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alltheirdamn · 11 months ago

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway.

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion.

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes.

You’d never love again.

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road.

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays.

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life.

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love.

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake.

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded.

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved.

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough.

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil.

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better.

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long?

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again.

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement.

��Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks.

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone.

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled. And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance.

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest.

“What was that?” Maria chirped.

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you.

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you.

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles.

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes.

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked.

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally.

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement.

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home.

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit.

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.”

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true.

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before.

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours.

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly.

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there.

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous.

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in.

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch.

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget.

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk.

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated.

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents.

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out.

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see.

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here.

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing.

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip.

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased.

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body.

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips.

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned.

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer.

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?”

Was he… flirting with you?

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care.

“What other flavors do you like?”

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered.

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered.

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered.

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality.

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away.

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?”

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach.

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly.

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built.

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained.

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you.

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer.

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud.

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door.

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder.

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car.

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear.

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner.

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck.

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior.

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar.

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness.

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile.

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light.

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably.

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction.

“This is me,” you sniffled.

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked.

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

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wososcripts · 9 months ago

Text

Face to Face (IV)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader

Summary: An attempt to make amends.

A/N: we're nearing the end!! not sure how I feel about this part... hopefully it's okay

Word Count: 3k

Warnings ⚠️: none?

PREVIOUS PART

The next few days followed in a similar manner. Alexia brought you to the pitch even though you couldn't play, and you sat there for a few hours until they were done. Occasionally Jona would come over to see you, or Olga would stop by with food. Ana Maria even drove over from Madrid to see you and take you out for the day. But mostly you slept, listened to podcasts, and thought about what the hell you were going to do about Frido.

She still hadn't spoken to you and the team was starting to notice. It's not like the two of you were very close before (at least publicly) but now it was a conscious avoidance. The rest of the girls often kept you company when they could on breaks or in between drills.

It was only after five days, on Friday afternoon, that she approached you.

“Hi…” Frido said softly.

You looked up at her from where you sat on the pitch. You had been doing light stretches on your calves, still not allowed to do anything strenuous until next week.

“Hi, Frido.” You said plainly.

You tried not to react emotionally despite the fact that this was the first time she was speaking to you since the incident. She hadn’t even called to say she was sorry. It all seemed to confirm she really didn’t give a damn about you—didn’t have the courtesy to treat you like a stranger even.

“How are you feeling?”

Her careful, soft tone enraged you.

“Not so good, actually. My head fucking hurts, I’m sick of sitting here while the rest of you play. And I’d really rather be doing anything than talking to you.”

You felt bad the second you said it. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because this wasn’t you. You were better than that.

“Sorry, I just really would like to be left alone, Frido. Please, just leave me be. Leave me alone.”

Frido’s eyes shot towards the ground as she blinked furiously.

“Okay.”

She turned away and walked back to the field, joining Alexia and Ingrid as they talked about something. Part of you felt bad for rejecting her so quickly, but another part of you felt enraged that she had the nerve to wait this long.

Ingrid looked over at you and then back at Frido curiously.

"What did you want to say to her?" She asked in Norwegian, knowing Frido would understand.

"I don't know… just wanted to check in on how she's doing so far."

Before Ingrid could reply again, Alexia butted in.

"You need to tell her you're sorry as soon as possible."

"I just tried—clearly she isn't too keen on having me around, is she?" Frido snapped back.

The three of them stood in shock for a second, surprised at Frido’s temper. Usually she was level headed and understanding.

Alexia sighed and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Keep trying."

With that she was off to change and shower, giving Ingrid a small smile as she left.

"Frido," Ingrid rubbed her arm to catch her attention. "Why don't we go get a drink tonight and catch up? It's been a long time since we went out, just us."

Frido contemplated it momentarily, not stupid enough to miss that Ingrid clearly wanted to talk about her mood. If she accepted, she was also accepting the fact that she had to open up to her best friend sooner or later.

"All right."

"I don't know what to do," Frido complained, tossing back the last dregs of her beer.

Ingrid sat across from her, her own beer nearly untouched. They were sat out on the balcony of some restaurant nursing the end of the night. They hadn't met, just the two of them, in a while, Frido realized. She wished it was under better circumstances.

"Can I be honest?" Ingrid asked.

Frido nodded. She expected no less from the Norwegian—though she was incredibly kind, it wasn't common for them to sugar coat things.

"You've got to go up to her and apologize. Sincerely. One on one. And you can't be sure she's going to forgive you."

Frido knew Ingrid was talking about apologizing for more than the tackle. She wasn't privy to exactly what happened between the two of you—even in your anger you hadn't told your teammates what was going on—but it was clear something unhealthy had been a staple between the two of you.

"Mapí showed me the video. I didn't want to see it at first, you know how I am with that stuff, so worried always that it'll be one of us. But I finally saw it." Ingrid met her eyes. "The way she went down, the way you hit her, she could've been hurt much worse than she is. And you just got up and left, didn't even check on her."

There was a hint of disdain in Ingrid’s voice that inspired nausea in Frido.

"Had that been any player in a match against Barcelona, imagine how any one of us would've reacted."

Frido knew, if she had seen someone do to you what she had done herself, it would've boiled her blood. To see you lying there unmoving, would've had any player on that field aching, because you were wonderful. You didn't cause fights, you forgave people, you smiled at the opposition after each game, you spent as much time as possible with the fans. And Frido had somehow broken that, gotten you to yell and scream and cry.

"We were together." She whispered, not meeting Ingrid’s eyes. "Well, not really. We were sleeping together, I was at her place most days a week."

The waitress came by, and Frido ordered a glass of wine. She needed a bit more courage to fully get this out in the open.

"I didn't want commitment. I'm not… I didn't know how to be open about that with anyone. I was ashamed of it—she knew. She could sense it." Frido gripped the stem of her wine glass and took a sip. "She hated breaks because she knew I wouldn't talk to her until I was back in Barcelona. Right before I went back to Sweden for camp… we had a huge fight. She said she couldn't take it anymore, that I made her feel like a whore, that I tossed her aside whenever I didn't want her. And I said I didn't care."

Ingrid was silent.

"I didn't expect her to kick me out. Or to refuse to speak to me. I thought we'd fall back together, we always did. But it was different this time. And I hated it. I hated it so much it made my head spin."

Ingrid put a hand over Frido’s where it rested on the table.

"Frido, I love you. You're my best friend, okay?"

Frido nodded, wiping at a tear that was beginning to fall.

"You've got to make this right. Good people do shitty things. Really shitty things sometimes. But sometimes they're also forgiven, in time. And if you want anything with her, even friendship, you've got to apologize and explain yourself."

Frido nodded, meeting Ingrid’s eyes finally.

That night Frido found it difficult to get to sleep.

There wasn't any good reason for it: she had worked hard in practice all day and her body was exhausted. Her bed was comfortable, her apartment quiet. But it was empty. She had realized that she hadn't spent a week straight sleeping in her apartment for months. At least once a week she was with you, always.

But now you weren't speaking to her. You looked at her during practice, then avoided her at all costs. She hadn't even tried texting you, worried she would find her number blocked.

She contemplated calling someone to keep her company, though who would be up at one in the morning?

Eventually she fell asleep after tossing and turning for what felt like hours. She slipped away into unconsciousness, allowing her body to relax into the mattress.

Her mind, however, had different plans.

In her dreams she was in the hospital, unable to get to you. She stood at the door to your room, peering in through a small glass window. The rest of the girls were inside, holding your hand and stroking your skin as you laid in the hospital bed. Your eyes were open but you hardly moved. All she knew with certainty was that you did not want to see her. You wanted her gone. You've ruined my life, she heard you say, though your lips didn't move.

Another time you had simply disappeared. Her fault. You had moved far away, far from Barcelona, and far from her. You were happier somewhere else, with different people.

Once more you hated her. Refused to speak.

When she woke it was to a dark room and a sick feeling in her stomach. She was lonely. She wanted you next to her in bed. She wanted to see you smile and hear you laugh. She wanted to see you play great football and jump into her arms after a goal. And it terrified her to think she wouldn't get any of that again.

How was it that she could've treated you so horribly? It confused her, as if it had been someone else. How had she let her fear control her like that? And most importantly, how had she put your feelings aside so callously?

If she was going to fix anything she would need to apologize. Apologize for it all. Ingrid was right. She hadn't been there for your recovery and now it was all she wanted. The guilt of it all threatened to choke her. She thought of how scared you must've been lying on the field in pain.

Though it was only 4:30 in the morning Frido got out of bed and went to the bathroom to start a scalding hot shower. She needed a plan for how to fix things between you two.

It began that morning. Alexia brought you to practice. You were still living with her for the time being, until you were one hundred percent cleared. You didn't mind it, in fact it was nice to get so much time with Alexia when she was normally busy.

You walked into the locker room, so pleased to be getting into your kit for the first time in a week and a half. Even if it was just for physio work, at least you were in the uniform once more.

Unexpectedly, sitting in your locker was a small stuffed cow with a card and one of your favorite protein bars propped against it. You picked up the plushie, pressing it to your face and enjoying the softness. You were a bit of a child when it came to stuffed animals: you loved them.

The card was written in very familiar handwriting, and your heart jumped into your throat.

This made me think of you. I'd really like to apologize after practice today. Perhaps we can grab a coffee?

- Fridolina

The message was a bit stilted, but you could practically hear Frido’s hesitation on the page. She was nervous.

Just then the blonde came into the locker room to grab something from her bag. She glanced at you quickly, not sure as to your reaction.

"Frido," you called softly. You hadn't decided until that moment to try and forgive her, "I'll see you after practice."

Frido seemed shocked, but quickly her mouth transformed into a wide smile.

Practice seemed to fly by now that you were allowed to do something. The physio workers had you weight training and doing yoga to try and work your muscles that were tight from the pain you had been in. You felt like you were making progress, finally, after more than a week of sitting around.

The car ride with Frido was quiet. You sat in the front seat, fiddling with your fingers and checking your phone as she drove. She had music playing softly, some indie band you didn't know. It was bordering on awkward, though not quite there. You simply didn't know what to say.

Once Frido was pulling off the street to parallel park you spoke.

"I don't think I've been here before."

"I just found it a little while ago when I was wandering around desperately in need of some coffee."

The shop was cute. The outside was painted in chipping yellow paint and the shutters were open. There were a few tables outside, an eclectic set of guests seated at them. There was an old man reading the paper, a student on her laptop, and a mother with her baby. The smell of baked goods wafted from the entrance.

"The muffins are fantastic, if you want one." Frido offered cautiously.

You nodded and gestured for her to enter first.

You decided on a chai and a cinnamon muffin which did look incredible, you had to admit. When you were about to pull out your card to pay you felt a hand on your arm.

"I'll pay, please."

You allowed it, understanding that this was all part of Frido trying to ask for forgiveness. You were willing to see this to the end. It shamed you to admit but you had missed her deeply. It felt good to be near her, to smell her perfume and anticipate her ticks that you knew so well. What made you stay was the possibility that she had missed you too.

Frido carried your drinks and food to the table you picked. It was still warm enough to sit outside even with the sun setting. You tapped your foot and ate your muffin slowly, waiting on her to say something. You didn't want to speak first, but it seemed as though you might have to.

"So…" you started, trailing off to try and prompt Frido.

"I wanted to apologize. Really apologize."

You sat quietly.

"Just for the concussion you gave me?"

Frido hesitated.

"I'm still figuring things out—it's all jumbled up in my head. I was talking to Ingrid the other day and she made me realize I had to set things straight."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"I'm not explaining this well—I wanted to apologize for hurting you. And I want us to be on better terms. I wish we could start over."

"That's it?"

Your chest squeezed painfully. You thought this was the chance you had to deal with the horrible ending to your relationship, but Frido seemed to have no interest in unpacking it. You couldn't help the way your anger flared in response to the hurt you felt.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm not exactly okay, Frido." You started to stand up. "I think it's better if I left. There's no hard feelings over the concussion, I knew it was an accident. Let's just forget about all of it."

Frido stood up quickly, reaching out to grab your elbow.

"Can I drive you back?"

You shook your head.

"I'd really rather walk. It isn't far to Alexia's."

Frido looked for a second like she would push further, but then she deflated and nodded.

"See you at practice, Frido. Thank you for the coffee."

You couldn't help the tears that fell down your face as you walked down the streets of Barcelona. Deciding to forget the whole thing was worse than being angry about it—at least then you got some acknowledgment. Now you felt as though Frido was telling you she just wanted to smooth things over and make nice. She wanted it to be as if this thing between you never existed—all the pain and attraction gone in one fell swoop. You wanted to scream.

How were you meant to play with someone who you had so much conflict with? Surely Alexia or Jona would begin to notice sooner or later. You knew it would affect the team chemistry. The thought just made you more upset.

The tears in your eyes began to fall faster. Not only was your relationship (whatever messy bleeding thing it had been) ruined, but there was a potential for it to impact your job, your team too. What would you do then? If it came down to you or Frido you couldn't imagine Barça picking you.

Alexia noticed you were crying the second she saw you, even though you tried to hide it.

"What's wrong?" She fretted, pulling you close to her. "What happened? I thought you were with Frido this afternoon? Why did she not drop you off?"

You just shook your head, burying it in your captain's sweater. She wrapped her arms around you, quietly shushing you.

"Come, let's sit down."

You felt like a child being led to the couch and leaning in Alexia's embrace. Deep breaths eventually calmed you down so you could speak.

"I'm sorry Ale, I shouldn't be coming here like this."

Alexia shook her head.

"Nonsense. Tell me what happened. Was it Fridolina?"

"It's my own fault, I let it get like this."

"Let what get like this? The accident?"

You shook your head.

"Not the accident. Frido and I have a…we have our difficulties."

Alexia looked at you, surprised.

"Really?"

"I don't think I can tell you…you're her captain I don't want to let it affect the team."

Alexia took your hand.

"I can separate work and personal life. I'm your friend too, and it seems like you need one."

"We were seeing each other, kind of. In secret." You sighed. "We weren't exclusive, she just wanted some fun I think. I didn't."

You felt defeated. There wasn't much more to do. You just had to accept your fate.

Alexia looked at you for a moment in disbelief. She had had no idea.

"You and Frido?"

"It was a mistake."

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #my writing #woso community #woso #barca femini x reader #woso imagine #fridolina rolfö x reader #fridolina rolfo x reader

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thepersonnamedsam · 2 years ago

Text

lando norizz - ln4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader, fem!reader x '23!grid (platonic)

summary: lando showed up with his girlfriend but no one believed he could’ve actually pulled her

face claim: luisinha oliveira

warnings: the grid in disbelief

note: cute little smau for our home racer lando

masterlist / taglist

landonorris

Liked by yninsta, danielricciardo and 261‘728 others

landonorris the cats outta the bag i guess

View all 34‘189 comments

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oscarpiastri well done mate

oscarpiastri but i still don’t get how you pulled y/n

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username i- he’s read the twitter threads

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username not even his own girlfriend believes he could pull

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris insta au #lando norris twitter au #lando norris smau #f1 smau #twitter au #f1 twitter

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wandasgf · 1 year ago

Text

WHO IS SHE? mdni. 18+.

a jock/gymrat!natasha romanoff + emo!reader au

collection of hcs + a drabble

You were... an unlikely couple, being polar opposites visually and having ignored each other for almost the whole duration of high school until you were forced to work on a senior project together. Both of you were annoyed over the idea until you found out how much you actually enjoyed each other's company.

Natasha hadn't intended on developing feelings for you, she even scoffed at the idea when Maria had brought it up to tease her, you had a boyfriend at that time for gods’ sake. A shitty one, but a boyfriend no less. And although she hated him and knew you deserved better, she was not going to interfere.

And so she endured three grueling years of listening to you whine and complain about ‘what's his face’ one day and then be head over heels for him the next. You were easy enough to please, she knew that, so how he failed to do so on a daily basis was a mystery to her.

Until one day when you showed up at her apartment with mascara running down your cheeks, looking absolutely miserable and sobbing about how it's been a week since you last spoke to him and he just posted on instagram with some girl.

You looked a little pathetic, but Natasha didn't mind. She just took you inside and told you that you were too pretty to cry over someone like him, cleaned you up and helped you fix your makeup. And when he inevitably called to try and apologize for ‘being such a terrible boyfriend’ she accidentally knocked you over while trying to take your phone from you so you wouldn't answer.

And when she found herself towering over you on the ground she just couldn't help herself, the way you were staring up at her with wide eyes and the way your chest was rising and falling…

She practically begged you not to answer, you didn't need him. You had her, why would you need him? She could be so much better than he was, she knew you so much better than he did.

When Natasha brought you back to your apartment, your soon to be ex boyfriend was already waiting for you, presumably to apologize in person because you never picked up the phone. He got about five words in before Natasha had him pinned to the ground with her fists flying.

Your interests didn't exactly intersect at first, but eventually Natasha started to enjoy what she used to call ‘freaky’ and ‘weird’ and you were happy enough to accompany her to the gym, watching her work out and fantasizing about being manhandled.

She loves to help you with your makeup, tells you it's because she can't wait to ruin it later with a cocky smirk on her lips. But she also just loves how happy it makes you when she offers to help with your eyeliner.

And in turn you help her with working out. It’s how you found that she can quite easily lift you up (and toss you around). You had joked once about her doing a pushup with you on her back, but she took that as a challenge and showed you just how easily she could.

Natasha finds herself trying to listen to the music you like even when you're not around, it's not her favorite, but she's proud to say that she no longer hates it.

Because of your different way of dressing, you find yourself the subject of a lot of staring while in public, some good and some bad. And if it's bad, Natasha has no problem shooting a quick glare at whoever's looking at you.

You absolutely love how ripped your girlfriend is. You never thought you'd find yourself dating someone so different to yourself. You’ve never found the appeal in going to the gym every day, but you're glad you are. You used to roll your eyes and cringe whenever Natasha would flex to try and show off, but now you find yourself swooning and hanging off of her rather big bicep.

And Natasha absolutely loves how unapologetically yourself you are, despite teasing you all the time by calling you ‘creepy’, ‘freaky’, and a ‘weirdo’. She loves your cute little skirts and your makeup and the way you do your hair. She loves that she can mess up your lipstick and have it go unnoticed depending on the look you're going for that day.

Whenever you get frustrated or fondly annoyed with her you call her Natalia and it always makes her groan, especially if you're around friends.

She has so many pet names for you in both English and Russian that sometimes you lose count, but usually you just call her 'Natty' or 'Tasha'

Natasha was rather… well, you would say boring in the bedroom before she met you, but she was just vanilla and that's fine. She thought hair pulling was the most extreme thing people liked during sex…. and you were definitely the polar opposite of that.

She quickly found out that wasn't the case, though, when you had sat her down and told her that she was allowed to be rough with you if she wanted, that she was allowed to manhandle you. That conversation seemed to light a fire inside her, because that same night after you'd gone to bed she started to do a little research about the rougher sides of sex.

The next time the topic was brought up it was by Natasha herself. She seemed nervous to ask about it, but her hands were itching at her sides like she just wanted to grab you. It seemed her research had only stoked the fire, because all she'd been able to think about for the past however many days was how pretty you would look struggling under her.

Your safeword is ‘mango’ because Natasha is allergic and you just thought it was funny. You didn't even think you'd need a safeword, not expecting Natasha to go much further than choking you a little bit, but she insisted, said she'd never want to accidentally cross a line.

She found out just how much she loved bondage and restraints when she saw the marks they left in your skin. She absolutely loves to tape over your mouth because in her words; “you've always talked too much, sweetness.”

Natasha absolutely cannot get enough of you, the way you sound, the way you look, the way you smell, the way you taste. She loves it.

And she loves how small you are in comparison to her, she stands at around 5’10 and she's broad and built, she can toss you around so easily it's like a dream to you both.

“You’re a little freak, aren't ya?” Natasha grins, biceps flexing as she keeps you in a tight headlock. It was payback for a jumpscare video that you showed her and promised was nothing scary, until she realized that your labored breathing was from being turned on, not from attempting to escape her hold. Now she was just teasing you, really.

“Enjoying this?” She tightens her grip just the slightest bit and has your eyes widening and hands shooting up to claw at her forearm with long, sharp nails. “T– Tasha, choking me..!” you manage to squeak out, thighs squeezing together just the slightest.

Natasha was positioned behind you on one knee with one foot planted on the ground to keep the both of you stable. Otherwise she'd be able to see the way your eyes are glossed over, but she can feel the heat radiating off of you from the way your face has heated up, flustered. “That a problem, princess?” Her tone is cocky, but she loosens her hold on you.

She goes from keeping you in a chokehold to wrapping a strong hand around the column of your throat and pulling you back into her. You can't see it, but you can practically hear the grin on her lips when she speaks, “You’re so easy, baby.”

#alice's fics !#🦇🥊 au #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romanoff smut

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pearlessance · 8 months ago

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The Hand That Feeds - Idle Threats [iii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Tommy sets Joel up on a date with a lovely, soft spoken, age appropriate woman at the Tipsy Bison. He has a much better time in the restroom with a little girl who can’t keep his fingers out of her mouth.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, jealousy, light angst

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

When Joel wakes up the next morning, several hours later than usual, Tommy’s already sitting at the table beside Ellie. Maria is there too, smiling affectionately at the two of them as they bicker back and forth about one of the horses in the stables.

“She’s crazy,” Tommy says. “Always buckin’ and snappin’ at people. And she goes on hunger strikes, too. As if we don’t already worry about feeding ‘em.”

“Oh my God, dude,” Ellie grumbles. She stands from the table and disappears into the kitchen. When she returns, she acknowledges Joel as he laces up his boots only long enough to place a plate in front of him and say, “Made you a sandwich for lunch.” And then she turns back to Tommy. “She’s not crazy. You just have to be gentle. Approach with caution, isn’t that the saying?”

Joel thinks of you briefly at Ellie’s words. Approach with caution. It’s fitting, considering Joel tends to lose all morality within touching distance of you. But he’s not supposed to be thinking of you at all, and so he shoves the thought from his head as quickly as it appears.

But then he thinks he’s been outed, as if his brother could read his mind. “Speaking of crazy,” Tommy says. “Mike’s back from his run so he’ll be on watch tonight. You’ll be free of her from now on.”

He’s not sure why, but it bothers him a little that you’re being referred to as crazy. Made even worse when he realizes his brother is currently comparing you to the broodmare out in the stables. He wants to say something but doesn’t know the words to speak without making himself look suspicious.

Thankfully, Ellie does it for him. “You know, Tommy, I’m starting to think you’re just a pussy.”

Joel knows he should probably chastise her. Especially in front of Maria—who has always been a little standoffish about Ellie and her lack of discretion. But he doesn’t. Joel laughs to himself instead, comforted when his brother breaks out into chuckles of his own.

“Maybe so,” Tommy says. He stands from the table, and Maria follows him. But when she nudges Tommy with an elbow, he pauses and proceeds to ask, “You got plans tonight? Before your watch?”

Joel shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich. “Not really.”

“So you’ll come have a drink with me then? At the Bison?”

Joel hesitates. He’s not sure why—quality time with his brother sounds like a fine time to him. But there’s something in the tone of his voice that puts Joel on edge. “Why?”

Maria answers for him. “To catch up,” she says. “Been a minute since it was just the two of you. You deserve that, I think.” And then she turns to Tommy and raises her brows, a suspicious smile on her face. “You know what? I’ll take your watch for you. Mike and I have some stuff to discuss anyway. You two can have a guys' night.”

He can sense the bullshit from a mile away. All but solidified with the grin Ellie hides behind her hand.

But Joel isn’t in the mood to argue. It’s obvious they’re doing it for a reason, but whatever it is can’t be that bad. Otherwise, Tommy would’ve told him already. “Alright, then.”

“Come help me move this firewood and I’ll buy the first round,” Tommy offers.

Joel agrees, and after making sure Ellie would be occupied and safe within the walls for the day, they set out towards the edge of the perimeter.

Tommy has the back of his truck bed overflowing with split wood. And truthfully, Joel is happy to see it. Because manual labor is a welcome distraction. Tommy’s incessant talking will occupy his mind and moving the wood from the truck to the stockpile will occupy his hands—both of which have tended to stray towards you as of late.

The only problem is that twenty minutes in, after updating Joel on how domestic his life has become since marrying Maria, Tommy looks over at his brother and asks, “Honestly, I never thought you’d be into the young ones.”

Joel’s chest tightens at the insinuation. He decides to play dumb, even knowing his brother likely sees right through him. “What do you mean?”

He throws an armful of wood onto the pile and puts his hands on his hips. Tommy’s got a light sheen of sweat on his face and a smug expression beneath it. “You had a conversation with her? Seriously, Joel? You think I’m that stupid?”

“Don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth,” he shoots back. “And you should be careful—throwin’ accusations around like that.”

Tommy narrows his eyes. “Is it an accusation?”

For a split second, Joel thinks about lying. But he’s never lied to his brother in all his life. Evaded direct questions and neglected the truth a little, sure. But he’s never lied, not to Tommy—and he doesn’t want to start now. So, he stays silent.

It’s answer enough. “Jesus, Joel,” he huffs. “She’s just a kid.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He forces his eyes away from Tommy, unable to face him. He gathers another armful of wood instead.

“No, no. I think you do know. Which makes this whole thing that much worse.”

Joel has half a mind to snap back at him. His brother is far from perfect, despite judging Joel like he’s got no mistakes made under his belt. But what he’s done is wrong. And isn’t this deserved, after all? Tommy’s allowed to be mad, to be disappointed.

So, Joel lets him cut deep.

“She don’t know any better,” he says. “Just an angry little girl, lost and lookin’ for someone to take care of her. And it can’t be you, Joel. Not like this. If you wanna…” Tommy moves his hands, swiping one out in front of him. “If you wanna keep her safe, protect her, that’s…ya know, that’s one thing. But usin’ her?”

Joel stops him, spine straightening as he tosses wood onto the pile. “It ain’t like that.”

“It’s cruel, s’what it is,” Tommy tells him. And Joel makes no argument. “I mean, seriously, what d’you expect is gonna happen? You two will, what? Fall in love, live happily ever after? You’re thirty two years older than her. Best case scenario, you live to be, what? Seventy? Seventy five? And she’ll still be around, left with nothin’ for the second half of her life. That what you want? She’s lost enough.”

He hears him. All of it. But Joel wants to know exactly what his brother means with those last three words. She’s lost enough. But now isn’t the time to ask, and Tommy isn’t the one he wants answers from. Joel lets out a long breath and shakes his head. “I told you, it ain’t like that. You think I’d let it go that far?”

Tommy scoffs. “You’ve already let it get this far. I don’t even know what all has happened and frankly, Joel, I’ve got no interest in findin’ out. I’m just sayin’ that whatever the hell’s goin’ on between you two, you’ve gotta put an end to it.”

Joel picks up more wood from the back of the truck. “I know,” he says, piling it on.

“I’m serious.”

“Goddammit, Tommy, I said I know,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “You gonna let me do all the fuckin’ work today or what?”

Tommy, thankfully, lets the subject go. But that painful ache in Joel’s chest? That stays and gets comfortable, makes a home where it doesn’t belong. They move the split wood in silence, though his mind is anything but.

There wasn’t a word untrue in his brother’s little spiel and Joel knows it. He doesn’t know what he wants from you, what business he has with you at all. It’s wrong to even think of you the way he does, to look at you the way he does…and acting on his impulses has been, perhaps, the worst thing Joel has ever done. Worse than killing. Worse than torturing. Worse than any lie he’s ever told.

Because he doesn’t regret it. Not even a little.

No. If Joel Miller could go back to the first day he met you, he’d still stare at that black lace beneath your wet shirt. He’d still admire the snow clinging to the ends of your hair. He’d still drink you in and eat you up and he’d still find an excuse to touch you, no matter what he tells himself.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t grow, that he can’t change. It doesn’t mean that he can’t be a better man, a man worthy of keeping you safe.

And he will, Joel vows silently. He will keep you safe, no matter what he’s done to you in the past. Someone has to look out for you, to keep you from falling off that edge of decency you like to toe so much.

When they’re tossing the last few logs onto the pile, Tommy wipes his brow with the back of his hand and says, “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve to find somebody.”

Joel shrugs. “I’ve got you and Ellie and this place. Don’t need much else, Tommy.”

“I know,” he says. And then again, “I know. But, uh…you know what I mean. Like a woman. Not a girl, but a real woman. Any of these other broads catch your eye?”

There’s something a little like hope in his eyes, and Joel knows his brother too well to believe this conversation is anything but a setup. “Why’re we talkin’ about this?”

Tommy squeezes the back of his neck. “That, uh…you know that drink we’d planned on havin’? It was…it was a lie. Kinda. You know Kelly? Works over at the grocer on Fourth Street. She’s real close with Maria.”

“No,” Joel immediately says, seeing right where this is headed. “No, I’m not doin’ that.”

“C’mon, man. What could it hurt? She’s got it real bad for you, ya know. The whole rugged caveman man thing seems to do it for her,” he jokes. Tommy’s laughing, but the joy bleeds from his face when he sees the threat in Joel’s eyes.

“I said no.”

When Joel turns to walk away, deciding to skip any quality time with his brother altogether for the sake of his sanity, Tommy grabs his shoulder and pulls him back. “Joel, look. Just…give it a shot. Kelly’s a real nice girl. Real pretty, too. Real young.”

Joel narrows his eyes. Thinks about clocking his brother in the goddamn nose.

Tommy laughs again and shakes his head. “Alright, I’m sorry. That was a little uncalled for,” he admits. He raises his hands in surrender. “All I’m sayin’ is it could be a good thing to put yourself out there a little. Get her out of your system.”

Joel doesn’t agree. There’s no erasing you, no scrubbing his hands clean. He’d made sure of it because he never wants to forget you. Never wants to wake up beside a lovely, soft spoken, age appropriate woman like Kelly one day and realize the taste of you has faded from his mouth, that the feel of your fingertips pressing into his flesh is nothing but a whisper of a memory.

He’d consumed the forbidden fruit not once but twice, all to ensure he’d always remember the taste of ambrosia.

So, no. Having a drink with Kelly would not get you out of his system.

“Tell you what,” Tommy says. “You go have a drink or two, see where it leads. And if you decide she ain’t worth the effort, come on over and we’ll crack open that bottle of Johnnie Walker that I found from the nineties.”

The scotch sounds like a much better idea than facing the woman currently waiting for him, but the longer Joel thinks about it, the more his brother’s words slot together in his brain. Maybe Tommy’s right. About trying, at least.

You’re too well embedded within him for Joel to ever forget you. But maybe it would help to curb his…urges if he was distracted by someone else. If he wasn’t always so high strung, if he could lose himself within a body that isn’t yours.

Could he protect you better that way? Protect you from him a little easier? Maybe…maybe it would help. Maybe he could somehow keep you safe without it also being cruel, as Tommy had put it.

And, for you…it was worth a shot. For you, he would try.

“You want a ride back to town?”

Joel shakes his head. Tells his brother he needs the walk back. It’s only a couple blocks to the bar and Joel needs the quiet. Needs the time to think, to convince himself that this might actually work.

And it could…right? Kelly isn’t bad looking. She’s got pretty blonde hair and green eyes, and her voice sounds a little like a character from a movie Joel watched once. Some southern belle who made pies and sat them on the window sill to cool.

Even though Joel doesn’t want to convince himself it matters, Kelly is also in her late thirties. Nearly twice your age. Young…but not twenty.

Joel makes his decision as he steps onto Main Street.

The Tipsy Bison is one of the most popular attractions in the commune. It’s a warm little place. The lights are low, and there’s always some blues rock song playing in the background. The walls are covered in framed photos, taxidermied mounts, old-school plaques. Little momentos all courtesy of Jackson’s population. Joel’s been here a couple of times with Tommy, and he can’t deny the nostalgia it brings up in him.

It feels like before. Before the outbreak, before the end of the world.

He thinks of you then, wonders how different you’d be if the two of you had met in that world instead of this one.

And as soon as the thought crosses his mind, Joel begins to wonder if he’s fucking cursed.

Because there, at the end of the round bar, you sit in one of the oak stools. You’ve got one leg folded beneath you, leaning against the bartop with a ballpoint ben clutched between your fingers. You’re writing in that journal you tried so hard to casually hide from him the other day, the one Joel has an insatiable desire to read.

You look beautiful when you think no one’s looking. Lively and youthful, soft and sweet. You’re wearing a pretty black dress with a sparse, white floral pattern printed on it. A jean jacket rests over your shoulders, and it’s a size too big but Joel thinks it fits you just right. Your black socks are bunched down around your ankles, and beneath the barstool there’s a pair of leather boots that sit unoccupied. Your hair falls loosely down your back, and Joel wants to run his hands through it. He knows it’s soft, knows it feels a lot like satin.

But maybe he needs a reminder.

“Joel! I’m so glad you could make it!”

It’s only then he notices Kelly in her yellow blouse. She’s sitting just two seats down from you, sunshiney demeanor grabbing the attention of the rest of the patrons as she calls out for him.

Your whole body goes rigid at the sound of his name. And Joel’s blood ignites in his veins as you turn your head slowly and glance at him over your shoulder.

It’s a simple look, but it feels far from innocent.

Kelly approaches him, and Joel forces himself to look at her instead of you. Forces a smile onto his face, too, despite the obvious sway of her hips. He tries not to think about how her subtle charm isn’t nearly as enticing as your foul mouth. “Saved you a seat,” she tells him.

He lets her take his hand and pull him to the bar. Kelly smells like patchouli and Joel doesn’t hate it. It’s just…not quite right. Too earthy, too warm. He can’t explain it.

The desire to leave already rises in him. This is too much, too uncomfortable. Even though you’re not looking at him anymore, turned back to that leatherbound journal and scribbling intently, Joel cannot take his attention off of you.

Kelly notices. She sits between the two of you, and her head pivots from him to you, and then back to him. Her voice is lower as she suggests, “I know this isn’t the most secluded of places. Do you want to go somewhere a little more private?”

Joel opens his mouth to answer, but you beat him to it.

“Try the northwestern outpost,” you say without picking your head up. It’s resting casually in your left hand as if you hadn’t just blatantly been listening in on a question very clearly not meant for your ears.

“The outpost?” Kelly laughs, a crease forming between her brows in confusion. “Why would we go there?”

“Ignore her,” Joel says.

It’s then that you finally look up from your journal. Your mouth quirks up at the corners as you look only at Kelly. “You’ll like it there,” you tell her. “Trust me. It’s secluded and private, just like you want. I’m sure you two could get up to all kinds of nefarious activities.”

Kelly flushes, cheeks turning crimson at your insinuation. “O-oh…I didn’t mean…”

“What?” You snicker. “Isn’t that what this is?”

“Stop,” Joel orders. And he means it. Hopes you’ll see the warning on his face and take it seriously. But you don’t even look at him, and Joel wonders if this is how Maria feels. Invisible.

He couldn’t survive it for weeks like Maria has. Thirty seconds of it has his skin crawling.

“No, it’s not,” Kelly says. Her face is still pink, but her shoulders are pulled back all the same. She’s confident as she tells you, “It’s a date.”

Your eyes widen at that, brows rising. Joel can tell you’re holding back a laugh, can sense the impending doom that’s bound to follow whatever the fuck comes out of your mouth. And his assumption is proved correct as you say, “Hm. That’s…real interesting. Didn’t peg him for a man who’d be into someone like you.”

“That’s enough,” Joel says through gritted teeth. He’s been able to see right through you from the very beginning, could see that dog-like fight buried beneath your innocent looking exterior. Joel knows you’re a brat, but he’s beginning to think maybe you’re just simply fuckin’ vicious.

Poor Kelly, for what it’s worth, retains her composure. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your voice is sickly sweet, sarcasm almost undetectable in your answer. “You’re just so…so nice , Kelly! And so pretty, you know? Like, uhm…hm. How to put it…” You tap your pen against your journal as if you’re real deep in thought. Joel can hear the words before they leave your mouth. “You’re just so lovely and soft spoken. And Joel’s…well, Joel’s Joel.”

Kelly giggles and actually thanks you, completely unaware of the insult in your sugary words. And then she shrugs and says, “You know, sometimes opposites attract. Right, Joel?”

It feels like a kick to the chest when you finally, finally turn your eyes on him. It knocks the air from his lungs, the flicker of spite in your expression more threatening than that of any rabid dog he’s ever encountered. You smirk and repeat Kelly’s words. “Right, Joel?”

His heart is beating so fast he thinks it might explode. Unfortunately, however, it doesn’t, and Joel is left with the two of you staring right at him, expecting an answer. He swallows hard and says, “...Right.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” You stand to your feet, gathering your journal and pen in one hand and your boots in the other.

Joel watches you sit on the other side of the bar, further out of earshot this time. The bar is too small for you to sit anywhere and not hear them, but the effort is there. And Kelly, it seems, is satisfied with it.

“Sorry about that,” she says to Joel, voice lowering to a whisper. “Have you met her before? She’s kind of a recluse. Sticks to herself. Bit of a troublemaker, really.”

He hardly hears her, ears finetuned to pick up the cadence of your voice as you speak to Tara who’s tending the bar. You laugh at some joke she makes, and order ‘that one drink that doesn’t taste bad but has all those different alcohols in it. What’d you call it last time? A long island?’

“Anyway,” Kelly says. “Can I admit something to you?”

Joel, genuinely, could not give a fuck less about whatever she’s going to say. But he forces himself to pay attention to the woman in front of him and not the girl at the other end of the bar. “Sure.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” she says.

Me neither, Joel doesn’t.

“She has a point, you know. I feel like we don’t have much in common. But…I like you, Joel,” Kelly confesses. She sets her hand on his arm, fingers squeezing lightly.

And it’s wrong. It’s all fucking wrong—too soft, too tender. Not enough claws. Not enough you.

But that’s not fair, is it? Joel isn’t hear to compare the two of you. He’s here to try. For you. For your safety.

He tries to give her a warm smile, knows it comes across as more of a grimace. “Yeah,” he sighs.

“So, how do you like Jackson so far?”

The small talk is slowly killing him. “It’s great,” he says honestly. “I think it’ll be good for Ellie.”

She nods. “Of course. I’ve heard a little about what you two went through to get here. It must’ve been hard, a young girl like her.”

“Ellie’s strong,” Joel says.

“Oh, I’m not disagreeing,” Kelly defends. “I just mean girls that age can be a little unruly. Best to have a routine, you know? So they don’t end up like that.”

Joel almost pressures her then, urges her to say exactly what she’s thinking. He can read between the lines, knows she’s referring to you and your bad behavior. Joel wishes he could come to your defense. But he can’t, so he just says quietly, “Yeah.”

He’s not adding much in the way of discussion. He knows he should be asking about Kelly, about her family or her pastimes or anything. But he doesn’t care, and he doesn’t have it in him to pretend he does. He’s thankful when Tara approaches and asks if they want to order anything.

Kelly orders a Coke, and Joel orders a double whiskey neat.

Tara sets them down in less than a minute, and Joel’s already tossing his back before the glass can touch the bartop.

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment and then carefully asks, “Do you…drink a lot, Joel?”

“No.”

You burst into a fit of rambunctious laughter, trying to play it off like a cough at first. But your amusement is loud and obnoxious and you’ve got one hand over your mouth, and you quickly give up pretending to be polite. When you notice they’ve both turned to stare at you, Kelly with her brows knitted together in bewilderment and Joel with that signature scowl on his face, you wave your hand in dismissal. “I’m sorry,” you choke out through your giggles. “I just remembered something funny. Sorry, I’ll be quiet.”

Joel turns back to his date, but sees you stand out of the corner of his eye. Watches you disappear down the hall to the back of the bar.

“Oh, okay. Well that’s…that’s good,” Kelly says. “That you don’t drink. I don’t either.”

He nods once. Clears his throat. Prays silently for this awkward atmosphere to dissipate.

“Maria told me….uhm, she told me you had a daughter.”

Nope.

Joel’s barstool scrapes against the floor noisily as he rises to his feet. “Been a while since I’ve had something so strong,” he says, nodding to his empty glass. “Whiskey went right through me. I’ll be back.”

He finds you right where he expects. You’re in the dimly lit restroom at the back of the bar, standing with your back against the counter, hands braced behind you. Joel catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror above the sink and thinks he looks a little untamed, a little feral. You’ve got a playful smirk on your face as if this whole situation is just so funny, and it rubs his nerves raw. “You need to leave,” he says, standing as far away from you as possible.

You don't comment on his words. Don't even acknowledge that he’s said them. “Kelly, Joel? Really?”

No, not really. It’ll never be Kelly. Not the one he ends up with, not the one he distracts himself with. Joel knew as much the moment he set foot in this bar. But he doesn’t correct you—he’s too busy trying to get himself under control. Too busy trying to stop staring at your bare thighs, at the space where they disappear beneath the seam of your dress. He’s too busy praying to a God he stopped believing in long ago, begging for strength.

Because he’s all out of options. Nothing he’s tried has worked, and Joel knows now that it’ll take some divine force to keep him from you.

“I didn’t take you for the kinda man to move on so fast,” you continue. “I wonder if Kelly knows where you spent your night.”

“Stop that,” he warns. “That ain’t fair.”

“Fair? And you somehow think you being here, flaunting her like that in front of me is?”

“I’m not flauntin’ anybody.”

This has got you worked up, Joel can tell. So much so that he can see the pulse throbbing in your neck from here. “You’re an asshole, dude. Seriously.”

Joel stiffens at the curse word in your mouth. But he doesn’t do or say anything about it. It’s not his place. Not anymore. He made sure of it. “We can’t do this. It ain’t right.”

“You can’t,” you correct. “Don’t put this on me, Joel. You do what you have to do—but don’t make it my fault.”

“I’m not blamin’ you,” he insists. Anger rises in him, hot and uncontrollable. It’s not your fault and it never has been. Joel hates that he’s somehow put the idea in your head and he aches to set it right. You’re not the problem. He is. Joel and his inability to keep his hands off you.

“Yes, you are.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, the fuck it is.”

“No, I’m—” Joel stops, sighs heavily, presses his fingertips into his throbbing temple. “Will you stop and hear me out for one second?”

“Mm…let me think.” You’re grinning like this is some kind of joke. It only serves to annoy him more. You tap your index finger against your chin in a forgery of contemplation and then say, “Probably not.”

And Joel loses it. He crosses the small room in just two steps, grabs your face in his hand and tilts your chin upwards, forcing your attention to remain only on him. “I’m not askin',” he says darkly. It’s a wretched thing on his part that he enjoys the flash of unease in your eyes, but Joel’s too angry to think too deeply about it. “Now, you’re gonna shut that pretty mouth of yours and listen. You understand?”

You look up at him through your lashes and Joel’s weak in the knees. While your eyes are shining and bright and painfully innocent, your response is anything but. “If you want me to shut my mouth, then maybe you should put something in it.”

Joel swallows as you reach below his belt. He catches your wrist in his hand seconds before you find evidence of just how much you affect him. A hundred images flash through his mind— fantasies of what he wants to do to you, how badly he wants to defile you. He wants to push you to your knees and force himself down your throat. Wants to wake up to your mouth around him. Wants to feel your tongue on the underside of his cock, familiarizing itself with the veins there. He wants to peer down at you beneath the dinner table, that sweet mouth of yours drooling for the sustenance only he can provide. Wants to finish at the back of your throat with the taste of you on his lips. “Enough,” he snarls, equal parts to himself and to you.

“What’s wrong, Joel? You don’t like it when I’m mean to you?” Your voice is sugary sweet, that same subtly sarcastic tone you took with Kelly. But then it falls away, all radiance bleeding from your words. “Join the fucking club.”

It’s then he sees it—the slight tremble in your bottom lip, the way you fight against your watery eyes, the slump in your shoulders. You’re not being bratty just to make him mad. You’re doing it because you’re hurting. Seeing him here with another woman has hurt you, and Joel feels his heart crack behind his ribcage at the realization.

He knows he doesn’t have to explain himself, knows he probably shouldn’t. Knows it would be best to just let you hurt for a little while until you decide to hate him. Because if you hate him Joel won’t have such a hard time resisting you. He wouldn’t be begging the divine forces for strength to hold himself back if you were pushing him away.

But he can’t let you be hurt if he has the power to fix it, either. He should. But he can’t.

His grip on your jaw softens. “I didn’t know,” he says. Joel wills his fingers to stay still but they, like you, don’t listen to his wisely spoken advice—his thumb strokes your cheekbone, his pinky presses against your throat to feel the flutter of your pulse. “They set it up…Maria and Tommy. I didn’t know.”

Your stare is hard, but he sees the long breath you release and knows that his confession has done its job. “And that’s somehow supposed to make this better?”

“No, I…” He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know the words to make this right. “I’m just sorry s’all.”

Your eyes narrow just slightly, searching for something on his face. A lie, maybe—but he would never lie. Not to you. He feels the coil of anxiety that’s weaved itself around his neck loosen as you place your hand over his and lean into his touch. “Joel, why did you follow me here?”

He doesn’t know.

Or at least, that’s what he’s been telling himself.

But as he stands here now, holding you close, slipping his free hand around your waist and resting it against the curve in the small of your back, Joel can admit the truth. “I can’t stay away from you, baby.”

You stare up at him so beautifully—a perfect picture of innocence, the most mouth-watering fruit he’s ever seen. You press a tiny kiss to the pad of his thumb, bringing his hand down lower, just beneath your jaw. “No one’s making you go anywhere,” you say. “You can stay right here.”

Joel stares at you, entranced, forgetting that too much of a good thing can turn to poison, as you press your lips to each of his fingers—index, middle, ring, pinky, and then repeat the action in reverse. He feels a little like he’s being worshiped. It makes heat bloom in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

You’re right. Joel hates it when you’re mean. To him, anyway. But you make up for it when you’re being like this; sweet and kind and angelic, his perfect little girl. Ambrosia-flavored venom, Joel thinks. “I can’t,” he says.

And then your soft tongue darts out between your lips, licking up his middle finger, and Joel’s breathing turns heavy. You watch him tremble as you pull his hand closer, leaning forward to take his finger into your mouth.

He shudders at the softness of you, at being inside of you. You’re so pretty like this, Joel thinks. With his finger in your mouth, the low lights reflecting in your hair, eyes wide and desperate. “Fuck,” he breathes, drawing out the word.

You pull your head back, mouth hanging open. “Language,” you scold. And Joel laughs lightly, and you mirror the sound, and then he’s lifting you onto the counter, and this time you take both his middle and index finger into your mouth and Joel is moaning.

It feels so good. It’s so fucking good that he could die . Pretty girl sucking on his fingers because it’s the only part of him he’s allowing you to have in this moment. But he knows how badly you want more because Joel does, too. Wants to feed you his cock, wants to fuck you right here in this bathroom with your panties pulled to the side and his date waiting out there for him.

But no. No. You deserve better than this. Better than a sleazy bar bathroom, better than to be kissed only in secret. Better than him. “We can’t, baby,” he whispers.

You only hollow out your cheeks in response, sucking his fingers in deeper. Joel lets you because he can’t bring himself to stop it.

“I’m sorry, I…it ain’t right. It ain’t…you’re too young, sweetheart. You know what…goddamn, you know what people will say? About the both of—both of us?” Joel moves his free hand from your spine, rests it on the inside of your thigh instead. “They’ll think I’m some dirty old man, touching’ you like this…they’ll say I’m a pervert, that I’ve got no business bein’ near you. And they won’t be wrong, baby, don’t you get that?”

You squeeze your thighs together and tilt your hips forward, whimpering sweetly around his thick fingers in your mouth. Your eyes are pleading as you grab his wrist and slip his hand beneath your dress.

Joel can’t help himself. He presses hard against your clit, grinning at the little whine you let out in response. “Y’like that, hm?” You’re nodding and Joel’s mouth is watering and he knows he shouldn’t but, fuck, he has to. “You know what they’ll say about you?”

When he moves your panties to the side his fingers glide through your slit easily. You’re so wet, so fucking wet and he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that it’s all for him. Your head falls back, thudding softly against the glass mirror. Your chest heaves and your breath is hot against his drool-covered palm.

“They’ll call you a slut, baby,” he whispers tenderly. “They’ll say you spread your legs for any man who gives you attention, and that ain’t what you want, is it?” Joel rubs circles around your clit, feeling it throb beneath his middle finger. His hand moves fast, desperate to get you there, to take that ache away. “We can’t have that, sweetheart. You know why?”

You shake your head, tongue sliding between his fingers. Joel pushes them in deeper.

“Because if anyone but me ever called you a slut an’ I heard about it?” He presses your clit harder, grinning when you start panting. “I’d have to kill ‘em, baby.”

A whimper leaves you at that. Joel chuckles darkly as you lift your legs, trying to find purchase on the countertop to no avail.

He wonders if you think he’s joking. Joel knows he’s not.

“C’mon. You got it. Legs up,” he says, nudging your knee with his shoulder. When the heel of your boot catches the edge of the counter, he helps you with the other one and praises, “There you go. Spread ‘em wide, baby.”

Joel’s cock throbs in his jeans, painfully hard, pushing against his zipper. He ignores it because the second he gives it any thought he’ll be pulling it out and indulging himself in you as if last night meant nothing. And it can’t mean nothing.

His name is muffled in your mouth as you whine, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. He knows how close you are, can feel it in the needy movement of your hips.

“S’okay, I know,” he whispers. He allows himself to appreciate the way you look with his fingers in your mouth for one more second before hooking them around your jaw and pulling your face toward his. Your eyes flutter open, but there’s nothing but blind trust in them. It makes him feel bruised, tender, devoted.

And then he takes his fingers out of your mouth, reaches down, and slides them into your pussy instead.

Joel kisses you hard, echoing the sound of your moans. You taste a little like alcohol and a whole lot like addiction, and he’s never been so thrilled to have a fix. He drinks you in, tongue sliding against yours, licking into you like it’ll be the last time. Joel knows it won’t be, and he wonders why that thought is so goddamn comforting.

Your legs begin to shake. One of them slips off the countertop. “Joel,” you whimper into his mouth. “Joel, I’m gonna come, I’m—”

“Go’head, baby, c’mon. Give it to me.” His fingers are covered with your drool and slick, pooling in his palm as he strokes that spot inside you that makes you writhe. He’s still circling your clit with his other hand and keeps up a steady pace. When your fingers tangle in the dark curls at the nape of his neck and pull, Joel just kisses you harder despite the ache it brings.

“Ohh, God, God, Joel, please don’t stop, don’t stop—!”

He feels your walls clench around his fingers and Joel lets out a moan of his own, his cock convulsing in his jeans. “Yeah…there you go. Good girl, baby. You listen so fuckin’ good when you’re all full’a me, don’t you?” He fucks you through it, relief reverberating through his ribcage with the sounds you make. “Sweet little thing, just need ta’ be told what to do, ain’t that right? Hm?”

You moan his name one final time, and before your breathing evens out you’re pulling his flannel out of his jeans and tugging at his belt buckle. “Joel, please, please, please.”

He thinks you beg so prettily. He thinks he doesn’t deserve it. Not your attention, not your desperation, not your trust or admiration. Yet he doesn’t stop you, even knowing he should.

Never in his life has he wanted someone so badly. And never in his life has he wanted to protect someone so much. It’s an impossible task. One he’ll undeniably fail over and over and over again. He thinks about his conversation with Tommy and his gut wrenches.

But then you look up at him and all doubt ebbs away, fading into nothingness. Joel knows this feeling. Had nearly forgotten it, in truth. But it hits him like a freight train now, like a bullet to the head. You smile at him and Joel feels heat stain his cheeks and it’s here, here, in this sleazy bar bathroom that he remembers what it feels like to be cherished.

And it’s been so long, so very long, that Joel’s forgotten until this very moment just how hungry for it he’s been.

What’s a starved man to do but devour?

You carefully snake your hand beneath his jeans. Your fingers are soft, delicate, as they wrap around his hard length and squeeze. There isn’t a second that you look away from him, and he wonders if you can read his mind, if you can see the shift in him, if you can hear all his rapturous thoughts of admiration.

The leather of his belt bites deliciously into his hips with the extra pressure. Your hand begins to move, stroking him softly. Joel’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head, but he resists because he doesn’t want to forget this moment. Doesn’t want to look away from you. He reaches up and takes your face in his hands. “You’re so pretty, baby,” he says, kissing you softly. “Keep goin’, just like that.”

Just a few quick touches and he’s melting; putty in your hands, unable to catch his breath. “Like this?” You squeeze him harder, stroke him faster, and Joel groans. “Am I doing good?”

He doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed as he explodes so quickly at the sweet sound of your voice. “Fuck, sweetheart— mm, so good. Such a good little girl, shit.”

A pretty smile graces your face as he coats your hand in stickiness, satisfied with your work. You draw out every last drop until he’s trembling, and even then you make no effort to slow your movements.

Joel grabs your wrist to still you, every inch of him overly sensitive. And when you wiggle your hand out of his jeans you giggle as you lick up the mess he made. He can’t take his eyes off of your pretty pink tongue as it slides between your fingers, the filthiest thing he’s ever seen.

When you’re finished, you push yourself off the counter and straighten your dress. “I get it,” you say quietly. “Why you don’t want to be with me. I mean…I don’t really, because I don’t give a fuck what any of these people have to say about me.”

It nearly gives him whiplash. Joel doesn’t understand how you can be licking his come off your fingers one second and go right back to being angry with him the next. But that irritation has slipped back into your voice with a vengeance, leaving Joel at a loss.

“So, I guess I get it, but I don’t understand,” you continue. “I did tell you this would happen, though, didn’t I? Gave you the idea, most likely. So…you know. Go ahead. Go have your date with Kelly. Go find an age appropriate woman, and I’ll find an age appropriate man, and we’ll just—”

“No.” His voice is dark, leaving no room for argument. The thought of you with someone else brings up a fiery rage in him, burning his insides, leaving nothing behind but bloodthirst. “Don’t be like that.” Please. He doesn’t want to lose this place. He doesn’t want to lose you.

“No?” You shake your head. “I’m not going to wait around for you to make up your mind about me, Joel.”

You shoulder past him and walk out of the door without another word.

Joel feels the loss like a knife.

[part two] [part four]

#joel miller #ao3 fanfic #ellie williams #joel miller smut #ao3 writer #smut #idle threats #pearlessance #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #tommy tlou #jackson era joel #joel miller fic #light angst #suck my fingers #joel miller has an oral fixation confirmed

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pelova4president · 1 year ago

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All eyes on you II

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Fridolina Rölfo x Reader

All eyes on you I

summary~ After making their intentions very clear they take control.

!warnings! 18+ smut, dirty talk, making out, masturbation, oral, fingering, praising/degrading, strap-on use, blowjob, orgasm denial, thigh riding

“Maria why don’t you get her ready to take a cock then. I’m sure she’d appreciate that, don’t go easy on her though. You know how we want this evening to go.” Ingrid instructed Maria. They’ve been fucking planning this.

The thought of them planning this out, wanting you like that drove you crazy. With you still between Frido's thighs, Mapi made her way towards you. She made a show of leaning over you to take the blonde behind you in for a kiss. You looked up, trying to see the passionate interaction between the two of them. But Ingrid wouldn't let you, taking your face into her hands and kissing you just as passionate.

Mapi took that moment to slide your panties aside. Spitting on her fingers she rubbed at your clit. You moaned into Ingrid's mouth, giving her easy access to slide her tongue in. She took total control over the kiss, like she'd been doing all night.

Ingrid left your lips swollen. With Ingrid next to you Mapi kissed up your legs, kissing your inner thighs and slowly moving up your pussy. The Spaniard began licking your pussy in slow motions, not wanting to give you satisfaction yet. Both of Frido's hands cup your tits, groping them gently with her palms. Her fingers tug at your nipples, pulling out a string of breathy moans from you. "That's it, make some pretty noises for us." the blonde whispers in your ear.

The defender in front of you began circling your clit. Putting just enough pressure to receive pleasure from it, but not enough to really get anything from it. “Mapi, need more. Give me more.” you moaned out, tired from all the teasing. You just wanted something. “You think you’re the one making calls here? I’ll give you what i want and you’ll take it or you can forget the idea of an orgasm at all.” the replied sternly. Mapi may not be the hardest dom in the room but she still had control over you.

After what felt like forever, she finally pushed a finger inside you. Fucking you slowly, she pushed another one in without a warning, stretching your hole out. And while you're being ruined by Maria Frido's whispering sweet nothings in your ear. "You're so pretty. You're doing amazing sweet girl." she kisses you behind your ear.

Almost reaching your peak you try to let the woman between your legs know. "Mapi fuck- 'm gonna cum." you moan out, your head falling onto Frido's shoulder behind you. But before you could let loose Mapi's fingers disappeared. With a frown you looked down. "Why'd you do that?" you asked her. Her face was soaked in your arousal, "You don't deserve it just yet." she grinned.

Frido stood up from behind you, placing you down next to Ingrid who was looking at you with hungry eyes. Her green eyes were filled with lust, the green being replaced by her dilated pupils.

Frido returned with two strap-ons, a blue one and a bigger red one. Mapi took finally took your dress off, taking your naked body. All three of the women in front of you were fully dressed, feeling so exposed you tried to cover up. "Why are you covering up?" Ingrid asked you confused, her brows knitted together. She looked around, seeing what bothered you.

"Quítate la ropa y no es sólo ella la que está desnuda" the dark haired woman spoke. You didn't exactly get what she said but you assumed it was something along the lines of 'take your clothes off' since they started stripping for you.

Ingrid was wearing a pink lingerie set, the colour complimenting her dark hair and light eyes. And while Frido was taking her clothes off, revealing a blue set, the colour of her eyes, Ingrid undressed the other woman. Mapi wore a simple black thong and lace bra. They were absolutely stunning. "Better now baby?" Frido smirked cockily, securing the strap-on around her hips.

With wide eyes you looked at her, how could she be so fucking hot. "Aw, looks like someone can't use their words, cute. But i think we can make that mouth a bit more useful hm?" You don't have time to respond. Maria's finger intrudes your mouth and she presses down on your tongue. "Suck" she commands, so that's what you did.

In the corner of your eyes you could see the Scandinavian women whisper something to each other. They saw you look and they smirked. "Get her mouth nice and ready for my dick Maria" Frido walked over. She stands in front of you, the silicon dick before you. "Go on, you thought you were the only one receiving pleasure tonight? Suck me off." she bluntly says.

Following her commands you begin taking the tip in your mouth. Slowly taking more in your mouth, on your pace. That was until Frido decided it wasn't enough. "I know you can suck dick better than that." she grunts. You're taken aback by her rough movement bringing her hips forward, forcing you to take the whole length at once, without warning. Trying to keep your breaths steady your open your throat up as much as you could. The tears prick in the corners of your eyes.

"You're doing good, so perfect." Maria sucks your pulse point after saying this, marking sure to leave a mark for everyone to see, "So fucking good for us". Maria was fucking herself next to you, her breaths getting more erratic by the second. Frido was close too, her hips were no longer pushing roughly into your mouth, now her movements were longs and deep.

"Joder- Fuck…" Maria cursed reaching her orgasm. "Jesus, gonna come in this slutty mouth of yours-" Frido groaned, her hips stuttering. Riding her orgasm out she took her dick out of your mouth. It was not that you saw Ingrid again. Mapi was wetting the red cock between her thighs.

"Are you gonna take all of this, pretty girl?" the Norwegian asked. "Yes please" you answered looking with glassy eyes. "So sweet, how can i see no to that face hm." you laid down on your back.

Ingrid teased your pussy, rubbing the tip against your clit. "Please Ingrid, i want you." you tried to convince her to stop the teasing. It worked, she pushed the tip inside, your mouth opening at the feeling of the stretch. Steadily, she moved the red dick further in. Her pounds were slow, almost like she wanted to tease you. "Come on Ingrid, the slut likes it rough." the blonde next to you said. Maria's head was thrown back, riding the girl's cock.

Ingrid started to get rougher. "Like this? Want me to treat you like a slut?" the sound of her hips coming in contact with the flesh of your ass. You bite your bottom lip hard to prevent a moan from escaping your lips as her mouth comes down to bite your neck. "Don't hold back those pretty noises for us." she licks the marks on your neck. You could feel that Ingrid was getting close too. "You're so fucking perfect, need more of you." The words tighten the knot in your belly. "Please please let me come. Need it." you begged once again. "Come for us" Ingrid said coming undone. With a scream of her name you reached your high.

The post orgasm haze was hitting you hard. Your sight was still blurry when Ingrid pulled out, offering you some water. Just when you thought you were done for the night, Frido offered you an offer you couldn't resist.

"Think you can take one more orgasm?" you nodded furiously, ready for another. "Yeah? If you really want one, you can you it yourself. Get off on Maria's thigh." she exchanged a glance with your teammates and gave you a smirk. "But," of course there had to be a catch. "if you don't get off before Ingrid does we get to fuck you whenever, however and how many times we want the whole of next week."

Mapi placed you on her thigh, one leg on each side of her thigh. But of course Ingrid didn't get the same treatment. Frido was giving her fucking head, while you had to do it all yourself. "Go on then, or can't you do it yourself now? We fucking ruined you for everyone eh? Including yourself." Mapi kissed up your shoulder.

You could hear Ingrid moan and the wet sounds of Frido's tongue on her pussy. It only made it harder for you. Grinding yourself down, you just couldn't find the right position. But when you finally did, it was heavenly. And now not only Ingrid was close but you were too. "I know you want to lose. Let her come first, amor." she was right, you did want to lose.

You held your orgasm off as long as you could and when you heard Ingrid reaching her peak you got the green light. Mapi guided you through your orgasm, leading your hips with her strong hands on your hips. "That's it, such a good girl." she praised you.

Tired from all the action you leaned forward, your head in the crook of her neck. The other two women got everything ready in the bedroom for you. "Gonna take you to bed now, okay." Mapi picked you up and walked you to their bedroom. Placing you on their soft mattress she cleaned you up. You felt the bed dip and all the women who ruined you just minutes ago laid down next to you.

Placing a kiss on your head Ingrid spoke, "Get some rest, you'll need it. We won, so this was just a tiny bit of what's to come." You hummed and snuggled into Frido who was already gone. "G' night, thank you" you mumbled before drifting off.

And eventually, they did get to show you their bedroom.

A/N definitely underestimated how hard it was to write an orgy but it's here. Thanks for reading :)

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso smut #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca women #mapi x ingrid x frido x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #maria pilar leon #fridolina rolfö #fridolina rolfo smut #fridolina rolfo x reader #all eyes on you

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just-dreaming-marvel · 9 days ago

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Crimson Ties ~ 4

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,390ish

Summary: The wedding and your first night as husband and wife.

Warning(s): abuse, nonconsensual touching, inappropriate talk

Notes: If you haven’t seen it yet, linked here is the floor plan that I made for the mansion. Please send in reactions!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Your hands were trembling as members of your father’s female office staff, fluttered around you. You were standing on a pedestal in front of a large mirror as they forced you into your wedding dress and got you done up for the wedding. You could barely recognize yourself in the mirror as you stared at yourself, ignoring the bustling around you.

You were about to marry Tony Stark. A man who clearly didn’t like you. You knew that he was being forced into this as much as you were. And it sure seemed like he was going to take that frustration out on you.

Eventually, you were all ready for your wedding and left alone. It was a relief and felt like it was going to be your only moment to truly breath all day. Unfortunately, your small moment of peace was interrupted when Brock waltzed in.

“Hot,” he immediately commented.

His eyes took their time running down your back side. You swallowed uncomfortably as you kept your eyes down, not wanting to watch his actions from the mirror in front of you. Brock came over and wrapped his arms around you.

“I wish that you were this dressed up for me,” he murmured.

Brock’s hands moved up your front and cupped your breasts. Your breath hitched and your eyes snapped to watch what he was doing in the mirror. You couldn’t prevent the rapid beating of your heart and the churning of your stomach.

“Why don’t we run away?” Brock suggested, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Then you can finally be mine.”

“We— we can’t, Brock,” you stammered. “My father—“

“I know, I know, your old man wouldn’t be happy. Besides, he promised me his whole business. I can’t pass up an opportunity to have his business and his daughter. Guess that I’ll just have to wait.”

He forcefully turned you around and pulled you in for a sickening kiss. You didn’t kiss back, just letting him run his open mouth over your mouth. His tongue wiping over you, like he was liking a popsicle.

“That’s enough,” your father ordered. Brock pulled away. You hadn’t even noticed that your father had entered the room. “Go find your seat, Brock, before you ruin her too much.”

Brock gave you one last devilish grin before slipping out of the room. You looked at your father, trying not to be hopeful that he’d say something kind.

“In this marriage, you cannot embarrass me,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will do what your husband asks. Everything your husband asks. Whether it is sexual, household chores, what to where. You belong to him. Do you understand?”

You nodded. “Yes, father.”

“You also cannot forget that you are my daughter. There will be a time that I need you to do something and I expect that it gets done without complications.”

“I understand.”

He grunted as he came over and offered you his arm. “Let’s get this over with then.”

~~~

Tony threw down the glass of whiskey as his father and mother entered the room.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Anthony,” Maria complimented. She went up to him and straightened his tie as he tossed the glass onto the table.

Tony scoffed. “I feel like a prisoner.”

“Get over it, Tony,” Howard retorted.

“Make me.”

“You will take this serious, Tony. This is about more than just you. Obadiah Stane is a dangerous man and we would do better to have him on our side, even if this is the way to do it. So, you will get up there, say I do, sign the needed documents, and take your wife home to bed her.”

“Howard!” Maria exclaimed. “Y/N is not an object. She is a scared girl, who deserves respect.” Her focus fell back on Tony. “Tony, you will not force anything more upon that poor girl. She doesn’t want this anymore than you do. You will be respectful and will not push her boundaries.”

“They are to be married, Maria. Sex it part of it.”

“Not if they don’t want it to be. Not if they don’t want each other. Nothing has to happen. The deal was that they marry and Obadiah and you become business partners. Sex was never the deal.”

“Maria—“

“No. Tony will be respectful and not force himself upon Y/N, right?”

“Of course,” Tony replied, more to just end this conversation than anything.

Howard glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to go. Smile, Tony. It’s your wedding day.”

~~~

Your father grinned with fake pride as he led you down the aisle. You wished you could disappear as the eyes of other crime families, Stark employees, and Stane employees followed you. You kept your eyes ahead at the wall behind the minster. Tony’s hands were stuffed in his pocket as he stood in front of the minster, staring off to the wall at the side. He didn’t want this. He hated his father for making him do this.

Obadiah led you in front of Tony and pressed a kiss to your cheek before going to sit on the front row next to Brock, who was glaring daggers at Tony. You and Tony looked passed each other as the minister began speaking. Your hands were collapsed together in front of you as you took deep breaths to try to remain calm. Your heart was beating so hard, you felt like you might pass out.

The minister pulled the rings out, revealing two matching gold bands. Like robots, you and Tony quickly placed them on each others fingers and mumbled ‘I do’ when prompted.

“I now announce you as husband and wife, Mr and Mrs. Stark,” the minster said. “You may kiss the bride.”

You stayed still, not knowing what to do. Tony could feel the weight of his father’s gaze, urging him to step forward. Tony stepped forward and placed his hands on your arms. You immediately tensed, which he took notice. As he leaned in, he could hear that your breaths were coming out in short, barely there pants. Tony’s large brown eyes locked with yours and he could see how you seemed to be drowning from the inside. His mom’s words filled his head.

“She hasn’t known kindness like you have. She hasn’t been lucky like you.”

Clearly, whatever his mom truly meant by that wasn’t good. And the longer he gripped your arms, the more he could feel you trembling. You were just a scared girl, forced into this marriage. Everyone was waiting impatiently for you two to kiss, but even Tony knew that it wasn’t right. He leaned in over to your ear, covering your face from the prying eyes.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered.

You gave a barely there nod. As gently as he could, Tony turned you so that his back was blocking you from view. He leaned you back a little and kissed the corner of your mouth. The crowded room cheered and applauded. Tony carefully stood you back up and let you go before stepping away.

Howard and Obadiah got up from there seats and stood next to you two. Servers seemingly appeared out of nowhere and began handing out glasses of champagne. Your father put an arm around you and smiled, leaning in close.

“Smile, daughter,” he demanded lowly. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

You exhaled shakily and pressed out a smile.

“Everyone, please take a glass of champagne!” Howard encouraged. “We must toast to our new union!”

A glass was forced into your hand before you even realized it. Everything was a blur as people toasted and celebrated. You stood there, frozen. A smile plastered on your face as you were unable to lift the glass to your lips.

A few long minutes later, you were being forcefully maneuvered over to the nearby table and a pen was shoved into your hand. With a shaky signature, you signed whatever documents they placed in front of you. You were truly signing your life away and you had no choice in the matter.

You were grateful that there was no party afterwards. Everyone simply went back to their lives. Your father, Maria, and Howard walked you and Tony out to the car, where Tony’s driver was waiting to take you to your new home. Your father pulled you into a rare, overly tight hug.

“You give him whatever he wants,” Obadiah ordered in your ear. “Whatever he wants. When ever. You are still my daughter. Do not dare to embarrass me.”

He pulled away and Maria quickly engulfed you in a gentle hug.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she told you. “I’ll come over in a couple of days to make sure you’re all settled.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “Thank you… for being so kind.”

“My dear, you deserve all the kindness the world has to offer and more.”

“We should let the newlyweds go,” Howard said.

Maria released you from her hug and gave you a small smile. Over her shoulder, you could see Brock watching you carefully. You knew that Maria would try her best to prevent Brock from working with you, but you also knew that your father had his ways. Tony’s driver opened the back door and Tony looked at you expectantly. You walked over and slid into the car. Tony came in behind you and the door was shut, leaving the two of you in a thick silence.

You both kept to your own sides of the car as Tony’s driver, who’s name was Happy, took you to your new home. You kept your eyes focused out the window while Tony’s eyes kept finding their way to you. He was waiting for the shoe to drop. For the brattiness and annoyingness to suddenly appear from you. But it wasn’t coming. You just seemed scared and tense. His phone buzzed, pulling his attention away from you. Tony pulled his phone out of his jacket and opened the message.

Pepper: Hey Tones :) How was the wedding? Still want me to come over tonight?

Tony glanced your way briefly before answering.

Tony: It was fine. It’s over now. Yeah. Come over in an hour.

Pepper: Can’t wait :) I’ll make sure to wear white ;)

Tony sighed, slipping his phone back into his jacket. When Happy pulled up to the house, he opened your door first.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you got out.

He shot you a smile. “Anytime, ma’am,” he replied.

Tony got himself out of the car and started into the house. You quickly followed, little a lost puppy, growing more nervous with every step. Your father ordered you to do whatever Tony wanted, that meant sex. It was your wedding night and Tony was most likely expecting it. You would have to be okay with that. You couldn’t afford to embarrass your father.

Tony began removing his tie as he walked towards his side of the house. You followed not too far behind, not knowing what to do. When Tony noticed that you were behind him, he turned around.

“Do you need something?” He immediately asked.

“Uh, I— Well….” You stammered nervously. “It’s just— I was told—“

“I’m not going to force you into sex, don’t worry. Doesn’t matter that it’s our wedding night. You can just stick to your side of the house and I’ll stick to mine. Alright?” You quickly nodded. “Good.” Tony spun on his heal and headed for his side of the house.

You let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding and slowly made your way to your new bedroom. You wanted to get out of this wedding dress, feeling like it was weighing you down. Entering your closet, you found it full of new clothes. There was a note sitting on one of the shelves. You opened it.

I hope you like the clothes. The girls and I picked them out. Let me know if you don’t and we can all go shopping. With love, Maria

You smiled at the note. Maria was too kind to you and you were grateful for it. You found a comfortable outfit and relieved yourself of the wedding dress. After finding some snacks in the kitchen, you found yourself exploring your new studio. There was everything you needed for your ceramic projects and more. There were plenty of tables, kilns of different sizes, multiple wheels, and multiples of a variety of tools.

Slipping an apron over your head and tying it around you, you turned on some soft classical music and got to work. Your worried quickly melting away as you got lost in actions.

~~~

“So, how is she?” Pepper questioned as she cuddled close to Tony. “She bratty? Is she going to drive you crazy and constantly spend your money?”

“Who?” Tony questioned, his mind going many different places.

“Y/N, obviously.”

“Oh, yeah, right. I don’t really know her. She’s… quiet.”

“I’m sure that won’t last long.”

Tony simply hummed, not knowing what to make of you just yet.

~~~

Pepper fell asleep not too long later and Tony slipped out of bed. He pulled a pair of sweats on and padded out to the shared living space for a drink. The sound of soft classical music caught his attention. It was clearly coming from your side. Too curious to respect that it was your side of the house, Tony quietly made his way towards the music.

The double doors of what Tony thought was your office, as it mirrored where his was, were cracked open and the sound of music floated from it. He inched closer and peered inside. Tony was shocked to see that it wasn’t an office, it seemed to be an art studio. You were standing at one of the middle table, kneading some claying. You had dried clay on almost every inch of you but you looked more at ease than Tony had ever seen.

Tony stood there and watched for far too long. He only broke out of his trance when he heard Pepper calling his name. He was grateful when you didn’t seem to hear her. After giving you one last glance, Tony headed back to his side of the house and rejoined Pepper in bed. He fell asleep wondering what the hell your story was.

next chapter >

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joelsgoodgirl · 15 days ago

Text

Give You What You Like

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E/ 18+ MDNI

WC: 15.4K

Summary: You're caught in a toxic cycle with Joel, seeking pills and a trade in intimacy. When he returns ten years later, you're caught in a battle of your heart and head.

Tags: Outbreak!AU, Joel Miller x F!Reader, unprotected PIV, Oral (M&F Receiving), Drug Use, Sex For Drugs, Rough Sex, Gentle Sex, Angst, Canon Events (MCD mentioned), Mean!Joel, Soft!Joel, Pet Names, Degradation, Age Gap, No use of Y/N

A/N: My very first Joel fic! You can also find this on AO3

You are in love with Joel Miller. You knew he knew, and you knew he didn’t care.

You’d been in Jackson for almost three years now. You’d come stumbling through the snow, half frozen to death, delusional and starving. There’d been so many guns pointed at you, yet you still wouldn’t say it was the scariest moment you’d lived through in your thirty years of life. No, that was reserved for the moment Joel Miller came through the gates with a teenager in tow.

It had been almost ten years since you’d seen him. You were never supposed to see him again.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

“So pretty down on your knees for me.”

“Such a good girl.”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when someone clears their throat behind you, causing you to spin around on your barstool. You put on a fake grin as Tommy sits down next to you.

“Doin’ okay, hon?” He asks, the look on his face far too sympathetic for you. You’d overheard him talking to Maria about Joel one day, the name ringing in your ears after not hearing it for years. You’d told them the basic details. You’d known Joel for a few months in the Boston QZ. You’d gone on a few smuggles with him, but nothing more than that. You didn’t, couldn’t , tell them about how many times you’d ended up tangled in his sheets. You were young then, certainly too young for a rough man like him…But you were young. Impressionable.

Your grin turns to a grimace. Of course you’re not okay. But it’s been too long, yet not long enough. You knew he was using you, you’d known it since the beginning. It was an offer at first, you’d gotten beaten by a FEDRA officer pretty badly, and Oxy was the best thing you could get. But at only twenty years old, you didn’t have much. So you’d offered him your mouth. Down and dirty, no gentle touches or whispered words. Just the saltiness of him on your tongue and a baggie of pills in your pocket.

“I’m hanging in there. Weird to see old friends.” You make your voice as nonchalant as possible, giving him a reassuring smile. “Who’s the kid?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Some stray he picked up along the way.” Tommy says, giving a noncommittal shrug. “He’s leavin’ in the mornin’ to take her to Salt Lake. Say they’re trying to find a cure.”

You nearly spit out the beer you’d taken a sip of, your eyes going wide as you gasp for air.

It takes Tommy a moment, but his eyes widen too as he realizes what he said.

He curses under his breath.

You shake your head.

You should have known.

He was going to leave, but not with you. No, not you. Never you. He’d barely even looked at you and he was already leaving.

You scowl against your own will, taking another heavy sip of your beer. “Well good.” You finally say, the energy behind your words not quite reaching. “Glad he’s finally doin’ something good.” That comes out more sincere as you stare at the bubbles in your beer, your jaw clenching together.

Tommy looks at you sympathetically. You know he knows. He has to. He doesn’t say so.

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you have to bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. Not here, not now. You don't deserve to cry over him, not after all these years. You finish the rest of your beer and stand from the stool, patting Tommy on the shoulder once.

“I’ll see you around.” Is all you can manage before you’re walking out the doors.

It’s started to snow now, the fat flakes landing on your jacket. You feel the tears falling on your face, streaking like boiling water against your freezing skin.

You manage to get to your home without fully breaking down, shuffling through the slowly accumulating snow as you sniff away your tears.

You reach for your bottle of moonshine, traded for one of your quilts, settling by the fire.

All you can think about is Joel. How he’s just a few streets away, likely packing to ditch in the morning. Without saying as much as a word to you.

You weren’t even sure if he recognized you. You’d had your hat on, your scarf pulled over your mouth as your gun pointed to him out in the snow covered field. You watched with mild irritation as the dog left both him and the girl alone. But his eyes had merely glanced over you, like you were a stranger.

“Take the pills and get the fuck out. I ain’t got anymore time for a whore who ain’t nothin’ but a good fuck.”

His words come flying to the forefront of your mind when a quarter the bottle is gone. Those gut-wrenching, soul-piercing words.

He was never yours, not really. A means to an end. It was never supposed to end up like this.

An ache that never went away. He really had ruined you. His words constantly echoing in your head as you lay alone night after night.

You’d not been with anyone since.

You didn’t want to be.

Your frown deepens as you tip the bottle more and more, anger bubbling from a deep place you’d decided to lock away. You still weren’t sure if you were angry at him or yourself.

Angry at him for abandoning you when you needed him.

Angry at yourself for falling for him.

You’d gotten addicted to his pills and his cock.

————————————

“I was told you could get me pills.” Your face was swollen, you were sure the officer chipped a couple of your teeth too. All because you’d had a bad day and his attitude had set yours off.

You watched the man beside you stiffen out of the corner of your eye. You’d held your breath, hoping that you’d gotten the right person.

“Depends on what you’ve got.” His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine, both out of anxiety and general attraction.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye again, your brow furrowing. “Not much.” You finally say, sighing softly. “Thanks, though.” You were almost shocked when he turned his head toward you.

“What’s a kid like you need with pills?” His eyes glanced over your face, over the black eye and split lip.

“Why do any of us need them?” You ask, bristling a little bit. “And I’m not a kid. I’m almost 20.”

He laughs, a bitter and biting laugh, at you. “You’re a kid to me.”

You bristle further, grinding your teeth and wincing at the pain that radiates through your jaw. “Yeah well who’s got the chance to be a kid anymore.”

He simply shrugs, his eyes forward again. “Area four. Building 10. Apartment 17. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Your eyes snap back to his face, a little taken aback. “Okay.” Is all you can manage, your heart stuttering in your chest.

He walks away without another word, leaving you lost in your own thoughts and anxieties of what was to come.

You’d arrived the next day with a few cigarettes stuffed in your jacket pocket and nerves upsetting your stomach. You lifted your hand to knock, but before you could the door was wrenched open.

A mean looking woman was on the other side, staring you down for just a moment before her face softened just the slightest. “Ice‘ll help that.” She said after giving you a once over before slipping past you.

You made eye contact with Joel on the couch. He stared at you, unmoving. “Well?”

His voice shocked you from your trance as you tentatively walked inside, closing the door behind you. You shove your hand into your pocket, holding out the foil wrapped cigarettes. “I’ve only got three.” You say, suddenly aware how small your voice sounded.

Joel eyed the packet for just a moment before sighing heavily, standing and leaving the room. He came back with two pills in one palm, holding his empty hand out to you once he was close enough.

You glance down at the pills, then up at his face. “Only two?” You ask, frowning softly.

“Lucky it ain’t one.” He says gruffly as you place the cigarettes in his palm.

“I need more.” You say, quickly in one breath, your voice wavering slightly. “What can I do to get more?”

“You an addict or somethin?” He asks, his eyes narrowing.

You shake your head, blinking a few times. “No…Just in pain.”

He huffs in response, pressing the pills into your palm. “Don’t come back.”

You almost see a hint of compassion in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can figure it out. You leave without another word, the pills safely in your pocket.

——————————-

He was gone in the morning like promised. It was almost a relief but you possibly wanted to talk to him. You admitted to yourself that it did sting that you didn’t get the chance to talk to him.

Maria found you at the bar this time around.

It had been two weeks since he’d left, and you felt as if you were dealing with the first loss all over again. You knew you were spiraling, feeling like you were going through the five stages of grief. Just a few days ago you were arguing with yourself, promising that the next time you’d say something. Now all you wanted to do was cry because he left you… again.

“You need to talk to someone.” Maria said as she sat down at the table you were at.

Your eyes meet hers for a moment before you take another sip of your homemade mead. “I don’t need to. I need everyone in this town to stop worrying about me so much and just let me work through it.” You hadn’t meant to sound so tense, your hand tightening slightly around your glass.

Maria just shook her head at you, her lips thinning. “We’re worried about you, sweetheart. I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Joel, but I can tell you that this…” She gestures to you, her hand trailing up and down. “…isn’t worth it. And I’m sure a smart woman like you knows he isn’t.”

You groan softly, setting your glass down to run your hand through your hair, the other arm resting across your stomach in a protective gesture. “If I tell you anything, it stays between us.”

Maria nods, her face serious for a moment. “I protect my friend’s privacy.”

You can’t help the warm feeling that floods your chest, a small smile finally gracing your lips before dropping it. “Not here though. Could you come by my place later to talk?” You sound hesitant, still not sure if fully confessing to Maria what happened was a good idea. But she is right, you do need to talk to someone.

——————————-

Three weeks in a row you’ve come to him almost every other day, eyes pleading for the pills.

There was something about the way they made you float, unfeeling, for just a little bit.

This time, though, you had nothing.

“Please, Joel. I’ll do anything. I just need a couple more.” You hated begging, it felt degrading and made your skin crawl, but you were starting to feel less and less floaty every time.

“I gave you an extra one last time. Fuck off, kid.” Joel gruffs at you,

You cross your arms over your chest in a protective gesture, a habit of yours, as you sigh heavily. “Please.” You say again, your voice breaking a little. “I’ll do anything.” You take a chance, stepping closer to him. You’ve never offered anything like what you were offering, what you hoped he knew you were offering so you didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” Joel says, taking a step away from you. “Don’t go offerin’ stuff like that around here, little girl. Gonna get yourself hurt.”

You bristle slightly at the supposedly endearing term, only coming out vicious on Joel’s tongue. “I’m not a kid.” You bite back. You’d been ten when the outbreak had happened. Your childhood was stolen from you quickly, never really giving you the chance to mature naturally. You slump a little as the devastating realization of what you were offering finally hits you. “Please.” You say again, swallowing thickly. “I want to.” You add softly, looking down at your own feet as you try to avoid choking on your own voice.

Joel stiffens slightly at your admission, the sudden thoughts racing through his head far from innocent. “I’ll give you five for two ration cards.” He knew it was a loss on his part, but he wanted you out. He didn’t want to give into the dark thoughts in his head when he saw you. Your wide, innocent eyes that glimmered with appreciation whenever he handed you over the pills. He should feel guilty, watching you slip slowly into the addictions he himself fought. You’re too young, too naive.

You step closer to him, your heart rate picking up. “Ten if I suck your cock. Won’t come back for a week.” You rush out the words, your tongue feeling thick and heavy in your mouth.

Joel tenses further as you come closer, the smell of something sweet wafting off you. Vanilla? Flowers? Perfume? He’s momentarily distracted by the feminine smell of you to see your hand come up to his chest, his muscles jumping as you place your hand on his chest.

You look up at his face, searching his features for any type of severe discomfort. You swallow again at his silence, stepping even closer as you slide your hand across his chest to his shoulder. He shudders under your touch, his gaze hardening on you. “It’s not as if I haven’t thought about it before.” You say, your voice quiet now as your eyes follow your hand. You startle when his hand grasps your wrist, stilling your movement.

“You’d better have payment next week. Proper payment.” His voice is low and gruff, his grip tightening. “Ain’t gonna do this more than once.” You almost gasp in surprise when he yanks your hand in between the two of you, pressing your hand against the bulge in his jeans.

You suck in a breath through your nose as you palm his slowly hardening cock through his jeans, swallowing the saliva building in your mouth. You’d gone down on boyfriends in the past, sure, but never someone as experienced as Joel.

He huffs out another breath as he pulls away from you, and you almost ask until he’s flopping onto the couch, adjusting his legs open and cocking his head at you.

You’re far more nervous than you want to be as you slowly walk over to him, kneeling down in between his spread legs. You tentatively reach up, palming him again as you lean forward to nuzzle against the outline of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel breathes as he lays his hand heavily against the top of your head. “Really wanted this, huh?” It sounds half amusement, half wonder. You blink up at him as you pull his belt from the buckle, opening it and working open the button. He lifts his hips as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough, another small gasp escaping you as his cock slaps up against his flannel. Your eyes flick between his eyes and his cock as you lean to grasp it by the base, kitten licking the tip.

The taste of him immediately drives you insane, and you finally admit how much you really did want this. You hum softly as you shuffle closer, placing your other hand on his still covered thigh to ground yourself as you finally take the head of his cock into your mouth. He groans above you as you swirl your tongue around the head, licking through the slit. His low noises spur you on as you lower your mouth on him, starting a steady rhythm as you start to raise and lower your head.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.” He groans as his head falls back, his hips twitching as he bumps against the back of your throat.

You swallow around him as you fight your gag reflex, your eyes welling with tears as your throat constricts. He actually moans as you swallow, the noise causing an involuntary moan to bubble up your throat as you hollow your cheeks, focusing around the head as you feel him pulse against your tongue. His hand is still heavy on your head, not guiding, but simply resting.

“Gonna come in that pretty little mouth.” Joel grunts, his eyes boring into yours as you begin to bob your head again, your fingers digging into his thighs as he begins to softly thrust into your mouth, going deeper than you’d had him yet. You gag around the intrusion but he continues, forcing your throat to relax as he continues thrusting into your mouth. “Made for suckin’ cock, huh?” He asks, his voice pure gravel as your mouth brings him closer to climax. “Just a little slut who loves having a cock down her throat. Was your plan from the beginning, wasn’t it?”

You whimper and try to shake your head “no”, but his tightening grip in your hair keeps you still. The words sting a little bit, but there’s a part of you that sings praise at his word, your clit thrumming in your soaked underwear.

“Right, mouth too full to speak. Gonna swallow it all, baby? Fuck-” His words get cut off as you moan around him, sucking more harshly now. “Jesus Christ.” His hips are bucking into your mouth a little harder now, his cock punching the back of your throat, tears leaking steadily from your eyes as you moan around him again. “God, such a good little slut, takin’ me so well. Gonna- Fuck, gonna come baby. Look so pretty cryin’ on my- Fuck!” And then he was, a choked gasp forcing its way up his throat as his cock pulses in your mouth.

You’re gone less than 10 minutes later, the precious pills tucked in a plastic baggie in your front pocket.

——————————-

So you tell Maria every little detail. How it all started, why it all started. About your drug addiction you’d fallen into being around him for almost 6 months.

“I almost overdosed the day he left.” You tell her, silent tears now falling down your cheeks. You let out a wet laugh, wiping at your face. “It’s fucking pathetic , Maria. Even ten years later, I think I might still love him. And I hate that I do. I’ve never said that out loud.” You’re feeling a little past tipsy now, trying to ignore the way she frowns when you reach for the bottle again.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” She says reassuringly, her eyes following your hands as you fill your glass again. “You never got closure. It only makes sense. But really, honey…Joel?” She grimaces playfully, lightening the mood immediately.

“Oh believe me, I’m mad about it too.” You say, smiling and shaking your head. “Of all of the men in this godforsaken world we’re living in, it just had to be him. ” You take another drink, watching as Maria’s eyes follow the movement. “I’m working on it.” You say softly, your eyes downcast. “One thing to the next. I’m really trying.”

Maria’s mouth sets in a tight line before she sighs. “I want you to be careful with him.” She says your name, low and serious. “I know you think you know him, but Tommy told me what they used to do. Joel is not a good man.”

Your face drops into a frown, suddenly uneasy around your friend. “I know what he’s done. I was there for some of it.” You snap, your hand tightening around the glass. “It’s not like I wanted to fall in love with a man like him.”

Maria leans back on the sofa, giving you physical distance. “No, I know you didn’t. But I don’t want you to think he’s changed.”

“Has Tommy?” You ask, knowing it’s a low blow but the anger rising in your throat forces it out.

Maria shakes her head at you, her mouth immediately opening to defend her husband, but you cut her off.

“No, you know what. I shouldn’t have told you anything. Jesus, everyone is so judgmental and acts as if he isn’t just a human being. We’ve all done fucked up shit, Maria. That’s just the world now.” You stand and snatch the bottle from your coffee table, sending her one last glaring look. “You can see yourself out. I need to be alone.” You know you’re being immature, storming out of the room like a teenager throwing a tantrum. But quite frankly, you don’t care. You finally want to feel, you finally want to let go.

You fall onto your bed, screaming into your pillow and anger, frustration and pain course through you. You turn over onto your back, sighing heavily as you close your eyes to try and ground yourself. Try to prevent yourself from thinking about all those afternoons you’d spent with him.

It, as usual, didn’t work.

——————————-

The first time he fucks you because you beg for it. Not for his pills, not for his fingers. For his cock. You could never admit it was for him. You’d never admit to him that after just three months of knowing him, you wanted him around forever. It was a hopeless thought in a world like this, dog eat dog and love never lasts.

He had you backed against an alley wall, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

“You did so good, baby girl. So damned good.” He breathes into your ear, pushing you closer to your release. You’d smuggled a ton of pills into the QZ for him, managing to pass the guards unnoticed.

You whimper and whine as you grab at his shoulders, digging your forehead into his chest. “I need more.” You whine, tilting your head to nose at his neck. “Joel, please fuck me. Been so good for you. Please.” You feel him press his fingers hard into you, curling them against your front wall as his palm grinds against your clit.

He groans into your ear, huffing out a couple short breaths. “Yeah? You want my cock?” He accentuates his words with a harder grind into your cunt. Sure, he’d been dreaming about fucking you, wishing he was coming in your cunt instead of your fist or your mouth. “Dirty little girl. Offerin’ me this pretty little cunt without a trade…” He pulls his hand from you, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to lick your slick from his fingers as he usually did. “Turn around.” He says gruffly, already reaching for his belt.

You turn around quickly, anticipation curling and burning at you as you work your pants down, bending slightly as he pushes at your shoulders. He isn’t kind when he shoves into you, pulling an agonized yelp from your lungs as he stretches you open. He almost immediately sets a sharp rhythm, the pain mixing and melting into pleasure the longer he’s inside you. You can’t do anything but whimper and whine as he practically destroys you, one of his hands clamping over your mouth while the other wraps around your waist. He pulls you back against his chest as he lifts you up, pinning you against the wall. “Shut the fuck up.” He hisses into your ear, his hips slapping sharply against your ass. “Gonna get us caught. You want the guards to know what a little whore you are? Fuckin’ dirty old men like me for a couple’a pills?”

His words cause you to clench around him, used to his degrading words now, used to the way they make you gush instead of cringe. You shake your head against his palm, breathing hard through your nose as he cock reaches deeper inside than you’d thought possible. You close your eyes against his onslaught, the rough brick of the building scraping against the front of your body as he fucks you impossibly harder. You come with a sob into his hand, your entire body shaking.

“Oh, fuck, good girl.” He praises you as he fucks you through your orgasm, grinding hard into you. “Makin’ me wanna fill that pretty little pussy up. Make you walk outta here dripping with me.” He practically growls in your ear, the first shiver of fear making its way down your spine.

Your eyes widen as you wrench your mouth from his palm, panting hard. “No, please, not inside.” You whimper, the fear of what that could mean making panic rise in your throat.

He groans in your ear, pulling from you before he steps away from the wall, spinning you around and pushing your head down. You immediately give into his request, dropping to your knees as you take his hard cock in your mouth, sucking on him the way you know drives him crazy.

“So pretty down on your knees for me.” He grunts, his hands tangled in your hair so he can thrust into your mouth.

He’s coming down your throat less than a minute later.

That was the first time you went back to your apartment and cried. The almost full pill bottle that still rattled in your jacket was the harsh reminder of exactly what this was getting you. You weren’t sure if the tears were from anger or devastation, but soon the three pills in your palm made you forget even him.

——————————-

You eventually make it back to live life as normal. Took a few more weeks, but you picked up the bottle less and less each day. Tommy was proud of you, but you still weren’t talking to Maria. Something had fractured between the two of you that day, something you weren’t sure you would be able to fix.

But life goes on. It always does.

You get back into your routine, up before dawn every morning. Usually to the stables to greet the horses before you got to your chores. You hadn’t been on patrol duty for weeks now, Tommy giving you a break, or rather, distance from handling a gun too much right now. It irked you, being treated like you were broken. But you rationalized it to yourself, you knew he just had your best interest in mind. You weren’t unstable, not at all, just on edge.

Everything was shifting back to normal as spring came around, the trees slowly starting to wake up, the snow starting to melt.

A loud, pounding knock on your door startles you awake just as the sun came up on the horizon. Your hand reaches for a knife that’s no longer there as you open your front door, Tommy on the front step.

“He’s back.”

——————————-

“You stupid girl.” Joel hisses in your face. He’s got you pinned to his front door, his forearm across your chest, crowding you.

“I’m sorry, please, Joel, I’m sorry.” You whimper, more tears falling from your face.

“Couldn’t keep that stupid little mouth shut and fucked everything up. I should kill you right here.” He growls, pushing you harder into the wall.

You cry out in pain as your body goes limp, the fight slowly dying in you. “I didn’t think she’d tell anyone.” You blubber out, your eyes closed in complete submission.

“No, you didn’t, did you?” He spits at you, his teeth grinding in anger. “You got FEDRA sniffin around my door because you couldn’t wait to tell someone what a whore you are. Bout the bottles every time I fuck ya.”

You shy away from his angry words, guilt and shame bubbling in your stomach. You hadn’t known your friend was a snitch, the daughter of a higher officer. “I didn’t know.” You whimper out, feeling the pressure on your chest release as he steps away, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. You keep your body pressed against the door, crossing your arms over your stomach. “A-am I still gonna get my pills today?” You ask, more shame causing bile to rise in your throat.

He lets out a bark of disbelief, his fists slapping against his thighs. “Ain’t that rich. Still beggin’ for a fix.” He swipes the bottle of pills off the table next to him, pouring them into his palm as he counts them. Less than 20 this time, he just wants you gone. “I’m done. This is it.” He says, his eyes finally looking up at you.

You shake your head in panic, your eyes trained on his hand and the small amount of pills. “No, no, Joel, please. I need them. Where am I gonna find more?” You ask, panic constricting your voice. “Joel, I need you.” You say, the words choking you on their way up from the depths of your soul. It wasn’t the same admission as you needing the pills. Six months of this and you were in love with him.

You knew he didn’t solely fuck you for the pills anymore. It became more frequent that you’d seek him out when you were craving him. The past month slowly dissolving into something that felt less like fucking.

“Joel, baby please. I lo-” You start toward him, but slink back against the door when his face hardens and he speaks up.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He growls, his nostrils flaring. “ Take the pills and get the fuck out. I ain’t got anymore time for a whore who ain’t nothin’ but a good fuck. Makin' off with my pills as if a sloppy thing like you means anythin' to me.”

You can’t help the sob that raises in your gut, bubbling up and out in an inhuman sound. “Joel, no, please, don’t do this to me.”

He crowds you again, the anger in his eyes causing you to cower this time. “Fuckin’ pathetic.” He shoves the pills in your hand before yanking you harshly away from the door and throwing it open. “I aint gonna say it twice. Don’t. Come. Back.”

You’re tossed out the door before you can fully think, fully process what had just happened.

You show up at his place the week after, shaking from the slight withdrawal, and from nerves. You knock but no one answers. It’s late, much too late for Joel to be out. You lay down on the floor to look under the door for any signs of life.

It’s empty. Bare. Abandoned.

You find one of his “buddies”.

He’s gone. For good. Never coming back to Boston.

You buy the pills from his acquaintance, using the rest of your ration cards.

You almost don’t make it to the next day.

But you move on after your brush with death. You become stronger.

But you don’t think you’ll ever stop missing him.

He’s ruined you for anyone else. You knew from the very first moment he had.

You weren’t exactly prepared to face this today. Not this far into your “recovery”. Recovery from loving him, recovery from the alcohol, recovery from…life.

You stared at Tommy like he’d told you he’d shot your puppy.

“Are you sure?” You ask, even though you knew this wasn’t something he’d joke about.

He gives you a nod, his expression a mix of concern and elation.

“He’s okay?” You say, your voice wavering a little.

“A little worse for wear, but yeah, he’s fine.” Tommy sighs, his lips a fine line as he looks over you. “Maria told me, you know?”

You saw red. Of course you did. She promised not to tell. But Tommy is her husband. You’d never keep anything from your own spouse. “I’m sure you think I’m trash.�� You say dejectedly, your entire body deflating.

“‘S not my place to judge you. My brother on the other hand…” He trails off, frowning at you. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

You cringe outwardly, your lips turning to a grimace. “He didn’t do anythin’ I didn’t ask for.” You say through gritted teeth.

“You still love him.” He says it as a statement, not a question.

You deflate further, a sigh ripping its way from your chest. “Don’t want to.” You bite back, unnecessarily defensive.

He raises his hands, his face scrunching in sympathy. “He’s different now. You should talk to him.”

“That all you wanted?” You ask, dismissing his suggestion. He’d come to your door, shoved this in your face and expected you to be okay with it. You weren’t.

Tommy shuffles in place, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Come by for dinner this week.”

“Will he be there?” It’s accusatory, sarcastic and bitter.

Tommy shakes his head, sighing heavily. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“As long as I can.” Your hand is on the door, ready to shut it. “He was never supposed to be back in my life, Tommy. I need to move the fuck on.”

“It was ten years ago.” His voice bites back, fueling your anger even further. He was tired of seeing the sadness in your eyes, especially now knowing his own blood had caused it.

You want to scream at him, terrible words you’d never be able to take back. You settle for something less. “I was a kid, Tommy. Impressionable and young. But this is on me, too. Let me deal with my own shit and keep the fuck out of my business.” You close the door without another word. You hear him sigh on the other side of the door before his footsteps sound down the porch.

Alone.

Again.

——————————-

He knew he’d fucked up the moment you walked out his door the first time. But those big beautiful eyes pleading with him for an escape had made him a weak man. Those beautiful eyes with a bruise forming on one of them, a split in your lip where the blood was still drying.

He tried to be mean, tried to get you to see this wasn’t the path you wanted to go down. Tried to give you cold eyes, make himself bigger to intimidate you. But of course, it hadn’t worked. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

And then you’d come back. Offering more than someone so young should be offering him. And he’d gotten weaker.

He’d given you enough pills that he was starting to come up short on ration cards and cigarettes and booze. You’d offered him everything you’d had.

Then you’d offered your mouth. How was he supposed to say no when you looked so desperate. He cursed himself internally as you begged.

“Please, I want to.” You said, your eyes so wanting it made him weak. Yet his cock still stiffened in his jeans, his throat still dried at the thought of those pretty eyes looking up at him while you took him into your mouth.

And he tries to talk you out of it, he wants to talk you out of it. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he doesn’t want to taint something so innocent. But then you step closer and palm his cock and it was all over for him.

He’d hoped his mean words would be enough to drive you off, but he watches as you shift, your pupils dilating when he calls you a slut. Like you liked it.

He paced his apartment after you left, anger and guilt bubbling in his chest as he replays the way he’d come down your throat, the vision of your watery eyes sending another wave of lust through him.

He didn’t want to get attached, he knew you were too young. Yet he’d still handed you those pills with the harsh reminder to have a proper payment next time.

Next time.

He didn’t want there to be a next time, but he did. He’d felt powerful and wanted. Not that Tess didn’t want him, but not the way you did. Tess knew too much about him and yet not enough. And he loved her in some sort of his own way, though he’d never admit it and neither would she. He craved something sharper, something with a blade instead of comfort. Something that made his gut churn and his cock harden.

Maybe he was sick. Maybe the fungus had somehow wormed its way in without actually taking over. Making him want to be mean, be horrible. Making him want to tear you limb from limb and watch you come undone under him. But of course it hadn’t, not the way he wished it had. He wanted his lust, his need, to be out of his control. Not proof of how lost he was in the harshness of this new world.

——————————-

You fell back into the bottle like an old lover, drowning in it until you couldn’t think.

But you still thought about him with bile rising in the back of your throat at the mere thought of him being so close.

You were never supposed to see him again. You keep repeating that fact in your head as you tip the bottle to your lips over and over.

You’re brooding now, your lips set in a fine line as you mull over the options in your head. You could leave, but giving up the safety of Jackson was not an option. You could stay and ignore him, but knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. The only option that made sense would be to stay and confront him. Tell him you’ve moved on and want nothing to do with him.

You stop with the lip of the bottle pressed to your lower lip, ready to take another drink.

The sick thought of a life with Joel slammed into the forefront of your mind against your own will. Being tangled in the sheets with him again, much older and wiser now.

Early mornings, the sun barely shining through the kitchen window. You’d be at the stove making breakfast while he tended to the baby-

You were up and running to the bathroom before you could process it, violently rejecting half the alcohol you’d drank. You rested your head against the cold porcelain, panting heavily as your head spun.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you had to catch your breath, sucking in a lungful of air as you sobbed.

You’d never broken down like this, you’d never allowed yourself to fall into the dark hole that is your future. Especially scenarios that involved Joel.

You tried to collect yourself, taking a few deep breaths, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

You cursed out loud, a broken and angry cry.

You didn’t want to feel this way. That weak, pathetic girl who gave into heartbreak so easily. That wasn’t you anymore.

You push yourself up off the tiled floor, finding your balance, making quick work of brushing your teeth clean. You make your way back into your living room, a determination you’d never felt before swelling up in your chest.

You were going to talk to him.

Today.

Right now.

You grabbed your coat off the rack, almost angrily shoving it on as you build your courage.

One arm in.

You’re going to tell him what, exactly?

The thought causes you to pause halfway putting your arm through the other sleeve.

What were you going to tell him, exactly?

Going into this blind wasn’t a good idea. You shove your arm the rest of the way though, slowly zipping it up as the options rattle though your head.

——————————-

The sickness inside him grew the longer he used you. A darkness that consumed in him the inside out.

He craved you. Well, not you, exactly. The release, the power, the need. He was addicted to the way you started to relax further around him.

It made his head spin. Alarm bells in his head anytime you were around.

Then he’d seen that look in your eyes.

A dangerous, all consuming heat.

The first three months were easy. Two to three days a week with his cock down your throat. On your knees with such a pathetic look in your eyes it made him sick with need.

So sick he needed to taste you to ease the pain.

You fell back onto your heels, wiping the cum from the corner of your mouth as he stared down at you, his heart twisting in his chest.

“Up here, girl.” He pats his thigh after he tucks his cock away, watching the bewildered look in your eyes as you stand on shaky legs and straddle his thigh. His hands grip your waist like a lifeline as he pushes you down on his thigh harder, pushing the muscle up into you.

You double over, your head resting against his shoulder. The whimper you let out almost breaks him. “Needy little thing. Bet that little pussy is just drippin’ for me, ain’t she?” He mutters as you begin to grind yourself against him, your breath fanning over the thin material of his tee.

“Gonna come just from humpin’ my leg like the whore you are?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he refused to be kind. Knows a delicate thing like you couldn’t take the kindness from him without running with it.

He rocks you back and forth, his grip tightening as you gasp and moan into his ear, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It unfortunately brought him peace knowing you were just as effected as he was.

His name slips past your lips and you’re coming, your forehead digging into his shoulder blade as you cry out.

No words exchanged after, just the baggie of pills, one less than he’d usually give you.

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything.

——————————-

Your feet carry you down the streets as you get lost in your thoughts. You aren’t exactly heading for Joel’s, you’re just walking.

You’re lost in your own memories of the times you spent with him. You’re playing them over and over again, playing the look in his eyes over and over. He’d never looked at you with softness, never with care.

Not until the day he’d fucked you properly the first time. You’d seen the flash of something in his eyes as he’d come, staring down at you.

A flash of adoration, of care. A softness that jarred you so deep you had to choke back your tears.

You swallow as you shake yourself out of the memory, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Anxiety is pulling at your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You realize where you are a moment later. Three houses away from his.

You steel yourself as you straighten your jacket, the cool summer night chilling you enough it sends a shiver up your spine.

You march ahead, the alcohol you’d consumed early slowly leaving your system. You had a clear head now.

You knew what you wanted to say.

You’re knocking on his door before you can think, stepping away as you hesitate. You can only hope he isn’t home.

The door swings open, and suddenly you can’t breathe. You feel your throat tighten, your eyes widen, your stomach drop.

He stares back at you with as much shock, his lips parting as he takes you in. Your name leaves his lips on a breath, a question that’s gone unasked.

“Hi.” You say, your eyes flicking up to his after studying his face for a moment, your voice soft and unsure.

“I thought you were dead.” He says, his voice sounding more angry than he means it. All the regret and guilt bubbling in his chest made him choke on his words.

You can’t help but bristle just a little, your eyes flashing with a multitude of emotions. Anger, hurt, fear. A looping cycle until you can speak. “Well, huge disappointment, ain’t it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He sighs in exasperation, running a hand down his face. “Tommy told me you were here.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” You admit, scuffing your shoe across the coir mat in front of his door.

He stares at you for a moment more, his mind processing finally seeing you after so many years. Of course he’d had a few days to prepare, but never did he think you’d show up at his door.

Not after everything that happened.

“Do you want to come in?” He finally asks, breaking the silent tension.

You visibly relax, looking up at his face again. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to talk.”

“S’what you deserve.” He adds quietly as he steps aside.

Walking into his bare home felt too much like walking into that apartment all those years ago, bile rising in your throat. It wasn’t exciting anymore, not like it had been toward the end.

You pause in the foyer, anxiety crawling up your throat as you turn back to him. “I’m sorry.”

The words stop him in his tracks, beck turned to you, his hand still on the doorknob. When he finally turns around, his eyes don’t leave yours. “S’not you who should be apologizing.”

You shake your head at him, wrapping your arms around your waist. You wanted to scream at him, wanted to cry. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m still gonna.”

He takes a step forward, and it takes everything in you to not do the same, your body still somehow drawn to his after all these years. “I was- I’m still an awful man, darlin. I don’t deserve your apologies. I should be the one grovelin.”

He sounds…broken. It tears you apart against your own will, there’s something in his voice that speaks of even greater loss than the last time you’d seen him. Expected in this world, but never an invited emotion.

“Guess we both got things we regret.” You say, a slight bite to your voice you didn’t mean.

It’s like you physically watch him build his walls, his body stiffening as the silence stretches.

“That’s not what I meant, Joel.” You say, the few seconds of silence becoming too much. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” You can feel the panic rising, knowing that if this was it, this was it.

“I do.”

——————————-

“You’re destroying that girl.”

He sets his coffee cup down harder than he means to, his eyes flashing up to Tess. “I ain’t doin’ anythin’ she ain’t askin’ for.” It’s been five months of this mess now. And he’d had his cock buried your cunt more times than he could count. He’d claimed it had been for him the first time. And it had, but the thought of seeing you come had pushed that sickness to the forefront of his mind. He needed it now.

Tess just shakes her head at him, her arms crossed under her breasts. “You know that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?” He bristles, clenching his jaw.

She knows this isn’t a fight she’ll win, but she still needs to make the point. “She needs to start paying.”

“She is.” He snaps, his eyes down on his cup, his chest tightening.

“No, Joel, you are.” She practically snarls, discontent rising in her throat. “You’re gonna hurt her, Joel. Shit, you already are.” She’s watching her best friend slip to a place she knows she can’t pull him from.

His anger rises further. She’s right. He knows she’s right. But he can’t bring himself to let you go. “She’ll start paying.” He says with finality, meeting Tess’s eyes.

But they both know you won’t.

“I’m going to end it.” The words come out before he can stop them. “Gotta job.” He adds gruffly. “We’ll be gone at least a month. We leave next week.”

Tess stares at him for a moment, her brows furrowing further. “You need me for this one?”

He’s taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. His eyes flick back up to hers, seeing that sad look in her eyes. A look of unwanted admiration. “I’ll always need you, Tess.”

——————————-

Those two little words send you spiraling in an instant, your world suddenly shifting. Your eyes flick back up to his, the same pain reflecting in them. “You don’t mean that.” Your voice is wet with unshed tears, tears you refuse to let fall. “Please tell me you don’t mean that.”

“Don’t you?” He asks, his voice lowering just enough it’s almost a growl. He doesn’t know where the anger is coming from. Guilt piles on his chest like a thousand bricks after he sees your face drop.

“I don’t.” Your eyes don’t stop searching his. “I did, at one point. Only thing I regret was not doin it right.”

“There was no right way.” He says; cracks in his walls. He steps toward you again, continuing past you to the kitchen. He’s pulling a beer from the fridge when your brain catches up and you follow him.

“So you regret it all?” You ask, your voice steeled as you try to swallow your emotions, the conversation going a way you’d not thought it could.

His beer bottle hits the counter hard when he sets it down, his eyes landing on yours in return. “You need to hear the words out loud, darlin’? Cause I don’t regret fuckin’ you.” He’s frustrated, you see it in the tension in his shoulders. “Christ.” A rough hand musses his curls as he threads his fingers through them. “I regret lettin’ it get so far that you got hurt.”

His admission almost startles you, watching his forehead crease as he realizes what he’s said. “That was inevitable.” You both know it’s true, but it’s the first time you’ve heard it said aloud.

His sigh feels like a ton of bricks. “I was awful to ya. I don’t get it, why’d you keep coming back?”

It’s progress; the question. It’s talking. It’s admitting it wasn’t all about the pills.

“It was an escape.” You admit, shuffling a little, putting space between you again before he’s tilting his head toward the fridge.

His home is still bare, not a single ounce of him in it. Not that you’d expected there to be, his apartment was close to the same.

He’s pulling out what looks to be a bottle of mead. You happily accept the glass he pours.

“Have you been doing okay?” You break the silence as he leans back against the counter, still caught up in observing each other.

His shoulders rise and fall in a slight shrug. It’s all you get.

“What are we doing here, Joel?” Your words are defeated, fingers clutching your glass like a lifeline. “I just want to know where we stand.”

“You came to me, darlin’.” He points out rightfully. You had, but you were at least expecting something from him too.

So you tell him that.

“I don’t know what I want.” He says gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again.”

The same words you’d said over and over after you saw him the first time those months ago. “Friendship?” You offer, but then grimace. “Sounds like a breakup.”

His answer is too quick for you, your throat constring.

“We weren’t ever anythin’ to break up.”

You bristle slightly, your courage swelling. “Why do you deny it? Even all these years later. We know it wasn’t just about the pills anymore.” You watch him stiffen, shuffling on his feet.

“I’m not the type of man. I don’t do love, I don’t do relationships.” He’s harsh, the words biting at you and tearing you apart.

“You did Tess.” You sneer at him. You want to get a rise out of him, get him mad. You want him to yell, you want to yell.

His eyes flash with something that nearly knocks you off your feet. A deep regret mixed with longing. You’ve seen that look in so many others. It instantly deflates you, your face falling in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Joel.” You mutter, sincerely. “Look, I don’t want to fight, I just want to figure this out so we can move on. I need closure. I never thought I’d get it, but I’m getting a second chance and I need you to just talk to me.” Your voice edges on desperation as he empties his glass, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“What do you want from me?”

You heave a sad sigh, sitting down at his kitchen table as he does the same after a few moments. “I don’t know, Joel. An apology? An explanation? I know I said something I shouldn’t have said, but why’d you leave?”

“I had a job. Took me out for nearly three months. Wasn’t supposed to be that long.” He grumbles, his eyes watching his glass as he swirls the alcohol around in it, not taking another drink. “I looked for you.” There’s a thread of vulnerability in his voice.

Your eyes snap up to his, shock registering on your face. You’d given up after two months, sneaking out with a group to try to find a better life. It had somehow worked, it had eventually led you here to Jackson.

“Why?”

The question leaves him quiet for a few long moments before he finally looks up at you. “I don’t know. I still don’t. I’m bad for you, darlin’. Nothin’ good can come of stayin’ ‘round me.” A heavy sigh before he continues. “I fail everyone. People get hurt around me all the time. I got too much baggage to let anyone in.”

Your stomach flips at the sadness in his voice, the way his eyes won’t meet yours. You want to reach for his hand, you want to comfort him. But you’ve never been that for him. Comfort.

——————————-

You’re a mess, grinding your hips down onto his as he slaps your ass again.

He’s got you bare from the waist down, grinding against his erection in his jeans.

He wanted you like this, dripping and needy, begging for him to fuck you.

And you love every second of it. The imbalance. Him still fully clothed while you’ve only got your ratty t-shirt on.

“There ya go, good girl.” Joel growls into your ear, lips barely brushing your skin. “Know how much you like ridin’ me. Make yourself come and you can have my cock.”

Another whimper, a pathetic little sound as your clit catches on the seam of his jeans just right, each roll of your hips skyrocketing you toward your orgasm.

“I’m so close.” It’s mumbled against the fabric at his shoulder, your nose digging into his collarbone.

Another slap to your ass sends you careening over the edge, practically soaking the front of his jeans.

“There ya go, baby.” He mutters, his hands on your hips dragging you through your mess.

You preen at his soft tone, your body shuddering as you rode your high.

He’d gotten kinder in the five months you’d been doing this. He still held harsh words over you, but there would be flashes of moments where you saw flashes of something softer.

There’d be days like today.

Harsh movements and words melting into softness. He’d even started taking you to his bed.

You curl yourself around him when he stands, nuzzling your nose into his neck as he carries you to his bedroom.

Thankful today was one of those days.

You bounce on the mattress when you let go, trying to hide how much it was affecting you. How it made something warm swell in your chest, slowly growing with each passing day.

You’ve got your shirt off in record time, watching him remove his clothes. He was meticulous with it, making you wait as he neatly undoes every button.

You know he likes watching you squirm. Likes having that much power over you.

He tuts at you when he goes to pull off his belt. “Made a goddamn mess on me.”

You can’t help but smirk, letting your legs fall to expose yourself more to him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

A snort leaves him before he can stop it, a cocky smirk on his face. “Quite the mouth on you today, darlin’. Need me to stuff it full?”

A shake of your head as you scoot up the bed while he kicks off his boxers and jeans is enough of an answer for him. He kneels on the bed, tapping your ankle. “Uh uh, pretty girl. You’re riding it tonight.”

You waste no time clambering to your knees, too eager for your own good.

He clicks his tongue at you again, his eyes filled with mirth. “Little slut likes ridin’, don’t she?”

You gnash your teeth playfully, straddling his hips when he finally lays back. You sink down with no preamble, taking him to the hilt.

It always hurts, but you crave it now. A cruel reminder of how this man was carving his way to your heart.

He lets you move the way he knows you need, his hands finding their home against your hips. With only the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

You’re the first to break the silence when pushes his hips on one of your downthrusts, a gasping cry of his name.

He grits his teeth as your pussy flutters around him, thrusting up harder into you. “That’s my good girl.” He pants, his teeth against your neck.

You’re coming before you realize you’re about to, your head falling back as you cry out his name over and over. The single word repeating in your head through your bliss.

His.

His good girl.

He’s shoving you off of him before you can register, your back hitting the bed. He kneels between your legs, his cum painting your pussy and lower stomach with just a few pumps of his fist.

He cleans you up with his mouth, bringing you to orgasm three more times.

You both know it’s for selfish reasons you’re doing this now.

But you don’t talk about it. He’s given you the same amount of pills for almost two months. Since the first time he’d fucked you properly.

It’s the first time you fall asleep in his bed, curled up.

Alone.

Again.

“So how’d ya’ get to Jackson?”

You’re sitting with Joel in his living room, four glasses deep in mead after “catching up”.

Giving him the most minimal details of your travels in the last 10 years, getting almost nothing back.

You on one side of the couch, him on the opposite.

And you want to touch him. Badly.

Your eyes keep drifting to his hands. Remembering how they felt. On you, inside you.

You blink back into focus for what seems the millionth time in the last hour, catching yourself.

He’s staring at you, taking you in. You can feel the scrutiny of his gaze, his eyes boring into your skin, almost sure he’s thinking the same as you.

You clear your throat again, looking around the room to distract yourself. “So I’ve kinda just been…Around. Didn’t particularly mean to find Jackson, just less infected around here.” You finish your story of ending up here, leaving out the details of exactly what had happened. Even you didn’t want to think about it.

He grunts in response, a noncommittal but agreeing sound. “You plannin’ on stayin’?”

Your eyes catch his again, heat blooming unnecessarily in your body. “I’ve been here almost three years so…I think so. Why leave safety?”

It goes quiet again as you sip your drink, still trying to calm the racing thoughts in your head. “So…” A topic you wanted to breach, but too apprehensive without the alcohol. “What happened to Tess?”

A sharp inhale comes from across the couch, his body stiffening. “Infected.”

It’s not the best answer, but it’s something. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I know how much you cared for her.”

Another grunt. You’re starting to get annoyed. “Look, if you don’t want to talk, could you at least tell me? I thought we were repairing something here.”

His demeanor changes to something chastised. “‘M sorry, darlin’. It’s just weird seeing you here again.” He clears his throat.

You can’t help but giggle, your irritation dissipating. “I get it. I still think I just might be dreaming.” You give him a relaxed smile, your body practically melting into the couch with the buzz of the mead. “You’ve aged well, if I might say. I mean- You look- You’re-” He cuts you off with a genuine laugh, your cheeks heating.

“Thank you. You look better. Used to be so frail, ya’ know? Scared I was gonna break you.” He admits, his eyes staring at his glass. His words sound almost solemn, but when you look at his face, the tiniest bit of smiling is lifting the corner of his mouth. Almost fondly.

“Been off pills since…” You trail off, grimacing. “Was actually completely sober until a few months ago.” You hear him curse under his breath, realizing the weight of your words. “That’s not what I-”

He cuts you off again with a quick shake of his head. “It’s exactly what you mean. ‘M sorry I pushed you to that, honey.”

Honey.

Rolls off his tongue like it was meant to be there.

You stare at him for a moment, your cheeks heating. “Really not what I meant, Joel. Promise.” You squeak out, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “Don’t wanna make you feel guilty. I just…Was hurting from my own wounds.”

“Wounds I gave you.” He bites out, finding your eyes with his. “It’s about time I own up to it. I know I hurt ya by leavin’ the way I did.”

You want to curl in on yourself, his words settling deep in your alcohol-muddled brain. “I knew what we were, Joel. I don’t hold any of it against you. Or myself. We both did something we shouldn’t have, but it happened and it ended and we need to be done with the blame game.” You rushed out your words, desperate for the awkward conversation to end. “I’m over it, Joel.”

He lets your words settle over him, thick and weighted. “Okay.” It’s simple, final.

You’re finally beginning to relax again when he speaks up.

“Are you, uh…Seein’ anybody?” He’s timid with his question, his voice coming out broken before he clears his throat mid sentence.

Your eyes snap to his, a thin line appearing between your brows. You debate telling him the full truth. There hadn’t been anyone since him, you’d never wanted anyone to touch you the way he did. “No…Not currently.” You settle on simple, uncomplicated.

He hums softly as he takes another drink, circling the glass by the rim after it’s empty. “No one here catch your eye?”

You know he’s just trying to make conversation now, but it somehow is making you preen. Blame the alcohol. “Not really, no. No one really fits my taste.” It’s an honest answer, coming out to your own surprise. “There hasn’t been anyone.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, word vomit that has your eyes wide and heart in your throat.

He stares at you for a long moment, unblinking and deep in thought. “I really fucked up, huh?” A rhetorical question, a heavy weight in his chest.

——————————-

The way he’s touching you almost feels tender.

He’d fucked you so hard yesterday you had bruises on your thighs from his fingers.

Those same fingers now tracing them softly as he spreads your legs. A look of satisfaction settles on his face, like he loves marking you. You almost think he does. Teeth biting the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking to make sure it bruises.

It was still early morning, the sun not even up yet. You’d fallen asleep in his bed last night, and he’d stayed.

You’d hoped it was progress. You’d gone through the emotions of figuring you were in love with him a few weeks ago, while he was out on a run. You’d missed him, and not just his body. Your heart ached to hear his sarcastic laughter, yearned to make him smile.

His mouth on your thigh jars you from your musings, your hips immediately arching into his teasing.

A quiet whimper has him looking up at you, his arms hooking around the back of your legs. “Quiet, sweet girl. You’ll get it, be patient.”

Your spine relaxes as his words settle over you through the thick fog of the pills you’d taken earlier, making your body feel floaty. You whimper again at the first swipe of his tongue through your folds, your mouth falling open in a quiet cry.

You’re trying to be good, trying to obey his command, but it feels too good. You whine again as his tongue circles your clit, you can almost feel it pulsing under him. Another whine of his name has him pulling away from you, lightly slapping your thigh.

“Shut up and take it like the good girl you are.” He grumbles, the corner of his lip twitching as your face relaxes. “There ya go.” And he’s diving back in.

You aren’t sure when you’ve become “good girl” instead of “whore” or “slut”. Sure, he’d tossed the phrase around before, but now that’s all he calls you.

His good girl.

His lips attach to your clit before you can process, two fingers prodding your entrance. He sinks his fingers and sucks your clit into his mouth in the same moment, electricty shooting up your spine as you writhe under him. You don’t think you’ll ever get over the feeling of his mouth on you, he only did it for the first time last week. Now it’s become almost routine.

Devouring you like a man starved as he hums praises into your pussy.

But he’s still being gentle with you. It’s almost distracting. The way he’s slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, his fingers hooking against your front wall every time he pulls out.

Your body settles into the feeling as you try to block out your mind’s wanderings. Wondering why he’s being so kind, why he’s being so caring.

You gently card your fingers through his hair as he opens his eyes, your lips parting on a soft gasp as you make eye contact.

Matching half-lidded, lust filled, adoring. You can feel him smirking before he angles his fingers up and presses hard.

A horace cry of his name escapes your throat as your shoulders bow forward, your body attempting to process the intense pressure. A sharp tug on his hair has him letting up, slowly pumping his fingers in and out twice before he’s detaching his mouth, opting to look down at where his fingers are stretching you.

You whine his name again as your shoulders fall back into the pillows, that familiar coil in your core starting. “Faster.” You mumble, your hips pressing into each of his thrusts.

He surprises you by following your order, his wrist starting to burn from the exertion. “Come on, baby. Give it to me.” He mumbles before his mouth is on you again.

He’s putting that heavy pressure against your front wall again, and you know he knows what he’s doing. You’re scrambling to push his head away as the pressure builds, but he’s staying firm.

“It’s too much.” You gasp out, your hips still squirming. “Joel, fuck, Joel I’m gonna-” Your words are cut off as he presses harder, your words choking you.

His lips still brush your clit when he speaks. “Want you to soak me.” His sucks against your clit are harsher now, like he’s trying to physically taste the very being of your orgasm.

You shake your head deliriously, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto. His hair, the sheets, his hands gripping your thighs. You almost scream his name when you come, gushing fluid all over his lips and tongue, dripping into his beard and staining your sheets.

You feel like you’re floating, like you’re on the outside watching yourself shatter for him. Your legs shake and your back bows, your head digging into the pillow.

You don’t hear him praising you with his lips still pressed to your cunt, hungrily lapping at your fluids as he whispers.

“That’s it darlin’. That’s my good girl. Just like that, my perfect girl.”

You come down, your entire body shivering as you scramble to push his head away as it becomes overstimulating. “Okay, okay.” You’re panting so hard you can barely get the words out.

He pulls from you, his own chest heaving in time with yours. His gaze is still ravenous, like he’s finally allowed himself to want you without apprehensions, without guilt.

“Knew that pussy still had secrets.” His grin is menacing, satisfied.

You don’t have it in you to be a brat back to him, a half hearted laugh leaving your lips. “Funny, Miller.”

He sits back on his heels, his grin turning more genuine. “Hell of a birthday present, yeah?”

You blink at him for a moment, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. Face dropping into a frown, you tilt your head to the side. “How’d you know it’s my birthday?”

“May have snuck a look at your ID months ago. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t fuckin’ no one underage.”

You nod, your lips twitching in a small smile. “Well thanks for the mind numbing orgasm, I guess?” He snorts and climbs off the bed, leaving you to pull the covers over yourself. “Don’t you want me to take care of you?” You’ve never left without giving yourself to him, the confusion clear in your voice.

A shake of his head is all the response you get before he’s tossing a bottle of pills in front of you. “Not this time. Consider it another birthday present.”

The words sting just slightly, knowing how he still views the exchange. Like you’re only here for the pills. But that is what it's supposed to be. An exchange, not a relationship. Grabbing your clothes from the floor, you dress quietly before shoving the pills into your jacket pocket.

You’re gone without another word, letting the sting of the evening drown in a couple more pills.

——————————-

“S’that my jacket?”

You’re sitting on the back porch now, passing the bottle between the two of you in the cool summer air.

You startle, lost in your thoughts while staring up at the stars.

“Little thief, ain’t ya?” He grumbles, no malice behind his words as he takes in the guilty look on your face. “Was wonderin’ what the hell happened to it. S’one’a my best.”

“You want it back?” You tease, taking in the frays and holes. You’d tried to keep it as nice as possible, but it was one of things you’d refused to let go of when arriving in Jackson. You’d rarely worn it out on the road, keeping it stuffed in the bottom of your pack. Took up more room than you should have allowed, but it helped those nights when you were weak, missing him.

He’s staring more now, his eyes slowly taking you in. It makes you feel more exposed than you’d ever been. “Nah, looks better on ya.” He hands you the bottle again, but you refuse it. You were keeping your pleasant buzz after cooking dinner for him.

He’d watched you the entire time then, too. Flitting about his kitchen, throwing together grilled chicken sandwiches. It wasn’t much, but he’d scarfed it down like it was the best meal he’d eaten in months, likely that it was.

You feel uncomfortable. Not in a painful kind of way, more of an electricity trapped under your skin way. Words you wanted to spill but kept shoved down. Conversation had died down, the tension in the air almost palpable. You shift in your chair again, staring up at the sky.

“I missed you.” You lose your battle to keeping words down. You feel like crying once the words are out. “I know it’s dumb because we weren’t anything, I know but-”

“Darlin’.” His voice stops your words, your gaze darting over to him. “I missed ya too.”

You blame the alcohol for his loose lips, his lost inhibitions. “I’m sitting here going fuckin’ crazy because we’ve never just sat and talked and I feel…wrong.” You admit, pulling your knees to your chest.

It pulls a genuine laugh from him, something breathy and relieved. “Shit, me too.” He’s got a soft smile on his lips, his brows furrowed the tiniest bit. “S’weird, ain’t it? Like I expect you to come crawlin’ on your knees but I know that ain’t happenin’.”

You can tell he’s teasing, the corners of your lips lifting. “And you’re sitting there acting like you weren’t totally pussywhipped.” You can’t help the giddy giggle that leaves you, your cheeks flushing.

“Got me there, honey.” He admits, lifting his glass toward you. “I like you like this.” He says, his tone more serious. “Glad to see ya got yourself straightened out. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.”

Your body heats at his words, your eyes trained on his. “Thank you, Joel.” Your words are practically dripping with gratitude, your lower lip wobbling a bit. “I was a mess when I knew you, wasn’t I?” You laugh lightly, trying to ignore how true the words were, trying to ignore that pull in your chest that was growing brighter and brighter.

“Heard you been doin’ good ‘round here, too.” He adds, giving you the softest smile you’d seen on him.

Heart in your throat, you nod, unable to choke out words around the lump. He’s being uncharacteristically kind and it’s tilting your world on its axis. His eyes are too soft. Like he’s actually proud of you.

But he doesn’t love you.

Right?

“I should get home.” The tension in the room has you almost panicking, setting you on edge.

A frown takes over his features as he tenses, deep confusion clouding his eyes. “‘M sorry, darlin’? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

You know he can read your features, see your panic as you stand. “No, no. It isn’t you. I mean it is you, but it’s me. I can’t do this, Joel. I can’t sit here and pretend like I’m not fucking dying inside because the only person I’ve ever loved who was supposed to be dead is now sitting in front of me and-” You’re waving your arms around almost wildly, you think you’re possibly having a mental breakdown as you pace. “I just need to go and I need you to stay awa-”

Your words stop short as a large hand comes down on your shoulder. “Baby girl, stop.” He spins you around to face him before you reach the back door, the frown still etched on his face. “Slow down, what the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You want to blame the fact you’re exhausted from drinking half the day. But you know it’s because you’re done. You hiccup as a tear falls down your face, blinking up at him. “I’m still in love with you. I thought I wasn’t but you’re back and-” More words cut off when he cups your jaw, his frown softening as his thumb brushes back and forth. “I don’t know what to do.” You say wetly, feeling weak, facing your biggest fear.

You don’t want to lose him.

Again.

“What do you want to do?” He asks, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, your heart nearly stopping when they flicker to your lips for the briefest of moments.

Staring up at him, you aren’t sure. You want to kiss him, you want to feel him against you again. But you don’t want to do this and get hurt again. “What do you want from me?” You ask instead.

He leans down, his nose brushing against yours as both of your eyes close at the sensation. Feather light touches that have your face tilting up further, the sudden need to kiss him consuming you. “Whatever you’ll allow.” He breathes before his lips brush yours, not worthy enough to be called a kiss. Simply his body touching yours.

You realize with a start that it's the first time he’s ever kissed you. You pull back in surprise, just so you can look in his eyes.

He must see something in the way you’re looking at him because his lips twitch, pulling at the corners. “‘S’all up to you, baby girl. Whatever you want, I’ll give.” His thumb brushes along your cheek again. “You wanna leave right now, you can. You wanna stay and kiss me until you fall asleep, you can do that.”

You meet him as he leans in, fully pressing your lips against him. You instantly melt into him, hands pressing to his chest, feeling the scratch of the flannel against your palms.

His hand moves from your face around the side of your head, thick fingers tangling in your hair to angle your mouth away from his for a moment. “Tell me what you want, honey.”

“You.” It comes out on a breath, a smile tilting your lips as you open your eyes to meet his. “I wanna kiss you again…” You brush your lips over his as his hand loosens in your hair. “And again…”

He doesn’t hesitate as he pulls you inside, through the kitchen and back to the living room. He’s kissing you again as he slowly sits, pulling you with him. Situating yourself on his thighs, you pull away as you reach up to drag your fingertips gently down his jaw, across his beard. “I want everything, Joel. This is crazy and scary and possibly stupid, but I want everything.” You emphasize the last word, your brow furrowing.

“People will talk.” He mumbles, not a bit of care behind his words as his hands find their home on your hips.

“People will always talk.” You lean in to kiss his lips again, deciding you’ve been separated for too long. It’s chaste again, still testing the waters before you pull back. “Already been warned away from you twice.”

A short laugh reverberating through his chest has you melting a little more, feeling it through your fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I got the same warnin’.” His hands travel to the small of your back, resting there. “I wanna do this right this time. Right person, wrong time.” It sounds stupidly sweet leaving his mouth, but he’s being sincere.

You hum in agreement, staring down at the buttons of his flannel for a moment. “Take it slow?” You suggest, almost cringing. You don’t want to take it slow, you want to rip his clothes off right here and fuck him until you can’t walk straight.

His fingers lightly dig into the small of your back, a physical manifestation of the war going on inside his head. “If you want.”

You huff an annoyed laugh. “I know you’re trying to let me take the lead on this, Joel, but I need to know what you want, too.”

The fingers digging into your back only press harder, pushing you further up his thighs. “I just told ya I wanna do it right this time. Everythin’ in me wants you naked and sittin’ on my cock, but,” A soft sigh breaks his sentence as his fingers loosen up. “I really just wanna kiss ya. Never kissed ya before this.” He sounds almost ashamed, mumbling the last words.

A sheepish grin quirks your lips as you draw his eyes back to yours, tapping your finger against his jaw. “I want that too. Turns out, I really really like kissing you.”

You press your lips to his again, relaxing both of you.

You’re the first to deepen the kiss as your lips move against his, your hand moving from his jaw to his hair, licking his lower lip at the same time.

His reaction is exactly what you’d been hoping for, a deep rumbling groan vibrating against the hand placed on his chest. It flames your desire, driving your need to be as physically close to him.

You press yourself further against him, a needy sound bubbling up your throat as he gently sucks your lower lip, smiling against your lips at the sound.

“Still just as needy as I remember.” He murmurs once he lets go, his hands traveling to your hips to grip them and keep them still.

You hadn’t even been aware you were grinding in his lap, so lost in the feeling of his tongue against yours. You giggle before you can think about it, wiggling your hips purposefully. “I have gone ten years without sex, you can’t exactly blame me.”

He clicks his tongue, swatting your ass lightly. “Little minx.” He grumbled before pulling your mouth back to his, effectively shutting you up as his fingers tangled in your hair.

You aren’t sure how it happens, but you end up under him, still making out, stretched out on the couch nearly two hours later.

And you hate to admit it, but you’re exhausted. Dizzy from his kisses, lips swollen and eyes half closed. And maybe a few added bruises along your neck, already turning purple from how hard he’d sucked your skin. You’ve managed to keep your clothes on this whole time too, only losing his jacket when he wanted to run his fingers along the band of your jeans.

“Gettin’ tired, baby?” His rough voice cuts through your haze, his lips grazing across your cheek.

Blinking a few times brings him back into focus as he pulls away, your eyes still heavy. “Can I stay tonight?”

His smile is so relaxed and free it steals your breath, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Course you can, honey.” He’s moving off of you slowly, careful to not jostle or accidentally knee you as he stands. You take his offered hand as he pulls you up, taking the opportunity to wrap your arms around his chest, burying your face there.

His arms wrap around you just as tightly, cradling and protective. He’s mumbling something, but you’re too tired to hear.

Pulling away after a few minutes he helps you upstairs, both getting ready for bed like it’s a task you’ve done before.

Brushing your teeth over his double sink, tying your hair up to keep it from tangling overnight. Too domestic to be completely comfortable, but just enough to give you a sense of peace. You pause as you look down at yourself, then back up at him.

“I don’t have pajamas.” It sounds small coming out of your mouth, your exhaustion fully caught up to you.

He’s digging through his drawers before you even finish the sentence, going through clothes that aren’t his own to find you a tshirt. “They only gave me clothes that’ll fit me.” He mumbles, still shifting through until he finds a t-shirt he finds suitable. Black with the letters “CBGB” on the front.

“What’s this?” You hold it up, taking in the vintage design.

“What’s that?” He asks, his voice a mix of surprise and disappointment. “Oh you sweet, young thing.” It’s almost too degrading the way he says it, the pity seeping into your bones. “It was a popular music venue in the 80s and 90s.”

Pouting at him, you crumple the shirt in your hands. “Not my fault I wasn’t educated.” You whine back, stripping off your jeans without second thought. You only pause when you hear Joel inhale sharply, your eyes darting up to his. “What?” Tilting your head, you straighten up, taking in his shocked expression.

He shakes his head at you, his gaze softening. “Nothin’. S’been a long time since I’ve had a woman undress in front of me.”

A blush colors your cheeks, unable to stop the way you’re smiling so fondly, taking a few steps toward him. “I could just sleep completely naked, yeah?”

The way you say it so innocently is pulling a laugh from him, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a damn menace. Get the fuck in my bed.”

“Yes, sir.” You giggle sleepily, turning away to pull off your shirt and slip into his. When you turn back around, he’s changed silently, his eyes still trained on you.

He’s opted for his boxer briefs and a grey t-shirt. It isn’t your fault your eyes wander down the front of his body, his actions mirroring your own. He moves first, surprising you just a little when he turns toward the bed, pulling back the covers and giving you an expecting look.

You climb in after him, only realizing once you’ve laid down that it feels unnatural being in a bed with him and not fucking. Turning on your side to face him, your brows furrow as you think harder about it.

“C'mere.” Joel mumbles, lifting his forearm from the bed and patting his chest. You don’t hesitate as you immediately shuffle over to him, pressing yourself fully against him as you settle into his side. You feel the rumbling chuckle in his chest, lifting your face to look at him in question. “Just thinkin’ about how perfect you fit. Puzzle piece.”

Your breath gets stolen from your lungs, your heart seizing in your chest. Reaching up with your free hand, you place it over his heart as you stare up at him. You can feel his heart beating against your palm, strong and steady, beating faster the longer you stare at him.

You can’t help yourself, taking in every single one of the lines on his face, every scar, every grey hair. “I don’t wanna take it slow.”

He returns your gaze, his arm tightening around you. “What do you want, baby girl?”

Tears are filling your eyes against your will as you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of him. “I don’t know.” You whimper pathetically, too tired to think. “You?”

“That sounds like a question.” His voice is just as thick with sleep as yours.

“I’m so tired.” You whine, dragging out your words. “But I can’t stop thinking about having you inside me again.”

He clears his throat, another chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Gonna need you to stop talking like that, sweet thing. I’ve already been sporting a semi for the last two hours.”

Giggling again you nuzzle at his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin. “You could just…put it in. Could fall asleep like that.”

His arms tighten around you, heaving a heavy sigh. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re not making this easy.”

You reach down, palming his cock, feeling it harden under your touch. “Well, yeah, I’m trying to make it hard.”

“Goddamn menace. On your side.”

You comply after your foggy brain catches up, turning to face away from him. He turns too, pressing himself against your back and pushing his arm under your head. You settle back into him, unable to help the way you grind your ass into him. His hand grips your hip, stilling your movements.

“Say it again. Tell me what you want.” His lips brush the back of your head, trailing his hand down to cup your pussy.

You gasp loudly as he puts pressure against you, your head tilting back into him as you grind your hips into his palm, lifting your leg to hook around his thigh. “I want to fall asleep with your cock in me. I don’t want to fuck you right now, I just need to feel you inside me.” You almost feel dizzy as your eyes close, your body still exhausted as your mind catches up to the pleasure racing through you.

“Good girl.” He rumbles, pushing your underwear to the side. “You’re so wet.” His voice is gravely with awe as his fingers swipe through your slick. His next words are breathed into your hair like a prayer. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You choke out a half sob, your nerves lighting up as he slowly penetrates you with two of his thick fingers, taking his time as you accommodate to the stretch. You whine his name, dragging out the vowels. The stretch is delicious, sending hot spikes of pleasure up your spine.

He doesn’t speak to you the way he used to, filthy words that would hurt you now. He whispers soft praises into your hair as you writhe, pressing his fingers further into you as he adds a third. Whispered curses as he feels you clench around him, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you.

Another hushed sob of his name has him pulling his fingers from you, kissing the top of your head. “Can I take these off?”

Him asking for consent almost has you crying, the softness in his voice sending your heart into your throat. “Please.” You beg, your voice thick. You needed to be more awake from this, your body fighting sleep as he pulls your underwear down your legs, his quickly following. You can feel him groan behind you as he fists his cock before pulling your leg over his thigh again.

Nosing the back of your neck, he sighs heavily, shifting his hips forward to drag the head of his cock through your soaked folds. He sighs your name as he presses in, pulling a sharp gasp from you.

You take him inch by inch, your body barely resisting with how relaxed and prepared you’d been. Emotions bubble in your chest as you bury your face against his bicep, a hiccup forcing its way out of your chest. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed him, how much you missed the connection of being one.

Having it mean more than an exchange has tears forming in your eyes, his name on your lips again.

He soothes you, his hand resting on your hip as his thumb brushes over your exposed skin. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, his hips stilling, his cock still only half inside you.

Because he notices these things now, apparently.

The thought has you pushing back against him, gasping sweetly as he sinks another inch in. “Nothings wrong.” You slur, your eyes still closed. “I just…” The words you want to tell him again don’t come, tears taking their place.

His arm shifts under your head, wrapping around your chest to pull you into him. “I know.” His voice is just as emotional as yours, his throat tight. “Missed you too. Was a goddamn fool pretendin’ like I wasn’t fallin’ in love with you too.”

A choked sob rips from your chest, your hand grappling at his arm across your chest, his cock fully seated inside you now. You feel yourself flutter around him, your breathing already ragged. Desperate. Your shattered pieces slowly put themselves back together again.

“Can I move?” He asks, his breath fanning across your neck. “Baby girl, I need to move. Need to make you feel good.”

You laugh wetly, your muscles clamping down on him. “Gods, please.” You whimper as he rocks his hips, somehow pushing deeper.

He doesn’t fuck you.

He loves you.

Slow and deep, lulling you into a half-sleep state.

Neither of you speak; words aren’t needed anymore.

You simply love.

You wake the next morning with his mouth on your cunt, on the verge of a powerful orgasm that’s already shooting through your body.

You don’t leave the bed for anything except food and a shower for the next two days. Enjoying each other, talking things through, fixing everything.

You’re finally happy again. Truly, utterly, bone-achingly happy.

It would be a lie to say you grew old together. That you got to watch your family grow, pictures strewn across the walls of a beautiful little girl, the perfect mix of you two.

That you got to watch Joel get even greyer, silver haired and kind eyed.

But life has a way of letting karma catch up.

And one fateful day, nearly four years later, it does.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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