground with him, his voice softer than you can ever remember, the wetness of his tears soaking through your shirt. “I thought I’d lost you…” he whispers, his voice wavering.

He inhales your scent deeply, his hold on you nearly painful, but you don’t mind, your face against his chest as your own tears start to fall.

—

“I’m sorry,” Joel murmurs softly as you’re walking back the following day, glancing over at you, dark brown eyes gently regarding your side profile in the early morning light. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t care. I just…”

“I know,” you respond, pausing to collect your breath and your thoughts. “I know why you did it. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I scared you…”

“Hey,” he says, gently cupping your jaw as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, calloused thumb tracing your jawbone, pausing at your bottom lip. “S’okay.”

Your lips pucker, impervious to stop yourself from planting a small kiss to the pad of his thumb as it brushes your lip.

He lets out a low breath, his hand snaking around to the nape of your neck, fingers lacing through your hair as he tugs you closer, lips crashing against yours in a passionate, heated kiss that flows trembling from him with every fiber of withheld emotion and desire.

—

You arrive at the cabin half a day later, impressed but not surprised by how swiftly Joel was able to navigate both of you back safely.

He even successfully locates the downed buck, stiff with rigor mortis and cold, half chewed by a pack of wolves that scatter with a single rifle shot fired over their heads, the large animal now dragging listlessly behind Joel as you finally break through the barrier of trees encasing the valley where the cabin resides.

Smoke still curls from the chimney, fire long gone but embers undoubtedly still hot, and you find yourself smiling. With relief, with anticipation.

You’re exhausted, famished and dirty. Yet you still assist Joel in stringing up what’s left of the buck to the outside of the cabin until he can properly butcher it, feeling obligated to do so after everything that’s happened, despite his protests.

Once the task is complete, you retire to the warmth and comfort of the cabin, curled against his chest, feeling at home for the first time in months.

His fingers idly trace the bow of your spine, both of you falling into a fast sleep for what feels like days on end.

—

“I was so goddamn stupid,” Joel growls softly as his lips chart a path down your soft inner thighs, finding himself grinding his hips into the mattress for relief. “So goddamn stupid an’ bullheaded, an’ I almost lost you for it.”

Your spine arcs instinctually when his breath ghosts tauntingly close to your soaked folds, your fists finding his graying locks with a tug.

“Joel, stop talking and make it up to me,” you whine, earning a disapproving glance from between your legs, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness behind his eyes.

“Make it up to you, huh?” he purrs, separating your folds and inhaling your natural scent. “By tastin’ this perfect little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whine again, writhing like a worm cooking under the sun in his grasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Uh uh,” he scolds, moving further away from where you’re desperate for him. “Ask nicely.”

His lip curves almost imperceptibly into a sly smirk, his gaze growing a shade darker.

“Please, Joel,” you amend, still wiggling, almost involuntary at this point, his fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the bed.

“Please what?”

“Please, I need to feel your mouth on my pussy,” you whimper.

His nostrils flare, smirk growing just enough for you to realize you weren’t just seeing things.

He doesn’t waste another second as he dives in with a low, reverberative growl and begins feasting on you like a man starved, his meaty forearm barred across your hip to hold you in place so he can eat you out properly.

His tongue parts your folds, licking a broad stripe up your seam with a groan as he tastes your essence for the first time, moving back down to your opening to tongue fuck you, the ridge of his nose grinding deliciously against your throbbing clit.

You tug harder against his strands with a moan, helping to guide him where you need him most.

Joel grunts your name into your core, eyes locking with yours over your mound, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart right then and there.

He abruptly pulls his mouth from you, making you whine in protest, another smirk notching the corner of his lips as he rolls onto his back, rigid cock swaying slightly with the motion of his hips.

“Get on my face, baby, I need to get deeper,” he says, grabbing your wrist and gesturing you closer.

You don’t even have to give it another thought, scrambling over him, folded knees planted on either side of his head.

He yanks you down abruptly to his waiting and eager mouth before you’re halfway settled, tongue curling into your wet heat with a deep groan that vibrates straight through you.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass, directing your movements, grinding you against his face as he continues to feast on you like you’re nothing less of a five star meal.

Your hands furl the edge of the headboard, spine arching, and it doesn’t take much longer in this position to be sent over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like a bolt of lightning, Joel’s name a sacred prayer on your tongue as everything inside of you completely uncoils.

He keeps you there long enough to let you ride out your high, tongue still laving at your spasming walls until it’s too much for you to handle.

You shift off of him, his facial hair glistening with evidence of your release as he pulls you down into a rough, needy kiss, letting you taste yourself, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him, arms caged around your head as he grinds his hardness against you.

“You have no idea how many times I jerked off thinking about you like this,” Joel confesses, nipping at your jaw, then your bottom lip. “How you would feel. How you would taste.” He kisses down to your collarbone, his teeth gently grazing.

“And you have no idea how many times I touched myself thinking about you,” you confess in reply, Joel’s head lifting to meet your eyes at your admission. “I had to bite my lip every night to keep from moaning your name...”

“Fuck…” he growls, settling his pelvis between your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, lifting one to prop against his shoulder.

“You make me feel things I haven’t felt in years,” he rumbles, giving himself a few firm pumps before notching himself at your entrance. “Y’want me to go fast or slow, darlin’?”

A warmth spreads through your chest at the simple act of him asking, knowing it isn’t just mindless sex to him, that he actually cares, if that wasn’t already obvious from how enthusiastically he just ate you out.

“Slow, then hard and fast,” you tell him, earning another deep rumble as he starts to push himself inside of you, fat head stretching your walls.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he says softly as he steadily gains ground, his hips shuddering with restraint once he bottoms out, sheathing himself fully. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re strangling me,” he grunts. “I don’t know how long I can last...”

The pain of withholding in his voice is palpable.

“Joel, you just made me come super hard,” you tell him. “Don’t hold yourself back just for me.”

His bottom lip juts out and quivers with the thin veil of control he still has, fingertips digging into your hips, crescent moon shapes left behind in your skin.

“Y’sure?” he asks, internal conflict evident in his voice as he rolls his hips half a thrust forward. “‘cause soon as I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back…”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him, letting him hear the conviction in your voice.

He takes in a steadying breath and gently gyrates his hips forward once, twice, his head tilting down to watch the way he disappears inside of you.

It must be the way you’re taking him so well — or maybe it’s the months of not allowing himself to touch you — the thin thread of restraint suddenly fraying after the initial soft, testing thrusts, a barely audible ‘fuck’ escaping his lips seconds before he begins railing into you with everything a man of his age has to give… which is a lot.

Joel’s hand is on your calf, holding your leg flush to his chest, the other on your hip in a bruising hold, watching the way your body sways in rhythm with his motions, teeth bared in concentration.

“Darlin’… I’m… I… where do you want it?” he pants, the question almost sounding pained.

You know you should make him pull out and finish on your stomach. Contraceptives are a rare luxury these days and you’d always made your previous boyfriends pull out. But you can’t stop yourself, the permission spilling from your lips thoughtlessly.

“In… inside…” you whimper in desperation and Joel doesn’t even think to question it.

He collapses on top of you, his hips sputtering and shaking, a deep, guttural snarl sounding from his chest as he spills into you, filling you to the brim with hot jets of spend.

Despite not coming a second time, the sensation of him shooting inside of you still feels good, his warmth filling every crevice it can reach inside of you.

He buries his face against your neck, gingerly taking some of your flesh between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to leave a faint impression.

His hips gradually slow and still, your name a reverent curse on his tongue.

“Christ,” he pants, wrapping you snugly in his burly arms. “Christ, darlin’.”

—

Spring finally reaches the valley, replenishing the land with color and sunlight, allowing you and Joel to wander out further and further every day.

He tells you he wants to find something nicer than the cabin. Somewhere larger, more permanent, even though you’ve told him time and again that you’d prefer to stay.

And you do, for a spell.

That is until you find your body growing more sensitive than usual. Until you find it increasingly difficult to keep some of your meals down, trying to convince Joel it’s nothing, that it’s just a summer cold, when you both know it’s not.

Joel dotes on you, burdens himself over you, knowing exactly what it is without wanting to say it. All the signs are there, almost textbook, unable to keep his memories from drifting back to the days before Sarah was born, how her mother’s symptoms were damn near identical.

He doesn’t dare tell you how scared he is, how much this terrifies him all the the way to his bone marrow, but you know. You see it in his gaze when he looks at you, feel it in his touch when he pulls you against him at night.

—

You’re on a scouting run one warm summer day, Joel hardly more than two feet from you at any given moment, so many unspoken words and feelings still hanging in the air between you.

He reaches for your arm to steady you when your feet slide on a patch of loose rocks, his palm instinctively moving to protect your stomach. You’re almost sure he wasn’t even aware he did it.

“Joel,” you say, placing your hand over his. “I’m alright.”

His brow furrows, silence speaking louder than any words he could say.

He’s reverted into his headspace again, more quiet these last few days than he has been. And it worries you. You hate that he bottles everything up, but you know that confrontation could make him shut down even more.

You begin walking again, his hand absently resting on the small of your back, and you continue down the path in stagnant silence.

Suddenly, Joel stops, eyes squinting to confirm what he’s seeing is real.

A neighborhood.

—

The neighborhood would have been considered a new development before the world went to shit, most of the lots bare and choked with two decades worth of weeds, some houses half built and some finished but likely vacant at the time.

There are only a few that look to have been potentially occupied before everything, three larger homes next to one another in a cul-de-sac at the end of unmanaged, cracked pavement.

There’s not much of interest in the first few homes you inspect, watching the way Joel silently scrutinizes everything as a potential future dwelling, not a single corner left unchecked, his latent instincts as a contractor still well ingrained in him despite the expanse of time.

By mid day, you’re both sweating profusely, Joel moreso than you since he isn’t letting you do much, forcing you to put food and water in your body, brooking no argument when he gives you his ration as well.

He knows you should head back soon before you’re out too late, but there’s still one house left to search and he doesn’t want to make the trip a second time if it isn’t worth the trouble.

The largest house, a two story spruce green craftsman with gray trim, his heart aching with nostalgia at how much it reminds him of his former home in Austin.

You start the same route as with the other houses; from the top, room by room, working your way down, your anxiety growing the lower the sun dips in the sky, knowing you only have a couple hours at best before it’s too late to leave.

The main floors scoured, you follow Joel to the basement, your hands on his shoulders for stability as you slowly work your way down the creaking stairs, your eyes adjusting to the shadows the deeper you travel.

When you’ve reached the bottom, Joel pulls out his flashlight, hitting it against his palm a few times before it flickers to life, the thin beam of light reflecting off the freshly disturbed dust.

You cover your nose and mouth with your shirt to keep out some of the flying particles, watching as Joel stumbles upon a stack of neatly piled and labeled storage totes in the furthest corner from the stairs, adrenaline beginning to course through him like a drug as he reads the faded sharpie scrawled on the sides.

“‘Canned goods and preserves’,” Joel says quietly, his voice higher in pitch than usual, more hopeful. There’s at least four totes labeled canned goods that you can see, possibly more, dates ranging from anywhere from late 2000 to summer of 2003.

He moves slightly to the right, his body tremoring as he examines the next set of totes.

Multiple totes labeled MREs, dated around the same range as the canned goods. He rips the top off of a few of them open to confirm that his eyes aren’t deceiving him, that this isn’t a cruel dream, nearly doubling over when he sees just how real it is.

“Joel?” you ask, concerned, stepping nearer to him when you see him trembling and clutching his chest. “Baby ..?”

He suddenly turns and throws his arms around you, and it dawns on you that he’s crying, he’s crying and trembling, eyes full of happy tears.

“A fucking prepper. A fucking prepper just saved our lives,” he whimpers into your hair, squeezing you against him, and all he can think in that moment is thank fuck for those crazy assholes. Thank fuck for people like Bill.

—

In the weeks that follow, you and Joel clean and repair the house — Joel doing most of the work, per his insistence — but it’s in surprisingly good shape despite its age and lack of upkeep, and even with just the two of you, it doesn’t take as long as you’d expected.

You can’t help but miss the cabin, the natural beauty of the valley. But Joel was right to move you. It’s safer here, more insulated from weather, more space to grow. And perhaps, one day, the cabin can be someone else’s salvation, as it had been for you.

Another night falls on one of the final lingering days of summer, barely able to see the shine of Joel’s eyes in the dim light as he climbs over you, parting your legs with his knee, rumbling low in his chest as he peppers kisses and bites down the column of your neck.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #angst with a happy ending #smut

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beardedjoel · 9 days ago

Text

honey, honey | one: for the low, low price of!

sugar daddy! joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: you find yourself in a precarious situation financially, one that requires lying and risking the silver spoon you've grown up on. your father's oldest friend, joel, finds you in a compromising position but quickly becomes an unexpected solution to all your problems. 9.8k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, sugar daddy worthy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 54), inherent power dynamic imbalance from a sugar daddy arrangement, reader has shit parents and comes from money, one (1) jerk off session, playing it a little fast and loose with pov, slow burn!

a/n: well, here she is. i actually started this over a year ago but sent it to the back burner for ages, so it feels like such a long time coming! i hope you enjoy, these two are going on a journey together and i really hope you stick along for the ride. so, so excited for it! i'm attempting a slower burn with eventual smut this time around. it’s not the focus from the get go but instead some chemistry, banter, and confusing pining are taking center stage for a bit before they get freak nasty.

You stare down at your phone, scowling at the message on screen as the van jostles you on a turn, pulling into a new neighborhood. Your coworkers, Alicia and Gladys chat in the front seats while you sulk in the back. You don’t mean to be so off putting, but you’re reflecting on how you ended up here, staring at a text from your father inquiring about your day at the firm. Guilt squeezes your insides at the fabrication you’ve concocted, the way you couldn’t be further from the false narrative you’ve given to your parents, and with hardly anything to show for it yet.

“Wait…” you mutter, your eyes focusing and scanning along the perfectly manicured street of gorgeous brownstones rising up, all crammed together. You know that despite the small, more humble outsides of these homes, the insides are immaculate, thousands of square feet renovated to perfection. “I know this street.”

Alicia turns from the passenger seat, raising her eyebrows at you. “This richie rich neighborhood? Who do you know here?”

You feel your cheeks warm up, too embarrassed to admit to them that your own parents’ luxury apartment is on a street not too dissimilar to this. In fact, you don’t even need this job in the slightest, but have been desperate to make your own money under the radar, away from your parents’ obsessive peering into every aspect of your life. Every day that has passed since you hatched your little plan that had felt like some kind of genius at the beginning has only proven how futile it was to jump into it so hastily.

“I… swear I’ve been here before…” you mutter, mostly thinking out loud to yourself, eyes staring out the window as you wrack your brain.

When Gladys pulls into a drive, dipping below the house into a garage that opens for the van, your stomach tightens. It’s all too familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it. You haven’t been here for a few years, at the least.

“W-who’s our client today?” you ask urgently, tightening your hands into fists.

Gladys glances at her work tablet, filled with the itinerary for the entire week. “Mr. Miller, hon,” she replies before peering back down at the screen, confirming it. “Joel.”

You can tell you must look as shocked as you feel, eyes flashing with fear and going a little wider and your face dropping instantly.

“I-I know him,” you manage to stutter out. “Well, he knows my parents. Like, really well.”

Joel could not, under any circumstances, see you like this. What a disaster that would be - your rich daddy’s rich friend getting a house cleaning from said friend’s daughter. One who is supposed to be off interning somewhere. Instead, you’re plotting to live by scraping by, collecting money for what you hope could be an escape from this life, their life.

Your parents are both insistent on you taking over the family business - some corporate bullshit you have no interest in - so you’d sated them by claiming you were off gaining experience in between classes with some interning hours at a firm. You’re lucky that a friend of yours from college actually does work there, hoping if it came down to it, they could vouch for you. If the truth got out, you know the possibility that you would be cut off is high. It’s the kind of massive fallout you’re not sure you’re prepared to deal with yet.

The lies you’ve had to concoct and the harsh reality of cramming your schedule full between class and this job - scrubbing floors, endless vacuuming and wiping surfaces, your body aching after each and every day of work - was starting to get to you, but you had to persevere.

“They’re hardly ever even home when we come anyways, especially this Mr. Miller,” Alicia suggests at your panic, and you swallow and nod. Gladys agrees with her, then they shoot each other a concerned, confused look. They’ve been a team for a while, but you’ve only just met them a few weeks ago, assigned to train with them. Both of them are older momma bear types, having clung to your young ass like glue, vowing to teach you all the ropes and take good care of you, which you’d appreciated. You’d been lucky enough to have gotten a job with this particular company, having no experience in the field, or nay field for that matter. The client base they worked with was high end, their homes millions of dollars, the service only known to the more wealthy side of Manhattan.

“Y-yeah, you’re right. It’s totally fine.” You’re not sure if you’re trying harder to convince yourself or Gladys and Alicia, the two women staring you down with their brows wrinkled in worry.

It’s the last cleaning of the day, and all you need to do is get through it. It has to be fine, it just has to - you need the money. Desperately. You push out a small smile, moving to exit the van. “Let’s do this,” you add on a little more encouragingly after the two of them look less than convinced.

“There she is,” Gladys teases, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as you all start to unload all your supplies. You’re let in by a middle aged woman with dark hair in a sleek bob answering the garage door with a polite smile. His house manager or assistant, you realize. Men like Joel Miller had assistants, you remind yourself, to help take care of everything - the house, grocery lists for the week, light cooking, or even his schedule. She likely did it all.

You take in Joel’s home with wandering eyes, recalling now that you’d come here for dinner before - a family outing that your parents had dragged you to, the details of the place coming back to you as you all move further inside. It feels strange to be here without his permission, without your parents knowing where you are right now. Your chest is tight at the thought, but once you three get to work, you feel your anxiety dissipate as you get lost in the monotony of it - the drone of the vacuum, the mindless scrubbing of sparkling surfaces, the fresh lemon scent as you clean the bathrooms. Joel’s house isn’t all that dirty to begin with, an easy job compared to some of them you’d seen since you started.

You’re feeling downright pleasant by the time you’re finishing up, a job well done filling you with satisfaction as you wipe a thin layer of sweat off your forehead. You’re heading back to the main living room, hoping to link back up with Gladys and Alicia when you spot him.

He’s walking down the hallway with purpose, eyes glued down on his phone, dark framed reading glasses shielding his eyes from you further. His black suit hugs his body like it was meant for him, and you suppose it likely was tailored to his exact measurements, right to the very centimeter. You stop dead in your tracks, head whipping from side to side, looking for an out, a door you can rush into, but you’re trapped, the nearest one at least several paces behind you. When Joel glances up, he’s silent, stopping as he’s close to crashing into you and giving you a range of emotions rushing across his features - quizzical brows turning into full on confusion as he just stares.

Your name finally leaves his lips, almost incredulously. “Now what’re you doin’ here?” He takes in your outfit with his dark eyes - the branded tee shirt, your working slacks, and plain black work shoes - possibly one of the least flattering ensembles you could be wearing. “What is all this?”

“Not sure what you mean, Mr. Miller,” you spit out in a panic, keeping your voice professional, a high, sweet lilt as you hold your smile.

“C’mon now,” Joel urges, his brows coming together further in concern. He steps towards you with his voice lowered, but you step back a little almost instinctively, keeping your distance. Like you can run from this, from this mess you’ve suddenly made of your life. You break a little, lips faltering as your smile starts to fall. Tears prick behind your eyes, embarrassment from being caught creeping its way up from your chest.

“Please don’t tell my parents…” you mumble, darting your gaze away from his intense stare.

Joel pauses for a moment, adjusting the glasses up on his nose before deciding to take them off completely, tucking them into his jacket pocket.

“I don’t even know what I’d be tellin’ them, if I’m honest here,” he admits, rubbing a hand along his lips and chin, studying you. It’s starting to practically burn your skin, the way he stares, a man of confidence and command looking at you this way. Not something you were completely unaccustomed to, your father having plenty of business partners and associates with the same demeanor. But Joel felt different, like he was genuinely concerned for you.

“There you are,” Gladys huffs out, turning the corner behind Joel, her mouth forming a small "oh” when she sees who you’ve run into.

“Mr. Miller, great to see you, sir,” she chirps immediately, giving him her professional grin, one you’ve seen plenty of times already in the few weeks you’ve worked with her.

Joel, not forgetting his manners, smiles back at her and greets her, turning his body to let Gladys into the conversation. Alicia follows close behind, and you’re starting to burn up with embarrassment at this clusterfuck of a gathering you’ve found yourself in now.

“Everythin’ looks great, ladies. Why don’t you two head on out and I’ll steal her for just a bit,” Joel says, charming and smooth, his accent thick. “Think my office needs some special attention.”

Alicia and Gladys shoot each other a glance, then you, then Joel, seeming to try to piece everything together. Your cheeks couldn't possibly be any hotter, white hot and spreading up to your ears, knowing that this looks bad. Like Joel is about to take you into his office and do unspeakable things to you. The classic maid trope, or whatever.

“It’s okay,” you mouth quietly to the both of them, giving them an encouraging smile even though you feel shaky, like your stomach is bottoming out.

“She’s an old family friend in need of some catching up. In fact, I’ll drive her home after. Don’t y’all worry about it, I know you’ve got places to be,” Joel adds to sweeten the deal. The two ladies exchange another look, but then turn back to Joel, their faces slightly strained but professional.

“Of course, Mr. Miller. We’ll see you for the next service, then,” Alicia says a bit robotically. They both nod curtly and then bow out, not before peeking one last look at where you stand like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“This way,” Joel says, turning back to face you with a steely expression, brushing past you to lead you towards where you already know he’s going - his office. You hadn’t been in there today - Gladys had tackled the office, so it’s all new territory to you as you pass the threshold, taking in the modern but cozy decor. It’s mostly black and dark wood furniture, dark gray chairs but contrasted with airy white walls, a high ceiling, and colorful art, making the room feel spacious despite the dark features.

Joel sighs softly, shutting the door behind him, even though nobody else is here, no reason to need the privacy. It serves to make you even more nervous, and you lick your quickly drying lips, standing near the doorway with your hands folded in front of you.

“Look, Mr. Miller -” you start, wanting to explain yourself. Joel moves closer, sending you backing up into the room, cutting off your train of thought as his large, imposing form closes in on you.

“You gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on here?”

“W-what do you mean?” you ask innocently, knowing there are a myriad of very reasonable reasons for Joel to be questioning you right now. You’re not sure what charade you’re even trying to hold up at this point, it’s only pure panic. Another step closer, and another step backwards for you, he continues until the backs of your thighs hit the desk and you stop, surprised as you glance back at it behind you.

“Don’t play coy. Imagine my surprise when I see my one of my oldest buddies' daughters, knowing he takes care of his family, here cleanin’ my floors and toilets. Now don’t you think that’d strike me as odd?” His head cocks, and he looks at you seriously, brows raised. You can’t quite tell if he’s getting any satisfaction out of this, or if he actually seems angry.

“Mr. Miller, I - I can explain, okay?” you start nervously, and Joel waves a hand impatiently, as if to say go on then. “They, my parents, I mean, they want me to be in the family business, and I…” You sigh. “Don’t know what I want, but it’s not that.”

Joel stares at you for a long, quiet moment, flashing eyes studying your face, trying to read if you’re being truthful.

“And what’s this have to do with cleanin’ my house?” he asks curtly.

“I… well, it doesn’t. I mean, it does. I just need to make my own money. If I don’t follow in his footsteps, I think they’ll… cut me off,” you reply, deciding to try to be as blunt as he is. Your voice falters on those last words, the reality of it painful, twisting in your gut. What kind of parent cuts their child off for something so frivolous, so selfish?

Joel looks amused suddenly, cocking his head a little further, and you can tell he definitely doesn’t believe you. He’s so close, so in your personal space, you’re finding it hard to breathe. “So you’re sayin’ your daddy ain’t takin’ care of you?”

You bite the inside of your lip and give him a small nod. The thing about your dad was if you acquiesced, if you followed exactly the plan he’d laid out for you, you’d have been riding high, walking on easy street for the rest of your life. And if not, well, he’d always made it perfectly clear he didn’t deal with traitors, because what was the point of having children if they couldn’t take over your business for you? Sure, it was tempting to take the easy route, but maybe you’d gotten tired of it all, found your rebellious streak a little later in life than most people.

“Yes…” you say out loud, unable to believe you were sharing this with Joel of all people - someone more likely than anyone to feed this information straight back to your father. It’s not like you knew him well, despite him being one of your dad’s closest and oldest friends, one of his closest business partners and confidants. You’d spent a decent amount of time in the same room as Joel, but you only knew the surface level, just the polite, agreeable conversations you were expected to have. It typically was some kind of public function, or the holiday party at your parents’ place every year, maybe a dinner party sprinkled in here and there, but you’d certainly never been quite this close to Joel Miller. Or alone.

His face falls at the sincerity in your voice, seeming to feel the gravity of it weighing down on him. “Now what d’you mean, cut you off? Like, full on, ‘n everything?” He steps back a little, giving you some space, his brows scrunched together in concern and arms crossing over his chest.

“Er, with all due respect, Mr. Miller, I don’t think I should be talking to you about it all.” You slump back a little, pushing yourself off of where you lean back on his desk, glancing past him to look around his office. It’s tidy, bookshelves lining the far wall full of perfectly placed, perfectly organized books on all kinds of things - some practical and business related, some seeming more like guilty pleasures of fiction and nonfiction of various genres, but mostly mystery, it seems.

“Y’made it my business when you stepped into my house today though, didn’t you?” he quips back, but you detect a hint of teasing there, feeling it start to disarm you.

“C’mon, sit,” Joel says, seeming to soften when he notices you stuttering to reply, gesturing to one of the chairs that sits near the large bay window in the room, a matching one set up across from it. “This’ll be… confidential.” He smiles, trying to convince you, and you don’t know if you believe him, but the twinkle in his eye almost makes you want to. You decide to sit, smoothing your scratchy work slacks, crossing one leg over the other, feeling like you look as stiff as you feel.

Joel, on the other hand, looks relaxed as he sits back, legs spread wide, his large palms settling onto his thick thighs, fingers spread over them.

“I… don’t believe you,” you finally tell him. “What’s to stop you from telling my dad everything I say right now, or even that I was here in the first place?” you ask before feeling your heart sink a little at the likely prospect of it. Your life as you know it could be over, starting from scratch with one phone call from Joel.

Joel chuckles, the corner of one side of his mouth twitching upwards as he eyes you. “Look, I get it, I wouldn’t trust me either,” he replies, his hands lifting off of his legs to be thrown in the air before he fists his upturned palms and settles them on the arms of the chair. “I wanna hear you out, though. Your dad, he ain’t uh, without his faults, I know that.”

You try to hide your surprise, keeping your brows from twitching inward, your face showing the intrigue you feel. You breathe out, slow and steady. “My dad isn’t interested in anything but me being the next, well, him. And if I’m not interested in that, then I don’t think he’s interested in having me as his kid.”

Joel goes stone-like at your bare confession - so honest - and he seems to soak in the words quietly with serious consideration. “An’ where do they think you are right now, hm?” he finally questions, steady eyes on your anxious ones.

“An internship.” Your cheeks heat a little as you face your lie and how stupid it sounds when you say it out loud.

Joel chuckles again, this time looking a bit impressed by you. He shoots a handsome, devilish smirk your way and you avert his gaze. “Yeah? And they’re buyin’ it?”

You let out a small laugh of your own, releasing some tension, and shrug. “Seems like it.”

“Why… this? Why the, uh, cleaning?”

“Turns out the job market is pretty shit when you have no skills, no experience, and are trying to do things under the radar - y’know, name recognition around all the big places, and all of that.” Being spoiled for your entire life, never worrying about wanting anything, needing anything, had predictably led to you never having needed a job, even now into your early twenties. The only things you’d learned were with your dad, the days he’d dragged you up in his high rise to shadow him and start preparing you for the future. Your future, as directed by good ol’ dad.

Joel nods softly a few times, running a hand across his face. “Got it. An’ what exactly do you want to be doin’ if it ain’t workin’ for your daddy, fast trackin’ to CEO?”

“I…” you stutter, your eyes falling. That was the problem, wasn’t it? You hadn’t had the mindset, the freedom to wonder for so long, not realizing that you did have a choice in what you did with your life, that you could try to find a path you at least tolerated more than what your dad was going to have you do. You’d seen too much - the pressure, the stress, the kind of person it had made him into, and you wanted no part of that lifestyle.

“I don’t know yet, honestly,” you admit, embarrassed that you’d started this whole plan without an end goal, all built on a frustrated whim you had one day. “Maybe something in education? Maybe fashion, interior design? Something more creative, I think. Or I could even be a lawyer, help people out, or something.”

“Thas’ quite a laundry list, sweetheart,” Joel says, and your heart thuds at the pet name. You hate it, hate how it makes him sound condescending even if he isn’t meaning to, like you aren’t smart enough to figure this out for yourself.

“I know, I know,” you acquiesce. It was all a pipe dream, you knew that deep down. “I just needed to get away from it. I hate business school - it just feels like a load of shit, honestly, Mr. Miller. I don’t want to become like my dad.”

“An’ what’s that, hm? What’s becomin’ like your dad?”

You shake your head. “I-I’m not answering that. It’s your friend, and clearly you see some merit in him to stay close all these years. I… don’t want to ruin that for him, too.” The thought makes you sad. Your dad is already about to lose his only child if he finds you out, and you don’t want to bring losing Mr. Miller into it, too. While it was by your dad’s own choices and shortcomings that he’d lose you, you still find your heart squeezing a little for him at the thought.

“Fair enough,” he says with a small smile, rubbing his hands together before putting them back on the armrests, gripping it. He pushes himself up, standing and walking over to his desk, opening one of the top drawers and pulling something out. You can’t see from this angle, and fight the urge to get up and go see what has so suddenly grabbed his attention.

“How much?” he asks, grabbing a pen from a tiny box on the desk - a pen that likely costs more than what you’re making from this one job today.

Your lips part, mouth hanging open slightly. “What?” you ask, shaking your head.

“How much do you make in a week? Here at this job? I’ll pay you five times just f’you to quit it.”

“Mr. Miller… n-no,” you spit out, hopping up from the chair in a hurry. You rush towards the desk, your non-slip work shoes clunking along the hardwood until you reach the plush rug that surrounds his desk. “No,” you say a little more firmly, planting your hands on the desk, standing opposite of him.

“And why not?” He smirks now, like he’s somehow having fun here, and it irritates you. That would only make one of you having a nice time, because you are certainly fully out of your depth here.

“B-because! It’s ridiculous, that’s why. I don’t need handouts,” you say indignantly, now moving both of your hands to your hips, standing taller.

“Sounds like you might,” he half-teases, looking down at where he’s pulled out his checkbook onto the desk. His face falls suddenly and he rubs the back of his neck. “Jus’… I don’t like hearin’ what I’m hearin’. Could never imagine cuttin’ off Sarah, and if that’s true what you say about your dad, well, I…” he glances up to you with a more serious look in his eyes - pity.

Like your father, Mr. Miller also only has one daughter, Sarah, who as far as you’ve heard is well and thriving. Doing some kind of work in animal rescue, you think. You two had never been close given the over ten year age gap between you two - Joel had Sarah relatively young, and as long as you’ve known them, her mother hasn’t been fully in the picture. You’d always noticed how much Joel cared about her, how good of a father he was, remembering the pangs of jealousy you’d get as a kid when you saw how engaged he was with Sarah.

“You’re a good dad, that’s why,” you murmur in reply, eyes casting downwards.

“I try t’be, I suppose,” he says, sounding more bashful. “C’mon, jus’ name it, sweetheart. No harm done, it’ll be our secret.”

“Wh- what am I even supposed to do? If you give me the money? What do I…” You swallow hard. “Owe? What do you get out of this?”

Joel’s energy turns a little lighter, his smirk returning. “Let’s just say I enjoy helping you. I want to. Nothin’ owed, except coming by same time next week for your next check. We can talk more then, give y’some time to think.”

Think? About what? You almost scoff, but reign it in at the last second, fighting your eyes from rolling on top of it. “Mr. Miller, this is…”

“Ridiculous? Is it, really?”

Oh, he’s good, so convincing when he wants to be. Suave and calculated yet warm at the same time. You understand how he got to be so successful, how so many people likely fall at their feet to just be a part of the air he breathes, the aura he fills a space with. He’s a giant, knowing how to command a room, take up just enough space, yet feel so relatable at the same time.

“I’d feel too guilty…” you say quietly, your shoulders sagging in defeat.

“More guilty than doing this job, droppin’ out of school behind your parents back?”

Your skin is burning up, your brain at war with itself. He’s too insistent, there has to be some angle here that you’re missing, some reason he’d be so kind to you. Leverage - blackmail, maybe - to your father, to be able to hold it over your head to get what he wants at some point.

“Hey, c’mon. I’m serious, sweetheart. Just the check, nothin’ more,” Joel says more urgently, seeing the way you’re starting to waver.

“How can I trust you?” you finally spit out, and Joel leans back in his office chair, just watching where you stand. “I’m sorry, it’s all very nice and everything, but no. I c-can’t. I shouldn’t. I need to do this for myself.”

You turn to leave, and you hear the creak of Joel’s chair as he sits forward, watching you throw the office door open and move with purpose, rushing to get yourself out of this situation as fast as possible. You feel the spell lift immediately now that you’re out of reach, whipping past his fine furnishings and art as you move through the hallway back to the foyer. You hear Joel, hot on your tail, his energy a little more frantic than he’s been as he follows you.

“At least let me drive you home,” he finally offers as he rushes to catch up. You keep moving, shaking your head.

“N-no, I’ll just get a ride or something. Call my driver,” you throw at him over your shoulder, and his hand on your wrist stops you in your path just as the front door is in sight. You fully turn your head to face him now, and his eyes look soft, like he does care.

“Offer’ll stay on the table, okay?” Joel says and you just let your lips part, meeting his gaze for a moment. It’s intense, the standoff between the two of you, his eyes searching for weakness, for any crack that indicates you’ll give in. You offer him a succinct nod, slipping out of his grip and not looking back as you step out into the bright sunlight of the evening, shielding your eyes before pulling out your phone to call Karl, the man who has been your personal driver for years. Your father hired him, but he’s been nothing but loyal to you - you know Karl has kept every secret of where you’ve been, overheard phone calls, arguments with your father. He never says a word, never spreads the information - he’s paid well, and that extra cash pays for his silence.

In the back of the car, your phone buzzes in your lap while you stare contemplatively out the window. You ignore it, letting your eyes glaze over as you watch the houses pass you by on the way out of Joel’s neighborhood and back towards downtown.

What if this was your chance? Your only option to really get out from underneath your parents? It could be a huge cushion, much more than you’d make doing what you’re doing now. At this rate, it would take ages to get enough to push you through school, where you’d already have to start from scratch, leave Columbia and start an entirely new curriculum, most likely. Find a much cheaper school, then take care of housing, bills, everything on top of it that you’d never been prepared to have to worry about in your life, always promised the comforts of your parents money. You knew you were lucky, going around with your life spoon fed to you, but you wanted to feel something, the part of you that was excited about anything having died off completely when you realized the spoon had been fed to you through a cage. Live this way or we starve you, cut you off.

You sigh, dropping your head into your hand where it rests along the window of the car. The noise of Manhattan traffic goes in one ear and out the other, fading into oblivion as you realize you may have made a mistake by leaving so soon, not hearing Joel out.

Did you have a choice?

Your phone buzzes again, a reminder of the message from your father you’d ignored and you tear your eyes off the passing landscape to peer down at your lap. Your face falls, brows pushing together when you see it’s an unknown number texting you.

Unknown: If you change your mind, let me know. - JM

How the hell? You stare down at the message, eyes scanning rapidly over the screen in disbelief. You scoff quietly, but find your lips turning into a smile before you can stop it, unconsciously putting your fingers over your them as if Karl seeing you grin like this could give it all away.

You: How did you get this number?

Joel: I think you underestimate how persistent I can be.

You: Does it hurt your ego to take no for an answer? Is that what this is?

You eagerly lick your lips, smile growing as you find yourself so quick to banter with him. It’s always so much easier over text, you think to yourself, to be a little more bold, a little more careless. Joel had a warm, welcoming energy, but it doesn’t mean you’re immune to the way he charms, the way he seems to be a man who gets what he wants more often than not.

Joel: I think it’ll hurt you more than it does me sweetheart.

You: I’m thinking about it, okay?

Joel: Think away.

You tuck your phone away, flipping it over on your lap so you can’t see the screen anymore, drumming your fingers along the back of the case as you feel a surge of frustration wash over you. If Joel’s offer is genuine, if he really expects nothing in return, you’d be a complete fool to pass it up, right? Who passes up free money? You knew you were screwed either way, really - the job you had right now wasn’t getting you anywhere near achieving your dreams. You needed more, you needed support. Financially first of all, but if you were honest, someone like Joel with some life experience to help you figure out your next steps couldn’t hurt.

Fuck.

You wince and flip your phone back over, unlocking it to where the messages still sit on your screen, taunting you. Your fingers go flying before you can stop yourself, your heart starting to pick up in pace.

You: You’re serious? I wouldn’t owe you anything? Have to pay you back someday?

Joel: Serious as can be.

You: $800 a week. Without tips from lovely clients like you.

Joel is quiet on the other end for a while, slower than his usual response thus far, and your throat gets a little tight. You swear, if he was backing out now, or worse, sending screenshots of your conversation to your father, you were going to have it out with Joel Miller. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Instead, a few moments later, a text comes through, a photo. That same checkbook, the background the sleek black surface of his desk, with the top check filled out for four thousand dollars. Signed and everything, with the memo line reading ‘knew you’d make the right choice’. Your hand shakes a little, all of this feeling wrong suddenly now that it's gone this far.

Joel: 9am tomorrow.

Joel sits back, satisfied as he smirks at his phone. The check lays in front of him, taunting him, his energy buzzing and satisfied picturing your pretty hands taking it from him tomorrow. He sighs heavily, a hand creeping up his thigh to where he’s started to bulge through his black dress slacks.

“Fuck…” he murmurs quietly to himself as he palms it, his hard and wanting cock desperate for any relief. It would be wrong, should be wrong, if you’re the one involved in all of this. But he can’t care when he pictures your lips smiling with the check in hand, you depositing the money and buying yourself something pretty with it, taking care of bills, getting a nice meal. You spin in a new dress or top, showing it off to him, bought with that chunk of change he’d so willingly given to you. Just the tiniest of dents in his finances, so much more where that came from if you’d let him. He’s hardly realized it, the way his hand had undone his belt and zipper while he got lost in the fantasy, hard cock in his fist as he pictures it over and over. He tries to make it not you, not his friend's daughter as he immerses himself in the scenes, but he’d be remiss if he tried to deny that you’re a gorgeous young woman, that you’d look so good doing everything he’s picturing.

“Fuck, oh god…” Joel whimpers while his hand moves along his cock, slickened from the bit of precum leaking out the tip and the saliva he’d haphazardly spit down there when he started. He stares at the check, your hands on it over and over, your pretty lips and smile and the way he could give you more and more and more until you wanted for nothing. He grunts, hips stuttering forward as he fucks his fist quickly and finds himself coming faster than usual, his release taking him by surprise with a loud moan.

“Christ,” Joel murmurs as he breathes heavily, quickly cleaning himself up with a tissue before rushing to the powder room connected to his office, washing his hands of it all. He stares at himself in the mirror, such a bastard for what he’s doing, all the secrecy inlaid in his plan.

Your father… one of his oldest friends, and this is what he’s doing with that friendship? That empire of business savvy they built together? Years of trust, of advising one another, throwing it all away for a little gratification on his end? No, he knows this is about more than just him, this could really help you if what you said about your father was true. He knows your dad isn’t an easy man to live with - he’s got a short temper and is stubborn as hell, a black and white thinker if there ever was one. If he truly was saying he’d cut you off, then well, Joel was starting to think he’d believe that.

And he wants to be the one to ease that burden for you.

You fuss with your appearance yet another time, anxiety pooling in your gut as you inspect your hair and complexion, searching for anything amiss. It’s not like Joel hadn’t seen you a complete mess yesterday, your bland outfit so far from what you were used to wearing, your appearance an afterthought as you went into work at an early hour.

But last night, as you tossed and turned, anticipating meeting back up with Joel today, you’d wondered what he expected out of you. Someone pretty to look at, someone deserving of the money? Would you get there and find Joel completely different, taunting the check in your face unless you decided to get on your knees and suck his cock? Let him get a quick fuck in for the money? There was no way he was that charitable, just willing to drop four grand because you’d given him your daddy issues sob story yesterday.

So what was the catch?

There always was one - men with money didn’t just give it away for free unless it was to charity, wanting to look good. And you surely weren’t a charity case by any means. Sex for money seemed like the next logical option to your tired, frazzled brain as you laid awake in the dark. You didn’t know if he presented it like that, would you go along with it? Would you, this far in already, bring yourself to your knees for him?

Joel Miller is certainly handsome, nobody could deny that, but you’d never thought of him in that way, not really. Maybe noticing his broad, muscled shoulders stretching across his suits when you’d seen him, his cocky, warm smile that seemed to melt hearts everywhere he went. He’d always seemed kind, more amiable than your parents’ insufferable network of friends, which you’d taken notice of and respected Joel for over the years. But you’d never thought of yourself with someone older like him, despite seeing those young dates being toted on wealthy, older men’s arms to all kinds of charity events and parties over the years. Would you want that? To be seen like that?

You feel your skin tingle as the thought comes to you again this morning while you get dressed. Joel Miller in a lavish, designer suit, tailored perfectly to his body, you next to him in an equally gorgeous gown that he paid for, your hand slipped between his body and his thick bicep as he glides into a room full of people with you. And he’s proud of how good you look on his arm, how he can show the world just what he’s bought, what he’s paid for. Your head shakes violently as if to jolt the thought far away from you.

“No…” you whisper to yourself. It wouldn’t get that far, you wouldn’t let it. Maybe you’d just take the one check and run, tell Joel you couldn’t be what he was looking for. But that’s when you realize you don’t even know what it is that he may want to get out of this, the curiosity eating at you.

That bastard. Such an enigma he’d painted himself as yesterday when he’d so cooly offered you the money like it was no bother, like he’d expected nothing back. There was always something, always a trade - if you learned anything from your father, it was that.

You can't shake that incessant thought, walking up the steps of Joel’s brownstone, hesitantly knocking on his door and swallowing down the lump in your throat. The assistant you’d met yesterday opens it with a polite smile, beaming at you.

“Welcome. Mr. Miller will be right out,” she says, guiding you to a plush daybed off to the side. You just nod, a little dumbfounded as you step back into his grand foyer. It’s a lavish room with tall ceilings, a skylight at the top pouring extra light in along with the floor to ceiling frosted windows on either side of the front door. Joel’s dress shoes click along the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls as you stiffen and then freeze where you sit. You see him come into view, the top button of his pale blue dress shirt unbuttoned, navy slacks adorning the bottom of his look. He looks a little frazzled himself, like he’d tossed and turned just as much as you had last night. You hadn’t considered the possibility that Joel could have reservations about this now, too, since he’d been the one so eager to offer it up yesterday.

“Thanks, Clara,” Joel says kindly, giving her a nod before Clara skirts along the edge of the room, dismissing herself at Joel’s signal. You watch her go, confidently striding away before you skim your eyes up to Joel’s face, trying not to look too guilty.

“Back this way,” he says, holding out a hand in the direction of his office as if you weren’t here only yesterday. You stand, meeting him, and he quickly takes you in, noticing your complete change in style from yesterday - dressed much more like the businesswoman he knows you loath with a pencil skirt on. He tries not to laugh at the irony as you follow him back, taking that same path you’d just been on yesterday, a strange sense of deja vu washing over you.

You’re silent, just trying to breathe, to remember to stand your ground, not do anything you don’t absolutely want to do. You haven’t signed a contract, you aren’t bound to this, you two are just… talking. Joel smirks as he eyes you, clearly trying to walk in with confidence, but he knows this look - you’re apprehensive about the arrangement, you have questions. They always have questions.

He curves around his desk, pulling out his highback office chair and sinks into it, you doing the same in one of the sleek armchairs in front of his desk. It feels too much like a professional meeting, and your skin prickles with discomfort at how formal this all seems now. His fingers scratch along the checkbook on the desk, and you salivate as you keep widened eyes on it, knowing the number written on there, the promise of more of it to come. Your way out.

“So…” Joel says cooly, letting his hands link together and pulling them behind his head as he leans back a bit, the picture of relaxation. “Let’s talk.”

Is this some kind of sugar daddy situation, or what?

Joel laughs, a genuine smile across his face at your blunt question as he sits across from you.

“Well, in a lot of ways, I ‘spose it is,” he answers casually and honestly. You don’t understand how he can maintain this cool facade, this relaxed attitude given the circumstances. You’d think something so awkward and uncomfortable could get anyone frazzled, but then again, you take it this isn’t Joel’s first go-around with this type of offer. He goes on. “I’ll try to be blunt for both our sakes. We’re busy people. I want to… go beyond jus’ the checks. I’d pay for your lifestyle - school, car, whatever you want. Treat you, too. Give you money for all the things your pretty little heart desires, see you enjoyin’ it.”

That was not what you’d expected him to say. You stare wordlessly, stunned, expecting him to go on, to tell you now what you have to do to earn all of it. He remains quiet though, finally looking the tiniest bit sheepish as the both of you size each other up.

“…And you get?” you finally ask, your face screwed up in confusion as you shrug, throwing your hands up.

Joel smirks again, and you notice the dimple on the side of his face that he seems to prefer tilting his mouth upwards. “I get exactly that. What I said. You enjoyin’ it.”

Your mouth hangs open slightly, eyes narrowing in his direction. You give a tiny shake of your head. “No… there has to be something. One day you’ll turn it around on me, blackmail me or something.”

Joel laughs again, and you’re starting to get irritated at how blasé he seems about all of this. Your foot starts to tap anxiously on the rug underneath your feet, arms crossing over your chest. You try to remain unimpressed as you stare him down, but he’s not budging in the slightest, remaining cool as ever.

“You really think that’s the kind of guy I am, do you now?” he asks with amusement.

You scoff, pinching the inside of your lip between your teeth. “How should I know? You offer me a bunch of money and we hardly know each other, Mr. Miller.”

“First off, Joel, please, unless you’re into that, I ‘spose.” He gives you a suave smirk and your lips part a little, cheeks heating almost immediately at his words and their insinuation before you check yourself, turning back to the conversation. You’re determined not to let his charm get in the way of you walking out of here with your future secured.

“Okay, then, Joel. I just… you don’t want something from me in return? It’s not that I’m not grateful, I just can’t understand.” You tut and glance around the room for a moment to collect your thoughts. “I mean you get it, right? People with money always want something out of it. I’ve seen it my entire life.”

Joel gives you an understanding look. “I do, I get it, sweetheart. If you want me to want somethin’ out of it…” he trails off, pondering for a moment. “If that’d make you feel better about takin’ the money, then why don’t y’come spend some time with me. Let me take you out, or jus’ come by for a nice dinner, me ‘n you. Get to know each other a little, keep an old man company, hm?”

You roll your eyes with a breathy chuckle pushing out of you, feeling yourself relaxing the tiniest bit at his appeal. “Really trying to play the sympathy card calling yourself old, I see,” you say, quirking a teasing brow. You grow more serious with your next words, worrying that you’re signing yourself up for something you aren’t sure you want or even understand. “But uh, I… could do that… if that’s all you want.”

Joel’s gears are turning, and you see a flash of recognition across his face as it falls a little. He leans forward, propping his forearms on the desk, his brows knit tight and eyes narrowed while they watch you. “D’you think I expect you to sleep with me?”

You nearly choke on nothing, just the air that you’re now fighting to gasp in as you clear your throat. Your cheeks burn like something fierce, that notion you’d been so worried about as you tossed and turned last night now sounding so obscenely ridiculous when Joel says it out loud.

“I - I thought maybe that was how this sort of arrangement worked, l-like an unspoken expectation or something. But if you’re saying no -“

“I’m saying no.” Joel is hard with the words, concise, and his gaze ices over. He was kidding himself if he thought he wasn’t even remotely attracted to you, but he was already putting himself in a precarious enough spot with the secrecy of giving you this money behind your father’s back, let alone deciding to bring something as complicated as sex into it.

You didn’t need to know that just the thought of handing you this check made him start to get hard inside his slacks. You didn’t need to know that this wasn’t the first arrangement of this kind for him, the only difference being that most of them involved a relationship of some type, or at least something physical once and a while. There had been times it was just about the money, and sometimes that was enough to satisfy him without the women having to fall into his bed, too. He’d hated that he fell into such a cliche - wealthy older man toting around a younger, gorgeous woman on his arm - but he’d come to accept it by now that this was who he was, trying to come to terms with the shame of it.

“Right… right, good,” you confirm, trying to sound equally as sure. What was that you were feeling? Disappointment? Relief? All you could sense for certain was the way your stomach tightened with nerves as you delved into this conversation with Joel.

“We got enough on our plate without all that, don’t you think?” he asks, a very roundabout way of putting it, you think. Maybe he’s too afraid to hurt your feelings or directly tell you that he’s not interested in sleeping with you, even if that’s what he’d normally do in a situation like this. Joel Miller was nothing if not direct, though, you’d noticed in the last two days. You aren’t even sure why you’re thinking this way - it’s not like you’d really shown much interest in Joel, never thinking of him as accessible in that way. It never went past him being an extended part of your family, one of your father’s inner circle. So if he didn’t want to have sex with you, fine, your ego could take the hit.

“Jus’ the money, helpin’ out a family friend who needs it,” Joel adds, seeing the way you’re a bit lost in thought. You bring yourself back, meeting Joel’s eyes, noticing the rich color of them in the early daylight streaming into his office. They’re so warm despite the chilly facade he can put on.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, when you put it like that… I mean we go way back, right? You’re practically family.” You cringe at the words, kind of hating the implication when you’re half flirting with the man and then proceeding to call him your family. “Uh, well, you know what I mean…”

Joel chuckles again, and you return it a bit nervously. “I do, sweetheart. Known your daddy a long time, so I’m trying to be, as dumb as it sounds, respectful.”

Fuck my father, your mind churns out in a flash, not daring to mutter it under your breath. Fuck him for putting you in this position, pushing you to this point where you’ve ended up in Joel Miller’s office, about to become his latest sugar baby because your dad can’t figure out how to love his only child apart from what it could bring to his business.

“Yeah…” you say, putting on a grin that you fear may have started to turn a little diabolical. “Respectful.” You’d be lying to yourself if you thought that this wasn’t starting to entice you more, the idea of such a big screw you to your father.

“So let’s talk terms…” Joel starts more pragmatically, picking up that same pen from the little box on his desk, tapping it on the hard surface a few times before he holds it over a blank page on an open black leather bound notebook. “I like t’start at five hundred for allowance. See how it goes. Then up to two thousand. An’ that’s just for you, and you alone. Your bills will come to me. Your apartment, tuition, your car, anything that’s a bill, I don’t want to see a cent of that allowance come out for it. Is that clear?”

Your mouth is slowly opening to gape at him, eyes tracking across his face as you try to follow what he’s saying, thinking it must be a joke. “S-sorry, but two thousand dollars? A… month?” you ask incredulously. That already sounds like too much to be going from Joel’s pocket to yours if he’s also taking care of your bills.

Joel goes completely smug, lips pressed tightly into a smirk. “You’re cute,” he deadpans. “Per week, sweetheart.”

You almost gasp, shaking your head. “I- no, I just need money for school, to make sure I can do any major I want in school, I don’t n-“

“Shh,” Joel interrupts you. “You came here lookin’ for my help, and this is how I like to do things. You deserve to have fun, not just pay for classes and have no extra money f’yourself.”

“I have plent-“ you start, referring to the extensive funds you have access to thanks to your parents. Funds that you do realize could be ripped out from underneath you at any time, you realize all over again with a quick jolt of fear.

“Enough,” Joel snips, raising a hand, palm facing you for further effect. “If what you tell me is true, I think your daddy ain’t gonna be too keen to pay for all your favorite things you’re used to gettin’ when he learns the truth, is he?”

You look down, ashamed. Were you really that shallow? Is that how you’d been raised to be? Joel sees through your facade right to your designer bag and clothes, all the expensive things you’d gotten accustomed to. But he doesn’t judge you for it - he understands it and he’s a part of that world, whether he likes it or not.

“No…” you murmur in defeat.

“And I’d like to keep seeing you in pretty things: nice clothes, shoes, gettin’ yourself pampered. So, two thousand dollars per week once you earn it.” He grins, setting the pen down and folding his hands together on his desk. You stay quiet, letting him go on, your heart steadily thrumming in your chest louder and louder with every word he says.

“Weekly allowance is, of course, a suggestion. If you need somethin’ more, you ask me. And otherwise, I’ll set your bills, tuition, all of it, to be paid by me.”

“I mean, weekly allowances?” you sputter out, “This is a sugar daddy thing.”

Joel doesn’t waver, he just smiles a little at you, completely unfazed. “We can call it whatever you want, but I see you want it too. I’m gonna be straight w’you here - I want to do this. I like you. I think you’ve got spunk and deserve to carve out a place for yourself in this world. Doin’ something you want, not half heartedly runnin’ your dad’s company someday. So… Do you still want this?” he asks, picking up the check, holding it out towards you. “Don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t.”

Joel’s face is kind, like he’s listening, attentive, acting like he doesn’t have a plethora of meetings or things on his plate today, which you know he must. He’s content to hear you, if you have something to say. You feel your whole body sitting tense and rigid in his chair, your mind spinning. It’s all becoming too much, this idea you had to get out on your own seems to be poked with more holes every day you’ve been trying to work and save up. You don’t really have much of a concept of money, once again thanks to your parents who never thought to put in the effort of teaching you. Why bother when there’s so much of it to go around?

“I- I know… what I’m doing now, the house cleaning, isn’t going to cut it long term. Especially if my parents find out I’ve been bullshitting them before I can save up enough for school and stuff… I just don’t k-“ you clear your throat, holding back the way your voice wants to crack as you fight tears springing to your eyes. “I feel so out of my depth,” you sigh. “I have so much to learn about real life and it’s been so… overwhelming.”

You breathe out a shaky breath, feeling your chest loosen a bit - you’d been holding this all in, doing it on your own for weeks now, not even able to trust your friends with the information even if just to vent about it because everyone in your world always has an angle. It’s exhausting.

Joel hears your words and stands up, going the few paces around his desk to stand next to you. He lays a hand on your shoulder, and you look up from where you sit, seeing him through slightly watery eyes, but you refuse to cry and break down in front of Joel. It would be too embarrassing to recover from. But you’d be damned if you didn’t feel like you were about to snap in half, holding in your tears for weeks now as you navigated this foolish path you’d set yourself on.

He gives your shoulder a squeeze before moving to sit down next to you, turning the identical chair to face you more, settling himself down and crossing one ankle over his knee. He leans towards you, and you do the same, angling your body in the chair to face him. His gaze is so steady and clear, giving you that full sense of his presence once again.

“Y’know…” he starts, scratching a hand through his beard. “I think you’ve got more potential than you’re givin’ yourself credit for.”

You snort, a tiny scoffing sound. “Oh yeah?” you spit out sarcastically, “That I have no experience, no references, nothing to show for all the time I wasted doing what my dad wanted? Except for a last name and a family that people recognize.”

Joel tuts and bites the inside of his lip. “You’re smart and so young with all this potential. You know this kinda talk ain’t gonna get you anywhere. Neither is feelin’ sorry for yourself. All you can do is use the opportunities you’re given, like this one landing in your lap from me today. Right?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, I guess you’re right. This just feels… kind of wrong.”

“Well we ain’t a couple of saints for doing this behind your daddy’s back, that’s for sure.”

You find yourself chuckling softly amidst the seriousness of the situation weighing on your chest. You honestly don’t have a clue how your father would react if he found out about this - he’s unpredictable and stubborn, and you’ve seen his vindictive side more than a handful of times. It makes your stomach clench a little at the thought of him unleashing any of that in your direction. You strengthen your resolve, unwilling to let your father stop you from exploring new horizons any longer. It was your life to live, and it was about time you did what you wanted.

“A-alright,” you tell Joel, sighing out a calming breath and sitting up straighter. “Alright, I’m in, then. What’s next?”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

#fic: honey honey #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #sugar daddy! joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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tateypots · 1 month ago

Text

The Gift

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader, Dark!Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word count: 5.2k (oops)

A/N: Part 9 of Collared. Same as before, it's dark so please heed the warnings and skip if it's not for you.

Moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader is not described beyond having boobs and a vagina. Please refer to this post for more info on the series mooboards.

Summary: Joel is jealous of your growing relationship with Tommy and hatches a plan to rectify the situation.

Warnings: Non-Con, dark Joel, dark Tommy, kidnapping, daddy kink, uncle kink, restraints, stockhom syndrome, oral (m!receiving), praise kink, fingering, unprotected piv, manipulation. Let me know if I missed anything.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist

You had dived into the book straight away, not even bothering to read the blurb on the back to find out what it was about. You didn’t care, you were just thrilled to have it. That Tommy had listened to you and gotten you something you’d asked for. Not something that you needed for your survival, something to make you more comfortable. Something to make you happy. Something that meant that he cared.

You were already 3 chapters in when the door opened and the man himself entered. You launched yourself off the bed and threw yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as your face smooshed into his shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you chant as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in tight to him.

“Did my princess like her gift?”

“Yes, thank you so much Uncle Tommy.”

“This mean I’m forgiven for the other day?”

“I already forgave you for that,” you giggle, turning your face to look at him. He boops you on the nose and responds, “you’re a good girl princess. Sorry it ain’t the type of book you really like, the last owners don’ seem to have been big on reading, it was the only one I was able to find so far.”

“That’s ok Uncle Tommy, it’s actually pretty good and I’m grateful to have it.”

He kisses your forehead, his hands tracing patterns up and down your back. “Yeah? You maybe want to show your Uncle Tommy how grateful you are?”

You bite your lip and nod. And for the first time since you got here you think you might actually mean it.

“Good girl, on your knees then.”

You slide your way down to your knees, your hands trailing his body as you go. He likes that, groaning and shuddering beneath your touch as his eyes devour you the whole way down.

You’ve just settled on your knees, hands braced on his thighs as the door opens again, Joel meandering in, halting when he sees you there. He doesn’t say anything, just grunts and walks to the fridge, pulling things out to start making lunch.

It feels like a slight. A rejection. He’d enjoyed watching this morning, why doesn’t he want to now? Your body burns with it. You feel the prickle of tears behind your eyes and you take a deep breath, willing them away. This isn’t about Joel. This is for Tommy. Sweet Tommy who has done something kind for you. You try to reclaim the feeling of wanting this, how good you had felt moments ago but it slips through your fingers, evading all your efforts as you listen to Joel shuffle around behind you, unable to shake the sting of his indifference.

“Go on and take him out princess,” Tommy breathes out above you. You follow his commands, struggling with the buckle of his belt, out of practice with such things now. They normally undress themselves and you haven’t had to bother with clothes since you got here. You pop open the button of his jeans and pull the zipper down, hands shaking as you reach in to grab hold of his already hard cock.

He moans at the contact, head tipping back in pleasure. You pull him out and watch as it bobs in front of you as you pull his pants and underwear further down below his balls.

He tips your head up with a finger under your chin, his thumb gently stoking over your cheek, “just wanna see what you remember from this mornin’, take it steady and I’ll guide you if you need it ok?” he instructs.

“Ok,” you whisper, nodding your head in case he didn’t hear. You take a deep breath before leaning forward and placing a kiss on the tip of his dick and swiping your tongue around the head. A little firmer, more sure this time. Less afraid of it. Less afraid of hurting him. You revelled in his groans of pleasure, chest heaving as you took the head fully into your mouth.

“That’s it good girl, doin’ such a good job.”

You started to bob up and down, taking more and more into your mouth each time. You belatedly remembered to bring your hand up to grip the base of him, remembering his hand wrapped around yours and trying to replicate the pressure. It still didn’t feel right though. And then it hit you. It was too dry, your movements not as smooth without the aid of lubrication. You didn’t really want to spit into your hand. So you hesitantly withdrew from his cock and moved your head round to the side of it before wrapping your lips around it at the root as best you could from this angle, running your tongue along the base, salivating over his dick and running your mouth upwards towards the tip, careful not to catch his sensitive member with your teeth. You placed another kiss on the tip and repeated what you had done on the other side.

“Goddamn princess,” he grunted as you wrapped your lips and hand back around him and got back to your steady bobbing movements, going further than you had managed that morning but still only taking about half of his length in your mouth, “you’re a fuckin’ natural.”

You bloomed at his praise, your confidence soaring. His hand wrapped around your head, not pushing or forcing, just there. You tried to remember back to the morning. Your memories were somewhat cloudy, taken up by the pounding that Joel had given you. The memory of that has your pussy clenching and you moan around Tommy’s cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses as his hips buck forward as the vibrations wash over him, shoving another inch of his cock into your already stuffed mouth. You gag and panic, pushing back on his thighs. He retracts fully as you cough and splutter. He bends down and holds your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him, his eyes big and apologetic, but before he can say anything a gruff voice sounds from behind.

“You ok baby?”

You cough a little again, and nod slightly at Tommy who visibly relaxes. You turn your head towards Joel, “I’m ok Daddy, just panicked a little is all.”

“You want to stop?”

You shake your head, “No, I -,” you turn back to Tommy, “I want to keep going.”

Tommy positively beams at you. He’s so handsome when he smiles, it steals your breath a little bit. He leans in and kisses the tip of your nose gently, and again in the centre of your forehead. You give him a little smile in return and settle back on your knees and wrap your lips back around his cock. You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks and matching the rhythm with your hand.

You notice Joel now, hovering just behind Tommy and it makes you want to explode, knowing his eyes are on you. You feel your arousal build, feel it start to drip own your thighs. You put in more effort now, knowing he is watching. You’re unsure whether you’re trying to show off or trying to make him jealous. Maybe it’s both.

You try to remember back to the morning once again. What was happening when Tommy had reached his peak… you fight through the fog in your brain and remember; his hand was on his balls.

So you summon your courage and reach your free hand up to fondle his balls. They feel strange in your hands. Squishier than you thought they’d be. It strikes you how vulnerable he is like this. You could hurt him. Bite down hard while squeezing the life out of his balls. You remembered from school how boys would crumple if they were hit in the testicles. You’d never do that to Tommy but you filed the information away for future reference and hoped you never needed it.

You run your fingertips over his balls oh so gently and pick up the pace of your bobbing head, drawing a litany of curses out of Tommy, who is visibly straining from the effort of not thrusting into you.

“Holy shit princess, you’re gona make me come,” he rasps out, panting now as his climax builds. “You’re gona take it in your mouth. You ready for your first taste of cum, sugar?”

Your eyes flit to Joel who raises a finger to his mouth, silently shushing you. You don’t know why he doesn’t want Tommy to know that he’s already fed you his cum but you simply flick your eyes back to Tommy and mumble an “mmmhmmm,” around his cock, preparing for another buck of his hips that with monumental effort he manages to control this time.

He pants and grunts as he floods your mouth with his salty spend. You don’t know what to do so you still, dropping your hand from his balls but leaving the one wrapped around his dick as you swallow around his cock.

He sits in your mouth for a moment after the final spurt, his breathing heavy and letting out content little hums.

“Did such a good job princess, learning so fast for me,” he praises as he finally pulls out of your mouth. He leans down and kisses you on the crown of your head “Don’ know what we did to deserve you princess, I really don’t.”

He smiles at you and helps you to your feet. “I’m gona go clean up.” He wanders off to the bathroom as Joel approaches with a damp cloth and wipes the remnants of spit and cum off your face and chest. He throws the cloth into the sink and then cups your face in his huge bear paw.

“You’re a good girl baby,” you know he’s not referring to your blowjob skills, “our little secret ok?”

“Ok Daddy,” you agree and he smiles at you, gently rubbing your cheek and it’s so tender you think your heart might burst. You don’t care why anymore, all you care about is that keeping this little secret makes him happy. And you know you’d do anything to make him happy. So when he sits at the table and hauls you into his lap without warning you simply giggle and snuggle into him, always content to be in his arms.

///

Joel kept a watchful eye on your training over the next few days. Watched as you learned to take Tommy's cock further and further down your throat. You were such a good girl, listening to his instructions and never complaining. And Tommy was displaying more patience than Joel had ever thought possible. He'd expected by now that his brothers resolve would have broken and he'd have rammed himself in to the hilt and fucked your face whether you were ready to take him or not.

But he'd seen the shift in the both of you ever since Tommy gave you that damn book. You still preferred his touch, of that Joel was certain, never giving yourself over to Tommy the way you did to him. But outside of the sexual you had become much freer with Tommy, conversation flowing easily, your laughter filling the cabin as he teased you. And Tommy lapped it up, always eager for your attention. Joel hated it. You were his.

“Fuck, her mouth man. It’s fuckin’ heaven,” Tommy tells him for the umpteenth time. “She’s learnin’ so quick. Ain’t gona be long until it’s time for you to eat your words, once she’s given you the best damn blow job of your life, few more days and I think she’ll have it.”

Joel just grunted in acknowledgement and carried on mucking out the goats. He was inclined to agree with Tommy and that was souring his mood further. This morning when he’d come into the main room he’d found you on your back, head hanging off the side of the bed with Tommy’s cock down your throat. Tommy was slowly pumping into you, moaning and groaning like he was in ecstasy, his hands groping and kneading your tits. He could see the outline of Tommy’s cock moving in your stretched throat. The thought of how much more prominent that bulge would be when it was his cock in your mouth was nearly enough to have him jizzing into his boxers.

He had to do something. Had to stop this getting any worse. Going 24 hours without you was unthinkable, never mind needing to make sure you two didn’t use that time to further build up your bond. He wasn’t supposed to be the one on the outside.

He pondered on it while he worked. This had all started with that damn book. Well Joel could give you gifts too. Another book was the obvious choice but that seemed lazy to him. He didn’t want to just jump on Tommy’s bandwagon. And he hadn’t come across anymore books anyhow. He thought back to all the conversations he’d had with you over the last few weeks, filtering through all the things he’d learned about you. And suddenly it hit him.

Trying to suppress the grin that was itching to break out over his face he told Tommy he was going in for a break. Tommy waved is acknowledgement and carried on with his task. When he entered the cabin, you were lying on your front on your bed, nose in that book. Seeing you in that position immediately put ideas in his head. But that had to wait.

You looked over to him, face puzzled as he headed to his room rather than over to you.

“I’ll be out in just a minute baby,” he told you as his bedroom door closed behind him. He got down on his knees and reached under his bed to pull out a box. It had in the contents of the room that he’d haphazardly thrown in when he and Tommy had claimed the cabin for themselves.

Once he’d retrieved his treasures, he opened his door and walked over to you. You looked up at him confused as he stretched out his hand towards you. You took it and climbed off the bed. He led you into the centre of the room and stood you by the dining table.

“Hands over your eyes baby, no peeking, Daddy has a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” you ask with a little smile, picking up on his excitement.

“Yep, cover those eyes baby.”

You do as you’re told placing your hands over your eyes and closing them for good measure. You hear him go back into his room and return. You hear him deposit some items onto the table and you bubble with excitement.

He comes back over to you, places a soft little kiss on the back of each hand before pulling them down. He chuckles a little when he sees your eyes were closed behind them.

“Always such a good girl for me. Open up those pretty eyes for me baby.”

You do as you’re told, only to be met with a view of his solid, flannel clad chest. You look up at him and he smirks before stepping out of your way. Your eyes fall to the items on the table and you squeal with excitement. A boombox, some headphones and little pouch full of CDs.

You fling yourself at Joel, wrapping your arms around his neck and he uses your momentum to pick you up and spin you round in a circle, getting you both tangled in your chain in the process.

“Thank you Daddy, thank you so much,” you pepper kisses all along his cheek and jaw as he manages to untangle you both.

“You like it?”

“I love it Daddy, thank you,” you murmur into his skin, “but what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion baby. Just remembered you tellin’ me how much you used to love listenin’ to music and dance in your room and then I remembered that I had this stashed away. Thought you might like it.”

Tears are falling from your eyes before you even know what’s happening. You cling to him once more and bury your face into his flannel, so overwhelmed.

“Hey now, what’s all this?”

“J-just, s-s-so h-happy Daddy,” you sniffle into his chest, the fact that he’d remembered that stupid conversation and wanted to give you something to remind you of happier times knocking the breath clean out of you.

“Oh baby, you are the sweetest, most precious girl,” he tells you, wrapping you up and holding you close to him, swaying you gently. “I want you to be happy baby,” he whispers in your ear, “I want that so much.”

You squeeze him tighter before looking up at him. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, so close to his lips it sends a zing of pleasure right through him.

“Can we try it Daddy, can we listen to something?”

“Course we can baby, you gona dance with me?”

“Can we Daddy, really?” you ask him, bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement.

He chuckles and smiles at you, swept up in your enthusiasm. “Yeah baby, we really can. I’ll get it set up, you choose a CD. Might not exactly be your taste but there’s plenty to choose from.”

You flick through the little pouch as Joel plugs the boombox in by your bed.

“Whitney Houston!” you declare pulling the CD out of the pouch. “My mom loved her, we used to listen to her CDs in the car! Can we have this one Daddy?”

“Course baby, good choice.”

You put the CD in and the first few beats of ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ resound from the dusty speakers of the boom box. Joel rushes into his room and returns with the key to your collar, carefully removing it and throwing it on the bed before pulling you into him and spinning you round. You laugh and sing along as he spins and twirls you, always pulling you back into him and swaying you right to left before going again.

It’s the most fun you’ve had in years and by the time the song ends you’re out of breath, giddy and feeling lighter than you have since your mom died.

You take a moment to really admire Joel’s face, his eyes are twinkling and his smile softens his face so beautifully. You trace your fingers over his lips, wanting to feel his smile beneath them, eager to drink it in and commit this moment to memory as best you can. He kisses your fingertips as they ghost over his mouth and suddenly you’re feeling breathless for another reason.

His pupils dilate and you feel him start to harden against you.

“On the bed baby, lie on your tummy.”

You kiss his cheek then rush to obey, lying on your front, propped up on your elbows so you can watch him undress. He shucks his clothes as quickly as he can and turns off the boombox as he climbs onto the bed. You look over your shoulder at him as he spreads your legs and settles between them. He’s never taken you like this before and you’re not sure what to expect.

He takes a moment to admire you, running his hands over your body, gently squeezing your ass cheeks as he goes. He directs you to fold one of your arms and rest your head on it before slipping his hand between your legs, groaning at how wet you already are for him.

He drops a finger to your clit and starts to rub it drawing soft moans from you. He slips a finger inside you and gently starts to pump. He loves the way you squeeze his finger so tight, how your pussy always rebounds no matter how much he stretches it out.

“That’s it, good girl. You like my fingers baby?”

“Yes Daddy,” you tell him breathily, already drowning in pleasure, “feels so good.”

He slips another finger in and you gasp at the stretch. His fingers speed up, pumping and rubbing you faster. Your hips buck and you grind back onto his hand.

“That’s it baby, fuck yourself on Daddy’s fingers, take what you need, so fucking good for me.”

You groan at his words and grunt when he adds a third finger. You’re grinding back on him fully now, no shame in your movements as your hips roll against his hand. You feel it building within you, that unbeatable pleasure and you chase it with all you have.

You don’t expect the swift slap to your ass, the sting quickly receding to pleasure that has your pussy clenching around his fingers and the coil snaps as you come with a shout of “Daddy!!” It’s the sweetest thing Joel has ever heard. He works you through your orgasm until he feels your body slump.

He gently removes his fingers from you and hear the smacking sound of him sucking them clean.

“So fuckin’ sweet baby. Taste so delicious.”

You offer him an agreeable hum in response, too boneless for anything more.

He pushes your thighs further apart with his knees and settles between them. He leans over you, in almost full contact, propping his weight on one forearm to avoid completely crushing you. You feel the heat of his body radiate against yours, skin on skin and you fucking love it. It feels so intimate to have this much contact with his body as he slowly sinks his dick into your pussy.

You’re both moaning as he slips further and further inside you. His free hand grabs yours and links your fingers together. He lets out a little huff as he finally bottoms out.

“Perfect. My perfect fuckin’ girl with a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he rambles as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. “Always take my cock and my fingers so good. Fuckin’ flawless for me ain’t you baby? Huh? Tell me.”

“Yes Daddy, I’ll always be good for you, ohhh, f-fuck!” you moan.

He continues his rhythm, thrusting slow and deep. It’s so fucking sensual and erotic as he kisses you softly on your face and neck and shoulders and squeezes your hand every time he plunges into you, groaning in your ear. You can already feel yourself on edge. He’d never taken you like this before and it felt unreal.

“Oh fuck, your little pussy feels so fuckin’ good wrapped around me, s’like heaven baby. Can feel her flutterin’, she gettin’ close? This sweet little pussy gona cream all over my cock?”

“Ugh, yes Daddy,” you manage to grunt out, straining under the weight of the pleasure you feel.

“Yeah she is, gona milk me dry ain’t she baby. She wants my cum don’t she, she’s hungry for it.”

“Ooooooh Daddy,” you cry out as his thrusts get more forceful but still in that slow, languid pace. His sweet gift, the way he danced with you and now the tender way he’s fucking you has your whole body pulsating with pleasure. Your feelings for him swell to something almost uncomfortable, like they’re too big for your body to contain. All your doubts and hesitations are forgotten in the moment, all you can think of is him. Pleasing him, making him feel good.

You start to grind your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts and you choke with how good it feels.

“Oh fuck baby, that’s it. Just like that,” he praises as he starts to pick up the pace a little, his balls catching on your clit with every thrust, making stars dance behind your eyes. “Cum for me baby, come all over my cock.”

And you do, your body seizes, your pussy clenching and pulsing around him, a gush of arousal coating his dick and balls. Your thighs try to close, squeezing around him. He doesn’t try to push them back open, just enjoys the softness rubbing against him as he continues to move against you.

You make little mewling sounds as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He fucking loves those noises and his dick twitches deep within you.

He squeezes your hand a little harder as he starts to chase his own orgasm, his hips now moving with fury against yours. You choke as you feel him slump onto you fully, his body now wholly connected with yours, the only gap when he retracts his hips before slamming back into you.

“Oh God baby, takin’ it so good for me, gona make me come. You want it baby? Tell me you want it.”

“Want it Daddy,” you slur out, wholly drunk on the pleasure coursing through you.

“What do you want baby? Tell me, beg for it.”

“Hnnnnhhh, your cum Daddy, want your cum, please, Daddy please!”

And that does it, he rams himself deep and starts to pulsate with a growl as he empties himself inside you. You feel the sticky warmth spreading within you and your pussy clenches around him again as you cum once more.

“Oh yeah, there she goes, this little pussy loves my cum don’t she, can’t get enough.” He lazily pumps into you, pushing the final few spurts of his cum as deep as he can while you moan in response.

He pulls out and rolls off you, rolling you onto your back and presses a long kiss to your cheek before nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You bring your hand up to lazily card through his hair and he hums against your skin.

You lie there for a few minutes, content in the quiet aftermath. He brings his hand up to your breast and idly starts playing with it. There’s no intention behind it, he just wants to feel them. Taking you from behind was a rush but he missed playing with your sweet tits. He thinks next time he’ll get you to ride him so he can see them bouncing in his face.

As you lie there you begin to build the courage to ask him something that’s been on your mind the last few days. He’s been so sweet to you so you don’t think he’ll mind your curiosity.

“Daddy can I ask you something?”

“Of course baby, what’s on your mind?” Joel replied.

“How come you don’t use my mouth like Uncle Tommy does?”

“Oh, does my good little girl want Daddy’s cock in her mouth? You like it baby?” he asks, now trailing kisses along your collarbone, the press of his plush lips against your skin leaving you breathless. You loved it when he was like this but it made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

A soft moan escaped you when you opened your mouth to reply, “oooh, I-I do like it Daddy. L-like seeing how much Uncle Tommy enjoys it. Don’t you think you’d like it Daddy?”

“Oh baby,” he said, propping himself up on his forearm so he was hovering over you, his hand abandoning your breast to swipe his thumb across your lips, “you got no idea how much I’d love to sink into this beautiful mouth, but I can’t baby.”

He pressed his thumb against your lips and they instinctively parted for him, taking it into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around it like Tommy had trained you to do with his cock earning you a groan from Joel.

“Why Daddy?” The question came out garbled around his thick thumb but he picked it up nonetheless.

“Daddy promised Uncle Tommy that he could teach you all about it. And he thinks he can teach you how to be the best cock sucker there ever was. He’s got so much faith in you baby and he says you’re doing so well.” You preen at the praise, hearing that Tommy is pleased with you making you tingle with excitement as you continue suckling on Joel’s thumb.

“And well Tommy made me a bet that when he thinks you’re ready, you’ll give me the best blow job of my life baby. And watching your progress, I think he might be right.”

It’s your turn to groan this time, praise from Joel never failing to make you body sing and your clit throb.

Knowing full well what he does to you, he pulls his thumb from your mouth and moves it to your clit, rubbing soft circles into it, knowing you’ll still be sensitive. You moan and groan and chase his thumb with your hips until you’re coming, clenching around nothing.

“Hmmm good job baby,” he tells you, sinking his head to rest on your chest, holding you close like he knows you like.

Your chest heaves beneath him as you recover from yet another orgasm, his head moving up and down with every breath you take and he listens to your heartbeat begin to steady. Your skin is so soft against his, warm and soothing. He could stay like this all day, wrenching orgasm after orgasm out of you. But he has work to do and he’s already been gone too long. Reluctantly he peels himself off you and climbs off the bed.

He takes it slow getting redressed, waiting to see if the seed he planted takes root. Once he’s finished buttoning his flannel he can’t resist sitting back on the bed for one last snuggle. He lies his top half over you and nuzzles into your neck again, bringing his hands up to caress your sides.

“Hmm. Always so hard to leave you baby.”

“I don’t like it when you go Daddy.”

He sighs. “I know baby. But I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You squeeze him a little tighter before letting go and he sits up and puts your collar back on before getting up and moving towards the door.

“Daddy, what did you mean when you said Uncle Tommy made you a bet?”

Bingo.

He turns back around to you. “Well like I said he bet me that if I let him do all the teachin’ that the first time you blow me it’ll be the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

“Oh,” you replied, head reeling as it so often is these days, torn between pride that Tommy has so much faith in you and an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach about how they can be so blasé about something like that. That no matter all the progress you think you’ve made, they still view you as nothing more than their plaything.

He can almost see the cogs turning as you contemplate what he’s just said.

“What were the terms?” You ask quietly.

He’s donning his coat as he replies, “whoever wins gets you to themselves for 24 hours. I’ll be honest baby, I really wanted to win, wanted it more than anythin’ but you’re doin’ so good with your trainin’ I think I’m cooked. Gona be so hard not to be with you for that long baby but I know you’ll have fun with Uncle Tommy.” And with that he walks out the door, savouring the stunned look on your face.

///

@aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @old-logan-and-old-joels-slut @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows @justajoelsreader @ahintofkiwistrawberry @guelyury @rosebuds-and-moonlight @koshkaj-blog @shivispunk @ivoryandflame @tammythr @magpiepills @deviscave @megjohnston23 @pedrosgrogu @pedge-page @guelyury @lamartell @thejoywillburnoutthepain @xoxabs88xox @teapartydreams

#collared fic #dark!joel miller #dark!tommy miller #tw noncon #tw kidnapping #tw stockholm syndrome #smut #joel miller #pedro pascal

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toxicanonymity · 9 months ago

Text

neighbor stuff

800 words, joel x f!reader, early night walks au

WARNINGS: I8+, reefer, joel POV (smutty thots & moves), OOC wardrobe.

join the manspreading olympics (this fic only implies it)

Joel didn’t follow you to the grocery store. He was there first, and he was just about to drive off when he saw you park your car. Now he sits on a bench and lights up a joint while you shop. He stretches his arm out and looks at the sky to exhale, then closes his eyes. How'd he get so lucky that a cool chick like you, with a fine ass like yours, was walking around his neighborhood? Just waiting to be swept off her feet and into his basement. . .

His mind wanders to a highlight reel of the moment before he kissed you, when he saw the last of the uncertainty leave your eyes, overtaken completely by yearning for him. And then, your first kiss. God damn, the way you melted into him. The heat between you as your bodies came together. The way you got on top, completely giving into what you wanted so bad.

Bad girl. So bad. So fucking hot.

Blood rushes to his loins. His smoking hand flexes with the muscle memory of your plush asscheek.

He looks down at the swell in his pants. Didn’t mean for this to happen, not here at least. He shoves his free hand into his pocket to adjust himself, just in time to see you walking toward him. Shit, he mutters to himself. You’re just as hot in the daylight.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, and he takes it in stride. You may sound disinterested, but once again, your body’s saying something else: you stopped at his bench when you could’ve kept walking.

“Buyin’ shaving cream and tangerines.”

“Right,” you deadpan, looking at his lack of grocery bags, which are in his car. Your eyes linger on his pants, you naughty girl.

“Take a seat, pumpkin.” He nods to the spot next to him and offers you the joint.

“I can’t,” you respond half-heartedly, but you keep standing there. . ..

He blatantly checks you out, letting his head tilt down then back up as his eyes rove your body. He wets his lips, pinches the joint out, then puts it behind his ear.

“Least lemme walk ya to your car.” Your eyes follow his hand when he adjusts himself as he stands up, then you abruptly look away.

He reaches for a grocery bag. You don’t hand it to him, but he slips a couple of his fingers into the plastic handle anyway, brushing your hand, then you let him take it. He passes the bag to his far hand as you begin to walk side by side, and he puts his closer hand on your back.

You don’t move away, but your jaw tenses.

“What do you want?” you ask as you reach your car and open it.

He gets closer. His hand slides slowly down your back and pauses just above your ass.

He leans in and his voice drops. “Want ya to come over again.”

You let him have the briefest little squeeze, then glance over your shoulder toward the store as you twist your hips away. "I'm sure you do," you say under your breath. You take the grocery bag from him and put it in the car, then look him in the eyes. Your face sure is pretty. And those eyes. They sure do want him.

He's admiring your lips when you ask, “What?”

He shrugs then shifts on his feet. “Can I get your number?”

You laugh silently with a small shake of your head.

“You're breakin’ my heart, pumpkin,” he laughs with you. "Hey, what if I gotta tell ya somethin'? Neighbor type stuff... Could be important."

Yeah, okay. You won't give it to him this time.

Your eyes linger on his chain, then he could swear your voice takes on the slightest sultry edge when you reply, “You know where I live.” He raises his eyebrows, and you add, “Creep.”

You turn toward your car to close the trunk/hatch.

“Yeah,” he agrees, moving back into your personal space, from behind. “I know where to find ya.”

His pulse quickens at the possibilities as his body is drawn even closer to yours. You don't move an inch as he gently presses himself against your ass, and his fingers rest lightly on your hip.

He inhales your scent, his lips brush your hair, and he murmurs, “That what I should do? .... Come ‘n’ find ya?”

You don't say no.

You take a deep breath, then slightly tilt your head, just enough that he can see the hunger in your gaze. Hell yeah, of course that's what you want.

God damn, he could do it right here. But not this time.

You swallow and mutter, “I've gotta go,” then step away from him.

That's okay. He'll find you.

“I can do that,” he promises, and you ignore it.

He puts his hands in his pockets and turns to walk away. Yeah, he’ll "find you" alright.

Hell yeah, that's even better. You're perfect, you know. God damn, you're hot.

---------

Ty for reading 🖤

#manspreading olympics #joel miller x reader #night walks!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#female reader #cw drugs

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music-in-my-veins14 · 8 months ago

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#Spotify #Finale #Come From Away #Musical #Joel Hatch #Music

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inkieflame · 2 months ago

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Any crumbs you can offer on Lizzie or Jimmy and Lizzie as a duo for the au?

Absolutely! Here's a lil backstory:

Jimmy and Lizzie are adopted siblings in my Lab AU

Lizzie is a fae, and a few hundred years old. She found an abandoned egg about 30 years ago, and when it hatched she raised the Avian inside as her little brother, Jimmy.

Growing up in a family of fae, Jimmy didn't know much about Avian or human culture. When Lizzie got married to her mate, Joel (another fae), Jimmy started to learn more about human culture. He eventually found a job in the city, but continued to live with Lizzie and Joel.

Jimmy was one of the first people the Watchers kidnapped. Lizzie and Joel spent months searching for him, even after local police declared him dead. About a year and a half after Jimmy's disappearance, Joel was kidnapped too and Lizzie had a breakdown.

Suddenly without two of her main sources of income, Lizzie couldn't afford the house they had been renting anymore. Not that she needed all that space now that she was by herself. She moved into a smaller apartment and wasted away their savings in a depressive state for about nine months.

Then she was taken too.

#mcyt #trafficblr #life series #inkie talks #asking inkie #hermitblr #hermitcraft #life series au #hermitcraft au #lab au #mcyt au #ldshadowlady #lizzie ldshadowlady #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #seablings #joel smallishbeans #jizzie #does it count as shipping if it's lizzie and joel?

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 2 years ago

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‘Our Flag Means Death’: How Blackbeard & Stede’s Fantastical Underwater Reunion Came Together

[Warning: The below contains MAJOR spoilers for Our Flag Means Death, Season 2, Episodes 1-3.]

It doesn’t take more than a single second to recognize Kate Bush‘s haunting and heartbreaking tune “This Woman’s Work,” as Blackbeard, a.k.a. Ed (Taika Waititi), is pushed from a clifftop to plunge into the ocean’s depths below in Our Flag Means Death‘s Season 2 installment, “The Innkeeper.” But how did the pirate heartbroken over Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) wind up in this position? It’s a delicate and winding path that starts with the infamous pirate’s unraveling over the course of the latest season’s first two episodes.

Believing Stede intentionally abandoned him after planning to run away together at the end of Season 1, Blackbeard embraces the version of himself so many have conjured up in their minds as he leads the Revenge’s “new” crew to pillage and plunder on the high seas. His unhinged behavior eventually forces Jim (Vico Ortiz), Izzy (Con O’Neill), Frenchie (Joel Fry), Archie (Madeleine Sami), and Fang (David Fane) to violently take control of the ship and neutralize Blackbeard — or so they think — after he steers them directly into a storm.

When Zheng Yi Sao’s (Ruibo Qian) Red Flag happens across an eerie-looking Revenge on the ocean, Stede dives overboard in his excitement over the possibility of seeing Ed, only to be told various excuses for his absence by the crew aboard. When Stede directly addresses Izzy regarding Blackbeard’s lack of presence, the now peg-legged pirate claims the Revenge crew dropped Ed on a beach.

This seems to ring true as we see Blackbeard wash ashore and cared for by his own former captain Hornigold (Mark Mitchinson). While together, Blackbeard and Hornigold discuss the mutiny that took place and Blackbeard’s hopes for the future. When a role-playing scenario testing Blackbeard’s ability to be an Innkeeper, a profession he’s interested in, goes awry, he attacks Hornigold, killing the tarp-clad pirate. But when Hornigold rises again, Blackbeard realizes something is off.

Aboard the Revenge, Ed’s body is uncovered below deck. Believing him dead, Zheng Yi Sao is forced to consider killing the Revenge crew for mutiny after initially welcoming them aboard the Red Flag. And Stede has to cope with the idea that his love may be gone forever.

After hatching an escape plan for the Revenge team, Stede and pals return to their former ship, leaving Zheng stranded without a wheel. Going to sit with Ed’s body, Stede wonders why he had to go and get himself killed. Meanwhile, Blackbeard begins to realize he’s stuck somewhere between life and death, a place this Hornigold manifestation calls a “gravy basket.”

As the two men banter about the pros and cons of choosing life over death, Hornigold ties a boulder around Ed’s waist and throws it from the cliff they’re standing on, pushing Blackbeard into the ocean. Just as it seems as though he’ll succumb to the waves, Blackbeard proves Bush’s song right: Perhaps there’s a little life in him yet. When Stede lifts the cloth from his face on the Revenge, underwater Ed reacts to the change. Peering into the water, he sees a light from which a fantastical mermaid version of Stede emerges.

In the real world, Stede reacts to Blackbeard’s twitching hand, taking it in his and pleading for him to live as a montage of their moments together rolls alongside Bush’s still-playing song. The final seconds of the episode see Ed’s eyes open, giving Stede hope.

So, how did this moving turn of events come to pass? A team full of creatives was responsible for bringing the captivating and satisfying reunion.

Stede’s Mermaid Tail

“It’s a huge process,” putting together Stede’s practical mermaid look, according to costume designer Gypsy Taylor. She says “it started with me begging everybody” to avoid visual FX and make a tail for the sequence. The orange and glittering look could have followed several different styles, but ultimately, Taylor notes, “I thought if Stede is going to turn into a mermaid, and it’s in Blackbeard’s dream, it’s sort of his vision of a mermaid.”

Considering this, in Taylor’s mind, Blackbeard wouldn’t envision some epic fantastical creature; instead, Stede would “just be like a goldfish. He’d just be like a sweet harmless goldfish.” In putting sketches together of the ensemble, Taylor acknowledges the symbolism of the goldfish motif: “There’s a huge Chinese element that we have coming through, and goldfish in Chinese culture is considered lucky.” As this vision of Stede was responsible for helping bring Ed back to life, that luck was certainly there.

“I thought that was a pretty beautiful thing, that they meet each other under the ocean and then they find each other,” Taylor gushes. “And so I went a little deep on that, but really he’s just a goldfish.” In order to achieve the goldfish mermaid look, Taylor teamed up with props master Hayley Egan, who’s based out of Australia. “She happens to excel at making mermaid tails,” Taylor shares.

After securing Egan’s involvement, Taylor says, “We fit Rhys in a jumbo stretch long skirt and made sure it was really tight so he could still sort of do this dolphin [swimming] action. And then we bought these mono fins, which you can purchase online and put your feet in.” Safety was key, though. “He had to swim really deep and for a really far distance, and he’d never done anything like that before,” Taylor explains. “So it had to be really safe and doable.”

Once that was figured out, Taylor says Egan “cast something like 3,000 hand-sculpted silicon scales. There’s something like five kilograms of glitter in the whole thing. And then we hand-dyed pleated chiffon for all the fins, so that when he was swimming through the water, it would have this magic feel.”

While the scene may play as emotional and romantic, the story behind getting Stede’s mermaid look from Australia to New Zealand was actually quite comical. “[Egan] sliced two suitcases in half, filled [them with the mermaid tail], and then when it went through customs, the customs guy said to her, ‘Are you bringing fish into this country?’ And she’s like, ‘Yes, yes I am.'”

In total, there were four tails, including “a practice tail, a stunt tail, because Rhys had to do quite a few lessons before we got the real one on. And the real one was super precious, and chlorine’s very strong, it eats fabrics away, so we wanted to save the hero one for the hero shot,” Taylor reveals. When it came time to film, “We put him in [the tail], and it was just amazing.” In order to get Darby into the pool, Taylor says a ramp had to be built and the actor was placed in a wheelchair while costumed “and pushed in.” As unglamorous as it sounds, she adds, “it was like Rhys’s dream come true.”

How Kate Bush Entered the Music Mix

It’s safe to say Kate Bush has been having a moment on TV since last year’s “Running Up That Hill” needle drop on Stranger Things, but music supervisor Maggie Phillips says, “This Woman’s Work” was selected before Netflix‘s hit made headlines with their use of the aforementioned song. “When we were placing [the song in the season lineup],” Phillips says, “it was maybe weeks after Stranger Things, and I was worried that we would look like copycats.”

Phillips maintains that the song was in the mix before, but it ultimately “doesn’t matter because really what matters is that Kate Bush is a queen and more and more people need to know her music.”

She says, “From what I heard from David [Jenkins], it was a song that Taika was attached to.” At first, Phillips was reluctant to go with the song due to its prior uses, but “David told me not to worry about [that], that people have short-term memory when it comes to music.”

While she debated with the team over cutting it, “[David] has the visuals in his mind. I don’t. I’m just hearing it with a script and I had no clue how it was going to work until I saw the first cut, and it was beautiful and they picked a part of the song that worked really well with the visuals, so they sort of made it their own,” Phillips explains. “They added a different context to the song that I wouldn’t have been able to imagine myself. So they proved me wrong for sure.”

It’s hard to imagine the scene without Bush’s song. “It changes the way you listen to the song,” Phillips notes. “I got chills watching it and I know that song so well and haven’t gotten chills like that in a long time.” With all of the buildup, “You’re waiting for them to have their romantic moment. You’re waiting for three episodes for that to happen. And so it’s so cathartic when that song comes on, and you see them come together in this fantasy world under the sea. It’s just perfect.” This led her to email Jenkins. “I was like, ‘You were right. I was wrong. But this was beautiful, and thank you so much.'”

Blackbeard’s Wet Wig Woes

Anyone watching the scene unfold would have to notice Blackbeard’s silver tresses weaving through the water, a feat much more difficult behind the scenes than the seemingly simple sequence onscreen. “We filmed that quite late in the season, and so we were really planning and thinking about that all the way through [filming]. I was a bit nervous,” hair and makeup designer Nancy Hennah admits. “I knew that he was going to have to be under the water with his wig on for quite a long time.”

Even with high-quality wig glue, Hennah says, “You can do everything you can to make that wig stay on, but there’s a limited amount of time that the glue will last. So we had to use different products than we would normally use to get the wig down.” Because the product Hennah normally uses to keep hair back in a wig is water soluble, “it melts, and the hair starts coming out from the lace, and it can ruin the whole look of the wig.” She had to come up with a creative fix.

“I glued his own hair back, and then we glued the lace on top of that, and wildly, it lasted right until the very last shot when they were dragging him through the water by the ankles,” Hennah reveals. “The wig just came off completely after they’d finished shooting. And so he came up out of the water, and the wig was off to the side, [and he goes], ‘I think my wig came off.'” She calls the success of the wig “incredible” and “just a fluke really.”

When it came to capturing Darby’s underwater look, it was all about blending the mermaid tail with his skin. “With Stede, Gypsy had a beautiful mermaid tail made, and we did a whole lot of practice with different types of silicon and things that we had to blend that piece between his skin and the tail. We made these pieces of silicon with glitter and things in them that we individually stuck over the top of the mermaid tail,” Hennah details.

Again, there were concerns about getting “things to stick underwater,” but watching the scene come together from behind the camera eased those. “[When] we were standing there on the set that day and watching the monitor, it just was so beautiful that we were all blown away by it, and that tank that they were filming in was a couple of stories deep, and to be out there in that water, it was challenging, and they both did so well. It just went off without a hitch. It was one of those great days where it just worked for everybody.”

Don’t miss what else is in store for the season. Stay tuned for additional interviews and content as the second season of Our Flag Means Death unfolds.

Our Flag Means Death, New Episodes, Thursdays, Max

Source: TV Insider

#rhys darby #taika waititi #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #costume designer #costume details

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eff4freddie · 7 months ago

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After She Left | Twelve

Words: 5.5k Explicit - 18+

You start to forge something new, while still sometimes struggling to move on from Joel. Shauna continues to try and ingratiate herself into Joel and Ellie's life, this time hatching a plan that might just muscle you out of the way. None of that matters, though, when Ellie disappears from the streets of Jackson.

Chapter warnings: Some smut to break up the angst! Oral (f receiving), praise kink, dirty talk, fingering Minors DNI. Then right back to the angst, sorry folks, Shauna being a dick, depictions of panic attacks and anxiety

Eleven| Series Masterlist | Thirteen

If he could just reach into his eye socket and push hard at the point above his temple, he might be able to ease the blooming ache. Joel sighed, rubbing instead at his jaw, feeling the strain of the muscle travel up his face.

Shauna sat at his kitchen table, in his kitchen, with her elbows up on the wood.

‘I just think it would be good for us to get to know each other better,’ she said, and Joel sighed.

‘She’s doin’ well with Teach, Shauna. I ain’t gonna disrupt that.’

Joel watched as Shauna’s eye’s narrowed, just slightly, just enough to make her features appear harsh and hollowed out in the early morning light.

‘You don’t think I’m as smart as that schoolteacher?’ she asked, and he would have happily reached a spoon up to pop the eye right out of the socket if it would relieve some of the pressure accumulating in it.

‘I think you’re smart just fine, but it’s not about that…it’s about what Ellie wants. What’s right for Ellie.’

‘What about what’s right for me, Joel?’ she asked, without hesitation, without even stopping to pretend like she cared about the teenager currently sequestered to the garage. ‘Do you think I like feeling like I’m…not welcome in my own home?’

‘You’re perfectly welcome, Shauna. I gave you my bedroom…’

‘And Ellie ran out to the studio the second she could, and you won’t share a room with me…’

‘You know what that’s about,’ he said, dismissing her as he shuffled, uncomfortable, on his seat. Had these chairs always been so hard on his back? He suddenly couldn’t remember.

Shauna took a long, slow exhale. Joel swore he could hear the whistle of it sliding out of her nostrils. ‘I don’t ask for much, Joel,’ she said, lowly. ‘This would mean so much for me and Ellie. I want to feel like…I want her to feel like…we’re a family.’

Joel considered this for a moment. He thought of you, weary to the bone on your front porch the night of the dinner party, trying as hard as you could to be his friend. Maybe he had asked too much of you, already. Maybe he had asked more than enough.

‘Why can’t it be…something else?’ he asked, taking too long to think of something that Shauna could reasonably teach Ellie, and coming up empty handed. He stretched his leg out, rolling his hips to try and get some circulation back into the cramping muscle. ‘Maybe she could hang out at Town Council, see how things work around here in a more…diplomatic sense.’

Shauna rolled her eyes. ‘Like I get invited to the inner sanctum…’ she said, and Joel coughed.

‘Well, you ain’t technically on Council…’ he prompted.

‘Yet,’ she said.

Joel let this pass. He had let so much pass, he realised. Why would he stop now.

‘Joel it’s not like I can teach her to shoot, or to cook, let’s be honest.’ At this Joel smiled a little, and watched as Shauna’s shoulders dropped, mirroring his expression. ‘I feel useless most of the time around here, and especially with her. But you heard what Teach said the other night, she likes reading. I can read. I can talk to her about books and things.’

Joel considered this. He’d never been a big reader himself, more interested in getting his hands on things, taking things apart, building them back up again. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for Ellie to have an extra brain to pick around the place.

‘We could fit it into her schedule,’ Shauna said. ‘It wouldn’t have to be that much more than what she’s doing already.’

‘How you figure?’ Joel asked.

‘Well, if she swaps out some of her time with Teach for time with me,’ Shauna said, smiling brightly.

A door, just over Joel’s shoulder, slammed. He turned, startled by the sudden noise. He checked his six but couldn’t see any obvious movement. Turning back to Shauna he saw her expression had hardened before she caught his eye again and smiled.

‘Must have been the wind,’ she said, getting up to close the kitchen window.

You stretched, your back arching up off the mattress like a cat in the sun. Letting out a slow groan, you felt the dull ache between your thighs.

‘Fuck…’ Jonah said, his head somewhere under the blanket, fingers probing at your core. You felt him pull your leg up, planting your foot underneath you so he could manoeuvre your hips further towards him. Still half asleep, you let him move you where he wanted.

‘Gonna lick you up til you cream,’ he said. ‘Cock’s so big and hard for you.’ You resisted the urge to cringe a little, the words sounding wrong coming from him somehow. Maybe they were the wrong ones. Maybe they didn’t suit him.

Reaching down, you pushed his face further into your cunt, effectively muting him with your folds. You felt his tongue lick a fat stripe up your seam, his fingers swift as he jammed them inside. You winced a little, shifting on the mattress to help him find the best angle.

It was…fine. You reached up to tweak your nipples, hoping to heighten the pleasure gathering at your core. Closing your eyes tight you tried to push the thoughts from your mind, homing in instead on the feel of Jonah’s tongue. If you bucked your hips a little you could shove him into a better position, but he seemed to take this as enthusiasm. He started to speed up, throwing off your rhythm.

‘Slow down,’ you instructed, resting one hand on his head and guiding him by the neck. He was a quick learner, at least. You could feel your brows furrow in concentration.

‘So wet, baby,’ Joel said from beside you. Your eyes flew open to discover the other side of the bed empty. You shook your head, trying to get him loose.

‘That’s good,’ you informed Jonah, pinching harder on your nipple. You heard a muffled moan from between your legs.

‘Look at you all spread out f’me,’ Joel huffed into your ear, the heat of his body scorching you as he lay beside you.

‘Don’t…’ you whimpered, trying to will him out of your mind, and snapped back to reality when you felt Jonah falter. ‘Don’t stop,’ you rushed, pushing your hips into his face.

Behind you now, bracketed by his legs and resting your head on his chest, Joel reached down your front and rubbed tight little circles at your breast. You could feel the warmth of his broad chest at your back, and you turned to tuck your nose into his neck. You could feel his pulse on your skin, hammering with the same tempo as his cock pulsing behind your thighs.

‘So beautiful, babygirl,’ he muttered, his voice gravelly from his want for you, and you shuddered, looking down your body to find Joel also between your legs, even while you lay warm and safe in his arms. He gazed up at you, tongue rolling in your cunt, as he whispered filth in your ear.

‘Love when ya come f’me,’ he said, ‘love makin’ ya feel so good ya can’t help yourself.’

You whimpered, grinding hard on Jonah’s face, the ache in your core now threatening to burn you up completely.

‘So good f’me, baby’ Joel praised and you keened, the Joel between your legs crooking his fingers to hit the spongey spot deep inside, the spot you now considered designated just for him.

‘M’gonna…’ you gasped, the sparks of electricity running hard and unwavering in your cunt.

‘That’s it, baby, let it happen…’ Joel encouraged, pausing only to nibble at your earlobe. ‘Let me have it, baby. Let me make you come.’

You felt your hips rock as you exploded, every nerve ending on fire as your orgasm rolled over you, your breath shuddering and catching in your chest.

‘Oh, fuck, Jo-nah,’ you corrected, just in time, as your vision went white behind your eyes, your body spasming in pleasure as you heard Joel chuckle behind you, gruff and self-satisfied.

‘Holy shit,’ you heard Jonah say, pulling back the covers to appraise you where you lay, spent and exhausted, spread out beneath him. You sighed, every muscle in your body loose and your thoughts blissfully empty for a few moments. It was only when you caught your breath that the guilt started to seep in.

You pushed your hair behind your ears, up to your elbows in cold water and homemade soap. You longed for the days of dish soap, the little bubbles popping over your skin. Instead, you scrubbed, scarring the surface of the pan just a little trying to free it of the bacon grease.

‘I could help with that, y’know,’ Jonah said from the table. You glanced over your shoulder at him.

‘It’s OK, I find it weirdly satisfying,’ you said, turning back to your task so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. You weren’t sure where Joel had come from – both of them – but you weren’t pleased they had intruded in your private moment with Jonah. If you were going to be friends with Joel that should never happen again, you told yourself, as well as whatever demon on your shoulder had launched itself into being that morning.

Part of you wanted to tell Jonah, just so that he knew what he was dealing with. You wondered if he’d stay, if he’d be weirded out and run for it. You wondered if you wanted him to fight for you, to try and take Joel on and win your hand like a princess, like a prize. Of course you didn’t, because that would be silly. Also, there would be nothing to fight.

‘Sweetheart?’ Jonah said, and you snapped back to attention, realising you’d nearly scrubbed a hole in the bottom of the pan.

‘Mmm?’ you said, turning around but suddenly finding yourself unable to meet his eyes. He stood from the table, coming closer to you, pulling you to him by the loop of your jeans.

‘I said, you keep feeding me like this you’re gonna make me too fat for patrols,’ he said, and you grinned, then, the ease at which he doled out compliments making something fizz and pop happily in your chest.

‘Maybe that’s the plan, have you all to myself,’ you said, matching his grin, as he leant over to kiss you, your sudsy hands resting on his shirt and leaving damp spots in their wake.

‘I got no complaints…’ he said, nipping at your bottom lip.

You swallowed down the morning, the weirdness of it catching a little at your throat, as you gazed up at him. He was a good guy. The rest you could work out.

‘I was thinking maybe after my shift-’ he started, but was interrupted by the sound of running footsteps and then, moments later, pounding at your door.

‘Teach!’ you heard Joel yell, and you were reacting to the blind panic in his voice before you’d even fully registered it, abandoning Jonah at the sink to run to your door. Wrenching it open you found him, wide-eyed and breathless, looking first at your face and then scanning over your shoulder past the door. ‘Is she with you?’ he gasped out, and you stared at him blankly for a second, feeling a weight drop heavy and concrete into your gut.

‘Who, Joel?’

‘Ellie, is she with you? Is she here?’ You could see the desperation in his eyes, the way they were starting to brim with tears. Behind him you saw Shauna trotting up the street to catch up.

‘No, I haven’t seen her in a few days, it’s the weekend…’

‘Fuck!’ he yelled, taking a step back to twist his hands up into his hair and tug. He turned to Shauna, now approaching your porch. ‘She’s not here!’ he nearly screeched, waves of distress rolling off him.

‘Hey, hey…’ you said, stepping out towards him and reaching up to rest a hand on his bicep, pulling you back around to face you. ‘Take a breath, Joel, then you can tell me what’s happened.’

You felt him shudder, sucking in air as you nodded at him, pantomiming deep breaths in the hope that he would follow you. His eyes stayed wild but he watched you, eventually matching his breaths to yours, until he had regained some sense of control.

‘She’s gone,’ he finally managed to say, his voice ragged. ‘We can’t find her.’

‘OK, where have you looked?’ you asked. Shauna climbed up the steps to your porch, coming forward to wrap her arm around Joel’s. You took a step back, releasing him to her.

‘We came right here,’ she said, tight-lipped.

‘Well, we can split up, try the mess hall, try the school. Maybe see if she’s with Dina?’

‘Dina?’ Shauna parroted, and you nodded.

‘They’re good friends,’ you supplied.

Joel was gathering himself, pulling his shoulders back and letting Shauna’s arm slip from him.

‘OK, OK…’ he was saying, and you could see that he his tremors were lessening.

‘We should find Tommy, get him to help look,’ you said. ‘She won’t have gone far, right?’

Joel raised his eyes to yours, the desperation and the sheer terror in them taking your breath away. You steeled yourself, painting a confident look on your face. ‘She won’t have gone far, Joel,’ you repeated. He nodded, borrowing some of your strength and tucking it under his ribcage.

‘Shauna, get Tommy,’ he instructed, not glancing over to look at her.

‘Joel, I can stay with you…’ she started but he grunted, shaking his head. You realised he had stepped closer to you.

‘Get Tommy, get Gollum and…’

‘I can help,’ Jonah said, from the doorway behind you. You saw Joel’s eyes fall on him, his mouth pulling tight in a grim line at the sight of him. You weren’t sure if Jonah had put pants on. You were determined not to look.

‘Run down and check with Billy, if she left, he would have seen her…’ you started.

‘You think he’d let her out there alone?’ Joel said, suddenly a mix of fury and panic. You put a steadying hand on his forearm.

‘No, not unless she spun him an amazing lie.’

This didn’t seem to carry the comfort you had hoped it would.

You split up, heading straight over to the school, calling her name as you went, before doubling back and checking Dina’s place. Dina hadn’t seen Ellie since the day before, and you felt the unease in your belly start to grow. You rounded back to the main street, hoping to meet up with Tommy or Joel at the mess hall. As you turned the corner, though, you saw commotion at the main gate and you took off running.

‘You can’t be fuckin’ serious!’ Tommy was yelling, his and Joel’s backs to you shielding the person he was yelling at. You looked to the top of the wall and saw it unoccupied. Your heart started to sink.

‘I was just gone a few minutes, maybe twenty, tops!’ you heard Billy defend, and by the time you had arrived on the scene you could see Joel was tremoring again, this time from out and out fury.

‘Why didn’t you call in a cover?’ he spat out, pacing up and down, clenching and flexing his fingers.

‘Ain’t no one on the roster,’ Billy said, and you felt something give, something structural in your bones.

‘Oh, I’m not on the roster,’ you said, quietly, and flinched as Joel turned, startled, not having realised you were there. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you avoided his gaze, staring hard at your boots. You braced for his admonishment.

‘Joel…’ Tommy said, but suddenly Joel’s broad palm was on your shoulder and you looked up, gasping.

‘This ain’t on you,’ Joel said, staring hard into your eyes. ‘Don’t think for one moment…fuck, Teach, I know you love her near as much as I do.’

You felt the tears start to fall, your throat closing over, as all you could do was nod.

‘M’sorry anyway,’ you muttered, and he shook his head at you.

‘Joel, we don’t have time,’ Tommy reminded him, and he snapped his head back towards his little brother.

‘Where’s Gollum? Where’s the patrols?’

‘They’re already out, but we radioed them, they’ll keep a look out.’

‘Which way where they headed? We should cover more ground,’ Tommy said. You kept glancing at Shauna, standing off to the side of the group, her eyes fixed on Joel.

‘Why would she leave?’ Billy asked, and you saw Shauna go pale before she appeared to rally.

‘Teenagers,’ she supplied, with a little smirk. You felt yourself glare at her, at her glibness, at the casual way she just threw out such a bullshit explanation, smiling as though Ellie wasn’t now in mortal danger. You almost felt guilty for the way you stared at her until you noticed Joel and Tommy’s expressions mirrored your own.

‘We gotta get moving, Joel,’ Tommy said, and you remembered, then, a little flare of a synapse still functioning in the panic.

‘The water caves!’ you yelled, turning to look for Jonah. ‘She asked us about the water caves. Fuck, where is he?’ You scanned the street and didn’t see him, turning to see if he was at the stables, turning back to the wall in an almost complete 360. You were dimly aware you must have looked like a somewhat deranged ballerina.

‘The what?’ Tommy asked.

‘She said, she said that Dina had said there’s a waterfall and that behind the waterfall there’s caves. She asked Jonah about it, but he hadn’t seen them. God, what if she’s gone to look for them?’

‘She doesn’t fuckin’ swim,’ Joel muttered, pacing again. ‘Jesus, Tommy, she could drown out there and we’d never fuckin’ find her.’

‘She said she thought they were upriver, about an hour or two’s ride. But Jonah said that they’d never seen them on patrols.’

Billy shook his head. ‘Never heard anything like it, but it’s possible…I mean, the river flows all the way down from the mountain.’

‘She’s not going to go that far,’ Shauna dismissed, waving her hand at you as if waving away the very idea. ‘There’s a town a couple of hours walk, I bet she’s gone there.’

‘Why would she go to a town?’ you asked, more than a little offended at the way you had been so summarily dismissed.

‘Maybe to find some friends,’ Shauna said, adding after a moment, ‘her own age.’

Your ears started ringing and you wondered if this woman could have such a singular effect on a person’s blood pressure. You glanced back at Joel, his head swivelling between Shauna, and Tommy, and you.

‘We should split up,’ Tommy said, and Joel blanched, turning to you.

‘If she’s in a town, there could be raiders,’ he said, quiet, eyebrows saddled as he looked to you for some kind of confirmation.

‘I don’t think she’s gone there, but I guess it’s possible,’ you said. ‘If she’s headed to the water caves, then she’ll just be following the river upstream.’

‘Not much up that way, no camps within the perimeter,’ Billy supplied.

‘I’ll take Shauna,’ you said, determined even as Joel started to shake his head. ‘That’s the easier run. You and Tommy, you need to head to the town, if there’s raiders you’ll need two good shots.’

Shauna scoffed, which the group collectively decided to ignore.

‘You sure about this, Teach?’ he asked. You weren’t. Not even a little bit. But you had no other choice; Ellie was out there, and she might have been hurt or scared or just plain angry, and you weren’t going to sit around and wait for someone else to bring her home.

Jonah wasn’t at the stables, and you still weren’t sure where he’d got to, but that didn’t stop you saddling up at lightning speed. Shauna trailed behind you, struggling to get the order right on the saddle, and you stopped what you were doing to secure her tack.

‘I just don’t see why a teenager would want to go to some wet, cold caves,’ she said to you, and you shrugged your shoulders.

‘You think she went to the mall?’

Shauna regarded you for a long moment, and you supposed it might have been intimidating had she not been completely dependent on you and your riding skills in that moment. Over your shoulder you heard Joel and Tommy saddle up and ride out.

‘You never wanted to head to the big smoke when you were her age?’ she asked, and you shrugged.

‘Sure, but that was before the world ended.’

‘Mmm’, she said.

‘Saddled up,’ you confirmed for her, swinging your leg into your stirrups and settling on top of your own horse. You could have waited to give Shauna a boost but all of a sudden you just weren’t feeling like it.

As she struggled to pull herself up, you heard a voice calling at the stable door.

‘Wait!’ he called, as Jonah appeared in front of you. He carried two rifles. ‘I got you these from the armoury, had a shit of a time signing them out but I told ‘em it was an emergency.’ He was sweating, his eyes bright, as he smiled up at you.

‘Thank you,’ you smiled down at him, reaching to pull both from his grasp.

‘Wait, don’t I get one?’ Shauna asked, and Jonah rolled his eyes at her.

‘You’re more likely to shoot your own ass off,’ he said, as you slung one over your back and let Jonah help you attach the second to your saddle for you. You snickered.

‘Go get your girl,’ he said to you, quiet enough that Shauna couldn’t hear. ‘Then come back safe.’ You nodded, gripping the reigns tight enough to turn your knuckles white.

At the gate Billy was back at his post, and you cantered to a stop at the threshold.

‘Joel and Tommy already left, a couple of minutes ahead,’ he reported.

‘They didn’t wait for us?’ Shauna asked.

‘Reckon they thought catching up with Ellie was more important,’ you said, pointedly.

‘You know where you’re headed?’ Billy asked you, and you nodded. ‘Follow the river North.’

‘It starts to get dark, you come turn round,’ he reminded you and you nodded at him.

‘I know, Billy,’ you said.

‘You got good eyes, kiddo, can’t lose them for your next shift.’

You realised then he was worried for you, that all the hours you’d spent staring silently into the distance together had endeared him to you in a way you hadn’t noticed or expected, and that if he’d told you to slide off your horse and let him give you a bearhug right there in the gate you would have done it.

‘I’ll see you soon,’ you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

‘I’ll see you first,’ Billy said, pulling the gate open just enough for you and Shauna to slip outside.

You would have been really happy to ride in silence. The river, once you found it, was calming enough that you felt you could finally take in a full breath. You scanned the ground looking for tracks and finding nothing. Beside you Shauna trotted along, struggling to meet the rhythm of her horse’s steps.

‘So how long were you in the QZ?’ she asked. You scanned the branches beside you, looking for any breaks at roughly teenager-height.

‘Best part of a decade,’ you said.

‘You must have done plenty of patrols, then,’ she said.

‘I mostly worked the wall. It’s what I did when I moved to Jackson.’

‘So, you’ve known Maria a while then?’

‘Yes, I guess I have.’

You hoped that was the end of the questioning, trying as you were to concentrate.

‘What do you think makes her tick?’ Shauna asked, and you had to try very hard not to roll your eyes.

‘I think she cares a lot about family, and the citizens of Jackson,’ you said, honestly but also with perhaps a slight edge. Shauna seemed not to notice.

‘She does so much for the town,’ Shauna continued, thoughtfully. ‘She could probably use a 2nd in Command, no?’

‘I feel like this is something you should ask her about,’ you muttered. A bend in the river up ahead caught your eye. ‘We need to get moving, we’re barely going above walking pace,’ you said.

‘I’m not that great a rider,’ Shauna said, stating the absolute obvious.

‘Never a better time to learn,’ you said, surging forward.

After the bend the river carried on over a rocky outcrop, and you slowed your horse down again to pick your way through the boulders.

‘Do you know what she was wearing this morning?’ you asked, and Shauna shrugged her shoulders.

‘Didn’t see her, so I don’t know,’ she said. ‘She keeps herself stashed away out back all day. Anti-social.’

You bit your tongue. Shauna was suddenly making you feel the same.

You scanned the riverbanks for anything unusual: footprints, a discarded backpack, clothing. If you were honest with yourself you weren’t really sure what you were looking for. You’d never had to track someone before, your role being more to stand in one spot and scan the horizon.

‘You two seem to get on like a house on fire,’ Shauna said, after a few moments of silence.

‘Ellie and I have grown close since I started tutoring her,’ you agreed, absentminded.

‘It’s like you two see eye to eye, or something. Like you’re…the same.’

You weren’t sure what she was getting at, only that she was getting at something, and you scanned the sentence for the insult but found it so buried it was impossible to decipher. You knew, though, that it was there.

‘I suppose we’ve been through similar things. We all have.’

You wondered, in the case of Shauna, whether this was true. The high-level officers in FEDRA, the ones fancy enough not to have to deal with actual people, or fight on the ground, tended to live comfortable lives. At least, until the uprising.

‘Still, it seems almost like…’

‘I think it would be good to concentrate,’ you said, quickly. The sun was high in the sky but as the colder weather set in there were less hours of it in a day. If the water caves really were more than three hours out, you had to make the best of the light.

You estimated you got a good 45 minutes of quiet before Shauna spoke again. The rocky outcrop had turned into outright rugged terrain, and you were struggling to follow the river as the bed grew steeper, the drops on either side more sheer. You were starting to worry about darkness, and if you’d have enough light to make your way back. You hadn’t anticipated the thickness of the brush. It would be easy to get turned around out here, to stumble on a slippery rock and snap your neck.

‘Oof, this is hard on the tush,’ Shauna complained, rubbing at her lower back. ‘I’ll have to get Joel to give me a massage when we get back.’

Ignoring that last comment completely, you found yourself agreeing with Shauna. The terrain was getting too hard to traverse on horseback, and you’d come far enough along that it would be almost just as hard on foot. The likelihood of Ellie getting this far without being seen, or without dropping something that would give you a clue as to her direction, was slim. You were facing the decision you’d been trying not to make for the last ten minutes.

‘I think we might have to go back,’ you said, and Shauna sighed.

‘I knew those cave things weren’t real,’ she said, and you turned on her, irritation finally overtaking you.

‘They could be, but we can’t fucking get there when you couldn’t ride in a carriage let alone on your own.’

Shauna stared at you. ‘Have you even been looking for tracks? Have you been watching the waterline?’ you asked, your voice rising.

‘Well, I could see you were doing that,’ she said, and you scoffed.

‘Why the fuck are you even here?’ you asked, the shock of Ellie’s disappearance suddenly blooming into anger in your bones. ‘Did you think you’d get to have a nice lil ride with Joel through the countryside? Planning to strap yourself to his back and rub your tits all over his shoulder blades so that maybe he’ll finally fuck you?’

You sucked in a breath, the air cold this far up close to the mountain. Shauna smirked, actually smirked, as you wavered in front of her.

‘Knew you weren’t sweet as pie,’ she said, like pushing you to breaking point had been her gameplan, like your outburst was her victory.

‘Fuck you, Shauna,’ you said, exhaustion overtaking you. ‘Turn back, we’ll double back the way we came.’

She continued to smirk, even as she led her horse to stumble along the riverbank. You felt the frustration give way to the little kernel of terror that you always tucked up tight in your chest cavity, fuelled by the irrefutable knowledge that after the end of the world everything that could possibly go wrong almost always would.

Another hour’s ride and you were back to the slightly more forgiving trail that made up the perimeter of Jackson. You felt something heavy and unmovable in your gut, something that whispered to you that you had wasted time on a hunch that had turned out to be nothing, that had separated you from Joel and from safety, all on the basis of a two-minute conversation in your kitchen weeks ago. You pushed it away as best you could, instead choosing to focus on the blind panic that if she hadn’t followed the river you had no idea which way she’d gone.

You could feel that you were having trouble breathing all the way in, as if you worried that if you took in too much air, expanded your chest too far out, the horrors of Ellie’s disappearance would fill the space left open.

‘That’s the turn off to the town,’ Shauna said, motioning with her head to a fork in the road ahead of you.

‘I thought that was back West,’ you said, and she shook her head at you.

‘There are two paths, this one’s further out but it comes around the back way. It’s not so out in the open.’

You considered this for a moment, the realisation breaking like the dawn on a clear morning.

‘You travelled it to get to Jackson, didn’t you?’ you asked, and Shauna suddenly went uncharacteristically quiet.

‘You came from the town,’ you said, simply, the pieces falling into place around you. ‘You know exactly who’s in the town, exactly what’s there, and you think Ellie went there because you know what might draw her to it.’

Shauna again said nothing. You drew your horse to a stop at the turnoff.

‘What did you tell her?’ you asked. You knew Shauna wouldn’t carry on back to Jackson without you. With your horse unmoving you were essentially trapping her in the conversation.

‘She asked me once, what it was like before I came to Jackson,’ Shauna said, her defences up nearly as high as her shoulders.

‘What did you tell her?’ you asked, again.

‘I wanted to sound impressive,’ Shauna said, and this time you could see that she was actually being honest, that she was admitting to something real. ‘I thought…I knew that she and Joel had travelled across the country to get to Jackson, that she had seen so much…’

‘What did you tell her, Shauna?’ you asked, your patience running thin.

‘I told her there was another town, just an hour or two ride from Jackson. That it was bigger than Jackson, that they….that they….’

‘That they what, Shauna?’ you asked.

‘That they train kids as young as fourteen in weapons and combat, and let them go on patrol.’

You swore, loud and all the way to the tops of the trees.

‘What’s really there, Shauna?’ you asked, when you could hear yourself think over the blood rushing in your ears.

‘It’s mostly abandoned,’ she said. ‘Sometimes raiders come through.’ She still looked like she was avoiding something, still not able to look you in the eye.

‘Tell me the bit you don’t want to tell me,’ you said. She turned her face to the sky, as if there would be any relief in it.

‘Steven and Wren and I…we stayed there a few weeks. A couple of other groups were camping out, too.’

You waited for the other shoe to drop, for the world to shift on its axis. Around you the wind turned cold, the light starting to wane in the late afternoon.

‘We left when one of them…one of the other campers. They went out to check for supplies and came back late…’ she shuddered, swallowing hard. ‘By the morning, their whole camp…’

She couldn’t go on, couldn’t say the word, but you didn’t need her to. You turned your eyes to the road leading down to the town, to Ellie, and to Joel.

‘Infected,’ you said, saying what Shauna would never have the strength to.

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

@millersamour

@delicatetrashtree

@wand-erer5

@somedayheaven

@maryrhodalouandted

@casssiopeia

@wand-erer5

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fic

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 months ago

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March Fic Madness 2025 Rec List

Elysian by @artemiseamoon (Ezra x ofc Kalei)

By Starlight Alone by @insomniamamma (Ezra x f!reader)

What’s for Dinner? by @bergamote-catsandbooks (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Messin’ Around by @grogusmum (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Indulgent by @maggiemayhemnj (Lucien De Leon x f!reader)

Stay Tonight by @sp00kymulderr (Dieter Bravo x gn!reader)

Post-It Note Pursuit by @iknowisoundcrazyreads (Javi Peña x f!reader)

Hatch by @secretelephanttattoo (Din Djarin x gn!reader)

Mnemosyne by @yopossum (Ezra x Reader)

Below the Line by @prolix-yuy (Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Just Stay Near Me Please by @whoredyceps (Javi Peña x Reader)

Folie á Deux by @writer-darling (Marcus Pike x gn!reader)

Snowed In by @ghotifishreads (Tim Rockford x f!reader)

Comfort Food by @lowlights (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Dream On, Aerosmith by @inept-the-magnificent (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

What He Deserves by @nerdieforpedro (Tim Rockford x f!reader)

The Hunter by @burntheedges (Din Djarin x f!reader)

First Sight by @gothcsz (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Messenger Bird by @thosewickedlovelies (Oberyn Martell x afab!reader x Ellaria Sand)

Silvered by @ladamedusoif (Tim Rockford x f!reader)

Paper Rings by @guiltyasdave (Modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

Blue Skies by @writeforfandoms (Dieter Bravo x gn!reader)

Fluffbruary 26 by @oonajaeadira (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Lost And Found by @sirowsky (Joel Miller x gn!reader)

The Margay by @ohforficsake (Frankie Morales x OFC Audrey)

Dear Jack by @imtryingmybeskar (Jack Daniels x f!reader)

Oh, Your Love Is Sunlight by @djarins-cyare (Din Djarin x gn!reader)

Laminated by @katareyoudrilling (Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Recovery Time Ch. 9: Storm Breaking by @bumpkinspice0 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Sticks And String by @jessthebaker (Dieter Bravo x gn!reader)

Six by @djarinmuse (Din Djarin x f!reader)

Strike A Match by @alwaysbethewest (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Frankie’s Version by @julesonrecord (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

PART TWO HERE.

#marchficmadness25 #fic rec fic rec fic rec!!!

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nonbinairyboi · 6 months ago

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Nothing Left - Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: As fall fully starts, you make new connections in Jackson.

Pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader/OC (afab, dimples, has multiple nicknames but none are their name)

Word Count: ~2.5k

Chapter Warnings: Slight reference to general depression and anxiety? misgendering. Idk guys I’m just working through some stuff.

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Playlist

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

It was one of those fall days that taunted you. Your toes froze in your socks as you pulled on your sweater and some boots. You lifted the collar of your shirt above your chin and trapped it there between your lips. The gesture soothed you as you tucked your chin to your chest and braced yourself against the wind that would inevitably hit you as you opened your door.

Your house sat on the edge of town, beyond the original gated community of Jackson. A small one story house that you often thought would have been billed as a detached condo. You wondered if the previous tenants had glared with envy at the bigger houses nearby, but for you it was perfect. The compactness felt cozy and safe after the time you had spent getting here. The sprawling land had demons lying in wait. From your living room, you had a view of the majority of the place here. Sitting on your couch, facing the small tv, you could see the kitchen to your left, the doors to both bedrooms on your right and the peak of the bathroom at the edge of your vision if you leaned over a bit.

The only room you couldn’t see was the laundry room tucked behind the kitchen with the door out to the back. A place you hid when the walls felt too far away, no longer cradling you with their comfort. And when that didn’t work, you pulled down the stairs from the ceiling and crawled into the attic crawlspace, closing the hatch behind you so you could envelop yourself in the only truly dark place in your space. The only place where outside light could not reach. Where no one could accidentally catch a glimpse of you behind a curtain. A place where you could take a break from being perceived.

But today was not a day to hide. Today was a day to be seen and work until you hit your limit. Early October meant planting winter wheat in large quantities, and with the chill this morning you worried Jackson had started too late this year, that the ground wouldn’t be moist enough.

With a thermos of hot tea clutched in your hands, you trudged towards the field where you’d be working for the day nodding and turning the corners of your lips up to show your dimples as you passed town residents, keeping your mouth clamped over the hem of your collar.

“Hey!” You heard from behind you. You turned around and smiled genuinely, your lips letting go of the hem of your shirt and letting it fall back in place to your neck. Maria was one of the few people who didn’t call you by your nickname, as if she was holding out hope that your mouth would open one day and your name would come out singing to the tip of your tongue. She was one of your closest friends, but you didn’t know if that counted for much if you never spoke. She most definitely had closer friends than you. Ones who responded to her and kept a conversation going. But you were still grateful for her. For this place.

“I was hoping to catch you before you started.” She smiled at you, warm and comforting. You lifted your head slightly in question. “I encouraged Ellie to come out today and to find you when she did.” Maria informed you.

You nodded, a little puzzled. It must have shown on your face as Maria quickly added “I think it would do her good to have something to occupy her mind. She seems to be withdrawing a bit lately. I know you don’t know her well, but I think she might like working next to you.”

You offered a small smile and nod in return, happy that she had thought highly enough of you to tell Ellie about you.

When Tommy’s brother had come to Jackson last spring with a reserved girl trailing behind him, it had been the talk of the town. Maria had told you of his short visit in the winter and how it had unsettled her. She would invite you over for tea and confess her anxieties to you. How she was intimidated by the possibility of Joel’s influence over Tommy’s life. How she worried that she had pushed too hard and that Tommy would resent her if Joel never made it back.

Once he returned, Maria seemed to have settled a bit. Less wary. She had her own things to worry about after all, having given birth a few weeks before they showed up. A beautiful baby boy whose plump cheeks made your heart ache.

You had had limited interaction with Joel and Ellie thus far. Your paths rarely naturally crossed. Nervousness curled in your abdominal muscles. You liked Ellie. She made you smile when you saw her antics from afar. But you hadn’t been around someone that young in a long time, and you worried that you wouldn’t connect. You let out a soft chuckle at the thought that, despite the clickers wandering beyond the walls of Jackson, your biggest stressor was if a 15-year-old would think you were cool enough.

Maria's brows pulled together slightly when you chuckled, as if she was trying to see through your forehead into your brain to decipher what had elicited the reaction. She smiled strangely and lifted her hand in a wave as she walked away. You lifted your hand in return and headed to the back gate that led to the crops, nodding at the guard who unlocked the gate for you. The newer outer fence that surrounded the farmland glistened in the sun despite the chilling wind.

You let out a slow breath to clear your head and focus on the task at hand, grabbing a garden rake and walking to the farthest edge of the field marked for the planting of the wheat. You had already methodically weeded the area with the help of others over the past week. You set to work working the earth under your rake, warming yourself up with your movement. Right when you were about to consider switching tasks, you heard a voice hesitantly call out your nickname. “Gabby?”

It was always jarring to hear the feminine moniker the town had given you. Without the ability to communicate in-depth concepts, you had mostly just had to grin and bear the assumptions. You still winced every time someone referred to you as ‘she’ but you reminded yourself that you were alive so you should just move on at this point.

You lifted your head and shielded your face with your hand against the sun to see Ellie’s figure tentatively make its way over to you. You tried to put on a welcoming smile and waved with the hand that had been covering your eyes. When she got over to you, she paused, unsure of what to do.

“Do I need one of those?” She asked, pointing at your rake.

You shrugged. You couldn’t tell if she actually wanted to help or was here out of obligation. For the first time in years, you wished that you could speak up and assure her that she didn’t need to do anything if she didn’t want to. You wouldn’t tell on her. You would just work next to her if she sat against the fence and let her be.

Ellie squinted at you, as if trying to decipher your meaning.

“I’ll go get one I guess.” She said after a moment. “Don’t we need seeds too?” She asked.

You nodded with a smirk and pointed towards the shed at the other edge of the field, where you could just make out a few figures moving around.

She looked back at you and rolled her eyes playfully. “Wish I’d known that before I made my way over here. You couldn’t have left a note or something? Yelled? Waved your arms around to stop me from walking over here?”

You shrugged again and your smirk grew. Just as she was about to turn around, you exaggeratedly waved your arms and pointed frantically at the shed. She looked back and forth between you and the shed slowly before letting out a surprised peal of laughter at your display.

“Oh you’re funny. No one said you were funny.” She chuckled again as she turned around, practically skipping away.

You wondered what people did say about you. What assumptions were made about you due to your silence. You looked down at the ground and tried to push it to the back of your mind.

By the time Ellie made her way back, a few others had started to occupy the area around you, each taking their own space in small plots. You showed Ellie how to sow the seeds and the amount of space to leave between them. In turn, she rambled to you about her life and how stupid it was that she had to attend school.

“I bet YOU would hate it if there were zombies outside and you still had to go to math.” You smirked at her antics as you took a break with your tea. It grounded you to hear about teenager's struggles with boredom.

Ellie popped up from her spot on the ground. “Can I ask you something? How do people know your name if you don’t talk?”

Your gaze shifted up towards her face. You had been intrigued by Ellie since she arrived. You liked her spirit. You got the sense that she wouldn’t take shit. Staring into her curious eyes, you felt that despite being a little under 40 years younger than you, she might stick up for you and understand you better than most people here.

You were shocked that for the second time that day you wished your body would let you communicate. It had been so long since you ran into frustration with it. You didn’t even feel the motivation most of the time anymore besides the few basic ASL signs that you had slowly taught the community. You felt your eyes get involuntarily wet and the inside of your nose sting.

Luckily, Eugene had overheard the conversation and came to your rescue.

“That isn’t that one’s name. It’s just a dumb joke really” he stated bluntly.

Ellie scrunched up her nose. “A joke?”

“You know what the gift of gab means?” Eugene asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ellie’s eyebrows drew together as she tried to think hard. “Is that a euphemism?” She asked after a moment. You coughed in surprise, regretting taking a sip of tea as it shot out your nose, burning in multiple ways.

“Jesus kid, no!” Eugene said quickly. “Someone with the gift of gab speaks all fancy and nice all the time. It was someone’s joke about how much this one talks.”

Ellie studied you with her eyebrows still together for a moment. “Do you like that?” She asked.

You looked between Eugene and Ellie for a moment before deciding that the best approach was a small smile and shrug. Having two people staring at you with their full attention felt overwhelming.

Eugene broke the silence. “I call that one Charlie cause it made ‘em smile once when I was trying out different names for them.”

Ellie considered it for a second before agreeing, “You seem more like a Charlie.”

Your small smile grew on your face and you glanced gratefully at Eugene.

Eugene may be gruff, but he always made you feel at home in an odd way. He had never tried to get anything out of you. He also consistently used gender-neutral language for you, although you couldn’t tell if it was on purpose.

He had knocked on your door your second week here, when you were more skittish and overwhelmed with people introducing themselves.

When you had opened the door, he had held up a joint and box of matches to you without speaking. You had ended up on your back steps smoking. He had introduced himself and talked a little after a while, but you had both mostly stared at the stars as you passed the joint back and forth. Ever since, you had had a standing appointment on Thursdays.

He didn’t treat you differently despite how odd you must seem, and you were eternally grateful for it.

The rest of the day went smoothly as you finished planting the crops. By the end of it, you wished you had taken off your sweater because you were sweating in the direct sunlight, despite your fingertips feeling frozen solid.

As you finished, you followed Ellie to put back your supplies. Her ‘not-dad’, Joel, was standing just inside the back gate as you re-entered together. His shoulders seemed to relax a bit as he spotted Ellie next to you.

You had always found him striking, in the most basic sense of the word. He had a striking stare, a striking jaw, a striking nose… You blinked hard. Where did that come from?

What you had found most intriguing had always been the open emotion behind his eyes when he looked at Ellie, contrasted with the hardened expression that his face returned to whenever he caught anyone else’s eye.

“Have you just been waiting there all morning without helping?” Ellie asked incredulously.

“I was at a meetin’ in town with Tommy and thought I should help you home since I know first-hand how good your sense of direction is.” Joel quipped back.

“Pffft,” she said, rolling her eyes with her whole head as she turned to you, “Bye Charlie! I’ll see you around. You’re not such bad company, you know.” Ellie exclaimed as she started walking away.

You just smirked as Joel looked at you for a moment before turning and following her.

“I thought her name was Gabby” you heard him mutter to Ellie.

“You don’t know everything then, do you?” Ellie replied, turning left towards town.

“It's right.” Joel replied with a straight face, turning right and leaving Ellie to scramble behind him.

“I know that, I just thought we were grabbing food in town since we both know how much of a cook you are…” Ellie responded as their voices faded down the street.

You stood for a moment, an unknown feeling crawling like tendrils up your body as you considered the events of the morning.

It had felt… different. For the first time in a long time.

You jumped as a hand clapped on your shoulder and you turned and flinched to see Eugene behind you.

He looked at you slightly apologetically after seeing your reaction. “See you tomorrow if you aren’t too popular for me by then.” He said as he continued on his way.

You weren’t sure the last time you had exercised the muscles on your face that much in one day as you smirked again, following him towards where most of the houses were located.

Maybe there was hope. Maybe your mind would be as quiet as your voice tonight.

Next Chapter

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