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msmorningstaarr · 3 months ago

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guy next door | joel miller x oc (angie reed) | chapter I

ao3 | masterlist

summary: During the summer of 2003, Angie had recently moved into her parent’s new home in Austin at their guest house to have a fresh start after a nasty break up with her fiancé. Her new neighbor, Joel Miller, is more than happy to make her feel welcome to the neighborhood. pairing: joel miller x female oc (angie reed) tags: fluff, long fic, romance, slight angst eventually, oc has no physical description, oc is early 20s joel is late 20s, eventual smut, slow burn, mentions of infidelity, no outbreak au!, 2003 au!, soft joel, good daddy joel, sarah going into her teenage dirtbag phase, trust issues, domestic fluff, protective joel, eventual sex, w.c: 5.6k a.n.: so i’ve post it before but somethings were really shitty and i figured i needed to change somethings in my writing. i really hope you guys like it as much as i liked writing it. likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory but very appreciated! 💖

“Shit…” Sarah stared at herself in the mirror, eyes wide with shock. It had happened. She bit her lip, trying desperately to think of a plan, but her mind was blank. There, on the back of her white shorts, was a red stain, impossible to ignore, especially as she was getting ready for a neighbor’s pool party. She was alone, with her dad and uncle likely out grabbing beers somewhere before the evening feast they were all supposed to attend. But even if they’d been there, Joel and Tommy would have been of no help in this situation at all.

Sarah sank onto the bathroom floor, clutching her stomach as she started to cry in confusion and a certain desperation. She had no mother to explain exactly what periods were, which pads to wear or simply comfort her in this experience. The cramps twisted hard in her abdomen, and waves of panic surged over her. Glancing back at the mirror, she put her hands over her face, already feeling defeated as she looked for some practical way to cover the growing stain. In a flash of impulse, she grabbed an old sweater from her laundry basket, tying it around her waist.

Peeking out the window, Sarah spotted a young woman across the street, carrying some boxes in front of the guest house inside the property, next to the main house. The woman looked alone and with luck, she might be kind enough to help. Sarah took a shaky breath and headed out, trying to stomp confidently but having her body allowing her no more than a slow walk outside of the house, while the girl carried the last box upstairs to her home, closing the door without seeing Sarah.

Across the street, Angie wiped the sweat from her forehead, her messy bun barely containing her damp hair as she moved the last of the boxes inside. Her parents had bought this property in Austin to be closer to her during a rough patch and to settle into a quieter life in the suburbs. Today’s scorching Texas heat seemed almost punishing, making her feel as if this exhausting day would never end. Inside, hills of boxes and scattered bubble wrap covered every corner of her new home. All she wanted was a cold shower before unwinding and unpacking in peace.

This move to Austin was supposed to be a fresh start. Angie’s engagement had ended bitterly, shattering her dreams of a future with Trey. She’d pictured marriage, a family, a life together — until he drifted away, leaving her for someone else under the cheap excuse he had to focus on his engineering career. Her parents had been nothing but supportive, and when she finally agreed to their plan to move closer, they wasted no time making it happen, but still threw some words along the line of ‘he’ll fall in line soon and will ask you back’, Angie, however, seemed determined to let Trey go once and for all. Now, standing amid all these boxes, Angie reminded herself that maybe, just maybe, this change would be good.

She let the cool water from the shower wash over her, sighing as the day’s stress melted away. The sweat and grime were replaced with the soft, clean scent of soap. She was drying off and feeling lighter when a sudden, persistent knock sounded at her door. Wrapping herself in a towel, she walked to the door, slightly annoyed.

“Mom, I said I don’t–” she began, opening the door, but paused when she saw a young girl standing there. The girl’s face was flushed, her fingers fidgeting nervously over her belly. She looked no older than thirteen. Angie raised her eyebrows, slightly concerned.

“Oh, hi sweetie,” she said gently, leaning against the doorframe.

“H-hi… I’m Sarah,” the girl stammered as she looked down, clearly embarrassed.

“How can I help you, kiddo?” Angie asked, folding her arms, her voice softening.

“I… I’m having… issues,” Sarah muttered, glancing down, her dark skinned cheeks turning pink. Angie paused, sensing what the problem might be but waiting for Sarah to say it herself.

“Issues?” Angie asked, tilting her head with a gentle smile.

“Yeah…” Sarah bit her lip, hesitating. “Girl issues?”

“You got your period, huh?” Angie asked, her voice warm with understanding. She smiled and rolled her eyes in sympathy. “Come on in, honey. I’m Angie, by the way.”

Sarah’s face lit up with relief, though her eyes still held a trace of sadness and uncertainty. “Thank you,” she whispered, grateful for the kindness of this stranger who had quickly become her lifeline.

“Don’t mind the mess, ‘just moved in,” Angie walked towards her bedroom as she loudly spoke, finding some tanktop and shorts to wear after showering herself.

“No troubles.” Sarah replied, standing still, once she was scared she would leave some stain in Angie’s couch. As soon as Angie returned, Sarah peeked at the older girl carrying a bag and having a towel wrapped around her head.

“Did your mom ever talk to you about periods?” She asked, placing the pink small bag over the table. Sarah narrowed her eyes, feeling an involuntary urge to cry as she heard the word “mom”. She never gave much thought to her mom or the fact she left her and Joel to live a dutiless life, but this new change in her body brought her new emotions that Sarah couldn’t fathom of where it came from. Her eyes teared up, triggered by that simple sentence and Angie looked at the child, concerned she said something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Oh, honey,” Angie murmured, realizing she had touched a nerve. She placed a comforting hand on Sarah’s shoulder, guiding her to the couch, where they sat together. “I’m so sorry if I said something that hurt you,” she said softly. “Look, why don’t we start by going through a few basics? I brought some things that might help. This little guy,” she said, pointing to a pad. “is going to be your new best friend for a few days each month. It might seem strange at first, but everyone’s been through it. I’ll walk you through how to use it. And, just so you know, cramps and weird feelings can come with the territory, too. That’s what these tablets are for, they’ll help with the stomach aches.”

Sarah’s eyes flickered to the chocolate bar, and Angie chuckled, nudging it towards her. “Chocolate helps too. I promise.”

A faint smile crossed Sarah’s lips, and she reached for the bar, unwrapping it slowly. “Thanks,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“No problem,” Angie replied, her tone light. “Periods can be damn bad, especially the first time. But once you get the hang of it, you’ll see it’s just a part of life.”

Sarah took a deep breath, her gaze focused on the pad as she tried to ignore the ache in her stomach. Angie handed it to her, explaining how it would attach to her underwear, going through the steps carefully but casually to keep things light. Once Sarah seemed to understand, Angie gently squeezed her shoulder. Sarah took a bite of chocolate, letting the sweetness calm her. She looked down at the pads on the table, still feeling a bit lost. “It’s just… I don’t know anything about this stuff,” she admitted, twisting the wrapper nervously. “I didn’t even know it would… hurt like this.”

“Y’know,” Angie added, showing her Texan accent. “it’s perfectly okay to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. Sad, scared, or even mad. ‘S a big change, and it can be a lot to take in. But I promise, it gets easier.”

“Does it? My belly hurts real bad now.” Sarah replied, pouting her lips as she pressed some heat from her hands over her abdomen. Angie laughed faintly and caressed the girl’s long curls.

“It does, sweetie,” Angie said, still patting her hair. “But there’ll be times you’ll be dying for your period to come.”

Sarah looked at Angie puzzled at face and then, Angie realized she was talking to a thirteen year old who had no idea of what she was talking about. “In a few years you’ll understand, kiddo.” She completed, grabbing her chin and Sarah shrugged.

“What about these?” Sarah asked, getting a long tampon in her hands, horrified by its size. “Do you put this like… right there?”

Angie crossed her arms after scratching her eyebrows and smiling briefly amongst the mess in her living room. “Yeah… this one might be too much for you now, kiddo. Let’s keep on the tampons for now, ‘kay?”

“Thanks,” Sarah said, her face relaxing a little. She glanced again at the tampon on the table, her curiosity lingering, but it was comforting to know she didn’t have to figure it all out right away.

“Anytime,” Angie replied, giving her a reassuring smile. “Y’can lay down in my bedroom. ‘S the only place is not full of boxes, I’ll get the heating pad warm for you.”

Meanwhile, Joel and Tommy strolled home beneath the relentless sun, the cold coming from the beer packs offering a welcome chill against their chests. The day was blazing, and they were more than ready to kick back and enjoy the afternoon ahead. “I was talkin’ with Herschel at the liquor store and he talked about this cute lil’ thing living right across the street,” Tommy said, waiting for Joel to open the front door. Joel remained silent, not giving too much thought about it. He had dated a few ladies in the past, but none worked out for him. For now, he was solely focused on raising Sarah.

“Tell me ‘bout that,” he replied, pretending to be interested in his brother’s typical womanizing chatter as he turned the key in the lock.

As they stepped inside, Joel paused, immediately noticing the unusual quiet that filled the house. The TV was off, and there was no trace of Sarah bustling around or playing music like she often did. Joel’s eyes drifted up the stairs, figuring she was probably in her room, getting ready for the neighbor’s pool party. He shrugged it off, glancing at Tommy, who raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“I saw her carrying loads of boxes into that house that belonged to that Thomas family who moved away to Arizona,” Tommy continued, getting into Joel’s home as he opened the door. “Guess that means she’s new to the neighborhood. What an eye-candy, all sweaty, beautiful legs, cute smile.”

Joel shrugged as he dropped his keys onto the table. “New neighbors, huh? That’s nice, I guess.” He walked into the living room, his mind still half-focused on Sarah and her quiet absence.

“C’mon, man! You should at least check her out!” Tommy urged, following Joel into the room. “Could be a good distraction for you.”

Joel shot him a look, half-amused and half-annoyed. “Not interested, Tommy. I’ve got enough on my plate right now.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends,” Tommy countered, a smirk spreading across his face. “Especially if they have those pretty legs like the new neighbor.”

Joel shook his head, unable to suppress a smile despite himself. “You’re an asshole.” He couldn’t help but appreciate Tommy’s enthusiasm, even if he had no intention of pursuing anything beyond his responsibilities. “Let’s just focus on getting ready for the party.” He said, trying to redirect the conversation. He called out for Sarah, raising his voice slightly. “Sarah!”

There was no response. He frowned and glanced toward the stairs, hearing only silence echoing back at him. “Hey, Sarah! You up there?” he tried again, a hint of concern creeping into his voice as he made his way toward the stairs.

Tommy followed him, still grinning. “She’s probably just taking her sweet time,” he said, crossing his arms. “You know how girls can be. Maybe she’s trying on every outfit she has.”

Joel roamed the second floor of his house, checking for his daughter. Looked inside his and her bedroom, the bathroom, nothing. A pang of worry fell upon Joel. “Tommy, check if Sarah’s downstairs!” Joel asked, yelling from the second floor as he went down the stairs. Tommy nodded, a hint of seriousness now creeping into his playful demeanor. He sprinted to the bottom of the stairs and looked around the living room. “Sarah! You down here?” he shouted, but only silence responded.

Joel reached the last step, his heart racing a little faster as he glanced around. “Sarah!” he called again, his voice laced with concern. “Where are you?”

He walked into the living room, scanning every corner, and then turned toward the kitchen, thinking she might be grabbing a snack. The kitchen was empty, too. Joel felt a knot tighten in his chest.

“Maybe she’s outside?” Tommy suggested, moving toward the back door. “You know how kids like to hang out in the yard when they think no one’s watching.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Joel replied, trying to push away the worry gnawing at him. As Tommy opened the door and stepped outside, Joel followed close behind. The bright sun hit him, and he squinted, scanning the backyard for any sign of his daughter.

“Sarah!” Tommy called out again, his voice carrying over the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Still no answer. Joel stepped further onto the patio, a sinking feeling settling deeper in his gut.

“Let’s check the front,” Joel suggested, feeling the need to cover all bases. As they moved around the house to the front yard, he felt an unsettling sense of urgency. “If she’s not in the backyard, she could have gone to the Adler’s or something.”

“Sarah!” Joel called out, stepping onto the porch and peering inside. “Are you in there?”

Just as he was about to knock, a voice floated back to him, a familiar voice, but tinged with uncertainty. “I’m here!” Sarah replied, her tone brightening with relief.

Joel exchanged a quick glance with Tommy, both of them relaxing slightly. They saw Sarah coming downstairs from the neighbor’s home with a girl next to her, stepping slowly as she carried a heating pad over her belly. “What’s going on, kiddo?” Joel asked, breathing relieved as he saw his daughter safe and sound, but puzzled as to why his daughter had brought a heating pad on the hottest day of June.

“Uh… hey,” Angie said, extending her hand at Joel, who shook hands with her briefly and mainly focusing on Sarah’s well-being. “My name’s Angie, I’m your new neighbor livin’ ‘cross the street. I’d take it easy on her, uh… she’s gone through a bit too much this last hour.”

“Um… hi Angie, thanks for watching her, I’m Joel.” Joel said, trying to be as polite as possible. “As for you, going out without my permission and disturbing the new neighbors Sarah, c’mon…” he finished, rolling his eyes.

“No, dad, you don’t get it…” Sarah said, trying to reason with Joel.

“Yeah, good luck with that, miss,” Tommy chimed in, his hands shoved into his pockets as he tried to disguise a laugh at the father-daughter exchange.

“She was actually looking for help,” Angie interjected, sensing the tension. “Sarah needed someone to talk to about… well, girl stuff. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Joel raised an eyebrow, momentarily confused. He exchanged a glance with Tommy, who seemed just as puzzled.

Angie approached them, holding out a bag filled with toiletries. “Hate to be the messenger, but your daughter went through, um… the change,” she said, her tone gentle but matter-of-fact.

Joel’s heart sank, and he felt like being hit like a ton of bricks as his cheeks grew red of embarrassment. He looked from Angie to Sarah, who stood there with a mixture of shame and vulnerability. “Oh,” he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You mean…”

“Yeah, I got my period,” Sarah admitted, her voice annoyed. “I didn’t know what to do, and Angie helped me.”

Tommy, realizing the gravity of the moment, stopped his teasing and looked at Sarah with an unexpected seriousness. “Hey kiddo, don’t feel bad” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but his tone was respectful. “You’re not alone in this.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, annoyance flooding her cheeks as she hid her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered, wishing she could just disappear.

Joel took a deep breath, processing everything. “I’m glad you had someone to talk to, Sarah,” he said, his protective instincts kicking in. “But you should have come to me. I can help too.”

“No, Dad, you can’t! Ugh!” Sarah exclaimed, exasperation lacing her words. “You don’t understand! It’s just... embarrassing. Ugh! Nobody gets me!”

Angie watched the exchange, sensing the emotional intensity of the moment. She looked at Joel, unsure of how to proceed from there. This was clearly a delicate situation, and she wanted to offer support without overstepping. Tommy, sensing the need for space, quietly stepped back inside the house, leaving Sarah and Joel alone and closed the door behind him, allowing the father and daughter to have their moment without distraction.

“Sarah, honey, I think that you shouldn’ talk to your dad like this.” Angie said, with a soft voice as her heavy southern accent was shown. “I tell you that, go home and rest, take these with you.” Angie completed her sentence, giving Joel the sack of feminine products.

“Go home and rest. Sometimes just lying down for a bit can help. And if you need to talk, ’m right across the street,” she added, her tone reassuring.

Sarah hesitated, glancing at the items in Angie’s hand. “Thanks, I guess. But it’s just… weird.”

Angie chuckled lightly. “‘S part of life sweetie, in time things will settle.”

Joel nodded in agreement. “Angie’s right, kiddo. And I promise, it’s not as scary as it seems. Just remember, it’s a normal part of life.”

“You know nothing, dad,” Sarah hit back, rolling her eyes. Feeling the weight of their words, the girl took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll take them.” She reached out and accepted the items, a small smile breaking through her earlier frustration. “Thanks, Angie.”

“Anytime, sweet pea,” Angie replied, her voice filled with sincerity. “And if you need anything else, just knock on my door. Seriously.”

With a final glance between them, Sarah felt a little more at ease. “Alright, I’m heading home. I guess I can rest and NO PARTY for us!”

Sarah turned to walk away, speaking in a loud, grumpy and bossy tone. Joel grinned and scratched his eyes before looking at Angie more carefully. The girl was indeed a cute little thing with her hair humid and wavy, her features so delicate and feminine that it became almost impossible to not notice her. Her lips were also perfectly shaped. He couldn’t deny, she really was an eye-candy just like Tommy said, but he was quick to send these thoughts away.

“Uh… I had no chance to say thank you. You’re probably full of stuff to do and-...” Joel said, strangely clumsy around the girl before she interrupted him. Angie, on the other hand, found Joel really attractive with his broad shoulders and messy curls, covered in sweat. However, she was also quick to shoo these thoughts away, once she didn’t want to suffer from another bad relationship. For now, Angie wanted to take care of herself. “How much all the… uh, lady products,” he scoffed, oddly timid. “Costed?”

She chuckled gently, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout that. I’ve been in her place back in the day, it’s tough. Besides, she’s a peach so don’t worry about a thing ‘kay? Face this as a gift from a new neighbor.”

Joel beamed, proud from the education he gave to his daughter. “Yeah but, uh… will she always be this cranky? She was this sweet little girl just yesterday and now looks like a monster swallowed my daughter.”

Angie raised her eyebrows, laughing. “You’ll learn how to handle it just in time. My old man took a while to get used to it too.”

Joel laughed faintly, ignoring the sun towering them. “Y’know what? Why don’t you join us for dinner? The party I’d go to is ruined now so I have loads of beer untouched. I’m no chef but I could cook somethin’ nice. Just a way to say thank you for taking care of my baby girl.”

“I don’t wanna bother anyone, Joel. Really…” Angie said, with a sincere expression.

“C’mon, I insist. You went out of your way to take care of a kid you barely knew.” Joel beamed, crossing his arms.

Angie sighed and smiled as she scratched her eyebrows, nodding her head reluctantly. “Alright, fine. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Joel said, leaving a thrill down Angie’s spine as soon as he called her by a term of endearment. “See ya.”

“See ya.” Angie said, going back to her house.

—

Angie closed the door behind her, biting her lips as her mind recollected the last moments with Sarah’s dad. He was a nice guy, your regular guy next door: talk, muscular, kind, handsome, charming and seemingly a good father. Joel seemed to be a perfect guy for Angie on paper and she couldn’t deny the instant attraction she felt for him as soon as she laid her eyes on him. Although, at the same time, Angie was still mourning the end of her relationship with Trey and everything he could be with her, it ached her heart knowing he was already engaged to a girl who apparently wanted the same things as him. Angie needed to learn how to be alone and get back on her feet first and then, she would think about dating someone else.

Later that evening, Angie started prepping for the dinner Joel had invited her to. She didn’t want to overdress, but she also didn’t want to show up looking like she hadn’t given it any thought. She opted for a simple, casual dress, something comfortable but flattering. As she checked herself in the mirror one last time, Angie took a deep breath.

As she walked to Joel’s home across the street, she felt a slight shame since she couldn’t prepare any meal for the dinner, since her kitchen wasn’t set up yet. The fresh evening air helped to settle her nerves, though, and by the time she reached his door, she felt more at ease. She rang the bell and a few seconds later, Joel opened the door. His expression softened as he saw her, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Glad you came,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Thanks again for inviting me,” Angie replied, stepping over the threshold. “Sorry for not bringing anything, my kitchen isn’t set up yet.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, sweetie, you’re our guest,” Joel’s place was cozy and welcoming, a blend of his laid-back personality and something subtly protective. The aroma of a home-cooked meal lingered in the air, and Angie felt an unexpected pang of nostalgia for moments like this.

“Oh it smells good for sure,” Angie said, laughing as she walked inside his house. “Your house is beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you darlin’, I made ‘few pieces from the furniture,” he said, placing his hand over the thick wood on the counter.”

Angie widened her eyes, surprised as she looked at the fine wooden mobilia. “How talented. Are you a carpenter?”

“Contractor. Me and my brother, Tommy. The one you saw earlier.” He said, sitting on the couch alongside Angie, who adjusted the skirt of her dress as she sat comfortably on.

“Well, my parents will definitely need your services one of these days,” she said, glancing upstairs with a subtle curiosity for any sign of Sarah.

"Oh, really?" Joel arched a brow in surprise, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "Thinking about renovations already, darlin'?"

"Well, sorta," she chuckled. "They’re letting me stay in the guest house for a while. ‘S temporary, just until they settle into the main place and decide what to do with it. It’s… a nice way for me to get back on my feet too.”

Joel nodded thoughtfully. “That’s great. It’s hard to find good places that feel like home right away, you know? Sounds like they’re lookin’ out for you.”

“Yeah, I think so,” she replied, smiling softly as she glanced around his house again. “Funny enough, this neighborhood already feels a little like home.”

"'S a nice neighborhood to live in," Joel agreed, his voice soft. "Very peaceful, just good folks all around. Just a shame I’ll have to get used to not seeing you here eventually."

Angie’s cheeks flushed, and she felt a flutter in her chest at his words. "Well, thank you, but I wouldn’t worry too much. I’ll stick around a while." She chuckled. "Had to leave my ol’ job in Dalla to make this move.”

Joel’s eyebrows raised in surprise. "Dallas, huh? That’s a big shift."

“Yeah,” she replied with a shrug. "My folks thought it’d be a good time for me to slow down a bit… and I think they’re right. But it’s a whole new chapter."

Joel nodded. "Big change, but you’ll fit in just fine here. And who knows, maybe we can convince you to stay longer than you’re planning." He shot her a warm, playful look, letting the words hang with a hint of invitation. “I know for a fact that Sarah was already talking ‘bout how cool you are.”

Angie laughed, letting the ease of his company make her feel even more at home. "Well, don’t go making offers like that. I just might take you up on it." She met his gaze, feeling a spark pass between them that was both comforting and scary.

“Dad!” Sarah’s voice echoed as she bounded down the stairs, breaking the quiet warmth that had settled between Joel and Angie.

Joel straightened, glancing over at Angie with a quick, sheepish smile before turning to Sarah. "Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hey Angie, you came.” Sarah said, greeting the older girl with a tight embrace, which Angie accepted just fine.

“I see you got better, my dear.” Angie said, releasing the girl from her arms.

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m good now,” she said, flashing a shy smile toward Angie. “Thanks for... you know, helping me out.”

Angie smiled warmly. “Anytime, Sarah. You’ve got this.”

“We were just waitin’ for you, baby. Let’s go before the dinner gets cold,” Joel said, guiding the girls towards the kitchen. Angie felt a quiet warmth settle over her as she realized how rare and precious connections like this could be. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time. As the evening wore on, a gentle silence settled between them, one that didn’t feel the least bit awkward or demanding.

“So, Angie,” Joel began after swallowing a bite of his steak. “You were tellin’ me you had to find a new job in the city. What d’you work with, darlin’?”

“I’m a hairdresser.” Angie replied as she had a sip of her beer, watching Sarah’s eyes widening as she spoke.

“That’s so cool! You could do my hair like Janet Jackson’s sometime!” The girl said, excitedly.

“Kiddo, let’s not abuse from the good will of Angie,” Joel scratched his beard, slightly shy for her behavior. Either way, he had to admit it was cute to see his girl so excited over someone, he figured that Angie could be a good influence on her just for the short amount of time they spent together.

"Relax, we can arrange that, honey," Angie reassured, giving Sarah a warm smile. "But, between us? I think your natural curls are way prettier. Had a friend in beauty school, she had these beautiful curls, all big and curly like yours," Angie said, eating a piece of vegetable quickly. “She taught me ‘few things. I can show you how to make your hair even prettier.”

“Thanks, Angie,” Sarah replied, with a soft smile.

Joel nodded, watching Sarah’s confidence grow under their attention. "Don’t you have a friend whose mom works at that hair salon downtown, darlin’?” he asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Sarah nodded as she took a sip of her juice. “Yeah, Ellie’s mom,” she replied, glancing up curiously.

Joel raised an eyebrow, casting a quick look at Angie. “Well, maybe next time you’re over there, you can mention Angie to her mom. She’s lookin’ for a job.”

Angie’s eyes widened, her surprise quickly melting into a smile. “Oh, Joel, you don’t have to do that,” she said, though she was clearly touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Sure I do,” he replied warmly. "Good folks ought to help each other out. Besides, Sarah’s got the inside track on the best stylist in town now.”

Sarah grinned, clearly pleased to be involved in a conversation that felt almost grown-up, as though she were part of some small conspiracy between them. She looked from Joel to Angie, excitement dancing in her eyes. “I can do that!”

Angie laughed softly. "Guess I better thank you both then,” she said, her gaze meeting Joel’s with appreciation.

Joel shrugged, his voice warm. “Like I said, just lookin' out for good people.” Angie smiled tenderly at Joel, nodding at him in a silent gratefulness.

As the evening went on, laughter and conversation flowed easily, but eventually a comfortable silence settled around them, a stillness that didn’t need to be filled. They shared small smiles across the table, each appreciating the peace that came with the evening. Sarah eventually fell asleep as they watched a random movie on the TV. Joel glanced at Angie, his gaze steady and kind, as though he, too, was almost surrendering himself to sleep.

“Oh, guess someone fell asleep,” Angie murmured with a soft smile as she noticed Sarah’s eyelids drooping. Joel smiled silently, reaching to lift his daughter in his arms.

“She’s always like that,” he whispered, his voice warm as he carried Sarah upstairs, cradling her gently. Angie followed quietly, watching as Joel carefully tucked Sarah into bed, smoothing the duvet around her with a tenderness that softened his rough edges. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before turning back to Angie, who stood by the doorway, watching the scene with a softened gaze.

Once they stepped into the hallway, Angie took a breath, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Well… I guess I should get going,” she said, gathering her things with a polite smile.

But as she stood there, a small pang of sadness flickered in her chest, remembering memories of promises that once meant the world to her. Trey had once promised he’d be there to tuck their future kids into bed every night, and for a moment, Angie felt the ache of his absence more sharply than usual. She missed the life she had once imagined, even if she couldn’t quite say it out loud.

Joel’s voice broke her reverie, low and inviting. “You should stay. Have a beer with me,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on hers as he gently closed Sarah’s bedroom door behind him.

Angie smiled, her heart lifting despite herself. “Thank you, Joel. But maybe we could both use a good rest tonight,” she replied softly, her southern accent wrapping around the words in a way that felt warm, even comforting.

Joel tilted his head, his own accent thickening as he spoke. “Fair enough,” he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. “Feels like we’ve known each other longer than just a day,” he said softly, a faint smile touching his lips.

Angie met his gaze, her own smile forming. “Yeah, it does. Funny how that happens sometimes, isn’t it?”

Joel nodded, his eyes warm. “Guess it’s not every day you find someone who just… fits.” He looked down, almost shy, before adding, “Or who’s willing to help out a clueless dad in the middle of all this.”

Angie laughed softly. “You’re not clueless at all, Joel. And besides, I don’t mind bein’ around to help, if you’ll let me.”

Joel’s smile deepened, a look of quiet gratitude passing over his face. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Angie’s gaze lingered on Joel, her heart fluttering with an unexpected warmth. Just one day into her new life in the suburbs of Austin, and here she was, falling for a man’s charm with the same ease that had always led her to trouble. She felt like that naive girl once more, melting under his sweet talk, the magnetic pull between them undeniable yet unsettling. But she shook her head slightly, a small frown creasing her brow. Angie knew she had to exercise some discipline in her thoughts, because she knew well that right there, she was being the same needy girl that she was trying to leave behind. It was easy to get swept up in the moment, but she couldn’t forget the reasons she had moved away from Dallas. This new beginning was about rebuilding herself away from her past and the disappointment of Trey.

“I should probably get going,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction as they stood by the door. “You know, get some rest and all.”

Joel nodded, a hint of reluctance in his expression. “Sure, but you’re welcome here anytime. I mean it. Sarah could use a friend like you, and so could I.” His sincerity made her heart ache with possibility. ‘Friendship, Angie. That’s all he wants from you.’, that’s what Angie tried to repeat in her mind like a mantra.

Angie took a deep breath, grounding herself. “G’night, Joel.” She said, walking away from the Miller’s door, walking towards hers across the street.

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zialltops · 1 year ago

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin��…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

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spookythesillyfella · 3 months ago

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hey guys . heres my fair share of doodles from the magma i drew on with my big bro @chamom1le-t3a

#the first one was supposed to be jfk mean steve ; i named him john f stevedy #all my shrig drawings go exceptionally hard im srs #bombardier and bitter choco decoration lookin ass fly #oh yeah and i need to give context for the last four because holy shit theyre wild #for the penultimate fourth one . that was based on a book editor recounting a horrific experience with a vampyre romance book they checked #where the girl protag was so fucking pure and christian that the vampyre guy couldn't put his hands on her without burning his skin #and when they were shagging . he put his hands on her breasts and the whole situation was described as her having “crucifix nipples”#and the last three were based on two tony x reader smut fanfics that were written in dedication for the author's friend . Isabella #we were literally on call and i had to read them aloud . it was the funniest and also most painful thing i ever had to do #i hope the next time we call ill do it again <33 #okay stay safe and drink water okay bye-bye #dhmis #dhmis art #dhmis au #dhmis shrignold #shrignold the butterfly #dhmis hv shrignold #dhmis sketchbook #dhmis hv sketchbook #dhmis tony #tony the talking clock #dhmis hv tony #dhmis colin #colin the computer #dhmis hv colin #dhmis digital time #digitaltime #dhmis mean steve #mean steve #oh yeah and itft clock is here too i guess

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the-bi-library · 2 years ago

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Here is the comparison of 6 bi books' Western and Japanese covers.

What do you think?

Books listed

💕 Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston 💕 One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston 💕 Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao 💕 The Girls I've been by Tess Sharpe 💕 The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid 💕 The Gentleman's Guide To Vice And Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

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modern-day-bard · 6 months ago

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Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

word count: 4.8k

ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 19: Intrusion

Gwen

If staring worked like water, eroding ceilings over time until they discolor and eventually collapse, I’d be covered in drywall and looking into the eleventh floor by now.

For three nights, all I do is stare. I fall in and out of sleep when even the brightest burn of anger dies down to an amber, but worry is quick to bring me back, stoking the flames. I usually wake with a soft gasp, or a twitch of my arm, as if I’m subconsciously shocked to feel as afflicted as I do.

I had said too much. I could have just told Joel that this was unacceptable, and he needed to inform me of every new development. That was true. But I didn’t expect to take it as…a betrayal. The thought makes me pinch my eyes closed. It means I trust Joel enough to have expectations for him, and that means I let my own feelings take hold for far too long. He was here on a job. I was teetering on the edge of admitting things about him, and about the corporation, that I had never dared utter out loud. I let my anger guide my words, and it’s a small blessing that’s all that came out.

The annoying thing is, after three nights of ruminating, I now found what Joel did endearing. Overstepping? Absolutely. But endearing nonetheless. And what’s more is, he admitted it. He apologized, even. It hadn’t been even a week since the package arrived before he told me, and knowing how stressed he’s seemed at every event with my friends, the fact that he wanted me to go…and the fact that he noticed it was something I needed... It felt like he cared about me beyond just blocking someone from my path.

Now, while I pretend to sleep, I try not to think about how much he could care, and if it was the same way I did. Joel probably had that level of compassion towards every client. I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, thinking I was somehow different or special. And even though it was my decision, I’m starting to regret not speaking to him these past few days. Maybe I should apologize in the morning. I could get him a coffee or something as a peace offering—

CRASH!

Glass shatters in the living room.

I’m not sure what it sounds like, to hear glass shattering in the living room from where I’m laying, until this very moment. I can’t think of what else that noise could be. I rack my brain of possible alternatives, coming up short in less than a few seconds. Rolling over, I yank my phone free from the charger, texting Joel immediately.

Me: Brandy

Not even a second later, he’s typing back.

Joel: Lock your door. Don’t come out until I say.

My heart pounds in my ears, and I move as quickly and quietly as I can to the doorway. I try to turn the lock slowly, so the clicking doesn’t ring out. Regardless, I still cringe as the lock slips into place.

A second crash sounds from the living room, and I cover my mouth to hide a small cry.

I hear Joel’s door open, though it’s quiet in comparison. I wish I could postpone the ringing in my ears so I could hear what’s happening in the living room, but I know there’s no more glass breaking right now. I don’t hear any voices either, just the soft padding of Joel’s stride down the hall. I find myself holding my breath, knowing that by now he must be able to see whoever is inside.

What if it’s a whole team of people against him?

I text Amari.

Me: 911 send help

Still, I hear nothing. What if they bound his mouth? Or they knocked him unconscious and didn’t let him hit the floor?

I’m startled when I hear erratic, quickened breathing, but I quickly realize it’s me. I cover my mouth, hoping it will stifle the hyperventilation.

Amari: on our way

My hands are shaking so badly I’m afraid I might drop my phone. Should I stay here by the doorway? Do I hide in the closet? I feel like any movement I make will be heard, and could encourage them to come seeking.

The silence is too loud, too noxious. Tears prick in my eyes. An image of Joel being beaten and bloody clouds my mind. I grab for the doorknob, hesitating.

Trust your instincts.

He had said it during our training session. I know he told me not to leave, but I couldn’t let him get hurt. And my instincts were screaming at me to move. With my still-shaking hands, I grab a marble bookend off of my dresser, gripping it until my knuckles turn white. I place my phone on the ground near the doorway, turning it on to record. If anything happens…at least there will be that evidence. Two more sharp inhales, and I unlock the door, hurling myself into the hallway, sprinting down to the living room.

The bookend is held high, ready to bring it down upon someone’s head, and I frantically search left and right for Joel. I notice two small lumps on the ground, but no people. No Joel.

Thud-ump, thud-ump, thud-ump.

All I hear is my heartbeat roaring as I continue to scan the living room. But there’s nothing. I take a step forward, noticing how one of the curtains flutters—

“Don’t move!” Someone bellows, making me scream. I turn, hosting the bookend higher, preparing to give them hell.

But it’s Joel. Just Joel. Standing by the kitchen island, a broom in his hand.

“There’s glass. Don’t take another step.” He commands, rushing to the nearby hall closet to pull out my gym shoes. He makes quick work of bringing them over to me, offering his shoulder for me to lean against as he bends down to help me slip them on.

“Where are they?” I whisper.

Joel gingerly tries to take the bookend away from me, but I resist. “No one broke in,” he says.

“Then why didn’t you call me? Why are the lights off?”

“Because I think whoever did this is still outside. You need to back up, for your own safety.”

In that deep, commanding voice, I listen to him. I back up until I’m standing at the edge of the hallway. Through the dark, I try to assess what he’s talking about. Joel follows my gaze, pointing to the two separate lumps on the ground.

“They’re bricks. Someone threw them through the window.”

That explains why the curtain is moving on its own. And with my senses beginning to regulate, it also explains the cold breeze I start to register on my skin.

“Can we turn on the light?” I hate how small my voice sounds, but not enough to keep me from asking.

“No,” Joel moves in front of the window, peering at the roof of the building next door. “If they’re trying to target you, turning on the lights just puts this game on easy mode. Another reason you should’ve listened to me when I told you to stay put!”

“Oh,” I breathe, shifting in my sneakers. He sounds angry.

No, not angry—livid.

Joel doesn’t say another word as he sweeps the glass closest to me, shifting it back to the window.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my pajama shorts. “Why didn’t the alarm go off?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbles, putting the broom down.

“I–I texted Amari.”

For some reason, this makes him shift his attention to me. “That’s good.”

“They should—should be here, soon.” I put the bookend down on the floor next to me.

He stares at me for another moment, before he speaks in a slightly softer tone, despite his rage-filled eyes. “You should go pack a bag. We’ll leave as soon as they get here.”

I turn back to my room without so much as a nod.

I start in the bathroom, gathering my makeup and toiletries, before grabbing a weekender out of my closet. I’m not sure if this is just for the night, so I pack two extra dresses for work just in case. After everything is zipped up, it occurs to me that I should change into something other than a silky sleep set. My hands haven’t stopped shaking as I slip into a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater.

I overhear Joel approving Amari and the team to come up in the elevator. I don’t want to go out and face them. I don’t want to hear the possible explanations, or the chatter of security measures I don’t quite understand.

Bricks? On the tenth floor? That feels impossible. This whole night feels impossible. I shove my hands in my pockets as I leave my room, not wanting anyone else to know the effect of this chaos.

Thankfully, with the entire crew here, Joel feels it’s safe enough to turn the lights back on. That alone provides a bit of comfort to my tightening chest. Amari stalks over to me as soon as he sees me.

“Miss Russell. You’re unharmed?”

“Yes. I’m…fine.”

“Good,” he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, glancing around at the seven men inspecting my apartment.

They’re inspecting everything. Every crevasse, even those that have nothing to do with the windows. One of the men is leaning towards the bricks, and I follow his gaze. Looking down, I notice long pieces of rope tied around both bricks, with a white paper wrapped around the one closest to me.

“You’re shitting me.” I hiss, creeping toward the brick. This captures nearly all of their attention, as many pairs of surprised eyes turn my way. Three of them try to stop me, but Joel is the one who gets to me first, wrapping a gentle hand around the crook of my elbow.

“There are shards everywhere. What do you need?”

“There’s a fucking note. There’s a damn note attached to the fucking brick!” I point at the ground, my voice wobbling. Joel’s eyes widen slightly.

“Okay,” he says in a voice that may be reserved for negotiation tactics. “Let me get it.”

My eyes drop down to the floor and I nod.

Amari steps forward, his hand outstretched. “There could be fingerprints. We shouldn’t touch it yet.”

Joel looks from my face to Amari’s. “Someone get me a glove.”

“Joel, just in case—”

“Amari,” that same commanding tone is back. “She deserves to know.” Joel gives me the smallest of nods, and I hope my expression conveys my gratitude. After last week, I know he’s trying to make amends. But honestly, that hiccup is the last thing on my mind right now. Jace, one of the security members, hands Joel a glove and he immediately grabs the note.

Joel glances at me, a silent permission to read the note out loud. Whatever he sees on my face, it allows him to continue.

“My warnings are as earnest as my gifts. You should be in charge of the company. Go after what you really want. Like me.” Joel reads it as monotone as possible, and still, a shiver runs down my back. He’s watching me carefully, and I just want out. I need to get out of here.

“What’s the point?” I say softly. “Why would anyone care about that? They want me to, what, force my father to retire? Just so they know specifically what floor I’m on? They already know where I live.” My voice cracks again on the last word, and I just clear my throat, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. No one in the room responds to my questions. Not that they would have any of the answers.

“We should go. You need to sleep, and there’s no reason the security system should have been silent with two broken windows.” Joel moves to my side, taking the bag off of my shoulder. I don’t protest. My eyelids are heavy despite my quickened heart and sweaty palms. What time is it?

I glance into my kitchen, and the oven reads exactly twelve o'clock. I would have thought it was later, after laying awake for so long. But I suppose time passes differently when those types of thoughts are keeping you up. As much as I didn’t want to think about what my feelings for Joel are, I would give anything to go back to an hour ago when that was my biggest concern. Trying to figure out what he means to me is far less frightening than worrying about his safety.

I look at the solemn faces scattered around my living room. Some pretending to work, some obviously waiting for me to leave so they can start. I nod at Joel before turning to Amari.

“No one should hear of this. No one on the board, no one outside this room.” Not only would attention from the press exacerbate the issue, I also didn’t need anyone on the board looking at me like I was weak.

Amari looks apologetic. “I sent word to your father. No one beyond him will hear of it. You have my word.”

I don’t have the energy to feel disappointment. “Okay.”

Joel guides me toward the elevator, and Jace and Carlos follow us inside.

“It would be wise to tighten security measures, just for tonight.” Joel says low enough that they don’t hear it. “They’re going to help me escort you.”

“Okay,” I repeat, my tone drained for any emotion.

I’m not surprised that we pull up to my father’s house. Even if we doubled our security, it wouldn’t make sense to go somewhere unfamiliar tonight. The small blessing is that my father is in China for the next week. I thought I was lucky just getting out of the weekly dinner, but this is an additional bonus in the middle of an awful night.

Carlos asks if I want him to wake Melissa to make me something. I shake my head, ensuring Joel was in tow before making my way up the stairs. Jace and Carlos stay in the foyer, double checking that the house is armed as we leave them behind. I check again to make sure Joel is behind me as I round the corner of the hallway. He’s watching me, as always, but he doesn’t say anything. At my door, I hesitate.

“Do you want your privacy? I can leave before you…” he trails off, obviously confused. Why would I need privacy just to open my bedroom door?

“No,” my voice comes out as a whisper. I step inside, but I find myself turning around again. I feel…fear. Fear that he won’t be there. That if I don’t keep my eyes on him, he’ll disappear.

“I’ll be right outside,” Joel leans forward, dropping my bag inside the room.

I wring my hands, staring at our feet. I can’t close the door. I can’t be alone, and even more so, I can’t have him be alone. The image that clouded my head tonight, thinking someone had hurt him—

“Why didn’t you listen?” He asks softly. “You could have been hurt. Miss Russell, if someone were there, you could have been—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Now isn’t the time. You need sleep.”

“So do you,” I say. His pained, weary eyes meet mine. “Please don’t stay outside.” Panic runs cold through my arms, in disbelief of what I’m saying.

“You’d prefer for me to stay in one of the guest rooms?”

“No,” I shake my head rapidly, “Can you stay with me? Please.”

Joel swallows audibly, taking a second to glance behind me at the room. Then he gives me a curt, professional nod. “Of course.”

He picks up the bag again, walking past me to set it on one of the chairs instead.

“I think…I think I’m going to shower.” I unzip the bag and reach for my toiletries.

“Shower?” He glances down at his watch. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

What? It took less than a half hour for us to get over here. My oven must be wrong…

“I’m just…cold. My hands,” I hold them out, no longer embarrassed for Joel to see them shake. His eyebrows thread together watching them quiver.

“Okay. I’ll be here.” He takes a seat in one of the chairs. I practically sprint for the bathroom, wanting the steam to expel the dread from my pores as soon as possible. I lock the door behind me for added protection.

Once I'm under the water, it does help to ease some of my tension. But even when I decide to wash my hair, it’s still not distracting enough. Where at my own apartment, I felt so exhausted that I just wanted to be taken out of there, I now feel wired. Like it’s a necessity for me to stay awake, and to will my mind to focus on other things. If I try to sleep, what will happen? If I close my eyes or think too long, I just see Joel again, bloody and injured on my living room rug.

I take an extra few minutes to lather up my body, trying to wash away this new buzz running through me. After the shower, I take an equal amount of time using lotion for the same reason. But the buzz becomes an itch, and I can’t think of a way to scratch it. Part of what I’m feeling is relief. There was a split second tonight where I thought Joel had been seriously hurt, and in my mind, he was unconscious. Unable to move. I knew he was angry with me for defying his order, but I would be far too angry with myself if I hadn’t done it. And the relief I feel now overtakes any remaining feeling of panic, though it demands further distraction to keep the panic at bay. I want to run towards that relief, but I’ve completed every distraction I can in this room. And that’s when I become incredibly aware of the fact that Joel is right outside the door, safe.

Safe and… alone…in my bedroom.

As I wrap myself up in a robe, I still feel that there is an itch needing to be scratched. A need for relief that I can hold, something tangible that confirms he’s truly alright. And I can think of only one way to honor this relief. Only one way to provide a distraction.

Exiting out of the bathroom, Joel stands, averting his gaze when he sees I’m only wearing a robe. With his eyes on the door, I start to cross over to him.

“Miss Russell, I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you. I know that this has been a long night—-”

Standing chest to chest with him, his face is bewildered as I grab the back of his neck with both hands, pulling him down to my lips.

I kiss him harshly. Desperately. Pulling him as close to me as I can manage, though I can’t seem to get him close enough. His hands fly to my hips, holding me against him. I sigh, realizing how terribly I’ve wanted him to touch me for god knows how long. I wish the robe wasn’t so thick so I could feel his calloused hands against my skin. And he smells so good.

But his lips…he’s barely kissing me back. Not even a moment later, as if someone jolted him, he grabs my hands, pulling them away from his neck. He holds them in front of his chest, creating a barricade between us.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low.

“Yes,” I practically whine, “I am.” I try to pull out of his grasp, but he shakes his head.

“You’re still shaking. You may be in shock.” Joel’s chest is heaving, assessing my face like he’s looking for injury.

At that, rejection hits me in the gut, and I feel my cheeks turn a deep shade of red. I try to pull away again, now feeling the panic resurface.

What have I done? He doesn’t want that. He works for my father, for fuck’s sake. Now I might lose him anyway.

“Hey,” Joel whispers, tugging my hands closer to his chest now. “You’re okay.”

“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me…” I shake my head over and over as Joel shushes me. “That was so inappropriate. I’m sorry, I’m just glad you’re—alright.” I hiccup, and tears are dangerously close to spilling over now.

“You’re okay,” Joel repeats, now pulling me flush against his chest. He continues to shush me softly, one of his hands wrapping around my waist and one smoothing my hair. I don’t hug him back, exactly. One of my arms rests awkwardly against his, and the other hangs at my side. I don’t have the energy to determine what I should do after a slip up this bad. He might quit. He spoke of relationships at that Halloween party, and how they interfere with the job. I am the job, and I’ve completely disrespected his boundaries.

“I can feel you thinking too hard,” his chest rumbles against my ear as he talks. “Relax. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

The softness of his words ends up pushing a few tears over the edge, and I’m grateful he can’t see them. Thank god I decided to wash my hair, as now it provides coverage for my tenuity.

I’m not sure how long he holds me like this, but eventually, he asks if I think I can lay down for a while, and I nod into his t-shirt. I feel my chest tighten again as I crawl into bed, and I realize that he’s sitting in one of the chairs again, letting his head fall back to at least pretend to sleep. I try my best not to let the distance bother me, but I can feel my heartbeat fighting back, climbing to regain the insane rhythm it had before.

“Um,” I clear my throat, taking another breath before I continue. “Do you think you could sleep over here?”

I feel like a child. Lost and inconsolable over something that was, for now, solved. There was no reason to worry about losing him right now. No reason to be afraid in this room. But that feeling of loss is prevalent throughout my body, and I had thought we were safe at my apartment too.

Joel’s face is unreadable, staring back at me.

“I promise not to kiss you again,” I say, making my voice as normal as possible, attempting to add some humor to it. After another moment, this does make him crack the smallest of smiles. Every muscle in my body loosens as I see him get up from the chair and make his way over to the bed.

He lays on top of the blankets, which I should have anticipated. He couldn’t be further away from me, otherwise he would be on the floor, but he still decided to lay down facing me. I give him a tiny smile.

“I know you’re like, a trained killer or something, but I don’t care. If you tell anyone about me asking that, I will actually kill you.”

He chuckles enough to shake the bed a little, and my smile grows. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After a few moments, I whisper, “I am really sorry, Mr. Miller. I shouldn’t have touched you—”

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” He shifts his body, angling away from me slightly.

“Okay…but if you want to report it, or change assignments, I understand.”

Joel just shakes his head, letting his eyes close for a minute. “I don’t want that, Miss Russell. I appreciate it but… no.”

“Alright. Then I promise not to touch you again without your permission.”

The corner of his mouth turns upward before he hides it with a cough.

“Likewise.”

Likewise? He didn’t even return the kiss…But it doesn't matter. He’s probably trying to make me feel better, as usual.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” He asks.

“I’ll do it,” I say, reaching for the remote next to me. I leave on one desk lamp in the corner of the room. I don’t need any of the furniture turning into humanoid shapes in the dark.

I stare at the ceiling for several minutes. It could have been hours, but the light outside is still pitch black. I can hear Joel’s steady breathing, but I know he isn’t asleep. Every so often, I feel his eyes peering over at me. After a long while, the weight of the night destroys my defenses, and I dare to ask.

“Why would a stalker want me to become CEO?”

I feel the eyes on the side of my face again. “They’ve probably put you on a pedestal. They want to see you succeed,” he says factually. I’m silent long enough for him to continue. “Do you want to be CEO?”

“Yes,” I answer without thinking, “But most people don’t want me to be.”

The bed shifts beside me, and now Joel’s whole body is turned to face me again. “Why would you say that?”

That question, this conversation…is something I haven’t dared speak about to anyone. Not even my friends. I trust Joel with my life, but not with this. This was worth more than just my life. I turn toward him before responding. I want to be able to gauge exactly how he reacts to what I’m about to say.

“I…did something, a few months ago. I’m not sure who in Russell Corp knows. If anyone knows. But I think you were hired to watch and report, not to protect,” I take a long inhale, phrasing my words just right, “I think there are people in the company who want to make sure I keep my mouth shut. I thought you were hired to do that.”

His eyebrows crease, his brown eyes searching mine in the dim light.

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I nod. “It seems that way. But…I don’t trust anyone with this, Mr. Miller. No one else knows what I know. And I don’t know enough to trust your reason for being here.” It feels slightly absurd not to trust him after tonight especially. I thought someone was in my home, and I trusted Joel to take care of it. He moved without thinking. He put himself in harm’s way on a daily basis for me and the people I care about. Regardless of what he gets paid, it’s evident that he cares. But even with all of that knowledge between us both, he doesn’t look offended by my words.

“I’m from Texas.”

I stifle a laugh. “And that’s supposed to make you trustworthy?”

“You said you didn’t know enough about me. You don’t have to tell me anything now, or trust me now, for that matter. But if it would help…ask me anything you want to know.” His eyes are so sincere, his voice so gentle, that a small part of me would cry again if I let it.

“Do you have a family?” The question comes out without a filter, but I don’t care. I have wondered that before, and I would actually like to know.

“Of my own? No. My parents are gone, but I have a brother, Tommy. He lives in Texas, too.”

“Does he have a twang like you?”

It was a genuine question, but it makes him laugh. “You think I have a twang?”

“You do have a twang. It was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

It’s far too dark, and far too late, and I know I’m probably imagining things at this point. But I swear, Joel’s cheeks deepen with embarrassment.

“In that case, I suppose he does.”

“I suppose he does,” I mimic him, exaggerating his accent tenfold. Joel chuckles, shaking his head against his pillow. “What? You know I’m right.”

“I know that you’re loopy. That’s what I know. Any other questions?”

I think for a moment. “Who taught you to play guitar?”

“No one, really. I’m self-taught.”

“Ah. I should have guessed.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. You’re…utilitarian. Independent, I guess. You seem like the type to teach yourself things.”

“I thought I was the observant one,” he says with a smile.

“Not the only observant one, is what I believe I said.” I unsuccessfully stifle a yawn as I say it.

“Not the only tired one, either. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I let out a long, unrestrained yawn now, “I should let you sleep.”

He shushes me again. “Stop apologizing. Just close your eyes.”

I want to tell him not to tell me what to do. But his voice is so soothing, and listening to the sound of his breathing next to me is the most calm I’ve felt all night. Truthfully, it’s the most calm I’ve felt in weeks.

Sleep finds me, and carries me away with ease.

Next Chapter

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kittyandco · 1 month ago

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reblogging posts that make me cry because i'm in the trenches right now yet again reassessing my sexuality LOLOL my brain really couldn't have waited til AFTER my birthday tomorrow. these types of questions are not welcome right now 😭

thesis in the tags

#screw it i'm probably ficto idgaf anymore i probably always have been. idc idc i'm tired of being wishy washy about this #i can't cling to ideas that never served me and that i never agreed with or cared about. it's time to let go and just be happy #i've never in my life imagined a future with anyone real. it would always turn into me imagining one of my f/os anyway #i've never understood any of it and i've always been SO connected to my f/os (since age 8 LOL) that i don't even need a romantic partner #i have so much trauma surrounding it too which doesn't help. but even outside of that i just never really got with the program #i can't keep going on the 'what if' spiral. girl. you know where you're at. you can't torture yourself like this anymore #i've literally been thinking about this since 2019 #i've done a lot of this over the last 2-3 years. shedding things/ideas that just don't align with Me. that includes this #too weird and too sentimental to squeeze myself into something i can't get behind #i love romance and i believe in love/connection. deeply. but unless a miracle happens i'm probably never gonna want a 'real' relationship #& I'M MORE THAN OK WITH THAT I ALWAYS HAVE BEEN. i just never could decide if it was Enough to go all in. but many years later here we are #i just need my besties and that's all. and i love y'all. you know who you are #anyway. GOOD MORNING #meows

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invinciblerodent · 1 month ago

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Silk and Silverite, the complete series (so far), by Lady Stéphanie Toutlemonde-Baliverne of Val Royeaux

in-fiction Dragon Age fiction, because why not

Silk and Silverite

Featuring no subtitle, the book was meant to be a one-off, but upon the wildly positive reception (five scarves fluttered in shock out of five!), the work was expanded into a series.

This first volume, fittingly to the title, is a fairly basic story about a whirlwind romance between a wealthy surface dwarf merchant-woman with a price on her life, and a beautiful bard (known only as "Lady Cinquefoil") that mostly follows the conventions of Orlesian bardic romances, and shocks mainly with just how explicit it is for its genre.

It's rumored to have been inspired by the author's own scandalous affair, however this is mostly due to the staggering amount of very specific details pictured, as there is next to nothing known about the secretive authoress.

Vol.02.: Lustrous Cotton

Following one of the secondary protagonists of the original Silk and Silverite, Lustrous Cotton is about a meek, scholarly mage in 9:41, now a rebel against his will, trying to make his way across the Fereldan countryside with a hired bodyguard: a tortured and complex woman, a deserter of the Templar order, who is trying to eke out a living by taking people across the wartorn Hinterlands for coin. The two, of course, fall into mad love roughly 80 pages in, and then proceed to make (both figuratively and literally explosive) love in tents and inns all over the country, before fleeing both the war and their Templar pursuers towards the Tevinter Imperium.

While controversial in its choice of protagonists, the book is commended often on its creative yet heavily eroticized use of magic, and its accuracy in depicting the difficulties of stripping off armor while in the ~throes of passion~.

Vol.03.: Vyrantium Samite

As a hard pivot from the previous two books' southern settings, the third installment of the series continues in Tevinter, and takes the reader to a fictional version of the underbelly of the upper echelons of Imperial society, featuring the entanglement of a handsome magister and an equally handsome Orlesian ex-chevalier in the heart of Minrathous. It's easily the most inaccurate to its setting of all the books, and it sparked quite a bit of controversy both with its generous blasphemies, and by coming out in the same year as Lord Gallanter Pismire's "The Magister’s Temptation", and Lord Gustave Thibault Beaumarchais’ "Champions of the Lust - To Break an Imperial Stallion", which both feature some eerily similar characters.

This, of course, fizzled out quickly, as it soon became obvious that these books were not all copies of each other, but were merely inspired by the exact same people (with Pismire and Beumarchais drawing on the Inquisitor's figure far less subtly), and Vyrantium Samite at least never used expressions like "quivering flesh-cavern", or "pulsing man-meat". (Editions after the first one feature a mysterious endorsement on the back cover signed only as "R.": "To draw from life with such boldness is a thing both wonderful, and mildly terrifying.")

Vol.04: Fade-touched Velvet

Any semblance of and overarching plot or an interconnection that the previous installments would have introduced is chucked straight out the window, as this installment is written from the perspective of Juliette, a cheeky apprentice in the newly formed College of Enchanters, and recounts her taboo romance with an enchanting desire demon seeking to possess her. (Which explains why exactly the titular "velvet" is "fade-touched".)

The demon's shapeshifting abilities are, of course, explored in extreme depth, touching on yet more Andrastian themes of blasphemy and desire that leave the average reader feeling both flustered and vaguely guilty, and the book ends with a series-atypical cliffhanger that had readers writing letter after disgruntled letter to the Randy Dowager in such numbers, that Her Ladyship had to put out a notice that she will simply stop reviewing the series if people don't stop bugging her about it. (Five scarves fluttered in shock out of five, of course.)

Vol.05.: Rough Hide

The author seems to dial the oddities back in with this installment, as it features, once more, a fairly common Orlesian plot structure and a conventional depiction of a fictional Grey Warden, a gruff and determined dwarf woman with a heart of gold, and her partner, a plucky, yet sweet recruit- a thief both petty and pretty, who chose to join the Order as an alternative to either a hanging, or a Chantry cloister.

This one, though still explicit, is cited as by far the most loving, most romantic book in the series, as the "burn" seems slowest in this one, and the characters' palpable bond tugs at the heartstrings. The two often meditate on mortality, love, and loss- mostly after bouts in the bedroll that definitely fit the title.

The dedication of this book raises eyebrows, as it is merely "Thinking Always of You".

Vol.06: TBA

The newest installment was set to be released 9:53 Dragon, but, well... it wasn't, for obvious reasons.

Rumor has it, the title was to be Paragon's Luster, and it intended to delve quite deep into Orzammar's caste politics and royalty (again, both figuratively and literally), but it'll understandably take a few years to actually be released, if it ever will be.

#squirrel plays datv #squirrel plays dragon age #fun fact!!! i based the name off how -afaik- “toutlemonde” is a common placeholder last name in French meaning “everyone”#and “baliverne” is a word for “nonsense” or “balderdash”#while a meaning of “stéphanie” is “crown” or “wealth”#so translated all together; the pen name is (very loosely) “Orlesian” for “nonsense for wealthy ladies”#and i'm toying with the thought of it being another pseudonym for my dwarf LoF Rook; Tanner #but it's also *really funny* to me to imagine that it'd be just. Leliana.#who is both romanced and the Divine in my world; so it'd tickle me extra hard to imagine her in competition with varric #without his knowledge of course #and her having been a bard and my warden being a f!aeducan would lend plenty of inspiration to more than one of these plotlines #..... i wanna say that verbena is more of a swords and shields fan #but marcus is quite fond of silk and silverite; with book 2 being his favorite #for..... reasons #definitely not because he may or may not have a mild magic kink; nuh-uh #idek if i should tag this with any of my guys' names; it's kinda purposefully all up in the air #and this is kinda just reference to myself lol #tho there is a part of me that wants to write all of these as fics lol

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ethicalvinyls · 2 years ago

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⋆ ★ THE VELVETS ⋆ ★

(2.3k wc)

sub ellie x female reader

SUMMARY: YN is a sexy drummer for a band and her sexy girlfriend, ellie, is her biggest yet shyest supporter. she puts on a hard persona but behind closed doors… she’s quite the whiny wh;)re. YN knows this for a fact, so when her set ends, she drags her girlfriend to a place that has her 'gifts.'

WARNINGS: hard smut? idk. is that a warning?

a/n: words for anatomy aren’t weird. i used to write on wattpad and while some words were 'hidden,' others weren’t. i don’t hide the words for anatomy… so… don’t expect wattpad words LMAO. also, i didn’t proofread.

There was a pair of eyes you knew so well drilling into your moving body as you played the drums on stage. More specifically, your girlfriend who was oftentimes only staring at you when you played for The Velvets–a band you played for only if Sammi, the band’s main drummer, wasn’t around. You enjoyed playing, and your girlfriend, Ellie, enjoyed looking at you.

If she wasn’t staring at you as she held a beer in her hands, she was moving along to the beat of the music. She was a shy girl, sometimes just standing against one of the beams in the small venues and tapping her fingers against the streaks of condensation on her beer. If your best friend Dina was there, she would actually dance. They’d twirl around as you slammed your sticks about the drum set.

Tonight, she was friendless but she had a beer and was leaning against a beam. She sipped on her beer as her head tilted to catch your entire outfit again. You wore a tight black lace romper with knee high socks and platform boots. People weren’t sure you’d be able to play with your shoes, but you’d been dressing like this since the moment you began playing for bands. No matter what, you were wearing your platform boots and tight sexy clothing.

You continued being a badass on the drums until the set ended and everyone stood to bow. You kissed your bandmates on the cheek, leaving red stains on their skin, and bounced off the stage, directly running to Ellie.

You outstretched the hand holding the drumsticks towards her. “These are for the sexiest woman in the room.”

She chuckled with a slight head shake and took them from your hand, placing them in her back pocket. “Thank you,” she said, her voice laced with lust. She was eyeing you all night, and she so happened to be lucky. The way she looked, with her hair rugged and her body dawned in a skin-tight white top and black jeans, she was going to get fucked. “I’ll keep them safe.” She winked.

You bit back a low hum of pleasure as you pulled her in by her belt hoop. She fell into your arms and you draped your hands along her back. You scratched down her clothed skin, drawing a sigh out of her.

You smiled. “What’s up?” you asked.

She raised a brow and shook her head. “Nothing.”

You then raised a brow. “Nothing?”

Ellie knew that you knew what she was thinking. She was oh-so easy to read. Her freckled cheeks would be splattered with hues of pink and red, her teeth would rub against her lips like rubber, and her eyes would look around the room, everywhere but at you.

You adored how easily she became flustered. It had now become her title: Ms. Fluster. It was a name you called her when she would look away from you, like she was doing now.

You trailed your hands down her back and let them linger over the curve of her body. You leaned down and hovered your lips over her ear. “Do you like presents?” you asked.

She hesitantly nodded. “Do you have another for me?” she asked, curiosity swallowing her words. There was also a hint of confidence, like she knew what you were going to ‘gift’ her. She was being a good girl all night and watching you, not pestering the men that oggled you.

Ellie deserved a treat. “I do,” you answered. “Do you want me to lead you to it?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

You smiled and kissed her lips, pulling away to see how well your red lipstick transferred onto her own. You turned around and pulled her belt loop again, dragging her along backstage where you had your own private room.

The bass that returned shook the ground and you knew it was now safe to fuck Ellie. You shut your room door and wasted no time–you pushed her onto the door and smashed your lips against hers. You took the air out of her, quite literally. She sighed into your mouth and dragged her body along the door, going a bit lower than she was when you first slammed her against it.

Her hands attached themselves to your ass, grabbing what she could that had already begun falling out of your romper. You groaned and fell deeper into the kiss. Your hands laced into her rugged hair you were obsessed with, and Ellie’s tongue began jutting into your mouth.

You continued the kiss with Ellie whining into you, pleading for more than fighting tongues and needy hands. She wanted you to actually fuck her. “Fingers,” she pleaded.

You smiled and pulled away from her with a quick nod. Your hands snaked from her hair to her face, where your fingers rested above her lips. Her mouth was bathed in red. When she opened her mouth to speak, her teeth were also a shade of red from how sloppy the kiss was–sloppy in the best way.

“Your lipstick,” she pointed out in a low tone.

“Your mouth,” you retorted. “It’s redder than mine probably is.”

She shrugged. “Don’t seem to mind. Maybe once this is done we can take some pictures for my box.”

You raised a brow. “What box, you freak?”

“My box of pictures that show how much I love your mouth when you put on red lipstick.”

“Ah,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss her again. “That box.”

She bit down on her lip to hide her smile. She was trying to shy away from you. And you hated that.

You ran your thumb over her mouth once more and tugged at her bottom lip with your thumb. She willingly opened her mouth, allowing you to stuff your finger inside. She wrapped her tongue around it and sucked. Your mouth fell open and a moan slipped out.

“Fuck…” you whispered. “I’m going to finger fuck you so hard right now you won’t even be able to walk out of here.”

She almost choked at your words, so you pulled your thumb out and kissed her again. You trailed her backwards until you turned her over by the couch, pushing her into the cushions. You looked down at her, your hands by your sides but burning to be on her.

You wanted to unclothe her, kiss her abdomen, leave hickeys on her tits, suck at her until she turns purple. You were craving to kiss every part of her body and to stuff her with your fingers until she came over and over again.

All she had to do was ask. Or… beg. She had you beg before, and yes, it worked, but the amount of wet dreams you had where she begged you overruled the matter.

“You want me to fuck you?”

She nodded.

“You can speak up, right? You’re not so shy behind closed doors, are you?”

“When you look all sexy like this, it’s hard to speak,” she said, adjusting herself to where she sat on her elbows. “You take all the words out of my mouth.” You chuckled and dropped down onto your knees in front of her. She muttered a ‘jesus christ,’ and began tugging at the hem of her shirt.

You dragged your hands along her thighs and dropped your cheek onto her knee. “You looked so sexy tonight,” you whispered.

“Oh. Did I?” she questioned.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes. You so, very much did. I wanted to hop off and fuck you right there, in front of everyone.”

“And you called me a freak?” she chuckled.

You lifted yourself a bit higher and traced your hands along her button and zipper. “I just want everyone to know that you’re my girlfriend.”

“Yeah well by the way you had me after your set, I’m sure everyone knows now.”

You shrugged and began unbuttoning her jeans. “I’m obsessed with you.”

“So show me,” she said. “Show me by fucking my cunt.”

Your lips curled into a smile and you pulled her pants down, throwing them somewhere in the room behind you. Your fingers hugged the waistband of her tight boxers and you melted at the sight of the wetness penetrating the fabric.

“You’re extremely horny tonight, eh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just shut up and fuck me, hon.”

You nodded and began pulling down her boxers, throwing them somewhere behind you as well. You groaned at how precious her wet cunt looked–a slight bush surrounding the wet and aching bud.

You licked your lips and slowly drew your fingers along her folds. She instantly threw her head back with a moan. You lowered your head and jutted out your tongue, dragging it up her pussy. You began slow because you enjoyed her squirming. You would draw circles on her thigh at first, but then as you worked solely on her pussy with your tongue–sucking and swirling around her bud–you picked yourself up and used your hands to grab her tits.

Her shirt and bra were pushed up, almost suffocating her chest, but you had asked her to make sure and she said she ‘Didn’t give a fuck.’

You rolled her nipples with your fingers and watched her cuss into the air, asking for you to keep sucking her pussy, keep twisting her nipples, keep being such a–

“You’re being such a good girl,” she panted. “Such a fuckin’goodgirl.”

You flicked your tongue over her sensitive clit until she hooked her legs over your shoulders. They were shaking against your back and the more she dug her heels into your back and dug her head into the couch cushions, the faster you went. You drilled your tongue inside of her as well until her convulsing reached the orgasmic level. She moaned as loudly as possible into the air and sighed when you kissed her pussy.

“You’re okay,” you hushed. “You’re okay, baby. Right?”

You looked up at her through your horny gaze and watched her nod. “So good. Are you going to come up here and kiss me again?”

You chuckled and crawled on top of her, where you cupped her cheek and kissed her again. It was a toothy and tongue-filled kiss with hands grabbing everything. Ellie’s hands now clawed at your chest, hoping to unleash your tits from the lace. There were no buttons, but there was a zipper on the back of your dress.

“Zipper,” you said aloud. “It’s by my neck, unzip me please.”

Ellie did so: she pulled your hair back and angrily pulled the zipper down. She pulled your arms out of their proper holes and pulled only the top down. You situated yourself on her to where you hovered over her crotch. This allowed Ellie to pop one of your tits in her mouth–and she began sucking.

Your mouth fell open and you bit down on your lip to stop the pornographic sounds screeching about on your tongue. You grinded down onto her and moaned at the slight feeling it had against your pussy.

“Keep going,” you begged her. Having your tits fondled, kissed, sucked on, twisted, made you the wettest. You could get off on just that. “Suck me, El. I need you to suck my tits as leave them fuckin’ purple.”

She didn’t need you to tell her, because she was already doing so. She kissed and sucked and repeated until you looked down a minute later and saw how red, purple, and plump they were.

“Good job, baby,” you whispered, moving your body so you straddled one thigh now. You dropped your hand between your bodies and traced a finger along her cunt to pick up her slickness.

“Just fuck me. I need your fingers inside me, baby.”

“So needy,” you said. “You want them?”

She nodded. “Please,” she begged. “Fuck. Me.”

You rubbed her sensitive clit and she twitched, her body still aching from the last orgasm. You dragged your finger back down in amusement and circled her hole. She moaned so loud the bass of the building simmered for a second. To hide the mewls that came out of her, she kissed you.

You instantly jammed your fingers into her. Ellie bit down on your lip, and your body tensed. You could’ve come on the spot, but you weren’t going to deter her from her second orgasm, so you began pumping.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” you whispered as you curled your fingers deep inside her. She was panting, sucking in deep breaths only for them to puff out like a blowfish. “All worked up for me. My little shy whore.”

She rolled her eyes and through breaths, said, “I’m only like this for you. You’re my own whore, babe.”

You chuckled and kissed her through another pump. You curled your fingers more this time, pushing them deeper in her cunt. She threw her head back and cursed your name out. “Fuck!” she said. “Fuck I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

You tilted your head and batted your eyelashes innocently. “Do what?”

She leaned down and kissed your neck, nipping at your collarbone as you kept pumping, curling, jamming.

“Keep doing that,” she demanded. “Fuck me faster. I want your fingers so deep inside me.”

You nodded and kept doing so. Not allowing her to come? C’mon, you weren’t that evil…

“Like that,” she hissed. “C’mon baby. Likethatlikethatlike–” Ellie bit down on your shoulder and trembled. You slowed your strokes as she rode through her orgasm. You kissed the side of her head and cooed at her whines–that horny little bitch.

Her tough exterior turned you on and turned you into a raging monster. You loved it, but you knew she was nothing like that. She was a whining whore who begged you to fuck her every single day. Your girlfriend was a raging submissive and it was only for you to know.

And somehow, her being such a whiny masc who could come from any little thing you did to her, made you come.

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hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 4 months ago

Text

Series Masterlist

Before the Sun Rises

(In progress)

Main blog Masterlist

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x reader (age gap)

Series summary: Back in your hometown, most things haven't changed. You arrive fresh off your college graduation, and the walls start closing in. Your parents' expectations weigh down on you, and you struggle to find your place in the world. You find comfort in the only man who's ever taken the time to listen, Joel Miller. Only this time, the girl who runs into his arms isn't a girl at all, but a woman he finds himself falling for.

Vibes: friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, yearning, tension, fluffy, angst, romance

(Warnings listed on each individual chapter)

Chapters

Night Changes (pt.1)

Push and Pull (pt.2)

Unheard (pt.3)

Fresh Start (pt.4)

Days in the Sun (pt.5)

Appearances (pt.6)

Boys, boots, and Broken Hearts (pt.7)

Over Getting Over You (pt.8)

Vows (pt.9)

Daydreams (pt.10)

Wild geese pt.11)

tbd

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callmelittlebuttercup · 9 months ago

Text

Peace Offerings Pt. 14

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Chapter Summary: In the previous chapter, Reader was separated from Joel and placed her trust into another member of the group to find their way to him. When they stop into a house to find food and shelter, they run into a man named David and things take a turn for the worst.

Chapter warnings: MDNI 18+, Jackson! au, No Ellie! au, extreme angst, cannibalism, mentions of murder/death/loss, suicidal ideation, cursing, attempted SA, Reader is locked in a cage, broken bones, Reader is knocked out with chloroform.... lmk if i missed any other fun things! :)

Masterlist

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Part Fourteen

I didn’t know what to do. In the new world, it wasn’t a custom to politely introduce yourself anymore. Usually you’d hold a gun up and pray they wouldn’t shoot you first, but this man was standing in front of me and holding his hand out to shake. It felt completely unnatural. I couldn’t help but wonder what Joe would do in this situation. I concluded that he definitely would not shake the man’s hand, so I backed away and stood with my hands crossed over my chest. “Hello David.” I said, trying to sound as intimidating as possible, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He chuckled lightly and began to pace across the living room, “Well, you see… You and your friend have wandered into my commune, and I take the safety of my people very seriously. I need to be sure you’re not a threat.” I swallowed. Commune was a scary word, and made the man’s welcoming, yet unsettling demeanor make sense. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was dealing with a cult leader of some sort. If so, I had to get out of there, and fast. “Look, David, I can assure you that my friend and I are not a threat to your people. We were just passing through the town and hoping to find something to eat along the way.” I explained innocently. He nodded and stared at me as if he was deciphering me like some sort of code. “You’re hungry?” He asked, his voice lacking the enthusiasm it once carried. “Well, I’m okay but my friend is-” The man cut me off, “Well then you must come with me to our mess hall. There’s plenty of food to go around here.” He smiled. My stomach flip flopped, and upon instinct I blurted out a “No thank you.” His smile quickly folded into a frown. “You’re really going to pass up a free meal? Since when has anyone offered you one of those in the past twenty years?” He questioned suavely. He sounded like a salesperson. “I normally wouldn’t, but my friend and I are in a rush to get somewhere. Just point us towards the exit and we won’t be in your hair anymore.” I said. He pressed his lips together and turned to look over his shoulder into the kitchen. “I’m not sure if your friend will be going anywhere anytime soon.” He said wearily as he looked back at me. “Wha-” My question was caught in my throat when I followed his gaze around the corner and caught sight of Jacob who was sprawled across the floor with a knife buried into his neck. My heart began to pound in my chest and the familiar feeling of adrenaline pumped through my veins. I turned back towards David with my fists balled, but suddenly a strong, sweet smell filled my nose as a cloth was pressed against my face. I tried not to breathe, knowing it was a chloroform rag, but it was too late. My fighting slowed as my vision darkened and I fell unconscious.

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The sound of a knife hitting wood rythmically slowly pulled me into consciousness. My head pounded and the sweet, alcoholic smell was stuck in my nose. Every limb ached as I examined the small metal cell that encapsulated me. I stopped short when I saw where the noise was coming from. Horror filled my body as a human arm fell to the floor as the figure brought down the cleaver once more. My hand flew to my mouth to push the bile back down my throat. The dizziness from being knocked out caused me to fall back into the metal, causing the rungs to vibrate at the impact. The figure paused momentarily and then called out, “David! She’s awake!” I scrambled to sit up against the furthest side of the cage, ensuring that he had no way to get to me through the bars, and eyed him aggressively as he walked into the room.

“How are you feeling?” David asked as he bent down to my level on the opposite side of my enclosure. My hands were pressed up against my chest, instinctively making myself smaller. “Super.” I blurted. He dropped a tray that he’d been carrying onto the ground and slid it through the gap between the bars and the floor. The gap I wished I was small enough to slip through and disappear. “Here, eat. You’ve been out so long… Must be starving.” He said softly. I stared at the contents of the tray. The majority of it was some kind of meat with a pitiful amount of rice. “What kind of meat is it?” I asked reluctantly. “Deer.” He answered stoicly. I scoffed at his blatant lie and kicked the tray with such force that the contents flew across the cell. Some even landed on his shoe. “You’re a fucking animal.” I grunted through my teeth. He leaned closer to the bars and his lip curled up into a sneer, “Oh… You’re awfully quick to judgement. Considering you and your friends killed how many of my men back at your little camp site?” My mind traveled back to that fight outside the tents. Those were his men? And then it all made sense. He captured me for revenge for killing his precious followers.

“They didn’t give us a choice.” I said emotionlessly. “And you think we have a choice? Is that it? You kill to survive... and so do we. We have to take care of our own. By any means necessary.” He demanded. “So now what? Are you going to chop me into tiny little pieces because I killed a few of your delusonal prospects?” I questioned mockingly. “You killed husbands, fathers, brothers. That is nothing to joke about. But I’d rather not kill you. I figure you telling me your name would help me convince the others not to either.” He said in a dark tone, all while trying to keep his patience. I was sick of being looked at like his next meal so I shakily pulled myself up to stand in the center of the cell. David rose off of his knees and to my eyeline. “I’m not telling you shit. Killing me or doing whatever the fuck you’re going to do is not going to bring back your men, so just let me go.” I demanded as I stepped closer to him. He stood on the other side of the bars unmoving, but his lips curled into an even more threatening sneer. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. See, there’s this saying… ‘an eye for an eye.’ Ever heard it before?” He asked patronizingly. I gulped as I nodded slowly. “Right. Now, four men equals four eyes and unless I’ve counted wrong… you only have two.” My nails dug into the palms of my hands as I waited patiently for him to get to him to get to his point. He moved to the doorway, but continued, “Luckily, your brother counted as two more.”

I hurled myself towards the metal bars, banging and pushing as hard as I could. “What the fuck did you do to him?” I growled at David. He walked over to me and wrapped his hands around the rungs. “Let’s just say… his life will help many others to prosper.” He whispered softly. My heart nearly stopped. Though nearly blinded by anger and adrenaline, I still saw an opportunity and wasted no time as I brought my elbow down onto his knuckles, slamming them onto the horizontal bar below. A loud cracking sound filled the air along with David’s pained scream. I reached through the cell door and ripped the key ring off of his belt loop and it ripped away as David fell to the ground. I kept my eye on him as I immediately began fumbling with the lock. David was snapping out of his pained state, but I was faster, and pushed the door open before sprinting down the hallway.

My coordination was low from the dizziness as I tried to navigate our way through the kitchen and to the nearest exit. We ended up going further into the restaurant and found ourselves in the dining room. “I thought you’d be smarter than to think you’re getting out that easily.” David’s voice called out. I quickly crouched behind a booth and peeked over the seats to see him standing there with a machete hanging from his right hand. After throwing a piece of shrapnel away from me to make sure he was heading the opposite way, I began to move, lunging between boothes to stay out of sight. I neared him and planned to take him from behind with a strangle move I’d seen Joel do.

I was inches away from him now, close enough to see the sweat gathering on the back of his neck. I seized the opportunity and launched myself onto David’s back and wrapped my arm around his neck, squeezing with all of the strength I had in me. Sickening gurgling sounds left his mouth as I continued to strangle him and I felt his knees buckling under him. The burning in my arms was only motivation to keep my grip on him, and he finally fell to the ground, taking me down with him. I gasped for breath as I stood up off of him and turned to run out of the door that was feet away, but a sharp sting spread through my calf. I cried out as I toppled to the ground, my head landing inches away from David’s. A sick smile spread across his face. “You’re weak.” He said through his teeth as he pushed himself off of the ground, “Just how I like ‘em.” I tried to sit up and grasp for my leg, but he pushed me down harshly by my shoulder and proceeded to push his body onto mine. I squealed, pushed, and kicked in attempt to get him off of me, but he was too big, too determined. “That’s it, keep fighting.” He breathed. Nausea filled my stomach as I felt him reach down and unzip his pants and began trying to rip my clothes off. I continued to fight, digging my nails into the ground and bringing my knees into his stomach over and over again. Suddenly my hand connected with something hard. Something metal. It was the machete. I grasped it and wasted no time burying it under David’s ribcage. A look of shock occupied his face before his whole body fell onto me.

I was numb. David’s limp body was still draped over mine, but I didn’t have the strength to move it. I’d begun to accept defeat. My brother was gone and Joel nowhere to be found. My last two motivations to be alive were now gone. So there I laid, under my captor on the grimy floor of a restaurant that was being engulfed in flames. The smoke burnt my lungs, but I didn’t care. I breathed in further, hoping it would make my demise come quicker. As I lay there, my mind went back to when Matthew and I were younger. Sitting next to our father’s strawberry plants and stuffing our faces, causing red rings to form around our mouths. I smiled at the memory and felt a tear drip down towards my ear.

Suddenly a loud bang rattled the walls of the restaurant. I stayed still, figuring that it was the ceiling collapsing, but flinched when I heard my name being called. I thought I was imagining it, that I was finally letting go, but then I saw Joel’s face over me. His eyes were wild with concern. “Joel.” I choked. He grunted as he pushed David’s body off of me, his face dropping when he caught sight of David’s undone belt and zipper. My hands floated up to reach for him and he quickly obliged, gathering my quivering form up against his chest. “S’okay babygirl. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He soothed as I sobbed against him. I began to cough between sobs from the smoke gathering in the air, and he quickly moved to carry me outside.

It had snowed more since I’d been captured, and the air stung my exposed skin. Joel set me down gently onto my feet and hurriedly shrugged his heavy jacket off before draping it over my shoulders. “Here.” He breathed before his arm moved to wrap around my shoulders and he began to coral me into the woods, away from the burning building. Suddenly, I dropped to my knees and my breathing became frantic. I was finally processing that my brother was gone. That he’d been murdered, chopped up, and eaten. Joel knelt down next to me and wrapped his arm around me once more as I sat there heaving. I tried to speak, to explain, but I could only manage one word at a time between gasps. “He…. they…” Joel pulled me against himself again and pressed my head under his chin and whispered, “God I’m so sorry.” He pulled away and wiped the wetness from my cheeks and under my nose. “But you’re not hurt.” He said weakly, “Thank fucking god you’re okay.” He pulled me into him again before pressing his lips to the top of my head. I let my body go limp against his. I was relieved to be with him again, to be safe in his arms, but I was so very far from being okay.

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a/n: This was an INTENSE chapter but it's not a Joel fic without angst in every chapter lmao. I hope you enjoyed and as always thank you for reading!!

Taglist:

@ashleyfilm @ayamenimthiriel @demonsasss

Masterlist | Next Part

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