#Tommy miller one shot

[sweetenerobert]

make you mine

8.1k | sister’s ex boyfriend tommy miller x male reader

summary: the intense feelings you've swallowed down for your sister's boyfriend are shown when he's comes back to pick up the rest of his things

warnings: MDNI 18+, mentions of abuse, pet names (bunny, baby, sweetheart, etc.), friends to lovers tommy, no mention of age besides your sister is older, and so is tommy, no description of reader, but tommy lifts you (2), rimming, oral (m!giving/m!giving) yearning for each other, spit as lube, unprotected p in a, spanking, cocky!tommy, tommy's dick is fucking HUGE AF

a/n: I'M BAAAAAACK!! UGH GOD, i missed this app so much, after countless attempts of writing, i finally have an idea im sooooo excited to share with you. i promise i wont leave again (hopefully), i have a lot of ideas i've written and i need to finally find the time to write so you guys can finally read soon, but for now, i hope you enjoy 'make you mine'!

a/n 2: also a huge thanks to @sofmoth, @king-simp, @pedgito, @perotovar, and @strang3lov3 for beta reading, love uuuuuu sooooo much.

a/n 3: just wanted to say @king-simp for putting up with me for like months and hearing my ideas days after days, and hearing me out so many times on ideas, and making them soooo much better than what I thought. Love you girlllll 🤍🤍

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Oh shit, It’s so inappropriate how bad I’ve wanted to do this to you, bunny.”

You were shocked by Tommy’s sudden confession; you raised your head at the man fingering you with beads of sweat on your forehead. “What?” You whimper. Rays of sunlight kept dancing through your eyes as you were washing the dishes, home alone, and making sure your parents didn't have something to complain about, and your sister couldn’t find the special dish she took to work. It caused that feeling of chills crawling down your spine thinking about it. Your family wasn’t intense; they just worked a lot and were under a lot of stress at times; you wish you could say the same about your sister; the times you’ve quietly excited a room from her intensity, you wouldn’t be able to count them on one hand.

Speaking of family, you heard your doorbell go off as you hung the last dish on the dish strainer, turning off the water, thinking your sister or one of your parents was coming home early and forgot their keys, you shook your hands in the sink, noticing how pruney your hands looked, grabbing a paper towel nearby, and wiping your hands, quickly throwing away the wet paper towel into the nearby garbage can. The doorbell went off again as you began walking towards the door. “I’m coming, jeez,” You start as you grab the doorknob and turn it. “Forgot your keys again?” You pull the door towards you as you expect your sister to be on the other side to answer your question.

But you had been met with a familiar sight of shoulder-length hair, a mustache that could make a grown man cry, a denim button-up shirt hanging on broad shoulders, and you swore your sister loathed the material of his shirt. Tommy Miller was on the other side of your front door. Your sister and Tommy had dated for about a year and five months. He and your sister weren’t the on-and-off type, but there were times when you could hear them arguing, and you felt terrible for Tommy for having to face your sister’s wrath. “Oh, hey, Tommy.”

“Oh, hey, bunny,” Tommy’s southern accent felt rich, and a light chuckle escaped his mouth. You chuckle as you rest your fingers against your forehead. “You know I hate that nickname,” You commented. Tommy chuckles again before he opens his mouth to speak. “It’s not my fault you're obsessed with that one character with long ears who looks like a bunny.” Tommy crossed his arms, angling his eyes towards you. “He’s a puppy,” You commented, staring at him

“I’m still calling you bunny.”

You and Tommy chuckle together as you enjoy each other’s company; a thought passes. Your sister didn’t say anything about Tommy dropping by. Now that you think of it, no one has mentioned Tommy’s name since you returned from your trip. You replicated the same action as Tommy and leaned yourself against the door. “Not to burst your bubble, my sister isn’t here,” You shrugged.

Tommy nodded, glanced at the floor, and then back at you. “Yeah, I know,” he started. “Oh,” You were shocked, to say the least. Then why was he here? “Are you guys moving in together or something?” You shrugged. “She and my parents haven’t said anything since I got back,” You added. “Your trip, that’s right,” Tommy spoke, shoving his hands into his pockets. “How was that?”

You and your best friend had decided to stay in New York for a week, the vacation the both of you desperately needed and craved. When you came back, in your eyes, it was as if nothing changed. “Fun needed a break from life,” You joked. “Felt that,” Tommy huffed a chuckle.

You smiled and nodded. “But, did something happen?” You shrugged, confused. “It’s like your name is a curse or something.”

“Ah, bunny,” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, squinting his eyes towards you. It’s complicated; maybe you should ask your sister.” You could tell Tommy wasn’t trying to add more fire to whatever drama occurred when you were gone. Being the nonconfrontational type, you appreciated Tommy for keeping whatever secret to himself, but you already knew asking your family would be a bust. He would be the next best thing. “Can I come in?”

“Not unless you tell me what’s happening,” You shrugged. Tommy huffed a breath, not in a moment of frustration or loss of patience; it was a breath and finding the words to come up with ways to come clean about something he’s been terrified of you finding out differently. “We broke up,” Tommy announced. You blinked your eyes into a shocked look; of all the things you were trying to mentally prepare yourself to hear, him and your sister breaking up wasn’t something that you wouldn’t think would happen.

Yes, the duo wasn’t perfect together, but you always thought they would make it work. Without a thought, you moved yourself away from the door to give Tommy enough space to walk in. As he walked in, Tommy nodded and smirked at you; you felt a breeze hit your legs as he moved past you. Glancing down at your legs, you noticed you opened the door in your underwear. “Fuck me,” You muttered to yourself; you closed the front door, locking it as a habit, and walked towards where you knew Tommy was going.

You pushed your sister’s bedroom door open and spotted Tommy in your sister’s closet, getting his clothes from their hangers and placing them on her bed. “Wait, you guys broke up?” You questioned, closing her bedroom door behind you. “Yep,” Tommy nodded, looking into the closet.

“What, why, what happened?”

Tommy glanced towards you as he saw your face riddled with confusion. He drew his lips in a thin line, exhaled through his nose, and made his way towards to stand in front of you, crossing his arms, huffing his chest towards you, the material of his denim shirt bending around his biceps. “Do you know why I would often ask you to go out and drink, and I labeled you as my “drinkin’ buddy”?” Tommy questioned.

“I just thought it was you being nice, you know, making sure your girlfriend’s brother didn’t feel left out,” You shrugged.

“Not entirely,” Tommy started, sitting on the edge of his ex-girlfriend's bed. “Your sister ain’t the best type to drink with, unlike you. She can tend to overdrink, which we’ve argued about multiple times. There have been a couple of times where she’s tried to get physical with me, trying to limit her drinking habit.”

The thought of your sister being physical sent a shiver down your spine, hearing someone else say the words. You swallowed harshly and nodded your head for Tommy to continue. “A week ago, when you were out and so were your folks, I told her that we aren’t good together, and she flipped out on me, cursing at me, screaming at me, she even clawed at me.”

Shocked wouldn’t be the word expressed on your face; bewilderment would be. “What? Where?” You questioned, you asked, sitting on the left of him. Tommy used his left hand to pull his collar down to show you three scarred-up claw marks on where his left collarbone rested. “Oh, my god, Tommy. I’m sorry.’

“It ain't your fault, bunny. You ain’t do nothing,” Tommy waved off as he let go of his collar. “Exactly, I didn’t say anything, I should’ve–”

“There was nothin’ you could’ve done,” Tommy placed a hand on your back. “You’re a good person already; that’s all I wanted.” You sighed in defeat while Tommy continued to soothe you, rubbing your back. “It’s going to be weird not seeing you here.”

“Ah,” Tommy waved off, removing his hand from your back and slapping it against his jeans. “You still have my number? You can always crash at my place if you ever want to escape this house of horrors.” You chuckled at Tommy’s invitation and shook your head, contemplating the option. “I’ll hold you to that,” you pointed at the man beside you. He laughed, and you joined him. It seemed like something that fate had landed on your lap.

You felt the mattress shift lightly as Tommy leaned towards you. “You know you’re in your underwear, right, bunny?”

“Yeah, I know,” You hide your face in your hands to hide your embarrassment. “It’s fine,” Tommy slapped his hand on your bare thigh and then laced his hand with his own. For the split second, Tommy’s hand was on your thigh; his hand felt warm against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity toward your spine. “You’ve seen me in mine, so we’re even.” Tommy acknowledged, and you nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately or fortunately, I have.”

“What do you mean, unfortunately?” Tommy playfully shoves you. You laugh as you regain your balance next to him. “I mean, not to make you uncomfortable, but you do have an amazing body,” Your chuckles slip out from time to time.

“Amazin’ body, huh?” Tommy teased, leaning his head towards yours. “With your sister’s scratches, It’ll take a while before I’m back to “amazing body” status.”

“Hey, scratches or not, you still look good,” You commented.

“Oh, really?” Tommy questioned, playfully pushing his shoulder with yours. “Yeah,” You nodded.

“You ain’t so bad yourself,” Tommy spoke, placing his hand on your thigh again, but this time, he didn’t let go; the warmth of his hand had been caked onto your skin. You balled your hand into a fist behind Tommy. The feeling felt nice, but it felt different from the cold breeze that kept rubbing against your other leg. “Is this alright?” Tommy asked. Looking up towards the southern man, you nodded your head, and Tommy’s hand rose.

You shuddered lightly as Tommy’s hand got closer to your cock, his thumb pressing onto the tip of your cock, making your toes curl. “You like that?” Tommy softly spoke into your ear. “Mhm, yeah,” You nodded. “How about this?” Tommy slipped his hand further as he began cupping the bulge in your underwear. You inhaled deeply, puffing your chest, and your hands gripped the sheets of your sister’s bed. Pushing out an exhale, Tommy chuckled as he saw your cock throbbing underneath his hand. “Look at you, bunny, twitchin’ under my hand,”

“We–.” You swallowed sharply. “We– we shouldn’t–”

“We shouldn’t be doin’ this?” Tommy questioned; his hand started to come off your cock before you began to speak. “We shouldn’t be doing this in my sister’s room,” You nodded, looking at him. Tommy huffed a smile as he took you and made you straddle his lap; you laughed as you placed your hand on the side of his neck, his forehead rested against yours; you could see the smile radiating off him, something you seemed to have only seen when he’s around you.

Tommy’s hands rested on your waist before he slipped them onto your ass and then rested under your thighs. “Is it inappropriate to say that I’ve probably dreamt of this moment before?”

You smile before you answer. “That you wanted be close to your sister’s brother?”

Tommy huffs a smile before pressing his nose lightly against yours. “That I would be happy with someone like you.” Your hands trail up against his cheeks, your thumbs trailing his cheeks as he smiles at you. “You have such cute freckles.”

Tommy laughs at your compliment. “No, seriously, they suit you a little too well,” You smile as Tommy dips his head below, his lips centimeters away from yours. Almost as if he were playing with you, backing his head up ever so slightly just to put them back centimeters away. “You are such a cat,” You announce.

“Oh, you love it.” Tommy stood up, and your legs stopped bending into the mattress and just rested against the sides of his hips while his hands rested in the bends of your knees; you smiled and rested your arms onto his shoulders; it wasn’t until Tommy collided your back with your sister’s bedroom door was when he connected his lips against yours. Tommy didn’t hold back when he kissed you, his hands digging into the skin of your thighs as one of your hands rested on the nape of his neck. You felt his tongue connected with yours, making the kiss feel more passionate. His lips felt soft while his mustache on your upper lip felt coarse, the opposite sensations putting your body into overdrive. You knew in this very moment that this is something you’ve wanted to happen for so long, the number of drunk thoughts you would have about Tommy turning sexually, that you wanted something to happen with your drunk friend like it had been a scene from your favorite fanfiction or something, but you knew it was wrong because of your sister.

But you didn’t care about how she felt then; you wanted Tommy, you have Tommy, now you don’t want him to go away. “Fuck, you taste good, bunny,” Tommy breathed as he grinded his pelvis into yours; you moaned into Tommy’s mouth, while he grunted into yours. “I can’t get enough of you,” Tommy grunted. One of his hands slipped from the bend of your knee, reaching for the doorknob, backing your body away from the door, opening it, and walking towards your bedroom. Still kissing each other, Tommy readjusted his hand back and continued to walk towards your room.

Pushing the door open with your back, Tommy rushed into your room and placed you on the edge of your dresser. You gasped when one of Tommy’s hands slipped onto your waist, and the other slipped under your shirt. His soft but calloused hand was warm against your stomach as he latched his lips onto yours. Your hands reached to cup his face as you leaned down to deepen the kiss.

Kissing Tommy felt like the sensation of finding gold for the first time, exciting. A sensation you didn’t want to let go of when your hands slipped into his hair, and you lightly gripped his hair. You understood that Tommy felt the same way when the grip on your waist and your bare stomach grew tighter. With each smooch, Tommy breathed heavily against your lips, feeling the texture of your soft lips against his; he never felt more present in the moment.

Slipping your hands onto his broad shoulders, you were eager to feel more of Tommy. You slip your hands down even more and feel down his chest; his pec feels like a handful against your hand. Tommy chuckles and smiles against your lips. “Eager, ain’t we?” The southern questions. “Shut up,” You smiled as you raised your hands on the buttons of his shirt.

You or he didn't break the kiss with each button you popped off Tommy’s shirt, not even when Tommy tossed the denim shirt aside. He just wanted to keep on tasting you.

It took a lot to be the one to break the kiss after what felt like minutes of your lips dancing around each other. Tommy’s hand moved from your stomach to the sides of your thighs. “Somethin’ wrong, bunny?”

“No, I’ve just wanted this moment for so long, is that fucked up?”

Tommy shook his head and rested your forehead against his as you bent your head down and took your hands in his. “A little,” Tommy started. You groaned into your hands, and then Tommy caused you to look at him while he took your hand in his. “But, that’s what I like about you,”

“You're funny, spontaneous as hell, and sweet, geez, I couldn’t have met someone better than you, bunny,” Tommy reached for your cheek, cupping your face into his palm, rubbing your cheek. You smile as you go for Tommy’s hand, rubbing your thumb against his knuckle. “Do you think we could move to the bed?” You questioned. A raised eyebrow came from Tommy Miller's face; he chuckled before licking his lips. “Eager, are we, bunny?”

“Yes, but my butt is getting so sore, sitting on the edge of this thing,” You winced and laughed before Tommy took his hands and put them back on your waist. “But I haven’t even done anythin’, baby.” You give a look, Tommy, and the man chuckled while you wrapped your legs around his waist again, and he rested your back against your mattress, kissing you once again while crawling in between your thighs.

You felt Tommy grind his hips into yours, feeling his bulge underneath the denim against your cloth-covered cock. Tommy’s lips trailed down from your lips down to your jaw. With every time Tommy grinded into you, a moan escaped your lips, and you could feel a smile from Tommy against the tender skin of your neck.

Sliding your shirt up and planting kisses trailing from your chest to your navel. Tommy’s thick fingers grab the waistband of your underwear as he slides them down. “Lift your hips, bunny.” You do as Tommy orders; he slides your underwear off your thighs and disregards them aside, looking down between your bodies and chuckling at the sight he was seeing your hard cock twitch against the bulge in his jeans. Tommy wanted to see something, so he slowly grinded your bare cock, and you lightly squirmed at the sensation. Hearing you shudder, Tommy smirks at you and lightly picks up the pace.

“Fuck, baby, you like that?”

“Yeah,” You nodded.

“Fuck yeah, I love it when you squirm for me.”

As Tommy begins to stand up, you breathe in relief as if any more times he were to grind against your cock, you would’ve exploded. Tommy pulls you towards the edge of the mattress, and you are surprised at the sudden action. “Look a’that, y’hard f’me already, baby?” You huff a chuckle at Tommy; you gasp as you feel his lips press the tip of your hard-covered cock. With each kiss brought against the tip and the shaft of your cock, it feels like heaven to you, bringing you absolute bliss against your skin. You get your foot against Tommy’s bare shoulder as your other one hangs off the edge of the bed, arching your back in pleasure as Tommy’s mouth moves down your thigh.

“God, you’re s’fuckin’ perfect, baby.” Standing up from his position, Tommy softly presses his lips against yours, bringing his hand into the bend of your knee, his other hand holding the side of your face. Tommy's tongue licked your bottom lip, awaiting your mouth to open. Tommy slips his tongue into your mouth, slightly parting your lips, causing you to smile at Tommy’s eagerness.

“How do you feel?” Tommy questions against your lips.

“Good, so good.” You breathed. “How about I make you feel even fuckin’ great.” Tommy’s question came out as a statement, causing you to question his meaning. Without warning, Tommy backs up from your face and laps his tongue on the all too sensitive head of your cock, making a moan escape from your mouth, your toes curl, and your eyes roll in the back of your head, sliding his tongue against the slit of your cock, moans escaping your mouth. “F-fuck, Tommy,” You breathe.

“Y’like that, baby?”

You breathe out an answer as Tommy starts to slowly stroke your cock as he rests himself on one knee on the ground next to the bed frame. “Yes, so fucking much.” You arch your back as the pleasure sets in. You never knew this level of intensity until Tommy; he knew what would make you tick without even having any sexual experience with you in the past, everything you imagined about what the southern would do to you if things had gone a complete 180 after your hangouts, but now the reality is kicking your imagination out of the park.

Wrapping his mouth slowly around the tip of your cock, Tommy slowly goes down the shaft of your length, causing you to moan and white knuckle your sheets as you throw your head back — arching your back and snapping your eyes shut in pleasure. “OH, fuck!” You exclaim in pleasure. His pace was slow but patient. Tommy wanted to make you feel something you rarely experienced — something once in a blue moon. Wrapping his hands around the shaft of your cock, his fingers would let go for a moment before wrapping.

Dragging your fingers into Tommy’s curls, you slowly push his head down, hoping he could speed up. “Fuck, Tommy. This feels amazing,” You breathed.

“Can you go faster, please?” Your question sounded like a plea.

“Oh, sweetheart. I can show ya one better.”

As Tommy’s mouth felt warm around your cock, he started to go faster as you gasped in pleasure, you gripping the material of your sheets; you felt Tommy’s hand slide from your thigh as he slowly began to tease your hole. The skin of your taint felt sensitive with each stroke of Tommy’s finger teasing you; each swipe, each light poke, and prodding made your body shiver in anticipation. You had been put into overdrive because of your older sister’s ex-boyfriend. Tommy was slowly rising you towards your peak. Your cock twitches in Tommy’s mouth showing the throbbing pain that was threatening to shoot out. Slowly and teasing, Tommy slides his mouth off your cock, swallowing the spit that had collected in his mouth; Tommy wipes the reminder off his lips with the back of his hand, glances at you, and chuckles as he strokes your cock. “Y��close, baby?”

“Yes,” You whimper. “So fuckin’ close. It hurts so much. Can I cum yet, Tommy?”

A sly smirk appeared as he started to chuckle – staring at you. Tommy stops pumping your cock — landing on your stomach, precum leaking from the slit. “Not yet, bunny. We ain’t done yet.”

Lifting your legs, Tommy slides his head down deeper in between your thighs. He laps his tongue against your aching hole; you bite your lip, causing a shaky moan to escape your lips as you hold your legs up so Tommy can get better access to your hole. His hands are planted on your inner thighs as he keeps his tongue against your taint. Tommy’s tongue felt like magic against you, showing you things you’ve never felt before — things you’ve only imagined happening. His tongue sliding up and down, in and out of your hole, made you want to cum by how much Tommy has been treating you.

The sensation of soft lips and a coarse mustache planting kisses against your taint made your toes curl — the bones threatening to pop out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs, your moans escaping from you with each movement of the mix of feelings from Tommy’s lips and tongue was giving you pleasure.

A new feeling appeared when you felt something being pushed inside you, causing a moan to rush out of you as you let go of one of your thighs, started gripping the sheets below you, and threatened to rip them up. You look down at Tommy, plump cheeks looking up at you with a smirk on his face; you notice what is being pushed inside you; Tommy’s thick middle finger has taken a turn to please you.

“Y’like that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck, yeah, I do,” You whimper, throwing your head back, closing your eyes, and moaning with each pump of Tommy’s finger.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Tommy spoke as he slid another finger into you. You exclaimed in pleasure. “You make me happy, bunny. You always have been the one to make me.” The man huffed a smile towards you, and you reciprocated a smile back towards Tommy before you rested your head on the mattress. “Fuck, my sister is so fucking stupid for letting you go,” You breathed as you withered in pleasure. Tommy chuckled at your statement. “Good thing I finally have the better sibling,” Tommy grunted. You laughed, and then the laugh turned into a moan.

Sliding a third finger in, Tommy’s pace had gone faster. You knew he was trying to test your limits; it would be an adventure for both of you to find it. “Look at how your hole wraps around m’fingers; it keeps sucking me in no matter how hard I try to pull out, baby.”

The sudden movements from your hips as you kept raising your hips and bringing them back down. Gritting your teeth, and tiny whimpers leaking through your teeth. Pleasure flowed throughout your body — something you yearned for Tommy to reach with you.

Tommy would admit this if you asked, and close to you sent him over the moon. He’s probably thought about this once or twice, but he loves that he can finally get this close to you.

“Tommy?” You breathed.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I suck your cock?”

Tommy had never heard that question from your sister; she always wanted things her way, so Tommy hasn’t been pleased in that regard. So, hearing your question surprised him a little bit. Slipping his fingers outside your hole, aching for how you would feel around his cock, Tommy smirks at you, stands up, and opens his mouth to speak. “Yes, you can, bunny.” As you sit up and sit on the edge of your mattress, you notice the length that resided in his jeans. You blinked as you saw the bulge filling his jeans.

Noticing the look in your eyes as he was cupping the growing length in his jeans as he smirked and smiled at you, Tommy looked at you. “I gotta ask, sweetheart, how long have you been wantin'’’ to suck my cock?” You swallowed before you provided an answer. “For so long,” You glanced at Tommy.

Tommy's sly smirk appeared before he bent his head down to get closer to your ear. “Then I best not keep you waitin’.” His whisper sends chills down your spine. Sliding your back against the mattress, you slid so your knees hit the wood below you. Watching the eagerness flood Tommy’s eyes made you feel butterflies in your stomach. Tommy slipped his belt off, throwing it on the ground next to him, releasing the button of his jeans popped above you, and hearing the zipper going down, you watched as Tommy’s cock popped out from its restraints.

You stared in awe at the sheer size of Tommy’s dick. Tommy’s throbbing cock bounced in front of you, precum leaking from the slit of his cock. This was better than you can ever imagine. Veins traveled up the shaft of his cock, stopping at the mushroom tip of his cock. The happy trail from Tommy’s tummy showed up his pubic hair that rested above the shaft of his cock. Your mouth went dry in anticipation. It was the first time you had ever seen a dick this big and thick before and so close to your face.

“Fuck, bunny. I need to feel you,” Tommy groaned.

“Well, best not keep you waitin’ now, can we?” You quoted, dragging Tommy’s jeans down as your knuckles brushed up against the hair on his legs, gravity stopping Tommy’s jeans when they stopped at his ankles, your hand wraps the shaft of his cock. You slowly wrap your lips around the tip of Tommy’s cock, and you hear him exhale in pleasure – a sound you yearned to hear in the past.

Slowly pushing your head down the shaft of Tommy’s cock, lips wrapped tight – spit dripping down your chin; you feel the veins trace the skin of your lips as the head of Tommy’s cock presses into the back of your throat. A groan of pleasure escapes Tommy’s lips as you back your head up. You push your head forward and back leisurely, and you can tell the pace makes Tommy not see straight. His member in your mouth kept throbbing against the roof of your mouth. Suddenly, your pace went a little faster; you looked up and noticed Tommy was bearing his teeth, his hands gripping the back of your head, his hips having a mind of their own as he was obsessed with your mouth around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent him into his version of heaven, and with each pump into your mouth, he couldn’t get enough of you.

The taste of salt fell upon your tongue as you backed your head up from Tommy’s cock. A line of spit mixed with precum connecting from your mouth to the tip of Tommy’s cock was made apparent as well as the tip of his cock reddened; eventually, the line of spit dropped onto the ground below you as you wrapped your hand around Tommy’s cock and started pumping his shaft, as the man dropped his hands to his sides. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, baby,” Tommy released shaky breaths as he apologized.

You quickly swallowed the spit in your mouth. “It’s okay,” You breathed.

The moans escaping Tommy's lips had been a symphony to you. As your moans were to Tommy. “Fuck, baby. Y’so good at that. I’m so glad it's you doin’ this to me.” His southern drawl causes somersaults in your stomach. Sliding your mouth back onto Tommy’s cock, a deep guttural growl escaped his lips as your lips were at a quick pace, your hands planted on Tommy’s thighs, the hair on his thighs pressed up against your hand as the tip of Tommy’s cock kept hitting the back of your throat. Moans, grunts, whines, and whimpers were all escaping from Tommy’s lips, his hands holding onto your head as his hips humped into your head, his cock pressing deeper – causing you to gag a couple of times. Your nose kept poking into where Tommy’s pubic hair rested; the scent was intoxicating, causing your cock to leak with precum below you.

Suddenly, Tommy held your head – bearing his teeth in pleasure; your throat grasping around his cock, causing you to gag more. Slobber escaping your mouth as with each inhale through your nose – resting on Tommy’s hairy patch made it impossible to exhale without gagging. Your palms were getting sweaty against Tommy’s thighs, the hair on his legs feeling nonexistent against your slippery hands.

His hands slide your head back; lines of spit connect from his cock to your top and bottom lips. Deep inhales and exhales leave your body as you watch Tommy slightly shudder. His cock glistened in your spit, throbbing and visibly reddened. Sweat littered Tommy's shaven chest and forehead; you swallowed the spit in the back of your throat from your excessive breathing. Tommy bent down, grabbed your chin, and kissed you passionately. Your forehead felt heavy with sweat as Tommy backed up from you; he slid his hand up, pushing the strands of hair that littered his forehead. “Fuck, sorry, baby. Y’mouth is so fuckin’ addictin’.”

Tommy, We’re just getting started,” You spoke, disregarding his apology. Quickly eager to show him what you meant, you pick up his cock and slide your tongue on the underside of Tommy’s shaft. Lapping your tongue against his veins, you could hear Tommy’s praise from above. “I wish I had met you first,” Tommy groaned as he slipped his fingers through his hair.

Bringing your tongue slowly down to make Tommy squirm, you feel his body a little bit as you are still holding his cock in your hand; you place your mouth around his ball sack and lightly suck on one of them. “OH, SHIT!” Tommy groaned. Tommy’s body shook, almost falling like a sandcastle; Tommy hadn’t felt this level of pleasure before, from anyone in his past, before meeting you. “You like that, Tommy?” You asked. “Yes,” Tommy gritted his teeth. “Fuck, I love it s’much.” Backing your mouth up, you stroke Tommy’s cock and watch him hold his head back, and moans escape his lips. Bending down, Tommy places his hands between the fold of your armpits and picks you up from your knees.

Planting his lips against yours, the kiss you shared between the two of you felt hungry, Lips mashing against each other, teeth clashing against each other. Tommy’s arms hold you tightly against his torso. Tommy was fucking yearning for you as his lips were latching against your cheeks, jawline, against the skin of your neck. That feeling of Tommy’s teeth against your neck made you know Tommy was marking you as his. Your nails drag against Tommy’s lengthy hair as you enjoy Tommy’s mouth, bringing his head back against your lips. Sweat forming on Tommy’s bare chest was seeping through your shirt. You wanted to take it off to feel Tommy’s skin against yours. Backing your head away from Tommy’s, his head following suit as he watches you attempt to take your shirt off.

Tommy couldn’t wait to get the shirt off and over your head. Wrapping your arms around Tommy’s neck, he wraps his arms against your lower back. The warmth of each other’s bodies radiated against each other. Your cocks rubbed against each other; the warmth you both shared was hot enough to blow the roof off your bedroom. This experience felt surreal, like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

Backing his head away from your lips, you notice a look of wanting in Tommy’s eyes, which start to darken as he opens his mouth to speak. “Fuck, I gotta have you now, bunny,” Tommy admitted.

“Get on that fuckin’ bed,” Tommy nodded toward the mattress. You listened to Tommy, letting your arms go from around his neck; you crawled on the bed, right where your pillow was rested, on your chin; as you rested on your stomach, you heard Tommy crawling behind you, readjusting you to have you on your knees – spread apart and your back arched. A line of spit leaves Tommy’s mouth and connects to the tip of his cock, rubbing the spit to lube up his cock. Slowly leaning behind you, Tommy moves his hand from the tip to his shaft as he starts to tease you – making you shudder in anticipation.

Moving his cock to poke your hole makes you yearn for him every slight push into you. Tommy begins to question you. “How bad you want my cock, baby?”

“Badly,” You admit.

Tommy leans up behind you, and you can feel his breath against your ear; as you feel the shaft of his cock fit into the curves of your ass, his hips begin to slightly shift up and down, teasing you, causing your hole to ache. “Just how badly?” Tommy questioned. “So fuckin’ bad, I need you, Tommy.” You hear him chuckle against your ear as he whispers in your ear. “Well then, best not keep you waiting.” Tommy backed up from your ear, and with one of his hands, he angled his cock to press against your hole.

Tommy slowly pushes in; you feel the tip stretch you out and his hands on your hips. You stifle your moans into the pillow below. “Does it hurt, baby?” You shake your head, denying Tommy’s question. His shaft is halfway in before he pulls out fast, his grip let loose on your waist. You gasp before breathing heavily. “Oh shit. Sorry, baby, gimmie a minute,” Tommy commented. Once again, Tommy slides his cock into you, hands back onto your waist, making your moans have no level of intensity as prior lovers. Halfway in, Tommy rocks his hips back and forth slowly into you, hoping you can adjust to his size. Your eyes snapped shut intensely, straining your eyelids. The pain was starting to feel good, too good.

“Is this okay, baby?” Opening your eyes, you crane your neck to notice the concern in Tommy’s eyes. He looked so careful, protective, and sweet; you’ve always liked this side of him. “Yes, Tommy. It’s okay,” You smile. Leaning down to kiss you, Tommy’s hips still rocking into your hole, moans exiting your mouth and entering Tommy’s. Feeling him slowly stretch you out felt indescribable; it felt good, but you did want Tommy to go faster. “Tommy,” You moan against Tommy's mouth. “Yes, baby?”

Tommy backs up to hear you properly. But before Tommy could say anything, it was as if a switch went off inside his head, as his hands were molding into your waist. His pace was faster and rougher. Claps rang throughout the room with each thrust as you angled your hands to reach behind and reach for Tommy’s bicep while Tommy was drilling his cock inside you. His bicep felt huge compared to your hand. It felt like Tommy could read your mind, knowing that you wanted more and that he would give it to you. “Fuck, I could do this all day, bunny. This feels so amazing,” Tommy breathed; the man looked at you and moved closer to you so the curve of your back could fit together with his tummy, his hands placed on either side of your head while his lips latched onto yours as his cock continued to pump inside you. With each pump, you moaned against Tommy’s mouth, and he smiled against your lips.

“Y’wanna know how bad I’ve wanted to do this?” Tommy breathed.

“How much?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“Every time we went drinking,” Tommy grunted. “Every single time we got too close to each other, whenever you would rest your head on my shoulder.”

“God, I must’ve asked for this countless times, goddamn prayed for it,” Tommy gritted while holding your chin, causing you to look at him again as he slowly started pumping his cock; he was slowly humping in and just staring at you in your eyes. “Now I finally got what I want, you,” Tommy announced as he slid his cock out of you and laid down next to you; his cock was still hard, but Tommy wanted more of you. You adjusted yourself on your side, and Tommy started holding the bend of your knee; Tommy adjusted his cock to press against the hole of your taint, causing you to shudder and chuckle when you craned your head over your shoulder and saw Tommy’s cheeky grin. You feel Tommy’s cock slide inside your hole; as you placed your head on the pillow, you felt his stomach against your back again; that feeling of closeness with someone you never thought you could have made your cock throb.

Tommy’s arm had wrapped around your head. As you picked it up and rested on his forearm, you could hear the grunts and groans leaving Tommy’s lips and feel his breath on your ear.

“Y’wanted this, didn’t ya?” Tommy grunted.

“Fuck, yeah, Tommy,” You writhing in pleasure, “Wanted this for so long.”

“I’can say the same about this boy pussy of yours, grippin’ onto me so tight, it doesn’t want to let go, and I don’t think I want it to.” You bring your hands to Tommy’s head and plant your lips against his. An exhale leaves Tommy’s mouth against yours. This may sound like a diss to your sister, but seeing this side of Tommy made you wonder if she ever made Tommy this pleased. “I gotta ask,” You breathed. “My sister never made you this happy, right?”

“Your sister,” Tommy grunted. “Never wanted to do the things you asked for; always wanted things her way.” Tommy’s cock kept hitting your G-spot; you moaned in pleasure as your hand craned onto the back of his head. “And with you, I know what we both like,” Tommy pumped his cock forcefully, causing you to meet him at the base of his cock. “So I’m gonna fuck you so hard till we both get what we want.” Tommy’s cock pumped inside your forcefully again, and you felt your walls slowly adjust to the size of his cock.

Tommy’s length was stretching you out as his cock kept pumping into you, causing moans to escape through your mouth. The sun's rays glistened on both your skin and Tommy’s as sweat littered on the both of you. Tommy bore his teeth and started to fuck you senselessly. Wrapping his forearm in the front of your neck and his other arm deeper in the bend of your knee, – his hands interlocking with each other. You moan in pleasure as you hear low growls escape Tommy Miller – feeling his breath against your ear causes shivers to crawl down your spine. “Fuck, you feel my cock stretchin’ you out, baby?”

“Mhmm,” You nodded, shutting your eyes, avoiding his glare.

“Hey,” Tommy’s voice made you snap your eyes open to look at him. “I need a clear answer,” His teeth gritted. “No more of that ‘Mhmm’ shit.” His pace began to slow down a bit.

You couldn’t tell if you were turned on or scared by his dominance, but you could feel your cock throb once again, so you had your answer. “Yes, I feel your cock.”

The man behind you grins, “Well, you better get used to it. This boy pussy is mine; nobody elses; I don’t give a shit what your sister says or your folks. You’re mine now, understand?”

You were about to nod your head until you answered. “Yes, I’m yours.”

“Envision this,” Tommy’s hold was still the same, with his hands still interlocked, but his gaze wasn’t on you anymore. It had been at the door he carried you in moments prior. “Your folks walk in, and they see this; your sis sees us together, but I don’t give a rat's ass, and I just keep going,” One deep thrust caused you to groan. “I just keep filling your hole with my cock, because I don’t care anymore because you – deep thrust – are – deep thrust – mine!” In the last thrust, Tommy released his hold on you, and you moaned into your pillow.

As your face was in your pillow, you felt Tommy’s hand smack your ass. “C’mon, bunny. We ain’t done. You chuckled as you picked your face up from your pillow; you saw Tommy adjust himself in the middle of your bed – his head is where your feet should be, and his cock was throbbing and leaking with pre-cum. “What do ya say, bunny?” Tommy patted his thigh. “You gonna take this stallion for a ride?”

Playfully biting your lip at Tommy’s question, you playfully crawl towards him and straddle his lap. You feel the tip of his cock on your ass cheek, so you maneuver the shaft of his cock to sit in the curve of your ass; you begin to grind your ass back as if you were trying to tease Tommy. “I kinda just had a funny thought.”

You hear a light chuckle from the man under you – his hands on your waist – moving you back and forth against the shaft of his cock – your hands on his chest, “What is it?” Tommy smirks. “I can always tell my mom I’m going to be at a friend's house when in reality,” You bow your head closer to his. “I’m actually having the time of my life at Tommy Miller’s place. Do you like that idea?’

“Oh, I love that idea,” Tommy growled, his hands slapping your ass. “Oh really, you do?”

“I’m fucking obsessed with it, baby.” Tommy’s lips latched onto yours, you placed your hands on each side of his face, and you started grinding your hips against the shaft of his cock again. “Oh, fuck, baby,” Tommy’s southern drawl was moaned against your mouth, “You’re gettin’ me all hot and bothered, making me feel things I never thought I would ever feel.”

“Huh, really?” You asked cocky.

“Mhm.” Tommy smooched against your lips.

“How about I give you another one,” You say as you adjust the tip of Tommy’s cock to press up against your hole. Sliding yourself down onto his cock, the both of you groan into pleasure as you place your hand back onto his chest. You started to breathe heavily as you tried to readjust to Tommy’s length. “Hey, hey, you got this. Deep breaths,” He reassured.

When you met the base of his cock, a howl escaped Tommy’s lips. “Would ya’ look at that? Fits just like a glove, huh?” His hands spank your ass again. “What was that you said about feelin’ another feeling?” You watched as Tommy bore his teeth and started to fuck you senselessly. Wrapping his hand tight on your waist. You ball your hands into fists on Tommy’s pecs – your knuckles begin to get sweaty. “You like this, don’t ya, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” You nodded.

“You want my cum to swim inside you – gettin’ you pregnant?”

“Fuck, Tommy, I need you now.”

His hands went up the small of your back – your face leaning feet away from his. “Imma give you what you, baby. Don’t you worry,” Tommy reassured.

That feeling of being stretched out came back as you rested your forehead on Tommy’s. His hands are on your upper back, holding you in position; each push of his length made your moans push out of you more. It was like your body was in heat — Tommy’s warmth.

He was so different from the respectable man you met; he had become someone different because of you, and you loved every minute. “I’m so close to cummin’ inside you, baby. Fuck, you feel my cock throbbin’ inside you?”

If you were lying, the feeling of each throb that was coming from Tommy’s cock, caused you to feel like you were about to cum. “Tommy, I’m so close. Keep going,” You begged.

“Fuck,” Tommy growled. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.” His pace was going faster, and it felt the tip of your cock felt like it was going to explode with your cum. “Fuck, Tommy. I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck, bunny. Me too.’

“Here it comes,” Tommy gritted his teeth.

With one final push, you see your cum shoot out onto Tommy’s chest, and you also feel Tommy’s cum swim inside you – you see the man slightly shudder as strings of cum shoot inside you. Light breaths are escaping both of you as you lightly pat Tommy’s chest. You slowly start to slide off his cock; you feel his warm cum slide out from your hole. A sigh of relief exits your mouth, and you rest your body next to Tommy’s – your head on his shoulder. The both of you breathing heavily as you were both exhausted, the adrenaline wearing off, his soft cock against his stomach as you see his chest dip and rise from the breaths he’s taking.

“On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate–” You start, but then you get cut off by Tommy.

“A fuckin’ twelve – shit, an a million.”

You chuckle against Tommy’s shoulder and place your hand on his chest, right over his heart – you feel it racing. “An a million?” You smile.

“A million,” Tommy repeated, looking at you and placing his hand over yours. Both of you smile as you look into each other’s eyes; you slightly shake your head and lick your lips, which Tommy notices. “What?’

“My sister is so fucking stupid; the fact that she couldn’t treat you right means she’s fuckin’ brain dead.” Tommy couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard what you said about your sister. “I”m serious, your caring, sweet, protective, and you know how to fuck, like a beast.”

“Oh, I know how to fuck, huh?”

“What would you call what we just did? Dancing?” You joke. Tommy always did love your nonchalant attitude. “That was makin’ love, baby. Pure and sweet love makin’ with the guy I love most.” Tommy smiled and planted his lips on your forehead, backing up and looking into your eyes again.

“Now, I don’t want to be a party pooper–”

“Then don’t, baby,” Tommy moved the arm you were resting on and held you tighter in a cuddle. “Let’s just enjoy our moment together.”

“You need to get the rest of your things out of my sister’s room, and I need to shower; quite frankly, we need a shower.”

“Why is that, bunny?”

You adjust to rest your head on his chest, his arm still holding you. “So I can tell my mom, dad, and sister that I’ll be at a friend’s house when, in reality, I’m at your place,” you smile.

Tommy’s face went into a frown as he was thinking. “Well, in that case, I’ll meet you in the shower?”

“I will try to meet you in the shower; my legs are killing me.”

“Okay,” Tommy quickly let you go and got out of your bed faster than he would if he were in lava. You couldn’t help but laugh as you saw him leave your bedroom and move towards the bathroom. You smiled and exhaled when you realized you finally got what you wanted.

[ay0nha]

Dead Man Walking (II) | Tommy Miller

SUMMARY: “Jealous?” The warmth you felt helped the teasing statement be excused. Tommy scratched at his facial hair, trying to cover for himself, emanating a light laugh. But you only continued to joke.  “Maybe if you knocked him out for me, I’d be kissing you better.”

PAIRING: Tommy Miller x femme!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

WARNINGS: not too much, pretty fluff oriented, grumpy reader getting hit on poorly, mentions of guns, little bit spicy (not smut though), hot mess because I rushed the ending, cliches/tropes, etc.

A/N: Soooo, here’s a part two! I was struggling with this one a little bit, but I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that it is what it is. Enjoy! AS ALWAYS Huge thank you to @from-the-clouds​ who continually listens and helps!

The house always seemed to groan. It held ghosts of previous owners that begged for their lives back. And yet, you moved through the home as if your name was on the deed.

Tommy let you pick, but the choice was purely based on distance rather than vanity. The families congregated in colorful homes that they made their own. Other neighbors shared goods, extending themselves selflessly. But you couldn’t engage as they wanted you to, so willingly unguarded.

You can trust us.

Tommy’s words were compelling. Yet, you hardly left the provided house without him luring you out with promises of fresh air and target practice. It kept you sane to place your catharsis into something outside the confines of the town.

But you needed to stretch your legs further; you wanted to join Tommy on patrol. You never asked, though. You hadn’t planned to until you got over the fact that it was purely due to how the separation impacted you.

“Let me get you another glass.” A man interrupted your solitude. You knew what his attention suggested. Regardless, your glass was pushed forward in mild resignation.

During your time in Jackson, you learned quickly about the liquor they stored. It was the only thing that comforted you with familiarity. The man recognized that, providing a glass full to the brim. You thought to thank him, but instead, you showed appreciation through a few continuous sips.

“There’s no rush, little lady.” The look on his face could have been misconstrued as being impressed by your actions. But the laugh he let out revealed his amusement. “I’ve got plenty more to share.”

You requested more, to which he happily obliged. The bottle was settled on the wooden table you unintentionally claimed. It sat in the back of the dining area, where your back could never be to the door, and you could keep a careful eye on Tommy.

“I was thinking-

“Didn’t think someone like you was capable of that.” It may have been the longest sentence he had heard come from you. But it was far from the cruelest you had pent up.

“Ah, come on now, I’ve got some brains up here. ” He feigned offense, but his smile spread. To him, you were hard to get, someone seen as unattainable who, through his flirtatious efforts, could massage something sweeter out of you. “Enough to know a pretty thing like yourself shouldn’t be so lonely.”

“Not sure I’m convinced…” You clicked your teeth with sarcasm, toying with your glass. You decided once it was low enough, you’d find something else for entertainment. “Think you might’ve missed the point of why I’m over here.”

“You don’t make it easy to stay away.”

You ignored the way his eyes drifted along your body hungrily. They were always on you with the jobs you shared. He was never subtle, but you doubted subtly was his priority.

“Then, I’ll have to try harder.”

The bottle’s contents lowered as you helped yourself to another glass. The man before you took it as your walls coming down, acting on a moment of what he took as vulnerability.

"I know everyone says you're… shy…” The community considered you a recluse. Their gazes questioned if your additional mouth to feed was worth it. “But I can tell you’re fun…just need to open you up a little.”

He insinuated something you would never entertain. His hands inched towards yours across the table to enrapture you. Yet, your focus was on Tommy across the room. You were determined to meet his eye, but he was engrossed with his company. A smile pulled his face occasionally as he contributed to the friendly conversation.

You would have memorized the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how his laughter started deep within his chest just to echo its way to you. Typically, you’d scold yourself for admiring him that way but indulged regardless. Tonight, it hadn’t come as naturally. It was his final night before the next patrol, and you sat idly stewing in discontent.

“Look–” You’d forgotten about your date. When your eyes shifted to him, you saw how he tried to be genuine, but men like him could never accomplish that. “–I get this is new, meeting people and all that.  I felt the same when I was saved, but–

If your eyes lingered ahead just a beat longer, you would have caught the moment Tommy checked on you. But the words spoken begged for your undivided attention.

“You think I needed saving?” You mocked the pity. You heard what they said, the rumors they spread about you. But this was new; you being viewed as the product of mercy.

“You deserve better–someone-” He paused to speak more definitively. “Someone who keeps the bed warm when things get lonely.”

“Let me guess, that’s you?” There was something inside you that knew better, but the moment to be a bigger person never found you.  “The man that shovels shit for a living. Lucky me.”

“I knew you had a mouth on you.” He wet his lips with his drink, finishing it off.  The bottle was in his hand as he went to leave, but typical of any man, he needed the last word. “Shame I won’t be able to put it to good use.”

Anger had been your companion all night. The alcohol was a catalyst to match his stance. There were murmurs around you, eyes looking for a spectacle. With a hand on the pistol attached to your hip, you hadn’t noticed Tommy detach himself from the group, knowing your next move.

“Say that again.” Cocking your head on a tilt, your expression hardened into something wild. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

The man laughed, smile morphing from something amiable to something sinister. “You know, a bitch like you needs controlling–

“That’s enough.” Tommy cut in before the insult could materialize. Your tongue was sharp and ready, but the hand that settled on your spine caused the words to die. “Now, join the others.”

“Tommy…” He started again, trying to reason, man to man. “She’s been nothing but– I was just trying–

“I wasn’t suggestin’.”

Tommy's hand remained on you every step to the door. The touch was foreign, but you could tell through the warmth it was more for his sake than yours. It was as if he were holding back from doing more damage than you.

“I had that handled.” You voiced your frustration, moving languidly from drunkenness. Brushing off his hand, you spat again, “I didn’t need your help.”

“I was helping him.” The cool air carried his words. He was calm, almost happy to have left the festivities. “If I waited any longer, he wouldn’t be standing.”

Your expression diffused slightly at his comment, "He would have deserved it."

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” Tommy looked to the stars instead of you. “He always sweet on you like that?”

You gave him a once-over.

“Jealous?” The warmth you felt helped the teasing statement be excused. Tommy scratched at his facial hair, trying to cover for himself, emanating a light laugh. But you only continued to joke.  “Maybe if you knocked him out for me, I’d be kissing you better.”

The irony was palpable. The times Tommy got in trouble for the sake of saving someone’s honor could no longer be counted on one hand. He would have easily fallen into the trap all those years ago, but now he only watched how you stumbled beside him.

“Think it’s time to call it a night.”

You stared heavenward as he had, the icy air making tears prick your waterline. It was all too much too soon. The happiness was nauseating, and the community’s collective eye made you cynical.

“Walk me back?”

“‘Course.”

You led the path back, choosing the long way purposefully. You had waited long enough to spend time with him, and with him in your grasp, he was yours for the night. Your shoulders brush but never quite touched, and you tried to think of something to say. You didn’t know what you could say if you were brave enough to say what you wanted. It remained like that until you unlocked the front door.

“How are you settling in?” Tommy took the state your home. Things looked untouched, your bag still packed, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not tryin’ to argue.”

Tommy diffused lightly, choosing to settle in the living room. He always looked for something to fix in your home, an excuse to knock on your door. You watched his fingers trail the fireplace, assuring the caulk hadn’t cracked.

“We’re not arguing.”

The idea stung; that every interaction the two of you had led into disarray. Tommy wasn’t blind to the fact that it wasn’t a personal attack, just a moment of progress only he had the privilege to be a part of.

“Thought you would have killed these by now.” Tommy played with the petals of the flowers he’d collected. They were wildflowers he plucked. After borrowing some dirt from the farmers, he placed them in an old tin. A housewarming gift, he called it.

“So did I.”

Some days, you’d sit there and watch the flowers bloom into the centerpiece for the coffee table. Some petals started brown, others falling off completely. But you encouraged the emerging buds with water and company. It was the only other living thing to occupy your home other than Tommy.

He knew you chose to be quiet. There were times you’d ramble when he hit the right topic. But you’d quickly retreat once you saw how warm his gaze was. Even now, fumbling through your cabinets, you held back. The glasses you found were already full when you spoke up again.

“Want one?”

“I leaving early tomorrow.” Tapping on the sofa’s side, Tommy hesitated but ultimately declined. You stayed with your back to him, but he watched you tense at the mention of the patrol.

“Two for me, then.” There would be no point in stopping you in your own home of all places. But you knew if you turned, you’d find a grimace, a judgment of your actions.

“We’re only going a few miles out.” Tommy attempted again. The air was thick with reservation. But you remained quiet, busing yourself with whatever was before you.  He called your name, desperate for a proper response. “I won’t be gone for long…”

You suppressed the previous anger you held, it felt too hard to call upon it. But everything felt cyclical, a need for an answer to an obvious question never said aloud. “Why don’t you let me join you?”

“We both know the answer to that.”

Sitting now, Tommy looked like he belonged. Like he’d just had a long day at work, body open and inviting for any sort of tension relief he could provide. It had almost distracted you from your antagonism. Almost.

“I can handle myself.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He looked at you with genuineness, eyebrows pinched with slight worry.  At least that’s what you believed it to be until he worked through his confusion, “You worried about me, is that it?”

“No.” The answer was just swift enough for Tommy to read between the lines. But it was only half of your reasoning. “They don’t need you every time, there are plenty others.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Tommy owed more than his life could offer to the community. You knew his feelings countered yours. “How noble.”

“Thought we wasn’t arguin’.” Tommy’s lip twitched into something teasingly smug. “Careful now." He warned cleverly,  "It’s starting to sound like you care.”

Curiosity transformed the air, “Is that how you would talk to me?”

Tommy let out a questioning hum, his eyes trained on your every movement. Neither noticed how you crept towards him, practically knocking your knees with his.

“Before.” You encouraged him, instructed him. “Talk to me like you would before.”

You expected resistance. But with his long, slender hands, on which the weather had taken its toll, Tommy reached for you.

Standing between his legs, his head lulled back, “Let’s see…” You squirmed to his pleasure, confirming the next words were all the more accurate, “I would say somethin’ about that blush of yours.”

You refrained from taking place beside him until now, knowing the work of your bourbon would take over. You weren’t daring enough to settle on his lap, but with every ounce of courage, you mustered, your legs were flesh with his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” An arm settled behind you as Tommy played out the scenario. He had given plenty of thought to it. “I’d make sure you knew I only have eyes for you.” There was your smoking cowboy.  “Then, I’d–I would–

“Go on, tell me what you’d do…” Your voice was just above a whisper. You were intent on distracting him. Especially when your hand dragged along his jean-clad thigh, going higher and higher, trying to reach an unexplored destination.

Steady as ever, Tommy’s eye contact remind strong, and his breathing even. You wished you could read his mind to know how if your fingers continued to dance on him, he’d do himself in.

“You lost?”

You avoided his question as you pressed your lips to his. You finally were relieved of the fog that you carried with you. This, the clear solution. You pulled him by the shearling of his jacket  to only hold him closer as you attacked his lips.

It was easy for Tommy to get lost in the sensation. He used his position to his advantage to deepen the kiss, thumb playing at your temple. He held you firmly despite his continual gentle touch. It was as if he got more relief from it than you had, but it was hard to tell as you melted into his touch.

Yet, he quickly pushed back, hand finding purchase on your jaw, "W-wait-Wait."

Your lips were swollen, all his doing, which only made the words that left them all the more beautiful, "Stay with me."

Relief washed over you when he agreed. You were bolder now, no longer using your inebriation as a crutch. You thread your fingers through his hair while Tommy passed along another peck in gratitude. The moment he stepped through your door, Tommy sought the invitation. The toll of patrol worked both ways, and staying with you allowed something for him to hold onto until he returned. A little dryness in the mouth, lethargy in the muscles, and clumsiness in the tongue would be the only memory of how Tommy stayed until the sun rose.

[soulofapatrick]

Words in the Dust - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Tommy has a surprise for you 

Words: 2.3K 

Warnings: fluff

Notes: can make a spicy part two if y’all want it

Y/N’s POV

“Please can I open my eyes now,” I’m begging, feeling rather unbalanced atop my horse while Tommy is leading the way, a proud chuckles the only response I get from him. He woke me up bright and early, telling me to get dressed and that we were going on an adventure which I could not say no to. Like I’d say no to spending quality, alone time with Tommy anyway. The man doesn’t know how head over heels I am for him and currently I’d like to keep it that way in fear he’ll leave me if he finds out I want more than this. 

“We’re almost there.” Tommy finally speaks, voice low and soothing, not knowing what he does to me. He’s chuckling again as I squirm in my saddle, the sound of hooves hitting concrete my only hint at where we are. The air carries a different scent to the familiarity of the woods we were in before. It’s a mixture of dampness, like the smell of water damage, and something more subtle but familiar. I take in a deep breath, trying to decipher the aroma. It’s an intriguing blend, both earthy and urban, with a hint of something reminiscent of forgotten dreams. 

As Tommy leads us further along what I’m assuming is a road, the scents intensify. I can sense a shift in the atmosphere, a transition from the openness of nature to something more enclosed. The air growing denser, carrying whispers of an unseen world around me. It’s like with every passing moment, the scents become more and more pronounced. I catch a whiff of aged concrete and traces of old life, intermingled with the faint sweetness of nature. 

“Tom-“ 

“Alright sweetheart,” Tommy cuts me off, our horses coming to a stop and I can sense his presence as he dismounts. The next moment, his strong and familiar hands find my waist, guiding me out of my saddle and onto my feet. My heart quickening in response, anticipation flooding my veins. He’s guiding me forwards, my feet stumbling a little on the road and he catches me immediately, pulling me so close I can feel the rumble in his chest and can smell the vanilla cologne he uses. 

“Open your eyes darlin’.” He whispers, voice filled with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. His breath ghosts my neck and my skin is ablaze at how close he is, stubble grazing my ear. The air is pregnant with anticipation, and I can practically taste the moment about to unfold. 

With a flutter of anticipation, I slowly allow my eyes o open, taking in the scene before me. As my vision clears, I see it - a bookshop, standing tall amidst the remnants of the city. Its facade, though weathered and worn, still holds a sense of quiet dignity. It sends a sense of awe flushing through me as I take in the sight. The bookshop stands as a testament to resilience, a place where stories were once shared and cherished. It’s a sanctuary, untouched by the chaos that surrounds it. 

The windows, though dusty, hint at the treasures within - a world of knowledge and imagination waiting to be explored. The sight of those books, waiting patiently on the shelves, fills me with a sense of longing and excitement. Here, in this forgotten bookshop, lies the possibility of discovering forgotten tales and unravelling the mysteries of the past. 

I takes all my willpower but turn my head, away from the shop and to Tommy, breath hitching in my throat when I realise how close we are, “Thank you Tom,” I say softly, voice filled with genuine appreciation and shaking a little, “This is… it’s perfect.” 

Tommy beams, his cognac eyes reflecting the joy I feel in my heart, “I knew you’d like it.” He says, voice filled with satisfaction, mirroring the shit-eating grin he’s got plastered on those oh so kissable lips, “Come on, let’s have a look inside.” He’s finding my hand and gently tugging me forwards. His touch sends shovers down my spine, igniting a fire within me. I willingly follow his lead, our hands intertwined, as we step across the threshold into the realm of forgotten tales and undiscovered secrets. 

As we enter, a sense of reverence washes over me. The atmosphere is hushed, as if the books themselves are whispering their stories, inviting us to listen. The air carries a scent of aged paper and ink, an intoxicating perfume that stirs my imagination. Tommy squeezes my hand once more, as if to say ‘I’ll be right here, go have fun’. I’m glancing back at him before I can’t hold back anymore, letting his hand go and speed walking further into the store. 

The shelves tower above, adorned with rows upon rows of books, each one a gateway to a different world. The store seems to hold its own pulse, a heartbeat echoing through the hallowed aisles. The books beckoning me, their spines creating a tapestry of faded colours and titles. I’m reaching out, running my fingers along their edges, feeling the roughness of time and the stories they hold. The touch of each book leaves a trace of dusk on my fingers, evidence of their neglected beauty. 

With every step, I’m immersed in the world of literature, captivated by the diversity of genres and subjects. Fiction to non-fiction intermingle, classics and contemporary works sharing the same space, creating a rich tapestry of knowledge and imagination. The shelves seem to lean in, drawing me closer to their secrets. The books whisper to me, their stories screaming to be heard. There are books of all shapes and sizes, their bindings worn with age, yet still holding the allure of untold tales. Some have cracked spines, evidence of well-loved companions that have been read and reread over the years. Others remain pristine, waiting patiently for someone to embark on their first adventure. 

Amidst the whispers of the books, I barely register Tommy’s voice calling me from somewhere to my right, “Darling?” My attention is wholly captured by the enchantment of the bookshop, its allure irresistible. I lose myself in the exploration, feeling like an intrepid explorer venturing into uncharted territory.  

But then, as if guided by an invisible thread, I catch a glimpse of  Tommy down another aisle. He has a book in hand, head bowed as he scans the pages. My heart swells at the sight : the evening light casts a warm glow upon him, illuminating his curly black hair that dances with silver strands, a testament to the passage of time. His features are a captivating blend of rugged masculinity and boyish charm. 

His sun-kissed skin, smooth and inviting, beckons to be touched. The freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and nose only add to his allure, lending him an innocent air that contrasts beautifully with his masculine presence. His russet eyes, normally vibrant and lively, take on a lighter cognac hue in the evening light. The curls that frame his face fall with casual elegance, their playful tendrils adding to his charismatic appeal. A small goatee and well-groomed moustache accentuates his strong jawline. 

Tommy's attire complements his physique impeccably. The blue button-up shirt he wears hugs his broad chest and sculpted arms, accentuating his strength. His blue denim jacket, lined with soft fleece, adds an extra layer of rugged charm to his ensemble. With every movement, the fabric of his clothing molds to the contours of his body, hinting at the toned muscles beneath. My eyes trace the lines of his silhouette, lingering on his muscular arms and thick thighs, fuelling memories of stolen glances and late-night fantasies. The juxtaposition of his physical strength and boyish innocence creates an irresistible magnetism that has ensnared my heart. 

Lost in the moment, I revel in the sight of Tommy, the embodiment of both ruggedness and tenderness. As he turns a page in the book he holds, his brows furrow in concentration, his features reflecting a mixture of curiosity and fascination. It's moments like these that make me fall even deeper for him, appreciating not only his physical beauty but also his intellectual depth. 

As if feeling me watching him, he looks up, those warm eyes lighting up and silently beckoning me over. It’s like my feet have a mind of their own as I’m moving towards him, unable to resist him. The air crackles with anticipation, a tangible energy that draws us closer, as if we share a secret language, unspoken words floating between us. 

He sets the book aside, his gaze never leaving mine, and takes a step closer. The space between us seems to shrink, the world around us fading into insignificance. His voice low and husky, reaches my ears like a sweet melody. 

“Couldn’t resist joining me, could you?” He teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. His fingers brush against mine, sending a shiver of electricity through my body, “I though the books had captured your heart completely.” 

A soft chuckle escapes my lips, my gaze locked with his, “The books can wait,” I reply, my voice filled with a mixture of playfulness and longing, “But you… you’re far too captivating to resist.” 

I’m not sure where this confidence is coming from as the moment hangs in the air, thick with unspoken desire. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Tommy’s guiding me backwards, my back gently meeting the edge of one of the bookshelves. The sensation sends a thrill coursing through my veins, heightening the intensity of the moment. He closes the distance between us, body pressed against mine, creating a delicious friction that ignites a fire within me. 

I can feel his warm breath against my lips as he leans in, his eyes locked with mine, a playful smirk gracing his features. His proximity sets my heart racing, anticipation mingling with desires. It’s a tantalising dance, a game of seduction we are both willingly partaking in. His lips hovering just inches away from mine, teasingly close yet keeping me yearning for me. The anticipation builds, the tension thickening with each passing second. I can almost taste the sweetness of his kiss, feel the gentle pressure of his lips against mine. 

But Tommy lingers, relishing in the whine that leaves my throat, His eyes trace the contours of my face, gaze filled with longing and unspoken promises. He’s a master of seduction, teasing me with his proximity, making me ache for the connection we both crave. I’m desperate for him to stop teasing, biting my lower lip, a subtle invitation, a silent plea for him to close the gap. The desire in my eyes matches his own, fuelled by a love that yearns to be fully expressed. My fingertips graze the fabric of his jacket, yearning to pull him closer and feel his lips on mine. 

It seems to be all that it takes for Tommy to give in to the magnetic pull. His lips collide with mine in a passionate, intoxicating kiss. The kiss is a symphony of passion, each movement carefully orchestrated to convert the depth of our desire. Tommy’s hands, strong yet tender, find their place on the small of my back, pulling me closer to him. The heat of his touch sears through the fabric of my clothing, igniting a fire within me that threatens to consume us both. His fingers dance with gentle urgency, tracing delicate patterns along my spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. 

Our mouths move in perfect synchrony, a dance of exploration and longing. His lips, soft yeet insistent, mold against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. The taste of him, a delicious combination of warmth and desire, fills my sense, leaving me intoxicated and craving more. The faint scent of old books and dust mingles with the subtle aroma of Tommy's cologne, creating a unique fragrance that becomes synonymous with this passionate encounter. It's a heady mixture, evoking a sense of nostalgia and excitement, as if we have stepped into our own private realm of desire and intimacy. 

As the kiss deepens, our bodies press against each other, seeking closer connection. I can feel the steady rhythm of Tommy’s heartbeat, a steady thump against my chest, perfectly mirroring the racing of my own heart. The heat between us intensifies, our shared breaths becoming more ragged and urgent, as if trying to convey the depths of our emotions without words. 

In this stolen moment, the world falls away, leaving only the intoxicating taste of his lips, the warmth of his embrace, and the undeniable connection that binds us together. It’s a kiss that speaks volumes. 

And as we reluctantly break the kiss, our lips parting with a soft, lingering brush, a sense of both longing and contentment fills the air, “Darlin, you’re like a drug. Can’t get enough of you, fuck… I need you.” 

“I need you too.” I’m choking out, heat pooling between my thighs, making me gain the confidence to guide him to a table full of books stacked high. An animalistic desire in me has me shoving all the books aside, the toppling of them to the floor sounding like an earthquake but I don’t care with the way Tommy’s looking at me. His eyes so dark they’re almost black when I hop up onto the table and spread my legs enough to pull in between them, drawing him down for another kiss,

“But your books…” He murmurs, with very little resistance to the impending kiss. 

“We can get more.” 

---------------

The Last of Us Masterlist

TAGS: Tag List Form

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[fireside-fanfics]

The Last of Us Fics

JOEL MILLER

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts - Joel x Campbell (OFC)

Breakfast, Soup, and You - Joel x Campbell (OFC)

Always Was, Always Will Be - Joel x Campbell (OFC)

A Reason to Smile - Joel x Ellie Willams

TOMMY MILLER

No Hesitation - Tommy x Avery (OFC)

ELLIE WILLIAMS

A Reason to Smile - Ellie x Joel Miller

[joelsrose]

jealousy breeds contempt

warnings smut proceed with caution lile this kinda lewd asff joel is a major meanie like so mean, also pls practice safe sex omg im the worst at warnings - also sorry tess i promise i dont hate u xx

The heat was oppressive, the kind that made your skin sticky and tempers short. You dragged your feet behind them, eyes squinting against the sunlight as Joel and Tess moved ahead of you through the QZ’s crowded streets.

They walked close, too close, shoulders brushing as they murmured in voices low enough to be swallowed by the commotion around you. A muscle in your jaw ticked. Their connection—whatever it was—always grated on you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Joel turned abruptly, his sharp brown eyes slicing through the haze. “Keep up,” he barked, his voice rough, worn down by years of shouting orders and never being questioned. Tess glanced over her shoulder, her lips curving into a smirk that was as condescending as it was victorious, like she’d won some silent competition you weren’t even playing.

You hated Tess. She didn’t like you either; she never had. But the thing that really bugged you, that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts like a stray dog on a bone, was her relationship with Joel.

It felt... strange. Intimate in ways you didn’t understand, or maybe didn’t want to understand. You liked Joel—though God only knew why. He wasn’t nice to you. Not really. But he had his ways. He looked out for you when no one else did, fixed your messes, patched you up when things went south. It wasn’t soft, but it was something, and you clung to it like a lifeline.

The walk felt endless, the sun beating down relentlessly until you finally reached the run-down building they used to stash their contraband. Inside, it was cooler, the peeling wallpaper and damp air making it feel like a tomb. Tess disappeared into the grimy excuse for a kitchen, and Joel dropped onto the sagging couch beside you. His presence was heavy, commanding, like he could fill a room without trying.

“Here,” he grunted, shoving a sandwich into your hand. It was rough around the edges, hastily made, but it was the kind of thing Joel did.

“I don’t want it,” you snapped, pushing it back toward him. The bite in your tone surprised even you, sharp and ungrateful. You didn’t know why you were acting like this.

Or maybe you did.

The tension had been simmering all day, coiling low in your stomach like a knot of barbed wire. It wasn’t just anger—it was something else. Neediness, frustration, something primal that made your skin feel too tight.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand freezing mid-air as he processed your rejection. “’Scuse me?” His voice was low, gravelly, carrying the kind of weight that made you want to shrink under it.

“Don’t be a brat,” Tess called from the kitchen, her tone dripping with disdain. You clenched your fists, heat crawling up your spine as the familiar burn of shame and anger flared to life.

“Stay out of it,” you snapped at Tess, the words cutting through the tense air like a whip. For a moment, everything stilled. Tess froze mid-step in the kitchen, her hand gripping the edge of the counter as her jaw clenched. The heat of her glare burned into your skin, but you didn’t care. Not today.

You looked at Joel, his eyebrows lifting, just for a split second. A flicker of something almost playful, like he couldn’t decide whether to be pissed or impressed. Amusement, maybe, though it was gone before you could be sure. His lips pressed into a hard line, but the corner twitched like he was fighting the urge to smirk.

“You ungrateful little—” Tess started, her voice sharp and venomous.

“Stop.” Joel’s voice cut through hers, low and commanding. Tess turned her glare on him, but he didn’t flinch. His gaze didn’t waver, locked on you with that same unreadable intensity that made your stomach twist. “It’s fine,” he said, though his tone carried no softness, no reassurance. “She can go to bed hungry.”

The words stung, and your throat tightened. Joel turned, grabbing his pack from the floor and slinging it over his broad shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said to Tess, already heading for the door.

Tess huffed, her irritation radiating off her in waves, but she didn’t argue. She shot you one last icy look before following Joel out, her boots heavy against the worn floorboards. The door slammed behind them, leaving the room eerily quiet.

Your eyes drifted to the counter, where the sandwich sat untouched.

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The room was dark except for the faint orange glow of the streetlights filtering through the cracked blinds. You lay on the mattress in the corner, curled on your side, the silence wrapping around you like a heavy blanket.

The muffled sound of boots on the hardwood floor broke through the stillness, steady and deliberate, before stopping just outside the doorway. You knew it was him before he even spoke.

“You eat the sandwich?” Joel’s voice was low, rough with exhaustion. He stepped into the room, the faint creak of the floorboards following him as he settled down beside the wall. He slid down until he was sitting, one knee bent, his broad shoulders resting against the peeling plaster.

You turned onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “Where’s Tess?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Outside,” he said simply, nodding toward the living area. “Cleaning up.”

You rolled onto your side, looking at him in the dim light. His head was tipped back against the wall, his eyes half-closed.

You hesitated for a moment, the words catching in your throat, but the day’s tension—weeks of it, really—forced them out. “I hate her,” you said, your voice flat, but the edges of your words were jagged.

Joel’s head turned, his gaze locking on you. His eyes flicked over your face, searching, reading you in that way he always did—like you were a puzzle he didn’t quite know how to put together. He let out a breath, the kind that wasn’t quite a sigh but close, and scratched at the scruff along his jaw.

“She’s not so bad,” he said finally, though his tone wasn’t convincing. He looked away, his hands resting loosely on his thighs. “She’s just... Tess.”

You huffed, turning your face back to the wall. “She’s awful,” you muttered, the heat in your voice undeniable. “She’s bossy, mean, and she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Joel said, though the weight in his voice betrayed him. He sighed, long and slow, like he didn’t even believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

“Yeah, right,” you replied, the bitterness laced thick in your tone as you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself.

Joel shifted, his knee creaking as he adjusted against the wall. “Hey,” he said, his voice firm but not harsh. “Why are you actin’ like a brat?”

“I’m not,” you shot back, sitting up slightly, the mattress creaking beneath you. “She’s weird with me because of you,” you added, your voice sharpening, each word cutting like glass.

His head tilted slightly, eyebrows furrowing in that way he did when you said something he didn’t like or didn’t understand. “What?”

You huffed, your frustration bubbling to the surface as you leaned forward, staring him down. “She likes you, Joel. That’s why she’s always a bitch to me.”

Joel blinked, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. And then he laughed. It was dry, humorless, and sharp, like the idea was so ridiculous he couldn’t even begin to entertain it.

“You’re fuckin’ delusional,” he remarked, shaking his head as he leaned back against the wall again, arms folding across his broad chest.

“I’m not,” you snapped, glaring at him. “She looks at me like I’m some kind of... threat or something. Like I don’t belong.”

Joel’s face tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t respond right away, his jaw working as he chewed on your words.

“Doesn’t matter,” Joel said gruffly, his tone sharp and edged with irritation. “You don’t gotta like her. Just don’t act like a brat about it.”

“I’m not,” you shot back, your temper flaring hot and unchecked. “You’re not my fucking dad, so don’t tell me what to do.”

That did it.

Joel’s jaw tightened, and in one swift motion, he pushed himself up from the floor, his boots scraping against the wood as he rose to his full height. Before you could react, he was in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist firmly as he pulled you up from the mattress like you weighed nothing.

“What’d you just say to me?” he barked, his voice low and dangerous, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His presence was overwhelming, his body towering over yours, unrelenting as he waited for your answer.

“I said you’re not my dad, so fuck off,” you hissed, your eyes locking with his in defiance. But your voice wavered, trembling at the edges, betraying the confidence you were trying to project.

Joel’s nostrils flared, and in one swift movement, he pushed you down back into the mattress and leaned down over you, bracketing you in with his broad shoulders and forearms. His presence was overwhelming, his weight shifting slightly as he hovered above you, his eyes dark and unrelenting.

You froze, your breath hitching as his knee pressed into the mattress between your thighs, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against your core. The sensation sent a jolt of heat through you, sharp and unexpected. A sound escaped your lips before you could stop it—a soft, needy whimper that felt deafening in the tense silence between you.

Joel stilled, his brows knitting together as his dark eyes flicked to your face, searching for something. “The fuck was that?” he muttered, his voice low and sharp, more curious than angry.

Your cheeks burned, your breath catching as you tried to will your body under control. But then his knee shifted slightly, brushing against you again, and you couldn’t stop the way your body arched instinctively, a traitorous whimper slipping free once more.

His gaze hardened, his lips twisting into something between surprise and smugness as he looked down at you, reading every inch of your flushed face. “You just fuckin’ whimper?” he asked, his voice rough and almost disbelieving, like he didn’t trust his own ears.

“No,” you stammered, your cheeks burning as you squirmed beneath him, trying to twist away. “Get off me.”

Joel didn’t move. If anything, he seemed even more planted, his presence overwhelming as he leaned closer. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his dark eyes glinting with amusement and something else—something darker, something that made your stomach churn and flip all at once. “Oh,” he drawled, his voice slow and dripping with condescension. “So that’s what this is about, huh?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you snapped, trying to keep your voice steady, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. The way he looked at you, like he could see right through you, made it impossible to breathe.

“Poor little thing,” he murmured, his tone mockingly sweet, each word cutting deeper. “So wound up you don’t even know what to do with yourself, huh?” His thumb brushed lazily over your hip, the contact light but enough to make you squirm. “That’s why you’ve been actin’ like a goddamn brat all day, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t—” you started, your voice shaky, but Joel cut you off. His hand came up, rough and steady, cupping your jaw and tilting your face up toward his. The motion was firm, commanding, leaving no room for protest.

“Don’t even try to lie to me,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers racing down your spine. His dark eyes bore into yours, unrelenting and sharp, as if he could see right through you, peeling back every layer you tried to hide behind. “I’ve got you all figured out. You’ve been beggin’ for attention, haven’t you? Too damn stubborn to just ask for it, so you throw a tantrum instead.”

"Fuck off Joel," you said, but your words lacked conviction, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and something else—something darker. There was no fight in your tone, no real weight behind the demand.

Joel laughed, low and rough, the sound rolling from his chest like thunder. It wasn’t warm or comforting; it was sharp, mocking, cutting into you with ease. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he drawled, his tone thick with condescension. His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he leaned in closer. “Knew I could hear you at night. Moanin’ like a needy little thing. Horny as hell, weren’t you?”

“Joel!” you shrieked, mortified, your voice cracking as your face burned hot with embarrassment. You squirmed beneath him, trying to twist away, but his weight pinned you down, unyielding. “Stop it! Oh my God, stop—”

But Joel didn’t stop. If anything, his smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “That why you don’t like Tess?” he murmured, his voice laced with teasing cruelty.

“What?” you sputtered, whipping your head toward him, your voice high and defensive. “Of course not!”

“Thought maybe you were jealous,” he continued, his tone slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every word. “Thinkin’ I was fuckin’ her.”

Your glare sharpened, your hands balling into fists at your sides, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed your frustration. “I don’t give a fuck what you do with her,” you spat, your voice laced with defiance.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he studied you, his gaze heavy and unrelenting. “Admit it,” he murmured, his tone coaxing but sharp enough to sting. “You’ve been wantin’ this—wantin’ me—for a long time. Haven’t you?”

“You’re a freak,” you snapped, twisting beneath him in what you tried to pass off as resistance. But it was half-hearted at best, your body betraying you completely.

The heat pooling low in your stomach, the electric buzz coursing through you—it all told the truth that you refused to say out loud. And you knew Joel could see it, could feel it.

His smirk widened, cruel and smug, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. Without warning, he stood up, dusting off his jeans with deliberate nonchalance, as though nothing had just happened. The sudden loss of his weight, his heat, left you reeling, your skin still burning where his touch had lingered.

“Alright,” he said, his voice casual, dismissive, as he turned toward the door. “Sleep well.” The words were thrown over his shoulder like an afterthought, his tone dripping with indifference, and he didn’t even spare you a glance.

“What?” you blurted, sitting up so fast the mattress shifted beneath you. Your voice was laced with panic, confusion. “Where are you going?”

Joel stopped in his tracks, turning his head just enough to look at you, his expression smug and infuriating. “Where am I goin’?” he repeated, his voice rich with mockery. “Thought you didn’t want me here, darlin’. Thought I was a ‘freak.’” He let the word roll off his tongue, slow and deliberate.

You opened your mouth, your pride fighting against the words clawing their way out. “Come back,” you said softly, barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in your voice betraying you. It hung in the air, raw and desperate, and you hated yourself for how much you meant it.

Joel stopped mid-step, his shoulders stiffening before he turned his head just enough to look at you. His smirk returned, slow and lazy, as he pressed a hand to his ear in exaggerated mockery. “What was that?” he drawled, “Didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart. Magic word, maybe?”

“Please,” you bit out, your voice sharp, but the heat in your stomach betrayed the anger in your tone. When he didn’t move, you groaned, throwing your head back against the wall. “Fucking hell. Please, Joel.”

That did it. His smirk softened, his eyes darkening as he took a step back toward you, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. “There it is,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he stood before you again, towering over you. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight him.

"Alright, lay back," Joel said, his voice low and rough, a command, not a request.

You didn’t hesitate, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate you. You ripped the covers off and leaned back against the mattress, your body buzzing with anticipation. Joel settled beside you, one knee pressing into the bed as he took his time, his dark eyes trailing over you like he was trying to figure out what to do with you.

Excitement coursed through you, and you shifted, your legs falling open instinctively, one thigh brushing against his leg. It was bold, shameless, and you didn’t care. Not when he was this close, not when his gaze was this heavy.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered under his breath, shaking his head as his eyes flicked down to where your thighs parted. “Like a bitch in heat.”

Your face burned, the words cutting through you like a knife, sharp and cruel. “Don’t be mean,” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of indignation and need.

He snorted, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Mean?” he repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. “You were the one actin’ like a brat all day, weren’t you?” His hand reached out, rough and calloused as it slid up your thigh, his touch firm and unyielding. “So that’s how I’m gonna treat you.”

Your breath hitched as his hand moved higher, the warmth of his palm searing against your skin. His eyes locked on yours, dark and intense, daring you to argue. “You think you deserve nice?” he drawled, his voice soft but laced with a cruel edge. “After the way you’ve been runnin’ that mouth all day?”

“I didn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a sharp laugh.

“Don’t even try,” he said, his thumb brushing against your inner thigh in a way that made your legs tremble. “You wanted attention, didn’t you? Well, now you’ve got it, darlin’. So be a good girl and take it.”

Joel’s thumb pressed firmly against you, the rough fabric of your clothes doing little to dull the sensation as he dragged it slowly over your aching, wet core. The friction sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t stop the soft, desperate sound that escaped your lips.

“Fucking hell,” Joel muttered, his voice low and thick with disbelief. His dark eyes flicked to your face, studying your side profile, your lips parted and your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “How’s it possible to be this wet?” he said, almost to himself, his tone rough, like he was mocking you for being so undone already.

You groaned, the heat in his voice igniting something primal in you. Your hips lifted instinctively, chasing the pressure of his fingers, desperate for more. He chuckled, low and rough, the sound vibrating through you like a current.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone mocking but laced with something darker, something hungrier. “Couldn’t even wait, huh? Drippin’ all over yourself like this. You really are just a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, your pride burning at his words but the ache between your thighs drowning out everything else. His thumb moved again, slower this time, teasing, torturous, as he watched you squirm beneath him. “Joel,” you breathed, his name slipping past your lips in a mix of frustration and desperation.

“Take ’em off,” Joel said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver straight through you.

Your hands moved instantly, no hesitation, hooking into the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs, clutching the flimsy fabric in your hands, your body buzzing with a mix of anticipation and shame.

“Give ’em to me,” he said, holding out his hand.

You hesitated for a second, just a second, before you placed them in his palm. He didn’t even look at them, just shoved them into his back pocket like it was nothing. The action, casual and deliberate, made your cheeks burn.

“Pervert,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at him even as your stomach twisted in want.

“Hey,” he said sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Watch it. I can walk out that door right now. That what you want?”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. “No,” you said quickly, your voice soft and desperate as you shook your head.

“Good,” he said simply, his smirk returning as he leaned back slightly. “Sit back.”

The cool air hit you, and you flushed even hotter, knowing how exposed you were, how much of a mess you must look.

Joel’s gaze dropped between your thighs, his lips twitching into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re drippin’ all over yourself.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers ghosted over your core, not quite touching but close enough to make you squirm.

“You touch yourself?” he asked, his tone low and almost mocking, his fingertips brushing just barely against your slick skin.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your hips twitched toward his hand.

He hummed, nodding slowly. “How much?” he asked, his voice thick, his fingers still teasing, never giving you what you wanted.

“Every night,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You didn’t care how filthy you sounded, didn’t care how his lips curled into a smirk at your confession. You just needed him to touch you. “Every single night.”

“Christ,” Joel muttered, his fingers grazing you just enough to make your breath hitch. His eyes flicked back up to your face, dark and intense. “What do you think about?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest, before your gaze locked with his. “You,” you admitted, the word barely above a whisper. And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He stiffened for half a second, the shock evident, but then he relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut as he let you kiss him. That alone surprised you—Joel wasn’t the type to give, not like this. His lips were warm, firm, and they lingered against yours, almost tender in a way that made your chest ache.

“Hm,” he hummed when you pulled back, his eyes still half-lidded. “Sweet,” he said, the word muttered so quietly it felt like it wasn’t meant for you to hear.

A small smile tugged at your lips, the warmth spreading through you despite the tension still coiling in your stomach.

But Joel wasn’t one to stay soft for long. His smirk returned, sharp and teasing. “Still a fuckin’ brat,” he said, his voice low and rough. “And brats get punished.”

You groaned, the words sending a shiver through you as your hips lifted instinctively, begging for more of his touch. His dark laugh rumbled low in his chest, and he leaned back just enough to watch you squirm.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his tone dripping with condescension. “So desperate you don’t even know what to do with yourself.”

Your brows furrowed as you glared at him, frustration boiling over. “Joel—”

“I’ll do you one better,” he interrupted, sitting back slightly, his legs spreading slightly. His smirk deepened as he saw the confusion flicker across your face.

“Take my pants off,” he said simply, his voice commanding, like he didn’t expect you to argue.

Your breath caught, the tension in the room growing impossibly thicker as his words sank in. His gaze never left yours, heavy and unwavering, daring you to hesitate. But you didn’t. Your hands moved almost on their own, reaching for the button of his jeans, your fingers trembling as you fumbled with it.

Joel chuckled low and dark, his hands resting lazily on his thighs as he watched you. “That’s it,” he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. “Good girl.”

The praise made your heart stutter, your cheeks flushing as your hands trembled, tugging his jeans down slowly, the fabric dragging over his muscular thighs. Joel shifted slightly to help you, lifting his hips just enough, the casual dominance in the movement sending a thrill racing through you. He made it look effortless, like he was still in control even when you were the one undressing him.

Your hand moved instinctively to touch him, but his voice stopped you cold. “Nuh uh,” he said, his tone low and firm, a quiet command. His eyes darkened as he leaned back slightly, watching you. “Shirt off too,” he instructed, his voice steady but thick with anticipation.

Your breath hitched, and you hesitated for just a moment before obeying. Your shirt joined the pile of his clothes on the floor, leaving you bare before him. Joel’s eyes dragged over you slowly, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his teeth catching his bottom lip as his hands shot out, rough and deliberate. He grabbed your breasts, his large palms squeezing, his thumbs rolling over your sensitive nipples. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, his voice low and full of reverence, though his touch was anything but gentle.

Your back arched instinctively into his hands, a gasp escaping your lips as the roughness of his calloused fingers sent shocks of heat spiraling through you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable, your entire body trembling under the weight of it all—the tension, the teasing, the slow build that had been driving you to the edge for what felt like hours.

“I need you,” you blurted, the words breaking free before you could stop them. Your voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I need you bad, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he muttered, his voice rougher now, low and dangerous, like he was savoring every second of your unraveling. “You that needy, huh?” He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips. His hand slid lower, gripping your waist firmly as he smirked again, this time sharper, hungrier. “Gonna cry for it, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to spill as you nodded, your hands clutching at the fabric of the mattress beneath you. “Please,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I’m—I’m begging you, Joel.”

Joel exhaled slowly, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek as if he were testing you, seeing how far you could unravel before breaking completely. His eyes roamed your face, his gaze heavy and unrelenting. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost to himself. “So desperate you’re fallin’ apart.”

His thumb caught the edge of a tear sliding down your cheek, and his smirk returned—soft but laced with condescension, sharp enough to make your stomach twist. “You’re a mess, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement, though there was something deeper, darker beneath it.

A shaky breath escaped your lips, your chest heaving as you tried—and failed—to hold back a sob. “Joel, please,” you whispered again, your voice breaking, trembling with need. You hated how small you sounded, but the ache inside you drowned out the embarrassment.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his thumb trailing down to press against your trembling bottom lip. He tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to stay locked with his. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly, the words drawn out slowly, like he wanted to savor the sound of them. “I’ll take care of you. That what my baby wants?”

You nodded frantically, tears spilling over as relief and anticipation coursed through you, lighting up every nerve in your body. His thumb lingered on your lip for a moment longer, pressing gently, teasingly, before he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice so soft it sent a fresh shiver down your spine. His lips brushed against your temple, and the warmth of his words melted into you.

“You wanna see me?” Joel asked, his voice dropping even lower, thick with teasing. “Or you wanna be on your knees?”

“Wanna see you,” you answered quickly, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, pleading, raw with need. “Please.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, his eyes dragging over you with that slow, deliberate intensity that made your skin burn. “Okay, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still carrying that rough, gravelly edge. “Lay back for me.”

You obeyed without hesitation, sinking into the mattress as your legs fell open, your chest rising and falling with anticipation. Your hands moved instinctively, reaching out to roam over his chest, your fingertips brushing against the heat of his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch as you brought one hand lower, trailing down his abdomen to the back of his thighs, desperate to pull him closer, to feel more of him.

Joel chuckled, the sound low and rich as his hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Be patient,” he drawled, his tone thick with amusement, his grip firm but not cruel. His free hand slid down your thigh, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin there in slow, teasing strokes that sent shivers racing through you. “I know you’re eager, darlin’, but I gotta take my time. Don’t wanna break ya.”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath his touch as his words settled over you, calm and confident in a way that made your heart pound even harder. The ache between your thighs was unbearable now, your body so wound up you couldn’t think straight. “Joel,” you whispered, your voice shaky and desperate. “I’m ready. Please.”

He raised a brow, his smirk twisting into something wicked as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Oh, I know you are,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart, I don’t even need any spit.” His words were filthy, teasing, and they sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

And then, with no warning, Joel sunk into you in one smooth, deliberate motion, a deep, guttural groan rumbling from his chest as he pressed flush against you. The stretch, the fullness, the sheer intensity of him overwhelmed your senses, and a loud, unrestrained yelp tore from your throat. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, your cheeks burning hot with embarrassment.

“Nuh uh,” Joel said sharply, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away from your face. His dark eyes burned into yours, his voice low and rough, the command in his tone making your chest tighten. “Wanna hear those sweet noises, baby. Don’t you dare hide ’em from me.”

You whimpered, your mind spinning from the fullness, the stretch, the overwhelming intensity of him. “But… what about…” you stammered, your thoughts hazy and scattered, trying to cling to something, anything. What was her name? The thought flitted through your mind, faint and distant. It slipped from your lips before you could stop it, a whisper of a worry clinging to the back of your mind.

Joel stilled for half a second, his lips curling into a wicked grin, his amusement clear. “So cock drunk you forgot her fuckin’ name,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery, each word a sharp tease that only heightened the heat flooding your body.

And then, without warning, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty, the sudden loss of him making you gasp. Before you could even register the thought, he slammed back into you with a force that had you screaming, your back arching off the mattress as your nails raked down his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only thing grounding you.

Joel laughed, low and dark, the sound vibrating through your chest as his breath fanned over your face. He leaned closer, his smirk sharp and cutting as his hips snapped against yours again, his movements deliberate and unrelenting. “Don’t you want her to hear ya?” he teased, his voice dripping with condescension and something darker, something possessive.

“Joel,” you gasped, the sound of his name raw and unrestrained as he drove into you, each thrust more intense than the last. His hands gripped your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as he chuckled at your reaction.

“Let her hear those pretty little screams, baby,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “Let her know I’m in your pussy, not hers.” His tone was cruelly teasing, but the heat in his words, in his eyes, made your entire body tremble, completely at his mercy.

Your breath hitched, a potent mix of embarrassment and raw, unrelenting desire coursing through you. Joel’s words were filthy, taunting, cutting straight through your defenses, but instead of pushing you away, they only made you cling to him harder. Your nails dug into his back as your body arched into him, every nerve ignited, desperate for more. His pace quickened, each thrust harder, more deliberate, his movements rough and dripping with possession.

“Bet you like that, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, each word a teasing caress against your ear. His lips brushed the shell of it, his breath hot and ragged. “You want her to be jealous? Want her to hear and know exactly who you belong to?” His hand slid down to grip your thigh, rough fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, driving himself deeper inside you. “Say it,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding. “Say you’re mine.”

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond him—his body, his voice, the way he consumed you completely. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, ready to snap. “Yours,” you gasped, your voice cracking, trembling. “I’m yours, Joel.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, his eyes darkening with something primal. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his hand gripping your jaw firmly. “Open,” he ordered, his tone rough, leaving no room for hesitation.

You obeyed without question, your lips parting as your gaze locked on his, wide and eager. His smirk turned wicked, his hand tilting your chin as he spat into your mouth, slow and deliberate.

The act was filthy, raw, and utterly consuming, sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through your body. Humiliation and desire burned together, each feeding into the other until there was nothing left but the aching, desperate need for more.

“Fuck!” you screamed, your voice breaking, echoing through the room as your head fell back, your body trembling beneath him. Your eyes rolled with pleasure, the tension snapping in waves that left you gasping, completely at his mercy. Joel wasn’t satisfied with just having you; he wanted to take all of you. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, strong and commanding as he pushed your legs up to your chest, spreading you even wider.

“Thereee ya go,” Joel teased, his voice rough and dripping with mocking satisfaction. His lips twisted into a smug smirk, his dark eyes locked onto yours as his hips rolled, his pace faltering just enough to make you squirm. As he pulled back, slick and glistening with your arousal, he chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you like a current. “So damn wet, I can’t even stay in,” he muttered, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

Without warning, he guided himself back inside, filling you again in one smooth, deliberate motion that left you gasping. The stretch, the fullness, was overwhelming, and a desperate moan ripped from your throat as he set a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with relentless force.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room, loud and obscene, mingling with your cries and Joel’s deep, gravelly grunts. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, his chest pressing against yours as he drove into you, each thrust dragging you closer to the edge again.

“You feel me, baby?” he growled, his voice low and rough, vibrating against your neck. His scruff scratched against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine, your body arching beneath him as you clawed at his back. Your nails raked across his skin, leaving angry red trails in their wake, but Joel didn’t flinch. If anything, it only seemed to spur him on.

“All in here,” he murmured, his voice softer but no less commanding as his hand slid down your stomach. His palm pressed firmly against you, his dark eyes flicking between your flushed face and the place where your bodies met. “Feel that?” he muttered, his tone thick with pride and hunger. “That’s me, baby. All of me, deep inside you.”

You whimpered, your hips lifting desperately to meet his thrusts, each movement of his body sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Joel braced himself on one elbow, his chest brushing against yours as his free hand moved between your thighs. His fingers found your clit with ease, and he began rubbing harshly, no hesitation, no regard for how sensitive you were. The intensity made you scream, your vision going white as your body jerked beneath him.

“Joel,” you gasped, his name falling from your lips in a trembling plea, the sensation overwhelming you, consuming you whole.

Your thoughts scattered like ash in the wind as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, his relentless touch unraveling you piece by piece. His rough hands anchored you, grounding you to the bed even as his gruff voice pulled you further under his control. You were pliant, trembling, utterly at his mercy, and all you could do was hold on as he drove you past every limit you thought you had.

“I—I’m gonna cum,” you screamed, your voice cracking, trembling with the weight of it. Your body tightened around him, the pleasure building higher and higher, unbearably close to breaking.

Joel’s lips curled into a wicked smirk, his thrusts becoming even more relentless, faster, deeper, like he was chasing his own edge just as much as he was pushing you toward yours. “Good,” he growled, his voice low and rough, vibrating against your ear like a promise. “Go on, baby. Cum for me. And make sure she hears you.”

“There you go, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with lust and satisfaction. “Cum on my cock. Fuck, milk my cock, baby. That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

The filthy words broke you completely. “Joel,” you cried, your voice cracking as the tension snapped, the pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your body arched off the bed, your nails biting into his skin as your cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation so intense it bordered on too much, yet you couldn’t get enough.

Joel moved quickly, rolling onto his back with a fluid motion, his chest heaving as he looked up at you. His hand reached for yours, pulling it toward him with a firm, commanding grip. “Stroke me,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, rough from the strain of holding back. His dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I’m close.”

Your body was still trembling from your release, weak and unsteady, but you obeyed him without hesitation. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his length. He hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking upward at the first touch, the reaction sending a thrill through you.

You started slow, dragging your hand up and down, your thumb brushing over the head with just enough pressure to make his breath hitch. Joel’s grunts and muttered curses filled the room, spurring you on as you quickened your pace. His head tipped back slightly, his neck exposed, his lips parted as he let out a low, drawn-out moan that made your thighs clench.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, surprising yourself—and him. For a moment, he froze, his eyes flicking open. But then he gave in, his mouth moving against yours in a kiss that was hot and sensual, his lips rough but responsive. The taste of him, the way he let you take control, sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your strokes quickened, your hand moving with more purpose now, your fingers tightening around him. Joel’s hips jerked in time with your movements, his groans growing louder, deeper, until his head fell back against the pillow. His jaw clenched, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as his body tensed.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice rough and raw, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as he let go. His eyes fluttered shut, his breath uneven as he sat up suddenly, shifting onto his knees. With one final moan—your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer—he came, his release painting your stomach in warm, messy streaks.

Joel stayed there for a moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. His eyes remained closed, his lips slightly parted, and for once, he looked completely undone—vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. It was mesmerizing, the way his defenses slipped, the way he seemed to let himself just feel.

You smiled at him, tender despite the heat still coursing through you. Joel’s eyes opened slowly, his gaze locking on yours, and for a moment, you thought he might soften. But instead, he leaned forward, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he kissed you roughly. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that hadn’t waned, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he pulled you closer. It wasn’t sweet or soft—it was commanding, possessive, like he was staking his claim all over again.

You started to lean back, your chest heaving, ready to catch your breath. But Joel wasn’t done with you.

“Nuh uh,” he said suddenly, his voice steady and firm, a sharp contrast to the rawness from moments before. His hand caught your wrist, his grip firm as he pulled you upright, drawing you back into his control. “Be a good girl for me,” he said, his voice low and rough, laced with authority. “Go out there and get us some water.”

You blinked at him, dazed and still catching up, confusion flooding your mind as you started to reach for your discarded clothes. “Okay,” you murmured, your hand brushing against your shirt. But before you could grab it, Joel’s hand shot out again, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you cold.

“No,” he said sharply, his voice low and commanding. His dark eyes gleamed with something wicked, a dangerous amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips curled into a smug, teasing smirk as he tilted his head toward the door. “You’re goin’ out there butt naked, baby, with my cum all over your tummy.”

Your eyes widened, heat flooding your cheeks as your stomach flipped with a potent mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “What?” you practically squeaked, your voice pitching higher. “Joel, are you serious?”

Joel leaned back against the headboard, his smirk widening, dripping with smug satisfaction as he spread his arms lazily, utterly at ease. He looked at you like you were a challenge he’d already conquered, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “You wanted her to know you’re mine, didn’t you?” he drawled, his voice slow, mocking, every word cutting into your resolve. “Well, go on, then. Let her see where I just came.”

The heat in your cheeks burned impossibly hotter, your body stiffening as his words sank in, settling heavy in your chest. Humiliation twisted inside you, curling around the raw, unrelenting need he’d left you drowning in. You wanted to argue, to snap back at him, to yell something defiant—but the way he looked at you, so commanding, so utterly unapologetic, made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t ignore. His confidence was maddening, overwhelming, yet it drew you in like a magnet.

Your breath hitched as you stood there, frozen, your mind spinning with indecision. And yet, deep down, you already knew. You’d do it. Because he asked. Because it was Joel. Because the way his voice dropped, low and full of authority, sent shivers down your spine. And because, in the end, you wanted her to know just as much as he did.

You hesitated at the door, your heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. Each beat felt like it might shake your body apart, your legs trembling as you fought to muster the courage to take the next step. Behind you, Joel leaned back further, watching you with that maddening, infuriating smirk, his gaze heavy, unrelenting, and impossibly smug. He was waiting, savoring the moment, dragging it out just to see you squirm.

“Go on, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low, honeyed drawl that sent a fresh wave of heat through your body. “Let her see.”

His words were slow, deliberate, and they left no room for disobedience. Your breath caught, and despite the knot of humiliation twisting in your chest, you reached for the doorknob. The cool metal was grounding, but it did nothing to stop the heat crawling up your neck as you pushed the door open and stepped out.

Swallowing hard, you pushed the door open and stepped out, your skin flushing hot as the cool air of the main room hit your bare body. You prayed—begged—that Tess would be asleep, her usual scowl absent, but of course, the universe wasn’t that kind. She was right there, sitting on the couch, her arms crossed and her jaw set like she’d been expecting this exact moment. Her fiery eyes locked on you the second you stepped into view.

You could feel the weight of her glare, sharp enough to cut, as you walked toward the kitchen. Each step felt agonizingly slow, your bare feet padding against the floor as your tits bounced slightly with every movement. Joel’s release still slicked across your stomach, glinting faintly in the dim light, and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

Tess’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line, her nostrils flaring as she stared at you, her gaze flicking from your flushed face to your exposed chest to the mess on your skin. The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, but you kept moving, refusing to meet her eyes. Your legs felt weak, your breath shallow, and every inch of your body burned under her scrutiny.

As you reached the kitchen, fumbling for a glass of water with trembling hands, you could feel Joel’s presence even from behind the closed door. He was enjoying this—every second of it.

You could practically hear Joel’s low chuckle echoing in your head, dripping with smug satisfaction. The weight of his gaze lingered on your bare back even from behind the closed door, the unspoken command still tethering you to him. He knew exactly what he was doing—forcing you to obey, knowing it would leave Tess seething with jealousy. It was all a game to him, and the thought only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

“You’re a whore,” Tess spat, her voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade.

You froze for half a second, your fingers tightening around the glass as your throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

But you didn’t look at her. You didn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, you poured the water calmly, the sound of it filling the suffocating silence, and then turned on your heel, walking back toward the bedroom with your head held high.

Her eyes burned into your back as you left, the weight of her words pressing against you like a boulder. But all you could hear in your mind was Joel’s voice, smooth and commanding, telling you what to do, and you clung to it like a lifeline.

When you stepped back into the room, shutting the door firmly behind you, Joel was right where you left him—lounging on the mattress, his cock still out, his head tipped back like he had all the time in the world. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, his relaxed confidence utterly maddening and undeniably magnetic. His dark eyes flicked to the glass in your hand, and a slow, pleased smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Good girl,” he drawled, his voice rough and full of pride. The praise made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t deny, even as your cheeks burned. He sat up slightly, one arm bracing him against the mattress as he watched you cross the room, his gaze trailing over every inch of your exposed skin. He took his time, his eyes heavy and unrelenting, like he was savoring the view.

“She say anything?” Joel asked, his tone casual, but his eyes gave him away—dark, sharp, with a glint of knowing amusement that made your stomach flip. He leaned back slightly, his broad shoulders relaxing against the headboard as if he had all the time in the world.

You hesitated, your throat tightening as the memory of Tess’s venomous words replayed in your head. Joel noticed, of course—he always did. His brow lifted, his smirk twisting into something sharper, darker. He reached for the glass in your hands, taking it from you with deliberate ease before guiding you down onto the mattress. The movement was firm yet unhurried, his grip on you steady.

“She call you somethin’?” he pressed, his voice dripping with mock curiosity, like he already knew the answer. He set the glass aside and grabbed an old rag, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped the remnants of his release from your stomach. The action, almost tender, sent shivers through you, your skin hypersensitive under his touch. His fingers tapped lazily against his thigh, waiting. “Lemme guess. A whore?”

Your cheeks burned, and you glanced down, unable to meet his gaze, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah,” you muttered.

Joel’s chuckle was low and rough, vibrating through the room and settling in your chest. It wasn’t a comforting sound; it was smug, knowing, dripping with the satisfaction of being right. “Course she did,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. His smirk deepened as his hands found your thighs, pulling you closer, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “Think she’s a bit jealous.”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as his grip tightened, grounding you. His smirk turned wicked, his eyes glinting with something darker, something possessive. “But she’s right about one thing,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, rougher, each word sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. “You’re my whore. Aren’t you?”

The weight of his gaze burned through you, setting every nerve in your body alight. Your chest tightened, the tension unraveling as you nodded, your body trembling under the force of his presence. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—there was only him. His smirk widened at your silent admission, his hands sliding further up your thighs, gripping you firmly.

“Good girl,” he hummed, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your lips as his fingers dug into your skin. “You ready for me again?”

The question made your breath hitch, your body already aching with anticipation. You nodded frantically, your lips parting as your heart pounded against your ribs. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking, raw with need.

Joel’s smirk deepened, his lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, “That’s my girl. Let’s see just how much you can take.” And with that, he pushed you back onto the mattress, his hands pinning you down as he took control all over again, his dominance overwhelming and addictive.

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubled thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "Is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sense it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn-out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He thinks that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader Just Coffee II

part two to this fic

Summary: Joel picks you up after a long day, taking you somewhere small and familiar, where conversation flows as easily as the wine. As the night winds down and Joel insists on driving you home, neither of you are ready to say goodbye quite yet.

warnings: some plot mostly smut 18+ MDNI

notes: this fic takes place in fantasy land where pinv doesn't end up in pregnancy ok thank you have a nice day. wrap it up in real life ok? im obsessed with this pre-outbreak Joel. I feel like I read & edited this til my eyes were bleeding, please lmk if you find mistakes

The evening rush had just died down when Joel walked through the door of the coffee shop again that day, his presence filling the small space. It felt easier, more relaxed now that he’d gotten used to coming around more. 

You glanced up from wiping down the counters, already feeling the exhaustion from a long shift settling into your bones.

“I thought we were meeting later?” you asked, arching a brow as you tossed the rag over your shoulder.

Joel leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed, his hazel eyes flicking over you—messy apron, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly frizzed from the long day.

“Figured I’d pick you up,” he said, ever casual. “Walk you out.”

You let out a small groan, rubbing your hands over your face. “But I smell like coffee and milk and—” you sniffed your sleeve dramatically, “—probably cleaning supplies. Real cute first date material.”

Joel smirked, one hand rubbing along his jaw. “Well, I smell like sweat and sawdust, so maybe it’ll cancel out.”

You snorted. “If you say so,”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to suffer through it together.”

That made you smile, warmth creeping up your neck despite yourself.

“Don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping a little softer. “Second date, I’ll take you somewhere fancy. But tonight, I got somewhere I think you’ll like,”

You swallowed, your heart giving a little unexpected flutter. A second date. Meaning he had plans on seeing you way more than just for one night. And damn did you like the sound of that.

“Fine,” you sighed, pretending to be more put out than you actually were as you untied your apron. “But if I smell like an espresso machine all night, that’s on you,.”

Joel just chuckled, stepping back to let you close up.

You expected him to take you to some hole-in-the-wall diner or maybe just grab a quick bite somewhere. But instead, he walked with you down the quieter streets of the small downtown, until he stopped next to a small, tucked-away Italian restaurant with a hand-painted sign and a cozy glow spilling from the windows.

It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t trying too hard—it was the kind of place people probably came to for years, passing it down like a family secret.

“You ever been here?” he asked as he held the door open.

You shook your head. “Didn’t even know it existed.”

The second you stepped inside, warmth wrapped around you—the scent of garlic and tomatoes simmering low, fresh bread baking, the low hum of conversation filling the intimate space. String lights hung loosely across the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow over the rustic wooden tables. A candle flickered at every one, pooling small halos of light between plates of pasta and glasses of deep red wine.

“You eat here a lot?” you asked him as he stepped in behind you.

Joel shook his head. “Did some work on the building a few years back. Owners fed me a few times.” He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Keep comin’ back when I can.”

As if on cue, an older man in a white apron emerged from the kitchen, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw Joel. He walked straight up to him, clapping him on the shoulder with a familiarity that made your brows lift.

“Miller!” the man greeted, grinning wide. He rattled something off in rapid, affectionate Italian, gesturing around the restaurant. Joel huffed out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“Good to see you too, Sal,” Joel said.

Sal patted his shoulder again, his thick fingers pressing into the fabric of Joel’s shirt like he was testing its strength. "Still workin’ with that stronzo fratellino, eh?"

Joel chuckled. “You bet.”

Sal scoffed, shaking his head. “Tsk. He was never as good with his hands as you.” He turned to you with a wink. “My best man here, best muratore in town! Fixed this place up when the siding was fallin’ off my dannata walls! Quick, clean—like an artista, eh?”

Sal laughed when Joel only shook his head, a red flush creeping up his face as he looked at you apologetically.

"Sit, sit! Please, eat whatever you like! I get you wine—" Sal finally let go of Joel, waving over the hostess with an urgency like he was hosting royalty.

“You’re quite the celebrity, Joel,” you teased, glancing up at him as the two of you followed behind to your table.

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I promise I didn’t bring you here for that—the food’s just real good,”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, amused, as the hostess stopped at a cozy table by the window.

Sal came back over with a bottle of wine, winking at you before heading back toward the kitchen. “Enjoy dinner, eh?”

You watched him go, then turned back to Joel, arching a brow. “So, you’re with your hands, huh?” remembering what the man said a few minutes ago.

Joel picked up the menu and hid his face. “Don’t start.”

You bit your lip, amused, and looked down at your own menu.

The dinner itself was nice.

The kind of nice that snuck up on you, unfolding in a way that felt natural, easy, like you’d done this a dozen times before.

Joel was quiet, soft spoken, but asked a lot of questions. Not just the polite kind, but ones with weight, ones that made you pause before answering. He wanted to know how you got into coffee—if it was something you always loved, or if it just happened. What made you decide to open your own shop instead of working somewhere else. If you liked being your own boss, if it was worth the stress.

And he listened, really listened, nodding as you spoke, his hazel eyes steady on you. Every now and then, he’d ask something that made you stop and think, something no one had ever really asked before.

“You ever picture yourself doin’ anything else?” he asked at one point, twirling the stem of his wine glass between two fingers.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess I never thought about it. The shop is mine. My whole world’s kind of wrapped up in it.”

Joel hummed, watching you carefully. “But it makes you happy.” It wasn’t quite a question, but more an observation. 

“Yeah, yeah it does.” you answered with a smile, then tilted your head. “What about you? Do you like what you do?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, thinking. “Don’t know if anyone likes workin’,” he admitted, then nodded a thanks to the waiter as he set down your meals. “But can’t think of anythin’ else I’d be doin’. Ain’t the type to be sittin’ in a stuffy cubicle and all.”

You smirked, picking up your fork. “Oh, I don’t know… I think you’d look real nice in a suit and tie.”

Joel let out a quiet huff, shaking his head as he cut into his food. “Yeah? And what, you see me sittin’ at some fancy desk, makin’ phone calls all day?”

“I dunno,” you teased, shrugging. “Something about you in a tie just works for me.”

Joel shot you a look, amused, before taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe I’ll show up to your shop one day in one, just to surprise ya,”

“Oh, that’ll be the day,” you giggle. 

The rest of dinner went by too quickly for your liking.

Joel told you about the different jobs he’d done over the years—how he liked working with his hands, how there was something satisfying about building something solid, something that would last. There was a quiet kind of pride in his voice, nothing boastful, just a man who knew the value of hard work, of making something real.

In return, you traded stories about your most memorable customers—the regulars, the weird orders like the ones who asked for 50 different flavors in one iced coffee. Joel countered with tales of difficult clients, stubborn contractors, and one particularly bad job where a homeowner swore they knew more about construction than he did.

And when Joel chuckled at a particularly funny story, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, you began to realize—God, you liked seeing him like this. Relaxed. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, he liked being here with you, too.

And before you knew it, the waiter was coming by with the check, and the night was ending far sooner than you wanted.

The evening air was warm as you stepped out of the restaurant, your cheeks still flushed from the wine and the lingering glow of good company. Sal had insisted on treating you both with large helpings of his homemade tiramisu—claiming you couldn’t leave until you were properly fed.

Joel had muttered something about not needing dessert, but you’d watched him polish off his plate without complaint.

Outside, the street was quiet, the warm light of the restaurant spilling out onto the sidewalk as the door swung shut behind you.

“That man is dangerous,” you groaned, placing a hand over your stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”

Joel huffed out a small laugh, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Could’ve said no.”

You scoffed. “And risk offending him? No way. I’d be blacklisted for life.”

Joel smirked, shaking his head before glancing around. “Where’s your car?”

You blinked up at him. “Oh, I walked.”

Joel’s brows pulled together. “You walk to work?”

“I live close by,” you shrugged.

Joel exhaled sharply, already looking like he was making up his mind, “Let me drive you—”

“Oh, no, it’s really okay—”

“I insist,” he said, and before you could argue, his hand found the small of your back.

Heat shot through you, electric despite how warm and gentle his palm was. You exhaled, smiling, and knew there was no point in arguing. Not when he was looking at you like that—stern, certain in a caring sort of way. So you didn’t fight it.

He walked beside you, his stride slow, deliberate. The night air was perfect with summer warmth and a cooling breeze, the quiet hum of the city stretching out around you, but you couldn't help the way that everything else had narrowed down to him—the sound of his boots against the pavement, the occasional brush of his hand near yours, close enough to feel the warmth but not quite touching.

He made a little conversation, but he was quieter now, more thoughtful. He asked about your family, where they were, if they ever came to visit. If you had much of a life outside of the shop or if it kept you too busy.

You answered easily, finding that with him, it was just...easy.

Joel didn’t fill the silence just to talk—he let it linger, let you breathe, let it settle into something comfortable, something that felt like it had always been there. 

By the time you reached his truck, you realized just how much you liked that about him. And how much you liked him.

Joel reached for the handle, about to open the door for you, ever the gentleman.

But then he hesitated. His fingers curled around the handle, but he didn’t pull. Instead, he exhaled, slow and measured, his jaw ticking as he turned to look at you.

His gaze flickered—your eyes, your mouth, then back again—just in time for you to feel it, that slow-building heat simmering between you.

“Screw it,” he muttered.

And then his hands were on you.

One at your waist, the other coming up to cradle your jaw, his rough thumb sweeping over your cheek as he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of weight that sent your heart slamming into your ribs.

The breath hitched in your throat, and for a second—just a second—you forgot how to do anything but feel.

It was slow but heavy and intentional, like he’d spent all night trying to fight the urge and finally gave in. He kissed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. It was steady, claiming, not the kind of frantic desperation you’d expect from someone who couldn’t hold back.

No, Joel took his damn time.

His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss, pulling you further into him. His hand slipped from your jaw, fingers threading into your hair, holding you exactly where he wanted as he kissed you again, his tongue venturing past your lips, sliding along yours in a way that made you turn molten.

You gasped softly, pressing closer, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, needing something to hold onto because God—he was overwhelming in the best way.

Joel groaned low in his throat, like he’d finally let himself indulge, like this was something he’d been starving for. His grip on your waist tightened, guiding you until your back hit the truck, his body bracketing yours against the cool metal, broad and solid and so damn warm.

“You gonna open the door or what?” you teased breathlessly, between kisses, your lips brushing against his.

Joel huffed, his nose dragging along your cheek. “You in some kinda hurry?” Joel’s lips ghosted along your jaw, trailing down the column of your throat, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin, each one making you melt further into him.

You let out a soft, breathy sigh, and Joel chuckled low against your neck, his breath hot. “Didn’t answer my question.”

You barely remembered what he asked. Your brain was fogged, drowning in the way he felt against you, the way his body crowded yours against the truck, solid and warm.

“No,” you managed, voice breathless. “No hurry.”

“Good to hear,” Joel muttered.

And then, in one fluid motion, he scooted you over, swung the door open, and hooked an arm around your waist—lifting you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. A startled gasp left your lips as he set you down onto the worn leather seat of his truck before you could even process the shift.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before Joel climbed in after you, the door shutting with a heavy thunk, sealing you both inside. The space between you was nonexistent—all heat, all him, his presence pressing into you, crowding you in the best way.

You thanked whatever lucky stars you had that it was dark, that Joel’s truck had tinted windows, because none of it would’ve stopped you anyway. Not when you were already leaning back into him, your fingers trailing up, brushing over the scruff along his jaw.

Joel’s hand slid up your thigh, fingers curling, anchoring himself as he kissed you deeper, tilting his head to taste you fully. His other hand found your jaw, rough fingertips dragging over your skin, tilting your face toward him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

You sighed against his mouth, pressing closer, nails scratching lightly against the denim of his jeans. He groaned, low and deep, swallowing the sound. Then, suddenly, his grip shifted, strong hands wrapping around your waist as he pulled you forward until you were straddling his lap. 

A breath hitched in your throat, hands bracing against his broad chest as your knees pressed into the seat on either side of him. The new position had you flush against him, heat radiating between you, the space inside the truck growing impossibly small.

Joel’s eyes flickered up to yours, searching, giving you a chance to stop this before it went any further.

But you didn’t want to stop. So you kissed him again. Deeper. Hungrier.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs, rough palms trailing over denim now, gripping just enough to make your breath catch. His mouth was hot, insistent, kissing you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your lips, the taste of you, the way you sighed his name when he tilted his head to deepen it.

“I don’t usually—” you began, panting as you broke from the kiss for just a moment, lips still brushing his. “I don’t usually do this on a first date, just so you know.”

“Me neither,” Joel muttered quickly, voice rough, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers laced through your hair, tangling at the base of your neck as he pulled you closer, like the space between you was too much to bear.

His other hand trailed down, squeezing at your waist before gripping the waistband of your jeans. His fingers dipped just under the fabric, teasing, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Think you can get these off for me, sweetheart?” he rasped, his voice thick with want.

Your breath caught, “H-here?”

Joel huffed, smirking just a little, his thumb brushing back and forth over the waistband, slow and teasing. “Ain’t nobody around. Just us.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady, certain. “Unless you really wanna stop.”

He was giving you another chance to pull away, to tell him no, and you knew if you said the word, he’d back off immediately.

But hell no. You shook your head, breathless. “No. No stopping.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, approval flashing in his darkened gaze. “That’s my girl.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the button of your jeans, fumbling slightly. Joel exhaled a soft chuckle, amused but patient, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat as his hands ran up and down your thighs, steadying you.

You finally got the zipper down, lifting your hips slightly as you started pushing them down, but Joel’s hands took over, firm and unhurried, hooking his fingers under the waistband and dragging them down your legs in one slow, smooth motion.

The second the denim was gone, his hands ran back up your bare thighs, gripping at the flesh of your ass, his gaze locked on you like he needed to commit this to memory.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked, pupils blown wide as he devoured you with his eyes. “Knew you had a great ass—couldn’t stop starin’ at it this mornin’.”

A flush spread through your body at his words, pooling low in your belly, but you could barely focus, too wrapped up in him, in the way he felt beneath you. Despite his claim earlier that he smelled like sweat and sawdust, you thought he smelled addicting—pure masculine heat, sweat and musk, with the faintest hint of whatever cologne or deodorant still clung to his skin. It was him, and it made you dizzy.

Heat curled low in your belly, especially when he tugged you down against him, pressing you right where you needed him, letting you feel all of him—hard, thick, pressing into the thin barrier of your panties.

A quiet moan slipped from your lips, and that sound did something to him.

“Oh, you make the sweetest little noises, baby,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he rocked you against him, his hands guiding your hips so you could feel just how much he wanted you.

His lips found your neck again, kissing, nipping, working their way lower, and you whimpered when they reached your shoulder, his fingers toying with the hem of your top.

“Think I wanna see more of you,” Joel muttered, voice thick and rough like gravel. His hands dragged up your sides, thumbs skimming the curve of your ribs. “Lift your arms for me.”

And you did—because you wanted more too. Needed it.

Joel peeled your top off slowly, taking his time, hissing when your bare skin was revealed beneath the dim light filtering through the truck’s fogged windows. His hands ghosted over you, calloused fingertips brushing along your collarbone, down to the tops of your breasts, his eyes dark as they devoured you.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muttered, mostly to himself, his rough fingers slipping beneath the band of your bra, teasing. You squirmed in his lap, eager, desperate for something, arching into his touch.

Joel huffed a quiet chuckle, his lips curling as his fingers came up to pull the cups of your bra down and began palming your breasts in both hands, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.

“That feel good, baby?” he rasped, watching your reaction as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, circling, teasing.

“Y-yeah,” you breathed, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Joel smirked, then pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers. You moaned, head tipping back, arching into his hands.

“That’s it,” he murmured, leaning in, dragging his lips down the exposed column of your throat, over your collarbone. Then he licked along the swell of your breast before finally closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking slow and deep.

You gasped, gripping his hair, your hips instinctively grinding down against him. The friction sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly, the hard line of him pressing right against you.

Joel groaned against your skin, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before switching to the other, giving it the same slow, torturous attention.

“Joel,” you whimpered, rolling your hips against him again, the need in you growing unbearable. 

He hummed, his hands sliding down, gripping your ass, grinding you down harder against him, “You’re so needy, baby,” he muttered, his lips ghosting along your jaw. “Bet you’re already drippin’ for me, huh?”

You nodded frantically, panting, whimpering, grinding against him, desperate for more.

Joel’s hand slipped between you, his fingers slipping to cup your covered mound, feeling the dampness that had seeped through the fabric. He sucked in air through his teeth as his fingers pressed firmly, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby. This all for me?” he teased, “Huh?”

You gasped when his fingers would press and sometimes skim along your bare skin, running along the lace, teasing, pressing just enough to make your thighs shake.

“Please,” you breathed, writhing against him, desperate for more.

Joel hummed approvingly, slipping beneath the fabric, his fingers spreading through your slick folds, teasing your clit before dipping lower, barely pushing inside.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice rough. “Takin’ my fingers so easy.”

You moaned, body shuddering as he continued to rub gentle circles around your clit before finally pushing two fingers inside, stretching you just enough to make your breath catch in your lungs. Joel groaned, watching you, drinking in every sound, every gasp, his fingers working slow and deep, curling just right to have your whole body shaking.

Your hips rocked into his hand, grinding against the heel of his palm, pleasure building fast, coiling tight in your belly. He smirked, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles that had your legs trembling around his hips.

“You gonna come for me, already, sweetheart?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Come on my fingers before I fuck you?”

You gasped, “Yes, yes–” your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body locking up as the coil snapped in your belly, pleasure ripping through you in waves as you cried out, coming hard against his hand.

Joel groaned, his head falling forward to kiss your sweaty skin, feeling the way you pulsed around his fingers, his cock twitching hard beneath you.

“That’s my girl,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, slick and shining in the dim light. You stopped breathing as he brought them to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reaction as he licked them clean, his tongue dragging slow over his fingers. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, like he was ruined by the taste of you.

Once he licked his fingers clean, he brought them to your lips and rasped, “Open,”

A wicked smile crossed your lips as you parted them obediently, letting him slide his fingers onto your tongue. Joel groaned low in his throat, watching you intently, his pupils blown wide as your lips closed around his digits.

You didn’t just take them—you sucked, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue teasing along his fingertips, slow and deliberate.

Joel’s smirk fell as his whole body tensed beneath you, muscles going taut as his free hand dug into your hip, hard, like he was barely hanging on. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, and suddenly, his slick fingers left your mouth, his hand moving to your throat—firm but careful—pulling you down to him, kissing you again. It was hungry, needy, open and wet, all tongue and heat, like he had to taste you again, like the last few minutes of teasing had finally broken something in him.

You moaned against his mouth, shifting in his lap, feeling the thick, solid length of him pressing right where you needed it most. Joel hissed at the friction, his fingers tightening on your waist.  Then his hands moved, gripping your hips, holding you there as he worked open his belt, the soft clink of metal making your stomach tighten. The zipper came next, slow and deliberate, the sound loud in the thick silence between you. You watched as he freed himself, his thick cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and dangerous, his jaw tight with restraint, “Still want this baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, kissing his face, his neck, nipping and biting at his throat as his hands worked himself. You lifted yourself up to give him better access to you. “Want you so badly, Joel.”

He grunted at the sound of his name on your lips, so low and wrecked and needy for him. Reaching down, he hooked his fingers beneath the soaked fabric of your panties, dragging them to the side. His other hand gripped his cock, dragging the tip through your slick pussy, teasing, pressing just enough to make you whimper.

“Joel—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint, positioning himself right at your entrance. “Go on. Take what you need.”

You didn’t hesitate, sinking down onto him slowly, gasping as he stretched you, filling you inch by inch until he was seated deep inside you.

Joel’s head fell back against the headrest, his hands flying to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there.

“Jesus fuck,” he gritted out, his thighs tensing beneath you as he held himself still. “You’re—fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight,"

You moaned, feeling every inch of him pulsing inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he rocked his hips up into you, and your head snapped up at the force, making you look up just in time to see a familiar face out the back window.

“Oh shit—Tommy.”

Joel’s entire body went rigid, “Please do not tell me you just—“

“No—Tommy,” you hissed, ducking down as far as you could, but it only added more friction, making Joel’s cock pulse inside you.

He grunted sharply, his fingers digging in harder to steady you, his jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react to the way you just squeezed around him.

Then, a truck door slammed shut.

“Hey, ain’t this Joel’s?” Tommy’s voice rang out, just outside, “Thought he left hours ago,”

Joel’s eyes snapped open, wild and alert. In an instant, his arm shot out, slamming the lock button with a sharp click.

Your heart raced, your hands scrambling to tug your shirt back over your head as Joel shifted beneath you, one hand still firm on your waist, the other reaching toward the door controls.

“Is he in there?” Tommy muttered to himself. The sound of boots crunching against gravel got closer.

Joel rolled down the window—but only a few inches, just enough for Tommy to see his face and nothing else.

Joel’s expression was thunderous. “The fuck do you want?”

Tommy’s brows raised. “Damn, hello to you too,” he muttered, squinting between the tinted glass. “I been callin’ you. You never got back to the landscaper—”

Tommy blinked. His brows lifted slightly.

“Well, hell,” he said, smirking. “That the coffee shop girl?”

You, still catching your breath, gave a little nod, “Hey Tommy,”

Tommy grinned. “Joel never shuts up about your coffee.”

Joel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Tommy’s smirk widened, shifting his weight onto one hip, arms crossed over his chest. “Well, you guys comin’ or what? Bout to head down to Jameson’s Bar down the street with some of the guys.”

The good thing was—from Tommy’s point of view—it probably just looked like a hot and heavy makeout session in the truck. He couldn’t see that Joel was, in fact, inside you. Your eyes flicked up to Joel’s face, still locked in frustration, his jaw clenched, his breathing ragged. And just because you could, just because you had to—you rocked your hips just a little. Joel choked on his own breath, his whole body seizing, his hands flying to your waist in warning. His eyes darted to you in a look that might kill you if you didn’t feel the betraying feeling of his cock twitch inside your cunt.

You bit your lip, eyes flicking down at Joel, voice sweet as honey, “Was just about to.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, his fingers pinching your ass hard in retaliation. You yelped, causing your body to twist up and into him, and he had to swallow his groan.

Then, suddenly, Tommy’s expression shifted.

His eyes flicked between the both of you—Joel looking wrecked, breath uneven, a little too flushed for the cool evening breeze, and you, doing your best to keep your face neutral while subtly adjusting yourself in his lap.

Tommy’s head tilted. His mouth parted.

And then, slowly, a knowing smirk crept onto his face.

“No way,” he breathed, realization dawning. “You are not—”

“Tommy—” Joel ground out, voice low and warning.

But it was too late.

Tommy burst out laughing, doubling over, hands on his knees.

Joel exhaled sharply, hands twitching on your waist, his patience hanging by a thread. “Swear to God—”

You, on the other hand, were trying very, very hard to keep a straight face.

Tommy finally straightened up, wiping at his eyes, still grinning like an idiot. “Man, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Get outta here,” Joel said between his teeth.

Tommy held his hands up in mock surrender, taking a step back from the truck. “Hey, hey, I ain’t judgin’—I just never thought I’d see the day my big brother was gettin’ it on in a goddamn parking lot like a damn teenager.”

Joel groaned, glaring daggers at him. “You done?”

Tommy smirked, but started backing toward his truck. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He shot you a wink. “You take care now, darlin’.”

You smiled sweetly. “I will, Tommy.”

Joel huffed sharply, clearly done with this entire situation.

You kept an eye on Tommy as he finally slid into his truck, still shaking his head as he fired up the engine. Before he pulled away, he called out—

“Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do!”

Joel slammed the window up before you could reply.

The second Tommy’s taillights disappeared down the road, Joel let out a long, deep breath, his grip on your waist still iron-tight.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You giggled, biting your lip, still settled in his lap, still pulsing around him.

Joel’s gaze snapped to you.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice thick, dark.

You blinked at him innocently, then, just to test him, you rolled your hips slowly, feeling his cock move deep inside you again. Both of you moaned at the feeling.

“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice low, rough.

“Mmm but you love it,” you smiled.

Joel growled, his patience finally snapping. His hands tightened, yanking you down against him, grinding your soaked heat over him slow and deep.

You gasped, your fingers flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he began to set a rhythm, his hips rocking up to meet yours, filling you over and over again.

“Fuckin' hell, girl,” Joel gritted out as your forehead dropped against his, “You love this, don’t you?”

You could barely breathe, pleasure pooling low and hot, winding tight in your belly, “Y-yes, feels s–s–so good,” you gasped, rolling your hips faster, chasing the high that had been aching inside you since the moment he first touched you.

Joel’s lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan that tore from your throat as his hips snapped up into you, deep and slow at first, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. You whimpered, fingers fisting in the shoulders of his shirt, clinging to him as the pleasure started to coil, winding tighter and tighter with every drag of his cock inside you.

“Oh god,” you gasped, barely able to breathe, barely able to think beyond the feel of him filling you, stretching you, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

“That’s it, baby—just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough, his arms wrapping around you as he rocked up to meet you.

You moved with him, rolling your hips, your body seeking more, chasing it, the friction and heat spiraling higher, hotter, pleasure building until it felt like you were seconds from snapping.

Joel must’ve felt it, the way you were trembling, the way your body clenched tighter around him, because his grip on you tightened, guiding you faster, pushing you closer, until—

“Come on now, hunny–you all talk or you really gonna cum?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with need. “Let me have it, wanna feel you.”

And that—his words, his voice, the command in it—was what undid you.

A sharp, wrecked moan tore from your lips as the pressure snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your whole body shuddering and twitching as you clenched tight around him, pulsing, shaking, coming undone in his lap.

Joel groaned loudly, his head tipping back against the headrest, his jaw tight, his breath shattering as he thrust up into you, once, twice—

And then he followed, his grip bruising on your body as he buried himself deep, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as he came, spilling hot inside you, his whole body locking up before relaxing, spent, wrecked.

The truck fell into silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing, the sticky heat between you, the feel of his arms still gripping you, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a huffed-out chuckle against your chest. “Yeah.”

You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you moving, just breathing each other in, the moment settling between you.

Finally, Joel ran a slow, warm hand up your spine, his voice still gravelly when he spoke.

“So.” A beat. “We ain’t goin’ to Jameson’s, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head against his shoulder. “Not a chance.”

Joel smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“Good.”

[gracieheartspedro]

How Long

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

description: your boyfriend tommy miller is a cheating bastard. luckily, your brother-in-law joel is nice enough to help you get your mind off of it.

word count: 5.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, this is porn, joel is a consent king though!, talk of horrible sex life, cheating, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, pet names

author's note: hey lovers (; I have been teasing this one awhile. i may continue this if you guys like it a lot. this was a request from an anon, i hope they like it!! i'm almost at 400 followers and I was gonna release this when I hit that, but I am too excited to share this. leave me your thoughts! my requests are still open! <3

You and Tommy went way back. You had crushed on him since high school, his charisma was hypnotic and you were hooked the moment he asked for your phone number. You became borderline obsessed. He was the ideal boyfriend. A huge mama’s boy, respectful, and hilarious. 

You hadn’t ever questioned Tommy’s intentions with you. You two even talked marriage. 

It wasn’t until his 26th birthday that you noted a shift in his behavior and when everything officially fell apart. You had just spent all afternoon at his brother, Joel’s, house. You and Joel arranged a surprise birthday barbeque and you were so excited to spend his special day with him and his whole family.

The whole day, you lied and said you were going for a girls day out with your sister, who was newly single. Instead, you and Joel slaved over the stove making Tommy’s favorites. You also decorated the shit out of Joel’s whole house, with the help of his tween daughter, Sarah. 

Joel told him to come over to help with fixing up his truck, but in actuality you all jumped out of your hiding spots and yelled “happy birthday!”

He hardly reacted. He was dazed seeing your beautiful smile peak up behind Joel’s recliner. 

His attitude was distant the whole night. He wouldn’t kiss you, and pulled away every time you went in to wrap your arms around his waist. He drank way more than you expected, tallying up about 10 beers. 

Joel noticed it, too. 

Joel even asked if he should start taking it easy and cool it on the beer. That only pissed Tommy off, which lead you to break up an argument in front of their own mother. Joel was annoyed, noting how shitty Tommy was being towards you. He was ready to fight his own brother on his birthday.

After the festivities and helping Joel with the dishes, you bid the whole family farewell. Tommy was too drunk to drive home, so you knew you would take him home in your Toyota Corolla, telling Joel you’d be back tomorrow to get his truck. 

“Drive safe you two,” Joel said in the driveway after assisting Tommy to the car. Even after Tommy yelled and fussed at him, he still gladly accepted Joel’s help. He knew he couldn’t walk any more than 50 feet. You smiled watching them, happy they could make amends so quickly, and started up your engine. 

The whole ride home, Tommy kept checking his flip phone. The screen would light up into his glazed over eyes and he’d huff in frustration. 

“Everything okay, baby?” You finally decide to ask. 

You glance over in his direction and you could tell he was annoyed by the question. You bite the inside of your cheek, anticipating him to blow up at you next. 

Tommy was not a nice drunk. He would blow up at the drop of a hat. There’d been countless times where he’d pick a fight with you after you picked him up from a bar or a friend’s house. You learned not to talk on any rides home when he was drinking. But you couldn’t help yourself. 

“You want my honest answer?”

Of course, you did. But when he says it like that?

“What is it, Tommy?”

He clears his throat, “I’m fuckin’ your sister.”

You felt your world crashing around you in that instant. You slam on your breaks on a main road, unable to actively drive due to the shocking news. You pull off into an abandoned parking lot, your hands shaking as you throw the car in park. 

“What?”

You didn’t even want to look over at him, your eyes welling with tears. 

“Yeah,” Is all he says, his voice changing, “I’m sick of lyin’. It’s only been a couple times. But she wants to meet back up.”

His drunk honesty was like vomit coming out of his mouth. Constant and sickening. He was so heartless with his words. This wasn’t your Tommy. What made everything so much worse was that it was your fucking little sister. You two didn’t have the best relationship, but you still cared deeply for her. This was the ultimate betrayal. You couldn’t believe that she, of all people, would try to destroy your picture perfect life.

Not so picture perfect anymore.

The soft hum of the radio takes up the air. You felt like you could suffocate with all of the tension. 

“How long?”

He chuckles lowly, “Longer than I’d probably like to admit. Why do you think her ex dumped her?”

You finally turn to him. He looked remorseless, not even batting an eye at your distraught expression.

“Get the fuck out of my car, Tommy,” You say sternly, “I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

“Oh come on baby,” He groans, “At least take me home.”

“Get,” The tears begin to fall, “Out. Now.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, “Fine, don’t want to watch you cry, anyway. Makes me feel like shit.”

He opens the car door and you watch as he stumbles out. He practically falls on the concrete, his footing wobbly from the alcohol. If you were as callous as him, you’d back your car right over him, but instead you sped off as soon as the door slammed shut. 

Your hands are still vibrating, unsure of what to do next, you pick up your phone and dial Joel. 

He answers after three rings. 

“‘Sup, sweetheart?”

His Southern drawl is hushed, like he was trying to be quiet for someone. It was late, maybe he was putting Sarah to bed. 

“Your brother.”

It’s all you could say before breaking out into a deep sob. He becomes panicked, immediately springing into older brother mode, begging you to tell him where you were. 

You finally catch your breath, “He’s a cheating bastard. He fucked my sister and I left him in the old Hecht’s parking lot.”

Joel lets out a long sigh, “Where are you?”

“I’m driving,” You mutter, choking back more sobs you feel coming up, “I can’t go home.”

You knew going home would be painful. All the photos lining your walls of you and Tommy. The pictures with your own sister. All of his belongings scattered all over the house. You knew you’d spiral, untangling the mess and missed signs. 

“Come back to my house,” He suggests, “I’ll go get Tommy and take him home. The back door will be unlocked, just come right in and settle down. Make some tea or somethin’.”

You nod even though he can’t see you. 

Joel was the older brother you never had. He was mature and honest. You had come to him a couple times to analyze Tommy and his behavior. It didn’t happen often, but he was great at advice. You trusted him. He was family to you.

“Thanks Joel,” You wipe your tears, “See you in a bit.”

-

Luckily Sarah was fast asleep upstairs, snuggled up soundly, while you tried to contain your sobs. You couldn’t believe how drastically this evening turned.

Tommy cheated on you with your sister.

The man you were hoping to marry and settle down with? The one who was adored by your parents? The one you told all your darkest secrets to?

You had no clue how he would ever come back from this. And he did it with your sister?

You still could not grasp that it was her. The girl who always came to you for boy advice? Hell, she came to you last week asking about a guy she had be-

It was fucking Tommy. She wanted advice on how to woo your fucking boyfriend. 

You wanted to strangle her too, but who knows what lies he may have been leading. You wanted the whole story, but you didn’t want to open a can of worms so late in the evening. You weren’t going to be sleeping, plagued by your own thoughts and emotions.

You’re curled up on Joel’s couch, using his huge knitted blanket as a cape. You turned on the TV only to give your cries some background noise.

Just when you stop the tears, Joel walks in with this look on his face. Disappointment. Rage. 

“How ya holdin’ up, sweet girl?”

Joel had tons of pet names for you, but that was a new one. He has always called you anything but your actual name. 

“Not good,” You say, choking back more tears. You were practically all cried out, your cheeks were stained bright red. Joel shuffles over to you, dropping his keys down on the coffee table. He plops down on the couch next to me.

“He’s a fuckin’ idiot,” He mutters, patting your unclothed thigh. Maybe it was the words he said that sent goosebumps up your body, not the fact he took a long second to remove his hand from your leg.

“I just can’t… Why would he do this?”

He huffs, shrugging his broad shoulders, “I asked him and he said it’s cuz you ain’t puttin’ out like you used to. Said that your sister came onto him and he couldn’t say no.”

It felt like another stab to the heart. You and Tommy had sex like three times a week. Every time he came inside you and praised you. You on the other hand, never came and had grown sick of having to finish yourself off every time it happened. So yeah, maybe you weren’t the eager youngin’ you were before, but you still fucked him whenever he wanted.

“That’s horseshit! I fuck him all the time. He is just… he’s a fucking cheating bastard. I just can’t believe it was her. Like what man fucks around with his girl’s own sister? He knows better.”

You’re trying to rationalize his behavior in your head. But Joel is not as kind.

“He obviously doesn’t, sweet girl. He…” He drifts off, catching himself for saying how he truly felt about his brother. Once he looks into your puffy red eyes, his tune changes, “He’s a stupid motherfucker for letting a girl like you go. Don’t know much about your sister, but she has some explainin’ to do, too.”

Your heart flutters a bit. Joel’s accent was so much more pronounced when he was angry, it was kind of hot. Why are you thinking that right now?

“I just can’t believe he would do something so… heartless. He didn’t even act sorry, Joel.”

“The alcohol made him bold, that’s for sure. Doesn’t ‘cuse the behavior, but ya know,” He sits back into his couch, “‘m sorry, sweetheart.”

You turn to face him, “Makes me think of the time he accused me of cheating.”

“He accused you of cheatin’? When?”

It was years ago, right after your 21st birthday. Joel and Tommy took you and a couple of your friends out to a club in downtown Austin. You took so many shots, you ended up dancing a bit too close with Joel. It led to a fight you had never brought up to Joel himself, but nonetheless, Tommy thought you had a thing for his older brother.

Sure, Joel was nice. He was a bit more serious than Tommy, always trying to be the rational one. He was an excellent and present father, dedicating his entire life to raising Sarah. He had similar features to Tommy. Tall, dark hair, beautiful brown eyes. When you talked to him, those eyes of his were so laser focused on what you said, sometimes you found yourself stumbling over your words. 

Maybe it was a little crush. 

“It was years ago,” You confess, looking down at your bitten back cuticles, “He thought I had a thing for you.”

His eyes zero in on your lips, like he’s trying to take the words out of your mouth, one by one.

“A thing? What type of thing?”

You shake your head, pushing your face into your hands. This wasn’t something you wanted to talk about, especially not now. But it was distracting you from thinking about what you could’ve done. Instead, you’re reminding yourself of all the shitty things Tommy has done over the years. That “perfect boyfriend” you had in the beginning was falling apart a long time ago. You just hadn’t seen the signs right in front of you. Now here they are, splattered all over the floor.

“He thought you and I had a bit too much fun on my 21st, I don't know! He always acted so weird when I talked about you. You’re like my brother, I would never cross that line.”

The silence in the room was deafening. You finally raise your head, looking at Joel’s contemplative face. 

“Never?”

You stare at him, looking for a smile to crack across his face. Like it was a joke or something.

But it wasn’t.

The air in the room shifted.

“Joel,” You mumble, before his fingers reach up and trace your bottom lip gently, “We can’t.”

“Why ‘cause I’m like your brother, or ‘cause you’re still banking on kissin’ and makin’ up with Tommy?”

It was a fair question. Making up with Tommy was never even a question, though. After being burned so harshly, you didn’t see any redemption. He was done for. Once that confession slipped past his lips, he was as good as gone. 

This would be the greatest revenge. Fucking his brother?

What could you lose?

Joel could be your rebound. Something to ease the harsh sting you still felt in your heart. You start to feel guilty pile in the pit of your tummy. But then you hear Tommy’s words ringing in your head. 

“I’m fuckin’ your sister.”

Yeah, you could use some revenge. 

“You can’t tell him,” You murmur, making sure it’s in a whisper. Even if you wanted this to be revenge, you didn’t want Tommy to know, “Ever.”

“It’ll be between you and me, baby girl.”

You nod, finally accepting his offer. He grabs your legs and pulls you into his lap. You never thought you’d see the day where you would be mounted on top of Joel Miller. His eyes feasted on you in a way that sent tingles straight down to your core.

“I can’t lie, baby girl,” He purrs, his hands tracing you from your thighs all the way up to your shoulders, “I have thought this scenario out countless times.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” His hand finds its way to your neck, “Seein’ you at family barbeques, watchin’ you at bars with Tommy. Always wanted to pull you into a bathroom and get a feel of these,” He runs his hands down your chest, catching the edge of your yellow tank top. Tommy’s favorite color on you. He pulls it down, revealing your white bra underneath. It was your favorite push up, a Christmas present from Tommy. 

He was littering your body, but instead of Tommy’s hands removing every trace of himself away from your body, it was his brother.

Joel doesn’t take note of your dazed expression, he’s too focused on your cleavage spilling over your bra. His fingers trace back to the clasp, his fingers expertly unhooking it. It sent chills down your back, while your boobs fall further out of the bra. He helps you shimmy it off your front, his eyes lighting up when your boobs rest right in his eyeline.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” He groans, his thumb and pointer finger tugging on your left nipple. You hiss, letting yourself get out of your own head for a moment. Your boobs were extremely sensitive, which is why every man you’d ever been with used that to their advantage. Instead of treating your pussy to a good time, they just toyed with your nipples while drilling into you, which usually had you cumming after a couple minutes. Deep down, you wished Tommy had actually gave your pussy the time of day. Eat you out, finger you until you saw stars. But he never had “time for that”. 

His words.

Joel wraps his lips around your nipple, letting his tongue circle around your areola. He uses his open hand to massage your other tit. Once he releases your nipple, he leaves love bites at the swell of your boobs. He groans at your reaction, which was grinding your hips achingly slow across his lap.

“Mmm,” You hum, your hands finding his brown locks, “More.”

“‘m not gonna fuck you here,” He scowls, “Gonna take you to my bed.”

Without warning, he stands up, gripping onto your thighs to take you with him. You yelp in shock, throwing your arms around his neck. 

“I got you,” He states, walking down the hall to his bedroom. You had been in there before, only to grab his wallet one day when you guys were in a rush to get to Sarah’s soccer game. 

It was only slightly messy and smelled like him. Clean laundry and strawberry shampoo. 

You were thrown atop his unmaid sheets, bouncing a bit at the impact. You decide to use the time of Joel crawling onto to the bed, to completely discard your tank top. Joel’s body takes over yours, his one hand propping him up, the other feeling your sides and scooping up your breast. 

“Think I’m gonna take my time with you,” He grunts, his hand finding your short’s belt loops, “Make you forget everythin’ and focus on me.”

You nod, agreeing to his terms. 

He sits back on his knees, tugging down your shorts and thong. He hisses as soon as he notes the wetness on your lacey panties. Once he tosses the items beside the bed, he nudges your knees apart. 

“Damn, baby girl,” He just looks at you completely spread for him, shaking his head in disbelief, “Tommy’s a fuckin’ idiot. Could look at this pussy every minute of every day.”

You moan before you can retaliate, your mind responding to his fingers tracing your slit up and down. You watch him crawl up you, his lips so close to yours. You two hadn’t even kissed yet, instantly going to tearing each other’s clothes off. It felt more intimate, more real. 

He finally leans in, pursing his lips to meet yours. 

Joel was gentler than expected. Tommy was always hurried, his kisses only to warm you up a bit. You never really kissed during sex either, because he always had you doggy, which wasn’t ideal for kisses. 

Joel’s kisses took your breath away. He was slow and methodical, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You finally decide to pull him down onto your naked body, his hips settling between yours. The action made him a bit more eager, as he grinded his crotch into your wet center. 

“Gonna have me cumming in my jeans, sweet thing,” He laughs, pulling away from your swollen lips. He crawls back down the bed, his shoulders resting between your thighs this time. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, hesitantly. 

He smiles again, “‘m gonna eat this beautiful pussy of yours. Unless you don’t want me to.”

You had no real objections, it just something you had never fully enjoyed with anyone else before. You were willing to see what Joel Miller could bring to the table. You nod your head in agreement, letting him rest his hand on your lower tummy, holding you in place for his mouth. He ducks down, pressing small kisses over your clit. His actions already had you writhing under his touch. 

He continues on, gripping your stomach a bit harder as he explores your pussy with his tongue. He switches between sucking and licking, eventually settling with running his tongue in circles inside of you. You were a groaning mess, your hand eventually finding your mouth so you could control the volume. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself with how loud you could be. He stops as soon as you do it. 

“You ain’t gotta do that,” He says, his mouth wet with your slick, “I wanna hear those pretty little moans of yours. Don’t worry about anyone hearin’ ya.”

You take your hand off your mouth and he continues on with his assault on your folds. It’s sending you into overdrive, watching him go down on you. He was so hot, splayed out between your thighs, devouring you whole. 

His exploration ends with him wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking you up like a straw. You couldn’t believe how good the vibration felt. 

You were feeling that heat in your stomach, so as soon as Joel slipped his hand up and began adding fingers inside you, you knew you were done for. He starts with two, fucking you slowly and systematically. He curls his fingers up like a hook, his lips still wrapped around your bud. 

This was it. This is what you were missing. 

Your unrestrained pleas don’t fall on deaf ears. Your orgasm hits you like a semi-truck. You reach for anything in your vicinity, which happened to be Joel’s hair and his white sheets. He didn’t let up on you as you came around his fingers, fucking you through it. 

“Holy f-fuck,” You stutter, “Joel what the fuck?”

“We are just gettin’ started, sweetheart,” He states, standing up beside the bed to take his clothes off. His cock was standing at attention in his boxers before he tore them off. 

Tommy was above average, but Joel was well endowed. 

You gape at the view, unable to really form a coherent sentences. 

“You’re droolin’,” He jokes, finding his way back on top of you. You giggle, letting the joke roll of your shoulder, instead of letting it embarrass you. He finds your lips again, kissing you roughly this time. You could tell he was aching for you, his hips finding their way between yours again. 

“Oh,” You say, feeling his tip nudge your folds, “I’m on birth control, by the way.”

“I assumed so,” He states plainly, kissing your neck and chest, “Won’t cum in you unless you want me to.”

You grin, “You’re all about consent, ain’t ya?”

He laughs, “You’re in control here, baby girl. ‘M just here to get your mind off all the shit.”

You have never been so enamored by a man in your life. He was saying all the right things, but you knew in your heart he wasn’t just saying anything. Joel was a genuine guy. He never lied to you or belittled you.

The longer you’re under him the more you start to realize that this is what you’ve wanted all along. 

He brings you back to reality with an feverish kiss, drawing you back to the moment. His hands trail down your side, tickling you a bit. 

“Hey,” You murmur, pulling away from his delicious mouth, “I want to… I uh-“

You don’t know how to say it. To be honest, you and Tommy were in a routine with sex so you didn’t know how to ask to suck someone off. You usually just did it first to get it done and over with. But you felt like you needed to do it for Joel, not out of obligation, but because you wanted to see him squirm under your touch. You have thought about it more than once. 

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Let me suck your dick.”

He smiles, letting out a slight chuckle at your demand. He never thought he’d hear that coming from your mouth. He waits a second, acting like he’s seriously contemplating the offer. 

Of course he was going to accept. 

You sit up, giving him more space to lay down next to you. You crawl over his legs, settling between his calves. His cock was red, the veins so prominent. It was just waiting for you. He tucks his one arm behind his head, propping it up to watch you put on a show. 

“Let me know if I’m doing okay,” You ask sheepishly. You wanted to punch yourself for saying something so stupid. You were never confident in your abilities and you didn’t want to disappoint Joel. 

He nods, watching you grab onto his shaft with your hands, “You’ll do great, baby girl.”

You spit into your hands once you realize you need more lubrication. You crouch more, jerking him off slowly. He is already so reactive, throwing his head back against his headboard.

You begin to tease him, peppering kisses onto his shaft and tip as it leaked. You smile when you hear him hiss at you toying with him. You finally wrap your lips around his dick, sucking in your cheeks as you pull your head back. He was so big you couldn’t physically get your mouth completely down his length. He was girthy, too, which didn’t help either when it came to almost unhinging your jaw to take all of him. 

“Such a good girl,” He praises, taking your hair into his grip, “You ain’t gotta take it all.”

The reassurance was comforting. You didn’t feel any pressure with Joel, which only made him more desirable in your eyes. 

You watch his face twist in delight every time you take him into your mouth, wrapping his cock in your saliva. 

“Keep doin’ that and ‘m gonna cum in that mouth,” His drawl is so buttery and deep, your center literally clenches.

You pull off of him, gaining some confidence in your bedroom talk. 

“Need that done somewhere else.”

He shakes his head, sitting up more to manhandle you up to his lap. As you slide across his body, you feel his wet cock touch your inner thighs.

Your mouth falls open as soon as his hands grab your hips and settle you right over his length. You are on your knees on either side of his thighs, looking down at him and his absolutely spent expression. His curls were standing in all different directions and his eyes were dark with anticipation.

“Want me to do the honors?”

He grabs his cock, positioning it right below your opening. Your lips twitch upward, shaking your head positively.

He lines you up, pushing his hips upward. He is stretching you immediately, the angle making you crumble under his touch already. Your legs practically give out when he’s partially sheathed in you, which causes you just to sit and take the rest of him in you. 

“Oh my fucking god,” You moan out, shutting your eyes to soak in every twitch, “I have never been this fucking full.”

Your eyes fly open, realizing what you just insinuated.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. I knew he wasn’t givin’ you exactly what you needed,” He starts to guide your hips to circle his, “I give you what you need.”

You never expected him to be so confident, but it was so hot. You rested your hands on his pecks and started easing yourself up and down onto his length. His lips flick upward, watching you get yourself off on his dick. He loved watching you like this, just enjoying yourself.

After a minute, he realizes he can’t let you be the only one doing the work. You were so in your own world, riding him and feeling every inch of him. Your blissed out mind gets over taken when he grabs you and rolls on onto your back. He is on his knees as he grabs your legs with both of his hands, spreading you out. He grinds into you, his cock hitting you at a different angle now. 

You moan out, reaching out to grab his shoulders. He takes the hint and dips down to capture your lips again, caging your body between his. He picks up the pace when you start to press your tongue forward into his mouth. You can’t help but whimper at how good he feels. 

“You fuck me so good,” You mewl. He was panting, his hot breath fanning your wildly tangled hair. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, focusing on making you feel good. Every pump inside you brought you closer to that familiar warm feeling. He notices your heat clenching around him, which makes him want to change up his technique. He pushes off the pillows, grabbing your hips and slamming into you at a rate you didn’t know Joel was capable of. 

“God, I can’t believe how fuckin’ good you feel, baby,” He pants, his thumb finding your swollen bud. As soon as he puts pressure there, you’re screaming out. “Mhm, that feel good? This cock better than his?”

“Yes, Joel, oh my god!”

He doesn’t let up. He wants to see you fall apart so bad, knowing those beautiful whimpers will send him into ecstasy. 

“Cum for me, baby girl. Know you’re aching to,” He clenches his teeth, “Let go.”

You have never had your vision go white when you orgasm. It’s like you’re about to see the gates to Heaven. He holds your body, making sure to feel every nerve in your body fire off into euphoria. You don’t even know what you’re saying, you just know it’s an iteration of his name and a bunch of cuss words as you reach your peak.

You were absolutely obsessed. You knew it as soon as the come down brought back your vision and you saw Joel. He was throwing his head back while painting your insides with his cum. He looks so delicious, his entire toned upper body glistening with sweat. 

He had to be the only man in the world, in that moment. 

Once he pulls out, you truly realize how sensitive your core is. You shiver, feeling his cum trickling down your backside. You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. You just fucked your boyfriend’s brother. And it was the best sex you’d ever had in your life. 

You thought you’d feel that all too familiar regret, but instead you just look over at Joel as he flops down next to you. He’s staring at you, a slight smirk playing on his lips. You were trying to find the right words to say to him. He just did the Lord’s work. 

Do you say thank you?

“You okay,” He asks while he runs his hand up your arm, causing goosebumps to litter your skin. 

You grin, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” 

He was worried you’d go home and see Tommy passed out on the couch where he left him and regret everything. He knew you would probably stay here anyway, but he anticipated you taking the guest room next to Sarah’s. 

But you weren’t going to take the guest room. No, you wanted to spend the rest of the night in his arms. Maybe even go for round two. 

“As long as I get to stay right here,” You purr, taking his hand from your arm. You bring it up to your lips and kiss his fingers, “Right beside you.”

END

[pedrospookie]

I like you.

summary: Jackson!Joel Miller x Eldest Daughter Reader, Just an afternoon in Jackson, Wyoming with Joel Miller.

a/n: This is (kinda) the first Eldest Daughter Reader fic among a sea of others that I am currently working on. This one is for the Eldest Daughters™️ who were left to be their own company for a long time. I mentioned in a post a few days ago that some of these stories are a little self-indulgent, and this one most definitely is. I was always a kid who was left to play by themselves and who was often treated as a second choice or plan B. This is also stemmed from hearing “i love you, but i don’t like you” growing up, especially during my teenage years. I know that we need to do the work to heal, grow and love ourselves, but we can also allow ourselves to have experiences that help us heal or at least believe/find the trust that we deserve it (because we do!). Anyway, here’s a little bit of Fix it Joel 👷‍♂️ for the Eldest Daughter. I hope you like it!

warnings: mild swearing, hints at infidelity (not Joel), the reader having some (what i feel are) ugly guilty feelings, light smoochin. Fluff.

wc: 2.3k words

It was a quiet day in Jackson, the streets filled with the chirping of birds and a lazy breeze, cartoon-like clouds drifting through the vast sky of the flat lands as people blissfully went about their day. After a tediously bitter winter, the kind that nipped at your fingers and left a lingering chill for anyone who dared to venture into the tundra, the burning sun and fragrant blossoms thawed the people of Jackson, casting a much needed warmth and sense of serenity over the sleepy town of survivors.

Today’s patrol went without a hitch— the regular route was relatively trouble free; a few fallen branches blocking the trail and the odd foot caught in the mud posed mild inconvenience, but it was nothing compared to your life before Jackson. The river that flowed along the outskirts of the town had finally melted it’s final peaks of ice, and the meadow just past the gates to Jackson was starting to become lush with tall grass, wild flowers scattered across the soft bed like confetti. It had been weeks since an infected was spotted. The murmuring speculation across town led to a single theory; that the virus could not survive the harsh winter, allowing a decline in infected. Regardless if it is fact or fiction, you’ll take it. Especially if it meant getting home early.

While the winter may have been frosty and daunting, your heart remained warm through the tough season. A certain someone had slowly found their way into your heart, providing emotional shelter from the storm. One cozy, snowy night at The Tipsy Bison, bonding over a shared love of Fleetwood Mac and Johnny Cash, led to another cozy night sipping whiskey, and then another, and then another.

Joel’s companionship gradually seeped into your life. It was an adjustment, having lived the life of a lone wolf, even before the world ended, yet Joel filled the quiet, yearning space that sat in your chest. A space that had you had become so well acquainted with from a small age, that it felt odd to have it overflowing. From the minuscule gestures of affection, sweet words of praise, or the moments spent together in silence reading, Joel was unknowingly and steadily mending a piece of you.

The gates of Jackson groaned an achy greeting as they opened, welcoming you back into the arms of the protected city after your quiet day on the outside. The trotting footsteps crunched under the gravel roads, slowing as you approached the barn, the horses anticipating their stalls. Leaning up against the wooden frame was a familiar salt and peppered man, his broad chest and strong biceps tugging at the seems of his white shirt as his arms sat crossed on his chest.

“Welcome back, darlin’.” Joel’s thick, weathered hand reaches for yours as you dismount from your horse, waiting patiently for you to find your footing along the hay floor. Once you were firmly planted back on earth, Joel’s gentle touch brought you into him as he pressed a tender, yet eager, kiss to your lips.

“What are you doing here?” You smile against his plush lips, breaking the embrace to welcome his pleasant surprise. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I was doing some work at the barn.” Joel points behind him at the old structure before curling his fingers into your pockets and tugging you closer, his voice lowering an octave. “Y’know, the usual mending of hinges and fences and whatnot.” He presses another chaste kiss to your lips. “Thought I’d stick around for ya t’see if you were free t’night?”

“You’re just in luck,” you say with a gentle poke to Joel’s firm chest, “my schedule is clear.”

“Mmm, thought I could cook you up somethin’ nice for dinner,” his musky voice hums, a taunting edge to his voice. “Maybe split that bottle o’ pi-not that I found last week.”

“Oh, now you’re just talking dirty to me, Mr. Miller.” You feign innocence, batting your thick lashes as your gaze leisurely meets his deep, chocolaty eyes. His pupils wide and hungry, taking you all in.

“Just you wait ‘n see how filthy this mouth can be, lil miss.” Joel muses, a faint darkness rounding out his husky tone. If this was any indication of the evening Joel had planned, you were all in.

Hand in hand, the two of you made your way towards the town centre, discussing the difference between a flathead and Philip’s head, how you spotted a fox fishing along the ravine, and the latest town gossip, specifically why Nick got dragged out of The Tipsy Bison last night.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding’ me.” Joel gasps, bewildered at the juicy slice of small town gossip you’ve shared with him. “After everythin’ Melissa did for him when he got shot by those raiders?”

“I know, I know. I would have killed you.” You mutter back with a laugh, a sliver of truth in your words that is not missed by Joel.

“Rightfully so.” He agrees with a squeeze to your hand, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief of the story he’s just heard. “These fuckin’ knuckleheads don’t know a good thing if it hit ‘em square in the face.”

Your attention shifts to The Tipsy Bison, very location in which Nick had been tossed out of less than 24 hours ago, as a familiar twang calls out to you and Joel.

Tommy stood just past the swinging doors of the bar, hand reached out towards the sky offering a wave.

“Joel! The boys ‘n I are having a drink later. You should join us!” He beams, motioning Joel inside as he tosses a dish towel over his shoulder.

“Nah, s’alright Tommy. I have plans tonight.” Joel says with a wave, “Thank you though!”

“You sure? Jimmy’s back from Louisville,” Tommy’s sweet, boyish demeanour is replaced with a cheeky grin, “supposed to be bringing some good shit with him.”

“It’s okay, Joel.” You mention softly, giving Joel a gentle shrug. It was amazing that the Miller’s managed to have friends in other cities among this hellscape. While it was exciting to have been met with Joel at the barn, you felt a weird sense of guilt for holding him back with your plans. Sure, it would be disappointing if he were to rain check your evening together, but you also could understand if he wanted to spend his evening with a friend who had made the several day trek to Jackson.

Joel couldn’t quite read the look on your face, confused slightly by your words and watching the gears turning in your head. He tried to pay no mind to it, looking back at his brother.

“We have plans tonight! But tell Jimmy he still owes me a pint!” Joel’s raspy voice laughs in response. He then shifts his attention back to you; his deep, oaky eyes looking at you with a twinkle. He gives your hand another light squeeze before slowly leading you back on your path home.

The two of you continue your walk back to Joel’s house, waving politely to neighbours as you pass by the once white picket fences and attempts at flower beds that lined their front yards. Joel could sense there was something on your mind, noticing how you had suddenly fallen quiet after running into Tommy. He kept replaying what he thought was a harmless interaction over and over in his mind, eyebrows furrowing as he dissected each frame as it passed through his brain.

“Are you sure you don’t want to pop over and see your friend?” Your meek voice breaks his train of thought, immediately drawing himself to you.

“Of course I’m sure, sweetheart.” Joel smiles softly, immediately feeling relief wash over him at the simple question. “I got plans with you!” He nudges you gently with his shoulder as your pace starts to slow.

“I know,” you say, coming to a stop by the steps to Joel’s house. “But your buddy is in town, which the fact that you have a friend in these circumstances alone is a miracle, and you haven’t seen him in a while.” You sigh, pulling your hand from Joel’s to brush a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to see him…” Your voice trails out softly, catching Joel by surprise.

“Darlin’, I gave you my word.” Joel reaches back for your hand, his thumb tracing reassuring circles across the soft skin of your palm, sharing a pleading look with you. “Plus, I like hanging out with you.” His gaze softens, lifting your hand up for a kiss before slowly helping you up the steps to his house, his grip keeping you steady as you make your way up the ancient stairs.

“Those boys are nothin’ but trouble and I reckon they’d give me a headache in more ways than one. I’d always rather spend time with you.” He reassures with a wink, reaching into his pocket for his house key.

“You like hanging out with me?” A sneaking blush comes to your cheeks, the realization freezing your feet to their spot on Joel’s porch. Why did this come as such a surprise to you?

Joel thought he had been very clear that he very much enjoys spending time with you— he saw you nearly every day. He would beg for an extra five minutes in bed together, and insist on walking you home from the stables or The Tipsy Bison. There had been several occasions where Joel managed to bribe someone to switch patrol shifts with him just so he could spend his day on horseback with you. Joel loved your company— your thoughts, your ideas, your dreams, no matter how tame or wild. He could listen to you speak for hours and never grow tired. Joel had never found someone so easy to be around, someone who he could be his whole self around. Why would he not like spending time with you?

Joel looked at you in a way that was difficult to decipher. Flashes of worry, confusion and disappointment passed over his greying face, the lines around his eyes deepening as each emotion crashed over him at lightning speed as his eyes searched yours, looking for clues as to as he how you may be feeling. Maybe he did say the wrong thing earlier?

“‘Course I do, baby.” His warm, thick hands finding themselves along the contours of your face, locking your gaze with his. “I love hanging out with you.” Joel says with an assuring yet short lived smile, his expression changing to one of concern. “Darlin’, where is this comin’ from? Did I do somethin— Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No, no, honey.” You murmur gently, a small smile of your own creeping up your cheeks to ease Joel’s worry. “I just don’t want you to miss out on being with your buddies because you’re stuck with little old me.” You brush off with a laugh, attempting to look away from Joel, but his stubborn touch wouldn’t let you, coaxing you to embrace this moment of vulnerability with him.

You knew these roots had been insidiously planted decades ago, stemming from childhood, fertilized by chronic disappointment. It was something you were forced to endure for years before accepting it as your reality. It was easier to accept that you are just a convenient second option, rather than getting your hopes up to ultimately find yourself disappointed again. You didn’t mean to be this way, it ate you up inside that Joel felt that he was responsible for this fear trying to mangle it’s way out of you. He had never given you a reason to question his priorities, and as scary as it may be, you had to trust him. Trust that his priorities haven’t changed. He gave you his word.

“If I wanted to be with those idiots, I would’ve told ya ‘n worked somethin’ out.” Joel says gently yet firmly, tracing his thumb lightly across your cheek, drinking you in. A smile slowly spreads across his face as his eyes take in your features. “And guess what?” He whispers, breaking the silence, “I don’t. I want to be with you, spendin’ time with you, drinkin a bottle of pi-not and getting my ass handed to me at scrabble with you.” Joel looks shoots you a cheeky wink. “Now, I know bein’ round an old guy like myself may be a bummer, but you’re stuck with me, missy.” He clears his throat as his hands fall from your face, slowly sneaking their way into the back pockets of your jeans. “Not only do I love you, I like you a whole damn lot too. You’re stuck, whether you like it or not.” Joel shrugs playfully, his eyes softening from his playful smirk to something deep and sincere.

His words bring a faint blush to your cheeks and a growing warmth in your chest. He does so much to show up for you, but hearing those words brought you a peace that you didn’t realize you needed. Not only did Joel love you, he liked you. Quirks, baggage, humour and all. He embraced you for who you were and loved every molecule that makes you you.

“I love you, Joel.” You say softly, fighting the growing lump in your throat as you digest the kind words that he had just shared with you. “I like you too.” You add with a smirk, wiping the pooling tear from your eye.

“Good.” He says with a fondness, firmly pressing his hands against your backside to bring you closer to him. His lips meet yours in a soft, yet passionate kiss. Joel’s hungry mouth deepening the embrace as he searched for more, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his grip on your ass tightened. Your hands found their way into his salt and pepper hair, eager to let them get lost among his soft curls. Joel broke the kiss with a sigh, the desire in his eyes fighting with his sudden withdrawal from you. He slowly pulled one of his hands free from your back pocket, reaching back into his own to grab his key.

Joel slowly unlocks the door, lazily kicking the wooden structure open as he turns back to you, delicately pushing you forward with the one hand still in your back pocket.

“Now, let’s say we crack open that bottle?”

tag list: @evolnoomym @mrsmando @picketniffler @itsokbbygrl @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @slimybeth69 @marilovespedro

(I’m sorry if i’ve tagged you and you didn’t want to be! Just let me know and I’ll remove it 💕)

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

Joel Miller x f!reader: We Have Each Other

Summary: You and Joel haven't been together as much lately and you're feeling a little insecure. Warnings: Little angsty but is happy at the end, Joel being a softie, tears (?), reassurance from Joel Please let me know if I missed anything! Was feeling a lil bit inspired so came up with this. This had not been proof read so any mistakes are completely my own. Enjoy and don't forget to like and reblog so that the algorithm can do its thing. Words: 1,0k

You and Joel had been together for a while, meeting him when you quite literally bumped into him in a café. Joel had never given you any reason to feel insecure in your relationship and was always complementing, reassuring and praising you. However, after a few late nights at work for the two of you, that meant not seeing Joel as much which seemed to have worn down your self-confidence. 

You had helped raise Sarah since you moved in when she was just six years old and Joel never denied how much of a mother figure you were to her, him being the one to reassure you after she had called you mom one night before bed. But after barely seeing the girl or Joel, you almost felt as if you had drifted from the pair. 

You cut the engine of your car and unlocked the front door to the house, taking off your shoes before heading to the kitchen to get dinner started. What you had failed to notice was Joel’s truck on the curb and his muddy workboots sitting on a newspaper at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, pretty girl.” He called from the stove and your head snapped up, lips turning up in a forced smile. 

“Hi, Joel.” You could see the colour drain from his face and a gasp come from the eleven year old sitting at the counter. “What?” You asked, confused and Sarah just laughed.

“You used his government name. You never call him that.” She stood from her seat and held her hands up. “I’m gonna leave you guys to it.” She said, leaving and Joel walked towards you.

“Have I done something wrong, darlin’?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No, baby. No you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just tired that’s all, slipped my mind. What’re you making?” You asked, letting him wrap his arms around your waist. 

“Sarah wanted homemade pizzas but we can have somethin’ different if you’re not feelin’ it.” He offered but you shook your head. 

“Pizza sounds good. I’m going to get a shower and change.” You told him, letting him kiss your cheek before walking up the stairs and heading towards your shared bedroom. 

The hot water hit your neck as you rested your forehead against the cool tiles, trying to will the stress of your week away. Within five minutes of trying to let yourself relax, tears began cascading down your cheeks and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that erupted from your throat. 

Your mind began to wander as you thought about all the possible reasons why you had become so detached to your little family. From there it only got worse. 

If you and Joel split up, you would be alone. Joel’s family was your family and without them you’d have nothing. He’d have Sarah and Tommy and you’d be left all alone. A knock on the bathroom door broke you out of your thoughts. “Sweetheart? Everythin’ ok in there?” You couldn’t find the words to answer him and the door gently creaked open, your hands automatically coming up to shield your body and the frown reappeared on Joel’s face. 

“Have I upset you honey? Ain’t no other reason to be hidin’ from me.” He walked closer towards you with a towel and opened the door, reaching in to turn off the water. “Come on doll, let’s get you dried.” He seemed to have noticed the redness and puffiness of your eyes because his frown deepened, if that was even possible. 

“I’m ok, just tired.” You muttered but Joel shook his head, gently drying you off with a towel and pressing gentle kisses along your cheek. 

“I think you’re a little more than just tired honey. And that’s ok.” He finished drying you off and helped you into a fresh set of pyjamas before sitting you on the edge of the bed. “Give me two seconds.” He walked back into the bathroom and returned with some of your skin care products and the hairbrush and a hair tie. 

He sat behind you and worked his way through your hair, getting all of the tangles out before putting it into a loose braid and pulling you back to lean against his chest. “Can’t believe you’re all mine. Can’t believe I get to be yours.” He whispered in your ear, his hands settling on your lower abdomen. “You wanna talk about it?” 

You shrugged and he nodded, ready for you to talk whenever you felt like it. Time passed by and Joel just let you lay there, content to have his heart beat thrumming a steady tune against the back of your head. “Just feeling a little down, that’s all.” You admitted and Joel nodded, giving you the freedom to continue talking if you wished. “I just missed thisl.” 

“I know you feel like wanting all this makes you some kind of ‘needy’ partner but I need you to promise me you’ll tell me before it gets to this point. Even if you have to wake me up in the middle of the night so I can tell you how pretty you are or how beautiful you look.” He promised and you smiled slightly, still not feeling great. 

“You ever wonder what would happen if we split up?” You asked and Joel tensed.

“Well I was under the impression that we were quite stable in our relationship so no I can’t say I do think about it. Why? Should I be worried?” He asked and you were quick to turn around and shake your head, hands resting on his arms. 

“No! Joel I promise it isn’t that I’m thinking- I don’t want to break up with you and I love you. I just keep overthinking things and I realised that if we broke up, I'd have no one. I mean you have Tommy and Sarah but I’d have no one. You are my family so if I lost you, I’d be alone.” You whispered, tears welling in your eyes once more. Joel seemed to think over your statement for a few moments before he sighed and lifted you gently so that you were sitting facing him on the bed. “You gotta listen to me now honey, ok? Ain’t no part of me that’s lettin’ go of you that easily. You mean too much to the three of us to just let you go that easily. Don’t you ever say that you don’t got anybody because I can promise that you will always have me. We have each other.”

[fireside-fanfics]

No Hesitation

Based on this prompt.

The rain fell in relentless sheets, soaking everything in its path. The wind howled through the broken remnants of the world, a world that had once been vibrant but was now little more than a wasteland of ruins. The abandoned streets, slick with mud and rainwater, stretched ahead like an endless maze, each turn hiding potential danger.

Tommy and Avery moved cautiously through the debris, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. They had been on the road for hours, tracking down a vital target—someone Avery loved, someone who needed their help, someone they couldn’t afford to lose. Every moment counted to save her twin brother. Every step carried the risk of being spotted, of the infected (or worse) finding them first.

Avery felt the weight of the rifle in her hands, her fingers gripping it tightly as she maneuvered behind a crumbling wall, scanning the area for movement. The familiar taste of anxiety lingered at the back of her throat, but she pushed it down. She couldn’t afford to be distracted now. Not with Tommy at her side. Not with everything on the line.

Tommy was already crouched beside her, his eyes sharp, scanning the horizon. His weathered face was a mix of exhaustion and unwavering resolve. He hadn’t said much in the past few hours, his usual quiet focus amplifying the tension between them. They were so close, but it wasn’t over yet.

Avery reloaded her gun with steady hands, the click of the magazine sliding into place breaking the silence. The sound echoed too loudly in the stillness, making her pulse quicken. She lowered her head, checking the chamber, her thoughts racing. They couldn’t afford any mistakes.

“I would destroy the world for you,” she muttered under her breath, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Tommy glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow, a faint snicker escaping him. His voice was low, but there was an unmistakable warmth to it.

“No need to be so dramatic about it,” he teased, his usual dry humor creeping through the tense atmosphere.

Avery could feel her chest tighten at the casualness of his tone. It was exactly what she needed—something to cut through the pressure that had been building inside her ever since they started this mission. She wasn’t sure if he understood the weight of her words, but she meant every one of them. The world had already crumbled to pieces, but she was willing to see it burn completely if it meant saving the ones she cared about.

“It’s not dramatic, Tommy,” she said, her voice low and fierce. “If it came down to it ... if it meant saving you—or keeping my brother safe—I would tear this world apart. Over and over again. No hesitation. No looking back.”

Tommy’s smirk faltered for just a moment, his gaze softening, and Avery saw something there—a glimmer of understanding. It wasn’t just a joke. He got it. He knew what this world had done to them, and he knew what Avery was capable of.

“You don’t have to,” Tommy said, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, steady and reassuring. “I’m here. We’re in this together.”

Avery swallowed hard, the intensity of his words hitting her like a wave. Tommy had always been her rock—ever since the days before everything fell apart. Through the chaos, the loss, and the pain, he had remained unwavering, a constant in a world that refused to stand still. He’d been the one to pull her out of darkness, to fight beside her when everything else had crumbled.

And now, in the heart of this desolate world, he was still here. Still fighting. Still making promises. Tommy wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull her close before kissing her forehead. His lips lingered on her temple for several moments. She felt a surge of emotion, but she pushed it down, locking it away. There was no room for weakness here—not when they were so close to saving someone she loved.

“I won’t leave without them,” she said, her voice steady but laced with determination. “I don’t care what happens. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Tommy nodded in reassurance, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the area.

“We’re almost there,” he muttered. “Stick to the plan. We get in, we get ‘em, and we get out. Fast. No screw-ups.”

Avery tightened her grip on the rifle, her focus returning to the mission at hand. The rain fell in sheets, washing the world around them clean, but the storm inside her wasn’t going anywhere. The stakes were higher than ever, but with Tommy by her side, she knew they had a shot.

No matter what came next, they would face it together. The world had been broken beyond repair, but as long as they still had each other, they would keep fighting. No matter the cost.

[mermaidgirl30]

So I may be writing a raider!Joel x Tommy x reader one shot and 🫠 You can thank @mountainsandmayhem for constantly feeding me her wicked ways 😩 Here’s a sneak peek of what’s to come 👀 (18+ Only MDNI)

“Let go of me!” you scream as you kick your legs to try to get out of his tight grasp.

“Quit fuckin’ squirmin’, girl!” he bites back with a harsh edge to his voice as he digs his rough palm into the back of your thighs as you yelp out in surprise.

“Where are you taking me?” you demand, hitting his broad back with a tight fist as you fight back. He immediately pulls at the waistband of your tight jeans as he digs his dull nails into your soft flesh.

“Stop fightin’ me,” he growls as his large palm flattens over your ass, “you really expected to sneak up on us like that, huh?”

The other man with dark, slicked back hair comes up behind you and grabs your chin as he squeezes tight and narrows his dark eyes into yours. “Better answer him, sweetheart. Don’t leave him waitin’,” he smirks as he slaps the side of your face and smiles a devilish grin your way.

You huff and try to squirm again as your hands dig into his blue denim shirt. “I wasn’t sneaking! I saw your cabin in the distance and was curious who lived there. I wasn’t trying to steal anything, I swear,” you say with gritted teeth as you fight the strong man that holds you tight over his shoulder.

“S’not how I saw it,” he growls as he throws you off his shoulder and slams you against the wall, his strong, flexed arms caging you in so tight that you can’t escape.

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie! You know what we do to dirty liars, girl? We have a little fun with ‘em. Ain’t that right, Tommy?” he growls as he presses his broad chest up against yours, so close that you can smell the thick scent of whiskey and pine trees enveloping you completely. He smells… good. And his eyes. Dark brown pits that spiral into your eyes. Hollow, lost, haunted.

You feel the hardening erection dig into your thigh as his patchy salt and pepper scruff skims down your jawline, his hot breath breathing down your neck as you feel a wave of slick slip down your center.

You shouldn’t be turned on, shouldn’t want this. It’s wrong, so wrong but you don’t care. The man that presses you up against the firm wall is so fucking attractive that you think you’ve lost your mind entirely.

“What do you do to girls like me…” you whisper quietly, holding your breath as you see his nostrils flare hotly against your skin, making goosebumps form against the bitter chill of December.

“You’re about to find out,” he smirks, his eyes darkening into black pits as he lowers his head and blows hot air across your chapped lips, your heart pounding against your chest like a ticking time bomb. You’re about to combust just by his whiskey scent lathering over your lips.

He dips his head lower lower lower until his tousled curls are falling against your forehead. And then he’s slowly biting your bottom lip as he nips and nicks your lower lip and you feel just how warm his mouth is. Fuck.

He pulls your lip back and then releases as it flys back into place. You taste the simmering whiskey scent coat your tongue and it’s hot as hell.

“You’re mine now,” he growls possessively as his black eyes paralyze you into place against his large arms. And that’s it. You’re dead meat.

TO BE CONTINUED….

[joelsrose]

First Date?

part 2

this is a long one - strap in for some slow burn yearning <333

You and Joel were complicated—or at least, that’s what you told yourself when the ache in your chest got too loud to ignore.

Joel Miller was the embodiment of contradictions. A lone wolf by nature, with a gruff exterior and a sharp tongue that could cut through even the strongest defenses. He was the kind of man who carried his burdens silently, his pain etched into every line on his face. At times, he was rough, even cruel in his honesty, like he’d long since decided the world didn’t deserve his softness.

But then there were moments—rare, fleeting moments—that haunted you. Times when his actions betrayed him, when he’d do something so achingly kind, it felt deliberate. Like he wanted you to see a glimmer of the man hidden behind the walls he’d built. Those moments unsettled you, because they forced you to consider that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller wasn’t as simple as the role he played.

And yet, the cycle was maddeningly predictable. You’d lie in bed replaying his tenderness in your mind—a quiet gesture, a word spoken softly, the way his hand lingered just a fraction too long. You’d convince yourself he meant it, that it was a crack in his armor, a glimpse of something real.

But then the next day, without fail, he’d shut you out all over again, rebuilding the walls you thought you’d glimpsed past. A cold remark, a dismissive shrug, a reminder of his unyielding distance.

And so it went, over and over—a push and pull that left you wondering which version of Joel was the truth.

It had been like this for months now.

Patrolling together had become a silent routine—Joel keeping to himself, speaking only when necessary, his words clipped and efficient as if conserving energy for something more important. Orders were given in a low, gruff tone, and you followed them without question. By the time you’d make it back, you could count the words exchanged on one hand.

But just as you’d turn to leave, he’d do something that unraveled the simplicity of your assumptions. Like passing you your scarf—the one you’d left behind without a second thought, easily retrievable the next day. He’d shove it into your hands without meeting your gaze, muttering something gruff about it getting cold, as if it hadn’t taken effort to notice—or care.

Or when you’d stop to rest mid-patrol, exhaustion gnawing at you, and he’d quietly slide his food your way. “Ain’t hungry,” he’d mutter, avoiding the weight of your questioning eyes. It was an excuse so thin you could see through it, but you didn’t dare push.

Joel Miller was an enigma you couldn’t crack, and it bugged the hell out of you. He’d bark at you for the way you held your weapon, his frustration simmering just under the surface as he corrected your grip with rough hands. But then, not ten minutes later, he’d grab your pack without so much as a word, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he’d grumble when you tried to argue, his tone dismissive, like his actions didn’t contradict every wall he put between you.

You struggled to make sense of him, of the contradictions that seemed to define him. Joel was a man who scolded you one moment and softened the next, and it was driving you to distraction. Because with every small act of kindness, every begrudging gesture, he left you with more questions than answers—and no idea what to do with any of it.

You tossed and turned, your mind unwilling to settle as it churned over the absurdity of it all. Here you were, psychoanalyzing a man at least twenty years your senior, someone who probably didn’t give a second thought to the things he said or did. Joel Miller was a mystery, sure, but one he likely didn’t care to solve himself—let alone have you dissecting.

And yet, you couldn’t stop. Every small moment lingered in your mind far longer than it should have. The way his hand would brush yours when passing you something, the gruffness in his voice when he called your name, even the way his brow furrowed when he scolded you—it all dug its hooks in deep, refusing to let go.

It almost stung to think about, the possibility that you were caught up in something he didn’t even notice. That all the small gestures you replayed over and over—the scarf, the food, the quiet way he’d step in without asking—meant nothing to him.

And then there was the other problem: you weren’t even sure what you felt about him. Affection? Annoyance? Something more confusing than either? It was a tangled mess of emotions you couldn’t unravel, no matter how much time you spent trying.

As I said—it was complicated. And you hated how much that fact alone kept you awake.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Maria and Tommy were sprawled out on the couch in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the space. Tommy’s leg bounced restlessly, the only sign of his growing impatience.

“You planning on coming down sometime this year, or what?” he called out, leaning his head back to shout toward the stairs.

Maria rolled her eyes and smacked his thigh, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet. “Tommy! Be nice,” she scolded, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“What?” he said, shrugging dramatically. “She’s takin’ forever!”

Maria shook her head, leaning back into the cushions with an exasperated sigh.

You let out a sharp breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Ridiculous—that’s the only word that came to mind. Your hair was down, soft and loose around your face in a way that felt foreign. You were wearing a skirt. A skirt. You hadn’t worn one since you were a kid, and now here you were, fumbling through the motions of playing dress-up, chasing some semblance of femininity you weren’t even sure you could pull off.

You felt out of place in your own skin, like an imposter pretending to be someone else for the night.

But this wasn’t just any night. You were going on a date.

Yes, a date. The word felt strange, heavy with meaning.

Maria and Tommy had finally grown tired of your groaning, your wistful complaints about how you wanted more from life—someone to share it with, someone to love. A family, children. You wanted it all, and the years weren’t exactly slowing down to wait for you to figure it out.

So - they decided to set you up with someone—a blind date, no less, which only made your stomach twist tighter with anxiety. But you trusted them, trusted their judgment, even if it felt like you were walking into the unknown without a safety net.

You took a steadying breath and made your way downstairs, the sound of your footsteps drawing their attention.

“Well, look at this,” Tommy said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You look beautiful, darlin’.”

Maria was up in an instant, her eyes soft as they swept over you. “You look…” She trailed off, her smile growing warmer, as if words didn’t quite do justice to what she wanted to say.

Before she could continue, Tommy clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Now, go! Don’t keep the poor guy waitin’. You’re gonna be late.”

Maria shot him a look, but you couldn’t help but smile as she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” she said softly, her voice filled with a quiet confidence you wished you could share.

And with that, you were out the door, nerves buzzing, heart pounding, and hope flickering just beneath the surface.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You stepped into the Tipsy Bison, the warm, earthy scent of aged wood and whiskey hitting you immediately. The atmosphere was alive but not overwhelming—a mix of laughter, murmured conversations, and the occasional clatter of glassware. Fairy lights hung from the beams above, casting a golden glow over the crowd, while a crackling fire in the corner painted dancing shadows along the walls. It was cozy, intimate, the kind of place where time felt slower, more forgiving.

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the mix of people. A group by the bar exchanged stories, their laughter rising above the hum of the room. A couple sat near the fire, leaning close, lost in each other’s quiet smiles. Strangers passed plates and drinks as if the walls of the place somehow softened the harsh edges of the world outside.

Tommy had told you the blind date would meet you in the corner booth—the one closest to the window. Your heart pounded as you spotted it, empty and waiting. Sliding into the booth, you realized you were early. Too early. The cushion beneath you felt firm, grounding, but it didn’t stop the subtle shake in your hands or the restless tap of your foot beneath the table.

You weren’t cut out for this, not really. You weren’t the “first date” kind of girl, the one who could walk into a situation like this brimming with confidence and charm. No, you were the girl who got to know someone slowly—someone who spent years building a connection, falling achingly, irrevocably in love. Forced conversations and the unspoken expectation of romance felt unnatural, like trying to fit into a mold that was never meant for you.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table, and you took a slow breath, trying to will your nerves into submission. This wasn’t you, but tonight, it had to be.

Then you saw him.

Your breath caught, a sharp hitch that seemed to echo in your ears as your eyes locked on the figure stepping through the doorway. The familiar curls, unruly and streaked with gray. The deep brown eyes that held too many secrets. The lines etched into his face, mapping out stories of loss, of survival. The slope of his nose, as distinct as it was unassuming.

Joel.

There was no way. Your heart hammered against your ribs, an unrelenting rhythm that refused to calm. This can’t be happening, you thought, a tangle of shock, disbelief, and something else you weren’t ready to name.

And then he saw you.

Your instinct took over, and you looked away immediately, pretending to find something—anything—fascinating about the table in front of you. Your fingers gripped the edge of it like it might somehow keep you grounded. But, of course, it didn’t stop him.

You heard the sound of his boots before you saw him, steady and unhurried as he made his way over. There was no mistaking the purposeful stride, the way he carried himself like the room belonged to him, even if he didn’t want it to.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and rough, the single word carrying far more weight than it should.

You forced yourself to look up, your eyes meeting his for the briefest, most unsettling moment. And just like that, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

“Hi,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you stared up at him, wide-eyed. He was standing there, just a few feet away, towering over you in that way that made you feel small.

Why was he standing? Was he… disappointed? Your mind raced, conjuring scenarios faster than you could stop them. If he was disappointed—if the very sight of you sitting there had soured his mood—surely he’d turn around and leave without a second thought. Right?

“What are you doing here?” Joel asked, his voice low and rough, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I—uh…” Your words stumbled over each other as your confusion spilled out. “What are you doing here?”

He raised the whiskey glass in his hand slightly, the amber liquid catching the warm light of the room. “Finished patrol. Figured I’d stop in for a drink.”

Oh. So he wasn’t your date. Relief washed over you, but it was immediately chased by something else—a flicker of disappointment you didn’t quite understand.

You tried to shove the feeling aside, scolding yourself for even entertaining the idea. This is ridiculous, you thought, sitting a little straighter as if that might shake the unexpected weight in your chest.

It looked like Joel was about to say something, the faint hum of words lingering on his lips—you look…but whatever thought had been forming was cut short by the sound of a familiar voice calling your name.

Both you and Joel turned in unison, your gaze falling on the man approaching your booth.

It was Levi.

He walked with easy confidence, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. You recognized him instantly—one of the patrolmen you’d crossed paths with a few times before. He was cute, older than you, with a charm that seemed effortless, like he didn’t even know he had it.

Joel’s eyebrows lifted slightly, the faintest flicker of realization crossing his face as the pieces clicked into place.

You were on a date.

With Levi.

The weight of that understanding settled over him, his expression unreadable as he glanced between the two of you.

Levi greeted him with an easy, “Hey, man,” offering a polite nod.

Joel didn’t respond, his eyes lingering on you for just a second longer. Something unspoken passed through that look—a question, maybe, or something heavier you couldn’t quite name. Then, with a brief nod of acknowledgment, he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the crowd.

You watched him go, a strange hollowness forming in your chest, though you couldn’t say why. Levi’s voice brought you back to the present, pulling your focus away from the retreating figure and back to the man sitting across from you.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Levi was polite, charming, and funny, effortlessly filling the silence with light conversation. He’d even brought drinks back to the table, setting yours in front of you with a warm smile that should have been disarming.

You talked about life in Jackson—the routines, the quirks of the people, the way the town had built itself into something resembling normalcy. Levi was easy to talk to, his words flowing smoothly, but something felt… off.

As he spoke, you found your gaze drifting, your chest tightening with an uneasy, almost nauseating sensation you couldn’t shake. Disappointment? You weren’t sure, but the feeling gnawed at you, unwelcome and unrelenting.

Your eyes darted around the room, scanning for the familiar head of curls, for him. But Joel was nowhere to be found. The firelight flickered against the walls, but his shadow wasn’t among them. You sighed softly, the weight in your chest settling heavier.

“You alright?” Levi asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

You blinked, snapping your attention back to him. “Yeah,” you replied quickly, forcing a smile.

Levi’s expression softened, his tone growing hopeful. “This has been really nice,” he said, leaning forward just slightly. “Do you think we could meet up again sometime?”

His words hung in the air, kind and full of intent, but they only seemed to deepen the ache burning in your chest.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice to form a coherent response. A lump had settled in your throat, and for reasons you couldn’t fully understand, you felt the sting of tears threatening to rise.

Levi, ever the gentleman, walked you home under the quiet blanket of night, the conversation light but distant—at least on your end. When you reached your door, you hesitated for a moment before leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, a small, polite gesture that felt hollow even as you gave it.

He smiled softly, murmured a quiet goodnight, and turned to leave. You stood there, watching him fade into the darkness, an ache in your chest that only seemed to deepen.

You didn’t see Levi again.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The next time you patrolled with Joel, the silence between you was heavier than usual, suffocating in its intensity. He wasn’t gruff or mean—not a single sharp remark or irritated scowl crossed his face. Instead, he was quiet. Too quiet. And it scared the hell out of you.

You couldn’t help but watch him out of the corner of your eye. There was something off about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His movements were rigid, his posture tense, like he was carrying a weight that didn’t belong to him. Every time you stepped too close, you noticed the way his shoulders stiffened, as if bracing for something unseen.

It set your nerves on edge, twisting your stomach in ways you couldn’t ignore. But you didn’t dare ask if he was okay.

You weren’t friends, after all. You were just two people forced into the same space by circumstance. And yet, the unspoken tension between you gnawed at you, leaving you wishing you had the courage to break the silence.

A pang of disappointment struck you, sharp and unrelenting. As much as Joel’s gruffness could cut, it also carried a strange, backhanded affection, a brutal cycle that had become its own kind of routine. It wasn’t healthy—not even close—but it was familiar. And somehow, in its familiarity, it offered a fleeting balm to the wounds he inflicted.

Now, even that was gone.

The two of you settled into the cabin for lunch, your legs aching as you stretched them out in front of you. Joel unwrapped his sandwich, eating quietly—methodically. He didn’t offer you his food this time. The realization settled like a rock in your stomach, its weight far heavier than it should’ve been. Why did that hurt?

You ate in silence, the muted sounds of the forest outside doing little to fill the oppressive void between you. He didn’t look at you once, his eyes fixed firmly on the wall ahead.

Joel had been so quiet for so long that when he finally spoke, you thought you’d imagined it.

Four words.

“How was your date?”

Your head snapped up, his voice breaking through the fragile reality you’d constructed to protect yourself. The question lingered in the air, heavy with meaning you couldn’t quite grasp.

He didn’t even look at you, just kept eating his sandwich like he hadn’t shattered the hours-long silence with that single, loaded question.

You blinked, caught completely off guard, your thoughts stumbling over themselves. Why did he care? No, of course, he didn’t care. He couldn’t. He was just being polite—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. But since when was Joel Miller polite?

“It was…” you started, your voice uncertain, trailing off as your mind scrambled for something to say. What did you say to that? Good? Alright? I felt no passion, the guy didn’t move me, and if you want to take me out instead, just say the word?

Your cheeks flushed hot at the thought, and you glanced at him. He wasn’t eating anymore. His eyes were on you now, dark and steady, waiting for you to finish the sentence.

“It wasn’t for me,” you said finally, the words spilling out too quickly, your voice quieter than you intended. Embarrassment prickled at your skin. You hated how much you’d let him see, even though he’d been the one to ask.

He didn’t say anything. Just nodded once, a slight, almost imperceptible movement, before returning his attention to what was left of his sandwich.

You rode back in silence.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You saw Joel around town, and it was as if nothing had changed. He moved through the streets with his usual quiet efficiency, nodding curtly to those who greeted him, keeping his interactions brief and functional. To anyone else, it was just Joel being Joel. But to you, it felt different—he felt different.

Your thoughts drifted back to that night at the Tipsy Bison, to the way he’d approached you. It struck you now just how out of character that had been for him. Joel wasn’t the type to make small talk, let alone go out of his way to seek someone out. He kept to himself, guarded and distant, speaking only when it was necessary. And yet, that night, he’d broken his own unspoken rules. He’d sought you out.

Patrols had continued in the same heavy silence they seemed to fall into since your date with Levi. You wanted to bridge the gap, to find some way to connect with him, but what was there to say to Joel Miller? The weather? The past? It all felt so futile, like trying to climb a wall that had no handholds.

Still, you couldn’t help but hope—quiet, stubborn hope—that maybe he’d say something. Like he had that night at the Tipsy Bison. That he’d let something slip, even just a few words, that would crack through the silence and remind you that Joel wasn’t just the distant, impenetrable man he wanted everyone to see.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

After one particularly unbearable patrol, the kind where the silence felt like it might crush you, the two of you worked in quiet to settle your horses for the night. The rhythmic clinking of reins and the soft shuffle of hooves filled the air, but your mind was elsewhere, turning over the weight of the silence between you.

Your eyes drifted to your horse’s saddle, noticing something off about the straps. It was an excuse—something to say, something to break the unbearable quiet.

“Joel,” you breathed, his name slipping out before you could think it through. It felt strange on your tongue, heavy and unfamiliar, almost like a confession.

He stilled, his hands pausing mid-motion as he turned to look at you, his dark eyes steady but cautious, like he was bracing for what you might say.

You swallowed, nerves suddenly tightening in your chest. “Her saddle,” you started, nodding toward the horse. “Do you think you could help me with it?”

Joel remained silent for what felt like an eternity, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, you thought he was going to offer to help as he turned to face you, but instead, his words cut through the quiet of the stable like a blade.

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend to help you out?” he said, his voice low and gruff, the bitterness laced in his tone settling heavily in the air between you.

The comment caught you off guard, stirring something hot and restless in your chest. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, the edge in his tone that felt like a jab, intentional or not.

“He’s not my—” you began, your voice sharp with frustration, but it faltered midway, your brows knitting together in confusion. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t figure out what had provoked him to say that, what had driven him to let that bitterness seep into his tone.

You clenched your jaw, the knot of irritation and confusion tightening in your chest as you struggled to find the right words, to make sense of the way his comment had unsettled you. “I told you—” you tried again, but even as the words formed, they felt incomplete, unable to articulate the tangle of emotions his remark had stirred.

You’d told him it wasn’t for you. You’d made that clear. So why was he bringing Levi up now?

You stopped, the sentence hanging unfinished in the cool air. Your frustration boiled over, spilling into your movements as you grabbed your gear.

“Forget it,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you turned away, your boots crunching against the dirt floor. You didn’t wait for a reply, didn’t even look back, but the weight of his presence lingered, pressing against your back as you left.

You scolded yourself as you marched home, your vision blurring with tears you refused to let fall. What were you thinking? you berated yourself. You’d been imagining things, reading too much into fleeting moments, conjuring something out of nothing. Joel Miller was nothing more than an old, grumpy man who kept everyone at arm’s length. And you? You meant nothing to him.

The thought stung more than you cared to admit, and you quickened your pace, as if you could outrun the ache settling in your chest.

Behind you, Joel stood frozen, watching you go. He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with the storm in his head. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, the word rough and barely audible, like it was dragged out of him against his will.

His throat felt tight, constricted with all the things he wanted to say but never could.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

When you arrived at the stables for your next patrol with Joel, you’d already had a strict talk with yourself. This is just work, you reminded yourself, repeating the mantra like it might actually stick. At least now you know you were imagining it all. He’s just a lonely, miserable man, and you only have to deal with him for patrol. You can handle this.

You sighed as you approached your horse, the memory of the saddle straps creeping back into your mind. You should’ve taken care of it before today, but it had slipped your thoughts in the haze of everything else. Now, it was one more thing to annoy you during patrol.

Groaning quietly, you greeted your horse, running a hand along its neck before stepping closer to inspect the saddle. The moment your eyes landed on it, your breath caught in your throat.

It was fixed.

The leather gleamed in the soft morning light, the straps perfectly adjusted, every detail precise and cared for. Your heart stuttered in your chest, the weight of realization hitting you like a tidal wave.

There was no mistaking it. Someone had done this, gone out of their way to replace it without a word. And you didn’t have to guess who.

Joel.

The thought sent a flood of emotions surging through you—confusion, frustration, and something warmer, something softer you couldn’t quite name. Your fingers brushed over the leather, and for a moment, you stood frozen, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

You straightened up, glancing toward the other end of the stables, where Joel was preparing his horse, as silent and stoic as ever.

He didn’t look your way, didn’t acknowledge you, as if nothing had happened.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The Tipsy Bison buzzed with its usual warmth, the hum of voices and faint strumming of music weaving through the space. The lukewarm beer in front of you was untouched, the glass cool beneath your fingers as you stared into it, your mind elsewhere.

You thought about the patrol with Joel today, how he hadn’t said a word about the saddle—and neither had you. The weight of his silence pressed on you, mingling with an ache you couldn’t quite name.

“Hey, hey!” Tommy’s whistle cut through your trance, drawing your attention back to the table. “Over here!”

Your head turned instinctively, and your breath faltered. Joel was approaching, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before he shifted his focus elsewhere. You gripped your drink for comfort, your knuckles brushing against the condensation on the glass.

Joel sank into the booth across from you with a quiet groan, the seat dipping beneath his weight. He stretched his arms over the back of the booth, his movements slow and deliberate. Maria and Tommy carried most of the conversation, their easy banter filling the gaps, unaware—or perhaps purposefully ignoring—how little you and Joel contributed unless prompted.

At one point, as Maria and Tommy became engrossed in their own topic—something about fixing a water pipe—Joel’s gaze shifted to you. For a moment, he hesitated, his fingers idly tapping the edge of the table.

“The saddle,” he said finally, his voice low but distinct, breaking through the chatter. “It alright?”

You looked up, startled, your gaze colliding with his for the first time in what felt like forever. His eyes held you there, and you couldn’t look away. The depth of them caught you off guard—a rich, dark brown that seemed to hold more than you’d ever let yourself see before.

“Yeah,” you managed, unsure how much detail to give. Your voice softened. “Much better. Thank you.” You lifted your glass to your lips, taking a long sip, more for composure than anything else.

Joel gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything else, and you resisted the urge to press. There were a million questions swirling in your mind—Why did you do it? Why are you so mean one second and then so kind the next? What do you want from me?

But before you could even form the words, Tommy’s voice, slurring just slightly, broke through.

“Hey!” he said, pointing a finger at you with exaggerated clarity. “I just remembered—you never told me how it went with Mr. Levi!”

You froze, your breath hitching as Joel’s gaze snapped back to you. His expression didn’t change, but there was something pointed about the way he looked at you now, his attention fully yours.

“I—” you started, your voice faltering as you glanced between Tommy and Joel.

Tommy, oblivious to the tension, grinned lazily and leaned forward. “C’mon now, was he any good in the sack?”

“Tommy,” Joel said sharply, his tone cutting through the moment like a knife.

“Geez, I’m joking!” Tommy held up his hands in mock defense, flashing you an apologetic smile. “Shit, sorry, darlin’. Just messing around.”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off even though your cheeks burned. You looked down at your glass before speaking again. “He was nice. I just…” You hesitated, your voice quieter now. “I don’t think it would work out between us.”

“Why not?” Tommy pressed, leaning back against the booth as if this were the most natural follow-up in the world.

You felt Joel’s eyes on you again, heavy and expectant, waiting for your answer. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, and the words you wanted to say tangled in your throat. You didn’t dare look at Joel as you replied, your voice barely audible.

“I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, about to say something else, but Maria elbowed him in the side, cutting him off with a look. “Leave her alone, Tommy,” she said, her tone sharp but affectionate.

The conversation shifted after that, Tommy’s attention diverted to a new topic, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of Joel’s gaze lingering on you.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The next patrol with Joel felt off the moment he approached the stables. He was nearly thirty minutes late—uncharacteristic for him, a man who was always early, often already checking his rifle or saddling his horse by the time you arrived.

When he finally showed up, his gait was unsteady, his movements sluggish, and the acrid scent of alcohol clung to him like a second skin.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered as he leaned heavily against the stable door, his shoulders slumped in a way that screamed exhaustion.

“‘M fine,” he slurred, but the slight wobble in his stance told you otherwise.

“No, you’re not,” you said sharply, grabbing his arm. “Sit down.”

He didn’t argue, sinking onto a nearby bench with a groan, his head falling into his hands.

You’d never seen Joel like this. You were so used to his rigid nature, the way he kept everything locked down, never letting anyone see past what he carefully chose to show. And now here he was—drunk? At seven in the morning?

It wasn’t just out of character; it was unsettling. A quiet worry crept up inside you, uninvited and inexplicable, tightening your chest. You weren’t sure where it came from or why it mattered so much, but seeing him like this—unsteady, vulnerable—set something off in you that you couldn’t quite name.

You grabbed your canteen and handed it to him. “Drink this.”

He squinted at the bottle like it might bite him. “Alcohol?”

“No, you idiot, it’s water,” you snapped, pushing it closer to him.

He took it reluctantly, sipping slowly before setting it aside. You crossed your arms, watching him with a mixture of frustration and concern. “What the hell is going on with you?”

Joel didn’t answer immediately. He tipped his head back, staring at the stable’s wooden beams as if they might provide an escape. His face was worn, the lines etched into it deeper than usual.

“Had a rough night,” he muttered finally, his voice gravelly and low.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you shot back, your gaze falling on the empty whiskey bottle peeking out of his saddlebag. “You’re supposed to be on patrol, Joel, not nursing a hangover.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a long, tired sigh. “Ain’t hungover. I’m still drunk.”

You shook your head, exasperated. “Okay. That’s it. I’m getting you home. I’ll patrol with someone else—I’ll call Tommy or Maria—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm despite the slur. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “I can do this.”

“Like hell you can,” you snapped, stepping in front of him to block his path. “I’m not dragging your drunk ass around out there. I’m a bad enough shot as it is—I’m not covering you too.”

Joel stilled at that, his dark eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, something softened in his expression, his usual gruffness melting away. “You’re not a bad shot,” he said, his voice quiet and achingly tender, like he was trying to soothe a wound you didn’t even realize you’d exposed.

His words caught you off guard, your anger wavering for just a second before you shook it off. “Let’s go,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him.

Joel leaned against you, his weight heavy but manageable as the two of you walked toward his house. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. The silence between you was thick, but it wasn’t the same as before. It felt different now—fragile, like the space between you was waiting for something to break.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You opened his door, your fingers fumbling as you fished the keys from his pocket, trying not to think too hard about the warmth of his body against yours or the faint, familiar scent of him beneath the sharp tang of alcohol.

Don’t think about that. Focus.

“All right,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the thrum of nerves in your chest. “We’re here.”

Joel hummed something incoherent in response, his eyes barely open as he leaned heavier against you.

Guiding him through the hallway, you exhaled in quiet relief when the couch came into view. Carefully, you maneuvered him toward it, letting him sink into the worn cushions with a groan.

You untangled his arm from where it had rested against your shoulder, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than you expected. He let out another low groan, his head tipping back as his eyes fluttered closed.

For a moment, you stood there, watching him, unsure if you should leave him like this. His face, softened in the haze of alcohol and exhaustion, was almost unrecognizable—like a shadow of the man he worked so hard to be.

You shook the thought away, sighing as you pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over him.

Just as you turned to leave, his voice, low and slurred, stopped you in your tracks.

“You,” he mumbled, barely audible, the word hanging in the still air.

You froze, your hand hovering over the doorframe. “What?” you asked, glancing back at him.

Joel’s eyes were half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion and alcohol, but they found yours. He looked at you like he was fighting to stay awake, fighting to say the words before sleep overtook him.

“You asked me,” he murmured, his voice rough, “what got into me.” He paused, his head tipping back slightly as if searching for the strength to continue. “Had a rough night... ‘cause I was thinkin’.”

You hesitated, the room suddenly feeling too small, too quiet. “Thinking about what?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Thinkin’ about you,” he admitted, his words slurred but unmistakable.

Your breath caught, the confession landing like a blow to your chest. Joel’s eyes closed fully then, his head sinking into the couch cushion as sleep finally claimed him, leaving you standing there, stunned and unsure if you’d just imagined it all.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You closed the door behind you, the cold air biting at your cheeks, grounding you momentarily. Thinking about you. The words echoed in your head, over and over, like a distant bell that wouldn’t stop ringing. Had you imagined them? What could he have meant?

Before you even realized what you were doing, your legs were carrying you in a sprint to Maria and Tommy’s house. Your breath came in sharp gasps as you knocked on the door urgently, your fist hitting the wood harder than you intended.

Maria opened it quickly, her expression shifting from concern to surprise as she took in your frazzled state. “Woah,” she said, eyebrows raising. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you managed, though your voice betrayed you, shaky and unconvincing. You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself as her gaze pinned you with quiet expectation.

“I, uh… Joel can’t patrol today,” you said finally, the words spilling out in a rush.

Maria frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What? Why not?”

You froze for half a second, your mind scrambling. Were you about to tell her Joel had shown up to patrol drunk? You doubted that would go over well. “He’s, uh, sick,” you blurted, praying she wouldn’t be able to tell you were lying.

“Sick?” she repeated, skepticism creeping into her tone.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding quickly. “So, I need someone else. A new patrol partner for today.”

Maria sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Alright. I’ll send Eugene and Levi. You go home,” she said firmly.

“What?” you asked, caught off guard. “No, I’ll still go.”

“No,” Maria said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “If Joel’s sick, that probably means you’re about to get sick too. Stay home.” She was already stepping back into the house, reaching for the radio. “I’ll let them know now.”

You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it, nodding instead. You weren’t in the mood to fight her on this, not with your mind still racing.

As you walked back home, the cold air filling your lungs, your thoughts circled back to Joel’s words. Your breathing was still uneven, your pulse thundering in your ears as you tried—and failed—to make sense of what he’d said. Thinking about you.

What did he mean? And why did it feel like your whole world had shifted with those three simple words?

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The next week had been a blur of activity—a whirlwind of patrols, shifts at the infirmary, and volunteering in the garden. You liked staying busy, throwing yourself into tasks that left no room for idle thoughts. When you had too much time to sit and think, things tended to spiral in directions you didn’t want to go.

Today, however, was different. Today, you had patrol with Joel.

You hadn’t seen him since that day—since you’d taken him home, drunk and barely coherent, muttering words you still couldn’t make sense of. The thought of seeing him again sent a knot of nerves twisting in your stomach, but you shoved it aside, focusing instead on the warmth of your coffee.

As you reached for your mug, a sharp pain shot through your ribs, making you wince. “Shit,” you hissed, setting the coffee down carefully as you leaned back in your chair.

Your last patrol had been rough. Your horse had gotten spooked, throwing you hard. You’d landed badly—right on a cluster of rocks—and though you hadn’t broken anything, the bruise it left behind was massive and tender, an angry bloom of purple and blue spreading along your side.

You’d managed to grit through the pain so far, but the thought of climbing back into the saddle today made you groan. Still, you didn’t have the luxury of skipping out.

As you pulled on your jacket, preparing to head to the stables, your thoughts spiraled despite your best efforts to keep them in check. How was this patrol going to go? Would Joel act like nothing had happened, like that day was just another moment lost to time?

Did he even remember?

He’d been so drunk—his words slurred, his movements unsteady. The thought crept into your mind, unwelcome but insistent: Did the words even hold any meaning?

Thinking about you.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Joel didn’t say a word about it.

No gruff mumble of thanks, no apology for showing up drunk, no acknowledgment of how he’d shirked his duty to the town. And definitely no mention of the words that had slipped past his lips.

It was like it hadn’t happened at all, like he could erase it by simply pretending it didn’t exist.

And it pissed you off.

You rode beside him in tense silence, the sound of the horses’ hooves on the dirt trail doing little to muffle the frustration simmering inside you.

Your jaw clenched as you stole a glance at him. Joel sat tall in the saddle, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed straight ahead. The same stoic, unreadable Joel Miller everyone knew. Except you knew there was more to him now.

Patrol today was about inspecting fences, gates, and other defensive measures—making sure everything was intact, that no one had slipped through, and that everything was still functioning properly. It was a longer ride than usual, covering the outermost sections of Jackson’s perimeter.

You were nearly at your destination, the familiar rustle of tall pines signaling you were close, when Joel stopped abruptly ahead of you.

A massive fallen tree sprawled across the trail, its thick trunk jagged where it had splintered violently from the base, likely brought down by the storm the other night. Moss and lichen clung to its weathered bark, their green hues muted in the morning light. The branches jutted out like twisted arms, tangled with smaller limbs and debris, forming an impenetrable barrier that made it impossible to navigate the horses around or through. The path ahead was completely blocked, forcing a decision neither of you seemed eager to make.

“Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath, his tone heavy with frustration.

“Gonna have to walk the rest,” he said, dismounting with practiced ease. He grabbed his pack and rifle, tying off his horse to a nearby sapling.

“Oh,” you replied, hopping off your own horse a little more awkwardly. Slinging your rifle over your shoulder, you followed him to the tree.

“Gotta let Tommy know when we’re back,” Joel murmured, tying his horse’s reins securely. “Gonna take a few men to clear this out.”

You didn’t respond, and it didn’t seem like he expected you to. His words were more to himself than to you, his focus already shifting to the obstacle ahead.

Joel braced his hands on the massive trunk and began to climb over it. The tree was enormous, its bark rough and weathered, with gnarled branches reaching out like crooked fingers. Joel groaned as he hauled himself up, using his strength to push over the top before dropping down on the other side with a thud.

You sighed, swinging your rifle securely across your back before stepping up to the tree. With years of survival behind you, your movements were fluid, second nature as you reached for a sturdy spot and began to climb.

But as you pulled your weight upward, an intense, searing pain shot through your side. The bruise on your ribs flared to life, sharp and unforgiving, and your hand instinctively flew to your side as your heart thundered in your chest.

“Shit,” you hissed through clenched teeth, your grip faltering for a moment as the pain threatened to overwhelm you. You froze, trying to steady your breathing, your fingers digging into the bark for support.

You didn’t realize how loud your hiss of pain had been until Joel’s voice came from the other side of the tree.

“What’s wrong?” he called, his tone sharp and wary.

“Nothing,” you lied quickly, clenching your teeth as the pain radiated through your side. You didn’t need to be the one slowing him down. Gritting through it, you ignored the sharp ache and focused on pulling yourself over the thick trunk.

By the time you landed on the other side, Joel had already turned his attention back to the path, unaware of the beads of sweat forming on your brow or the way your breath came faster from the effort.

He cast you a quick glance over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Let’s go,” he said simply, his voice gruff, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Without waiting for you to follow, he started walking, rifle in hand.

You adjusted your pack, swallowing down the simmering pain, and forced your feet to move.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The ride back to Jackson was steeped in a heavy, unspoken silence, the kind that didn’t beg to be filled. The fences were intact, the traps were set—everything had gone as planned. Still, the air felt colder now, the wind biting sharper than it had earlier, creeping under your layers and settling in your bones.

“We need to stop at the safe house first,” Joel said abruptly, his gruff voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. “Gotta check somethin’.”

You nodded without question, pulling your jacket tighter against the chill.

When you arrived, the safe house was exactly as expected: freezing. The kind of cold that wrapped itself around you, stubborn and unrelenting, no matter how many layers you wore. Joel immediately set to work, flipping through the logbook on the small wooden table, muttering under his breath about trap activity and needing to confirm the patrol routes.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand the chill any longer. Moving into one of the smaller rooms, you rummaged through your bag, pulling out a long-sleeved thermal. You looked toward the door, making sure it was closed, then quickly stripped off your jacket and shirt, eager to get the thermal on.

The cold bit at your bare skin as you wrestled with the fabric, the thermal half over your head when the door opened.

“Let’s go—”

Joel’s voice stopped mid-sentence.

You froze, too stunned to yell, to move, to say anything.

Your thermal was still tangled in your hands, leaving you standing there in nothing but your bra and jeans, your cheeks burning hotter than they ever had in your life.

Joel stood in the doorway, equally frozen, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before his expression shifted into something unreadable. His gaze wasn’t leering or rude—it was searching, like he didn’t quite know where to look.

You quickly yanked the thermal down, the fabric catching on your shoulders as you fumbled to cover yourself, your voice trembling as you stammered, “Joel, what—”

But before you could finish, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his movements deliberate, each step heavier than the last. His boots creaked against the worn floorboards, the sound amplified in the stillness of the room. His face was unreadable—focused, intent—yet there was something unspoken in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite name but felt down to your core.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice smaller than you intended.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stopped just in front of you, close enough that the air between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t define. His eyes met yours, and there was something in them—quiet, cautious—that felt like a question unspoken. His gaze lingered, searching, almost as though he was asking for permission without saying a word.

You nodded before you could think better of it, unsure of what, exactly, you were granting.

Joel’s hand moved deliberately, lifting the hem of your thermal with a slow, measured touch. His rough fingers brushed against the fabric, sending a shiver through you as he raised it just enough to reveal your side. His gaze dropped, locking onto the ugly bruise sprawled across your ribs—a mottled mess of deep purples and sickly yellows that seemed to stretch farther than you’d realized. His jaw tightened, the only crack in his otherwise steady demeanor.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his face. It was calm, composed, betraying nothing, but his eyes told a different story. They lingered, studying the bruise with an intensity that spoke volumes, more than anything he could have said aloud.

“How?” he asked finally, his voice low, almost gravelly.

“What?” you breathed, caught off guard.

“What happened?” he repeated, his eyes flicking back up to yours.

“Oh.” You swallowed, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze. “Winnie—my horse—she got startled last week during patrol. Threw me, and I landed… funny.”

“Landed funny?” His voice dipped with skepticism, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“On some rocks,” you admitted with a sigh.

Joel grimaced, his jaw working like he was trying to hold back a comment. “Christ,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

He paused, his gaze lingering on the bruise. Then, almost hesitantly, his free hand lifted, his fingers hovering just above your skin, as though he was unsure if he should touch, unsure if he even had the right.

You didn’t know why you didn’t stop him. Maybe it was the way he looked—like he was waiting for you to push him away. Or maybe it was the way his hand trembled, the calloused tips of his fingers brushing so lightly against the bruise you barely felt it at first.

The touch sent a jolt through you, the tenderness of the bruise flaring to life. You hissed in pain, your breath catching, and his hand stilled immediately.

His eyes snapped to yours, his brow furrowing with concern. “Hurts that bad?”

You nodded slightly, still trying to recover from the sting.

Joel’s hand fell away slowly, He dropped the hem of your thermal back into place, stepping back just enough to give you space, though his eyes lingered on yours.

“I asked you what was wrong,” Joel said, his voice low and gruff, the weight of his words settling between you. “Back near the tree.”

Where was he going with this? You searched his face, but his expression was as unreadable as ever, giving nothing away. His tone held no accusation, but it carried something heavier, something that made your stomach twist in anticipation.

You glanced at him briefly, your fingers tightening on the hem of your shirt. “What was I meant to say?” you mumbled, not quite meeting his gaze.

“You were meant to say you were hurt,” he replied, his tone clipped, but there was no mistaking the edge of frustration underneath. “I’d’ve checked the fences myself. Made you stay back with the horses.”

You blinked, startled by the bluntness of his words. “I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you muttered, trying to brush it off.

What was this conversation even about? Was he mad at you for not saying something, or was there something else beneath his frustration?

Joel’s jaw tightened, the muscle working as he glanced at you briefly before looking away, his gaze flicking to the floor like he was wrestling with something he didn’t want to admit. “A busted rib ain’t nothin’,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, tinged with an edge that made your chest tighten. “Could’ve made it worse, climbin’ over that damn tree like that.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, the sting of his words landing more like a rebuke than outright anger. Still, beneath the roughness, there was something protective you couldn’t ignore. “I didn’t want to slow you down,” you offered quietly, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal.

Joel shook his head, his hands settling firmly on his hips. “Slowing me down’s better than you makin’ it worse for yourself,” he said, his voice gruff and unyielding. “You don’t get to make that call—not when we’re out there.”

You swallowed hard, the truth of his words hitting you. He wasn’t wrong. Out here, injuries like yours could mean the difference between survival and something far worse. Infected, raiders—they didn’t hesitate to pounce on weakness. If you couldn’t even climb a tree without wincing in pain, you were a liability.

You nodded, unsure of what else to say, your chest tightening under the weight of his words. Joel watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable before he turned on his heel, heading for the door.

But just before stepping out, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes locked on yours, his voice firm but quieter now. “Next time,” he said, “you tell me.”

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You sat in the dining hall with Maria a week later, your bruise mostly healed, the pain now reduced to a dull ache rather than the sharp, constant reminder it had been. You hadn’t been on patrol with Joel since, and in a way, the break felt like a relief. It was good to have him out of your system for a bit. Being around him always left you on edge—unsure of what to say, how to act, or where you stood with him.

Patrol that day had been uneventful—a routine perimeter check with Maria that passed without incident. Now, the two of you sat at one of the long tables, eating dinner and chatting about what she was planning for Tommy’s upcoming birthday.

The sound of heavy, quick footsteps approaching your table pulled you out of the conversation.

“Hey, lady,” a sharp voice snapped, cutting through the comfortable hum of the dining hall. You turned, startled, to see Sam striding toward you, his scowl as deep as the lines etched into his face. His tone alone told you this wasn’t going to end well.

Sam was older, somewhere in his 60s, with an ego as inflated as his temper was short. He had a reputation for his mean streak, the kind of man who took any chance to assert himself, especially if he felt someone had stepped out of line. His presence was enough to sour the air around him, and as he closed the distance between you, your stomach tightened with unease.

“You forget something out there today?” he barked, his words cutting through the air like a whip. His tone was sharp enough to draw the attention of nearby tables, his hands planted firmly on his hips as he loomed over you, his shadow stretching across your seated form.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his accusation, but the knot in your stomach tightened as the realization hit. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

You’d forgotten.

How had you forgotten?

Sam didn’t wait for you to respond, his voice rising with frustration as he continued, “The tripwire,” he snapped, his tone biting. “That whole section was wide open—anyone or anything could’ve gotten through. Do you even realize how dangerous that is? Someone could’ve walked right into a death trap because of your mistake!”

“Shit,” you murmured, the heat rising to your face under the weight of his words. The knot in your stomach tightened further as you noticed heads turning, the din of conversation around you softening as people began to take notice of the exchange. “I—I’m so sorry. I totally spaced,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, though the words felt painfully loud in the hushed room.

“Totally spaced,” Sam repeated, his tone dripping with mockery, each word laced with cruel precision. “That doesn’t mean shit if someone gets torn apart because you couldn’t focus long enough to do your damn job.”

You flinched, the sting of his words sharper than you’d anticipated. Shame burned your cheeks, and your vision blurred as tears threatened to spill. You wanted to defend yourself, to explain that it was an honest mistake, but the truth was, he wasn’t wrong.

Sam took another step closer, his presence looming. His voice dropped lower, quieter, but far more venomous. “You don’t get to play all cute and make stupid mistakes like that. People die out there for less.”

“Enough.”

The single word cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and commanding.

Joel stood at the edge of the dining hall, his dark eyes locked on Sam, his expression hard as stone. The tension in the room was palpable, conversations dying out as his boots echoed against the wooden floor. You couldn’t breathe, your chest tight as his presence filled the space.

Even Sam, as hot-headed and arrogant as he was, seemed to hesitate. But with the eyes of the room on him, his ego wouldn’t let him back down so easily.

“Seriously, Joel?” Sam said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. “She messed up. Big time.”

“No, she didn’t,” Joel said, his voice low and steady, his eyes fixed on Sam with unwavering intensity.

You blinked, your stomach twisting in confusion. What was he doing?

“The hell are you talking about?” Sam shot back, his frustration mounting.

Joel didn’t flinch, didn’t break his stare. “I didn’t reset the tripwire,” he said, his voice calm, measured, like he was stating an undeniable fact. “It was my fault.”

Your heart stuttered, disbelief and shock crashing over you. What was he doing? This wasn’t his fault—it was yours.

“No,” Sam snapped, his voice rising. “It was her shiftl. Her name’s written right next to the task.”

Joel didn’t falter, his tone unyielding as he replied. “And I was with her this morning on patrol.”

Oh my god, you thought, realization hitting you like a freight train. Joel was lying. He was standing there, in front of the entire room, lying for you.

Your gaze darted to Maria, sitting beside you, her brows furrowed in confusion. She’d been the one on patrol with you today—she knew the truth—but she stayed quiet, her expression unreadable.

“I told her not to worry about it,” Joel continued, his tone steady, unyielding. “Said I’d reset the wire myself. And I didn’t.”

Sam huffed, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface as his gaze darted around the room, searching for someone—anyone—to back him up. But no one moved. Joel stood there, a silent force, his presence like a wall that refused to crack.

Finally, Sam shook his head, muttering curses under his breath as he turned on his heel to leave. The tension in the room began to ease, but just as he reached the doors, Joel’s voice rang out again, firm and unrelenting.

“I think you owe the lady an apology.”

Sam froze mid-step, his back stiffening as if Joel’s words had physically struck him. Slowly, he turned, his face a mix of confusion and indignation. “I… what?”

“An apology,” Joel repeated, his dark eyes locked on Sam like a predator sizing up its prey. “For how you acted toward her.”

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice hushed, insistent. “It’s fine.”

“S’not fine,” Joel murmured back, low and sharp, though he didn’t look at you.

Sam’s eyes flicked around the room, his cheeks flushing red as he realized everyone was still watching. This time, it was him who was marked by embarrassment, his ego shrinking under the weight of Joel’s stare.

“I’m… sorry,” Sam muttered through gritted teeth, the words forced and begrudging as they left his mouth.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode out of the hall, his footsteps hurried and heavy, slamming the door behind him.

The room slowly came back to life, conversations picking up in soft murmurs, the tension dissipating like smoke. But you barely noticed. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, your thoughts a chaotic swirl as Joel turned toward you.

His dark eyes met yours for the briefest moment, and the words sat heavy on the edge of your tongue. Thank you, you wanted to say. But before you could muster the courage, Joel looked away, turning and walking out of the hall, his stride steady and resolute.

You sat frozen in place, staring after him, a storm of emotions swirling in your chest—gratitude, confusion, and something far more complicated that you couldn’t name.

Maria leaned in, her voice low enough for only you to hear. “What the hell was that about?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes still fixed on the door Joel had disappeared through. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

A few weeks later, it was Tommy’s birthday, and the celebration started at the Tipsy Bison. The bar was packed with people, its usual lively atmosphere amplified by the occasion. Maria and Tommy, practically the heartbeat of Jackson, had brought the whole town together for drinks, food, and laughter. It was loud and chaotic, but warm in the way only the Bison could be, the hum of voices and clinking glasses echoing against the wood-paneled walls.

You’d found a spot at one of the corner booths, a glass of something strong in your hand as you watched Tommy light up the room, cracking jokes and throwing back shots with anyone who approached. Maria had her arms crossed, a fond but exasperated smile on her face as she half-heartedly tried to reel him in.

Everyone gathered for a rowdy rendition of Happy Birthday, the entire bar raising their voices in a cheer as Tommy grinned like a kid, soaking in the attention. It was just as the song ended, the room buzzing with applause, that you spotted Joel near the bar.

He was nursing a whiskey, his posture stiff as usual, sticking to the edges of the crowd. He raised his glass slightly in Tommy’s direction, his version of a birthday toast, before turning back to face the bar, avoiding the attention entirely.

By the time the night at the Bison wound down, only a small group of you followed Tommy and Maria back to their house, the late hour thinning the crowd to a close circle of friends. Inside, the living room became a cozy chaos, with empty bottles scattered around the floor and blankets pulled over laps to chase away the winter chill.

You sat cross-legged on the rug, Maria beside you, both of you giggling over something Tommy had said earlier. Across the room, Joel sat slouched on the couch, his legs spread wide, one arm draped casually along the backrest while the other cradled a bottle. His gaze swept over the group, his expression unreadable but tinged with vague resignation, as if he were questioning every decision that had led to him staying this late.

Your eyes met his across the room, and for a moment, neither of you looked away. The noise around you faded into the background, the laughter and chatter dimming as his gaze held yours. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you, something that made your breath catch, though you couldn’t quite place it.

“All right,” Tommy said suddenly, clapping his hands together as he leaned forward in his seat. “It’s my birthday, so I get to make the rules tonight.”

“Oh god,” Maria groaned, already anticipating his next words.

Tommy grinned mischievously, grabbing an empty bottle from the coffee table. “Drumroll, please,” he announced, slapping the sides of the table for effect. “My birthday wish is… spin the bottle!”

Laughter erupted from the group, and you couldn’t help but grin as Maria buried her face in her hands. “Are you serious?” she said, peeking at Tommy through her fingers. “What are we, teenagers?”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Tommy shot back, his grin boyish and unrepentant. Before anyone could protest further, he leaned toward Maria, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And since I’m the birthday boy, I choose you,” he declared, pulling her in for a kiss.

Maria barely had time to roll her eyes and murmur, “That’s not how the game works,” before her words were drowned by his mouth meeting hers. The room erupted in laughter and cheers, and even Maria couldn’t keep a straight face as she pushed him back, swatting playfully at his chest.

Joel, still sitting on the couch, looked more uncomfortable by the second, his jaw tight as his gaze shifted restlessly between the group and the door. He looked ready to bolt at any moment, his shoulders tense like a coiled spring. Yet for now, he stayed, though his eyes occasionally flicked toward you, only to dart away just as quickly whenever you caught him.

You were definitely tipsy at this stage, and maybe that was why the game didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. The laughter, the teasing, the warm buzz in the air—it all felt harmless, fun even. And maybe, just maybe, it offered a chance to kiss someone you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, without the weight of meaning or consequence hanging over it. Just a game. Nothing more.

“Who’s next?” Tommy called out, his grin wide as he looked around the room. His finger landed on you. “You,” he said, pointing, his voice filled with exaggerated glee.

You giggled, a little embarrassed but not willing to back down. “Okay, okay,” you said, reaching for the bottle. The smooth glass was cool in your hands as you leaned forward and gave it a spin.

Your heart thudded wildly in your chest as the bottle wobbled and turned, everyone’s eyes locked on it like it was some sacred oracle about to reveal a life-altering truth. The room seemed to hold its breath as the bottle slowed, the momentum fading until it stopped unmistakably on—

“Joel?”

The name slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, disbelief and something you couldn’t name twisting in your gut.

He was sitting on the couch, alone, and the bottle had most definitely landed on him. His face froze, like he hadn’t quite processed what had just happened. His eyes widened slightly—a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual guarded demeanor—before his jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek flexing with restrained tension.

The room erupted into cheers and whistles, the noise sharp and unrelenting. You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the sheer mortification of the situation that sent a flush creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. Yet, despite the embarrassment, there was no one in this room you’d rather kiss. No one else you’d secretly hoped the bottle would land on.

“Well?” Tommy said, clapping his hands together like a ringleader at the circus. “Rules are rules!”

Maria groaned beside you, muttering something about her husband being ridiculous, but the rest of the group was too entertained to care.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing as you looked at Joel, unsure if he was going to get up and walk right out the door. For a moment, it felt like time had slowed to a crawl, the noise of the room fading into a distant hum as your gaze locked with his.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your legs carried you across the room, your heart thudding in your chest with every step. Joel’s eyes followed you, wide and searching, half-dazed as if he wasn’t sure if this was really happening. His breath quickened, his fingers tightening around the neck of his beer, knuckles turning white as his grip shifted against the glass.

Standing in front of him now, you hesitated for the briefest moment, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. Then, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your veins and the storm of emotions you’d been harboring for him—emotions you could no longer ignore—you slid onto his lap.

The room erupted, someone whooping loudly, but the noise barely registered over the pounding of your own heart. Joel’s hands hovered awkwardly near your waist, uncertain, as though he didn’t know where they belonged. Your own hands found his shoulders, steadying yourself as his dark eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes, the tension in his gaze crackling like a live wire.

You leaned in closer, the space between you narrowing, drawn by the way his gaze softened, how it lingered on you like he was seeing you in a way you’d never dared imagine. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the movement small but telling, his breathing shallow and uneven as you hovered just a whisper away from him.

“Y’all gonna kiss, or just oogle at each other?” Tommy quipped, leaning back with a grin as the room filled with laughter.

But you barely registered the comment. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned forward, your lips hovering over his, your breath mingling in the tense space between you—

And then suddenly, you were being pushed back, the startling movement breaking the spell.

You blinked, confused, as you landed against the couch, Joel already standing, his chest heaving. His face was unreadable, his jaw tight and his eyes hard as they darted away from you.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, his voice sharp with frustration. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door, leaving the room in stunned silence.

You sat frozen, your heart pounding in your chest as the sting of his rejection settled deep.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Tommy said, his voice softer now, though uncertainty laced his tone. He shrugged, offering a faint, apologetic smile. “You know how Joel is.” Then, without missing a beat, he looked around the room, clapping his hands once. “Alright, who’s next?” he called out.

The room buzzed with forced laughter as they moved on, but you couldn’t shake the lump in your throat. Before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, leaving your coat behind as you pushed open the door and followed him out into the snow.

The cold hit you instantly, biting at your skin, but you didn’t care. The lamps lining the street cast a soft glow against the falling snow, illuminating Joel’s retreating figure as he moved briskly down the path.

“Joel!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He stopped but didn’t turn, his shoulders stiff, before he started walking again.

“Joel, stop!” you yelled, running after him, your breath visible in the icy air. You caught up to him, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to face you.

“What?” he spat, his voice sharp, but his eyes—his eyes darted everywhere but at you, like looking at you might break him.

“Am I…” you started, your voice trembling, your vision blurring with a mix of alcohol and something far more potent. “Am I really that revolting to you? That you couldn’t even kiss me?”

His jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a tight line as his eyes continued to evade yours.

“You can’t even look at me!” you exclaimed, the pain in your chest twisting sharper. “Seriously?”

He murmured your name, low and warning, but it only made your anger flare.

“You couldn’t have just kissed me for the game?” you said, your voice trembling, a crack breaking through as you tried to hold steady. “You really just wanted to humiliate me? In front of everyone like that?”

The words came out sharper than you intended, but the sting of his rejection still burned, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest. You searched his face, looking for an answer, for something, but his expression remained closed off, his jaw tight and his eyes flickering away.

“It’s not like that,” he murmured, his voice rough but quieter now.

“Then what is it?” you demanded, tears threatening to spill. “Why wouldn’t you kiss me?”

Joel’s eyes finally flicked to yours, his expression conflicted, his voice breaking when he answered. “I wasn’t gonna kiss you.”

Your breath caught, the words hitting like a punch to the gut. You blinked, the tears burning hotter now. “Why?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Why won’t you just kiss me?”

“Jesus,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face, his frustration bubbling over in a way he couldn’t contain. “I’m not gonna kiss you—not like this!” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice raising, not in anger, but in exasperation, as though he was trying to make sense of something even he didn’t fully understand.

The world seemed to stop, his words hanging heavy in the cold air between you, each one echoing louder in your mind. Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of his admission sinking into you with more force than anything else he could’ve said.

“Not like this?” you repeated softly, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your own pounding heart.

Joel’s eyes met yours then, and for the first time, you saw it—something vulnerable flickering in the depths of his gaze. Something raw and unguarded, something he couldn’t take back. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his jaw tightened, the struggle evident in every inch of him as he fought to find words he wasn’t ready to say.

“Not like this,” he repeated, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper.

Then he turned and walked away, his boots crunching against the snow with every step, leaving you standing there in the freezing night.

Your heart hammered in your chest, his words looping endlessly in your mind, settling deep into the corners of your soul where you knew they’d linger.

૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

Tag List: @bbyanarchist @kanyewestest @locked-ness @bambisweethearts @pedritospunk @ickearmn

[tightjeansjavi]

The Birthday Boy

A/N: couldn’t miss out on the birthday celebrations for my favorite fictional man <3 I am wishing the happiest of birthday’s to Mr. Joel heartthrob Miller. P.S this is not proofread. It’s definitely a little silly and fluffy but that’s what my man deserves on his special day (let’s just pretend the outbreak never happened 😇)

~word count: 2.1k~

Pairing | horse dad! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: it’s your first time celebrating Joel’s birthday after starting the transition process of moving in with him and Sarah. You want to make sure the birthday boy knows just how loved he really is.

Warnings: none! Just a lot of fluff, feels, cheesy banter from our favorite horse dad!, implied smut bc it wouldn’t be a birthday without some birthday sex, teasing, family love, light swearing, no outbreak! This takes place in the blue jeans universe but can be read as a standalone, Joel is 35 and not 36 in this universe, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

master list series master list

September 26th 2003: Joel Miller’s birthday. He wasn’t particularly a huge fan of his special day. He never was the type to enjoy any kind of spotlight. He preferred a more simple and quiet birthday compared to some extravagant party where he would have to worry about entertaining his guests. No, he would much rather enjoy a night in with Sarah on his one side, and you on his other. Your only request was make him a cake. He begrudgingly complied to your thoughtful request, but before any cake baking could take place, you had to wiggle your way out of his death grip that he presently held on you under the soft duvet of his bed. The whole sleeping over every other day was proving to be an easy transition for all three of you, and at this point you were practically moved into the Miller household.

Your mornings always started with Joel doing his utmost best to keep you tangled between his legs for a few minutes longer. This morning however, you were all his. You had slept with him intimately enough times to pick up on all his specific quirks and mannerisms that were tailored to him. He snored, but only when he was laying on his back. If you got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom or get a glass of water, he would be cuddling with your pillow until you returned. Sometimes his feet would get cold and he’d tuck them under your thighs to keep them warm. He talked in his sleep on the rare occasion. Most of it was gibberish, but you’d hear Sarah’s name and yours like the faintest of whispers.

You knew he was awake by the way his bare arm tightened around your waist as he lassoed you against his chest. His fingers were gently splayed under the soft cotton fabric of your sleep shirt (his of course) as he buried the bridge of his nose against the back of your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply through his nose before exhaling a warm breath of air that caused gooseflesh to pebble on your skin.

“Is the birthday boy finally awake?��� You softly mused with your eyes half open like a crescent moon as you stretched your legs out under the warm confines of the comforter.

“Mmm, nope. The birthday boy is not awake right now. You’ll have to try again later my darlin.’” He teased, voice thick, gravelly and sticky with sleep as he pressed what felt like a dozen open mouth sweet kisses to your soft skin.

“Joooel” You giggled, warm and sweet as your hand brushed across his that rested across your middle. “You’re a shitty liar.”

“Baby, you can’t be mean to me when it’s my special day. Y’take that back right now.” He chuckled as he pulled you as close as he physically could. It never was enough, of course. He’d do anything to just crawl inside of your skin and make a little home for himself there. (not in a deranged way you sickos). That’s just what love did to him. It made him turn into this ushy- gushy softy that sometimes used you as his own personal heater.

“Well, if the birthday boy isn’t awake, then he doesn’t get his present.”

Well, that did it.

You barely finished your sentence before your man was nearly rolling over on top of you with a soft grunt from the ache in his back. “Okay, okay! The birthday boy is awake, and ready for his present.”

“Gotcha.” you peeked one eye open to find his not so impressed expression as a stray curl cascaded across his forehead. Dear god, he was truly so handsome, it hurt.

“You’re a lil’ tease, Y’know that? Gettin’ me all excited jus’ to go’in and break my heart!” He grasped his fist to his chest in mock despair as your sweet giggles filled the domestic air.

“Relax, Shakespeare. I’m only teasing!” You fought the urge to roll your eyes at his theatrics before you playfully pushed him onto his back just so you could straddle his hips.

“Shakespeare? Nah, I ain’t no Romeo, baby cakes, but you can be my Juliet?” He had a shit eating grin plastered on his kissable lips as you grabbed his wrists gently and pinned them above his head.

“That was so painfully lame, even for you, cowboy.”

“Yeah, but I jus’ know it made your puss–” You cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips that sent his heart melting into a puddle. Sweet, and filthy. What a lucky son of a bitch.

“Is the birthday boy going to be good so I can give him his present?” You mumbled against his lips as he kissed you back languidly.

“Ain’t I always bein’ a good boy for my baby?” He hummed as he rolled his hips slowly against yours.

“That’s a coin flip, cowboy.” He could feel your mischievous little grin blossom like flower petals as you slowly followed the rhythm of his hips with your own.

“Christ. Y’gonna fuck me or get me all riled up, baby? C’mon, please fuck me, honeybun. The birthday boy shouldn’t have’to beg.” he spoke with that deep Texas twang that always had you caving on the spot.

“We’re getting to that part, cowboy.”

Some gibberish followed by a deep moan that traveled deep from within his chest when you finally sank down around him.

“Shell?” Joel asked with a small grin and arch of his brow as Sarah set a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of him.

“Yep! Saved some just for you.” She teased. “I’m just kidding, Dad. There’s no shell! I promise.”

Joel seemed unconvinced as he used his fork to play around with his plate of scrambled eggs. “Hmm..are ya sure about that, kiddo?”

“Daaad.” Sarah placed her hands on her hips with a huff which only caused Joel’s grin to grow wider before he was reaching out and pulling his baby girl in for a hug as he pressed a gentle kiss to her mess of curls. “I trust ya.”

Sarah wrapped her arms back around him in a gentle hug, but she was smart to move away quickly when he attempted to tousle her hair.

It wouldn’t be a regular day in the Miller household without Tommy showing up with his own shit eating grin as he made a b-line straight for the fridge.

“Help yourself, why don’t ya?” Joel muttered with a mouthful of eggs.

“What’s it look like I'm doin?’” The younger Miller brother responded with a cheeky wink as he pulled out a container of leftover chicken wings from the fridge. “How old is grumpy today anyway, 50?”

“Do I look like–”

“He’s 35, but who’s really counting?” You chimed in as you pressed a quick kiss to Joel’s cheek before sitting down beside him.

“35 and he’s already gettin’ some gray’s I see. Gonna have to wear diapers soon.” Sarah teased as she took a bite of her eggs.

“Who says I don’t already?” Joel quipped back as he washed his eggs down with a big swig of coffee.

“Babe?”

“Yes, my darlin?’”

“Your shirt is inside out.”

Joel tossed his fork down with a huff as he wasted no time to pull his t-shirt over his head and switch it the right way around.

“Y’girls still plannin’ on bakin’ me a cake?” He asked as he checked the time on his phone before standing up.

“You bet your fine Texas tush that we are. It’s going to be the best birthday cake you’ve ever tasted.”

Joel probably would have said something highly provocative if Sarah and Tommy weren’t listening in, so he opted for a quick kiss and a slight ass grab.

“Bus is leavin’ in five. Can’t wait to come home later and taste this delicious cake that you’re gonna make me, baby.”

“Gross.” Sarah nearly gagged as she picked up her plate and brought it to the kitchen sink.

“Hey, sugar? You think you can spare me a bit of cake too?” Tommy asked cheekily as he ducked down before Joel could thwack him upside the head. “Y’gotta be quicker than that, big brother.”

“G’nna kill him one of these days, I swear.” Joel mumbled as he looped his arms around your waist and pulled you in close. “Y’gonna pick Sarah up from school still? Dunno what time I'll be home later, but hopefully it ain’t too late.”

You looped your arms around his neck as your fingers gently played with the curly tendrils of hair that rested along the nape of his neck. “I’ll be there to pick her up. Try to not be home too late, okay?”

“G’nna do my best for my girls.” He closed the short gap between the two of you with a sweet affectionate kiss with a mumbled I love you before he was reluctantly pulling away when he heard Tommy beep from his truck in the driveway.

“Did you get it fixed for him?” You asked Sarah as she climbed into the passenger seat of your car outside of the watchmaker's shop.

“Yep!” She beamed brightly up at you as she held the watch box up proudly.

“He’s gonna love it, kiddo.”

“What did you end up getting him?”

“Well, a little birdie whispered in my ear and told me that Curtis and Viper 2 is his absolute favorite movie. It’s the version with the deleted scenes.”

“Oh, wicked! He’s going to be soo happy!”

“As long as we don’t royally fuck up this cake. I don’t know the first thing about baking. Do you?”

“Well, if we happen to burn it..we can always cover the burnt spots with frosting?” Sarah suggested as she carefully slipped the watch box into her backpack.

“You’re a genius.”

“Oh, I know.” She winked before buckling up.

The cake turned out to not be a disaster..well, minus the first cake mix not rising properly. The best part was getting to decorate it with Sarah’s help. She insisted on the frosted red hearts while you piped out the letters spelling, happy birthday. It was nearing 10pm when Joel had finally arrived home. He was already feeling guilty for the fact that he was home later than he promised, but that all washed away when he found his two favorite girls cuddled up on the couch watching re-runs of Property Brothers on HGTV.

“Sorry I'm late. They gave us the wrong size for the headers. Took way longer than I was expectin.’ What are we watchin?’ He softly asked as he kicked his heavy duty work boots alongside the doormat.

“Property Brothers.” Sarah mumbled with her cheek gently pressed against your shoulder.

“They’re pretty good lookin.’” Joel added as he maneuvered his way over to the couch and plopped down. “Y’all make that cake you’ve been ravin’ about?” He gently draped his arm around the back of the couch where your head was presently resting.

“Well, we almost had a serious mishap, but it’ll still be the best damn cake you’ve ever eaten.”

“G’in get it f’me, darlin.’” He nearly yawned from being exhausted on the job all day as you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his temple before you got up and headed into the kitchen.

“Y’all didn’t burn it, right?” He asked his daughter who had shifted positions so she could cuddle up with him now.

“Nope. The first batch didn’t rise correctly, but two-times a charm, right?”

“That’s not how it goes, baby girl. Good effort though.” He chuckled softly as he wrapped his arm around her just as you came out of the kitchen with one hand supporting the base of the cake while the other was held close to the candles to keep them from burning out. Joel could see your eyes twinkle brightly from the flames of the candles, as a soft smile spread across his lips.

“Wow, y’all made this? Didn’t buy it from the store?”

“Homemade, just for you, baby.” You smiled warmly at him as you set the cake along the coffee table in front of him.

“Well, I'll be damned. That’s one fine lookin’ cake.” He nearly whistled.

You and Sarah sang Happy Birthday to him under the soft light of the candles glow while Joel listened proudly with happy tears glistening in his warm espresso colored eyes. All three of you were wearing silly little party hats from the dollar store, despite Joel’s protesting. (He looked damn cute in that hat) The cake was nothing short of delicious, and he was more than appreciative over both of his gifts. He might not have always been the biggest birthday person, but he was now all thanks to his favorite girls.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika

[peterparkersnose]

Needy

Part 2 to Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut (f receiving oral), broken leg, pain, depression, anxiety, longing, needy joel, reunion of sorts, cringe nickname from maria, malnutrition, descriptions of not eating and weight loss and physical changes due to that, brief grief

a/n hi i wrote smut. god help me, i hated writing it. i hope you guys like it, i tried to make it somewhat good. this takes place after the first game, or when the series ends. spoilers definitely. the middle where you don’t see ellie and joel for the four years there just living in jackson, right when joel comes back from saving ellie.

summary Y/N gets invited to Jackson by her Aunt Maria

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read time: 12 mins 25 seconds

After a few days you realized Joel wasn’t coming back. The sad realization sink in and really took its toll on you. FEDRA officers came to make sure you weren’t dead in your apartment, and with that made you go back to work.

Same day, over and over again once again. Take care of the babies in the QZ. Watch people get hung in the square. Eat the same, boring, disgusting meal FEDRA gave to you. Live in the empty memories that lingered all over town.

Tess was gone too. You figured they were both dead in a ditch or moved on to something better and bigger than this damn QZ. Part of you wondered if Joel just wanted an out; if he was sick of having you as a responsibility and left because of you. And it ate you alive.

It had been a month. You were still trying to reach your Aunt over the radio, just as Joel had been trying to reach his brother. It’s something the two of you bonded over the last few weeks he was here. Your Aunt Maria was located somewhere out west. You weren’t really sure where, but you knew she was still alive. You felt her spark. Ever since your mom and your uncle died when you were small, she had watched you until she was promised a ‘better life’ somewhere in… Wyoming? Montana? Idaho? You weren’t sure. She left you in the QZ because she thought it would be better for your safety. You were a preteen at the time, and for what it was worth it was probably a better idea than to track across country.

Sitting, scrolling through channels you hopelessly looked for Maria’s signal. She always used the lower frequencies, usually this specific one you were listening to. Just as you were about to click the machine off, you heard it.

“Lovebug?”

You gasped and cheered. Lovebug is what she called you when you were younger, a nickname of sorts.

“Auntie?” you called back, hoping this wasn’t one of your delusions seeping back in. “I’m here!” she called. You could hear a group of people cheering in the back.

She gave you a quick set of coordinates and cut off communication. It was brief and that hurt, but life finally had its purpose back. No more Joel, no more overthinking, no more hurting from how he left you.

-

You basically crawled towards the gate of Jackson. Unsure if this was even the right place, you hoped your topography skills were as good as you thought they were. From stealing four cars, foraging for gas (which there was barely any of) and walking over three thousand miles, you prayed this place was anything close to heaven. You had avoided getting bitten or scratched, but killing countless infected on the way. At least you would get to see your Aunt one last time.

The people had their guns pointed at you as you expected. “P-please.” you pleaded with your hands up. You were sure to be almost unrecognizable. Hair was greasy and matted, you had lost a significant amount of weight, and your clothes were tattered. Even in the apocalypse you liked to stay neat, but at this point in your journey you had stopped caring.

“Maria—she’s my a-aunt.”

“I’m going to need Maria at the east gate along with a medic. Stat.” a person called through the radio. The doors opened slightly.

“Y/N?” you heard your Aunt cry. You raised your head enough to see her run towards you. She held you in her arms and cried. The medics were weary behind her, letting this sweet family reunion continue.

You hugged her and tried to hold on to her shoulders the best you could. There was something different. Blinking a few times to get the icicles out of your eyelashes that had formed you realized she was pregnant.

“Y-your pregnant?” you asked. She shook her head and smiled. “I have a lot to explain. I’ll come with you to med.”

They had a makeshift stretcher with a thick piece of fabric held together by two refined pieces of wood. A blanket was placed over you as they carried you across this town. From what you could see, you were in heaven. Dead, no longer here. This whole thing was a mirage.

“It’s real, I promise you honey.” Maria assured you. “H-how?”

“I can explain once your stable. You’ve been out in the cold for too long.”

You closed your eyes, praying it wasn’t for the last time.

Awake. Is what you were. You weren’t sure where, or how, but you were awake. It was dark outside. The little log cabin you were in had a curtain hanging to divide you from other stations and medical supplies. You tried to move.

Your leg was stiff. A large groan escaped from you as you tried to move it.

“No,” you heard from your side. A man sat there. He had dark hair that was longer than the usual cut. His thick black mustache sat upon his lip. He had a tanned skin tone and from what you heard, a thick southern accent that reminded you of Joel. What was a southerner doing so far North?

“Try not to move it. You got a small fracture. Nothing serious, but you will be in the boot for a few weeks.”

His eyes darted to the medical walking boot that sat against the wall. “Who are you? Where is Maria?”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm. “I’m Tommy, Maria’s husband.”

It started to click. “Oh,”

Didn’t Joel mention his brothers name was Tommy? Or was it Timmy. You couldn’t remember. A southerner out west, you doubted it was the brother Joel was looking for. God, why are you still thinking about him? Even now, after you nearly died crossing the country? Sneaking out of the QZ? You were ashamed that your first thought after a brush with death was Joel Miller.

“I let her get some rest, she was here all day. It’s a lot of stress you know…”

Tommy was baiting to see if you knew. “For the baby.” you confirmed.

He shook his head. “Crazy, isn’t it?” he said.

Tommy explained Jackson. How it was functional, safe, and everyone was happy. Maria was right, this was heaven. He explained that there wasn’t any availability in Jackson at the moment, but Maria insisted of inviting you after she found out she was pregnant. Tommy explained something about jealousy and families, but it didn’t make sense to you. Apparently he had just gotten some family back, and Maria wanted hers back too. Since there was no availability, you were going to be staying with a girl in her house. Her name was Ellie. She was quite a few years younger than you, but Maria thought your personalities would get along well. You trusted your Aunt’s judgement, but was concerned when you found out you were to be living with a fifteen year old.

“Get some shut eye. I can help you move in tomorrow. It’s gon’ be difficult on that boot.”

-

It was early morning and Tommy was walking back to his house. Jackson was almost silent, besides for the early birds chirping in the trees and the sounds of the chefs getting ready for breakfast in the nearby mess hall. He stopped in front of Joel’s house and sighed. The large, two story garage behind the house is where Ellie lived, and where you would be staying until they could build you a house. But building a house took time and resources. He prayed that you and Ellie got along. It was either living with Ellie or Joel—Ellie definitely seemed like the safe choice in that situation. Joel wasn’t too friendly to strangers.

Slowly, he entered his own home. Maria was asleep on the couch, cradling her stomach. Tommy watched his beautiful wife for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall. She seemed so peaceful in that moment. Maria was due in a few weeks, and Tommy knew he wouldn’t have the luxury of this for much longer.

“Maria,” he whispered, stroking his hand over her hair and gently waking her up. She jolted awake, like most people did in this world, and was at ease when she found out it was just Tommy.

She put her coat on and grabbed the one she had gotten for you and followed her husband to the medic ward.

“Good morning,” Maria announced, dropping the coat on your stomach. This woke you. Groggily, you looked up at your Aunt with a displeased face. Tommy reached for the boot in the corner. You slowly moved your legs off the bed, groaning in pain. “Are you sure you don’t have anything for the pain?” you gasped. “Not for pain like this, I’m sorry.” Maria assured you. Tommy slowly guided your leg in to the medical boot and tightly strapped it close.

All night you had prepared for the depression that was going to follow with this damned boot. Not being able to move around, depending on others. It hurt too much to start to care about someone else, let alone have them take care of you. You hated to admit it, but this town could be gone within the span of a day.

“Now, you won’t need crutches. Give it a go.” Tommy said, extending his hands to you. They were coarse and dry, and that was a bit off putting to you. The second you put pressure down on your leg it felt like fire was streaming in your veins. Maria noticed your face tense and your hand grip harder on her husbands forearms. You sat back down on the bed, subduing your pain somewhat. “Shit,” Tommy sighed. “Do you think it was worse than we thought? Could the doctor have measured it wrong?” Maria whispered to Tommy. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation after that, but all you could focus on was your leg throbbing.

Ultimately, the two of them decided to get a wheelchair for you to use temporarily and be on strict bed rest. Yay.

“I dunno how I’m supposed to…” Maria said, grunting as she began to lift the handles of your wheelchair. “Don't!” Tommy yelled, stopping his very pregnant wife from potentially harming herself or the baby. “You wait here, lemme get Joel.”

Ice seemed to jolt through your veins when he said that. “Joel?” you asked suddenly in an alarmed tone. Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he can help us get down the steps.”

You froze as Tommy began to walk away. You looked up at Maria.

“What’s his last name?”

“Miller. He did spend some time in the Boston QZ… maybe you’ll recognize him.”

No no no no, no no no. This cannot be happening. This is a fever dream, you convinced yourself. This isn’t happening. This isn't real.

“You alright?” Maria asked, looking down from behind you. She was concerned at your lack of response. As she asked that, Tommy began to return. And along side him walked the man you had to convince yourself you weren't in love with.

Maybe he wouldn't recognize you.

You had lost a significant amount of weight. You sliced off half of the length of your hair while you made your journey just simply because it was annoying. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize you. You prayed he didn't. Oh god, what if he thought you were the weird stalker girl who followed him here simply because she wanted to be with him? That’s terrifying. Stalkers existed in the fungal world, but you weren't one in the real world.

“This Ellie’s new roommate?”

His voice filled your skin with goosebumps. Not looking up, you kept your eyes glued on your feet in the wheelchair footrests. “Yup, she’s all yours.” Maria said chipperly, giving Joel jurisdiction to the wheelchair handles. Tommy counted down from four as the two men struggled to make a clear way down the wooden steps of the medical ward. Hearing Joel grunt brought back to many explicit memories, it honestly made your core begin to warm. Joel wheeled you all the way to a house. “Your gon’ have to build a ramp,” Tommy teased Joel. Joel sighed, picking up the wheelchair once again in synch with Tommy as they struggled to make sure your wheels didn’t bump the old, cracked wooden stairs of the house.

As they wheeled you inside the house, the two middle aged men were out of breathe.

“You know…” Joel said, catching his breathe by holding on to the side of his wall. “Those damned brick stairs are gonna be hell. If she wants, she’s welcome to my couch until she’s well enough to walk.”

As Tommy spun around your wheelchair, your eyes met with Joel’s for the first time in over five months.

And he recognized you. Oh, he totally recognized you. His facial structure seemed to shift as he realized that the girl he just offered to live on his couch was you.

“Alright,” Tommy said, not realizing what was going on. His smooth voice luckily interrupted the longing look you and Joel were sharing. “I’m gonna go fix you up some breakfast from the mess hall. You good from here?” You nodded your head slowly.

“Don’t bother, I got plenty here.” Joel offered. Your eyes widened, realizing he wanted to get you alone with him. “You sure?” Tommy questioned. “Go find your wife, take her to a nice breakfast.” Joel suggested. Tommy agreed and promptly left the house.

Joel sat in an old recliner across from you. Your finger scratched at the old medical sticker stuck to the wheelchair’s arm.

“How did-” “Are you-”

The two of you let out an embarrassed scoff. “You go,” he offered. “No you-” you insisted. After bantering for a few seconds, Joel broke the awkwardness.

“How did you find me?”

You sighed. So you did come off as the stalker-ish, jealous girl. “It’s not like that, I promise you. M-Maria is my aunt, the one I was trying to find when…”

“When I was searchin’ for Tommy, yeah.” Joel finished your sentence. “She invited me here, gave me coordinates. I didn’t know you were here until five minutes ago, Joel.”

His name sounded weird coming off your lips after filling your head for so many months. Joel let out a sigh of relief. “You look different,”

“Yeah, well two months across country with almost no food and no ammo can change a person.”

He sighed. “And you…?” he asked, gesturing for you to ask your question.

“Are you mad?”

Joel chuckled.

“Your wondering if I’m mad?”

“Well yeah, I mean we didn't necessarily end on good terms.”

“Good terms?” Joel laughed. “I thought about that damned kiss for months, Y/N.”

A smile sparked to your lips, but slowly left when you remembered. Tess.

“And where is Tess? I’m sure she would be happy to see me.”

Joel’s eyes darted to the floor.

“She didn’t make it,” he said bluntly.

Memories flooding back of the good times you and Tess had made you sad. She was gone. The closest thing you had to a friend was Tess.

“Well,” Joel said, breaking the awkward silence. “Would you like some breakfast? Better than those sardines…” You chuckled a bit.

“Will you help me?” you asked, looking now up at Joel. He nodded, reaching out for your hands. He pulled you up, and the wheelchair rolled backwards. As you tried to steady yourself, the movement of the wheelchair put you off and you began to slip. “Shit,” you yelped as your boot hit the floor. Joel them promptly picked you up under the armpits and held you up unnaturally high. Naturally, your good leg wrapped around his waist, as the other one did its best attempt at following your other leg. His hands rested under your butt, one hand grasping on to it. You now looked down at him as he held you. “Giving me flashbacks,” you chuckled, a hand coming to steady yourself on his back. The other hand traveled just below his hairline on his neck. It was within seconds that Joel’s mouth was on yours.

He was eager. He hadn’t been with you for a good seven months. He needed something, even if it was just a taste of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling away. “I missed that.”

Your hand had traveled up his head, now grasping his graying hair. Both of your breaths were heavy. “Joel,” you whispered. “Please.”

He nodded and slowly put you down on the couch. Your leg hit the ground with an oompf. He stood in front of you. The bulge in his pants was very prominent.

“May I?” he asked you, coming down to his knees. Joel was never this respectful back in Boston. He would take what he wanted when he wanted, with your consent of course. He never asked for permission because he was always confident that he had it; and he did. Something in him had changed. It was very obvious that it did. You weren't sure if it was Tess’s passing, the brutal crossing of the country, or the argument the two of you had before. But something had definitely changed.

With the confirmation he was granted, he slowly lifted your butt off the sofa to remove your pants. Once your pants were by your thighs he yanked them off. One leg stayed trapped over your boot. There was the Boston Joel coming back, seeping through this new shell of a man he was. Your panties were soaked per usual. “Always so wet for me,” Joel muttered, pushing your stomach back on the couch. He took his middle finger and pushed your panties aside, but also coming back and giving a quick swipe between your folds. A soft moan came from your lips. You adjusted yourself so that you were on full display. Your hips rocked back as Joel wettened his fingers from you. His other hand rested on your thigh, holding it firmly as his thumb made soft circles on your inner thigh, dangerously close. You stirred as he finally inserted two fingers. “J-Joel…” you moaned, clenching around him.

“Just like that,” he said, slowly pumping in and out. “Good girl.”

The praise was almost enough to send you over the wall. He never gave you anything like this back in Boston. It was always to satisfy himself. You feel like this time Joel really, truly cared. He moved his hand from your thigh to your lower back, moving yourself closer to his face. His thumb brushed circles around your clit. “Do you want it?” he asked you. You looked down to his eager eyes. They seemed to melt at the sight of you. You shook your head. “With words…”

Boston Joel’s dominance had returned. “Y-yes.”

“Manners?” he asked, giving another deep circle around your clit. “Please, Joel. Please.”

You knew he liked when you used his name. “Good job,”

His tongue softly darted to your folds. A plethora of slurred swears and moans came from you as he began to eat you out. The sucking and slurping noises were almost pathetic; Joel was so needy. Both of his hands rested on your thighs, tightly holding on. As he took a second to re gain some air, his lips moaned against your clit. That was almost enough to make you cum. He licked his lips, and went back in. This time he could tell you were close. You were already contracting and he could feel the release building up in your core. “Come on baby, beg for it.”

“Let me cum Joel, please! I-I… please!”

He pulled away and kissed your folds. “Since you asked so nicely,”

His tongue seemed to dissolve inside of you as your orgasm began to hit you. “So good, good job baby. Ride it out.” he said, moving away from you. His thumb delved into your clit that made your legs begin to shake. “It’s okay, you got it.” Joel re assured you, holding down your knee on your injured jeg so it wouldn’t hurt. Once you came down from your high, he helped you put your pants back on. Slowly, he helped you get up and pulled your pants back up to your waist.

Holding you in his arms, the two of you stood.

“God, how I missed this.”

“God, how I missed you.”

-

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise  @undeniableadrenaline @evyiione @qualitypudding @jmillerswife @mxtokko @randomstory56 @misshoneypaper​ @sloanexx @jbcalway​​

[gracieheartspedro]

Crave

Part 3 of "How Long"

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

find part 1 and 2 here!

dedication: @jenispunk <3 I love you sm jen. thank you for always supporting my writing and being the best wife a girl could ever dream of. you make my heart so happy. thank you for helping me edit and being the first to read this and encouraging me no matter what! love you love you love you!!!

description: a weekend escape with joel and sarah, kinda. the bed situation is a little confusing. luckily you and joel make it work. when sarah's not around, of course.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, there is smut in this part!! unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), joel is a CONSENT KING AGAIN, dirty talk, daddy kink (aha), hotel sex?, begging? lmao I think that's it.

author's note: finally. it's here. I feel like I've been staring at this doc for 7 years. thank you all for your patience. I want to continue this series but I have to sit down and really brainstorm what I'd like the next parts to be. let me know your thoughts! THANK YOU FOR READING!

“My favorite Millers!” 

Your face was beaming, seeing Joel hop out of his truck with Sarah in tow. The truck was still running, the diesel engine chugging louder than any truck you had been in before. Joel always had a nicer, newer truck. He made great money and he was always having to go into construction zones that needed an all terrain vehicle. They always got pretty banged up with dirt and rocks, but he took excellent care of the interior. 

Joel grabs both of your bags, taking them to the backseat where Sarah would be crammed in with all the luggage. You give him a nod, silently thanking him. Sarah wraps her arms around your waist, giggling with excitement. 

“I’m so happy you’re coming with us! It’s going to be a great weekend,” She explains while you two walk over to the tall truck. You always found climbing into a truck unnatural and awkward yourself, but it was hot watching Joel hop in with ease. You agree with Sarah, all the while opening up the door for yourself. Sarah springs up to her seat, and you struggle to crawl up into the cab. It makes Joel chuckle. 

“I’m making you lift me into this thing next time,” you joke, easing back into the fabric seats, “Especially since you think watching me struggle is funny.”

Joel looks back in the rear view to see if Sarah’s paying attention, “‘s no problem at all, darlin’. I will gladly help you next time.”

You knew he was flirting. It makes your stomach bubble with excitement. He makes sure you two are buckled and starts on the two and half hour journey to Houston. Once you leave your neighborhood, Sarah taps your shoulder and holds out her new CD player. It’s purple and covered in sparkly stickers. 

“Looks like your Dad is supplying you with all the ways to listen to music,” you observe, glancing over at Joel. He’s just watching the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other propped up on the shifter. He looks younger, the dusk sky the perfect back drop for his pronounced nose and beautiful eyelashes. You couldn’t help but stare, even as Sarah’s talking your ear off. He just nods along to her, making sure she knows she’s heard. 

“Think I’m gonna listen to my Kelly Clarkson CD this time,” Sarah explains, putting her earphones over her voluminous curls, “So don’t try to talk to me!”

You and Joel giggle, shaking your heads at her comment. It’s not like you were the one’s talking before, you both think. 

It gives you both a moment without a kid’s ears nearby. 

“How was the rest of your work week?” He asks, tapping the shifter to the soft hum of the radio.

“Boring,” You mumble, “Think one of the guys in marketing has a crush on me and he’s making it impossible to avoid him. I can’t even go to the break room without him bothering me.”

You didn’t know why you felt the urge to tell Joel about the situation. It wasn’t even a real situation, it was just an annoying thing happening in your life.

“Hmph,” he ponders for a moment, “Want me to kill him?”

His tone is serious, but you know he’s just messing. You grin, nudging his arm with your elbow gently, ensuring it doesn’t move the steering wheel. 

“My hero,” You comment as you watch a smile crack across his face, “No, thank you, though. If it starts to get to stalker status, I will call you.”

“Seems like stalkin’ already, baby girl.”

The nickname makes your stomach flip. You purse your lips, contemplating his words. Sure it was creepy, but the guy was scrawny and you could probably snap him in half with two fingers. He had nothing to really worry about. Right?

Joel steals a glance over at you. 

“Maybe, but I’ll handle it.”

You wanted him to think you were strong enough to deal with unwanted attention, but to be honest, you weren’t sure how to say no to most men. You only ever had Tommy and he scared everyone away. Now everyone around town knew you were on the market, and men were drawn to your natural beauty and somewhat sassy attitude. 

Little did they know, you were hung up on the other Miller boy. 

“You let me know if you need me to talk to him,” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, just reaches his right hand out to rest on your thigh, “Man to man.”

His hand is so warm, you feel it through your black leggings. He was almost always like a furnace, but it was okay, because you always ran cold. But every time he touched you, you felt that warmth trail up your arms and legs. He made you feel different. Every fiber of your being became electrified when he was around. It was a sensation you never noticed when you were with Tommy. You begin chalking it up to just being nervous because he was older and larger and… well, hotter. 

“Again, my hero,” you respond sarcastically, letting your hand rest on top of his. It makes him more confident, gently massaging that area. You watch as his hand creeps closer and closer to the crack between your legs. You practically gasp at the contact, but you catch yourself before you do, remembering there’s a child behind you. 

So you smack his hand away, shooting him a glare. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothin’ just… sorry.”

You didn’t want him to pull away, your leg already missing his touch, but you knew what would happen if you did stuff like that in front of Sarah. She’s a teenage girl. She’ll talk. It’ll find it’s way to someone’s ears. 

You wanted to act like you didn’t care if Tommy found out, but deep down you knew it would be a disaster. You didn’t feel like being the talk of the town. You didn’t feel like explaining yourself to Tommy. You didn’t feel like watching Joel deal with the flack from his family, especially his mother. 

If you two wanted to continue this… game… you would have to keep it secret. That included keeping it away from Sarah’s eyes and ears. You and Joel would just be friends. You would just be her aunt. That’s it. 

“Don’t apologize,” You whisper, “Just not here.”

You two let the radio take over the rest of the trip, occasionally chatting about a song or what the newscaster says about the weather. Once you get into Houston, it’s already 8:30 at night. Joel pulls into the parking garage to the Marriot and you already start craving the bed that awaits you inside. 

-

“I call the bed near the window!” Sarah throws her stuff down, jumping straight onto one the huge queen size duvet. The room was nice. A large television set catches your eye immediately, proving that this was probably an expensive room if they were giving you free cable tv. The curtains were open, giving a beautiful view of Houston’s skyline. 

One thing you notice, too, is the fact that there was only two beds. You knew this, but it still made your stomach sink a bit. 

You realize you three hadn’t discussed the sleeping situation. You didn’t care where you would sleep, honestly. You just knew Sarah was a restless one, having slept next to her in a tent when she was 9. Family camping trips entailed you, Tommy, Joel, and Sarah sharing a 6 person tent and being absolutely miserable the whole entire time. Between Tommy’s snores and Sarah practically flailing all around the tent at night, you remember not getting a lick of sleep. 

“Go get a shower, Sarah. We will figure out who’s sleeping where.”

She groans at Joel, like usual. 

“Dad!”

“Shower,” he throws his bag down on the ground near the dresser, “No arguin’.”

Sarah sulks, her bag in hand, straight to the bathroom by the front door. You don’t say anything. You just start following Joel’s lead by putting your bags down next to his. You stand a bit too close to him, waiting for him to say where you’d be sleeping.  

He clears his throat, “I will take the recliner, if you want the bed.”

“Of course I want the bed, but I don’t want you to have to sleep in the recliner.”

It makes him laugh, how matter-of-fact you are. 

You hear Sarah start up the shower. You wouldn’t have to fear she hears you and Joel talk about the possibility of sleeping with one another. Again.

“It’s not a big deal,” He explains, unzipping his bags to grab his pajamas, “Sleep on the couch all the time.”

“But you have a nice plush couch,” You gesture towards the hard and structured looking recliner, “That doesn’t look comfortable at all.”

For a girl who didn’t want Joel touching you in the car, you were practically begging him to sleep next to you in the big comfortable hotel bed. 

“So, where do you want me to sleep?”

“Just take the bed.”

“But you want the bed.”

You swallow, not even looking up at him, “We both can have the bed.”

He’s silent, gripping onto his sweatpants and t-shirt. He slowly looks down at you, his eyes carry a curious glint in them. You cock your head, giving him a mischievous smirk.

“You and Sarah?”

“No, you and Sarah.”

He groans, “You are a fuckin’ tease.”

You giggle, watching him brush pass you to position himself close to the closet. He opens the closet door, slipping in like he’s looking for something in there. 

“What are you doing?”

“Changin’.”

“In the closet?”

He grabs his shirt from the nape of his neck and pulls it off smoothly. You can’t peel your eyes away, partially seeing his right peck from how he’s standing. It was like the morning after having sex with him. Your eyes were glued to him, his tanned skin practically asking to be touched and licked. 

You horny bitch. 

“Joel, get out of the closet.”

He chuckles, “Why? You want me to give you a show?”

Why yes, I really do, Joel. You think to yourself. You hum a response, peeling your eyes away. You needed to find your pajamas, a pair of Nike sports shorts and a black tank top. Lately, you’ve been sleeping completely naked, but that was obviously not an option here. 

Sarah finally leaves the bathroom as soon as Joel slides his pants up. She has her hair wrapped in a towel, which makes you smile. She looked so grown up, it’s hard to believe you met her when she was 6 years old. You wordlessly walk into the bathroom, beginning to change your outfit for your sleep wear. You splash some cold water on your face, your cheeks still blushed from seeing Joel shirtless. 

You hear the door outside open and close. You peak out, your traveling clothes wrapped up in your arms. Joel stands in the middle of the room, fiddling with the remote for the TV. 

“Where did Sarah go?” You question, packing your clothes back into your duffle. 

“She wanted to go get ice from the ice machine,” He grumbles, “Said she wanted to see if any of her teammates were awake or nearby.”

“Is her whole team staying here?”

“Yeah, pretty much every team gets a floor. Last year it was a like a huge sleepover. Fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel mutters, flicking through different channels, before landing on some westerns. You smirk, deciding to plop down on one of the beds. As soon as you lay back, Sarah comes back in, bucket in hand. 

“Can I go stay in Amelia’s room? Her mom is there, just two doors down.”

Well that solves the bed problem. 

Joel rolls his eyes, you can tell he’s already annoyed. “Is Amelia’s mom okay with that?”

“You want to go talk to her? I promise Dad, we will get up at 5:30 like we need to. Pleas-”

“Let’s go talk to Amelia’s mom.”

You hear them leave the room without saying anything else. 

You were tired from a long day at work and the long drive. But some excitement blooms in your stomach when you realize it may just be you and Joel, all alone in a hotel room. 

Before you have time to ponder all the wonders that may be in store for you, Joel comes back with a frustrated huff. 

“She staying over there?”

“Yeah, Amelia’s mom said it was fine. Then she started askin’ who you were. Guess they saw us in the hotel lobby.”

Your stomach twists, nervous at what his response was.

“And?”

“Told her you were Sarah’s aunt. She gave me a weird look.”

“Great, now the soccer mom’s will be oogling me tomorrow.”

“Well they will anyway,” Joel responds, finding a spot next to you on the edge of the bed, “Single ones won’t leave me alone.” 

You know he’s really just seeing if you’ll get jealous. But you don’t play into his little game. You just let out a loud hearty laugh. 

“The ladies just love a Miller.”

He grumbles something inaudible, nudging you with his elbow. “You do, don’t ya?”

“Sure do.”

His face softens, his eyes flicking down to your lips. 

You grin, “She’s 14 and super goofy. Loves to play socc-”

“You’re truly testin’ me today, ain’t ya?”

You can’t help yourself at that point. The way he’s flirting only gives you more reason to taunt him. 

“Is Sarah seriously going to be gone from the room all night?”

“Yeah,” He nods, leaning back on his palms. He acts like he’s watching TV, ignoring your not-so-subtle hints that you want his eyes on you. 

“So, I can finally ask you why you think it’s okay to tease me in the car?”

“Don’t know what you’re on about, darlin’,” He smirks, he knows.

You tilt your head to the side, finally lifting your hand onto his lap. You immediately start toying with him the same way, your hand creeping towards his crotch. His eyes peel away from the TV. He watches you closely, his eyes trailing from your gaze down to your fingers dancing on his pant leg. 

“You put your hand on my thigh and started inching closer and cl-“

“Are you tryin’ to make a point or pose a question?”

He was getting annoyed with the games already. But you’d only just begun. 

“I’m just trying to explain how you can’t do things like that to me in front of Sarah,” You remark, flicking your eyelashes up to his glare, “Especially when you can’t finish it.”

“Who said I ain’t gonna?”

You huff, “Well here we are, all alone in a hotel room. No kiddo in sight. Still not touching me.”

“Don’t think you deserve it cause you’re a tease.”

“How am I a tease, Miller?”

“You exist and that’s enough. Walkin’ around in a tank top,” He gestures to your chest, “Just beggin’ to be touched.”

Your skin is set alight. The words go straight to your core. 

“Joel-“

You’re cut off. His hands work quickly, pulling you by the nape of your neck, right to his eager lips. You begin to realize you had been longing for this moment for so long. He couldn’t resist anymore, his whole body buzzing at the fact that he finally has you again. 

His lips are soft and slow as they make their way around yours. His hands eventually trail down to your butt, his hands cradling both cheeks. He lifts you forward, sliding you up and onto his lap. 

“Been wantin’ this for months, baby.” 

Butterflies erupt in the pit of your tummy. You can feel them travel up to your chest as you look down at him, his eyelids heavy and his lips pursed.  

He waited for you to respond to his calls, knowing you needed time. He needed to be patient. You would come around, he knew it. After months, here you are. 

He thinks back to every time he was touching himself late at night, he would imagine the night you two shared. Your soft curves and needy dripping pussy. It drove him wild imagining you like this again. 

“I think it’s been more than wantin’, Joel,” You grind down on his prominent bulge growing in his sweatpants, “Think you need it.”

He grins, finally getting out of his own head.

“Such a little tease, damn it.”

You lean down, mindlessly speckling kisses behind his ear and neck. Your boobs rest right in front of his face, and you’re right, he needs it. His hands leave your behind, reaching up to the straps of your tank top. He tugs them down your biceps, allowing your cleavage to spill out more. 

Your hands find his dark peppered curls at the nape of his neck, pulling downward. You needed him closer and he obliged. He starts to kiss your collarbones, wandering down to the swell of your breasts. You can feel yourself staining your sports shorts with anticipation. 

You rock your hips, craving more. He takes the hint, reaching back down to lift you from your ass. He switches spots, laying you on your back on the plush white duvet. He’s leaning over you now, which gives you a great view of how spent he looks already. His gray sweatpants are hanging lower, tenting where his cock has grown hard. 

He smirks, taking off his shirt the same way he did earlier. With one hand, it slips right over his head and onto the floor. 

“Jesus,” You huff out, using the time to remove your top, “I need you, Joel.”

The smirk never leaves his lips. He leans down, pushing your legs apart with his pointer and middle finger. You open up for him, wanting nothing more for him to dive into you in every possible way. You watch as he slides his fingers up your thigh, past the openings of your shorts. 

He realizes you aren’t wearing underwear. He sighs as he swipes the pads of his fingers across your wet slit. 

“I know you do,” He drawls, watching you writhe under his touch, “You need me as much as I need you.”

He practically tears off your shorts, not wasting any time fighting with the fabric. 

You adjust how your laying to accommodate him laying between your thighs. He lays down on his stomach, bringing your hips close to his mouth. You watch as he kisses your inner thighs, his breath hot fanning against your skin. 

You remember the last time you were in this position. You spent night after night remembering the best head you’ve ever gotten, from the one and only, Joel Miller. And you could tell Joel was not going to go another moment without making you cum on his tongue. 

When his tongue hits the top of your slit, you whine at the contact. He presses his face in, diving deeping into your lips. As soon as he finds your clit, he puts all his attention there. His nose is pressed against your mound as he hums against your sensitive bud. 

“Joel,” You cry, reaching down between your legs to grab the crown of his head, your hands lacing into his locks, “Right fuckin’ there.”

He continues his movements, only increasing in speed in which he flicks his tongue. He wraps his lips over the swollen area, sucking and lapping your sweetness. He pulls away, the slick between your thighs missing him instantly. He brings his fingers up to his mouth and wets them with saliva. He glances up at your completely dazed face. 

“‘M gonna fuck you with my fingers first,” His voice is deep and hushed, “Make you cum. You gonna cum for me like a good girl?”

You don’t even know where it comes from. But you say it with your chest.

“Yes, Daddy.”

You never expected the moan to come out of his mouth. It’s deep and guttural. He couldn’t believe his ears, and he can’t believe the words came from your mouth. His good girl? That fuckin’ flithy?

He slips his fingers into you without resistance. His mouth finds it’s way back to your core, fucking you in unison. 

You reach up to your chest, cradling your own boobs. Joel’s still only in sweatpants but they are riding low on his hips. As he’s giving you his all, he’s grinding his hips into the bed, trying to get whatever friction he can. Watching the motion alone is driving you wild, sending your hips rotating on his tongue. You knew the release was coming, you could feel it in your fingertips. 

And when it comes, it’s like fireworks inside your stomach and chest. You lurch forward, crying out his name. You knew it was probably way too loud for the thin hotel walls, but you couldn’t help yourself. The orgasm sends stars speckling across your vision. 

Joel fucks you through the comedown. You are the hottest thing he’s ever laid eyes on, he thinks. When your body rests back, you’re panting, trying to ground yourself for a second. Joel pulls his fingers out and sucks each digit. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” You mewl, reaching out for him. You just need to touch him. 

He shimmies his sweatpants down and off his legs. He’s sitting back on his knees, smiling down at your desperate eyes. He crawls on top of you, his dick prodding at your thighs. He leans down, trapping your lips into another longing kiss. His hands trail down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls back after a couple seconds, gazing into your eyes. 

“You still on that birth control?”

You hum in response. 

“Need me to pull out still?”

You smirk, lacing your arms around his shoulders, “No. Need you to cum inside me.”

He shakes his head, sitting back to line himself with your entrance.

“My dirty girl,” He runs his cock head between your swollen red lips, triggering your hips to move closer to him, “You drive me insane.”

“Come on, Joel. I’ve been waiting for ages for you to fuck me. Need you. Now.”

He chuckles darkly, still not giving you what you want. “Waiting ages, huh?”

“Joelllll,” You beg, smacking his chest, “Please.”

“Mmm,” He pushes forward just enough to relieve your ache, “Love it when you beg for it.”

He practically splits you open when he snaps his hips. You both groan simultaneously, unable to hold back this sick fantasy you’re both playing into. You feel more full than you ever did before. You don’t remember it hurting this good. 

“Holy fuck,” you whine, “So fucking full, Joel.”

He slowly pulls back, “You tell me if it’s too much, ‘kay?”

You shake your head, throwing your head back as he sets a cautious pace. He’s watching all your facial expressions, making sure he’s not hurting you. You wince when he starts to pick up the pace, which causes him to halt completely. 

“No,” You plead, “More. Faster. Please, just please.”

He says nothing, just pushes up your thighs so the back of them are flush with the front of his. He leans over you, his elbows on each side of your head. He grinds into you while his dark curls fall into your face. You tilt your head up, finding the crook of his neck again. 

His cock felt so good dragging in out of you. You felt like you could stay in this position forever. You molded so perfectly around him. He treated you like this beautiful mural, taking his time with delicate strokes. His hands wrapped around the back of your head, holding you in the curve of his body.

You latch your lips onto his neck, peppering lovebites everywhere. You didn’t even think about if they could be seen later. In the moment, you only thought of him as yours. He was yours and everyone would fucking know it. 

He’s starting to get more greedy. He pulls back, his warmth moving away from your perked up nipples. His upper body the best view you could get, so you couldn’t complain too much. He grabs behind your knees, using them as leverage as he starts to pound into you. 

Your eyes meet and for fuck’s sake, he’s perfect. You never knew you could see Joel Miller like this. Like someone who fucked you so good, but also cared so tenderly for you. He wanted to see you in the throws of pleasure, not even worrying about when he’d get his rocks off. He got his rise out of seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.

His ravenous drive to bring you to the edge is causing the headboard to slam against the wall which each stroke. He brings his left hand up to your bouncing tits, grabbing your nipple and tugging on it. He knew what touching your boobs did to you. He remembers watching your visceral reactions to him toying with them before. It brings a smile to his face. 

“I’m gonna-”

You don’t even finish your sentence, you just gasp as you feel his cock head hit the deepest parts of you. A place no other man has made it to. 

“I don’t want anyone else,” He musters out, his teeth clenching as your pussy restricts around him. He means it. He may be drunk on you, but he feels those words down to his bones. “I only ever want this.”

It was never just about the sex. Joel cared for you. Fuck, maybe he even loved you. 

You swallow, propping yourself up on your elbows. You glance down, watching his cock slip so perfectly, in and out of you. 

“I’m yours, Joel,” You manage to peep out before the orgasm you’ve been holding back builds to a maddening point, “I’m yours.”

The words make his cock twitch. He can’t help himself, he needs you to cum right this very moment. He doesn’t say anything, just unhooks your legs and uses his right hand to put pressure on your clit. Tears start to prick in your eyes as he lazily rubs circles, humming in satisfaction. He feels you tightening up, he knows your close. 

Your vision goes white. You body starts to vibrate, the pure bliss he’s sending you into takes you to a whole other dimension. You want more. More. More. More. 

As he watches you seize up, he can’t resist his own orgasm. The explosion sends him into a moaning mess. He fucks into you, painting your walls with his cum, not letting a drop go to waste. 

He collapses on top of you. You don’t even care, you feel like jello anyway, he could melt right into you.

He rolls off after a minute. 

You always miss him when he’s not near you. 

You stare at the ceiling, pondering the right words to say to him. Nothing comes to mind. He gets up, walking naked to the bathroom. He grabs a rag from the shelf above the toilet, running it under some warm water. 

When he returns, you let him clean all around your body. You make sure he doesn’t wipe away the wet kisses he left all over you, though. 

“You okay?”

You finally look at him. 

You want to say yes, because you were okay. Physically. But your heart wanted to pulsate out of your chest. 

“I will be,” You state simply, “Just tired.”

He slowly starts grabbing all your articles of clothing off the floor, dressing you once he collects all of them. He’s careful with you. Gentle. 

“Do you want to sleep in the same bed?”

The question rings in your ears. Of course you did. 

“As long as you get up at the ass crack of dawn and move before Sarah comes in.”

He chuckles, pulling his sweatpants back over his waist. He doesn’t even bother to put on his shirt.

“Will do, baby.”

-

When you wake up, you realize the overheard light flickered on. You contort your sleep dazed body, Joel’s upper body practically laying over you. You try to blink the haze out of your eyes, but your tired mind is completely shocked when you see an outline of a girl. 

Shitshitshitshitshit.

You fling your body upward, rattling Joel awake. He’s startled, his arms flinging off of you. 

“I knew it!” Her voice is piercing. “I knew it! Holy shit!”

“Sar-”

“Are you two dating? Or are you just… wait, ew!”

She’s rambling, her words clashing together in confusion. Your heart is about to hammer out of your chest. 

“Sarah, we aren’t dating,” You declare, your voice shaking. 

“But you’re sleeping together?”

You could cut the silence with a sword. It’s so thick and awkward. 

A 14 year old girl shouldn’t know you’re sleeping with her Dad. Let alone walk in after you spent all night tangled up in him. 

“Sarah,” Joel’s voice is buttery and raspy after he wakes up. You hold the comforter up to your chest. You had your tank top on, but it hangs so low on you, you don’t want to risk anything. “Grab your uniform, get dressed. We can talk about this later.”

“Does Uncle To-”

“Sarah! Stop!”

It scares you since it’s so close to your ear. His voice changes so abruptly, it makes you cringe a bit. 

Hearing the question from Sarah’s lips makes you feel queasy. Having the girl who you always considered your niece ask if her uncle knew you were sleeping with her dad... God what a fucking mess. 

You watch her storm across the room, grabbing her backpack and race to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. 

Joel groans next to you as he slams back into the plush pillows. 

“She will be fine. We will talk about it later,” Joel says under his breath. 

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. 

You hadn’t thought much of this through. Ever since you and Joel first slept together, you pushed your harbored feelings to the side. Sometimes they creep in, which would send you into a panic. Because deep down, you knew you felt something for Joel. Something you hadn’t felt since you first started dating Tommy. Maybe even ever. It was exciting. He made you feel special. After everything he said to you last night, you knew he possessed some similar emotions and feelings.  

You felt crazy for believing this could work. 

You knew this would be complicated. Now Sarah is involved. How do you explain these emotions to a child? You don’t. 

You think about all the horrible outcomes to this situation. Tommy wanting to fight Joel. His mom never accepting you back into the family. Who knows, maybe Sarah gets so upset at the situation, she never treats you the same again. 

But then you think about Joel. How he’s a night and day difference to what Tommy was to you. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. He wanted to protect you. He wanted to take care of you every chance he could. 

You start to think back to the times when you were still with Tommy. Joel defended you when you two had a blowout fight. He always made sure to have a watchful eye on you when you all went out to bars. He was even there when you graduated college, giving you a bouquet of beautiful daises he swore up and down Sarah picked out. But you knew the truth. Joel loved daisies. He even had his Mom plant some in his front yard last year. 

You were just so scared. You didn’t want to be hurt again. You did not want your feelings to be wrong. 

You glance down at him, your back still turned. He could read your face, he knew you were overthinking everything. Your mind was working overtime, trying to muster up some excuse to run away and forget everything that happened between you two. There was nothing normal about this situation. 

But fuck, you both really wanted it. So bad. You couldn’t keep lying to yourself. 

His hand creeps up your back, resting a reassuring palm on your aching shoulder. 

“Stop thinkin’ for a minute,” he whispers, “You don’t need to make any decisions right this minute. We will just take it one second at a time. Ain’t no way ‘m lettin’ you go. I want you here.”

You didn’t know if he meant here in general or in the figurative sense. 

He meant it both ways. 

Maybe it was crazy, but that feeling was deep in your chest. This palpable inkling that this could evolve into you being his. 

This being more than sex? More than a crush?

Being Joel’s sounded like a fever dream.

He wanted nothing more but to wrap you up into his arms, hold you and kiss your head, reassuring you that you two can figure it out together. But instead, Sarah walks out in her soccer uniform, squashing the moment. She stands in front of the bed, finally making eye contact with you. 

“You guys gonna get up and watch me kick ass, or are you gonna to lay in bed all day?”

You smile at her. You silently prayed this girl would stay in your life forever.

“I know my answer.”

Joel smiles, “’s go kick some ass.”

-

again thank you for reading!! let me know your thoughts!

find part 1 and 2 here!