#june x farmer

[froggimoto-tatsuki]

June: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives

Farmer: I wake up at 4:30 AM

June: ....

June: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

[froggimoto-tatsuki]

HERE WE GO FOLKS

I have come to a conclusion. A few days ago I saw a post begging for June smut. I have this whole scene in my head from his return event about what happens AFTER the event goes dark. It has been living in my head for months now. Ever since I saw that post June content has been scrolling across my feed and now he will not get out of my HEAD. So now I must literally get him out of my head. I have never written smut before. BIG step out of my comfort zone but it must be done.

[bunny--farm]

Yet again a Sketchpage Commission for FoxofSpades!

[garbage-creature]

My Stardew valley farmer, June. This is the same OC I insert into every piece of media I like! This genuinely is one of my favorite drawings ever. Basil and Clementine are her and Harvey's kids btw. I wish I could give her these cunty outfits in game 😓

[shortysus4]

*screaming crying hyperventilating* LOOK AT THIS GLORIOUS PORTRAIT OF MY BOI THAT @henarikat DREW FOR ME!!!!

THE CIGARETTE AND THE EARRINGS AND THE COLORS AND THE SMOLDER AND THE NATURAL COLOR SIDEBURNS BC YOU KNOW MAINTAINING THAT SHIT WITH BLEACH IS A PAIN IN THE ASS I LOVE HIMMMMMMMM PLEASE YOUR HONOR

*deep breaths*

Also!!! They did a pic of Ben a little while ago, so I'm including him here too, because I just adore looking at how soft and pensive he is here-- his eyes!! The freckles!! I'm less simp-y because June is bbgirl and I've been gazing in awe at my beautiful Benjamin for much longer, but they are together and they match and just THEY ARE BOTH SO LOVELY <3 <3 <3 <3

You can read about June and Ben in Coffee Beans, Candles, and Keyboards, my fic!

Or you can just DM me if you want to hear me talk about June nonstop for like twelve hours. I know everything about him.

[summer-falls]

Real Favorite.

More Balor x OC under the cut.

“Farmer! How is my favorite customer today?” Balor calls out with a wave, a sly grin pulling on his lips. He is leaned casually back on his merchant cart and it seems June has actually caught him within his few hours of personally attending the thing.

June puffs out a laugh, crossing her arms stubbornly as she nears the merchants cart. “You say that to all your customers.” A smirk pulls to her lips.

“Yeah, true.” Balor tips his head to the side as if in thought, before leaning close to June. Perhaps too close for such a casual conversation. “But you’re my real favorite.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

June smiles at him for a brief moment. However, something inside of her cannot allow such a sentimental statement to linger. “What is it you want then, merchant?” She challenges.

She receives a dramatic eye roll at this. “Why do you always assume I want something, farmer. Maybe I just wanted to see that charming smile of yours? Maybe I wanted to see if you were in need of anything?” Balor pauses for a moment as she stares him down. “Maybe I wanted to see if you had any precious gems, because I do have a buyer and you know i’m good for an even split of the profits.”

June scoffs, “Charming smile, was it?”

“Hey, I really did want to see you.” Balor pouts.

The two continue their bickering, and yet, not in a single moment of their interaction did either party consider taking a step away from each other. Balor still looms over her while June glares up at him with a look that lacks any real malice.

“Ohohoh! What do we have here!” A clipped voice pulls them from their own little bubble. Juniper stands to their side with her hands on her hips, her bright grin showing off her glee of finding them like that. Mistria was a small town after all. Their close, half-hearted bickering was almost in line with a marriage proposal, at least gossip-wise. “Should I come back another time, Balor?”

“No.” Balors posture prickles. “We were just,” He trails off, eyes flickering down and only seeming to notice how close he was to the farmer now. The two instantly step away. “Discussing business.”

Juniper narrows her eyes at this.

“Yup, and by the way, I’ll have those gems to you later, Balor. Things to do and people to see right now, you know.” June flashes him a bright smile, which Balor is quick to return, before she is off to town.

Balor and Juniper watch her go in a moment of silence. Balor’s eyes trail after until she fades into the distance, and only then does he realize that Juniper stopped watching June in order to watch him watch June.

He quickly clears his throat as he turns to his wagon. “So what odd things are you in need of today? Eye of newt, wart of frog, or maybe-“

“That depends. Would you be interested in a potion yourself?” Juniper prompts with a teasing smirk on her face. “Love potions are fairly simple, but it may just raise our Juney’s interest in you.” Balor sputters in surprise as the woman continues on. “Though, it may turn her into a frog the first try. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“What makes you-“ His attempt to snap at her quickly dies on his tongue as she gives him the all knowing smirk that she tends to carry. Balor feels a heat filling his cheeks. It was the same kind that he believed to have left back in his youth, the embarrassment of a crush. “What do you need today, Juniper.” He finally gets out, arms crossing his chest defensively.

Juniper’s signature laugh rings through the air. For just a moment, she would allow him the mercy of moving on with her order. However, this would be revisited without a doubt.

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

Skull Cavern

Harvey x OC/Self-insert!Farmer

Genre: hurt/comfort, a touch of angst with a fluffy ending

CW: bodily harm, injury, blood, gore

A/N: Here's a very late entry for June of Doom, Day 4! This time with the "Does that hurt?" prompt paired with the "Fracture" prompt. This is the very first Stardew Valley one-shot I've ever written so I am quite excited about this. I wrote this with my farmer in mind. She is a mix between a "farmersona" and an OC, and I think I'll write more about her and her life in the Valley in the future. This one-shot is set somewhere between Harvey's four and six heart events. Sil is already more than aware of her feelings for him and Harvey has just recently realized he has a crush on her. She fell first and he fell harder, so to speak. Hope you like it! @juneofdoom

The intense smell of disinfectant is the first thing she feels as she comes back to her senses. She lets out a groan as she slowly tries to open her eyes. The task is made rather difficult by the brightness of the room, which makes her already dry eyes burn even more.

“You're finally awake.” That's enough to finally get her to open her eyes, and when her vision eventually clears she manages to find the source of the tense voice that startled her. “...Doc...?” She asks groggily as she focuses her gaze on the man leaning against the doorway.

Doctor Harvey looks at her seriously, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his white coat as he assesses her general conditions with a quick glance. Sil, the local farmer, is looking rather rough... but it is nothing compared to what she looked like last night, when she was brought into his clinic. It was nothing short of chilling.

She was brought in by Pam somewhere around midnight, the older woman slamming the door open and yelling for him to rush over and help her hold the girl upright. The sight of Sil, bruised and barely hanging onto Pam's shoulder as she winced and grunted in pain, was enough to make his heart sink to the floor. Still, he acted quickly and soon she was laying on one of the beds. Her long, black coat was in tatters and the rest of her clothes had a number of rips and stains onto them. Her pants seemed to have had the worst of it, and the reason became immediately apparent to the doctor. The black fabric was soaked in blood and the skin underneath had clear bite marks into it, like an animal had chomped down on her leg and thrashed around. Moreover... her leg was clearly broken. He knew that to save his mental sanity he should've avoided inquiring, but against his better judgment he asked her what had happened and it took him all he had not to yell at her when she groaned something about ���Skull Cavern”.

He could tell she was trying to put on a brave face for him, but he also knew that all that would fly out the window as soon as he reset her bone. And it did. She let out a blood-curdling scream as soon as the bone went back into place... and then it was lights out.

Thinking back on it now still fills him with dread... and it re-stokes his anger. His jaw tightens slightly as he looks at the farmer in silence while she tries to get the fog to finally lift from her mind. It's all still a haze, but as the seconds pass she grows more and more conscious of her surroundings and of what happened last night. Her first instinct when she finally manages to sit up is to reach for her hat, but a disgruntled noise comes out of her as soon as she finds out it's not sitting atop her head as it usually is. A quick glance to the side reveals the cowboy hat is hanging onto a nearby chair like her ruined coat.

“Damn, I'm gonna have to buy a new coat huh...?” She says with a small huff of a chuckle before bringing her gaze back to the doctor, but when she does, her smile drops almost instantly. He is looking at her with anger swirling in his green eyes. “That's what you are worried about? Your coat?” He asks in disbelief before removing his glasses and running a hand over his face as if to try and rub the irritation away, in vain of course. “Your leg is broken, for Yoba's sake! And all of this because you went in those mines again! Did I not tell you to be careful?! Do you have any idea how bad the situation looked last night?! Since you refuse to put a stop to your explorations, the least you could do is to be cautious when you head into those places!”

The farmer doesn't flinch, but she raises her eyebrows in surprise, before slouching her back slightly in what could only be described as shame. Harvey's never raised his voice at her like this before. She suddenly feels like a child that is being scolded by her father for doing something stupid, but this is not her only reason to feel ashamed. It is also because, even though doctor Harvey is yelling at her, she can see the hurt in his eyes. She clearly worried him a great deal, to the point where his patience obviously ran out.

Harvey has been nothing but kind to her since the day she moved to Stardew Valley, even though he was clearly terrified of her when they first met. She couldn't really blame him, given her rather... unapproachable appearance. At first she was definitely not thrilled to make the doctor's acquaintance, considering her rather rocky relationship with medical personnel up until that point, but by the end of her first week in her new home he had already started to grow on her. He was simply so kind and friendly, despite his initial uncertainty and shyness... She couldn't help but be drawn to him, and that sentiment grew rather fast... and kept growing, and growing, until it became clear to her that her simple, innocent infatuation with the town doctor had turned into a full-blown crush. A rather surprising turn of events, considering she had sworn off dating shortly before she left the city to reclaim her grandfather's land... but she still welcomed it. She is certain Harvey must know of her feelings by now, as she made no attempt to hide them, and she is rather confident they are reciprocated, judging by his behavior towards her over the last couple of months. So... knowing she is the reason for his distress right now weighs gravely on her heart. She feels like a moron.

“I'm sorry, you're right... I was way too careless this time around. I... don't know what I was thinking”. A strained smile pulls at her lips as she meets the doctor's eyes again. “I had no intention of scaring ya like that, truly... I just thought I could handle it, ya know? I've gotta do everything by myself up in that farm and... well, damn, things ain't going as smoothly as I hoped”. She lets out a humorless chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. Harvey doesn't say anything as he looks at her, but he can feel his anger slowly boiling down to a simmer when he notices the sadness in her demeanor. Now that he thinks about it, she did seem a bit weary lately. Paler than usual and always in a rush to get a myriad of jobs done.

Seeing that he has no intention of saying anything, she keeps talking, recognizing that he is leaving her the space to explain herself... unburden herself.

“It's just... a lot. I gave up everything to move here and, granted, life in the city sucked but... I knew what to expect, ya know? Everything had its own place and all I had to do was keep up the routine. I had very little, but it was more than enough to keep me afloat. Here? Hell, every time I earn some money I immediately have to spend it to make sure my farm stays standin', and somehow my duties extend far beyond takin' care of Wysteria Hill! I had no idea that movin' would mean takin' care of the whole town one way or another. The farm business, the requests, the community center... I mean, don't get me wrong! I am more than happy to help! But... keepin' on top of everything has been... hard. I have to put in a lot of extra work to make sure I can keep things runnin' smoothly. I guess my whole focus has been on getting my work done, lately, and it made me... kinda lose track of other things? Like...”

“Like your own health and safety?” Harvey finishes her sentence for her, his voice now far calmer than before. She nods after a moment, not trusting her increasingly quivery voice to answer his question, and he sighs, dropping his shoulders slightly as he steps closer to her bed. “I knew that being the local farmer couldn't be an easy job, but I didn't realize it was weighing down on you this much. I can't imagine the burden it has put on your shoulders, leaving everything behind to start anew here... But still, I must stress the importance of taking care of yourself. A million things could've gone wrong last night and... Gosh, I don't even want to think about it...” he mutters as he shakes his head, averting his gaze from her in his attempt to disperse those haunting thoughts.

Sil swallow thickly, feeling another pang of guilt skewer her heart when she finds herself hoping, wanting for his concern to go beyond a doctor's duty, to stem from something deeper... not knowing that somehow her pining doesn't even come close to comparing to his. She leans towards Harvey and gently reaches for his hand, ignoring the shock of pain shooting up her leg when she doesn't move carefully enough. “I'm sorry Harv. I promise I won't be as careless as last night ever again. I don't want ya to be sad because of me. Never. I can't tell ya I'll never go down there again... but I promise I'll always do so with the goal of comin' back out safe and sound, rather than with my pack full of extra materials.” She smiles at him as reassuringly as possible, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb.

The tender gesture is uncharacteristic of her, and he knows it very well. Friendly as she is, she still very much doesn't appreciate people being in her personal space, so for her to initiate physical touch like this... it must mean something, right? It's his turn to gulp now, as he feels his face growing embarrassingly warm at that thought. He wanted to scold her again for refusing to give up on her excursions once more, but all he can do now, after noticing her little wince of pain when she leaned in to grab his hand, is sigh in acceptance and let his face soften once more as he gently squeezes her smaller hand. “Does that hurt?” He asks kindly while glancing at her leg. The wound was frightening when he first saw it, but he is more than confident in her ability to heal now that it's all patched up and that her bone is properly set.

She smiles at him, visibly relaxing when she realizes he is no longer angry at her. “Ah, it ain't nothing I can't handle, doc. You really worked your magic on me, as usual. I barely feel a thing.” She reassures him with a grin, winking at him jokingly as she adds “You're like my very own guardian angel.”

Harvey almost scoffs at her, more out of embarrassment rather than full-blown dissent. He can't deny that hearing her say something like that feels... very good. “Okay, now you are just trying to butter me up.” He mutters as he raises an eyebrow at her, making her grin widen even more and her eyes twinkle with mischief. “Well... is it working?” The flirtatious tone in her voice almost makes him choke as he stumbles over his own words. “You - you are far too pleased for somebody who is supposed to be feeling sorry right now!” He manages to exclaim with a huff, before pouting at her. Despite his embarrassment, the sound of her laughter makes his heart jump in his chest.

“I'm sorry doc, I can't help it when ya look at me like that...” She chuckles softly, her eyes crinkling in a way that simply makes him melt. Yoba... he is so glad she is here with him.

[farmerbenji]

i cant believe he talked me into doing these things :(

ok but look at his little drawings, theyre so cute

i dont deserve him

[catella-ars]

Day 30 - Domesticity

Dunno about y’all, but one of the most intimate/domestic things for me is shopping for dinner and/or cooking with someone.

@espressoth

[shortysus4]

AAAGGHHHHH I LOVE THEMMMMMMMBBBB

A little gift art I drew for @shortysus4 as a little pick me up! I've been wanting to draw Ben and June together for a while now! ✨💕🎹🎵 they are a couple of sweethearts!! 🥰

[froggimoto-tatsuki]

I'm so stoked rn I can't find a June x Farmer fic that is also a smut and I am crying

[javiscigarette]

Peaches n' Cream

Joel Miller x f!reader (pre/no outbreak)

Summary: You like peaches and Joel like watching you eat them.

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut, established relationship, (semi) public / outdoor sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), ass play, spitting, choking sliiightt daddy kink, one mention of Joel being pick up reader (but tbh he's strong af he can pick anyone up), absolutely no plot here Joel is just depraved and in love <3

w/c: 6k of pwp : )

a/n: I'm back!! And LISTEN! I knowwww I said Javi was next but the grip this man has on me is unreal and the peaches at the farmers market got me thinking about things!! Pls let me know if you liked this and my asks are always open to chat!!

my masterlist

The little stand was set up on the side of the road, just one old farmer and his tall piles of crates filled to the brim with peaches.

Images of you in the grocery store a couple weeks ago flash in Joel’s head, standing in front of the display brimming with peaches with your arms crossed over your chest and your bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. 

“They’re not the good ones” 

“They look fresh” Joel states as he takes turns squeezing each peach to test the firmness. “What’s wrong with ‘em?”

“It’s still May” you replied

Joel just looked at you, eyebrows pinched together and completely lost on the point you were trying to make. 

“They won't be as sweet. They're the best at the end of June” you answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Sorry, not caught up on my peach facts I guess” 

You just roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Joel amused at how intensely you felt about the little fruits. 

But now it’s the last week of June. And as soon as he sees the stand there’s a rush of excitement thinking about the big smile you’d have for him when he walked through the door with a bag of fresh peaches. 

He pulls onto the shoulder of the road and parks his truck behind the line of the four other cars stopping for the same reason. The Texas sun is beating down on him, sweat prickling on the back of his neck in mere seconds as he waits patiently for the people in front of him to have their pick.

And when it’s his turn, he takes his time because of course it has to be perfect for you. He wasn’t looking for another peach lecture. 

“How d’ya pick out the ripest ones?” he asks the farmer. 

He listens carefully as the other man tells him how to spot the best ones, taking mental notes on everything from the ideal  firmness to the hue of the skin, even down to the smell. And he took the advice on getting a few that were ready to eat today and a few less ripe ones that you could eat a few days from now. After a few more minutes, he’s walking back to the truck carrying a paper bag filled to the top with peaches. 

When he gets home, he grabs a beer from the fridge then rinses the biggest peach from the bag under the kitchen tap. He has a direct line of sight through the window above the sink to where you’re laying out on the pool chair, the sight of you in your little skimpy bikini sent a little tingle down his spine. 

“Hey, baby” Joel calls out, shielding his eyes from the hot Texas sun. You turn and face him with a grin as he walks over to you. 

“Got something for you” Joel announces with a smile, holding out the peach to you. 

Your face lights up exactly how he imagined it would. But it’s a thousand times better in person. The way you smile so big that the corners of your eyes crinkle and the way your eyes  twinkle with amazement makes his heart swell in his chest. 

You scramble to sit up and take the fruit out of his hand. He strokes your hair then leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before sitting on the lounge chair next to yours. 

“Where’d you get these?” you ask, lifting up your sunglasses to get a proper look. “They look perfect” 

Joel laughs, trying not to puff out his chest in confidence. 

“That peach stand up the road is finally open” he answers. “Got a whole bag for you inside” 

Joel chuckles again at your  small squeal of excitement as you  shoot up from your seat and bounce over towards him. You stand between his spread knees and lean down to kiss him. 

His heart feels warm and gooey in his chest as he kisses you, his hands immediately finding the back of your thighs, your skin so warm from sitting out in the sun all day. 

He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, his head spinning a bit when he tastes your strawberry chapstick mixed with a hint of chlorine from the pool. His grip on your thighs tightens slightly and he sighs with delight when you part your lips and let him in, his heart melting when he feels you smile against his lips. 

He stays in the moment for a few more seconds before tapping your thigh and pulling back. 

“Try it. Wanna see if you like ‘em” he says before reaching for his beer sitting on the small side table. 

Joel’s heart skips a beat when you bite your lip and smile as you sit back down on your chair, facing him and crossing your legs underneath you. 

You sink your teeth into the reddish skin of the perfectly ripe peach. The sweet nectar immediately floods your mouth, so juicy that it quickly starts running past your lips to drip down your chin and over your fingers. You moan softly in delight, your eyelids fluttering shut at the taste. 

“It’s perfect” you say around a mouthful of peach. 

You take your time, savoring each bite. But to Joel it feels like you're on a mission to kill him on the spot. 

He has a death grip on his beer bottle as he watches you, groaning quietly when a few drops fall onto your bare legs. You, none the wiser, giggle innocently at the mess you’re making before taking another bite. More juice spills over your knuckles and trickles down your fingers to your wrist and forearm, the small rivulets twinkling on your skin in the sunlight. 

 Joel is about to pass out. 

He takes a few gulps of his beer, downing almost half the bottle in one go before setting it down on the small table between the two chairs. 

“C’mere, peaches” Joel says, patting his thigh. 

You happily oblige and get up to sit in his lap, your thighs on either side of his.

“You wanna bite?” you ask with a sweet smile. 

“Don’t need a bite, baby” Joel responds, reaching to grab your forearm. “Got my own right here.” 

He brings his lips to your wrist, pressing gentle kisses to your sticky skin and licking up the sweet juice. You giggle when the hairs of his mustache and scruffy beard tickle your skin, the sensation sending a a hot wave of arousal washing over you, head to toe. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as he kisses up your wrist to the back of your hand, placing a wet kiss to each of your knuckles before pulling back and opening his eyes to look at you again. 

A lopsided, dopey grin spreads across his face at the sight in front of him. You’re looking back at him through hooded eyes, the apples of your cheeks dusted pink as a dazed smile tugs at the corner of your red, wet lips. 

“Finish” Joel commands simply with a crooked smile. 

And you do. You go back to finishing the fruit while Joel’s gaze falls to your legs. He runs a thumb over the sticky drops of juice on your thigh, using his thumb to rub it into your warm skin with slow circles until the liquid dries up. He then switches to sliding his calloused palms up and down your thighs, his fingertips brushing the edges of your swim bottoms with every pass. 

Sitting in the sun all day already made your brain hazy and Joel’s dilated eyes boring into you aren’t exactly helping. Neither is his bulge twitching against your clothed core with every slurping and sucking sound you make as you let the juice run freely over your knuckles and down your chin, no longer caring about the mess. 

When you finish, Joel promptly plucks the pit out of your hand and sets it on the side table. He then turns back towards you and brings his thumb up to wipe up the drop of juice at the corner of your mouth. 

“Was it good, sweetheart?” he asks, sliding his thumb between your lips.

 Your eyelashes flutter as you immediately roll your tongue over his thumb, sucking the juice off before nodding slowly. You let him press down your tongue, his eyes wide and glued to your lips before you pull off his finger with a wet pop. 

“Delicious” you say with a sated smile. You lean forward, until your lips are inches away from his. “You wanna taste, daddy?” 

You giggle when he groans quietly underneath you.

“S’that even a question? ‘Course I do, peaches.” 

The next second, his hand is curling around the back of your neck as he pulls you down for a deep kiss. He doesn’t just get a taste. He devours you like a five-course meal, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth to chase the intoxicating taste of the fresh peach, chlorine, sun, sweat and you. This time, he bites at your lower lip and gently tugs, pulling a small whine from you. You tangle your fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck and he  groans softly when you move your hips against his, dragging your aching core over the bulge in his jeans. 

“Gotta have you, baby” Joel mumbles against your lips, too desperate to pull away for even one second. “Need you right fuckin’ now.” 

“Out here?” you ask breathlessly, not bothering to pull away either. 

Joel doesn’t say anything. Instead, with his lips still on yours, he reaches between your bodies and tugs down on a cup of your bikini top until your breast falls out, letting you know that yes, he needs you right now, out here. 

“Daddy…” you say tentatively, finally pulling away from the kiss. He doesn't even bother looking up, completely ignoring  you as he tugs down the other cup. 

“Joel!” you gasp, the sound quickly followed by a giggle as you try to squirm out of his grasp, but the strong he has wrapped around your waist keeps you firmly in place. 

He wasn’t exaggerating. Not in the slightest.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby” Joel mumbles, his lips vibrating lightly against your skin. You move in his lap again, but this time you’re not trying to get away. He’s rock hard now, and you grind down harshly, already growing desperate  from his primal need for you. 

He moves to swirl his tongue over your nipple then brings up his hand to pinch the other one, groaning softly as you grind down on him with your fingers tightening in your grasp in the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck and holding his head against you. 

“Joel” you start, your voice already trembling. You’re just putty in this man’s hands. “W-what about the neighbors?” 

Joel was not a stupid man. Sure, he doesn’t - used to not - know much about the damn peaches, but he had at least been blessed with enough forethought to build a fence tall enough to make sure that the nosy neighbors wouldn’t be able to see you out here. 

He doesn’t look up, just mumbles against your skin “no one can see in, angel. Promise.” 

“I know but what about the sound?” you ask, still grinding your hips softly against his. 

Joel chuckles, warm air fanning over your chest before looking up at you. His fingers leave your breast and trail down the side of your rib cage, his feather light touch making you shiver before he unceremoniously slips his hand beneath the elastic of your swimsuit, cupping your pussy in his hand. The heel of his palm presses against your clit as his fingers press against your already dripping seam. 

“Doesn’t seem to be botherin’ you too much” he says softly, his lips curving in a grin.

You whine and tug on his hair, almost forgetting why you even stopped him in the first place. His eyes fall back down to where he’s cupping you, mesmerized by the way your hips move as you grind against his hand, your juices already leaking onto his palm. 

“Needy little thing, aint ya” 

You stop moving and glare at him.

“Says the man that nearly creamed his pants watching me eat a piece of fruit”

Joel just shrugs shamelessly with a carefree smile. 

“Do you wanna stop?” Joel asks, circling your aching hole with the pads of his two fingers before sliding them in slowly. He’s quick enough to swallow his own pathetic whimper when he feels you clench wildly around his fingers. “‘Cause I’ll stop right now and we ca-” 

“No.” you reply firmly, reflexively tugging on his hair. 

“That’s my girl” Joel smirks and curls his fingers to press right up against the spot that has you instantly moaning, the one that he never struggles to find.  “So good for me, huh?” 

You nod weakly, biting your lip to try and  stop some of the noise you’re making. 

He pumps his fingers in and out of you the best he can with the limited range of motion, obsessed with the soft sound tumbling past your lips. He dives back down to latch onto your nipple again, sucking and rolling his tongue over the hardened peak.

You grind down hard against his hand and your skin grows hotter under the summer sun, every inch of hot and buzzing. You move your hands from his hair, one curling around the back of his neck, the other grabbing onto his shoulder. His neck is damp with sweat under your palm and his black t-shirt feels like it’s about to catch on fire. 

“Off” you whine pathetically and pull at his shirt, now desperate to feel every inch of his skin. 

He ignores you at first, too busy switching to your other nipple and teasing it between his teeth, too absorbed in the feeling of your slick running down his fingers and into his palm like warm honey. But yanking on his hair brings his attention back to you. 

“So impatient” Joel mumbles, sliding his fingers out of you and his hand out of your swimsuit before snapping the elastic against your hip. You watch with wide eyes as he sticks two wet fingers in his mouth letting out a soft groan while his eyelids futter slightly at the taste. 

He then pulls the fingers out of his and looks up at you. But you're looking somewhere else. You’re eyes are still glued to his fingers, now shiny with a mixture of your slick and his saliva. He follows your gaze and wiggles his fingers slightly. 

“Does my baby want a taste?” Joel asks with a smirk. 

You nod your fervently nod your head and whine a pathetic “please” 

“Can’t so no when you ask so nicely, sweetheart” 

He brings his wet fingers up your lips and you don’t miss a beat, immediately wrapping your lips around his two digits and sucking hard. The two of you sigh in unison, Joel pushing down on your tongue as you roll your tongue around, cleaning up the mess as best you can. 

His jaw is slack and  hanging open as he watches you in amazement. He slides his fingers back a little further, grunting when you start gagging slightly. 

“Such a pretty sound” Joel whispers. He shoves his fingers further back, eyebrows pinched together in concentration. You gag again, harder this time, drool now leaking past your lips and his fingers. His cock pulses in his jeans so hard that it nearly hurts. 

“Baby” he starts, pressing down particularly hard on your tongue, moaning quietly as your mouth floods with more saliva. He then hooks his fingers over your bottom teeth and tugs down, forcing your mouth open. He stares at your wet lips with eyes hooded before talking again. “Daddy needs you, sweetheart”

You moan softly and slide off his fingers. 

“How d’ya want me?” you ask innocently

“Take these off,” Joel says, thumbing at the waistband of your swimsuit. “Then lie down for me babydoll” 

You whimper softly, and move off his lap to stand up, fully untying your bikini top and shimmying out of your bottoms. Your eyes are glued to Joel the whole time though, watching hungirly as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the vast expanse of his back. He unbuckles his belts and unzips his jeans, pulling them down his thighs just enough to get his cock out. 

You do as you’re told, propping yourself up against the back of the chair with your legs stretched out in front of you. Joel wastes no time getting settled on his stomach between your legs, spreading your thighs apart to reveal your glistening cunt to the summer sun.

“God, baby” Joel sighs at the sight, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He brings a hand up and uses two fingers to spread your lips to see your hole clenching around thin air.  “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

You whimper softly and gently roll your hips up, chasing after his touch. Joel looks up at you and smirks as he prods at your entrance with his finger tips. JJoel shushes you and presses a kiss to the space just below your navel, then kisses a trail over to your hip and down the top of your thigh. He kisses the tacky  spot on your thigh, kitten-licking at the sugary spot of dried juice. Then he slides a hand under your thigh, lifting your leg up and over your shoulder before wrapping his arm over the top, effectively locking your thigh in place. 

Your hands find their natural resting spot in his hair, fingers tangling in the brown curls that are burning hot from the sun. He’s making progress towards where you need him most, placing hot, wet kisses on your inner thigh, pausing frequently to nibble and suck at the delicate skin. You can already see the smug look on his face he’ll have when he finds the little marks and bruises in the morning. 

With no warning, his mouth is on you, his tongue delving into your slick folds, hungrily lapping at your aching cunt.  Joel absolutely devours you, his face buried between your legs, so eager to taste you, to drink you down and make you scream. 

You reflexively try to buck your hips, but the arm he has wrapped around your thigh keeps you down, his fingertips digging into your skin as he holds you right where he wants you. His cock twitches where it’s pressed against the chair when he feels your thighs tremble against his face and then again when you pull on his hair, sending tingles from his scalp down to his toes. 

His tongue teases your leaking hole, your walls clenching desperately as he dips his tongue in and out before moving to your clit. He sucks the swollen nub between his lips, swirling his tongue around it, waiting until you let out a whine or moan before moving back to your hole to repeat the process. It’s like he’s starving and you’re the first thing he’s tasted in days. 

Lewd, wet noises of Joel slurping you down like you’re his last drink ever create a mirror image of the sounds you made while eating the peach only five minutes ago. The sounds mix with your moans and high-pitched whines,  Any and all reservations you had about the neighbors hearing you completely gone.  

 Just from the way he’s eating you out, greedily taking everything you give him, tells you how much he needed you. It’s so passionate and raw that it makes your head spin. You can hear your blood roaring in your ears as your skin feels raw and electrified like an exposed wire as a heat start pool in your lower abdomen. And you’re guessing by how your slick is dripping down your thighs already that he can tell how much you need him. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re teetering on the edge of release, your chest heaving with every gulp of air. Joel notices how your moans are getting louder and more frequent, so he slides the hand that’s not wrapped around your thigh down to your entrance and slowly pushes two fingers inside of you. 

He smiles against you when you reward him with a long loud moan with your walls clenching tightly around his fingers. He keeps a steady rhythm, slowly pushing his fingers in and out of you, a direct contrast to the ravenous pace of his tongue. The sounds he’s pulling out of you go straight to his cock, but he barely registers the building pressure, too focused on taking care of you to think about himself for even one second. 

You cry out when he hooks his fingers inside of you, curling them so they perfectly nudge against your g-spot every single time he pushes in. Your back arches away from the chair and you start rolling your hips against his face, holding his head in place as you do so. 

“Give it to me, angel” Joel murmurs into you, the vibrations and his warm breath adding to the pleasure that’s quickly building up. “Wanna feel you cum ‘round my fingers. Wanna taste it, baby” 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re so hot, almost every square inch of your skin damp with sweat and you can’t tell if it’s more from the heat or what this man is doing to you, probably just an intoxicating mixture of both. You look down at him to find that he’s already staring up at you, watching you intently with hooded eyes as you start to fall apart. 

Your gaze drifts to his back, and you can’t help but gawk at the muscles flexing smoothly under his tan skin that’s gleaming with sweat. The sight alone causes the pressure to build even more and Joel groans when your legs start trembling on either side of his head. He doubles down on his effort, his tongue flicking wildly at your clit as he presses his fingertips harshly against your spot that has you seeing stars. He lays the palm of his free hand on the space just below your navel and presses down, adding sudden, intense external pressure that makes you cry out loud. 

“Oh fuck daddy I - shit  I’m gon-”

You can’t even finish the sentence before you’re flying off the edge, hips lifting off the chair as you shove his face even further against your core. Sounds of pleasure flow freely from your lips as you grind against his face, the stubble of his beard rubbing your sweaty inner thighs raw. Joel watches you the whole time as your slick gushes out of your hole and onto his chin and around his fingers. 

He works you through it, grunting and moaning while keeping his mouth glued to you, following you as you writhe underneath him. He doesn’t let up until you’re whimpering and squirming away from the overstimulation. 

“Goddam, baby” Joel rasps, his voice thick with his smooth southern drawl. He presses a gentle kiss to your hypersensitive clit and whispers “sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Could give that farmer and his peaches a run for their money” 

You giggle breathlessly. Your limbs are relaxed and heavy as you melt against the chair while Joel moves so that he’s kneeling between your legs. He  takes advantage of how soft and pliant you are, easily manhandling you to flip over and put your ass up in the air with the side of your  face pressed against the chair cushion. 

He palms at your ass and grips handfuls of both cheeks before spreading you open so you’re on full display for him. He groans quietly seeing your hole clench around thin air, a thin string of your slick dripping from your lips. 

“So beautiful, baby” Joel mumbles, dragging a single finger through the mess between your legs. You whine at the praise and wiggle your hips, your way of asking him to get on with it already. 

“S’okay, baby” Joel soothes, rubbing a palm over the curve of your ass. “Gonna give you what you want” 

Joel gathers the spit in his mouth before leaning over a bit and letting it drip down to where he has you spread open. He groans softly, watching the warm liquid land on your asshole and slide down to pool at your leaking entrance. You obviously don’t need any extra lubrication but Joel’s obsession with claiming you as his and getting you all messy like this is no secret. 

You both moan when he nestles his cock between your cheeks, sighing heavily as he rocks his hips and gently glides his cock through the wetness. 

“This what you want, sweetheart?” Joel teases, notching his tip at your entrance. “Or should I fuck this tight little hole? Haven’t played back here in awhile”

Your high-pitched whines turn  into desperate moans when he spits again and spreads it over the tight ring of muscle with the pad of his thumb. You make another pathetic noise and push your hips back again. 

“You’d take anything I gave you wouldn’t you, angel?” Joel coos, pressing his thumb past the tight ring of muscle. “Could take your sweet pussy or tight little ass whenever I want and you’d just be so grateful, huh baby?” 

“Yes daddy just– please I just need you inside me” 

Joel hums approvingly. 

“Yeah I know you would, baby” Joel sighs, watching your tight hole swallow the tip of his thumb with stars in his eyes. “Always so desperate for me to fill you up and stuff you full of my cock, isn’t that right?” 

You whine in frustration as Joel slides his cock through your folds again, rubbing the warm, swollen head of his cock against your clit. 

“Please, daddy. Please please I want it so bad fuck me pl-” 

You cut yourself off with a wanton moan when Joel fully sheathes himself inside your aching cunt in one swift, sudden movement. 

“Sound so pretty when you beg like that” Joel chokes out, his fingertips digging into the meat of your hips as he wills himself to stay still while you adjust to his size. 

It’s hard though, especially with your dripping walls spasming around his cock and your asshole squeezing his thumb. 

“Jesus honey” Joel groans as he pulls your hips back onto him just to get a little bit deeper. His cock pulses inside of you when you whine his name and clench wildly around him. “Feel so fuckin’ good squeezin’ me like that” 

“Move” you groan. “God daddy please move” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. 

Immediately he pulls out just until his tip catches on your entrance before slamming back inside. You cry out at the sudden, intense force, your hands scrambling and searching for purchase on the fabric of the chair. You try to crawl up on your forearms, but his strong hand between your shoulder blades forces you back down, your cheek smushed against the chair. 

Joel growls from behind you as he quickly works up to a devastating pace. His eyes flit back and forth from your face, screwed up in pleasure, to where he’s pounding into you, both of your holes raw and stretched out around his cock and his thumb. 

“Fuck you take it so well, baby” Joel grunts, his hand landing harshly on your ass. “Such a good girl, takin’ everything I give you” 

He leans over, his palm sliding from between your shoulders to the back of your neck. The position pushes him even further inside of you, his tip pressing against your cervix with every stroke. 

“Nghh fuck daddy, you’re so deep!” you cry, gasping wetly while his fingers splay over the front of your throat. 

“Fuck yeah I am” Joel growls, his thumb now pressing firmly against the side of your neck, his fingertips squeezing the other side. “This cock was made to fuck you, sweet girl” 

He gradually increases the pressure on your throat, his cock pulsating when you clench down on him as he slowly constricts the blood flow to your brain. There’s not a single worry in your head. The hand around your throat is a reminder of his dominance over you but also serves as a symbol of the trust between the two of you. It’s almost a silent way of saying “let go, I’ve got you” 

And you do let go.

You moan uncontrollably as he continues to pound into you, your head quickly growing light and fuzzy.  His fucking you with no reservations, making every inch of you skin tingle with pleasure. But you can’t resist the temptation to push your hips back, meeting his thrusts halfway. And judging from the sound of Joel’s moan, you know that was the right choice. 

“Oh god, that’s it, sweetheart. Lemme see you fuck yourself on my cock” 

You follow his orders, the muscles in your thighs and hips already burning from the sheer amount of effort you're exerting. Your mouth hangs open, drool leaking out onto the white fabric of the cushion as you whimper and whine while for him. He watches, completely focused on the way your body moves for him, panting heavily with his thumb still stuck in your ass. 

“Better be quiet, angel,” Joel warns through clenched teeth. “Unless you want them to hear.” 

He hisses when you clamp down around him and thrust your hips back, forcing his length deep inside of you. Joel chuckles breathlessly and leans down until his face is inches away from yours, his grip lightening up on your throat. “Oh you like that idea, don’t you?” 

You try to open your mouth and say something, but he starts squeezing your throat again, laughing darkly when your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“Dirty fucking girl” Joel whispers roughly, snapping his hips harder against yours if even possible at this point. He wiggles his thumb in your ass for good measure. “Wants the whole neighborhood to hear how well her daddy fucks her, huh baby?” 

The sound of it all is obscene, your moans,  the rhythmic slap of his pelvis against your ass, and the squelching of your dripping cunt as he fucks you senseless. For a brief second, your mind wanders to all the women in the neighborhood, so indiscreet with the way that they ogle at Joel at all the neighborhood cook-outs and bonfires and you think to yourself: yeah, they can fucking listen. 

Joel places a wet kiss to the nape of your neck before straightening up again. His hand abruptly leaves your throat, leaving you gasping and whining at the loss. 

“God you’re such a fuckin’ slut for it” Joel rasps, his hand gripping your hip again. 

Your head feels thick and stuffy, thoughts floating around like syrup in your brain. The only thing you can think about is Joel’s cock driving in and out of you, dragging so deliciously against your g-spot while he keeps his thumb firmly in your tight asshole.

He uses two fingers from his free hand to prod at where he’s splitting you open, gathering some of your slick and dragging it up to your clit. He groans at the heavenly sounds that start falling from your lips as he rubs quick circles over the sensitive nub. 

You’re an absolute mess at this point, completely at his mercy as he pounds into you. Your hips jerk involuntarily against him as he continues to rub your clit ferociously, making you writhe underneath him. His touch only adds to your pleasure, pure bliss engulfing all of your senses. 

“Please daddy” you whine, your words slurring together. “Please I wanna cum” 

“I know, baby. Can feel you clenchin’ around me'' Joel coos. “S’okay sweetheart, I want it. Soak my fuckin’ cock with it” 

Your whole body tenses as you reach your release, your walls grip him so impossibly tight as he fucks you through it, his fingers on your clit not slowing for even a second

“That’s it, baby.” Joel praises as you shake underneath him, the sounds you're making, has his cock throbbing inside of you, his eyes rolling back at how tightly you squeeze his cock and his thumb. “Always so fuckin’ tight when you cum on me. So fuckin’ tight” 

He’s not far behind you, the way your body reacts to him driving him absolutely wild. His fingers move from your clit to grip your hip and he slams into you with a newfound strength, chasing after his own release. 

“Fuck, honey you’re gonna make me cum” he grunts, his eyes glued to your holes fluttering around him. 

“Yes, daddy please cum” you manage to whine desperately, eager to have him fuck you full of his cum until it’s dripping out of you. 

Your begging sends him over the edge and his pace falters then stops completely. The sounds of his loud moans as he spills inside of you sends a pleasant wave of warmth down your spine. It feels so divine, the way he throbs inside of you as he shoots rope after rope cum deep inside of you. 

He stays there for a few moments, buried deep inside you while he catches his breath. Once his breathing evens out, he gingerly removes his thumb from your ass, his cock twitching pathetically at the way your tight hole grips onto him as he pulls it out. He then slides his cock out and collapses on top of you, careful not to completely crush you. 

He’s burning hot, his sweaty skin sticking to your eyes as the sunshine beats down relentlessly on the two of you. But you don’t give single fuck. He rests his cheek between your shoulder blades, his scruff tickling the sensitive skin. 

“You’re so good, sweetheart.” Joel whispers, his breath fanning over the back of shoulder. 

You hum happily in response, too blissed out to say much else. You lay there for a few more minutes until the sun makes things unbearably hot. Joel then moves to stand up and shimmies out of the jeans that he never fully took off. 

You turn your head to look at him, using your hand to shield your eye from the sun. 

“You’re puttin’ a lot of faith in that fence” you chuckle, eyes shamelessly raking up and down his naked body. 

Joel laughs out loud and tosses his jeans on the chair. 

“Baby” he starts, reaching down to roll you over onto your back. “You know the only reason I agreed to building that fence and this goddamn pool in the first place is because I want to see you naked inside of it” 

You have no time to react before he’s scooping you up in his arms. 

“Joel Miller! Put me down!” you shout between giggles as he carries you over to the edge of the pool. 

“It’d be my honor” he says before dropping you into the water. 

The cool water is a shock to your fucked out system, but it’s such a relief from the heat. And if anyone else did that, you’d be fucking livid. Anyone else. But it’s Joel. And the way that he jumps in after you and then wraps his arms around you as he giggles in your ear makes you absolutely melt, just like it always does. 

Thank god for peach season. 

Thank you for reading I love you guys sm :')))

[teastainedprose]

Too Sweet - Ch. 1 (Cooper Howard x Reader)

A settler selling wares in Filly catches The Ghoul's eye. Inspired by a Tumblr post asking for an angst fic to Hozier's Too Sweet. 1,753 words | [AO3] No warnings yet, only innocent flirting. Banner from @eupheme

The first time he spots you, Cooper thinks nothing of it. Sure, you look a little less worn down compared to the usual rabble roaming Filly. Certainly scrubbed a little cleaner than most but so were the rest of your companions. The lot of you are a curiosity for sure, but he's seen plenty of attractive women over the ages and known a handful carnally. He's not the sort of man to let a pretty face distract him. No, you don't get a second glance from the ghoul as he goes about his business. 

It's not until your laughter catches Cooper by the ear that he starts paying attention. Jerks his head right round at the sunny sound, attention diverting from the bounty board as he watches you engage with a customer. You laugh again, a merry delight that lights your face right up while the elderly woman you're chatting with laughs along. She's made brighter for being so close to you while you've suddenly become the sun in Cooper's eyes. A brightness he has to squint at when he looks over again to drink you in. His long-dead heart decides that it's about time to do a little flip.

That's a sensation he's not keen on feeling. Cooper hums under his breath, frown settling on his worn lips. He tugs the brim of his hat lower, turning away as he tries to focus on the task at hand. No good can come of fancying any sort of infatuation on a smoothie like you. You're not the sort of creature deserving of the trouble he could bring.

Yet Cooper finds he can't quite help himself. Wasteland life is full of little pleasures and looking at you sure counts as a bit of pleasure. Why not indulge?

The rest of the day as he sits waiting for a client to show, his eyes flicker over you. Wherever you're from, it's certainly kinder to you than what most folks in the Wasteland see. You almost look as soft as some fresh-faced Vaultie, but he can see that your hands are well-worn as you exchange produce for caps. A farmer of sorts. Homesteader.

He listens with a keener ear to the gossip swirling about you and those in your group. A little settler band situated out east, closer to the mountains and closer to what manages to grow green. He picks up that your lot wanders in every few weeks with produce to sell, or trade to stock up the settlement the collective group runs. 

Idly, he wonders what horseshit sort of ideology your commune might be sunk into, but if you're looking to spread a new sort of gospel none of your ilk seem keen on sharing it here. You're a welcome addition to the economy of Filly and it's clear that many enjoy the taste of hope this band of settlers bring in with their harvest. Cooper figures that's indoctrination enough from the harsh reality the Wasteland offers up.

Cooper finds himself wandering over to Ma June's place under the pretense of stocking up on supplies. There's suspicion in her eyes as he drops his intended purchases onto the counter but that's not out of the ordinary. There's always suspicion in the looks Ma June gives him, but she'll take his caps all the same.

"Say, now what's with that group of lil' farmers hauling in their produce like that? Can't imagine those soft-lookin' sorts making their way all the way here unmolested," he drawls out. His smile is crooked as Cooper counts through his caps to pay.

"Settlers, but the well-armed sort. No point in trifling with them. Too well-liked here for their fresh food supply they haul in," Ma June pulls the caps towards her, gaze fixed on the ghoul as she mutters. "They'll trade with ya, but keep out of their business. Ya hear?"

A hum escapes Cooper as he considers this, leaning onto the counter while glancing out the dusty window towards where you stand at the stall. He casually stashes his purchases into his saddlebag while going on conversationally.  "Well- Is that so? They a regular sort of fixture here in Filly now?"

"Have been setting up that stall going on half a year now. Surprised you've yet to come across 'em. Best cherry tomatoes you'll find in the Wasteland." Ma June eases back, arms crossing over her chest as a sour look settles in place on her worn face.

Another speculative hum escapes Cooper as he digests this information before he tips his hat to Ma June and goes on his way. Which happens to lead him straight to your stall.

Once there, Cooper casually plucks up potatoes, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and okra. All of it looks as vegetables should, the sort he would have found at the grocery store before everything went to shit. 

"How much for this lot?" He sets the small bounty atop the open space on the stall. Cooper gives you his Hollywood smile that would charm the pants off of any woman in bygone days, except now his face is a leathery wreck and his teeth are yellowed with age. Most people instantly flinch away in disgust.

Not you.

You smile like the morning sun towards him as you step closer while dusting your hands off on your pants. The bit of dirt smeared on your face only seems to enhance your features in Cooper's eyes. The look you give him is almost shy once you meet his gaze, smiling warmly up to him. 

Cooper finds that curious. He's familiar with a scowl or grimace of disgust when anyone looks him in the face, but here you are gracing him with an easy smile. A customer is a customer, he figures, and he'll do well enough. Yet, your friendliness doesn't feel like an act. Even after all these years, Cooper Howard still can clock other actors.

"Fifteen caps for the whole lot, but I'll throw in an extra sweet potato for the smile." You wink. Wink right at him as your smile grows. "They're good for ya, handsome." You add casually, the smile tugging up further into a cheeky grin. Your expression shifts. Playful. Coy. Interested.

Ain't that something? Cooper doesn't falter at the full force of your attention. He's too old and worn for that, but he sure does grin right back with a twinkle in his eye. Even an old ghoul like him can enjoy a pretty thing like you openly flirting with him.

Now that he’s heard it, Cooper decides your voice is sweet as a silver bell. The sort of soothing tone that reminds him of rain softly pelting a windowpane. It's the sort of sound that makes him wish to stay and listen for a while, tucked into the warmth that he suddenly wants you to offer up. He wants to get you talking to hear more. Wonders how he can coax you into a conversation.

That’s a fucking stupid idea. Cooper mentally shakes himself free of the passing fancy, head tilting ever so slightly as he peers down at you from the shadow of his hat. "Mhm. Ain't trying to get me hooked now are you, sweetheart?

"Something like that." 

“Well now, reckon vegetables ain’t the worst sort of vice a man can get lost in.” Cooper still can’t help himself. He lets his eyes wander right down your body before flicking back up to your face, what sort of vice he’s pondering made clear.

That flush on your cheeks blooms all the hotter as you laugh for him, the sound an utter delight when directed his way. You smile, sweet and shy now as you pluck up a hefty sweet potato to set beside the rest of his purchases. 

“Oh, well-” You start, stop with a small shake of your head as you smile all the wider. Utterly disarmed.

Cooper counts out the requested coin with a speculative hum, mirth sparking in his eyes as it seems he’s rendered you speechless. It’s down-right adorable if he’s being honest with himself. You’re a right little temptation he’d like to play with further. A dangerous thought.

Setting the coins onto the counter, he's swift in sweeping up his new bounty and stowing it all away into a pouch within his saddle bag. This close you're too bright and Cooper knows he's in trouble. Best to break away before you pull him into your orbit in full.

“You take care of yourself now, sweetheart,” Cooper drawls. He tips his hat towards you and turns away with spurs clicking. You watch him go, cheeks still flaming.

You know who he is. The Ghoul, the most famous Bounty Hunter the radiated Wastelands has to offer. You've heard all the rumors and truer tales about him all your life but nothing could prepare you for seeing him in the flesh. A dangerous sort of creature. A man who always brings his bounty in. 

You'd been watching him all day, stealing glances as you work. Now that you've seen him up close and personal? You're down-right fascinated. He’s nothing like the monster the stories painted him out to be. At least, he certainly wasn’t monstrous to you. There’s something captivating about him. Charming, even. 

You’ve seen ghouls before, of course. You know their kind as some live on the settlement with you. The majority end up shambling and ungainly, limbs no longer listening as the radiation rot wars with their regeneration abilities. A confusion that makes most of them uncoordinated and awkward in their transformed bodies, but The Ghoul? He’s got a swagger to his step that reminds you of those cowboys you’ve seen on ancient holotapes. 

He’s been lurking at the edge of your awareness all day, your head cocking in his direction to listen to the cadence of his voice as he bartered for bullets and talked business outside of the bar over yonder.

A thrill had jolted through you the moment he started to move towards your stall. The nervous energy thrumming through you had been made all the worse when you met The Ghoul’s gaze for the first time. A woman could find herself lost in such eyes and you’d certainly tripped right into them. Boldly meeting this stranger’s gaze and enjoying every second his attention was on you.

Shame he left so quickly. You sigh, turning back to count out bottlecaps he’d left as you turn your attention back to work. Best not to think about it. You’re unlikely to see that legend ever again.

[shortysus4]

Look at this ADORABLE art of my boiz that @neetily did for me to honor their birthday!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH OMGGGG Happy (late) Valentine's Day to me <3 <3 <3 <3

[tightjeansjavi]

My Joel,

A/N: I have not written a fic with this many words in a HOT minute, and boy does it feel good! What a cathartic experience this has been for me after writing Joel’s letters. I did not expect so many of you to want Joel and his dearest to have an alternative ending, but here we are 🤭 writing this has been a real treat, and I hope I have done their backstory and alternative ending justice! Buckle up, because you’re in for a wild ride! Thank you to @beardedjoel for letting me spam you with all the updates and screaming along with me 🥹 thank you to @strang3lov3 for betaing and creating these STUNNING divider mood boards for each section of the fic 💘

~word count: 14.4k~

Summary: the story of two forbidden lovers finding each other once more.

Pairing | forbidden lover!joel x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, infertility, canon typical violence, mutual pining, child abuse, mentions of S/A accusations (not by Joel) misogyny (not by Joel) homophobia/homophobic slurs (not by Joel) mutual pining, hopeless romantics, forbidden love, societal status, somewhat historically accurate language, arranged marriage (not to Joel), language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco products, virginity/virginity loss, happy ending/alternative ending, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

My Dearest,

June 1st, 1844

“This evening you are to meet the banker's son, daughter.” Your mother’s sickly sweet voice floated through your room, where you sat along the cushioned bench beneath the long window, your palm resting along your chin as you gazed out towards the gardens, the grass an unnatural shade of green compared to the common folk and farmers that would only dream of stepping foot on your family's estate. Your wealth was directly a result of your fathers parents, and their long lineage of thoroughbred horses. Your own mare was a descendant of the original three stallions imported into England in the late 1600’s.

But you were more focused on the man leading your mare, and her two stallions flocking at her hindquarters from the pasture: your Joel.

Joel Miller was a mere stable hand who was entrusted by your father himself to care for your family's prized horses. But to you? Joel was much more than just a stable hand. In fact, you begged your father one summer to increase Joel’s pay when he proved to be knowledgeable with the horses and their needs. Your father agreed, but refused to dote Joel with a new title. He was penniless compared to you, but you saw his heart before you saw his status in society. And he? He loved you from the moment you first met.

-

Spring, 1839

“Sir, sir!” A young Joel, 13 years of age burst into your fathers parlor, his hand-me-down clothes were soaked to the bone as the storm raged on outside the estate walls. “Dahlia’s womb has breached! Her foal is on the way!” He exclaimed with excitement.

Outside of your families prized stallions, the mares were just as valuable, bearing the next line of champions, no doubt. Dahlia belonged to your mother, and this was her third foal. Your mother couldn’t stand the presence of Joel in her home, dripping all over the floor, creating a puddle of water along the artisan rug beneath his muddy boots.

“Boy!” She snapped, setting her book down along her skirts where she was sitting near the fireplace, with perfect posture. Her eyes held a cold, unnerving stare. “You are in no state to be in my home looking like—” her pointed comment was cut off by the double doors leading to the parlor bursting open, to reveal your excited, and visibly out of breath face.

“Dahlia’s foal is on the way?!”

It was past your bedtime, but down the hall you heard the news of Dahlia, and couldn’t contain yourself. You were still in your nightgown, your hair in braids with bows tied into the ends. Joel felt a flush immediately rise to his damp cheeks at the sight of you. You were as pretty as a flower, the same age as him, and he wondered why this was the first time he’s seen you, till he remembered that most girls your age spent their days indoors preparing for marriage to a suitable husband of their fathers choosing, and inevitably bearing children down the line.

Just as quickly as his gaze fell upon you, he looked away, clearing his throat to hide the redness rising in his cheeks.

“Daughter!” Your mother scolded you when you rushed into the room and didn’t curtsy upon your arrival. She had yet to notice the bows in your hair when you quickly curtsied, fingers delicately grasping the hem of your nightgown as you bent down at the waist, one foot in front of the other just as it was ingrained into your brain for years. “Apologies, mother.” You softly squeaked out in embarrassment.

She shook her head, a displeasured look fell upon her hardened features. She rose from the couch, silk shawl clenched in her fist as she crossed the room and draped the garment across your shoulders. “Cover up your modesty.” She snapped unkindly. “Men should never see a lady in her night garments.”

I am not a lady, mother. I am a child! Is what you wanted to say, but instead you weakly nodded, muttering another apology under your breath. That’s when your mother took notice of your braids and the bows tied at the ends of them, a sign of innocent youth when you were to become a woman. She scoffed, nose upturning at the sight of them. Her cruel hand rose and fell, landing harshly against your soft cheek.

Joel visibly flinched from the sound, feeling his blood begin to boil under his soaked clothing. You had done nothing wrong! And who in their right mind slaps their own child!

Your skin stung, tears welling and nearly breaching down your cheeks when she yanked the bows from your braids and mockingly held them in front of your face. “These are for little girls. You are to become a woman, or have you forgotten?”

Your lower lip wobbled, and your knees trembled. Your eyes frantically searched the room, landing upon your father who paid no mind to your distress. He was too busy puffing away on his cigar, and even if he didn’t agree with his wife’s treatment upon you, he didn’t dare speak up about it.

“Joel, be a good lad and fetch my daughters coat. I will not be treading out in a storm such as that one, but someone from our family should be present for the birth of Dahlias foal.” He gruffed out. “Let us hope for a strong colt. There are too many fillies prancing around here.”

“Sir—” Joel started, but was cut off.

“Fetch her coat, and do not make me ask you a third time, boy.” He sternly reiterated.

“Yes, sir. Right away!” He nodded, quickly turning on his heel and exited the parlor, his eyes met your teary-eyed one briefly before he disappeared behind the open doors.

“Our daughter has no business going out in this storm, husband! Especially not with the likes of that—boy.” She seethed, stepping back from your trembling frame and walked in the direction of the fire, the now crumpled bows in her fist. She wasted no time to throw them directly into flames, watching as they were burnt up into ash immediately.

“Relax, wife.” Your father sighed, tapping out the ash from his cigar into the crystal ashtray along the table, “she is in good hands with Joel, I trust him.”

“Excuse me, miss?” a timid, youth filled voice appeared behind your shoulder, hand outstretched with your coat grasped between his fingers.

You sniffled, turning to face him and quickly wiped at your brewing tears with the back of your hand. “Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, fingers brushing his gently as you removed your coat from his grasp.

He nearly shied from your touch, a series of tingles and sparks shooting up his spine when he felt your soft touch for the first time. You reacted all the same; shocked gazes meeting before he was stepping to the side for you to pass by him first, a gentleman in nature despite coming from nothing. He cleared his throat, offering you his elbow to brace against the pounding rain and blustering winds. “I’ve got you, miss.” He whispered as your palm gently rested along the crook of his elbow.

Despite your mother’s incessant protests, Joel Miller guided you outside, acting as a physical shield as you endured the storm together. Once inside the safety of the barn, Joel parted from your side, grabbing a nearby stool for you to sit upon before entering Dahlia’s stall. You watched in pure curiosity and amazement as Joel spoke softly to the mare while her head rested in his lap. Beast trusted man; man trusted beast.

When Dahlia’s foal was born, she was not blessed with a strong colt like your father hoped for, but instead a filly. She was smaller than Dahlia’s other foals, and coal black unlike her mother’s dazzling, dappled silver coat. Joel helped the young filly stand on her long, spindly legs so that she could nurse. He was incredibly gentle, letting the filly lean her weight into him. Although Joel knew he was not allowed to name the horses, he started to call the filly ‘Little Shadow’ and only left the stall when he was certain she could stand on her own.

That’s when he remembered he wasn’t alone, and that you were still sitting upon the stool, hands clasped in your lap.

“Wanna meet her?” He suddenly asked, wiping his hands down on a nearby towel.

“Oh…” you trailed off, “I’m unsure if—”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, a small, boy-like grin tugging on his lips. “M’sure your father would want you to have the full experience, would he not?”

“Yes, I suppose he would.” You agreed and graciously took his hand when he offered it. “He will be displeased to hear that Dahlia did not bear a strong colt.”

“I never understood that.” He mused, helping you down from the stool and gently released your hand. “A healthy foal, no matter the sex, is better than an unhealthy one, is it not?”

“Yes, this is true.” You nervously toyed with a loose thread on your coat, avoiding making eye contact with him. “She is…small though, is she not?”

He took no offense to your lack of direct eye contact. He felt undeserving to be in your presence, let alone hold your gaze? “Forgive me if this comes across negatively, miss. But must you always speak so…proper?”

You turned your nose up at his question, dropping the loose thread from your fingertips, “I am to be a lady, Joel. This is how ladies talk.”

He snorted under his breath, shaking his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I suppose you are right. And to answer your question, she may be smaller than the rest of Dahlia’s offspring, but her legs are long, and strong.” He commented thoughtfully as he walked over to the nursing foal. “She will be a winner one day, no doubt.”

“Do you wish to name her, Joel?” You asked softly, standing alongside him with your hand outstretched to gently pet the fillies jet black neck.

“Oh, miss—I could never. I was only calling her Little Shadow because well, she is like a Little Shadow.”

“I don’t think father would approve of Little Shadow…but I think Shadow is a fine name for her, sir.”

“Miss, I am not a sir.” He sighed, reaching behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I’m just a stable hand. I do not possess any titles, and I never will. I agree, Shadow is a fine name for her.”

“Joel, I have heard that you are more than just a stable hand, but I address every man as sir. It’s how I have been taught.”

He looked over at you, eyes scanning the side of your face, the same side where your cheek had been struck by your mothers cruel hand. “That it be true, I am not a man, miss. I am just a boy.”

Silence fell between the two of you while you continued to gently stroke Shadow’s neck. You could feel Joel’s gaze landing on your cheek, but you chose to ignore it despite the heat that was slowly beginning to rise to your cheeks.

“Miss…?” He sounded unsure of himself, nervous, apprehensive of the words he was about to speak next,

“Yes, Joel?”

“Forgive me, I should not be uttering these words to a lady like yourself, but the bows in your hair…I thought they were quite—pretty.” He whispered the last bit, expecting you to scold him, to scream, and surely send him to the gallows for even thinking of you in that inappropriate manner, but instead, you smiled softly.

“Thank you, Joel. Mother…doesn’t approve of them. Says they are for little girls, and not for a lady to be. But they are just ribbons, are they not? I like how they look, and I wish she did too.” You sighed, eyes casting downwards.

He was more bold this time around as the images of your mothers hand making contact with your soft cheek flashes in his mind, “she should have never laid a hand upon you like that, miss. You did nothing wrong! Forgive me—I have forgotten my place.” He dropped his chin between his shoulders in shame.

You wept then, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the phantom sting of your mothers palm. You slowly sank down into the straw bed, head in your hands. You looked so small, frail, weak, and Joel never wanted you to feel this way again.

At first he didn’t know how to react to your distress, but soon he found himself sinking down to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reached out to grasp your covered shoulders, “my dearest, do not weep, please. Your mother has never learned kindness in her life, but you? You—” he struggled to find his words, his empathetic nature coming out in full swing.

You slowly tilted your chin upwards to meet his gaze, glassy eyes boring into his. You both took a sharp inhale of breath, time seemed to cease completely. The storm outside raged on, the wind whipped and howled outside the heavy barn doors when Joel Miller’s calloused palms gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away your glistening tears.

1842

Spring turned to summer, summer to fall, and fall to winter. Your Joel transformed into a man before your very eyes. In your youth he showed you how to run, to make mud pies, to swim in the river, despite your mothers disapproval. Your father showed an inkling of care to allow your years before marriage to be spent with Joel by your side.

On the approach of your sixteenth birthday, Joel Miller no longer looked like a boy in your eyes. He was a man, and for the first time in your life, you felt that forbidden part between your thighs come alive at the sight of him. He had grown taller, his arms filling in, paired with strong thighs. The muscles in his back and shoulders were defined with laborious hours of work. His chiseled jaw was speckled with facial hair, paired with unruly curls that you wished you could feel their softness between your fingers. You found yourself transfixed by his lips and often imagined how they would feel pressed to yours in a heated embrace. The only thing about your Joel that didn’t change with age was his eyes; the deepest pools of brown that always appeared lighter when he was graced with your presence.

Your father treated him like a son, inviting him out on the weekends to go fox hunting with your brothers. The prospect of attending college was even on the horizon for him, and Joel could taste his new life brewing on his tongue. His feelings grew for you over the years, feeling his heart flutter and clench whenever you would look his way. Even in your modest attire, he envisioned your womanly figure beneath your layers of tooled skirts. Every night before he laid his body to sleep, he would imagine your lips pressing to his own until the thought of it had begun to drive him mad.

So upon your sixteenth birthday, he approached your father in his office with only one thought on his mind; asking for your fathers permission, and blessing to court, and eventually marry you.

“Come in.” Your father’s voice rasped behind the closed door.

Joel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms along the front of his trousers, bringing one hand up to smooth down his untamed curls. His calloused palm grasped the brass handle and slowly pushed it open.

Your father was seated behind his desk, cigar smoke wafting through the air in a swirling pattern from where it rested between his lips. He looked at Joel expectantly, arms crossed behind his head in a lax position. “Joel, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him softly. He momentarily glanced out a large window overlooking the gardens where in just a few hours, your party would be in full swing. “Good afternoon, sir.” He nodded curtly, “beautiful day we’re having, yes? The weather will be exceptional for your daughter's birthday this evening.”

My Dearest.

“Yes, indeed. The weather has been lovely.” Your father mused. “If you’re asking if you can attend tonight’s festivities, you already know my answer, Joel. The lady of the house wouldn’t stand for it.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Yes, of course, sir. I won’t be on the grounds this evening. A few friends have invited me to the tavern for drinks. I won’t be out late, I swear it.”

“I see.” Your father nodded, “a handsome young man such as yourself oughta get out there more.” He agreed, “So, what are you here for then?”

Shit.

“Sir, I have—known your daughter for many years now, as you are aware. I am also aware that she has many suitors lined up to offer her hand in marriage, but sir, if I was given your blessing, and permission, I would—”

“Joel.” Your father’s tone cut through the younger man like a sharpened blade. “My daughter has already been promised to another. Do not take me for a fool, boy. I have seen the way your gaze lingers on her longer than what would even be described as appropriate. I see the way she looks at you, Joel. I have bit my tongue on this matter because I happen to like you, son. What I can offer you is another lady, at your choosing. You can live a happy, comfortable life and hold a title that you would never otherwise possess. My suggestion is that you accept my generous offer, and throw away your fantasy of ever marrying my daughter.”

Joel swallowed his disappointment down with a heavy gulp. He was naive to believe that he could ever be granted with your fathers blessing. How foolish of him to believe that a man such as himself, would ever end up with the likes of you. It was a fantasy, an unattainable dream that he was better off extinguishing now instead of dwelling on what could never be. He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way his heart submerged to the very pits of his stomach. “I understand, sir.” He finally spoke.

“Good lad. I knew you were a smart one from the start. Now, this stays between you and I, alright?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. You didn’t hear this from me, but the lady of the house plans to retire early this evening. If you see the opportunity to whisk my daughter away for one evening, take it. If it sours, do not even think about taking me down with you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir?” Joel sounded confused, his eyes going wide momentarily, “I’m confused—”

“Treat my daughter to a night that she will never forget, so that in her later years, when she is in misery after bearing her husband's children, and finds herself in a loveless marriage, she will have her memories of you to look back on. Do not, and I mean by any means, get caught and throw your life away so foolishly.”

“I—I understand, sir.” He stuttered out, his heart lurching in his chest at the prospect of one evening with you in his embrace. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He gushed earnestly.

“Leave now, Joel. Do not speak of this to anyone.”

“I won’t, sir. I promise.”

-

All evening you danced merrily and socialized with the upper socialites of Texas with a fake smile plastered on your pretty painted lips. You searched high and low for your Joel all evening. Your gaze lingered, heart skipping a beat anytime a man that resembled him would stride past, only to be met with bitter disappointment when they would turn their cheek towards you and the resemblance would dissipate like the bubbles in your champagne flute. Your mother had retired for the evening, and your father was in his parlor with his colleagues, smoking, drinking, and playing hands of poker.

And then you felt a presence brush past your bare shoulder, the skirts of your dress ruffling in the warm summer breeze. A shred of parchment was placed into your palm discreetly as you watched the inconspicuous figure disappear in the direction of the nearby stables. Once you were certain no one was paying any attention to you, you unfolded parchment, your heart surging at the familiar penmanship.

My Dearest,

Happy sixteenth birthday. Meet me at the stables in exactly one hour.

Your Joel

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the butterflies erupted and fluttered wildly in your stomach, Your Joel. You brought the parchment to your lips, kissing his words, your lashes fluttering shut.

As the minutes ticked by, your excitement heightened, and when it was ten minutes to the hour, you snuck off to the stables with a visible pep in your step. The barn door was left ajar upon your entering, and when you turned the corner, you found your Joel inside of Shadow’s stall, bows and flowers were braided delicately throughout her luscious mane and tail. When he sensed your presence, he turned around, the biggest grin plastered on his face, dimples peeking through, one stray curl falling across his forehead that was begging to be brushed away by your soft fingertips.

“Joel.” You breathed out, smile mimicking his own.

“My Dearest.” His heart surged in his chest, and then you were launching yourself into his arms unexpectedly. He caught you, of course, hugging you tightly to his broad frame. “No one saw you, right?”

“No.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands fell to your waist. “Shadow looks beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

He chuckled warmly, tilting his forehead to rest upon yours with a sigh of relief, “she doesn’t look nearly as beautiful as you, darlin.’ And why for your birthday, of course!”

His warm, timbre laugh sent your stomach somersaulting, and your mind feeling dizzy. “An evening ride through the countryside, is that my present from you?” You teased him lightly, threading your fingers through the back of his hair.

“No, no, my sweet. It’s actually…a surprise. Are you up for it? Oh! You’ll be needing these, however.” He reluctantly departed from your embrace, stepping off to the side to lift a rucksack from the ground. “I believe they’re your size.”

You raised a curious brow as he handed the rucksack off to you. “You mean, I get an excuse to wear something outside of my fine dresses?” You gasped softly.

“Mhm.” He nodded, smile playing on his lips at your pure excitement over something so small. “I’ll uh—give you some privacy to change.” He cleared his throat, eyes dancing in the direction opposite of you as he turned on his heel so his back would be facing you.

Secretly, you wanted him to see you undress from your obnoxious layers and reveal your untouched skin to his admiring gaze. The times that you would swim in the river together were different. You were both still children, and your womanly curves hadn’t made their appearance just yet.

He silently listened to your fine skirts fall to the dusty barn floor and he was half tempted to peek, but remained respectful as you undressed. Once you gave him the okay, he slowly turned around to face you once more. Gone were your frilly heavy skirts that dragged along the floor with each step that you took. Your skirt was still long, but not as weighted and while the bodice was still fairly constricting, the sleeves were dainty and hung off the side of your shoulders like silk drapery. Your mother would certainly have a fit if she saw you dressed so un-modestly.

“So…” You trailed off, “how do I look?” You twirled on your heel, your smile never faltering.

He unashamedly looked you up and down, twice, before one strong arm looped around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, caging you against him.

“Pardon my French, mademoiselle, but you look fuckin’ stunning.”

You giggled, hands resting against his chest to brace yourself against him. It was the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears; your laugh.

“Thank you, sir. Mother would scold me if she saw me dressed like this!” You giggled again when his nose came to nuzzle against your cheek, bristles in his beard gently scraping against your skin, “she would, my dearest. But don’t worry about any of that, okay? Tonight you will have the time of your life with me, and your mother will have no say in it.” He assured you.

—

You rode into town on horseback, Shadow moving swiftly with Joel steering her with the reins and you behind him with your arms wrapped around him, pressing yourself as close to his back as possible. You had never been to a tavern before, but tonight would certainly be a night of firsts.

Your first sips of Ale were with Joel by your side, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over, warm breath fanning your face as he asked you what you thought about the taste.

Truthfully? Ale was not your first drink of choice, but you had an understanding for the appeal of it. Joel agreed, and whispered in your ear that he thought it tasted like shit. His tone and crude remark sent you giggling in tandem.

Now, whiskey on the other hand? You enjoyed the smoky flavor that lingered on your tongue and the way it instantly sent a warm fire simmering in your belly, and heat to flood your cheeks. You danced, laughed, drank and you even played a hand of poker! No one in the tavern knew of your status, your wealth. Everyone in the rowdy establishment was just there living, and you silently wished for your life to always be this freeing.

When the tavern closed for the night, you and Joel strolled down the street, hand in hand. The late evening air held that familiar summer sweetness, crickets chirping, fireflies dancing around your heads. Another pair of lovers strolled in front of you and Joel, seemingly unable to keep their hands off of one another as they neared the town inn. Would that be you and your Joel?

His palm felt clammy in your palm, but his face gave no distinction that he was absolutely freaking the fuck out inside at the prospect of finally getting the privilege to press his lips to yours.

“Shadow is staying at the inn’s barn for the evening, my dearest. It’s far too late for either of us to return back to the estate…” he trailed off, eyes casting in your direction to await your response.

“Joel…” you sighed, loosening your grip around his hand, nearly dropping it entirely. “We—we have to go back. Father, mother—”

“My dearest, your mother has retired early for the evening, and your father is probably too deep in a hand of poker to even notice your absence.” He spoke softly, slowly bringing your entwined fingers up to his face, illuminated in a soft, warm glow from the flickering street lights lining the walkway. He brushed his lips against the outside of your hand, eyes locking onto yours, “I understand if you don’t desire me the way I desire you, my dearest. And if that is the case, we can leave immediately—”

“I—I desire you plenty, my Joel. All evening at the party, I kept seeing the resemblance of your beautiful face in every male passerby, but none of them were you. I’m just—I’m so afraid, Joel. My heart—it feels so deeply for you, but it’s forbidden. You and I both know the bitter truth of what we can never be.”

“My dearest, tonight we need not be afraid, okay? It is your birthday, your special day, and there is nowhere else in this world that I would rather be, than here with you. I ask you for nothing, only to trust me. Trust your Joel.”

You could feel yourself caving into his words, your body drawn to be closer to him as if by some invisible force pulling you into his chest. “I trust you always, my Joel.”

He nodded, pressing another sweet kiss to the outside of your hand. You moved in sync, his strong, broad body caging you against the brick wall of the inn, his hands, calloused and warm, holding your face between them as if you were fine delicate china. His forehead came to rest upon yours, warm breath fanning your face, “can I kiss you, my dearest?”

“Please, my Joel.” You breathed out, fingers gently resting along the nape of his neck. “You—you will be my first.” You whispered.

“And you will be mine, my dearest.” He rasped, thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones, feeling his heartbeat faster, and faster, when his lips finally brushed upon your own, both of your inexperience showing, but nature took over when your lips finally met, pressing against one another. Your breath hitched in your throat, fingers tightening around his soft curls, pulling him in closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, make a home inside of his heart and never leave.

“I—have never felt a sweetness upon my lips till I have kissed you, my dearest.” He murmured sweetly against your locked lips, taking the leap of what felt right when your lips parted like the narrow sea for him to slowly lick into your mouth so your tongues could meet, and dance.

An unexpected moan slipped past your lips when he licked into your mouth, a sound only for his ears, sending blood flowing southwards beneath his trousers and directly to his groin. He parted from the kiss momentarily, a string of translucent saliva hung between your swollen lips. He dived back in seconds later, but this time you felt his lips upon your neck, sucking, kissing, licking at your throat and all the way back up to your lips.

“I scraped up enough money to afford us a night at the inn, my dearest.” He let out a soft grunt when your nails lightly scratched his scalp, and your fingers tugged on the root of his curls, “do you wish to—”

“Yes, my Joel.” You didn’t even wait for him to finish his question, you already knew your answer was going to be yes.

He chuckled at your eagerness, letting his hands drop from your face and rest along your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, “lay beside me tonight, my love?”

“Yes, my Joel. I wish for that.”

He smiled into the kiss, the butterflies in his own stomach were no longer fluttering wildly, his nerves were gone because never in his life had he been more sure about his feelings till now. It was a moment of calm that both you and he felt in one another’s embrace. “Then let it be known that tonight, beneath the stars, I will make love to you, my dearest.” The words he spoke fell like a sweet oath upon your lips.

You kissed him once more, before your lips parted, but only for a little while. He took your hand in his, fingers entwined and led you to the entrance of the inn. The room was paid for, and the excitement was beginning to tingle once more as he unlocked the door to the room you would share. A single bed to accommodate you both.

And when he laid you down, fitting in the space between your thighs, kissing every inch of your untouched skin, drawing sounds from your throat that you had never felt, nor heard before. Calloused palms moved with languid ease, undressing you with methodical care. You did the same to him, marveling at the flex of his muscles beneath your touch. He was so gentle, so patient as you parted for him like a blooming flower. He kissed you there, too. Dark head of curls moving between your thighs, strong fingers spreading you open where his tongue quickly found the little bud that had your whole body quivering, and your back bowing, arching from the mattress.

He kissed, licked, worshiped, suckled on your womanhood, the taste of you was something so foreign, yet familiar, and his cock grew heavy between his thighs, hips rutting into the mattress for any form of relief.

Your speech was slurred, broken, fragmented moans dangling from your lips, and you were only able to say one word; his name.

Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.

And when the coil in deep within your tummy was pulled tight, and a burning warmth that could only be described as the feeling of heaven on earth, traveled from the tips of your toes and up your spine, you convulsed around his tongue, eyes rolling back into your skull, muscles spasming, your cunt pulsing, leaking along the sheets. He lapped up every sweet drop of your release, swallowing it down as if he was quenched with thirst. His eyes opened, dark pools of brown staring intensely into yours, grinning like a devil. His chin and beard glistening in your sweet nectar, illuminated by the pale moonlight casting in through the thin, billowing curtains.

He kissed up your body, finding your lips and molding his tongue around yours so you could taste yourself, too. He whispered sweet nothings between kisses when the heavy weight of his cock slowly began to press into you. Tears sprung from the sudden sharp pain caused by the stretch of him easing inside of you. He kissed away your tears, shushing you softly and promising you that it would feel good so soon, my dearest.

Your nails left crescents in his back, thighs wrapping around his waist when he was fully sheathed inside of your pulsing, hugging warmth. It was the tightest vice he ever did feel, and he never wanted to part from you.

“I’ve got you, my dearest.” He whispered upon your lips, drawing his hips back slowly, oh so slowly, before guiding them forward. The coarse dark hair on his pubic bone brushed against your own with each gentle thrust he gave you. A rhythm set in with his movements, your body naturally began to mold to his as you became one. Sweat soaked skin, tangled moans and limbs, wet kisses and words of love shared between what little space was left between you.

And when he spilled his seed deep within your womb, and he moaned your name, proclaiming his love and devotion for you with his face buried against your neck. You refused to part from one another, even as his cock softened inside of you, and your cunt no longer fluttered. You pressed your lips to his scruffy cheek, tangled your fingers through his now sweat soaked curls that were matted to his forehead and back of his neck. You held him, and he held you as the sun slowly began to rise, and the birds chirped cheerfully just outside the window.

“I don’t want to go home, my Joel. I want to stay here, with you…forever.” You whispered softly through the early morning air.

He shifted deep within you, lifting his chin and turned his cheek to the side, brushing his lips sweetly against your soft cheek. His eyes were sleepy, a dopey, boyish grin graced his features, lips curved in a perfect pout, swollen with your kisses, “I need not yet to part from you, my love. But I must return you home before your father and mother awake.”

You sighed softly, dropping your fingers from their grip on his hair to then drag across his jaw, nuzzling your nose against his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “our home, my Joel.” You gently reminded him.

He kissed you back, lashes fluttering shut to savor the moment before opening again so he could once again gaze upon your face and paint a picture in his memory to hold onto forever, “our home, my dearest.”

Reality began to rear its ugly head into both of your minds and he reluctantly parted from your kiss, drawing his hips back slowly to release his cock from your warmth. “We must return home, my dearest.” He sat back on his haunches, his softened cock wet, sticky with a mix of your combined releases and a thin layer of blood.

You slowly sat up, taking the coarse sheet with you as you gazed upon his groin for the first time. Even soft now, your sex induced eyes widened at the girth of him.

He, however, was more focused on the stain of blood on his skin, and swiped his thumb across it before his gaze landed on you, “have you…bled before, my sweet?”

You nodded, “yes, my Joel. I bleed the same time every month since my thirteenth birthday. Mother told me that it means I am ready to bear children, and I have become a woman. She told me that I would bleed again when my husband makes love to me for the first time.”

His chin falls between his shoulders, feeling them sink from the realization that he would never be your husband, and you would never be his wife. “Does it hurt…to bleed? Did I hurt you, my love?”

You shook your head, letting the sheets drop from your chest as you reached out to comfort him. “No, my love. It can be uncomfortable, but you did not hurt me. A dull sting is all I felt, nothing more. You took care of me.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently as you emerged from under the covers, “my dearest, what is to happen if…you end up bearing my children? We are both so young, I wish not to steal what remains of your youth. You deserve so much more than only what is expected of you, my lady.”

You found yourself straddling his hips with your thighs on either side of him, caging his body around yours while his arms wrapped around your waist, using his core strength to stay upright as your hands came to rest upon his face, “if I bear your children, then we could marry, Joel. We could—be together!” You spoke excitedly.

“My dearest, I—have nothing to offer you. I am penniless…we are not of the same status, and your mother and father would never allow it.” His thumbs gently stroked the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine.

“I will speak with my father! He will understand, he must! No man will ever wish to marry me if I am bearing another’s child! Father—he’ll have to agree!”

“My dearest, what if my seed doesn’t take to your womb the first time? What if we are unable—”

You cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips, pulling him in close with your hand resting along the nape of his neck, “then we keep trying till my womb is swelling with life.”

He kissed you deeply, feeling his cock begin to stir to life between your tightly pressed bodies. He nodded, a silent agreement as he dropped one hand from where it rested against your spine and dragged it between you so that he could grasp the base of his cock and slowly press himself inside of you once more.

-

By the time you and Joel arrived back at the estate, the sun was already beginning to rise high above the sky. The stables were empty upon your arrival as Joel helped you dismount from Shadow. He urged you to change back into your attire that you wore to the party so that your mother, nor father would raise their suspicions. You parted ways with a kiss, a longing behind his lips as he watched you leave his embrace and walk back into the life you had always known.

At the breakfast table your mother was quick to question why you were not present in your chambers at sunrise, but you already had a rehearsed script planned in your mind. Without missing a beat, you told the story of how you had a few too many flutes of champagne, and fell asleep in the gardens.

Your mother, of course, scolded you, but your father? He had a hidden, knowing smile playing beneath his mustache.

You and Joel were extremely cautious and strategic when it came to planning your rendezvous. They happened frequently, under the cover of night when everyone was sleeping. Sometimes in the stables, sometimes in the gardens, and you even returned to the inn a few times in secret. He could not get enough of you, your kisses, or your touch. The feeling was mutual, and you both knew that the deep, profound feelings you were both experiencing was not infatuation or lust, no, you and Joel Miller were madly, deeply, tragically in love with one another.

Even in the daytime he would seek your presence, asking your father if he could accompany you on a ride through the countryside as your guide, and protector. You had picnics by the river where he would lay his head upon your skirts, eyes closed blissfully as he listened to you read love stories from Shakespeare till he would drift off, soft snores escaping his lips, your voice lulling him to a sweet slumber. Your horses would graze side by side, his stallion, your mare. Their tails swishing to fight off the pesky flies.

-

Upon the approach of your eighteenth birthday, you wept in Joel’s arms, for no matter how many times he spilled his seed inside of you, your womb did not swell with life; his child. You feared that his love for you would sour and rot when you broke the mournful news to him beneath comfort of the shimmering moon, and twinkling stars.

“My dearest, why do you weep? Who, or what has caused my sweet love to shed her tears?” He sank to his knees with you crumbling in his arms. His heart felt like it was being shredded to fragmented pieces when your sobs echoed off the nearby hedges in the garden where your embrace was hidden.

“My Joel!” You cried, clawing at his arms with fat, heavy tears streaming down your cheeks, “I—I’m so sorry. I have let you down, my love.”

“My dearest, how have you let me down? Tell me what is wrong! What has happened?” He spoke urgently, tone hushed.

“My womb does not swell with life, Joel! We have tried, and tried! No matter how many times, it has been fruitless! I bear you no sons, no daughters—” you wailed mournfully.

“My sweet, are you certain of this? Oh, my girl…” he felt his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he began to gently rock you in his arms. “Do you weep in sadness, or in fear? I do not care that you cannot bear me any children, my dearest. My love for you will never sour.”

“Do not lie to me, lover!” You were on the edge of snapping through your tears, “when my sole purpose in this life is to marry and bear children to my husband! There must be something wrong with me, Joel! How can you say you love me when I cannot be the woman I am expected to be! I never can fucking—”

You surprised yourself and him by your sudden crude language, but then again, spending as much time as you did with Joel, his verbiage began to rub off on you, and yours onto him.

“Then don’t be the woman you are expected to be, my love! There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing, do you hear me? I love you as you are! You are my lady, for fucks sakes! You can be whoever you want to be with me! Do you wish to be a poet? Be one! Do you wish to be a scholar? A singer? Do you wish to live a normal life where your choices are not already chosen for you?!” His voice cracked, coming out as a hoarse rasp deep from within his chest.

You fought the urge to scoff and chide him for being so naive. “My life will never be normal! Don’t you understand?! All I know is what has been chosen for me! It doesn’t matter what I want, Joel! I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth! My studies, my thoughts, opinions, have all been predisposed! Even the fucking food I consume, and the clothing on my back has been chosen for me!”

“Of course I understand! All I have ever done is understand that you and I were never cut from the same cloth! And yet, I love you all the same because what else is a man to do? My sweet, we are weeks away from your eighteenth birthday! We can run away together and carve out the life of our choosing! Fuck your parents, fuck the society we live in! Do you want to marry a man you don’t love and live in misery?! Or do you want the chance to live! To wake up at your choosing, to wear what you desire, to love freely with no prejudice? To never again live under your parents control? Don’t you want to…love me?” He was exasperated, chest heaving, nostrils flaring from the pure passion oozing from his words.

You fell silent, your lower lip wobbling, eyes glassy with tears as you looked into his eyes, taking in the redness in his cheeks, the puffing of his chest—the love pooling in his dark irises, “of course I want to love you, my Joel. I—I’m afraid! Can’t you see that? I’m expected to marry and bear my husband's children and now I cannot! If we run away together, I’ll never be able to return home! What if our love isn’t destined to make it! What if we fail—”

“Of course I can see you’re afraid, my girl. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice! You are safe here, with me. With your Joel! I would never, ever, ever let anything happen to you. We may not live a life of riches, but we would live a life rich in love! I—I can get a job! I will work until my bones break if it means that I get to be with you. I’ll work the railways, the mines! Any job that I can take, I will, and I’ll do it all for you.”

You kissed him then, tasting the salt from your own tears and his upon your locked lips. “We’ll move west! As far west as we can! We’ll see the ocean for the first time, plot out our land and live out our days together!” You murmured against his lips.

“California.” He promised you, kissing you deeply as his hands came to cradle your face, “a sheep ranch with Shadow and Sunfyre.”

“Why sheep, lover?” You asked softly between desperation filled kisses,

“They’re quiet, do as they're told.” He teased, chuckling when you gently swatted at his chest for making such a comment.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You giggled, which soon turned into a moan when his fingers slipped down to your waist and hastily began to unlace your bodice, while your hand drifted downwards to undo the string on his trousers. Neither of you knew that one of your own ladies, the same lady that had been promised to Joel by your father, caught the two of you in the gardens while she was out for a midnight stroll. Her presence was undetected as you sank down around Joel’s cock beneath your skirts, moaning his name unashamedly as your entwined bodies moved in sync.

June 1st, 1844

“Yes, mother.” You responded in a practiced, complacent sweetness to appease her.

“He will make a fine husband to you, one day.” She added, her perfectly dainty fingers came to rest upon your shoulder, squeezing it with anything but a comforting touch. She didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered on your secret lover, nor did she sense your longing.

“Yes, he will, mother. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

“Good. You have grown into being a fine young woman, daughter. Your father and I are so very proud of you.”

If only they knew that you were not the perfect, proper lady than they believed you to be, and that your heart belonged to another man.

-

Your Joel had requested a private audience with your father leading up to the festivities surrounding your monumental birthday. And so after bringing the horses in from the pasture, he made his way to your fathers office, closing the door quietly behind him when he was given permission to enter.

“Sir, I have wonderful news to bestow upon you, Shadow is expectin’. She was showin’ early signs a few weeks back, but it is official.”

“Wonderful news indeed, Joel. And who is the lucky stud?” Your father asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Sunfyre, sir.”

“Ahh. What a combination. A filly, as black as the night, and a colt, as golden as the sun. I wonder what their offspring will look like.” He mused.

Joel swallowed the lump growing in his throat, his palms growing clammier by the second. He took a deep breath to calm his budding nerves, “Sir, I need to disclose something to you, but before I do, I just wanted to say that I have appreciated being able to confide in you in some capacity. I am grateful that you have taken me under your wing and offered me the chance at having a better life, but your daughter—”

“Joel.” He warned, leaning forward in his chair with his hands clasped together. “Be extremely careful with your choice in words for whatever it is you are about to tell me. Perhaps I need to remind you where your place is? Maybe I should have been wary of confiding in you, boy.”

“Sir, please. You must hear this! If you care about your daughter's happiness, and her well being, you will listen to what I have to say. I swear that our conversations have remained confidential! I have spoken about them to no one, I swear it!”

Your father let out a deep sigh, bringing his hands to his face where he pressed the pads of his fingers into the deep set wrinkles in his forehead. “Go on then.”

“Your daughter—she is unable to bear children. She is afraid of what is to become of her if she cannot bear children for her future husband, sir. And I fear for her as well! Sir, men are unkind, and she is sweet. She is sweet and kind and deserving—”

Your fathers heart slowly began to sink, his composure crumbled because of his darling little girl, who would certainly face a life of hardship and misery if you could not bear children and enact your duties as a perfect wife for your husband. He didn’t agree with it, but that was how society worked. Men ruled the house, and the women cared for their husbands and children. “How do you know of this, Joel?” Your fathers tone wavered, his eyes casting in Joel’s direction and he saw a younger version of himself in your forbidden lover.

“Sir, you know the answer to your own question.” Joel nearly whispered, avoiding direct eye contact and let his gaze fall to a portrait behind your fathers desk, two young men with their arms around one another’s shoulders.

“You love her, don’t you?” His question hung heavy in the air.

Joel froze like a deer that was inevitably caught by hunters in the meadow. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think as he listened to the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his pulse pounding, “with all of my heart, sir.”

Your father slowly nodded his head in understanding as he let out a sigh, “then you must know that you have to swallow down your feelings for my daughter for her benefit and your own. You are playing a dangerous game, Joel. One that could very well cost you your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. I have never loved another being outside of your daughter. Our love may be frowned upon and forbidden, but it is real. I have felt for her since I was just a mere boy, when the storm was raging outside and she accompanied me to see the birth of Dahlia’s foal. My love for her will never sour, it will never over ripen and rot like the low hanging fruit upon the trees. I have nothing to offer her but my heart, and that holds a weight more valuable than gold or silver.”

Your father smiled, one that did not reach his eyes as he slowly stood from his chair behind his desk and walked in front of it. “You remind me so much of my younger self, Joel. Willing to do anything for the person you love. Despite all the odds being stacked against you.”

Joel took a hesitant step back, the heel of his boot nearly catching along the rug, “do not patronize me, sir. I love your daughter, and nothing will stop me from loving her. Even after death, my love for her will remain.”

“Of course nothing will stop you, Joel. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He smiled sadly, a look of longing hidden behind his eyes. Joel knew the look all too well.

“I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to tell you something that you have to swear you will never utter to anyone. It is a secret that you must take to your grave, Joel. You cannot even tell my daughter. Are we clear?”

“I swear I will not tell a single soul, sir. Not even your daughter will know.”

“Good, I trust you. You have a good heart, Joel.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Your father reached for his box of cigars, silently offering one to Joel who politely declined. It had been many, many, years since your father spoke about his past, and while he lit the end of the cigar, those memories began to surface. “I meant what I said when I told you that you remind me of my younger self.”

Joel nodded in understanding.

“When I was your age, the world was at my fingertips, Joel. It was my oyster, and I could have any lady of my choosing, but I had to marry. That was my parents one rule upon me was that I had to marry.”

“You could have any lady of your choosing, but it wasn’t a lady that held your affections, was it, sir?”

“No. It was not a lady that held my affections.”

“The man…in the portrait behind your desk, was he your…?”

“Yes, Joel. The man in the portrait was my lover. The butler's son nonetheless. I of course tried to appease my parents and court the finest lady in town, but my heart longed for my lover. We were going to run away together, Joel. It was all planned out, and I was ready to throw away my old life for him. It was, and still is taboo and forbidden to lay with the same sex. We were careful, until I came to him with the grave news that I would have to marry, and that we could no longer be together. He was angry, I was angry, we got reckless, and one night we were caught.”

“By…the lady of the house? Your now wife?”

He nodded, leaning back against the front of his desk, “yes, she was the one who caught us in the act, in my chambers. She screamed so loud, as if she was witnessing a murder! I begged her to keep her voice down but she wouldn’t listen. She was disgusted with me, and proclaimed that I would rot in eternal hell for the sins I committed.”

“What happened…to your lover, sir?”

“My own father nearly beat my lover to death in front of me. I was forced to watch the life drain from his eyes. I begged and begged for him to stop, to let him live! Maybe he would have, if it wasn’t for the lady of the house to spread a rumor that the butler's son came onto me against my will. My father didn’t want to believe that his son was a fairy, and so my lover was sentenced to hang. I visited him for the very last time when he was shackled, malnourished, and begging for death to take him. I stayed with him all night, praying that the sun would never rise. The following morning I was forced to watch him hang. Every single spectator in the crowd, except for me, cheered for the death of another fairy!” He used the back of his hand to swiftly wipe at his eyes when his tears began to well and roll down his cheeks.

“He was buried in an unmarked grave and I went through with marrying the lady of the house. I wasn’t given another choice, and on the night of our wedding, she whispered to me that she knew the truth, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail me for it.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. Your lover—you, I’m so sorry. I do not understand why people are so cruel and hateful. Love is love, is it not?”

“Please do not sympathize with me, Joel. I do not seek your sympathy. I am telling you this because if you do not swallow your feelings for my daughter, you will surely face the same fate that my lover did! Don’t you understand? She has been promised to another. She meets with the banker's son tonight and in time, they will be married. It is her duty and expectation. And you will have the choice to marry the lady I have chosen for you. Your love for my daughter will fade, and you will be grateful that it did.”

“How dare you! How dare you stand there—you coward! You could have been with your lover now if you had run away together! You had the opportunity, and didn’t seize it?! Don’t stand there and claim that my love for your daughter will fade, when yours for your dead lover has not! You stand there, weeping for him! Your life could have been different—”

Crack

Your fathers cruel fist made direct contact with Joel’s beautiful nose, the force of impact sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his face in despair as blood trickled and dripped between the grooves of his fingers, staining the golden threaded hearthrug in splotches of crimson.

“Get the fuck out of my office. It is clear that you have forgotten your place, boy. You will never marry the likes of my daughter.”

Joel retreated through the office doors with what remained of his dignity. He confided in your father purely out of trust, and he thought it was a mutual feeling. For the rest of the afternoon, leading into the evening, you did not see your Joel.

-

The banker’s son was polite, well-mannered, but goodness—was he a bore. You had no interest in hearing him drone on about the stock market in New York City. He didn’t bother to ask you about you, or your interests as they were already predisposed by your mother.

Fucking cunt.

He strolled with you in the gardens with your hand lightly grasping onto his elbow. Your eyes wandered off, in search for that familiar stature, and head of distinguishable dark curls as you passed by the stables, but your Joel was nowhere to be found. Your heart sank and you asked the banker’s son, Timothy, if he would mind giving you a moment of privacy in the garden's gazebo. He obliged, but not before he could press an affectionate kiss to the outside of your hand. The bristles in his perfectly groomed mustache tickled your skin before he reluctantly pulled away.

You let out a sigh of relief, your posture returning to a relaxed state as you watched him walk back towards the festivities inside. When you were certain that he was not lingering, you began to nervously pace the short distance inside of the gazebo, muttering about how Joel would never just leave you like this, would he?

Where the fuck was he?

Then you heard it, the groaning of the tired wood beneath his boots, and that warm, deep rasp in his voice. “My dearest.” He croaked, and you immediately knew something was wrong, something had happened. His voice sounded far more nasally, and when you turned around to face him, that’s when you noticed the dry, crusted blood beneath his fractured nose, the rusted blood stains in his white shirt. You ran to him, delicately cradling his beautiful face in your palms.

“My Joel!” You cried, “what has happened? Who has done this to you! Your nose—your beautiful nose!”

“Hush, my darling. It’s—just a fracture, lover. It will heal.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, his hands slowly coming to rest around your waist. “It does not matter who did this to me, my dearest.”

“How can you say such a thing? Joel, please, my love, who did this to you?” You softly begged, thumbs gently stroking the scruff speckled on his strong jaw.

“Your father.” He murmured, bitterness laced in his words.

“What?” You murmured in disbelief, dropping your hands from his face, refusing to believe it. “Why would he do such a thing to you! Joel, please, please tell me what happened!”

“My love, please promise you will not hate me for what I am about to utter. Swear to me that you won’t.” He pleaded, tightening his grip around your waist in fear that you would slip between his fingers like grains of sand.

“I swear it.”

“He knows about us, my dearest. He knows that I love you, and you love me. He knows that you cannot bear children because I am the one who confided in him this afternoon. I did it in hopes that he would understand, and stop the banker's son from courting you tonight. I—I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to run away, and we would be accepted as lovers!”

“Oh Joel, they will never accept us! You stupid, stupid, beautiful little fool.” You sniffled sadly, feeling your tears oncoming. “You are too good for this world and everyone in it! Your heart is made of pure gold, and I love you for it, but now you have put yourself in grave danger! That was so fucking stupid of you to do, lover.”

“My sweet, I may be a fool, but what else is a man to do when he is in love? Your father knows, yes, but now we must seize our opportunity to leave, tonight! The party is in full swing, is it not? No one will notice your absence, my dearest. If we don’t leave tonight, I fear we will never have another chance at eternal happiness.”

You swallow down your tears, melting into his embrace and his words. “The banker’s son waits for me inside, it will be suspicious if I do not return to him within the hour…” you trailed off.

“Are you having your doubts, my love?”

“No, no! Of course not. I am in fear that we will be caught if we aren’t careful, my Joel. I will return to him and you will go to my chambers. Lock the doors and do not open them for anyone. Take the back entrance, through the kitchens! No one will see you, I swear it.” You reached for his hands on your waist, interlocking your fingers through his.

“And you? I cannot fathom thinking of the banker’s son touching—”

“My Joel, please do not allow your thoughts to sour. I am expected to dance with him and when the timing is right, I will come find you. I promise.”

He nodded, bringing your clasped hands up to his face so he could kiss your knuckles, wincing from the dull ache in his nose.

“Together?” He murmured, eyes locking onto yours.

“Always.”

You parted ways after he kissed you, promising you that all this pain would be worth it in the end, and of course, you believed him, for what else is a girl to do when she is in love?

You returned to Timothy’s side, assuring him that you just needed to be alone with your thoughts. He was an understanding man, and you could understand why your father assumed that he would be a perfect match for you, but no one would ever be your Joel. And while you danced, and made small talk with him and his friends, Joel was making his way through the kitchens, ducking into one of the main hallways, muscle memory guiding him the way to your chambers, but unbeknownst to him, he was being followed.

It was a quarter to midnight and your lover could hear the party growing rowdier by the minute even behind your locked doors. He grew weary, doubts settling into his mind that perhaps you had forgotten him. Perhaps you were having a good time with the fucking bankers son. His spirits lifted when he heard the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He sprung up from the edge of your perfectly made up bed, heart racing in his chest when the doors opened.

His face fell, blood running ice cold when the person revealed behind the door was not you, but the lady who was promised to him by your father. He took a step back, palms growing clammy.

“How did I know that you would be lingering in her chambers, Joel?” She closed the doors behind her and locked them for good measure. “What would her father say if he knew you were in here…hmm?”

“You fucking followed me here, didn’t you, Lady Florence?” He seethed, feeling like an animal trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Because you were promised to me, or have you forgotten?” She cocked a brow in his direction, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I never approached you. Never even attempted to court you. Just because her father promised me to you, doesn’t fucking mean shit until actions are taken after words.” He snapped.

“I suppose, but then again, you’re in a not so favorable position, Joel. Trespassing after hours, and in his daughter's chambers nonetheless? I’m almost certain you would hang for such a crime.” She mused, stepping closer to where he had tucked himself nearly into a corner closest to the window. “Perhaps he would love to hear how I caught you and his daughter fucking in the gardens a few weeks back. How truly reckless of you both.” She tsked.

He scoffed at her attempt at blackmailing him in such a petty way. “Your threats are made in vain. Her father already knows about my love for his daughter. He’s well aware, and you look fucking desperate and pathetic at your attempt to blackmail me.”

“Blackmail you? Joel, you have me all wrong!” She laughed, “I don’t have the heart to blackmail you!”

“Then what the fuck do you call what you just attempted to do, hmm? Don’t take me for a fool! You are nothing but a jealous little—”

“Joel? It’s me, my love. I don’t have my key…someone must have nicked it!” You whispered through the outside of the closed door, looking around the vacant hallway anxiously. “Are you in there?”

He strode past Florence, shoulder checking her on his way to the door and quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside before closing and locking it again.

Your eyes landed on his face, and then trailed over his shoulder to Florence, one of your ladies, who you had believed up until this point was loyal, and not a conniving little—

“Lady Florence? What are you doing in my chambers? What is going on?!”

Joel reached for bare forearm with a gentle grip to pull you back. “My dearest, it isn’t what you think! Lady Florence is the one who nicked your key and followed me to your chambers! She cornered me, threatened me with blackmail, and claimed that she caught you and I in the gardens weeks ago!”

“Is this true?” You felt saddened, betrayed, and disappointed. “Flo, how could you do such a thing to me? I thought we were friends!”

“My lady—he lies! I never would steal from you, he is the one to corner me! He sought me out, forcing me into your chambers—” she lied between her teeth, digging herself in a graver hole than she was planning.

“LIAR!” you yelled, ripping your arm from Joel’s grasp, “he would never lay a hand on a lady, nor pressure her! You speak only of lies Florence!”

“Lover! We do not have the time for this! We have to go, we have to go now!” Joel urged you from behind, reaching for your arm again. “She isn’t worth it! Please, we must—”

And then you heard your fathers voice booming down the hall. Your biggest fear was coming true, and now there was nowhere for you or Joel to hide when the doors bursted open, the locking mechanism snapping in half from the force of your father.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He demanded.

Lady Florence, being the snake in the grass that she was, immediately flocked to your fathers side. “Sir! You arrived just in time!” She said exasperatedly, “Your daughter was in her chambers freshening up and I went to go check on her, being the good friend that I am, when I heard her dreadful scream! I came upon the heinous crime of the filthy stable hand taking your daughter against her will!” She wept her crocodile tears. “He threatened to—”

Your father wasn’t buying it for he knew that Florence was a terrible liar, and a rotten friend. “Lady Florence, this does not concern you. Return to the party immediately, and speak this to no one.”

“But sir—”

“GET OUT!” He yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She narrowed her eyes at both you and Joel before slinking out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

You immediately stepped in front of Joel, silently vowing to protect him no matter what would happen, you would not allow your father to harm another hair upon your lover's head.

“Daddy, please, I love him! Please, let us be! I know it goes against what is expected of me, but Joel is a good man! He has only ever been good to me, father!”

“Your mother will never allow it, daughter. All Joel has done is tempted you and filled your head with fantasies! You have been promised to the banker's son and that is final! You think of me to be cruel, but I am only doing what is best for you!”

“I do not care what you think is best for me, father! I do not want to marry the banker's son! I wish to be happy with my one love, and I do not care if that means that you and mother will exile me! I do not care that it means I will no longer live a life of riches! I am rich in love and happiness with him by my side!”

Your father ignored your pleas, even when you clung to his arm and dug your heels in the ground to stop him from advancing towards Joel. “Please, father! Please! I am begging you to leave him be!” You cried, and your words were caught in your throat when the backside of your fathers ring clad hand made swift contact with your cheek, sending you tumbling to the floor in shock. All Joel could see was red behind his eyes when your fathers hand made contact with your cheek. He sprung into action, but your father, despite his age, was quick, ready for Joel’s attack.

“YOU DARE FUCKIN’ LAY A HAND ON HER?!” Your lover yelled with a rage you had never heard leave his lips, “I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A HAND UPON HER AGAIN!”

Your father used Joel’s rage to his advantage, letting the younger man assume he had control of the situation when he was shoved against your tall, wooden chifferobe.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cried, “BOTH OF YOU, PLEASE STOP!”

In your moment of distress, Joel was distracted for a millisecond too long when your fathers fist connected with Joel’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He landed another hit, and then another, weakening Joel enough that he crumbled to his knees, bringing his arms over his head to block out the fists raining down upon him.

Your father was relentless, grabbing your lover by the back of his neck, yanking it upwards so he was forced to look up at the older man from his knees. He bent down to his level, getting close to his ear and whispered only for him to hear “I warned you this would end badly if you weren’t careful, boy.”

Joel spit a mixture of congealed blood and saliva directly onto his face, spattering it in speckles of crimson. “Fuck you, you coward.” He hissed between gritted teeth.

Your fathers fist trembled, his hand surely was broken, but all he could think about was how he was forced to watch his own lover be beaten in the same fashion, and now he was on the delivering end of it. “Get out.” He seethed. “Leave the property before lady Florence runs her large mouth to the lady of the house and spreads a false rumor about you and my daughter. Leave before I change my mind, Joel.”

Defeat; complete and utter defeat is all Joel Miller felt in his bones when your father released him with a rough shove to the ground. He struggled to sit up, coughing up more blood, and when you attempted to crawl to his side, your father grasped your elbow and yanked you to the door.

your fading screams of his name echoed down the hall as your father dragged you further and further away.

Bruised, beaten, and feeling hopeless, Joel Miller forced himself to his feet and obeyed your fathers word to leave while he still had the chance. He felt like a coward now, but what else could he do? If he stayed, surely he would face the gallows for a crime that he didn’t commit. Lady Florence had infact gone to run her big mouth to the lady of the house, claiming that Joel Miller raped you in your bed chambers. It was of course a fabricated lie, and only lady Florence, Joel, your father, and you knew the truth.

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealousy drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel

Unspecified date.

My Joel,

I write this to you in secret. My words are only for your eyes, and when you receive my letter, tell no one, my lover. Father is angry, so very angry, and mother only speaks of hate towards you. She is determined to make me press charges against you to hang for a crime you did not commit! Father won’t stand for it and instead we have abandoned the estate, left all of our belongings including our dear horses! They will not tell me where we are going, but I miss you terribly, my Joel. My brothers have been free to marry by their choosing, but I? I cannot. It’s rather cruel, isn’t it? To be given one life and since birth, since I first opened my eyes and gazed upon the new world, my choice has been stolen from my grasp. Oh, my Joel, you speak in sorrows, but the fault lands upon my shoulders. I’m so sorry, lover. I should have been more careful and discreet with our planned rendezvous. I deeply loathe Lady Florence for spying upon us! You are right of her jealousy, and now she claims to be remorseful! Oh, I feel your lips now. Your kiss, your touch upon my skin. My love for you has not weakened, I promise. Hold my words close to your heart, my Joel. I fear I will not be able to write to you again, but I will try, for you. My Joel, you are in my thoughts, always.

You have my heart,

Your Dearest.

-

January 1848, one hour after dusk

The decision to leave Texas and travel to New York to stop yours and the banker’s son’s wedding could quite possibly be the last thing that Joel Miller would ever do. But how could he sleep at night knowing that you were out there, somewhere in the city, thousands of miles away. You had not written to him in so long, but that didn’t deter him from following his heart back to you. He couldn’t fathom life without you in it any longer, and what else is a man to do when he is in love?

That’s how he found himself in the familiar stables, the horses peeking their heads out from their stalls and nickering softly to him in greeting. He kept the single letter you wrote to him safely tucked away in the pocket of his coat, rucksack thrown over his shoulder with what little belongings he possessed. After a new family moved into your home he was given a higher title, a warm bed to sleep in, and he could have married his new boss's daughter and lived a comfortable, happy life, but he declined, for she would never be you, his dearest. Despite turning down every single one of her affections, she still lingered, hoping that one day she would be good enough for his affections and heart.

He was frantically tacking up Sunfyre, cinching up the girth when the barn doors creeped open and Phoebe, his boss’s daughter appeared.

“Joel?” She whispered through the cool evening air, lantern in hand to peer into the low-lit stalls, “what…are you doing?”

He let out a sigh, dropping his hand from the girth and turned around to face her, “lady Phoebe, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out after hours.”

“Neither should you.” She chastised. “Where are you going at this hour, Joel?”

“My lady, that is none of your business. Please, return home. Forget that you ever saw me.”

“You’re going after her, aren’t you? Joel, it’s been years, and she has only written back to you once! It’s in all the papers that she is marrying the banker's son. You could be happy here, with me.” She whispered the last bit, feeling her heart ache for a man who would never feel the same for her.

“Lady Phoebe, “You are a dear friend to me, but I cannot love you, for my heart belongs to another.”

“But I can love you, Joel. I’m right here! She is thousands of miles away and—”

“She is my love, my one true love, and I’ll be damned if I don’t follow my heart. Your heart sings for me, but it’s not my tune to hear. You will belong to another, I promise.” He moved from Sunfyre’s side, grasping Phoebe's hands gently in his calloused palms, “you have to let me, and what could never be between us go.”

-

May 6th, 1848

My Joel, if you’re out there…please, please come find me, lover.

Your Joel wasn’t even sure how the fuck he was supposed to find you in a city as large as New York City. All he knew is that today you were expected to marry the banker’s son, and he would be damned if he didn’t stop this wedding from happening. He asked nearly every passbery in the street if they knew where the biggest wedding of the month would be taking place. It took less time than expected to find his answer, and once he did, he rented the finest suit that he could afford, tucked the ring box safely in his suit pocket, and rode to the chapel.

The wedding bells were already beginning to sweetly chime, and he felt his blood run cold at the sound. Was he too late? He would never forgive himself if he was.

“If anyone here, in this room objects to the unifying marriage between this man and woman, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant spoke at the head of the altar, just as the doors leading into the chapel burst open.

“I OBJECT!” Joel’s familiar voice boomed up the aisle. Hushed murmurs, and surprised gasps echoed throughout the chapel when your eyes landed upon your Joel. All time ceased as you dropped Timothy’s hands, racing down the aisle, the train of your perfectly fitted wedding dress dragged behind you.

Tears flooded your eyes as you threw yourself into your lover's embrace, clinging to him in disbelief with your hands cradling his face. “MY JOEL, YOU CAME FOR ME!”

“Of course I did, my dearest. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He murmured, unable to truly process all the feelings he was experiencing at once. But what did it truly matter? The time apart was years, but it was all worth it leading up to this moment.

Your father was already making his way down the aisle, followed by your mother and Timothy when Joel grasped your hand tightly in his and whisked you down the aisle towards the exit. He wasn’t going to let them take you away from him again, not this time.

His grip on your hand did not loosen at the harsh sound of your fathers voice, and even when you were running down the chapel steps in unison, he did not let go until you and him were safely tucked behind a wall of a building, out of sight from the wedding party.

He kept you safely caged against the wall, a burst of memories from the night of firsts that you shared together all those years ago. “My dearest,” he breathed, “I thought I was too late! I thought the wedding already happened and you—”

“My Joel, I—I never thought I would see you again! I only ever received your single letter and I thought that you had moved on, that you had forgotten about me!”

“What?” He shook his head, brows furrowed as he grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips, kissing every inch of your skin there. “My Dearest, I wrote to you many, many times! Did you receive all of my letters? I thought the same! I thought you forgot about your Joel.” He admitted quietly.

“Fuck! I bet it was mother, or father! I bet they were keeping your letters from me, lover! Maybe they thought that if I believed you had forgotten me, I would be more inclined to marry the banker’s son!”

“I would believe that to be true, my sweet. But none of that matters, okay? I’m here now. Your Joel is here, and I will never leave your side again.”

“I-I can’t believe you’re here! Oh, my Joel, I’m so sorry—for everything! I have not stopped thinking about you all these years, I swear it. My heart only has ever belonged to you. I wear his ring, but it means nothing to me!”

“Shh, my love. I know, I know. My heart has only ever belonged to you, my dearest. Only to you. Fuck his ring. I will remove it from your finger so you never have to gaze upon it again.” He rasped, gently grabbing your left hand, scoffing at the enormous rock on your ring finger. “And I will replace it with my own.”

“Please, my Joel.”

He slipped the banker’s son’s ring off of your finger, tucking it into his pocket before he pulled out his own ring box, revealing a smaller, dainter ring beneath the velvet cover.

“It’s not much, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t grace your finger with the largest diamond the world has ever seen, but—I love you, dearest. I came all this way because I couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of losing you to another. I have never loved another soul as I do you, and while I don’t have riches to offer you, shiny carriages, silver platters, I have my heart and I know that it’s worth something to you, darlin.’”

He slipped his ring onto your finger, where it always belonged, and then you finally kissed him, your lips meeting in gentle brush before he surged forward, kissing you with everything that he had to offer. He believed that he was hallucinating, that he was back in Texas, longing for you in his empty bed. But you were here, you were real beneath his fingertips as he licked sweetly into your mouth, hands splayed around your waist, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, my Joel.” You murmured against his lips.

“Only because the lady that wears it is the most beautiful in the entire world. Sunfyre is waiting for us down the street. We can go as far east, west, wherever your heart desires. I will love you eternally, and no one will ever keep us apart, my dearest. I swear it.”

“Let’s go home, my Joel. To Texas. Take me home.”

And so he did, for what else is a man to do when he is in love?

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bankruptcy is very, very good

On THURSDAY (June 20) I'm live onstage in LOS ANGELES for a recording of the GO FACT YOURSELF podcast. On FRIDAY (June 21) I'm doing an ONLINE READING for the LOCUS AWARDS at 16hPT. On SATURDAY (June 22) I'll be in OAKLAND, CA for a panel and a keynote at the LOCUS AWARDS.

There's a truly comforting sociopathy snuggled inside capitalism ideology: if markets are systems for identifying and rewarding virtue, ability and value, then anyone who's failing in the system is actually unworthy, not unlucky; and that means the winners are not just lucky (and certainly not merely selfish), but actually the best and they owe nothing to their social inferiors apart from what their own charitable impulses dictate.

It's an economic wrapper around the old theological doctrine of providence, whereby God shows you whom he favors by giving them wealth and station, and marks out the wicked by miring them in poverty. And like the religious belief in providence, the capitalist belief in meritocracy is essential to resolving cognitive dissonance: it lets the fed winners feel morally justified in stepping over the starving losers.

The debate over merit and luck has been with us for millennia, and even the hereditary absolute monarchs of the Bronze Age had to find a way to resolve it. For the rulers of antiquity, the way to square that circle was jubilee.

Bronze Age jubilees were periodic celebrations in which all debts were canceled. Different kingdoms had different schedules for jubilees, but imagine some mix of "every x years" and "every time a new ruler takes the throne" and "every time something really portentous happens." To modern sensibilities, the idea that we would simply wipe away all debts every now and again is almost inconceivable. Why would any society practice jubilee? More importantly, how could a ruler get the wealthy creditor class to countenance a jubilee, rather than seeking a revolutionary overthrow?

The best answers to this question can be found in the scholarship of historian Michael Hudson, who has written extensively on the subject. Hudson doesn't just write for a scholarly audience, he's also a fantastic communicator with a real commitment to bringing his research to lay audiences:

https://michael-hudson.com/

Hudson's most famous saying is "debts that can't be paid, won't be paid." It's in this dense little nugget that we can find the answer the the riddle of jubilee:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#debt

Let's start with a simple model of debt and credit in an agricultural society. In agricultural societies, everything exists downstream of farming, which is the core activity of the civilization. If the farmers succeed, everyone can eat, and that means they can do all the other things, all the not-farming work of your society.

To farm successfully, you need credit. Farmers enter the growing season in need of inputs: seed, fertilizer, labor; they need still more labor during the harvest. Without some way to acquire these inputs before the farmer has a crop that can pay for them, there can be no crop.

No wonder, then, that the earliest "money" we have a record of is ancient Babylonian credit ledgers that record the debts of farmers who borrow against the next crop to pay for the materials and labor they'll need to grow it. Debt, not barter, is the true origin of money. The fairy tale that coin money arose spontaneously to help bartering marketgoers facilitate trade has no historical evidence, while Babylonian ledgers can be seen in person in museums all over the world.

Farming requires an enormous amount of skill, but even the most skillful farmer is a prisoner of luck. No matter how good you are at farming, no matter how hard you work, no matter how carefully you plan, you can still lose a harvest to blight, drought, storms or vermin.

So over time, every farmer loses a crop. When that happens, the farmer can't pay off their debts and must roll them over and pay them off with future harvests. That means that over time, the share of each harvest the farmer has claim to goes down. Thanks to compounding interest, no bumper crop can erase the debts of the bad harvests.

That means that, over time, "farmer" becomes a synonym for "debtor." Farmers' productive output is increasingly claimed by the rich and powerful. No matter how badly everyone needs food, the whims of the hereditary creditor class come to dictate the country's agricultural priorities. More ornamental flowers for the tables of the wealthy, fewer staple crops for the masses. "Creditor" and "debtor" no longer describe economic relations – they become hereditary castes.

That's where jubilee comes in. Without some way to interrupt this cycle of spiraling debt, society becomes so destabilized that the system collapses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

In other words: debts that can't be paid, won't be paid. Either you wipe away the farmers' debts to the creditor class, or your society collapses, and with it, the political relations that made those debts payable.

Jubilee is long gone, but that doesn't mean that debts that can't be paid will get paid. Modern society has filled the jubilee gap with bankruptcy, a legal process for shriving a debtor of their debts.

Bankruptcy takes many forms. The most important split in bankruptcy types is between elite bankruptcy and the bankruptcy of the common person. The limited liability company was created to allow people with money to pool their funds to back corporations without being responsible for their debts. This "capital formation" is considered "efficient" by economists because it creates the backing for big, ambitious projects, from colonizing and extracting the wealth of distant lands (Hudson's Bay Company) to spinning up global manufacturing supply chains (Apple).

Limited liability means that companies can take on debt without exposing their investors to risks beyond their capital stake. If you buy $1,000 worth of Apple stock, that's all you stand to lose if Apple makes bad decisions. Apple may rack up billions in liabilities – say, by abusing its subcontractor workforce – but Apple's owners aren't on the hook for it.

Economists like this because it means that you can invest in Apple without having to be privy to its daily management decisions, which means that Apple can accumulate huge pools of capital, "lever them up" by borrowing even more, and then put all that money to work on R&D, product development, marketing, and, of course, "incentives" for key employees and managers.

But limited liability also does a lot of work in the political sphere. Once an individual crosses a certain wealth threshold, they become an LLC. Accountants and wealth managers and financial planners insist on this. For freelancers and other sole practitioners, the benefits of forming an LLC are modest – a few more tax write-offs and the ability to get a business credit-card with slightly superior perks.

But for the truly wealthy, transforming yourself into the "natural person" at the center of a vast pool of LLCs is essential because it allows you to accumulate and shed debts. You can secretly own rental properties and abuse your tenants, accumulate vast liabilities as local authorities pile fine upon fine, and then simply dispose of the LLC and its debts. Plan this gambit carefully enough and the debtor LLC will have no assets in its bankruptcy estate apart from the crumbling apartment building, and its most senior secured creditor will be another of your LLCs. This lets the slumlord move an apartment block from one pocket to another, leaving the debt behind.

For the corporate person, shedding debts through bankruptcy is an honorable practice. Far from being a source of shame, the well-timed, well-structured bankruptcy is just evidence of financial acumen. Think of the private equity looters who buy a company by borrowing against it, pay themselves a huge "special dividend," then wipe away the debt by taking the company bankrupt (which also lets them shed obligations to suppliers, workers, and especially, retirees and their pensions). As Trump (a serial bankrupt who has stiffed legions of contractors and creditors) would say, "That makes me smart."

The apotheosis of elite bankruptcy is found in massive corporate bankruptcies, in which a corporation kills and maims huge numbers of people, then maneuvers to get its case heard in one of three US federal courtrooms where specialist judges rubber-stamp "involuntary third-party releases" that wipe out the company's obligations to it victims for pennies on the dollar, while the company gets to keep billions:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#morally-bankrupt

This process was so flagrantly abused by companies like Johnson & Johnson (which spent years knowingly advising women to dust their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talc, creating an epidemic of grotesque and lethal genital cancers) that it is finally generating some scrutiny and pushback:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

But the precarious state of elite bankruptcies has more to do with the personal corruption of the small cabal of judges who run the system than public outrage over their rulings; like that one judge in Texas who was secretly fucking the lawyer whose clients he was also handing hundreds of millions of dollars to:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/16/texas-two-step/#david-jones

Certainly, we don't hear much about the "moral hazard" of allowing the Sackler opioid family to keep as much as ten billion dollars in the family's offshore accounts while walking away from the victims of their drug-pushing empire, no matter what bizarre tricks they deploy in pulling off the stunt:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

But when it comes to canceling the debts of normal people, the "moral hazard" is front and center. If you're a person who borrowed $79k in student loans, paid back $190k and still owe $236k, we can't cancel your debt, because of the message that would send to other people who want to (checks notes) get an education:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

The anti-jubilee side also wants us to think of the poor creditors: who would loan money to the next generation of students if student debt cancellation was a possibility? Of course, these are federally guaranteed loans, risk-free, free money for people who already have money, a kind of UBI for the people who need it least. The idea that this credit pool would dry up if you were limited to only collecting the debts that can be paid – rather than insisting that debts that can't be paid still be paid – elevates the hereditary creditor class to a kind of fragile, easily frightened, endangered species.

But the most powerful arguments against bankruptcy are rooted in the idea of providence. In an efficient market, anyone who goes bankrupt was necessarily reckless. They were entrusted with credit they weren't entitled to, because they lacked the intrinsic merit that would let them manage that credit wisely. Letting them walk away from their debts means that they will never learn from their mistakes, and that their fellow born-to-be-poors will learn the wrong thing from those debts: that there's an easy life in borrowing, spending, and discharging your debts in bankruptcy.

As it happens, this is an empirically testable proposition. If this view of personal bankruptcy as a personal failure is correct, then people who go bankrupt and live to borrow again should end up bankrupt again, too. On the other hand, if we accept the jubilee view – that debt is the result of accumulated misfortunes, often including the misfortune of birth into poor station – then bankruptcy represents a second chance with an opportunity to dodge misfortune.

In a new study from IZA Institute of Labor Economics's Gustaf Bruze, Alexander Kjær Hilsløv and Jonas Maibom, we get just such an empirical analysis. It's called "The Long-Run Effects of Individual Debt Relief," and it examines the lives of people for a full quarter-century after a bankruptcy:

https://docs.iza.org/dp17047.pdf

The study follows Danish bankruptcies following the introduction of continental Europe's first modern bankruptcy system, which Denmark instituted in 1984. Prior to that, the Danes – like most of Europe – did not allow for a discharge of personal debt through bankruptcy. Instead, a debtor who went bankrupt would be expected to have about 20% of their lifetime wages garnished to pay back their creditors, until the debts were repaid or they died (whichever came first).

After 1984, Denmark bankruptcy system imported features of US/UK/Commonwealth bankruptcy, including the ability to restructure and discharge your debts. Not everyone is eligible for this kind of bankruptcy: there's a bureaucratic system that verifies that people seeking bankruptcy discharge don't have a lot of assets that could go to their creditors.

But for the (un)lucky people who qualify for bankruptcy discharges, there's a fascinating natural experiment in which the fortunes of people who see debt relief can be compared to bankrupt people who couldn't get their debts wiped out.

It turns out that the Bronze Age has a thing or two to teach us. Here's the headline finding: people who discharge their debts in bankruptcy experience "a large increase in earned income, employment, assets, real estate, secured debt, home ownership, and wealth that persists for more than 25 years after a court ruling."

After people are given the benefits of bankruptcy, they are less likely to rely on public benefits. They get better jobs. Their families live better lives. Their creditors get some of their money back (which is all they can realistically expect, since "debts that can't be paid, won't be paid").

As Jason Kilborn writes for Credit Slips, "the benefits of debt relief are not only substantial but robust, as debtors learn their lesson (if there was one to learn) about managing their finances, and they capitalize (literally) on their fresh start."

Score one for the luck-based theory of wealth, and minus one for the providential meritocracy hypothesis.

Americans should take note of these findings. After all, Danes are insulated from the leading American cause of bankruptcy: medical debts. In America, breaking a bone or getting cancer or even kidney stone can wipe out a lifetime of hard work, careful planning and prudential spending. The US refuses to seriously grapple with this problem. The best we can come up with is the (welcome, but tiny) step of banning credit bureaux from trashing your credit score because of your medical debt:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/06/11/fact-sheet-vice-president-harris-announces-proposal-to-prohibit-medical-bills-from-being-included-on-credit-reports-and-calls-on-states-and-localities-to-take-further-actions-to-reduce-medical-debt/

Millennia ago, everyone understood that debts that can't be paid, won't be paid, and they created a system for discharging debts and freeing productive people from the tyranny of accumulated liabilities, to the benefit of all. Dismantling that system required us to invent an elaborate theological system and dress it up in economic language.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/17/lovilee-jubilee/#debts-that-cant-be-paid-wont-be-paid