#for me its kind of giving Tommy

[bearyyayay]

Okey I did some research and I don't know why but personally I think Tommy Angelo would be a Toyger cat

[usercelestial]

okay i do have faith in the bucktommy fandom at large and especially i have faith in the people that i follow but i do just wanna say that we all have to promise to be normal if/when buck gets another love interests or ends up with someone else. like if it's not tommy and it's not eddie, then we have to promise not to be terrible the way antis were terrible to us. like im not saying grr you have to like it, criticize the story all you want, criticize the writers for their biphobia, their lazy writing, etc. but i really hope we can all continue to be normal about buck possibly dating other people and giving the love interest a fair chance

[bibewilderedandbuck]

Do u think buck is changing his diet around bc hes bottoming and he obsessing over it??

[timelesslords]

i might just have 3 different types of compounding brain rot rn but tommy is so antigone coded actually

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too?"

Joel miller x f!reader

next part

Summary: Joel doesn't like you until he loses all his memories.

w.c: 14k> (longest piece I've written and my eyes are dry)

warnings: fluff, mention of amnesia, memory loss, ANGST and angst, and more angst because I love angst. There is smut but you already know I'm bad at writing that. No proof reading, I'm lazy, sorry.

a/n: hello! I got inspired by this "memory loss" type of story. It was supposed to be a one shoot, but I had to split the whole thing so another part is more likely to happen. I know there has been some drama surrounding writers and I want to say that every single person who writes and makes an art with that is amazing! Everyone who is reading this, please give creators here your flowers. With that being said, Happy reading or not 😭💌 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. (come on, talk to me)

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel didn't used to hate women, but man, when he met you for the first time, you crawled under his skin. He had fun with you, making jokes, trying to get on your nerves. For his hell, everyone in Jackson loved you; after all, you were the nurse and the sweetheart. Always looking after everyone, always being sweet to everyone.

It was a sunny afternoon when you first arrived in Jackson, your kind demeanor and skilled hands quickly gaining the trust and admiration of the townsfolk. Joel watched from a distance with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He couldn't understand why everyone was so taken with you. To him, you seemed too soft, too gentle for the brutal world they lived in.

"Hey, Joel," Tommy called out one day, pulling Joel from his brooding thoughts. "We're heading out on patrol. You should meet the new nurse. She's something else."

Joel grunted in response, not bothering to hide his disinterest. He didn't need to meet you to know what kind of person you were. In his mind, you were just another naive newcomer who wouldn't last a week.

But fate had other plans. That very evening, a group of raiders attacked the outer perimeter. The town was thrown into chaos, and Joel found himself side by side with you, defending the walls. He couldn't help but notice your bravery and the way you handled yourself under pressure.

After the attack, as the town counted its injuries and losses, you worked tirelessly, tending to the wounded. Joel watched you, his irritation growing as he saw the way everyone fawned over you, thanking you for your care.

"Think you're some kind of hero, huh?" Joel muttered as he approached you, his voice laced with sarcasm.

You looked up at him, exhaustion evident in your eyes, but you offered a small, tired smile. "Just doing my job, Joel."

"Your job?" Joel scoffed. "You think patching up a few cuts and bruises is going to keep these people safe? This world doesn't care how sweet you are."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "And what would you have me do, Joel? Let them suffer? We're all trying to survive here, and we all have our roles to play."

Joel huffed and walked away, but your words lingered in his mind. Despite himself, he couldn't deny that you were right. Over the following weeks, Joel continued to watch you, his annoyance slowly giving way to a grudging respect. He noticed how you never backed down, how you always stood your ground, even when faced with his relentless jabs.

One day, during a particularly harsh winter storm, you and Joel were sent out on a supply run. The weather was brutal, and the path was treacherous. As the wind howled around you, Joel found himself instinctively moving closer, his protective instincts kicking in despite his irritation.

"Watch your step," he warned, his voice gruff.

You nodded, shivering against the cold. "Thanks, Joel."

As you both trudged forward, the wind picked up, and visibility dropped to almost nothing. You focused on placing one foot in front of the other, barely able to see Joel a few steps ahead. Suddenly, you heard a sharp crack and a thud.

"Joel!" you shouted, fear gripping your heart.

Rushing forward, you found Joel lying on the ground, unconscious, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. He must have slipped on the ice and hit his head on a rock hidden beneath the snow.

Panic set in, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You needed to get him back to Jackson quickly. You checked his pulse, relieved to find it steady, then did your best to bandage the wound with the supplies you had. With great effort, you managed to lift Joel and drape him over your shoulder, carrying him back through the storm.

By the time you reached Jackson, you were exhausted and freezing, but you didn't stop until you got Joel to the infirmary. The doctors took over, treating his wound and monitoring his condition.

You sat by Joel's bedside, watching him closely. Hours passed, and eventually he began to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around, disoriented.

"Joel?" you said softly, leaning forward.

He turned his head to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. But then, a slow, almost lazy smile spread across his face. "Well, hello there, beautiful," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Did I die and wake up in heaven?"

You blink, taken aback by his words. "Uh, Joel, it's me. Do you remember what happened?"

Joel's smile didn't waver as he looked at you. "I remember everything... except meeting you before. Are you sure we haven't met in a dream?"

You glanced at Tommy, who had just walked into the room, and saw the same confusion mirrored on his face. "Joel," Tommy said cautiously, stepping closer, "do you know who I am?"

Joel's eyes shifted to Tommy, his smile fading into a look of mild frustration. "Of course I do, Tommy. You're my brother. But I'm more interested in getting to know this doll here."

Tommy exchanged bewildered looks with you. "Joel, this is… Ah. She's... well, you two never really got along."

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? Well, I must've been an idiot then because I can't imagine not liking someone like you."

Your heart raced, unsure how to respond to this flirtatious side of Joel, the same who hours ago was trying to crawl under your skin, the same one who had rejected you all this time. "Joel, you really don't remember me at all?"

Joel shook his head, still gazing at you with that same enamored look. "Not a thing. But I gotta say, I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time, and I like what I see."

Tommy scratched his head, clearly at a loss. "This is... something else. We need to figure out what happened to his memory."

You nodded, trying to process the sudden shift in Joel's demeanor. You knew the hit on the head did something to his memory, but you didn’t know how to face it. "Joel, you hit your head pretty hard. The doctors said you might have some memory loss. Maybe this is part of it."

Joel reached out and gently took your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, if forgetting the past means I get to start over with you, I think I can live with that."

You couldn't help but blush, feeling a mix of confusion and something else you couldn't quite place. Perhaps butterflies are flying all around inside your tummy. "We'll take it slow, okay? There's a lot you need to know."

Joel's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "As long as you're the one teaching me, I'm all in."

Tommy coughed awkwardly, breaking the moment. "Alright, let's give Joel some time to rest and recover. We'll figure this out together."

You nodded, reluctantly pulling your hand away from Joel's. "Get some rest, Joel. We'll talk more later."

As you and Tommy left the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of Joel's gaze following you. Tommy put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Just... be careful. He's not the same Joel right now."

You nodded, your mind racing with the implications of Joel's memory loss and his sudden interest in you. The days ahead were sure to be challenging, but you couldn't deny the flicker of excitement at the thought of getting to know this new, more open version of Joel.

A version where he could get to know you and maybe, like, a new story waiting to be written with the both of you becoming friends, and not just acquaintances just having to tolerate each other for the community’s sake.

The days following Joel's accident were a whirlwind of confusion and unexpected emotions dancing on your mind. Joel's flirtatious comments and affectionate demeanor were a stark contrast to the gruff, often combative man you had known before.

You had started to get used to feeling his nice demeanor towards you. You found yourself happier than before, smiling at the thought of him when you weren’t with him, and he had become your last thought on your bed just before going to sleep, but you were aware his condition perhaps wasn’t permanent and he was going to recover his memories of you, so you didn’t want to take advantage of that, nor did you want to fall for Joel, not when the fear of him waking up one day and hating you as usual was a threat.

His recovery was slow but steady, and you spent a lot of time by his side, helping him piece together the fragments of his memory. Every interaction felt like walking on fire, with Joel's behavior making your heart flutter and your mind racing at thousand miles per hour.

As you were changing the bandage on his head, Joel watched you with a soft smile. "You know, you have the gentlest touch. It's like you're an angel sent to take care of me."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just doing my job, Joel. Making sure your pretty head heals properly."

Joel reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're more than just a nurse to me now. I don't know what it is, but I feel this connection with you. Like we're meant to be."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Joel, a few days ago I was nothing to you. You don’t remember me, so please just focus on getting better."

Joel's expression softened; his eyes filled with earnestness. "I get it, but I can't help how I feel. This connection—it's real to me, even if I don't remember our past."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of frustration and affection. "Joel, you're vulnerable right now. Your mind is trying to make sense of everything, and it's confusing. We need to take things slow."

Joel nodded reluctantly, his hand lingering near your cheek before he pulled it back. "I trust you. Just know that I'm here, and I want to get to know you, past or no past."

You gave him a reassuring smile. "One step at a time, okay? Let's focus on getting you back on your feet first."

Just then, Tommy walked in, carrying a tray of food. He cleared his throat, causing you to step back from Joel. "Brought you some lunch, big brother. How’re you feeling?"

Joel's eyes lit up at the sight of his brother. "Thanks, Tommy. I'm feeling better every day. And with this sunshine here, it's hard not to feel good."

Tommy gave you a knowing look, his concern evident. "Glad to hear it. Mind if I have a word with you outside?" he asked, looking towards you.

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "Of course, Tommy."

As you stepped outside the room, Tommy closed the door behind you, his expression serious. "How are you holding up?"

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It's... complicated. Joel is so different now. He's kind, attentive, and he seems genuinely interested in me. But he doesn't remember our past—how much we clashed."

Tommy nodded, his face lined with concern. "I can see how that would be confusing. But you have to be careful. This might just be his way of coping with the memory loss. He's latching onto the one constant he has right now—you."

You looked down, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I know. I'm trying to keep my distance, but it's hard. He's... he's different, Tommy. And I can't deny that I'm starting to care for him."

Tommy placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "I get it. But you need to remember that his memory might come back, and when it does, he could revert to the Joel we knew before. You have to protect yourself, too."

“Am I that unlovable?” you sighed.

Tommy's expression softened, and he shook his head. "No, you're not unlovable. Far from it. But the Joel we knew before... he had his walls up, and you know how stubborn he can be. If his memory comes back, he might go back to those old habits, those old defenses."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "I understand. It's just... complicated."

Tommy gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just take it slow. Don't rush into anything, and remember to take care of yourself too. You suffered a lot before arriving here."

You managed a small smile. "Thanks, Tommy. I needed that."

Tommy smiled back. "Anytime."

Returning to Joel's room, you found him sitting up, his eyes lighting up as you walked in. "Hey, everything okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just had a chat with Tommy."

Joel's expression became thoughtful. "You know, I'm really grateful for everything you're doing for me. I can't imagine what it must be like, dealing with me like this."

You sat down beside him, taking a deep breath. "It's not easy, Joel, but it's worth it. You're worth it."

Joel reached out, taking your hand in his. "You know, even though I don't remember everything, I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time. And I like what I see."

Your heart raced, and you struggled to keep your emotions in check. "Joel, we need to take things slow. Focus on your recovery first."

Joel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I understand. But I can't help how I feel."

He has repeated the same phrase as before, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself diving into a deep ocean for him.

You squeezed his hand gently. "One step at a time, okay?"

Joel's eyes held a determined glint. "One step at a time."

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Jackson settlement as you walked briskly toward the main gate, your medical bag slung over your shoulder. You spotted Joel waiting for you, his arms crossed and a scowl already etched on his face.

"You're late," he growled as you approached.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm five minutes late, Joel. I had to take care of a kid with a fever."

Joel grunted, clearly unimpressed. "We have a schedule for a reason. Being late puts us at risk."

"Don't lecture me about risk," you shot back, your patience wearing thin. "I know the dangers out there just as well as you do."

Joel's eyes narrowed. "Do you? Because sometimes it feels like you're too soft for this world. Always stopping to help every stray animal and sick kid."

"Excuse me for having a heart," you snapped. "Not everyone wants to live like a damn machine."

"Having a heart can get you killed," Joel retorted, his voice rising. "Out there, you need to be tough. Focused."

"And maybe if you lightened up a bit, people wouldn't be so scared of you," you shot back, your frustration boiling over.

Joel took a step closer, his jaw clenched. "I don't care if people are scared of me. I care about keeping them safe. And you, with your bleeding heart, make that harder."

You felt a surge of anger and hurt at his words. "You know what, Joel? Maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe it's you. Maybe you're so wrapped up in your own pain that you can't see anyone else's."

Joel's face darkened, a mix of anger and something else—something like hurt—flashing in his eyes. "You don't know anything about my pain."

"And you don't know anything about mine," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. "So maybe you should stop judging me and start seeing that we're all trying to survive in this hell together."

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the tension crackling between you like a live wire. Then Joel turned away, his shoulders stiff. "Let's just get this patrol over with."

You followed him out of the gate, your heart heavy with unresolved emotions. The silence between you was thick and uncomfortable, but neither spoke. The rift between you seemed insurmountable, and you couldn't see how things would ever change.

You woke up with a pain on your neck. You had fallen asleep on a chair next to Joel’s bed where he was now lay resting, his breathing even and steady. His recovery was going well, but the emotional landscape was far more complex and you wanted to take the risk to discover it.  

You watched him for a moment, taking a mental picture of his face, the creases on his skin, how peaceful he looked like this. feeling the weight of uncertainty and guilt within you.

In that exact moment, Joel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked around, his gaze settling on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. "Hey, sunshine."

"Hey," you replied softly, mirroring his smile "How are you feeling?"

Joel stretched, wincing slightly but smiling nonetheless. "Better. Thanks to you."

You couldn't help but smile back, the tension easing a bit. "Just doing my job, Joel."

His eyes softened as he looked at you. "You're doing more than just your job. You've been taking care of me, looking out for me. I appreciate it."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "It's what anyone would do."

Joel shook his head slightly. "No, not everyone. You're special, and I... I think I’m starting to understand that."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, a mix of emotions swirling within you. "Joel, you don't need to say that. You're still recovering, and things are confusing right now."

Joel's gaze remained steady, his expression earnest. "I mean it. There's something about you... something that's been here all along, and I was too stubborn to see it."

Your heart ached with the weight of his words, knowing how complicated the situation was. "Joel…”

“Did I care about you before?” he asked, gaze locked with yours.

You shook your head “No. Not really.”

You shook your head, feeling the sting of the truth. “No. Not really.”

Joel looked troubled, his brows knitting together. “I find that hard to believe. Because right now, I can’t imagine not caring about you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Things were different before, Joel. We didn’t get along. You were... closed off, and I guess I was just someone who got under your skin.”

Joel’s expression softened with regret. “I’m sorry. For whatever I did to make you feel that way. I wish I could remember, but all I know is that right now, I see you, and I feel... connected.”

A memory from the past surged forward, vivid and painful. It was a cold evening in Jackson, just after a particularly difficult supply run. You and Joel had been at odds all day, and the tension between you was palpable.

"Why do you always have to be so damn difficult?" Joel snapped; his voice harsh as he slammed the door behind him.

You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. "Maybe because you treat me like I’m incompetent! I’m trying my best out there, Joel. We’re supposed to be a team."

Joel scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "A team? You’re a liability more than anything."

The words cut deep, but you stood your ground. "That’s not fair, and you know it. I’m just trying to help, like everyone else."

Joel’s face twisted with frustration. "Help? You call what you do helping? It’s a wonder anyone here can stand you."

The hurt was immediate and sharp, but you refused to let him see how much his words affected you. "At least I’m trying to do something good. You just push everyone away."

Joel stepped closer, his expression dark. "Maybe there’s a reason for that. I find it hard to believe anyone could actually love you."

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, disbelief and pain warring within you. Without another word, you turned and left, unable to bear the weight of his cruelty.

Back in the present, you blinked, trying to dispel the memory. Joel was watching you closely, concern etched into his features. "What’s wrong?"

You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. "Just... remembering something."

Joel reached out, gently taking your hand. "I wish I could remember too. So, I could make it right."

You looked down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "Maybe it’s better this way.

Joel squeezed your hand gently. "A fresh start sounds good. But I still want to know everything. About us, about what I did wrong. So, I can be better."

You nodded, taking the risk and pushing your luck.

You and Joel could become friends, right?

"You and I... we could become friends, right?" you asked.

Joel’s eyes softened even more, and he smiled. "Friends sounds like a good start. We can build from there."

You felt a surge of relief. "Friends it is, then."

The days passed, each one bringing closeness between you and Joel. He had got better, slowly starting to get back to his tasks. The community noticed the change in him, how he was more open and approachable. You often found yourselves working together, whether it was on supply runs or him visiting the infirmary when you were there working.

One afternoon, you were busy organizing medical supplies when Joel walked in, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you. "Hey, need any help in here?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You looked up, smiling back. "Joel, what are you doing here? I thought you were out patrolling.”

Joel shrugged, stepping further into the room. "Finished early. Thought I’d come by and see if you needed a hand."

He, in fact lied. He switched places with another guy just to spend time with you again. He could feel your fear irradiating but he wanted to get to know you better. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact he didn’t like someone like you and he wanted to change that.  

You chuckled, shaking your head. " Sure, you can help me with these supplies. There are some boxes that need to be sorted."

Joel rolled up his sleeves and joined you, his presence filling the small room with a comforting warmth. As you worked side by side, you found yourself stealing glances at him, marveling at the changes in him. He was more relaxed, more open, and undeniably more attentive.

"You know," Joel said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence, "I think I like helping out here more than patrolling."

You raised an eyebrow, teasingly. "Oh? And why is that?"

Joel grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Because I get to spend more time with you."

You blushed, focusing intently on the box in front of you. "You’re just saying that."

"No, I mean it," Joel replied, his tone sincere. "I like being around you. You make everything better."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "Well, I like having you around too."

The truth was that stealing glances at him now felt like interlocking fingers without even touching his skin, there wasn’t precisely a sexual tension or possessiveness over him, but a warm incandescent glow within every time he smiled at you. That was something you hadn’t felt in so long, and this time felt so right yet so wrong.

You both continued to work in comfortable silence, the rhythm of your tasks interrupted only by the occasional exchange of smiles or a shared joke. The closeness was undeniable, and you could feel the lines between friendship and something more starting to blur.

One afternoon, you were out on a supply run together, scanning the area for anything useful. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the landscape. As you bent down to pick up some supplies, Joel suddenly appeared by your side, his proximity making your heart race.

"Need a hand?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

You looked up at him, finding it hard to concentrate with him so close. "Sure, thanks."

As you both worked, the conversation flowed easily. Joel's presence was comforting, and you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn't before.

"You know, I never really thanked you properly," Joel said, his tone serious.

"For what?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"For saving my life. For being there for me when I needed it the most," Joel replied, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart ache.

You shook your head, a soft smile on your lips. "You don’t need to thank me, Joel. I did what anyone would do."

"Not anyone," he insisted, his gaze intense. "You went above and beyond. You always do."

You blushed, the warmth spreading through you once again. "Well, I care about you. I can’t help it."

Joel's expression softened, and he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I care about you too. More than I ever thought possible."

The moment hung in the air, filled with unspoken words and emotions. You could feel the pull between you, the undeniable connection that had grown stronger with each passing day.

"Joel, this is complicated," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to take things slow."

"I know," he replied, his hand lingering near your face. "But I’m not going anywhere, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Joel's feelings for you had grown stronger. He found himself being smitten and completely in love by you, by your beauty, your strength and your soft heart. You were everything that was good with this world. Where everything and everyone was people with shadows dying out of melancholy, you were an angel wrapping your warm arms around him, making his world brighter. He had learnt how to savor the colors again.

As you continued your days together, Joel couldn't help but find ways to be close to you. He would always volunteer to accompany you on supply runs, ensuring you were safe and cared for. He would show up at the infirmary with small gifts – a flower he found on his patrol, a cup of your favorite tea, or a book he thought you might like. His gestures were always thoughtful and sincere, each one a testament to the depth of his feelings.

Joel couldn't take his eyes off you. You were kneeling in the ground, your hands deftly cleaning something you had found, your face serene and focused. Joel felt a swell of emotion, unable to keep it to himself any longer.

"You know," he began, his voice gentle, "I used to think this world had nothing left to offer. But then I met you."

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze. "Joel..."

He knelt beside you, his hand covering yours. "You make everything better. You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine going back to the way things were."

You felt a mixture of warmth and apprehension. His words were everything you wanted to hear, yet the uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on your heart. "Joel, this is all so new and complicated. We need to be careful."

Joel's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes full of determination. "I know it's complicated, and I know we've got a lot to figure out. But I can't ignore what I feel. I want to be here for you, with you, through everything."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "I want that too, Joel. But we need to take it one step at a time."

He nodded, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I will make you fall in love with me," he said, his voice full of determination and warmth.

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension. "You're quite confident, aren't you?"

Joel chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "When it comes to you, I am."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. "Let's get back to Jackson," you said, standing up and brushing off your clothes. Joel stood with you, offering a hand to help you up.

As you made your way back to Jackson, the conversation flowed easily. Joel told you stories from before the outbreak, sharing pieces of his past he hadn’t opened up about before. You found yourself laughing at his anecdotes, feeling a growing sense of connection.

When you finally reached the gates of Jackson, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the community. People greeted you both warmly, noticing the change in Joel's demeanor. He was more relaxed and more present, and it was clear to everyone that you had a positive influence on him.

Tommy approached, a knowing smile on his face. "Good to see you both back safe and sound."

Joel clapped his brother on the shoulder. "It was a good run. Found some useful supplies."

Tommy nodded, then looked at you. "And how about you? Everything alright?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth of Joel’s gaze on you on your face. "Yeah, everything's good."

As the evening settled in, you and Joel made your way to the communal dining hall. The chatter of the community filled the air, and you found a spot to sit together. Joel’s hand lingered near yours, his touch reassuring and steady.

Tommy, Ellie, and Maria soon joined you at the table. Tommy was carrying a tray laden with food, Ellie trailing behind him with a mischievous grin, and Maria gave you a warm smile as she took a seat.

"Good to see you two back," Elli said, setting down the tray and passing out plates. “How was the run?" Ellie asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It went well," Joel replied, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he continued. "Found some useful supplies and had some good company."

Ellie smirked, elbowing Tommy. "I bet you did."

You blushed, focusing on your plate as you filled it with food. Maria, ever perceptive, glanced between you and Joel with a knowing smile. "It's good to see everyone together," she said, her tone light and warm.

As you all began to eat, the conversation flowed naturally. Tommy and Maria talked about the latest updates in the community, Ellie shared stories from her day, and Joel occasionally chimed in with his dry humor, making everyone laugh.

At one point, Ellie leaned over to you, her voice low enough so only you could hear. "Joel's been different lately. In a good way. You've been good for him."

You looked at her, surprised by her observation. "I hope so. It's been... a journey."

Ellie nodded, her expression sincere. "Just keep being you. That's all he needs."

The meal continued, filled with warmth and laughter. Joel's hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending electricity down your body.

Just as you were starting to relax, a woman approached the table, her presence causing a ripple of unease. It was Lori, one of the women Joel used to date. Joel visibly tensed, his gaze dropping to his plate as Lori stopped beside him, her smile a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place.

“Joel," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Joel looked up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Lori. Uh, hi."

Lori glanced around the table, her eyes settling on you for a moment before she looked back at Joel. "I was just passing by and saw you all together. Mind if I join?"

Before anyone could respond, Tommy jumped in. "Sure, why not? There's always room for one more."

Lori pulled up a chair and sat down, her presence adding a layer of tension to the dynamics. Joel seemed uncomfortable; his usual confidence was replaced by nervous energy.

"So, Joel," Lori began, her tone light but probing. "How have you been? It's been a while."

Joel cleared his throat, glancing at you briefly before answering. "Yeah, it has. I've been... good. Just busy with everything here."

Lori nodded, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "I can see that. Looks like you've made some new friends." She said, bitterly, “The last time I knew from you was when you left my house after our night, and then you hit your head and never spoke to me again.”

The table fell silent, tension crackling in the air. Joel looked uncomfortable, his gaze dropping to his plate. You could see the guilt and confusion in his eyes as he tried to process Lori's words.

"I'm sorry, Lori," Joel finally said, his voice low. "I don't remember much from before the accident. It's been... complicated."

Lori's expression softened slightly, but the hurt in her eyes remained. "I get that. But it still stings, you know? You just disappeared."

You felt a pang of empathy for Lori but also a fierce protectiveness over Joel. "It's been hard for him,” you said gently, trying to ease the tension. "Joel's been working hard to piece things together. He's different now, and we're all just trying to move forward."

Lori glanced at you, her expression unreadable. "I can see that, but it seems like you had taken advantage of the situation; he couldn’t stand your ass before his accident, and suddenly you have him like a little puppy following you everywhere.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, feeling warm spreading to your cheeks.

Joel's jaw tightened, and he quickly interjected, his voice firm. "That's enough, Lori. You don't know what you're talking about."

Lori raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "I just find it convenient, that's all."

Tommy leaned forward, his tone calm but authoritative. "Lori, we're all trying to move forward here. It's not fair to make accusations."

Ellie, always quick to defend those she cared about, added, "You weren't here to see what she did for Joel. She saved his life and has been helping him every step of the way."

Lori's gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just needed to understand."

Maria nodded, her voice gentle. "We all get that, Lori. It's been a tough situation for everyone."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's okay. "You took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ll take some fresh air,” you said, standing up, not even looking down at Joel, who seemed sad at your whole dementor.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's okay. I—" you paused, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. "I’ll take some fresh air," you said, standing up abruptly. Avoiding eye contact with Joel, who looked sad and concerned, you made your way outside.

The cool evening air was a welcome relief, and you walked a little way from the dining hall, finding a quiet spot to gather your thoughts. You leaned against a tree, closing your eyes and taking deep, calming breaths.

After a few moments, you heard footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes to see Ellie standing there, her expression filled with concern. "Hey, you okay?"

You nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I just needed a moment. That was a bit embarrassing."

Ellie walked over and leaned against the wall next to you. "Lori was out of line. You've been amazing with Joel. Anyone with eyes can see that."

“So, don’t you think I’ve been taking advantage of him?” You asked, really concerned.

“What are you talking about? He is the one completely enamored by you.” She replied, laughing.

Ellie laughed, shaking her head. "What are you talking about? He is the one completely enamored by you."

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I know, but sometimes it feels like I’m walking on eggshells. It feels like he is going to wake up from his trance and he will hate me again."

Ellie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I've seen the way he looks at you. He’s happier, lighter. You’ve brought out a side of him I didn’t think existed. And trust me, if he didn’t want this, he’d make it clear."

You took a deep breath.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ellie asked.

“Me, falling in love with him,” you answer.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ellie asked, her tone light but sincere.

You sighed, the weight of your fears pressing down. “Me, falling in love with him,” you answered quietly.

Ellie gave you a sympathetic look. "And why is that so bad?"

"Because," you began, struggling to put your feelings into words, "what if his memories come back and he realizes he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if I fall in love with him and he changes back to the old Joel, the one who couldn’t stand me?"

Ellie nodded, understanding. "That's a risk, sure. But you can't let fear keep you from living. You've been through so much together, and it's clear he cares about you deeply now. Maybe that won't change."

You bit your lip, the turmoil inside you reflected in your eyes. "I just don't want to get hurt, Ellie. And I don’t want to hurt him either."

Ellie squeezed your shoulder. "I get it. But if you keep holding back, you'll never know what could be. Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith."

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Maybe you're right."

Ellie grinned. "Of course I'm right. Now, let's get back in there. Joel's probably worrying himself sick."

You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Okay, let's go."

As you walked back into the dining hall, you found Joel still sitting at the table, his eyes lighting up when he saw your return. He stood up as you approached, his concern evident.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a breather."

Joel looked relieved, and he gently took your hand. "I'm glad you're back."

The evening continued with easy conversation, and as you all eventually made your way out of the dining hall, Joel walked beside you, his presence a comforting constant.

"Thanks for dinner," he said softly as you approached your door.

"Anytime," you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at his words. "It was nice, being with everyone."

Joel nodded, his eyes lingering on you. "It was. And I meant what I said today. I’ll make you fall in love with me.”

You chuckled softly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement at his words. "You're really set on that, aren't you?"

Joel nodded, his expression serious but with a hint of a smile that made you go crazy. "I am. Because I know what I feel now, and I’m not going to let it slip away."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "Joel, this is new for both of us. We need to take it one step at a time."

He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. “Am I that unlovable?”

You blinked, taken aback by his question. "What? No, Joel, you're not unlovable at all. It's just... complicated."

Joel's eyes softened, and he took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "I get that. But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait as long as it takes."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "I appreciate that, Joel. And I do care about you. A lot. It's just..."

"Scary?" he finished for you, his voice gentle.

You nodded.

Joel's expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I get it. It is scary. But sometimes, the best things come from taking a leap of faith."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "It’s not just about taking a leap. It’s about making sure we’re ready for whatever comes next."

Joel squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand. And I'm ready to take it slow to give you the space you need. Just know that I’m here for you, and I’m not giving up on us."

You felt a mix of relief and trepidation, but Joel's unwavering support gave you strength. "Thank you, Joel. That means a lot to me."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your skin. "We’ll figure it out, one step at a time."

You nodded, closing your eyes for a brief second, allowing yourself to savor the closeness and the promise of what might come. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Joel’s smile—a smile that made you believe in the possibility of a new beginning.

"Goodnight," he whispered, his voice tender, holding back the desire to cupp your face and kiss you.

"Goodnight, Joel," you replied, your heart fluttering, feeling the same as him.

Now standing, this close, face to face, skins touching. One of you would give in before, and once that happened, there was no going to be a way to stop two hearts beating this fast.

Joel's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze revealing the depth of his emotions. You could see the conflict within him, the longing that mirrored your own. His hand lingered near your face, his fingers almost brushing against your skin, his breath warm and steady.

The moment felt suspended in time, the air between you charged with unspoken words and electric anticipation. You both stood there, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from each other, your hearts racing in sync.

Joel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to push you, but I also don’t want to pretend like I don’t feel this.”

You swallowed, your own voice trembling slightly. “I feel it too, Joel. But we need to be careful.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mix of desire and restraint. “I know. And I want to respect that. I just...” He hesitated, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “I don’t want to miss this chance with you. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Joel’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the desire and uncertainty evident in his expression. His hand gently cupped your face. His touch was tender, as if he were afraid to break the spell that bound you both.

You felt your heart race, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Joel’s fingers brushed softly against your cheek, and you could see the struggle in his eyes as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His breath grew shallower, and his eyes closed for a brief moment, savoring the closeness.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a whisper of warmth and affection that sent a shiver down your spine. The moment felt both exhilarating and comforting, the culmination of all the unspoken words and feelings that had been building between you.

You responded instinctively, your lips moving softly against his. The kiss deepened gradually, a sweet exploration of new and uncharted territory. His hands moved to frame your face, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were cherishing every second of this newfound closeness.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your eyes locking in a moment of shared understanding. The kiss had been more than just a physical connection; it was a promise of something more, something that neither of you fully understood yet but were both eager to explore.

Joel’s smile was tender and full of warmth. “I’ve wanted to do that since I woke up that day at the infirmary,” he admitted softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his confession. His words made your heart flutter even more, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"I'm glad you did," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been feeling the same way."

Joel's smile widened, and he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. "I didn’t want to rush things or push you. But now... now that we’ve shared this, I hope we can figure things out together."

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and warmth. "I think we can. I want to see where this leads."

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "No pressure, just... being here with you."

You smiled, feeling a sense of calm and excitement. "I would like that.”

Joel nodded; his expression full of affection. "Good. Now, how about we get some rest? Tomorrow's a new day, and I want to spend it with you."

You felt a burst of warmth at his words and, inspired by the new closeness between you, you hesitated for just a moment before speaking up. “How about we go inside for a bit? I’ve got some tea. It might be nice to relax and talk more.”

Joel’s eyes lit up at the invitation, and he nodded with a smile. “That sounds perfect.”

You led the way to your house, the familiar surroundings now feeling different with Joel by your side. Once inside, you made your way to the kitchen and began preparing the tea. Joel watched you with an easy smile, clearly content.

As you waited for the water to boil, you and Joel chatted about lighter topics—how his recovery was going, plans for the community, and small anecdotes from your days. The conversation flowed easily, and the atmosphere between you was comfortable and warm.

When the tea was ready, you poured two cups and handed one to Joel. He took it with a grateful smile, his fingers brushing against yours. You both settled into a cozy corner of your living room, the soft light of a lamp casting a gentle glow around the room.

Joel sipped his tea, his gaze occasionally meeting yours. “This is nice,” he said softly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Joel looked around your living room, the peaceful ambiance a stark contrast to the harsh world outside. He took another sip of his tea, then turned his gaze back to you. “You know, before all this, I had a pretty normal life. A family, a daughter named Sarah. She was... everything to me.”

His voice carried a tinge of sadness, and you could see the pain in his eyes. You nodded, sensing the weight of his memories. “I’m sorry, Joel. I can’t even imagine.”

Joel’s expression was somber but grateful. “Thanks. She was everything. When the outbreak happened, she... she didn’t make it. It’s been hard, you know? Trying to keep going and make sense of it all.”

You felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing how devastating such a loss could be. “I understand. I lost my fiancé in a storm during the outbreak. We were caught outside, and he was... gone before I could do anything.”

Joel’s eyes softened with empathy. “That’s so tough. I’m really sorry you went through that.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your own memories. “It was the storm that made me afraid of them. Every time the weather changes, it reminds me of that day. I try not to let it control me, but sometimes, it’s hard.”

Joel reached out, placing his hand gently on yours. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that. It’s brave of you to face it every day.”

You looked at his hand on yours, feeling a comforting warmth from his touch. “It’s been a struggle, but having people like you around makes it a little easier.”

Joel nodded, his gaze steady. “We all have our battles. But we’ve found ways to keep moving forward. And maybe together, we can make those battles a little less daunting.”

+++++

The days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Joel grew stronger. The bond you shared was evident in the way you looked at each other and the ease with which you interacted. People in Jackson had noticed the change in both of you, and there was a sense of warmth and contentment surrounding your partnership.

One afternoon, as you were working in the infirmary, organizing supplies and checking on patients, Joel walked in. He had that familiar, easy smile on his face, and his presence was a comforting one amidst the hectic pace of the medical work.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway. “Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

You looked up, your face lighting up at the sight of him. “Hey, Joel. Just busy as usual. How’s everything on the patrol?”

Joel shrugged, walking over to where you were working. “Not too bad. But I figured I’d come by and keep you company. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time here.”

You nodded, your smile softening. “Yeah, I’ve been needed here more often lately. But it’s good to see you.”

Joel moved closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “I’ve missed you. It’s different when you’re not around.”

You felt a surge of affection at his words. “I’ve missed you too. But this is important. People need help, and I want to make sure I’m here for them.”

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I get it. Just remember to take care of yourself too. I’d hate to see you running on empty.”

You chuckled, appreciating his concern. “I’ll try. But having you here now brought a smile to my face.”

He smiled, his gaze lingering on you. “Well, I’m glad to be here. Can I help with anything?”

You thought for a moment, then nodded. “Actually, if you could help me restock some of these supplies, that would be great.”

Joel moved closer, his hand gently brushing against yours as he began helping with the supplies. The shared task created a comfortable silence between you, with only the soft sounds of organizing supplies filling the space.

As you worked side by side, Joel’s gaze lingered on you with an intensity that made your heart race. Without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. The kiss was a sweet proof the connection you shared, and you responded with equal tenderness, savoring the closeness.

Just as the kiss deepened, the door to the infirmary swung open, and Dr. Ramirez walked in. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of you and Joel but quickly masked her surprise with a professional smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her tone warm but slightly teasing. “I came to check on things and see if you needed any help.”

You and Joel pulled away; a bit flustered but smiling nonetheless. “We were just finishing up,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Everything’s in order.”

Dr. Ramirez nodded, her gaze flicking between you and Joel with a knowing look. “Alright, if you need anything, just let me know.”

As she moved to her office, you glanced at Joel, your cheeks still slightly flushed. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

Joel chuckled, his hand still resting lightly on yours. “Yeah, but I guess it’s a good thing everyone know you’re my girl.”

You looked up at Joel, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I suppose it is. It’s nice to be able to be open about us."

Joel’s expression softened; his gaze warm. “It is. And I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

You squeezed his hand gently, feeling a sense of contentment. “Me too. It makes everything feel more real, more... solid.”

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Do you want to have dinner at my place?” he asked.

You looked up at Joel, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of spending more time together. “Dinner at your place sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”

Joel’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Great. I’ll make sure to have something good ready for us.”

You both made your way to Joel’s place, the evening air cool and crisp. The walk was filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, a comforting routine that had become a cherished part of your days.

When you arrived at Joel’s house, he opened the door and gestured for you to enter. The interior was cozy, with soft lighting and a welcoming atmosphere. He led you to the kitchen, where a simple but inviting dinner was laid out on the table.

Joel’s cooking was surprisingly good, and as you enjoyed the meal together, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything and nothing—your favorite memories, plans for the future, and the little things that made you both laugh.

After dinner, you moved to the living room, where Joel had set up a comfortable spot with blankets and pillows. You both settled in, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate.

Joel looked at you with a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “Me too. Tonight has been perfect.”

He wrapped his arm around you, his touch warm and reassuring. “Here’s to many more nights like this.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

As the evening wore on, you both talked about your past experiences and shared stories from before the outbreak. Joel spoke about his life before everything changed—his family, the dreams he had, and the struggles he faced. You shared your own experiences, including the loss of your fiancé and the challenges of adapting to this new world alone.

Joel listened intently, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as if to reassure you. “It’s amazing how much we’ve both been through,” he said softly. “And yet, here we are.”

You nodded, feeling a deep connection. “Yeah. It feels like we’re building something meaningful despite everything.”

After some time, you both decided it was time to call it a night. You stood up, stretching slightly as you gathered your things. Joel walked with you to the door, his presence a comforting constant.

As you reached the door, Joel hesitated for a moment, then gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving. He looked at you with a mix of hesitation and hope in his eyes. “I was wondering… would you like to spend the night here? It’s been nice having you around, and I’d love to have you stay.”

You looked at him, surprised but touched by the invitation. The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity of his voice made it hard to resist.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, a smile spreading across your face.

Joel’s expression brightened, and he pulled you into a gentle hug. “Great. Let’s get you settled in.”

Joel led you to his bedroom, a space that felt both lived-in and welcoming. The room was simple but comfortable, with a bed covered in worn but clean linens and a few personal touches that spoke to Joel’s character—photos of his family, a well-loved guitar leaning against the wall, and a small stack of books on the bedside table.

He gestured to the bed with a slightly sheepish grin. “Sorry, it’s not much, but it’s home.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance. “It’s perfect.”

Joel nodded, his expression softening. “I’m glad you think so.”

You both prepared for bed in comfortable silence, the familiarity of the routine helping to ease any lingering tension. Joel showed you where you could find anything you might need—extra blankets, a lamp for reading, and a small cabinet for any personal items you might want to keep nearby.

As you both settled into the bed, Joel turned off the lights, leaving only a soft glow from a nightlight on the dresser. He slipped under the covers, and you followed suit, the warmth and comfort of the bed providing a welcome respite from the day’s events.

Joel turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice tender.

You smiled, feeling a sense of peace as you settled closer to him. “Me too. It feels right.”

He reached out and gently took your hand, interlocking your fingers. The simple gesture was filled with meaning, and you could feel the connection between you growing stronger.

“Goodnight,” Joel whispered, his voice carrying a note of affection.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your heart fluttering with contentment.

A few days later, you and Ellie were seated at a table in the bustling dining hall, enjoying a well-deserved lunch. The room was filled with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of utensils, creating a comforting background noise.

Ellie, always full of energy, was animatedly talking about a new comic she’d found. “You won’t believe this,” she said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “but this one hero has the power to control weather. I’m telling you, if I had that power, I’d totally make it sunny all the time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like you’ve been reading too many comics. But I suppose a bit of sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

Ellie grinned, grabbing a bite of her sandwich. “True, true. But, seriously, how are things going with Joel? You two seem... really happy.”

You smiled, feeling a warm flush at her question. “We are. It’s been nice, spending time together. He’s been really supportive, and I think we’re figuring things out.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up, clearly pleased with your answer. “I’m glad to hear that. He’s been a lot happier since you two started spending more time together. It’s like he’s found a new spark.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment. “It’s been good for both of us. We’re still taking things one step at a time, but it feels right.”

Ellie’s expression turned thoughtful. “I know it’s been rough with everything that’s happened, but it’s nice to see people finding happiness again. Especially you and Joel.”

You appreciated Ellie’s support and her ability to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Ellie. That means a lot.”

Ellie glanced around the dining hall, then back at you with a mischievous grin. “So, are you guys planning any big adventures together? Or just sticking to the small stuff for now?”

You laughed softly. “We’re sticking to the small stuff for now. Just enjoying the moments, we have together.” You paused, “I’m still a little bit scared of him waking up hating me again.”

Ellie’s eyes softened with understanding. “I get that. It’s natural to be scared after everything you’ve both been through. But you’re doing great, and Joel is different now. He’s not going to just wake up one day and hate you.”

You sighed, a mixture of relief and lingering concern in your expression. “I hope you’re right. Sometimes, it’s hard to shake that fear, especially after everything that’s happened.”

Ellie nodded thoughtfully. “I think you both just need to keep talking and being honest with each other. The more you communicate, the more you’ll build that trust. And remember, it’s okay to have those fears. It just means you care.”

You managed a small smile. “Thanks, Ellie. It’s reassuring to hear that.”

Ellie grinned and took a bite of her lunch. “Anytime. And if you ever need someone to talk to or just need a distraction, you know I’m here. We can have a comic marathon or something.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of Ellie’s support. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As you and Ellie finished your lunch, you stood up to clear your plates, the conversation easing into a comfortable silence. Just as you were about to head to the serving area, you suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you into a warm embrace. A soft, affectionate kiss was placed on your cheek, making you feel a surge of happiness and surprise.

You turned your head slightly, finding Joel’s smiling face close to yours. “Hey there,” he said, his voice full of warmth and affection. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, just wanted to steal a moment with you.”

Ellie watched with a grin, clearly pleased with the sight. “Looks like someone’s got a fan club.”

You blushed slightly, leaning into Joel’s embrace. “Hi, Joel. I was just catching up with Ellie.”

Joel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand gently resting on your side. “I figured I’d come and see how you were doing. Plus, I wanted to see if you’d be up for a walk later.”

You smiled, feeling content in his arms. “A walk sounds nice. I’d love that.”

Joel nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Great. Let’s finish up here and head out.”

You and Joel exchanged a tender glance before you both started to clear your plates. Ellie gave you both a playful nudge. “I’ll leave you two to your walk. Enjoy, and remember, I’m always here if you need me.”

+++++++++++++

“So?” you asked, as Joel was smiling in complete silence.

“So what?” he asked without erasing that smile from his face.

“Aren’t you going to talk?”

Joel chuckled, his smile widening. “I guess I’m just enjoying the moment. It’s not every day I get to be this content.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully nudging him. “Oh really? And why’s that?”

He looked at you, his gaze tender. “Because being with you like this, just walking and talking, it’s exactly what I’ve wanted. It’s simple and perfect.”

You smiled, feeling a warm glow from his words. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. So, what’s on your mind?”

Joel glanced around, taking in the scenery before meeting your eyes again. “I was thinking about how nice would be if you go to my place tonight. Ellie’s gonna spend the night with Dina and I want to spend the night with you.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you said with a smile. “I’d love to spend the night with you.”

Joel’s face lit up with a genuine smile, and he took your hand, gently squeezing it. “Great. I was hoping you’d say that.” He leaned and kiss you on the lips, “No I gotta go helping Tommy, see you later, sunshine”

You pouted, grabbing his hand before he could go anywhere “Wait? That was all?”

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I thought I’d surprise you with the invitation, and I wanted to make sure you knew how much I enjoy spending time with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully teasing. “Well, I didn’t realize the evening was just an invitation and a kiss goodbye.”

Joel grinned, clearly amused. “Alright, alright. If you want more, I guess I’ll have to come up with something better.” He pulled you into another kiss, this one longer and more lingering.

You smiled against his lips as you pulled away. “That’s more like it. But seriously, I was looking forward to spending time with you.”

Joel’s gaze softened, and he cupped your face gently. “I’m looking forward to it too. Just had to help Tommy out with something. I promise, I’ll make up for it.”

You nodded, still holding onto his hand. “I’ll hold you to that. See you later, Joel.”

He gave you one last smile before heading out, leaving you with a warm feeling and the anticipation of the evening ahead.

+++++++++++++

When you arrived at Joel's place, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the surroundings. Joel greeted you at the door with a welcoming smile and a quick, affectionate kiss.

"Hey, glad you could make it," he said, taking your coat and hanging it up. "I’ve got a few things planned, but we can start with something simple if you’d like."

You stepped inside, feeling the comforting familiarity of Joel’s home. “I’m sure whatever you’ve got planned will be perfect,” you replied, smiling at him.

Joel led you into the living room, where he’d set up a cozy area with blankets and cushions. The room was softly lit by lamps, and the atmosphere was inviting and warm. A few candles were flickering on the coffee table, casting a gentle glow.

“I figured we could start with some dinner and then maybe just talk or something else” Joel suggested, his eyes reflecting the soft light.

You nodded, feeling content with the simple but thoughtful setup. “That sounds great.”

Joel moved to the kitchen and returned shortly with a plate of homemade food—something comforting and hearty. He set it down on the table, then joined you on the couch.

As you both ate, the conversation flowed easily, just like it had during your earlier moments together. You talked about your days, your plans, and even some light-hearted topics. Joel’s presence was reassuring, and you felt completely at ease.

After dinner, Joel suggested putting on some music. He rummaged through his collection, finally settling on a classic that he thought you’d enjoy. You both snuggled up under the blankets, the music playing softly in the background.

Joel occasionally glanced at you, his hand resting casually on your knee. The song played, but most of your attention was focused on the comfort of being next to him, the warmth of his touch, and the quiet contentment that filled the room.

Joel turned to you, his gaze tender. “You know, I’m really glad we’re doing this. Just being here with you, it feels right.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I feel the same way.”

Joel’s hand moved to gently brush your hair back from your face. “What’s your biggest fear?” he asked out of the blue?

You sighed, leaving his gaze for a moment “You waking up and forgetting you love me”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly at your answer, a mix of concern and curiosity in his eyes. “Why would you think that? I don’t see any reason why that would happen.”

You took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as you shared your fear. “It’s just….you knew I told you we didn’t get along before, in fact you hated me, Joel.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he listened to your concern. He took a moment before responding, his voice steady and reassuring. “I know things weren’t easy between us before. And yeah, I didn’t handle things the best way back then. But that’s in the past. What matters now is how we are right now.”

He reached out and gently took your hand in his. “The truth is, I’ve changed. And I see you differently now. I see you for who you are, and I realize how much you mean to me. Whatever those old feelings were? They’re gone. What we have now is real, and I’m committed to it.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. “But what if one day you wake up and those old feelings come back? What if something changes?”

Joel shook his head, his gaze intense and full of conviction. “I don’t believe that’ll happen. I’ve come to understand how much you mean to me, and how deeply I care about you.”

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression earnest. “I’m not going to let those fears control us. We’re building something strong, and I want to keep building it with you. I’m here, and I’m committed to making sure we have a future together.”

You felt a wave of relief and warmth at his words. “Thank you, Joel. That really means a lot to me.”

Joel smiled softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m glad. And if you ever need reassurance, just ask. I’m always here to remind you of how much you mean to me.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of comfort and closeness. The fears that had been troubling you began to fade as you focused on the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice.

Joel’s gaze lingered on yours, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and resolve. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, a careful exploration of newfound trust and affection.

As the kiss deepened, it became more passionate, conveying all the emotions and reassurances that words alone couldn’t fully capture. Joel’s hand cupped your face, his touch warm and reassuring as he pressed closer.

You responded to the kiss, your own hands moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The kiss felt like a promise, a shared understanding of where you both stood and where you hoped to go.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads touching as you gazed into each other’s eyes. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in this moment of closeness.

Joel’s smile was soft, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I needed to do that. To show you just how much you mean to me.”

You smiled back, your heart full. “I needed that too.”

Joel gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.

After that, everything happened in a flash. Neither of you realized when you removed your clothes, but there was too much desperation in your touch; you wanted to discover how his fingers could leave a mark on you, tracing invisible lines across your body.

He kissed you again, slipping his tongue past your lips, gasping when he felt your fingers running your fingertips across his bare chest, tracing the lines of a map leading to where you couldn’t stop.

With one of your hands, you pulled him down by his neck to hold you against your lips again. Once you tasted them, you couldn’t get over the taste of them over yours, and you couldn’t get over the whimpers he left in your mouth.

He was hovering over you, giving you a passionate kiss. He was between your legs, exactly where you wanted him.

He pulled his lips away from yours for a moment to glance down at you. To appreciate the features of your face and the nature of your body to admire the features of your face, and the nature of your body being displayed just for him right now. You felt the crimson color rushing up to your checks and for a moment you felt embarrassed under his stare, but he smiled at you.

“You look beautiful”. He swallowed hard, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

His hands on your tights only increased the sparks in the place you wanted him the most, you wanted to follow the path even when you knew it was leading to a treacherous destination.

You continued kissing slowly as he caressed your thighs with his gently touch, as he wanted to worship your body and devour every single sound coming out from your mouth. He kissed you down over your neck, kissing, nipping your skin between his teeth.

And God, he loved the way you were making him feel. The fact this time was different to everything you had experiencing before. At this moment, you weren’t driving for only passionate reasons, but for caring feelings for each other. You weren’t in a rush and that turned him on. He was hard for you and he wanted to meet where religion was, between your thighs.

This time he was making love because he had drowned himself on your religion.

Both of you gasped aloud the moment he began to push slowly inside you. His hands reached for yours, interlocking them as he kissed you softly, muttering, "You're so beautiful like this". He was mesmerized by the way you were nervously giggling and cocking your head back in delight. He bit your neck, prompting your hands to move up to his neck, and his hands ran down your entire body without a layer of clothing on you, focusing on every thrust and diving deep to ensure he was making you happy.

You opened your eyes and stared back at him, entirely focused on you. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as his hands massaged your breasts while he continued to devour your lips. Your back arched, followed by a moan against his lips. Every thrust felt so fantastic, you couldn't help but think you were in the celestial realm You could tell you were getting closer as you squeezed him and kept your gaze fixed on each other. He pushed harder, one hand caressing your cheek and the other gripping your knee to guarantee you fell apart.

The noises you made drove him insane, as he felt himself reaching the edge of the cliff. He wanted to stare at you under him as you came and with a loud gasp, he did it at the same time falling over your exposed chest, your heartbeats mingling.

You moaned softly beneath him, and Joel raised his head to look at you, flashing him a cute smile he hadn't tired of, as you kissed him on the lips.

"I love you so much," he replied, gazing at you with admiration. “I’m so in love with you.”

I love you.

I’m so in love with you.

Those three words were echoing in the shadows of your mind. Your expression softened and you felt your blood rushing. You were sure they had had an impact on you.

“And I love you so much” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly with the depth of your emotion.

Joel’s expression softened even further, and he brushed a tender kiss against your lips once more. The connection between you was undeniable, a blend of passion and deep affection that had grown stronger with each passing day.

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath you. The world outside seemed distant and unimportant in the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, everything felt perfect, and you allowed yourself to fully embrace the love and happiness you had found with Joel.

Joel gently ran his fingers through your hair, his touch soothing. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

You nodded, your eyes closing as you savored the moment. “Yeah, we have. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Joel’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. “Neither would I. Here’s to more moments like this, and to whatever the future holds for us.”

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment and anticipation for what was to come. “To us,” you agreed, your heart full of love and hope.

+++++++++++

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You stirred, waking up with a smile on your face. The previous night’s intimacy and love still lingered, and you turned to look at Joel. He was sleeping peacefully beside you, a contented expression on his face.

As you watched him, you felt a surge of happiness and affection. You reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, your heart full of love for him.

But as Joel’s eyes fluttered open and he met your gaze, his expression shifted dramatically. His sparkly brown eyes filled with love, widened in horror, and a look of confusion and fear crossed his face. He pushed himself up, scrambling back slightly.

“What...What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and fear.

You were taken aback, your smile faltering as you tried to make sense of his reaction. “Joel, what’s wrong?”

No. It couldn’t be that, right?

Joel’s eyes were filled with a pained realization. “Oh my god, you came to my house trying to seduce me into sleeping with you?”

You felt a sharp pang of pain at his words, and your heart dropped. The warmth you had felt earlier was replaced by a cold, unsettling feeling.

“No, Joel, that’s not what happened,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the hurt. “We’re in love”

He chuckled. “In love? Me in love with you? I could never” he said.

Your chest tightened, and the hurt in Joel’s words felt like a physical blow. You struggled to keep your composure, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

“Joel, you can’t mean that,” you said, your voice shaking. “Last night, you said you loved me. We shared something real.”

Joel’s expression was a mix of confusion and pain. “I don’t remember saying that. Last night I was with Lori”

That’s it. You were back at were you used to be.

The weight of Joel’s words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt a mix of betrayal and heartache, as the realization sank in. The warmth and affection from the night before felt like a cruel illusion.

“So, what? You’re saying last night meant nothing?” you asked. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. “You really don’t remember? You don’t remember how we talked, how you told me you loved me?”

“I don’t love you.” He said, sternly.

“But I’m your sunshine” you sobbed.

Joel’s laughter pierced through you like a blade, and you could barely stand the weight of the realization. Each word he spoke seemed to tear away at the fabric of your heart, unraveling the dream you’d clung to so desperately.

The room felt colder, the air heavier, as you fought to control your sobs. Every touch, every shared moment that had once seemed so real was now reduced to nothing more than painful echoes of a memory that never truly existed.

He didn’t remember the stealing glances, the kisses, the touches and the promises than now seemed to fade with the cruel destiny meeting the ending meant to be.

You had taken a risk at falling in love with the version of a Joel who loved you back, and he didn’t exist anymore. He had faded just when he had told you he loved you.

He didn’t remember falling in love with you, he didn’t remember all the time you spent together, and he didn’t remember loving you, but you didn’t think this would hurt this much.

“Joel” you said, pleading him to remember.

“Out.” He said, gritting his teeth.  

You stood there, the pain in your chest almost unbearable, as Joel's harsh words echoed around you. The warmth and affection you had shared just hours before now seemed like a cruel illusion, shattered by his denial.

"Joel, please," you said, your voice trembling. "Just think about everything we shared. It was real."

Joel’s eyes were hard, and he crossed his arms defensively. “I don't remember any of it. And I can't fake feelings I don't have.”

You felt a deep, profound sadness, the weight of his words making it almost impossible to breathe. The life you had envisioned, the love you had felt, seemed to slip away like sand through your fingers.

“Please, just—” you tried to reason with him, but the look in his eyes made it clear that any further pleading was futile.

Joel’s expression remained firm, a mix of regret and frustration. “Everything I know is that you took advantage of me.”

The sting of Joel's words cut deep, each one echoing the finality of a dream you had cherished. The accusation of taking advantage of him felt like a betrayal, intensifying the emotional agony you were already struggling with.

You took a shaky breath, trying to hold onto the fragments of your composure. "Joel, I never did that. We have something��"

Joel interrupted; his voice cold. "I don’t want to hear it. You need to leave. Now."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. With a heart heavy with sorrow, you nodded, unable to find the words that might change his mind.

You were only on one of his shirts, trying to find your clothes.

You stumbled through the room, your movements disjointed as you searched for your clothes. The pain and confusion made every action feel like an immense effort. Joel’s gaze remained fixed on you, his face a mask of distant resolve.

You found your jeans, but it was crumpled and stained, and you struggled to put it on with trembling hands. The fabric felt rough against your skin, a stark contrast to the comfort you had felt just hours before. You glanced around for your other belongings, the room now feeling foreign and unwelcoming.

“I... I can’t find my blouse,” you said again, your voice a whisper filled with desperation and trembling.

Joel’s eyes flicked to you briefly before he spoke with a tone that brooked no argument. “Don’t worry about it. Just wear my shirt. I won’t wear it again.” His voice was cold and icy, not more softness as when they used to whisper things on your ear.

The coldness in his words made it clear that there was no room for negotiation or further conversation. You nodded numbly, the shirt you were already wearing now feeling like a heavy shroud setting your skin on fire.

As you finished dressing, you glanced around the room one last time, trying to memorize the space you were leaving behind. The sight of the room, so filled with the promise you fooled yourself onto believing.

There was an intensified the ache in your chest.

Joel stood by the door, his posture rigid as if he were bracing himself for something. His eyes didn’t meet yours, focusing instead on some distant point. The silence between you was heavy with the weight of the broken bond that never existed.

As you pulled on your shoes, your heart cracked completely sank in deeper. You looked up, meeting Joel’s eyes one last time.

“Joel, I’m sorry for everything,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant to cause any harm. I just wanted—”

Joel cut you off with a slight nod, his face still set in a hard expression. “Just go. Please.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost making it impossible to speak. The intensity of Joel's gaze, filled with a mixture of pain and indifference, made it clear that any further words would be futile.

With one last, lingering look at him and the room that just yesterday had witnessed three empty words that now didn’t meant anything, you turned and made your way down the hall. Each step felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders, even as the burden of what you were leaving behind pressed heavily on your heart.

As you reached the front door, the cool morning air hit you, providing a stark contrast to the warmth you had felt just hours before. The quiet outside was a jarring reminder of the world that continued, indifferent to the personal turmoil you were experiencing.

With every step, you tried to reconcile the reality you faced with the memories of what you had thought was true, a momentary field of dreams. The pain was sharp and immediate. How would you continue life after losing another love?

+++++++

[vivian-pascal]

Summer Love

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: You were the sweet, little, innocent girl that your father had raised perfectly. You went to church every Sunday and made sure to do all your college work before any free time for yourself. Your dad and you had a great relationship, talked about boys, college, friends. Anything. Sometimes your dad's best friend would come over on a warm, summer eve. You'd all sit outside and listen while he played the guitar, every time you were with him, you had a tingly feeling in your core. One night, he decides to do something very unexpected.

warnings: age gap, flirting, teasing, jealous!joel, pervy!joel?(just gonna put that in there incase) sexual tension, referring to pussy as 'she', description of what reader wears, manhandling, piv (wrap it up) oral f!receiving, fingering, clit slapping, joel's dirty mouth, thigh riding, joel not lasting, reader is on birth control, aftercare

authors note: so, I just wrote this little one shot expecting it to be just a drabble, but it is a bit longer than I expected and I'm kind of in love with these two and might turn it into another series 😭 what do you guys think I should do??

You laugh uncontrollably as your dad makes jokes about this boy at college that you've supposedly had a 'crush' on. "Dad stop!" You swat him on the shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. "Just sayin' sweetheart." He shrugs his shoulders and you roll your eyes.

"I don't like him dad, I didn't even say anything that would hint to that!" You hear a knock on the door and your dad walks over to it. "Yeah yeah." He opens it and immediately smiles.

"Hey man!" He opens his arms wide to the stranger you're not quite sure who it is yet. When he walks in, you're stomach immediately flips. Joel Miller.

He grins at you as you shyly smile. He walks through the door with his guitar, of course, and Tommy walks in too. "Hey uncle Tom!" You smile and give him a big hug. You've always loved Tommy. He's funny and will make a joke about almost anything. Where as Joel, he's a bit more cold.

"Hey yourself." He squeezes you tightly and spins you around. You giggle when he puts you back on the ground. You all make your way outside and onto the back porch. Joel sits in his usual spot, the rocking chair, and you sit next to him on the lounge couch that holds Tommy as well.

He strums the guitar once to see if its tuned and then he begins to play. The night breeze flows on your face as the music he plays fills your ears. "So how's college goin'? You look at Tommy and look at your dad. He has a big stupid grin on his face and you shake your head as a 'please don't' to your dad so he doesn't mention your so called 'crush.'

"I think it's goin' really good, isn't that right sweetheart?" You roll your eyes and give him a dirty look. "Oh what's this now?" Tommy leans forward as he's more interested in the conversation. Joel stops playing and your face turns a shade of pink.

"Do you wanna tell them hon, or should I?" You cup your face in your hands and run your fingers through your hair. "Oh my god dad, it's not that big of a deal okay? He asked me on a date once! Once!"

Tommy's grin only widens and Joel just looks angry. "Right sweetheart, and what'd you say hm?" You roll your eyes. "I said yes okay?"

Joel can feel his heart pounding in his ears. You? Going on a date? That's a no go.

"Ohhhh!" Tommy throws his arms in the air and sits up straight. "Well? Did you get laid with'em?" "Tommy!" He laughs as you slap his shoulder and sigh loudly.

"Joel, you alright over there? Looked like you'd seen a ghost brother." You turn to see Joel and your eyes widen in surprise. He looks furious and scared at the same time. How is that possible? And what's he mad about?

He clears his throat and rests his guitar against a pillar. "Yeah, m'fine." He stands up and steps over your legs. He stares down at you and that's for sure a sign he's not okay. "M'gonna get a drink, anyone want anythin'?" Tommy shakes his head but your dad asks for a beer. "I'll get my own." You stand up and walk over to him.

His nostrils flare as he sees you pass by him and into the house. You walk into the kitchen and grab the kettle. Filling it with water, you put it back on the stand and flick the switch to start it. You reach up and onto your tip-toes to reach your mug but its just to high. You try jumping but its no use. Just as you're about to turn around and ask Joel for help, he reaches his arm above yours and grabs the mug.

You mumble a quick 'thanks' as you grab your tea bag. "What's his name?" You turn your head to face him. "Who?" He looks at you as he cracks open a can of beer. "The guy you're datin'." You roll your eyes and lean against the counter.

"For the last time, I'm not dating him. We went on a date once and-" "Did you have sex with him?" The question stumbles you. Who the hell asks that? You look at Joel dumbfounded and he just raises his eyebrows. You gulp as you beg the kettle to hurry up so this conversation can end.

"Well" You pause as he stares at you. "Yes but it was only one time-" "Thanks darlin', that's all I wanted to know." He gives you a smile as he leaves you standing in the kitchen all alone. You run your hand through your hair. Grabbing your mug, you pour the boiling hot water and take it outside.

You sit down on the lounge chair and try avoiding his glare. The men talk for a while as you sit and sip your tea, just listening. You do wish Joel would play his guitar again. Something about the way his fingers move and how he strums the shallow instrument makes you tingle.

Something about him, Joel. Makes your heart jump out of your skin. He's always had an impact on you. His voice, his hands, his hair, his strong body. Just everything about him is perfect.

You yawn as the conversation comes to an end. "Think it's time we should head out." Your dad stands up and cracks his back. He grabs Tommy's hand and pulls him in tight for a hug. You stand awkwardly with Joel. All of a sudden, two strong shoulders are spinning you around and you fall head first into a strong chest.

He wraps his arms around your small frame as you try to wrap your arms around his. It's unexpected so you're not exactly sure what to do. He rests his head on yours and you breathe in his scent.

"Don't be gettin into much trouble darlin', don't wanna end up with the wrong people ya'know." He lets go of your body and you look up at him as you nod your head. He gives you a little grin and pats the top of your head. "See ya kiddo." He walks out, grabbing his guitar, and shakes your dads hand.

You stand there for a few moments. Trying to regain composure as you try to wrap your head around what just happened. The fuck does he think he is?

You clear your head and begin to walk inside. Closing the sliding door, you kick your shoes off and head upstairs. You take off your shirt and bra changing into your over-sized shirt and some shorts. You lie in bed and close your eyes. Dreaming of Joel.

When you wake up to the morning sun shining into your room, you think back to the day before and cringe at all the awkwardness. You pull back the sheets and get out of bed. You put some socks on before opening your door and heading downstairs.

Your dad is in the kitchen making breakfast and his coffee already. "Morning dad." He looks up and smiles at you. "Morning sweetie, I gotta head out to work, Joel's gonna be around to fix up the bathroom since the showers not working, see ya later okay? Love you!" And with that, he grabs his work bag and shuts the door.

Shit. You completely forgot the shower wasn't working. Oh well.

You walk into the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with water and gulping it down before heading back upstairs. You go into your room and change into some booty shorts and a sweater, you put your hair up and into a high ponytail. You smile at yourself and head downstairs.

Its almost noon by the time Joel arrives. He knocks on the door and you immediately jump up to answer it. "Hey!" You smile up at him sweetly and he takes a deep breath. Seeing you in your little cute outfit makes his jeans get a little tighter.

He clears his throat and smiles down at you. "Hey there darlin', your dad in?" You shake your head and leave the door open for him to follow you in. He watches the way your hips shake as you walk back into the living room with those little shorts on, leaving much to the imagination.

"Nope, he left a few hours ago, just me and you Joel." You smile slyly at him and he groans. How is he supposed to contain himself when you're just looking too goddamn good?

He heads upstairs and straight for the bathroom. He sets his bag down and inspects the shower. He opens his bag up and gets straight to work.

Its been about an hour since Joel has been here. You decide to make him a little sandwich and bring him a glass of water since he must be hungry and thirsty because of how hard he is working.

You carry the plate and the glass upstairs and into the bathroom. "Here Joel, I brought you some-" Your face immediately turns red as you see his shirt soaked with sweat and his face shining with it. You can see the muscles in his arms and his back. You gulp when he looks at you and grins.

"Well that's very thoughtful of ya sugar." He backs out of the shower and heads towards you. He takes the plate from your hands and his fingers just glaze yours. You take a deep breath in when you smell his sweat and that rough musky smell of him.

He takes a bite of the sandwich and sips a drink of water. "H-How is it?" You stutter as you stare at his veiny neck. Watching the way his jaw moves as he takes another bite, swallowing down the bread.

"Great! Thanks s'much sweetheart." You nod your head as you stare at his mouth. The way his lips bite into the soft bread and how they form themselves around the rip of the cup just perfectly makes you want to devour him.

Once he's done the sandwich, he leans in close to your face and looks into your eyes. "Ya know, ya shouldn't really be interested in an old man like me sugar." Your eyes widen at his statement.

He knows he shouldn't be flirting with you, let alone do what he's about to do, but how could he resist your sweet little self?

"I, uh, I'm not sure what you mean Joel?" He grins as he grabs onto your waist and pulls you into him. He leans in close to your ear and his soft whispers of air tickle your neck.

"I can practically smell how wet ya are f'me darlin'." He leans back and looks down at your starstruck face. "Joel, that's not true-" He snakes his rough hand down the outside of your shorts and cups your mound.

"Really darlin'? Cause it sure does feel like she's drippin'" You moan as his hand stays where it is. Putting the slightest little pressure on your swollen bud. "Joel, please." He chuckles at your begging state.

"Oh no honey, you were just sayin' ya didn't want me." He teases as he sneaks a finger into your shorts, moving your panties to the side and pressing his bare finger to your clit. Your hands perch onto his strong arms as he rubs your clit. "There she is, there ya go." He praises you as his finger slides through your slit and collects your seeping arousal.

"Lets remove these, shall we?" With his free hand, he tugs your shorts and panties down. Leaving you there with just your sweater. His eyes turn a shade of black when he sees your bare cunt.

He licks his lips as he kneels down. You lean your back against the door and brace yourself for what's about to come.

He presses his nose into your pussy and you moan aloud. He breathes in your sweet scent and groans. "So good darlin', s'good."

He grabs onto your thighs and pulls one over his shoulder. He smashes his mouth onto your pussy and you arch your back. He licks a stripe from your clit to your weeping seam and sticks his tongue inside.

"Oh god Joel." He smirks against your core as you moan and try to grab onto something. Your hands make their way into his hair as you tug and pull. He groans against you which only sends vibrations flowing throughout your whole body. Making the sensation even better.

He removes one of his hands from your thighs and reaches up to grab onto your breast. Tweaking and poking at the nipple. You whimper as you feel your orgasm nearing.

He can feel it too. The shake of your thighs, the pulse of your cunt, the way your moans seem to be higher in pitch, oh he knows. He carries his tongue back up to your clit and flicks it back and forth, side to side. "J-Joel!" You moan when your orgasm hits you.

Arching your back as far as it can go. Grabbing onto Joel's hair and pulling it so hard it hurts. He drinks up every bit of arousal from your soaking cunt. "Such a good girl."

He stands up and grabs onto your waist. He looks down at your hazy expression and chuckles. You side eye him and groan. You begin to fix your hair and walk out of the bathroom but Joel's hand grabs onto your arm.

"Where do ya think you're goin'? I ain't finished with ya yet." He picks you up and throws you over his shoulders. You kick your legs and smack his back. "Joel! Put me down right now!" He shrugs his shoulders. "Alrighty darlin'." He throws you on the bed and chuckles.

You lie on your back as you death stare him. He crawls over you and gives you a confused look. "What! You told me to put ya down darlin' so that's what I did." You roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck.

"You're pathetic." He chuckles and shakes his head. He slowly leans his head down and combines his lips with yours. You groan as you taste yourself on his lips.

His hand flows down your body, tracing every curve and dip in your small frame. His hand meets your pussy once more and he inserts a finger. You arch your back and moan aloud. "Now, about that 'guy'" Your face freezes in shock. Why is he mentioning him now of all times?

He adds a second finger and you can't help but whimper. "How did he fuck you?" He continues his movements and it just feels to good to answer. He would never compare to Joel. "Darlin', ya gonna answer or?" You shake your head as you bite your lip.

"Right." He removes his hands and sits up on the bed. He moves to the edge and pats his thigh. You sit up and rest your arms behind you. "What?" He pats his thigh again. You get up, confused, and walk over to him.

You stand in front of Joel and stare down at him. "Remove your shirt." You do as you're told and take off your shirt and bra. He pats his thigh again and you hover over it. "Sit."

You lower your pussy onto his strong thigh and sigh when they make contact. His rough hands grab onto your waist and starts to move you back and forth. You grind on his thigh as his hands help maneuver you. You moan at the feeling and wrap your arms around his neck.

"There ya go sugar." He praises you as he removes his hands and undoes his button on his jeans. "Now, how did he fuck you" That goddamn question again. Why?

"Uh." You're not quite sure what to say. It was only one night and those are hard to remember.

"Well?" You shallow your eyebrows as an orgasm starts to near. "We made out first, a-and then-" You arch your back as his fingers start to prod at your clit. "Hm?" He looks down at you with a questioning look.

"H-He just layed me down on my back and fucked me like that. That's it Joel." You try your best to sound stern but the feeling only increases. He smirks and kisses your nose. "Great."

You moan and arch your back as you soak his denim jeans below you. He smiles when you breathe deeply and look up at him. He picks you up once more and lays you down on the bed.

He removes his shirt and jeans and crawls over your body. He removes his cock from his boxers and your mouth instantly waters at the sight. He grins as he sees your face and lines himself up with your entrance.

"Ya ready?" You nod your head in desperation as he pushes in. You moan at the intrusion and bite your lip. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him thoroughly. He groans into your mouth as he feels your tight cunt adjusting to his size.

"So tight darlin.'" His lips hovering over yours as he begins to move his hips. His pelvis crushes your clit and you arch your back at the sensation.

He's not sure if he can last that long. Watching the way your back arches off the bed, your sweet little sounds you let out for him. He knew you didn't sound like this when you were with that other guy. He would never make you feel as good as Joel.

Feeling your tight little pussy pulse and squeeze his cock only made his orgasm unable to control. He tries to hold it but he's been on the edge for so long. Watching you come, making you come, that only turned him on more.

"Darlin'." He moans as you squeeze his cock once more. "I'm not gonna last long." You smirk at his submissive state and tug at his curls. His thrusts become sloppier and more messy as he thrusts in all the way. "Oh fuck baby-" He groans as he spills his hot seed into your weeping pussy.

He rests his head on your breasts as he regains himself. "M'sorry sweetheart." You look into his eyes with admiration as you admire his cute little state. You run your fingers through his hair and shush him.

He begins to get out of bed and head for the bathroom that he was fixing. He returns with a wash towel and some shorts for you. You thank him and give him a kiss on the lips as he begins to get dressed.

You throw the wash cloth in the hamper and put your shorts and sweater back on.

You stand up and scratch the back of your head. "So, maybe you should get going soon. I can just tell my dad you didn't finish it and you can fix it some other time?"

He stands up and puts his shirt on. He smirks as he sees what your trying to say. "Sure darlin', i'll come back and 'fix' your bathroom."

You roll your eyes and walk out of your room. Joel grabs his bag and tools from the bathroom and throws it over his shoulder. You walk him to the door and he walks out.

"I'll be back, don't be too desperate f'me now, I know you'll miss me. Oh and this." He points down to his jeans and your face turns pink. He's somehow hard again and you can't help but drool.

His thumb wipes your saliva from your mouth and gives you a smirk as he heads to his truck.

You close the door and lean against the back of it.

What have I just done?

part i part ii part iii

tags!

@guelyury @livingonthehems @ursagittariusgirlfriend @iamsherlocked @heartpascalispunk @pinkcrystal44 @amyispxnk @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen @kotourasan123 @mermaidgirl30 @brittmb115 @littlevenicebitch69

@sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts @itsokbbygrl @mountainsandmayhem @morallyinept @rav3n-pascal22 @magpiepills @javierpenaispunk

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x plus size!f!reader

genre: romance, flowershop au, jackson era, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you own a small flower shop in Jackson, when Ellie comes to visit, your life inevitably becomes tangled with the man who cares for her; joel miller.

warnings: age gap, piv in the middle of a flower field, no one sees, praise kink, some angst because joel, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while and honestly, life has been kicking me in the gut lately with everything its got.

This originally was a commission, reader had a name and I've been working at it for months but sadly the person who commissioned be backed out last second saying they weren't interested anymore meaning I'm not getting paid for this work. Again, it's on me. Admittedly I've been slow on commissions due to my living situation and work and I should've taken half the payment upfront but trusting it was a joel fic I didn't really take extra precautions.

I decided to share it anyway, and the person who commissioned me said that I could. Any kind of writing has been hard for me to do lately and I really like how this one turned out. But since now I'm not getting paid for this work I decided to take out readers name and make some changes to the overall plot that I was given.

Sadly, I can't take any more commissions at the moment before finishing the ones I have left, but I'd be grateful for any kind of support you guys can give. I need to move out this summer (if I don't, I don't have a shadow of a doubt that my aunts will tell me to leave anyway) and I've been trying to save up as much as I can. Everything just has been a lot lately and I'm feeling anxious about my decisions and lost.

Again, any kind of support is greatly appreciated even tho I know I don't deserve it at this time:

my kofi

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

You unlock the door to your quaint flower shop, the antique bell that you found and Tommy fixed chiming softly in greeting. Stepping outside, you're immediately embraced by the warmth of the morning sun, its golden rays dancing playfully on your skin. The air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, a delicate blend of fresh blossoms and earthy notes that fills your lungs with every inhale.

Dressed in a flowing dress, you feel perfectly in tune with the season as you begin arranging the colorful array of flowers on display outside your shop. The fabric of your dress sways gently in the breeze, a soft symphony of movement that mirrors the graceful dance of the petals.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and tilt your face towards the sky, basking in the gentle caress of the sun's rays. Above you, the cerulean expanse is dotted with fluffy white clouds, their shapes shifting and morphing with each passing moment.

With practiced hands, you arrange the blooms with care, each stem finding its place in the intricate tapestry of colors and textures. The vibrant hues of the flowers contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the weathered brick walls of your shop, creating a scene that's both inviting and enchanting.

As you work, you can't help but smile at the thought of the joy these flowers will bring to those who pass by. It’s been hard adopting to a new and broken world, but ironically, you have found your passion. Something to make you eager to get up in the morning. Of course your heart still ached for those you had lost, the suffering, but working on flowers, something living and growing and adapting just like you managed to lighten the weight on your heart. Whether it's a simple bouquet to brighten someone's day or a thoughtful arrangement for a special occasion, your creations have a way of spreading happiness and light wherever they go.

With the last of the flowers arranged to perfection, you step back to admire your handiwork, a sense of pride swelling within you. With a contented sigh, you turn to head back inside, ready to greet the day with open arms and a heart full of gratitude.

That is, until, you hear a surprised gasp. 

“Holy shit—” 

Turning around at the sound, you're met with the sight of a familiar face. A young girl you've seen around town quite frequently. You haven’t officially met her yet, but you know her name: Ellie. 

Realizing that the young girl has never visited your flower shop before, you understand the source of her surprise. With a warm smile, you approach her and greet her by name. "You're Ellie, right? Tommy's niece?"

Ellie nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yeah, that's me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never been here before. The flowers are... fucking amazing—"

She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth, looking towards you apologetically. The gesture makes you laugh.

"I'm glad you like them," you reply, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction. "Feel free to take a closer look if you'd like."

Her eyes light up at the invitation, and she eagerly follows you inside the cozy flower shop. The atmosphere inside is warm and inviting, with shelves lined with potted plants and bouquets of flowers in various stages of bloom. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the space and illuminating the vibrant colors of the blooms.

As you lead Ellie further into the shop, you can't help but notice the curious glances she casts around, taking in every detail with a sense of wonder. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of flowers, a delicate scent that lingers in the air and adds to the charm of the space.

"So, Ellie," you begin, breaking the comfortable silence as you approach a display of freshly cut flowers, "Anything you like? I’d be more than happy to gift you some."

Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks around the shop. "Really? But there’s so many, how can I even choose?"

"Well, you're in luck," you reply, gesturing towards the colorful blooms around you. "I can just make you a bouquet of everything. Just pick out your favorites."

Ellie's gaze drifts over the display, her expression thoughtful as she considers your question. "Hmm, that's a tough one, they all look so fucking cool," she muses, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "How about sunflowers and. . . daisies? There's just something about them that feels... I don't know, hopeful, I guess."

You nod in understanding, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sunflowers are a wonderful choice. They symbolize warmth, happiness, and positivity. Definitely a fitting choice for someone as vibrant as you, Ellie."

She grins at the compliment, "Thanks,. So, what about you? Do you have a favorite flower?"

“That’s a tough one, but I’d had to say daffodils. They just make me feel right at home. . . even though home has become a difficult word.” 

She doesn’t answer you, at least not in a way that you would expect. She nods and says,

"Let's add some daffodils to the mix too. If that’s okay.”

“If course it is. I said any flower didn’t I?”

With Ellie's choices in mind, you set to work gathering the blooms she selected, expertly arranging them into a vibrant bouquet. Your hands move with practiced precision, the gentle rustle of petals and stems filling the air as you weave the different flowers together.

Each blossom is a work of art in its own right, vibrant hues mingling together in a harmonious dance of colors and textures. Sunflowers, with their golden petals reaching towards the sky, stand tall and proud at the center of the bouquet, symbolizing warmth and happiness. Daisies, with their delicate white petals and cheerful yellow centers, add a touch of innocence and purity to the mix. And finally, the daffodils.

Beside you, Ellie watches with rapt attention, her eyes shining, "It's so pretty," she remarks, her voice filled with awe.

You smile at her words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at the sight of her delight. "Flowers have a way of bringing joy and beauty into our lives," you reply, your voice soft with reverence. "They remind us to appreciate the simple things and to find beauty in the world around us."

Finally, the bouquet is complete, a stunning masterpiece that radiates warmth and joy. You present it to Ellie with a flourish, a sense of satisfaction washing over you at the sight of her delighted expression.

"It's perfect," Ellie exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she admires the bouquet in her hands. "Thank you so much. This is amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness at her words. "I'm glad you like it. And remember, if you ever want to learn more about flowers or need some help with anything, you know where to find me."

Ellie nods eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. "Definitely. Thanks again. This means a lot."

As Ellie turns to leave, a sudden thought seems to strike her. She pauses, her hand on the door, before turning back to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey," she begins, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "do you need a flower assistant? I mean, I’d be nice to work here, and you seem really cool."

"Well, Ellie," you reply with a teasing grin, "If you're serious about helping out around here, I'd be more than happy to have you on board."

Ellie's eyes widen,. "Wait, really?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You mean it?"

You nod, your smile genuine as you reassure her. "Of course. I could use all the help I can get, especially during busy times. And besides, it'll be fun having you around. Consider yourself officially hired as my flower assistant, Ellie."

A grin spreads across Ellie's face, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of working alongside you in the flower shop. "Wow, I don't even know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. 

"No need to say anything," you grin. "Just don’t be late."

As Ellie nods, a sense of anticipation fills the air, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. With a shared sense of excitement and determination, you and Ellie set to work, ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures the future may hold for your blossoming partnership.

The next day unfolds with a golden hue, promising another beautiful day in Jackson. As you prepare for the day ahead, a sense of excitement tingles in the air knowing that you'll be mentoring Ellie, your newfound flower assistant. Ellie arrives earlier than you expected, her eyes oozing with sleep.

"Good morning, Ellie," you greet her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to come closer. "Ready for your first day?"

Ellie grins back, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I’m just not used to waking up so early."

With a chuckle, you lead her to the work table, where several potted plants await repotting. However, before diving into the day's tasks, Ellie's curiosity gets the better of her.

"How do you find all these flowers?" she asks. "I mean, with the infected and everything, it must be hard."

"I have a few spots outside of Jackson where I like to go to collect flowers. There's a field not too far from here that's brimming with all sorts of blooms."

Ellie's eyes widen and you can tell she's intrigued by the idea of venturing beyond the safety of the town's walls. "That sounds amazing," she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "Do you go there often?"

You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips as you recall the countless trips you've taken to the flower field. "Yes, whenever I need to restock or find something special," you reply. "But I've also started growing some flowers myself. It's a work in progress, but it's been rewarding to see them bloom."

"That's so cool," she exclaims. "I'd love to see the field sometime, if you're up for it."

With a grin, you nod, "I'd be happy to take you," you reply. "But for now, let's focus on getting these plants repotted. We'll save the field trip for another day."

As if on cue, the shop door swings open, and a customer steps inside, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. They approach the counter with a friendly smile, their eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display.

"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your attention shifting to the customer. "How can I help you today?"

The customer returns your smile, reaching into their backpack to retrieve a small item wrapped in cloth. "I have something to trade," they explain, placing the item on the counter before you.

You unwrap the cloth to reveal a delicate piece of jewelry, a handmade necklace adorned with intricate beads and charms. It's a beautiful piece, clearly crafted with care and attention to detail.

Ellie watches with interest as you examine the necklace, her curiosity piqued by the exchange taking place before her eyes. "What are you trading for?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

You glance at Ellie with a smile, impressed by her keen observation. "Well, Ellie, sometimes customers trade items in exchange for flowers," you explain, turning back to the customer. "It's a way for them to get something they need while also supporting the shop. As for how I decide what the flowers are worth, it's based on a few factors—like the rarity of the flowers, the time and effort it took to grow them, and of course, their beauty."

With a nod, you accept the necklace, carefully placing it aside before selecting a beautiful bouquet of flowers to offer in exchange. As the customer leaves the shop, their smile brighter than before, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've made another person's day a little bit brighter.

“Ellie, I’m not sure me bargin’ into your new workplace is the best introduction,” Joel says.

“You’ll be fine,” she says, dragging Joel by the arm. “Besides, weren’t you the one grumbling about not liking me spending all my time with a stranger? What else was I fucking supposed to do?”

Joel lets out an elongated sigh. “Language.”

He can’t see it, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. The tiny, rundown flower shop soon comes into view and Joel can’t help but think of all the improvements he could make: the crooked step, the splintered door, the moss growing from the bottom of the woody exterior—

This shop won’t last next winter, he thinks with furrowed brows. And even though he’s been skeptical about Ellie spending all of her time here, he’s seen the improvement in her mood. Things just haven’t been the same since their return from the hospital, he couldn’t shake the distant feeling between him and her no matter how hard he tried. It had become something even he couldn’t fix.

But then, one day, she’d come home with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen, with a wide smile plastered across her young face. Then she mentioned the keeper of the shop. Ever since then, his interest had been piqued.

Approaching the shop, he notices a figure outside arranging flowers, your silhouette bathed in the warm morning sun. You appear younger than he anticipated, your beauty catching him off guard. The way your dress contours your curves adds to your allure, a sight unexpected yet captivating. A gentle breeze tousles your hair as you work, momentarily leaving him speechless.

Contrasting his hesitation, you bound up to the shop with your usual cheerfulness. "Hey there!" Ellie calls out. The woman turns at her greeting, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she sets down the flowers. "Good morning!" 

He hangs back, observing as Ellie effortlessly initiates a conversation with you. Your interaction flows with ease, suggesting a familiarity beyond your brief acquaintance.

While you chat, an unsettling feeling settles within him. There's an inexplicable pull towards the shop owner, despite his attempts to resist. Watching Ellie interact with you stirs a strange longing within him, leaving him more unsettled than before.

Before he can dwell on his thoughts further, Ellie snaps him out of it. "Joel, don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself, she's the one I've been telling you about."

With a sigh, he steps forward, his approach cautious. As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.

"Hi," he manages to say, his voice gruff yet not devoid of warmth. "I'm Joel."

As he clasps your hand, a spark ignites between you, a connection unfurling with each passing moment.

“Joel?” you say slowly, as if tasting his name in your mouth. “Joel as in Tommy Miller’s brother?”

Your hand feels soft and delicate as it clasps his own, and he can't help but notice the subtle tremor in your fingers. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes, hinting at a vulnerability that he hadn't expected from this beautiful stranger.

"Yeah, that's me," he responds with a nod, offering a friendly smile in return. "Tommy's my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Ellie speaks very highly of you."

As you exchange pleasantries, he finds himself drawn to the warmth in your gaze, a warmth that seems to seep into his very soul. There's an openness about you, a genuineness that he finds both refreshing and disarming.

While you talk, he can't help but be captivated by the way your lips move, the gentle cadence of your voice. It's a strange sensation, this sudden fascination with a woman he's just met, but he finds himself unable to look away.

Your conversation is interrupted by Ellie's playful interruption, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from you, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving your side. But as they follow Ellie into the shop, he can't shake the feeling that meeting you has stirred something within him, something that he can't quite articulate.

Entering the shop, he can't help but notice even more things wrong– the creaky floorboards, the peeling paint, the flickering lights overhead. It's evident that the place is in dire need of renovations.

Despite the less-than-ideal surroundings, Ellie's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself getting swept up in the moment. She points out various flowers, their vibrant hues and delicate petals bringing a welcome burst of color to the dreary environment.

"These lilies are my absolute favorite," Ellie exclaims, thrusting a handful of flowers towards him with a mischievous grin.

He can't suppress a surprised sneeze as the pollen tickles his nose, and they both dissolve into laughter,and momentarily, all his concerns seem to fade away.

But just as they're catching their breath, you enter the room, your presence once again capturing his attention. There's something about you that intrigues him, a warmth and kindness that draws him in effortlessly.

A sheepish smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. You return the smile, your gaze gentle and understanding, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though you're the only two people in the room.

“Who helped you fix the place up?” Joel asks you as Ellie runs off to change the water of the vases. “

"Tommy actually," you explain. "He's been a tremendous help, especially with all the repairs."

Joel’s brows knit together and he ignores the way your smile falters as he speaks, “Well, leave it to my brother to do a shit job. This shop won’t last next winter.”

“O–Oh. . .” you hug yourself, thumbs moving along the contours of your arms. His heart sinks in, leave it to him to make someone feel bad.

“Not to say it can’t be fixed,” he continues abruptly. “I can help you out. Wouldn’t want Ellie’s new favorite spot to get buried under the snow.”

“Really?” you gasp, smile returning. “You would do that?”

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just. . . I just wasn’t expecting such an offer thank you. It means the world to me.”

Suddenly Joel feels stiff from how deeply you stare at him, and then he realizes how close they are, only a breath away between their lips. He turns his head, grunting, “Don’t mention it,” a stuttered breath leaves him. “Really. Don’t.”

Your growing smile surprises him, as does your not backing away.

“You got it, Mr. Miller.”

Watching Joel work on fixing the roof of the shop, you can't help but feel a flutter of warmth stir within you. His muscles ripple with each movement, his arms bulging with strength as he lifts heavy beams and hammers nails into place. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of light around him.

You find yourself mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him. His white tank top clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the short-sleeved flannel he wears hangs open, exposing the tank top underneath. Every movement sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks.

The sound of his grunts fills the air, low and guttural, and it sends a thrill through you that you can't quite explain. There's something primal about the way he works, a raw energy that draws you in and leaves you feeling breathless.

You watch as he reaches up to adjust a beam, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like to run your hands over his warm, sweaty skin. The thought sends a shudder coursing through you, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered and embarrassed by the intensity of your thoughts.

But no matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your gaze keeps drifting back to Joel, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And as you watch him work, you can't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within.

But for now, all you can do is watch and admire from afar, content to bask in the warmth of Joel's presence as he works tirelessly to repair the roof of the shop. And as you watch him, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself with determination as you clutch the bowl of freshly picked black mulberries and raspberries in your hands. With a quick glance up at Joel, who is perched precariously on the ladder, you gather your courage and make your way outside.

"Hey, Joel!" you call out, your voice tinged with nervousness as you approach the ladder. "I brought you some fruit and iced tea. Thought you could use a break."

Joel looks down at you with a grateful smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. That sounds great."

As he descends the ladder, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. With each step he takes, you steal glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him.

But it's when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and stretches upwards to take the bowl of fruit from your hands that you feel your breath catch in your throat. The movement causes his tank top to ride up slightly, revealing a sliver of his stomach, and you swallow thickly at the sight.

As Joel settles down to enjoy the fruit and iced tea, you find yourself drawn to the empty spot next to him on the porch. With a nervous glance in his direction, you take a seat beside him.

The warmth of the wooden porch beneath you contrasts with the cool breeze that sweeps through, and you can't help but feel a sense of calm settle over you as you sit beside Joel. The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of birds chirping in the distance.

“Lovely day, ain’t it,” Joel takes a bite of the freshly picked black mulberries, the deep purple juice stains his lips, a stark contrast against the ruggedness of his features, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

The juice glistens in the fading sunlight, tracing a vivid trail along his lips as he savors the sweetness of the fruit. Each movement of his jaw seems deliberate, each bite a study in pleasure as he indulges in the simple pleasure of the moment.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, lifting strands of his hair and sending them dancing in the golden light. But your gaze remains fixed on his lips.

The silence and sight makes you light-headed and eager to say anything, no matter how idiotic it might be. 

“Aren't you a little old to be doing this much heavy lifting?” 

“Aren't you a little too young to be lookin’ at me like that?” 

Your shoulders rise, blood rushing to your head as you look down. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. Butterflies flutter madly within you, the wings tickling the insides of your stomach. You only swallow. “Your lips are stained from the mulberry.” 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

He takes another one, biting down with his lips, he finds your gaze. You watch a tiny drop go down his chin. The two of you are close. So incredibly close. It’s been like this since he started working on the shop. A pull that is too hard to ignore. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Better finish up before the sun sets.” 

Joel stands and your heart breaks a little. You blink from where you’re sat, staring at him, yearning for him. 

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you trying to find your way home in the dark.” 

“You know, I could’ve come here on my own. I always do.” 

“I know. Just wanted to make sure you have someone lookin’ after you.” 

“For someone to be known as a grump, you’re quite a softie.” 

“I’m leavin’.” 

“No—!”

Your fingers close around his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you find yourself frozen in place, your pulse quickening as you realize just how close you are to him.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart race even faster. His eyes drop to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back up to meet your gaze. You notice the hints of a fading smile, “You were joking,” you say slowly, letting go of him. 

“That I was, wildflower,” he doesn’t move away and neither do you. Your breath catches within your throat, the moment stretching between your two like rubber. Before you can say anything Joel’s eyes flicker to something behind you and he smiles. “I think we’re here.” 

As you turn around, your heart skips a beat. The field of flowers stretches out endlessly, a sea of color and beauty that seems to go on forever. The grass has grown taller since the last time you were here, swaying gently in the breeze and creating a soft, rhythmic rustle that fills the air.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the landscape and setting the flowers ablaze with color. Reds and yellows, blues and purples, a riot of hues that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.

You take a step forward, the grass crunching beneath your feet as you walk further into the field. The scent of poppies and blue hyacinths fills your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating, and you can't help but close your eyes and breathe it in.

The wind sweeps across the field, sending waves of grass rippling in its wake. The sound is soothing, a gentle whisper that seems to carry you away on a tide of tranquility.

For a moment, you forget about everything else – the worries and the doubts, the uncertainties and the fears. All that matters is the beauty of this moment, the beauty of this place, and the beauty of being here with Joel. 

With a rush of emotion swirling within you, you turn to Joel, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. He's still standing close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you lean forward and press your lips to his. At first, Joel is taken aback, his body stiffening in surprise. But then, he caves, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender rhythm.

His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You feel his tongue on your bottom lip and open up for him eagerly, the taste of him feels like electricity shooting through you. Heat pools between your legs, Your breasts tingle with the mere thought of having his hands on them, nipples aching and hard. 

Joel breaks away briefly, then closes the distance again. Small hisses against your swollen lips over and over until neither of you can breathe. He hungers for it almost. And so do you. “Joel,” you whisper, eyes cloudy. “Please.” 

“Is that what you want, wildflower?” he drags his nose down the side of your cheek, facial hair scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin of your neck. “For me to fuck you here? Right out in the open?” his voice trembles. “Like animals?” 

“God, yes—” your insides clench. “I would want nothing more. Been thinking about you since the day I met you, your hands, your mouth, you as a whole.” 

His hands drop to your ass and he gives the tender flesh a strong squeeze, “You want me?” 

“I do.” 

You suddenly find yourself on the ground, the grass tickling your exposed legs and arms, the skirt of your dress rolled up to your waist. Joel’s weight is a welcoming comfort on top of you, another gust of warm wind blows. With a groan, he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress, exposing both your breasts. While holding one, he kisses the other, drawing the stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly, your body jolting with pleasure. The soaking mess between your legs grows. 

“Joel,” you moan, back arching. “Fuck—” 

He swirls the tip of his tongue around the nipple and grazes his teeth against it. Calloused fingers play with the other. Your mind is swimming in pleasure. He brings the skirt of your dress further up and traces his lips down the fabric, when you look down, you see him between your legs, his eyes darker than normal as he stares into your soul. The tips of his fingers dance along the elastic of your panties, asking for permission. 

You breathe out a yes, barely audible, but he nods and tugs the fabric down. When he latches his mouth on to you, the world stops. His mouth feels divine. His tongue delves between your folds, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit. You shudder against him and he moans into you. The reverberations of the sound force a gasp out of you and you swear you feel him smiling. 

His fingers trace patterns along your thighs, teasing and stroking as his mouth works wonders between your legs. You're on the edge, the pleasure building up with each flick of his tongue. You reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him where you need him the most.

Joel picks up the pace, his tongue moving faster, his fingers slipping inside of you. You can feel your body starting to tighten, the coil in your stomach about to unravel. You grip onto him tighter, your hips bucking against his mouth, and with one final flick of his tongue, you come undone.

You cry out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Joel continues to lightly lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent. He makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply as you both catch your breath.

“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the right words for the mind-blowing experience you just had.

“Amazin’,” Joel finishes for you.

You nod, still a little breathless. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Joel's hands roam over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his erection against your thigh, and you know that he needs release just as much as you do.

“Been so long since I’ve tasted somethin’ this sweet,” he rasps. “Thank you.” 

You hear the blood rushing in your ears, “You’re the sweet one,” you mumble, tenderly touching the scratchy surface of his cheek. “So sweet.” 

He smiles and as he kisses the curve of your palm, shuffles above you, starting to get up. A deep frown forms between your brows. “And where are you going?” you pout, wrapping your arms around him. You feel the outline of his length as he lowers himself once more, the tips of your noses brushing against one another.

“I thought you wanted to gather some flowers.” 

“Not yet,” you murmur, eyes glazed. “At least, not before feeling you inside me.” 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a whimpering breath, grinding himself against your bare cunt. “You really know how to get a man goin’.” 

“Prove it.” 

His eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite describe. His breath stutters, then, without even looking, he unbuckles himself, never breaking eye contact. Joel’s hair ruffles with the wind, yet he doesn’t even blink. The head of his cock catches against your clit, ripping a moan from your throat. He fills you with one sloppy thrust, the length of him stretching you enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

“Joel—Oh my god—” 

“That’s it, good girl, takin’ my cock so well. Feels good?” 

Slack-jawed, you nod. He goes deeper. “Want you to feel me for weeks, wildflower. And I want you to think of me every time you come to this god—” thrust. “—damn” thrust. “—field.” 

You can only moan at his words, his hands grip your lovehandles, squeezing and pulling you closer to him every time he rocks forward. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, he sucks. Your body convulses, shaking against him. 

Sparks ricochet through every limb of your body as you feel the heat pooling in your core. Joel moves his hand from your lower back to cup your breast, his fingers teasing and plucking at your nipple. The pleasure ricochets through your body, making you feel like you're on fire.

“Come for me, darlin’.” Joel growls into your ear, his voice rough and primal. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shaking and convulsing beneath him as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The world blurs around you, all your senses consumed by the feeling of Joel's body against yours.

"Joel—" you moan, your voice lost in the wind as you reach your peak. 

He groans in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. After one final, deep thrust, he pulls out and spills over your stomach, his body shaking against yours. You both ride out the waves of pleasure until finally, you collapse against each other, panting and spent.

You lay in the flower field, a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. Joel's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body.

"I've never felt anything like this before," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Joel lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "Me neither, wildflower. Me neither."

As the sun begins to set, you both lay there, entwined in each other's arms. The field has become a symbol of something more than beauty. And as long as those flowers bloom, you know your love for each other will continue to grow.

A week. 

A week without hearing from him, seeing him, touching him. 

A painful week. 

It’s almost as if he never existed. As if the moment in your favorite field was nothing but your imagination. The only reason why you know it's real is because Ellie still comes by every day, and despite knowing it’s impossible, you still feel him deep inside. It only heightens whenever you have to travel back to the field to gather flowers for the shop. 

You watch as Ellie places more daisies into a vase. She’s been her usual self, joking around, telling you about all the details of her life. It’s hard not to ask her about Joel and how he’s been. 

Some nasty part of your mind whispers words of discouragement, telling you he only wanted you for your body, for your charm, and got what he wanted. Your heart clenches. It might be true. You were young after all, emotional, broken. He’d already gone through all that, killed to stay alive, for loved ones, gone through grief—why would he want to take on another’s problems as well? 

“Hey, Ellie?” 

She turns to you, eyes slightly wide due to the rasp of your voice, “Yeah boss?” 

“Can you watch the shop for a second, I have something I need to do that I forgot about.” 

You don't wait for her nod as you exit the shop. You know he’s home. He has to be. 

Luckily it doesn’t take you long to reach their house, your knock is loud and swift. You know you’ve taken him by surprise by the expression when he opens the door. His mouth is slightly ajar, his brows knit together. 

“What are you—” 

“I came to talk,” you brush past him, heading inside. Joel lingers at the door but soon after follows you inside anyway. 

He sighs, “What do you want to talk about?” 

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Us," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I need to know what happened, Joel. Why you've been avoiding me."

Joel's jaw clenches at your words, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "I ain't good for you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve better than someone like me."

You feel a surge of anger rising within you at his words, frustration bubbling up to the surface. "That's for me to decide, Joel," you say, your voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be protected. I can make my own choices, and right now, I choose you."

Joel's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a mess, a broken man with too much blood on his hands. You deserve someone who can give you the world, not someone who can barely keep himself together. You’re young. You still have so much ahead of you—"

“No! That’s not what I want. I want you, you’re the only person who’s made me feel like. . . like myself. . .before. And wanted.” 

Your voice begins to shake, you see the hesitation within his body, hod his hand slightly moves forward to hold you, to touch you, but he doesn’t. 

“I can’t do this to you,” his hands slide into his pockets, he gestures to the door. “Get out.” 

The blood freezes in your veins, your eyes grow wide, your chest constricts, “What?” 

“I said to get out,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “Get out, please.” 

And you do. 

“You need to get your shit together.” 

“Language, Ellie, dammit.” 

She glares at him from across the table. It’s an early morning, earlier than he’d liked. He’s been feeling hallowed out ever since your visit. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal. He knew that he’d broken something when avoiding you, something tender and not so easily fixable. 

But what was he supposed to do? You were young, he didn’t want to trap you, didn’t want you to throw the best years of your life for an old man like him. 

Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut. His head hurts. All he can think about is you, your body, how eager it was to take him, the delectable curves he couldn’t get enough of. 

He misses your taste on his tongue. 

“She’s miserable too, you know.” 

Joel’s eye snap wide open. “Who?” 

“You know who,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s definitely upset and so are you—Just fix it. Don’t be an asshole” 

He let’s out a sigh, she’s right. He needs to fix this somehow. Joel stares at Ellie, her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how much his actions had affected not only you but also Ellie. The weight of his own guilt settles heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the mess he's made.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

He runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles making every movement feel heavy and strained. He knows he needs to make things right, to somehow find a way to mend the rift he's created between you and him.

But how? How could he possibly make things right after everything that's happened?

"I'll talk to her," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fix it."

Ellie nods in approval, her expression softening slightly as she looks at him. "Good," she says, her tone gentle. "Because I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."

She was right and he knew it. 

“The shop’s closed today,” Ellie says as he grabbed his jacket. “I don’t know where she is.” 

But he did. He knew exactly where you would be. The place he tasted you, the place he felt your body against him. 

Joel's heart sinks as he approaches the flower field and sees you sitting there, your shoulders hunched over as you hug your knees to your chest. He can hear your sobs from a distance, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do or say. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pushes aside his doubts and makes his way towards you.

As he draws closer, he can see your whole body trembling with the force of your emotions. His heart aches at the sight, knowing that he's the cause of your pain. He kneels infront of you, gently touching your wrists.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Joel."

You startle at the sound of his voice, lifting your head to look at him with tear-streaked eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of surprise in your gaze, followed by a wave of raw emotion.

"Joel?" you choke out, your voice thick with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of you hurtin’ like this."

"I thought... I thought you didn't care," You sniffle, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. 

Joel reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. "I care more than you know," he says. "I made a mistake, a big one, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to. .  .I didn’t think I deserved someone like you."

"I missed you," you admit softly, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Joel's heart clenches at your words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face against his chest.

"I missed you too, wildflower," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

He hears the smile in your voice. 

“You already do.” 

[louiseolivier]

08x06 Delulu

Tevan are at the Italian restaurant. The Hot Waiter flirts with Buck. Buck's kinda oblivious. He unintentionally flirts back. Buck pays this time, and inside the folder with his card and receipt is Hot Waiter's phone number. Buck is a little weirded out because he feels like it's obvious he and Tommy are on a date.

For the most part, Tommy watches Buck and Hot Waiter's interaction in amusement. He jokes whether Buck is he's going to call him, and Buck is taken aback. Then Tommy gets serious.

"We haven't really talked about the kind of relationship you want."

Buck's confused. "What does that mean?"

"Just that there's more than one way to be in a relationship. I've been in a couple that were open."

"Open?"

"We were allowed to sleep with other people."

"I know what it means, Tommy. Is that what you want?"

"I want you to be happy. I want you to know I'm amenable to that if you're interested. Truth be told, Evan, the most important thing is that you're in my life, whether we’re together or not. 

Suddenly, the Ironside siren goes off in Buck’s head, and he’s spiraling.  

Tommy clasps his hand and looks at him like he’s the goddamn sun, moon, and stars. “Think about it. It’s not like it’s something you have to decide today.”

Cue Buck, going to Bobby. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck, but I’ve seen you two together. I don’t think breaking up is something Tommy is even thinking about. The other stuff...you should talk to Tommy. Be upfront. Be honest. 

Cue Buck, going to Maddie. “Buck, he kissed you while you were still covered in boils. I saw that with my own eyes and wished I hadn’t. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but he does seem very committed to you. And to be perfectly honest, the open relationship doesn’t sound like something he’d suggest out of thin air. Maybe you said something...”

“You’re blaming me? Come on, Maddie! You know damn well that’s not how I roll. I slept around, yeah, but not while I was in a relationship - and don’t you dare bring up Taylor! Besides, an agreed upon “open” means consensual. I just - how did I miss that this was something he was interested in? Why would he wait six months to bring it up?”

A sound of disgust emanates from the corner of the call center's breakroom, and the Buckley siblings' heads swivel to its location. Josh is sitting at a table, sipping his coffee and rolling his eyes. “You sweet naive baby bi.” He gets up from his chair, sidles up to Buck, and eyes the donuts he brought for Maddie. “I don’t suppose there's a Bavarian cream in there?”

“There’s a jelly,” Buck says. 

“But jellies are my favorite,” Maddie complains. 

“Too bad. I’m about to help your chaotic brother out, so I deserve it.” Josh bites into the donut and gives an appreciative moan. “Oh god, I haven’t had refined sugar in three days. How I missed you.”

“Back to me, please,” Buck says with a whine.

“Look, it’s pretty simple. There are only two types of guys who want to open up a relationship after the six-month mark. Assholes carrying multiple red flags or..”

“Tommy’s not an asshole,” Buck tells him firmly. 

“Considering he’d whittle a rocking chair if you asked him to, I’d agree. Buck, my guess is he’s scared. He's worried that if he doesn't give you a free pass, that you'll get bored with him and leave.”

“That’s so stupid,” Buck cries in dismay. 

Maddie lays a supportive hand on his bicep. 

“It is,” Josh agrees. “But just because your man is a solid L.A. nine doesn’t mean he’s not carrying around a lot of insecurities. Talk to him. Tell him. And hey, if it all blows up on you, send him my way. I’d love to be that man’s shoulder to cry on.”

Buck shows up at Tommy’s door. Tommy is supposed to come to his after finishing his laundry, but Buck doesn’t want to wait that long. “Hey,” Tommy greets him with that scrunchy smile Buck loves so much. 

“I don’t want to have sex with anyone else,” Buck tells him as he barges through the door. 

“Oh-kay,” Tommy says, closing the door behind Buck. 

“Do you want to have sex with other men?”

Tommy crosses his arms, and his head tilts towards the ground. “No. I’ve come to learn that’s not an ideal situation for me.”

Buck scoffs. “Then why suggest it?”

The buzzer on the washer goes off, and Tommy moves towards it to switch out the load. “I don’t know. I’m pretty used to you flirting with everyone.”

“You think I flirt?” 

“Evan, you told the waiter you liked his chinos while eyeing his ass. Most of the time, I think it’s cute how you rile people up without realizing it, but then I have a thought like, what if Hot Waiter would be a better match for you? So I panicked and threw out that suggestion.” 

“Jesus, Tommy. For the past six months, my brain has been consumed by nothing but you. Yet you think I can be swayed by some guy in a comfortable pair of pants? I only want you.”

“I know. I do. You prove that to me every day. I didn’t suggest it because I don’t trust you.” Tommy tosses one of Buck’s hoodies into the dryer and starts it. He can’t keep eye contact with Buck for more than a few seconds, and he looks paler than when Buck first arrived. Tommy’s also picking his middle fingernail with his thumb, and that’s Tommy’s tell that he’s feeling overwhelmed. “Uh, so like, I’m in this for the long haul. I think you’re it for me, Evan, and I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve settled or...”

“I love you,” Buck tells him with a certainty he doesn’t think he felt even eight hours ago, but it’s the god’s honest truth. “Just seeing you makes me feel so full I could combust. ”

Tommy’s eyes are glossy and he blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He finally locks eyes with Buck. “Loving you has been living in the back of my mind since...I honestly don’t know how long. I’ve been trying to temper my expectations because I haven’t been super successful in relationships. But then you started leaving clothes here, and suddenly you’ve infiltrated my life like no one else has been willing to. Next thing I know, I’m at a funeral for a long dead cowboy. I watched you embrace the memory of a forgotten man, and I realized I couldn’t love you more, Evan. Boils and all.”

Aaaaand that’s it. I’m tapped out.

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

[millersfinest]

untethered⁴ | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 11.3k

series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four (you’re here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: +18 CONTENT, lmao flip phones, r and ellie NOT beating the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, afab anatomy mentioned, vulgar language, some angst (not on ellie’s watch tho), fuckgirl!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesn’t write much in this ch wink wink 2.0), r and ellie conspiring, more horndog ellie, porn w plot ig, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is still very jealous of cat, hella angst, ellie has a landing strip ;), emotional cheating (from ellie), maria doesn’t play w r, repressed emotions, SMUT (r and ellie fuck nasty), dryhumping (underrated af), fingering, tribbing/scissoring, oral (e! receiving), titty sucking, little bit of dirty talk (not much because i’m shit at it), sub!top!ellie (?), dom!bottom!reader (?), they flip flop you guys idk.

note: i swear i can’t write smut for the LIFE OF ME… but practice makes perfect, right? my brain stopped working halfway through writing the smut portion of this so… if you don’t think ellie is giving sub!top than… you might be onto something. anywayyy, i have sm fun writing the reader and ellie’s dynamic!!! hope you guys enjoy this lengthy freaky chapter <3 and to my new followers, i see you, i hear you, and i stalk your accounts. bisou babiessss x

After your father gently chewed you out for taking so long—must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed—him and Maria took Joel to see his surprise; little Sarah. They were gonna take care of the animal work this morning, while you showed Ellie how to manage the grocery shipments. The collection of the items produced on the farm: eggs, milk and fresh vegetables. All that good stuff.

“Please, be thorough because this is how we make our money, honey.” Maria said before she followed after the brother’s, out the back door.

You swipe the clipboard off the counter that they left for you, puffing air from your mouth. Ellie followed you out the door as you led her to a trailer that kept all the products that were packaged the night before. When you lived back home, you often did the morning chores, while they did the nightly chores—although, they helped you where they could in the mornings, because you had school.

They package the eggs, milk and vegetables, but it was your job to count everything—make sure nothing was broken or eaten by bugs or tainted by anything. It was a detail-oriented job. Then, you put everything in crates and prepare them to be taken to the local shops in town. Normally, your parents dealt with that part, but not this time.

The crisp air had smacked life into you once you stepped outside. And, it was a bit of journey from the house to the trailer. The first few minutes alone, walking toward your destination, was in silence. Partially, an awkward silence. Ellie dragged her feet behind you, feigning a level of coolness that didn’t exist for her. “So, what exactly are we doing?” She questioned, peeking over your shoulder.

You peered at her, raising an eyebrow. “We’re doing a count, and a quality check of the groceries we sell to the shops at the square…” You begin, handing her the clipboard. “So, basically, a bunch of boring shit. But, at least we get to ride downtown and deliver the stuff. It’s like a fun little field trip.” Shrugging your shoulders, you arrive at the temperature controlled trailer after several minutes of walking.

“Oh…”

“This is what you signed up for, Ellie… How does it feel?” You pulled the key from your hip, unlocking the door. Naturally, you hold the door open for her, letting her walk in before you, eyeing her slender frame hidden under her sweatshirt and jacket.

She sucked in a breath, wrapping her arms around herself. Freckled cheeks turning red from the cold temperature. “Shit,” Ellie looked to you, with her eyebrows bunched together.

“Gotta keep the groceries fresh. It’s even worse in the winter. Which is where we’re headed so… Good luck, I guess.” You place your hand on her shoulder, squeezing, gently. The other hand snatching the clipboard from her hand. Keeping your eyes trained on hers, teasingly.

Surprisingly, you composed yourself enough after what you pulled this morning. Touching yourself to the thought of your past lover—it was a filthy thing to do. But, it’s not like she knew anything; at least, you hoped she didn’t. If she did, she would’ve said something by now because she was a nuisance.

Ellie jutted her bushy eyebrows upwards, humming to herself.

“All right, so,” You began, rolling your tongue in your mouth as you read down the checklist. “We should have two hundred and fifty tomato’s, one hundred and seventy-five carrots, one hundred and ten Granny Smith apples and one hundred an’ forty honey-crisp apples—“

“Wait, I’m sorry… Are we hand counting all of these?” Ellie questioned, dumbfounded.

You chortled, placing a hand on your hip. “Uh, yeah, Ellie. This isn’t a factory.”

She scoffed, looking around at all the products around her. Cursing under her breath, pushing a piece hair behind her ear. “Continue…” Ellie sighed, squatting in front of one of the crates of tomato’s. Tossing one up in her hand, examining it. “These are some pretty sexy tomato’s.” She muttered, glancing up at you.

Rolling your eyes, you hummed, dragging your finger across the checklist. “Let’s just start countin’. After each, check the list to see if the numbers match up.”

You started counting the eggs and gallons of unprocessed milk, while Ellie counted the vegetables. Later joining her with the vegetables because she was, surely, taking her time. The apples is where she found herself confused—or feigning confusion. You weren’t entirely sure, but the way she blinked at you made you consider the idea.

Perhaps, it was poor thinking on your part; locked in the cold trailer, it was inevitable for the two of you to cling to each other… For warmth. The strictness of your parents had rubbed off on you, but around her you always loosened up. Ellie was like your other half—the yin to your yang. But it always began with a luring of sorts; on her part. That's what loved about her.

Her big, earthy eyes bored into yours—penetrating you, mercilessly.

“Did you forget how to count?” You snicker, glancing between her and the fruit.

“My minds a little busy at the moment…” She sing-songed, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. There was so much insinuation in her words—you knew immediately what she was referring to. Or you were projecting like all hell.

Truth was, in those moments from her knocking on your door, to walking out in the cold to the trailer; Ellie wondered why the fuck you haven’t said anything. About the kiss, that is. The borderline makeout session that happened in that bar bathroom. What if that woman never banged on the door? What would’ve happened next? She had so many questions and curiosities that she was intending to voice.

She wasn’t mad… Just overtly interested in your thoughts beyond nobody can know about this.

You weren’t projecting at all.

Carefully, you observed her, taking in a big, deep breath. “With…?” You inquired, blinking at her, fingering the round fruits in the crate.

Ellie turned her head, slowly. “Am I allowed to speak of it while the sun’s still out?” She lightly, teased. The corners of her plump lips rising.

“Don’t be a dick.” You chuckle, narrowing your eyes. “Nobody’s around… So— speak freely, please.” Your shoulders shrugging, faking a careless demeanor.

“If you promise not to hit me…”

“Seriously?” Your features pinched, leaning back on your hands in your crisscrossed position.

She chewed on her lip. “Too soon?”

Answering her with silence was enough for her to change the subject back to what was originally intended to be talked about: the kiss.

Quickly, she recovered. “I can’t stop thinking about you— the kiss. There! I said it.” Ellie admitted, eyes searching between yours for some sort of consolation. But, she was met with none other than silence. More silence. Sprinkled with a little bit of shock—it was written all over your precious face.

Your eyebrows were stuck in a raised position, lips parted as if you heard a stranger say a foul joke over the phone. “Uhm, it’s now your turn to say: Oh, my God, Ellie! I can’t stop thinking about you, too! Let’s run away together!” She furrowed her thick eyebrows, followed by a boyish chuckle. God, that made your heart swell, then shatter.

“Fuck, Ellie… Els…” Lips gaped like a fish trying to formulate your words. That was not how she was wanting to hear you repeat fuck, Ellie—wasn’t the plan at all. Her heart completely dropped to her ass. “I don’t… Break up relationships. I’m not that kind of person. I don’t wanna be seen as that kind of person.” You explained, looking directly into her shaking eyes. Pressing your lips together, gulping, you placed your hand on her knee. “Stop thinking about me… Stop thinking about that kiss— it’s never happening again. It was a mistake.” You gently told her, with a gaze that said the complete opposite.

A mistake. That struck her like an iron ton—or like one of those comical piano’s falling from the sky. Abrupt. Unexpected.

Her lips quivered and her shoulders shrunk at your direct words. “It didn’t feel like a mistake.” Ellie muttered, clenching her jaw. “Nor did it fucking sound like one…” She followed, throwing the apple in her hand into the crate, jumping to her feet.

“Okay, can you not bruise the apple—“

“Fuck the apple…” She spoke under her breath, shutting eyes in frustration. Ellie fought the pain in her chest, inhaling and exhaling, evenly.

You looked down, pitifully. “I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be.” Ellie interrupted, shaking her head with pursed lips. “Because I don’t believe a single word that you just said.” She added, shrugging her tense shoulders.

Making a bewildered face, you stand to you feet, pushing back one of the crates you were counting from. “Well, you don’t have to believe me. Just listen to me.” You face your palms toward her, leaning forward, slightly. “I’m trying to help you, Ellie.”

She sized you up. “You think your help is what I want from you?”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, because that’s all you’re getting from me.” You told, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am not a homewrecker.”

“There isn’t a home to wreck!”

“To you, Ellie! To you there isn’t a home to wreck!” You finally raise your tired voice, ending your rushed our words with your hand over your eyes. “She worries about you, she gets two bottles of champagne because I ask for it— I’m wrecking her home, and I can’t do that. Not with a clean conscience."

A beat of silence moves through the both of you, like an elegant ribbon dancing around your stiff bodies. Trying to pull the two of you together. Ellie was standing with so much distance between you, holding herself for comfort. Cold air whistled behind your ears as you waited for some kind of response. You watched her earthy eyes search around, lip moving as she gnawed the inside of her cheek in thought. “Ellie—“ You took a step forward, reaching a hand out to comfort her.

“Did you think about that… Touching yourself to the thought of me this morning?” Ellie let the words come from her slow and full of poison, taking her time to look you in the eye. Her feet began to move, meeting you in the middle. Face to face. Chest to chest.

Words got caught in your throat as embarrassment clouded your vision and mind. “W-- What?” You stammered, frozen in your place. She was the last person you wanted to hear that; it was an accident. It just happened. Similar to that kiss you shared together. It was in her character to bring it up--you fucking knew that much, but you didn't anticipate her bringing it up so harshly.

“How would Cat feel if she found out you were fucking yourself to the idea of her girlfriend—“

“It wasn’t like that.” You tried, averting your eyes. Eyebrows pushing together, swallowing the anger building in your throat.

“Wasn’t it?” A sickening smirk spread on her lips. Chest grazing yours as she stood tall. “I heard you… Whining for me— what we did couldn’t have meant nothing.” Her voice grew gentle, hand reaching toward a warm place on your neck. Still, internally writhing with embarrassment, you let her. Leaning into her cold hand, bracing yours at the divot of her elbow.

A sigh fell from your lips, meeting her intense irises. “I never said it meant nothing.” You mumbled, breath hitching. “It just shouldn’t happen, again. We have to think of the people—“

“Can you just think about yourself for once?” Her hand slipped closer to the nape of your neck, pulling you close like you did to her. Ellie peered down at your parted lips, nearly pressing her forehead to yours. She still noticed that hesitance in your demeanor—you were talking yourself off the damn ledge. Fighting the temptation that was Ellie Williams caressing your skin. Feeling you. Tethering to you for connection.

Perhaps, there was another way she could get you to stop restraining. In order for her to give in, she needed you to decide on your own accord. Your heavy breathing wasn’t enough for her. Nor was the stressed massaging of her forearm by your desperate fingers.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone—“

“Say the word, and I’ll do as you say. Say the word... And the kiss didn’t happen…” She whispered near your lips, breathing in the air you released—which couldn’t have been healthy. Even in the face of situational rejection, she breathed you in like fresh air.

Your hand found a way to cling to her sweatshirt, bunching the material hanging around her waist. Her lips pecked the corner of your lips, moving toward your cheek, then your jaw. You leaned into her touch, whining lowly. She was suffocating in the best way. For a moment, you believed you would actually go through with it. Unable to resist her, until you spoke. “I can’t…” You mutter, with your eyes fluttered shut. But as quickly as you said it, she pulled away from you. Arms, lips—fucking everything.

There was so much hurt in her eyes, but she swallowed it down. “Please, understand.” You pleaded, automatically feeling uncomfortably cold now that her touch was gone.

“Oh, I understand, all right.” Ellie bit, dryly chuckling. She was wilting before your eyes. Just like Dina had mentioned. This is what happens to her when you’re around, and you wanted to everything to make it better. However, your morals were clouding you. The moral being: Not appearing like something you weren’t. Not even, being a homewrecker—it was worse to be seen as one, than actually being one.

Your mind was occupied by the image of her in your dreams and while you were awake—you just fought harder against it. Ellie was the exact opposite of you. She fell into you the minute she knew that she could; it was worthy of your respect in some degree. But she wasn't yours anymore. “I’m gonna go pull Tommy’s truck around…”

She swiftly left the trailer, leaving you in your abrasive thoughts. The door shut behind her and you just blinked at it. Muttering curses under your breath, tears welling up in your eyes. Your memories flashing back to what it felt like to be kissed by her. It set your skin on fire—you’ve never been more in tune with someone in your life! It scared you to take a risk as grand as succumbing to someone who was spoken for.

The one thing Ellie told you about Cat was that she didn’t inspire her. And, from her first night on the farm, the artist was back engaging in her work again. Was it conceited to assume it was because of you? Clearly, something was off between the two of them. Enough for her to be looking to you for consolation. You were her muse; there were rights that you did have pertaining to Ellie. Plus, she was yours first...

Look at you, talking yourself up to resuming the treachery that was your blooming relationship with Ellie. That burning feeling you felt seeing her features drop at your rejection was like fire up the ass; a call to action. Ellie stole that level of control from you—the idea that you could succumb or pull away whenever you wanted to.

All of a sudden, you needed her more than breath itself.

Instead of waiting by the door for her like a mannequin, you finished up the counting with quickness. Checking off the list as you finished—all the products being accurately numbered.

Ellie had pulled the freight truck around, and quicker than you thought. It was as large as the smallest UHaul truck, and packing all the crates inside wasn’t much of a hassle. The auburn-haired woman stood inside the back, taking the crates from your hands to load the products inside. Fingers grazing every other crate, but Ellie made sure not to physically pay it any mind. She was playing a game that was only entertaining to herself.

She was a warm-blooded manipulator and a very good one. Ellie believed she was using her powers for good this time, though. For true love, she believes. Her gut told her that you felt just as insatiable for her as she did for you—she fucking knows it! It makes her sick that you can’t be forthright about how you feel without worrying so much. Yeah, she should probably break-up with Cat—and, mentally, she’s been planning to for months—but right now that wasn’t the priority.

She could only set her sights on two things at a time, and that was her art and you--two things that easily coincides with one another. Like mentioned before, she’ll handle the situation between her and Cat at some point. Whenever that will be.

Ellie could feel you chipping away with every chance of connection she took from you. Finger grazes. Intentional eye contact. She would flinch every time you tried to touch her, just like you did in that bathroom. Giving you a taste of your own medicine. It felt good, although, that pouty look on your face didn't let her fully revel in it.

You drove the truck downtown to drop off the goods—trading products for checks and money-orders. The drive being the worst fifteen minutes of your life. Stuck in a stuffy truck with a woman who was pissed at you. You kept glancing over at the freckled artist, hoping she’d meet your eyes just once. But her chin was rested on her fist as she looked out the window, keeping her eyes trained on the passing landmarks.

When all of the products were delivered, you started the engine with a loud huff. Disgruntled, well within your rights. But she didn’t pay you an ounce of attention until you released an exasperated sigh, halfway down the road.

“Fine, fuck, I take it back, Ellie!” You tap your thumbs around the wheel, trying to keep your eyes on the road.

She raises an eyebrow. “You take what back?” She wanted to hear you say it; a slight smirk spreading on her lips. It worked quicker than she thought it would—you must’ve wanted her bad.

You pull the truck to the side of the road, shifting in your seat to lay your eyes on her, safely. “I can’t stop thinking about you, either…” The confession pushed from your throat, leaking with solemnity. “Or the kiss— that fucking kiss.” You shut your eyes, re-living it in your mind before her.

“Well, I already knew that… I just needed to hear you say it.” She rolled her eyes, nonchalantly, leaning forward on her knees.

“Don’t get too excited… I have a proposition.” You hold your head up high, lifting your chin. Grasping for any semblance of control that you could muster. Ellie motioned her hand for you to continue, and you did. It was difficult to say, because that meant that it was real. Your sappy, horny and sickeningly romantic feelings for her were real. “I want you, and clearly, you want me, too. So… Why don’t we just get it over with?”

A grin cracked onto her face, followed by a giggle. Freckled cheeks turning a lovely shade of red. “Get it over with? Yeah, that’s totally something a woman wants to hear—“

“Ellie, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” She raised a scarred eyebrow. The woman leaned back in her seat, sliding down, spreading her legs apart. Ellie was thinking with a subtle smile that couldn’t leave her face. She was excited and beyond. “You wanna fuck me, y/n?” The auburn-haired woman looked over at you, tapping her hand against the passenger seats handles. “Or… Do you want me to fuck you—? I’m down for either, really…”

You scoff at her words, shaking your head. “I wanna make sure that… We’re not acting like this because of the thrill of it all… Old flings, and shit. Get this out of our system.”

“So, this is a one and done type’a thing?”

“Depends. We’ll find out, I guess. I’m willing to find out.” You shrug, flickering your eyes across her stunning face. If only you could start now…Instead of harping, you turn back toward the wheel.

Ellie releases a joyful laugh under her hand; excited beyond measure. There was a thrill to sneaking around, but she didn’t need that to be with you. “Wait… You consider this,” She gestures between the two of you. “An old fling? We were together for two years.”

“Semantics, Ellie.” You chuckled, starting to move the truck back onto the road.

She sucked her teeth. “Semantics my tits— there’s nothing old flingy about us. I’m literally in love with you.” Ellie scoffs, glancing out the window before realizing what she said aloud. Pausing with her fist covering her mouth.

Warmth gathered in your face, gripping the steering wheel to keep a restraint. “Y— You… You don’t have to say it back, but… Yeah, it’s true. I am in love with you…” Her voice trembled as she spoke, eyeing the side of your face. “This isn’t a thrill for me. But if you need to make sure this isn’t a thrill for you… I’m okay with that.”

Your heart bloomed, beating rapidly in your chest. If you could attack her with your lips while manning the wheel, you would. Choosing to be selfish was hard, especially, in a situation as taut as this one. Nobody could ever understand—you had be okay with homewrecking; you needed to figure this out. You wanted to figure this out.

It was easy to know that you were doing this for more than the thrill. But, you just had to make sure this was worth the backlash that would come of this. From your parents, from Cat, from your friends, from Ellie’s friends. It all had to be worth something.

“So… What’s the plan for this thing we’re doing? Is it, like, a date?”

You snickered, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t count hookups as dates. We’re gonna treat this like a one night stand… For now, at least.” You take in a breath before continuing. “My parents should be in their rooms by ten-thirty, Joel by nine— correct me if I’m wrong…”

“You’re right.” Ellie agrees, nodding her head. Peering over at you with glimmering irises.

“I’ll come get you from the back porch at eleven-forty-five— no earlier, no later.”

“This sounds like we’re about make the greatest heist known to man.” She joked, chuckling to herself.

You hummed, glancing at her, briefly. “I mean, I am stealin’ you for a night, aren’t I?”

Her cheeks immediately blushed at your words, but she looked off to the door window to hide. Pupils dilating with excitement, chewing on her bottom lip. Planning to have sex was such a juvenile thing to do—something that you used to do when you were horny teenagers. Orchestrating around your parents, sneaking around, quickies left and right. It was silly, but it had to be done; according to you, at least. And who was Ellie to object? She would do anything to feel you again.

Pulling up to your house, you parked the truck in its usual place. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to get around Cat?” You question, loosely. Somehow without that guilt that’s been creeping up your bones, imbedding into your veins.

She ran a hand through her hair, nodding with pursed lips. “Oh, she’ll be easy.” Ellie shrugged, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Your lips pull into a tight, slightly stressed smile. The artist across from you narrowed her earthy eyes, taking your hand from where she sat, leaning forward. Ellie was prepared to say some uplifting words, but she forfeited that idea as soon as her lips prepped to speak. Instead, she stood up, pulling you to the back of the truck. Where the clear windows couldn’t expose the absolute crime that the two of you were—walking moral felonies.

Her hand clenched yours, coming to stop in the dark. Your hand creeped up her forearm, pressing yourself close enough to her to be irresistible. Ellie reached for your jaw, not wasting any time to press her lips against yours. Her lips were soft and longing; as if she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life. Your hands braced at her hips, pushing hers against yours—but, she still tried to take the lead. Tongue grazing your bottom lip as an ask to intrude your mouth.

Ellie wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to change your mind. She must've not have known you as well as you thought, because you most definitely weren’t.

The feeling of her fingers creeping around your throat made you pull away. Looking at her in the dimly lit darkness of the back of the truck. Pupils dilated, completely under her spell. And she thought you were the compelling one. “Do you have any resolve?” A smile spread onto your wet, shiny lips.

“Nope!” She grinned, leaning into you for more.

Turning your face, you laughed. “Save some for later, you freak.” Ellie kissed your cheek, then kissed it again; holding your face in her hands like a delicate object. “Ellie!” You giggled, holding onto her wrists. “We can’t camp out in this truck… They’ll start asking questions.”

“Ugh, I know…” Ellie finally pulled back, but she held onto your hand because she had to be tethered to you in some way. “Do you think we’ll have any time together before later?” She was such a romantic to her core.

“Probably, not. I have to help my mom prep some food for tomorrow… I promised.” You massaged her palm with your thumb, kissing her knuckles like it was something you did all the time. It was certainly something you wouldn't mind doing all the time. “Be patient for me, yeah?”

“I can try…” Ellie pouted, rolling her eyes.

“Eleven-forty-five… You’re all mine, and I’m all yours. Just a few hours. You can make it.” You finalized before walking back to the front of the truck to exit. But not without winking in her direction, leaving her in the dark. Stuck in a paralyzed trance: You’re all mine, and I’m all yours. Was this some sort of dream?

This was really happening.

The rest of the day was spent getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. You helped Maria prep her biscuit dough, and marinade for the ham. As well as cutting fruit for the pie Ellie and Joel were planning on making tomorrow. It felt domestic preparing things for her and Joel--just like you used to do. Sometime during that period, Tommy and Ellie took off to the butcher shop to grab some steak—because what was a Miller’s Thanksgiving without options?

And, weirdly enough, Cat joined you and your mother in the food prep. Which totally messed up your domestic fantasy of family cooking.

She snacked on the apple’s you chopped, leaning against the corner. “Have you ever tried her apple pie?” Cat asked, taking one of the other slices that you placed on a napkin in front of her. You were trying to be nice here. “Ellie is such a great cook.” She mused, dusting her hands on the fabric of her pajama pants.

You chuckled, rinsing off the bulk of the apple slices in the deep sink. “A long time ago… It’s pretty good.”

Maria chuckled, mixing spices and seasoning into her honey ham marinade. “Bug’s a harsh critic, too. So if she says it’s good, then it’s good.”

“She does the whole sugar crumble thing. It really sets it off.” You add, dropping the sliced apples into plastic tupperware to put in the fridge.

Cat hummed, pushing a piece of her slick black hair behind her ear. “Good to know. I guess I have something to look forward to— as well as your cooking Mrs. Miller.” She complimented, sharing a friendly smile. With your head still facing the fridge, you couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder. She was so sweet it made you sick. Champagne bottles mocking you as you emotionally rejected the girl in your kitchen.

“Is there anything I could help out with?”

“No, I don’t think—“

“Of course, hon. Would you mind taking that cornbread out of the oven?” Maria interrupted you, casting you a glare that only you could notice. Jutting your eyebrows up, you scoff under your breath. She hands her mittens from a drawer to aid in the removal of the glass pan.

Sighing, you watch her remove the cornbread—the one you were going to use for stuffing. “I’m gonna go take a smoke break…” You mutter, already pushing through the front screen door.

Soon after you pulled out your pack of yellow American Spirits, placing a stick between your teeth, your mother had followed you out. With her veiny hands on her hips, staring at you like you committed some sort of crime. Upon seeing her face, you lit the end of your cigarette, jutting your eyebrows up.

“What is going on with you?” She asserted, glancing at the cigarette between your lips with disgust. Maria never liked that you smoked; she knew how bad they were for you, but you didn’t have much of a reason to care. You didn’t care when you were young, and you surely didn’t now. For a brief moment, when you and Ellie were together, you smoked less. But, after that, you picked up like you never stopped.

You puffed the smoke away from her, holding the cigarette between your index and middle finger. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Uh, you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about? You think I didn’t hear all that heavy breathin’ in there?” Maria raised an eyebrow.

“Maria,”

“Don’t Maria me.” She inhaled, pointing an authoritative finger at you. “I can’t control who you like, but that girl in there is a guest in our home— and she will be treated with respect.” The blonde woman told as you leaned your head to the side like a rebellious teen. “All that sighin’ is for the birds.”

You pursed your lips, rolling your eyes. “Heard. Yes, ma’am.”

Her bright eyes softened, watching you take puffs from the stick between your fingers. “I know it’s hard to see. I understand that. But we’re not always gonna like everything— I’m sure you know that, though.”

“Yeah,” You breathe, peering at your mother.

“Why don’t you invite that Abby girl to dinner tomorrow? Ellie told us she took you home the other night.” She offered, nudging you, playfully. Record fucking scratch.

Why on earth would Ellie mention Abby to her parents? Where would she even find the time to do that? A deep sigh fell from your lips, but you covered it with a smile. “You know, what? That’s a great idea, mom. I’ll text her. See if she has any plans…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “This generation and their texting— give her a call, honey. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Maria squeezed your shoulder before dipping back into the house. You leaned your elbows on the bannister, hinging at your hips. Ellie telling your parents about Abby wasn’t going to put a damper on the plans tonight—however, she was going to pay for that. Stubbing out your cigarette, you snatched your cell from your hip. Decorative chain dangling from the headphone port.

Your thumb flicked open the screen, and you began to search through your contacts looking for Abs. Perhaps, you should call her—to really make the sentiment stick. After all, she was the one asking when she was going to see you again.

You clicked the call button on your keyboard, placing it on your ear. The line trilled and trilled, until a muffled sound signaled that she had picked up. “Abigail Anderson,” She greeted, as if she didn’t know it was you. But you could hear the smile in her voice.

“How formal, Abs.” She chuckled on the other end. “Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“You mean on Thanksgiving? Yeah, I wouldn’t be in this middle-of-nowhere town if I didn’t.” She paused, shuffling on the other end of the line. Like she was shifting in her bed or something. “Why? You wanna do somethin’?” Her voice leaked with innuendo, and it actually made your stomach churn; like you were doing something wrong.

Sighing, you turned your back against the bannister. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow… My family and I aren’t gonna eat all this food ourselves— we could use a helping hand.”

“Meeting the parents? I don’t know…”

You chortled. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”

“I said I’ll help Owen’s family with food prep… But, I should have some time to stop by.”

Yes!

“Okay, just keep me updated if anything changes.”

“I’d never leave you hangin’.”

“Right… Buh bye.” You shut the phone before she has the chance to respond. Releasing a sigh of relief. Oh, and just in time for Tommy and Ellie to pull into the gravel driveway.

You peered over your shoulder, coolly. With your bare arms wrapped around your body for warm. You watch as Tommy and Ellie hop out the truck with paper bags in his hands and two packs of beer in Ellie’s—they don’t need that much beer. But, it was a nice sight to see them laughing together. “Where’s Joel?” You question, deepening your eyebrows.

“He’s picking up a new guitar for tomorrow!” Your father responded, approaching the porch. Ellie following close behind him, looking through her lashes at you as she stepped up the wooden steps.

“Hey, Ellie.” You greeted, pressing your lips into a smile. A no strings attached smile.

“Hey, y/n.” She dragged the hey a bit longer than she should have, passing you. Tommy pulling open the screen door, holding it with his foot. But, you didn’t let her pass. Stepping in front of her with a playful smirk on your lips.

Eyeing the packs of canned and glass-bottled beer in her hands. “I hope there’s some wine or coolers in that truck a’ yours…”

She nervously chuckled, causing the blond man to raise an eyebrow. Cheeks raising and blushing. “I only have two hands. There’s two bottles of Sauvignon Blanc in there. Door’s unlocked.”

You smiled, unintentionally ogling her as she stepped passed Tommy to go inside. By the time your eyes ascended, you caught his skeptical blue ones. “I’ll go get the wine…” You mutter, trotting off the porch.

And that’s what you did. Trotted off to get the wine from Ellie’s truck. She was right, there were two bottles of Sauvignon Blanc waiting for you, and a rack of wine coolers. They spoiled you. Shutting the door with your hip, you walked back inside the house to place the items on the counter.

You didn’t notice the sight of Ellie clinging onto Cat—or it could’ve been the other way around—until you gave the room a once over. Tommy was giving Maria a chaste kiss on the forehead, chuckling against her skin. And, Ellie had her arms wrapped around Cat’s neck, pushing her into her chest. Her tattooed arms wrapped around her waist, laughing into her. That should've been you holding her like that.

It burned like all hell. And, frankly, it pissed you off on the lowest degree.

Catching a glimpse of Cat’s dark, almond eyes, you flinched. They weren’t sweet anymore, they reflected a level of competitiveness you have yet to see from her. It was completely and utterly random. Has she caught on? Did Ellie say something? Worry bunched in your eyebrows, but you averted your eyes.

Suddenly, you felt the need to write. Work on that chapter you started the other day.

“Hey, I’ll be upstairs… Gotta get some words outta my head.” You tapped your father’s arm as you passed him to head upstairs to your bedroom. “Call me if you need anything.” The words rush out of your mouth, before jog up the slippery wooden stairs.

When you shut yourself in your room, you fell onto your unmade bed, screaming into your pillow. Clutching the feather-filled sack with so much vigor, it could've popped in your grasp. That one glance had made the actions you were planning to do make a lot more sense, and you didn't feel as bad. You didn’t care if you were perceiving it wrong. There was always an inkling that Cat wasn’t as perfect and sweet as she let on. Why would she ever add her girlfriend’s ex on MySpace, anyway? Was she crazy? Most definitely.

You pulled out your computer to do as you said, opening your developing documents. Instead of focusing on the possessive eyes of Ellie’s girlfriend, you focused on your work—because, above all else, that was most important.

Eventually, Ellie went back to the guesthouse. Leaving Cat behind, since she was having so much fun around Maria and Tommy. It felt weird leaving her behind in a house that wasn’t familiar to her—mainly because the house was yours. Ellie knew you didn’t like her, but she wanted to finish the portrait she was working on. And she could only do that when her girlfriend was either occupied with work, sleep or pure mindlessness.

She tied a oil paint-stained apron around her neck and waist, before sitting down before her easel. She flipped over the breathable sheet she hung over it to protect the identity of the model. Then, she began painting—filling in the deep colors of the shed, then adding highlights to your painted frame. You were the first silhouette she added color to on the piece.

Time didn’t wait for either you—slipping by like it didn’t even exist. It was around eleven when you began searching for something cute to wear for Ellie. For Ellie—that was such weird thing to think about. There was old lacy nightgown that you used to wear, but the hems showed that you wore it to the ground. After a lot of shifting through drawers, you decided on a lacy pair of cheeky underwear and no bra—you could never go wrong with that. And, of course, a pair of boxer shorts and a large gray t-shirt. It was no sexy set from Victoria Secret, but it would do.

Ellie had always been a simple girl, just as much as you. She preferred nakedness over anything, anyway.

For the next twenty minutes, you pulled your legs up by your reading nook, scanning the pages of a hardcover book. It was a classic—something you were obligated to read in high school. You always loved books like that. Victorian. Regency. It was all so romantic.

The next time you glanced at the alarm clock on your beside table, it was eleven-forty-one. Meaning it was time to make your way down the stairs, checking for any lingering presences on your way.

Just like you thought, Joel and your parents were in their bedrooms. The kitchen was completely down for the night. The only light that was on was above the clean, silver gas stove. Shuffling toward the back porch, you cut the light on to check if Ellie was out there—and she was. With her hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants, hoodie over her head to keep her ears warm. They were matching tones of a light gray.

Opening the wooden door, you pushed open the screen door, eyeing her slender frame hidden under all that cotton. “Is this your incognito costume or…?” A smile pulling onto your lips. She narrowed her eyes at you, walking in with a slight sway in her shoulders. Ellie was illuminating with the confidence of someone who was about to get laid. The skip in her step didn't go unnoticed.

“Everyone’s asleep?” She questioned, swinging her arms at her side, waiting for you to shut the doors behind you.

Shutting off the porch light, you turn back to her, nodding. “Yeah. Just like I anticipated.” You watched her pull off the hoodie, mussing up her damp auburn hair. Olive eyes looking for you in the dark, expectantly. You take her hand with both of yours, walking backwards toward the stairs. “Come on,” You whispered, sweetly. Voice honeyed with anticipation and excitement. Fucking hell! Neither of you could believe that you were doing this.

“Be careful. The old wood creaks.”

“I know…”

Ellie followed behind your steps exactly, as you were trying to evade all the extra cracking from the staircase. It wasn’t a perfect journey from the first floor to the second, as some creaks couldn’t be evaded. But, nonetheless, you pulled her to your bedroom. Her hand growing clammy in yours, but you didn’t care.

As you shut the door behind you, Ellie began to look around your room. Noticing how it hadn’t changed much since the last time she was in there. The posters may have been different, but they were still there, barely peeling from the dull pink walls. And, hell, the catwoman figurines on your dresser were still in place. Collecting dust just like the sum of her own collectables at Joel’s place.

When she noticed you staring at her, the heart in her chest began to wildly beat in her ears. Her cheeks flushing a bright red, eyeing your frame.

You harbored a level of nervousness, but you were ready. Thinking in a happy medium of logic and emotion, you wanted to feel her. It was borderline nostalgic to the first time you were with her so intimately.

“This feels so formal.” Ellie walks up to you, placing her hands at your hips. Feeling the ridges of the waistline of your boxers over your long t-shirt. “Worse than a one night stand…” She chuckles, inspecting your features with anxiety. The moment she’s been wholly desiring was within her fingers, but her nervosa was getting the best of her.

You pressed your lips into a smile, placing one hand over hers on your hip, and the other on her cheek. She nuzzled into your touch, searching for comfort. It wasn’t hard to find, either. Since your thumb caressed her freckled skin—palm exuding nothing but warmth. “It doesn’t have to…” You began, voice purring. “This can be whatever you want it to be.”

Finding the softness of her throat to be alluring, you waste no time pressing your lips against her jaw. “Whatever you want it to be, Els.” You repeat against her skin, trailing down to her neck. Slowly plotting your lips against her throat, pushing soft breaths from her. Fingers squeezing at your hips, pressing them against hers. It was natural for you to take the lead with her—she was so bashful at times.

She’d spend the day tempting you with big eyes and deep kisses, only to turn to absolute putty in your hands when you took it to the next level.

Her body trembled under your touch, but the more she leaned into you the more relaxed she became. Your hand began to imbed itself into her hair, tips of your fingers grazing her scalp. A shaky sigh, borderline moan, came from her parted lips, legs wobbling to keep her standing on her feet. Did Cat ever make her feel this way? You were barely touching her and she was already making so much noise.

Tugging at her sweatshirt, you eyed her. “Take this off.” You breathily commented, sliding your hands under it. Quickly, she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in a tight tank top, shaggy bangs spreading over her face. You push the strands from her eyes, glancing at her lips. Ellie dropped the sweatshirt at her feet, locked in a trance.

Your eyes glaze over in awe at her flushed features and expanded pupils. Drifting your middle finger over the beauty mark under left eye, drinking her in. “You’re so beautiful, Ellie.” Your voice wasn’t any higher than whisper, analyzing her twitching features. Her hand reached for your wrist, pulling it to plant her lips up your forearm.

“Says… You…” She speaks between each kiss, looking at you through her thick eye lashes.

A giggle sounds from you, watching her worship your skin, leading all the way back to your lips. Wrapping your arms around her shoulders, you get as close to her as you can. Her tongue timidly entered your mouth, causing you to release a moan of approval and affirmation.

She walks you toward your bed. The end of the mattress catching the back of your knees, causing you to fall. Keeping your eyes locked with hers, you scoot back into the middle of the bed. Ellie dropping her knees onto the mattress, crawling up to meet you. She pushed your shoulders down, collapsing atop of you to meet your lips again. Slotting her thigh between your legs, pulling up your shirt.

Her cool hand grazing over your ribs, just under your breast that hadn’t yet been exposed. Hips rolling against your thigh, sweats bunching in her crotch. “Fuck,” She groaning in your mouth, clenching the material of your shirt in her hands. Her sexual frustration beginning to take over. “I need you so bad, baby.” She whines, lips trailing to your jaw, nipping at you skin with her teeth.

One hand latched onto her hip, the other bracing on the mattress as you flipped her over. Positioning yourself on top of her, straddling her boney hips. Her wide earthy eyes peering up at you, full of desire. Boldly, you crossed your arms to pull the loose top from your body, throwing it across the room. “You have me...”

Slender fingers gripped your hips as you began to grind yourself on her. Breasts moving with every roll of your waist. Ellie reached a hand up to grope your chest, pinching your nipple with her thumb and the side of her finger. Abruptly, she sat up to plot her lips across your warm collarbones. Leading to where she could wrap her lips around the same sensitive nipple she was playing with.

A low gasp fell from your lips, falling into her, gripping the roots of her hair. “Ellie…” You sigh, rolling your eyes back—finding yourself overcome by her touch. You were trying to tease her, rubbing yourself against her like an animal in heat. But, you were just as greedy as her.

“Keep going…” She muttered against your skin, gripping the front of your boxer shorts and underwear. “Please. You look so fuckin' hot like this."

Her words shot right to your pussy, urging you to grind yourself against her harder. “Fuck… Ellie.” You cursed with your face in her hair, smelling the sweetness you craved. Her lips spread into a smile, hearing the words she's been waiting to hear. She nips your nipple with her teeth, before laying back down onto her back.

Bracing your hands on her stomach, you increase in speed, whimpering from the lack of skin to skin contact. The both of you restrained yourself when it came to noise—this was still forbidden. Something nobody other than yourselves could bare to witness and experience. But the squeak of your old bed frame knocking against the wall gave it away to peeving ears.

The brushing of you against her clothed clit, made her pant for you. Holding onto your hips, making you go as fast as you possibly could—gripping the fat of your ass through your shorts. Watching you shut your eyes in concentration, using her; trying to reach a high that she wanted to be the reason for.

She flipped you over, causing you to let out some combination of a gasp and giggle. Sprawling your arms beside your head, laying over your pillows and stuffed animals. Her earthy eyes glanced at them, picking one up. “You sure you want ‘im here for this?” Her long fingers squeezed the stuffed teddy bear.

You narrowed your eyes, wrapping your legs around her hips. “Nothin’ he hasn’t already seen.” Taking the bear from her hands, you toss him over the bed, pulling her down with insatiable desire. “C’mere,” You purr, bringing her down to your lips. Sloppily, you merge your lips together. One of your hands pulling up the white tank top that clung to her toned abdomen.

She obliged to your movements, briefly separating from your lips to remove her top. Freeing her small perky breasts. Connecting her lips back to yours, she groaned at the contact of your skin. Finding herself more intoxicated by you the more to she felt you, touched you, tasted you.

Trailing her lips down your jaw, to your soft throat—nibbling and sucking—then, to your heated chest; her hand was her guide. Slipping down your body before her lips did, tugging at the shorts and underwear that clung to you. They had to go! Her determined irises looked up at you while she licked her tongue around your areola before sucking your erect nipple into her mouth. Ellie was really making a show of it.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” Her voice was silken, moving to your other breast to give her some attention. “Prove to you… How real this is?” Instead of continuing to tug on your shorts, she slipped her hand inside. Her soft touch making you jump at the feeling of the pads of her fingers, spreading your folds.

Locking your eyes with hers, furrowing your brows, you nodded, feverishly. “Uh huh,” You breathed, rolling your hips against her touch. It was like you could feel the effects of her spreading through your muscles—as they tightened and loosened. Wilted flower, she was no more, playing with your dripping core. Marveling at how wet you were; it was surreal.

Ellie pulled back, sitting up on her knees. Her fingers hooked into your bottoms, yanking both your shorts and underwear down. You pouted, clamping your legs shut. She completely missed out on seeing the only cute lace number that you had. “I wanted you to see those.” You whined, peering up at her with a pair of eyes that just screamed: fuck me!

She kissed both of your knees before spreading them open, chewing on her lips at the sight of your glistening cunt. “I’ll see ‘em later.” You were so appetizing to look at—naked as the day you were born, clenching and trembling for her. She couldn't care less about the lacy number that was separating you from her. Ellie faltered for a moment, unsure where to start. That confidence that shot through her like a syringe of adrenaline was already fading.

When it came to sex, she always knew what to do—it was simple. At least with Cat it was. But, this was you she was working with. Her first love who was managing to give her a second chance after fucking everything up—she couldn’t mess this up. “Tell me what you want from me, baby.” She told, voice, slightly shaking. “Please.”

You furrowed you eyebrows, finding her nervousness endearing. Taking her hand, while keeping her eyes embraced by yours, you place her hand over your throbbing pussy. “I want you here…” You release a breath that comes from your diaphragm. Adding fuel to fire, you began rolling against her palm. “I wanna feel you…” Taking your other hand, you pull her down to speak in her ear. “Inside of me.” You moaned, airily, getting lost in the touch that you orchestrating. Pushing your head back into the fluffy pillows lining your headboard.

Her arms weakened, falling atop of you. She situated herself, straddling one of your legs to keep them open. Scissoring your clit with her middle and ring finger, warming you up before she inserted a finger into your weeping slit. Exhaling, shakily, at the feeling of your tight walls gripping her middle finger—you basically sucked her in.

Plotting your lips along her jaw, you couldn’t suppress expressions of pleasure that trickled from your mouth. Moaning against her pale, freckled skin as she curled her fingers inside you at a sickeningly slow pace. “Fast— ah… Faster, Els.”

She locked her eyes with yours, ingesting that blissed look on your features. “I wanna take my time with you…” Ellie kissed your lips, savoringly. “Wanna remember every sound, every look on that pretty face…” She kissed you, again. Deeper and full of unbridled passion. You could’ve came right there, looping your arm around her neck, trying to find something to hold onto.

Her touch lit your body on fire, and still, tried to restrain the sounds you made because of it. Sweat beaded in the crevices of you body, but she licked it up like sweet saccharine fruit juice. Truly, you believed she’d be at your mercy, writhing underneath you—first, at that! But, the minute you guided her, letting her know that you really wanted her; she completely gave in. Making you the one to writhe and call out for her.

Her firm ministrations felt like hours, adding another finger, brushing that spongey place inside of you enough to cause endless shaking and trembling. Borderline convulsing. There was such love in her eyes, watching you yelp and whine for her. Not even her sloppy, filthy kisses could completely hide the sounds you were making.

Clenching her hair in your hands, you felt your walls clenching around her fingers. “Fuck, Ellie… Just like that.” You whisper, proceeding it with guttural moan against her skin. The sound of your wetness filling your ears, pushing you closer to that edge. “Jus— ah f-fuck.” You cursed, rolling your hips against her.

Focusing her olive eyes on your face, she rolled your clit with her thumb. Making you grip the pillow behind your head with one hand, while your other gripped her hair hard enough to cause her a bit of pain. She whined at your touch, unable to look away from you. Freezing the frame of your mouth parted, making an ‘O’ shape, as she made love to you.

When that knot snapped in the pit of your stomach, she jumped to swallow your loud moans. Still, fucking her fingers into you to ride out your high. Your free leg snapping shut, clamping her fingers between the strength of your thighs. She pulled her fingers from your cunt, leaning back from your lips to eye the slick surrounding her fingers. Licking from the base of them, she sucked them into her mouth.

You watched her in awe, rubbing your legs together, still throbbing for her. Ellie was an absolute pervert when it came do you—could you get anymore turned on? She had no resolve, just like she said. You smash your lips against hers, growling at the taste of yourself. Your fingers begin to yank at her sweats, with the remaining amount of strength you have. “Why are these still on?”

“Because you didn’t take ‘em off.” She panted against your skin, falling back onto her back.

You chortled, pulling the pants from her hips. Musing at the striped boyshorts that clung to her, ogling the wet spot that seeped through the cloth. Your fingers lightly rubbed over the spot, grazing her erect clit on purpose accident. Her hips bucked up at you, a soft sigh leaving her parted lips. “These are cute.” You say before pulling them down her legs, flicking them off the side of the bed. “That’s me acknowledging your effort. See how easy that was?"

“I did acknowledge your effort…” Ellie whined, feeling your soft lips against her chest leading to her breasts. When you sucked her nipple into you mouth, pinching the other, she gasped. You hummed against her, slotting your leg between hers. She couldn’t help but grind herself against your thigh, groping your ass in the process.

Switching to the other lonesome breast, popping the right from your lips, you spoke. “No worries, baby, I forgive you.”

Impatiently, she humped your leg, panting under you as you suckled on her. Slowly, moving down her toned abdomen—licking and nibbling on her freckled skin. As if she were some sweet dessert on a silver platter all for you; taking your time. Popping your lips from her, you pressed her hips into the mattress. Ceasing her needy thrusts. “It’s my turn now, Els. Gotta be patient f’me. Can you do that?” You look up at her through your lashes, grinding against her glistening cunt.

Similar to how one would dangle a treat before a puppy—to get them to do what you want.

Her scarred eyebrow furrowed, nodding her head, feverishly. “Uh huh... Yeah,” Ellie’s breath hitched in her throat, watching you trail your lips closer to where she really wanted you.

She spread her legs for you, as you kissed around her mauve pussy. Gripping her firm thighs, prolonging that feeling of anticipation. Ellie threw her head back into the pillows, groaning in frustration. But she knew she couldn’t rush you—you never liked to be rushed.

Leaning your head on the inside of her thigh, you ran a finger through her wet folds, snickering to yourself. Did Cat ever make you this wet? You thought, sliding her slick over her clit.

“Never…” Ellie responded, leaning on her elbows looking down at you between her legs. You paused, not realizing that you said your thoughts aloud. Her swollen lips pulled into a shit-eating smirk; she was egging you on. It was villainous, nefarious even, to bring up her girlfriend during this moment. That may have not been your intention, but Ellie couldn’t have cared less.

All she cared about was how your fingers played with her, dredging moans from the lowest parts of her stomach. Making her have to cover her mouth with her tattooed forearm--Cat never made her do that. Not often, anyway.

You slung one of her legs over your shoulder, pushing the other against the mattress—diving into her cunt with your tongue. She was just as sweet as your remembered, like tree sap, and you sucked her up as such. Switching between thrusting your tongue into her hole, and suckling her clit; popping it from your mouth like it was candy.

She writhed because of your touch, lifting her hips off the bed as if she wanted to get away from you—but both of you knew that wasn’t true. You just pressed harder into her, making out with her pussy. Time was nothing but a construct to you between her legs; you had all the time in the world to make her feel good. Fingers grazing the strip of auburn hair leading to where your lips met—a landing strip.

You couldn’t have been happier, pleasing her so!

Sweet, pitchy moans came from her, the ones that slipped from around the forearm she bit—trying to be mindful. But, when you slipped two fingers into her, keeping your lips wrapped around her throbbing bud, a high-pitched shriek released. You moaned into her pussy, fluttering your eyes shut at the sounds she was making. It was music to your ears.

Feeling her eyes on you, half-lidded and dark than usual, you look up. “S— So fucking g— good… Uh!” She stammered, breathing heavily as she neared her climax. Collecting spit in your mouth, you dribbled it from your mouth. A glob of saliva mixed with her cum falling onto her blushing bud. Ellie moaned your name in a way that sent chills down your spine. Curling your hips into the mattress.

Her inner walls tighten around your curling fingers, letting you know that she was close. But that’s when you pulled away, massaging her tense thigh. Ellie sobbed, banging her fist against the bed. “You’re being such an asshole, baby. Nothing's every straight forward with you." She complained, rolling her hips against nothing as you switched positions.

Baby, baby, baby… You loved when she called you that. Even when you were the one calling the shots.

“Am I really…?” You breath, crawling up her body. Intertwining your legs, your pulsating buds meeting at the center of you.

“Ngh…” She whined at the contact, looking between the middle of your glistening bodies. “You're fuck-- fucking insane... Uh...” Ellie pleaded, words breaking up as you began rutting against her. Her wide eyes looking up at you as a grin stretched onto your lips; riding her into next fucking week.

Gripping onto her thigh, juices mixing at the center of you. You lifted her leg over your shoulder, surprising yourself with how flexible she was. Sloppily, you dragged your lips against her calf, unable to hold the sounds of pleasure coming from your throat.

“F— Fuck, yeah… Yeah!” Her orgasm hit her like a ton, causing her to shake under your quick rutting. Ellie’s eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling of her climax, sucking in a taut breath—not realizing that you weren’t stopping.

She began to squirm under you, gripping your thigh, trying to push you off. Whining and sobbing, but when you leaned down, hooking her leg under your arm—pressing your chest against hers, delicately kissing her flushed freckled skin; Ellie held onto you. One hand supporting your rutting hips, the other gripping your hair; moaning and breathing into your ear as a personal boost.

Although, she was overstimulated, she begged you to kiss her. “Please, kiss me— I wanna kiss you, baby…” Ellie babbled, wanting that intimacy of skin to skin—she wanted nothing but your lips as you came undone; just like the first time.

The rhythm of your hips began to falter, hinting at your release. Inhaling, sharply, you whined against her lips. Finally slowing your hips down to a sensual roll. You released her leg, settling comfortably between her thighs—lazily making out with her. Her hands cradled your back, holding you with a sort of gentleness only she could harbor.

She began to pepper kissing at the corner of your lips, toward your cheek. It was innocent and full of… Love.

This wasn’t for the thrill of anything but reuniting with a first love again.

Your eyes were shut, melting into her sweet touch. “Ellie,” You chanted, furrowing your brows. Uh oh. “Ellie,” You repeated, trying to get her attention.

“Mhm.” She answered, finding your eyes with her round ones. Looking up at you like you were the only woman in the world. Despite all of what you just did, there was so much innocence in her deep, evergreen eyes.

Your features grew hot under her gaze, eyes welling up with hearty tears. Lips quivering, working a sob up in your throat. Crawling off of her, you stuff your face into your pillows—trying to cover up the embarrassment that was crying after sex.

The only thrill that was apparent was your love for her. She made your heart jump and skip a beat—nobody else could do that. You thought that hooking up would’ve made things easier, but it was the total opposite; things just got so much harder because now there’s so much more to hide.

“Woah,” Ellie turned on her side, reaching for you as you hid from her. Her hands massages your shoulders and caressed your skin to soothe you. “Sex with me is so bad that I made you cry?” She rasped, chuckling under her breath, joking.

You peer over your shoulder, sniffling. “What? No. No, Ellie, you were perfect— more than perfect.” Gaining some courage, you turned on your side to face her. And, Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes off you, or her hands.

Lightly, she collided the palm of her hand with the side of your ass, squeezing your warm flesh. “Then, what’s the problem? You know I don’t like seeing you cry…” She spoke, wiping away the tears that were staining your cheeks.

Seeing how gentle she was with you only made you want to cry more—sob into her actually. “It’s just… When you leave my room tonight… You’re going back to her— to Cat.” You mutter, holding onto her wrist that connected to your face. “I’m being selfish, Els— just like you wanted. I don’t want you to go back to her.”

She scooted closer to you, looping her arms around your neck. “I thought you were going to reject me, again.” Ellie chortled, placing a chaste kiss on your nose. You rolled your eyes, leaning into her arm. “You know, for your appearance and shit—“

“Ellie, shut up. I’m trying to be serious.”

That lovely boyish laugh came from her as she tucked her head into your neck. Clinging to you like a bear holding onto a stiff tree. Ellie had always been a bit of a cuddle bug. “I’m being serious, too. But… Go on, babe.”

You dragged your fingers along her back, causing her to shift a little bit. She was awfully ticklish. “I thought we were done for good after your seventeenth— I thought I stopped loving you because of it… I guess that isn’t true, like, at all.” You scoffed at yourself, nuzzling more into your touch. Squeezing your eyes shut as if she were going to slip from you. However, Ellie wasn’t planning on going anywhere—whether you were on top of her, beside her; hell, across the fucking room! She wasn’t going anywhere.

Tears began to well into your eyes again as you clutched her. “I’m so sorry for hitting you, Ellie. I’m so sorry.” You weeped into her shoulder, allowing her warmth to nurse you. “I shouldn’t have done it… I wish I could take it back." You couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if that never happened. Would the two of you still be together?

“It’s okay… I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. Listen, hey,” She pulled back to meet your trembling eyes, still finding ways to wipe your tears. “I know you like the back of my fucking hand. You would’ve never done that if I didn’t say what I said— I should be the one saying I’m sorry. And, I am very sorry.” She spoke from the heart, as your hearts held each other—chest to chest you were; skin to skin. It was all so intimate.

A smile spread on your swollen lips, pushing pieces of her hair behind her ear. “If it makes you feel any better… Joel adopting me is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.” She leaned in toward your lips, peering at them, entranced. “The other was meeting you.” Her lips met yours, kissing them languidly. You opened up for her, allowing her to explore your mouth with the utmost of trust. Running your hands along her scalp, tugging.

She was such a charmer. The truest of charmers—full of nothing but endearment.

“Are you gonna break up with Cat—?” You pulled back, only a few inches from her face. “That’s not a question, actually… I need you to break up with her.” The truth was, after this spontaneous little hook up, you’ve come to the conclusion of a fundamental truth: Ellie was yours, and you didn’t want to share. First dibs, right?

“I mean, now wouldn’t be the best time. But, I do plan on breaking up with her— how else could I spend more time with you?” She attempted to smooth her words over.

You stiffen, scooting back a bit more to see her. “Okay, so… Can I get a timeline, Ellie?”

The artist sighed, averting her eyes. “I don’t know a timeline, right now— after Thanksgiving? I don’t know.” A wrinkle formed between her thick eyebrows, responding to your charged words. Her tone leaked with defense and it pinched a nerve within you.

“You don’t know?” You questioned, weakly. Quickly, you parted completely from her, swinging your legs over your bed. This wasn’t going to be a mistress situation—you refused for it to be that.

She called your name, sitting up on her elbow and forearm. “Baby, don’t be like that—“

“I’m not being like anything, baby.” You mock her, standing up to walk over to the shirt you threw to the side. Ellie couldn’t help but ogle your naked frame, sitting up the bed. She even watched you slide on those lace panties she barely noticed before.

“Hey! I was gonna keep those!”

“You snooze, you lose—“ You pick up her clothes, tossing them in her direction. “Get dressed, Ellie.”

Your demeanor had completely changed; it hardened because of her uncertainty. Ellie had been planning to break up with Cat for a long time, but now the pressure was on. Believe it or not, she didn’t want to drop a bomb on her partner during the holiday’s—and they still lived together. Certain arrangements had to be made before she could just break it off. She wanted to be with you, only you, but there was still a lot to think about.

You stand with your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow. “Get dressed, please. We have a long day tomorrow-- actually, today.” You gestured you hand: Hurry up, after correcting yourself, glancing at the alamr clock. It was one-something in the morning. Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. She slid on her sweatpants, purposely leaving her boxer shorts behind—slyly tucking them under your pillow. Maintaining eye contact, she pulled her tank top on, attempting to do that thing she always did—lure.

“You can’t seriously be mad at me, y/n…” She pouted, meandering toward you. Placing her hands on your hips, pulling you flush against her. “You can’t possibly want me to break up with her on Thanksgiving.”

“I didn’t say to break up with her today, but an estimated time would suffice.” You assert. “I’m not some side chick, or— or some mistress, whore, or whatever.”

She nodded, pursing her lips, squeezing your hips as an affirmation of want. “You’re right. You’re not any of those things. But Cat and I live together and a good portion of my stuff is under her care— I can’t just break up with her all willy nilly."

“Wow, so now you’re being super thoughtful.” You roll your eyes, scoffing.

Ellie chortled. “I guess you could say… I got some things out of my system.” She leaned toward you, glancing at your lips. But you didn’t press forward, at all. You just stared at her with a raised eyebrow and a subtle smirk on your lips.

“Ha ha. You’re so funny— I’m dying of laughter.” You intone, pulling her hands from your hips. “I’ll walk you down. You have a girlfriend to get back to.”

She rolled her eyes, sliding her feet into a pair of slippers. Opening your door, you led her out of your bedroom, taking the same path down the stairs you made going up. Hoping that the creaking would cease for a moment. “This was supposed to help us, not hurt us…” Ellie whispered, slightly saddened, holding onto your hand.

You sighed, looking over your shoulder. “It didn’t hurt us. I’m just irritated, okay?” When you appeared in front of the back door, you turned on the light. Unable to leave her completely, you walked out onto the porch with her—hand still in yours.

“Don’t be mad at me.” Ellie tugged you close, placing her hands on your shoulders. Sliding up the softness of your neck and jaw. You responded with a shrug, reaching up to hold her wrists. Thumb caressing the soft thin skin, feeling the lumps of her pulsing veins.

The freckled artist leaned forward to plot her lips on yours again, but you spoke before she could do so. “Abby’s comin’ to dinner tonight…”

She paused, dropping her hands from you, immediately. “What the fuck?”

You ran your tongue over your lips. “Consider that me getting you back for; one, bringing her up to my parents, and two, not giving me a timeframe for your stupid breakup with Cat— you’re on thin ice, Ellie Williams. Thin. Ice.”

The auburn-haired woman scoffed, peering off into the dark. “What? You think I care about her? I don’t even know who she is.” She was too stubborn to admit the amount of irritation that boiled inside of her at the sight of that blonde bit--

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you were looking at her at the Tipsy Bison…” You told, crossing your arms. “The quicker you get rid of Cat, the quicker I get rid of Abby— simple.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “You’re so childish.”

“I prefer to call it… Whimsy.” You sneer, sizing her up. “Goodnight, Picasso.” You turn to walk back into your house, but her hand reaches for your wrist.

“I love you… Okay?” It was spoken with an airiness that made your knees weak. Ellie was trying to words on her tongue, feigning confidence. Even though, she was still so unsure about how you felt. The slight, twitching furrow in her brow tugged at your swelling heart.

Your other hand grazed hers, comfortingly. “I love you.” The words came from you with certainty, caressing the exposed skin of her hand. “See you later, I guess. Since it’s morning.”

“Yeah, see you later.” She kissed your hand before hopping off the porch.

You watched her jog back toward the guesthouse for a few minutes before entering the house. Shutting the doors behind you, your body filled with giddiness the moment that you were alone, not realizing there was another presence in the dark kitchen.

On cue, he cut the lights on, standing with his strong arms crossed over his chest. Your breath hitched in your throat, freezing in your bare-footed steps. “I don’t wanna assume nothin'… So, I suggest you start explainin’ what in the hell’s bell’s is goin’ on here.”

Fuck.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt , @hopingforgoodblogs , @lia-winther , @macaroni676 , @tobiotruther , @anewkindofloove , @fatbootymuncher , @maiaska , @culuvr , @0phantom0 , @onlinelesbo , @bbnbhm , @lovelaymedown , @lamorenita , @scatapple (some of these weren't showing up but i hope i got everyone who asked)

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Buck's favorite words

Just a little idea I couldn't get out of my head so enjoy this ficlet 🙂

***

Buck isn't sure why he likes the word so much, but every time he says it, it's like sugar on his tongue. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy and like everything is right with the world.

"Sorry, I'm flattered but I'm seeing someone," Buck says to the pretty girl he's just evacuated from a 3-alarm blaze. His voice is kind but firm, a far cry from the Buck of old who might have preened at the attention.

"Oh come on, handsome hero man. Give me your number," she purrs, reaching out to touch his arm.

Her relentlessness gives Buck a little push, and he finds himself using the word for the first time in public. It rolls off his tongue easily, filling him with a quiet pride.

"Sorry, but like I said, I'm taken," he says, gently stepping back. Then, with a smile that's both apologetic and genuinely happy, he adds, "I have a boyfriend."

The word 'boyfriend' sits in the air between them, and Buck feels a warmth spread through his chest.

From then on, he finds himself saying it as often as he can, each time feeling that same warmth, that same quiet joy.

At the flower shop, where he's picking out a bouquet for his and Tommy's dinner date, the florist asks, "Do you need help picking something out for your girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend, actually," Buck replies with an easy smile. "And I'm good, thanks."

At the coffee shop, he leans on the counter, eyes scanning the pastry case. "Do you have any cranberry orange scones? My boyfriend loves them," Buck asks the barista warmly.

Later, at the bar waiting for Tommy, a pretty girl sends a drink over. Buck catches her eye, raises the glass in thanks, and then gently shakes his head. When she approaches, he's ready with a now-familiar phrase: "I'm flattered, but I have a boyfriend."

Each time he says it, 'boyfriend' feels more natural, more right. It's not just a word anymore—it's a declaration of who he is, who they are together. And Buck finds he loves that feeling almost as much as he loves Tommy.

There's nothing better than the word boyfriend. That is, until a new word takes its place.

At a restaurant, the waiter approaches with menus in hand. "Would you like to order an appetizer while you wait?"

Buck's eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. "No thanks, my fiancé should be here soon." The word 'fiancé' rolls off his tongue like honey, sweet and perfect.

On a work call to a new gym, Buck finds himself pacing with excitement. "Wow! This place is nice. Do you have a free trial? I bet my fiancé would love to try it out." He can't help but emphasize the word, feeling a thrill every time he says it.

Later, meeting with the wedding caterers, Tommy sits right next to him, their hands intertwined. Buck squeezes Tommy's hand as he says, "No, we definitely don't want German chocolate cake. My fiancé is allergic to coconut." He glances at Tommy, catching his soft smile at the word.

With each use, 'fiancé' becomes more than just a title. It's a promise, a future, a declaration of forever. And Buck realizes that while 'boyfriend' was wonderful, 'fiancé' is magical—a constant reminder of the commitment they've made and the life they're building together.

But the magic of 'fiancé' only lasts for so long before it's also replaced with something even more profound.

At the hospital, Buck's heart races as he approaches the reception desk. "Hi, I'm Evan Kinard. I just got a call that my husband was here." The word 'husband' feels both new and familiar on his lips.

The receptionist nods reassuringly. "Oh sure, it looks like your husband has just been discharged. Just smoke inhalation and a minor concussion."

Later, at Maddie's place, Buck finds himself chuckling as Chimney and Tommy argue about movies. He turns to his sister with a grin. "I don't know whose husband is more stubborn, yours or mine."

At the 118's karaoke night, Buck takes the stage, his eyes locked on Tommy. "I'd like to dedicate this song to my husband," he announces, his voice full of love. As the opening notes of "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You" begin to play, Buck starts to sing, his voice soft and sincere. Tommy's face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and deep affection as Buck serenades him in front of their friends and colleagues.

Each time Buck says 'husband', he feels a surge of pride and love. It's more than just a word—it's a testament to their journey, their commitment, and the life they've chosen to share. And Buck knows, without a doubt, that 'husband' is his favorite word yet.

[netherfeildren]

FABLE OF THE DOG : 1. The Two Headed Calf

Series Masterlist;

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Summary: Welcome home and buck up, cowgirl.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Alcohol & Drug Use; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Graphic Descriptions of Vomiting; Description of a Dead Body; Death of a Parent; Parental Neglect; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Past Teenage Crush; Unrequited Pinning; Yearning and Longing Galore; Boss’s Daughter; Complicated Family Relationships; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family

A/N: Disclaimer, I know nothing about Wyoming and it’s geography, ranching, or being a cowboy and just made all this up. Any and all misrepresentations are fallacy of my laziness.

The FMC tag was decided because she has a last name. It was just too difficult for me to speak in depth about her father without giving him a name, and thus her one too. After that decision was made, she kind of went away from me and devolved into her own person who I have come to be quite obsessed with. It’s still written in ‘you’ format, anyhow.

I’ve been having a whole lot of fun with this, I hope you do too.

Word Count: 10K

Read on AO3

1: The Two Headed Calf

“She’s been shut up in that house goin’ on three days now, Joel,” Tommy says as the two brothers make their way across the lawn. 

The ride had been long and hard, and Joel is tired—he levels a dark look at him. “Just sayin’. Nothin’ you find in there’s gonna be pretty to look at.” He raises his hands in surrender at the brooding glare, that non-confrontational shrug that’s set Joel on edge since they were boys. 

“One of you’s should’a gone in there. Made sure she’s okay.”

“The housekeepers’ve been keepin’ an eye. And Frank tried to go in there and check on her himself, but she’s angry as a barn cat. Hissin’ ‘nd yowlin’, and just bein’ downright scary as hell, to be honest. You should be prepared is all I’m tryin’ to say.”

“Her father just died, Tommy. I’m not expectin’ pretty sights right now,” Joel gruffs, trying to swallow the panic that flutters in his throat as they crest the final hill up to the big house. 

The beautiful stone, oak, glass monstrosity that’s stood as monument to this place, this home that is not truly his, for over a decade now. The Kelly Ranch. The sky above is still a sultry, yawning blue, deep and tired, basking in the throes of dawn as the sun just now makes its way over the crest of the Tetons in the distance so that the house sits for just a moment longer in its pool of shadowed blues. 

Joel pauses on the border of that somber darkness, afraid suddenly of what awaits him inside; boots glued to the ground with the gum of cowardice. He doesn’t want to see her broken. He doesn’t want to see her hurting. But there’s no other recourse, he knows this. The death of the estranged father she’d fought with all her life, the inheritance of this world that seems suddenly too big for just one orphaned girl, all alone now. 

He’s afraid that he’ll walk into that house he’s always seen as other and home all wrapped into one—that Olympus that was so far removed and out of reach even when he walked through it’s halls to the man who’d given him sanctuary and salvation, to the man he knew mistreated her sometimes, didn’t love her enough—and not have the capacity to recognize her, this girl who’d always been familiar and stranger all in one also. 

Joel Miller suddenly feels afraid of the memory she exists as in his mind, in the face of the woman he knows she is now. 

When he lets himself in the back kitchen door, it’s still nighttime within. The cool dryness of the AC cranked up to inhuman temperatures makes him shiver once while sprouting a damp sweat along his nape. He should’ve showered before coming, should’ve washed the ride and the days of camp off his skin before walking into her presence, but all he’d managed were his hands and face. There’d been panic to make sure she was well, if not then alive, at least. But he should be more presentable for her. 

Hell, he should’ve been here for her when she came home for the first time in two years to the house where her father had died. He should’ve been here when the man died. 

But the herd had needed moving. He hadn’t thought it’d all happen so quickly, thought he had more time, that they all had more time. He’d hoped she wouldn’t return at all, if he was being honest. There was nothing here for her. Nothing except memories of a gilded and loveless, already motherless childhood. The reality of all she was set to inherit. The truth of an aloneness Joel didn’t know if she was prepared for. 

He moves through the house slowly, afraid to disturb the ghosts and the silence. The interior, immaculate and beautiful and solemn. Something out of a movie picture or the gloss of a magazine. Something covered not in dust but in sadness. The stairs are silent as his spinning mind makes up for the creak, the boots she’d sent him on his last birthday hit the richly piled rug at the top, and the hallway to the bedrooms yawns long and frightening in front of him. Two grand a pop, the boots—Lucchese, he’d looked them up on the iPhone she’d sent him the year before. A gift giver, generous to a fault, kind to a detriment. She sent something to all the ranch hands that’d worked for her father since she was a girl. Something for the entire ranch at Christmas. And all he managed each time was a perfunctory thank you card, like he did every year because he remembered, years ago, in her little voice, polite people send thank you notes, Joel, my grandmother told me so. Last year he’d written that they were too much, that she shouldn’t have, that he was grateful. There wasn’t much else to say. 

That was the extent of their communication, familiar and stranger in one, the far removed golden child of the Kelly. They’d all called him that, the Kelly, for as long as he’d known the man. As if he was some Scottish laird of old, ruling over his clan and half the world. Egotistical, was what it really was. He’d thought himself a god among men, in the face of his only child. Ridiculous was what Joel saw it all for, a put on play, a farce.

And wonder of wonders, she was entirely unlike him because of course she would be. Of course a man ruled by nothing more than ego and narcissism had been sent his polar opposite in the form of his only child. Kind hearted, was what she was—sending him a birthday gift every year. Remembering them all here always no matter how far she’d gone. He sent her a thank you note for each benevolence in return, a word of respectful gratitude for the fact that a person like her could ever remember a dog like him. 

Sometimes, Joel had wanted to go to him, the old man, Oswald Kelly, and ask him where his daughter was, why he wasn’t looking for her, keeping her closer, caring for her. He wasn’t the sort of man that could’ve ever understood such callous behavior towards one’s child.

The last time she’d been here, over two years ago: less than forty eight hours that had ended in screaming so terrible they’d all heard it down from the barn, sitting in uncomfortable, swollen silence, the spinning of tires ringing as she yelled at her father that he was never going to see her again, the man’s echoing laugh as she’d fled him. 

Joel hadn’t seen her on that visit, it’d been so quick and angry. Flying down on the jet from New Haven for her father’s seventieth birthday and not even making it long enough for the festivities. This was what her life was, as he’d observed it from a distance for all these years, the singular daughter of this great house, coming to her father, attempting joy and finding nothing but disappointment at the end of him. 

She’d been right, a knowing streak running through her. Kelly had never seen her again, and Joel didn’t know if the old man had regretted it or not, the anger and the estrangement and the lack of love. But the last time he’d spoken to him, hours before setting off on their move, the herd always came before everything else, the ranch was all that mattered is what the man had always said, with death scratching at the window, his frail and withered body licked down to almost nothing from the austere and imposing figure Joel had always known him as, he’d asked for her. His only child. Do you think she’ll come, Joel? The dying man had asked him. My girl, do you think she’ll come see me? Joel had lied a lie he hadn’t known was one, said she would, that he’d call her as soon as he was back. 

In the end, he hadn’t even afforded her that decency, a personal call.

He comes to her open bedroom door now, pitch dark as grief within, and the stench of sorrow and liquor seeping from the living grave. He looks down the long and empty hall for a brief second, wishing it didn’t have to be him, that again, he didn't have to see her any way other than okay. And he realizes that there’s something about her, as she will exist now, that makes him cowardly. Something about this house without the man who’d granted him the absolution of a hiding place all those years ago, who’d understood and sheltered Joel in the midst of his own past grief, that makes him cowardly. The house feels wrong without Kelly within it, wrong with only her as its holder now. 

Joel steps into her dark, and it’s a battleground—

—You are silent and motionless in the blue room. 

Nothing of the gleaming splendor that dresses the rest of the home sleeps in here. There are clothes everywhere, an exploded suitcase lies open and massacred in the middle of the plush white rug, a turned over bottle of red wine bleeding into your clothes. Shredded pages with scratched on writing slashed across them, the dusted white mounds of crushed pills, as if you’d smashed each one individually beneath the thumb of your grief. The sight makes him more afraid, the scent of weed and cigarettes heavy in the air, as he takes the final step towards the wrecked bed, and a single small foot hangs limply from the edge.

He stares at it long and hard for a second, afraid, afraid again, still, of what he’ll find. He says your name once, short and gruff like a dog’s bark. It’s what he feels like. Animal, bestial, lacking any sort of cognizance amidst this minefield. His heart beats against his spine, and he thinks he should do something else, shake you, check for a pulse, his bones throb inside his skin. He needs to fucking move, but the smell of smoke is so cloying he’s choking on his own tongue. 

Your ankle twitches.

And Joel sucks in a sigh of relieved air without panic, saying your name again. His voice is level now, maybe gentle, no more barking dog. His eyes move up the length of one pretty leg, and then quickly, he averts his gaze when he gets high up enough he’s met with soft-creased asscheek covered in silk. Swallowing his tongue, his eyes roll in their sockets, looking for anything else to look at besides the sight of panty clad ass. He steps closer again, gripping the edge of the sheet to pull it over your scantily clad body, eyes flitting to the silver spun clock on the nightstand, the warm glow of the hall light shows that they have two hours to get you sober and presentable before the funeral. 

Joel should have been here. He does not feel that he is even here now. And the guilt eats at him like acid. The fear too. 

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta get up now,” he says softly, taking hold of your shoulder, scalded by the feel of fragile skin, realizing with the suddenness of a gunshot that you’ll be the Kelly now. He gives you a gentle shake, “We’ve gotta get you ready,” and his heart pumps blood like a machine. The sight of the dry liquor bottle toppled on the nightstand, the shattered glass glittering the floor in crystal, the empty pill bottles, it all taunts him. His guilt is a cacophony in his mind. He knows he’s going to have to stick his fingers down your throat, make you spit it all up, that you’ll hate him for all of this afterwards, but when his gaze meets streaked rust, dark and shocking against the white sheets, he’s kicked into terrified action. 

He turns you over, your head lolling sickeningly in unconscious stupor, hair a tangled mess strewn about your face so that he has to dig for your eyes, parting the curtains of your fringe to uncover you. He focuses on your closed eyes, the too long lashes clumped together, lips cracked and parched. 

He should’ve fucking been here. 

Smoothing his fingers along the lengths of your arms, he keeps his eyes on your face and averted from all the skin that keeps peeking out below, searching the divots and slopes of your arms for hurts. When he gets to your right hand, battleground of a long ago broken hurt, he finds the drying crust of blood, the ragged split in the soft, small palm, thankfully shallow.

 His eyes smart, looking down at the broken glass, feeling the tear in you. 

Gripping you gently below the elbows he pulls you into his arms, cradled like a child, light as loss. Your head lolls again, neck crooked at an unnatural angle as he carries you into the restroom, careful of your head, knocking the lights on and putting you down in front of the toilet bowl. He pulls your camisole to rights, making sure everything is covered, and gathers your mess of hair as carefully as he can, trying his best to not snag the fragile strands in his too rough hands, but gripping you firmly in position. And ignoring the sound of your awakening cry, he sticks two fingers into your slack jawed mouth and down your throat until he feels the hot rush of vomit. 

Crouching behind you, his thighs bracket you, keeping your form from slumping over as you empty the poison from your belly, flushing the alcohol soaked bile as you struggle. He wipes his messy hand on the leg of his jeans and rubs soothing circles on your back, his fingers woven through the soft silk of your hair to keep your head in place and your face clear. His heart thumps in rhythm with your heaves, your too quick, panicked breathing. There seems to be not enough oxygen for the two of you and your grief in the too small room of the commode, and Joel gasps like a dying fish, trying to swallow calm breaths. 

When you finally stop your heaving, you rest your arms at the edge of the gleaming porcelain, head hung low, defeated, wracked with shivers or silent sobs, he isn’t sure, a strange and horrible keening noise, so small he barely catches it, held in your throat. There’s the finest down of peach fuzz that covers the tender slope of your vulnerable nape, and it makes Joel feel suddenly, just as vulnerable, just as unprotected. At a complete loss for how to help you. 

“Finally decided to show your face,” you croak, voice ragged with your sick. 

His fingers tighten once around your shoulder, a panicked tick of reminder that he’s here now, that he’s him. “I was moving the herd. It had to be done. Your father, he—” he stutters, trying explain, tripping over his own guilt ridden words. “I didn’t think it’d happen now, so fast, that you’d get here so soon. I thought we had more time.” 

We. 

Your skin seems to cool by the second beneath his fingertips, and then you’re shrugging his touch away, huddling closer to the porcelain bowl, further away from him. 

“Get out.”

“Let me explain. I—” And he’s begging now. He can hear the note of it in his voice. Begging for forgiveness. For a chance. 

“I don’t want to see you.” You don’t say his name. “Get out.” It feels worse than anything. 

“I’m here now. I didn’t know— I didn’t think.” He reaches to grab for you again, but you turn to face him suddenly. Wiping the back of your hand against your mouth, pushing your heels at his shins to kick him away. Your eyes are red rimmed, the hollows beneath bruised with lack of sleep. But fire spits from the deep color, all anger and hurt. 

“Go deal with your fucking ranch,” you fling the words at him. “It’s all you care about anyways.” And they weren’t shivers, he sees now, they’re tears tracked as proof of all his guilt, all his lacking, along the slopes of your fine grained cheeks. 

Your, you say. As if this place and anything in it has ever been his. He’s never wanted any of it like that, only ever seen a thing that needed taking care of, and him, with the ability to care for it. 

“I needed you,” you whisper as if the thought comes along on a second wind of anger, a realization that sends your voice breaking, hitching, your chest caving in on itself as the tears come faster and faster now. “He’s dead, and I needed you.”

“I’m sorry,” he begs. “I’m so sorry.” His voice breaks now too. He thinks he’ll cry now too, for the man who he also lost, who despite it all meant something to him, as well. For you, who’s lost even more. For Joel’s own guilt. 

But he doesn’t think you see any of that, not his apology, not his regret, not his own grief. You turn away from him again, laying your temple down again on your forearm. “Get out. I’ll be ready soon.”

And so he goes.

-

Your father is made small and withered in death. 

One of the wealthiest men in the entire world. A stranger, a titan, a nightmare of a man. 

It wasn’t something you’d ever considered, that a human body could look so colorless and frigid and not alive. Like a shock or a ringing bell, it’s a realization that you’re an orphan now. That you’re all alone. 

You feel something like a memory of regret. Or something that’s like the idea that you should feel regret, that you should feel guilt for how it was between the two of you. But all that is overshadowed by the reality of what you weren’t. All you feel even more, or in actual reality, is the old loss of what you’d never been to each other. That, you realize, is the seed of your grief. That long ago wound, that child’s understanding that he wasn’t like all the other fathers, that he’d never care for you the way other children were cared for. 

Looking down at the frozen face that looks nothing like the one he’d worn the last time you’d seen him, the wispy thatch of hair that hadn’t been so jarringly white before sickness had ravaged his body, you realize that this is no new loss, it is only a continuation, a reopening of a very old one. 

The cavernous cathedral at your back is silent, vacated by the sea of people that had congregated here earlier. And with sickening curiosity, you uncoil an arm from where you’ve got it wrapped around yourself, reaching out to press a finger against the ice cold back of his hand. Shockingly not alive; he feels made of rubber. 

Everyone that’d been here to bid farewell to this behemoth turned slip of a man, to catch a glimpse of you, packed like teeth into Jackson’s grandest cathedral; business men and heads of state from around the world, the oldest family names in the country, figures of the highest echelons of wealth and society, vipers circling the barrel—half the world here to see this person who was supposed to have been your father but was really only a stranger. 

You take your hand back, and you don’t say goodbye as you turn away from his body. There’s no farewell to really tell. 

And at the back of the church, hiding in a bright ream of sunlight, Joel stands propped against the face of a saint. Dark and silent and maybe even more far removed than your dead dad. Watching sentinel. Oswald Kelly’s hovering man—come to watch over him one last time. 

The silk of your stockings slide against each other at the junction of your thighs, the hiss of your skirt around your calves as your reed thin heels click against the stone, and you pull your armor as tightly around yourself as you can. There’s a hollow echo inside of everywhere and everything, your mind like a gong, reverberating, and his gaze is so steady, hazel bright, deeply shaded by the lip of his dark hat, beckoning you towards him from beneath the brim. 

Large and strong and steadfast, your heart gives a painful, longing thump—stupid, writhing thing—and you can only bear to look him in the eye for a second, and if you were to really think about saying goodbye to that father that never really was, lying behind you, slipping further and further away, you’d say it to the man that always stood as his shadow before the world, before you ever said it to the man himself. 

-

The drive back home is cast in frigid silence and made all the more uncomfortable because you can practically hear Joel’s brain clicking and ticking away with worry. 

He’d sent your car and driver away with a harsh word while you collected your final goodbyes and words of respect from the last smattering of people congregated and waiting for the newly birthed heir to one of the greatest fortunes in the world. 

Hovering over your shoulder, he’d kept anyone from stepping too close or getting too friendly, so close you could feel the heat of his chest through the silk of your blouse, and then going suddenly full on aggressive when a reporter from the New York Times had approached, fishing for a quote on the future of the Kelly empire. Ushering you away with a hovering hand at the small of your back before the man could get half a question out, he’s opening the truck’s door for you as a haze descends over your eyes, the distant shutter and flash of cameras bursting in your peripherals, a latent hangover and sleep deprivation and not enough to eat in the last forty eight hours causing you to sag in his hold. Then it’s only his big fist wrapping around the span of your wrist as he lifts you into the truck, your eyes downcast and unable to take in sight or sound, vision all a blur. You murmur a barely there thank you with his hand fitting at the dip of your waist, big body blocking yours entirely from prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse or a stumble, and for a single second, your entire weight is suspended in his hold, allowing you to bypass the struggle of balancing your high heel on the step up, and then you’re sliding onto the leather of the seat, the whisper of your cashmere and silk rustling around you as he handles you like a child being spirited away from the scene of a crime. 

The door shuts gently behind you, face turned away from the flashing lights, the watchful eyes of the whole world, and worst of all, the assessment of his concerned gaze. All you’re afforded are thirty seconds of privacy to let out a single gasping sob. 

And now, an hour and a half of silent purgatory. 

You slip your heels off, flexing your smarting toes against the damp of your stockings and tuck your folded legs beneath you on the seat. Paying the frantic energy of his anxiety and lodged words no mind, you consider instead: your new reality. The burden of it all means very little to you now. The last of your worries is being readied for entombing as the two of you speed down the eighty nine, zinging past the bright Wyoming green. The thrum of his truck drowns out your thoughts, brand new, probably over a hundred grand, only the best for your father’s right hand man, and the Kelly Ranch insignia emblazoned proudly on the sides. A brand for the whole world to see just who exactly is being whisked away to her old home turned brand spanking new grave. 

You might be feeling a little bit dramatic. But then again— you’d just put your last remaining parent in an actual grave, surely that provides you some allowances. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his big paw gripping the leathered steering wheel in a death clutch, knuckles white with his frustration at the dilemma you pose, his own discomfort. You’re sure if he thought you wouldn’t catch him, he’d be squirming in his seat. 

You do something to him sometimes, you know this. Not in any way you’d like, not in any interesting way, that of a woman affecting a man, but something respectfully harrowing. Maybe something a little bit like fear. 

There has existed between the two of you, always, that strange intimacy of two people who’ve known each other for a very long time, and yet, have always remained at a far removed, arms length distance from one another. 

A professional intimacy of sorts. Your father’s foreman, shadow, fixer. The man who guarded that treasure trove you’d inherit one day, today; the thing your father loved most in the world. Two people who’ve known each other a long time, and yet, don’t really know each other at all. 

There has always been, however, the fact of the birthday. 

The birthday. Your birthday.

The way you’d latched onto that small, immense, detail when you’d first discovered it at fourteen, when he’d newly arrived at the ranch and the true weight of your first real crush had really hit you, it was probably not entirely healthy. But you’d thought yourself in love with your father’s man, the first figure of the male species who’d ever drawn your attention in such a way. 

He’d never paid you any mind; you were the boss's daughter, a figurehead or a responsibility, maybe a nuisance, although he’d never ever treated you as one. But the day someone had let slip it was his birthday, on the same day as yours, your teenage heart had swelled with the naive hope of fate. It was meant to be, the two of you were connected, so on and so forth, swallowed by girlish innocence and made buoyant by fantasy. 

But you’d had something to share with someone, which was what really mattered. Something tangible, even if only in your inexperienced little mind, something to wield as comfort so that the first time your father had forgotten your special day, fifteen, and what a tender age it had been, you’d had something to cling to. That's when your gifts to him had started. It was your way of making sure there was at least one person in the whole world who’d remember that was your day too. That you were alive, that you mattered. A reminder of yourself. And as the years and birthdays passed, sometimes, when he sent those coldly gracious notes of his, you’d wished you could’ve written back with honesty. Said something like, I’m so lonely, wish you were here, wherever it was in the world you’d found yourself at the time. 

And of course, he was gorgeous and older, strong and patient and capable, entirely unattainable. Impossible to forget. You’d gone so far, traveled wide, gotten yourself an overpriced education that would probably serve you for nothing, had lovers and parties and splendor, and always, you remembered your gifts for him, you remembered him. It was the single most important detail of your birthday every year. 

The leather creaks beneath his fist again, chapped knuckles set to burst before he flexes his fingers out, long and straight. Thickly built hands, strong, made for working or hurting, on a man who you’ve never seen be anything but stoically patient. 

He was strange in that way, neither wholly impulsive nor precisely intentional in his mannerisms. More so, it was that there was something extremely neutral about him, a middle buoyancy of personality. Strict with the cowboys, exacting, wielding his title as ranch foreman with an iron fist and your father’s blessing, and yet still, quiet, serious, with that patient gentleness about him. You’d seen it in the way he’d handled Ellie when she’d first come to the ranch, young and skinny with that hollow look of trauma kids who’d seen things they shouldn’t have shamed adults with. She’d been a little older than you, and with an air you’d not understood, a sort of lived past you’d been naive to the existence of, frightened when confronted by it, and yet inevitably, the two of you’d become fast friends eventually.

You’d even experienced it yourself, on two treasured occasions, that gentleness that you’d held onto for years. Nurturing the memory of him in your mind like a delusional bloom. 

He stretches his hand again, wheel caught between his thumb and forefinger, cinching it there, back and forth. His nails are meticulously clean, cut to the quick, and you imagine he must spend a great deal of time cleaning himself up when he works so hard at getting himself so dirty most days. 

You can see him sneaking glances at you, and he coughs once, a clearing of his nervous throat. Averting your gaze, you turn your face away so that you’ll be able to watch him through the reflection in the window. He monopolizes the space in the cabin of the truck, broad shoulders and hulking form, all the fine leather smell washed away in the scent of him. That bay rum aftershave he’s always worn, the one with the distinctive notes of bay leaf, cloves and citrus. An old fashioned scent, masculine and crisp. 

You’d snuck into the bunk once with Ellie, before he’d moved into the foreman’s cabin, before Switzerland, when the two of you were still girls running rampant and free through the ranch, clutching desperately at the last vestiges of any sort of happy childhood you could scrounge up for one another. You’d peeked in his things, found a whole world of Joel shaped curiosities. The glass etched bottle of aftershave, a hole spotted t-shirt with a burnt orange longhorn across the front, Flannery O’Connor’s The Complete Stories—something you found comforting, knowing he could read about the small, the freakish, real life; thinking that perhaps he was homesick for the comfort of the South, hungering for a taste of the life he’d had then, through books. And then, in a spine cracked copy of Suttree, the pages almost falling apart beneath your fingertips, dog eared and well loved, her picture tucked between the pages.

It had been the first time you’d done something you knew you shouldn’t have and actually regretted it, looking down at that green eyed photograph. 

You’d run back to your room after that, ashamed and something a little bit like jealous, desperate to know who she was, desperate for someone to keep a picture of you like that—as if they loved you. And years later, you’d found the scent for yourself. The little molasses glass bottle you still have and pull out on occasion, when you’re feeling extra bad, extra lonesome, extra far away from the whole world, just for a reminding of home. 

Beside you, he sighs again, coughs again, brings you back to himself and the present. Just spit it out already, you think exasperatedly, say something, anything else besides how sorry you are. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he starts, and you roll your eyes, scoffing quietly. 

“You already said that.” Sullen. Mullish. You wish you were a child who could still throw a tantrum and get away with it. Letting your eyes go unfocused from his reflection in the window, you brood at the sight of everything that’s yours now as he turns off the highway, passing below the iron eave of the Kelly Ranch entrance. Eight hundred thousand acres of pristine Wyoming land nestled into the deep valley surrounded by the Grand Tetons mountain range. 

“Well, I’m sayin’ it again.” He’s driving too fast, and you refuse to turn and look at his face. Your heart beats blood in your ears, and you screw your eyes shut to the dizzying blur of green legacy, not wanting to see any of it—him. 

Your belly swoops, going slightly nauseous and gurgling. 

“I didn’t think you’d get here so quick.” He swallows, “Hell, I didn’t think it’d all happen so damn fast.”

“I was already in New York,” you tell him, voice clipped with breathlessness. “I left Paris last week.”

“What? I didn’t know— I—”

“Why would you?”

“I would’ve called you. I would’ve gotten you out here quicker.”

“Ellie called. It’s better like this, Joel.” Finally letting yourself say his name out loud, it feels wrong and molten on your tongue, a heaviness being spit up from the depths of your stomach. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. He’s dead now.”

“There’s no pretending. He wanted to see you—”

“Please, stop.”

But he urges on unheeded: “He told me so before I left. Told me—”

“Stop,” you snap. Finally turning to look at him and hating him for it. For how gorgeous he is, for all the things he’s always made you feel for as long as you can remember what it was to feel something for a man, for all he did or did not have with your father when you had none of it or so much of an entirely different thing. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any of it. It doesn't matter anymore, Joel.”

“But you should know. You deserve to know that—”

“What?” Because that one hurts. “I deserve to know what?” That he actually had loved you but had just never been able to show it? That now it was too late? That the only person the great Oswald Kelly had ever been able to speak to of the supposed care he had for his only daughter was the hired help? You’d read once that one should never let their parents anywhere near their real humiliations. You’d tried your damndest to follow that as soon as you’d grown up. “It’s not your place,” you seethe with teeth bared, an animal shoved into a corner and made to fight for its life, deciding you won’t ever let Joel near them either.  

He spits a cursing, growled sound of frustration, but doesn’t continue. The two of you find yourselves at an impasse, and you turn back to your windowed mirror of him, eyes pinching hot, filling with tears. One of the things your father disliked most about you, your easy tears, and a single salt marred inadequacy tracks down the slope of your cheek, dripping off the edge of your jaw into the bandaged cup of your palm, and you breathe slow and measured through your open mouth, watching the fog cloud grow and shrink against the glass obscuring your vision of him. 

-

The last time you’d missed your mother, the one you’d never known, in any sort of real and true way, you’d been eighteen. Returning to an empty house after celebrating your high school graduation in a far off school, alone. 

In the midst of your sophomore year, you’d been sent away to a Swiss boarding school. It had been something worse than devastating, losing your life in Wyoming, the only home you’d ever know, Ellie, the other people on the ranch… But it was far removed enough that you couldn’t bother, where you couldn’t ask for things like attention or consideration. The education had been excellent, the upbringing desperately lonely ending on a whimpering sigh despite your many accomplishments. You’d wanted her very badly then indeed, your mother. To have been there, to have helped you pick your dress, kissed your cheek after watching you walk across the stage. To have wiped your tears when she told you that your father wasn’t there because he was busy managing the whole world, but that he was proud of you, that he’d have been there if he could. You’d wished she could’ve been there to lie to you so that you wouldn’t have needed to lie to yourself. 

Peering down from your balanced perch atop the deck’s bannister, you survey the deep bed of Lily of the Valley, destroyed beneath the vindictive soles of your bare feet. He’d planted them for her all around the house after she’d died, her favorite flower. 

You’d always hated them. 

And that was the thing of it all, which you’d learned when you grew old enough to recognize such things like disdain. He couldn't stand you because you reminded him of her. Clichéd and old and tired. An excuse for being a neglectful father. The daughter who was too much like her dead mother, and thus did not deserve to be loved. 

You tip your head back, nursing at the lip of fine aged Macallan, and the sky is a glass mirror of blackened silver streaks. You’re almost positive that all the stars in the Milky Way are visible from right here at this very spot in the heart of Wyoming. The sight makes your broken heart feel full and falsely mended. 

You’re certain you’re painting a pretty picture right now: tipsy on a bottle of your dead dad’s sacredly hoarded whiskey that probably cost as much as someone’s house, staring up at the stars in your newly inherited home with a whole unappreciated life full of possibilities ahead of you. Basking in the title of your newly minted— orphan-hood? Orphan-ness? A peer of the orphans. 

You snort softly, sucking on the bottle again, letting the heat of it settle in your belly, smolder in your heart. Your head feels full of bubbles and sugar and sad. 

There’s a part of you that feels a little ridiculous, despite the circumstances. You’re good at compartmentalizing, good at being objective of your realities. Obviously: sad because your father is now dead, and it’d been nine months and eleven days since you’d last spoken to him. Sad because he’d never given a shit about you. Sad because you’re alone, dumped by the stupid French jockey boyfriend who you’d not even liked very much, just a few days before this whole pathetic ordeal of acquiring your orphan-hood, yeah, that’s what you’re sticking with, had occurred. Not to mention the army of looming lawyers and financial advisors and various heads of business vying for your attention, waiting for the what next?

And Joel.

A one man army of looming Joel. 

So you’re feeling morose, blue, maybe a little spoiled, but brought low and cut short. Depressed and unsatisfied with your life thus far. 

Poor little rich girl. Poor little orphan. Poor little me.

What you want? 

Someone to care. 

Someone to love you. 

Hard to come by. Impossible to buy. 

The stars gleam purple silver, winking at you. The bracketing black so dark it swallows the eye. Another taste of the nutty bouquet of smoked apple oranges, and soon you’ll be tipsy enough you won’t be able to balance your butt on the bannister’s ledge anymore. Maybe you’ll go humpty dumpty over the edge and crack your skull against your mother’s valley of destroyed Lily’s. 

You laugh again with sound now, not crazy, only an orphan, ha, but you think that it’s only that it feels shockingly as if you’ve fallen through the surface of your life. As if you are still falling with nothing and no one to grab on to, to help stabilize you. A really terrible, shit-out-of-luck feeling. 

Your eyes continue their infernal leaking, and you blow your nose loudly on the inside of your sweater. You’ve given yourself three days to do whatever the hell you want, be as disgusting as you may. When the three days are up you’ll plan to get your act together, take responsibility and hold of your life and become the woman you should be. 

Who that is? Still being decided. 

You think that maybe you’ll buy another jet before that time’s up. Or an island. Something ridiculous. Maybe you’ll sell the goddamn ranch. 

You eye the dark rolling hills of the valley with seething suspicion. Let’s see what Joel says about that. You, marching up to the highway entrance and spearing a For Sale sign in the dirt of the largest privately owned cattle ranch in the continental United States. Way more than that God forsaken surly frown is what you’d get. 

So long, Joel, it’s been swell. I’m done with this place. It’s time to pack it up and find some new hunk of land to care about more than you care about me or anything else. 

Maybe you’ll be real funny and put up a Craigslist ad. 

And it isn’t that you don’t love this place, the only home you’ve ever known. You do. In a way that is passionate and consuming and irreconcilable. Everything about it, the serenity, the guarding mountains and the deep woods, the home you’d been born in, that both your parents had died in. You do love it in your way. 

It’s only that every man you’ve ever loved—loved—had always cared more about the place than he’d ever cared about you. 

For the longest time, most of your youth until you’d decided that you officially felt an adult, you’d thought you’d hated your father. There was just so much anger and resentment and the resound of his ever furious words and insults and endless disappointment. The echo of no mother ringing so loudly in your ears that the confounding feelings had all been mistaken for hatred. But with age and distance and life, you’d realized you didn't hate him. You never had. You thought, actually, and this was a very good and mature thought of yours, that you were the only person in the whole world that had ever seen him as only a man and not a god. 

He was only a man, full of greed and grief and missing the mother of the child he’d probably never wanted. Nothing more or less. 

Maybe it was that you felt sorry for him. Not in the way of pity, but in the way of one person feeling empathy for another in a clinical and helpless sort of manner. And a numb, detached sort of sadness. A longing for something that you’d never had and had always wanted but eventually learned to live without. 

Ultimately, his disappointment had turned on him, and now it was all you felt you had for him at the end of it all. 

But, for some reason, and an annoying one at that, you do think that, if you try very, very hard, you could bring yourself to hate Joel Miller. There’s satisfaction in that possibility, vindication—resentment that even now, as practically strangers, you know he’d be able to pull that sort of feeling out of you which could result in hatred. Something strong and overwhelming and not easily escaped. 

Your stomach rumbles, and you smile blithely at all your inherited legacy, filling the hollow with more drink. Three days to behave very badly, as badly as you can. The whiskey is so good, and swishing it around in your mouth, you tip your head back further, gurgling it loudly at the back of your throat. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

You jerk, scrambling to keep your balance, choking a little on smokey apples and your own spit. A trickle of the golden amber liquor drips out of the corner of your mouth as you find him hiding in the dark across the deck. Accustomed to drooling over him, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. 

“Having a party. Would you like to join?”

“Are you drunk again?”

Tough crowd. Ugh.  “Never mind. You’re not invited. Go away.”

“You need to go inside and go to bed.”

You tip your chin at him, putting on doe eyes. “Alright. And are you going to be my new daddy also?” You say in a baby voice.

Fucking Christ, you hear him whisper under his breath, turning away to run an exasperated palm over his mouth. Frustration seethes off of him like sulfur. He’s tired. Of you maybe. Of the whole circus this place has become in the past few days—and rightfully so. 

“What do you want? I’m extremely busy, if you can’t tell.”

“Just thought I’d check on ya.” Courteous, always the gentleman, bullshit. You roll your eyes at him. 

“I don’t need you to check on me.” And you, ever the child. One day you swear you’ll grow up. 

But it can’t be said that you’re entirely selfish either. You have considered the fact of Joel’s own grief at the loss of your father. After all, they’d been much closer than you’d ever been to him for many years. And maybe, in his own cold and removed and superior way, your father had seen this man who you’ve thought yourself in love with since you were a teenager, as something like a son. 

Probably, that’s just your own wishful thinking: that Oswald Kelly had ever been capable of such tender feelings.

Maybe the fact of Joel’s own grief is the thorn beneath your nail bed that’s making you so angry with him, so needing of his attention. Maybe it’s that he’d failed to fulfill your silly and girlish fantasy that upon receiving the news of your only remaining parents death, he’d have been here waiting for you, at this home he’d guarded for you for so long, ready to take you into his arms and console and care for you. 

When instead, he’d been off doing what he’d always done for as long as you’d known him. Protecting your father’s interests, his legacy. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?”

“How?”

“You, being difficult.” Driving me fuckin’ crazy— he adds again under his breath. 

“I’m an orphan now, Joel.” You’re becoming quickly addicted to the word. “I think I should be afforded a tiny bit of leeway to drive people fuckin’ crazy,” you mock his Southern drawl. Enough of your time had been spent in Europe over the past two years, kissing Europeans, that you’d sloughed off the last of your American twang; something of a vaguely European lilt peppering your words every now and then that Ellie likes to tease you for whenever the two of you speak on occasion. 

A muscle under his left eye twitches at the jab, and you take another deep swig of the bottle, provoking him with your gaze. Wishing you had whatever it is a woman needs to entice this man. Like the fucking vet. Fucking world renowned, brilliant, highly coveted, beautiful veterinarian. You know about her. You’re sure he thinks he’s been discreet over the years with their whatever they’ve had, Tess, but you know. 

Maybe you’ll be insane and irrational and possessive, taking advantage of your three crazy days, and fire her with your new found power. See what he has to say about that. Ha.

Ha. Ha. Ha. 

Obviously not. 

Despite your current hysteria, your goal is not to send the ranch head over heels into a tailspin.

But the imagining is soothing. 

“Want some?” You hold the heavy crystal out towards him in a peace offering, held precariously between two sweaty knuckles. “It’s probably worth as much as your truck. Would be a waste for me to finish on my own.” You eye what’s left of it, about half, and give him a sheepish grin. It really is very good. 

He looks at you for one long, solemn moment, always so silent and pensive, this strange enigma of a man. You get to watch in real time as he loses whatever fight it is he’s trying to fight against you, victorious when he shrugs and comes over slowly, resting his butt against the bannister—a carefully respectful distance away from you. 

When he takes the bottle from your swinging clutch, gripped from the base, careful not to touch you in any way, you see the real sad in his eyes. The dim lights bleeding out through the big windows of the family room without a family shine on his face in strips and bursts. A shadow here, golden warmth there. He’s got more lines around his eyes than you remember from the last time you’d been this close to him. Smile lines made bright white in the center and gold burnished at the edges from too much sun. There’s little bursts of silver threaded at his temples now too, a gleam here and there in his dark beard. Forty four years old, he’d turned on your last birthday. 

You dig your nails into the soft meat of your palms, and your belly smolders as he brings the bottle to his lips, tasting the exact place your own mouth had just been moments ago. You press your knees together as hard as you can, head a little woozy with the color of his eyes; the most gorgeous green, caramel hazel. 

You’d graduated two years ago with a degree in art history and had done absolutely nothing with it since. It was just that everything appeared boring and pointless and shallow. Your whole life had one day suddenly seemed just a little silly. Useless, overpriced degree, nothing to be done with extensive knowledge in color theory when your world is expecting such different things from you now. 

But you sure as hell can appreciate the color of his eyes in extensive and meticulous detail. There is that. 

Watching the slow slide of the amber liquor down the bottle-neck, the long pull of his lush mouth, the ripple of his strong throat, and the way his eyes go a little wider, shocked at how good it is. You laugh soft: “I know, right.”

He takes another pull, another swallow. That’s what you want to be—swallowed just like that. “Damn, that’s good.” His mouth is a little wet, bottom lip shiny with thousands of dollars worth of your father’s favorite whiskey, and his eyes are sad. 

You’d said you were going to be bad, but you don’t want to be bad to him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He swallows again, tipping his head towards you, trying to catch your too soft words—he’s got a bad ear, you know why—and turns to peer at you from beneath his low pulled brow, the tip of his tongue peeking out to swipe at the drop of liquor you wish you could suck off his tongue. 

“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

The first time he’d shown you that gentleness of his: You’d fallen from your horse at school in your junior year. Something had frightened the beast, and she’d bucked you, sent you flying ten feet in the air, ragdoll-like, before you’d landed badly on your right arm, a comminuted fracture in your radius that you’d needed surgery to fix. At your insistence, and with only a few weeks left to spare, you’d been sent home for the remainder of the semester. Your father had been incensed but eventually allowed it. He’d been away from the ranch on business, after all, at no risk of being truly disturbed by you. But when you’d been readying to return to Switzerland at the end of the summer, arm healed, courage not, you’d not been able to get back on a horse no matter what you tried. Joel had helped you, before they’d shipped you off again. Trotted the corral with you for hours and hours before you’d finally been able to relax and sit on your own without tears and vertigo. No questions or admonishments, nothing but the quiet burr of his deep voice, guiding you and the mare along. 

It had been a kindness unlike any you’d experienced in maybe your whole life. 

“I’ve been bad.”

“Nah. You couldn’t ever be.”

The second time: “Did today make you think of Sarah?” Years after you’d found that green eyed photograph, he’d shared her with you. 

His gaze turns suddenly sharp, but you’re not worried you’ve stepped in unbreachable territory. “Yeah.” The echo of her name rings around the two of you. 

“In a bad way or a good way?” He takes another long swig, a low whistle through his teeth and a shake of his head before he’s handing the bottle back to you—again, carefully. 

“Both.”

You take your own swallow, slicking your tongue all around where his just was, and you’re drunk for real now. Drunk on a man. 

“Do you ever regret telling me about her?”

“Nah.” He tips his head back, looking up at the thick beams of the deck’s awning. He’s got the longest lashes you’ve ever seen on a man, thick and curling. The deepest voice you’ve ever heard too, sultry, a bedroom voice. A voice for fucking. Your belly swirls and dips, and you want so much you’re dizzy with it. 

Heart beating like it’s about to burst, out of breath on the verge of hyperventilating, you can taste his mouth in your mouth, the imagination flavor of it. This is what it must feel like to die. This is what your father must have felt like three days ago, this agony. 

His Adam’s apple bobs, and it’s so pronounced, the skin of his throat sun pebbled. There isn’t an inch of him that isn’t all rough-hewn man. “You needed to hear about her then, I s’pose.” 

Yes. “You told me when I needed you to.” After that lonely graduation, the last time you’d missed her really very badly, longed for a mother. Alone, alone, alone little girl. 

“You were missin’ your momma somethin’ fierce. Needed to know you weren’t the only one that felt like that sometimes.”

You laugh a not-laugh, butt scraping against the railing, slipping off your perch, socked-feet thudding beside his gifted boots. The pleasure you feel whenever you see him use one of the things you’ve given him is indescribable. 

“Silly,” you say with barely any sound, his bad ear reaches for your voice again. “At the time it felt like I was the only person in the whole world that had ever felt like that.”

“We all feel like that at one point or another, I reckon.”

“Will you miss him a lot?” You ask looking up at him, the beautiful profile, the strong jaw. You’ve always wondered how he sees you. If he’s ever thought you were beautiful. Other men do, it’s a common thing, a nothing sort of thing. There are always men, there will always be men. But this singular man—this one is not like the rest. 

“Maybe. Can’t tell yet, don’t think. But it felt wrong earlier, walking through his house without him in it.” His house, not yours. 

“Do you wish he’d been your father?” And he turns to look down at you at that, gaze snapping, and you can tell you’ve shocked him with the question. But you’d always wondered. 

“No. Never,” he says with such assuredness, an uncompromising shake of his head. 

And the answer doesn't necessarily shock you in turn. You don't think anyone could have ever wanted a father like that. But it also doesn't help you understand what it was that lived between them either. 

He sighs, perhaps reading the confusion in your gaze. “He helped me at a time when I needed it real bad. Gave me a place and a purpose and a thing to do and take care of. You get me? It was gratitude—maybe. He saved me in a way, after Sarah. Nothing more.” He thinks for a moment, and then, “Perhaps it was that we understood each other about certain things.”

You gaze across the sprawl of dark land as far as the eye reaches, that point of no return where the earth shoots up into the sky, purple blue behemoths in the shape of mountains. 

From this spot, rooted to the deck of your family home, it seems like the whole world is yours to keep. Also, like you’ll never be able to touch any of it with fingers or taste or meaning. 

Your love for this place is complicated—tied up in the people, the memories, the could’ves and should’ves, the whole dreamscape idea of the monument of childhood and all it’d really never been. The time away had felt eternal, like you’d never really been here to begin with, like the young girl who’d grown up on this land had never really existed. But you’d not forgotten them, this, despite your distance. Your home, the father that wouldn’t want you, Wyoming and all its splendor, the people you’d left behind, Joel and Ellie and shared birthdays that meant a secret world to you. Morsels of small happinesses interloped amidst a largely lonely and sad childhood. That’s what it was at its core. 

“Would you be angry with me if I gave it all away?”

He thinks for a moment, maybe you’re making him sadder, but then finally says with a swallow, “No. It’s yours to do with as you please.”

You eye the quarter of whiskey left, but your belly isn’t hungry for its warmth anymore. You want something heavier now. 

“Could you even do that—legally—sell it or somethin’?”

“Probably not. He probably tied it to my fucking life. Sell and die.” You mime your name in an imitation of your fathers deep voice, frowning at yourself the way he’d always frowned when he looked at you, but it pulls a laugh from him, and the painful memory is worth it. “But I have a billion dollars to spend now. More?” You tap your chin—you want to make him laugh again. “Gotta think of something interesting to do with it all.”

His mouth slides into an easy half grin. Like the moon—that beautiful. And he turns to face you fully. “You’re gonna be just fine. You know that, right?”

You turn to face him too, gripping the bannister for dear life. “What? Will you make sure of it?”

“That’s my plan.”

“How’re you gonna do that, d’you reckon?” The American twang bleeds back into your voice, and you’re all swollen lush on the inside, heart a beating fist in your chest. 

“Haven’t gotten that far, if I’m bein’ honest with you.” God. His eyes, the strong bridge of his nose, his mouth. He’s so tall your head has to crook back to look up at him. “I’ll figure something out.” And after another pensive second, and still with that soft, sloped eye smile, he asks, and nicely, “Will you stop drinking now—for me?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say with the same sort of smile in return. 

And then suddenly, like vomit again but maybe more humiliating this time: “Did you respect him?” Because you don’t know all the things about him that there are to know, but you do know that Joel Miller’s respect is a thing hard earned. 

He clicks his tongue, and you hear the pop of his jaw as he shifts it like he’s chewing on an honesty. His eyes, his eyes, they’re serious, mercurial, warm and deep also. You worry he won’t answer, that he wouldn’t want to disappoint you or something, but then: “No,” said real simple like.

“Why not?”

And the way he looks down at you, you know already, and it makes that falling through the surface of your own life feeling rise up inside you again, makes your ears pop with embarrassment. Ah. “He never did a very good job of hiding the way he treated you, sweetheart. I couldn’t ever respect a man like that.” 

This is reality right here, this is you falling through your life, this is the realization that it wasn’t only you imposing yourself, your existence, on someone with gifts they didn’t want or ask for. Joel had seen. Joel had understood. 

Someone else had noticed that you exist, and it had been him. 

What else had you ever wanted?

And in the blink of a desperate, yearning eye, drunk on a man still, you’re throwing yourself at him, pressing your mouth hot and heavy to his, kissing him full on the way you’d dreamt of since you knew to dream of such things.

Chapter 2; Sugar, Not so Sweet

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MILE HIGH CLUB

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 3.3k

Summary: Joel has to fly out of state for the first time in his life and his nerves are frayed. Luckily, he finds a good distraction. You.

Tags: m!receiving oral, deep throating, public indecency, mention of drug use, blowjob on a plane basically, alcohol consumption, nervous old man joel 

A/N: maybe i’m just into exhibitionism atp  MASTERLIST

Like every other man, Joel Miller had his kryptonite. 

It wasn’t the idea of never finding someone to settle with, despite countless attempts—he had his fair share of awkward dates and mind-fucking-numbingly repetitive conversations about what his favourite colour was. 

And sure, it could have been having to deal with empty nest syndrome after Sarah moved out of state for college. The loneliness came as a cold wash, but he kept busy enough to avoid spiraling down the rabbit hole of a quiet home. Babysitting for Tommy or tending to work troubles was a rickety solution at best. 

But no, that wasn’t enough to rattle the man. 

It was the very fact that he was hours away from having to sit in a “flying death machine” as he eloquently phrased it, just so he could visit his daughter. 

Joel had successfully gone forty one years of his life dodging air travel. The thought of sitting in a metal contraption, being flung through the skies made his stomach churn. He couldn’t care less about how safe it chalked up to be. A car? He could control. Walking? Reliable. 

A plane? Definitely not. A paper airplane for grown-ups, that’s all it was. 

The glaring fluorescent lights, nauseating sound of suitcases and tearful goodbyes wasn’t doing him any favours. Least of all the sleaze bag at the counter, who hadn’t even spared more than a couple seconds. Being seven hours early was overkill, but he’d figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Can’t let ya in yet. Come back in a few hours.”

A litany of curses left unsaid under his breath about “dumb rules” and “what’s the point of gettin’ here early if yer just gonna make me wait?” 

He shuffles out of the line with the creaky luggage he had with him, finding himself a seat by the waiting lounge next to a girl reading from those gizmos he’d seen Sarah use last Thanksgiving. A scowl crept up his face.

Did they have to invent some gadget for reading, too? Wasn’t that free?

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small black leather bound book. It was worn, the edges were scuffed and the pages slightly dog-eared—a testament to its’ use.

Licking the pad of his thumb, he flips through the pages. There in black ink, lay a list of instructions he prepared prior to coming here. Misspellings here and there—chicken scratch, really. 

1) checkin n’ give bags to airport 

“Already screwed that one up,” he mutters out loud, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the growing aches. 

2) go to gate no. on tikket

Joel peels out the airline pass tucked into his passport and squints at the printed words. “Christ.” He clicks his pen and painstakingly copies the details into his notebook in block letters big enough to read from across the room. “Tiny ass fuckin’...printin’...”

“Don’t travel much?”

Your voice breaks through the haze of uncertainty that had been plaguing him. Joel doesn’t offer more than a quick glance at first, his grip tightening slightly around the pen in his hand.

When he does look at you. You’d made him do a double take. 

Despite the sorry state of his dating life–or maybe because of it–Joel wasn’t immune to the kind of attention a pretty thing like you could command. Even if it was just your attempt to be polite. His gaze then falls in disdain to your kindle laying abandoned in your lap.

“Not really, darlin’,” he says, his voice low and rough, with just enough warmth to take the edge off his typical gruffness.

Joel wasn’t big on small-talk, so when silence settled between you both, he didn’t feel the need to fill it. He wasn’t entirely sure why your presence had eased his nerves, even just a fraction, but it had.

And then you spoke up again, your tone uncertain but laced with quiet hope.

“There’s a lounge in the back with a bar,” you begin, tipping your head towards it. “Might be more your speed.”

Joel follows the motion with his eyes, then huffs a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. “Man after my own heart,” he tucks his notebook back into his pocket.

Maybe it wasn’t all too bad that your dad dropped you off at the airport hours too early.

When you’d first seen Joel, you’d nearly dropped your kindle. The heavy thud of his boots on the polished floor caught your attention. You slowly pulled your gaze upward–from the worn blue jeans to the faded grey t-shirt that did nothing to hide his strong forearms. His dark brown curls looked like they’d been through more than their fair share of rough mornings, but god did you want to run your fingers through them.

And then there was his scruffy beard–uneven in an endearing way that somehow made him even more pleasing to the eyes. You blinked, forcing yourself to look back at your screen, but the words blurred into nothingness. The way he sat stiffly on the chairs he made seem so small, down to what seemed to be a checklist for his flight.

“I’m pretty sure more people have died on construction sites than flights, Joel.” 

Joel. 

Introductions came easy the second the whiskey infiltrated his system, and damn if he didn’t he love the way his name rolled off your tongue. 

He drags a palm down his jaw, a dry scoff slipping past his lips. “This your idea of makin’ me feel better ’bout all this?” he counters, half-regretting that he’d let slip what he did for a living. 

You weren’t wrong, of course–he’d faced far more dangerous situations on the ground than he’d ever likely encounter in the air.

Still, it didn’t help.

“I ain’t sayin’ m’gonna piss my goddamn pants,” he muttered, shifting in his seat. “Just makes me feel queasy, s’all.”

Joel sighs into the crystal glass, thumb idly tracing the rim as if the whiskey might’ve given him some courage. When he glanced your way again, you were watching him with that look–the one that made him feel exposed and oddly at ease all at once.

He shot you a faint glare, more bark than bite, and nodded toward your drink.

“Drink your goddamn kiddy juice,” he grumbled.

Your lips curled up into a slight scowl, cupping your glass of bellini defensively. Despite your show of annoyance, you did feel a tinge of empathy for him. For crying out loud, he was hunched over the goddamn bar seat, looking at his empty glass like a kicked puppy like he was about to go for a vasectomy or something.

Gesturing towards the bartender for a refill of his glass, you dragged your bar stool closer to him.

“Look. If you’re up for it. I’ve got a little pick-me-up I take to settle my nerves before a long flight,” you said, fishing a small pill container from your bag. “Works like a charm.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed, his interest piqued despite his better judgement. But the second you popped open the lid, his reaction was instant.

“Hard pass.”

“You don’t even know what it–”

“I ain’t about to get drugged up,” he cut in, folding his arms. Your eyes shamelessly trace over the way the sleeves tightened around his biceps. “And besides, I hardly know ya.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line and without missing a beat, you tipped one of the white pills into your palm and dry swallowed it like a pro. Joel’s brow furrowed deeper, his disapproval practically radiating off him. Though that notion had him adjust his jeans discreetly.

“Well, it’s your funeral,” you said with a shrug. Then realizing how that might’ve come across, you raised your hands in mock surrender. “Figuratively speaking! Not literally–”

“Gimmie that damn thing,” Joel huffed, snatching the container from you. He popped the pill into his mouth and chased it with a gulp of whiskey, muttering something under his breath about regrettin’ this already.

You leaned back in your seat, a sly grin tugging at your lips. “You didn’t even ask what it does.”

Joel fixed you with a hard glare, the kind that could silence most people. But you weren’t most people.

“It also gives you a raging erecti–”

“Sweetheart.” Joel’s warning tone cut you off, his glare piercing.

You couldn’t help it–you laughed anyway, the sound earning a reluctant lop-sided smirk from him as he shook his head.

In all his years of living, Joel never thought he’d succumb to relying on drugs.

The idea was irresponsible at best. He’d pride himself on staying clear-headed, the occasional joint in his teenage years being the closest he’d come to experimentation. But that was a lifetime ago, a glimpse of a boy who didn’t have responsibilities or a family to think about. His body was a temple now, for at least a semi-respectable contractor.

Yet here he was, in the fluorescent purgatory of a transit hall, deciding that a four hour stint in a “metal coffin” justified drastic measures.

Your vague explanation on what that little white pill of yours was didn’t help either. You both agreed you were in this together now. He had to admit that it was ironic where life took him. Misery loved company, and you, his current “drug buddy,” were far easier on the eyes than his high school crowd had ever been.

And, well, it worked.

Joel could feel the change, his mind easing from the coiled tension it had been gripping since he set foot in the airport. His inhibitions, usually locked tighter than the pentagon, were suddenly looser. Not reckless, but freer.

If you’d thought Joel wasn’t the clingy type before, that illusion was thoroughly shattered now. He shadowed your every move, from hauling your luggage onto the conveyor belt without you even asking to tapping his card at the terminal before you could pay for yourself.

And then…there were his hands.

At first, they lingered tentatively–a brush of his palm at the small of your back, a quick touch to your arm as he gestured to something in the duty-free window. Testing boundaries. Waiting for a sign.

When you looped your arm through his without hesitation, Joel took it as his green light.

After that point on, his touches became a constant presence. Steady, warm & grounding. A hand resting lightly on your hip as you wandered through the departure hall, fingers curling against your wrist as he guided you through the crowds of travellers.

Joel fully blamed the pill for his current lapse of judgment. 

He spit into his palms, smearing the wetness onto the length of his cock. His other hand gripped firmly onto the granite counter. The dull slaps of him fucking his fist filled the small space. Along with his strained grunts. 

“C’mon, c’mon…”

Trying damned hard to focus—he thinks of you. How your body felt under the weight of his hands. The way you’d wet your lips before giving your own witty remark to his rants about shit he found ridiculous about Delta. 

And he jolts, instinctively tightening his grip around his cock when the announcement rings in the speaker above—some bullshit safety reminder. 

“Shit—…shit shit.” He mutters. Willing himself to come so he’d put himself out of his self made torture. 

Joel was rock fucking hard the second he seated himself by the back of the plane. Thoughts of the way you’d smiled up at him & rubbing his arm before heading to your seat up front was enough ammo for him to daydream about you for the next hour. 

He did think you were joking earlier. But this could very well be the side effect of whatever you’d given him. 

Nevertheless, it was pointless. The sterile bathroom was doing nothing but turning him off. 

With an annoyed sigh. He’d shucked his half limp cock back into his jeans. Thoroughly scrubbing his hands clean before he heads back to his seat.

He stops short, brows quirked at the intruder. 

“Howdy. How ya holding up.”

You grinned. Lowering the latest issue of Baseball Digest that Joel was occupied with from where it covered your face. 

“I’m—…what are you…doin’ back here.” He manages. Cursing himself for sounding way off. 

“Flight‘s pretty empty, so…Donna did me a solid.” 

Joel briefly glances up at the flight attendant that you did a little finger wave to before looking back, nudging his head to the vacant seat next to you. “Scoot over.” 

“Jesus. Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Yeah. I was. And I tried to jerk off to you too, not that it worked out. 

“So that I can be tormented for the next three hours?”

You frowned at his words. Flipping through the magazine loudly. “Someone’s panties are in a bunch.”

He exhales as he sinks into his rightful seat. Thankfully, the shock of seeing your face again did a number to deflate Junior Miller. 

The combination of turbulence and drinking two glasses of whiskey earlier was a nasty concoction. He thumbs eases the crease between his brows before finally deciding to speak, ignoring your earlier  comment. 

“Bout’ the side effect you mentioned…”

That causes you to tip your head towards him. You were silent, briefly. 

“What about it?”

“…How long does it…last.”

You looked to the side. “Just for a bit.” Though you sounded unsure of yourself. “Why?”

“Nothin’. Suppose I’m gettin’ one of those weird reactions to it.”

“Weird how.” You pressed. Though Joel looked less than pleased about your probing. “Don’t gotta explain it to ya. S’just weird, darlin’.” 

You get the memo regardless. 

“Well did you try to—“

“I did.”

“And you didn’t—“

“No.”

“You sure you were doing it correctly?”

Joel drags his hand down his face, letting out a muffled, yet pained scoff before he looks at you. He doesn’t speak yet for a couple of seconds. 

“Yes, sweetheart. I know how to fuckin’ jerk off.”

Your lips pressed into a taut line. His words stirred something deep in you, fuck if it didn’t make you want to do something stupid right now. 

“Obviously you don’t. Wouldn’t be sitting here all wound up if you had.”

Joel’s lips part to shoot something snarky your way. 

It’s quickly floored when he feels your fingertips trace past the sides of his thighs. 

You look at him. Offering him an opportunity to pull away. 

He adjusts his hips to shift lower. A firm tug on your wrist ground your palm directly onto the bulge of his jeans. 

A shaky exhale leaves his lips when you knead against his hard on. Tipping his head back onto the headrest. He lets out a soft grunt escaping his lips as you continued your ministrations. 

“Feels…real good.” He manages. Barely being able to look at you. 

Fuck. You were so warm and you smelled so good. He couldn’t remember the last time he had something that he wanted real bad.

“Told ya, not doing it right.” You leaned in close enough for your cheeks to rest against his bicep. Watching how his grip around your wrists began to falter. 

Joel’s breathing became a little more ragged as he started to become more and more pent up with each rub.

With a conspicuous sniffle, you dragged the zipper of his jeans down, earning a jolt from him. He whips his head to look at you as you maneuver his stiffened cock out of his boxers. 

Locking your gaze with his, you provide a calming kiss to the edge of his shoulder before you lower yourself. 

“Christ. Are you crazy?”

Joel lifts his gaze to scan the surroundings. Considering it was an evening flight, the dimmed overhead lighting provided a more intimate and gentle glow. 

The absence of attendants who were likely resting up front, and the emptiness of the last five rows does provide him assurance, even when it shouldn’t have. 

He lets out a hiss at a wet glob of saliva trickle down his shaft, stealing his focus once more. Followed by the softness of a smaller pair of hands pumping the wetness up and down. 

You feel a strong hand gather your hair up loosely, before the fingertips entangles firmly through to hold your head in place. 

He tugs you to meet his gaze momentarily. Eyeing your soft features being reflected with the amber mood lighting. 

“Can I?” 

You bit the insides of your cheeks. Realising what he’d meant. You nod slowly, kissing the tip of his weeping cock. 

“Tap me twice if it’s t’much.”

He mutters with a gentleness that had you rubbing your thighs together, the slick wetness growing in your cunt. 

You take him into his mouth fully this time. Feeling his hips jump up involuntarily. The tug on your head encourages you to continue. 

“Ah..fuck. Fuck.”

Joel grinds his jaw at a painful intensity. The warmth and wetness of your mouth hollowing around his cockhead was intoxicating. He had to physically control himself from thrusting into your mouth too quickly. 

The noises that rumbled from his throat spurs you on. You alternate between deep sucks through your hollowed mouth and stroking his cock. Though the hand holding your head became more of a weak hold than a guide.

You caught the hesitance in his actions. Treating you so damn gently as though you would break. It frustrated you, so you abruptly lowered yourself until you practically swallowed him whole. Nose grinding against the denim. 

It catches the both of you off guard. 

Joel, nearly lets out a fucking groan at the warmth of your throat convulse around his cock. And you, with your thumb digging into your fists to control your gag reflex. 

That was enough for Joel to snap. 

His grip around your hair goes taut. “Tap me.” He reminds, before he properly fucks his cock into your throat at an almost brutal pace. 

You choked for a couple of seconds, the warm tears pricking your eyes as you gripped tightly over his thigh—essentially using your mouth as his personal fleshlight. 

Letting out strained grunts as he quickened his pace, you taste the salty mixture of your tears and saliva. Joel doesn’t let himself go just yet, keeping the rational part of him awake in case you couldn’t take it, which in fairness—most women couldn’t. 

But you? You took it like a fuckin’ champ. 

You pulled away from his cock with a pop, letting a string of saliva follow as you dragged your lips down to his balls, giving one of them a sloppy suck as much as your mouth could fit before taking his cock into your throat. 

Joel shudders at the sensation, It doesn’t take long before his hips stutter, spurting his hot, thick come into your throat. 

He pulls you off him with a gentle tug, catching sight of your tear stricken face, lips pouty and reddened. 

Joel groans at how pretty you looked like this. 

He glances towards the bathroom behind them and back at the serenity of the moonlight illuminating inside the plane as he hastily tucks himself back in. 

With a firm hold, he hoists you up underneath your arms to guide you into the cramped stall with him. 

“You okay, honey?” He practically whispers. Thumb swiping the strands of your hair that stuck to your sweaty cheeks, tucking them behind your ears. 

“Y…eah.” You managed. Voice coming out raspy. His dark brown gaze held nothing but concern for you. 

A lazy smile graces your features. You stabilise yourself with Joel’s arms. He doesn’t hesitate as he leans in to lock his lips with yours. 

“We can go back. Or continue. Whatever you want.” The gentle curve of nose comes to rub against your cheeks, though you could tell by the twitch of his cock that he was far from done. 

You bit down on your lips. Hands travelling lower to let the sharp sound of Joel’s buckle give you the answer he needed. 

As you flip over to lean against the counter with your palms flat on the granite—your cheeks presses against your shoulder to gaze up at him through your lashes. 

“By the way…that pill I gave you? Just Vitamin C.”

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (2 - Liar! Liar!)

Chapter Summary: You wake up one morning compelled to say the truth and nothing but the truth. Wanda seizes this opportunity to ensure everything remains under her control. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Darcy finally discover what happened to Agent Monica Rambeau. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags: Manipulation

A/N: Billy is my favorite twin, if that isn't obvious already :P // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It doesn’t require a calendar to track the days here in Westview.

It's the kind of repetition that settles over suburban life, where dates fade into insignificance and days blur into a seamless loop, distinguishable only by the changing seasons. But even the current season—fall—is as predictable in its passage as ever, like storybook weather in its perfection. The birds are always chirping, the sun rises promptly at 6:40 every morning—never a minute early or a second late—and it never rains. Just endless clear skies, day after day, until the sun sets at five.

You've been chewing on this odd feeling ever since you and Wanda arrived in this part of New Jersey, but today, there's something extra. You can't pin it down, just that it's…there. Today feels different—more than usual—and you didn’t really get it until breakfast, when your mouth slipped past your usual tact with the kids.

“Mommy, do you like it?” Tommy asks, his eyes big and hopeful as he holds up a crayon drawing of what looks like the family standing outside a perfect little house. 

Perfect. Honestly, you’re getting pretty tired of everything being so perfect around here.

“It's...very colorful,” you start, the usual praise ready on your tongue, but what comes out instead is, “Though it's kind of all over the place, isn’t it? Maybe you could try to stay inside the lines a bit more.”

Speaking aloud is like sending an email: once it's out there, it's out there for good. Even so, an email would have been the better option. At least then, you could just hack into Tommy’s account—if he ever figures out how to set one up—and erase your blunder for good.

Could having a magical wife somehow save you from this mess?

It’s too late though. Tommy's face crumples, and Wanda doesn't seem keen on throwing you a lifeline, just a dirty look from across the table as you sip your morning coffee.

“But if you’re going for an abstract—” you start, but your son is already sulking off to his room. 

Billy digs into his cereal, blissfully unaware. Wanda, on the other hand, looks as if she's ready to rip open a portal to another realm and hurl you out of this one.

That can’t be good.

“You really upset him,” she says, arms crossing over her chest. “He was so proud of that drawing.”

“I know, I feel awful about it,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.  Seeing your genuine remorse, Wanda eases up, giving you a moment to stew in your guilt before she comes back to the table with a stack of pancakes.

“Here, eat up,” she says, setting them down in front of you.

You pick up your fork, cutting into the stack. They look perfect—golden brown, with the butter melting just right. You take a bite, and before you can stop yourself, the words are out.

“They're a bit dry,” you blurt out, instantly regretting your words. But once you start, you can't seem to stop. “And this maple syrup... it tastes kind of artificial.” 

Wanda gasps. “Excuse me?”

“Shit—”

“Language, Y/N!” she snaps, but it's too late, the curse is already out there, floating in the air like a bad smell. 

In the next moment, something strange happens—your lips tingle, and suddenly you can't feel your mouth. Alarmed, you touch your face, finding smooth skin where your lips should be. You try to protest, but only muffled noises emerge. Fear surges as you point frantically at your face. You attempt to scream, but no sound comes out.

Seeing your flustered pantomime, Wanda’s face goes from angry to horrified. With a wave of her hand, your mouth is back in its place, and you’re gasping, both of you staring at each other, not believing what just happened. Meanwhile, Billy is giggling, clapping his tiny hands together, and gleefully repeating the S-word you accidentally let slip earlier. 

You and Wanda just continue to stare at each other in shock, but then you glance at Billy, his innocent delight completely oblivious to the fact he’s saying something he shouldn’t, and you see the corners of Wanda’s mouth start to twitch. A moment later, she’s laughing unabashedly, and before you know it, you’re doing the same. 

Despite the peculiarities of your life here in Westview, you don't think you've ever been this content. Before Wanda, the idea of having your own family—your own kids, two no less—seemed unthinkable. You never imagined you'd have a wife, a house in a quiet suburb, or hear one of your sons swear for the first time. Westview is far from normal, but then again, so is your family. As you watch Wanda's laughter taper into soft giggles, you think it's impossible to love her any more than you already do.

Wanda made this all conceivable for you.

“Sorry, honey,” you say, though still a bit shaken by the ordeal. “I didn't mean to be so rude.”

Wanda looks even more remorseful than you feel—which makes sense, considering she did erase your mouth, however briefly.

“And I probably shouldn't have... you know, removed your mouth,” she murmurs, guiltily picking at her cuticles.

Admittedly, it was terrifying—one of the scariest experiences you've ever had. You certainly don't want a repeat. It makes you slightly wary of your wife, but your love for Wanda outweighs your fear. Standing beside one of the most powerful beings in the universe takes courage, and you've built up plenty over the years together. You're made for this—for her, for this kind of love.

“Apology accepted,” you say, mustering a weak smile.

Wanda's face floods with relief, then quickly contorts into worry. “What’s with you today?”

“I can't seem to lie,” you confess, realizing there's no easy way to skirt the truth. “I don't know what's happening, but I just can't stop saying exactly what's on my mind.”

She stares at you, confused and a little hurt. “What do you mean you can’t lie today? So, you’re usually lying?”

Before you can smooth that over, Billy looks up from his cereal, fixing you with that stern look that’s pure Wanda. “Mommy, lying is bad.”

Wanda’s gaze softens as she looks at Billy, then back at you, the seriousness returning. “Billy, why don’t you go brush your teeth and check on your brother? Your mommy and I need to talk for a little bit.”

“Okay, mama.”

Billy scampers off, and you feel your stature shrink under your wife's gaze, suddenly feeling every bit the child.

“What’s this about not being able to lie?” Wanda asks once it’s just the two of you.

You shake your head. “Look, it’s not that I usually lie, but today, I can’t even if I wanted to. It’s like a—a truth filter permanently switched off.”

Wanda takes a few moments to mull over your words. “Oh…” she starts, sounding half-convinced. “Maybe it’s stress,” she throws out after a beat. “You’ve been working really hard lately, haven’t you? Perhaps your mind is just overwhelmed and you need a mental day off.”

You had thought of that, but the whole situation seemed too weird for such a simple explanation. Then again, maybe seeing shadows where there aren't any is just another stress symptom. So you let it slide.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’ll see if I can call in sick next week,” you mumble, trying to sound cheerful about the prospect of a break.

Wanda comes around the table and cups your face in her hands. You let her pinch your cheeks together, feeling both stubborn and a bit sorry for yourself. It's silly, but all you want is for Wanda to coddle you and make you feel better, not to dish out logical reasons for why you’re not yourself today. 

“Well, if you're stuck with the truth, let's have some fun with it,” Wanda says.

You swallow hard, aware that any question she might ask now would either please or upset her—and there seems to be no middle ground.

“Uhm, honey, I don’t think—”

“Do you love me?”

You smirk at her; that’s an easy one. “More than anything else.”

“Only me?”

You laugh at her silly follow-up. This reminds you of the early days of your courtship when Wanda was a bottomless well of need. You didn't mind at all, knowing she needed to hear it as often as you made her feel it. Initially, you were a bit bothered, wondering if your actions weren't speaking loudly enough for her to trust you. Eventually, it became less frequent, until the question turned into a statement—You love me—to which you responded with your own: You love me too. Since then, it quickly became how you say ‘I love you’ to each other.

“Only you. I'd sooner die than love someone else,” you confidently tell her.

Her smile in return is a beautiful riddle—a riddle you can’t figure out. 

“Wanda, I—”

“Do you like living here?”

“Sometimes.” The words slip out before you can think, and you're relieved to realize that your feelings about Westview are honestly not all negative. “It’s a nice town. Quiet and cheap.”

Wanda's face does something subtle. You can't quite read her reaction, but it's clear she has more questions when she doesn't park on your answer, instead moving on to something else. 

“Do you... do you remember how we got here?"

You blink at her. Initially, the question seems a bit absurd. But as you try to formulate a response, “Of course. We got married at…” you stall, your brain blanking on the when and where of your own wedding. “...then we moved into this house last…”

You try to pin down the date, but it slips through your mind like sand.

“Wanda?” A laugh escapes you, but there's a nervous edge to it. “Why can’t I remember any of the details?”

The last thing she says before flicking her wrist is, “Because you’re not supposed to.” But even that slips away, scrubbed clean from your memory by Wanda’s sweeping hand.

–

“Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I found her.”

Jimmy hurried over to the tight corner of their camp where Darcy had practically set up shop for the past few days. Since the signals were first picked up, she's taken charge of monitoring the transmissions, her main focus being to locate Agent Monica Rambeau. They've already confirmed that many of Wanda's bizarre, sitcom-style characters are, in fact, real residents of Westview, somehow trapped inside whatever anomaly Wanda seems to be in the center of.

“That’s Monica, right?” Darcy points at the grainy image on the retro television set they've been using to watch the town's activities. The broadcasts come through at odd hours, which makes every second of surveillance crucial. 

Jimmy leans in closer, squinting at the screen where a woman bearing a striking resemblance to Monica appears. “It sure looks like her,” he confirms.

The woman onscreen is dressed in distinctly 70s fashion—a bold, patterned blouse with wide lapels tucked into high-waisted bell-bottoms. Her hair is styled in voluminous, bouncy curls that softly frame her face, completing the look that is so far removed from the S.W.O.R.D. uniform Jimmy last saw her in.

“I wonder what character she’s playing in the show…” Darcy muses.

A handful of nearby crew quietly look on as Monica steps out of a Hornet, a stack of papers clutched in her hand, and strides confidently toward one of those cookie-cutter houses lining the street—yours and Wanda's.

“Stay frosty, Monica,” Darcy mutters under her breath, staring unblinkingly at the screen as they watch her knock gently on the door.

It’s Wanda who greets her with a guarded smile. “Hello, can I help you?” she asks, sizing up the stranger on her doorstep.

“Hi, there. I’m Geraldine. You must be Wanda,” Monica says. Jimmy and Darcy exchange a look, both arriving at the same conclusion: whatever spell has ensnared the other residents, Monica appears to be under it too.

“Do I know you?” Wanda asks, her teeth gritted in what she hopes passes for a smile. But Wanda, she’s got a tell. It’s never hard to see when she’s faking it. The sitcom laugh track of this Westview tries to spin it as humor, but it’s clear to anyone—she’s not thrilled about Geraldine’s arrival at all.

“Oh, I’m sorry, has Y/N not mentioned who I am?” Geraldine asks mildly,  like she’s bringing up some small, casual detail—which, for Wanda, it isn’t.

“Honey, who's at the door?” Your voice drifts from the living room just before you step into view, crunching on an apple. When you spot the visitor, your face lights up with recognition, puzzling Wanda even more.

“Evening, ma'am,” Geraldine nods at you with a polite smile.

Wanda keeps darting glances between you and Geraldine, trying to piece together what's going on. And what’s frustrating her is you don’t seem privy at all to her disconcertment.

“I told you to just call me Y/N,” you admonish with a light grin. “What brings you here?”

“W-Who is she?” Wanda jumps in, keeping up her charade of a pleasant surprise.

“It’s Geraldine,” you tell Wanda, expecting her to recognize the name. Her blank, slightly annoyed expression forces you to jog your memory and that’s when it hits you that your wife has no idea what you’re talking about. “She’s my new assistant. Didn’t I tell you?” you say sheepishly.

“No, honey, you certainly did not,” Wanda replies, her smile stretched a bit too tight. She turns to Geraldine. “Aren’t offices usually closed by five?”

“They sure are, Wanda,” Geraldine replies cheerfully. It bothers Wanda how Geraldine uses ‘ma’am’ for you but casually drops her first name like they're old friends.

“So, why are you here?” Wanda asks, no longer bothering to hide her irritation.

“Oh, just dropping off some reports that Y/N needed to review tonight. Urgent stuff, you know?” Geraldine holds up the stack of papers in her hand as proof.

“Yikes,” Darcy winces at the tension practically leaking through the screen, feeling that deep cringe of secondhand embarrassment for Monica's obliviousness to Wanda's ire.

Fortunately for your assistant, you position yourself between her and Wanda, intercepting just as your wife’s temper begins to flare. You remember Wanda’s warm, almost syrupy kindness with Agnes when she first appeared, which only makes her sudden cold front toward Geraldine unreasonable.

“I completely forgot about those reports. Thanks for bringing them over, Geraldine,” you say, nudging her toward the exit. “See you Monday!”

Then, you close the door before she can add anything else, sparing both women from each other.

“So, why haven't you mentioned Geraldine before?” Wanda asks, not sparing another second to grill you about your new assistant.

You frown, thinking back. “I thought I did.”

Wanda looks at you for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re not telling me?” she demands, her eyes searching yours.

“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise,” Darcy sing-songs, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Jimmy reaches over, trying to sneak a handful, but she swats him away.

You give her a lopsided smile, doing your best to charm your way out of the situation. The compulsive honesty from earlier isn't nagging at you anymore, but really, there's no need to sugarcoat anything in this case.

“Sounds like someone's a little jealous,” you tease lightly. And there it is again—that distant chorus of an audience, laughing on cue. You really need to talk to Wanda about this; it could be linked to all the experiments she's been doing with her powers.

Wanda barks out a forced laugh right into your smirking face. “Jealous? Me? There's no way I'm jealous of anyone, especially not Geraldine.”

“Then why did you look like you wanted to throw her out yourself when she showed up?”

Wanda's smile fades a tad, then she just shrugs. “Because she was interrupting our family dinner time. That's all.”

Normally, you'd draw this out until she admits she's jealous, but that could take all night. Right now, all you want is to kiss your beautiful wife, the only one you see. It's getting late, and not being able to touch her all day is driving you a little mad with want.

“Fine, you're not jealous,” you whisper, moving in, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Why would you be? You’re the prettiest, smartest, most amazing woman anyone could ask for.”

Wanda melts into you almost instantly. “You love me.”

“You love me too,” you say before leaning in to peck her lips. She hums happily against your lips, but just then, you hear the boys complaining about being hungry. Sharing a smile, you both head back to sort out dinner.

The episode ends, credits roll, and Darcy groans, tossing her head back. “No way. I need more of this,” she huffs, stabbing her finger at the screen. “They're perfect together. Shame Y/N’s supposedly dead. I hate spoilers.”

“She doesn’t look dead to me from here,” Jimmy says.

“My theory? That’s not actually her. I bet Wanda or someone did something to make a rando look like Y/N.”

“You think?”

Darcy nods. “With all the surreal stuff happening here? Yeah, I'd put money on it, dude.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Jimmy concedes. “Anyway, it’s a relief to see Agent Rambeau’s alive and kicking.”

“As Geraldine,” Darcy reminds him. “I wonder who chooses their names for them. Back to Y/N, what did that Howard guy have to say about Y/N being dead but so alive in Westview?”

“It’s Hayward,” Jimmy corrects her with a sigh. “He doesn’t seem interested in her or anyone else trapped inside. He’s more interested in the energy field surrounding the town.”

“And their boys?” Darcy adds, not listening to Jimmy’s rant. “We don’t have any public record of their true identities in Westview, right?”

Jimmy gives her a sidelong glance. “No records, no data. As far as Westview’s concerned, they just… appeared.”

“Typical,” she mutters, jotting down notes without looking away from the TV's static, hoping there’s a bonus episode or something.

But the screen stays blank, nothing but static for hours on end.

–

After hours of making love, Wanda lies next to you, watching you sleep. She’s used her powers on you before, but never here, never without your consent since you became a couple. Casting the hex was the easy part, the lying to you—not so much. Acting like she didn't know what was troubling you had hurt her more than she let on. 

She wanted to check if you were still happy here, still content, or if doubts were starting to creep in. And knowing you—the real you—you'd probably lie to Wanda just to keep her happy, just to ensure she has everything she wants. You've always prioritized her needs over your own, always stepping aside to let her shine. She wants the same for you, but you always manage to outdo her in every act of self-sacrifice.

When you started asking her about the exact dates of the wedding you thought you two actually had, it confirmed you still had no idea why you’re here, or what she’s done. She was relieved, honestly, because it meant she could stop forcing you to tell the truth, a spell she’d put on you out of desperation more than distrust.

She isn't sure how long this will last, just that it might be the most happiness she'll ever know, even if it's a delicate, fleeting kind. How did she even do this? Wanda doesn’t even know. It just happened—like a rose that has sprouted off a barren land. And now, despite having everything she's ever wanted, there’s always this nagging fear that it could all fall apart.

Quietly, she makes a promise to herself to fix things. She promises to you and her boys, she’ll find a way to make this life real, something that won’t just vanish like everything else she’s ever loved.

[bigfootsboytoy]

Part two of this story, where Robin discovers Steve’s type. A lot of people seemed interested in more, so here you go! 

The conversation doesn’t go quite the way Robin is expecting it. She’s fully prepared for Steve to launch into saying how confused he is because he’s feeling weird pants feelings for Eddie, but how does that work because he likes girls? She’s been mentally preparing herself for that exact discussion since she watched Eddie Munson call her best friend ‘Big Boy’ in the middle of committing grand theft auto. So when Steve starts talking, curled up on the gross linoleum tile of Family Video, she’s taken by surprise. She doesn’t even get the chance to answer his question before he’s throwing her prepared speech out the metaphorical window. 

“That’s stupid, you already told me that. Sharon Parker in the 5th grade, holding hands for Red Rover, blah blah blah, I know that. But like…Have you ever acted different around a girl, and then one day, you realize it’s because you like her? Like, you had a crush on a girl without even realizing it? Does that make any sense?” 

It takes Robin a second to reboot, but the second she manages, Steve throws her even further off track. 

“It’s just, Tommy H came by the other day, and he said some stuff that really has me thinking and-” 

Robin can’t stop herself. As soon as she hears a name other than Eddie Munson, she has a hand out covering Steve’s mouth. He gives her a look, surprised and confused. Maybe a little annoyed. She valiantly ignores him because what he just said has her head spinning, and she needs to put a stop to it right now. 

“Steve. My best friend in the whole universe. I’m here for whatever you need and whatever you might be figuring out about yourself. You know I’m going to support you 100% no matter what happens but…Please. PLEASE tell me that you didn’t just discover you have a crush on TOMMY H! He isn’t even your type, Steve! He isn’t even in the ballpark of your type! He’s so far off it’s honestly kind of laughable and-” 

Now it’s Steve who puts a hand over her mouth. 

“Jesus, Robin! First of all, gross. I’m not into Tommy, okay? Never gonna happen, not in a million years. And second, what the hell do you mean ‘my type?’ What the hell would you know about my type?” 

Robin carefully removes his hand from her face and shakes her head. She has absolutely no clue where this conversation is going, but there’s still a chance it can work its way somewhere good. Somewhere Munson-related. And she owes it to Steve to listen to his crisis properly. 

“Nevermind, forget that. What happened with Tommy?” 

“Okay well, he came over, like I said. He was super wasted, and I guess he and Carol broke up? And he started talking about when we were friends, and how he always used to try and get closer to me. He said he almost asked me if I wanted to practice kissing once? And he talked about like, trying to touch me all the time, trying to make me laugh? Basically saying he had a crush on me, which was super weird.” 

Robin nodded, because really, she had no idea what to say to that. 

“And then he kissed me. Which was kind of gross because he tasted like whisky and he was being all sloppy, like he wanted to eat my face. But…” 

“But?” 

“It wasn’t as gross as I would have expected I guess.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” 

“I don’t! It just, wasn’t a totally horrible kiss okay? Only a little horrible.” 

Robin sighed and let her head tip back against the wall. 

“Okay, I’m not seeing your dilemma yet. Tommy liking you and kissing you is kind of weird sure, but it doesn’t change anything about you.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a puff of air. He looked small in this bathroom, scared in a way that Robin hated. They had faced down monsters, torture, long shifts with Keith. A conversation with his best friend should never have Steve looking that afraid, ever. 

She reached out and took his hand in her, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Hey, it’s okay Steve. Tell me what’s going on in that head.” 

“It’s just…Some of what Tommy said. About how he tried to get closer to me, to touch me and make me laugh and shit? I guess I realized that I’m doing that stuff. With somebody else. And if Tommy did it because he liked me then…” 

“You think it might mean you like this person. This…guy?” 

“Yeah. This guy.” 

There it was, the Eddie Munson of it all. Because Robin only knew of one guy that Steve spent his time with and would be trying to be touchy and close with. She had watched it happen with her own eyes, the way Steve would look for reasons to lean past Eddie, to put a hand on his shoulder, his back, once getting brave and putting a hand on his waist. She’d watched Eddie do the exact same things around Steve, too.

Part of her almost just comes out and tells Steve, that she knows who he’s talking about. Except he still looks unsure. He looks like he wants to throw up a little, and Robin has to fix that. 

“You know it’s okay right? For you to like this guy?” 

“I know. It’s just weird, to realize I might like him that way. Normally I can figure out when I’m into someone.” 

“Well, normally you aren’t friends with the people you’re into first. That makes it confusing.” 

“And I’m normally into people with boobies.” 

“That too.” 

Steve lets out a tiny laugh, and it makes Robin beam. Something about Steve is lighter now, like somethings been lifted off his chest, something that’s been there for a really long time without him knowing. She wants to tell him how much she’s loves him. How much she cares about him and supports him. She wants to tell him about all her research, and fully explain to him her findings when it comes to ‘his type.’ 

She wants to tell him that she knows the guy he likes is Eddie. That she thinks Eddie might like him too. 

The ‘ring for service’ bell ruins her chance at saying any of it. 

She and Steve both clamber off the floor, adjusting their vests before exiting the bathroom to greet whoever keeps ringing the stupid bell over and over again. Robin can’t decide if it’s the best luck in the world, or the worst, when it’s Eddie Munson himself standing at the counter. 

She leans towards best luck when she sees the way Steve’s cheeks go red.

A few people asked to be tagged if I did a part 2, so hopefully I do that right! I’ve got a few more parts planned, so if anybody else wants to be tagged let me know and I’ll do my best!

@kaiscove​ @wolfstarlights​  @awkwardgravity1​ @anonymousbandgirl​  @f1ct1onwh0re