#jean is slice of life and pining | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solecize · 6 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 3.8k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. no warning except main characters being dumb and some SERIOUS tension

part six: the dreams and the sunday market ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

xv. the dreams

you were dreaming of kissing jeon jungkook.

it was akin to a recurring nightmare, the way you woke up in cold sweat after picturing his beautiful lips on yours in your sleep. ever since the night where the two of you shared dinner, the image haunted you and chased you even in your lack of consciousness. it didn’t help that your day always began at five a.m, leaving you waking up, distraught, and no sun to warm your surroundings.

today in particular was not looking to be on your side. you slept through your first two alarms after getting lost in the dream of kissing jungkook on a beach in front of luscious palm trees and golden sand. even worse, it was the day of jungkook’s return to the farm.

in the hours between your awakening and jungkook’s arrival, your nerves casted away your grogginess. you wondered why you didn’t decline his offer to finish the gate, but remembered he made it clear he didn’t have feelings for you - there should be no problem, then.

since he was coming in the evening, you had an entire day ahead of you. somehow, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. it was maddening, as if the thoughts of jeon jungkook settled beneath your skin and chased your every move. it was a gloomy day with light showers, but the thoughts kept you warm and you didn’t like it one bit.

by 5 p.m, you were wrapped up for the day. it shouldn’t have taken so long, but with your late wake-up and the plaguing image of your childhood best friend, you found yourself sluggish. you decided that you were going to proceed like you’d done in the weeks prior.

the last thing you wanted to take care of was inspect the garage once more. you’d been meaning to test out the old tractor inside to determine if you could sell it off or not, but it was a problem when the door was stuck in the same place. now, you were outside, wrestling with the garage, once again.

“i guess this does have to be fixed. . .” you mumbled to yourself, remembering jungkook’s words.

then, you heard your name being called. it startled you, since you hadn’t had any visitors in quite some time, considering jungkook’s absence. however, you knew that voice from a mile away and weren’t surprised when you turned around, taking notice of him approaching across the fields, coming face to face with the man in question.

you hastily wiped the beads of sweat on your temple. “hey,” you said when you saw jungkook, who likely wandered to the fields when you didn’t answer the front door.

“hey, y/n,” jungkook replied, setting his toolbox down by the fence he was to work on. today, he was wearing a black button down over a white t-shirt with jeans. his hair had grown slightly longer since you first arrived to amber valley and you liked the way it fell over his eyebrows.

as you always did, you graciously thanked him. “i really appreciate you coming to help me out.” even though he essentially shut down any possibility of you being able to come to terms with any feelings you had. you didn’t say that part out loud.

“stop that, you know i just want to lend a hand,” he waved you off and you wondered if that was what you knew. you weren’t sure if that was what your silent agreement with jungkook truly involved, with his persistence and your strong will - two things that were not easily challenged, but crumbled at one another.

"you still fighting with that old thing?" jungkook chuckled softly, looking at the garage door behind you.

you only rolled your eyes. "i thought i could get it."

he shook his head, continuing to laugh, and then glanced at the watch on his wrist. “oh, i guess this is the first time i’ve come by in the evening. you’re done work for once.”

you didn’t realize this fact either and tried to fight a silent panic - you usually had a task that you could pretend to be busy with, in order to distract yourself from jungkook’s presence. then, you began what to wonder what was wrong with you? it was just jungkook. were your vivid dreams really chasing you into acting strangely? and was he not quieter than usual, or were you overthinking things?

jungkook eventually excused himself to get to work and you decided that you needed to push your barrage of thoughts and questions away. instead, you entered the kitchen and proceeded to make dinner as usual, except a bit extra for your handyman of a friend.

when you peeked outside after finishing, you saw that jungkook was drilling something into place. he’d taken off his button down shirt at some point, tying it around his waist. you cleared your throat loudly to get his attention, but it didn’t stand a chance against the sound of the drill.

“jeon jungkook!” you yelled, but he still couldn’t hear you. it was only when you brought your hands to your lips and let out a loud whistle when he finally caught your eye, turning the drill off promptly.

jungkook shook his head in disbelief, walking towards you with a laugh. “namjoon was right, that is a really loud whistle you can do.”

“i made dinner,” you said, hiding your nerves. in reality, you knew little could go wrong, as the two of you were sharing meals together for weeks. unless, of course, if he tried setting you up with a friend again.

“you know, i took you as someone who would be shit at cooking, but you’re pretty good,” jungkook teased, as he left his tools on the ground and walked towards you. “and thanks, of course.”

you rolled your eyes. “i’m good at everything.”

“lies. there’s a bunch of things i’m better than you at,” he mused, as he opened the door back inside for you.

the half-serious bickering made you drop your shoulders in ease, settling back into the same comfortable atmosphere that you always shared with jungkook. this was still the brat that used to whine if you got a better guitar hero score than him.

the two of you soon settled into some local gossip. jungkook began telling you about how your grandpa used to constantly predict that the lee family would divorce sooner or later, which was apparently now in progress. you wondered how close he really was to him.

“i wish we gave him one more summer with the three of us,” you said, as the two of you moved in fluid motions around the kitchen. the movements were natural and almost domestic, with jungkook knowing where all of the plates and silverware was and made it his job to set the table. meanwhile, you began getting the food ready.

he nodded. “i think he would have liked that. he’s probably happy that we’ve become friends again.”

the image of your dreams last night flashed before your eyes when jungkook said the word “friends” and you chose to ignore it.

instead, you responded, “i’d like to think that we never stopped.” your voice was quiet, unsure of the statement that you just offered.

it was nice, the way that you and jungkook managed to pick up your friendship after thirteen years as if nothing happened in between. and, even then, over the past month, the two of you slowly began to grasp the lives you led in the time apart. the people you grew into. somehow, it still clicked.

jungkook paused, in the middle of bringing out plates from the cupboards. “you know, me too,” he said. “too bad you stopped responding to my letters.”

this made you also freeze in place, eyebrows furrowed at his remark. “what do you mean? i didn’t stop responding,” you turned around to face him. “you’re the one that stopped replying.”

“i’m pretty sure i was the last one to send a letter, bunny,” jungkook chuckled, but you sensed some bitterness. “i sent you a letter one spring and then when june rolled around, your grandpa randomly told me you weren’t coming back.”

you shook your head, lips parted. “i never got a letter.”

by now, you finished setting food on the table. it was a full american-style breakfast, with chicken and waffles, scrambled eggs, and a platter of fruit from the farm. you made a jug of iced tea and set out some water. jungkook’s eyes trailed to the table and his eyes were unreadable.

“that’s too bad,” he spoke slowly, as if remembering something. “breakfast for dinner?” then, jungkook shook his head, as if shaking the thoughts off, and proceeded to set the rest of the table.

your eyes widened. “sorry, do you not like it? i thought it would be a good change - “

“no, it’s not that! thank you, it looks delicious. i love breakfast for dinner,” jungkook smiled. it was as if he flipped a switch and you were itching to know what he was thinking before.

“if you’re not up for it - “

“you’re annoying, come sit down with me,” jungkook interjected again, but was playful and rubbed his hands together, ready to dig in.

you punched his shoulder, which you knew did little damage, but he yelped anyway. sitting down across from him, jungkook began serving the both of you and you didn’t object when he plopped food on your plate for you. it was the same routine that you had before and frankly, it was nice.

“i just didn’t think it would you’d never come back to town again,” he commented and you were confused, until you remembered what he said earlier.

you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “me neither. i don’t know what hapened, i used to love it here. . “ you trailed off, looking around your surroundings and out the window, where the silver of the amber valley sky looked down on you. “i did try looking for you at some point, but you aren’t on social media.”

jungkook shook his head, pouring two cups of iced tea. “not really. and especially not after i started taking care of jiwon.” he passed one cup to your side, which you quietly thanked him for. “i think i saw you one time online, in early high school, but you looked different and i wasn’t sure.”

like every teenager, you had a phase of experimenting with your look and went through different kinds of hair colours and makeup styles. now, in your twenties, you’d grown tired of constant change and like your city life, settled for mundane and simple. just before his passing, your grandpa once remarked that you began to look like yourself again.

“we would’ve still been best friends in high school. i’d keep you around to copy off your homework,” you joked, cutting into a waffle. you weren’t kidding when you told jiwon about how smart jungkook was, as he’d always been since you two were young. though you were academically gifted yourself, you’d held jealousy for the way jungkook learned every hobby you liked at twice the learning speed.

“aw, i was your best friend?” jungkook banterd, which made you kick him underneath the table. “i’m joking. we’re best friends forever, isn’t what we put on the tree?”

“oh my god, don’t remind me of that!” your cheeks went hot, as you recalled that memory that jungkook was referring to.

when you were about nine years old, you and jungkook had the genius idea to carve your names into a random tree by the town square. while doing so, you were caught by mayor kim walking by, who made a big deal out of you kids “defacing” town property. when he scolded you and told your grandpa though, the latter got a kick out of it.

the rest of the conversation was light, which was exactly what you needed. in spite of this, jungkook’s remarks about your letters echoed in the back of your mind. you made a mental note to look into his claim - though the said letters from your childhood likely lived in your dad’s apartment, where you had spent your middle school to high school years at.

midway through the dinner-slash-breakfast, you caught the way jungkook’s eyes were fixated on you and didn’t move. you gave him a questioning look and he sighed.

jungkook said, “there’s jam on your face.” his tone was pretending to be disappointing, but holding back a laugh.

“oh, where?” you began wiping your cheek, which turned out to be dry. you continued swiping around, still missing.

he groaned. “it’s literally right there. by your nose, bunny. come on.”

after looking like he was about to simultaneously lose his mind and burst out laughing, his chair creaked loudly against the wooden flooring and jungkook stood up. he made strides around the table over to you and bent down to meet you at eye-level. you jumped at the sudden movement and the fact that jungkook’s face was inches away from yours. he was so close that you could count every single one of his long eyelashes if you tried.

“it’s right. . .here.” at some point, jungkook ripped away a piece of paper towel from your side and you nearly flinched when you felt his touch on your cheek.

he gently wiped away the spread with a tilted head and a crease forming in between his brows, seemingly looking everywhere but in your eyes. you were so close to him that you could hear his steady breathing. you wondered if he was close enough to hear the army marching in the middle of your chest. it was hard for you to breathe yourself when your entire body froze at the contact.

you managed to let out a whisper, fighting the shiver creeping up your spine. “thanks.”

jungkook’s lips looked exactly like they did in your dreams. “no problem.” his voice was low and you swore you saw his eyes flash to your own lips, before looking up at you.

you weren’t sure how long the two of you were still for. the only thing in your ears was the sound of your heart, which was amplified over the ticking of the grandfather clock several feet away. nobody dared to move until the ringing of a cell phone, which caused both of you to jump.

it was jungkook’s. the phone was sitting on the dining table and it rang because you knew he always kept his phone off vibrate for his sister. when you saw a picture of jiwon and jungkook making silly faces at each other flash on the screen, you cleared your throat and scooted backwards, knowing that jungkook was going to immediately take the call.

“sorry, one sec,” jungkook eventually snapped back into reality when he saw his screen. he picked up his phone and trailed into the living room to take the call.

it was time for you snap back into reality, too. you felt stupid and like you wanted to bang your head into the table in front of you. there was no way he was going to kiss you, you’d witnessed one too many reruns of this fantasy in your dreams. you just spoke about how great your friendship was.

best friends forever. you repeated that in your mind, along with jungkook talking your ear off about how great you and taehyung would look together.

xvi. the sunday market

on the last sunday of each month, the valley closed up most of its main roads for pedestrian access only and the community came out to hold a market in the town square. local busineses came out to sell their usual and offer up fun, seasonal products to buy. your grandfather usually set up a stand, but you found yourself a little too shy to be doing it alone for your first month in town. thankfully, you were wedged between jimin and hoseok, right in between their booths.

“honestly, i’m glad you’re with us, y/n. at least we can all smell like fish,” hoseok hummed, as he began unfolding a tablecloth.

to this, jimin rolled his eyes and continued shuffling through some flyers in his hand. “we’re not even selling fresh fish this month.” in front of him was instead a variety of different seafood products, such as artisanal spread, marinated seafood in jars and sustainably sourced caviar.

meanwhile, you were proud of what you scrambled together last minute. cartons of eggs, jugs of milk, yogurt, and quick-growing crops like microgreens and radishes. you took your job very seriously and wanted to make a good impression on the townsfolk.

“thank you, y/n! hoseok, can you put some sunblock on for once? sheesh, you’re going to get burnt!” hoseok’s mom, mrs. jung, was one of your first customers that day and happily took home some fresh basil and eggs. her sneer at hoseok was clear as day, even underneath her floppy hat, snapping at her son from right beside you.

hoseok groaned. “mom, i’m almost thirty. stop!” and still, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen.

mrs. jung ignored him. “bye, y/n! bye jiminnie!” she blew a kiss to jimin, which made hoseok grumble.

you laughed at the interaction, as you fanned yourself with one of jimin’s flyers. it’d been less than an hour since the market began and it was still early in the morning, so the square was sparse. you could even look down to your left and still see seokjin’s booth on the other side of the market, beside the mayor’s booth manned by namjoon.

it was now the end of june and marked your first month in town. the skies were clear and bright, a sight that you promised yourself you wouldn’t take for granted. every morning, you woke up before the sun did and by the time the morning came up to greet you, you were filled with vibrant energy for the day.

“hi unnie! you look like you’re in a good mood today!” it was jiwon, holding onto peanut with one hand and her teddy bear in another. she was stylish for a kid her age, wearing jeans and a trendy graphic t-shirt that you suspected was jungkook’s influence.

taking a cautious scan of your surroundings, you let out a quiet breath of relief when you saw that jungkook wasn’t around. he was definitely nearby, though, you had a feeling he wouldn’t let jiwon roam around with the puppy with anyone else.

you greeted, “hi jiwon! you’re up early.” it was about nine in the morning and if you were a kid, you would not be a morning person during summer vacation.

“yeah, oppa made me come with him,” she yawned extra loud, clutching her leash close.

to your right, jimin cleared his throat. “where is jungkook?” he asked.

“he’s avoiding y/n,” jiwon sang, like it was a normal thing to say out of the blue.

your ears turned pink. you thought the two of you were good. it’d been over a week since your dinner with him at the saloon. now come to think about it, since your last encounter, jungkook had yet to make another return to the farm to finish whatever gate he was repairing - you stopped keeping track at some point, just letting him come over and continuing to hope that he found something new to fix.

hoseok pinched his nose. “jiwon, you can’t rat my boy out like that,” he whispered, side-eying you, even though you could clearly see.

to add fuel to the fire, you noticed the way jimin was scoping his surroundings. his eyes narrowed over to a corner, where you finally saw jungkook talking to mayor kim. when you did so, he looked over and made eye contact with you for the briefest of seconds, before darting away. before you knew it, jimin began hollering.

“hey! jungkook! come here!”

“what are you doing?” you hissed, taking a step towards jimin’s booth. “i thought we made a truce, park jimin.”

“trust me, i’m helping you out.” jimin’s cheeky grin made you take a deep breath, holding back profanity for jiwon.

you weren’t sure if the boys knew anything about what was going on with you and jungkook. hell, you weren’t even sure what was going on with you and jungkook. ever since he began detatching, you’d become confused and kept second guessing if you said or did something wrong. maybe coming by his house randomly was weird, but he did the exact same thing. the way he randomly suggested taehyung as a date for you also sent mixed signals.

jungkook and mayor kim looked towards your direction, taken aback. then, jungkook gave the latter a polite smile, before walking in your direction. great.

“did you need help with something, jimin?” the tight-lipped smile and tone coming from jungkook indicated he didn’t want to help with anything at all.

jimin’s smile remained on his face, as he shook his head. “have you seen y/n’s, uh, cilantro? so fresh.”

you turned to jimin, dumbfounded, but also irritated that you got roped into the conversation. meanwhile, jiwon batted her eyelashes, looking back and forth between you and her brother. her innocent demeanour was almost convincing, but you knew you were dealing with a jeon here.

“oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, y/n,” jungkook said.

bullshit. your tablecloth was bright yellow, compared to jimin and hoseok using the same white for their booths. you were wearing red lipstick and a sundress. he definitely noticed you. this made your jaw tense, annoyed that jungkook was acting different out of nowhere.

“yup,” was all you could say, a dry tone settling in your voice.

jungkook raised his eyebrows. “late night or something?” he asked, as if your voice indicated fatigue.

“no.”

“your eyebags say otherwise.” usually, jungkook teased you with a certain playfulness, but he instead matched your dry tone.

hoseok immediately interjected, “oh, haha! ha - uh, haha!” he forced laughter out as if pushing with brute force, looking at you and jungkook strangely. the question in his eyes read what’s wrong with you two clear as day.

you shrugged and luckily at that very moment, a small family began walking in your direction and approached your booth. on the other hand, jungkook suddenly became fascinated with the infused syrups at hoseok’s table and found the energy to talk his ear off about the ingredients. you missed the way jiwon shot a dirty look at jimin, as if this was his fault.

“why are they acting weird?” jimin whispered to the smaller girl, as if buddies gossiping on the playground.

jiwon only rolled her eyes and huffed, walking away with peanut. she murmured things under her breath about adults being useless, wondering why she had to wake up early all to witness a dumpster fire between you and jungkook. she walked away, muttering to herself something about how she was determined to prove she was the only one with brains around here.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyletyle @wobblewobble822@taiwan0618 @seokout @firelcrds @xwniazx @shellyyy177

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

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Jail Bird | Joel Miller x smuggler/raider f! reader

A/N: I got inspired by listening to the song “Stay” by Rihanna when I was driving home from Kentucky, and this was the result of it 🫠 you’re either gonna love, or hate the reader in this one.

~word count: 5.9k~

Summary: your relationship with Joel has always been easy up until the point that you make the conscious decision to leave him, and the QZ behind. Years later and you meet again, under violent circumstances.

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, pining, stalking (if you squint) borderline possessive/obsessive behavior, smut (described but not as the main focal point of the story) conning, emotional manipulation, the reader is morally gray and you’ll either love them or hate them, actions on the base of survival, implied consent, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving) violence (undescribed but marked) possessive! Joel, vulnerable! Joel, protective! Joel, dark! Joel (if you squint) Joel is a hopeless romantic, manhandling, threats, use of firearms, smoking, +18 minors dni!

Jail Bird: ‘a person who is or has been in prison’

Your relationship with Joel Miller, your partner in crime, was as easy as sliced pie. The syrupy sticky sweet warm filling with melted vanilla ice cream drooling down the crust. Joel Miller, however, was anything but sweet. He tasted of smoky bourbon and life-long indescribable grief. Fluttering ashes, tongues tied, teeth clashing. His hands; sculpted by Greek gods in a meticulous manner. Strong, veiny, calloused yet soft. Joel Miller was a perfectly wrapped package with an ash stained bow. A dangerous combination of brooding, pining, and lust. Your partnership consisted of smuggling, sharing rations, and fucking. Joel was a man who knew how to fuck. The first time he took you was in a back alley in the QZ. The air was balmy and ridden with suspense. He caught you sneaking through the shadows past curfew to make a few back door deals with some FEDRA soldiers. A blow job for a trade of a handsome stack of ration cards? No biggie. He never felt jealousy course through his veins till he saw you sink to your knees on command.

Even with the lack of lighting, sans the pale moonlight shimmering above, Joel saw the doe like innocence in your eyes as he peeked his head around the corner. It felt wrong to watch. It weighed heavy like cement around his bones. Filth and sin dripped through his grime stained pores. He had been watching you for a while. You were a new resident to the QZ, a pretty thing that knew her way around the rules like they never even existed to you. He liked that about you. He liked that you were brash, that you outsmarted every lonesome fuck that crossed your path. So he’d observe you from a distance, catching your keen eye every now and then. It turned into an obsession for him and now the last shroud of little morals he possessed, were completely shredded as he palmed himself through his painfully tight jeans. Cursing under his breath as he tried to provide any form of relief to his aching cock. His head tilted back against the brick wall, lower lip taken harshly between his teeth as he took another risky peek around the corner.

You knew Joel was watching you. You caught his familiar, ruggedly handsome features appear from around the corner. How long he had been watching you did not matter. Your cunt ached for him just as much as his cock weeped for you. You had been observing him the day you arrived at the QZ, and you found yourself yearning for his rough caress.

Your eyes stayed locked on the spot behind the wall where Joel was pressed against as you pleasured the FEDRA soldier who lasted all of 30 seconds before he was spilling his filth down your throat and tossing ration cards at your knees. The stray dribble of cum was wiped from your lips with the tip of your thumb as you gathered up the ration cards and shoved them into your pockets as you rose to your feet. You pulled out a freshly rolled cigarette, bringing the tip to your lips as you lit the other end with an old lighter. Your features were illuminated by the warm glow of the flame as you lit the death stick and deeply inhaled. “You can come out from your hiding spot, Joel Miller. I know it’s you behind the wall. Don’t be shy.” Your head tilted to the side as you took another long drag.

Joel sauntered from behind the wall. His tall frame was brooding under the soft glow of the moon. His boots crunched heavily under rubble as he approached. Thunder lowly rumbled in the far distance as a warm breeze kissed your skin. The comforting glow of the moon was casted over in darkness of thick moving clouds as cooling droplets of water began to free fall from the heavens. The pavement was stained in dampness as the sky grumbled above. Bleach-burn hot flashes of lightning illuminated the jet black sky and illuminated Joel’s features in a blink of an eye. The rain didn’t deter him as he stopped a foot from where you stood. His gaze on you burned as brightly as the lit end of your cigarette pursed between your lips.

“You know, you’re worth a hell of a lot more than a blowjob in a back alleyway. How long did the fucker even last? 30 whole fuckin’ seconds?” He was leaning over you now, forearm resting along your head and you could feel the electricity and heat radiating from his body.

“Do you always watch women give blow jobs to FEDRA soldiers in back alleys? Or is this just a new hobby that you have suddenly developed?” You were casual with your question, a smirk playing on your lips as you lightly blew the hazardous smoke off to the side.

“No. You’re the first, darlin.’ It’s filthy of me, I am aware. Bet you liked it though huh? Bet you liked the idea of some dirty old man watching you get down on your knees prettily like that. You don’t seem like the type of gal to beat around the bush. Storms rollin’ in..wanna see if we can give the thunder a run for its money, sugar?” Joel wasn’t one to beat around the bush either and you appreciated a man that knew exactly what he wanted. Joel Miller was exactly what you needed to satiate your desires.

“You want to fuck me Mr. Miller?” You purred, flicking what was left of your cigarette to the ground, listening to the light hiss the extinguished flame gave when a stray rain drop fell upon it.

You felt his lips dip down to the shell of your ear, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin as he whispered, “wanna destroy you in the best fuckin’ way possible. Wanna ruin your sweet cunt. Been s’long for me, n’you’re so fuckin’ pretty, it hurts. Let me take care of ya, and I promise you won’t have to get on your knees for another FEDRA fuck again.” He pressed an open mouth kiss against the spot where your ear met your jaw, licking a hot stripe down your throat with a heavy warm breath.

“Is that a promise you can keep?” You whispered through the steady rainfall, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting.

“I don’t do promises, baby.” He rasped as his strong hands found purchase around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. “I only fuck. Ain’t gonna find any love from me. Don’t go and lookin’ for it.”

“I don’t do love either. It’s lost all significant meaning for me. I’m just looking for a good consistent fuck, and the means to survive.” You grasped the back of his neck in one swift movement, yanking his head up so you could crash your lips against his in a heated, tongue filled, teeth clashing kiss.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, doll. You’re mine now.” He mumbled against your swollen lips as he popped the button along your jeans and shoved his hand between the tight fabric and your soaked through panties.

“Yours.” You gasped longingly as his broad fingers teased your sticky, slick folds, gathering up your pooling arousal that oozed just for him.

The pounding rain soaked through your clothes as your thighs were wrapped tightly around Joel Miller’s hips. He was buried to the hilt inside of you as he slammed into you in a rhythmic pattern. The wind howled wildly as thunder cracked dangerously above. His hips would snap forward into you each time the thunder cracked ferociously. You and Joel were like two feral animals, clawing, biting, and moaning through the ever-growing violent tempest.

Your need for one another had grown carnal. Your bodies were constantly drawn to one another, like moth to flame. You spent more time in his apartment on the other side of the QZ than your own. He fucked you into a peaceful slumber everytime. Sometimes he’d fall asleep inside of you when he’d grown exhausted. “G’nna keep you full of my cock all fuckin’ night.” He’d whispered against your sex stained skin as his arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

You’d slip out of his steel grip before the sun would kiss the budding horizon. Sleeping over at Joel’s felt too personal, and you did it for yours and his own good. Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed. He’d confront you about it each time you’d accompany him on a smuggling run. “Why’d you leave in’sucha hurrry? Think I’m ugly or somethin?’” He’d casually ask as he walked alongside you.

“We both agreed to do no sleepovers, Joel.” Was always your reply. It was like clockwork.

“Fuck our stupid rules. I want to wake up to that pretty little cunt squeezing my cock. You gonna deny me that? C’mon. One sleepover won’t kill ya. I like havin’ you in my bed darlin.’” He nudged you against a nearby tree as the early morning birds chirped along the swaying branches.

“Fine. One sleepover.” You grasped him firmly through the tight confines of his jeans as he hissed under his breath. “Just one, baby. I swear on my filthy, lust ridden heart.” He affirmed.

One sleepover turned into five, and five to a dozen, till neither of you could keep track. It’s as if Joel had made a home inside of your flesh where he refused to depart. He built a door between your sternum; strong and sturdy. On either side of your sumptuous breasts laid two crafted windows. Your heart is where his bed laid where he secretly wished he could inhabit there for the rest of his dying days.

You had grown accustomed to the old metal bed frame striking the crumbling wallpaper fiercely. The old creak and groan of the bed springs creating a rhythmic tune in sync with your sweat slick bodies colliding over, and over again. Joel took you in any position imaginable between those 4 cramped walls. He grew fond of the way you’d ride him slowly where he had the pleasure to watch the way your warm walls hugged his cock with each roll and rise of your hips. He reveled in the erotic sight of your cum mixing with his own, like your own personal watercolor painting between your connected bodies. He reveled in smearing your skin with his release, using his fingers as a paintbrush as he streaked your skin in his filth.

When he learned that you were incapable of having children, he’d press his cum back into your tight hole with glint in his darkened eyes as he used his tongue to push his cum further inside of you, humming at the taste. “Gotta keep all of that inside of ya, sweet girl. Love knowin’ I can fill ya up like this. Don’t want any drops to leak out of this cunt. Wanna keep you stained in my cum forever.” He’d kiss your clit lovingly, tenderly with a light flick of his wet muscle. His words were nothing short of filthy. Any existing priest in this shit-hole would proclaim that you and Joel were children of satan for the debauchery that you both willingly partook in.

You liked it that way.

On the evening you made the conscious decision to leave Joel, and the QZ forever. The weather was stormy, just like the night you had first officially met. The rain pounded furiously against the grime stained windows. The tattered curtains casted shadows along the peeling floral wallpaper. Bright hot flashes of lightning illuminated the room you inhabited for what felt like centuries in fluorescent white. Your thighs were deliciously squeezing either side of Joel’s head as his face was buried deeply into your ruined cunt for the fifth time that evening. His tongue worked you in practiced strokes. His hunger for you was that of a ravenous beast that hadn’t experienced the taste of a woman along his tongue in years. He lapped at you like a man starved as if your cunt was that of the holy grail, sweet and life-curing. His hands acted as anchors around your hips, holding you pliant with little strength needed, eyes blissfully closed as he drank and lapped every last drop you could possess for him. Always so willing, always so needy, always such a good, good, girl for him. Only for him.

When he finally detached his mouth from your swollen clit, he looked up at you, grinning like a devil. His beard and chin were freshly coated in your slick that glistened under the bright flashes of lightning. His lips were wet, and appeared like two dew kissed cherries, scarlet and kissable. He rested his cheek along the inside of your sweat thick thigh as he caught his breath, chest rising and falling as he gazed up at you through thick lashes. He pressed an open mouth kiss as his beard scratched your skin gently. He was in love, and yet you had no idea. Or, maybe you knew all along. Maybe you loved him too. Maybe, just maybe. “Do you think maybe we can just stay here forever?..I’ll greet ya with a kiss every mornin.’ We could just stay between these walls and no one would have to know.” He pressed a feather light kiss to your hip bone. “Just you and me, and this sweet cunt. Never have I tasted something so sweet.”

Your fingers found purchase through his sweaty tendrils, twisting them between your digits with a content sigh. “I’m leaving the QZ, Joel. I can’t stay here any longer.” The confession flitted past your lips with a heavy sigh to shortly follow.

He chuckled, the sound vibrated up his chest and through his throat that was coated in your taste like cough syrup. “What do you mean you’re leavin’ the QZ? Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Everywhere behind these fuckin’ walls is a shithole. There ain’t anythin’ good out there. I can’t fuckin’ protect you past those gates.” Another kiss was left along your abdomen.

“I never asked for, nor needed your protection, Joel. I’m perfectly capable on my own. You have to let me go. This has gone on far too long, and it’s for our own good.”

He scoffed as his lips continued to kiss their way up your body. Stopping at every freckle, every scar, every blemish. He traced them gently. “Let you go? How the fuck do you expect me to do that when I’ve learned, and know every fuckin’ inch of ya. Is it really for our own good? Or just yours? Don’t lie to me.” He nipped at the spot just below your ribcage, and your immediate reaction was to arch up closer to his touch. You always felt magnetized to him.

“You and I both know that it’s better off this way. What we had was good, and I have no regrets, but we broke every fuckin’ rule we put in place, Joel. It’ll hurt for a while, but the pain will reside and you’ll forget all about me.”

He was on his knees now, yanking you down by your ankles so you were beneath him. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me how I’ll feel. You know how fuckin’ long it’s takin’ me to finally open myself to someone again? You think you can just leave and suddenly one day I’ll stop thinkin’ about you? You’re fuckin’ out of your goddamn mind if you think that to be true.” The tip of his cock was nudged against your entrance, dragging through your slick folds that parted open for him like a canyon. He pressed himself into your tight wet hole, groaning softly at the feeling of your cunt hugging him already. “Put your thighs up against your chest fo’me.” He gritted out between clenched teeth.

Your thighs moved on command as you brought them up to your chest, bending yourself in half like a folding table as the weight of his own broad chest pushed your back further into the old mattress. “Joel, please.” You mewled. “You have to let me go. You have to.”

“Stop. Tellin’. Me. What. I. Have. To. Do.” He enunciated each symbol in a borderline patronizing way. He sunk further, and further into your warm abyss. Your pussy hugged him tighter and tighter till he had bottomed out. Sweaty strands of curls draped across his forehead like curtains as he snapped his hips forward in an aggressive manner. “You wanna leave me so bad, baby? After everythin’ I have done for you? Everythin’ I have given you? Shelter, food in your belly and a cock that knows how to fuck you stupid? You ain’t goin’ anywhere. I’ll just have to follow you. Care about you too fuckin’ much to just let you leave me like that.”

The old springs in the mattress squeaked with each one of his heavy thrusts. Your eyes rolled back as his tip pressed firmly against your cervix, eliciting stars to be casted behind your eyes. He fucked into you at an impossibly deep angle, his heavy balls hung between his thighs and slapped against your skin with every snap of his hips. “Joel, please.” You pleaded with him between moans.

“Please what, baby? Please fuck you stupid till you forget all about wantin’ to leave me? You’re not the same until you’ve had a well deserved fuck. I’m the only fuckin’ man that can give it to ya. Take it like the good fuckin’ girl that you are fo’me. Your pretty ‘lil fuckin’ pussy is huggin’ my cock so perfectly. S’like she was made ‘jus fo’me.” He was kissing you now, all teeth and tongue to shut you up. You protested words that fell muffled against his addictive lips as he fucked you the way he knew best. Always making sure you felt filled, stretched to your limits, and on cloud nine by the end of it. He always took care of you afterwards. Gently wiping between your thighs, bathing you under a warm stream with the tenderest of touches. Joel Miller loved you, and that’s exactly why you had to leave him.

He kept you anchored against his naked chest all night. Notched together like two puzzle pieces. At the strike of morning, with the soft beams of light trickling in through the wispy curtains, prying yourself from his satiating grasp. If you stayed in his warm embrace any longer, your heart would cave and you’d never leave. Without even delivering a proper goodbye, you left his apartment without looking back. You kept pushing yourself further and further from Joel, from the QZ till it was just a mere speck in the distance.

Joel drove himself mad on his search to find where you went. His anger shrouded his hurt as he scoured the QZ for any sign of your existence. He checked alleyways, the abandoned mall, your own apartment. He tore through your things in a fury, tears burning his vision as he ripped through your belongings like a predator rips apart its prey. No signs. No hidden clues for him to find where you ran off to. He inspected mutilated faces of the infected, praying that none of the once living would resemble you. None of them did. He gave up his search when he and Tess were forced to take a teenage girl across the country to the fireflies. Tess perished and soon it was just Joel and the kid. He never stopped thinking of you, of course. You haunted his dreams and sometimes he’d wake up to see your ghostly face laying beside him.

He thought he’d never see you again until one brutal winter in Jackson while he, Tommy, and a few other men were patrolling on horseback. Ellie was safely back in town, far from harm's way while Joel placed himself on death's doorstep every time he patrolled with his brother. His horses' hooves crunched heavily along the freshly fallen snow. The wind whipped and howled in an ominous tune as the bitter chill tore through his thick jacket and pierced his skin. “There ain’t nothin’ alive here for miles, Tommy. Let’s go back. That rumor we heard about a raiders camp is probably false. Besides, you said it yourself, ain’t no man is stupid enough to try and overthrow the town.” Joel rode up alongside Tommy’s horse.

“The cold botherin’ you or somethin’ brother? Thought you were tougher than that.” The younger Miller brother said with an amused grin as he lightly punched Joel in the shoulder.

The wholesome moment quickly turned to chaos as 3 shots rang through the snow covered evergreens. Your group had been closely stalking Joel and Tommy for hours in the shadow of the forest. It wasn’t your first choice to join a raider group. Why the men spared you that day was beyond you, but they had become your new family, and you’d take whatever protection you could get; good or bad. You were the mastermind behind ambushing the group from Jackson. Driven by greed and bloodlust, you convinced your men that they could take down the patrol group, and overthrow the town. A lack of poor judgment proved to be fatal as you were thrown from your horse and tumbled into the snow. Your gun was kicked violently from your grasp with a heavy boot as you let out a feral scream.

The same boot that disarmed you, kicked your body down into the snow with a heavy thud. Adrenaline coursing through your veins clouded your senses as you held your hands up in defense at your perpetrator. You could only see his eyes as the rest of his face was covered by a thick wool scarf. The barrel of his gun was pressed against your temple as the man’s knee pressed harshly down on your stomach, pinning you at his mercy. “Your men are dead, and now you’re about to fuckin’ join them. How stupid does one person have to be to try and pull off a stunt like that?” The man gruffly spoke, voice muffled through the thick wool disguising his features.

That voice. Could it be? No. You were just imagining things again.

“Go ahead and fucking shoot me then. Better you than the men back at my camp. They’ll do far worse than you can imagine.” You spat.

Joel grasped the back of your head, yanking you up as he kept the barrel of his gun steady against your trembling temple. “How many of ya are there? In your camp, how many? If you tell me where they are, I won’t kill you.” Joel Miller was always a man of his word.

“Twenty..or so. You’ll need more men.” You grinned your teeth together as he roughly yanked you up. Your face was also concealed with a thick scarf, but your eyes held a sense of familiarity that Joel hadn’t felt in years.

“Tommy! Round up what’s left of their horses, and we’ll take her back with us. She’s gonna tell us where the rest of her group is. Ain’t that right, darlin?’”

Tommy was weary of his brother's proposal but ultimately agreed. “Fine. We’ll put her in a cell and then interrogate her for information. Maria isn’t going to take lightly to this, just so you’re aware.” Tommy narrowed his eyes at you before turning on his heel to return to his own horse.

“So, I’m becoming your prisoner? You gonna put me in handcuffs or something, sir?” You couldn’t help but take a tone with this man, despite a literal gun being pressed against your forehead.

He yanked you up to your feet in one swift movement. “You’re going to be my jailbird for as long as I fuckin’ see fit. You wanna live another day? Better get to talkin’, and cut that smartass attitude out. The hell is wrong with you?” Joel shoved you towards your horse with the barrel of his gun now shoved at your back. “Get on.” He demanded.

“You injured my horse.” You flatly stated as you grabbed ahold of the reins and hoisted yourself back into the saddle, and your scarf fell down just the slightest before you quickly scrambled to re-secure it.

“That’s what happens when you ambush heavily armed people, darlin.’ A grazed bullet to the flank ain’t gonna kill your horse. He’ll live.” Joel hoisted himself back up into his own saddle.

“It’s a she, and fuck you.”

“Well, my apologies to her.” Joel held the reins in one hand while the other was firmly wrapped around your bicep, just in case you were going to be stupid enough to try and escape.

You were in fact thrown into Jackson’s makeshift jail like a rag doll. Joel was anything but gentle as he shoved you inside the cell and slammed the door shut with a heavy clank and locked it. “You outta go and make yourself comfortable, cus’ you’re gonna be here awhile.” He pulled up a chair to sit right outside the metal bars. It scraped painfully along the flooring as he sat down.

You sat down in the chair across from him, peering through the metal bars with your arms crossed against your chest. “So, even if I tell you where the rest of my group resides, you aren’t going to let me go?”

Joel mirrored your actions by crossing his broad shoulders over his chest in an intimidating manner. “I never said anythin’ about lettin’ you go. All I said was that I wouldn’t kill ya if you told me where the rest of your group is.”

“Ohh. So you were dead serious on the whole prisoner thing? I thought you were bluffing.” You pressed the weight of your back against the metal chair. “Well, if we’re gonna be here awhile, mind telling me who you are?”

“Those details are not necessary. You ain’t got a reason to know who the hell I am. You’re gonna sit there, and you’re gonna talk and I let you live. You think you get to call the shots, sweetheart? You got another thing comin’ for ya.” Joel stated with a raised brow.

“Alright, how about we make a deal. You seem like a reasonable man. How about we both take these scarves off and reveal our identities, and then I’ll talk. Let’s make this entire transaction personable, it’ll make it way more fun for me to kill you if I see your face.” Your threat was casual, yet all the more serious.

“Kill me? How are you gonna do that? I got you trapped behind these bars and there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.” He scoffed at your threat, brushing it off like water off a ducks back.

“I have my ways.” You stood up from the chair and sauntered over to the bars, grasping them between your hands with your cheek pressed against the cold metal. “C’mon. Tell me your name, and then I’ll tell you where my camp is. It’s a fair deal.”

Joel let out an annoyed huff. He was sick of your games already and he briefly wondered how someone as incessant as you, survived this long. “Joel. My name is Joel.”

Joel is a common name, right? There’s plenty of Joel’s. There’s no way in fucking hell that this man was your Joel Miller. Not a chance.

The air felt heavy as you stared at him through the bars. Your gaze was heavy on his covered face as if you were trying to see through the wool that covered it.

“The fuck are you starin’ at? Y’know what? Maybe I should just kill you after all. You ain’t gonna tell me what I want to know. You think that you’re gonna fuckin’ weasel your way out of this. Well, guess what? You ain’t.” He stood up from the chair in a fury as he strode to the bars and grasped your chin in one swift movement. You clawed at his hand, but it was too late. Your scarf fell from where it was secured on your face and he stumbled back as if he had seen a ghost, his own scarf falling as his body collapsed into the chair.

“YOU?!” He yelled incredulously as he stared at your recognizable face in disbelief. “YOU TRIED TO FUCKIN’ KILL ME!” He tossed his scarf to the ground as he pulled himself back up from the chair. “All these years, and this is how we meet again?!” His voice echoed off the concrete walls, booming painfully against your eardrums as you cowered from the sound.

“Had I known it was you—”

He didn’t even give you a chance to finish your sentence as his hands slammed down around the bars. His face was flushed red with anger, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Bull fucking shit! You tried to kill me, and my brother! You fuckin’ ambushed us!”

“I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS YOU! I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS YOU, JOEL! I SWEAR!” You tried to plead with him.

“You tried to kill me.” His voice fell flat as he stepped back from the metal bars with a heavy shake of his head. “You fuckin’ bitch.” He whispered under his breath as he strode out of the makeshift jail without looking back.

Three days passed since you had last seen Joel Miller. You were convinced that he, and the people of Jackson would let you rot in here without a care in the world. In your solitude, your mind drifted off to the QZ and your time spent with Joel. Oh, how everything had changed.

A metal tray skidded to your feet below the metal bars along with a mug of coffee. Joel had returned and was once again sitting in the old metal chair as you scarfed down the food he provided you like a ravaged animal.

“Your men are dead. Cordyceps got to them before we could.” He was resting his hands on his knees as he leaned over, observing you.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” You spoke between mouthfuls of stew, not even looking up at him.

“Tommy wants to kill you. His wife is pretty fuckin’ pissed that you and your group ambushed us. I’ve convinced him for the time being to spare your life. You’re welcome.”

“I agree that they should kill me. I’m a traitorous killer. If you let me out of this cell, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“You can quit that whole tough girl act ‘round me. I know exactly who, and what you are, and you darlin’ are not a killer.” Joel retorted with a sigh.

“Stop fucking acting like you know who I am, Joel. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me anymore. You don’t know the people I have killed since I left you. You don’t know what I’m capable of, so stop pretending that you do.” You snapped.

“Oh? I don’t? Just because you went off and joined a group of murderous raiders, doesn’t mean I don’t know you anymore. Are you forgettin’ that I used to be one of them?”

“What exactly are you trying to get out of this, Joel? Are you looking for closure? Are you looking for revenge? What the hell is it that you want?” You kicked the empty tray back under the prison bars.

“I want some fuckin’ answers. I want to know why you just up and left me like that. Do you know how long I spent lookin’ for you? I was forced to give up because a teenage girl, who I now view as my own kid, was thrown into my life, quite literally, and we went on this journey together. I stopped looking for you in mutilated bodies, but I never stopped thinking about you, and where you were.”

“I already told you why I needed to leave. I gave you those answers, and you wouldn’t agree with me. Leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever fucking had to do. I told you it was for our own good.”

His boots were heavy along the floor as he stopped in front of the bars, grasping them tightly between clutched fists. “No. I want a real fuckin’ answer. I deserve that at the very least.”

You were in front of him now, hands grasping the bars just below his own with your eyes boring into his. “I left because I had to. If I stayed any longer, I would have never been able to leave. We would have never worked out, Joel. It was going to come to an end whether we wanted it to or not.”

“You didn’t fuckin’ have to do anythin.’ I provided you anythin’ you fuckin’ wanted. Anythin’ you needed. I let you ruin me, and you just get up and leave? Fuck you. I didn’t ask to feel this way. I didn’t ask to care about you. It just fuckin’ happened. So how dare you say that you had to do anythin.’” His tone dropped an octave as his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“What the fuck else do you want me to say, Joel? Do you want me to say that I hated you? That I never cared about you either? Do you want me to lie to your fucking face and tell you that you never fucking meant anything to me? Is that what you fucking want?!” You responded exasperatedly with your lips nearly touching his between the gaps in the bars. “I’ll lie to you if it means that you’ll finally let me go.”

“I loved you.” He whispered with a clenching heart. “I loved you, and would have done anythin’ to keep you. I’d lasso you the fuckin’ moon if it made you happy.” He confessed.

Your heart fell heavy between strained strings as your palms grew clammy. “No. Take it back. Don’t you dare fucking throw that word around with me, Joel Miller. You’re fucking lying.”

“Am I? Am I fucking lyin’ when I tell you that I searched every goddamn crevice in the QZ looking for you? Am I lyin’ when I tell you that I tore up your fuckin’ apartment to try and find any sign or clue as to where I could find you? Am I lyin’ when I spent sleepless nights cryin’ in my own filth because it felt like a piece of me was ripped away? Just like the way my fuckin’ daughter was ripped from me? I love you, you stupid, stupid girl.”

Suddenly, you were kissing. Magnets drawn together by an impossible force that not even prison bars could keep you apart. He grasped your face delicately between his hands as you kissed one another with desperation, as if you’d slip between one another’s hands like sand on a beach. He detached his lips from yours, a string of spit keeping you connected for a mere moment as he quickly unlocked the cell door with the key in his pocket. You were on each other in an instant, slamming his back into the door before kissing him fervently once more. Joel Miller should have never trusted a jailbird such as you. You felt the coolness of the key in your grasp, having him distracted at your mercy. You shoved him away, slipping through the door and slammed it shut before locking it. He barely had a chance to register that you were no longer in his proximity.

He shook the bars wildly, yelling fiercely as you slipped from his grasp once more. “DON’T LEAVE ME! DON’T LEAVE ME! I LOVE YOU, PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T GO! I LOVE YOU!” He slammed his fists into the bars over and over again, till his knuckles were raw and bleeding, and his throat ran dry.

Tagging people I think will enjoy! @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @darkroastjoel @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42

Part Two

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tieronecrush · 1 year

Text

hot & heavy

chapter four: american pie

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6.6k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced/virgin reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, mentions of food/eating, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, etc.), polite southern manners (use of sir), feeling familial and self-pressure, oral sex (m & f), slightly public sex (no bystanders), fingering, dirty talk, LATINO JOEL cause it's canon which means there's likely subpar spanish

It was Thursday night, the week after you’d kissed Joel for the first time. The week after he’d told you that he’s been thinking about you since he met you. The week after he’d asked you to ride his thigh. The week after he’d made you come while teaching you Spanish.

The last two things hadn’t happened since, but it had been a week full of fleeting moments that made your skin heat up when you thought back on them. You stayed later and later each night that passed, talking with Joel and getting to know more about each other. Joel would prepare dinner, relax on the couch, or even stay in the entryway while the two of you conversed, flirty glances and affectionate smiles passed back and forth.

And in the moments when Sarah was off in her room playing or was outside in the backyard with you two watching her from the screened door, Joel’s hands would sneak around your hips or skim down your backside. Sweet and sultry kisses were shared, giving you more Spanish lessons to tell you what he desperately wanted from you. Last night he’d set dinner down in front of his daughter and walked you to the door, wrapping his arms around you and grabbing a handful of ass as he caught your lips in a heady breath, melding his tongue with yours and leaving you feeling like jelly as he pulled away.

Reminiscing on the moment now as you chop some apple slices for Sarah has you so distracted that you jump when you feel a tug on your shorts, tiny fingers poking at your sides.

“Can I have my snack now, please?”

You smile and nod, throwing the slices into the Aladdin bowl sitting on the granite.

“Here you, sweet pea. Sorry for taking so long.”

“It’s okay! Thank you!” Sarah sends you a beaming smile and twirls around, bounding out to the living room again.

As you’re cleaning up the counter and the dishes, your cell phone vibrates in the pocket of your jean shorts. After drying your hands off on the kitchen towel, you fish your phone out and smile to yourself when you see Joel’s name on the small screen.

On my way home, you got a minute to stick around when I get back sweetheart?

Course I do :) See you soon, drive safe!

Will do. Gotta make it back to both my girls in one piece

The last message makes your smile grow wider, a giddy feeling in your chest at the simple affection, even via text. After rereading the message a few times, you finally slip your phone away again and turn back to your task.

Settling in on the couch with Sarah after the kitchen’s cleaned, Lilo & Stitch runs on the TV after a few incessant requests to watch it with you. Her tiny legs are stretched across your lap, her torso curled into your side, and her eyes glued to the animations on the screen. As Lilo is yelling about feeding fish tuna, Sarah giggles and you wrap an arm around her to pull her closer.

“I want a Scrump! She’s so cute,” Sarah points at the TV when Lilo pulls the doll out of her duffel bag, and you can’t help but grin.

“I think I want a Scrump, too. She’s so much cooler than those other dolls. Very original,” you squeeze Sarah’s side and grin, “Maybe you can get a Scrump for Christmas or something this year! Put it on your list for Santa.”

“But that’s so far away, like a trillion days,” Sarah replies in a louder volume with a huff, perking up at the sound of keys in the front door. Joel walks into the house, throwing his work bag down on the ground and kicking off his boots. He shuffles into the living room, giving both you and his daughter a quizzical look as he flops down onto the couch on the other side of Sarah.

“What’s a trillion days away?” Joel rubs his hands over his face and looks at the movie playing on the TV, laughing softly to himself and sharing a sweet look with you over Sarah’s head.

“Christmas! I want a Scrump doll and I could ask Santa for one, but it’s so far.”

Joel’s laugh fills out, a bit louder as he speaks directly to Sarah, “Well, that’s true that you could Santa for one, but y’know your birthday’s in just a couple’a weeks, Bug. Maybe one of your friends could get you one. Or Uncle Tommy. He’d get you something weird like that.”

“Weird? She’s not weird, Daddy!” Sarah sits up, crossing her arms in annoyance towards her father.

“Sarah’s right, she’s adorable. I told Sarah I want one, too.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at your response, shaking his head and looking back to the doll on the paused screen.

“That thing? Really?” He watches you both nod and grins, huffing a chuckle out of his nose, “Y’all are somethin’ else.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully, and Sarah gets the idea in her head that she could make her own Scrump like Lilo did, climbing off of the couch and running excitedly up to her room to find materials. Watching her with a soft smile, you turn back to Joel when she disappears at the top of the stairs.

He scoots closer on the sofa, a slight smirk raising one side of his mouth. His hands stretch out, one caressing your waist and the other crossing your lap to the side of your thigh to pull your legs over his. There’s a small gap between the two of you now, close enough to feel his breath against your skin while your eyes fall in line with his deep brown ones. Tension feels thick in the silent air, the sounds of Sarah’s footsteps and the birds outside being the only background noise besides your breaths.

“Missed you today, darlin’. Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Joel’s voice is low, barely above a whisper as the smirk on his face still tugs at his lips.

“Missed you, too. Been thinkin’ about getting a kiss from you all day.”

Your heart rate increases as Joel’s subdued hum vibrates throughout your chest, his large palms skating up your back and fingertips tracing your spine.

“That so? Well, all you gotta do is ask, sweet girl.”

You laugh faintly, biting your bottom lip as your eyes flitter back and forth over his to keep eye contact.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Joel tilts his head, clicking his tongue in a tsk.

“Now I think we both know you have better manners than that, sweetheart.”

You sigh with added drama, mouth screwing up into a tight purse to one side. Joel’s face is still stern, smirk playing at the corners and humor glittering in his eyes. An idea comes to mind, from the first time you met him even, and you bite back the sly smile that would give you away. Instead, you put on your best sweet expression, batting your lashes as you ghost your lips over his as you speak.

“May I please have a kiss, sir?”

His eyes darken as you’re staring into them, a long exhale slipping from his lips as he shifts his hips under your leg. A simper stretches your lips to expose your teeth, a light laugh rolling as you throw a satisfied look in Joel’s direction. A simmer grows in your gut as you await his response, pumping your heartbeat in a steady, quick rate.

“Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish, querida.”

“What makes you think I can’t finish it?”

“The fact that you have to go home tonight.”

Before you can offer a counter, Joel closes the small gap between the two of you, a sincere smile on his face as he presses his lips to yours in a tender kiss. With a few seconds passing of the PG-rated kiss, his hand drifting down towards your ass parts your lips in a gasp, his tongue melding with yours in a hotter exchange. The two of you makeout with each other for a few minutes before you both hear the pitter-patter of footsteps upstairs, pulling apart and separating to your original spots on the couch.

Nothing more comes from upstairs, and Joel sends you a suspicious look.

“Probably should go make sure she’s not destroying her room or somethin’ to make that weird doll.”

You laugh and nod, standing up from the leather seat. Joel follows you to the front door, watching you slip your shoes on and grab your bag from the table. He grins when you turn back to him, reaching out to pull you in.

“Wanted to ask you somethin’ before I forget.”

“And what’s that?”

His eyes drift down to the ground and he clears his throat, free hand finding the back of his neck and moving up to mess with the hair at the crown of his head. Legs shifting his weight back and forth, left thumb rubbing circles into your hip before his eyes come back to you holding trepidation.

Is Joel…nervous?

What the hell could he need to ask you that has him acting like this?

“Is everything okay?”

You lay your hand over his on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“God, yeah, I’m sorry. Just, I, uh, I was wonderin’ if you were doin’ anything on Saturday night?”

Joel Miller is this nervous to ask you out?

Joel Miller is this nervous to ask you out.

Damn, he’s adorable.

“Joel, are you asking me out?”

He sees the smile hidden in you expression, an embarrassed groan rumbling from his chest.

“I haven’t asked anyone out in years, sweetheart, so you’ll have to forgive me, but yes. Was wonderin’ if maybe you’d wanna go for a drive, and then stay the night with me? Sarah’ll be at her mom’s for the weekend. And I’ll be real lonesome.”

He shoots you his best pleading look with those big brown puppy eyes — another thing you never thought you would see from Joel Miller, but after a week of being something with him, you’ve come to learn that he uses them frequently to get what he wants.

And you definitely haven’t built a tolerance for them.

And probably never will.

“No need to try to persuade me, I’d have agreed without the eyes, babe.”

He winks lightning fast, shaking his head. Feigning innocence with the look across his face, shrugging his shoulders and holding you to his chest.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, cariño,” a chaste kiss is shared, and then another, and another, “You really wanna stay over?”

“Course I do,” your hands find his shoulders, nerves crossing his eyes, “Don’t worry. I’ll tell ‘em I’m staying at a friend’s house. We can figure somethin’ out with my car.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Just don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“I know, Joel. It’s alright. Don’t want to have you end up with a shotgun pointed at you. Metaphorically speaking. Dad doesn’t have a gun.”

He huffs out a tight laugh, nodding slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“See you tomorrow? We can figure out Saturday night then?”

You nod and give him a taut, thin smile.

“See you tomorrow. Night, Joel. Tell Sarah I said g’night too.”

“Course. G’night, sweet girl. Sleep well.”

He gives you one last peck before holding the door open for you, watching from the threshold as you cross the yards and give him one look back, waving to him.

Excitement for the weekend swirls in your stomach, but you can’t help but feel the sharp pain of your heart constricting at the thought of keeping a secret for the summer.

The pathetic air conditioning of your 1997 used Honda CR-V spits out lukewarm air while the rest of the car bakes in the 96º evening heat in the middle of July.

The skin of your thighs is plastered to the gray leather of the seat below you, and you can already tell it’s going to be extra painful to peel yourself out. At this point, you’re gripping the hem of your strappy white sundress and fanning yourself in an attempt to cool down even a little bit.

20 minutes have passed since you parked up at the far end of the lot outside of Foley’s department store at the Highland Mall. You’d told your parents that you were heading over to Emily’s house, a friend from high school, and spending the night there. After covering for her countless times over the last few summers, she owed you a favor — no questions asked — and so you made sure she would corroborate your lie if your parents asked.

But being the goody-goody you always were paid off from time to time. They trusted you enough to not have to check in with anyone you’d mentioned hanging out with, never expecting you to lie to them. And you really didn’t, not fully. You were going to spend the night at a friend’s house, it just happened to be Joel’s instead.

Joel didn’t let any detail slip yesterday when you were talking about tonight before you left. You’d come up with the plan to meet in the mall parking lot, but when you asked what he’d planned, he only gave you a grin and shook his head.

“It’s a surprise, sweetheart. What kinda first date would this be if there wasn’t some element of surprise? I wanna do somethin’ for you, so let me.”

Another five minutes have passed and you are nearing suffocation from the heat in your car. Finally, Joel’s Ford pickup is coasting through the virtually empty parking lot in your direction, slowing down to a halt before he throws it into park. You turn toward your passenger side to gather your purse and your backpack filled with your overnight necessities.

“Shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked just sittin’ here, sweetheart.”

Joel’s voice sounding from right behind you makes you jump, whipping your head around to look at him over your shoulder with a huff.

“Fucking hell, Joel, scared the daylights outta me!”

He laughs, leaning against the frame of your car to block you in.

“Like I said, shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked. Don’t know who’s gonna come by and try somethin’.”

“Oh hush, nobody’s out here,” you slide your purse over your arm and turn off the ignition, dropping your keys inside of its largest pocket. Joel backs up a few steps to let you climb out, a soft wince slipping from behind your teeth as your skin sticks to the seat. Once you’re standing in front of him, you turn around and lean over the seat and center console to grab your overnight bag.

Joel’s hands find your waist and turn you back to him when you have your backpack, a tender smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“Didn’t get to properly say hello to ya.”

His lips meet yours in a supple kiss, a smile finding its way onto your face as he lets out a satisfied hum.

“Hello to you too,” both of your smiles match before you continue, “So what’s the plan? I need somethin’ cold wherever we’re goin’, I’m sweating.”

His smile grows wider while his head slowly moves left to right. Your hands brush when he takes your overnight bag from you, his other hand finding the small of your back to guide you to the passenger side of his truck.

“You’re nearly there, darlin’. If I know anything about you, I know you’ll like what I’ve got planned for you. And I promise it’ll cool you down.”

When the car door clicks open and he swings it out, Joel sends you a wink before offering you a hand to help you climb up into the cab. He closes the door behind you, making his way around the front to his side, setting your bag on the seat behind him, and starting up the truck.

Warmth spreads on your skin when his hand finds your thigh, long fingers extending to the inside while his thumb sweeps back and forth languidly toward the outside. Strip malls filled with one-off businesses, chain restaurants, and a few honky tonk bars blur past through the window, Joel heading in the direction opposite of your neighborhood and further out of Austin proper. The windows are cracked, and the speed of the car cools the wind down as it rushes in, swirling your hair around. You open the window further, extending a hand out and closing your eyes as you feel the evening summer air fill the car.

Joel slows to a stop at the first red light you’ve hit and you slowly open your eyes, taking in your surroundings and smiling softly when you recognize where you are. His timbre takes you out of your observations, head snapping in attention to him.

“You look real beautiful tonight, sweetheart. Pretty as a peach.”

The hand on your thigh finds yours closest to him, lacing your fingers together and bringing the back of yours up to his mouth to press a sweet kiss to your skin as the light turns green. You hold his hand with both of yours in your lap, a shy grin on your face.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Miller. Lookin’ mighty handsome, but you always do.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m handsome even when you see me dirty and sweaty and exhausted most of the time?”

He glances towards you, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Well don’t go fishing now, but yes I do. Especially then,” you say casually, shrugging your shoulders before adding, “You’re built like a brick house. It’s hot seeing you all sweaty and dirty with your hair messed up and your t-shirts tight around your arms and your chest.”

Joel laughs, squeezing your hand in his and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t think anyone’s ever said that I’m built like a brick house.”

“It’s true! In the best way possible. You’re solid and strong and tough. Safe. Sturdy. Reliable. The metaphor extends past your looks.”

“Thank you, sweet girl. ‘M glad you see me that way.”

He takes a breath in like he’s going to continue but it’s interrupted by getting his chance to turn off the main road and into the first destination of the night — the Tastee-Freez that you and Joel had talked about visiting when you were kids. Come to think of it, there’s a good chance you would have been there at the same time when you were younger.

A nostalgic grin crosses your face as you look over at Joel, a sheepish smile on his face. He scans for a parking spot, finds one, and lets go of your hand to stretch his arm behind your seat, twisting around in his as he effortlessly backs into the spot.

Why is it so attractive when a guy does that?

At the walk-up window, Joel stands slightly behind you with his hand rubbing up and down your back while you both act like you’re reading the menu when in reality, you’ll get the same thing you’ve been ordering for years.

It was a quick wait until you were up at the window to order, Joel’s hand still on you.

“Ladies first, darlin’.”

For you, it’s a vanilla-chocolate twist soft serve in a cone with chocolate hardshell dip.

For Joel, plain vanilla with butterscotch hardshell.

And yes, you had to give him a little shit for that.

The two of you find an empty picnic table at the side of the building, sliding onto the benches across from each other. Joel rests on his elbows on the table, leaning closer to you while his right leg slips between yours as if you’re a magnet. In between bites and licks of ice cream, the two of you reminisce together about coming to this particular establishment as kids, and then as teenagers, rowdy and causing trouble in Joel’s case.

“That poor kid!”

“Oh, c’mon. He was eleven and it was Tommy. He doesn’t need your sympathy, darlin’. He was askin’ for it.”

“No eleven-year-old deserves gettin’ an ice cream cone to the head when he was talkin’ to his first crush! I can’t believe you were such a cruel older brother back then.”

“Cruel? I wasn’t cruel. I was building character. Now he’s a slightly less annoying pest.”

“That’s such bullshit, oh my god!”

Easy banter bounces between the two of you, stories running off on tangents and revealing details to each other about yourselves. Laughs and flirty passes are shared, Joel insisting on you trying his cone after you dogged on his choice again. You ended up swapping, Joel giving you the last bite of chocolate dip that your original cone had before finishing it. Flimsy paper napkins stuck to your hands as you attempted to clean up the drips that covered your skin, giving up and running to the bathroom at the back to wash your hands quick. Joel emerges at the same time as you from the men’s, giving you a smile and catching his hand with yours as your strides match up.

“Ready for the next surprise?”

“If it’s anything like this one, you have my full trust.”

“So glad you said that, ‘cause I actually booked us an appointment to get matchin’ tattoos.”

Your face drops, gaze snapping over to Joel and rolling your eyes when you see the playful twist of a smirk on his lips, humor in his eyes. Gripping his bicep, you shove him to the side gently, Joel not getting too far with his hand anchoring him to you.

“Quit fuckin’ with me!”

Joel’s head falls back as he laughs, slowing his walk as the two of you approach the truck again. He opens the door for you, grinning sweetly and pursing his lips.

“Can’t help myself, you look cute gettin’ fucked with. All flustered and wide-eyed.”

He winks before kissing your temple, a heat crawling up your spine and settling in the back of your neck. After helping you into the car, Joel’s back in the driver’s seat and eases the car out of the parking lot. He takes a right, heading back in the direction of your neighborhood.

About three miles from home, he takes a left and drives a bit further west. The radio plays quietly, a comfortable silence filling the car. His hand rests on your thigh again, half of his fingers slid underneath the hem of your sundress. His gaze is straight ahead on the road, and you take a moment to study his chiseled profile.

Familiar trills of piano and a bright, full voice rings out from the speakers. An excited gasp drops your jaw in a short inhale, your hand reaching for the volume dial to turn it up. Don McLean’s American Pie plays loudly into the truck now, a wide smile on your face as you look over at Joel next to you.

“I fucking love this song!”

The slower introduction seamlessly transitions into the upbeat, classic summer song as you roll your window down all the way. Your arm falls out of the opening, hair blowing in the wind as you start to sing along with Don.

“Do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow?”

Your eyes shut tightly while you nearly shout the words, laughing in between the lines.

Joel’s own laugh interrupts your singing of the rest of the verse, and you sit up quickly to turn toward him.

“Sing along! I know you know how Miller. I saw your guitar and your daughter likes to tell me about all the songs you sing together.”

“You sound much better than me, darlin’. I like listening to you.”

“C’mon, please! For me?”

The song continues to play while the two of you project back and forth, Joel giving in to your own pleading puppy eyes and joining in with you on the chorus. His voice is gruff and bluesy, and suddenly it’s your favorite sound besides his speaking voice. The two of you start to shout the words, carefree when you pull up to stop signs and dance in your seats. Joel holds his hand in a fist over to you, your own hands wrapping around it and using it as an air microphone. He brings it back to himself, bobbing his head while the words effortlessly fall from his lips.

The river comes into view between trees, and a smile finds your face as you realize where he’s taking you. Another place you’d mentioned in passing that he’d paid attention to.

Parking up at the lookout point, the song fades into the next one. You turn the volume back down, sighing happily as you take in the view of the sunset starting. No other cars are around, the two of you alone in the spot you love to visit when you come back home during the summers to watch the sunset fully unobscured.

“You’re a good listener, y’know.”

Joel turns to you with a coy grin tugging one corner of his mouth up. He shrugs and rubs his hand against your thigh.

“Easy to remember things about you.”

The simple sentence strikes a chord in you, your heart beating faster and gut swirling with a warm, airy feeling. You can’t think of anything to say to him to convey what you’re feeling, so instead you unbuckle yourself, sit up and scoot over across the bench seat to his side. Your gaze only drops from his eyes to glance at his lips before you kiss him. It’s slow and syrupy, stretching your insides like taffy. Your tongue melts with his, soft whimpers being swallowed as Joel’s hands grip your thigh, gathering you across his lap. His hands move around you, pushing the steering wheel up as far as it could go and adjusting his seat back to give you more space to sit comfortably. Once the seat is settled, he wastes no time finding the flesh of your ass, hands slipping under your dress and moaning quietly when his fingertips brush against the lace of your panties.

“Wore somethin’ pretty for me, darlin’?”

“Mhmm. Wearing those white ones you like so much.”

“Fuck me.”

A giggle falls from your lips against his, the bulge of his jeans growing under you. His large hands on your ass push you down and grind his hips up against your covered pussy. The center of them sticks to your folds, your own hips swaying in the same rhythm. Heady kisses continued, Joel pulling away to attack your neck with kisses, licks, and tiny bites. All that comes from your mouth are whispers of his name.

Beneath you, you can feel that Joel is rock-hard. Saliva floods your mouth, an image of him in your mouth right here in his truck playing in your mind. A jolt of adrenaline kills your nerves, confidence filling your chest as you pull away from Joel, moving to sit at his side on the bench again. Joel stares at you inquisitively, his lust-hazed mind taking a moment to catch up until your thoughts become clear when you pop the button of his pants and drag his zipper down. His hand lays over yours, eyes locking with yours.

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.”

The anxiety starts to crawl back, and before you lose your nerve, you shake your head.

“I want to. If you want to. It’s okay if you don’t, we can forget—”

“Definitely want to, darlin’. Definitely. If you’re comfortable,” his hand sweeps over your cheekbone and down your jaw, a tender grin crossing his face, “You ever done this before?”

Shaking your head, you bite your bottom lip.

“Never, um, with my mouth. But with my hand, yeah.”

“That’s a good start, cariño. I can teach you how to do the rest, but you show me what you know.”

You kiss him again while he pushes his jeans down to his kneecaps along with his boxer briefs, his cock springing up against his t-shirt. Your lips pull away from his as your head stares down at his lap, licking your lips. Joel’s voice rumbles low as he mumbles.

“G’head, pretty girl.”

A long exhale is quiet out of your nose, your tongue wetting your palm before your hand wraps around the base of his thick cock, starting languid strokes along the length. Pre-cum pebbles out of the slit at his tip, your thumb ghosting across it as your hand reaches the top on the next stroke. A short hiss squeezes out from behind your Joel’s teeth, his hand gripping your side while his head finds a place in the crook of your neck and his mouth continuing to pepper kisses and nips against your skin.

The pace of your hand speeds up, a faint moan from Joan vibrating against you.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feels good,” another sigh of a moan cuts him off before he adds, “Think you wanna try with your mouth now? We’ll take it slow.”

“‘M ready.”

Joel helps you get comfortable kneeling over him on the seat and you feel the burn of his stare when you bring your mouth down toward his dick.

“Just start with the tip, darlin’. Y’can kiss it, lick. Only take it in when you’re ready.”

You follow his gentle instructions, kissing his tip and feeling his pre-cum coat your lips where it meets his skin, licking the spend before running your tongue across the tip. The sounds from Joel above you go straight to your aching pussy, your panties completely soaked without his touch reaching there. Your kisses drift down his length, tongue tracing over the veins before your mouth returns to his tip, taking the head into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks.

“Oh, fuck. That’s so good, baby. Just like that.”

At his encouragement, you swirl your tongue around him in your mouth before lowering your head and dropping your jaw wider to take more of his large cock. Joel instructs you to use your hand on the rest of him, following the same rhythm with your fist when you start to move your head up and down. He moans your name, hand resting on the back of your head and fingers tangling in your hair. You work your mouth on his cock, your free hand slipping between his legs to give attention to his balls.

“God damn, sweetheart. Sure you haven’t done this before?”

His breaths are short and you feel his balls tighten in your hand. He twitches in your mouth and he rasps out that he’s close. You’re desperate for him to come in your mouth, taking as much of him as you can before it sets off your gag reflex at the back of your throat. The loudest moan you’ve heard from him rumbles out of his chest, soft “fuck”s following it.

“Gonna come, sweet girl, fuck. Don’t have to take it in your mouth.”

Your lips leave him with strings of saliva tethered from his cock to your mouth, shaking your head quickly.

“I want it in my mouth.”

Joel’s eyes darken, nearly black, a flash of deep desire in them.

“Think we both know you got better manners than that, sweetheart.”

Your cunt flutters around nothing as his commanding voice, whimpering as he tugs your hair gently to look at him.

“May I please have your come in my mouth?”

“What are you forgetting? Ask again.”

His own hand works his cock, sweat pooling in the exposed skin at his collar.

“May I please have your come in my mouth, sir?”

“Good girl,” you relax next to him, bending over his lap again as you hear him give you permission, “Go on, pretty girl. ‘S all yours.”

His cock fills your mouth again, the tip gagging you again and muscles tightening around him send him over the edge, warm come spilling onto your tongue. You try to catch as much as you can before it slips down him from your mouth, his hand at the back of your head pulling you off to look at him again.

Awestruck, blown pupils stare at you as you show him his spend on your tongue, closing your lips and swallowing. He groans your name, breaths slowing while he watches you use your fingers to clean around your mouth, sucking your fingers before licking his cock clean of his come.

“God, you’re fucking incredible.”

He kisses you deeply, cupping your chest with one hand and thumb brushing over your hard nipple. You settle back with a proud smile, shrugging casually.

“Got a good teacher, I guess.”

He kisses you again, sighing softly as he pulls away.

“Better be ready for another lesson when I get you in my bed tonight. But I think you’d just qualify this one as a lecture. No need for student participation.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. Gonna make you come with my fingers and then on my mouth. You want that, baby?”

Your head lulls in a nod, a smirk crossing your face.

“Yes, sir.”

Joel groans, shaking his head as he mirrors your smirk.

“You’re fixin’ to be trouble with that, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

You wink as Joel tugs his boxers and jeans back on, not bothering to button them. After the two of you get buckled, he backs out of the parking space, shaking his head again as he starts back to his house, driving a bit faster than before.

“Mi pequeño diablo, my little devil. Who would’ve thought you were such a naughty girl?”

Falling back against the pillows at the head of his bed, a film of sweat coating your naked body with a sheen and chest heaving to catch your breath after your third orgasm from Joel. He’d sped back to his house, only slowing down to drive normally down the neighborhood streets to not draw any attention to the two of you. Once you’d made it back, he’d virtually carried you inside with how quickly he was moving behind you and guiding you up to his bedroom.

His fingers had coaxed the first out of you, straddling his lap at the edge of the mattress after a heavy makeout session. His lips spilled out Spanish, translating for you after he’d let it all out.

“Te ves tan hermosa cuando te corres, cariño. Quiero que lo hagas una y otra vez solo para escuchar tus pequeños sonidos y mirar esa cara. You look so beautiful when you come, sweetheart. I want to make you do it over and over just to hear your little sounds and look at that face.”

Dressing you down to only the lacy set you had worn for him, he worshipped your body with his mouth, pressing kisses and marking you with lovebites as he got you completely naked. Teasing your nipples, fanning his breath over your wet cunt, he roused you up to use his mouth to make you fall apart all over again.

After his taste of you, he begged you to let him do it again.

“Just one more, sweetness.”

“I can’t do it, Joel, ‘s too much.”

His fingers worked you open slowly again, whimpers falling from you as he sends you soft encouragements.

“You can take it, pretty girl. This pussy was made for it, made for me to play with.”

It didn’t take much more convincing after he said that, his thick fingers and mouth pulling out that third ultra-sensitive orgasm from you, his name moaned repeatedly from you as you look down at him using his tongue to clean you up.

You finally caught your breath, exhaustion rushing over you as your hazy vision watches Joel clean you up with a warm, damp washcloth. Your eyes fell closed, turning on your side on his bed and using the last of your energy to slide under his comforter. The bed sinks when the weight of him joins you, strong arm wrapping over your side and tugging you closer across the sheets. He’s bare besides his fresh pair of boxer briefs.

“You sleepy, my sweet girl?” His voice is low and raspy, lulling you into the warm slumber.

“Yeah, but I wanna stay up with you.” You fight the feeling of falling, peeling your eyes open and stretching your lips into a drowsy smile when you see Joel’s affectionate look.

“‘S alright if you wanna go to bed, we’ve got the morning, too.”

“No, no. Just ask me a question, if I keep talkin’ I’ll stay awake.”

Joel chuckles, his smile showing off his teeth as his hand reaches for the side of your face, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Alright, rapid-fire questions, sweetheart. Favorite color?”

“Green.”

“You?”

“Purple.”

“Childhood pet?”

“Dog. German Shepherd named Roxie. She was the best.”

He laughs softly again and nods.

“Had a mutt we found in our neighborhood. His name was Mancha. Means Spot, or really stain, in Spanish. My mom thought she was hilarious.”

It’s you laughing now, grinning widely.

“That is hilarious. Is she—is she still around?”

His lip twitches, eyes darting from yours for a second.

“No, she passed away when Sarah was two. Dad’s been gone since I was seventeen.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You skate the pads of your fingers across his cheek in a tender touch.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

He punctuates his statement with a kiss on your forehead, hand tightening at your hip before he continues.

“What was your first impression of me?”

Your skin heats and a sheepish smile crosses your face, shaking your head.

“I was hoping you would never ask me this,” you groan before dropping your eyes from his and studying your finger as it creates constellations of the freckles on his chest, “I saw you first from my living room window getting out of your truck when you moved in. I thought you were really attractive; probably would’ve said hot. I thought it was kind of funny that you were yelling at Tommy, and I could see your whole demeanor changed when you grabbed Sarah out of the car. You just lit up and it was so endearing. And then I was immediately embarrassed when you noticed me and waved to me.”

“Y’know, I saw you way before that day, sweetheart.”

Surprise twists your face, wide eyes meeting Joel’s.

“What? What do you mean? Are you a stalker?”

“God, no,” he laughs before he caresses your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth, “It was the first time I toured the house. It musta been your Spring Break or somethin’, but you were sittin’ in the hammock in your backyard when I walked out onto the deck in our yard. Thought it was nice to see what the neighbors were like. Then you got up and walked towards the deck, and I really saw you when you got closer. Felt like the wind got knocked outta me, you were just so beautiful. Like the sun was radiating off of you that day, kinda— what’s the word?...Ethereal. I was sold on the house already, but the chance to see you again, meet you, was the cherry on top.”

You swallow audibly, breath caught in your throat as you look at him tenderly. Leaning over to him, you press a gentle kiss to his lips and say quietly.

“Bet my pajamas and bedhead look on your moving day had you second-guessing your choice.”

All he does is shake his head, a smile plastered on his face.

“Not a chance, my sweet girl. Not a chance.”

Conversation slows as both of you grow more exhausted, Joel turning to lay on his back and tucking you into his side. Your ear rests over his chest, the strong, steady thump of his heartbeat drawing you into sleep, not before pressing one last kiss to his skin.

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cinnamongorll · 9 months

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a fragile line - chapter 19

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Warning: detailed descriptions of physical abuse from a parent

Word count: 7.8k

wasn't going to post this today but I can't hold you all in anticipation for feral Joel any longer ;)

this is both my favourite and the most painful chapter yet...

Chapter 19: 'Strangers'

Joel’s POV:

The frigid night air did nothing to cool the fire raging beneath Joel’s skin.

The bartender, whose name Joel never asked, slipped them out the backdoor. The way his wide eyes darted around, as he pushed open the rusted metal door, told Joel that he was worried, terrified even. But the deep, permanent, crease between his eyebrows also told him that fear was an ever present emotion in the residents of this town.

Joel had neither the patience nor the pleasantries to thank the man, so he opted for a curt nod as his eyes shot to the black street that stretched before them. There were no streetlights to lessen the sense of oppressive darkness which surrounded the path Joel and Ethan began to walk. They kept their steps quick, careful to avoid watchful eyes who were used to peering through the dark.

The thick handle of Joel’s knife was enclosed within his hand, the blade pressed against his jeans. Hidden, but ready to slice anything that got in his way. Joel imagined pressing the sharp edge to Elijah’s throat, feeling the weight of the blade pushing in, and savouring the heat of his blood as it wet his hands. Joel’s lips twisted in the beginnings of a cruel snarl.

Ethan’s steps pounded behind him, struggling to keep up with Joel’s vicious stride. Joel adjusted his broad shoulders, attempting to shake off the suffocating feeling of Ethan’s presence.

They were headed to the armoury. Neither of them had any significant weapons on them, and Joel wasn’t risking stepping into a situation where he wasn’t properly prepared. Juliet’s life hung in the balance; Joel wouldn’t risk a thing. Especially when it was his fault that she was back here, his fault that she was locked in a house with her abuser, his fault that she hadn’t felt she could tell him…

Within the swirling mess of self-loathing, which continued to swell in his mind, lay a puzzle that Joel couldn’t figure out. Why allow Joel to go to the bar? Why allow him to be seen by the townspeople? Joel’s jaw tightened and the weight of his steps grew heavier as he contemplated Elijah’s decisions. Picking apart the mind of a madman was not something Joel enjoyed, but he was good at it. Because he understood strategy, he understood cruelty.

Joel skidded to a stop as they rounded on a corner, his head whipped side to side as he struggled to see through the aching darkness.

“This way,” a rough voice whispered. Ethan stepped around Joel and began walking down another empty street. Joel followed close behind, gritting his teeth.

As they closed in on the armoury, which was really just a run down barn on the edge of town, Joel sunk deeper into the mind of Juliet’s dad. The questions were overpowering and endless. Why hurt Juliet? Why lure her back here? Why not let her go?

Joel’s fingers curled into a tight fist. He felt the harsh bite of his knife begin to press into his calloused skin as realisation dawned over him.

Elijah wanted complete control over Juliet, he wanted to be her protector, her saviour.

Which meant that he had lost something. Elijah had suffered a loss in his past so great that his instincts of care and protection had twisted, becoming darker, more intense, more dangerous. Juliet wasn’t just his daughter, she was his second chance.

Protection and fear often bled into possession and control. There was a fragile line between care and ownership, love and dominance.

Joel’s heavy breaths faltered, stuttering, as his own past crept over his skin, crawling into his mind, bringing forth memories too painful to even visualise.

The sharp blade of his knife finally pierced his skin and Joel could breathe again. The air released from his tight lungs, as the sting on his hand eased the pressure in his mind.

Ethan turned to look over his shoulder, attempting to read the look on Joel’s face. But it was too dark, and Joel was too good at shielding his emotions. He just ground out a quick command: “Keep movin’” and Ethan quickened his steps as they raced across the damp grass.

Elijah was addicted to control. He had this whole town so brutally devoted to him that they were complacent in the torture of two young people. That was why he allowed Joel to go to the bar: surveillance. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And who better to watch over Joel than his keen eyed followers?

Joel uttered a quiet “fuck ” under his breath. Ethan didn’t turn around this time. Joel was glad, he wasn’t in control of himself, he might start swinging at the next person who looked him in the eye.

Bringing him to the armoury earlier, showing him his gifted weapons, his gifted vehicle, was all an elaborate trick. Elijah was playing with his food. There was no way he was letting Joel leave this town. He thought back to earlier when he stepped in front of Juliet, when he opposed Elijah’s sick claim over her, and offered Juliet a choice. Joel had watched the ire ripple under Elijah’s stone features. Joel had challenged him, Joel was a threat. And Elijah wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

He should have never stepped away from her. He shouldn’t have left her there when he felt something was wrong. Joel was haunted by many things in his life, but he knew that that decision would cling to him for a long time. Thick regret boiled within him but Joel didn’t try to push it down anymore, he didn’t try to displace it. Joel allowed his fear, his regret and his anger to inflame, to blister, to worsen.

Joel relished in the blood that pooled in his hand, he savoured the sharp sting that throbbed around the blade of his knife.

The pain fueled him.

Juliet needed him, and he wouldn’t let her down again.

………………………………………………..

“Wait out here,” Joel ordered. His voice low but commanding as he stretched his arm out in front of Ethan, blocking him from moving towards the doors to the armoury.

Ethan peered up at him, his eyes narrowing as he registered Joel’s demand. The crease between Joel’s eyes deepened as he watched the shock and resentment wash over the younger man’s sallow features. Ethan opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Joel just raised his hand with impatience, cutting him off.

“I don’t know what or who’s in there, I’m goin’ in alone,” he said, leaving no room for a debate as he began to turn towards the doors. But that didn’t stop Ethan from trying.

Ethan moved forward, grabbing hold of Joel’s sleeve before he could reach the handle. Joel’s head whipped towards him and his hands began to shake with the effort it took not to punch that entitled look off of his face.

“I got Juliet out of his town once, and I can do it again. Who even are you?” Ethan’s words rushed out in a single breath as his eyes darted around, making sure no one had spotted them. He was practically jumping on the spot with the energy that rippled through him.

“You’re gonna want to let go of me,” Joel ground out slowly, after a pause. He didn’t break eye contact with Ethan as his hand quickly unlatched from his tight grip on Joel’s sleeve.

Joel rolled his shoulders and ran a hand over his face. He was growing impatient, he had no idea what was happening to Juliet right now and Ethan was only prolonging her suffering with his whining.

“You stay behind me and you shut up, got it?” Joel hissed, his irritation rolling off of him in waves. Ethan just nodded, sharp and quick. Joel stared at him a moment longer before rolling his eyes and reaching for the door handle.

The inside of the armoury was quiet, there was no one else lurking in the old barn as far as Joel could tell. But he moved slowly through the building, heading straight for the shotguns on the back wall. Elijah and his people had built up one hell of a supply.

A few minutes later, Joel ran his hand over the weapon before swinging the strap of the shotgun over his shoulder. He released a weighted breath at the feeling of a gun in his hands again. Ethan stood beside him, his hand outstretched to grab a gun of his own. Joel looked down at him, his eyebrows raised.

“You know how to use one of these?” he asked, watching Ethan from the corner of his eye as he adjusted his own gun.

Ethan grabbed hold of a shotgun and shot Joel an incredulous look. “Of course I can use a fucking shotgun,” he replied.

If Juliet didn’t care for Ethan, he would have been a dead man from that comment alone. Joel’s lips twitched with restrained anger before turning around and searching for ammo. He heard Ethan release a quiet, relieved, breath.

Once they were stocked up on ammo, Joel and Ethan headed to the side of the barn where the trucks were kept. Juliet had promised him a car battery back in the QZ, but there was way more than just batteries available. There were three trucks lined in a row, each of them rusted and dusty as though they hadn’t been driven in a long time. But Joel guessed that they were well maintained, their batteries charged every now and then in case of emergencies. That’s what Joel would do if he were in charge of a town.

Joel had begun to creep around the first truck, ready to try to hotwire it if needed. He had to know there was a way out of this town, a vehicle ready for him to get Juliet away as quickly as possible. But before he could even reach the truck, he stilled. His muscles locked up as he froze in place.

“Ethan made it to the bar, tried to fight that guy who turned up with Juliet. Joel, I think his name was,” said a voice from outside the barn, his words were muffled but Joel heard them clear enough. So did Ethan, who shot Joel a terror filled look.

Joel reached out his hand, palm up, to still Ethan. His mind began to filter through a thousand possibilities of how they would get out of here alive and without alerting whoever roamed outside. They both stood like statues, Ethan’s eyes latched onto Joel, as another voice from outside raised loud enough for them to hear.

“Fuck, Elijah’s not gonna like this”

Then a third voice…

“Just hurry up and get the ammo, then we’ll go get them. They won’t have made it far.”

Joel jumped into gear, moving with pure instinct. There were three voices outside, that meant they were outnumbered. And they were coming inside, which meant his hopes of a quiet exit were gone.

They would have to fight.

Joel curled his hand towards Ethan, and pointed with a sharp look from his dark eyes towards the door. Ethan frowned but followed, their steps thankfully silent on the old wooden floor.

They positioned themselves on either side of the barn doors. Joel attempted to have a silent conversation with Ethan, but it was either too dark or Ethan wasn’t the brightest, because all Joel got in response was a confused tilt of his head.

Joel’s eyes shot to the ceiling, the pressure on his chest increasing as he heard the voices move closer. Joel lifted his free hand, making quick, focused gestures. Ethan eventually nodded, finally understanding Joel’s clear instructions.

Joel clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth, and waited for the men to open the doors.

Moments later, the handle turned, and Joel was ready. The first man came through the door, and immediately fell forward, crashing onto the dirty floor with a bullet in his head.

Shouts rang in Joel’s ears as the next two men came barging in, stepping over the body of their friend. Their jaws hung open and their eyes moved between Joel and Ethan, obviously unprepared and taken off guard. Joel was right about this town, it may have the weapons and supplies, but there were no fighters living here.

Before the men’s eyes swung back over to Joel, another body dropped to the floor. Joel’s gaze immediately darted to Ethan, who stood breathing heavily, winded by the force it took to fire a gun in his weak state.

Joel recognised the third man. He had ginger hair and a thick, bleeding gash across his forehead, covered in a small bit of gauze. Before Ethan could finish the job, Joel moved, grabbing the man from behind and bringing his shotgun around to press on his neck as the man was forced to push against Joel’s front, wriggling as the shotgun tightened and his air began to lessen.

Joel grunted as the man elbowed him in the ribs but he held steady. “Don’t shoot, we need him,” Joel barked towards Ethan, who had already pointed his gun towards the man in Joel’s arms.

Ethan, confused, began to move closer, stepping over the two bodies at his feet.

Before the man passed out from the crushing force of the shotgun pressed against his neck, Joel moved his mouth to his ear. “Where’s Juliet?” he hissed, still grunting in between breaths as the man continued to squirm against him.

Joel eased the force of the gun just a little to allow the man enough air to reply. “At her house, with Elijah,” the man croaked out as his boots began to kick back against Joel’s shins

Joel held steady, eyeing Ethan. Juliet was still at her house, meaning Elijah hadn’t moved her anywhere. They knew where to go. But Joel wasn’t done with his interrogation.

He tilted his mouth back to the man’s ear. “Who’s with ‘em?” Joel asked, his voice rough with pain as the man got another hit in.

When the man didn’t answer, Joel adjusted his grip on the shotgun, applying more pressure on the man’s throat until Joel began to feel his consciousness slip. Then he loosened it again.

Ethan had lowered his gun as he stared at Joel. His eyes were wide and his gaze kept darting away as though he struggled to watch the brutal scene in front of him. Joel noted this with deep frustration. Perhaps Ethan’s weakness was not only found in the current state of his battered and malnourished body.

“Daniel,” the man in his arms finally gasped out. “Daniel is with them.”

Joel’s lips pulled back to reveal the shape of a vicious snarl. Only one more idiot standing in the way of Joel wrapping his fist around Elijah’s neck.

Before Ethan could even open his mouth, Joel had let go of the shotgun and replaced his grip on the man’s neck with his arm. The muscles in his bicep flexed as Joel forced his arm in one quick movement until he heard the crunch of the man’s neck and felt his body go limp.

Joel stepped back and allowed the body to drop to the floor. He stood over it, breathing heavy while he adjusted the strap of his shotgun.

Ethan had jumped backwards when the man hit the floor, almost tripping over the other bodies. His boots were stained with their blood as it pooled around them.

Ethan lifted his heavy gaze to Joel’s face. “What the hell was that?” he demanded, his voice shaky.

“We know where she is, we know who she’s with. We can go get her now,” Joel said, in a monotone, matter of fact voice as he began to step over the still warm bodies.

Ethan made a sound almost like a growl and whipped his hand out towards Joel, the tips of his fingers almost touching the arm of his jacket before Joel grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall beside the doors.

The adrenaline was still pumping steadily through Joel’s bloodstream as let go of one of Ethan’s shoulders, slipped his knife out of his pocket, and brought it to Ethan’s face. “What did I tell you bout’ touchin’ me?” Joel seethed, pushing the tip of his blade against the soft skin of Ethan’s cheek.

Ethan swallowed rough, the action restrained as though he was frightened the knife would cut him. Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted.

“Don’t fucking question my methods,” Joel warned, in a voice so quiet it might have sounded gentle. But the look in Joel’s eyes made it very clear that his words were coated in a razor sharp edge. He pressed the knife in further, careful not to break skin. “If you can’t handle this then leave, cause I'm gettin’ Juliet outta here with or without you.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched, then he nodded sharp and quick.

Joel let go of him and walked out the doors before Ethan could even catch his breath.

…………………………………………………

Juliet’s POV:

There were exactly fourteen steps down to the basement.

Juliet counted every one, each time she followed her father into the dark room below their rickety house. It helped ground her, the counting.

She would count the steps, then she would count the seconds, the minutes, and the hours. And when the number grew high enough for her father to be satisfied with her punishment, Juliet would listen as he walked those fourteen steps back down to collect her.

It was strange how memory worked. It had been nearly four years since Juliet wandered into the suffocating darkness of the basement, nearly four years since she felt the cold chill in the air which coated her skin like an oily slick. Yet, she still remembered to count the steps.

She did it on instinct, her mind was entirely devoid of thought or emotion, all that drifted through her consciousness was the sound of her counting. One, two, three, four…

Juliet was too numb to think anyway, to feel anything other than the space around her. The entire time she had travelled with Joel, Juliet knew what her destination was. The basement flashed through her mind many times, usually waking her from a shallow sleep in the truck or causing her to thrash and kick in her sleeping bag as she lay beside Joel. He would reach out a hand, stilling the movement of her legs, calming her racing heart.

She was always grateful for his quiet strength and his rare soothing touch, but it only kept the monsters at bay for a short while. They were never really gone. Because every mile they travelled led them closer to Juliet’s real nightmare.

Five, six, seven…

Juliet wasn’t sure what awaited her at the bottom of the steps, how she would reach the ‘salvation’ her father spoke of. Through her numbness, a spark of pain shot through her heart when she imagined Ethan facing the same fate. The thought of him hating her hurt more, though. Ethan was the only good thing in her life for so long, to lose that …

Eight, nine, ten, eleven…

Her mind picked up again and brought forth the anxiety and fear that shook her to the bone. Joel would never forgive her. She had brought him here on stupid, naive, false hope. Juliet had been content with returning home and fading into nothing but a memory in Joel’s mind, and a sad smile on Ethan’s lips. But with Ethan turned against her, turned into something vicious, something like her father, and Joel trapped here… Juliet began to feel that her sacrifice was in vain. The only person gaining anything was her father. It was always her father who won their games, Juliet had been stupid to think otherwise.

Twelve, thirteen …

Her legs shook with each step, the world around her travelled in slow motion. Bile rose in her throat and she fought to keep her arms by her side.

For most people, the world ended around twenty years ago. But for Juliet, her world ended with the last step down those basement stairs.

Fourteen.

…………………………………

“You know, Ethan sat in a chair just like this.”

Juliet blinked, her father’s words slicing through the fog that filled her head, clouding her thoughts and numbing her emotions. She looked down, reminding herself where she was. Juliet blinked again, slower this time, when she remembered the thick, coarse rope which wrapped around her wrists and ankles, tying her to the metal chair she sat on.

Eventually, her head tilted back up to meet her father’s icy gaze. His lips twitched into a satisfied smile when she didn’t respond. It appeared that Elijah had counted on her speechlessness.

He lowered his eyes to the restraints on her wrists, then turned and walked towards a fireplace on the back wall of the room, directly in front of Juliet. This was new, there had never been a source of light in the basement before.

“They’re for your safety. Don’t want you running off again. It’s not safe for you out there,” her father explained, his back turned to Juliet as he picked up a poker and prodded the burning logs.

“I managed just fine on my own,” Juliet murmured without a thought. The words just slipped out. Her head shot up and her teeth clamped down on her tongue when she realised what she said.

Her father’s movements stilled, the poker now hovering over the fire.

Then Juliet heard his quiet chuckle, getting louder with every second until she watched her father’s shoulders shake. Juliet squirmed in her seat, her heart had begun to pound against her chest.

Without warning, the laughter ceased. The only sound that remained was the crackling of the fire and the quiet breaths that slipped past Juliet’s clenched jaw. She followed her father’s movements as he dropped the poker back into its stand and picked up the bible resting on the wooden top of the fireplace, then turned towards her.

When he met her eyes, his face was devoid of all emotion.

“Let’s begin,” he said and cracked open the first page.

…………………………………………………….

Juliet’s head swung to the side with the force of the slap.

This time, it wasn’t by her father’s hand, but rather the book he held. Pain blossomed across her jaw and rippled through every muscle on her face. Her mouth filled with spit which had begun to spill out of the side of her numbing lips. She felt a wetness against her ear too, it was most likely bleeding as well.

Her father was bent over her, his face red with muted rage and his mouth open wide as he shouted words that Juliet couldn’t hear. The only sound she heard was a prolonged high pitched noise, drowning out everything else. The hit had stunned her and she struggled to remember why her father had done it. Usually there was something she had done wrong, something that angered him, something that forced him to teach her a lesson.

Her father continued to scream in her face, the hot air from his breath hit her already burning cheek. Juliet just stared back, her eyebrows pinched together in a mixture of pain and confusion.

A scream tore from her throat when a hand gripped her chin and began to squeeze. “Are you listening to me?” her father raged. Her hearing started to return but the sound was still muffled. In an effort to stop his assault on her face, Juliet began to nod her head in frantic movements until her father released her.

Her father staggered backwards and ran a hand through his grey hair, tugging on the strands. Juliet spat a mixture of spit and blood onto the floor and forced her head up to watch him. He looked off balance, his eyes were wild and unfocused as they scanned Juliet.

As the seconds passed, and the pain became less urgent, Juliet remembered what she had done to deserve such punishment.

Elijah decided that the first stage in her ‘salvation’ was confession. It turns out he wasn’t a big fan of the answers Juliet gave him. Her father’s hands had begun to shake when she answered his questions about Ethan. His face turned red when he asked her about Boston. And the slap came after he asked about travelling with Joel.

“Your confession is not done, Juliet. I can sense there is more you have not revealed,” her father urged. “You cannot begin to cleanse until I know how soiled you are.”

The bile rose in Juliet’s throat again, but she swallowed it down and steadied her features. It surprised her, the anger that had started to build within herself.

“Let’s try again, shall we?” he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. “Tell me about your time with Joel.”

“No,” Juliet murmured, before spitting more blood. The thought of Joel brought pain far worse than the bruises blossoming across her face. Her father had no right to ask about him. And for what? For some sick possessive insight into the intimate parts of her life. Her father believed he had full ownership of her, like she was his to control like a child’s doll. Juliet hadn’t realised this until a couple years into living in the QZ, when the wounds from her childhood began to scab over. When her memories became clearer, and she saw her father for what he really was.

“No,” she said again, louder this time. That slap had awoken something inside her. That slap was no different to the slaps she received as a young girl. Even when she did everything he asked of her, he would always find something to punish her for. When she opened her eyes into her father’s wild stare, she realised that nothing she would ever do would be good enough for him.

The thought was freeing, almost. Even strapped to a chair in the basement of her father’s house, Juliet felt liberated.

And with that liberation, came a sense of recklessness.

“No?” her father finally asked, repeating her resistance with a quirked brow. “The mention of Joel seems to have hit a nerve,” he taunted, “has Ethan truly been replaced? Joel’s a bit old for you, isn’t he, my dear?”

Juliet’s hands began to tremble. Not with fear, but with rage.

“He has nothing to do with this,” she insisted, her hands curling into fists. Elijah noted the movement with great interest.

“Hmmmm,” he began, walking forward again. Her father liked to tower over Juliet when he could, she assumed it made him feel in control, made him feel powerful. Maybe it reminded him of when she was truly a child, before she had thoughts of her own.

“I saw the way Joel looked at you. I saw the way he watched you. It was like he had claimed you,” her father snarled.

Juliet glared at him as she gritted her teeth. She felt like she was balancing on a tightrope, one wrong move and she’d fall to her death. Bravery was not always rewarded. But Juliet couldn’t stifle the rage that had burned inside her, and the remaining throbbing pain from his slap only ignited that fire.

“I am not a thing to be claimed,” Juliet ground out, struggling to control her anger. “I’m not yours, I’m not anyone’s.”

Elijah was silent, but Juliet held her ground, she didn’t break the withering stare she threw his way. Everything had been taken from her, she had nothing left to lose.

“Who taught you that?” her father demanded, then barked out a short laugh. “I am your father, I have every claim over you.”

“Father’s are supposed to love their daughters, not own them,” Juliet protested. Her eyes began to fill with frustrated tears, but her words grew louder, more forceful. “This isn’t love. It’s possession.”

Juliet had watched fathers with their daughters in the Boston QZ, she had watched their smiles and their laughs. Juliet knew what fatherly love was supposed to look like, and this wasn’t it.

Elijah stalked those last few steps towards her and placed his hands over her restrained wrists, pressing his weight down on them until their faces were inches apart. Juliet leaned back as far as she could, her face flinching with discomfort. Her wrists began to ache, and Juliet’s arms started shaking involuntarily. Elijah enjoyed watching her struggle. His lips transformed into a sneer, and his eyes shone with a sick delight. And the anger… his rage was rolling off of him in waves, he could barely keep it contained.

“The world is not safe, Juliet ,” he whispered inches from her face, her name dropped from his lips like a curse. “There are demons, yes. Those infected monsters, with their peeling faces and sharp teeth. But there is worse out there. Hunters, raiders who crawl the country, killing and gutting people with no remorse -”

Elijah cut himself off with a heavy sigh, then his words became frenzied. “I kept you here, I kept you safe from that. I kept you safe because you are my property, you are mine to protect. And I will not lose another daughter to -”

He stopped, letting go of her wrists immediately. The blood rushed back into them and Juliet began to feel her fingers again, but that relief was the furthest thing from her mind.

Another daughter?

Her father staggered back another few steps, he looked horrified. His mask slipped right off his face as he said those words, now he struggled to put it back on. He wiped a hand over his forehead and when he brought it back down, the horror was gone. He was seething, his whole body moved with the force of his brutal breaths.

“What do you mean, another daughter?” Juliet whispered, but her voice sounded far away.

Her father flinched. Juliet was unsure if what she was experiencing was real, or a dream. Maybe she passed out when he hit her, maybe this was all in her imagination. Because her father’s bravado had never faltered, and yet here he stood before her, visibly flinching at her words.

Elijah started to pace in front of Juliet’s chair, his steps brisk and savage. Juliet’s mind was still clouded, so it took her a few seconds to realise he was mumbling to himself.

Then he stopped, turning to face Juliet. He looked like he was arguing with himself, he was losing control, unravelling right in front of her. For the first time since she could remember, Juliet looked at her father and saw weakness staring back at her.

“Your parents couldn’t protect you, sweet Juliet,” he began. His eyes had a detached look in them, like he wasn’t really standing in front of her.

Juliet swore her heart stopped at his words.

“They didn’t have what it took to survive. They didn’t have the determination to keep you safe,” Elijah continued, raising his bible in the air as he spoke.

Nausea washed over her.

“I saved you. I saved you from them . And then I spared them any more suffering.”

He paused to inhale a deep breath, as though his words were suffocating him. But he wasn’t finished.

“You looked so much like her, with your brown eyes and curls. And your cry, when your parents died, God, it sounded so much like hers.”

Juliet didn’t know how much more of this she could take, the nausea was overpowering her.

“I knew at that moment that you were mine, that you were my second chance. I could take you in, protect you, make sure you were never taken from me. Never stolen away.”

The ringing in Juliet’s ears returned, and she leaned forward and vomited all over the floor.

Her father didn’t take his eyes off of her, wasn’t even remotely startled by the evidence of her disgust. He walked forward and bent down until they were at eye level, then he lifted a hand and reached towards her chin.

Juliet’s entire body recoiled from his touch. She felt a wetness on her cheeks and nearly gasped in shock when she realised she was crying. Tears were flowing down her face and dripping onto her neck. Elijah tried again, reaching forward to grab her chin in his tight hold.

A moment ago, when Elijah’s own confession fell from his lips, his eyes looked wistful, haunted. But now, as he knelt before her, that simmering fury had returned. He began to tighten his grip on her chin.

Juliet couldn’t feel the pain anymore, she couldn’t feel much of anything.

“The one thing I couldn’t protect you from, my dear, was your own stupidity,” her father growled, his lips pulling back into a snarl.

Juliet began to struggle in his grip, attempting to pull herself away from his hand, but it was no use. With her wrists and legs restrained, Juliet was powerless.

“All those years, feeding you, keeping you sheltered in my home, behind the fence I built, in the community I created,” he paused to shake his head. “And you repaid me by running away, by throwing my protection back in my face.”

“You insulted me once, Juliet. I will not let that happen again.”

Elijah released her chin suddenly and Juliet’s gaze dropped to the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes again. There was nothing behind his icy stare. Juliet could no longer predict his movements, his actions.

Her father was playing his own game and she had no idea of the rules.

She couldn’t even begin to unravel everything he just confessed to. Juliet was in shock, nothing made sense anymore. She felt lightheaded, maybe if she just passed out everything would go away, she would wake up lying next to Joel in the woods. Another hot tear rolled down her burning cheek.

“Daniel!” Elijah bellowed.

Juliet blinked, finally raising her eyes to look around her. Her father stood by the fire, the poker in his hand. There was something else there too, he was clipping something onto the poker, but her eyes were too blurry with tears to see.

The door at the top of the basement stairs opened and Daniel came into view. He didn’t say a word, just walked up behind her and hovered, waiting on her father’s instructions. Juliet’s stomach dropped, an icy dread churning in her gut.

After another agonisingly long minute, Elijah pulled away from the fire and turned towards her. Juliet's eyes immediately dropped to the poker in his hands. And the red hot metal letters attached to the end of it.

E.M. Elijah Matthews.

The nausea struck Juliet, hard and fast. She nearly doubled over, but by some miracle, she stayed upright. Her legs began to tremble, shaking the metal chair beneath her. Juliet had figured out her father’s next move.

“No, no, no, no,” she began to cry, pulling against the ropes with enough force to tear skin.

She watched as her father nodded to Daniel behind her and felt his hands come down on her shoulders.

“I don’t want it to be too visible, Daniel please lift up her shirt,” her father ordered, as he continued his slow walk towards her. The white hot end of the poker reflected in his eyes and illuminated the cruel shape of his mouth.

“No!” Juliet screamed through thick tears as Daniel’s rough hands reached down and lifted up her shirt, revealing her stomach.

Elijah stopped in front of her, peering down, relishing in her fear.

“This isn’t love,” Juliet cried, defeat seeping into her tone.

Her father smiled, a real smile this time.

“Love is pain, my sweet Juliet. You just have to be strong enough to bear it,” he said softly. “It’s time you remember who you belong to.”

Then he brought the end of the poker down on Juliet’s stomach.

Juliet felt a scream crawl up her throat, but she couldn’t hear a thing.

The ringing in her ears drowned out everything around her. The smell of her burning flesh met her nose just as dark spots began to dance across her vision.

As the darkness consumed her, a familiar face flashed before eyes. In her current state, Juliet could not recall the man’s name, but she felt warm, and she felt safe as he gently wiped her tears with his rough, calloused fingers.

……………………………………………..

Joel’s POV:

It didn’t take them long to reach Juliet’s house. No one stopped them as they darted through the quiet streets, Ethan staggering to keep up with Joel.

The house looked different in the dark. It was still old and crumbling, but without the twilight sky bathing it in a soft blue light, the house no longer looked sad.

It looked dangerous.

They staggered to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps, the lights in the house were on so they kept to the shadows.

Joel’s fingers clenched and unclenched in a constant, repetitive movement. Joel had fed every bit of fear and regret churning in his gut into his anger, and now it crawled over his skin, desperate for release.

Ethan signalled with his head towards a side door, Joel nodded and took the lead. He didn’t trust Ethan. He didn’t trust that he could protect Juliet, he didn’t trust his motives.

But Ethan knew this house, so Joel had to trust that he knew how to get them in.

“They’ll be in the basement,” Ethan mouthed to Joel before they reached the side door.

Joel frowned, horror starting to overpower his rage. But there was no time to question how Ethan knew this, or what that meant for Juliet. Joel just bit the skin inside his cheek and reached his hand towards the door handle.

It was unlocked.

He turned back to Ethan before entering the house. It was two against two, Joel wasn’t worried about gunning down the men that surrounded Juliet. Joel just wanted to be the one to deal with Elijah. A single bullet was too easy for him.

Killing was not often a pleasure for Joel, it was always a necessity. But he knew he would enjoy watching Elijah bleed.

The house was silent, eerily so.

Joel began to feel that sense of wrongness from earlier. He didn’t listen to his gut the first time, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. They had to hurry.

With another sharp nod from Joel, Ethan moved through the house until he reached a door in the middle of the hall. Then he stepped back, darting his gaze up to Joel’s face.

Joel gripped his shotgun, his fingers flexing across the handle. Ethan echoed his movements, then squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Joel noted the nervous action. He wondered what Ethan had seen in this basement that made him so fearful of it.

Without another thought, Joel, in one powerful movement, kicked open the basement door and began his descent into the dark room. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation of a fight.

Time slowed as Joel moved down the steps, his head turning to try and get a sense of the layout but it was so dark.

The first thing he noticed was the smell.

It was something rotten, but he couldn’t place it.

It didn’t matter anyways, he wasn’t able to give it much thought, because a man rounded the corner, pulling his gun out of his back pocket.

Joel fired a bullet through his skull before he got the chance.

Time continued to slow as Joel reached the bottom step, his gun still out in front of him. Ethan’s presence looming behind him.

Moving around the corner into the room, the smell increased, burning Joel’s nose. If he wasn’t being driven by pure survival instincts at that moment, he would have gagged.

Another step into the room and Joel spotted a dwindling fire at the back wall, and a man standing next to it, his hands in the air, his mouth open.

Another step and Joel noticed the chair sitting opposite the fire, and the bent figure of a person hunched over, their head at an unnatural angle.

Another step and the man scrambled for the poker by the fire, branding it like a weapon.

Another step and Joel rounded on the figure in the chair.

With one sharp inhale, Joel realised that the figure in the chair was a girl.

With one skipped heartbeat, Joel recognised the bruised and battered face of Juliet.

With one glance downwards, Joel noticed the horrific amount of blood pooled around her torso, dripping onto the floor.

With one strangled gasp, Joel knew that she was dead.

Time picked up again, moving at a rapid pace all at once. Joel whipped his gaze from Juliet’s body to the man by the fire. Elijah.

Joel didn’t hear Ethan’s steps pound behind him. Joel didn’t hear Ethan’s pained scream. Joel didn’t hear his own guttural cry as he threw himself at Juliet’s father.

He dropped his gun, letting it swing from the strap on his shoulder. Joel’s hands knocked the poker from Elijah’s grip then met his neck with a brutal intensity, slamming him against the fireplace, pinning him against the stone wall above it.

Elijah reached his hands up, clawing at Joel’s arms. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.

Joel’s face shook with fury, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth. He was snarling at the man in his grip, practically growling as he increased the pressure in his hands. Joel was an animal, his instincts had taken over.

Some distant part of Joel’s brain heard Ethan yelling, screaming. But Joel wasn’t listening, the only thing he was focused on was the man in front of him begging for air.

Juliet’s face flashed in his mind, and he pushed harder, practically crushing her father’s throat.

This was the man who had killed her, this was the sick, disgusting man who had made her life a living hell. And there he was, writhing and choking in Joel’s grip.

But it wasn’t enough for Joel.

The image of Juliet’s neck, bent at an unthinkable angle, and the blood, god, the blood that poured from her.

Joel wanted, no, needed, to watch Elijah bleed too.

He released his grip so suddenly that Juliet’s father almost fell into the fire, but Joel caught him before that happened. With one hand tight on Elijah’s shoulder, lifting him up, Joel pulled back his other arm and fired his fist into his face.

Once

Twice…

Joel lost count after twenty or so hits.

Elijah’s face was unrecognisable, but Joel couldn’t even see him anymore. It was Juliet’s face that covered his vision. He watched her roll her eyes at him, he watched her lips twitch into a reluctant smile, he watched her head tilt back as she laughed.

Joel knew Elijah was dead, but he kept punching.

Blood splattered his face, and his fist burned, but he kept punching.

Joel kept punching because he knew that if he stopped, he’d have to turn around and face Juliet’s lifeless body. He’d have to look at her face and know that she would never smile again, never roll her eyes at his grumpy remarks, never laugh with a recklessness he wished he could imitate.

Ethan’s yelling started to seep into Joel’s consciousness, growing louder. But he wasn’t screaming for Juliet, he was screaming at Joel.

Joel pulled back from Elijah, breathing heavy. How weak, how pathetic he looked as a bloody mess resembling a man.

Joel glanced down at the small fire, still burning quietly, then pushed Elijah’s body into the weakening blaze. Joel watched as the fire started to lick at his skin, blistering his flesh.

The smell struck his nose, and Joel whipped around towards Juliet’s body. That was what he had smelled when he entered the basement. Joel didn’t think that more rage could coat around his heart, but somehow this realisation brought forth a wave of anger he didn’t even think his body was capable of containing.

“Lift up her shirt,” Joel commanded with a lifeless voice, staring numbly at Juliet’s bloodied torso.

Ethan was still shouting, but Joel continued to block him out.

“Lift up her shirt,” he demanded again, louder this time, harsher.

Ethan carefully reached around Juliet and rolled up her shirt.

There it was, barely visible beneath the layer of thick blood, a brand marking her skin. E.M.

Joel ached to turn around, pull Elijah out of the fire and continue pummelling his face. But as he looked closer, a muscle in his very tight jaw jumped when he noticed that, despite the amount of blood, the brand was the only wound on Juliet’s stomach.

Joel’s eyes darted to Ethan, who had cut the ropes on Juliet’s wrists and ankles free, and now sat on his knees with his fingers latched on the underside of Juliet’s raw wrist.

“She’s alive,” Ethan croaked out. “I can feel her pulse, it’s weak but it’s there.”

Ethan’s words washed over Joel and he staggered backwards. Relief was quick and brutal, but it did nothing to ease his horror. Juliet sat broken before him. Not dead, but nearly. Almost.

“Get up,” Joel barked out, gesturing for Ethan to stand and move away from Juliet.

When he didn’t move quick enough, Joel snarled, “get the fuck away from her,” in his lifeless voice. His eyes didn’t leave Juliet’s face. She was so pale, and covered in blood and bruises.

Ethan scrambled away from her and Joel moved forward, his steps were heavy, like he was wading through water. But his hands, though fractured and bruised, were so gentle as they slid behind her back, tucking under her legs and lifting her broken body to his chest. Her head rolled onto his shoulder and Joel tilted his chin down towards her. His eyes shuttered closed as his stubbled jaw grazed over Juliet’s dark hair.

He kept watching her until he felt her chest rise and fall with a shallow breath. Joel almost choked with relief. Then the terror snuck back in. She was so cold, and there was so much blood. They had to get out of here, get somewhere safe.

Joel couldn’t spend another second in this basement.

Time slowed to a crawl again as he walked the fourteen steps out of the basement, Juliet’s fragile body shivering against him.

Joel vowed, with each step he climbed, that he would never again let Juliet out of his sight, never again allow her to suffer, until she begged him herself to go.

If Juliet allowed it, he would burn anything and anyone who ever dared to hurt her.

______________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

#joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #Spotify

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astroboots · 1 year

Note

I can’t remember if this has ever been mentioned or not (and I apologize if it has), but did Santiago ever fantasize about Boa in the past, regardless of whether he was alone or with someone else? Their mutual pining was so long standing and potent, I’d be surprised if he never indulged at least once

INDULGENCE

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x female reader

Summary: Santiago does not think of you that way.

Author note: just a tiny mini drabble that I did during my lunch break for you nonny!

Homecoming Drabbles | Homecoming Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist

Santiago does not think of you that way.

Not that you aren't attractive. Not that you're not the best thing since sliced bread (except better of course, because sliced bread isn't that fantastic and Santiago never truly understood where that idiom came from).

He stares up at the ceiling from the couch in the dark, trying to make out the pattern of the cracked seam that runs across your studio room apartment. He needs a distraction. Any distraction.

There's a rustle of sheets next to him. The soft hum of your voice in his ear as you shift against his side. The warmth of your bare skin sliding against his arm, where your shirt has ridden up in your sleep exposing the round curves of your thighs, hips and stomach.

Warm enough that he wants to burrow his face in you. Soft enough that he wants to nip his teeth into you.

His eyes shifts downwards, taking in the sight of your bare thighs that's straddling the quilt between them. All of you in plain. fucking. sight.

Fuck.

No.

Stop.

Santiago does not think of you that way.

Your leg shifts in your sleep, straddling his hip, as your bare leg rests against the coarse denim that separates you from him.

Jesus fucking christ. Whose dumb idea was it to have a sleep over anyhow?

And why the fuck aren't you wearing pajama bottoms.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to transport himself somewhere else. Trying to pretend that he's not right here. In your tiny apartment, your warm half-naked body wrapped all around him. That he's not rocking a hard on that's going to make a permanent dent in his jeans and warp the zipper until it's unusable and he's going to have to throw these pair away.

Fuck.

It's not helping.

In the darkness, without distraction all he sees is you.

You spread out on this very couch, as he spreads your leg and hook it around his waist as he pushes inside you. Wet. Warm. Inviting.

You on top of him, plush thighs straddling his hips as he slides his hard aching cock into the slick warmth of you.

You on your knees, soft, plush gorgeous lips wrapped all around him as he fucks himself deep in your throat.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

No. stop.

He throws an arm over his eyes, pressing down hard until blurry shapes, bright and colorful behind his closed eyelids. Trying to will it again. Because...

Santiago doesn't think of you that way.

It's not that he doesn't notice you. It's not like he doesn't have eyes. Sometimes you'll stand next to each other at a bus stop, and his mind drifts away, and from the periphery of his eyes he'll see the soft flutter of your skirt brushing against your legs and his heart will skip a beat.

Sometimes he'll see you from across the room and he will catch his gaze linger.

He just doesn't let it linger for long.

Because you're his best friend. He's know you since you were both kids. Known you since you wore unfashionable mommy jeans with ugly cartoon t-shirts that had sweat stains on them when it got hot in the classroom. Seen you when you plucked your eyebrows too thin and looked like Gwen Stefani in the 90s (and ended up barricading yourself and crying in the school bathroom for the whole schoolday).

And friends do not think of friends that way.

Not when it won't do either of them any good anyhow. Not when that friend can't stay. Not when they can't give the other the life they want or offer them anything of worth.

Friends do not blindly, ignorantly and selfishly break their best friend's heart.

You sigh softly into his shoulder, the warm breath passing between your lips tickling against his skin.

Santiago takes a deep breath, breathing in then out. He opens his eyes again, and stares up into the ceiling.

He doesn't think of you that way. He doesn't think of you that way. He doesn't think of you that way.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #santiago garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fics #triple frontier fanfic #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you

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steddieunderdogfics · 6 months

Note

for Challenge Monday: 4/4 chapters: Love is a many-headed thing by carbonbased000. Such a good slow burn/friends-to-lovers fic with beautiful characterization and writing, cannot recommend highly enough!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50558515/chapters/127719010

Love is a many-headed thing by carbonbased000

@carbonbased000

Rating: Explicit

22,415 words, 4/4 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Tattoos, as a metaphor of multiple things, Slice of Life, Intimacy, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Recreational Drug Use, Masturbation, vintage gay skin mags, author has done research, gift giving as a love language, POV Eddie Munson, Characters Play Dungeons & Dragons, characters get wine-drunk, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, pet names as a love language, I Love Wayne Munson, i love dream sequences, Slow Burn, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Kissing, Mutual Masturbation, soft bondage vibes, like the softest, reading aloud as a love language, Steve Harrington in a cream cable-knit sweater

Summary:

Or: Eddie gets a new tattoo. Steve is very curious about the healing process, among other things.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was FICS WITH 4 CHAPTERS.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#challenge monday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #post canon #slice of life #friends to lovers

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 8 months

Text

Love is a many-headed thing

by carbonbased000

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, The Party (Stranger Things) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Tattoos, as a metaphor of multiple things, Slice of Life, Intimacy, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Recreational Drug Use, Masturbation, vintage gay skin mags, author has done research, gift giving as a love language, POV Eddie Munson, Characters Play Dungeons & Dragons, characters get wine-drunk, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, pet names as a love language, I Love Wayne Munson, i love dream sequences, Slow Burn, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Kissing, Mutual Masturbation, soft bondage vibes, like the softest, reading aloud as a love language, Steve Harrington in a cream cable-knit sweater Words: 22,415 Chapters: 4/4

Summary

The minute his scars stop stinging and settle into a low-grade ache, Eddie tears two pages out of his campaign notebook, folds them twice, sticks them in the back pocket of his jeans, and heads to Indy. Or: Eddie gets a new tattoo. Steve is very curious about the healing process, among other things.

#steddie #steddie fic rec #multi-chaptered #10-25k #slice of life #friends to lovers #getting together #slow burn #bed sharing #mutual pining

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cellard0ors · 11 months

Text

Fic: Unrequited Love and Fanciful Wishes (Part of The Full Deck Series)

Fandom: The Quarry

Pairing: Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney

Rating: Teen

Summary: Another moment in the 80s.

Warning(s): None believe it or not.

Notes: This is for Tay! (@spookyscaryscully ) They wanted some jealous!Laura and while I definitely have plans to write that in the present in The Full Deck verse I've been watching 80s movies to cheer myself up (school has been a bit of a nightmare) and it's put me in the mood for some more young!Travis shenanigans. Hence this!

Also, I absolutely hate the name of this...but couldn't think of anything else! If I do, I'll change it later when I put it on AO3.

"I made this for you!" Becky Willingham holds out the neatly cross-stitched handkerchief for Travis to take.

His eyes go wide behind his glasses as he takes it from her, "For me? Really?"

Becky nods shyly, the curly ponytail on the very top of her head visibly shaking with the movement, "I made it in Angela's crafts class. I thought you might like it."

"Oh, wow! Well, thanks!" he returns as he inspects the craftsmanship. Laura is sitting nearby, halfway through her lunch break. She chews on her apple slices and watches the exchange in amusement. She chose to eat outside today, the weather cool and crisp from a midafternoon rain.

While it's been an adjustment (what with time traveling into the past and all) Laura has to admit it's been somewhat refreshing being here. The camp is almost exactly how she pictured it, but also leagues different.

Mostly due to the fashion choices and Becky is wearing what has to be the quintessential outfit for a fourteen year of the 80s. The lilac purple, bright pink, and neon blue pastel shirt print she's wearing is beyond outrageous and her acid washed jean shorts have just that hint of fringe that she probably feels speaks to her maturing.

The over-the-top makeup approach she has signals the same - bright pink lipstick and smudged pink eyeshadow clear attempts at trying to look 'older', but only really highlighting how very young she is.

Very young and very obviously crushing on Travis.

Travis who, naturally, is completely oblivious to the young girl's romantic overtures. He holds the handkerchief up and offers a grin, "I can use this if you and Natalie fall again when we do another round of tug of war."

Becky giggles like this is the best and funniest thing she has ever heard in her life. Travis just continues, "Can you believe how muddy you two got? Not Bruce's best idea - having you guys do Field Day events after that big rain."

"I know! And it rained today too! It's just so crazy!" Becky flutters her eyelashes at him, clearly happy he's talking to her, and Laura can't help but roll her eyes.

Poor baby, Becky doesn't recognize that it's simply Travis being kind. But then she remembers being that age - nothing like unrequited love and fanciful wishes. Laura remembers thinking that Max would have to go through something like this.

Long before the drive to the Quarry and the two months of hell and nightmare that followed, Laura had had a lot of ideas of how things might go at Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp. One of those had been how, no doubt, a group of little girls would flock all over Max, stars in their eyes.

Instead, she's seeing it with Travis Hackett of all people. Laura would say she doesn't understand it, but well...

She pointedly picks up another apple slice and chews it, breathing in the fresh air. The scent of pine and freshly wet earth fills her lungs even as she hears Becky let out another peal of giggles. Laura senses movement nearby and sees Travis approaching her, the handkerchief in hand.

"Hey! How're you doing?" Travis asks kindly as he sits across from her at the wooden picnic table, one finger going to push up the bridge of his glasses while he does so.

...those stupid, stupid glasses...

Laura just shrugs and sees that Becky has found a group of her friends. Laura recognizes one of them as Natalie, but not the other. They're grouped together and whispering and laughing, pointing in her and Travis's direction. Or, much more likely, just Travis's direction and she scoffs, shaking her head as she mutters, "You should be careful about stringing her along."

Travis's eyebrows draw together in confusion, "Huh?"

She juts her chin out in Becky's direction and Travis turns to see her there. Becky, Natalie, and the other girl go bug-eyed before hightailing it, nervous chitters trailing in their wake.

"Wait-? Who-?" Travis turns back to Laura, then back to where Becky was, then back to Laura again, as if he expected to see someone else over there, "Becky?!"

Laura simply smirks and grabs her capri sun, sipping it like tea. Travis's mouth drops open, "I'm not-!? She's a camper! A-!? A kid!"

"Yeah, well - she's a kid with a HUGE crush on you."

Travis regards Laura as if she's lost her mind and Laura can't help but find that hilarious, considering not more than twenty-four hours ago she told him about how she'd been held hostage by a cop. A cop who was him, but that was neither here nor there at this moment, "Travis, are you telling me you didn't notice the hearts floating over her head? Especially after she gave you that?"

Laura gestures to the handkerchief and Travis gently sets it down, eyeing it now with distaste, "I-? I thought she was just being nice! She's told me I'm her favorite counselor!"

"Mmm, bet you you're also her favorite boy, period."

"She-?" Travis's skin takes on a red pallor that Laura refuses to acknowledge as cute any more than she refuses to acknowledge his startled embarrassment as cute, "She's been coming here since she was ten! I-? I've known her since she was like-?"

He holds his hand up so it's not very far from the ground, "This high! She's just-? She's-?"

"A kid?" Laura repeats and Travis scowls at her, crossing his arms as he huffs, "You're wrong."

"Oh, I am not." Laura argues airily, "But don't be so worried about it. Girls have crushes. Especially at that age. There's nothing to feel bad about."

Travis shifts about uncomfortably, "But girls don't have crushes on me! Especially not campers! Bruce and David, sure - but me? I'm just-? I'm-?"

He plays with his hands and shifts some more, "I'm nobody."

Jaw tightening, Laura gives him a cool eyed glare, "You really have to stop talking like that."

Travis's head shoots up and his eyes meet hers, even as Laura finds her mouth running off without her truly thinking about what's coming out of it, "I wouldn't consider someone who does what you do a nobody. I wouldn't consider someone who I help a nobody. I wouldn't consider someone who kept me lock-!"

The last cuts off awkwardly, because Laura almost - almost, almost, almost - said 'locked up' and boy would that have been a shock. Because Travis hasn't locked her up. Not yet. Not this Travis and this Travis looks very confused and very troubled as he repeats, "'Lock- what?'"

"L-locked lips with." Laura falls back on because, yeah, okay - she has kissed him. More than once. And liked it. Goddamn her life. Goddamn it a step further, when he blushes and ducks his head and smiles that big, stupid, crooked smile of his.

His teeth are slightly unaligned in this time. Did he get braces later? Invisalign? Either one was probably used, considering when she met him, he had a fully straight set. Not this endearing, slightly oddball collection that's on full display when he grins, "I kept you locked lips with?"

Another shrug, "Something like that."

She goes for her capri sun again, needing the distraction, the little vacuum bag sucking in hard as she drags on the slim straw. The taste of orange floods her mouth even as Travis picks the handkerchief back up and looks at it, "Still think you're wrong. Still think she was just being nice."

"Well, wait a couple of years and you can marry her if you want." Laura offers, unsure of where that comment came from, only for him to look up and let out a bark of laughter, "Why, Ms. Kearney! Are you jealous?"

Laura now lets out her own laugh, "Please! I'm not-!"

"Because while I know green is your favorite color, I never took you as the jealous type."

"I'm not jealous." Laura intones and she completely ignores the fact that she's crushing the now empty capri sun pack in her hand. Travis, however, looks delighted, "I mean, you really don't have any reason to be. Like I said, Becky is just a kid. And besides, I'm sure you know there's only one person that I'd ever consider marry-!"

Travis stops and now it's clear he's said more than he planned to. Bashfulness takes him quickly and he clears his throat, clutching the handkerchief in one hand. Laura herself, is also taken with nerves. Marrying? That's a big word. A big idea. A huge commitment.

It's the type of commitment one shouldn't take lightly or embark on impulsively and the Travis she knew would never do such a thing. Or, then again, maybe he would. The Travis she knew probably didn't plan on imprisoning her and Max for two months.

That had, no doubt, been an impulsive decision.

But marriage...

It's only because you brought it up, Laura's mind calmly reminds her, he doesn't mean anything by it.

Laura's sure he doesn't.

He has to.

Because anything else is unthinkable...

Clearing her own throat, Laura reaches across the table between them and pats the top of the hand Travis is clutching the handkerchief in, "I-? I'm sure you'll find that person someday."

Travis just looks at her and the heat in his eyes - the pure want and need...

Laura needs to make a getaway. Fast. She rises up abruptly, gathering her lunch tray and trash as she does her best to keep her voice light, "M-Maybe I'll see you later tonight? At the bonfire?"

...he's still looking at her in that way.

That way that, while he didn't mean to say those things, now that he has he's just-? The idea is there. The idea of marrying that one person. That one person that, Laura is terrified, is her. She's terrified. But she's not exactly sure if it's because she's terrified at the very thought or because she's terrified at the very thought that she isn't terrified...that she'd actually be okay with-?

Travis's lips on hers, warm and soft, his tongue carefully parting the seam of her lips to come inside, to taste and caress as he whispers her name lovingly, as they share breath, as he looks at her with dark brown, nearly black eyes from behind his thick glasses...

Fuck.

The memory of one of their kisses hits her hard and she finds herself turning and running away. No, no - not running, not running - walking. She's walking away. But Laura knows the truth. Deep down inside, she knows the truth.

She's running.

Running from him in the past, running from him in the future - running from those intense eyes and handkerchiefs and jealousy, jealousy-! Jesus, fuck, did she wish it was just jealousy she felt.

Jealousy...and not the million other, more intimate things she's feeling for Travis Hackett right now.

...and maybe always.

#hackearney #travis x laura #full deck series #my writing #the 80s

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