#Joel Miller x f!reader

[worlds-we-write]

Sweet on You - Masterlist

pairing: Jackson!joel miller x baker!reader

summary: In the quiet routine of Jackson, you bake bread and try to keep your distance—from your past, from attention, from him. But Joel Miller keeps showing up, and when a snowstorm leaves you alone together one night, the line between safety and temptation begins to blur.

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, Age Gap, curvy/plus-size reader, Jackson Era, Bakery AU, Slow Burn, Emotional Tension, Abusive Ex, Protective Joel, Snowed-In, First Time, Heavy Smut, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Aftercare, Angst & Comfort, Possessive Joel (will be updated as chapter progress)

Chapter 1: Bread and Butter

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Updated 04/14/25

[millers-girl]

before the dawn

chapter 5 of willow & whiskey

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you escape Kansas City with old and new friends, finally feeling like you might have something to hold onto. Then, morning comes.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, death

word count: 6.0k

series masterlist

"Henry?" You asked, eyes widening at the man before you. 

The moment he recognized your voice, he said your name – in the same disbelieving tone you'd used. 

From behind you, Joel––who had now also sat up and protectively pressed his chest to your back––said, “You know him?” 

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your chest as Henry put the gun away and reached out to wrap you up in a hug. Relief flooded through you, warmth spreading from the familiarity of an old friend in a world where such comforts were few and far between.

You couldn’t believe it was him, after all this time.

“Uh… what the fuck?” Ellie asked.

You pulled away, explaining, "Ellie, Joel, this is Henry. He was in the Boston QZ for a bit when we were little. Henry, this is Ellie, and this is my – uh, Joel."

Henry introduced Sam, his younger brother, to the group before waving to Ellie and reaching a hand out to Joel. “Hey, man, sorry about the rude awakening." Joel shrugged, making Henry drop his hand before turning back to you. "Not very talkative, huh?"

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly. "Oh, you have no idea." After a moment, you asked, "Henry, what's going on? What are you doing here – what’s with the gun?”

Henry sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, tension settling into his frame. "I'm the most wanted man in Kansas City. Although right now, my guess is you guys are running a close second."

You could tell this was going to be a long story.

Your gaze flicked back to Joel before you shuffled out of bed and went to grab a flashlight and some rations. You let the flashlight light up the dark room and offered the food to Henry and Sam. They dug in like they hadn’t eaten in days. The sight twisted something in your chest. 

You tossed some crackers at Ellie, too. 

Then, you settled back down next to Joel, criss-crossing your legs and leaning against him. The contact was instinctive, grounding. You shared your crackers with him, feeling the tension in his frame ease slightly as he accepted. 

“Where’d you get these?” Henry asked between bites, scarfing down the sandwiches you’d given him and his brother; it tasted like food from before and he slowed his chewing to savor the taste.

Ellie answered through a mouthful, "From Bill. He's dead."

Your eyes lifted to Joel, who wrapped the remainder of his crackers in his napkin and passed it over to Sam. The quiet gesture left a faint smile on your lips, your heart squeezing at the silent kindness buried beneath all that gruff.

Sam signed thank you, which Henry relayed. "I'm guessing you don't have much, so this means a lot."

You smiled warmly at them before resting your back against Joel’s shoulder, the warmth of him radiating through your tee. “How did you get here from Boston?”

Henry told the story then, his voice thick with memories of his mother dragging them from one QZ to the next in search of something better. But each stop had been the same – fear, cruelty, desperation. And then Sam had come along, the only good thing to come from all that movement. Unfortunately, Sam’s father didn't make it. And, in the end, neither did their mother. When it was just the two brothers, they settled in Kansas City. 

"Shit," you murmured after he finished. That was heavy.

The room fell into a silence, only the sound of Ellie and Sam’s quiet chewing filling the space. When everyone was done eating, Joel straightened, already sensing where your thoughts were going and cutting them off before you could even voice them.

"Look, you ate, we didn't kill each other. Let's call this a win-win and move on."

Henry was quick to respond, "Well, I'm betting you all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun's up, I'll show you one."

You were already eagerly nodding your head. Before Joel could get another word out, you clapped your hands together. “Great! We’ll pick this back up in the morning then.” 

Joel sent you a pointed look, but you just smiled sweetly at him. He let you have that, for now.

Later, as everyone settled in for the night, Henry took up a spot next to you.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, shaking his head. 

“I can’t believe you are,” you whispered back, voice laced with an exhausted kind of excitement. “What are the chances?” 

He hesitated, then admitted, “I missed you. Wish my mom had never moved us out of Boston. I kinda liked it there – I mean, with you, Jules… Nate. Shit, everyone must look so different now.” He took in your silence. “Oh.” 

You were quick to correct him. “Jules is okay, as far as I know. She left the QZ a couple years back when some traders came through from Florida… I think she had enough of the nor’easters.” 

Henry quietly chuckled at that. “What about Nate?” When you didn’t offer up any explanation, he sighed defeatedly. “That sucks.” 

You nodded.

“So, it’s just you and Ellie now?” He asked at last.

“Me, Ellie, and Joel,” you corrected, eyes drifting to his sleeping form. He looked so peaceful – a rare sight. After a beat, you tore your gaze from Joel and turned back to your childhood friend. “Why is the resistance looking for you?” 

And, so, he told you. A few years ago, Sam had gotten sick with leukemia. The little supply of treatment there was belonged to FEDRA. In order to get it, Henry had betrayed one of his closest friends, the leader of the resistance’s brother. 

“Shit,” you mumbled. “But Sam’s okay now?” Henry nodded. “Then, you did what you needed to do. You did what anyone in your shoes would’ve done. What I would’ve done for Ellie. You shouldn’t feel shame about it. You kept him alive.” 

“But at what cost?” he whispered. 

“Is there a cost you wouldn’t pay to keep Sam safe?” You asked quietly. Henry shook his head, no hesitation. “Then, that’s all that matters.” 

He nodded slowly, sighing deeply before looking down at his watch. “Guess we should get some sleep.” 

“Guess so,” you echoed, stretching. “Why don’t you take my bed?” 

His brows furrowed. “You sure?” 

You nodded. “I can share with Joel.” 

“He’s good with that?” 

You grinned. “He’s gonna have to be.” 

You grabbed your hoodie and Joel’s jacket and shuffled over to his bed. “Move over,” you whispered, forcing your way into his space. He groaned but complied, shifting to make room for you. When you draped his jacket over the both of you, he sighed in reluctant contentment.

Even as your eyes fluttered shut, you could feel his mind running a mile a minute beside you. 

“Stop worrying so much,” you mumbled. “You know, it causes wrinkles.” 

Stoic as ever, he replied, “Funny.” 

You leaned back a little, eyes now open and staring up at his face. The dim glow of the moon barely outlined his features, shadowing the creases of concern etched into his forehead. His own eyes flickered open, staring back.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, voice softer now.

Another stoic response. “How we’re gonna ditch ‘em in the morning.”

You lightheartedly pushed at his shoulder. “You’re not funny.” 

“Wasn’t tryin’ to be.” His voice was steady. After a beat, he added, “Five’s a lotta mouths to feed. Food’s not gonna last to Wyoming.” 

Your hand came up to fiddle with the button of his flannel, the rough fabric distracting you. “Why’re you talking about Wyoming?” 

“Cause you’re gonna ask ‘em to come along, aren't ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re too smart for your own good, Miller.” He let out a single breathy laugh at that, the warmth of it ghosting over your cheek. “... Is it okay? If I ask them, I mean…”

“You’re askin’ me?” 

“Five’s a lot of mouths to feed,” you echoed. 

A moment later, Joel asked, “You trust him? Even though you haven’t seen him in years?” 

You didn’t even have to think about it. “I do.” 

He shut his eyes, letting out a tired sigh. “Then, it’s fine by me.” 

You blinked up at him. “That’s it? No interrogation? Million questions?” 

Joel hummed. You turned, resting your back against his front. 

“You really are turning into a softie.”

He hummed again, the slow rise and fall of his chest lulling you into sleep.

In the morning, Henry brought you all to a meeting room on the top floor with a wide wall of windows, the perfect view of Kansas City stretched out below. 

"Welcome to Killa City."

The sky was a dull gray, heavy clouds looming over the streets that had seen too much blood. The remnants of chaos were everywhere – burned-out cars, shattered windows… but no Infected.

"No FEDRA," you noted, shuddering as you sat on the table and ate granola for breakfast. "I always heard KC FEDRA were..."

Henry nodded. "Monsters, savages. Raped and tortured and murdered people for 20 years. And, when the people got the first chance, they did it right back to them."

"But you're not FEDRA?" Joel asked, his posture tense, arms crossed over his chest like a barrier.

"Worse. I'm a collaborator."

Joel was immediately shaking his head and taking a step back, towards you. 

"I don't work with rats." 

He glanced back at you, seeing you shoot him that same look again. It’s gonna be okay.

He huffed out an irritated breath, but stayed put.

Henry chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "Yeah, you do. Today, you do cause I live here and you don't. I know the city, and that's how I'm gonna help you get out."

Joel’s jaw tensed as he glanced between you and Henry, his distrust thick enough to choke on. "Why help us?"

"Because that girl right there – she’s my oldest friend. I owe a lot to her; she's the reason I'm standing here today. And now, it's not just Sam and I anymore. We have numbers. I can show you the way and we can clear the way. I saw what you did – the way you killed those men. You can fight. We can make it through alive, all of us."

Your thoughts were cut off by Ellie and Sam laughing, their giggles slicing through the tension like a knife.

"Haven't heard that in a long time," Henry murmured, eyes meeting yours. 

You nodded in agreement. “It sure is something.” 

You took a moment to thank the heavens above for Ellie. No matter what happened in this shitty new world, she always remained so full of life, bringing out the best in every situation. Giving you something to live for. 

Your gaze shifted to Joel, whose eyes were already locked on you. There was something rare and soft in them. 

After a moment, he nodded his head. "Okay, we're in. Tell us the plan."

A few hours later, your group of five was heading through the bank and down into the maintenance tunnels, the damp air thick and musty. Every footstep echoed off the concrete walls.

“This should be it,” Henry informed, making you turn to Joel.

“You ready to get out of this shithole of a city?” You asked, grinning up at him before wincing and turning to Henry. “No offense.” 

Henry huffed a quiet laugh. “None taken.” 

“Get your gun out,” Joel instructed Ellie as you made your way past the first door, finding an empty, damp corridor.

Henry grinned. “See, it’s empty. Plan is good.” 

You chuckled, walking past Joel as he muttered, “Plan is good? We’ve been here two minutes. We don’t know anything.” 

Henry winced, turning to Ellie. “Your dad’s kind of a pessimist.”

Your laughter echoed through the tunnels as both Joel and Ellie simultaneously denied the claim and the former pulled you back to him, hand clamped gently over your mouth. “What did we say about staying quiet?” 

You rolled your eyes, prying his fingers away. “It’s creepier when we’re quiet.” You motioned towards the dark tunnels ahead. 

“It’s safer,” Joel corrected, watching you frown. “Stay behind me.” 

At the half-win, you smiled to yourself, knowing that no matter how much he fought it, some part of him was always watching out for you.

At some point, Sam complained of being tired and you happily offered to give him a piggy-back. “It’ll be like flying,” you promised, crouching down so he could climb onto your back. His small arms wrapped around your shoulders, legs dangling as you clasped your hands behind his knees. 

You grinned as you exaggerated your movements, swaying dramatically from side to side, spinning around, and leaning forward as if you were about to take off into the air. 

His quiet laughter melted your heart, bright and full of life. Even Joel didn’t have it in him to tell him to keep it down. 

For the next hour, your group weaved through the tunnel system, boots scraping softly against the concrete floor. The smell in the stale air was the kind that clung to your clothes and skin.

Eventually, you arrived at an entrance marked by a door, the walls surrounding it drawn over with chalk sketches of castles and flowers. 

“Woah,” you murmured, shifting Sam gently off your back.

Joel went through first, and you peeked your head over his shoulder to see what lay ahead. The space inside was surprisingly large, filled with remnants of what once must have been a daycare or school. Crayons and papers littered the tables, toys were scattered messily across the floor, and in one corner, a ready nook sat abandoned but strangely inviting, the worn cushions still holding the shape of past occupants. 

"I heard about places like this,” Joel said, his voice softer than usual as he took in the remnants of the past. “People went underground after Outbreak Day and built settlements."

"What happened to them?" Ellie asked, fingers skimming over a dust-covered picture book.

Joel shrugged. "Maybe they didn't follow the rules, got infected."

Ellie hummed before sitting beside Sam at a low table, where miniature cars and comic books lay waiting for hands to bring them back to life. You, Joel, and Henry continued exploring, but your attention was drawn to the faded drawings on the wall. Small hands had once pressed against this surface, creating bright colors in the darkness.

The sound of laughter pulled you from your thoughts. “To the edge of the universe and back. Endure and survive,” Ellie said dramatically, lowering her voice. 

She called your name, making you turn with a fond smile. “What is it, love?” 

"Can we rest here for a while? There's actually shit to do here."

You saw no harm in it. "Yeah, babe. Why don't you and Sam play for a bit?” 

Henry nodded in agreement. “Can't hurt to wait out the light, show up on the other side of the tunnels with darkness on our side."

Everyone turned to Joel, who, after a moment, relented with a small nod. The kids wasted no time in kicking around a soccer ball, their joy filling the hollow space.

 You tossed off your pack, sinking into a chair as you pulled out your book. If you all were staying for a bit, you may as well get comfortable.

Henry whistled at the sight. “You making your way through the classics?”

You giggled, thumbing the worn pages. “No time like the end of the world to catch up on your reading goals, right?”

“Guess not,” he chuckled. “Is it any good?” 

Your gaze flickered to Joel, who was silently pacing. “It’s getting really good,” you murmured, before turning back to Henry with a laugh. “I can’t believe you thought Ellie was Joel’s daughter.” 

Henry groaned at that. “I thought she was your and Joel’s daughter.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “You thought me and Joel…”

His confusion deepened. “You guys aren’t…?” 

You floundered, heat rising to your cheeks. “No, we are… I mean – I think we are… I mean – “ You groaned in frustration before waving a hand dismissively. “Let’s talk about something else, huh?” 

As you settled back into your book, Joel eventually came to sit beside you, the chair creaking beneath his weight. You stretched your arms high above your head, a tired sigh escaping as your back arched. The motion made your shirt ride up, exposing a silver of your stomach to the cool air.

Before you even noticed, Joel’s fingers brushed against your skin as he wordlessly tugged your shirt back down. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t mention it. Instead, you focused on the warmth of his arm, now resting lazily along the back of your chair. 

“Ugh, it’s so nice having other people around,” you started. 

"You guys don't run into a lot of other people?" Henry asked, gaze flickering toward Joel's casual, yet telling, placement.

You shrugged, smirking. "We're probably not the best company anyway, with Grumpy over here." 

Joel shot you a look, but the hardness in his eyes softened when you giggled. “I’m teasing.” 

The elated shrieks from Ellie and Sam pulled your attention away for a second. Then, Joel turned back to Henry, exhaling. “Listen, if you were collaboratin' to take care of him… I shouldn't have said what I said. I don't know your situation."

You smiled to yourself, inching closer to the space under Joel’s arm. It was a small thing, but seeing him acknowledge his mistakes felt like a quiet victory – like you were watching him grow as a person and loving every little step you were seeing.

"And I'm not saying they should let it go but, seems kinda cruel to send a whole army after you for that."

Henry sighed, hesitating. "You know… I wasn't, uh, exactly telling you the truth before... about me not killing someone."

He explained to Joel about Sam’s leukemia, about betraying Kathleen for medicine. When he finished, his laughter was hollow. “Still think they should take it easy on me? Or am I the bad guy?"

Joel didn’t answer right away.

Henry scoffed. "I don't know what you're waiting on. The answer's easy: I am the bad buy because I did a bad guy thing." 

“No, you’re not,” you said firmly, voice sharper now. “Doing something bad when you're desperate doesn't make you bad. It just makes you human." 

Henry shrugged. "I feel like a bad guy. But you get it, though, right, Joel? You might not be Ellie's father... but you were someone's... See, I could tell." 

Sarah.

You looked up at Joel, watching his face freeze before hardening to stone once more. 

You reached out instinctively, but before you could touch him, he abruptly stood.

“We’ve waited long enough. Ellie, grab your pack. Let's get a move on." 

Without another look back, he slung his own pack over his shoulder and walked toward the unexplored end of the tunnel.

Henry and you pulled up the back, and your old friend mumbled, “Not one for dwelling on the past, huh?” 

You offered an apologetic smile. “Not really… Sorry.” 

When the moon came up, your group made it through to the other side successfully, without any issues from Kathleen's people or Infected. Relief settled over you, but the tension in your shoulders refused to fade completely. The quiet here was unsettling, the kind that made your stomach twist with unease. 

“No one’s here,” you mumbled, glancing around the abandoned suburban neighborhood. The wind rattled a loose street sign, the only sound in the eerie stillness.

“I know,” Henry agreed. “And no one’s gonna be, because my plan worked.” He grinned triumphantly.

From up front, Joel commented, “So much goddamn talkin’,” but there wasn’t a hint of malice in his tone.

Even Ellie noticed, and it made her grin.

Henry nudged your side, making you turn to him. “Didn’t I deliver? I mean, I did, didn’t I? I delivered.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, giggling. “You delivered,” you confirmed, making him fist-bump the air.

“Make this right, go down the street, embankment behind the last house… and we’re out,” Henry instructed. 

You could taste freedom, happy to be done with Kansas City and leave it behind like a bad dream.

“So, we cross the river and then what?” Ellie asked Henry. “Where are you gonna go?” 

Joel glanced back at you.

“Don’t know yet,” Henry answered. 

“We’re going to Wyoming,” you said, opening up the topic. “Why don’t you and Sam… come with us?” 

Henry hesitated, his eyes flicking to Joel. “You want us to? All of you?” 

You silently nodded, speaking for Joel, before Ellie cut you off. 

“Oh, if you’re worried about Joel, don’t be. He’ll change his mind. Trust me. This is how it goes.” She lowered her voice, mimicking Joel. “He’s like, ‘No, Ellie. Never, ever, ever happening.’ And then I’m like, “I’m gonna ask you a million more times.’ And he’s like – “ 

A gunshot rang through the air, cutting Ellie off as the bullet landed mere feet from her.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as instinct took over. You grabbed Ellie, yanking her back behind an abandoned car. Joel crouched on her other side, Henry and Sam scrambling behind.

“Where the fuck is that coming from?” you gasped as another bullet whizzed past, this time shattering the window above you. 

“What do we do?” Henry asked.

Joel moved carefully, peeking around the car. When he leaned back, his eyes met yours. “Aright. You and Ellie, stay here.” 

Your fingers dug into his arm before you even registered the motion. “What?” 

“If you don’t move, he’s not gonna hit you. I’m gonna go around, try to get in the house through the back, and then I’ll take him out.” 

Your stomach twisted. 

“If you go out there, he’s gonna kill you,” Ellie voiced exactly what you were thinking.

“It’s dark, and he has shit aim. Nobody’s gonna kill me.” 

You swallowed hard. “This is a terrible plan.”

Joel’s gaze softened. “Do you trust me?”

Your throat felt tight. “You know I do. Asshole.” 

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips before he reached up, cupping your cheek with a rough, calloused hand. The warmth of his palm calmed you, just a bit.

“If you die doing this…” you murmured, “I’ll kill you.” 

He squeezed your cheek gently before slipping away into the darkness.

Minutes passed slowly. Then – a shout. An engine revving.

“Fuck,” you breathed, pulling the safety off your gun.

In a moment, a massive truck barreled through abandoned cars. The ground shook beneath you as chaos erupted. A sniper – Joel, you realized with relief – began firing at the truck. You barely had time to react before the vehicle crashed head first into a house in the corner. The leaking gasoline caused an explosion, beginning to break the concrete ground beneath.

You pushed Ellie towards a car to hide behind, Henry and Sam right behind you. “Are you okay?” You whispered to Ellie, watching as she nodded quickly, eyes gazing over your shoulder at the fire. 

“Dead end, Henry,” came an unfamiliar voice – likely, Kathleen’s. “Gonna step on out? Save us some time?” 

Henry’s eyes met yours, and you quietly shook your head. 

“No? That’s alright. Doesn’t matter,” she taunted.

For a brief second, Henry glanced at Sam, then shut his eyes. 

No. 

“I’ll come out,” he shouted. “Just let everyone else go.” 

“No, sorry,” Kathleen replied. “The girls are with the man who killed Bryan, and Sam… well, Sam’s with you.” 

“You don’t understand,” Henry tried. 

“But, I do. I know why you did what you did. But, did you ever stop to think that maybe he was supposed to die?” 

What the fuck? 

“He’s just a fucking kid,” Henry argued. 

“Well, kids die all the time, Henry. You think the world revolves around him? That he’s worth everything?” 

This woman had clearly never loved someone unconditionally before. Sparing a glance down at Ellie, you decided – yeah, actually, the world did revolve around her. She was worth everything.

“This is what happens when you fuck with fate,” Kathleen continued.

You made eye contact with Henry again, and this time, the look he gave you was different, but you deciphered it nonetheless.

“Get ready to take Sam and run,” he whispered to you.

You were already shaking your head, a lump forming in your throat. “I’m not leaving you,” you said, voice breaking. His gaze narrowed, begging you and finally, you relented and let out a nod, if only to appease him.

“Okay,” Henry agreed aloud before standing up to meet Kathleen’s eyes. 

She cocked her gun, ready to take his life, but a sudden creaking caught her attention – caught everyone’s attention. Even you glanced up over the hood of the car, and saw the truck on fire begin to sink into the ground. 

A deep groaning rumbled through the ground.

The earth cracked.

For a second, everything was quiet. 

Then, the swarm emerged.

Hundreds of Infected clawed their way to their surface, snarling and screeching as they quickly made their way for whoever was closest.

Your pulse skyrocketed, primal terror taking over. “Run,” you ordered, shoving Ellie and Sam ahead. “Go, go, go!”

At some point, Henry grabbed Sam and you pushed Ellie forward just as an Infected tackled you. You hit the ground hard, the air punched from your lungs. Clawed hands scrambled for your throat.

A gunshot rang out, and suddenly the weight disappeared. 

You gasped, blinking up to see a familiar silhouette on the top floor of the house.

Joel. 

You bolted upright, frantically scanning for Ellie. Her ponytail caught your eye just as she was trapped inside a car, with an Infected.

“Oh, my God,” you choked out, yanking the door open. Ellie fell into your arms, and you held her tightly for just a moment before grabbing her hand and startlingly looking around for Henry and Sam. 

They were trapped beneath a car, Infected clawing at them from outside.

You met Joel’s eyes. A single nod. That was all it took.

You maneuvered through Infected, shooting and stabbing – and Joel caught whoever you missed – until you reached the pair. 

You helped Henry out while Ellie pulled Sam free, leading him towards the embankment. You followed right after her, hand clutching Henry’s in a death grip, never looking back at the sound of screeching and gunfire. 

You didn’t look back until another set of hands rested on your waist – a familiar, large, calloused pair of hands. A shuddering breath left you, and you dropped Henry’s hand and reached back to interlace your fingers with Joel’s. His grip was firm, grounding. You clung to it as the five of you ran, as if letting go would make everything behind you catch up and drag you under.

The night swallowed the chaos of the city behind you, leaving only your ragged breaths and hurried footfalls echoing against the empty streets of the KC suburbs. You didn’t stop running until your legs burned and your chest ached, until you’d reached a beat-down motel on the outskirts of town.

Ellie and Sam were in the bedroom, quietly murmuring to each other as they flipped through their comic book. You, Joel, and Henry rested in the dimly lit living room, the silence between you thick.

Henry ate quietly, his movements slow and mechanical.

You hadn’t let go of Joel’s hand since the bridge. Not when you stopped to catch your breath. Not when you settled against the motel wall.

Now, your interlaced hands lay in your lap, your head resting against his shoulder, the weight of his presence tethering you.

He passed you a bottle of water, and you took a sip, letting the cool liquid wash away the taste of ash in your mouth.

Henry finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “You think they’ll be okay?” His gaze was fixed on Ellie and Sam in the next room.

Joel exhaled slowly, his free hand lifting to brush the stray hairs from your face. “Yeah, I think… it’s easier when you’re a kid anyway. You don’t have anybody else relyin’ on you… that’s the hard part.” 

Henry let out a humourless chuckle, taking another slow bite. “Well, I guess we're doing a good job then.” 

Joel hummed in agreement, his head tilting slightly so it rested against yours. “What’s that comic book say, baby? Endure and survive?” 

“Endure and survive,” you murmured, the words settling heavily in your chest.

“That shit’s redundant,” Henry commented, making you let out a single breathy laugh. 

Joel’s fingers tightened briefly around yours, assuring himself you were still there, still good. After a beat, he turned back to Henry, voice dropping low.

“Look, I don’t know how we’re gettin’ to Wyoming. We’re probably walkin’...” 

Your throat tightened; you blinked rapidly against the sting in your eyes, willing yourself to hold it together. For what he was trying to say. For the chaos of the day. For the overwhelming emotions of it all. 

“Yeah?” Henry asked, turning to you. You sniffled, nodding vigorously. “Yeah. I – I think it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend… Nice for me to have mine, too.” You looked up, meeting his eyes. The shared look between you felt like a glimmer of hope. “I’ll tell him in the morning. New day, new start.”

You and Henry moved to the bedroom, helping Ellie and Sam settle in for the night. As you tucked Ellie in, you gently asked, “You okay?” 

She hesitated then nodded, looking up at you. “That was scary.” 

“It was,” you said softly, running your fingers down her arm to gently grab her hand before pressing a kiss to the back of it.

She glanced over at Sam’s sleeping form. “I’m glad they’re here. They feel like family.” 

The words brought a small smile to your lips. “They are,” you whispered. “I’m glad they’re here, too. Now, get some sleep, love.” 

After the kids had fallen asleep, and Henry began prepping his sleeping bag as well, you caught Joel’s eye and nodded towards the door, silently asking him to follow.

Outside, the night air was crisp. You leaned against the railing, head tilting back to take in the starry sky.

The quiet click of the door shutting signaled Joel’s presence. Before he could say anything, you closed the distance, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself against him. 

He didn’t hesitate. His arms came around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. The tension in your body melted, just a little.

“Thanks for having my back today,” you murmured against his shoulder, feeling him tighten his hold.

“I’m always gonna have your back.” 

His voice was thick, low – certain.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Mean it?” you whispered, your gaze flickering between his eyes and lips.

“Mean it,” he promised, hand sliding up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed gently over your skin before he finally––finally––closed the gap between you. 

The kiss was soft, but not hesitant – it was a long time coming. You leaned into him, breath catching and it undid him completely. As you curled your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, he groaned softly, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him.

It was everything – impossibly too much and not enough, all at once.

When you finally broke apart, both of you stayed close, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling.

His voice was quiet when he spoke. “C’mon. Let’s go get some sleep.” 

You nodded, but neither of you moved right away. You stayed right there, pressed against him, as if letting go would make this all turn into a dream somehow, slipping through your fingers.

He pressed a quick second kiss to your lips before finally letting you out of his grasp.

Inside, you curled against Joel’s side, his jacket draped over you both your hoodie acting as a pillow under your heads. Just like always, only now – everything had changed.

You were nearly afraid to fall asleep, afraid that doing so would make the world crash in too soon.

And maybe it did.

Because when you woke, it was to Ellie’s screams, frantic and sharp as she and Sam came barreling into the room. Ellie tripped to the ground and Sam landed on top of her, snarling. His small frame looked twisted and wrong.

He’d turned.

Joel reacted before you could, sitting up and reaching for his gun, but Henry got to it first.

“Nope, nope, nope!” He shouted, gun pointed at you and Joel as you both looked helplessly between Ellie and Henry. 

You went to take a step towards Ellie, but Henry shot at your feet, making you stumble back into Joel. 

Ellie’s cries for you and Joel tore through you, but Henry wouldn’t let you move. It was all you could do to gape at Henry with a look that begged him to let you help her.

In one final desperate act, Henry turned the gun towards the kids and pulled the trigger. The force was enough to push Sam’s lifeless body off of Ellie.

She sobbed loudly, tripping over herself to find you and you instantly held her tightly, eyes never leaving Henry’s. 

He stared at Sam, at the blood seeping onto the carpet, Sam’s blood. 

Henry’s world crumbled before him.

Suddenly, the gun was back up, now facing you, Joel and Ellie. 

“Easy, easy,” Joel tried, voice soft as he held his hands up. “Henry, give me the gun.” 

Henry’s breath became uneven as he glanced around the room, eyes always finding Sam – he was starting to have a panic attack.

“Henry,” you gently called, meeting his eyes as they brimmed with tears. “Henry, it’s okay,” you said, voice quivering. “You’re – “ 

“What did I do?” Henry asked, voice barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of his grief. 

“Shh,” Joel tried. “Henry, give me the gun.” 

“What did I do? What – wha – what did I do?” He turned once again to his brother. “Sam?” 

“Henry,” Joel tried again, pushing you and Ellie behind him now. “Gimme the gun. Gimme the gun, Henry.” 

Henry glanced at Joel before his eyes met yours, wide and full of shock. “I’m sorry.” 

Your breath hitched. “Henry – ”

He turned the gun onto himself, pulling the trigger before you could even blink.

“Henry, no!” Joel shouted, as Henry’s body thudded to the ground.

Ellie let out a wail, and you pulled her closer, but you could feel your own body shake with terror. Your own tears blurred your vision as your breath became ragged. You couldn’t tell when Joel had pulled you and Ellie out of the room, but as soon as the fresh air hit your face, bile rose in your lurching stomach.

You fell to your knees, heaving until there was nothing left.

Joel’s hand was warm on your back, steadying, but the world felt unbearably cold.

You didn’t remember digging their graves, only the silence that hung over you all as you stood before them.

Ellie wrote something on Sam’s etch-a-sketch and left it on his grave. I’m sorry.

You traced the dirt of Henry's grave with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry, too,” you mumbled, before picking up your hoodie and putting on your backpack.

“Which way’s west?” Ellie softly asked, barely meeting your or Joel’s eyes. Joel nudged his head in the general direction. And she began walking.

You followed.

Joel behind you.

Again, no one knew what to say.

.

.

.

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8 @hoddystark @mmkkzz @victoriaholland @xodilfluvr @ilovetoomanymen @21tao @mystickittytaco

[dixons-sunshine]

Early Mornings | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Joel Miller came with a lot of things, both good and not so good. However, to your initial surprise, it came with a tiny bit of clinginess, especially in the morning, and Joel decided that this particular morning, he wouldn’t let you leave his bed.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Pre/no outbreak.

Warnings: No use of y/n, sleepy Joel, no actual warnings.

Word count: 811

A/N: So...guess who watched The Last Of Us...and fell in love with yet another apocalypse man...Me lol. I fully blame (thank) @dixonsdarkelf for this. She’s the one who said I would enjoy it, and she was right. Also, massive thanks to @daryltwdixon for being my Joel source and giving this the okay to post (aka seeing that I didn’t completely mess up his character) and to @/dixonsdarkelf for being my personal hype woman when I expressed being nervous as hell to post this. Anyways, TL;DR: I hope y’all like this!

When you first met Joel Miller, there was no denying that he wasn’t the friendliest of people. He wasn’t rude by any means, just not the most open with people he didn’t trust or care for. He kept to himself, kept his answers short and to the point, and didn’t go out of his way to please others. However, there was something about him that had you intrigued, that lured you in, and by sticking it out, by getting to know him slowly but surely, that stoic facade chipped away piece by piece. Soon, one thing led to another, and the two of you went on a date…and another, and another, until you both finally made it official.

You became Joel Miller’s girl.

When the two of you put a label on your relationship, it was as if a switch flipped in Joel’s mind. You got to see parts of him that most others didn’t, got to experience the soft side of him, see him be vulnerable and open with you, and it was beautiful. You felt honoured that he trusted you enough to share that piece of him with you.

What you had not expected, however, was how clingy he could be on occasion, especially in the morning.

“Joel,” you started with a soft laugh, attempting to pry yourself from his arms for the tenth time in a span of five minutes, but Joel’s grip only tightened in response. “Joel, I gotta get up.”

“No.” His voice was gruff and laced with sleep, with a sense of determined defiance there as well.

His response only made you laugh again. “Babe, I’m serious. I gotta get up. I can’t be late for work.”

“Call in sick or somethin’,” he grumbled tiredly, his arms tightening around your waist and pulling you even closer, if that was humanly possible. “Ain’t lettin’ you go. It’s too early.”

Carefully manoeuvering yourself to turn around and face him, you silently admired the beauty of the man you got to call yours. His face, usually sporting a slight frown, was soft and relaxed. His mouth was slightly parted, his eyes still shut, with his hair a mess and covering his forehead. He was supposed to go get it cut later that same day.

Slowly bringing your hand up to cup his cheek, you rubbed soft, soothing circles against his skin, his stubble pricking against your hand. You smiled when he subconsciously nuzzled into your touch. “Just call in sick. That simple, huh?”

“That simple,” he echoed. He opened an eye to peer at you, his dark, chocolate-like iris trailing over your features. A small, barely noticeable smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Want me to do it for you?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Aren’t you supposed to go to work today, too?”

Joel nodded. “Yeah, but I can be persuaded to call in sick if you do the same.”

“Is that so?” you asked rhetorically, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Mhm.” Without any warning, Joel pulled you into his chest, smiling at the sound of your sweet, angelic laughter. “We’re sick today. Practically on our death beds.”

Despite the logical part of your brain telling you that you needed to be firm, to get out of bed and haul your ass into the shower, you found yourself melting into his embrace. You lay your head down to rest on his chest, wrapping an arm around his bare torso.

“Five more minutes,” you offered as a compromise, shutting your eyes and humming in content when Joel’s nails gently raked over your back.

“Yeah, sure,” he chuckled, closing his eyes as well. He knew damn well that those ‘five minutes’ wouldn’t just be five minutes. And when you reached over to grab your phone ten minutes later, entering your boss’ number, he chuckled victoriously. “So we’re on our death beds today?” he inquired, his voice oozing playful cockiness.

You rolled your eyes in faux annoyance, but your smile gave you away and showed that you were, indeed, anything but annoyed. “We’re on our death beds today.”

“Damn straight.” He barely gave you any time at all before he was embracing you again, hearing the faint ringing being from your phone, which was pressed against your ear. He placed sweet, tender kisses against the skin below your ear, smiling at the sound of your giggles.

“Joel,” you drawled warningly, stiffling your giggles and sitting upright when your boss answered. “Good morning, sir.”

“I win,” he whispered playfully, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him again.

“I hate you,” you mouthed to him, shaking your head and quietly scoff-laughing to yourself.

“Love you too, Darlin’,” he mouthed back with a quiet chuckle, making himself comfortable against his pillows, simply enjoying your presence as he waited for you to finish your phonecall and settle down once again.

[adelliet]

Joel Miller x f!reader

MISS MY EX

Summary: It’s been a while since you and Joel were together, and you don’t even live in Jackson anymore. He’s fine with it—or at least, he thought he was. That is, until you come back with a ring on your finger, reminding him that he’s not as okay as he claimed to be.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, engagement, jealousy, cheating (come on, you saw it coming), unprotected sex, nicknames, mention of masturbation, obsession (not in a creepy way), corn with a plot

A/n: Hi! So, this is once again ridiculously long (I am giving up fr). Anyway if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

“Come on, Joel, give me a hand with this,” Tommy groaned, his arms trembling under the weight of a heavy crate of beer.

Joel exhaled sharply, stepping forward and lifting the box with ease. He barely even had to try. Tommy just shot him an unimpressed look as they made their way toward the bar.

“Alright, are you finally gonna tell me what the hell is going on?” Joel asked, narrowing his eyes at Tommy, who seemed unusually focused.

Tommy hesitated for a second before simply saying, “Someone’s arriving.

Joel let out a frustrated sigh. He was really starting to lose patience. “Yeah, you already told me that. But who the hell is coming?!”

He pushed the door to the bar open with his shoulder, expecting an answer, but Tommy completely ignored him. Instead, he strolled past him, heading straight for the bartender and striking up a conversation like nothing had happened.

Joel clenched his jaw, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. Fine. His gaze swept across the bar, and that’s when he noticed it.

The walls were decorated with 'Welcome Back' signs, their bold, hand-painted letters standing out against the rustic wood. Ribbons were wrapped around the chairs, the kind of detail that felt too thoughtful for just anyone. A few tables had been rearranged, pushed together to accommodate a larger group. Someone had even gone through the trouble of lighting candles, their soft flickering glow casting warm shadows across the room.

Whoever was coming back…they weren’t just passing through. They were someone important. And Joel didn’t know why, but something about it made his stomach tighten.

“Where do you want this?” Joel asked once he finally took in all the decorations.

Tommy barely spared him a glance before gesturing toward the floor beside the bar, too preoccupied with whatever he was doing to give a proper response.

Joel set the crate down with a quiet grunt before straightening up, his gaze flicking back to Tommy. “You still don’t wanna tell me who’s coming?” His voice was calm, laced with mild curiosity. And why wouldn’t he be curious? Anyone would be, considering how much effort had gone into this setup.

Tommy finally paused his conversation with the bartender, turning back to Joel with a grin, one that was just a little too smug. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, patting Joel’s shoulder in a deliberately teasing way before disappearing.

Joel’s jaw clenched as he watched Tommy slip through the storage room doors, leaving him standing there with nothing but more unanswered questions.

Whatever. If Tommy didn’t want to tell him, then Joel didn’t need to know. Even though his curiosity was eating away at him, he didn’t need to know. He didn’t.

Joel sank onto a barstool, his gaze settling on the bartender as he tried to read him, see if he knew anything. The man wiped a glass with a rag, not even glancing at Joel. Yeah, he knew something. Or at least, he knew more than Joel did.

Letting out a slow breath, Joel shifted his attention toward the front doors, watching every person who walked in, analyzing them. None of them seemed out of the ordinary. None of them explained why the place was decked out like it was waiting for royalty.

Then, suddenly, Tommy shot out of the storage room like a damn bullet, walking briskly through the bar before heading straight outside. Joel just watched him go, amusement twitching at the corner of his lips. He hadn’t seen Tommy this stressed in a long time.

As time passed, more and more people gathered in the bar. Joel would even go as far as to say that half of Jackson must have been crammed inside. The place was packed, people chatting, some holding drinks, others nibbling on snacks.

Joel had nothing.

He hadn’t moved from his seat, hadn’t ordered a drink, hadn’t even considered eating. He just sat there, gaze locked on the front doors, curiosity simmering beneath his otherwise calm demeanor.

Then, just like that, Tommy burst back inside, breathless and sweaty, his hair damp like he’d just sprinted a damn marathon.

“She’s here.”

The words tumbled from Tommy’s mouth in a pant, loud enough to catch the room’s attention. A murmur spread through the crowd, voices overlapping as people turned to one another, sharing glances and hushed conversations.

Joel still had no fucking clue who the hell was arriving. All he knew now was that it was a she. Like that helped him figure out anything.

Tommy plopped down next to Joel at the bar, still trying to catch his breath. In the meantime, he ordered two whiskeys, showing two fingers to the bartender.

Joel raised an eyebrow, eyeing the two drinks before glancing back at Tommy. “Two whiskeys? You planning on getting double drunk or just trying to drown whatever’s bothering you faster?”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. He didn’t even flinch at Joel’s jab, just gave him a knowing look. “Trust me, you’re gonna need this,” he said, his voice low, almost like he was trying to prepare Joel for whatever was about to happen.

Tommy grabbed both glasses of golden liquid, handing one to Joel and taking a sip from the other. His face was a mix of provocation, impatience, and curiosity, as if he was silently daring Joel to react.

Joel hesitated for a moment, eyeing the glass in his hand before glancing up at Tommy. His brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could say anything, the sound of the main doors swinging open cut through the air.

Everyone in the bar fell silent for a moment, their heads turning toward the entrance. And in that brief, tense silence, Joel’s heart skipped a beat, the mystery finally about to unravel.

Then you appeared in the doorway.

Oh, so that was the reason Tommy hadn’t told him. That was why actually no one had said anything. His ex had come back. What an event this is.

When Joel saw you, his heart shattered into pieces and sank deep within him. He froze in place, the noise around him fading into nothing as he focused solely on you. The anxious feeling inside him grew stronger with every passing second that his eyes stayed on you.

It had been half a year since you broke up. Joel had taken it in stride, acting like everything was fine. He’d been normal, never overreacting whenever your name came up in conversation. He didn’t dwell on it, didn’t let it affect him, at least, not when he wasn’t alone. But now, seeing you, it was like you triggered every single feeling he had buried. The sadness, the sense of loss, the anxiety, it hit him all at once.

He was fucked.

You looked so happy. Your laughter filled the air, a genuine smile that stretched from ear to ear, and you waved at everyone around you, completely at ease. Joel couldn’t help but pause for a moment, watching you, as his heart skipped a beat.

He had forgotten just how beautiful you were. The way your hair shimmered in the light, each strand looking soft and healthy, like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. The way your eyes sparkled with mischief, always so full of life. Your skin, smooth and glowing, like you had been kissed by the sun itself.

And then there was the scent. The fresh, citrusy aroma that always lingered around you. It was like a breath of fresh air, light and refreshing, yet comforting at the same time. And that’s when it hit him. Lemmy.

It was probably on your second or third date when you both decided to grab a coffee at a small café. Joe went for his usual black coffee, and you chose an iced lemon tea. As you were sitting at the table, chatting and laughing about random things, you took a sip of your tea, but you misjudged it, and the lemon tea splashed all over your white, cute, short dress.

Joe looked at you, his eyes widening a bit, and then he laughed. “I knew you had something tangy about you, but this is a whole new level…” he teased, nudging you playfully. Even though you felt a bit embarrassed, you couldn’t help but laugh too.

That was the moment he started calling you “Lemmy,” and it became something just between the two of you. From that day on, even though you wear perfume, you always smelled like lemon to him. And in that moment, he realized just how much he missed you, how much he still cared.

When your eyes met Joel’s, his heart raced, he didn’t know how to react. Whether to smile or wave. Instead, he just kept a stoic expression. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, and he could see how your nose twitched when you noticed him. There was definitely something in your eyes when you saw him, but it quickly faded when another man appeared behind you.

The man wrapped his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss on your cheek, and waved at everyone just like you had moments ago. Who the hell is this? Is he your—

Suddenly, the guy lifted your hand, and Joel’s gaze immediately locked onto the sparkling, large diamond on your finger. The crowd erupted in cheers, clapping, standing up from their seats, and some even made their way over to you, ready to congratulate you. But Joel stayed frozen. In that moment, the world around him shattered.

He saw nothing but darkness, his insides twisted, and he felt an overwhelming wave of nausea. Without another word, he set his glass down on the bar and headed straight for the bathroom. He needed to escape, from everything, from you.

Tommy handed Joel the whiskey from before, noticing how tense he had become. Joel’s hands were clenched into fists, his fingers pressed tightly against his mouth. His eyes, dark, filled with anger, made everyone who met his gaze look away, intimidated by the storm brewing inside him.

He didn’t even look at Tommy when he took the glass from his hand, lifting it to his lips in one quick, almost reckless motion. The liquid burned his throat as it slid down, but it didn’t even register to Joel.

“Get me another,” he growled, pushing the empty glass toward Tommy without meeting his eyes. There was no gratitude in his voice, no acknowledgment of Tommy’s effort, just raw need, the kind of need that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Tommy hesitated for a moment, feeling the tension in the air, but sighed and took the glass to the bar. Joel’s gaze was fixed on you the entire time, his body trembling with a combination of nerves and something far darker. His foot tapped against the floor, restless, as if the anticipation of seeing you and that guy together was slowly eating him alive.

The sight of you laughing, the carefree way you interacted with everyone around you, it was almost like you weren’t the same person who had been so close to him. The way you were looking at that guy, with a smile Joel used to be the one to receive. It made his heart tighten in his chest. The way that guy touched you, the way he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, it wasn’t right. Joel’s mind screamed at him.

That guy had no right to be that close to you, no right to touch you, no right to kiss you. He hadn’t earned that, not the way Joel had.

“Here’s another—” Tommy’s voice broke through Joel’s thoughts, but it didn’t seem to register at first. Tommy placed the glass on the table, but Joel didn’t waste a second. He grabbed it and drank it down quickly, as if he could drown the feeling in his chest, as if the whiskey could erase the image of you with someone else.

“Whoa, easy there. You don’t want to get drunk while she’s here—” Tommy warned, but Joel barely registered the caution in his voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joel snapped, his voice low and tight with frustration. He finally turned to face Tommy, his anger unmistakable. His eyes burned with the sting of betrayal, but it wasn’t about Tommy keeping the secret. It was about you, about the feeling that he had been kept in the dark.

“Because I thought it would be better this way,” Tommy sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Better? Exactly what do you mean by that?” Joel scoffed sarcastically, his voice thick with frustration and anger. “I just didn’t want you to suffer before she would even arrive…” Tommy’s words sounded like he was trying to justify himself, but Joel wasn’t buying it.

Joel shook his head in disbelief, biting the inside of his mouth to keep himself from saying something he might regret. “Uh-huh, sure,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mock agreement.

Every word Tommy said only made Joel more angry. The feeling inside him was a mixture of disappointment, hurt, and a complete sense of betrayal. And the worst part? Seeing you, happy and carefree, with someone else, someone who had the right to touch you in ways Joel didn’t anymore. The anger bubbled up inside of him, mingling with an overwhelming sense of regret.

“Heyy!”

The familiar voice immediately pulled both Joel and Tommy’s attention. Their heads snapped toward you.

The moment Joel saw you, something inside him softened. Seeing you in person after all this time, so close, looking even more beautiful than he remembered—it did something to him. His clenched jaw, his tense muscles, all of it eased, and for a second, the hard exterior cracked just enough for a faint smile to appear on his face.

“Hey,” Joel greeted back, his voice no longer carrying the anger from before. It was calm, warm, until he noticed him.

The man standing behind you, smiling just as wide.

And just like that, the warmth vanished. Joel’s blood boiled as he watched the guy place his hands on your waist, holding you so casually. His own fists curled tight, knuckles turning white. If he could, he’d land a punch right across his smug face.

“Heyy, so who are these people?” The guy asked, his hands casually gripping your sides as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Joel felt his teeth grind together.

You turned slightly, gesturing towards Joel first. “This is Joel, my ex-boyfriend.”

Joel only nodded stiffly, his eyes locked onto the guy with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“Ah, hi! I’m Ted. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The man stepped forward, extending a hand toward Joel, but Joel barely even looked at it, making it very clear that he had no intention of shaking it.

“O-kay…” Ted awkwardly retracted his hand, turning his attention to Tommy instead.

“And this is Tommy, his brother.”

This time, Tommy shook Ted’s hand without hesitation, though he side-eyed Joel, knowing exactly what was running through his mind.

For a moment, silence settled between you and Joel. When your eyes met again, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat before offering him a warm, almost nervous smile.

Joel, despite every raging emotion inside of him, somehow found it in himself to return it, barely.

Then, of course, Tommy spoke.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

Joel’s stomach dropped.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckled, glancing at Ted before turning back to the Miller brothers. “We were actually planning to have it this week. Here.”

Tommy’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Joel, meanwhile, clenched his.

“You’re getting married here? In Jackson?!”

You laughed, nodding. “I have good memories here.”

Your eyes flickered back to Joel, as if expecting him to say something. But Joel wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked away, jaw tight, chest heavy, his entire body suddenly feeling too hot, too restless.

You noticed and for the first time that night, your heart ached. You had a feeling, no, you knew, how hard this had to be for him. Seeing you again after all this time, not just with someone else, but with a ring on your finger. Six months wasn’t that long, yet somehow, you had moved on. Found someone. Got engaged.

Meanwhile, Joel had been alone.

You glanced at him, a quiet, almost apologetic look on your face. But if he noticed it, he didn’t show it. His expression remained unreadable, his eyes trained on the floor, on his drink, anywhere but on you.

“That’s amazing!” Tommy’s voice broke the moment, his excitement bursting through. “Oh man, this is gonna be the best, most unforgettable wedding in Jackson history!”

His eyes shone with genuine happiness, completely oblivious to the way Joel’s grip on his glass tightened.

Even after everything, after you and Joel fell apart, no one in Jackson had ever stopped caring about you. You were still the kind-hearted soul everyone adored. The one always willing to help, the one who rarely ever had conflicts with anyone. That was just one of the many things Joel used to love about you. And still do.

“We need to announce it to everyone—”

“Wait.”

You stopped Tommy before he could get too carried away with his excitement.

“I just got here. Let’s hold off for a bit.”

Tommy gave you a nod of understanding, but when his gaze shifted to Joel, his enthusiasm dimmed. The joy over your wedding seemed to fade the moment he saw his brother’s face.

“Hey, Ted, how about we grab a whiskey? My treat.”

Ted smiled, glancing at you for approval. When you gave him a small nod, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before following Tommy to the bar.

Just before he left, you caught Tommy’s eye and silently mouthed thank you. He gave a small nod in return. Once they were finally far enough away, you sat down across from Joel. He still wouldn’t look at you.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself before speaking. “How have you been?” Your voice was gentle, filled with concern.

Joel pressed his lips together, inhaling deeply. He stayed quiet for a long moment before finally meeting your gaze.

“Fine.” His voice was firm, clipped. “You?”

You knew him too well. Knew that “fine” never really meant fine. You hesitated before answering, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “Fine,” you murmured, nodding slightly.

Joel nodded too. A meaningless, reflexive gesture. His fingers played absently with the empty glass in front of him, the calloused pads of his fingertips tracing invisible patterns against the rim.

Around you, the bar remained loud and full of life. Clinking glasses, muffled conversations, bursts of laughter. But at this table, there was only tension.

After a while, you finally exhaled, breaking the quiet.

“Joel, I didn’t come here to upset you or rub anything in your face.” Joel’s fingers twitched against the glass. His jaw tightened, and for a brief second, he shut his eyes, as if bracing himself.

You swallowed. “I came here—”

“To get married?”

The words were quiet, but there was an edge to them, sharp and bitter, like whiskey left too long on the tongue.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unreadable beneath his furrowed brows. The grip he had on his glass tightened, but the rest of him was unnervingly still.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had expected this to be difficult, but not like this. Not the way his stare burned into you, not the way your heart twisted painfully at the sight of him like this.

Still, you refused to look away.

Joel clenched his jaw and went back to staring at the table, his fingers still absently tracing the rim of the glass. “Of all places…” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You sighed, rubbing your palms together anxiously. “Joel—”

“Why here?” he cut you off, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. He finally looked back up, his expression unreadable. “Why Jackson?”

You exhaled, your eyes dropping to the table. This was hard. For a moment, you questioned if coming here had been the right choice. Sitting across from the man who had once been your whole world, the man who had been the first to show you what love truly felt like, maybe this was a mistake.

Because now, sitting here in the dim glow of the bar, with the scent of whiskey lingering between you, you could see it. The hurt he was trying to mask behind that hardened expression. Joel wasn’t just mad. He was heartbroken.

But you steadied yourself, refusing to waver.

“I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

You looked up at him, Joel only scoffed, shaking his head. A humorless, bitter laugh escaping his lips. He didn’t believe you. Not for a second.

“Joel, just because we ended things doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you.”

It was the truth, and deep down, he knew it. He could feel it, not just in your voice, but in the way your body shifted when you spoke, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way you hesitated before choosing your words.

Still, he huffed, leaning back in his seat. His fingers drummed against the wood of the table before clenching into a fist.

“Uh huh, sure.”

His arrogance stung. No, more than that, it pissed you off.

Your hands curled into fists beneath the table, your nails pressing into your palms. “You can’t be mad at me for moving on—”

“Six months.” His voice cut through yours, sharp and dripping with irony.

“In six months, you found someone new and got engaged.”

Joel let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head again, his lips curling into something that was neither a smile nor a frown.

“That doesn’t feel a little… sudden to you?”

There it was, that tone. That frustrating, infuriating, arrogant tone he always used whenever you fought. The one that made your blood boil. The one that made you want to slap that damn smirk off his face.

“Ted is a good man.”

Joel let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He leaned back in his chair, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. He looked like he was asking whatever god might be up there if this was some kind of sick joke.

“He would never hurt me.”

You defended your fiancé, your voice steady, despite the way Joel’s reaction made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Joel let out another laugh, but there was nothing amused about it.

“Never hurt you—did I ever hurt you?”

His voice was low, sharp. He leaned in slightly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burned with something deep and dark, like you offended him.

“No, but I’m a priority to him.”

The words were out before you could stop them. Joel’s eyes flickered, something shifting in them, something raw. He held your gaze for a moment, his jaw tightening, before he finally looked away.

“You were my priority.”

It was barely more than a whisper, but it hit you like a punch to the gut. For a second, just a second, something in you wavered. But then you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay firm, to remind yourself why you were here.

“Joel, it’s too late—”

“I’ve changed.”

His voice broke slightly, his desperation slipping through the cracks of his carefully maintained exterior.

“Whether you believe it or not, I have. I realized things, and—”

“Joel.” You cut him off, your voice quiet, but sharp. A warning.

“It’s too late.”

Joel inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around his glass before he finally let it go, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your words. He looked exhausted. Not just physically, but in a way that settled deep into his bones.

He regretted it. All of it. And if he could, you knew without a doubt, he’d turn back time. He’d fix everything. He’d do whatever it took to have you back. But it's too late.

“I know, Lemmy.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, rough and deep, like gravel scraping against pavement. It was almost lost in the noise of the bar, the clinking glasses, the distant laughter, the murmur of conversations, but you heard it.

You heard it damn well.

Hearing that name, your name, the one only he used, the one that belonged to a past you tried so hard to leave behind, hit you like a wave. It stirred something deep inside you, something bittersweet and painful all at once.

For a moment, you weren’t sitting in that bar, across from a man who wasn’t yours anymore. For a moment, you were back there.

Back in the warmth of his arms, back in those quiet nights when the world outside didn’t matter, when it was just the two of you, tangled together in whispers and laughter.

And just like that, the steel around your heart softened, just a little. You swallowed, forcing yourself to stay composed. But then you saw it.

A shimmer of unshed tears in Joel’s eyes. They didn’t fall, and maybe they never would, but they were there. Sitting heavy in his gaze, pooling just beneath the surface. Not that you could see them too well. Because he wasn’t looking at you.

His eyes were cast downward, glued to the table, to his hands, to anywhere but you. Like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze. Like if he did, he might break completely.

You inhaled sharply, as if preparing to say something. Slowly, hesitantly, your hand inched forward, reaching for his. It was instinctive, like muscle memory.

You just wanted to touch him. To feel the roughness of his calloused skin against yours again, to squeeze his hand tightly, just once. Just to remind yourself that he was real. That this was real. But before your fingers could reach his, a voice broke through the thick tension between you.

“Hey, babe—man, I gotta say, the whiskey here is strong.” Ted’s voice was light, laced with laughter, completely oblivious to the storm raging between you and Joel. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was better that he had no possible idea what's going on. You forced a small smile as you turned to look at him.

“I know,” you murmured softly, the warmth in your voice carefully manufactured. Joel didn’t even glance up. Didn’t acknowledge him.

Ted, still blissfully unaware, chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway, I think I’ll grab one more, and then we should go get settled in. Sound good?”

“Yeah… that sounds great,” you agreed, nodding.

He grinned, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before making his way back to the bar, rejoining Tommy.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Your hand, still frozen midair, curled into a loose fist before you let it drop back to your lap.

“So… is he good to you?”

Joel’s voice was steady, but the weight behind the question was anything but casual. His gaze locked onto yours this time, holding it with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

You hesitated for a second, needing a moment to compose yourself before letting out a small laugh. “Yeah… he’s really good to me,” you admitted, a soft smile tugging at your lips as memories of Ted flooded your mind, the little things he did, the way he made you feel.

Joel gave a slow nod, his lips pressing together. “That’s all that matters.” His fingers flexed, curling into a fist.

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head. “Do you have someone?”

“No.”

It was a simple answer. Too quick. Too flat. You had already known the answer before you asked, but curiosity, or something else, pushed you to hear it from him.

“Don’t worry,” you tried to reassure him, offering a small smile. “You’ll find the right one.” Joel gave another slow nod, but this time, there was something behind it. Something unreadable.

“I think I already did.” The air in the room shifted. Your heart skipped a beat. The way he was looking at you, God help you. It was dangerous.

That small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the way his eyes darkened ever so slightly, how his brows lifted just a fraction, it was too much.

You felt warmth creeping up your neck, a telltale flush blooming across your cheeks, and that familiar pulse between your legs, one that only Joel could create without even touching you.

You pressed your thighs together, shifting slightly in your seat as you cleared your throat. Everything suddenly felt too tight. The fabric of your clothes clinging to your skin, the air around you thick and heavy. All because of Joel.

“You okay?” His voice was innocent, as if he had no idea what he was doing to you, but that bastard knew.

“Yeah, I just… it’s warm in here.” You forced out a nervous laugh, willing yourself to act normal. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you deliberately avoided his eyes, afraid that one more look at him would make it worse.

But it was already getting worse. The heat pooling between your legs was undeniable now, and you hated yourself for it.

Joel noticed. Oh, he fucking noticed.

His lips curled into a smirk, one that made your stomach tighten even more.

“You want some water?”

That damn drawl. That damn voice. Your eyes snapped to his for a second too long, and that was a mistake. His gaze was slow, deliberate, dragging over you like he was peeling away every layer, reaching right into your head and reading every damn sinful thought.

“N-no thanks,” you stammered, crossing your arms over your chest as if that would somehow protect you from whatever the hell this was. But Joel just hummed, leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the table.

Joel parted his lips, ready to say something. Something that lingered heavy on his tongue, something you weren’t sure you even wanted to hear. But before he could get a single word out, a loud “Whoops—shit—” cut through the air, and suddenly, you felt a body stumble against your chair.

Ted. Drunk off his ass. You barely caught him before he could topple right onto you, his weight throwing you off balance as you grabbed his arms.

“Jesus, Ted!” you hissed, steadying him as he let out a breathy laugh.

“Sorry, babe, I—whew, I think I had a bit too much.”

No shit.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he watched the scene unfold. He exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers twitching as if he had half a mind to yank Ted off you himself. But he didn’t, because he had no right to.

“Alright,” you sighed, helping Ted straighten up. “Time to get you to bed.”

Joel didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just sat there, watching, his expression unreadable. And you didn’t dare look at him as you guided Ted toward the door.

“Night, Joel,” was all you said before slipping outside, leaving him alone at the table. For a moment, Joel just sat there, his fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Ayyyyy Joel!” Tommy. Just as drunk.

Joel turned his head slightly, watching his brother stumble toward him, a lazy grin plastered across his face.

“You look like shit,” Tommy slurred, plopping down in the seat across from him. Joel exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

The morning light barely crept through the curtains, casting a dull glow over the room. Joel sat at the table, hunched over with his arms crossed, his fingers gripping his biceps so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His jaw was locked, his teeth grinding together as he stared blankly at the scratched wooden surface. He hadn’t slept. Not a damn minute.

His mind had been trapped in an endless loop, replaying last night over and over again. Your voice, your touch, the way your lips curled into that soft smile when you talked. And then, the final insult. Watching his own brother laughing, drinking, bonding with your fiancé like they were lifelong friends.

The frustration simmering inside him turned into full-blown anger the moment he heard the sound of heavy footsteps stumbling down the hall. A loud thud followed, a clear indication that Tommy had managed to walk straight into a wall.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience already worn thin.

Tommy finally appeared, looking like absolute hell. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and his face pale with exhaustion. He groaned as he braced himself against the wall, rubbing his temples like he was trying to keep his skull from splitting open.

Joel’s eyes darkened as he watched him struggle.

“Isn’t that a little fucked up?” His voice was calm, but the bitterness in his tone was unmistakable.

Tommy blinked at him, still too dazed to fully register the question. “Huh?”

Joel pushed himself away from the table, standing up with slow, deliberate movements. “Last night. You got shitfaced with my ex’s fiancé. That doesn’t sit wrong with you?”

Tommy winced, rubbing his face as if that would somehow help him think clearer. But the weight of Joel’s words sank in quickly.

“Look—” he started, his voice hoarse, but Joel wasn’t in the mood to hear whatever excuse he was about to pull out of his ass.

“What, is he more important to you than I am?”

Tommy let out a long breath through his nose, looking away for a moment. “It’s my job to welcome new people.”

Joel let out a short, humorless laugh. “Welcome? You welcomed him by getting wasted and acting like he’s your new best damn friend?” His voice was rising, his frustration spilling over.

Tommy’s expression shifted. First defensive, then guilty. Joel shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair before muttering, “You know what? Fine. If he’s more important to you than your own brother, then go ahead. Enjoy your new drinking buddy.”

With that, he turned on his heel, already heading for the door.

Tommy scrambled forward, his hangover momentarily forgotten as he grabbed Joel’s arm. “Joel, wait—wait. I’m sorry, alright? I wasn’t thinking.” His voice was earnest now, the regret finally sinking in.

Joel hesitated, his body tense under Tommy’s grip. A long silence stretched between them before he finally exhaled through his nose. “Okay.”

But it didn’t sound like forgiveness. It sounded like Joel was too damn tired to argue anymore.

He pulled his arm free and walked out, leaving Tommy standing there, rubbing his face in frustration.

You had been in Jackson for a second day now. While you were busy enjoying yourself, Joel was completely fucked. And the worst part? You hadn’t even done anything. You just existed—and that was the problem.

Every time Joel saw you, it was like a punch to the gut. Memories crashed into him, relentless and unforgiving. He remembered the quiet nights by the campfire, watching the stars while your body curled up against his. He remembered your naked, warm body, pressed against his after sex. He remembered the way his hands traced the curves of your body, the way your breath hitched when he thrust into you, the way you moaned his name.

Good old days. Good didn’t even cover it. The kind of memories that made Joel’s dick twitch in his jeans.

The bar was alive with music and laughter, people drinking, talking, letting loose after another long day. Joel leaned against the counter, fingers wrapped around a glass he had barely touched. His gaze wasn’t on his drink. It was on you.

You were on the dance floor with Teddy, moving like you didn’t have a single care in the world. Spinning, swaying, jumping, every motion effortless, magnetic. Even in the chaos of the crowd, you stood out. The way your hair swayed with every movement, the way your clothes clung to your body like they were made just for you. The way your lips parted in laughter, the pure joy radiating from you.

Joel clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the glass.

He wanted to run straight to you, grab you, steal you away. To kiss you, hard, possessively, until you melted against him, until you gave in and kissed him back just as desperately. He could already feel the way your body would mold against his, the way your lips would part for him.

Every nerve in his body screamed at him to do it. To take what was his. But his morality was stronger. At least for now.

With a sharp exhale, Joel turned away from the dance floor and knocked back the rest of his drink in one go. The burn of the liquor didn’t even register; his frustration ran hotter. He let out a rough groan as he set the glass down, rubbing his fingers over his eyes, trying to ground himself. For just a moment, he let himself drift. But a moment was all he got.

“Hey!”

Your voice-soft, breathless from dancing-yanked him right back to reality. His body reacted before his brain did, his head turning toward you. And fuck, he couldn’t even stop himself from smiling.

A quiet hey slipped from his lips in return.

You leaned against the bar beside him, still catching your breath. “Water with lemon, please,” you told the bartender before exhaling deeply. Joel huffed a laugh.

“What?” you asked, eyes narrowing in playful confusion.

Joel shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. “Lemon… just, never mind.”

You knew exactly where he was going with that. The realization made you laugh, lowering your gaze to the countertop.

“Yeah, I still like lemon,” you admitted softly, smiling to yourself.

Joel looked at you then, really looked at you. His eyes, dark and steady, held none of their usual guardedness. There was something raw there, something quiet but intense. Like he was searching for something in you. Like he was remembering.

And God, the way he was looking at you, warm, familiar, dangerous, sent a shiver down your spine. It was the kind of look that made your stomach tighten, the kind that made your chest feel too small for your racing heart.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were standing. Of the space between you. Thin, fragile, easy to cross.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

Joel’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, pulling you back to reality. You blinked, startled, as if waking from a trance. It took you a second to even process the question.

“Oh, um… we don’t really know yet,” you admitted, glancing toward Teddy. He was across the room, slow-dancing with an elderly woman, spinning her carefully with that goofy grin of his. You let out a soft laugh at the sight.

Joel followed your gaze, watching for a beat. But unlike you, he didn’t laugh. He just looked, expression unreadable, something flickering behind his eyes. Then, as if remembering himself, he finally tore his gaze away and turned back to you, forcing a small smile.

“He’s a real character, huh?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Yeah… he is.”

Joel’s eyes traced over your features, studying you like you were some kind of rare art piece he’d never get to touch again. His gaze lingered on the soft dimples that formed when you smiled, the curve of your nose, your long lashes, the smoothness of your cheeks, the swell of your chest, how your dress hugged every right place, fuck.

He tore his gaze away so fast it almost hurt, swallowing thickly. He prayed you hadn’t noticed. If you had, you didn’t show it. But how could he not look? You were impossible to ignore, the kind of woman who turned heads without even trying. It wasn’t just Joel, hell, every guy in the damn bar had stolen a glance at you at some point tonight. They had good reason.

You were a fucking knockout.

Joel exhaled slowly, trying to regain control. “Remember that time we went fishing, and you almost fell in the river?” His voice came out steadier than he felt.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Almost? I did fall in the river. You laughed your ass off instead of helping me.”

Joel chuckled, the memory warming something deep inside him. “In my defense, it was funny as hell.”

“You are so lucky I didn’t drag you in with me.”

He smirked. “You tried. You’re just not strong enough.”

You playfully gasped, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I was so strong.”

Joel raised a brow. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, about to come up with some witty comeback, but the way he was looking at you suddenly changed. His playful smirk faded into something more serious.

“Listen,” he started, his voice dropping just a bit, becoming softer, steadier. His fingers tapped lightly against his glass as he searched for the right words. “I know things didn’t end the way they should’ve. And I know you’ve moved on but-“

Before he could finish, a familiar arm slid around your waist, pulling you in close.

“Hey, babe,” Teddy’s voice was laced with tipsy affection. You barely had time to react before he leaned in, pressing a warm, lingering kiss against your lips. Right in front of Joel.

Joel stiffened, every muscle in his body locking up as he watched. He forced himself to stay still, to not react, to not let his jaw tighten or his fists clench at his sides. But inside, he was burning.

You let out a startled squeal, eyes wide open as Teddy stole your breath away with the sudden kiss. It wasn’t bad, but the surprise had you momentarily stunned. By the time he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, blinking as you tried to process what had just happened.

“Wow…” you exhaled, regaining your composure. But then your gaze flickered to Joel. And oh, he was fuming.

He wasn’t outright glaring, no, but you knew him too well. The sharp clench of his jaw, the way his lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line, and the burning intensity in his dark eyes said it all. Jealousy. Pure, unfiltered jealousy.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen that look on his face. Joel had always been possessive, even when you were together. Any guy who so much as looked at you too long earned that same lethal stare. It didn’t matter if it was a stranger at the market, a coworker making polite conversation, or even the poor bartender who had the audacity to compliment your choice of drink.

And while sometimes it had been frustrating, having to remind him that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself, there was something about it that excited you. It was intoxicating, really.

Because Joel’s jealousy wasn’t just about control. It was about claiming. It was about the way he needed you, the way he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having you, touching you, making you smile. It was his way of saying she’s mine, without needing to speak the words aloud.

And right now, even though you were no longer his, even though time had passed and you were engaged to someone else, Joel still looked at you like he was ready to drag you away and remind you exactly who you used to belong to.

Heat pooled low in your stomach, the tension between you palpable. You could practically feel him burning holes into you, into Teddy’s arm still draped around your waist.

Teddy, completely oblivious to the brewing storm, just chuckled, swaying slightly from the alcohol in his system. “You okay, babe? Didn’t mean to surprise ya.”

You managed a small laugh, patting his chest. “Yeah, I’m good.” Joel scoffed. Low, barely audible, but enough to make you glance at him again.

And oh, the way his fingers curled against the bar, the way his shoulders tensed as if he was physically restraining himself from doing something reckless, something dangerous. You knew exactly what he was thinking. And God help you, but it thrilled you.

“Oh, hey Joel!” Teddy greeted him, as if he had only just noticed him standing there, as if Joel hadn’t been watching the whole damn time. His tone was casual, almost dismissive, making Joel look like an afterthought. Like he wasn’t even worth acknowledging until now.

Joel’s jaw flexed. His fingers twitched against the bar. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug, drunken grin off Teddy’s face.

But instead, he just nodded, a slow, forced acknowledgment. He refused to let himself look like a sulking idiot. “Teddy,” he replied flatly, voice rough with something unreadable. Then, just as quickly, his eyes were back on you.

And you felt it everywhere. That heat. That undeniable pull. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the way your thighs instinctively pressed together. But it was pointless, because that familiar ache was already blooming inside you, that unbearable pulse between your legs that only he could stir up. And that was the worst part was, that Teddy had never done this to you. Never made your body react with just a look.

Never made your skin prickle, never made your stomach twist with need, never made your breath hitch with anticipation. But Joel did it effortlessly. Whether he meant to or not.

It was as if you were drunk; quickly, scenes with Joel started to pop into your head. Twisted and passionate memories that, whether you liked it or not, you longed to experience again. Not with Teddy, with Joel.

You wanted to feel him inside you again, to feel him stretching you out, to feel his saliva, his lips, his muscular body, the scratch of his beard against your skin. The memories rushed in, vivid and intoxicating, taking over your thoughts like a flood.

Joel was watching you, and he couldn’t help but notice the sudden shift in your behavior. His eyes quickly moved to your legs, specifically your thighs, which were pressed tightly together, trying to calm the pulsing between your legs.

Joel immediately knew what was happening. A devilish grin spread across his face as he locked eyes with you. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He knew what you were feeling.

“Well, I guess we should head out, huh?” Ted shook you gently, and you were a bit out of it, but nodded and mumbled in response.

You looked at Joel one last time, your face eager and full of desire, before you disappeared into the crowd, and then out of the bar.

Joel was in a trance. Not only did this boost his ego, but also brought pleasure to you, and his own hardness pressing against his pants. Unfortunately, everything had to be taken care of on his own, especially the last part.

He let out a frustrated breath, closing his eyes for a moment so he could still picture you, just for a little while longer, before ordering another drink.

It was late. Joel couldn’t even tell what day it was anymore, or how many had passed since you arrived. All he knew for certain was that tomorrow… tomorrow was your wedding. Some random asshole was about to take you from him. Marry you. Make you his. And Joel? He’d just stand there, watching, powerless. Hell, maybe Ted would even throw him a little smile while doing it.

Sleep had become a distant memory. Joel couldn’t recall the last night, since you came back, when he’d actually rested. Not more than twenty damn minutes. He was lying on his back, fingers laced together, resting on his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling like it held some kind of answer. It didn’t. The only thing up there was silence… and the ticking time bomb in his chest, waiting for tomorrow to detonate.

He kept going back and forth in his head, whether or not to even show up to the wedding. You’d invited him. You wanted him there. God knows why, but you did.

But was it really a good idea? Watching you walk down the aisle in that long, white dress, glowing, beautiful, looking like a dream, only to stand there among the crowd, not at the altar where he should be? Not the one reaching for your hands, not the one kissing you when it’s all said and done?

The thought alone made his stomach turn. It felt like all of his thoughts were eating him alive.

Gnawing, scratching, pulling at every piece of his sanity like starving wolves. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you. Couldn’t breathe without remembering how it used to feel when you were next to him. The ache in his chest was constant, a heavy pressure that no amount of alcohol or silence could ease.

And then, a knock.

Joel scoffed quietly, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle. Great. Now he was hallucinating. That was the next step, right? After days without sleep and with a heart falling apart. Maybe this was a dream. Or maybe he was finally losing it.

But then came a second knock. Clearer. More real.

He froze, eyes glued to the ceiling. He told himself it wasn’t real. Just a trick of the mind. But then—

“Joel? Are you home?”

His heart stopped. Your voice. He sat up so fast the world spun, legs tangled in the sheets as he scrambled toward the door, barely catching his balance as he slipped on the wooden floor. His breath hitched. No time to think. No time to panic. Just before unlocking it, he took a second to fix his hair and smooth his shirt. He had to look like he’d been asleep, cool, casual, unaffected.

But when he opened the door, the act fell apart.

You were standing there. Bare legs. Thin pajama shorts. An oversized T-shirt clinging to you from the cold, your arms wrapped tightly around your chest as you shivered, teeth chattering hard enough to echo. Outside, the snow fell in soft sheets. It had to be at least negative five.

“Jesus Christ—are you okay?” Joel’s voice cracked with disbelief and panic.

You nodded, barely. “C-c-can I come in?” you managed, breath visible in the frozen air.

“Yeah, shit, of course,” Joel stepped aside immediately, holding the door wide as you stumbled past him on trembling legs. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve frozen out there.”

He placed a hand on your back, gentle but firm, guiding you into the kitchen with urgency. His palm was warm, so warm it made you realize just how cold you were.

“Sit down, sit,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. Within seconds, he returned with a thick blanket, carefully wrapping it around your shoulders, tucking it in around you like he was afraid you’d fall apart if he didn’t.

“Tea with lemon?” he asked softly, though the ghost of a smile was already tugging at his lips.

You gave a quiet laugh, still shivering, your voice just a whisper. “Still my favorite.”

Joel chuckled too, just under his breath, and went to put the kettle on. He didn’t ask why you were there. Not yet. Part of him didn’t want to know, because if you said the wrong thing, if this wasn’t what he hoped it was… he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

The silence in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating. All that could be heard was the faint hum of the kettle heating the water and the sound of your teeth gritting together in a nervous rhythm.

Joel stood just a few feet away, watching you from behind. His eyes were fixed on the back of your head, his thoughts racing, though he didn’t dare speak. He wanted to know what was going on in your mind, but he wasn’t about to push you. Not now, not in this fragile moment.

Joel’s gaze flickered to the counter, where the kettle was just starting to steam. The sound of the water heating was the only thing breaking the silence. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers twitching at his sides, desperate to do something. But what could he do?

The kettle hissed as it came to a boil, and Joel’s eyes moved to it for a moment, as if distracted by the sound. He didn’t say anything. He just waited, the silence stretching on, knowing that eventually, things would have to be said. But for now, he didn’t know what to say, or if it was even his place to speak.

The room felt frozen in time, the ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance the only indication that the world outside still moved. Joel’s thoughts were racing, but his lips remained sealed, respecting the space between you.

“Here,” Joel said, placing the steaming mug of tea beside you and sitting down across from you. “Be careful, it’s hot,” he warned, watching as you reached for it. You glanced up at him and nodded, your hands slowly falling back into your lap.

You weren’t shaking anymore, looking a bit better, though your nose was still red from the cold. It was cute though, Joel couldn’t help but notice how that little splash of color made you seem even more delicate.

The kicthen was quiet again. The only sound was the soft hiss of the tea cooling, along with the occasional shift of your body as you tried to warm up. Joel watched you in silence, unsure of what to say. Something about your vulnerability made him hesitate.

After a few minutes, when the tea had cooled down and you’d almost finished it, you started to regain some color in your face and stopped shaking. The warmth from the drink seemed to finally be working its magic. Joel, however, had been quietly watching you, his gaze flicking between your shivering body and the empty mug in your hands. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“So, are you going to tell me what made you come here at this hour, in this weather, dressed like that?” He raised an eyebrow and gave you a pointed look, his eyes lingering on your pajamas, which definitely weren’t the best choice for a night like this. The cold air outside seemed to have crept in through the walls, but here you were, looking far too exposed in your soft, worn-out clothes.

You let out a long, frustrated sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. It took you a moment before you spoke, as if you were trying to find the right words, or maybe just gathering the courage to say it.

“I had a fight with Ted.” Your voice was small, almost trembling, and Joel’s eyes immediately flickered with a brief flash of joy, relief and hope. But when he saw how utterly crushed you seemed, the spark in his eyes quickly dimmed.

“Look, it’s just the typical pre-wedding stress—” Joel tried to reassure you, though his words were awkward, his attempt at comforting you not quite landing right. But before he could finish, you cut him off.

“No, this wasn't just some typical pre-wedding argument,” you said, locking eyes with Joel.

For a moment, it felt like time has stopped, as if you were peering straight into his soul. There was something raw in your gaze, an intensity that made him feel the weight of your words even more. It wasn’t just about the wedding, it was about something deeper.

“This was… more serious,” you added, your voice trailing off slightly as you lowered your gaze.

Joel’s heart tightened as he watched your expression shift, and without warning, he saw the first of your tears fall. They were slow at first, like they were hesitant to break free, but soon they started streaming down your cheeks.

Joel fought with himself, struggling not to reach out, not to pull you into his arms. It tore him apart to see you like this. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He took a deep breath, trying to hold back. But he couldn’t take it anymore. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t comfort you right now?

He stood up from his seat, moving toward you, and as soon as you felt his presence, your arms instinctively wrapped around him, burying your face deep into his shirt and stomach. Joel didn’t care that your tears left a damp spot on his shirt, it was a small price to pay for being close to you again.

It felt… comforting. To have you so near, to be the one you turned to in this situation.

There was something reassuring about the fact that you came to him when you were at your lowest. He was the first person you thought of, the first person you wanted to see. That thought didn’t just swell his ego, it also gave him a quiet confidence. He still had a place in your heart, he was there, in the background, in some shadowed corner of your soul, but he was still there. And that was all that mattered to him.

Joel’s hand gently stroked the top of your head, his fingers running through your soft, voluminous hair. The motion was comforting, the familiar scent of whiskey and warmth surrounding you. It was everything you needed in this moment, knowing that he wouldn’t judge you, that he was there for you, and that he wouldn’t leave until he was certain you were okay.

You took a deep, shaky breath, pulling away slightly from him, your hands quickly wiping away the tears. Joel knelt down in front of you, bringing his face level with yours. His wolf eyes, stared into yours as his hands cupped your cheeks gently, guiding your gaze to meet his.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered softly, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he wiped away the last tears. His touch was reassuring, grounding you in the moment, as if his presence alone could erase all your worries.

His voice, his face, everything about him was so sincere, so convincing. You simply nodded, your heart swelling. Before you could say anything else, Joel pulled you into a tight embrace. One hand rested at the back of your head, the other wrapped securely around your back.

It wasn’t just an ordinary hug of comfort; there was something much deeper. Joel was telling you without any words, how much you meant to him, how much he misses you, and how he would drop everything just for you. His embrace spoke volumes that words couldn’t quite capture, a silent promise that he was here, fully present, and never truly gone.

“I… can I…” The words were hard to say, not because you were pressed so tightly against his chest, but because you were still questioning yourself, wondering if it was the right thing to do.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

Joel’s eyes widened in surprise. He slowly pulled his hands from your body, sliding them down to your shoulders, gently moving you just enough to see your face. He tried to read something in your glassy, red eyes, but it was difficult. Your emotions were tangled up, impossible to decipher at that moment.

“Of course, Lemmy,” he replied softly, offering you a warm, reassuring smile. You smiled back, the gesture comforting, but there was something more lingering in the air, something unspoken between you two.

If things were different, Joel might have leaned in and kissed you deeply. A soothing kiss to tell you that everything will be okay. But he held back, not wanting to cross a line, not wanting to be a fucking asshole, that will destroy your wedding.

“You can sleep upstairs,” Joel said as he got up from his knees and pointed upward. You nodded, standing up, carefully peeling the blanket off and folding it over the chair. Following Joel up the stairs, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. The t-shirt and sweatpants shaping his body perfectly. It was a long time ago since you saw him naked, and fuck, deeply in your head, you wanted to restore the memory.

“Here… you can wear this,” Joel said, as you both reached the room. He pulled out a t-shirt and sweatpants from the drawer, neatly folded in a pile, and handed them to you.

“Thank you,” your voice was soft as you took the clothes, your fingers slightly brushed against his. The spark between your skin was electric, and for a brief moment, everything felt too close.

Joel cleared his throat, trying to break the akward silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, um… if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs,” with thosw words, Joel walked around you, ready to leave. But before he could, you quickly grabbed his biceps. His eyes shifted from your hand to your face, his eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise.

“Pleade, stay,” you said, your voice tinged with desperation. You were so hopeless, that you just asked your ex to stay in the same room at night. It was fucking insane, but Joel was even more out of his mind for actually agreeing.

As you began to change, Joel quickly turned his back. It felt strange, he’d seen you naked countless times before, in far more awkward and vulnerable situations. But this time, he couldn’t shake the need to turn away. It wasn’t about modesty; it was the weight of everything that had changed between you.

Still, his male instincts kicked in, and despite his effort to be polite, he couldn’t resist peeking over his shoulder. The sight of you took his breath away.

You looked even more stunning than he remembered. Your skin was glowing, smooth and fresh, and even from a distance, he could smell the faint lemony scent that seemed to cling to you. His throat went dry as he swallowed hard, and he immediately forced his eyes back to the front, as if doing so would somehow erase the image from his mind.

But it didn’t. In fact, all of his blood seemed to rush into his dick, feeling himself hardening against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Right now, he cursed himself for not wearing underwear.

Joel threw his head back, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself. He focused on his breathing, desperately trying to regain control, but his body had other ideas.

His thoughts raced, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop his body from responding. He silently cursed, wishing his mind and his body would sync up, but, unsurprisingly, it didn’t happen.

“Okay,” you said, your voice cutting through the tension, signaling that you were finished changing.

Joel slowly turned around, his gaze drifting down from your feet, slowly taking in the soft curve of your legs, then moving upward, pausing for a moment as he reached your face. His eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary, before quickly breaking the stare and forcing himself to look away.

“Alright, I’ll go grab the blanket for myself,” Joel said, nodding as he turned away to leave. But just as he took a step, you spoke again, your voice stopping him.

“Why?” you asked, your tone genuinely confused. Joel froze in place, his body tensing. He slowly turned around to face you, unsure of how to interpret your question.

For a moment, he just stared at you, trying to figure out if you were being serious or if it was just some sarcastic remark. His gaze lingered on you, trying to read the expression on your face, but there was no hint of irony or playfulness in your eyes. You seemed genuinely puzzled.

When Joel realized you weren’t joking, he shifted nervously. His hands instinctively moved to cover his growing erection, trying to be as discreet as possible, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He cursed himself for his body’s reaction, but he couldn’t help it.

“You… you’re not going to sleep in bed with me?” The question fell from your lips before either of you could think about it. It was blunt, straightforward, and as soon as the words left your mouth, both of you were caught off guard.

Joel’s body went completely still. It was like time froze for a second. His eyes widened, and his mind scrambled to make sense of your words. He genuinely thought he must be imagining all of this. His thoughts were racing, and the atmosphere in the room suddenly felt thick and charged.

“Do you want me to?” Joel asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as he genuinely sought your answer.

You hesitated for a moment. He was basically giving you one last chance to back out, to say no and keep things from getting even more complicated. It was like he was offering you an escape, a way to avoid making everything worse. But you chose to push forward, testing fate.

You nodded quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. Joel let out a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

It definitely wasn’t the 'right' decision, but it was what you wanted.

You slid into the bed and pulled the covers over yourself, the warmth of the blanket comforting against the tension in your chest. Joel followed, slowly settling behind you.

“Good night,” you whispered, your voice soft, and Joel replied in a deep, quiet tone, his words almost a murmur in the silence. You turned your back to him, but your eyes were open. You couln't sleep, you didn't want to.

For a moment, Joel lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts racing. His mind couldn’t quite catch up with what is happening. Was he really here, in this bed, with you again after everything? The reality of the situation hit him, and he lay there motionless, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his chest.

But then he turned, his eyes fixed on you even though your back was facing him. He missed that, the scent of citrus in his bed, a smell he hadn’t realized he longed for until now.

Even with your back to him, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, intense and unrelenting. You didn’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did, things would never be the same between you. You focused on the idea of sleep instead, trying to block out the thoughts racing in your mind.

Tomorrow was your big day, the one you’d been looking forward to with the best man in the world. And yet, you found yourself lying in your ex’s bed. Great. But you didn’t want to think about that. You just wanted to sleep, hoping you wouldn’t wake up looking like a complete zombie.

You shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. But with each small movement, you found yourself inching closer to Joel, until there was barely any space between you two. It got so close that your ass brushed against his erection.

He closed his eyes, holding his breath, praying that you wouldn’t move again. The air between you two was thick with tension, his mind spinning with a thousand thoughts, none of them good.

But you did move again. You kept adjusting, trying to get comfortable, unaware, or perhaps fully aware, of the effect it had on him. With each movement, you teased him more and more, rubbing against him in a way that only made things worse.

Then you felt it. The unmistakable pressure. The heat of his reaction. It hit you all at once, and everything clicked into place. Your stomach dropped as you realized it.

With a sharp gasp, you turned quickly, putting some space between you. Your heart raced, and the shame burned in your cheeks.

You stared at him, a mix of disgust, surprise, and anger flooding your face. “Joel, what the fuck?!” you hissed under your breath, careful not to wake the neighbors, but making sure your frustration was clear.

He rubbed his face with his hand, as if trying to erase the embarrassment that had suddenly washed over him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft against his palm, before he lowered it to his side and met your gaze. “I can’t control it, especially not when you’re doing… what you’re doing.

You pursed your lips, offended, your brow furrowing in disbelief. “And what exactly am I doing? I was just trying to get comfortable!”

Joel let out a soft laugh, closing his eyes for a moment, shaking his head in amusement. He looked at you with a teasing grin, almost mocking you. “Sure you were.”

Your anger flared, and with a sharp breath, you turned your back to him again, refusing to look at him any longer. You had your eyes shut tightly, the anger seeping into your blood, sinking deep into your body like an unwelcome weight. How the hell could that asshole even think that-

But then, suddenly, something shifted. Your muscles, tense and wound tight with rage, began to loosen, and the anger, while still there, didn’t grip you as hard. You opened your eyes slowly, the shift in your thoughts catching you off guard.

And then it hit you.

You remembered how Joel used to act in sour presence back in the day, how every small movement you made, every accidental brush of your body, would send him spiraling. He couldn’t help himself. He’d stiffen, his eyes would burn with that intensity, and you’d know, without a word, that he was consumed by desire. You’d seen it countless times: a slight touch, a momentary glance, and there he was, completely undone.

But now, you were with someone else.

You closed your eyes again, the realization bitter in your chest. You were engaged now. You had a fiancé, a man who was calm, steady, neutral. He didn’t react to you like that. He didn’t make your skin burn with that same, reckless intensity. With him, it was different. Safe. Predictable.

But Joel… Joel was still Joel. And even now, every time you were close to him, you could still feel the shift. The way his body reacted at the slightest sign of proximity. The way his eyes darkened, the way he couldn’t help himself, even if he was no longer yours. It was like a reflex.

And that thought, that realization, made everything feel so much more complicated. You were about to marry someone who didn’t make you feel the same rush of emotions, who didn’t make your body ache with tension the way Joel could with just a look. But was that enough? Was that really what you wanted?

“Fuck it.”

Without thinking, without considering the consequences, you spun around quickly, your body moving almost on instinct. In that moment, everything else faded away, the thoughts, the circumstances, the guilt, and you pressed your lips to Joel’s, hard and urgent. The kiss was raw, intense, filled with all the pent-up desire you had been trying to bury since the moment you set foot back in Jackson.

Joel was caught off guard at first. He let out a low, confused growl, clearly unsure of what was happening, but that hesitation didn’t last long. The moment his hands found their way to your body, they pulled you closer with a force that made your breath catch. His large hands gripped your back, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you tightly against him, and you melted into him, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you kissed him with a desperation you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just passion. It was more. It was a storm of emotions, a whirlwind of regret, longing, and something deeper, something you had been trying so hard to forget, but it was still there.

The way he kissed you was familiar, as if nothing had changed. His lips, his touch, his scent, they were all the same, and yet everything felt so different now.

You knew, deep down, that you’d regret this. You knew that the guilt would hit you in waves as soon as this moment was over. You’d lie awake later, berating yourself, torn between the man you were supposed to marry and the man who still held so much power over you. But yet, you still couldn't stop yourself from creating a total disaster.

You wanted this. You needed this. Even if it meant facing the consequences later.

Your fingers found his hair, messy and thick beneath your touch, and you didn’t hesitate, you gripped it tightly, pulling, scratching at his scalp with a need you didn’t even try to hide.

The low, breathy whimper that escaped Joel’s throat sent a pulse straight through your body. God, that sound, so raw, so desperate, it only made you want more.

Your core throbbed, a slow, aching rhythm between your thighs, growing stronger every time your tongue met his. It was like every brush, every swirl of his tongue against yours, set off another wave of heat that rippled through your whole body. And Joel…Joel was lost in it. Completely, entirely, deliciously lost in you.

He kissed you like he was starving. Like he hadn’t tasted anything real in years and now you were the only thing that existed. Every movement was hungry, almost frantic, but underneath it all was something deeper.

He had dreamed of this. Not just the sex—though, God, yes, the sex—but you. All of you. Your voice, your touch, the way your body pressed into his like you belonged there. Joel had spent countless nights thinking about you. Wishing for you. Wanting you back in ways he never dared say out loud.

And now? Now, it felt like every single one of those wishes had come true.

If you asked him what he wanted under the Christmas tree, it was you. If you asked him what he wished for when he blew out the candles on his birthday cake, it was you. Every damn time. Always you.

And tonight, you gave him that gift. Unwrapped, raw, trembling in his arms. You gave him something he’d longed for in silence for far too long, and he couldn’t have been happier.

You could feel it in the way his hands moved over your body, reverent but greedy, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real. That you were here. That he got to have this, just once more.

Neither of you knew when or how your clothes had disappeared. It was a blur—hands, lips, breathless gasps—and now you were both completely bare, tangled in each other, your skin pressed against his, warm and electric.

You were straddling him, your thighs resting on either side of his hips, and Joel looked up at you like you were something divine. His rough hands roamed your body as if memorizing every curve all over again, while his lips found the tender skin of your neck. He kissed, nipped, and finally bit, just hard enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned against your throat, his voice deep, low, and raw, hungry. That sound alone sent a shiver rolling straight down your spine.

You whimpered softly, overwhelmed, your hands buried in his hair, clinging to him as his fingers curled around your breast, teasing your nipple between calloused fingertips. It was too much. Too much and not enough all at once. His touch had your entire body aching, trembling in anticipation, and yet… you hadn’t even really started.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with something wild and unspoken. There was tension there, but also something vulnerable. Like he wasn’t sure if this was real. If you were real.

But looking at your eyes and the way you bit your lips, it was all he needed. This answers all his questions.

His hands gripping your waist tighter, helping your body lowering into his. You hissed, gripping his shoulders as he slowly pushed himself into you.

“Easy Lemmy, easy” his voice made you relax and open up more. Joel always knew what works on you, how to make you wet, and he didn't even need to ask.

When you were finally submerged to the base, Joel gave you a second to catch your breath. He was very accommodating, because if he was in charge, he would have been pumping you head over heels a long time ago.

Then, you started moving. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow, intense, and electric. Every motion was filled with something more than just lust. There was history here. There was pain. There was love, buried deep beneath layers of old wounds. You held on to him like you were afraid the moment might vanish if you let go. And as your bodies moved together, everything else fell away.

You knew you’d regret this. But right now? You didn’t care.

Your bodies moved in sync, slow and heavy, like the world outside that room had stopped spinning. There was nothing but you and him, your breath hitching, his hands guiding, your skin sliding against his as your hips rocked together with increasing urgency.

Joel’s head tilted back against the pillow, jaw clenched, eyes fluttering shut as he gripped your waist harder, grounding himself in the feeling of you. “Jesus…” he muttered, voice hoarse and cracked. “You feel… fuck, you feel like home.”

That word hit you somewhere deep. Home.

You hadn’t felt that in so long. Not really. And now, here you were, drowning in it, in warmth, in memory, in him.

You leaned down, kissing him again, this time slower. Your lips moved lazily over his, but everything underneath was anything but calm. His hands slid up your back, fingers digging in like he didn’t want to lose you again. Like holding you tighter would make time stop.

Your rhythm grew faster, more desperate. The room was filled with breathless gasps, with the sound of skin against skin, with the quiet creaks of the mattress as the tension built between you like a storm.

He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, and you knew, he was completely undone. But not just by your body. By the feelings he never let himself say out loud. The pain. The want.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered, breath trembling as one hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone like you were something fragile.

“Joel” you whined, your body trembling now too, that familiar tightening beginning to coil deep in your stomach. You buried your face into his neck, whimpering as the pleasure climbed, built, flooded every nerve in your body.

And then, it crashed.

Your whole body arched into him as the wave overtook you, your core tightly clenched around him, every muscle in your body tense, your legs trembling. Soft cries falling from your lips as Joel held you through it, whispering your name like a prayer.

A few moments later, you felt him follow, his body tensing beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as a groan ripped through his chest, filling you up, bursting everything into you, every last drop. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot and ragged.

And then… stillness.

Just your heartbeats. Your sweat-slick skin pressed together. Your fingers tangled in his hair. The mix of yours and Joel's liquid running from your swollen core, down to his veiny dick.

You didn’t say a word. Neither did he. But in the silence, the weight of what you’d just done settled between you. And somehow… it made everything feel even heavier.

You were both breathless, struggling to steady your breathing. Joel still had his arms wrapped around you tightly, his chest rising and falling against yours. You were so small compared to him, his body practically enveloped yours, his hairy arms covering almost all of your bare back like a shield.

It felt safe. Too safe.

And that’s what made it all feel so fucking wrong.

Once your senses slowly returned and you regained enough strength, you gently peeled yourself away from him. Both of you exhaled, a strange mix of relief and discomfort, as the cool air hit your naked skin. You laid back down next to him, eyes fixed on the wall, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders like it could hide you from the guilt that was already swallowing you whole.

You fucked everything up.

Tomorrow, you were supposed to get married. To Ted. Sweet, steady Ted who would never hurt you. And yet here you were—naked, breathless, and sore in your ex’s bed.

Just a week ago, you’d looked into Ted’s eyes and promised him nothing would happen. That Joel was the past. A closed chapter. That you didn’t feel anything for him anymore.

But then you kissed him. You started it. You wanted it.

This wasn’t Joel’s fault. It was yours. Every goddamn bit of it. It was your idea to get married in Jackson. Your idea to let Joel crash in the same bed with you. Your idea to close that tiny distance and press your lips to his like it meant nothing. You ruined everything over one stupid fight.

Joel could feel the shift in the air. He watched the way your eyes darted back and forth, your silence louder than anything you could have said. The slight shimmer at the corners of your eyes didn’t go unnoticed either, and that was when he knew.

This wasn’t good.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but gentle.

You pressed your lips into a thin, unreadable line and gave a small nod. He didn’t buy it. Not even for a second.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head, too afraid that if you opened your mouth, your voice would crack under the weight of everything crashing inside you. Talking meant facing it. Naming it. And you weren’t ready for that.

Joel felt awful. Helpless. He knew it wasn’t really his fault, but that didn’t stop the guilt from creeping in. He could’ve stopped it. Could’ve said no. Could’ve pulled away. But he didn’t. Because the truth was, the need to feel you again had drowned all logic.

But now? Seeing you like this—silent, curled in on yourself, barely holding it together—it broke him.

He wanted to reach out. Hold you. Kiss your forehead. Say something. But he didn’t dare. He was terrified you’d push him away. And after losing you once already, he didn’t think he could survive it again.

The room was quiet. Only your breathing and the faint, chaotic rhythm of your hearts filled the space between you. And then-

“The wedding—”

“I don’t know, Joel,” you snapped, voice cracking as your hands slammed against your face. “I don’t fucking know. I just ruined everything.”

Silence.

Then a soft breath from Joel and one word, quietly, almost painfully, murmured under his breath.

“…Yeah.”

You both laid there in silence. The kind of silence that weighs heavy on your chest, like the air itself knew what you did.

Guilt clung to your skin like sweat. Wrapped around your limbs like a chain. And yet… neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Neither of you said sorry.

Because the truth was, you didn’t regret it. Neither did he. You should have. God knows you should have. But you didn’t.

Because the want was still there. The need. Because somewhere deep down, in places you tried to bury long ago, you still wanted him, and he still wanted you.

Whether you’d ever face it or not, something between you was still burning.

Quiet. Dangerous. Alive.

And it wasn’t going out anytime soon.

Phew, thank you so much for reading! I know this was hella long again, but honestly, writing something short is a miracle for me😝

Still, I’d love to hear any feedback—whether it’s a comment, a reblog, or anything else!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future fics, don’t hesitate to let me know! Same goes if you have any ideas or would like to see another chapter!

Wishing you a lovely day

Love u!🌸💗

[stylesispunk]

"Blind faith | part vi"

Priest! Joel Miller x night club dancer! reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: The aftermath of Joel knowing part of your "secret" and everything falling apart between the both of you. w.c: 10k warnings: age gap (joel is in his late 40s and reader in her late 20s), angst, forbidden love, betrayal, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of guns. Reader is latina. English is not my first language. a/n: chapter six is here and first, excuse the amount of stupid things that have happened to me. Also, excuse me if this chapter seems to be overdramatic at times but is part of the story. Thank you so much for reading and sharing. Reblogs and comments are always so so appreciated. dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Joel was drowning into his third glass of whiskey. It was one a.m, everything felt silenced by the defeated sound of his own heart trying to find an answer amidst the chaos of his own thoughts echoing through the walls of his house.

He couldn’t sleep, still thinking on the fool he has been made by you. He had told you the truth no one knew about him. About his beloved baby daughter, he hadn’t had the chance to pour all his love to. He had broken his vows for you.

His fingers trembled around the glass as he stared at nothing. Just the floor. Just the night.

God, he had sinned.

And you?

You were in everything.

The curve of your smile in the edge of the wine glass. The shape of your hips still ghosting his palms. Your breath still warm in the hollow of his neck.

He hated it.

He hated that he loved you. Hated how fast you had carved yourself into his bones. Hated that he had told you everything.  He had broken every vow stitched into his skin. Every sacred promise. He had let you lay your head on his shoulder. Every time he had let his lips touch yours. Let you lie beside him in the dark. Let you wrap your fingers around his, not knowing you were already holding a knife.

Joel had never seen himself as a human. At least not ever since he had sworn his vows and he had given himself to God and his faith.

For him there was nothing else in the world that could make him feel like he belonged to the simplicity of being a human. There were not feelings, not reasons why he would make that effort again. He was a simply a God machine giving people advice and helping them to figure their guilt, sins and shit together with words that would soothe their minds.

But what about his mind?  

Where was the guidance when he needed it the most?

Where was the guidance when he felt love was making him weak?

Where was the guidance when you were his answer and the one making him weak?

“God…” he breathed, voice cracking, head tilting back to the ceiling as if the cracked beams above would give him answers. “God, I have sinned.”

A knock on his door woke him up from his own misery. He feared it was the same man as before. The only looking for you.

Gabriel.

Gabriel, your fiancé.

Gabriel, the man who had claimed you.

His heart and mind reeked with jealousy. God, he felt miserable.

He didn’t stand up, not even opened his eyes until he heard the soft voice calling him

“Joel?”

The moment he heard your voice, rage bubbled up. Rage and tenderness because you were still here, you were still his baby, his darling.

Your voice lingered in the air like a ghost he wasn’t ready to face, sweet and trembling and familiar in a way that hurt more than the whiskey in his veins.

“Joel… please.”

That please cracked something in him.

He opened his eyes slowly and stood up, taking a few seconds to sober up. Finally walking towards the door as if waking from a dream he’d tried to bury. He opened with such a pain on his bones it almost killed him.

There you were standing in his doorway, damp from the night, face pale under the porch light, eyes red-rimmed.

“Thank god” you said, throwing yourself to his arms instantly.

He didn’t know how to react. He debated between push you away from his life or letting you stay on his arms as long as you wanted. As long as he could hold you while during the time he had left.  The seconds felt long enough for you to notice the hesitation in him. The way his arms hovered before they finally wrapped around you.

And when they did, you melted into his chest after holding your breath for hours.

Joel held you tight, tighter than he should’ve, maybe. Like you were the only thing keeping him sane and mad at the same time.

He closed the door behind you with one hand, the other still wrapped around your back. The click of the lock echoed through the silence, making you feel like nothing could ever catch inside this place.

You were shivering in a way he wasn’t used to seeing. He guided you toward the couch, but you didn’t want to let go. And he didn’t force you to.

So, you stood there for a moment longer, wrapped in something too complicated to name.

“Have you been drinking?” You asked after feeling the scent of whisky everywhere.

Joel let out a low breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. His hand was still on your back, fingers twitching like they couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or finally let you go.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough, like gravel soaked in guilt. “Does it matter?”

You leaned back just enough to look at him, eyes flicking over his face, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the redness lacing the whites. He looked tired. Like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Like someone who’d been drowning quietly in his own thoughts.

“I guess not,” you murmured, and your voice broke a little at the end.

That broke something in him too.

Joel cupped your face gently, thumbs grazing the corners of your eyes, your cheeks still cold from the night. He studied you like you were a puzzle he’d already solved but didn’t want to believe the picture it formed.

“Can I stay here tonight? Please?” You asked in a whispery tone, eyes searching doubts on his face.

Joel didn’t answer right away. His silence stretched long between you—long enough to feel like a lifetime, short enough to make your heart pound harder.

He was staring at you, and this time you could see the war behind his eyes. The love and the betrayal you were too naïve to see. The need and the ache. All of it, cracked and bleeding, tangled into something too human to name.

You feared it. What if he had regretted everything, he had done with you.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. Just once.

“Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse. “Of course you can stay.”

He stepped back only slightly, just enough to take your hand in his. His palm was warm, calloused, and trembling. He led you toward the couch, and when you hesitated, he looked at you again.

“Do you want the bed?” he asked, like it would make a difference. Like you hadn’t already shared a bed before. Like you hadn’t once laid beside him with your hand on his chest after making love like it belonged there.

“No,” you whispered. “I just want to be wherever you are.”

That did something to him. He didn’t show it much—Joel was too used to hiding things deep—but his jaw clenched. His fingers gripped yours a little tighter.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Joel asked, gaze still ahead, not looking at you.

Your lips parted, but nothing came. You couldn’t lie to him again, but the truth? The truth might ruin everything you had shared.

“I can’t,” you said at last, barely a whisper. “Not yet.”

Joel nodded slowly. Not in acceptance, but defeated.

“Then I won’t ask anymore.” He said, plainly, locking eyes with you again.

You woke up at three a.m., the world outside cloaked in silence, the kind that only settles over small towns and broken hearts. You thought you had been able to sleep only for a reason.

Joel.

Even when your worst nightmares had been coming to catch you in the form of Gabriel. You had been able to pretend nothing was different from when he wasn’t in town, when he hasn’t found you. Pretending you weren’t restless because of it.

The room was dark, save for the moonlight spilling in through the window, washing everything in silver. You reached across the bed instinctively—searching for warmth, for Joel—but your hand met only the cold press of empty sheets.

You sat up slowly, the ache in your chest louder than your breath.

Joel wasn’t there.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself and padded quietly through the hallway, the wood creaking beneath your feet. You found him in the living room, exactly where you'd feared—on the couch, asleep, or maybe just pretending to be. His body was curled slightly to the side, one arm hanging off the edge like he had fallen into that position after hours of unrest.

The bottle of whiskey still sat on the table beside him, almost empty now, the amber liquid glinting under the moonlight. The glass next to it held the dregs of another pour he hadn't finished.

Your eyes wandered to his face. Even in sleep, his brows were furrowed, as if some burden followed him into his dreams. You noticed how his lashes twitched every now and then, how his lips were parted just slightly, chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths.

It hurt.

God, it hurt to love him this much.

You sank to your knees beside the couch, blanket pooling around you. And for a while, you just watched him—memorizing every line of his face, line and shadow, like maybe if you memorized enough, the truth you carried would become easier to bury.

Like you were never to see him again.

You leaned in.

And kissed his temple.

Soft. Lingering. Like a confession you were too much of a coward to speak out loud.

His skin was warm under your lips. Too warm.

You stayed there longer than you should’ve, breathing him in, willing his pain into yours, hoping maybe he could feel what you meant, even if you didn’t say it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, so softly it barely left your throat.

He didn’t stir but you almost wished he had.

But as the connection you both shared seemed harder to ignore. Harder to fight. His breath hitched. And then, slowly, he turned his head.

You pulled back just enough to see his face, your eyes locking in the dim light of the room. There was a storm behind his eyes, rage, grief, longing, but beneath it all, the love you thought you’d lost. The kind of love that made you ache to your bones.

He reached up, fingers brushing your jaw like he didn’t believe you were real.

Then he kissed you.

Not out of desire, but because he had to. Because something inside him cracked open and your name fell through. His lips found yours with a painful kind of tenderness, slow and aching and full of everything he was saving up to say. A kiss laced in apology, in heartbreak.

Your hand found the side of his face again, grounding both of you in that one fragile moment. It didn’t fix anything. It didn’t erase the lies or the truth you hadn’t told, but it was honest. It was him. It was you.

You both were real and he was the realest thing to love you had ever met.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breathing uneven.

His breath caught, and you felt it, right there, between you. The way he tried to hold himself together. The way he always did. But this time, it was slipping. He was slipping.

His hands trembled where they cupped your jaw, and you felt the warmth of his tears mingling with yours on your cheek, falling quiet and slow like the words he couldn’t quite bring himself to say.

“Joel,” you whispered again, barely able to breathe with the closeness. “What’s wrong tonight?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just stayed there, forehead pressed to yours, trying to hold back everything breaking inside him. Then, finally, his voice came out, hoarse and cracked.

“I don’t know how to carry this,” he rasped. “This love I feel for you… and the price of what it cost me.”

Your lips parted, your heart twisting. His voice was so full of sorrow, you could feel it like a bruise spreading through your ribs.

“I swore I’d never—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I swore I’d never cross that line. And then you walked into my life and I didn’t even hesitate. I just let it happen. And now every part of me wants you, even the parts that were never supposed to.”

You touched his cheek, gently brushing away the tears there. “You didn’t do this alone,” you whispered. “You didn’t fall alone.”

He gave a shaky laugh, low and bitter.

Your eyes filled again, because you couldn’t stand to feel like he seemed to be ruined tonight. It felt almost destructive and poetic at the same time. “Joel,” you said, soft but certain, “you are worth loving. You always were.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His eyes were red, raw with emotion, and his voice broke completely when he whispered. “I would love to believe you.”

And you didn’t know how to answer anymore.

A few hours later, the morning sun spilled in through Joel’s kitchen window like it had no regard for sorrow. The kind of morning light that was supposed to promise hope, but only reminded you of everything that was slipping through your fingers.

Even the day didn’t feel as warm as always.

You sat at the edge of his bed, still wrapped in the blanket from the night before. Your hair was a mess, your throat tight from unshed tears. You hadn’t slept after you kissed last night. You had returned to his bed silently, curled into the space he used to fill, and stared at the ceiling while the weight in your chest pushed heavier and heavier.

You couldn’t shake the image of him asleep on that couch, face twisted in pain, like even his dreams knew what you were hiding.

You rubbed your palms over your knees. Tried to ground yourself. Failed.

This town was supposed to be a temporary sanctuary, a borrowed illusion to buy you time until you could find a place to plant roots and start again. And Joel—God, Joel—he had become your whole heart.

You’d told yourself this was only for a little while. That you could leave before anyone got too close. Before you got too close.

But you were already in too deep. Too in love with him that the thought of leaving him behind shattered your heart into pieces unable to get together again.

You would walk on fire for him. You would let other throw bricks at you, only to be with him.

And God, last night you had wanted to tell him. You wanted to say everything: the truth about Gabriel, about why he had found you, why you’d run. About the whisper of your name on a list you weren’t supposed to be on.

But fear had made a home inside you. And now? Now Joel was tangled in it.

You stood slowly and walked to the window. The sun was rising over the fields outside, light stretching long over the earth. You could see the church from here. You remembered sitting there in silence beside Joel, hands brushing innocently.

You had ruined his life.

You pressed your fingers to the glass like you could stop time if you touched it softly enough.

You heard a soft rustle from the living room. He was waking up.

And soon, you'd have to look him in the eye again.

Would you lie?

It was spring when everything fell apart.

You remember the way the city felt, after time was holding its breath. Like everyone had started speaking in code. Streets that used to pulse with life felt quieter, even when crowded. Eyes darted faster. Names dropped from conversations like broken like delicate porcelain.

You were coming back from rehearsal, your toes still pointed in your worn ballet shoes, your muscles aching from hours of movement. The theater had always been your favorite part to be at—your escape from the noise outside. The only place where you didn’t have to choose sides.

Until that day.

You still remember the look on Mariana’s face, your best friend, your partner on stage, your sister in everything but blood. She’d waited for you by the back door of the studio, her cloth wrapped tight around her neck, eyes wild in urgency.

“Don’t go home,” she whispered.

You laughed, because what else could you do?

“I’m serious,” she hissed, gripping your arm. “Your name was mentioned. On a list.”

That stopped your heart. You thought you’d hidden it well. Your conversations, your meetings, the way you stayed after shows to pass messages, to deliver notes, to make your voice heard when the world was determined to quiet it. You thought you’d danced your way around it all.

You didn’t speak. You just nodded. And she kissed your cheek like it was goodbye.

You never saw Mariana again.

Later that night, Gabriel had shown up to your house where you’d gone. His eyes were frantic, his military jacket soaked with droplets of a spring rain “They came to your apartment,” he’d said. “They tore it apart.”

Your breath stopped. “My brother? My parents?”

“They weren’t there.”

He didn’t look at you when he said it. Gabriel had begged you to leave with him. To disappear. “I’ll find a way” he said. “There are people across the border—friends. We just need to get out.”

But something in your gut told you not to go with him. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, like you were already half a ghost.

Like you were already death.

So, you ran. Alone.

………………………………………………………………………………..

You stood in the doorway, watching him as the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the floor. Joel was still lying on the couch, his body curled into a tight ball as if the night had pressed him down, heavier than it should have. His eyes were half-closed, groggy from sleep, and his hair was mussed, falling in wild, dark strands around his forehead.

When his eyes finally met yours, there was a faint, almost apologetic sigh that escaped his lips. “Sorry,” he muttered, blinking like he wasn’t quite sure where he was. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

You didn’t move from where you stood. Your feet were frozen, almost like you couldn’t bring yourself to step any closer to him.

“You drank too much,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended, but the words slipped out before you could stop them. They hung in the air between you like a reminder of the distance that had been created, like a wall that neither of you knew how to tear down.

Joel rubbed his face with his hands, his expression tightening for a second before he relaxed again. He was tired. You could see it in the lines of his face, in the way his shoulders slumped. But you could also see something else. Guilt. Pain. And maybe a little bit of regret.

“Yeah…” His voice trailed off as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing slightly, like even that small movement hurt him. “I know. I don’t... I don’t usually drink like that. I never do, actually.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, still standing by the door, your eyes not leaving him. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words just wouldn’t come. The silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating.

“Is there something bothering you?” You asked, fearing the worst. Fearing he had regret loving you, that his love to God and his faith was bigger than you.

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours at the sound of your voice, but there was something distant in them. Something that made your heart sink. His gaze softened for a split second, but he quickly looked away, like he didn’t want you to see what was going on behind those tired eyes.

God, he wanted to hate you.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to massage away the tension that had built up there. "I don't know," he said, defiance in his voice, also thick with exhaustion. "Maybe it's just—everything. Everything that happened... that I've let happen." His eyes finally met yours again, but this time they seemed a little more guarded, a little more distant.

"I don't regret loving you," he lied, almost as if he was reassuring himself that was partially true “But sometimes... sometimes I wonder if I’ve lost myself” He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. “What’s right, you know?”

Your heart twisted at his words. You wanted to rush over to him, hold him, tell him that it didn’t matter, that whatever doubts he had, you were here, right here, willing to stand by him no matter what. But something in his expression stopped you. Something told you that even though he loved you, something deeper—his faith, his sense of duty, something you couldn’t quite name—was pulling him in another direction.

“I just… I don’t want to be the reason you lose your way,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion you didn’t know how to hide. “I know what you believe. And I know I don’t fit into that life.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, like your words hit him harder than he expected. He stood up slowly, walking toward you, but the gap between you felt just as wide as it had before. He stopped a few steps away from you, standing there as if he was weighing everything in his mind.

“You’re right” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was intense, full of things left unsaid. “And I don’t know how to make it work. And maybe I don’t have the strength to fight for you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words hit you hard. You hadn’t realized just how much you were holding in until they started to fall, tracing silent paths down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop the aching in your chest as the weight of what he was saying settled over you.

“Joel…” Your voice broke, the name coming out as a whisper, fragile, like it didn’t even belong to you anymore. “I never asked you to give up your faith. I just... I just want you. All of you. Not the parts that fit into some idea of what you’re supposed to be. Just you. The man I...” You swallowed hard, struggling to find the strength to finish. “The man I love.”

His eyes softened for a moment, but it was a softness, pain, like he was trying to absorb your words, but the weight of his own burdens was making it impossible to do so. He looked down at the floor, shaking his head as if he couldn’t bear to look at you, as if looking at you was a reminder of everything, he felt he couldn’t have.

“You don’t love me,” he whispered, voice shaking now, as if the words were cutting him too. 

The words hit you like a slap, cold and unexpected, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your chest tightened, and your thoughts spun, dizzying in the sudden, unbearable weight of what he had said.

"What... what do you mean?" The question barely left your lips, as if the very air between you had thickened, made it impossible to say anything that could break through the suffocating silence.

Joel’s hands clenched at his sides, his eyes still cast down, not daring to meet yours. Joel's jaw clenched tighter, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His eyes remained averted, unable—or unwilling—to meet yours. “I am a priest.” he growled, voice rough with barely contained anger. “I’m married to God and I broke all the vows and promises I made for-for—”

“For what?” you asked, almost challenging him.

Joel’s chest heaved as he took in a sharp breath, his fists still clenched at his sides. He didn’t answer you right away, his gaze still fixed on the floor like he was trying to find the strength to look at you—like he was searching for the words that would make sense of everything he was feeling.

“For you,” he finally whispered, voice trembling with something raw, something that tore at the edges of his pride. “I broke every damn vow for you.”

You took a step forward, your heart aching at the admission, but you couldn’t let yourself get too close—not yet. Not with the weight of his words still hanging between you. “Joel, I—”

“No.” He cut you off sharply, his voice suddenly fierce. “Don’t. Don’t try to fix this with words. That you still love me after what I’ve done. After everything I’ve given up for... for this.” He gestured between the two of you, his frustration growing as his anger cracked through the cracks of his guilt. “You think it’s that easy?” His voice broke, the weight of his words pulling him apart.

“I don’t know how to feel anymore,” he added, his voice quieter, almost pleading. “You—you—were supposed to be my redemption.”

You swallowed hard, emotions building up in your throat, each word from him slicing through you like a sharp blade. You wanted to reach out, to take his face in your hands and make him understand that nothing about this had been easy for you either. That you had never wanted to be the reason he was torn between love and faith.

“Why did you come here and ruin everything?” Joel repeated, his voice harder now, edged with frustration and something that felt like betrayal.

His words hit you like a slap, raw and unforgiving, and for a moment, the world around you blurred. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out—like he had stolen all your words, all your defenses, with that single sentence.

You stood there, fighting the knot in your throat, trying to piece together what had been shattered between you both. His anger, his hurt—it stung, but it was laced with something deeper, something that felt like love twisted into resentment.

The silence hung heavily between you two, the air thick with unsaid words and broken promises. Joel’s eyes softened, but there was a coldness in them now, something that made you feel smaller than you ever had.

He swallowed, his voice shaky, but firm. “I can’t do this,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. “I need you to leave.”

The words hit you harder than anything else. You didn’t understand at first. You stared at him, waiting for the catch, waiting for the reassurance that he didn’t really mean it—that he still wanted you, needed you. But there was none of that. His face was set, his jaw clenched, as if he had made a decision he couldn’t take back.

“Joel…” Your voice cracked, but you forced the words out.

You took a step forward, heart pounding in your chest, desperate to reach him, to make him see the truth of how much you needed him. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, your fingers gently cupping his face, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the coldness in his eyes.

“Please,” you whispered again, this time your voice thick with emotion. “Don’t shut me out. Don’t push me away.”

His eyes flickered at your touch, a momentary weakness that made your heart flutter with hope. But it quickly faded, replaced by that familiar wall he’d built around himself.

“Don’t you get it?” Joel’s voice was rough, each word like a knife. “I’m not good for you. I’ve never been good for you. I am not a man you need; the one would fit into your life.”

Your fingers tightened around his jaw, pulling him gently toward you, forcing him to look into your eyes, to see the depth of your feelings for him. “You don’t get to say those things and pretend there’s nothing bothering you” you said fiercely, your breath shaking. “What have changed?”

His breath hitched, his brows furrowing as if he wanted to argue, to find some reason to push you away, but the look in your eyes—so raw, so full of pain and love—stopped him.

“I need you and I love you,” you whispered, the words breaking free before you could stop them. “I need you, Joel. And I can’t leave you now.”

For a moment, everything was still. The world outside felt distant, as if the two of you existed in a bubble, suspended in time. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. His breath was shallow, and you could see the internal war raging inside him.

You held him there, your forehead resting gently against his, feeling the weight of everything that had passed between you. Your hands lingered on his face, waiting for him to make a decision—waiting for him to choose you, to let you in.

“Please,” you whispered again, softer this time, your voice breaking. “Don’t push me away, not when I need you the most.”

For a brief, fleeting moment, Joel’s eyes softened, and something flickered within them—something that felt like the remnants of the love he had for you, buried beneath the weight of everything else. Before you could speak again, before the words could form in your throat, he closed the distance between you.

His lips found yours with a force that made your heart race. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t angry either. It was raw, desperate, filled with everything he’d been holding inside. His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer, and you could taste the whiskey on his lips, the bitterness mingling with something deeper, something painful.

When he finally pulled away, the air between you was thick, the tension unbearable. He looked at you, eyes dark in confusion, his breath ragged, like he wasn’t sure how to breathe without you.

You could see the battle inside him—the love and the pain, the anger and the guilt, all tangled together. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“I need time,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, like a man trying to hold on to the last bit of control he had. “I need to think. I need to figure this out. But not today.”

You nodded, your heart aching with each word that passed between you. You didn’t want to leave him, didn’t want to be the one to walk away. But you could see the wall he’d put up, the armor that he was trying to maintain.

“Can you leave?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “Just... just for today. I don’t want to say things I’ll regret. I just... I need some space. We can talk later. When I feel better.”

Your throat tightened, but you nodded again, your fingers brushing against his as you stepped back.

“Okay,” you said softly, your heart shattering with every step you took away from him. “I’ll leave. But I’m not going far.”

Joel watched you opening the door and leaving the safety of his house, leaving him behind with a heavy weight on his heart.

And his thoughts drifted to the prior night.

Gabriel didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at Joel, like he’d been carrying this decision in his chest for hours.

Then, he stepped forward and held out a small piece of paper.

Joel’s brow furrowed. “What’s this?”

“My number,” Gabriel said quietly. “And the place I’m staying.”

Joel didn’t move.

Gabriel sighed, not with annoyance, but something closer to tired concern. “If something happens… if you perhaps see her…please call me and tell me.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “Why would I do that?”

“Because she owns me a lot and I’m not leaving her.” Gabriel said plainly, his voice firm, unwavering.

Joel stared at the slip of paper in his hand, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. The numbers blurred for a second, like they were mocking him. Like they knew.

He sat down slowly on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor but not really seeing it.

You had lied.

The thought came uninvited, poisonous. He tried to shake it off, but it sank its claws in, deeper and deeper the more he let it twist in his chest.

You belonged to Gabriel.

You weren’t his.

You never were.

The house was quiet when you stepped inside, but it wasn’t the comfortable kind. It was the quiet of something waiting to unravel. The shadows on the walls were familiar, the smell of lemon cleaner still the same. But it wasn’t the home you had made of yourself anymore.

Not after Joel’s dementor. Not after feeling he was slipping through your fingers like water in your hands.

You walked further in, your fingers brushing against the edge of the hallway table like muscle memory, and then you heard movement in the kitchen.

Carmen was there, sipping a cup of coffee as if she were waiting for you to appear.

“Did you spend the night at the father’s house?” she asked as if it the chance was poison.

Not a “Good morning” just a simply question.  

You looked around, and felt your chest tighten. “So, this is what it’s come to?” you asked back not answering her question, voice barely above a whisper. “You tell Billy everything when you promised you wouldn’t say anything about me and Joel.”

She set down the cup in her hand, leaning against the counter. “It mattered. You’re—”

“I’m nothing,” you snapped, stepping closer, heat rising behind your eyes. “Don’t ever say it was because you care because—”

“And what were you doing?” Carmen shot back, her jaw clenching. “Sneaking around with a man who told you from the beginning it couldn’t happen. A man who wears a collar, for God’s sake.”

You flinched like she’d hit you.

“And yet he chose me anyway,” you said, your voice trembling with the ache in your chest.

“Did he?” she asked, not because she wanted to hurt you but because she wanted to understand what thoughts were running inside your mind.

Something flickered in her eyes—guilt, maybe. Or regret. But it was gone too fast.

“You don’t belong with him,” she said, voice low. “You don’t see it now, but someday you will.”

You stepped closer, meeting her eyes squarely.

“You don’t get to decide who I belong with.”

The silence was sharp. Years of shared history hummed like a storm in the walls.

“I love you like a little sister, you know?” she spoke, “And you don’t deserve to spend your life hidden beneath the cloaks of a secret.”

You didn’t say anything because you knew he was right. She took a step closer to you.

“You already told me why you are here, Estrellita. Don’t waste your life hiding anymore.” She spoke.

You looked down at your hands, twisting your fingers without even realizing it. The way she called you Estrellita—it broke something open in you.

You had never learned what it meant to love someone in silence. You had always been so carefree, not used to a life of being caged. You were not used to run from your past like it was a fire at your back.

“I didn’t mean to fall for him,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“I know,” Carmen said gently. “But it did.”

You looked up at her then, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t see her as just the woman who’d tried to protect you, who interfered or judged or told you what was right. You saw the friend who held your hand when you needed the most the first time you arrived here.

Tears welled in your eyes again. “I thought I could outrun it, Carmen. I thought if I didn’t say it out loud, if I kept it buried… it wouldn’t follow me here.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, voice quiet.

“Gabriel.” You said, his name felt like poison on your lips. It tasted like blood. You wiped at your cheek. “He is here. He found me and I think he wants to take me back to home.”

Carmen’s face went still—like something in her braced at the mention of his name. Her breath caught, her posture tensed, and suddenly all the softness from before hardened into something sharp and protective.

“He’s here?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your hands trembling now as the weight of saying it out loud settled on your chest. “Last night… at the club. I didn’t imagine it. He was watching me, then he left.”

Carmen blinked, like she needed a moment to absorb that. “That bastard,” she muttered under her breath, her voice suddenly laced with steel. “You think he wants to take you back to your family?

Your throat tightened. “No. He must have been caught up.”

“That’s why you ran in a hurry from the club last night?” she asked.

You nodded, “I went to Joel’s because he wouldn’t find me at a priest’s house.” you pause for a bit, “but he was acting strange too and I feel like I’ve ruined his life and I cannot stop running.”

Carmen took your hands then, firm but not unkind. “Listen to me,” she said, fierce now, “Fathe-well, Joel is not the important thing now. You are not alone. And whatever this Gabriel thinks he’s going to do—he’ll have to go through me first.”

You gave a watery laugh, and she smiled, only for a second,before her face turned serious again.

“You’re not performing tonight.” She said, as a momentary solution to this issue.

Your brows furrowed. “What? Carmen, I have to—”

“No.” Her voice left no room for argument. “You’re not getting on that stage tonight. Not with him out there. Not when you’re this shaken.”

“I’ve been through worse,” you whispered, but it didn’t even sound convincing to your own ears.

Carmen shook her head. “This isn’t just stage fright or nerves. This is fear, real fear. And I’m not letting you walk into that spotlight like nothing’s wrong when we both know you’re still looking over your shoulder.”

You looked down at your hands, her grip still grounding you. Your skin was clammy. Your thoughts raced. But there was a small, stubborn fire in your chest.

“He’ll think I’m hiding,” you said quietly.

She arched a brow. “He’ll think you left this town.”

You didn’t answer.

She took a seat next to you “Then, he’ll leave and you will be fine okay.”

You stared at her, those words hanging heavy between you. He’ll think you left this town. Like it was easy. Like he would just pack up and vanish the way you should’ve months ago. But something inside you twisted at the thought—something sharp and aching.

You shook your head slowly. “But I don’t want him to keep looking for me,” you said, voice trembling, almost ashamed of the truth.

Carmen turned to you, eyes searching. “Then what do you want, mi niña? Do you want to run forever? Or do you want to finally live your life?”

You blinked back the tears forming again. Your throat burned.

“I want to stop feeling like I have to choose between running and breathing,” you said. “I don’t want to face Joel while feeling like this.”

Carmen was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Then we make a plan. But not tonight. Tonight, you breathe. You eat something. You sleep with the door locked. And tomorrow—if you want to tell Joel the truth—we tell him everything. Together.”

You looked at her, the fear still clawing at your insides—but for the first time, you didn’t feel alone in it.

“Okay,” you whispered.

The house was quiet, almost too quiet. Carmen had gone to the club a couple hours ago, but sleep wasn’t coming to you. You sat curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a shield, though it did little to ward off the storm building in your chest.

The TV played some old black-and-white movie on low volume—just enough to keep the silence from swallowing you whole. Shadows danced across the walls, flickering every time the screen flashed. You’d been staring at it for who knows how long, your thoughts looping, racing, tangling.

How do you tell Joel?

How do you say it without breaking whatever fragile thread you still have between you?

What if he doesn’t believe you? What if he thinks you play with him?

You’d rehearsed the words in your head a thousand different ways, none of them good enough. None of them could undo what had been done, or explain why you hadn’t told Joel the truth from the beginning.

The silence broke with a sudden ring that pierced through the stillness, loud and jarring. You jumped, your heart lurching into your throat. For a second, you just stared at the phone on the table, afraid to move, afraid of what—or who—was on the other end.

Your breath caught. You stared at the phone for a long moment, your finger hovering over it like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Then—almost without thinking—you picked up.

“…Hello?” your voice came out smaller than you wanted it to.

There was a pause on the other end. You could hear the faint sound of his breathing, uneven. Like the person on the other side didn’t know what to say either.

Then finally, low and tired and rough, a voice came through, saying your name.

You closed your eyes, your chest tightening.

“How are you?” Joel asked, the words thick and quiet. “I… I know I don’t deserve to ask, not after this morning.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out at first. Just a breath. Just silence. And then, “It’s fine,” you said softly. “You were upset.”

“No,” he said, and you could hear the guilt straining in every syllable. “I was cruel. I pushed you away and I didn’t mean to. I just—”

He exhaled sharply. “I was angry, but not at you. Not really. I was angry at myself. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You let the silence settle for a moment, heart thudding dully in your chest.

“I know,” you whispered. “It’s okay.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Can you come to the church?” Joel asked. “Now. Please.”

You hesitated. The question hit you hard, like he’d reached through the phone and gripped your wrist. You stared at the dark window, the flicker of the TV, the stillness of the house. Carmen’s warning echoed in your head.

“I can’t,” you said. It came out too fast, too brittle. “I… I shouldn’t.”

“Please,” Joel said again, more urgently now. “I just— I need to see you. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You could almost feel Carmen’s disappointment if she knew you were even considering it.

But his voice was breaking. And your heart… your heart was already halfway out the door.

“…Okay,” you said, barely above a whisper.

You could hear the breath of relief he let out, like he hadn’t believed you’d actually say yes.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.

And then the line went dead.

The room felt impossibly quiet. The truth still weighed heavy in your chest, but your feet moved on their own—toward the door. Toward him.

Despite everything.

Despite Carmen.

Despite Gabriel.

Despite the danger.

You were going to Joel, where he would be waiting with the lights up to protect you.

The old wooden doors of the church creaked open, the sound echoing softly through the vast, candle-lit silence. The night air clung to your skin as you stepped inside, the scent of old wood and melted wax wrapping around you like a memory.

Joel was there.

Up by the altar.

His back to you, shoulders slightly hunched as he lit one candle, then another. The glow bathed him in gold, flickering shadows dancing across his frame like ghosts.

You stood there for a second, just watching. Your heart thudded so hard it almost drowned out the quiet. You opened your mouth.

“Joel,” you said, softly.

He stiffened immediately. The match in his hand paused mid-air before he extinguished it slowly, fingers curling around it like he didn’t want to let it go. Then he turned.

There was no smile. Just dark, tired eyes locked on you. His face unreadable. Haunted. Like he had traveled miles through his own mind just to meet you here.

You wanted to say something. You thought of all the ways you could start but nothing felt right. Nothing touched the heaviness pressing down on both of you.

He finally spoke.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

You swallowed, stepping closer. “I almost didn’t.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Why did you?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Why did I do what?” you finally asked.

His jaw tightened as the question cut through the quiet like a blade.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asked, like each word cost him something to say.

You stood still, the faint glow of candlelight brushing your face. There was nowhere to hide in this place, no shadows to slip into, no noise to drown out the truth. Just him. And you. And all the pieces of what you’d broken between you.

You looked down for a second, then met his eyes. “I—What?”

Joel took a slow step forward, the echo of his shoes heavy against the church floor.

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low. Controlled. But his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

You stared at him, a dozen answers caught in your throat. None of them good enough.

“Gabriel,” he said. Just the name. Nothing else. And still, it landed like a punch.

Your breath caught. “Joel…”

“You are engaged to him.” He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back something ugly. “All this damn time, you were engaged while messing up with my head.”

You flinched like he’d slapped you.

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head. “It’s not—Joel, it’s not what you think.”

His laugh was humorless, bitter. “Isn’t it? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks pretty damn clear.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, fingers trembling at your sides. “I left before. I left everything behind when I came here. I’m not engaged to him I never was I—”

“I don’t believe you.” he called out.

You took a slow step forward, trying to mend what was broken. Your voice quivered as it left you. “I never said yes. I never said yes to him, Joel. I—”

Your words die in your lips because he wouldn’t even look at you now. His jaw was tight, arms crossed like a shield, like if he let them fall, he might shatter.

“I told him I didn’t want that life,” you continued, trying to reach him. “I told him I wasn’t his. I ran, Joel. I ran from all of it. From him. From the danger I was in.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to you, something cracking in his expression—but not enough to let you in. “You should’ve told me,”He said, low. “You should’ve trusted me with the truth.”

“I wanted to,” you said, stepping impossibly closer. “Every time I looked at you, it was right there, stuck in my throat. But I was afraid. Afraid you’d look at me like you are now.” You paused, “You told me I could do it when I feel ready.”

He held your gaze for a long beat, pain written deep across his face.

You took another step, just a breath away now. “Joel, please. It’s not what you think it is, there is so much more to tell. The truth of it.”

Silence pressed in. You reached out slowly, placing your hand gently over his. He didn’t pull away.

“I’m standing here asking you to give me a chance to explain.”

His fingers twitched beneath yours—like maybe, just maybe, part of him still wanted to hold on.

"I'll ask god to get rid of those feelings you have for me.” He said, letting go of your hand “I'll pray for you."

Your hand hung there in the space where his used to be, suspended in the air like a ghost of something that had once meant everything. His words hit harder than any shouted accusation could have—quiet, measured, and final. A blade wrapped in velvet.

You stared at him, throat tight. “Don’t do that,” you said, barely above a whisper. “Don’t erase what we had like it was nothing.”

Joel turned away from you then, his jaw clenched, his silhouette bathed in candlelight and heartbreak. “I ain’t erasing it,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I’m just tryin’ to survive it.”

A bitter silence followed.

"I don't want to get rid of them!" You shouted at him.

"Don't. You lied!” he shouted back, while pointing his finger at you.  

"No, I didn't." You cried out

"You did! You made me sin. I knew I should have never touch you, never should have loved you.

"don't say it, you will regret it" you warned him, before he could say anything else.

"The only thing I will regret is you."

You didn't even have time to completely allow your heart to break after hearing those words. You were stunned. No words could even come out from your lips.

He was staring at you now, eyes wide with something that almost looked like remorse—but it was drowned out by the rage, the hurt.

“I never lied to you,” you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking louder would make it too real.

Joel shook his head, his face twisted with frustration, as if your words were a foreign language he couldn’t understand. “You don’t get it, do you? You—you—taught me how to love, how to want things I shouldn’t. And now I’m left here, broken because of you.”

He took a step back, his fist clenched at his side. “I should have never let myself feel this way about you,” he spat, and the words felt like venom. "I should’ve never let you in."

Your heart shattered in the silence that followed. You could feel the crack of it deep within you, splintering everything you thought you understood about him, about you, about what you could have been.

"You don’t mean that," you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. But even as you said them, you felt the truth settle into your bones. He did mean it.

Your hands moved on instinct, cupping his face, your fingers trembling as they touched his skin. His jaw was tense beneath your palms, but you didn’t care. You needed him to feel it—to know it wasn’t a lie.

“Joel, I love you,” you breathed, desperate, broken. “Please, let me—”

But he pulled your hands from his face, slowly, painfully, like he hated the way it felt to do it.

“No,” he said, voice low and steady. “You belong to him. To Gabriel.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “What…?”

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t stutter. “That’s why I called him.”

The words hit you like a slap.

Your hands dropped to your sides as your mind spun. He called Gabriel. Joel called him. He called him.

“Why would you—” your voice cracked.

But then, before you could finish, you heard it. A voice behind you. Smooth. Familiar. Sickening.

Your name, spoken with a twisted fondness. “Aquí estás.” (Here you are) Gabriel said.

You turned slowly, dread creeping up your spine like frostbite.

Gabriel stood just inside the church doors, shadow stretching long behind him. He looked at you like he always did, like you were something that belonged to him.

Your stomach dropped.

Joel’s voice was behind you, sharp and cold. “Now he can take back what’s his.”

Your knees went weak. Everything around you blurred except for that one terrible truth.

He’d brought you here. He’d brought him here. Joel did it.

You couldn’t breathe. The room spun, the walls of the church closing in like a vise around your chest. The candlelight flickered, suddenly too bright, too hot.

Your heart pounded against your ribs like it was trying to escape, and the sound of Gabriel’s footsteps—calm, deliberate—only made it worse.

You stumbled back.

“Don’t,” you rasped, lifting a trembling hand. “Stay away from me.”

But Gabriel kept walking. And when your back hit Joel’s chest, you realized you’d moved without thinking.

You were hiding. Behind him. Joel stiffened in surprise as you pressed against him, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracked and broken. “Please don’t let him take me.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a long second. You could feel the tension in his body, the confusion, the conflict. He’d expected anger—guilt, maybe. Not this. Not you trembling behind him like a trapped animal.

He looked over his shoulder, saw your face, pale, wet with tears, breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps and something shifted in him.

he murmured your name but you couldn’t speak. Gabriel was close now, too close, his steps slow and confident. “Ya no puedes seguir arrancando” (You cannot keep running anymore)

You flinched at his voice. Joel turned to look at you again, really look at you. The panic in your eyes. The way you were clinging to him.

And suddenly, everything didn’t seem so black and white anymore.

“You tricked me” you said through shallow breaths, chest heaving.

Joel’s jaw tightened.

Gabriel frowned. “She’s confused. That’s all this is. She always gets like this.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, no, please don’t listen to him. Joel, you have to believe me.”

Your fingers twisted tighter in his cassock Joel’s eyes flicked from you to Gabriel. And for the first time… doubt. Real, sharp, dangerous doubt crept into his face.

And he took a slow step in front of you, this time not to give you away.

But to shield you.

“What the hell do you want from her?” he asked, low, directed at Gabriel now.

Gabriel blinked once, then gave a short, breathy laugh—quiet at first, then building, echoing through the old church like a sick hymn.

“A priest?” he said, incredulous, mocking. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He looked between you and Joel like the punchline of some cruel joke had just landed in his lap. “There’s no way you fell in love with a priest.”

You flinched at the sound, but Joel didn’t move. His jaw clenched tighter, fists at his sides.

Gabriel took a step forward, his shoes tapping softly against the stone floor. The candlelight caught the edge of something cold and metallic beneath his coat—then, slowly, he pulled it out.

A gun.

You froze.

Joel’s arm instinctively shot out in front of you again, forcing you back behind him. His voice dropped lower, sharp as a blade. “Put that down.”

Gabriel cocked his head like he was considering it—like this was all just some twisted game.

“You think wearing that collar means something to me?” Gabriel asked in defiance.

Joel didn’t flinch. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“Joel—” you whispered, barely able to breathe.

Gabriel’s gaze cut to you, and his smile returned—cold and cruel. “You always were good at pretending,” he said.

“No,” you whispered. Your voice was shaking, but your spine straightened.

Joel stood solid in front of you. “You’ll have to shoot me first.”

Gabriel raised the gun slightly, hand steady. “That can be arranged.”

Gabriel’s arm rose, the gun steady now, aimed directly at Joel’s chest. His eyes had gone dark, void of reason, swimming with something far worse than jealousy.

“You have no idea what she did to me,” he hissed. “No idea what she owes me.”

Joel didn’t move, didn’t blink. “She doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing.”

Gabriel’s finger twitched on the trigger.

“She does,” he spat. “You think she’s innocent? You think she ran away from nothing?”

You were trembling, the edges of your vision tunneling, the air thick and heavy in your chest.

Gabriel sneered, not even sparing you a glance. “You always have a choice. And you chose wrong.”

Joel took a step forward, deliberate, protective. “You’re not taking her.”

Gabriel’s hand raised with him, following the movement. “She’s mine. I bled for her. I ruined myself for her. And she walked away leaving me paying the consequences?”

Joel’s voice was low, but it rang with conviction. “You are not taking her” he repeated.

For a second, Gabriel’s face twitched—something unhinged cracking behind his eyes.

“She’s not yours to save,” Gabriel said. “And when I’m done with you—she’ll remember that.”

Joel didn’t budge. “Try me.”

And that was when Gabriel’s hand jerked. The sound of the gunshot split the silence

Joel hit the ground with a cry of pain, the bullet tearing through his leg. The sound of it—the thud of his body, the ragged gasp that ripped from his throat—split you open.

“Joel!” You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands already pressing over the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. His cassock was soaked within seconds, your fingers slipping in the warmth of his blood.

“No, no, no—stay with me,” you pleaded, voice trembling, cracking. “You’re going to be okay, just look at me. Please.”

His jaw clenched, but his eyes still found yours. There was pain there, yes, but something else too. Something soft, even now.

Before you could answer, a force yanked you backward by the arms.

“Enough,” Gabriel growled.

You screamed, thrashing against him, kicking and clawing. “Let go of me!”

His grip tightened. “You think this is about him? Him? After everything I did for you, you choose a fucking priest?” His voice broke on the word, madness trembling under the surface.

“You shot him!” you shouted, your voice shrill and full of rage. “You could’ve killed him!”

“And maybe I should have,” Gabriel hissed near your ear. “Maybe then you'd remember what you own me."

You struggled harder, your eyes locked on Joel still lying on the floor, bleeding, trying—despite the agony—to push himself up for you. For you.

“Don’t touch her,” Joel said, voice hoarse, weak, but full of fire. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

Gabriel laughed, wild and bitter. “You can’t even stand.”

Gabriel’s fingers dug into your arms as he dragged you toward the church doors, your heels scraping against the floor. You kicked, shouted, screamed Joel’s name, but he was behind you now, and bleeding, and you couldn’t get to him.

“Déjame!” (Let me go!) you cried, nails raking at Gabriel’s hands, but he didn’t flinch. His grip was iron, and the fury in him had snapped something loose. Something terrifying.

He shoved the doors open with his shoulder, the night air crashing into your lungs like a slap.

“Ahora nosotros tenemos una conversación pendiente, fugitiva,” (Now we both have a a pendant conversation, little rebel) he spat, his voice low and venomous. “Creíste que podías huir de mí, ¿eh? ¿Que podías esconderte detrás de un maldito cura? (Did you think you could run and hide behind a fucking priest?”

You struggled, tears streaming now, hot.

He kept dragging you down the steps of the church. “¿Después de todo lo que hice por ti? ¿Después de lo que sacrifiqué? (After all I did for you? after all I sacrificed for you?)

“Déjame!” you screamed, the words ripping from your throat.

He slammed you against the hood of a car, the breath knocked clean from your lungs.

“No me pongas a prueba,”(Don’t try me) he growled.

People had started to gather—neighbors, passersby, drawn by the shouting, the shot, and the slam of doors, the chaos erupting outside the church. You could hear the murmurs, the uncertainty in their voices, but no one stepped forward.

Except one.

Mr. Langdon appeared at the edge of the crowd, his eyes wide in horror. “What’s going on here?!”

Your eyes locked onto him, desperate. “Go to the Father!” you shouted, voice raw. “He’s bleeding! Go help him, please!”

Mr. Langdon hesitated, then turned, finally breaking into a hurried limp toward the church steps.

Gabriel leaned in close, his voice slithering in your ear like a curse. “Ahora te vas a subir al auto y me vas a escuchar,” (Now you’re going to get in the car, and you’re going to listen to me.) he whispered, so low only you could hear.

You shook your head violently, heart hammering, eyes darting from one stunned face to another in the crowd. Why weren’t they doing anything?

“Help me!” you cried out. “Please!”

And then—Carmen. She burst through the people, Billy right behind her, both of them panting from the sprint, eyes wide with panic as they took in the scene.

“¡Hey!” Carmen screamed. “¡Déjala!” (Let her go!)

Billy didn’t even hesitate; he ran toward you.

But it was too late. Gabriel jerked open the passenger door, dragged you inside with terrifying strength, and slammed it shut.

You fought, your hands pushing at him, legs kicking wildly, but the doors locked with a heavy click, sealing you inside. Your cries were muffled now by glass. Gabriel’s hand clamped over your thigh, keeping you still as he started the engine.

Outside, Billy was pounding on the window. Carmen was screaming your name.

And all you could do was look back through the glass—at them. At the church.

At Joel’s silhouette, just now staggering out under the arch of the church’s door, his hand clutching his side, eyes locked on the car that was taking you away.

And then it moved.

Gabriel drove, leaving this town behind.

Oh god, what have he done?

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[honeyedmiller]

Long Overdue

joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel takes you out on a long overdue date.

rating: explicit. 18+, minors do not interact.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: descriptors of reader include mentions of being shorter than joel, and wearing a sundress. bicep/tricep appreciation. ass groping, one ass slap, fluff, illusions to smut, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is for @penvisions "give a little love" writing challenge. i got the prompt long overdue date with joel. so sorry i’m late to the challenge and this isn’t very detailed / well written. i wrote it in like an hour, but still hope you enjoy nonetheless.

-

You hear his truck pull into the driveway. 

One of the belts is bad, so it makes this funny noise. He says he’ll get to it soon. 

But, you know your husband like the back of your hand—soon means it won’t happen when it comes to his stuff, unless you’re constantly on him about it. 

He doesn’t mean to be forgetful, but work has been keeping him so busy that he barely gets to do anything else. When he’s not working, he’s resting his exhausted bones and mind by settling into the leather couch in the living room, favorite beer in hand. 

He’s home early today, though, which is a nice change from all the evenings he returns much later. 

You’re prepping dinner when he walks through the door. You hear the toss of his keys in the bowl on the entryway table, the clunk of his work boots as he toes them off his feet. His heavy footsteps as he makes his way into the kitchen to greet you. 

His large frame appears before you a few seconds later, and you look up at him with a soft smile. 

“Mm, you’re home early.” 

“Job’s officially finished,” he says, making his way to you. You hum as he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. He kisses you there softly, moving his hands to your hips to give them a squeeze. 

“You gotta fix that belt in your truck,” you say matter-of-factly. 

He groans and lightly butts his forehead against your shoulder, rolling his head side to side. 

“I know, my love. Reckon it’s about time I stop puttin’ it off, huh?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder and kisses your cheek, turning you around. 

“Lemme see that beautiful face, baby. My wife deserves to be kissed proper.” 

You quirk a brow at him. “Does she now?” You grin like a fool, pulling his body closer to yours. He backs you up against the counter and cages you in with both of his hands landing on either side of you. He grips the counter in a way that accentuates the outline of his triceps, which makes your knees slightly buckle. 

Five years married and he still makes you weak in the knees.  

“Mhm.” His murmur is soft, leaning down to capture your lips in his. Your hands land on his sturdy chest, sliding down to his belly before wrapping your arms around his frame. 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you too, Mr. Miller,” you separate from him, holding him at arm’s length. “Now, get outta my kitchen. I have dinner to cook for my very hardworking man.” 

A deep chuckle evades his chest, and he leans in one more time to kiss your forehead before beelining for the fridge. He takes out a beer, waving the neck at you before shooting you a wink, leaving you to make his favorite meal. 

-

He’s an early riser. Always has been. He’s always up before you, but he’ll always give you a sweet kiss before getting out of bed—unless you entice him to stay in it with you. 

Today isn’t one of those days though, as you wake up around nine in the morning and sleepily look around for Joel. You assume he’s somewhere downstairs since he’s nowhere to be found in the bedroom. 

You roll out of bed and decide to get ready for the day, freshening up before slipping on a baby blue sundress. 

The sky is bright blue and clear, sun already beaming its harsh, hot rays on the entirety of Austin. 

You search for Joel downstairs, to no avail. You frown slightly until you hear tools clanking in the garage. You make your way to the garage door, opening it to see a rather ravishing sight. 

Sweat has soaked through the back and front of Joel’s gray t-shirt; beads of it running down his temple and through his sideburns, only to land on his neck and pool in the divot at the base of his throat. He has one curl hanging over his forehead Clark Kent style. His jeans hang perfectly on his hips. His biceps bulge and he grunts as he tightens something under the hood of his truck. 

The sight of him makes your mouth fucking water. 

You lean against the doorway and bite your lip, admiring him while he works. 

“Looking good, cowboy,” you tease, pushing off the door frame to fully enter the rather stuffy garage. 

He turns his head and his eyes lock on yours. His tongue darts out and wets his lips, and your eyes follow the movement. He clocks it right away. 

He gives you his famous cocky smirk—or, as you like to call it, the panty-dropping look. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” He turns back to his truck, tightening something one more time before tossing the wrench onto his work bench.

You wrap your arms around his torso, kissing his clothed shoulder as you rest your cheek between his shoulder blades. 

“Good, honey. But I was missing you this morning.” 

“Sorry, sugar. Finally decided to stop puttin’ this shit off so I didn’t have to worry about it anymore.” 

You press a kiss between his shoulder blades, hand traveling down his tummy, closer to the hemline of his jeans. 

“‘M all sweaty,” Joel chuckles, but by the way he shifts, you can tell he’s getting a hard-on. 

“Oh please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Like that’s ever stopped me before.” 

He bursts out into a laugh, tummy moving with the sound. 

“I know you’re rollin’ those eyes at me, pretty lady.” 

“Oh yeah? How do you know?” 

He turns around to face you after closing the hood of his truck, hands immediately moving to your ass. With two handfuls, he gives you a squeeze, quirking a brow at you. 

“Because I know my wife and that little attitude ‘a hers.” He smirks at you, almost like a challenge. 

“Well, you’re the one who married me, so that’s on you.” 

He smacks your ass playfully and rolls his eyes, grinning down at you. “Yup. And I’m damn proud.” 

He looks down now, seeing the dress adorning your curves perfectly. 

“Not to mention how fuckin’ sexy she is. I think a night on the town to show you off would do some good, dontcha think?” 

You tilt your head, biting your lip as you try to recount the last time you and him actually went out on a proper date. It’s been at least three or four months. 

“It’s a long overdue pleasantry, Mr. Miller.” 

He furrows his brows. You can see his brain reeling to try and remember the last time you both had a night out. 

“Shit,” he whispers. “You’re right. ‘M sorry, baby. Works been so fuckin’ busy with this project. I don’t mean to not treat you to a nice evenin’—it just slips my mind.” 

You pat his chest lovingly. “I know, Joel. You work so hard and the last thing I want is to nag you about taking me out for a night. I enjoy the dinners and conversation we have at home.” 

“My sweet girl,” he cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “You never nag me. And you deserve to enjoy a dinner that you don’t need to cook, too. It’s been far too long.” 

“You know I love cooking for you. It’s not a big deal.” 

“And I appreciate you for doin’ that for me and keepin’ our home so nice, clean n’ cozy. I’m not the only one who works hard, y’know.” 

“I love you, handsome.” 

“I love you too, baby.” 

“Now take me upstairs and show me how much you love me, cowboy. Then you can wine and dine me and we can go as many times as you’d like when we get home.” 

“As many times as I’d like?” He quirks a brow, smirking again as he pulls his body flush to yours. 

Butterflies erupt in your tummy at his eagerness. 

You nod. 

“Looks like I’ll be keepin’ you up all night long.” 

-

He takes you to a beautiful steakhouse, and you’re both dressed to the nines. Dinner has been wonderful, he holds your hand atop the table the entire time, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

He showers you with compliments, and the look in his eye—a daring, fiery glint—tells you he’d rather have you for dinner than the steak he’s eating. 

But it’s moments like this that have your heart melting. Even after these few years, the spark is still alive between you both, and god you hope it lasts forever. 

He’s your best friend and soulmate, and you truly can’t believe you’ve lucked out with a man such as Joel. 

He provides for you. Loves you endlessly and unashamedly. Teases you. Thrills you. Fucks you deliciously. 

It’s like he’s perfectly tailored for you, and the universe decided to let you fully immerse yourself in one of its finest creations. 

You have that look in your eye that’s completely awestruck, swooning over the fact that you get to call this man your husband. 

And he notices, because he looks right back at you like you hung the moon and stars. Like you’re his Aphrodite. 

Fuck, you are. 

And when he pays the check after you two finish your lovely meals, he takes you home and proves it to you, keeping good on his word. 

Over and over again. 

Just like he promised. 

[wayward-dreamer]

Keep Them On

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x F!Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You simply can't resist the sight of Joel in those glasses.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut: dirty talk, unspecified legal age gap, daddy kink (it just happened what can I say), dry humping (briefly), use of 'slut', pet names (darlin', sweetheart, baby), v fingering, hair pulling, handjob, Joel jerking it while fingering reader but she takes over, nipple play, pussy pronouns. Reader described with female anatomy, no use of y/n.

A/N: I was meant to start this right as that first photo of our man in glasses came out, but I only just got around to it. Which is probably good cause I got to use another one from the episode. This was inspired from @millersdoll's post, and spiralled from there. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this! <3 Follow @wayward-dreamers-library for notifications of when I post.

You sighed in relief as you stepped through the door, blocking out the cold as you slammed it shut. You leaned against the wood, instantly feeling the warmth of the house against your icy cheeks. Stripping yourself of your gloves, scarf and thick jacket you hung them up near the entrance, kicking your boots against the wall to dislodge the snow before you slipped them off. Even with being inside for just a few seconds, you felt yourself warming up. Thank God Joel and Tommy had gotten the heat working in this old place. You couldn’t wait to just sit on the couch and relax now that your patrol shift was over.

As you walked further into your home and under the arch into the living area, you stopped in your tracks as you took in the sight in front of you. The temperature in the room suddenly felt too much.

Joel sat at the dining table, a mess of tools in front of him as he was hunched over working on something, a pair of black framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He lifted his head when he heard you come in, pushing them up slightly and that was enough for you to squeeze your thighs together.

“That’s a good look for you,” you complemented, sauntering over to him.

“Oh, me lookin’ like an old man’s doin’ it for ya?” he asked, his Southern drawl accompanying his deep timbre.

“Definitely,” you muttered as you stood beside him.

You leaned down, lightly pecking his soft lips before teasing the bottom one with a nip of your teeth, a small groan escaping him at the sensation. He pulled away, giving you the best stern look he could muster. The man could never stay angry at you for long because you had a way of making him fold very quickly.

“Don’t start something now, darlin’,” he warned, as he leaned back in his chair. “I gotta meet Tommy, the fence line needs fixin’.”

You hummed as you rested your hands on his broad shoulders. “You can give it a few minutes, right?”

He settled his own larger, calloused hands over your hips as he raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to deal with him then when he comes lookin’ for me. Or be the one to face Maria’s wrath.”

A mischievous smirk pulled at your lips as you looked down at him, taking in the grey streaks through his dark curls, the salt and pepper flecks of his beard and those damn glasses. There was no way you were letting him leave before he did all the things that drove you crazy. Your legs moved to either side of his thighs, and slowly, teasingly, you straddled his lap. Your gaze locked with his as your hands moved up to cup his face, leaning into him without ever looking away. You felt a shiver run up your spine as his hands slipped under the hem of your green plaid shirt that once belonged to him, thumbs hooking lightly into the waistband of your jeans.

“She’s my best friend, I think it’ll be fine,” you whispered against his mouth. “And your brother can wait…”

Your lips meet Joel’s in a searing kiss, neither of you wasting any more time as your arms wrapped around him. You shifted against him, wanting to be as close as possible with clothes the only barrier between you. A small moan left you as his tongue danced with yours, his hands sliding over the skin of your lower back, exposed from where your shirt rode up. He grunted a little as your hips rolled against him once more, and then again, the denim of both of your jeans rubbing together and causing a delicious friction. His eyes fluttered open, suddenly blinded by the fog over his lenses which had him pulling away, despite your whine in protest. He reached up and pulled his glasses off, trying to drop them on the table behind you. Before he could, you moved your hands around your back and took them out of his hands, biting your lip as you looked deep into his eyes, placing the frames back on, your fingers curling behind his ears and slipping into his soft curls.

“Keep them on,” you demanded, lightly tugging at his hair. It was the only level of control he would let you get away with.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lips brushing over your chin. “Love it when my good girl gets a little dirty…”

A wanton moan escaped you as your lips fused with his again, the kiss rougher than it was before as you gripped the strands tight between your fingers. You could feel how quickly his cock became hard, straining against the denim as you continued to grind down on him, his hands aiding the sensual roll of your hips. You were equally worked up, feeling your inner walls clench around nothing and your arousal wet the lace of your panties. His lips moved down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin as he kept his hands on you, guiding your movements. A surprised gasp fell from your lips as he lifted his hips to meet yours, feeling the curve of his bulge right up against you, making you move a little harder.

“Look at you, darlin’,” he rasped, smirking up at you. “So desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

A breathy “yeah” was your only response along with the sinful rocking of your hips against him. You had barely even done anything yet, but between the glasses, his touch and his Southern drawl that always had you squirming, you knew he was going to wreck you. He held you tight, his mouth continuing its path down, a frustrated growl leaving him as your shirt remained in the way of his insatiable need for you. His glasses fogged up again, making him pull away briefly to allow them to clear up on their own. He took that time to gaze into your eyes, loving the way your mouth hung open in bliss from the pleasure he was bringing you.

“So desperate to feel daddy’s cock you have to grind on me like a little slut, huh?”

“Joel, p-please,” you whimpered, holding onto him as you kept shifting your covered mound over the tented denim. “I-I need-”

“Oh, I know what you need, sweetheart,” he said, a fierce glint in his brown eyes. “You’re just not gonna get it right now.”

“But—” you were about to protest but he cut you off.

“No buts, darlin’. You know I gotta be somewhere, that’s why I told you not to start anything,” he stated, one hand leaving your hip and making its way to the button of your jeans. “I’ll tell you what though, if you’re a real good girl and cum on daddy’s fingers right now… then you can have my cock tonight.”

He flicked the button open and pulled the zipper down, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he saw your eyes widen. His hand slid inside, a low moan escaping you as his fingers moved over the lace of your panties, now completely soaked from the intensity of your movement against him.

“So wet just from this, so needy just for me,” he husked, his nose nuzzling along your jaw.

The thick digits slipped past the band of your underwear and along the seam of your pussy, eliciting a high pitched cry from you. You threw your head back as your eyes squeezed shut, feeling the stretch of your walls around his fingers as he dipped two of them into your wet heat. No matter how many times you had found yourself in this very situation, it never failed to knock you off your axis. He leaned forward, his lips and tongue working down the column of your neck, making you grip onto his greying strands harder, pulling him closer if that were even possible.

“Joel,” you moaned, biting your lip as you lifted your head and looked down at him.

He huffed a small laugh as he watched you, knowing exactly what you wanted but continuing to withhold it from you. He was painfully hard by now, the fabric of his jeans pulled tight against his cock, but his only focus was you as his fingers slid back and forth inside you, feeling your arousal coating them. Your hips jerked forward as he maintained the steady rhythm, biting down on your lip as you felt him reaching that sweet spot inside you that only he had ever managed to find and successfully bring you complete euphoria. As they continued to move within you, you rocked against him and met the thrust of his fingers with your own.

“That’s it, darlin’, keep grinding down on me just like that,” he said, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Such a good girl, takin’ my fingers so well.”

“Joel, fuck… r-right there,” you cried out.

“Yeah? You love it when daddy takes care of you, don’t ya?” he asked, letting his beard scratch against your skin.

“Yeah, daddy,” you sighed, nodding in emphasis. “Love it so much.”

“She’s drippin’ for me, ain’t she, darlin’?” he smirked, unbothered by the fog on top of his lenses. “Squeezing around these fingers so tight, fuck.”

You glanced down and saw the way his hand began to shift faster, a sound somewhere between a squeal and a whimper leaving you as you gripped onto his shoulders. You leaned your forehead against his, your hands sliding down his jacket and reaching between your bodies to caress the bulge of his jeans.

“Daddy,” you purred, staring deep into his eyes. Your voice was low, dripping with the sweetness you know he couldn’t resist from you. “Let me take care of you, too…”

He hummed, almost as if he had considered it before he grasped your wrist and flicked it away. He wasn’t letting you get away with it this time. “Hands off, baby. You don’t get daddy’s cock until he says you can have it.”

“But–”

“There’s that ‘but’, again,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You wanna make those hands useful?”

You nodded eagerly in response, waiting for him to say something.

“Unbutton your shirt,” he ordered.

You leaned back slightly, keeping your eyes on his, framed by the rectangular lenses, as you pulled at the top button of your plaid shirt. You slowly unbuttoned all of them, letting the shirt fall open to reveal the black lace bra that covered the exquisite curve of your breast. His other hand drifted up the smooth skin of your stomach, gently cupping over one and pulling the lace down, his calloused thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple into a stiff peak. He sped up his fingers inside you, laying his forehead against your chest and leaving soft kisses along your skin, the gentleness a contrast to the way he was bringing you closer to your release. He shifted you against him, pulling you in tight and taking your hard nipple between his lips, his tongue moving in slow circles around the bud. Your own hands combed through his hair as you rested your temple on top of his head, not wanting him to move even an inch away from you.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured against you. “Wanna see you fall apart on my fingers.”

He could feel how close you were, your walls clenching around his fingers with every thrust, and he knew he needed his own release too if he was ever going to make it through the task ahead with his brother. You heard the clink of his belt opening, the zip on his jeans coming down quickly as he reached in and pulled out his hard, throbbing cock that was leaking with pre-cum. The sight of it had you mewling as you licked your lips, desperate to feel it in any way he would allow. He dropped some of his saliva into his large hand before he took hold of it, matching the hurried pace of his other hand as he slid it back and forth along the shaft.

With each second that passed, your moans grew louder, enough for you not to care if anyone outside heard, his hands sped up not only within your tight canal but over his pulsing girth, and your kisses became frenzied, rough and carnal as you both grew closer to that blissful end. Your hips faltered as they continued to grind against him, your own hands grasping for any part of him to hold onto, to anchor you down before you fell off the edge. You saw the frantic jerk of his hand around his cock and reached for him once more.

“Joel,” you whispered, your eyes locked on his. “Let me…”

He chuckled lightly, his gaze taking in all your beautiful features. “Just can’t control yourself, huh? Well, go on then, darlin’. Use that hand and give me a little preview of what that sweet pussy’s gonna do to this cock tonight.”

You practically squealed as your hand drifted down and took over from his, collecting some of your saliva in your mouth before letting it drop down over his length. You matched the same pace as before, your hand sliding back and forth, twisting over the head every time you moved up and pulling a wrecked groan from him. You smiled briefly before your eyes snapped closed, his fingers pressing into that spot with every thrust, causing your walls to contract around him.

“Fuck, I-I’m so close,” you moaned, your hand faltering around him slightly.

His voice cracked, low and rough as he was drawing closer to the edge too. “Let go, sweetheart, that’s it, cum on daddy’s fingers.”

Your lips met with his as the wave of pleasure that was coursing through you finally crashed, ripping your mouth away as you cried out his name, your wet heat gripped around him like a vice and coating his fingers in your juices. With a few more tugs of your hand against his cock, he gritted out a string of expletives through his teeth, spurts of his seed rolling over your skin. Harsh breaths and little moans were all you could hear as you both came down from the delirious high. Joel leaned back in his chair, taking in the sight of you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he saw you in the state he thought you were the most stunning. Completely and utterly ravished by him.

“You did so good, darlin’, so fucking beautiful when you cum like that” he muttered against your lips.

You hummed, unable to speak just yet as you leaned in, kissing him softly. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out of you, a sharp hiss coming from you as you felt the loss of him. His intense gaze through his glasses didn’t waver from you, as he slipped one finger into your mouth, smirking as you sucked and moaned at the taste of yourself. He pulled it out with a wet pop, taking the other one between his own lips and groaning as your arousal rolled over his tongue. He removed it and met you halfway in a searing kiss, both of you relishing the taste of you on each other’s lips.

Three sharp, sudden knocks at the door startled both of you to pull away.

“Joel, get a move on! Let’s go!”

“Fucking Tommy,” he muttered, shaking his head as he looked back at you with a lift of his brow. “See? Told ya he’d come knockin’.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully as you fixed your bra and buttoned yourself back up. “Duty calls.”

He reached for the cloth kept on the table and wiped your hand and the rest of his mess away before he tucked himself back in place, zipping up and adjusting his belt again. Despite his brother’s urgency, he made no attempt to move you off so he could get up.

“Two hours, tops,” he promised, his voice low and teasing. “Then I’m all yours, darlin’.”

Biting your lip, you pushed the black frames up the bridge of nose, pecking the tip of it before you slid off his lap, standing up on shaky legs. He stood up, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a passionate kiss, one that held all the possibilities of what was to come later.

“I’m holding you to it.”

[missyorkswhore]

"You deserve someone better... someone younger, sweetheart."

nooooo I need you grumpy old Joel

[worlds-we-write]

Sweet on You

Chapter 1: Bread and Butter

pairing: Jackson!joel miller x baker!reader

Summary: You spend most of your days elbow-deep in dough, trying to stay invisible in a town that’s only ever half-safe. But when a snowstorm traps you inside the bakery — and Joel Miller comes back to check on you — the walls you’ve built start to crack. And Joel? He’s more than willing to crawl through them.

WC: 7.4K

Rating: Explicit (18+) MDNI

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, Jackson Era, Age Gap, Bakery AU, Snowed-In, Protective Joel, Abusive Ex, First Time, Oral (f receiving), Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Aftercare, Soft Dom Joel, Emotional Tension, Smut & Comfort

The first light of morning bleeds through the frosted bakery windows, casting long shadows across the flour-dusted countertops. You’re already elbow-deep in dough by the time most of Jackson is still stirring under blankets. Your hands move on instinct — knead, fold, turn, press — the motions steady, repetitive, almost comforting. Almost.

The radio in the corner crackles with the latest weather warning. Snow’s rolling in faster than expected. Maria’s voice, stern and clipped, advises nonessential workers to stay inside.

You keep working.

The heat from the ovens hasn’t fully kicked in yet, and your fingers are stiff with cold. You blow into your palms, flexing them as pain stabs through the joints. The skin on your knuckles is raw — half from the dry air, half from where your ex’s grip had been a little too tight last night when you tried to walk away.

You’d brushed it off. Said something about catching your hand on a doorframe. You lie easier than you used to.

You glance toward the window, hoping no one will come by this early. Hoping he won’t come by. He’s unpredictable that way. But even thinking about it makes your stomach churn.

Instead, you focus on the one thing that helps: work. Baking. The soft resistance of dough, the smell of rising yeast, the way cinnamon sticks to your fingertips like sugar-slick sin. It’s your rhythm. Your armor.

The door jingles at 7:32 a.m. sharp.

Your heart skips. You freeze, hands full of dough.

But then—

“Morning.”

His voice. Warm gravel. Low and rough like coffee at sunrise.

Joel Miller.

You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. He always comes in at this time on Thursdays. Like clockwork. Orders the same loaf of sourdough. Pays in full. Sometimes talks. Sometimes doesn’t. Always looks at you just a little too long.

You wipe your hands on your apron, trying not to notice how your pulse jumps. “Hey. You’re early.”

He tilts his head slightly, mouth twitching. “You’re open early.”

“Some of us don’t like to sleep in,” you mutter, reaching for the wrapped loaf already waiting for him. You’d made it automatically. Without thinking. That part makes your cheeks burn.

Joel steps up to the counter, wearing that damn brown jacket that clings to his shoulders too well. Snow dusts his hair. His glasses are fogged slightly, and you swear he lowers them to peer at you over the rim — just to mess with your head.

“Cold in here,” he murmurs. “You alright?”

You hesitate.

You could say yes. That you’re fine. That the cut on your wrist is from the oven. That you’re not shaking because of him. That Joel’s eyes on you don’t make it worse and better all at once.

But instead, you just nod. “Yeah. Cold front’s coming in fast.”

Joel takes the loaf, but his gaze lingers. Like he knows there’s something unsaid. His hand brushes yours when he takes the bread. It’s nothing. Barely a second.

But it sets your nerves on fire.

You avoid his eyes. He doesn’t push.

“Be careful out there,” he says.

You don’t reply. Just watch him go.

As the door swings shut behind him, you whisper it too late:

“You too.”

You think that’s it — just another Thursday morning, another few seconds of Joel Miller brushing against the edge of your world before disappearing back into his.

But fifteen minutes later, the bell above the bakery door jingles again.

Your brows pull together. It’s too early for your regulars. And Joel? He never comes back the same day.

You wipe your hands on your apron again — a nervous habit you haven’t been able to kick — and turn toward the counter just in time to see him step back inside.

His hair is a little more damp than before, snow melting against the curve of his collar. His jacket’s still zipped up, and he’s carrying… what looks like a small crate of canned goods.

You blink. “Did you… forget something?”

He shrugs, but his eyes scan the room, lingering on the prep table behind you, the woodpile beside the stove, your thermos of half-drunk coffee. He takes his time.

“Figured you might need this,” he says casually, setting the crate on the edge of the counter.

You glance down — it’s stacked with preserved fruit, two bags of flour, and a few canned items you’ve been out of since last week’s trading haul. It’s the kind of stuff you usually have to beg Tommy to scrounge up for you.

“I—Joel, I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know.” He slides his hands into his jacket pockets, eyes never leaving your face. “Heard you mention last week you were running low.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. No one ever listens that closely. Not unless they want something.

Joel doesn’t say anything else. Just watches you, waiting.

You force a smile. “Thanks. Really. That’s… sweet of you.”

His brow ticks up. “You don’t gotta call it that.”

“What? Sweet?”

“Yeah.” He looks down, almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a word most folks use for me.”

You stare at him. At the way his jaw tightens slightly. At the soft crease in his brow. He really doesn’t know how he sounds when he says these things, does he?

Your fingers twitch at your sides. You want to ask him why he came back. Why he’s really here.

But instead, your mouth betrays you. “You didn’t need to bring this.”

“Didn’t need to,” Joel agrees. “Wanted to.”

Your throat goes dry.

The silence stretches for a second too long. You reach to move the crate off the counter, but when you do, the cuff of your sleeve pushes back just far enough for the healing bruise on your wrist to show.

Joel notices.

You see it the moment his eyes drop to it — the way his expression stills. Sharpens.

You yank the sleeve back down quickly. “Banged it on the oven door.”

His voice is quiet. Careful. “That so?”

You nod, too fast.

Joel doesn’t press. Doesn’t call you out.

But he lingers.

“You staying here through the storm?”

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “I usually do when it’s bad. Easier than trying to haul everything back and forth in the snow.”

He’s still watching you like he’s trying to read between the lines. Like he knows there’s more to it. Maybe he does.

“I’ll come by later. Check in,” he says finally. Not a question. Not an offer. Just a fact.

Your heart flutters in your chest. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

And just like that, he turns and walks out again — boots heavy against the wooden floor, the door closing behind him with a gust of cold air that feels far too empty once he’s gone.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Your fingers graze your wrist, brushing over the dark mark that’s just starting to fade.

You’re not sure which man scares you more.

The one who bruises you in the dark. Or the one who looks at you like he already knows — and gives a damn anyway.

The bakery is quiet again after Joel leaves, but the warmth he brought with him lingers in the space. You can still feel it in your chest — the way he looked at you, the way his voice softened when he asked if you were okay. He doesn’t ask like other people do. He actually wants the answer.

You try to shake it off.

There’s dough to shape, pastries to glaze, loaves to prep for the lunch crowd that may or may not come with the snow already starting to fall. Your hands get back to work, but your head is still replaying that moment — how close he stood. How easily your wrist fit in his hand. How badly you wanted him to pull you in and stay.

The bell over the door rings again.

You freeze.

That’s not his walk. Joel’s heavy but measured. This is lighter. Quicker. Familiar in a way that makes your stomach twist.

You don’t turn around until you have to.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

His voice is low and syrupy. The pet name lands like a punch.

You force yourself to look at him — your ex. Smiling like he owns the room. Like he still owns you.

“Didn’t realize you were open this early,” he says, stepping up to the counter, hands stuffed in his coat pockets like he’s just passing through. “Thought maybe I’d stop in. Say hi.”

You grip the edge of the counter tighter than you mean to. “I’m busy.”

He leans in slightly. “I can see that. Must be a lot of work keeping this place going all by yourself.”

You nod once. Don’t give him anything more.

There’s a long pause. He doesn’t leave.

You know this game. He’s waiting for you to break the silence. To give him space to wedge something sharp between the cracks. You focus on the cinnamon rolls instead — brushing them with egg wash, pretending he’s not watching the way your hands move.

Then he does it.

“You and Joel Miller seem real friendly lately.”

Your body stiffens.

He notices.

“Saw him bring in some supplies earlier. Thought that was sweet.” He cocks his head. “You baking him something special?”

You don’t answer.

“I mean, I get it,” he says, voice dipping lower, a sneer barely hidden under the sweetness. “Big strong guy like that. Bet he knows just how to handle a woman like you.”

Your chest tightens. “You need to go.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Relax. I’m just saying — wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. People talk.”

You finally look up. Your voice is calm, but shaking underneath. “Leave.”

Something flashes behind his eyes — something darker.

And then, too fast to stop, he moves around the counter.

Your heart kicks into overdrive. You step back, but he grabs your arm, fingers digging in too tight, his breath hot and sour against your cheek.

“You really think a man like Joel wants someone like you?” he snarls. “With those thick thighs and soft arms? C’mon. You think he’s not just playing the long game, waiting for something younger, tighter?”

You wrench your arm away, voice low and panicked. “Get out.”

He doesn’t budge. “You don’t belong with someone like him. You belong with someone who knows how to handle you.”

Your blood runs cold.

He leans closer, his voice a whisper now, just for you. “You’re lucky I still care enough to keep you in line.”

You shove him — hard. He stumbles back a step, startled.

“Touch me again and I’ll scream.”

He looks at you for a beat, and something in your eyes must finally register — that you mean it this time.

He straightens his coat. Smiles like it’s all been a joke.

“See you around, sweetheart.”

And then he’s gone.

The door closes softly behind him, but the tension stays — soaked into the floorboards, the walls, your skin.

You lean against the prep table, shaking. Your wrist aches where he grabbed it, and you rub it with trembling fingers.

You stare at the cinnamon rolls, now cold and glossy, untouched.

Your appetite’s gone. But your rage is just starting to simmer.

The snow starts falling harder by midafternoon.

It comes in slow at first — thick, drifting flakes that cling to the bakery windows like static, soft and silent and deceptively gentle. But you know better. Jackson winters aren’t subtle. When the storm hits, it hits hard.

You hear Maria’s voice come through the town radio again, clear even through the walls: “All residents are advised to head home and stay in for the night. Scout patrols will halt after sundown. We’re expecting a full whiteout.”

You don’t respond. Don’t call in. Don’t leave.

You pull the blinds instead. Turn off the storefront lights. Lock the front door even though it’s hours before closing.

The kitchen stays lit, oven humming quietly behind you. You move through your routine like a ghost — stacking trays, folding dish towels, setting out a cot in the corner you keep hidden behind the supply shelves. It’s not the first time you’ve stayed here overnight. Probably won’t be the last.

You tell yourself it’s the storm.

Not the bruise on your wrist. Not the echo of his voice in your head. Not the fact that the apartment you live in is only two doors down from his, and you haven’t slept soundly there in weeks.

You pour yourself a mug of chamomile tea and sit at the tiny prep table, trying to ground yourself. The cup trembles faintly in your hand, and you stare at it like it might give you something solid to hold onto.

He touched you today.

He grabbed you.

You swallow around the lump in your throat.

The bruise is blooming slowly — deeper than the last one. You know how this goes. He pushes until you flinch, then smiles like you’re the one who started it.

You could tell someone. You could tell Maria. You could… tell Joel.

Your stomach flips at the thought.

Joel saw it. The bruise. You could see the tension in his jaw. The way his gaze dropped to your wrist and lingered. The way he didn’t believe you when you brushed it off.

But he didn’t push.

God, you wanted him to.

You finish your tea. Try to distract yourself with prep work — organizing supplies, checking your limited pantry. The crate Joel brought sits near the corner of the kitchen like a quiet promise. You glance at it more than once.

He came back for you today.

No one does that. Not for you.

The wind picks up outside. The walls groan softly. Somewhere far off, a patrol dog howls and the sound is swallowed up by the snow.

You light a few candles when the power flickers — just in case. There’s a thick blanket tucked under the cot, and you pull it around your shoulders, huddling on the small bench by the fire oven.

You don’t expect company.

You definitely don’t expect him to come back.

So when the knock comes — three quick raps against the bakery door — your heart lurches in your chest.

You’re halfway across the kitchen before your body even catches up with your brain, pulse racing, feet bare against the cold wood floor.

You unlock the door, pull it open a crack.

And there he is.

Joel Miller. Covered in snow. Brow furrowed. Eyes locked on you like he’s been waiting to see your face again.

Joel stands just beyond the threshold, snow clinging to his hair, his shoulders, the folds of his coat. His scarf is half-soaked, pushed down around his neck, and his gloved hands are tucked into his jacket pockets like he had to stop himself from knocking again.

You blink at him in the cold air spilling into the bakery.

“You came back.”

His brows lift, like he’s surprised you’re surprised. “Told you I would.”

You step aside silently, letting him in. The moment the door shuts behind him, the sound of the wind fades, replaced by the warm hush of the bakery — the soft crackle of the fire oven, the faint clink of mugs on the drying rack, and the flutter in your chest that just won’t stop.

He stands in the center of the kitchen like he’s unsure where to go, snow melting off him and pooling beneath his boots.

“I was just… checking supplies.” You gesture vaguely toward the pantry shelves, your voice quiet. “Didn’t want to risk walking home.”

Joel’s eyes trail over you — not in a leering way, but like he’s taking inventory. Making sure you’re whole. Untouched.

His gaze drops to your wrist for half a second. You feel it like a spark.

“You didn’t call in,” he says finally. “Maria’s been tellin’ folks to stay in.”

“I’m in,” you say simply.

He hums low in his throat. Removes his gloves, tucks them into his pocket. “You eaten?”

You shake your head. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Joel looks around the kitchen, then back at you. “Mind if I sit?”

You gesture to the bench near the prep table. “Go ahead. Want some tea?”

He nods once. “Yeah. If it’s not too much trouble.”

You busy yourself with the kettle, grateful for something to do. Something to stop your hands from shaking now that he’s sitting barely six feet away, his big frame hunched slightly from the cold, elbows on his knees. Watching you.

You pour the water slowly, grab two mismatched mugs, and hand one to him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, fingers wrapping around the cup like he hasn’t felt warmth all day.

You sit across from him in silence, both of you nursing your tea. The bakery glows softly in candlelight, the fire casting long shadows on the flour-dusted walls. You can hear the wind howling again just beyond the windows, but in here it feels quiet. Tucked away. Like a snow globe, sealed off from the rest of Jackson.

Joel shifts, finally breaking the silence.

“You ever stay here before?”

You nod. “Couple of times. Storms like this, I’d rather not risk the walk. The apartment’s drafty anyway.”

He eyes you for a moment. You wonder if he knows the truth — that it’s not the cold you’re avoiding, but the man who waits two doors down.

He doesn’t ask. But something in his expression hardens just slightly.

“Wasn’t sure you’d want company,” he says.

“I didn’t,” you admit. Then, softer: “But I’m glad it’s you.”

That gets his attention.

His head lifts, and for the first time since he walked in, his eyes meet yours fully. There’s no heat behind the stare — not yet — just a deep, quiet focus. Like he’s listening to more than your words.

“Earlier today,” he says, voice low. “When I came in. You looked... shaken.”

You go still.

“I’m fine.”

“You keep sayin’ that.”

Your breath hitches.

He sets his mug down carefully. Leans forward. “You want me to leave, I will. But if you’re scared of somethin’, someone—”

“I can handle it.”

His jaw ticks. “Didn’t say you couldn’t. Just don’t think you should have to.”

The words land heavy.

You look away. Down at your hands. “He was here today. After you left.”

Joel doesn’t ask who. Doesn’t need to.

“He grabbed me,” you whisper. “Said some shit. About you. About me. Made it real clear he’s still watching.”

Joel is quiet. Too quiet.

Then: “He touch you again, I’ll break his fuckin’ hands.”

You look up sharply.

He’s deadly still. Not posturing. Not trying to be dramatic. Just stating a fact — calm, final, and terrifying in how much he means it.

Your chest tightens. Something behind your ribs begins to unravel.

“I don’t want you to get involved,” you say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

“Too late for that.”

He stands, slow and deliberate, walking around the table until he’s standing in front of you. Not crowding. Not threatening. Just there — solid and steady and burning at the edges.

His voice softens. “You don’t gotta tell me everything. But if you’re gonna stay here tonight… you shouldn’t have to stay alone.”

Your breath catches.

He reaches down, fingers brushing your blanket-covered arm. “Can I stay?”

The wind howls again outside, but in here — it’s warm. And for the first time all day, you feel like maybe you’re allowed to exhale.

You nod.

Joel doesn’t smile. But something in his shoulders eases.

He pulls up a chair beside you, and the silence returns — but now, it feels like safety.

Like something’s shifting.

Like tonight might change everything.

The heat of the tea fades, but neither of you reach for more. The mugs sit forgotten on the table, half full, as you and Joel fall into a heavy quiet. Not uncomfortable — just charged. Like static building in the air before lightning strikes.

Joel sits beside you now, not across from you, close enough that his knee brushes yours every time he shifts. He’s peeled off his coat and scarf, now just in a henley and worn jeans, both still clinging to the chill he brought in with him. You can feel the warmth starting to return to his skin — slow and steady, like everything else he does.

You glance over, catch him watching you from the corner of his eye. Not in a hungry way. Not yet. Just… studying. Like he’s learning something he’s never been allowed to look at this long.

You feel his eyes trace the curve of your cheek, down to your collarbone, then flick quickly away. You swallow.

“You always show up like that?” you murmur. “Right when I need someone?”

Joel huffs softly — almost a laugh, but not quite. “Wasn’t tryin’ to time it.”

“But you did.”

He looks at you now, fully. There’s something behind his eyes — something heavy and unspoken, just waiting to be said.

You press your lips together, turning your mug in slow circles between your palms. “You don’t have to keep checking in on me.”

“I know.”

“You barely know me.”

He shifts in his seat. His voice is low, thoughtful. “I know you get here before sunrise every damn day, even when there’s snow on the ground and half the town’s still in bed. I know you’re polite to everybody, but you don’t really talk to most of ‘em. I know your favorite apron’s the one with the little burn hole on the hem. And I know you flinch when you hear a certain man’s voice outside the window.”

You blink. The air leaves your lungs like he knocked it out of you.

“I know enough,” he says, quiet but firm.

You set the mug down. Slowly. Your hands have started shaking again, and you hate that he can see it.

Joel leans forward, forearms resting on his knees, his voice gentler now. “You ever talk to Maria?”

You shake your head. “I can’t. I mean, I could. But if I do, then it becomes real. On paper. Everyone will know. And he’ll know I told.”

Joel watches you. Not pushing. Just there.

“I don’t want to be a problem,” you whisper.

“You’re not.”

“But if you’re seen with me more…”

“I don’t care.”

You blink up at him.

“I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care what he thinks. He lays a hand on you again and I won’t be talkin’ about it — I’ll be dealin’ with it.”

Your throat tightens.

You look down at your lap. Your voice barely makes it out. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Joel doesn’t answer right away.

Then: “Because I’ve been where you are.”

That surprises you. You glance sideways, catch the shadow in his expression — the weariness in his shoulders. Like he’s carrying things he never let anyone see.

“And because,” he adds, clearing his throat, “I look at you, and I don’t want to look away.”

The silence thickens.

You exhale shakily. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll start believing you mean it.”

Joel shifts closer. Just enough that you feel the heat radiating off him now. His knee brushes yours and this time he doesn’t pull away.

“Maybe I do.”

You look up, eyes locking with his.

The moment stretches — long and loaded, heartbeats rising, breaths catching in the quiet between you. You can smell him now: woodsmoke, clean cotton, snow and earth. His hands are resting on his thighs, strong and calloused and so close. You wonder what they’d feel like on your hips. On your waist. Between your—

You stop yourself, but the thought lingers.

Joel’s voice drops, deep and low. “You cold?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m—fine.”

But your voice betrays you.

And Joel? He hears it. All of it.

His eyes drop to your mouth.

The tension turns molten.

He leans in, just a little.

And you don’t move.

Not away.

The space between you shrinks by the second.

Joel’s gaze is on your mouth — heavy, deliberate, and hungry. He hasn’t moved more than a few inches, but it feels like gravity is tilting the entire room, pulling you into his orbit. And you… you don’t want to stop it. You don’t even try.

“Joel,” you whisper, unsure if it’s a warning or a plea.

His voice is rough when he answers. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You don’t.

Your breath catches as he reaches up — slow, like he’s afraid you’ll spook — and brushes his knuckles along your cheek. They’re warm now, calloused, trembling just slightly.

“You’ve been on my mind,” he murmurs, “every goddamn time I walk past this place.”

You swallow hard, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “Why?”

He huffs out something close to a laugh. “Why?” he echoes. “You really don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

You can’t answer.

Because the truth is: you’ve felt it too. Every lingering look. Every “just checking in.” Every time his voice dipped a little lower when he said your name. You just never let yourself believe it meant anything.

Not when he’s him — older, guarded, heavy with grief you don’t have the right to touch — and you’re… you.

“You don’t want me,” you say, voice small. “Not really.”

Joel goes still.

His hand drops from your cheek, only to settle at your waist instead — big and warm and grounding.

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean—look at me.” You gesture weakly at your body, your soft curves wrapped in a worn sweater and flour-dusted leggings. “I’m not like the women here. I’m not— lean. Or… easy.”

Joel’s expression darkens, but not with anger. With something else. Something possessive.

He leans in slowly, until your noses nearly brush. His breath ghosts over your lips, and his hand on your waist tightens just enough to make you shiver.

“Baby,” he growls, “you think I don’t notice you? You think I don’t lay awake some nights wonderin’ what you taste like?”

Your breath stutters.

“You think I don’t look at those pretty thighs and imagine ‘em wrapped around my head?”

A sound escapes you — half gasp, half whimper.

Joel smirks. Barely. But it’s there.

“You think I haven’t fucked my hand thinkin’ about how sweet you’d sound moanin’ my name?”

You feel heat rush to your core, thighs clenching instinctively.

“Still think I don’t want you?” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you.

It’s not gentle.

Not rough, either — but there’s no hesitation. No uncertainty. His mouth crashes into yours like he’s starved for it, like he’s been waiting far too long and won’t waste another second. His hand slips to the back of your neck, holding you still while he devours you slowly, thoroughly, like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips.

You moan into him — soft, needy — and he groans in return, pressing you back against the prep table without breaking contact. You don’t even remember moving, but suddenly you’re sitting on the edge of it, legs parting instinctively as Joel steps between them.

His hands settle on your hips, warm and possessive.

“You feel this?” he mutters between kisses. “How fuckin’ hard I get just touchin’ you?”

You do.

God, you do — the ridge of his cock straining against his jeans, pressing right where your body is beginning to ache for friction.

You whimper. Joel swears.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” he rasps, voice raw. “Tell me now.”

You grab his shirt and tug him closer.

“Don’t you dare.”

The kiss leaves you breathless.

Joel pulls back just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling like he’s holding back everything — every word, every groan, every instinct that’s telling him to lay you down on the prep table and wreck you.

His thumb brushes your cheek. “You okay?”

You nod, lips swollen, head spinning, heart doing somersaults.

But then it hits you — hard and cold, like a bucket of ice to the chest.

The kiss. The way he touched you. The look in his eyes.

It felt real.

And that’s what scares you.

Your hands slide to his chest, lightly pressing — not to push him away, but to breathe, to make space, to speak.

“Joel,” you whisper. “This is probably… a mistake.”

His brow furrows. “Why?”

You look down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“Because you’re—you’re you. And I’m…” You gesture vaguely at yourself. “I’m not what you want. I’m not what makes sense.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I’m younger—way younger. And not in a fun way, in a why-is-he-looking-at-her kind of way. People in this town already talk about me. You really want to give them something else to whisper about?”

Joel says nothing, but the air around him shifts — sharpens.

You press on before you lose your nerve.

“And it’s not just the age. I’m not… easy to love. I’m not quiet. I’m soft and curvy and I overthink everything. I cry too much and I shut down when things get hard. And you—”

Joel cuts you off with a hand on your jaw, gently forcing you to look at him.

“Stop.”

You blink up at him, stunned into silence.

“I don’t give a single fuck what anyone in this town thinks,” he says, voice low and deliberate. “You hear me?”

Your throat tightens. He continues.

“I’ve had enough years and too much loss to waste time worryin’ about gossip. I don’t want some perfect little thing with nothin’ to say. I want you.”

Your lip trembles.

“I want your messy feelings and your soft thighs and your smart fuckin’ mouth. I want the way you light up when you’re talking about bread and the way you shake when you’re scared and still get the job done.”

You let out a shaky breath, and Joel steps in closer, crowding into your space with purpose.

“You think I look at you and wish you were someone else?” he growls. “Fuck no. You walk around this bakery like you don’t know what you do to me.”

His hand slides to your hip, squeezing gently.

“You got no idea how many times I’ve had to walk out of here before I said somethin’ I couldn’t take back. But tonight? I’m not walkin’ away.”

Your heart is beating out of your chest.

He leans in, mouth brushing your ear. “You don’t need a boy who flirts with you. You need a man who knows how to make you feel.”

Your thighs clench. You can’t help it.

He pulls back just far enough to look you in the eyes.

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he says, voice ragged. “Do you want this?”

You don’t speak — you grab him, dragging him back into a kiss that’s messier this time, desperate, all teeth and tongue and years of longing collapsing into one breathless collision.

Joel groans into your mouth, like he’s finally letting himself feel it.

You barely register it when he lifts you off the floor, your legs wrapping around his waist, the prep table bumping against your lower back.

“I’ll show you how wanted you are,” he mutters against your throat. “Every goddamn inch.”

And you believe him.

God help you, you believe every word.

Joel lays you back on the prep table with careful hands, like you’re made of something breakable — but his eyes say otherwise. His eyes say he’s wanted this. Planned for this. His pupils are blown wide, jaw tight with restraint, and his voice is already dropping into something darker, deeper.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you’re flustered,” he murmurs, hands coasting down your sides, fingers squeezing just a little too firmly at your hips. “And you don’t even know it, do you?”

You try to sit up, but his hand on your sternum stops you — firm, grounding.

“Stay there,” he growls. “Wanna look at you.”

Your breath catches.

He starts slow — tugging your sweater up over your head with practiced ease, tossing it aside like he’s done this a thousand times. But his eyes stay locked on your skin like it’s the first time he’s seen anything worth touching.

“Jesus,” he mutters, voice low and reverent. His palms skim the curve of your belly, not rushing. “Soft everywhere.”

You flinch slightly — out of habit. Out of shame.

Joel notices.

“Uh-uh,” he says, firm. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you whisper.

“Shrink.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “Not when I’m about to show you how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

Your pulse stutters. His words — slow and deliberate — feel like a weight settling between your legs.

He kisses down your neck, unhurried, dragging his scruff along your skin until you’re squirming. Until your thighs are rubbing together on instinct.

“Joel—”

“Shhh.” He kisses along your collarbone, nips at the skin just hard enough to make you gasp. “I’m takin’ my time. You’re gonna lie there and let me enjoy what’s mine.”

You whimper, and he smirks against your skin.

“That’s it. That’s what I like.”

He pops the clasp on your bra like he’s done it blindfolded before — pulls the straps down your arms slowly, watching your chest rise and fall.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Look at you.”

His palms slide over your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples until they’re peaked and aching, the heat in your core building to something unbearable. But still — he doesn’t go lower.

“You ever been taken care of properly?” he asks, not unkind, but rough with intention. “Or just used and left?”

You can’t answer. Not out loud.

But your silence is telling.

Joel’s jaw tightens. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Then his hand dips — finally — to the waistband of your leggings, and his tone shifts.

“Gonna ruin every memory he left behind.”

He peels your leggings down, slow and steady, eyes locked on your thighs as they spread for him — unthinking, eager.

“Mm,” he hums. “Just like I fuckin’ dreamed. Thick little thighs I can sink my teeth into.”

You whine.

“Joel—”

“Oh, now you’re impatient?” He grins, leaning over you, one hand still gripping your thigh. “You wanted a man, baby girl. Not some boy who comes in two minutes and apologizes for touchin’ you too hard.”

His fingers slip under your panties. You arch.

“And this?” he rasps, rubbing gently over your soaked core. “This is mine now.”

You can’t breathe. Can’t think.

“Say it.”

You shake your head, too shy, too overwhelmed.

“Say it,” he demands again, voice low and commanding. “Say it’s mine or I’ll take my sweet time and leave you beggin’.”

You bite your lip. Whimper.

“Yours,” you whisper. “It’s yours, Joel.”

He groans.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

And then he drops to his knees.

As Joel peels your leggings the rest of the way down, his breath hitches — not in lust, but something sharper.

His hand stills against your hip.

You follow his gaze and feel your stomach drop.

Bruises.

The ones you thought were fading. The ones you tried to cover. But in the warm glow of the bakery light, there’s no hiding them. Faint finger-shaped marks blooming along your upper thighs. A deeper one on your hip. And the fresh, angry purple smear still curling around your wrist.

Joel’s whole body shifts — tightens, coils.

“Who did this?” he says, voice low and dangerous.

You open your mouth. Close it.

His fingers ghost over the mark on your thigh, gentle, reverent, as if afraid he’ll hurt you further just by looking.

His other hand curls into a fist on your knee.

“Tell me.”

You swallow, throat dry. “You already know.”

Joel exhales slowly through his nose. His jaw flexes so hard it looks painful.

He stands, just enough to lean over you, one hand still braced on the table beside your head.

“You listen to me,” he says, voice barely a rasp. “That man ever touches you again, I don’t care who he is in this town. I’ll put him in the fuckin’ ground.”

You don’t answer — you can’t — but something in you cracks open. Not in fear. In relief.

Because finally, someone’s seeing it. All of it.

Joel lowers his forehead to yours, breathing hard, shaking with the effort it’s taking not to act on what he just saw.

“I wish I could go back,” he whispers. “Wish I could’ve stopped it before it ever touched you.”

Your lips tremble.

“You didn’t know.”

He pulls back just far enough to cup your face in both hands. His thumbs brush away tears you hadn’t realized had started to fall.

“I know now,” he murmurs. “And I’m gonna take care of you, baby. However you need.”

You nod, barely.

“I want you,” you breathe. “I want this.”

Joel’s eyes darken again — the hunger returns, but now it’s laced with something deeper. Something devotional.

He kisses your inner thigh — right above the bruise — soft as a secret.

“Then let me show you,” he whispers, sinking slowly to his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

“Let me make it better.”

Joel settles between your thighs like he’s meant to be there. Like the space was carved out for him and no one else.

He kisses the inside of your knee first, then lower — dragging his scruff over sensitive skin and watching the goosebumps rise in his wake.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmurs, voice thick with pride and hunger. “Ain’t even started yet.”

Your breath hitches as he hooks two fingers under your panties and pulls them down — slow, deliberate, savoring the way you squirm and bite your lip. When the fabric slips past your knees, he tosses them aside and stares down at you like he’s been starved for years.

“Look at this,” he growls, eyes locked on your soaked core. “Drippin’ for me already. So fuckin’ sweet.”

You try to close your legs, overwhelmed — but Joel grabs your thighs and holds them open with both hands, firm but gentle.

“Don’t you dare,” he says, voice gone ragged. “You let me see you. All of you.”

Your body obeys him before your brain does.

Joel leans in and presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, just above a bruise, then another — and another. His hands trail up, warm and rough, one settling on your belly, the other resting possessively over your hip.

And then his mouth finds your cunt.

You gasp.

His tongue parts your folds like he’s memorizing every line, every texture, every breath you take. He moans into you, low and deep, like you taste better than anything he's had in years — and maybe you do.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans against you. “You’re better than I ever imagined.”

You whimper, hips twitching, but he holds you still.

“Stay right there,” he murmurs, voice a little hoarse. “Let me take my fuckin’ time.”

He licks a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance up to your clit, then flattens his tongue and drags it again. Each pass is slower. Wetter. More intentional.

Then he starts talking.

“Gonna eat this pussy ‘til you can’t remember your own name.”

You cry out, grabbing a fistful of his hair — not to pull him away, but to ground yourself. To remind yourself this is real.

“Joel—”

“That’s it,” he growls. “Say my name while you soak my fuckin’ face.”

He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking just right, and your hips lift off the table. He growls again — this time into you — and you nearly scream.

He pushes two fingers into you without warning — thick, slow, curling deep.

Your back arches.

“Oh my god—”

Joel laughs softly. “Ain’t even close to god, sweetheart. But you keep makin’ those noises and I’ll do my best.”

His fingers fuck you slow while his tongue circles your clit, every movement precise — like he’s listening to your moans, cataloging them, using them as a map.

“Y’taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans. “Could spend the rest of the storm right here. Let you ride my tongue ‘til you’re cryin’.”

You already are.

Your body’s trembling, vision blurring, muscles tightening around his fingers.

Joel lifts his head just long enough to rasp, “C’mon, baby. Let go for me. Show me what a real man can make you do.”

Your whole body locks — and then breaks apart.

You cum with a sob, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the table.

Joel doesn’t stop.

He keeps going — licking you through it, fucking you slow with his fingers until your legs are shaking and you can’t breathe.

You whimper something close to “too much,” and he finally slows, easing you back down, licking you gently until your thighs fall open again and your body goes slack.

Then he kisses the inside of your thigh, right where the bruise blooms.

He looks up at you — flushed, chest heaving, eyes wide.

“Next time?” he says, voice wrecked. “I want you on my face. Gonna make you cum so hard you forget you ever let that piece of shit touch you.”

Your throat works as you try to speak. You can’t. You just nod.

Joel stands slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He kisses your cheek, your temple, your shoulder — everywhere healed.

You’re still trembling.

He kisses your lips and whispers: “You did so good for me, baby.”

The storm rages outside, but inside the bakery, it’s quiet. Soft.

Safe.

Your body feels like it’s floating — half air, half jelly, skin still buzzing with the ghost of Joel’s mouth, his voice, his hands. You’re vaguely aware of him moving, but you don’t open your eyes. Not yet. You’re still too overwhelmed, too raw.

And he seems to understand that.

There’s no rush. No awkwardness.

Just the sound of running water.

You blink your eyes open slowly to find Joel back by the sink, damp towel in one hand, the other wiping down the prep table like it matters to him — like cleaning up the space where he touched you is part of how he honors it.

He glances over when he sees you stir.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Still with me?”

You nod, cheeks flushed, voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. Just… floatin’.”

A flicker of a smile ghosts across his face. “Good.”

He walks back over, towel now warm and wet in his hands. He pauses, waiting — not assuming. Always waiting for your yes.

You sit up slowly, and Joel eases between your knees, lifting your chin with two fingers. “Can I?”

You nod.

He starts gently — wiping between your thighs with slow, careful passes, his touch clinical but tender. Like this isn’t about sex anymore. Like it’s about you — your comfort, your body, your trust.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he murmurs, eyes searching yours.

“No,” you breathe. “God, no. You were…” You trail off, biting your lip. “Perfect.”

That look in his eyes — soft and unreadable and so full — it makes your chest ache.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then gently lifts your sweater from the floor and helps guide your arms back into it. He helps you off the prep table like he’s afraid you’ll break, one arm wrapping around your waist to steady you.

You don’t let him go.

He hesitates — like he doesn’t want to move too fast — but then you lean into his chest and he exhales like he’s been holding his breath all night.

Joel wraps his arms around you, holding you to his chest.

“You did real good for me,” he says quietly, voice thick. “I hope you know that.”

You nod into his shirt. “I do.”

He strokes your back for a while, slow and steady, like you’re something worth calming, worth keeping. You don’t realize how tense you still are until the shaking in your limbs finally starts to ease.

“I don’t usually let anyone see me like that,” you admit, voice small.

“I know.”

“And I’ve never…” You pull back just enough to look up at him. “No one’s ever touched me like that. Not like I mattered.”

Joel’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t say anything at first.

Then: “They didn’t deserve you.”

You look at him, searching his face.

His voice softens. “But I ain’t makin’ that mistake. Not once.”

You exhale shakily, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

Outside, the wind howls, rattling the windows.

Inside, Joel holds you like he isn’t going anywhere.

And for the first time in a long time… you believe him.

AN: this was supposed to be a slow burn and then joel said “you don’t need a boy, baby—you need a man” and suddenly we’re feral in the bakery 💀

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist so you don't miss future updates! 💌

[kedsandtubesocks]

Born Again

Priest!Joel Miller x F!Demon Reader

summary: you want the handsome priest more than anything, he wants you gone…but what transpires between you & him is either a curse sent straight from hell (or a twisted blessing in disguise)

word count: 5.9k

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. dark themes. no outbreak/modern AU, enemies to lovers, Catholicism themes & imagery, multiple character deaths & discussion of death, heavy priest kink, blasphemy & corruption kink, morally gray!Joel, morally gray!reader, unspecific age gap (Joel is in his 50’s & older than reader), biting & blood drinking, moments of violence, manhandling, blood imagery, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m), finger sucking, major yearning & angst, protective!Joel, use of gendered language, hint of bi!reader, one use of “good girl,” reader addresses Joel as “old man”

a/n: This is my entry for @pedgito SpringFever25 [cemetery + supernatural] please be aware of the warnings - this fic I know won’t be everyone’s cup of tea & I kindly ask if it isn’t please scroll away! Divider credit & thanks goes to the wonderful @saradika-graphics

St. Jude’s church is quaint, rather simple. A coziness inside reflects its small Texas community that sits on the outskirts of Travis County. Beautiful stained glass windows line the walls illuminating the space.

The opening hymnal starts, and you sing the songs like you care. Then your eyes are drawn forward as your prey arrives.

The priest moves around the altar, readying himself for the mass. The cream and purple ecclesiastical robes paint him a holy shepherd of his flock.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…” He makes the sign of the cross deep with an accented twang, and your lips twitch.

You never would’ve expected such a rich southern voice to leave a pastor. Then again, this man doesn’t seem like an ordinary priest.

Father Joel Miller is rugged, reminding you more of an outlaw wearing a costume. The stern look on his handsome face seals a gruff nature to him. Yet you’ve seen his soft heart when the congregation flocks to him after mass finishes.

Many in the church lust after him. You can sense it. Even if it wasn’t in your nature, it’s hard to miss the multiple women during the service batting their eyes and wearing rather revealing tops that would make a nun faint.

You aren’t the only one who wants this man. But, maybe you might be the only one who wants to devour this man’s soul.

As a demon of lust, you’ve always wondered what it would taste like to indulge with a man of the cloth.

And Joel is your perfect target.

This priest has been challenging. Unlike other humans, you haven’t been able to read his desires.

You wandered into this town a few months ago and settled in effortlessly. This church called to you like a siren’s song. The amount of carnal desire seeping out begged for you to feast, made your mouth water. Then you saw the reason why.

Currently Father Joel focuses on preparing the eucharist, his brow heavily furrowed and meditative in prayer.

Distinguished in his age, scruffy beard, strong nose, gorgeous eyes - it’s unbearable witnessing a man like him waste under the holy robes. A bitter taste fills your mouth just thinking about it.

After the service, the church opens their food drive pantry for the weekly breakfast to serve those in the community who need a meal.

It’s your first time joining.

Originally, you had planned to lurk, slowly get accustomed to being around holy ground until finally working up the strength to pounce.

But of course, being a new face in a small church, you were singled out immediately.

You shared a fake sob story about how you were searching for God. Multiple parishioners immediately took you under their wing, even dragged you to bible study. Unfortunately they’ve now roped you into helping out with the event today. But, you view it as a step closer to your handsome goal.

Except the hot priest doesn’t give you a second glance.

You try everything to be in his eyesight, purposefully being extra disgustingly holy and helping out.

Even one of the deacons compliments you.

“A young woman such as yourself taking the time on a Sunday to do this? You’re a fine example.” Deacon Matthews beams at you proudly.

Yet Father Joel ignores you, not once acknowledging your presence.

It pisses you off. Annoyed, you’re sent back to the pantry at the rectory building to put away the plates. In the quiet storage room, heavy footsteps approach behind.

You turn around -

Whatever words you want to say die in your throat.

Father Joel stands in the doorway, staring furious. This is it, your chance. An unbearable excitement bubbles in you.

“Oh, Father! I’ve been meaning to-”

Your words get cut off immediately when the priest raises up a small crucifix, clutching it painfully tight in his grasp. He remains silent.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” You’re slightly confused and glad it leaks into your voice.

“I know what ya are…” his voice rumbles low and deadly.

“God damned creature of sin, I cast you out.” He spits the words seeping with venom.

A sharp pain strikes straight into your chest as if a lightning bolt just struck you. Your eyes sting. A distorted screeching noise, an internal alarm, roars in your ears while an animalistic panic claws across your skin.

You recognize this feeling.

Once after you had slept with a nun and devoured her soul, her hellbent convent quickly found you. The head mother superior, instead of a cross, raised a rosary at you. She spoke similar words to what this priest just said, invoking the same reaction you feel now.

Everything clicks.

You bark a laugh, shaking the sensation away, and look the priest dead in the eye.

“So…You’re an exorcist, huh?” You grin surprised, borderline gleeful.

This is going to be fun.

—

You show up to mass next Sunday, walking prouder than ever entering St. Jude’s church.

Joel murderously glares at you any chance he can. You get tempted to blow a mocking kiss at him during communion.

After mass, you even stay to wish him well. The priest keeps silent, doesn’t even shake your hand. Just nods politely knowing others are around watching.

“Oh what did you do to make Father Joel look at you like that?” One of the sweet grandmothers from bible study jests with you.

“Wait, I thought he always looked like that?” You joke back. The older woman laughs, swatting your arm.

“He’s quite grumpy at first.” She nods. “But after what he went through, I don’t blame him.”

That peaks your interest instantly.

You want to ask more, see what gossip she could spill. But the woman leaves too soon with her husband, and you’re left more curious than ever.

You’re about to leave and slink back into the shadows. Until a hard hand yanks at your arm, stopping you.

Stunned, you find Joel frowning with pure malice.

His touch sparks an immediate reaction. An electric chill runs up your spin. As strong as you are, you can admit, this man must be incredibly formidable to hold such blessed power. He could burn you alive.

“If you’re going to grab me this hard, at least take me to dinner first.” You scoff.

He doesn’t say anything but drags you to a secluded area alongside the shadow of the church. He’s alarmingly strong.

“How the fuck are ya even here?” The priest snarls.

The guy knows his stuff. Normally your kind doesn't last long around churches, especially when a mass is happening.

But you’re strong too. And the sins festering in this house of worship keep you strong, tarnishing the holy ground’s sanctity.

“Maybe you need to recommend more confessions, father. Your flock isn’t as holy as you think they are.” You sneer amused, yanking your arm away from his grip.

He’s closer than ever, and a caged desire rattles to pounce. It begs, aches, for you to consume him and feast.

Soon voices approach, and you slide out from his grasp.

“See you next week.” You wave, happily slipping into the shadows.

Keeping your promise, you arrive at the church the following week. Except this time you’re here for bible study. Of course you play along, the perfect curious believer wanting to learn. But you’re honestly here for the gossip.

“So what’s the deal with Father Joel?” You ask when the pastries are brought out.

Two of the women glance at each other sharing knowing looks.

“We forgot… you’re still new here and don’t know.” One of them mutters quietly.

Apparently, the priest was married before. Not only that, he had a young daughter.

Honestly you’re not entirely shocked. He’s gorgeous. Good for him for enjoying the fun before he decided to become boring and holy.

“But the three of them were in a horrible car accident, and both his wife and daughter perished.”

You don’t have a heart as a demon. But the echoes of sorrow, emotions you understood when you were human, flutter awakened.

“That’s… awful.” You mumble.

“Isn’t it?” The other woman nods sorrowful.

He apparently begged God for mercy the day his family died.

“And after that, he took on the path of a priest.” The other woman finishes bright like this is a happy ending of the story.

You feel upset for Joel now, for his family, getting diminished as a way to remind people of God’s grace.

“Thanks to God.” You say robotically. The words taste awful, and you hate them.

When bible study ends, the sun slowly starts to sink over the horizon. Saint Jude’s is not just a simple church, but an older one. There’s even a cemetery right beside it.

You walk along the graveyard’s edge cautious not to fully step inside.

Further inside among the headstones, the priest sits on a bench beside a tree, looking down at the ground with rosary beads in hand.

Now more than ever Joel looks like a man, beautiful and human, not a holy warrior of God.

He must sense you. Immediately his eyes snap up, and pure rage twists his face.

“What are y’still doin’ here?” Joel snaps low.

“Had bible study.” You shrug.

Daring to be bold, you take one step into the cemetery.

Being in here among the dead is more dangerous even compared to the church. So you remain close to the entrance.

“Y’know I can exorcise your ass right here and now.” He growls, and it sounds beautiful.

“You’re forgetting where we are, old man.” That nickname slips from you effortlessly.

His mouth falls. Eyes, dark as the graveyard dirt, fill with trepidation. It’s a strange reaction that paints him small, almost lost and begging for something.

But you simply shrug it off, kicking a bit of dirt towards him.

A cemetery is the one true neutral place where both demon and saint can walk alongside each other. Neither you or the priest have any power here. In theory, you’re as weak as a mortal. But so is he.

“What the fuck do ya want?” Joel says exhausted with an anger brewing below his voice.

“Demons want everything, that’s a silly question.” You reply.

His earthen eyes narrow, pinning you right where you stand among the dead.

“But what do you want?” He emphasizes his words sounding delicious this calm and deadly.

“Maybe I just want you.” Your answer, earnest and casual, rings borderline soft.

Exiting the cemetery, you wave goodbye to him.

“Until next time, Father.”

A new plan of action hatches.

Being a lust demon you indeed hold the ability to sense the carnal wishes of others. But it also means you can draw out and read what a person’s desires are, erotic or not.

And you want to know why Joel desired to become a priest.

Sometimes you can catch hints of a person’s desires from those they’re close with. So since your abilities, for whatever reason, don’t work on the handsome priest, your next option is Deacon Matthews.

He’s a boring man. Has two kids about to head off to college and a wife he doesn’t know is secretly having an affair. He’s been earnestly trying to talk with you more, and you swear you catch a whiff of lust floating off him.

So you sign up for another church event. This time it’s a rummage sale. You gladly offer to help at the stall Deacon Matthews works.

You catch the look on Joel’s face when he spots you. How disgusted he scowls almost makes you laugh.

“He seems extra grumpy today doesn’t he?” Deacon Matthews notices it too, and you playfully snicker alongside him.

“What happened to Father Joel embracing the heavenly gift of joy?” You joke.

The deacon sighs. “Well, after the trials he’s been through, I understand how hard it can be for him to find grace sometimes.”

Shifting in your plastic seat, you give your full attention to the deacon. Now you sense it, the heated sensation of a man feeling eager being the center of attention.

Deacon Matthew leans closer and of course tells you the same story you already know.

So you decide to act now. You touch Deacon Matthew’s arm expressing your sympathy, but it allows your power to slowly trickle in and search.

You find a glimmer of Joel in the deacon’s memory, but a terrible sensation crashes in.

Anguish and hurt, a frozen grief ripping fierce…

The holy mantle weighs a burden for Joel.

This man swore the vows, took on the blessed robes, as atonement for letting his family die. He wants to punish himself for not saving them, believing he doesn’t deserve to indulge in this world.

Pious, prudence, all punishment.

And by exorcising demons as God’s warrior, he gets to ignore his own.

You didn’t expect this much guilt, and heaven splitting heartbreak.

It makes your lips quiver, and you can’t explain why.

Immediately your hand draws back from Deacon Matthew. His eyes have hazed over, borderline lewd, and you subtly shift away.

“I’m sorry Deacon, can you maybe get me some water?” You ask politely, faking exhaustion.

“Of course, you’ve done so much today. Sit and rest.” He agrees, eagerly scrambling out of his seat.

You exhale, closing your eyes and trying to relax in the uncomfortable plastic seat.

“What? Can’t have me so you’re going after him?” Joel’s voice cuts through sharp, and your eyes snap open.

Standing hands crossed over his chest, he wears his typical glare.

He’s in a simple black button up with the white priestly collar gleaming through. This attire shows off his built arms, his strong physical form. The afternoon light also highlights the glorious grays in his beard and hair.

He’s older, beautifully older - you know this. But it feels as if you’re finally letting it sink, like fully understanding why an art piece is stunning.

You don’t say anything, simply stare at this man who’s slowly been eating away at you.

Deacon Matthews thankfully arrives just in time. Batting your eyes, you exaggerate your thanks. The deacon blushes, and before he can even greet Joel the priest storms off.

You don’t even have the heart to go after him or even make a joke.

—

In the bible, the book of Joel tells a somber tale. Scripture depicts the prophet Joel, in the midst of a dooming plague of locusts, urges the people to repent.

You think it’s almost ironic, a sick goddamn joke, that this man is named after such a biblical figure.

Because Joel Miller has become a plague upon you.

Your thoughts are only of him. You stay at the church more just to see him.

You haven’t feasted or eaten in weeks. Your body feels exhaustedly sluggish, more human, but you don’t even mind.

A new hunger ripens in you now anyways.

At night, your fingers constantly dig deep into your pussy thinking of Joel’s firm hands all over you, strong and dangerous, burning your skin. Demon of desire or not, this craving is unbearable. Your mouth dries parched at the thought of tasting him.

More, something dark in your whispers. You want him more…

After mass, a choir member tells you Father Joel wants you to meet him in his office. This could be the most twisted trap, but you realize you won’t be mad if it is.

“Come in.” Joel’s gruff voice comes muffled through the office door.

A strange nervous energy bubbles in you. Entering the office, you feel younger than ever, faintly human.

The beige room stands desolate, spartan and bare, except for a picture of the Divine Mercy on the wall. At his desk, Joel scribbles away at paperwork.

Closing the door behind you, his eyes flicker up.

“Didn’t expect you to exorcise me in the middle of the day and with your poor cute secretary right outside. You’re getting bold, old man.” You snicker.

The priest dully glares.

“So, care to tell me why I’m here?” You ask, sliding into the seat across the desk from him.

He remains silent.

A prolonged pause follows.

“You know… this office feels very naughty professor and student vibes more than hot priest and demon-”

“Enough.” His snarl cuts you off.

He seems more on edge like he’s teetering.

An apocalyptic tension suffocates the room fast, a choking incense that stings your lungs.

Joel suddenly leans back in his chair rubbing a large calloused hand over his face.

“Do you remember… anything from when you were human?” His voice has never been so quiet.

It’s strange hearing this powerful force of a man sound this meek.

“Uh…Sorry I don’t have memories of my old life.” You tell him truthfully.

The only memory you hold of your human days is when you sold your soul. There was pain, absolute wrecking grief that was swallowing you whole. You remember wanting to save the people you love, wishing you could trade your life to keep them alive.

That’s when the quietest voice had asked among the despair - what would you trade, to save those you love?

Anything, you had sobbed out.

Then, the pain drifted away. You woke up brand new and hungry, a clean slate. Now the heartbreak that crystalized you to this new life collects cobwebs in your lost soul.

“You remember nothin’ at all?” Joel presses again, and you shake your head no.

An ancient sigh escapes him, weary and anchored by the test of time. Something in you begs to comfort him.

“You seem tired.” You comment soft.

His endless eyes find yours.

Silence settles thick in the quaint and hauntingly barren office.

There’s so much you want to say. A demonic being of craving, of want, cursed to be silent, how cruel.

You want to ask what plague has he placed upon you. Is this a new form of exorcism? What evil has he unleashed? Because you’ve never wanted someone as badly as you want him.

A knock on the door shatters the stillness.

Joel’s secretary pops her head in.

“Sorry to interrupt Father, but the archdiocese is on the phone.” She’s smug. You sensed her desire before, a powerful drunken feeling knowing she gets to order Joel around.

“Alright,” he nods, and the secretary closes the door. You don’t miss the side eye she gives you.

You take your cue and stand up to leave.

“Hey…” his voice stops you.

“Demons… they have true names. What’s yours?”

That question surprises you.

Of course you’ve been using a fake name this entire time. He must have figured that out. Smart man.

But if he knows your true name, your human name…it’s over. A demon’s true name gives an exorcist the power to permanently destroy them.

A wide knowing grin pulls at your lips.

“You still haven’t even taken me to dinner, Father.”

The smallest wave of emotion flashes across his face. A tug pulls his lips, a hint of a smile he’s fighting against.

You’re about to leave when you stop.

“Oh…Also that secretary of yours definitely wants to dom you. Don't ask me how I know.” You mention casually.

You smirk walking out of Joel’s office, especially hearing his indignant squawks as you close the door.

—

The wind blows gently, barely rustling the leaves to let the dead rest peacefully for now.

A storm approaches. Serious enough that the annual Easter festival is now in question of being canceled today.

In his simple black button up and white collar, Joel stands like an ink blot against the graveyard. You’ve noticed he always stays by this particular tree with the bench.

“I know you’re here.” Joel’s gruff sharp twanged voice pierces through the silence. His face stays focused on the gravestones, holding a rosary tight in his large hands.

You smirk and step out from the shadow of the angel statue you've been hiding behind.

This is the deepest you’ve gone into the cemetery.

“Your senses are getting better, old man.” You greet him.

He scoffs insulted.

“You know… you really are too hot to be a priest.” You’ve made the joke to him before, and you make it again.

“Pressin’ your damn luck…Remind me why I haven’t fuckin’ exorcised your ass yet?” Joel mutters rubbing his temples.

“Because I’m just too fun to get rid of?” You offer with a weak grin.

An unsettling silence grows in the cemetery.

“Or maybe…you really are here just to torment me.” The words come out mumbled, like Joel doesn’t realize he spoke them.

“I could say the same for you, priest.” You openly tell him.

Finally he turns to you.

A strange corroded weight fills your chest. You realize it’s the desire now calcified into your very being keeping you anchored to this man. You wonder if this is your eternal punishment, to crave a man you can never have.

“Tell me… What’s your real name?” Joel asks simply, no hidden motive.

Here in the graveyard, he’s just a human man. Just like you’re the whisper of a human standing before him.

A painful smile tugs at your lips.

You give him your true name, the only thing left of your humanity.

Pure dread falls over Joel’s face.

Then he snaps.

“Ya damned fuckin’ demon from hell… Get the fuck outta here!” He yells, angry and violent, like a vengeful God ripping open the sky.

Demon.

He’s never called you that. It stings more than you thought it would.

But he’s right. It’s what you are, a creature warped from a human soul now relying only on sin. Demons don’t dream. Nor do they cry. But the way your chest twists, you wonder if this is the closest it feels to crying again.

Not saying another word to Joel, you leave the cemetery.

You don’t even know why you stayed to help with the festival. You adamantly refuse to look at Joel. Everyone notices the change in your demeanor. You lie saying it’s the weather.

“Ugh, it really is quite dreary for such a holy day, huh?” The sweet elderly woman from your bible study group coo’s sympathetically. She urges you to rest in the rectory.

“No one will bother you there honey, take some time to just catch a breather.”

You take her advice, especially as the thunder rolls ominous like the heavens stand ready to strike you at any moment.

The rectory is eerily quiet. You wander around until of course find yourself at Joel’s office. You can’t take this ache raging in you anymore. Once the festival fully starts, you decide to leave in the shadows and never return.

The front door out in the main hallway opens. Spurred by a strange sense of hope, you rush out.

You’re not one for prayer, but you pray it’s Joel.

Deacon Matthews, in his boring salmon colored shirt, instead stares at you. Danger gleams in his eyes.

“Finally…I was hoping to get you alone.” His voice boils with desire, radiating from him a rancid stench.

“You’ve felt it too haven’t you? What we have between us?” He grins, a serpent slithering closer to you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You play dumb and confused.

“You've been flirting with me this entire time. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” His voice jumps more erratic.

His desire is brewing to a poisonous level that threatens to clog your throat. So you try walking towards the door, but he stands firmly blocking it.

You haven’t eaten in months. Any time you consider feasting, your stomach now turns sour as you only think of Joel. He really has ruined you in so many ways.

With your senses dimmed, you’re too late to react when a greedy hand grabs your shoulders and pulls you closer.

Panic erupts. Feeling like a cornered animal, your teeth sharpen. Your hands twitch, itching for the attack. But your mouth acts first.

You bite down hard on the deacon’s hand, and a violent scream rips from him.

You haven’t tasted blood in months. This bite, you thought, should have sent you into a frenzy. Instead you gag tasting this pathetic man’s blood.

“What the fuck are you?!” The deacon yells in terror.

You realize you must look quite the monster now.

So you decide to show him.

Hellish claws, your claws, yank this man’s face closer. Then you whisper into his ear the tongue of the damned -

“…ⱤØ₮ ł₦ ⱧɆⱠⱠ…”

The deacon screams horrified.

Someone yanks you away.

Then Joel’s fist collides with the man’s face.

At the impact, Deacon Matthew’s cries in agony while Joel holds you close to his side. The smell of his shampoo, his cologne and something so familiar, surrounds you in a heavenly cloud.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her.” Joel snarls deadly.

Blood spills across the deacon’s face and his hand while he sobs.

Joel holds you protective, hand cradling and covering your face. Slowly you revert to normal, the demonic retreating to hide.

No surprise, the commotion is heard.

People swarm in. Joel effortlessly explains what transpired and how you even used self defense against the deacon.

The bleeding terrified man however screams that you’re the monster here.

You stay quiet against Joel's side, keeping your face hidden, clinging to his black button up shirt. The church reacts ready to reprimand Matthews.

Everything goes hazy. Your head even aches painful, like something is trying to break through your skull.

“If y’all don’t mind, I’m gonna stay with her.” You hear Joel say.

Of course everyone strongly agrees. A few even offer to stay with you instead. But Joel keeps you in his hold.

In a blink, a door closes and you realize you’re in his office.

Then Joel’s hand slides up to your cheek. The simmering heat from his skin touching yours burns beautifully.

Even without the claws, or monstrous eyes, you still must look every bit a terrifying creature.

Then, with a white small handkerchief, he wipes away the blood on your face tenderly, cleaning you with the delicate care of someone who is precious.

“Y’got a good bite. Scared the shit outta him too.” Joel mutters, faintly joking, but you catch a hint of pride.

You stay quiet now.

“Hey, look at me.” Joel orders low, but concerned.

And you do. His eyes search yours.

He’s never been this close. You soak in the sight of him, a sharp gorgeous hawkish nose, aged wrinkles, soft touches of storm cloud greys floating among his chocolate curls. Heaven never looked more beautiful.

No words reach you. You can’t think of anything to say.

You don’t know who moves first, but a revelation comes when your lips surge to meet his.

It’s raw, consuming, rattling your bones.

You barely get to chase this greed, the taste of this man, before a searing pain cracks open your skull.

Your vision goes white. You don’t even know where you are.

Glimpses of home warm and welcoming, with a loving man and a wonderful daughter you’ve raised like your own, fill your mind.

Soon, the picture crystalizes clearer. The man driving, holding your hand. The young girl in the backseat laughing at something you said.

Then your world ends in fire.

The truth resurfaces you frantic and panicked, like emerging from the flood of ancient times. Blinking back into reality, everything is clear, pure as crystal.

Someone calls your name, and it sounds like home.

“Y’alright? Talk to me darlin’ please.” Joel begs frantically, still holding your face.

Darling, the word rips through you wild.

“Joel.” His name leaves you blessed and sanctified. You see him with eyes brand new.

The closest thing to a sob escapes you.

Confusion colors Joel’s face while you clutch onto him like a life raft.

You swallow hard.

“My old man… my husband.” You whisper.

You jokingly, affectionately, had started calling him ‘old man’ when he pulled his back after a job. Tommy and Sarah had laughed so hard at the nickname. Back then he was a few years older than you, but now…

Joel cracks. His face falls. Tears simmer in his eyes threatening to spill.

He kisses you again. This time it’s filled with an ache that draws you back from the grave.

The kiss grows heated fast. Desire explodes off Joel now and you want to drown in it. He licks into your mouth, pushing you against the door. You moan, sliding your hands into his hair.

Commotion returns outside interrupting the moment.

You growl annoyed.

Joel shushes you against your lips, yet his hands continue holding you tight.

Eventually you untangle out of his arms. Yet you feel like a newborn foal on shaky legs. Joel keeps you close the rest of the day. No one from the church thinks anything of it especially after what happened.

If only they saw you now.

Sprawled out in his bed, Joel devours your pussy and grinds into the sheets. You moan loud enough for all the angels to hear. He eats you starved, as if he’s found divine communion between your thighs.

“Need you inside, Joel please,” you beg, yanking at his grey curls.

Who is he to deny you, not just a demon of sin, but his wife?

Sliding into you, Joel feels like the beginning of the world, a Genesis life changing. It’s a lust that makes you melt, pure and dangerously addictive.

Joel’s lips stay attached to your skin, biting and licking every inch of you.

“Fallen Angel, light of God, you are crafted in beauty and loved.”

You remember that’s the prayer the nuns said. Now Joel whispers it reverently against your skin.

“Lost creature of heaven, you are found.”

You cum hard clutching at his shoulders. You worry about hurting him. Yet Joel bites at your skin like he’s the one now longing for your blood. You wonder if you and him could both dig into each other’s bones.

But once the passion finally simmers, and your poor husband needs to rest, the heavy reality sets in.

Naked in his arms, you know understand the strange passion and awareness Eve must have felt being in her husband’s arms after biting the forbidden fruit.

“You really sold your soul…” Joel mutters.

You sigh, rubbing your face into his warm strong chest.

“I didn’t care… I begged for anyone to save you or Sarah.” You whisper.

Your sweet sunshine girl.

Even without a heart, thinking of Sarah brings immeasurable pain. You mourn her with Joel, his arms becoming your sacred church.

—

“Sweetheart, ya need to eat,” Of course Joel notices how weary you’ve become.

“It’s okay… I’m fine.” And you’re half right. The desire unleashed between you and Joel helps maintain you enough. You wouldn’t dare devour his soul now. After all, there are other things you gladly want to consume from him.

You kiss the palm of his hand holding your face.

But ever the provider, ever the caretaker, your husband moves his hand down to your lips. His fingers trace your mouth. His eyes darken, and your body hums wanting him again.

“Bite me.” He mutters.

You bluntly tell him no.

“Do it or I’ll exorcise your ass.” His words hold no threat.

“Come on baby,” he adds, a soft purr, your personal temptation.

You’re worried. Worried if you bite you won’t be able to stop. You don’t want to hurt him.

Joel’s hand returns to cradle your face, stroking your cheek tenderly. He whispers your name.

“You won’t hurt me.” He’s always been able to read your mind.

It’s why he draws your face to his neck, the perfect spot to hide beneath his robes. Reverently you kiss his skin thanking him, then your teeth sink in as gently as you can.

His blood rushes into your mouth tasting of salvation. Your mind shuts off, instantly consumed by him. You lick and suck, pouring your devotion into this man. You moan or maybe it’s Joel. Because the way his hips grind seeking release, he’s drunk on this too.

This is the ecstasy saints dream of, a holy feast of unbelievable bliss that has you coming untouched.

This is your sacred sacrament you would die for.

—

“My husband, the priest.” You snicker watching him get ready.

You hate how incredibly sexy it is watching him slide the white collar on.

“Well, my wife’s a demon.” He smirks.

“I think there’s an actual shirt that says that.” You wonder.

Joel rolls his eyes and you laugh.

Kissing him before he heads to mass is pure sinful bliss. It only gets worse when you visit his office. Closing the door, Joel sits at his desk raising an eyebrow seeing you.

You make it known why you’re here when you sink onto your knees between his legs.

Nuzzling against his thigh, a possession overtakes. Joel’s hand runs to your face.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” You mutter peering up at him.

His thumb swipes across your lips, and his eyes melt into dark pools. Especially when you slide his thumb into your mouth and suck, moaning at the taste of his skin. Your teeth ache to bite him, taste him like you did again this morning.

“Y’look like fuckin’ sin.” He mumbles, but rapidly draws your face up closer to him.

“Gonna be my good girl and keep quiet?” He asks leaning down to kiss you, meeting you halfway. Nodding, your hands fly to his belt.

A knock on the door comes. Joel cusses sharp under his breath.

“Should let your secretary walk in and see us like this.” You grin.

He shushes you.

“Next time let’s try to fuck in a confessional.” You mutter against his lips.

“Little fuckin’ trouble maker.” He growls, a beast that you welcome with open arms.

Later, in the witching hours, you wander around Joel’s living room. You spot a photo of you, him, and Sarah at Halloween the one year she dressed up as a power ranger princess.

Warm strong arms suddenly wrap around you from behind.

Joel’s gorgeous nose nuzzles against your face.

“You don’t mind… that I’m like this and not like how I used to be.” A shadow frozen forever, a creature condemned to hell.

He places the softest kiss on your cheek.

“Ain’t who I used to be either. M’old now.” He mutters.

“You’re hotter than ever.” You tell him firmly, and Joel snorts amused.

Shifting in his arms you embrace Joel tight.

“I’m a selfish demon now. You’re the only one who can get rid of me.” Both figuratively and literally.

“Like hell I ain’t.” Joel replies firmly, inhaling your scent.

“Besides, ‘m not so holy anymore.” He adds.

“Are you okay with that?” The question escapes you quiet, small and worried.

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ change it.” It’s the last thing he says before he dives in to kiss you.

Maybe in another life you would’ve been blessed to be Joel’s wife, pure and human, would’ve grown old with him…maybe even adopted a cat like Sarah had been begging.

Heaven will never greet you. So you hold this version of it tight in your hands.

You used to wonder why you had wandered to this specific town. Now everything aligns. A piece of you was trying to return to your other half, the love of your life.

Walking into the cemetery, you find your husband again praying at his favorite spot.

That’s when you finally notice a small memorial plague against the tree. Walking towards it, you read what’s on it.

There’s a scripture verse…then Sarah’s name and yours below it.

An emotion too powerful to describe swells in you.

Done with his prayer and alone in the cemetery, Joel soothingly now rubs his hand against your back.

“Let’s head home, sweetheart.” He mutters, your home and salvation.

A particular line from the exorcism rites suddenly comes to mind -

Lost creature of heaven, you are found

As you head out of the graveyard by Joel’s side, you truly believe you are.

[pedroscurls]

let me show you (one-shot)

summary: joel comes home and shows you (and mainly himself) that age is nothing but a number.

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), established relationship, age gap (joel's in his 50s, reader's 30), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, mating press (i feel like this is joel's go-to), doggystyle, cowgirl, multiple creampies (oops), light manhandling, light marking, no use of y/n. word count: 5.5k a/n: so happy to take part at @yxtkiwiyxt's other "never have i ever" challenge for her one year writing anniversary!!! congrats on one year, kiwi - you're such a talented writer that it's so crazy to me that you've only been writing one year! can't wait to see what other stories you create - you got a lifelong fan in me and i'll read everything and everything you write 🫶. i chose joel miller and got the prompt: never have i ever had sex more than 3 times in one night. this is just complete filth, so please heed the warnings and most of all, enjoy <3

The entire drive home, Joel is seething. Hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. Jaw clenching so hard that he’s sure he’ll end up cracking a tooth or two. He isn’t even sure why he’s so angry, why some other man’s words have such an effect on him. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

The frustration radiates through his entire body, tense and tight. The age gap had been something he was wary of in the beginning, but you had always been the one to reassure him that age didn’t matter to you. He tries to hold onto what you would tell him—how safe he makes you feel, the way being in his arms brings you comfort. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

He had fired that man the moment it left his lips. Tommy had to hold Joel back, and could see the way his older brother’s eyes darkened with rage. His personal life was off limits. You were off limits. After firing him, Tommy had convinced Joel to go home, that he needed the rest of the day to just cool off. 

And now, as he pulls into the driveway, Joel can’t help but hear those man’s words echo in his mind. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

He climbs out of his truck and storms inside. He knows you’re already home, knows that you’re probably deep in papers that need grading, knows that you’re going to be surprised to see him home so early… 

But Joel is determined—he’s suddenly on a mission to prove to himself that age is nothing but a number. 

He drops his keys in the bowl near the door, kicks off his boots and walks upstairs to your office. The door is slightly ajar and he gently kicks it open with his foot. You look up at him and the look of surprise flashes across your face before a large grin lines your lips. 

“You’re home,” you set your pen down and stand up from your chair. “Everything okay at work?” 

Joel just grunts in response, takes three large strides in your direction before he’s standing in front of you. “Need you,” he growls, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face and past your shoulder. He leans in, presses a soft kiss on your jawline and down the side of your neck. 

“Joel,” you whimper, moving your hands to rest on his hips. “Baby, hold on—What happened?” 

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, teeth grazing your pulse point. He hears you let out a whimper and it only fuels him further. Only he could pull those sounds out of you. Age gap, be damned. 

You try to push him away to figure out what’s truly going on, but he just wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you flush against him. Joel turns you so you’re leaning against the edge of your desk, your hands moving to his broad chest. 

“Joel—”

He pulls back and looks into your eyes. You can visibly see that there’s something bothering him. His gaze is dark, brows slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. “Think you can stop grading for one afternoon, baby?” 

“Can you first tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothin’ goin’ on,” he lies, hoisting you up onto the edge of your desk. Joel immediately moves your legs apart as he steps in to stand between them. Slowly, his hands move along your thighs, gaze moving along your frame. There’s a hunger in his eyes, clear determination that you can’t put your finger on. 

“You’re lying. You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” 

Joel grunts and moves a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along your soft skin. “Just wanted to get home to be with my girl, that a bad thing?” 

“Not at all,” you answer. “But something’s clearly bothering you and—”

“Ain’t nothin’ botherin’ me, darlin’,” he interrupts. “Now, can you stop talkin’ so I can kiss you, hm?” 

“Me talking never stopped you before–”

Joel grunts in reply and leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. Immediately, your hands card through his hair, gasping when you feel the urgency of the kiss. His hands roam your body, already sliding them underneath your shirt. The way his lips move against yours—hurried and desperate—catches you off guard and you’re finding it incredibly difficult to keep up. You part your lips, slowly trying to pull away from him to truly get to the root cause for his sudden behavior, but he doesn’t let you. 

Instead, his large hands grip your hips, tug you to the edge of your desk so that his jean-covered bulge presses firmly to your already throbbing core. Joel’s lips move effortlessly against your own, tongue darting out to flick against your own. You whimper against him and he growls in response, pulling back only slightly to nibble on your lower lip—this action alone causes your legs to wrap around his waist and pull him even further into you. 

“Joel,” you mumble breathlessly, gently tugging on his hair to pull back from him. You’re breathing heavy, lips swollen, eyes dark when you finally look at him. 

“Gonna spend the rest of night showing you how much I love you,” he promises, rolling his hips against you. 

“Baby,” you moan out quietly. “You always show me how much you love me.”

“Hm,” he answers. “Not enough. Never enough.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Nothing happened at work?” 

Joel shakes his head once. “No, now can we stop talkin’ about work?” 

You nod and slowly move away from the desk to stand in front of him. You take his hand, play with his fingers before lacing them together with your own. “So, just me and you tonight?” 

Joel nods, “just me and you, baby.” He stares at you for a moment and all of a sudden, the man’s words from earlier comes back—serving as a reminder of why he had been upset in the first place. 

He releases your hand and tosses you over his shoulder. Joel hears you let out a quiet gasp of surprise, but he begins making his way out of your office and down the hall to the bedroom. It doesn’t take him long, but he can feel the strain in the center of his jeans when your hands begin to roam his body. 

Once inside the room, he tosses you onto the mattress. You prop yourself up on your forearms, but Joel—once again—tugs you to the edge of the bed. He wastes no time in hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs with your panties, tossing the articles of clothing carelessly to the side. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. He parts your legs and licks his lips eagerly, your sex glistening with your own arousal. 

Joel reaches down to undo his belt, followed by his zipper and button on his jeans. He pushes them down his legs, kicks them off to the side, and reaches for the ends of his shirt to lift over his head. Now clad in only his boxer briefs, Joel watches you remove your shirt as well, lying back on your forearms once you’re completely bare and naked for him. 

He reaches down and squeezes the length of himself, hardening even further at his touch. Joel leans over you, hand pressed on the mattress near your head as his free hand comes to settle between your legs. His fingers begin to make quick work, gathering your arousal on his fingertips as he teases your opening. 

“Always this wet for me, aren’t ya?” He whispers, leaning down so that his lips hover near your ear. Joel hears you let out a gasp when he slides in the tip of his middle finger—your walls welcoming him almost immediately. 

“J—Joel,” you moan, eyes fluttering. Joel slides his middle finger further into your depths, down to his knuckle, before he pulls it out completely. His entire digit is glistening and he brings it up to his lips, licking and sucking your arousal off his finger. 

“Christ,” he groans. “Can never get enough of you.” Then, Joel settles onto his knees in between your legs. He presses soft and light kisses on your inner thigh, gently nipping along the way. Though, once his lips hover near where you need him the most, he lets out the most animalistic growl you’ve ever heard. 

You sit up on your forearms, eyes glazing over and beginning to flutter when you feel him lick a stripe along the length of your sex. He keeps his eyes solely focused on you, one hand moving up your body to push you to lie back down. 

“Just relax,” he whispers. “I got you, baby. Always got you.” 

You finally fall onto your back when his lips move towards your clit, tongue flicking against you repeatedly. Your hands move to his hair immediately, pulling and tugging as he applies more pressure. 

Joel knows he could do this for the rest of his life if he could. He ruts against the mattress—your sweet taste only fueling him further. He grunts against you when you pull and tug on his hair and he can feel your arousal drip down his chin. He moves his hands to your legs, holding them apart as he pulls back to look down at you. 

“Look at you,” he says with a low groan. “Lyin’ there lookin’ so pretty.” Joel doesn’t let you get a word in because he leans back down, grips your thighs, and moves his lips to your sex. 

Your back arches—the burn of his beard scratching against your inner thighs, the way his tongue expertly moves in and out of you. A loud moan escapes your lips when you feel his thumb slowly begin to rub circles into your clit. You know you’re close, can feel the pressure building and building. When your eyes lock with Joel’s, you see the corners of his lips lift—the man is fucking grinning. 

He pulls away, but before you can whine in protest, he slides two fingers past your folds. Your hands move from his hair to the sheets, gripping it tightly as you feel him expertly begin to move his fingers in and out of your depths. You’re so wet, the sounds of his fingers squelching with each thrust into you mixes in with your moans. Joel knows—he always knows when you’re close. 

As he pumps his fingers in and out of you, Joel leans down and latches his lips around your clit. It’s just what you need to be pushed over the edge. 

Your back arches in the air, legs attempting to close and squeeze around his head—unintentionally—as your body trembles with pleasure. He slows his movements, pulling back and away from you. His fingers easily slide out of you—your arousal already staining the sheets of the mattress. 

You’re breathing heavily when you finally look in his direction. You can see your arousal glistening on his chin, over his beard. You watch him push his boxers down, his manhood springing at attention. Clearing your throat, you slowly turn on to your abdomen as he stands upright. Before he could even say anything, you reach out and wrap your hands gently around the base of his length.

You glance up at him—there’s just something in the way he’s standing above you that causes a shiver to run through you. He reaches down, gently pushes your hair away from your face, thumb brushing against your jawline. 

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers. His eyes flutter for a moment when you slowly begin to stroke the base of his manhood. When you lean forward to wrap your lips around his tip, Joel moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as a low groan escapes his lips. 

You hum in approval, feeling his hand slowly push your head down against him. You get the hint—moving one hand from his base to rest on his hip as you take more of him into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him as your other hand strokes what your mouth can’t take. 

When you glance up at him, Joel’s head is tilted back—neck outstretched, veins more prominent, broad chest heaving up and down, and his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He always looked so beautiful like this. 

Suddenly, you feel his fingers curl into your hair and pull you away from his slickened length—it glistens with your saliva. 

You whine in protest, trying to lean forward to wrap your lips back around his throbbing manhood, but he clicks his tongue and holds you away from him. 

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he admits honestly. “And tonight, I want you as many times as I can.” 

“Joel,” you bite your lower lip, hands moving up his chest. “Once is enough and—”

He shakes his head and pushes you onto your back. His strong arm wraps around your waist and slides you further up onto the mattress as he settles himself between your legs. Joel stares into your eyes and with his free hand, grasps his length to run his tip along the length of your sex. He gathers your arousal around his tip, growling lowly to himself as he notches himself at your entrance. 

“Not tonight it isn’t,” he finally answers, pushing fully into you in one long and deep stroke. Joel groans when your walls envelope him—warm, wet, tight. He always loves it when he thrusts into you for the first time because it serves as a reminder of how perfectly you were made for him. He sees the way your face contorts into pleasure—mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed with a quiet whimper escaping your lips; he finds it so cute how you always try to hold back your sounds of pleasure. 

“J—Joel,” you moan, hands moving to come up to rest on his broad shoulders. 

Something in him snaps and there’s a primal urge that courses through his veins as he stares down at you. Joel takes your hands from his shoulders, gently placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, before he grabs your legs and places them over his shoulders instead. At the new position, he feels himself slide further into your depths and it only urges him further. He pushes into you, his own hands resting at either side of you as he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you. 

You’re folded in half—body beginning to tremble already as he picks up the pace in his thrusts. You had a very healthy sex life with Joel, but this time… this time it feels so different. It feels like he’s on a mission to prove something to himself. 

The sound of his skin smacking against yours echo the walls of the bedroom, your moans increasingly becoming louder and louder. Your hands move to his lower abdomen in an attempt to push him away because you feel the pressure creep up once more. He growls in response and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. 

“Close huh, baby?,” he growls.

“Joel, p—please,” you whimper, toes curling. You can’t move—hands pressed into the mattress, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his entire body pressing into you. It’s by far the most intimate position you’ve ever experienced and the way he’s slamming into you pushes you over the edge. 

“Joel!” You moan loudly, walls already clenching around him as your body trembles once another orgasm takes over your entire frame. 

“Fuck,” Joel groans, releasing your wrists to rest his own large hands on your hips. His own thrusts begin to falter as he feels his release begin to creep up quickly. He tries to think of something else, tries to make this last longer, but the way you’re tightening around him just pushes him over. 

He slams into you once, twice, three times before he releases into you. Joel lets out a guttural groan, the hands on your hips tightening its grip as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Slowly, Joel moves your legs from his shoulders to instead wrap around his waist loosely and he looks down between your bodies to see his spend trickling out of you once he pulls out. 

You’re breathing heavily, staring up at him with a dazed look on your face. You gently reach up to touch his cheek, feel him lean into the pit of your palm as he stares deeply into your eyes. “Where did that come from?”

Joel shrugs and gently pecks your lips. “Just wanted you, baby.” Slowly, he pulls away from you and stands from the bed to grab a wet and warm towel to wipe his release from between your legs. He watches you shiver against his touch, eyes fluttering when the towel brushes against your most sensitive areas and he smirks. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

“Sorry,” he grins proudly. Once you’re cleaned up, he sets the towel in the laundry basket and then falls back onto the bed with you. You lie on your side and he comes up behind you, arm draped over your midsection as he brings you flush against him. He peppers light kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. “Love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you too,” you tilt your head back against his shoulder and shut your eyes. “Made me tired,” you whisper, voice trailing off. “Didn’t even have dinner yet.”

He chuckles and shuts his eyes, holding you close. “How about we take a short nap and then I’ll feed you, hm? That sound like a plan?”

“Yes,” you reply with a small smile, turning your head just enough to press a soft kiss onto his cheek. “Maybe you should come home early more often,” you giggle.

Joel’s jaw tightens as the man’s words echo in his mind again. He doesn’t reply—just holds you closer to him and feels you relax in his embrace. 

Joel awakes almost an hour later—you’re still leaning back against him and his arm is still wrapped around you from behind. He can hear your quiet breathing, takes a peek in your direction to see you peacefully asleep. He feels you shift back against him and he’s suddenly aware of the lack of clothing that you both are wearing. 

His mind drifts momentarily, remembering the events that unfolded just an hour ago. He can still feel the anger bubbling within him, can still hear that man’s voice echo in his mind.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

His arm remains draped over your waist and his large hand soon encompasses your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple. He hears you let out a quiet moan and Joel can feel his lower half begin to stir. He’s surprised that after an hour, he can feel himself getting hard all over again.

Slowly, Joel presses himself firmly against you from behind and moves his lips along the side of your neck. As he begins to pepper light kisses on your skin, his hand begins to massage your breast into the pit of his palm. He hears your breathing quicken and quietly—in that sweet voice of yours—you say his name. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

“Shh,” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe. Joel releases his hold on you and gently moves you to lie on your abdomen. He quickly moves to hover above you, his legs placed on either side of you. His large hands move to your backside, spreading your cheeks apart as he lets out a low growl at the sight of you. “Can’t get enough of you,” Joel growls. 

He grasps his hardening length, tugs on it twice before he presses his tip into your slit. Slowly, Joel pushes his hips forward—you’re already so wet and gripping the head of manhood as he pushes himself further into you. 

Your hand reaches back for him, trying to press against his lower abdomen to stop him from pushing any further. You’re already so sensitive—walls quivering as he grabs both your wrists to hold against your lower back. With one stroke, Joel fills you to the brim and he feels you begin to squirm against him.

“Joel!” you exclaim, eyes falling shut as you press your forehead against the mattress. He feels so much bigger like this and when he pulls his hips back—your walls sliding along his length—only to slide back into you, it causes a loud moan to escape your lips. 

“H—-how?” you mumble, feeling his hand release your wrists only to grip your hips, pulling you to prop yourself up on all fours. 

Joel doesn’t reply, the man’s words echoing in his mind with each thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

Your hands grip the sheets so tight because Joel’s never been this rough before. With each thrust, Joel’s jaw tightens. He grips the back of your neck and pushes you face down onto the mattress as he slams into you repeatedly from behind. His skin slaps against your own and you can feel the tight grip he has around your hips—knowing that there’s going to be bruises there later. 

“J—Joel!” you moan into the mattress, pushing back against him as you feel yourself begin to reach yet another orgasm. Your walls begin to tremble, can feel a rush of wetness between your legs and the pleasure racking through your entire body. 

“Fuck,” he finally moans—your walls tightening around his length in a tight grip. Joel leans over you, hand moving from the back of your neck to grab a fistful of your hair to lift your head off the mattress. He breathes heavily into your ear as his thrusts begin to falter. “Come for me,” he demands, thrusting into you that your body jerks forward. 

“I—I can’t,” you whimper. Your entire body is on fire and you’re so close to the edge, but you’re holding back… and Joel knows because his eyes narrow at your words and he leans down to gently bite down on the side of your neck.

“I said,” he groans, delivering yet another hard thrust. “Come for me.” 

With his free hand, Joel reaches down and begins to circle your clit. It’s just the right amount of pressure for you to reach your peak. Your toes curl and your eyes shut tight as a loud moan escapes your lips. Joel smirks proudly, releasing his hold on your hair as he grips your hip instead. 

Joel delivers one, two, three thrusts before he releases into you. His eyes fall shut, head tilted back as he tries to catch his breath, slowing his thrusts as your walls continue to milk every last drop. When he finally pulls out, Joel opens his eyes to watch his release slowly drip out of you and onto your inner thighs. 

He bites his lower lip and falls back onto the bed next to you, lying on his back as he glances over at you. 

“Well,” you whisper, looking over at him. “That was something.”

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks with soft eyes—his big, brown, puppy eyes staring at you with concern now that his mind is clear. 

“Would you hate me if I said it wasn’t enough?” you tease, leaning over to peck his lips. “You promised me food and instead…”

“You were just so…” Joel bites his lower lip, his gaze raking over your frame with lust-filled eyes. “Inviting.” 

“Maybe I should sleep naked more often,” you grin, standing up from the bed to walk towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

“If you do that, ain’t nothin’ gonna get done,” he chuckles. Joel stands up as well, walking after you as he wraps his arms around you from behind. “What does my girl want to eat?” 

“Can you order a pizza?” you smile, wiping his release from between your legs. You toss the tissue into the trash and then lean back against him, head resting against his chest. 

“Of course, baby,” he smiles, turning his head to kiss your temple. 

You take note of the marks on your hips and the darkening spot on the side of your neck. You bite your lower lip and slowly turn in Joel’s arms, staring up at him as your arms wrap around his neck. “Gonna have these marks on me for a few days at least.”

Joel arches a brow, eyes glancing down at the mark on your neck before his gaze lowers to your hips. He blushes and rests his forehead against your own. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Don’t be,” you smile, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, small smile lining his lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m all yours, so let’s let the entire world know,” you tease. 

“Naughty,” Joel chuckles. 

“Only for you.”

Joel growls, hand moving to grasp your backside. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Mmm,” you smile. “I don’t think I can go another round,” you say honestly. “I’m sensitive all over and I’m hungry.”

Joel leans in, pecks your lips lightly as he pulls away slowly. “Maybe you just need some food because I am determined to have you one more time before we call it a night.”

“One more time?” you ask, eyes widening. “We’ve already had sex twice in the last hour or so and—”

“Then we’ll eat dinner and I’ll have you again,” Joel interrupts with a grin. “Don’t put anythin’ on. I’ll have pizza delivered.”

“You want me to walk around like this?” 

“Yes,” Joel growls. 

“Yes, sir,” you smile innocently. 

About thirty minutes later, you and Joel are in the kitchen with an opened box of pizza. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers, but you’re completely naked—just like he said you should be. You’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen island with a slice of pizza in hand, humming contentedly as you take a bite. 

“Good?” Joel asks with a grin, his own slice of pizza in his hand. 

“Very,” you smile, finishing your first slice of pizza in record time. You see Joel arch a brow and you just roll your eyes playfully. “I gained an appetite.”

Joel chuckles to himself and moves to stand between your legs. “You did, huh? Why’s that?” 

“I came like three times already, baby,” you tell him, reaching for another slice of pizza. “I really don’t think I can do any more than that. I’m already—My body’s just so sensitive.” 

“Oh?” he asks, eyes looking at you from top to bottom. He moves his hands to your thighs and gently spreads them apart, looking between your legs to see your sex glistening. “How come you’re wet then, hm?” 

“Joel…” you whisper, setting the slice of pizza down as you wipe your hands with a paper towel. “I’m just—I’m always wet whenever I’m around you.”

“That so?” 

You nod, feeling his finger run along the length of your sex, gathering your arousal. You let out a quiet whimper, a shiver running down your body at the sensation. “Joel, baby…” 

“Always so ready for me, ain’t you?”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Joel,” you repeat. “I—If we have sex one more time, I won’t last long and—”

“Shh,” he interrupts. “Let me just take care of you, baby.” Joel lifts you off the counter and sets you down onto your feet. He leads you to the couch in the living room where he takes a seat and shimmies out of his boxers, kicking them carelessly off to the side. He can already feel himself getting hard as he grasps his length and begins to stroke himself to full mast. “Come on, baby,” he urges, pointing to his lap with his chin. 

You nod and straddle his lap as your hands move to his shoulders. You slowly lower your hips to feel the tip of his manhood brush against you. Gasping, you lift your hips and stare into his eyes. Joel’s gaze darkens and he moves a hand to your hip, gripping it tightly as he pushes you onto him. Your walls—so wet—encompasses him tightly and he tilts his head back against the couch, a low groan escaping his lips. 

Joel feels so deep like this and you begin to roll your hips forward and backward. The hair at his base brushes against your clit and your body begins to tremble already. Your hips move so slowly because that’s all you can take right now, but Joel… It’s not enough for him. Even with your fingernails digging into his shoulders, gripping it so tight, Joel needs more. 

He moves his hands underneath you and lifts you slightly off his lap—just enough to give him space to begin thrusting upwards. Joel growls to himself as he looks up at you, your breasts bouncing as he thrusts upwards. 

“Joel!” you moan loudly, wrapping your arms around him as you press your front against him—holding onto him tightly. “Baby, please…”

“You feel so good around me, baby,” Joel whispers into your hair, eyes falling shut. “Always so wet for me, always so tight… Fuck, you were made for me.”

“J—Joel,” you whimper, feeling his hands move to your hips instead as you roll your hips against his own. You keep your tight hold onto him, gasping quietly as you feel your walls begin to tremble yet again. 

“Yes,” he groans, arms wrapping around your waist to guide you forward and backward on his lap. Joel knows he won’t be able to last either—he’s surprised that he was even able to recover so quickly in the span of two hours to do this three times. 

“Love seein’ you like this,” he says quietly, feeling your arms unwrap itself around his shoulders. Joel feels your hands move to rest on his shoulders as you ride him like your life depended on it. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he grins, eyes scanning your face before his gaze lowers to your naked frame. 

“Joel, baby… I—” 

“I know,” he whispers. “Let go for me, darlin’. I got you.”

“Fuck!” you moan, head tilting back as you move your hips forward and backward quickly. Your body shakes with pleasure as the tightness builds and builds until you can no longer take it. You collapse into Joel, breathing heavily. 

Joel groans to himself as he grips your hips, guiding you along his length as he chases his own release. It doesn’t take long because when you whisper his name, he feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach break until he releases into you for the final time that night. 

Joel rests his forehead against your own, feeling himself soften while still inside of you and he makes no move in lifting you off his lap. Even as he feels his seed trickle down to the hair at his base, Joel keeps you seated on his lap, strong arms embracing you. 

“Thank god it’s the weekend tomorrow,” you whisper with a quiet giggle. 

“Why’s that?” he asks with a small smile. 

“Because I’m sure that I’d have trouble walking,” you answer. 

“You’re good for my ego,” he chuckles. 

“Where did all of that come from?” you ask honestly. 

Joel shrugs, staring into your eyes. “Nowhere.” 

“You’re lying.”

He sighs and finally asks, “Does our age gap bother you?” 

“What?” 

“I’m old enough to be your father–”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt him. “Our age gap means nothing to me…” 

“But it should, shouldn’t it?” 

“A bit too late for that, don’t you think?” You shake your head, lifting your left hand in the air and taking his left hand in your other one, showcasing both of your wedding rings. “We’re married now, baby. We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Some– Some asshole made a comment and it just got to me,” Joel sighs. 

“Did this happen at work?”

“Yeah,” he answers truthfully. “Fired him and Tommy had to stop me from doin’ somethin’ stupid and I just—” he sighs. 

“Well, you just proved that age is nothing but a number, Joel. We had sex three times in the last two hours… And I’ve never had sex more than three times in one night so…”

Joel lets a small smile line his lips. “Never, huh?” 

You shake your head. “You’d be the first.” 

“And your last,” Joel finishes. “I’m sorry it got me,” he sighs. “I don’t usually care what other people have to say about our relationship, but for some reason… This just got to me.”

“If our gap bothered me, I wouldn’t have married you,” you say quietly, hands coming up to gently brush his hair away from his face. “I love you. All of you.” 

“Even if I’m some old man?”

“An old man wouldn’t have been able to do what we just did,” you smile. 

He chuckles and gently pecks your lips. “Love you so much, darlin’.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” Slowly, you stand from his lap with a quiet whimper as you extend a hand out for him. “What do you say we take a shower and then spend the rest of the night cuddling?”

Joel smiles lovingly in your direction and stands from the couch, taking your hand. “That sounds like a great way to end the night, baby.” 

[nathanbatemanfucker]

A Whisper of Cinnamon

gif credit: @/userseraph

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, smut, oral sex (f!reader), unprotected p in v, kissing, get together fic

wc: 1,620

an: yes i wrote this ridiculously fast so if there’s repetition or typos that’s why 😭. that old man looked so good last night holy shit

pedro pascal characters masterlist

The light spilling from the small construction office was one of the only things still burning on this side of town. Most of Jackson had gone still hours ago, swallowed up by the fall of amber leaves and the kind of hush only autumn nights dusted with chill could bring.

You hesitate at the door, fingers tightening around the bundled napkin in your hands. The few slices of cinnamon bread, soft in the middle, a little messy are still warm. You’d made it mostly to keep your hands busy—mostly—but you’d wrapped up a few pieces just for him. You weren’t sure he’d still be here but then again, you kind of were.

Classic overworking Joel. You’ve noticed that about him.

You finally work up the courage to knock lightly. There’s a grunt from inside, then the sound of a chair creaking back and the door opens a second later.

Joel stands there looking more tired than usual—glasses slipping low on his nose, sleeves pushed to his elbows, stubble heavier than it was this morning. His eyes flicker over you, then to the bundle in your hand.

“I figured you were still working,” you say, trying not to sound as shy as you feel. “Brought you something.”

His brows lift, and he steps aside to let you in. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says gruffly, but you hear the softness, the gratitude underneath.

Inside, it smells like sawdust, ink, and faintly like coffee that’s long gone cold. Blueprints are scattered across the desk, a pencil tucked behind his ear. He sets your offering down, peeking under the napkin. The barest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, if you can call it that.

“Cinnamon?” he asks, already pulling off a piece with calloused fingers.

You nod. “It’s still warm.”

“Damn good,” he mumbles around a bite, which makes you laugh as your cheeks warm from his subtle praise.

He gestures for you to sit, pulling out the second chair he clearly doesn’t use. You settle in, watching him as he leans back over the plans. The lamp catches the edge of his glasses, a soft glow reflecting in his eyes as he squints.

“You ever think about getting new ones?” you ask, teasing gently.

“Every damn day,” he mutters, smirking. “Hard to come by.”

You lean closer, glancing down at the blueprint. “What’s this one?”

“New housing draft,” he says, voice low. “Tommy’s idea. Wants more space for the kids comin’ in.”

He’s still squinting, so you reach over—fingers brushing his as you adjust the page, turning it toward the light. He doesn’t pull away. Your hands lingers on his just a moment too long, the warmth of his skin unexpected and grounding before you pull away.

“You’ve got the measurements off here,” you say gently, tapping a pencil against the paper. “By like half an inch.”

Joel sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Knew somethin’ felt off.”

“You need sleep.”

“Don’t got time for that.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Then at least let someone help you. You’re not invincible Joel and people like having you around.”

He’s quiet for a second, watching you. There’s something unreadable in his expression, like he’s trying to decide something. Like he’s torn.

The truth is, this tension’s been there for a while—months, maybe. Laced between long looks over shared meals, brushing shoulders on patrol, the way his voice dipped when he said your name. Neither of you have said anything. You weren’t sure what it was, or if he’d ever let himself want it. But now, in the warmth of this quiet room, it feels like there’s no more pretending. Whatever this is can’t be denied.

“Don’t usually get help,” he murmurs. “Not used to it.”

“Well,” you say, keeping your voice light even as your chest tightens, “you’re allowed to. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Another silence settles between you, heavier this time. Your knee brushes his under the desk. Like before, he doesn’t move away.

His eyes stay trained on your face as he asks softly, “You always this kind to people stayin’ late?”

You tilt your head at him. “Only the ones who wear glasses and forget to eat.”

That earns you a rare, real smile. It’s a slow one, warm and a little sad— like he’s thinking about those he lost who used to be kind to him. His hand lifts tentatively, thumb brushing against your cheek.

You don’t know who leans in first. Maybe it’s both of you at once. But when his mouth meets yours, it’s not soft. It’s starved.

It’s the taste of Joel with a whisper of cinnamon.

The kiss is rough and deep, months of restraint unraveling at once. His hands cup your cheeks, teeth scraping your bottom lip. You whimper into him and that’s all it takes—he’s pulling you up out of the chair and onto the desk like you weigh nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about this,” he mutters between kisses, voice wrecked. “Thinkin’ about how you’d taste… how you’d sound.”

You gasp as he spins you gently, pressing your chest down against the desk, your skirt riding up as he moves behind you. “Joel—”

“I got you, baby,” he growls, pushing your legs apart with firm hands. “Let me take care of you.”

Your breath catches when his fingers slide under the hem of your skirt, their cadence is contradictory: rough and reverent. He grips your panties and drags them down, slow, letting the fabric slide over your thighs and pool at your feet.

You moan—high, shaky—gripping the edge of the desk as cold air brushes your slick heat.

“Fuck me,” he breathes behind you. You hear the crack in his voice, the need. “Look at this… wet for me already.”

You whimper, pressing your forehead to the desk, the coolness grounding you. “Baby, please…”

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos, dropping to his knees behind you, glasses still perched on his nose, slightly crooked from how fast he’s moving.

He wastes no time. His hands grip your ass, spreading you wide, and then his mouth is on you—hot and filthy and so fucking needy. His tongue parts your folds, licking your pussy like it’s the fountain of youth, and the obscene wet sounds coming from between your legs have your eyes fluttering back.

You gasp, your breath catching on a moan. “Fucking hell Joel.”

He groans into your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. His glasses fog slightly, the lenses catching faint lamplight as he buries his face deeper, tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit.

“You sound so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he rasps, voice muffled, eyes dark behind the smudge of his lenses. “Don’t hold back, baby, c‘mon let me hear you.”

You whimper, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the desk. “God, Joel—I can’t…it’s too much…”

“That’s it,” he growls. “Keep makin’ those sounds for me.”

His tongue slides down to fuck into you, slow and deep, while his thumb rubs tight, perfect circles over your clit.

Your hips jolt from this earth shaking combo, gasps spilling from your lips, your legs threatening to give out. “Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck. Joel.”

“You gonna cum for me?” he mumbles, licking up everything you’ve got for him, beard soaked, glasses slipping further down his nose but staying on. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart. Let me taste you.”

You moan, back arching as your orgasm slams into you, white-hot and shattering. You moan brokenly, hips grinding against his mouth, every breath catching on the wave of pleasure he rips out of you.

Joel groans and licks you through it, hands gripping tight to your thighs, keeping you open and helpless until you’re trembling and overstimulated.

He stands slowly, eyes wild behind his fogged lenses, his mouth glistening with your essence. His hands find your hips again, steadying you as he presses his chest to your back, kissing your shoulder.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby,” he murmurs into your skin, voice low but a little softer. “You still want that? Still okay?”

You nod fast, breath still stuttering. “Yes. Fuck—yes, Joel—please.”

That’s all he needed.

“Goooood fucking girl,” he growls, reaching between you to unbuckle his belt, letting it fall with a heavy clink. “Gonna fuck you just like this, wanna see everything.”

He slides in deep on the first thrust, his cock thick and perfect, stretching you open until your gasp turns into a desperate moan. His hand curls around your shoulders to ground you as he leans in close.

“Face to face,” he mutters, pulling out slowly and flipping you with careful strength. “Need to see you fall apart.”

He positions you the desk how he wants you, holding your gaze as he slides back inside, and fuck, his glasses—still on, slightly fogged, slightly crooked—make him look devastated and feral all at once.

Every thrust is unhurried and deep, one of his hands raising to cradle your jaw as he fucks into you steady, murmuring filth between kisses:

So tight for me… you were made for this. You feel me? All the way up there, baby? Gonna fill you so deep you’ll still be wet for me tomorrow.

You moan loudly, legs wrapping around his waist, head falling back as the pressure builds quickly again, hot ans dizzying.

“Joel—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he pants, fucking you harder. “Wanna feel you cum around me.”

And when you break again—moaning his name like a prayer—he follows, spilling deep inside you with a sharp growl, holding you tight against him as you both come undone.

He kisses you soft afterward. Forehead to yours. Gentle, steady, real. Like the beginning of something.

He murmurs with a grin, mouth brushing yours with every word, “Next time, I’m bringin’ you dessert.”

lmk if you’d like to be on the joel taglist (must b 18+)

nsfw joel miller taglist: @lesbianhotch, @ozarkthedog, @lowrisemiller, @iamthatonefangirl, @campingwiththecharmings, @stargazingcarol, @megamindsecretlair, @nerdieforpedro, @fakeplasticfeels, @for-a-longlongtime, @bubblybubbubs, @jxvipike, @veritable-trash

[mybworlds]

I Wish Things Were Different

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You, after a very long trip alone across the country, arrive in Jackson. Joel is a very lonely man and after Ellie broke up with him, he's even more alone and grumpy. Tommy and Maria decide that you're going to stay at Joel's house for a while, at least until more houses are built. Will your cohabitation be easy? Or will it be more complicated than everyone thinks?

Warnings: use of you, use of alcohol, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt, a short story about sexual assault that occurred in the past I won't go into details, another SA in the present days, PTSD, violence, blood, lots of sexually explicit content, use of petnames, dirty talk, fluff elements, mutual pining, the main characters spy on each other for a while, the image of the female character has the sole purpose of representing the character, but you can imagine her however you want, no physical description of the female character except for long hair often gathered in a ponytail or braid, she wears a bra and jeans (most of the time). If more, I'll add later.

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Masterlist

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

You wake up with a start. Breathing shallow. Eyes wide open. Ears pricked. There is not even a sound in the house. The birds do not sing.

Silence.

You swallow. The air seems to have been sucked out. It's been a month since then. But time seems to have stood still since then.

You sit in the middle of the bed. You gulp and take a deep breath before to get up and tie your hair in a ponytail.

You strain your ears, no noise. Nothing.

You look at yourself in the mirror and observe your reflection: the scar on your shoulder, where you were shot, is reddish. The beatings you received from that Abby are much less evident. You only have a mark left on your cheekbone, but it doesn't even hurt anymore.

You throw on an old sweater of Joel's and some faded jeans and head downstairs. The steps of the ladder creak under your weight.

The kitchen is in order, absolutely perfect as you left it last night. You forgot the window open, it's freezing now. You close it and look outside. The snow is still high and fresh.

Looking out you think back to that moment again: Joel on the floor bleeding, the operation, the transfusions and all the various attempts made.

You wish things were different, you wish you had gone with them that morning. You could have avoided what happened to Joel in the first place. You close your eyes and push back all the fear, the anguish and the sense of helplessness felt. Shy tears gather in the back of your eyes and you probably would have given in to crying if someone hadn't knocked on your door at that moment.

You squint your eyes, take a deep breath and vai ad aprire la porta, it's Ellie. You find her with her hands in the pockets of her jacket and her head down, “Hey,” you greet her.

She looks up and notices your sweater, “That’s Joel’s!” her tone of voice is a whisper and her gaze is lost for a moment in memories.

You swallow not knowing exactly what to say, “Yes, um…”

“It’s okay.” she takes a deep breath, “may I?”

“Sure,” you tell her, moving aside to allow her into the house.

You're silent for a while, "How's it going?" she asks you.

You bite your lip, "It's hard. There are days when I don't know if I can do it. I just wish things had turned out differently." you confide in her while fixing your hair in a ponytail.

Ellie nods, “No one could have imagined…” the words get stuck in her throat and you see her mind creating disturbing images that make her stare into nothingness for a few moments.

“Luckily that didn't happen,” you tell her and she blinks as if to erase the moment of a dying Joel and herself as a bystander to his murder “He's still here among us.”

You see her breathing slowly and looking at you as if terrified, “C’mere.” you tell her, wrapping her in a brief, silent hug. She returns the hug weakly with a shaky sigh, “Everything's going to be okay, I promise.”

She nods, "Can I go up?" she asks, loosening that weak grip.

You nod in return, she wants to go to Joel. With long strides she climbs the steps and disappears from your sight.

Since Joel came home, he's in a bad mood. More than before. He barks at you, he curses. You know he's not mad at you. I mean, when he thinks he's alone he cries in pain.

The wounds on his face are now almost completely healed, that's not the problem. The wound he also suffered on his leg, for now prevents him from walking normally. He gets tired quickly, he needs to lean on him continuously. He requires painkillers which often confuse him and sometimes he mistakes day for night and vice versa.

Since you came home, you and Ellie above all never leave him alone, you both take care of him and in doing so you and Ellie have started to get to know each other better. She's not abrupt or shy as you had imagined from her behavior, she's a girl who suffered a lot in life and had to fight for a long time to survive and get to where she is now, this makes you feel even closer to her given your past... The two of you do everything to make him feel your closeness. For the moment he only seems to appreciate what Ellie does for him.

You don't want to give up, things will get better. He will be fine, and you too. He won't be in a bad mood anymore and everything will be fine. Or at least acceptable.

Tommy and Maria also come to visit him every day, Tommy spends a few hours with him, Maria, after having checked on his condition, stays with you to chat for a while. Then there's Jesse who informs him of the various patrols and everything that's going on in and around Jackson and he also doesn't fail to tell you that you are missing from the patrols and gives you long hugs and every now and then he brings you books from his 'personal library'. Then there are his patrol companions who occasionally keep him company by bringing him bottles of whiskey and tequila taken during their last patrols or during some exchanges. And in the end, there are a couple of widows who come to visit him almost every day bringing him cakes or apples or preparing something succulent for him to eat as if he was the only one in that house.

Noah comes almost every day, for you only. And Dina too. But unlike Ellie, Tommy, Maria, his patrol friends and the two women, they always remain on the porch. Noah never fails to make you feel his closeness and in fact he does nothing but remind you that if you need anything you can ask him. Dina is looking pretty pale lately, she tells you she must have caught some bugs, or something. She brings you some clothes or trousers from time to time, telling you that they don't fit her anymore and you can't help but thank her and hug her tightly.

The rest of Jackson didn't come to see him, but they ask you about him when they see you around looking for what you or Joel might need asking you how things are going at home and you know that even if indirectly they want to know about him. Others, however, agree with Seth in considering Joel a dangerous man because of his troubled past.

Your favorite time is in the evening, it's so quiet and peaceful.

Joel eats in the armchair, you eat in the kitchen. When you approach him to ask him something, he looks at you askance, most of the time giving you a cold or a pain look. But you don't give up, you sit down next to him and read. You know it bothers him to be treated like a sick old man, to quote his words, but you ignore his protests and read. Sometimes out loud, and when you do, you see out of the corner of your eye his lost gaze and a hint of a smile that curves his lips upwards, but when you look at him that little closed-mouth smile is gone, other times you read to yourself if you see that he has fallen asleep. When he sleeps, you like to watch his face relax, the wrinkle between his eyes becomes so subtle that it almost disappears entirely.

This evening is one of those evenings when he falls asleep in the armchair and you, having turned off the flame in the fireplace and put the spark guard in place, place a blanket over him to keep him warm. You look at his face as if enchanted, you can't help but watch him breathe calmly and for a moment you would have even liked to put a hand in his hair and caress his head, but then you think that you would wake him up and he certainly wouldn't thank you, so you give up.

Joel doesn't understand why he survived.

He doesn't understand the meaning of all this.

He doesn't want to live being cared for like this by you or Ellie or Tommy.

You keep telling him he'll get better, but will that really be his case?

He feels so tired as if he were a hundred years old guy, he can't move one leg properly, he feels it weak and ready to give way at any moment.

Nothing seems to make sense.

He doesn't want any of his loved ones to be there to babysit him. Including you. Che lo voglia ammettere o meno, you are now one of the people he cares about. He appreciates what you do for him, and what you did, Tommy and Jesse told him that he's alive thanks to your providential arrival. At the same time he doesn't want to keep you tied to him and so the only way to keep you away is to push you away. He knows that it doesn't make sense, that it's contradictory, but he knows: the more he cares about others, the more they get hurt.

He sees you. He watches you. He follows you with his gaze mostly. When he's sure that you are not looking, he tenderly smiles. He learned to appreciate you.

He appreciates what you do for him, he really does. And at the same time, he can't help but feel a great tenderness for you. Despite everything you've been through, you're so sweet and kind. Maybe the world hadn't gone to shit if people like you still exist. But he also feels sad for you because he sees you wasting your time, your youth, your beauty by always hanging around him. So he pushes you out, with the excuse that he doesn't want to see you around or that he needs now this, now that.

At least twice he saw you in the company of Noah, a friend of Dina, and he joked about it saying something like poor guy to have you around, but the truth is that he thinks the boy is very lucky to have you at his side. The early days were certainly not easy with you, but now it's different. You are different. He's different.

Fortunately, the Lord gave him the time and opportunity to see you change, to see your little warm smile that starts those gloomy days of his, to be able to hear you humming to yourself from time to time a few lines from some songs from a while ago. You do it secretly from him, when you think he's asleep. In reality, he listens to you and it's so nice to hear you.

Luckily, the Lord has also allowed him to see Ellie again. She's no longer so resentful towards him, he's aware that things cannot be fixed in a day, but he still hopes that sooner or later she can smile at him sincerely or they can joke like they used to, talk like they used to. He would really love to.

Two more days have passed and your day begins with you waking Joel up with a cup of hot coffee, two pancakes, fruit and his medicine. He mutters something like I don't need a nurse, but you ignore him and continue. In fact, you tell him that every now and then he should take some steps to try to improve his situation. He absolutely doesn't want your help getting dressed, it takes him almost twenty minutes, but he finally does it by himself.

That morning, he wears shorts and a t-shirt with which he goes to the bathroom where you have to check the stitches, disinfect the wound on his thigh and bandage it if necessary.

“Fuck, it hurts!” he blurts out as you check his stitches.

“It's all right, they are ready to be removed,” you say with the sweetest smile he has ever seen in his whole fucking life. He didn't even believe it was possible that you had such a sweet smile.

He sighs, “Whatever,”

“You are just in a bad mood, but when you'll get out. . .” you say, your good mood or at least that's what you let on, maybe you just want to cheer him up it almost hurts him.

But he stops you immediately by throwing all his pessimism at you, “It won't change anything. You are wasting your time with me and I. . .” you stop him shaking your head “What?” he asks.

“Joel, I'm not wasting my time. You know, when I was all alone. . . Well, I wanted to be with someone else and at the same time I was afraid of people, but now,” you smile to him “you and I are together and it's okay, I am okay. You are the person I want to be with.” you say before you think the way you said and the words used.

Fuck.

Both of you gulp taking your eyes off each other. You focus on his scar, he watches your hands and your swift movements. He loves watching you care for an old wreck like him, your fingers are so delicate, so quick.

His thoughts are taking him towards territories that he believed to be completely abandoned by now and that belonged to a remote past. He takes a deep breath and tries to think of you the way he saw you at the beginning. But the more your eyes search his, the more your hands touch him, helping him to get up and lean on you and the less he remembers the way he saw you. You have become so precious to him, but not as a nurse. Absolutely not. From that point of view he can't wait to get fully recovered and get away from you. Maybe distancing himself from you will help him regain his current precarious balance.

“Finished!” you exclaim enthusiastically looking into his eyes.

He gives you a brief intense look before barking “Good, now help me up and if you have anything to do, go.” you lower your gaze you seem embarrassed “What?” he asks perplexed.

“Um... I need to use the bathroom,” you justify yourself, looking at him with that sweet expression that is slowly starting to crack the sheet of ice that Joel has lived in until now.

He blinks a couple of times confusedly, then stammers, “Yeah, um . . . Yeah, sure, of course, of course. Um . . . don't worry 'bout me, I'd like to try to walk a few steps by myself.”

You swallow, opening your lips, but then close them again, unsure of what to say.

“Okay, then I'll go. Just help me up, please.”

You smile at this word, “Okay, good.” you just say putting your hands under his armpits and helping him as you can, while he places his hands on your forearms.

You two are so close. His nose ends up in your hair and your face in his neck. For a brief moment you find yourself closing your eyes and breathing deeply in each other's scent. You both start to like it, a lot.

You help him leave the room before closing the door, you smile to yourself as you think back to Joel. It's the first time you think of him not with boredom, but with great tenderness. Behind that apparent armor, there is a shy, sweet man hardened by this world.

You shake your head smiling and then undress before getting into the shower. The warm water caresses your skin gently making you moan and smile a couple of times.

You relax for the first time since Joel came home.

Joel didn't mean to spy on you.

Really.

He just wanted to get his watch from the bathroom cabinet, but when he cracked the door and started to go in, the sight of you naked paralyzed him.

He has never done this before and doing so makes him feel uncomfortable and at the same time gives him a strange new feeling: he observes your totally relaxed body and notices several small scars along your sides, on one shoulder, on both shoulder blades and on the back there is a straight one and then the very visible scars at the height of your wrists. Who knows how you got them, if you cried or if you just gritted your teeth and then bandaged them up later! If Joel gets to know you a little, he'd say you gritted your teeth and continued on your path.

The water flows along your body, the soap deliciously lapping at your being creating foamy white streaks. The water must have gotten cold judging by the way you jumped toward the faucet and turned it on hot, the way your skin shivered and your nipples hardened.

Fuck.

It's not like him to stare at another person like that. He knows it's definitely inappropriate, but for some strange reason he can't move a muscle.

He hadn't stared at a woman like that since before outbreak day. Come to think of it, Joel has only stared so intensely at a woman's body when he was watching online porn. Thinking back, he's very ashamed of it. He remembers how terrible his love life was, no woman wanted his daughter either. In fact, as soon as they heard he had a daughter they ran away. He had sex meetings, but after a couple of times he felt guilty about seeing women just to fuck and so he decided to give up and dedicate himself only to his little girl.

Joel has never regretted his choice. He did it for the love of his daughter and if he could choose he would do it again. He raised his daughter with all the love and dedication possible although he wasn't the prototype of an ideal parent. In short, he had crazy work shifts so he was home very little, but when he was there, he dedicated himself entirely to his daughter and to his brother Tommy's mess.

He swallows as he sees you leaning against the wall vedendoti completamente nuda. Before he can think about it, he feels his cock twitch and that's when he shakes his head vigorously thinking he's becoming a maniac and slowly decides to walk away and go to his bedroom.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Spying on you?! The sweetest girl that could ever cross his path and he has dirty thoughts about you?!

It must be the drugs that are causing him to have these types of thoughts. He knows what you've been through and that's why he feels even worse. His mind is definitely playing tricks on him considering he's thinking about you, your lips, and what it would be like to kiss you!

It will never happen. Get that out of your fucking head, Miller.

Well, yes, you kissed, but you were both tipsy. You wouldn't have kissed him otherwise, nor would he have kissed you back if he had been sober.

Probably...

Joel thinks back to when he had you by his side before he was in danger of being killed. You were both decidedly tipsy, but he remembers your fingers playing along the edge of his shirt and the kisses you gave each other. He's not certain that you remember what happened and maybe it's better this way!

He reaches the bed and falls onto it with a groan. He breathes a sigh of relief. Suddenly your scent invades his nostrils and he thinks about what it would be like to have you next to him in his bed, he imagines you curled up on your side lying towards him, your hand next to his face, your steady breathing after. . .

Oh, fuck!

He feels all these sudden desires just because he saw you naked, it must be that. Certainly not your sweetness despite his being an asshole, not because you take care of him despite him constantly chasing you away, not because your arrival has saved his life on more than one occasion.

You dry yourself as best you can with a towel and then, after making sure that you don't drip water all over the floor, you leave the bathroom to go to your room. But first, as has become a habit since Joel returned from the hospital, you look into his bedroom.

You hear what sounds like a moan and so you tiptoe into his room and are about to ask if he needs painkillers, but what you see paralyzes you: he's lying on his back, wearing neither shorts nor boxers, and is jerking off.

His face is tense and bent backwards against the pillow, he moans, pressing his lips together tightly to muffle his sounds. You slowly back away until another moan stops you, making your lips and eyes wide open and your breath catch: your name.

He groans your name.

You step back until you hit the railing which creaks slightly under your weight. Then as quietly as possible you go to your room and close the door just as quietly. You don't want to get caught spying on him. You sit on the bed feeling weird and confused, you thought Joel couldn't stand you and instead he wants you.

But since when? Since the beginning? So, he pretended he couldn't stand you?

You lie down with only the towel on and suddenly all the tiredness of this last month hits you like a river in flood and you fall asleep immediately.

That piece of glass almost seems to burn in your hands, the tip is full of blood, the blood flows on your hands, drips on the ground, on your shoes, gushes from his throat. You throw it on the floor and Ralph is no longer there, but Joel in his place who screams for help, screams in pain.

You wake up suddenly drenched in sweat, shy tears fall from the sides of your eyes and soak the pillow. You get up and wipe the tears away before putting on a very very loose shirt and sweatpants, you're freezing. You open the door to your room and go downstairs. The last few steps creak as usual and you head to the kitchen. You look at the clock on the wall and decide that even though it's four in the morning, you're going to cook.

Even your mother used to cook when she had thoughts or nightmares, you smile when you remember about her, she used to tell you she was hungry or that she wanted to surprise you and dad when you found her in the kitchen in the middle of the night baking cakes or cookies, but then when you grew up she confessed that she wasn't exactly the happy mother she wanted to appear to be, she had her monsters too. Just like her, you bake cookies.

You can't help but think about what you saw, how impressed you were to have caught him in such an intimate moment and above all to have realised that you were the object of his desire. You've learned to care about him, to recognize certain expressions of his and you can't deny that sometimes your heart skips a beat when you're in his presence, but you don't know how to behave with him.

Your thoughts go to how perfect your life was and then it broke irreparably. You escaped until you reached the QZ in Boston and there another nightmare began, from there you escaped and started fighting for survival. When you thought you had found a hold, something to fight and live for, someone to love, the world you now live in has taken that away from you again.

You sigh sadly.

You're about to put the cookies in the oven when the steps of the ladder creak and a few moments later Joel appears. You have the pan in your hands and your lips parted, you'd like to have a normal reaction, but you can't help but think about what you saw, his expression tense, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed together in an attempt not to be heard. Your heart races and you find yourself swallowing hard.

You clear your throat, “What are you doing standing up?” you ask him, turning your back on him and putting the cookies in the oven.

“I coulda ask you the same,” he barks, sitting down with a grimace on a stool.

“Um, couldn't sleep.” You reply, wiping your hands and washing them under the cold running water in an attempt to regain control over your mind.

“Why? Bad dreams?” he asks you. You can't look him in the face, you feel so embarrassed.

You scratch the back of your neck and take a deep breath, you have to answer something, “Yes. And no.” You reply, drying your hands and looking up at his tired face.

He looks at you questioningly with his big brown eyes. “It's not a nightmare, actually. It's just that I was thinking about that girl, the big one who was about to...” the words die in your throat “She fought with such fury and violence. I had to fight to survive too, but that wasn't survival, it was a blind fury.” he sighs “I don't even know what to say about what I experienced.” You admit and it's partly true. That girl's anger really affected you, even if you don't know why.

“I wish you hadn't found yourself in this kind of situation,” he whispers, resting his face in the palm of his hand. He looks at you and notices how you turn your back on him more than usual, how you avoid his gaze, notices the baggy shirt you wear to hide the fact that you're not wearing a bra.

“And instead, I had to,” you reply with firmness in your voice, turning towards him, “I would never have forgiven myself. The thought that you could have...” you close your eyes for a moment “It would have haunted me.” You can't help but breathe deeply through your nostrils and stare at an indefinite point in front of you “I'm glad you're okay,” you add, your voice shaking just a little.

His eyes shine even though his face tries not to betray emotion more than necessary, you find yourself swallowing and then reluctantly smiling at him shyly.

“You're a really good girl,” he tells you with a sigh. He lowers his gaze and his face, staring at an unspecified point on the surface he's leaning on, “Y'know, for years I was convinced that the world sucked and that there was nothing or no one to protect or care for except myself.”

Silence falls between you for a few moments.

“The world took the only person who mattered away from me,” he tells you in a whisper, you don't know what to say. When you think he's completely lost in his thoughts, he continues “that same world then gave me another chance to try to be serene and be grateful for still being alive, but still it wasn't enough. Not for me.” he falls silent again, his eyes become sad and thoughtful, his expression seems hurt “Then, I met yet another person who day after day gave me a reason not to give up.” He falls silent again and this time looks towards the window before saying again “I should have taken her to the hospital and left her there. She was immune,” you frown in puzzlement “there seemed to be a possibility of creating a vaccine,” he continues, while you think about the great foolishness and the possibility of creating cures for everything surrounding Jackson “I had the same doubtful expression as you when they told me about her condition,” he continues turning his head towards you and looking you straight in the eyes “She really was. Or rather, she is. And she and I arrived at that hospital and. . . they would have killed her, but I stopped 'em.” he continues, giving you an eloquent look and you understand what Maria told you about the despicable things that Joel did, but on the other hand - from the way he talks - you understand why he did it. This person is important to him. You wonder who it could be. . .

For a while he doesn't speak anymore and you don't comment on what he said, the only noise is the oven fan. You understand everything he has experienced and how hard his life was, how that violent world had changed him. He lost many of the people he loved and perhaps this also hardened his heart.

“I didn't tell her what I did. I lied to her, saying that everything was lost and no one was looking for a cure anymore. She only pretended to believe me and, years later, she actually demanded the truth and I could no longer deny it.” He lowers his eyes with an almost guilty air. “She didn't want to talk to me or share anything with me anymore and I respected her wishes even though it broke my heart.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you feel sorry for him, but then an image pops into your mind: Joel at his window, staring out at what you know to be Ellie's house.

“Ellie? Is she..?” he nods, while you stare at him in amazement “But how.. I mean, I thought no one was. Um.. wow. Who knows?” you ask him curiously.

“Just me, Tommy and I think Maria and now you.” he replies, looking back at your face “No one else must know. Or they'll kill her.” he clarifies staring you straight in the eye.

“Why me? Why did you tell me? I mean. . . you could choose anyone, why me?” you ask confused “I could tell to Jesse or Dina or Fraser or anyone, why me?”

“Because I trust you and I believe in you,” he replies while you gulp watching his dark eyes light up with a strange spark that confuses you. You feel confused. Especially after what you saw before upstairs, hearing this confession of his is a lot to take in “I know you can,” he says rising from the stool with a hiss.

You nod, struggling to look away from his face, you imagine he wants to go upstairs to sleep and you want to help him up the stairs at least. Luckily the cookies are cooked and you can remove them from the oven and let them cool.

You look at his tired face and his eyes marked by evident dark circles, you feel sorry and a deep tenderness for him, “For what it's worth, thanks. For trusting me.” you tell him with a half smile. “Do you want a hand up the stairs?”

He looks you straight in the eye, “No.” he takes a deep breath, “See ya in few hours.”

You nod, “Okay.”

[tinytownn]

road rage – iv

joel miller x f!reader

word count: 4.7k

summary: on a drive home after a late night shift, a tailgating truck hits you, sending you off the road. the driver—his looks catching you by surprise—offers you a ride home.

content: [18+], bon appetit joel!!, age gap, lotsss of skipping around this chapter, joel being insecure and old, aching joints lol, soft joelll, no use of y/n

a/n: [UNEDITED] my first smut ever??? terrfied to post this, but let me know what you guys think?? either way thank you guys so much for all the support on this mini series, i can't believe it's almost coming to an end!! i got back into writing after years and it's been such a motivator to have you guys interacting and enjoying my work. as always messages are open and send any requests my way!!

pt. i pt. ii pt. iii

—

FRIDAY - 9AM - TWO DAYS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

Although his promise last night seemed sweet–his eyes locked with yours, still glossy from crying–he arrived the next morning agitated. He knocked on your door, but when you opened it he stood hunched over, hair tousled, and under-eyes puffier and darker than usual. 

“Good morning!” You cheerfully waved to him, wrapping an arm around his bicep.

He only gave a tight lipped hum in response.

You glanced up at him, worry beginning to creep in. Last night flashed through your mind—Sarah’s icy glare, the way Joel trembled in your arms, the pressure in his jaw as he held back words. The stress of his week had clearly taken its toll on him.  

The trip had been short. You visited a few local used car dealerships, but nothing caught your eye. Joel followed behind you like a shadow–his boots dragged against the pavement, each step weighted with tension. He barely spoke, instead cracking his knuckles, chewing his cheek raw, running agitated fingers through his hair. A fidgeting mess.

You tried not to take it personally.

“Joel,” you asked gently, hoping to pull him out of his silence, “what kind of car should I get?”

He shrugged, eyes fixed on some invisible point in the distance. “One that’s not so destructible,” he muttered flatly.

You frowned. “What about this one?” you said, amplifying your excitement as you pointed to a small silver Corolla. “Look at this thing– it’s so cute! Plus it’s a reliable car, it’ll last me until I’m as old as you!”

His gaze barely flicked up to the car. “Nice. I like it,” he said, tone devoid of any emotion.

You bit your tongue. There was clearly something on his mind. Probably Sarah. You wondered if he’d even spoken to her at all.

But you didn’t mention it.

Joel had always been complicated when it came to confrontation. With people like Sarah, Tommy…you. His hardened exterior didn’t quite hold when it came to those he cared about. Beneath the biting sarcasm and scowls, he was softer. More afraid. Afraid of saying the wrong thing. Afraid of losing someone again.

He knew what people said about him—that he was intimidating, gruff, unapproachable. At work, it didn’t matter. But when it came to you, it did.

He remembered the night of the accident vividly—how you stormed up to his truck, wild-eyed and furious, and yet still visibly shaking. You didn’t even notice, but he did. The panic just under your skin. The car door had slammed against the guardrail, and he remembered how carefully you moved, bracing yourself, your expression dancing between fear and fury.

That memory followed him as you waltzed from dealership to dealership. Sometimes your hand would occasionally graze his, bringing him out of some daydream and he would continue to follow behind you. 

The ride home was silent. The hum of the engine and the shuffling of your feet on the mat filled the silence.. 

“I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, I can walk myself to the door.” You insisted when he pulled into your driveway. 

Joel looked at you then—really looked. For the first time all day, his eyes focused on yours.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m lettin’ you walk yourself to the door, sweetheart,” he replied, voice laced with faint humor. You heard the familiar click of the locks. “And don’t even think about touchin' that door!”

You laughed, grateful for even a flicker of lightness. You waited as he came around to open the door for you, hand extended just like always. You took it, warm and familiar, unaware of how badly you’d come to miss that feeling.

–

TUESDAY - 1PM - SIX DAYS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

You sat hunched over your desk, chewing the cap of your pen–unfocused and anxious. Dull office chatter and copier whirring had been the only thing you’d heard for hours. You hadn’t spoken to anyone but your Uber driver and the phone call with your boss the night previous. You made it a point to avoid everyone in the office, burying yourself under all the paperwork you had to catch up on. 

It had now been four days since you had seen Joel. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he’d said that night, giving you a chaste kiss, lips tight. His wave was small, almost hesitant.

You leaned in the doorway, giving him a longing grin. “See you soon, Joel.” 

He didn’t answer. Only looked back with tired, unreadable eyes.

You gave him space, assuming he’d text you if he wanted. Maybe he still had to talk to Sarah. Maybe work was too much. Either way, you didn’t want to push him.

By Saturday, after a full day of radio silence, your chest ached from the quiet. You stared at your phone for hours before finally sending a message:

Thinking about you :) Call me?

He didn’t answer. You didn’t press it.

The following days were slow. Your car was still wrecked, the insurance company useless, and Joel—a ghost. You wandered around your home, the silence stretching like fog.

Then, as the night grew dark, your phone buzzed. 

You need a ride to work tomorrow?

You frowned at the cold, transactional message. Staring down at his text, you knew you still needed a ride. And–maybe more than that–you just wanted to see Joel again.

Guilt panged your chest as you typed out your message.

If it wouldn’t be a bother. Thank you so much!!

He quickly read your message, saying nothing in response.

Hours passed. You tried to distract yourself with a documentary, half-watching when your phone rang.

Joel.

“Hello?” You said, your tone a little more nervous than you meant to give off.

You could hear shuffling through the receiver, what sounded like Sarah’s voice muffled in the background, and the slamming of a door. A ringing static filled the air and the chirping of crickets filled your ears.

“Sorry, darlin’” His voice came in low, worn thin. “Somethin’ came up at work. They want me in tomorrow morning.” 

“That’s okay,” you said quickly, each word lifting a weight from his heavy shoulders. “You’ve already done so much for me. I can figure it out.”

There was a beat of silence–Joel was thinking.

“You sure, sweetheart? I can ask Tommy to come out and take ya.” He sounded unsure, the plan probably just had been formulated in his mind.

You shook your head even though he couldn’t see. “It’s okay, Joel. I promise. I’ll find a way there.”

Your laugh, light and familiar, drifted through the phone. Joel exhaled, a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“You’re too damn good to me,” he muttered. “I’ll make it-”

The screen door smacked open–another voice chimed in.

“Dad? Uncle Tommy and Anthony are here. Is everything okay?”

Sarah. She was breathless, panting each word by the time she got to Joel.

There was a shuffle, the phone rattling as Joel likely dropped it to his side. You could hear muffled voices, then the door shut again.

“I’ll make it up to you another time, darlin’,” his words were rushed. “I’ve gotta go for now. I’m sorry.”

A group of deep voices and the creaking of floorboards told you he was back inside now. You could pick out Tommy’s similar southern drawl out of the crowd, raised and indignant.

“It’s bullshit I’m tellin’ ya! Thinkin’ they can just just push us around like that!”

You cleared your throat, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “It’s alright– but is everything okay?”

Joel sighed, the firmness returning to his voice. “Yes, it’s just– a lot is goin’ on right now, sweetheart. I’ll fill you in later, but I have to go. Right now.”

His tone shocked you. It wasn’t mean–just demanding and firm.

“Yeah– okay, sorry. I hope it all works out…whatever it is.” You said awkwardly, trying to ease his stress.

“Thanks, darlin’. I’ll talk to you later.”

The line clicked.

–

SUNDAY - 8PM - FOUR DAYS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

Joel threw his phone onto the couch with a thud, dragging a hand through his peppered beard. The three standing in his living room stared at him expectantly as if he had called them there. 

Tommy was the first to speak, his tone sharp, patience worn thin. “Joel, it’s bullshit what they suspended you for.” His jaw was tight, hands gesturing wildly. “That man is a fucking pain in my ass and I don’t care if you cussed him out or not–he deserved it.”

Joel scoffed, crossing his arms.

“A real ray of sunshine, ain’t he?” He muttered, sarcasm sharp. He knew Tommy had finally tasted the man’s entitled attitude while covering the site. Felt good to be validated, but it didn’t solve a thing.

Anthony stepped between the brothers, voice more measured. “Corporate isn’t going to listen if we’re angry. They’re already talking about moving you to the office–permanently.”

Sarah was curled on the couch, eyes wide as she listened to the men speak. “Are you gonna lose your job, Dad?” 

“No, Sarah. Go upstairs.” Joel barked.

Usually she would argue, shoot back with some witty comment, but she knew better than to bite back at that tone. Light, tiptoed steps brought her to the top of the stairs where she kept out of sight–listening.

Joel turned back to the men, his eyes sharp. “Now why the hell would they do that? I’ve been runnin’ sites for twenty years now and they wanna stick me in the damn shop?”

Anthony didn’t flinch. “They’re sayin’ you’re a liability, Joel. Too many people walked off your jobs. Now they think you’re chasin’ clients away too.”

Tommy was quick to turn to his boss, betrayal stamped on his face. “You’re backin’ them now? That ain’t what you said on the ride over here! Joel said he didn’t say anything, so he didn’t!”

“I ain’t ever yell at someone who didn’t deserve it,” his words were slow, careful as he made unwavering eye contact with Anthony. “And as much as that man deserved it, I didn’t say nothin’. Honest.”

A thick silence settled between them, coating the walls.

– 

TUESDAY - 3PM - SIX DAYS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

It was nearing the end of your shift and the weight of your worries weighed almost as much as the stack of unfinished work on your desk. It was looking to be the beginning of another lonely night.

Until–

Your phone brightly buzzed atop your desk, hands wasting no time to pick up the call.

“Hey, Joel.” Your voice was hushed, trying not to attract attention to your cubicle.

The lowered radio and steady engine humming filtered through the static. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice brought you back to when you laid in his arms–soft and comforting. It sent shivers up your spine. “What time do you get out of work?”

You knitted your brows in confusion. “In fifteen. Why?”

“I’ll be there. Don’t go anywhere.”

Click

Before you could ask any questions he had already hung up the line, leaving you in a wave of confusion. You sat back, riding out the rest of your shift until your coworkers began to get up in groups–signaling it was time to go home.

You stepped outside into the cooling dusk. Joel’s rusty truck was parked to your left under a flickering streetlight. He leaned on the passenger door, one hand behind his back, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

As you approached, he revealed a bouquet of white lilies.

Your hands flew to your face. “What’s all this?”

He reached towards you, arm snaking around your waist as he pecked your lips. “Told you I’d make it up to ya, didn’t I?”

You giggled, remembering the promise the man had made you. His breath tickled your neck as he leaned across you, pulling open the passenger door. You held the flowers close to your chest, cherishing them as you climbed into the seat.

“These are beautiful. Thank you.” You beamed.

As he drove, his tension seemed to melt. The familiar crinkle by his eyes returned.

“Didn’t know your favourite, but…these reminded me of you.” His voice was almost shy.

There was a moment of silence before he quietly added, “Thanks for bein’ patient.”

You looked to him, eyes earnest. “It really wasn't a big deal. I get it– work, family, it’s a lot.

Joel nodded, then chuckled under his breath. “Still…I’m lucky I’ve got someone as kind as you.”

You bit your lip, unsure to cross a boundary. “How did your talk with Sarah go?”

Unexpectedly, his face softened and his fingers relaxed on the wheel.

“I don’t know what I did to have a daughter as great as her.” His eyes were beaming with admiration. “She came up to me and talked about it– Sunday before I called you. Told me she wasn’t mad…just surprised. She’s just so mature, still teaching me things at my grown age.”

“She seems like it. With a dad like you I don’t doubt she’s got a good head on her shoulders.” You reached for the hand in his lap. “I’m glad things settled between you two. I was scared she wouldn’t like me.”

His hand squeezed yours. “Ain’t nothin’ not to like.”

You blushed, smiling down at the lilies in your lap. “You’re pretty damn good to me too, y’know.”

His thumb brushed your knuckles. “I’m tryin’, sweetheart. Just…tryin’ to get it right this time.”

A new, lingering sensation settled between the two of you as Joel’s truck rumbled into its usual spot in your driveway. The low purr of the engine faded as he threw it in park and the cab went silent except for his voice.

Joel talked absentmindedly  about the parts of his week you’d missed—his late-night talks with Sarah, how Tommy and Anthony were helping him fix the mess at work, and threaded through it all, how much he’d missed you. His tone turned softer when he said it. “Missed you so damn much, darlin’...”

You listened silently, eyes trained on the curve of his lips as he spoke. God, you missed him too–more than you wanted to admit. There was something about being near him again that made your chest ache and flutter all at once.

The warmth from his smile radiated through your whole body. That smile that started at hte corners of his mouth and always reached his eyes. His hard gaze, always serious, sofetned the moment he looked at you, His eyes never stopped searching, studying every detail of your face to tell him everything it could about you. 

And then there were his arms. Always flexing through his sleeves when he moved, the fabric tight around his biceps, the cling of his shirts to his chest drawing you eyes far too long for subtlety. You bit your lip, remembering how he looked after work–sweat curling his hair to his forehead, breath ragged, his whole body groaning with fatigue.

You were staring. He noticed.

“Somethin’ caught your eye?” Joel smirked, arm lazily draped over the wheel.

Cheeks flushed, you looked down to your lap. “You…” you murmured, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

A low, amused click of his tongue followed. “What was that, darlin’?” he asked, voice rougher now, more suggestive.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. There was something new in his voice—heat, intrigue, control. It made your breath catch.

His hand reached across the console, slow and deliberate, resting gently on your thigh. Fingers traced small, teasing circles, inching higher with each pass. He watched you closely, his eyes flicking between your expression and his own movements.

“C’mon now,” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “I know those pretty lips got somethin’ to say.”

Instinctively, your lips reached to wrap around his thumb, pressing a small kiss to the tip. Your eyes stayed locked with his.

“You…” you whispered. “I was looking at you…”

He hummed, satisfied with your answer. “You like what you see?”

You swallowed hard, barely able to nod. His gaze pinned you in place, pupils dark and wide, a slow-burning desire etched into every feature.

Joel’s hand cupped your cheek, warm and steady, fingertips pressing lightly to your skin as he leaned in closer. “You’re shakin’,” he noted with a smirk.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice trembling.

His hand didn’t leave your thigh even after he pulled the keys from the ignition. Without a word, he opened his door and circled the truck, opening yours like he always did. A small gesture, one you’d grown to love.

Inside the house, the cool air from the ceiling fan washed over you, easing the heat in your cheeks–but only for a moment. Joel’s hand was placed firmly on your back, making his way lower the further you walked in. 

You tried to hide the way you trembled, but he noticed anyway.

“You nervous, sweetheart?” he teased, his voice low in your ear as he leaned close.

You shook your head quickly. “No…”

Joel chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re a terrible liar.”

His touch, soft and sure, made the same teasing trail as before–but slower now. More purposeful. He started with a taunting trail from your thigh that danced up your waist, grazing the curve of your waist, before stopping at your jaw. He tilted your face to his. 

“Told you I was gonna make it up to ya, didn’t I?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear.

He repeated himself–slower, sensually–as his tongue traces along the shell of your ear. A soft whimper escaped you, a blurring frenzy of pleasure clouded your mind,

You squeezed your thighs together, core alight with anticipation. “Joel…”

“You gonna show me to that bed of yours, pretty girl?” His breath was hot, tingling against the back of your neck as he pressed wet, deliberate kisses. “Or you want me to just bend you over right here?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you took his hand and led him down the hall, your grip tight, your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

Once inside your room, you sank down to the edge of the bed, legs trembling. Joel shut the door quietly behind him and approached, standing between your parted thighs. His fingers cradled your face again, eyes locked onto yours.

“This okay, darlin’?” He asked gently.

You nodded, lip between your teeth. “Yes…please.”

That was all he needed–your eyes dark and hungry, silently pleading for your touch. Joel surged forward, his lips crashing onto yours, hot and desperate. His tongue coaxed your lips open, demanding entry as if he wasn’t close enough. Fingertips teasingly traced shapes on your skin and  worked their way to the hem of your shirt, tauntingly tugging at the stitches.

A breathless gasp escaped you as he finally pulled back, his chest heaving. His eyes, blown wide with lust, locked onto your face—lips red and swollen from his kiss, chest rising and falling fast. You leaned into the warmth of his lingering touch.

“Jesus,” he rasped. “So beautiful.”

Hungry for more, Joel dipped down to your neck, planting sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His teeth grazed your shoulder before biting down, just hard enough to leave a mark and you whimpered, wriggling beneath him.

The shocks of pain pulsed through your body and the tender, loving kisses he placed on each bite left each shock with a surge of pleasure. His hands twisted in your shirt, pulling it up over your head with a smooth, practiced motion. The sudden chill in the air hardened your nipples, and a low, guttural groan left Joel’s lips as he took in the sight.

“Fuck…” His eyes darkened. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

He cupped your breasts gently, the heat from his palms radiating through you. As you tilted your head back, his gaze flicked upward, catching yours through your lashes and he couldn’t hold himself back.

Without a word, he leaned down and took one taut nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud while his other hand pinched and rolled the other. Your back arched, a desperate cry leaving your throat as your hand gripped the sheet, knuckles paling.

“Shit- Joel!” you moaned, his name slipping out like a prayer.

He hummed at the sound, lips still wrapped around your skin. “Love hearin’ you like this for me,” he muttered against your chest. “So goddamn sweet.”

Your body jolted when he pulled away, a needy whine slipping from your lips at the loss of contact. You looked up at him through fluttering lashes–his spit still glistening on your skin, connecting him to your chest.

He dropped to his knees with a gunt, both the floorboards and his joints popping at the contact.

“Lay back for me.” His voice low, commanding.

You nodded, grabbing a pillow to tuck under your head as you settled back onto the mattress. Hooking his hands under your knees, Joel pulled you to the edge of the bed.

Fingertips trailed up to the waistband of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them as you lifted your hips to assist him ease them off your hips.

His breath hitched. “Fuck me…”

A low groan left his lips at the sight of a blooming pool of darkness through the fabric of your underwear.

“All this for me?” His lips curled into a smug grin.

“Joel-” you whined, hips shifting.

He traced a lazy finger over the dampened fabric and you hissed at the contact, bucking your hips upward.

“Easy,” he chuckled, placing rough kisses to the inside of your thighs. “Be patient, sweetheart. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“S’not fair,” you whimpered, voice small, breathless.

A firm hand gripped your hips, holding you in place while you wriggled upwards, craving any sort of contact. “No rush. Wanna savor this.”

A growl rumbled from his chest as he gripped your thighs, tugging your core to the edge of the bed so your heat hovered just inches from his lips. Each touch was tauntingly slow, his tongue tracing a path up your thigh to the hem of your undergarments, his breath fanning your core. 

“Fine,” he snarled. “I’ll give you what you want.”

In one solid movement your underwear was tugged to the side, the slick coating the fabric sticking to your skin. Joel took in a sharp breath, admiring the sight before him–your folds glistened with arousal that stained the sheets.

“Fuck…Look at you.”

“Please—Joel, I need—just…your tongue, fingers, anything—please.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, raw and begging.

He flicked his gaze up to you, chest rising with each breath. “Don’t gotta ask me twice, darlin’.”

His tongue licked a firm strip through your folds before diving into your entrance, licking up everything you had to give. You cried out, hands flying to his head, tangling in his hair.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned against your skin. “Tastes so good f’me. So pretty too.”

He started with long, slow licks across your entrance, circling his way to your clit. While his tongue danced on your bundle of nerves, unworking you just the way you like, you entangled your fingers further into his peppered hair. You tugged him closer, trying to rut your hips up despite his pressing force.

Still pressing down on your hip, he removed a hand to carefully slip a finger into your entrance, you gasped in shock. He diligently explored your walls, and they pulsed as he slipped a second digit into your core. Looking up at you through his lashes, he continued lapping at your clit like a starved man and his fingers curled inside you in ways that made you scream.

You could barely see him through your watery eyes, the pleasure that rang through your body brought tears that fell down your face. You felt his pace quicken and the pulsing in your core grew more persistent as Joel brought you to the edge.

Pleasure clouded your mind, leaving your words a muddled mess. “Joel- mmm don’t stop…feels so good, please.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he purred, lips shiny, gaze hungry. “I feel her gettin’ tighter. Let it go for me.”

His sweet words combined with the added pressure of his tongue returning to your clit was enough to undo the knot in your stomach. Joel’s pressure released slightly as your legs shook underneath him and your walls gripped his fingers as you came undone with a broken sob

But Joel didn’t stop.

While garbled moans and pleas left your lips Joel was still between your legs. He was relentless against your aching, sensitive bud, and continued to lap at your juices long after you had come.

“J-Joel, s’too much,” you begged, fingers dug into his scalp. “Please, I can’t-”

A vibration shot through your core as Joel pulled away with a hum, licking his lips clean. He slowly opened his eyes, looking up to you in a lidded gaze, and he retracted his fingers from you, popping them into his mouth, moaning at the sweet taste.

“Got me fuckin’ addicted,” he groaned, voice low. “Tastes too good.”

You lay on the bed, body trembling, tears drying on your cheeks. He said something—soft, low—but you couldn’t make it out over the pounding in your ears. 

Then came his touch again, careful and delicate.

A warm cloth glided between your thighs, his hands uncharacteristically gentle. He worked in silence, wiping away the slick that coated your legs. The room was quiet except for the sound of your shaky breaths and the occasional, quiet sniffle you tried to hide.

Joel didn’t say a word as he finished, tossing the cloth aside and reaching for the edge of the blanket to pull over your legs. His movements were slow. Thoughtful. But his eyes didn’t meet yours.

When he finally climbed onto the bed beside you, you felt the shift in his energy. Not lust. Not dominance. Something else entirely—hesitance.

He laid back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his hand resting a safe distance away on the mattress, barely touching you.

It was only when he gently brushed a strand of damp hair from your face and pressed a feather-light kiss to your nose that you saw it—the uncertainty flickering behind his eyes.

“How you feelin’?” he asked, voice thick and low. “Was that… okay?”

You turned towards him, confused at the vulnerability in his tone. “Joel…?”

Despite how confident he'd sounded in the heat of the moment—how sure his hands and mouth had been—he suddenly looked regretful and scared.

He swallowed hard, voice quiet. “It’s just…been a while y’know. Since I’ve done that. Since I’ve wanted to do that.”

You blinked slowly, listening.

“I worry that…” he trailed off, fingers twitching on the sheet between you. “That I don’t got a right to touch you like that. You’re…younger. You look at me like I’m worthy and…I just-” He broke off with a shaky breath, running a hand down his face. “I dunno. Maybe I messed things up.”

Your heart twisted at his confession. You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his before he could pull away.

“You didn’t mess anything up,” you whispered, thumb brushing the back of his hand. “Not even close.”

He finally looked at you. Really looked. 

“I meant everything I said,” you told him, curling closer into his side. “That was perfect. You were perfect.”

Joel’s lips parted like he wanted to argue, but nothing came out. Instead, his arm came around you slowly, unsure at first, until you nestled fully into his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel,” you murmured against his skin.

You felt the deep breath he took—felt it in the way his chest rose beneath your cheek. He kissed the top of your head and let out a barely audible, “Alright,” like he was still trying to believe it.

But his grip around you tightened, and for the first time since he'd left your body shaking, you felt him start to relax.

—

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @anoverwhelmingdin @auteurdelabre @tweakersqueaker @icanbringyouinhot @forpunishers @doeeyestoji @legoemma @woodxtock @jaxmom66 @iheartoldermem @iamawkwardandshy @thejoywillburnoutthepain  (message me to be added or removed)

[fantasyqueen502]

Popping the question...

Rated: PG (Angst and misunderstanding.)

Summary: Joel wants to ask Y/N something, Y/N gets the wrong idea.

“I wanna talk---”

“Oh, Morning Y/N.” Tommy waves coming to a stop once he hits the wall of tension.

Joel’s standing figure concealing Y/N entirely. Their expressions on the cusp of what looked to be an uncomfortable conversation.

“Tommy.” Joel grumbles.

“M-Morning Tommy.” She nods, gifting a small and quick smile peeking around the rough edge of his brother's frame.

“We need to get going for patrol.”

“I know.” Joel cuts harshly, “Give me a moment with Y/N and we can---”

“I don't mind!” Y/N bursted, her eyes telling she didn't mean to be so loud. “Be safe. Stay warm. I need to ask Maria for---” her eyes flit about searching for the right answer. “Sugar.” she nods “I need to um---ask her about some sugar.” Gathering her coat, keys before closing the door on her way out.

“What was that ab---”

“Why?” Joel breathes nostrils flared.

Tommy furrows his brows moth agape from confusion. Watching his brother pantomime with the air around him. Strangling an imaginary being before sputtering out a long exasperated exhale. Covering his face with his hands.

“You ruined it!” He sighs.

“Ruined what?”

“I…” the words escaped him. Teeth clamped down around his tongue. “...why am I such shit at this? Why am I shit at this.” He growls and stands clenching his fists by his sides.

“Joel, let's start from the beginning.”

Digging into his pocket silver ring. “I'm gonna ask Y/N to----”

“---break up with me.” Y/N mumbles with her thumb in her mouth. Chewing her fingernails to the nub.

“Who? Joel?” Maria snorts. “What makes you say that?” she asks returning to the table with two steaming mugs of tea.

“He's been so…I don't know…” she shrugs palming them warm mug with her hands. Lavender and sweet honey calming her. “I've made peace that I will never be to first person he chooses to speak with when shit hits the fan.”

“He does speak with you. No matter how small it's more than anything he's willing to share with his own brother.”

“Since Ellie moved out…empty nest syndrome isn't the right word, but we are forced to deal us, our relationship, the future. Then out of the blue he makes me breakfast.”

Maria's eyes go wide.

“I know! My reaction.” She nods. “It felt genuine, but I couldn't help, but feel like he was trying to butter me up so it will hurt less.” she blinks out a tears.

Maria sighs looking up at something behind Y/N.

“I would never.” Joel's hoarse voice speaks.

Turning in her seat to see the front door swinging opening with Tommy wheezing in an attempt to catch his breath leaning against the door frame.

“You're fast when you wanna be.” He comments resting on his knees.

“Joel?" Y/N calls meekly.

“Oh, darling.” His voice croaks, stepping over to kneel before her as she draws her head into his shoulder. Rubbing her back. Maria quickly standing taking Tommy by the arm to give the two some privacy.

Leaning back Joel holds her face begging her eyes to look his way. His heart skips a beat when she does. She could always see him. See him at his core it put him on edge at first, but after getting to know her he grew to crave that look.

“I know.” She sniffles. “You don't need to let me down easy---

“Y/N.”

“You don't have to worry about me---”�� she hiccups sobs. “--I’ll bunk at the Inn---”

“I'm not breaking up with you?”

“You're not?” She asks in the cutest voices he has ever heard.

“No.” He assures shaking his head. “I'm sorry for being off and weird, I didn't think you would notice. I don't blame you for assuming. Dealing with me all these years, the “old unfeeling son of a bitch””

“You're not old.” She mumbles.

“Cause you're a saint.” he praises. “An angel among man and I am not dumb enough---at least I hope not--- to not tell you how much you mean to me.”

he turns reaching into his back pocket.

“F/N, L/N” he's trembling holding a silver wedding band out to her.

Her eyes go wide looking from the ring and to Joel.

“Is that---” she breaths.

He nods.

“Are you asking?”

He nods.

She exclaims covering her mouth tears streaming from from her eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

She sniffles sliding from her seat to kneel at Joel's level.

“Yes, yes I'll marry you.” A toothy grin never leaving her lips. Holding his face embracing him in a kiss. Sliding the ring onto her finger.

“I tried looking for something you'd like, you deserve something---”

“It's beautiful.” She cuts off admiring the shine in the light.

Sighing a breath of relief falling into her, connecting her lips in a long passionate kiss.

[bumpkinspice0]

Recovery Time Chapter 10: Storm Settling

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors do not interact!!!!!!)

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The storm rages on outside, but you an Joel have each other to find comfort in

Warnings: fluff, SMUT, oral (fem receiving), counter sex? praise kink? little body worship, so much naval gazing AN: Happy season 2 premier day (Hold me I'm so scared) Lets just enjoy some domestic fluff and smut Joel Miller, okay

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 10: Storm Settling

You never made it to the bed, both choosing to lounge in the warmth of the wood stove on the couch. Long comfortable silences and roaming hands. You’re not sure if you’re both just enjoying the bliss or too scared to say anything. 

It’s nightfall now and a few lanterns lit about the small space. Joel sits, still shirtless, on the floor leaning against your legs on the couch and lovingly plucking away on Art’s guitar.  A book was open on your lap, but truth be told, you’d barely read a page— Joel’s distracting that way. He hums low with a few melodies, only one you recognized from the night you spied on him. You’d wished he felt comfortable enough to sing in front of you. You wished for a lot of things.

In a way, the silence was stifling. You want to know what’s next. He’s stuck here longer now, but would he still leave? The romantic part of you hopes not, but the logical part of you knows he owes no loyalty to you just because you’ve slept together now. Still, the things he said, the new feelings shared. Maybe it was something.

Regardless, you take the coward's way and don’t mention it.

“You hungry?” you ask, gently running a hand over his shoulder. He pauses his playing, head leaning over to place a gentle kiss on your hand resting on his shoulder.

“I could eat.”

You stand off of the couch, wrapping a flannel blanket around you. You still hadn’t bothered to put any clothes back on.

Maybe you could just keep seducing him into staying?

Shaking the ridiculous thought from your head, you pull down a jar of bone broth and some jerky from the cupboard. You place the open jar on top of the hot stove to let it heat through a little. Something warm in this weather sounded comforting. 

The storm had only let up a little, the extreme winds dying down but snow pelting down just as heavy as before. A glance outside and you see almost all the vegetation of the messy forest ground was blanketed over by crisp white.

“How’s it look out there?” Joel asks.

“Like…winter.”

“Hmmm, descriptive,” he chuckles before focusing back on his guitar.

With some physical distance between the two of you, you take the chance to finally just admire him. He was beautiful, ruggedly handsome the way that only comes with age. But there was something about him here… like this. You’d seen Joel relax slowly over the months he’d been here, but now there was just something else. Joy? Contentment?

Most people call it afterglow, dumby.

You smile to yourself, unable to help the blush creeping into your cheeks. Is he thinking the same things you are, you wonder. Is he trying to hide his giddiness too? Again, a part of you hopes so and the other part of you doubts it.

You take the warm broth off the stove and bring it to the counter. You pour the hot, nourishing soup into two mugs. You’re about to pull down two plates when something stops you… the feeling of two heavy hands on your hips.

Joel’s standing behind you, his oppressive presence crowding you against the counter. His lips come down and kiss your exposed shoulder where the blanket has slipped down.

“Joel…”

“You haven’t gotten dressed,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“Don’t want to.”

“Good,” his lips trail up to your ear, “You shouldn’t.”

You say nothing as his hands snake around your waist and pull you into him. He rests his head on your shoulder gently, watching your hands work as you pull apart a few strips of jerky. The fact that you're able to focus on anything other than him is a miracle in and of itself.

“What do you miss most?” you find him asking. “About the world. About… everything before,” he clarifies. 

“Why do you ask?” You say as nonchalantly as you can manage.

“Just… thinkin’ about it more.” He places another lazy kiss on your shoulder, “Lot of time to think today.”

“Mmmm,” You mumble, trying not to dwell on the words unsaid, “Then I think you have to tell me first… since you’ve been thinking about it so much.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but he doesn’t pull away either. Just holding you there, starting to sway you both gently side to side. You stop your fiddling with the food and place your hands over his, hopefully an encouraging gesture. He obviously wanted to share something, and you wanted to listen. 

“Peace,” he finally says, “Peace and quiet…contentment.”

“There’s still plenty of that.”

“No. Not like this… Not for men like me.”

“Joel—”

“Tell me what you miss, darlin’...” He cuts you off before you can ask what he means. His hands trail up your torso, gently pulling the blanket further down your body.

“A warm bath.” You answer with a small snort, the chilled air pricking at your skin. 

“Mmm, does sound nice.” Those rough hands hold your now exposed breast, gently massaging the supple skin. He buries his nose into your hair before asking again, “But what else?”

Your breath catches when his thumb runs over your nipple, every hair standing on end as he gently plays with you. He’s barely done anything, and you're starting to fall apart at the seams.

“I… miss— I miss—” you attempt to answer the question, “I miss purpose.”

“Purpose?” he repeats.

“Having a purpose. A s–sense of purpose at least,” You try to clarify, not noticing your hips grinding back into his. “Living just to survive… that’s not what people are meant for.”

“Some might say that’s all we’re meant for.”

“N–not me… not most…”

“Surviving is living.” A hand trails up to cup your jaw, the other trailing down your stomach.

“Try telling that to an artist or a t-teacher…” his hand cups over your bare cunt, “...or a singer…”

You shudder as a finger runs through your slick folds, slowly dragging back and forth, gathering your wetness, before lazily circling your clit.

“There aren’t any artists anymore,” he murmurs against your skin. “No teachers, no singers.”

“T-there are…it’s just harder to see them…”

He only hums in contentment, one hand slowly stroking between your legs and the other gently massaging your breast. The blanket had completely fallen to the ground at this point, your bare body pushed against his. You felt the warmth of this chest against your back— the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.

“I t-thought you said you were hungry?” you smile under his touch.

“I am…” his grip tightens, “I’m starving.”

He twists you around in an instant, cupping his hands under your ass and lifting you onto the counter.

“Joel!” you grip his shoulders as he balances you there just on the edge. His mouth finds yours, just for a moment. A quick but undoubtedly hungry kiss. A desperate kiss. His mouth leaves yours with a sigh, lips trailing down your torso as he comes to his knees before you. 

You don’t have time to say anything before his mouth envelopes your cunt, only able to let out a desperate scream in response. Your fingers dig into his mess of hair while his hands hold you open for him, wrapping around your thighs and fingers digging into the meaty flesh.

“Fuck!” You wail into the empty space above you.

His tongue laps over your greedily, almost no thought behind his movements. Frenzied and strong movements to claim you— to show you how much he wants this. Eventually he buries himself between your legs, tongue stroking up and down and nose nudging at your clit.

You teeter against the counter, one leg wrapping around his shoulders and the other attempting to find balance against the floor. It was useless. He had you pinned there, open and wanting for you. 

He looks directly at you, his tongue flattening as he trails a lazy stripe from your clit over to the apex of your thigh.

“I like the way you sound…” he murmured into the flesh there. “When you let me touch you.”

“Joel… please,” you tug at his hair. He hums in approval. 

“I like hearing you beg.” You catch the faintest glimpse of a smile before his mouth returns to where you need him most.

If you had your full wits about you, you’d be wondering how he became so open so quickly. So wanton and talkative. This is a new side to Joel Miller, a side you’d fantasize about but never thought you’d meet. 

You were so convinced he’d pull away after you both got back into the cabin. After the charged air settled and you both could just breathe for a second. You thought he’d tell you this was a mistake. Thought he’d say you should forget the kiss ever happened. Instead, you both laid lazily in each other's arms for hours in the din of comfortable silence. And now he has you pinned against him again. 

How happy you were to be proven wrong yet again.

You pull at his hair, murmuring his name like it's a sin. He looks up at you, eyes glossy and mouth drenched. You pull at him again, urging him to stand up to meet you. He does, slowly, dragging his tongue against your skin the whole way.

You’re finally able to settle both of your feet on the ground when he kisses you again, hungry and tasting of you. 

“You’re beautiful.” He murmurs against you, teeth nipping at your jaw.

“You’re… not what I expected.” You don’t notice your hands pulling at the buttons of his pants. “Not at all.”

“I hope that’s a compliment.” You can feel him smile against you. 

“It is,” you pull down his waistband, “It definitely is.”

He grinds his hard length against your bare stomach, huffed groans slipping between his parted lips.

“Let me show you exactly the kind of man I am, darlin’...”

He pulls away from you abruptly, grasping onto your hips and turning you around. He bends you over the counter, shoving his hips into yours. You feel his hard length pressing against your dripping cunt, heavy and pulsing. 

He rolls into you, agonizingly slow and deliberate. One hand on your hips and the other pressed into your back. An aching, deep moan drools from your lips as he claims you— As he takes control.

You fucking loved it.

His thrusts are slow at first. Purposeful and almost experimental. He’s letting you adjust to him and savoring the feeling at the same time. You’re still sore from just a few hours ago, but you still want more.

He comes down to lean over you as he finds a steady rhythm, lips peppering kisses across your back. A hand reaches around to find your clit as he continues to fuck you against the counter, clinging to you like his life depended on it. 

“So good, baby,” he murmurs behind you, “F-feel so good. So pretty… so good.”

These are not the actions of a man who would want to leave. Not the words of a man who doesn’t care.

You could dwell on the vast and complex implications of the recent changes Joel and your relationship has experienced in the last 6 hours. You could stir your anxieties about what on earth he could possibly be thinking rather than just asking him and risk ruining the mood. You could make him stop right now and tell him this isn’t a good idea. Yeah, you could do all that. 

Or you could just… enjoy. 

Enjoy him. Enjoy this gift you’ve both been given. Why think about tomorrow when you have everything right now? Constantly thinking about what’s next is all you’ve done since the world ended. When was the last time you just lived? The last time you enjoyed something without thinking you had to earn it? Everything was perfect right now, and that’s all that mattered.

Joel wants you and Joel is still here— and that’s all that mattered.

__________

He wants to scold himself for being a creep and watching you sleep, but he can’t help himself— you were like an antique painting. Magnificent and indescribable. 

 You’d opted to make a nest of blankets and pillows on the living room floor rather than sleep in your actual bed. The bedroom was too far from the stove anyway. You’re probably still chilled to the bone from running around in the cold with no jacket earlier. 

The yellow light of the fire from the open stove danced along the curves of your naked body. His eyes only linger for a moment on the scars on your lower abdomen, more prominent than the other small ones across your body. He wonders about their story but knows better than to ask. Someone did that to you. The thought makes his blood boil. He can’t seem to help himself from being possessive—it’s who he is. Something so delicate and beautiful, and you trusted him. He won’t abuse the privilege. 

This was all too good to be true, and it finally came when he was just about to leave. What an idiot he was for wanting to leave something like this behind.

Joel was never much of a believer in a higher power, at least not since the day Sarah was killed. If there was a God, he gave up on mankind a long time ago. Why believe in him if he did this to his world? But this… this all seemed like some divine act of coincidence. 

It felt so wrong and so right at the same time. Could this be possible while the world went to shit just beyond your door? But why should he care when everything he wanted was right here? What could he really do out there? He wasn’t like Tommy. He had no desire to try and save the world. He survived. He lived day by day. 

You’d asked him before what he did back in the QZ, and he didn’t really have an answer. He did a bit of everything. Aided and abetted, mostly. He was a bad man that did bad things—but he was the best one that did them. The muscle. The one you’d always go to. He hated it. God, he hated it.

 What was his role in the world, really? He’s not sure anymore, but he thinks he wants you to be part of it.

He could keep you safe— If he does one good thing in the world, it could be that. You talked about purpose earlier, maybe you could be part of his. The last bright burning candle in a raging storm, and he found it. Could violent hands like his care for something so delicate, or would they eventually snuff it out? He wishes he knew. 

Yes, the world was going on without him out there. There’s a thousand men like him still doing the same horrible things… but there was only one you. 

Here, he could be something for someone. Here, he could have something all his own. It was selfish, he knows, but so tempting. Did he deserve something like this? Is that how the world worked? No, of course it wasn’t. Joel didn’t deserve nice things, but you surely did. You deserved to have something, even if it was just him. The thought of leaving you here alone again made his heart ache. Could he sleep peacefully at night knowing you're out here alone, unprotected?

No. No, he’s sure he never could. 

And then, the decision was so easy. A new life was waiting for him. One with a more fulfilling purpose. One he could actually take pride in. Keep you safe. Keep you close. Keep you for himself. It was only a selfish act if you didn’t want him here, too.

Joel could be thick sometimes, but he wasn’t an idiot. This was never a one-sided attraction. He tried to deny it, tried to ignore it, and look where that got you both. This world was so ugly, why try to deny yourself something good. He's done with all that bull shit now. He has you. And dammit, he’ll do his best to repay that kindness. To earn that love. It’s the only way he knows how to be.

Joel never thought of himself as a kind man, but he knew how to love someone. 

He eventually comes down to lay beside you and pulls you in close