#stranded tommy au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pearlessance · 4 months ago

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Our Little Secret

Summary - Joel Miller deals with disgusting, intrusive thoughts about the girl next door who smells like vanilla and uses cherry chapstick.

Pairing - dbf!Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings - explicit sexual content MDNI, kinda perv!Joel, age gap, no cordyceps outbreak AU, reader's in high school but is eighteen, dom/sub undertones, seduction, underage drinking, body worship, unprotected sex, reader is called 'jailbait’ by Tommy, oral sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise & degradation

WC: 11k

[crossposted to AO3]

Joel Miller told himself he wasn’t a pervert. He just wasn’t. Double glancing at a pretty, young girl didn’t make him one of those guys — it just made him a man, right?

Never mind the fact that your father was one of his closest friends or the fact that you lived just next door, embodying half of the very typical scandalous, small-town affair. Never mind your eighteen year age difference. Never mind those obscene images that sometimes invaded his brain. Joel had heard the term once. He thinks Sarah might have told him about it from that science documentary she watched—those sordid images were called intrusive thoughts, right? Involuntary, unavoidable, unwanted.

It wasn’t only him who stared in your direction a little longer than necessary, anyway. The very first time he’d seen you, Joel and Tommy had been in the driveway doing an oil change on the truck. You and your dad had just moved in, Joel had introduced himself the day prior and helped haul a bed frame through the front room. Your dad had mentioned he had a daughter, but Joel had expected to see a girl closer to Sarah’s age.

He hadn’t expected to see you, wearing those tight blue jeans and that tiny tank top that left very little to the imagination. The straps were thin and the fabric billowy, and when you shifted the box beneath your arm from one hand to the other, the pretty pink fabric of your bra was out in the open for all eyes to see. Your hair had been pulled into a ponytail at the crown of your head, swishing back and forth with each step. It made Joel wonder about how soft the long strands were, how they would feel between his fingers, how they would look splayed out atop a pillowcase — intrusive thoughts.

Tommy was quick to abandon his tools and cross the front yard to greet your father, offering you what seemed like an innocent helping hand. Joel thinks his younger brother has no self control, but he leaves the truck too. Only to introduce himself, though. Definitely not to get a closer look.

Your voice is sweet, he thinks. It slides through him like a hot knife through butter. And when you laugh at Tommy’s awkward attempt at conversation, that sound stabs him in the chest because it’s so girlish. So young and youthful and airy. That pink lace is still poking out of the side of your shirt, even though Tommy now carries the box, and Joel strains himself trying to keep his eyes above your chin.

“And you must be Mr. Miller,” you say, sticking your tiny hand out to him.

He knows it’s a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he takes your hand in his and shakes it gently. Your skin is soft, nails painted red and manicured and he wonders what other parts of you are this soft, wonders if red has always been his favorite color, wonders what it would look like wrapped around — “Just Joel,” he tells you, clearing those damn intrusive thoughts as quickly as they appear.

“Joel,” you repeat, tasting his name on your pink tongue and giving him a sweet smile. “There's two more boxes. Wanna help me grab them?”

He’s careful not to answer too fast, afraid of sounding too eager. But he agrees, and you lead him to the open truck bed, and as you bend over to grab the smaller box his hands flex at his sides. He thinks you must be doing this on purpose. Right? Torturing him, sticking your ass out, silently begging him to look. But he doesn't. Instead, Joel picks up the larger box and notices the scent of vanilla radiating off your skin. This is almost worse because his mouth begins to water.

“My dad said you have a daughter,” you say.

“Yeah. Sarah. She’s younger than you, though.”

“That’s okay. Does she like cake? I have to bake one for my home ec final and could use a taste tester if she’s not busy.”

It really puts things into perspective, and he’s glad for it. Finals. School. High school. “I’ll ask her,” Joel says.

You lead everyone inside and direct all three men to take the boxes to the living room where you begin unpacking. You sit on the floor as you sift through the boxes, legs tucked underneath you, and Joel has to force a smile when you look up at him through your lashes. You say thank you, Joel from your knees and he feels something very, very wrong stir inside him.

Tommy follows him back outside, and on the way back to their truck his voice is high pitched in mockery as he says, “Thank you, Joel! You’re so handsome , Joel! Let me repay you with my body, Joel!”

He just laughs it off, but as he continues with the oil change beneath the hood an uncomfortable silence settles between him.

Eventually, Tommy shakes his head and snorts. “That girl is nothing but fucking jailbait, man.”

He sees you quite a few times after that, because your dad works in construction, too. Joel drinks the same kind of beer, and your dad has a pool table in your garage…so, naturally, they become the best of friends and very quickly at that. Tommy joins the party too, and within months they become an inseparable trio.

It’s during one of these nights when the three of them were standing in the garage with the door wide open, music playing from the speakers in your dad’s truck when those intrusive thoughts plague him again. Tommy’s losing at pool, drunk before the sun’s fully set, and your dad is laughing at something he’s saying.

You’re walking home from practice and stop suddenly at the end of the driveway. Joel can see you, but he doesn’t think Tommy or your dad can. The truck is in the way, but he’s in the perfect position. He stares a little too long, but he can’t help it. You’re wearing your cheer uniform, and your midriff is exposed, and your long legs are so fucking appetizing that his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Your skirt is rolled up at the waist, making the fabric shorter than it’s supposed to be, making it sluttier than it’s supposed to be.

When you notice him staring, you shoot him a sinful little smile and raise your finger to your lips. A secret, Joel realizes. You want him to keep something a secret, and somehow it feels intimate, having something between the two of you. He watches you unroll the hem of your skirt and pull at the ends so it covers more of your legs. You turn in a semicircle, and he licks his lips, and when you look at him again you raise your hands in question.

He gives you a discreet thumbs up, and when you make your way up the driveway you give him the prettiest smile and say, “Hey, Joel! Nice to see you!”

Tommy gives him shit for it later, but he’s too distracted at the sight of you in that uniform to even remember Joel exists.

“You’re late,” your dad chastises. “Practice was over at five today. It’s almost six.”

“Took the scenic route,” you reply easily, and Joel can hear the playful tone in your voice that lets everyone in the room know of your insincerity.

You walk past them, backpack slung over one arm, but before you disappear inside you wink at him over your shoulder.

“Get ready, Joel,” your dad tells him with an exasperated sigh. “Teenage girls are hell.”

And Joel is inclined to agree. Even more so when he’s laying in bed that night, wondering about all the things you could’ve been getting up to in that hour it took you to get home. The school was a short, ten minute walk from your house. And even if you truly did take the scenic route home, it wouldn’t have taken you an entire hour to arrive.

So, what were you getting up to? Joel didn’t think you had a boyfriend. At least, not one you ever brought home. But not having a boyfriend didn’t mean anything. Not in this day and age. And Joel knew the mind of a teenage boy. He had been one, once upon a time, and knew without a doubt the lengths a boy your age would go to spend an hour alone with you. He thought about all of the things he was doing at eighteen, and his brain ran wild with those ideas.

After hours of laying there, unable to find sleep, Joel Miller took out his phone and opened a private search tab. It had been a long time since he’d done this, and he’d tried not to — truly, he had spent every minute since he’d closed his bedroom door trying to get the images out of his head. But it was like an itch he needed to scratch, becoming more and more irritating the longer he put it off. So, he typed cheerleader into the black and orange search bar and promised himself it was the one and only time he’d ever do this.

He just needed to get it out of his system. That was all.

(If he was honest, Joel knew as soon as the thought crossed his mind that it wasn’t true. Even when he scrolled through the videos to find a girl who looked strikingly similar to you. Even when he turned his volume all the way down, and reached into his sweatpants with his free hand. Even when he squeezed his eyes shut and thought of that rolled up skirt and that pretty pink lace, pornographic images long forgotten in favor of the ones you’d supplied. Even when a few quick tugs was all it took to shoot thick ropes of cum across his belly. Even when he cleared his search history, cleaned himself up, and rolled over to sleep…even then, he knew it would not be enough to get you out of his head.)

The next day, Joel saw you leaving for school and couldn’t bear to look in your eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done and feeling shameful, feeling like the very sordid man he knew himself not to be. He wasn’t a pervert, but he’d certainly felt like one that day.

You waved your hand and beamed like you did every morning. But Joel didn’t wave back. Oblivious to his atrocities, you played your hand at concern. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You don’t… seem fine. Is there anything I can do to help?”

God—your voice, full of kindness and sweet summery grace, was better than the audio in any porno he’d ever seen. “I said I’m fine.”

Thankfully, you took the hint and scurried off, not dissimilar to a wounded animal. Guilt immediately choked him. But, pushing you away is what he’s supposed to do. So he doesn’t change his mind.

At least, not at first.

He spends the entire summer going out of his way to avoid you. He offered to host guys nights at his house on the weekends instead of your dad's garage. He left for work five minutes earlier than normal to avoid having to hear you say good morning, Joel! and wave at him with those pretty red nails and smile at him with your pretty white teeth.

But once summer starts, you and Sarah begin spending way too much time together. And at first, it makes him nervous. You make him nervous. He doesn’t want to make small talk. He doesn't want to see you in your uniform. He doesn’t want to look at you at all, actually.

It works out in his favor though, Joel thinks, because you and Sarah have the same taste in movies, and she thinks you're the coolest thing that’s ever existed, and so whenever Joel and Tommy are in your garage, you’re at Joel’s house with Sarah. So he doesn’t have to be on edge, wondering if he’d turn the corner and you’d be standing there smelling like vanilla and wearing pink lace.

But then you’re hosting a high school graduation party a few short months after you move in. And your dad invites Joel and Tommy to the party in your backyard. In fact, he practically begs them to come and keep him company. And Joel can’t say no, because what excuse would he have? Sarah would never let him skip it, anyway. And so his avoidance comes to an end, and he finds himself standing in your backyard with a glass bottle in his hands, watching people congratulate you and your accomplishments all day long. Straight A’s in all those AP classes you took, your dad tells him proudly, clicking his tongs together over the grill. Joel knows you’re a smart girl, he doesn’t need to know your grades to see that you have your head on straight, but he also knows you’re a far cry from the timid little girl your father believes you to be. Joel can see it in you.

Still, you’re far smarter than he is, because while Tommy drones on and on about a project he’s got going on at home, all Joel can notice is the pretty sundress you’re wearing. It’s pink, like the lace that sometimes still haunts him. It clings to you at the top, molding sinfully against your chest, and flows out at the bottom, cutting off at your midthigh.

It’s too short, Joel thinks. Way too short to be wearing around so many male classmates. Around your dad’s friends. Tommy likes younger girls, you know. And Joel…Joel’s turning away from you and swallowing what’s left of his beer. He clinks the empty glass against Tommy’s and asks, “You need another?”

Your dad is the one who answers. “How about a shot of whiskey? The cabinet above the sink.”

Joel thinks it's a fantastic idea. He gets stopped by Mr. Adler on the way inside, who asks what the celebration is. He talks for far longer than he’d like, and by the time he gets to the kitchen, Joel really needs something stronger than beer.

Except, when he steps into the room, he freezes the moment he sees you standing there. Your head whips in his direction, eyes wide as if you’ve been caught. It’s only as he tears his attention away from you and notices the two red solo cups on the counter and the bottle of tequila in your hands, perched over them, that he realizes what he’d just walked in on.

Your cheeks are pink, the same hue as your dress, and you quickly try to explain it away. “Joel! Hey! This isn’t…I’m not like—you know, it’s just a celebration and…I’ll be nineteen soon and—I mean, it’s just a little .”

He raises his eyebrows, unsure of how to navigate this terrain. On the one hand, he feels the need to discipline you somehow. To turn this into a lesson of sorts, to let you know how the age of legal alcohol consumption is twenty one for a reason, that being drunk in a social setting like this is dangerous, especially for a girl like you.

But on the other hand, Joel knows he’s not responsible for you. He’s not your father, and he’s not going to be the one to give you the speech about underage drinking. He’d been far younger than eighteen-almost-nineteen the first time he’d gotten drunk. And you were right…this was a celebration.

The war in his brain seemed to dim what little common sense he had because Joel found himself standing behind you with almost no room to spare. The sweet scent of vanilla filled the space. You’d curled your hair, and the ends tickled the inside of his arm. Soft. So, so soft he could die. He puts his big hand on your bare shoulder, and reaches above you into the cabinet, finding the half empty bottle of whiskey. His fingers twitch with the urge to squeeze your supple flesh. Christ. It’s just a fucking shoulder, Joel, he tells himself. “It’s your party,” he says. “I won’t tell.”

It feels wrong just to say it to you. I won’t tell. Perverted thing to say, Joel thinks. You spin around to face him, and suddenly your breasts are brushing his chest, and Joel can’t breathe. “Thank you,” you whisper, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and sending him into his fucking grave.

It’s then, as he stares down at you and you stare up at him all sweet and innocent-like, that Joel finally admits to himself that avoidance has done absolutely fucking nothing to put out the fire you started. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah—it’s, uhm…it’s no problem. Have fun.”

He turns to leave, but then your arms are around his neck and he can’t smell anything but vanilla and he can feel your tits pressing into him, can feel you everywhere. But Joel isn’t a mean man, so what can he do but hug you back? If someone walked in, they’d think it was a fatherly embrace. Proud. Protective, even.

But they wouldn’t know that all Joel could think about is the way your skin felt under his calloused hands. Or the way your soft hair tickled his cheek as he laid it against the top of your head. Or the way your hips were nestled right between his thighs—and you were so warm and—

Intrusive thoughts.

“You’re the best, Joel,” you say, eyes bright and cheery. He’s relieved when you pull away, but also a little bit empty. He watches you pour a shot into each red solo cup. “You know, I’ve never tried whiskey. It seems so, like… manly .” You giggle, and it’s music to his ears but Joel begins to wonder if maybe this isn’t your first time stealing from the tequila bottle tonight.

“It’s definitely not the best tasting thing in the world,” he says. “Gets the job done, though.”

To put the tequila away, you have to stand on the tips of your toes. It elongates your entire body as you stretch upwards, and he can’t bring himself to stop staring at the curve of your hips. “You have to be drunk to hang out with me or something?”

The question surprises him. Yes, he thinks. Yes, he does need to be inebriated to hang out with you because otherwise his sober mind never lets him forget the way you look all dolled up. But he doesn’t say that. Instead, Joel laughs quietly and says, “I’m here for your old man. You think he wants to be the lone adult in this sea of kids?”

He says it as a joke and is thankful you find humor in it. “I’m not a kid, Joel,” you remind him. “I’m a woman now. Is my company really so bad?” You tilt your head, pushing your bottom lip into the tiniest little pout.

Joel needs to stop staring at your mouth. He knows it, because the urge rises in him to bite that lip, to surge forward and taste your tongue for remnants of tequila. The idea alone sends a bolt of white-hot desire straight to his dick. “No, no…s’not like that,” he says. He’s too focused on your face and the gleam in your pretty eyes to notice you’ve unscrewed the top of the whiskey bottle.

You pour a shot into an empty solo cup and hold it up between the two of you. “I’m scared,” you admit sheepishly. “Is it gross?”

The wrinkle in your nose is the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and the sight forces his lips into a small smile. “I don’t think so,” he says. “But you might.”

“Because I’m a kid ?” You scoff, but shake your head and smile at him all the same. “Women mature faster than men, you know. Which means when I make my decisions, I know what I’m signing myself up for.”

“Oh, is that so?” He remembers being this cocky as a teenager. He thinks maybe you’ve been spending too much time around Tommy and his defiant attitude is rubbing off on you. Joel offers a challenge—if you’re just so mature. “Drink up, then.”

He watches every microscopic movement as you lick your lips and lift the cup to your mouth. It’s a beautiful sight, watching you tilt your head back and swallow the tiniest bit. And when you pass the remaining liquid to him, your expression is fashioned from steel. Nonchalant, blank.

But he sees it, sees the way your hands twitch at your sides, sees the way your jaw feathers as you clench your teeth. He can’t help but chuckle at your persistence. Joel turns the cup in his hands and puts his mouth right where you did.

It’s almost like kissing, he thinks. Having his mouth where yours was seconds ago feels good. Better than he thought it would. And he can taste cherry-flavored chapstick before he can taste the whiskey, and he wonders when the last time was when he’d had a shot because it goes straight to his head and makes him feel drunk. Or maybe it’s just the wide smile that stretches across your face.

“That’s awful,” you confess. “I’ll stick to tequila, I think.”

“Tequila’s worse,” he says with a shake of his head. Tequila makes Joel feel your age, makes him forget the word consequences, makes him buzz with energy.

“No way,” you say. “The taste isn’t nearly as strong.”

While that may be true, it wasn’t about the taste at all and he doesn’t really know how to explain it. “Tequila encourages people to make bad decisions.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Bad decisions,” you echo contemplatively. “Sounds like a great time.” You take both of your tequila filled cups in hand and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for always keeping my secrets,” you whisper.

Joel has to stand in the kitchen an extra few minutes after you leave because he still feels the ghost of your lips on his skin and doesn’t know how to act. Eventually, though, he finds the courage to face his brother and your father. He stays for the remainder of the party and helps your dad clean up the yard after everyone filters out.

It’s a relief when he’s finally in his own bed that night. He tries to resist thinking of you. Truly, he does — but it’s no use, and he’s alone in his bed, and this time he doesn’t even reach for his phone when he touches himself.

And it’s good. So good that he tries to draw it out. He tries his damndest to make it last. But his efforts become futile in just minutes, because he can feel your soft lips, can taste cherry chapstick, and he’s right there—right fucking there—when his bedroom door creaks open.

“Joel?”

For a second, he’s convinced himself he’s gone crazy. He’s well and truly lost it now, and his fantasies have grown into hallucinations at this point. You’ve driven him batshit insane. But his eyes focus in the dark, and he realizes his mind isn’t playing tricks on him at all. “What are you doing here?”

You take it as an invitation, and he desperately wishes you wouldn’t. He can still feel the buzz from the beer and whiskey, and his cock is hard beneath the sheets, and his brain is filled with images of you, and you’re in nothing but spandex shorts and a loose tank top, and when you sit on the side of his bed you lay your hand on his knee for balance and Joel’s hands shake.

“How did you even get in?”

“I used the key under the mat,” you confess. “I need your help.” Your voice is so mousy and soft, and it pulls him back to his senses.

“What’s wrong?”

“You were right,” you tell him. “I made a bad tequila decision and now I’m sad.”

Joel doesn’t know what to say. You couldn’t possibly still be tipsy, he thinks. It’s been hours since he saw you in the kitchen, but he supposes you very well could’ve gone back after everyone left. Either way, you’d come to him to fix it, and even knowing the right thing would be to call your dad, he was still high on the second secret you two shared. So, Joel sighs and puts his hand on yours. “What did you do?”

“I snuck a boy into my room,” you say.

Joel’s jaw clenches. Anger rises in his chest, crawls up his throat, and chokes him. A million things cross his mind—first, what the hell did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Joel would find the boy and break his fucking jaw. Did he touch you? Maybe he’d break the boy's hands instead. Or, worse, did he touch you when you didn’t want him to? The thought alone has his heart beating so fast he thinks he might die. Slowly, quietly, he asks, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you sigh. And it isn’t one of those teenage girl nothings, it’s sincere. You climb over him to the other side of the mattress, and Joel thinks he should stop you but the sight of you in his bed is so fucking pretty that he can’t bring himself to. “That’s the problem. I wanted him to fuck me.”

The words give him pause. Everything freezes.

“But he didn’t want to,” you say. “Even though we were flirting all day.” You turn on your side, hands beneath your head. “I don’t get it. Is it because I’m not pretty?”

He can’t stop the snort that leaves him at that. Joel can’t believe you’d wonder about it for even a second.

“Do you think I’m pretty, Joel?”

If there’s anything in the world he hates, it’s this. He wonders a little if maybe you’re antagonizing him. It’s a yes or no question, isn’t it? So why does saying yes feel so… heavy? Weighted? He decides it best to keep the conversation directed away from his personal opinion on the matter. “Of course you’re pretty, baby.”

Baby? God. Maybe he has lost his fucking mind.

But it seems to bring you so much joy he doesn’t have it in him to regret it. You wrap your small hands around his bicep, and he can feel the heat in your touch, and it’s like he’s burning from the inside out. And when you turn a little more and bring your leg across his hips, Joel can’t breathe.

He wonders if you can tell how hard he is, wonders how he’s supposed to push you away when you just keep withering away his resolve. If he hasn’t lost his mind yet, he’s about to. “Is it okay if I sleep with you tonight?”

The words hit him like a freight train. But after a second, he realizes that you actually mean sleep —and he knows it’s a bad idea still because he’s having those intrusive thoughts once more. But he can’t say no. So instead he says, “I don’t think your dad would be comfortable with that.”

“I’ll tell him I had a sleepover with Sarah,” you quickly supplied. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He doesn’t either. But Joel knows he should be. And if not alone, certainly not with you. And yet, he says nothing. Not yes or no, just nothing.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I think about you all the time,” you say. “I thought you were mad at me for a while. That made me sad, too.”

It made his chest ache to think he had caused you any harm. But it was for the best, wasn’t it? You probably just saw him as someone to seek comfort in, and he saw you as something entirely different. He was no good. Definitely not for you.

A few minutes pass, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you kiss his cheek again in the same spot as this afternoon and say, “Thank you, Joel.” And he feels so wrong. He feels awful, and selfish, and greedy, and desperate, and perverted.

He thinks that’s the end of it. But then you kiss his jaw, and this time it’s an open mouthed kiss that leaves wetness on his skin. Joel shivers.

You kiss his neck, and his cock throbs inches from your thigh. He should stop this. He knows that. Joel isn’t a stupid man—he’s just a bad man. He doesn’t stop you when you climb into his lap. He doesn’t stop you when your tongue darts out between your lips as you kiss his collarbone. He doesn’t stop you when your kisses grow heated and heavy.

And when you kiss his lips, he doesn’t stop himself from kissing you back. He doesn’t stop himself from threading his fingers through your silky hair to pull you in deeper. He doesn’t stop himself from biting that bottom lip and sucking off the cherry flavor. He doesn’t stop himself from slipping his tongue into your mouth, or from lifting his hips just a little bit, pushing himself against you. The friction pulls a low groan from somewhere in the back of his throat, and Joel knows he won't be able to ever stop himself now.

You take the small movement as your cue to unleash yourself and roll your hips against his even harder. He can feel the wet heat radiating from you even through the spandex shorts, can feel his benevolence fading into the ether. You let out a breathless moan when you roll your hips again, and again, and again. And he curses, muscles tight, and feels a confession on the tip of his tongue. Joel wants you to say it, just once — wants to hear his name in your mouth shrouded in lust. He’s imagined it so many times, but he wants to hear it.

But then you pull away abruptly. “Joel?”

You sound mousy again, and he feels suddenly ice cold. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He holds your hair away from your face for the remainder of the night as you vomit up the rest of the tequila in your stomach. You apologize over and over again and greedily drink up the water he brings you.

Normally, Joel would hate this. But it’s you, and something feels good about taking care of you. About making sure you’re safe, making sure you feel pretty even with sweat coating your pallid skin.

You fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night, and Joel carries you to his bed. He doesn’t climb in next to you. He can’t because he already feels bad enough for allowing a drunk eighteen year old girl into his bed. It’s his turn to feel nauseous. Shame smothers him, and guilt, and mortification…Joel knows he should feel regret, too. But he doesn’t.

Sometime before sunrise, he nods off with his head resting against the bedside table. He doesn’t hear you leave, but when he wakes an hour later you’ve vacated the room.

He wonders if you remember how you ended up in his bed, if you remember how eager he was to taste your mouth, if you remember anything at all. He hopes not, because that would mean a conversation he was not equipped to handle.

When he trudges down to the kitchen, Joel stops upon the sight before him. Sarah sits at the kitchen table beside Tommy, who’s sitting across from your dad. And then there’s you—standing in the kitchen with a spatula in your hand and two still-wet braids in your hair.

It isn’t the fact that you’re in his kitchen, making pancakes for everyone, padding barefoot on the tile that makes him anxious. No one in the room can read his thoughts. They wouldn’t know how much it pleases him to see it. They wouldn’t know how he thinks he could get used to this, but knows he can’t.

No…no, it’s the fact that you’re wearing his flannel that makes him anxious. Your father wears flannels on occasion…but this one is so plainly Joel’s that he wonders why your dad is sitting there laughing at something Sarah said instead of killing Joel with his bare hands. He swallows thickly and pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” you say cheerily, as if last night hadn’t happened. He thinks you’ve forgotten, or maybe just decided not to ever mention it again.

It was only a lapse in judgment, after all, wasn’t it? Just a split second where you and Joel both lost all sense. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. “Morning,” he responds.

You ask him to help carry one of the heaping plates of fluffy pancakes to the table. When he reaches for the taller one, your hand brushes against his and Joel nearly jumps out of his skin at the contact. But then you’re holding your pinky out to him expectantly, and whisper, “Our little secret.”

The vanilla scent is gone, Joel notices. You smell like irish spring instead. Realization dawns on him that you must have showered while he was asleep— and used his body wash. There’s something about that little tidbit of information that sits with him. He likes it, he thinks. He likes smelling himself all over you, likes that something possessed you to use his things without asking. Something inside of him shifts, something… intense.

He knows he shouldn’t, but Joel winds his pinky finger around yours anyway. It feels so good to have yet another thing between the two of you. Something of yours that belongs only to him. It makes him feel giddy as if he wasn’t running on a single sip of coffee and an hour of sleep.

The remainder of the summer goes on without incident. You don’t end up in Joel’s bed again, though you never once leave his intrusive thoughts. He sees you sometimes, tanning in the backyard. He has a perfect view from his bedroom window, and he wonders if maybe you wear those tiny bikini tops for his benefit. But he never asks, even during the few moments you have alone, and is content to pine after you but not touch for the rest of his painfully sorry life.

He works. You taunt him. He plays pool in your garage. You come home late in too little clothes and smelling of vanilla scented tequila. Joel says nothing, though. He listens and agrees with your dad that since graduating you’ve become a little wild . A little… defiant. They dance around the word bad, but Joel knows the truth. Knows that more than anything, you need a little bit of discipline.

You’re not his to correct, though. So he doesn’t. He certainly enjoys watching you, however. He watches you sneak out through your window one night when he’s sitting on the porch. You press your finger to your lips, creating another secret between the two of you. He walks into the kitchen one night to find you filling a vodka bottle with water. Joel says nothing—but after grabbing another beer he’s got a smile on his lips he can’t seem to shake.

He’s mowing the grass in the backyard one sunny afternoon, and he catches a glimpse of something he shouldn’t. Joel holds a lot of your secrets close these days, but this one is…different.

Through your bedroom window, he can see you changing. The curtain is wide open, and you’re wearing nothing but that same pink bra he first saw you in, matching panties, and those knee high socks you used to wear with your cheer uniform. He’s not sure if you’re getting out of your clothes or into ones more comfortable, but he knows he can’t look away. His mouth is dry, and all the blood in his head rushes south. He thinks you’re beautiful. He wants to touch you so badly it’s overwhelming. The supple curves of your hips, the soft tendrils of your hair down your back, the swell of your breasts— God, you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

And then you pick something up from the floor, and Joel realizes a second later that you’re putting on his flannel. The one you stole at the beginning of the summer. Do you wear it often? Do you always wear it alone, half naked in your bedroom? His lips part and his breath catches in his throat. He’s not there. He’s just standing in his backyard, ruining this patch of grass…but a part of him is. Something of his is there, with you, touching you, and somehow it sets him on fire.

Especially when he watches you climb into bed. He won’t watch you sleep, he decides. He might have intrusive thoughts and secrets and uncontrollable fantasies, but he’s not a creep.

Except you don’t go to sleep, so Joel continues to watch. He watches you run red painted fingers over your bare skin, between your breasts, over your belly, and back up. You do it again, slower this time, and Joel’s cock strains in his jeans. He watches you slip your hand beneath the band of your panties. He can’t see any details from this far away, but his breathing synchronizes with the speed of your fingers.

Suddenly, he remembers you’re still in his flannel. Realizes that you put it on to touch yourself. Pressure builds in his cock, and he finally admits that yeah— maybe he’s a little bit of a perv. But only for you—there’s something about you that drives him fucking insane.

He stands there and watches you touch yourself until you finish. He revels in the small arch of your back, in the tremble of your legs, in the way your chest heaves with each ragged breath on the come down. He wants to clean you up with his fucking tongue.

Joel doesn’t finish mowing the lawn that night.

When you go off to college, he can’t deny what a massive relief it is. You move across Texas to some campus far away, and the distance makes him feel like he can breathe easily again. He stops having so many disgusting, intrusive thoughts. He stops feeling guilty every time he plays pool with your dad because those secrets he kept for you were ones that don’t truly matter. Not when you’re nowhere to be found, anyway.

As the year stretches on, Joel realizes that he’d been wrong all along. He wasn’t a pervert. You are a seductress. Even Tommy jokes about the obvious schoolgirl crush you had and admits one night when it’s just the two brothers that if you had thrown yourself at him, he wouldn’t have been able to resist you so easily as Joel had.

It’s not him that’s in the wrong. It’s you. You and your soft hair. You and your pretty smile. You and your red nails. You and your pink lace. You and your soft voice. You, you, you.

For several years, those intrusive thoughts haven't plagued him. Not until your junior year of college, when some problem with campus housing surfaces and you’re forced to stay at home for a few days. Your dad is excited about it and forces the four of you to go out to dinner together to catch up.

He sees you for the first time in so long, and you look so different but somehow even prettier. You’re wearing a short white dress, and Sarah tells you you look like an angel, and Joel silently agrees. You have a tattoo on the inside of your wrist. It’s the tiniest little image of two hands with their pinkies wrapped around one another, and he thinks it’s so fitting for a girl with so many secrets.

Every time you look at him during dinner, Joel shifts in his seat. He isn’t very hungry. Not for food, anyway. He’s a little floored when you proudly present your shiny, brand new ID to the waitress and order a fruity pink drink called a Paloma. You explain that it has tequila in it, and share a subtle glance across the table, and Joel feels his insides warm as if he was the one drinking a cocktail instead.

He drowns himself in work the entire week. He cannot— cannot afford to find himself back in his old ways. You’re a woman now. A fully grown woman, who no longer needs validation from older men. He knows you're not interested. He knows this time, this time, it really is Joel who’s the problem. Avoidance, surprisingly, works.

Until you knock on the door one night with a DVD in your hand. “Is Sarah home? I found my old copy of Evil Dead. She said she missed having movie nights.”

Joel shakes his head. “No, uhm—she spent the night with a friend. Sorry.”

“Oh,” you deflate. “That’s okay, I get it. She’s older now. It’s…”

“Weird,” he finishes.

You laugh softly, and the sound brings a smile to his face. “Yeah, really weird,” you agree. “I just hope she’s nothing like me.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes darken, and Joel asks himself why he’s attempting to make conversation at all. It’s dangerous. He knows this.

“You know,” you say purposefully. “All those secrets? There were definitely more.”

For a reason he can’t pinpoint, it makes him a little annoyed. He knew it the whole time��of course, he knew there were more secrets than just the ones he was privy to. But a part of him wanted to know you better than anyone else. And maybe he did, for a second, but that second was long gone now. It was probably over moments after it began. “Yeah, well…that’s different.”

“How so? She’s only a little younger than I was when I met you.”

It’s an accusation. Joel can feel it. He can feel the anger seeping through your fake sweetness, too. But he doesn’t understand it. He didn’t do anything wrong. “You’re not my daughter. That’s what’s different.”

You roll your eyes, and his hands twitch with the urge to grab you by the jaw. “God, Joel—you’re such a pussy. Do you know that?”

Your words startle him. A crease forms between his brows, and he takes another step out of the doorway. “ Excuse me ?”

“Just say it! Say what you so desperately want to say. I can take it. Say it.”

The words come out slow and deadly, sounding far meaner than intended. “Say what?”

“Tell me it’s different because I’m a slut. It’s okay, Joel. It’s just the two of us now. Go ahead. Admit it.”

His jaw ticks.

“What, you think I’m dumb? You think I don’t hear you laugh at Tommy’s jokes when I walk out of a room? You think I didn’t know you guys called me jailbait for years?” You laugh cynically, arms crossed over your chest, and Joel thinks he’s never seen you so angry. So heated.

So hot.

He grabs your elbow and yanks you close. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Your face is inches from his, and he can smell vanilla and cherry and something happens. Something familiar and unique to you. Something disgusting. “And you know what the worst part of it all is?”

The worst part is that he’s twice your age. The worst part is that he’s known you since you were in high school. The worst part is that he’s friends with your father. The worst part is that you’re friends with his daughter. The worst part is that those perverted thoughts were never involuntary. They were never unavoidable. They were never unwanted. They were never intrusive.

“You like it,” you say with a smirk. “You like that I dress up in short skirts for you, and you like it when I climb in your bed when someone else leaves me unsatisfied. I almost finished that day, did you know?”

“ Jesus—fuck —don’t—”

“You barely touched me but I was so close just sitting in your lap. You like that I put on your clothes and touch myself in front of my window, hoping you’ll see. You like that I’m a slut for you, Joel Miller. Admit it. It’s okay. It’ll be our little secret .”

He pulls you into the house and slams the front door closed. His blood boils beneath his skin. He should have slammed it in your face, he thinks. But you’re here now—trapped inside with him. Or maybe he’s trapped inside with you.

The pleased smile on your face is his undoing. His breath comes fast, and he knows if he moves an inch there will never be any going back from this. So he doesn’t move. His limbs are frozen and his eyes are fixed on yours.

After a couple of tense filled seconds, your smile falters. Joel sees it. He hears the slight change in your voice too, as you confess, “I want you to touch me so badly.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck —Joel holds your face in his hands and slams his mouth to yours. You taste just the same; cherry sweet and delicious. It’s his favorite flavor, he thinks. Better than any forbidden fruit. Your tongue is so soft against his and impossibly more greedy. You invade his mouth, his soul, his heart.

It happens so fast, and so easily. Your arms loop around his neck and Joel pulls you flush against him and grips the back of your thighs. He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, hips already rolling against him like some feral thing inside of you is desperately clawing to get out. His cock has never been this hard, Joel knows. And he knows—he knows that he could cum just like this. Touching you, tasting you, feeling your softness. It’s enough.

Still, he wants more. He wants to see you fall apart. He wants to reach inside your chest and make you feel what he feels, make you feel tortured the way he’s been for years.

Joel walks to the sofa and sits with his legs spread wide. You’re still kissing him with everything you have, and it’s a clash of tongues and lips and teeth that he loves so much it’s an effort to thread his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and pull you away, but he does it. You’re both panting, and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact. His cock is throbbing, straining behind his jeans. “Put your money where your mouth is, baby,” he says breathlessly. “You wanna act like a slut for me, be a slut for me.”

He fists your dress in his hands and pulls it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. And then it’s just you, sitting in Joel’s lap, wearing nothing but pink, lace panties and a pair of strappy white heels. You’re so pretty, and he’s always known it—but seeing you up close has him weak. He can’t keep himself from touching you, from running his hands over your hips and living the fantasy he’s existed in for what feels like forever.

Once he starts, Joel can’t stop. He runs his calloused palms over your belly, your ribs, allowing his thumbs to ghost across the underside of your breasts. He moves slowly, meticulously, enjoying every moment. And when you hook your thumbs in the band of your panties with the intention to remove them, he places his hands over yours. “Hell no,” he says. “You think you can tell me you almost finished in my lap that night and get away with it?”

“But, I—”

“Nuh-uh. Prove it.”

Hesitantly, you tilt your hips against his. He wishes he was in only sweatpants the way he was that night because his jeans are keeping the feeling of your wetness away from him this time. But he can see it—the baby pink fabric is darker at the apex, and as you grind your hips against his Joel realizes you’re creating a mess on his clothes, too.

He understands. He really, really does. He feels it, too. Joel understands how desperate and needy you are. And because he’s just so understanding, he grants you a little reprieve. He leans forward and takes your nipple into his mouth. He’s real sweet about it too, giving you the same tender treatment your mouth gave him that night in his room. He licks the hardened peak softly, swirling his tongue, and you let out the prettiest moan he’s ever heard. The pace of your hips picks up, rolling against the bulge in his jeans faster.

“Oh, god,” you whimper. Your breath catches, and he can hear your heart beating rapidly behind your ribcage. He peppers kisses across your sternum and inhales deeply, sucking in a breath that’s nothing but you and holding it in his lungs. He kisses your other nipple and pinches the one wet with his spit between his thumb and forefinger.

He sucks your nipple into his mouth and groans when you fist your hands in his hair. You sound so pretty, he thinks—and he leans back on the couch to admire just how pretty you look. He can’t catch his breath, but he doesn’t mind.

Your pace falters the slightest bit, and your chest is heaving a little slower now. He sinks lower into the couch and thrusts his hips up into you—once, twice, and your legs are shaking. “Aww,” he coos. “You’re so sensitive, baby. Look at you.”

Too lost in your own bliss, Joel decides to help you, to teach you. He grabs your chin and forces it down, forces your attention to where your bodies are joined.

“I told you to look,” he repeats. Joel turns his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them taught, creating even more pressure against your clit. The pink fabric immediately becomes darker, sopping up some of the mess you’ve created on top of him, and Joel intends to make good on his wish to clean you up with his tongue. But not yet—not when you still have something to prove. “You gonna cum just like that? Hm?”

You nod frantically, your attention flickering between his dark eyes and your panties clutched between his thick fingers. “ Yes,” you tell him, legs trembling. Your pace is quick, and each roll of your hips becomes shorter and shorter. And with Joel moving underneath you it only takes seconds more before you combust. “Oh, fuck—fuck—I’m coming, I’m coming—!”

“That’s it,” he says, and you feel the deep timbre of his voice skitter across your skin like embers. “There you go. You’re being such a good slut for me, hm?”

When your orgasm finally fizzles out, you fall limply forward and Joel is there to catch you, like he always has been, like he silently vows he always will be. He rubs soothing circles against your spine and presses sweet kisses into your hair, waiting patiently as you try and regain what little composure you have left.

You lift your head from the crook of his neck, and your eyes are glossy and your bottom lip is swollen and your cheeks are flushed with a rosy hue, and Joel thinks you’ve never been more beautiful. But then you slide from his lap to the floor in one fluid movement, and he realizes that this is the prettiest you’ve ever been; on your knees before him, eyes bright with anticipation and excitement. You place your hands on top of his strong thighs, look up at him through your lashes and ask softly, “Can I suck your dick, Joel?”

He has to squeeze his eyes shut. He has to because his cock is so fucking hard and your voice is so sweet and filthy he can’t handle it. He breathes in slowly through his nose and says, “Of course you can, baby.”

Without a moment's hesitation, you unbuckle his belt. The metal clinks in your fingers, and Joel’s heart is racing when you unbutton his jeans and hook your thumbs through the loops to tug them down. His cock snaps against his belly, and you lick your pink lips.

You take it in your hands, and Joel aches when you swipe your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum. He can’t believe this is really happening, that you’re really here, running your sweet, sweet tongue over every inch of his cock. You’re tasting him, savoring him, and Joel wonders if it pleases you to see him all bent out of shape like this.

He prides himself on his masculinity. He’s always been a strong man, one who handles his shit on his own. Maybe it’s the Texas in him, but Joel’s always had traditional values. He’s always been the provider, the protector—he’s always been the one in charge. But when you wrap your lips around him and ease his cock into your hot, wet mouth, he’s at your complete mercy.

“ Fuck,” he hisses, hands going to your hair. He tangles the silky strands between his fingers, and you hollow out our cheeks, creating a suction that has him groaning. He feels each pass of your lips down his spine, pressure forming low in his belly. “Just like that, pretty girl.”

You wrap your hand around the base and stroke the length you can’t fit into your mouth, and his grip in your hair tightens. Your nails are painted red—and the look of them wrapped around his cock is far better than he’d ever been able to imagine in his head. It’s so good that he doesn’t want to stop, he wants to cum just like this. He wants to expend himself at the back of your throat and watch his cum leak out of your mouth.

But Joel doesn’t get too far ahead of himself. There are other things, filthier things he wants to do to you than fill your mouth up. You let out a whiny groan as if sucking him off is somehow more pleasurable for you than it is for him. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, and the vibrations nearly send him over the edge, but Joel rips your head back to prolong this precious time with you.

Your eyes are glassy, makeup smeared, lips swollen. You give him a beaming smile and Joel huffs a breath. “Did I do a good job?”

“ Yes, baby,” he says. “You did so well. C’mere, stand up.” You do as told, even though your legs are wobbly, and Joel lifts your foot into his lap. He unbuckles the straps of your heel, takes it off and sets it aside. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh and repeats the action with the other one, and then proceeds to pull your panties down your legs. He helps you out of the pink lace, and he knows he shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself and shoves them between the couch cushions, where he hopes you’ll forget about them.

He presses his mouth to your hip bone, an open mouthed kiss that leaves goosebumps in its wake as he does the same to your other side. “That feels so good,” you tell him.

Joel keeps peppering wet kisses across your belly, below your navel, over your pubic bone. Your thighs are pressed together, and you’re shifting on your feet in anticipation, and Joel can see the shiny wetness coating your pussy. He reaches between your legs and so gently slides his middle finger teasingly over your slit. It comes away sticky and wet, and he can’t resist the urge to lick the digit clean. It’s heady and sweet, and he feels drunker than whiskey or tequila has ever made him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, forehead falling against your abdomen. “What are you doing to me?”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “I want you so bad, Joel. Please touch me.” Your hands are in his hair, stroking the unruly curls and lightly pulling.

The word please in your mouth sounds so fucking cute, so needy and desperate. What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to be a good man when you exist? He can’t, Joel knows. So long as you’re near—he’ll never be a good man. Only a bad one. Only a perverse one. He hooks his arm around your leg and lifts it over his shoulder, keeping his other hand wrapped around your waist for balance, and lets himself taste you fully, to drink from the source.

And Jesus Christ, Joel loses it. He laps at your pussy, swallowing you up. He cleans up the mess you made in his lap, relishing in the decadence. He could do this for hours, he thinks. Could swirl his tongue around your swollen clit, could suck it between his lips, and kiss it softly for the rest of his life. He breathes in slowly, taking your scent deep into his lungs, and wonders why he’d ever want to come up for air. Your moans are music to his ears.

He dares a glance up at you to watch your expression when he reaches beneath you and slips a finger easily into your dripping pussy.

Your head falls back, your mouth falls open, and Joel falls in love.

The noises you make are obscene as you grind against his face, but not nearly as much as the sounds he’s making from between your legs. He’s groaning with your clit in his mouth and you’re creating a puddle in his palm, and it’s so sloppy and disgusting and he fucking loves it.

Joel silently admits that you were right; that he loves your obscenities. He loves your secrets. He loves your defiance. He loves your depravity.

He loves that you’re such a fucking slut.

“Oh, god— Joel—!”

He pulls away because if you’re going to moan out his name again it’s going to be because of his cock. He stands abruptly, keeping one hand at the small of your back, and holds your jaw. With your face tilted up towards him, he smirks as he watches tears form in your eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Why did you stop?” Your voice is so whiny, so hopeless and frantic that it makes his cock twitch. “You were about to make me cum,” you say.

He kisses you hard, and you moan into his mouth, and Joel runs out of patience. He lifts you up and lays your back flat against the couch. He’s hovering over you, and his cock is just inches from the place it’s wept to be inside for so many years. Joel rolls it against you, gasping at the feel of your pussy on the underside of his cock. You’re so wet, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to last long enough for this to be good for you.

But he’s determined. “ Joel,” you beg breathlessly, bucking your hips to try and find just the right angle where he slips inside.

“Yeah, baby?” He tilts his head slightly, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his hips and his predatory grin.

“You’re being mean,” you say. “Stop teasing me. Just put it in, Joel, I need it so bad.”

He kisses your forehead. “S’that right?”

“Yes!”

It’s impossible, he thinks, to hold back his laugh. “You’re so fucking cute, baby,” he says. “Say please.”

“ Please! Please, please ple—!”

Joel lets out a ragged breath as he pushes into you. Finally, he thinks. Finally, finally, finally. “Fuck.”

It’s so much better than he ever imagined. He sinks in deep until your hips are flush, and even then he pushes your knee back to open you up and get impossibly deeper.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, and Joel kisses you to swallow up the beautiful sound.

You take him like you were made for his cock. And maybe you were, because Joel had never known it could be this fucking good. He knows it’ll never be this good again. “You’re taking it like such a good slut, baby,” he whispers into your ear, tongue sliding up your neck. He pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, the sudden change in force ripping a cry from your throat. “Shhh, it’s okay. You can take it.”

With your arms and legs wrapped around him, Joel fucks you slow. Real slow, real deep—he’s touching parts of you you didn’t even know existed. You feel so full and pressure coils around your spine.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, yes yes— mmm—!”

He sets a steady pace, hitting that soft spot inside of you every time. He reaches between your bodies and swipes this thumb over your clit. “Say thank you, baby.”

You look right into his eyes, warm and dark and full of devotion. You say, “ Thank you, Joel,” and you suddenly remember the same memory he does of that first day.

He remembers how pretty you looked on your knees, and you remember how you spent that whole night in your bed touching yourself to him.

And now it’s happened, it’s finally happened, and his cock is buried deep inside of you and his thumb is pressing hard against your clit and before he realizes it, your pussy is squeezing him as you cum.

Tremors rock through your body, legs shaking and red painted fingernails clawing at his back. He keeps his same steady pace and says, “Give it to me, baby. Good fucking girl, being such a good little slut for me. That’s it. Give it to me. There you go.”

Even when your muscles loosen, you keep your limbs wound around him tight. Like even though you’ve finished and he’s seconds away from following you there, you still want him as close as possible. It makes him feel tender. “I want you to cum inside me,” you say, and Joel’s cock spasms in your tight pussy. “Cum in me, Joel, please —fill me up.”

He shouldn’t, he really fucking shouldn’t, but he already is, and stars blur his vision. Joel fights through the blindness though, and squeezes your cheeks in his hand. “Look at me,” he orders, and looking at your face makes him cum even harder. You take his thumb into your mouth, soft tongue circling it. And Joel bottoms out inside of you, has the best orgasm of his entire fucking life inside of a girl half his age, but cannot bring himself to regret a single second.

The weight of him over you is heavy but comforting. It’s perfect, and helps you catch your breath. Joel is panting, and you smell like vanilla and irish spring and cherry chapstick and when his eyes close, he wonders if he’s died and gone to heaven.

Your fingers are stroking his spine lazily when the fear creeps in. Do you regret it? Now that it’s out of your system, do you wish you’d never have done it? Never have taunted him, never had let him keep all those secrets, never have come over tonight? The Evil Dead DVD sits on the floor by the front door, abandoned.

There couldn’t have been much tequila in your mixed drink. You didn’t taste like alcohol at all. But still, you’d had some—do you feel like maybe he took advantage of you?

Joel is afraid to look at you. He’s afraid to open his mouth, to ask if you’re alright, to apologize, to beg for your forgiveness.

But then you ask him softly, “Is it okay if I sleep with you tonight?”

He hears the echo of those words, and wonders if you do, too. You wince as he finally sits up and pulls himself out of you. He knows he should say no, but he can’t. Instead, he asks, “Will you make pancakes in the morning?”

The sound of your girlish laughter greets him and calms his fears for now. “Anything you want.”

Joel stops at the bathroom on the way to his bed and cleans the sticky mess from between your legs. It’s then as he realizes how many unhinged decisions he’d made tonight. He doesn’t know if you’ve slept with other people without protection, doesn’t know if you’re on birth control, doesn’t know if you’d be willing to take a contraceptive pill in the morning if you’re not, doesn’t know anything. The distance, while easier, has taken so much of you from him. And the realization leaves Joel cold.

You’re so young, and he’s so much older than you…if the worst happened, would it even be the worst? Do you even want kids?

A new fantasy emerges in his brain. The first one since admitting to himself that it’s a little more than just an intrusive thought. You’re standing on the back porch with a beaming smile, hand over your eyes to block out the bright summer sun while he mows the lawn. You’re in a pretty pink sundress, and your belly is swollen with Joel’s baby, and his knees buckle as he leads you to his bedroom.

You climb in beside him, and he holds you under the blankets a little tighter than you hold him. Emotion chokes him. Joel swallows it down. But then you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I want to keep you,” he confesses. “I want to keep you forever.”

For a moment, it’s quiet. He wonders if maybe you think he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t have anything else to say.

“So do it,” you whisper.

“But I can’t.”

“You can,” you tell him with a sigh. “You can, Joel. That’s the real secret.”

The words reverberate through him. They clang around in his brain and leave him with something akin to elation. You kiss his jaw, and Joel thinks maybe you might be right. Maybe he will keep you.

But for tonight, having you here pressed against him with the promise of pancakes in the morning is enough.

[PART TWO]

[masterlist]

divider by @thecutestgrotto <3

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pedgito · 6 months ago

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↝ FOR THE WORK (10k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Using your neighbors address for deliveries doesn’t seem like the worst idea until you find yourself with a world of dilemmas and a burgeoning crush on the single dad who lives there. [Pre-Outbreak]

↝ PATROLS (17k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: A story of how things began, where they ended up, and where they might go. A collection of patrols over the course of several months is forcing you closer to Joel than you ever imagined, tense circumstances leading to hasty decisions and one bad choice after the next.[Set Post S1]

↝ SOFT & SWEET (5k+ words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Based around Work Song by Hozier. A comfort fic with lots of angst and fluffy goodness. Content Warnings: mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it’s just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

↝ MEET ME IN THE WOODS (50k words) | (Finished Series) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Taking a much needed vacation for the holiday, you aren't aware your cabin has been double-booked until you're face to face with the other guest the night you arrive, left with a big decision to make and the possibility of a month with a man you know nothing about. But, through communication and isolation, you learn that you and him might not be that different after all. Consumed by your shared loneliness, you find company in the unlikeliest of place—a stranger named Joel, in the middle of the woods. [No Outbreak] (6 chapters)

↝ MET THE DEVIL LAST NIGHT (6k words) — (AU) Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: 18+ Demon!Joel, Virgin!Reader, this was little plot and mostly smut lol.

↝ THESE BOOTS WERE MADE FOR RIDING (3k words) — Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel doesn't like gifts, you gift him new boots.

↝ HANDSOME, DIRTY, RICH (12k words) — BFD!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The rich father of your bestfriend, Sarah — Joel Miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. ↝ RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW (2.7k words) Summary: joel is celebrating your one year anniversary with a few surprises.

↝ MILLER'S GIRL (24k+ words) | (Finished Series) — (AU) Professor!Joel Miller

Summary: A sudden infatuation with your professor yields strange, unnerving results and Joel Miller, in his first semester at a new job finds himself in an unlikely position with a student that hides their intentions behind innocence.

↝ MOONLIGHT (8k words) — No Outbreak!Joel Miller

Summary: a series of nights spent with a neighbor you find an unlikely connection with, sharing a similar interest to pass the time, it forms into something much more intense and suddenly, neither of you can deny it anymore.

↝ STICKY SWEET (3.2k words) — dbf!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You're stranded, you need help—of course, Joel Miller is your savior.

↝ DIRTY LAUNDRY (5.6k words) — Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. After all, what are neighbors for?

↝ ANYWHERE BUT HERE (1.8k words) — Joel Miller x reader

Summary: A poor damsel in distress, saved by the most unlikely of man.

↝ ABSOLUTION (Ongoing Series, last updated 7/18) — Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Moving in with your soon-to-be stepfather under the roof of his brother, Joel, ends up being a turning point of change in your life.

REMORSE FOR REMEDY (Ongoing Series, last updated 8/21) — Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Alone, the Miller's brothers seem like your only hope. The outbreak is still fresh, weeks after the fall and all that matters is survival and the unlikely comfort that comes along with a man who wants nothing to do with you.

BONUS (+ other characters):

TWO IS BETTER THAN ONE (9k words) — Tommy x Reader x Joel

Summary: Both the Miller brothers have a thing for you and you have a thing for them. They give you an ultimatum and you don’t like that. So, instead of one, you choose both.

BITTER (14k words) — Joel x Reader x Tommy

Summary: A moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret. (Part 2 coming soon)

UPDATED: 11/12/2024

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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sinsofsummers · 1 year ago

Text

undone

2.2k | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel miller worships the day you showed up braless to his fourth of july party. warnings: smut (of course), 18+, mdni. no outbreak au, fourth of july party (forgive him he's from texas), joel's pov, he's a dumb bitch, masturbation (m), pervy!joel but not really, age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel in his early 40s), slight religious slander (not extreme by any means!). note: this is just me dipping my toes into the dbf!joel universe, lemme know what you think! zero editing basically, i'm so sorry, there will probably be more drabbles for this. also this is consolation for the dumb shit holiday that is independence day in the us. i hate it here.

He's anything but religious; he hasn't gone to church since he was a kid. And yet...Joel Miller worships the day you went braless to his Fourth of July party.

Even now, laid in his bed with his arm thrown carelessly across his face and his fist curled tightly around his cock, he's not sure he'll ever recover.

Muffled grunts fall from his lips with every strained tug, and he's sure it sounds something like prayer. Considering the fact that you're as close to heaven as he'll ever get, he'll call it a fair assessment. If it's sacrilege to jerk off to the thought of his best friend's daughter every night...so be it.

He's never been one with any type of remarkable memory, but he knows that the image of your perfect chest peeking at him through the thin thank you'd worn that day would stick with him forever.

You'd blinked up at him with a grin, a bowl of fresh fruit salad prepared to share with the rest of the guests in your hands. A strand of hair had fallen into your eyes and he'd had to fight against every urge and keep his hand down at his side.

What he really wanted to do was brush your hair from your eyes (ever the gentleman), and then replace the spot where his fingers would touch your forehead with his lips. He'd always wondered what your hair might smell like, what shampoo you used in the morning, and how your skin looked when the suds ran down your body, rinsed down the drain.

What he wouldn't give to be the suds running down your radiant skin, to touch every curve and crevice of your body, the spots that never see the light of day.

He hadn't seen you since you'd gone to college. Well, not for more than a few days over your Christmas break each year, and even then...he'd made sure to steer clear of you. Tried to ignore the way your smile made his own stutter, how your arms were always so soft around his neck when you gave him the occasional hug.

How your eyes had begun to linger, just enough to make his jaw clench and his cock twitch.

A strangled sigh fights its way out of his chest as he remembers the events of that fateful party, and just how he's ended up here, cock in hand, your scent in his head, and your name on his tongue.

—

"Jesus Christ," he murmured when you and your dad showed up with your dishes to pass. The backyard had been strewn with red, white, and blue decorations, the perfect image of a typical Texan backyard celebration for Independence Day.

He'd been unable to hide his groan at the way the bright colors practically bled into his skull, but there was no other way to have a Fourth of July party, apparently. Of course, this was really just for tradition, and...well, his younger brother Tommy would have had his head if there weren't at least a few American flag streamers.

Your little white tank had already begun to cling to your skin in the Texas heat, the straps thin. Before he knew it, he was hoping that the sun would do him a favor and kiss your skin where he wished he could. That it might form those pretty little lines along your shoulders and give a warm glow to your face, evidence of your presence at his house, at his party, drinking his beer.

"Drunk already?" your dad's voice roused him from his momentary lapse in judgment and then Joel was getting tugged into a firm handshake and a clapped hand on his shoulder.

He tore his eyes from you and hoped that the pink in his cheeks (that was definitely there) could be mistaken for a quickly setting sunburn. He didn't want to think of what you might take his blush for if you noticed.

He chuckled, shaking his head and returning the handshake. “Hell no,” he answered hastily, “just gettin’ hungry for that fruit salad, man.” And the angel holding it. “Need a hand?” he asked you, forcing his eyes not to wander from yours.

Fuck. Your eyes were extra bright today, with the sun seemingly lighting them from the insides. And those cheeks? Already pink and sunkissed, just how he’d hoped they would be. He might have offered you some sunblock if he’d thought it was appropriate. Might have offered to help you spread it onto your smooth skin if he’d thought that was appropriate.

Of course, he’d be condemned to the darkest circle of hell if he let those thoughts run wild. So he trained his eyes on yours and waited for your response.

You shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ear. You squinted into the sun, an action that forced one eye closed, as if you were winking at him. “I’ve got it,” you said casually, “can I put it inside for now?” You adjusted your hold on the fruit salad, making your breasts shift under your shirt.

Joel nodded—fuck’s sake, he thought with the movement of your chest—and tilted his head toward the back door that led to the kitchen. “Go for it, Sarah’s already in there.”

Your dad had been called away by Tommy, so Joel was left in your quiet company. He watched your smile widen at the mention of his daughter’s name and felt his heart twinge. You were just a few years older than his daughter, and here he was, not only willing his cock to settle down at the sight of your nipples pressing against the cloth of your shirt, but also wishing that your smile widened at the mention of his name.

Joel wasn’t quite sure what happened in the subsequent minute or how he moved so quickly. Before he knew it, you’d stepped closer to him and he’d stepped to the side, except he was really just getting in your way, and your eyes were widening in surprise, and then the bowl of fruit salad was shuffling in your grip and he was stumbling to get back out of your way and then—

“Shit,” you mumbled a curse. The juice from the contents of the bowl—mostly watermelon juice, it looked like—had splashed up onto your shirt, seeping through the white fabric and painting your chest a pale pink. You looked up, a careless smile replacing the distracted look on your face. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. M, really. I was gonna have to wash this shirt tonight anyway.”

“I—uh, I didn’t mean to,” was all he could come up with, and he could feel his face heating once more at the look on your face. “Shirt’s ruined. I’m sorry darlin’,” he mumbled—was the temperature increasing by the second?—and pretended not to notice the way your shirt clung even tighter to your chest. It was like a damn wet t-shirt contest, the way the darker shade of your nipples began to peek through the soiled fabric at him. He blinked and looked away, trying to ignore the way your smile had turned into a smirk. Have you caught him?

You shrugged and passed the bowl to him. “No, it’s not,” you reassured him with a breathless chuckle. “I’m sure Sarah’s got a shirt or two I can wear.”

He’d been left standing with the bowl of your fruit salad as you’d trekked into the house, presumably to do as you’d said. When you came out just a few minutes later, he’d been talking to your dad and a few of the other neighbors that had come over. He’d almost completely forgotten about the incident, until you were there again, standing in front of him.

In his shirt.

“Uh,” he said dumbly, not sure whether you knew whose shirt you were wearing, or if you’d gone into the wrong laundry pile.

You picked at the hem of the shirt, and he traced the lines of your long fingers with his eyes, practically seeing your sweet scent sink into the fabric. He hoped you could smell his cologne lingering on the collar as it licked against the soft skin of your neck. “Sarah found this in her closet,” you explained, “she said it was one of her sleep shirts.” You flitted your gaze to him, and he caught a glimmer of amusement in the depths of your eyes. “Smells kind of…”

Like me. He shivered despite the heat and tapped his finger on his hip to calm himself down. It smells like me, and now you’re gonna smell like me, angel.

“Like men’s cologne,” you finished with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure Sarah’s not bringing home any guys you don’t know about, Mr. Miller?”

He cocked an eyebrow and bit back a cutting remark. “‘Course not,” he said smoothly, “they’d never get past the front door.”

It was all he could do not to tug you onto his lap with his shirt hanging past your hips, giving the illusion that you weren’t wearing any shorts beneath it. Fuck, he had to get away from your father before he did anything he regretted. “Need another drink, anyone?” he offered, shifting his weight away from you in a failed attempt to get the thoughts out of his mind.

The others shook their heads, but you nodded. “I’ll get another, actually,” you said simply. And then he was stuck with you, his fingers itching to lift that shirt from your body and reveal that warm skin to his desperate mind.

The kitchen was empty—a small blessing—and Joel fished through the fridge for another beer. Handing one to you, he cherished the way your fingers brushed his as you pulled it from his grasp, the droplets of condensation running down the bottle like he knew the sweat was running down his back at the thoughts that swam through his mind.

“S’my shirt, you know,” he grumbled softly, not quite sure why he’d said it. Maybe it was to gauge what your reaction would be. Maybe he already hoped that you’d smile at the thought.

You looked down at the shirt, cheeks reddening. “It is?” you said quietly, the surprise unraveling in your voice. “I’m sorry, I can get another one—”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, s’okay. Looks better on you than it does on me, anyway.”

“Oh.” Just one word, but he noticed the way your legs wobbled at the same time. The way the bottle slipped just a centimeter in your hand.

Gotcha, he smirked inwardly.

—

Days have gone by, and he still thinks about that blush in your cheeks every night. He can’t help it when you just look so angelic in the shirt of a sinner like him.

Joel’s hand squeezes his cock for all its worth as he strokes himself languidly, faint mumbles beginning to fall from his lips like the verses of a damn hymn. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he groans in the darkness of his room, feeling the pressure build in his body. With every muscle in his chest tensing, he lets a broken sigh escape his throat as he spills his hot seed into his hand, the picture of your face embedded in his mind’s eye. Laying there for a moment, he catches his breath as oxygen raggedly pushes itself in and out of his lungs.

And then he hears it. A knock. The front door, it sounds like.

He hastily cleans himself up, but the faint feeling of stickiness remains on his hand as he traipses down the stairs in the dark, wondering just who the hell would be knocking on his door so late at night.

When he opens the door, he’s not exactly expecting to see the face he’d just come on his hand to.

“Hey,” he chokes out, hiding his hand behind his back as if you might be able to see the evidence of sacrilege on his skin. He’s afraid you’ll be able to decipher the sweat on his forehead for the sinful act that it had come from just moments ago. “What’s up?”

“Oh!” you sound surprised at his answering the door, a fact that makes him smirk. “I’m just…I’m just here to return Sarah’s shirt,” you explain hastily.

There it is, hanging from your loose grip, waiting for him to take it. “You mean mine,” he corrects gently, his grin widening as he feeds his hand up the frame of the door, hovering over you close enough that he can see your pupils widen and pulse at the proximity of his chest to yours.

Your mouth hangs open, just enough that he thinks about pushing his thumb in between your lips, up to the first knuckle. His mind goes wild at the thought of how warm and soft and wet your mouth would be around his fingers. How perfect it would be around even more.

He shoves the thoughts away as you nod. “Yeah,” you say with a breathless chuckle. “Yours, I mean. I don’t need it anymore, though. So…” your eyes drop to the shirt between you, your words trailing off.

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t need it back,” he says warmly. “Not yet, anyway. Keep it.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, the thought of you wearing it more than once lighting his mind on fire. “Keep it for now. I’ll come to collect it some other time. No reason to return it in the dead of night, doll.”

Fuck. The nickname had slipped.

But based on the way your lips curl at the corners, he’s dodged a bullet. “Okay,” you say softly, and he swears he can see the moon reflected in your eyes. “Just for a little longer, then.”

He nods and says goodnight, closing the door only when he can see that you’ve made it back to your house next door safely. The door shuts with a soft click, and he grins to himself.

To hell with the shirt. Doesn’t matter to him. He’ll get it back eventually. And when he does, he plans to have it smell like you.

this ending was so rushed ahhhh i have to go to work!!! bye!!!! ty for reading and all the love!!!!

tagging here cause i have to goooo to workkkkk!!!

@mingiast @iluvurfather @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @morning-star-joy @sofiparallel @elegantduckturtle @evyiione @bitchwitch1981 @disassociation-daydreams @mrsquill @littlemisssluttyknee @papipascalispunk @mumma-moonchild @marchai @mlodanatka @xdaddysprincessxx @bongsrconfusing @tlouadditc @dinsdjrn @alejaa-a @daysilva2 @worhols @jellybeanxc @struig @cherryreddarbiter

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loonmartell · 7 months ago

Text

𓄹𓄼 Rainy day brew 𓄼𓄹

(No outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary : Can a stormy night and well brewed coffee bring two hearts together?

Rating : Explicit/+18 (Smut! MDNI)

Word count : 6,336 (I got carried away sorry..)

Warnings/tags : No outbreak AU, forced proximity cuz rain, pining, Alternating POV, pet names, one “yes, ma’am” because I couldn’t help it, a sprinkle of plot, lil fluff & banter, SMUT (unprotected PiV sex, fingering, dirty talk, grinding, kissing, teasing, One (1) playful ass slap, creampie), storms (rain, thunder & lightning), A LOT of yapping about pour over coffee, no use of y/n.

A/N : Hello again! Today I come with Joel smut 🙏🏻. I wrote this for @undercoverpena ‘s April Showers Challenge! I absolutely fell in love with the idea when i saw it, cuz if there’s one thing about me it’s that I LOVE rain! So ofc i had to try and do it <3 A big huge colossal thank you to @joels-darlin for being my lovely beta <33 and @coispunk for not blocking me after i bounced off the walls contemplating if i should upload this or not ✨✨✨

Masterlist

——

“You need a ride home darlin’?”

You turn to the source of the voice and find Joel talking to you through the rolled down window of his pick up truck.

“Oh! no it’s okay I can wait for the rain to—”

“Non ‘a that now, This storm could last ‘til tomorrow night” he leans over the passenger seat to open the door for you.

It’s not that you wouldn’t appreciate the ride —you most certainly would— but you didn’t want to be an inconvenience and you especially didn’t want Joel to think that you were aburden.

You didn’t know each other very well. Your best friend Maria is dating his brother Tommy. And you’ve been dragged to a couple of dinners and drinks over the last couple of months with the three of them. But the conversations were always guided by the other two, so you and Joel never really spoke much. In fact, you had the fleeting idea that maybe Joel didn’t like you. He’s always so tense around you, you know this because you literally saw his jaw tensing after you showed up. And you caught him glaring at you a couple of times. You thought you may have unknowingly offended him somehow, but Maria assured you afterwards that you didn't say or do anything wrong and that he was probably just tired. So you let it go, but the idea is still floating around in your head.

Tonight was one of those nights where you went out for drinks, Maria and Tommy headed home early and left you with Joel half an hour ago. And not long after that Joel excused himself saying he had an early morning and said his goodbyes.

You waited a couple of minutes before you got out as well. Only, much to your delight; a storm was brewing and it was raining by the time you were ready to walk home. What an incredible choice you made to walk instead of drive on this day.

When Joel was one street away from where he left you at the bar. He thought back on when you mentioned leaving your car at home because you thought it was nice weather for a stroll. He tried really hard to get the idea of you walking home in this storm out of his head. You can manage. Get an uber, call a cab, whatever. But then again, Joel's southern manners would never allow him. That, and this big, colossal crush he has on you.

The first time he ever saw you was when he picked up Tommy from Maria’s (and your) apartment one morning. Tommy left him waiting long enough for you to get out and go to work (he assumed). You really had him in a chokehold. You were really, breathtakingly beautiful. You had your hair in a high ponytail with a few strands deliberately out, framing the gorgeous features of your face. You had both your hands full. One had a large handbag hanging from your wrist, hand holding a travel mug and a coat hanging on your forearm. The other hand was holding a bright red watering can. You started watering the flower beds on the windowsills and the big pot of gardenias right by the door. Your next door neighbour, an old lady, got out at that time. And Joel saw your cheery smile for the first time, and what he assumed were good mornings were exchanged. What a sweet, little thing.

He had the sudden urge to roll down the car window so he could hear what voice accompanied that divine face. But he thought better of it. And sooner than he would prefer, you were in your car and driving off.

When Tommy finally showed up, apparently physically unable to take his lips off of Maria’s, judging by how they never separated even after he was out the door. Joel rolled his eyes and turned his face away from that scene and towards the street on his other side.

Finally Tommy got into the car with a disgusting, lovesick smile on his face. But he smelled like shampoo and his hair was relatively wet. He showered and for that Joel is eternally grateful.

“You’re late” Joel deadpanned.

“And good morning to you too, brother” The younger man scoffed before placing two travel mugs in the cup holders.

Joel scrunched his eyebrows “what's that?”

“Coffee, Maria’s roommate brews her own with one ‘a those pour over kits and she insisted that we try hers.”

Joel’s throat went dry, thinking about that pretty girl he was unashamedly staring at, going out of her way to make enough coffee for her friend’s boyfriend’s brother. A sweet, delightful little thing.

“That’s real nice of her” if his voice cracked a little, Tommy didn’t notice.

“Yeah it is. So I’ve been thinkin’,” Tommy changed the subject faster than Joel would like. “You think you can drop me off at my place at say.. Two?”

“Two? We finish at the site at least after Three, what d’ya mean you wanna get out at Two?” Joel shifted his eyes from the road long enough to glare at his brother.

“Yeah I know but I was thinkin’” Joel is really starting to hate it when Tommy thinks “today’s me and Maria’s six months anniversary, and I kinda wanna do somethin’ special for her”

Six months anniversary Joel mentally scoffed, the fuck is a six months anniversary? And why isn’t he talking more about that damn sweet roommate!

“Yeah no can do, Romeo. We’re already behind ‘cause ’a last week, need I remind you that you ditched me laying down parquet on my own? had to do the three bedrooms that day all by myself”

“I told you we should’a done planks instead of parquet but you never listen to me, do you?” Tommy’s counter argument was weaker than he was hoping for. It was the owner’s choice, not Joel’s. And they both knew it. “Plus I had a damn plausible excuse that day”

“Not sure if a discount on an already cheap restaurant counts as plausible”

“It wasn’t just a ’discount’, Joel. It was a surf ‘n turf for half the price!”

“Yeah well I was surfin’ and turfin’ alone on the floors of the Johnsons. You’re not ditchin’ me again.”

Tommy slumped down on his chair like a toddler would.

On a red light Joel finally picked up his mug and took his first sip. A sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making little thing.

——

Before he even knew it, Joel was opening the passenger side door for you, not taking no for an answer. Thankfully, you didn’t put up that much of a fight and climbed your pretty ass in his truck.

The ride was pretty short and silent. The sound of thunder and loud smacks of raindrops against the car not leaving much room for chatting anyway.

When he parked as close as he could to your door, he reached behind your seat to the pocket of it. And brought out a small, folded umbrella. He knew it was a mere seconds walk from the car to your door, but he had the umbrella with him already, so why risk giving you a cold? Your nose, red and sniffling. He had to actively suppress the upturn of the corners of his lips.

“Here” he handed you the umbrella and before you could get a chance to speak, he followed with “not taking no for an answer, darlin’. Gettin’ soaked in this wind could get you sick”

“Um.. actually the storm’s getting stronger, and I was gonna suggest you come inside? I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you driving in this weather”

A sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful little thing.

He looked out the windows, trying to figure out his next move.

“Think I’ll take you up on that offer. It does look pretty bad, and the slippery streets are harder to navigate when I can’t see further than my nose.” He brought his eyes to you. Hoping he wouldn’t seem too eager to agree.

You graced him with a smile and said “well alright then, guess now I don’t have to feel bad for hogging you umbrella”

“ ‘s not hogging if I’m voluntarily givin’ it to you” he smirked as he turned off the car. He got out of it with a quick “stay where you are” and opened the umbrella as he rounded to your side of the truck.

You walked under the umbrella he was holding. You’ve never been this close to him before and it gave you goosebumps that had nothing to do with the weather. You fiddled with your keys until you got the door open. There was no car outside or shoes in the foyer. They must’ve gone to Tommy's then. As much as you always wanted some quiet, alone time in your apartment. This was not one of those times. You were hoping Maria and Tommy were here to take the edge off of being alone with Joel, but you can’t really back out now and you’re already here. So, time to take a page out of the southern manners book.

”What would you like to drink?” you offered after he settled on the couch. His large frame dwarfing your whole living room, making everything look almost miniature. The thought had you blushing and you don’t really know why, but you don’t even want to find out.

“Coffee would be nice, if it's not a bother” his voice travelled through his place on the couch to the kitchen.

You can’t help the excited grin you have on “not at all! I just got a new Holklotz set that I’ve been dying to try out” when you get a new brewing set, you need time to experiment with different coffee grinds, ratios and timing between blooming and brewing to master the perfect cup. Time is a luxury not available to you on late mornings when you trade it for extra minutes of sleep.

Footsteps approaching the kitchen make you raise your head to see Joel coming into view, his eyebrows scrunched and confused “you got a what?”

You smile and hold the wooden base of the dripstand that you took out of the cabinet “this is my newest set, it arrived a week ago but between work and being too tired after, I haven’t had the time to bring it out and try it yet. Until now” you look at him with a too excited smile that you don’t try to hide.

“Well alrighty then, you happen to have here the perfect white mouse, test away” he settles at the barstool by the kitchen island that you’re standing by. You weigh the coffee beans and put them in the manual grinder, set to the size you need. Not too coarse but not too fine.

“Okay white mouse, care to help?” You hold up the grinder.

“Tell me what you need, boss” he concludes. So, you hand him the grinder to work on it as you heat the water and take the rest of the set out and put it together.

He continues working on grinding the coffee and wonders if you have immensely great upper body strength, since you do this every morning. His coffee is already ground and comes in a container. He doesn’t see the necessity for an upper body workout every time you need a little caffeine. But truth be told, he has been craving that coffee you made him that one time. Damned if it wasn’t the best cup he’s ever had.

The silence is killing him, and he has to avail from the storm that brought him to your home. “So, when you’re not at work or training for an arm wrestlin’ tournament,” he gestures to the grinder “what do you like to do?”

“Obviously, I take part in the tournaments I train for” you say with a serious expression that has his eyes widened in surprise. “I’m kidding, Joel. Although I think I have a good solid shot at winning.” You stick your nose up in the prettiest little smug face and Joel wants to kiss it away so bad. Focus.

He drags himself back to the present “can’t argue with that. But, if you’re basing that over this,” he again gestures to the grinder in his hands “then it’s not enough bargain for winning”.

You scoff and raise your hands up, wiggling your fingers “you have no idea what these hands can do” Joel can see you regretted blurting out the words without thinking, judging by the rising blush on your face and the way you don’t meet his eyes anymore. He can’t say he’s any better, his mind is already conjuring unholy images, reeling his brain and sending a rush of tingling heat down south.

What can they do? He imagines your small hands trying to wrap around his throbbing cock. Or you writhing on your bed stuffing yourself with three of your too small fingers, desperately trying to cum. He bets he can do it faster and better for you. If you give him the chance.

He knows he shouldn’t be picturing you like this. It’s crazy to even think about you like this. You haven’t even told him if you’re interested. Hell he never even said anything to show you he’s interested.

Clearing your throat, this time you’re the one bringing him back to the present, you say “anyway, I think I got off topic there” you let out a nervous chuckle. “To answer your question. My time is pretty much divided between work, coffee and my plants. I’m kinda boring, don’t really got much going on”

Joel doesn’t hear the presence of a partner in your life, and he selfishly likes it.

“Don’t sound boring to me, ‘s pretty comfortable” you smile at his comment and he gives you the coffee grounds, ready to be used.

You start your brewing process, talking him through every step you’re doing. Wetting the filter, dumping the coffee grounds in and meticulously pouring the water on the dripper. The blooming, the timing. He can’t promise he heard everything. Because you bite your bottom lip and your face contorts in the cutest focused face and he can’t help but stare. You really love doing this and he wants to eat you up.

“My chemex is my go-to on late mornings,” You suddenly pipe up as you’re waiting for the water to drip through the coffee grounds. “Even though it takes longer than a V60, It’s just faster to clean up and I can dual-task while it’s brewing. So I don’t mind.”

He lets out a hum from the back of his throat, considering what you said. “What about the taste? Whaddya like more?” He surprises himself that he actually cares and not just trying to be polite.

“I like them both the same, the flavour with the V60 is usually richer ‘cause the filters are thinner, but I still like the soft, smooth taste when using the chemex”.

In the back of his mind, Joel thinks he’s ready to fall in love with you. He loves coffee, sure. But to him it’s just something he needs in the morning and sometimes later in the day. Never really thought much of it, he has a coffee machine that gets work done for him. And yet, here you are, showing him a different, almost artistic aspect of it.

“Although..” Okay so you’re not done yet. “If we’re talking taste-wise in the brewing methods, I’ll have to go with the syphon”

“Syphon?”

“Yes syphon, I tried it once in a lovely family owned coffee shop across town. I’m telling you, if I lived near there? I would be a regular faster than you can say syphon”

“Well syphon is a long word, two full syllables” he faux ponders, making you giggle.

“Okay smartass, coffee’s ready.” You pull out two mugs from the cabinet. And fill them up. And slide his across the kitchen island, a brown owl adorning the ceramic surface.

You both sip at the same time then let out a ridiculously simultaneous soft sighs. You look at Joel with wide, pleading eyes, gauging his reaction. And of course, being the honest man that he is, he would never lie.

“Damn, that is good” he clicks his tongue and goes for another sip.

You smile brightly “I like it too. Although it’s a little more bitter for my liking, think I'll adjust the grind next time.”

You want to kick yourself so bad. You’re only now realising that you got too comfortable and you let yourself go on and on about something he probably doesn’t even care about. You had to shut the caffeine talk down.

“So, Joel, how's Sarah?” You gestured for him to follow you to the living room.

He settled on one side of the loveseat while you occupied the other, folding your legs under yourself. “She’s alright, her mom wanted her to see her grandma so she’s with her this week.” Maria told you all about their co-parenting system and how they’re succeeding in making it work so far. Little 10 years old Sarah spends equal amounts of time with both her parents and she feels loved by both. Not everything is a bed of roses, of course. But they deal with obstacles when they appear in their time.

“That’s nice, and how was her game last week? I remember you said she was nervous about it?” He stared at you for a few seconds too long that it makes you wonder if you crossed a line or said something wrong. But he blinked a couple of times and continued.

“Doin’ great actually, my little goal getter” he pondered softly before announcing “she scored the winning goal in last week’s game!” He sat up a little, you think it’s unconsciously as a result of his excitement.

“Oh my god! That’s so amazing!” You matched his energy “you must be so proud!”.

His smile widened if it was possible “I am, she puts her mind into something and never rests ‘til she gets it,” he reclined against the couch again “dunno where she got it from, but I sure as hell am not gonna complain”

“You’re selling yourself short, Joel.” You offered a warm smile “I’m sure you’ve been a great influence on her, your determination is probably rubbing off on her.”

Joel’s expression softened, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “Thanks, sure means a lot coming from you, sweetheart. If I’m bein’ honest, I just wanna see my girl chasin’ her dreams and be happy. ‘s all I want”

“I have no doubt she’ll do so much, and she’ll achieve great things with your guidance and support” you placed your hand on his knees for reassurance.

He felt warmth all over his chest, his heartbeats exceeding those of a hummingbird. His eyes fell down to where your hand was touching and almost burning him, and they stayed there for a while before looking back at your eyes. He has this immense urge to kiss you. The tension has been building all night and his ability to hold himself off is getting harder and harder by the second.

He cleared his throat, trying to steady his racing heart as he met your gaze. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your faith in her means the world to me."

Your hand lingered on his knee for a moment longer before you withdrew it, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "She's lucky to have you as her dad, y’know" you said softly, the look in your eyes showing the sincerity of your words.

A moment of silence passed between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Joel's gaze flickered to your lips, his own heart still pounding accompanied by longing. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to convey the feelings swirling inside him.

He brought his eyes back up to yours only to see that your gaze had been on his lips, mirroring his desires. Your gazes met, the tension snapped. Lightning flashes through the window right before your eyes and your lips crash in a bruising, soaring kiss that to outsiders would look as if you were trying to devour each other. Everything happened at a rather fast pace. The roaring of the thunder dwindled by frantic breathing and the rush of blood in his ears. His tongue demanded entry, which you gave no problem. He brought his large palm over your hips, pulling you over to straddle him, never breaking the kiss.

He felt your heat through the layers of clothes between you as you settled on his lap, pulling a soft gasp out of you. Using his grasp on your hips, he rocked you back and forth to grind your center on his bulge, eliciting a string of whines you let out in between the clashing of tongues. In a moment of sudden clarity, he broke off your lips but never moved too far away, he rested his forehead to yours, sharing the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice husky with emotion.“Um- I’m sorry, is- is this okay?”

You continued to move against him, seeking more friction. Then you chuckled through your laboured breathing, “yeah, yes I want this. If- if you do too.”

“Oh darlin’ you have no idea” he hurried out before picking up where he left off, trailing his lips down the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck where he settled on open mouthed kisses that sent your head falling back, giving him more of you. He got addicted to the taste of your skin on his tongue fast and he craved to taste more.

Dragging his mouth over your shoulders then to your collarbone. He huffed in frustration, your shirt was personally offending him by denying him the access he needed. Seeming to sense his frustration, you pushed him away slightly so you could pull off your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. He wasted no time roaming his hands all over your torso, returning his mouth to your collarbones, kissing his way down to the parts of your breasts spilling out from your bra.

His hands slithered up from your hips to the sides of your waist, then wrapped around your back and moved up to hook his fingers underneath the strap of your bra. He mumbled against your skin, “can I take it off?” You gasped your affirmation. Overwhelming sensations leaving you breathless.

Even though it was a simple bra strap, he struggled to unhook it. Hands too shaky and excited. You breathed a laugh and did it yourself. Once you’re completely bare, nipples perking up as soon as the cold air hits them. He pulled away, looking at you with wide, fascinated eyes. His lips immediately latched around a nipple, flicking his tongue slowly, almost as if he’s savouring the feeling. He pulled away and murmured “beautiful”. Just to latch onto the other one with the same treatment, “absolutely beautiful” he murmured again into the plushness of your tits.

You felt a shiver at the undivided attention from the gorgeous man that seems to never get enough of you. Of course you always thought he was handsome, that was non negotiable. The man was gorgeous from day one. And tonight, you felt a connection that you never felt before. And as soon as the ties were made, the tension rose suddenly, as if it had always been there but you were too much in your head to notice it, contemplating whether he likes you or not. But now, you do notice it. Very much so. And it’s becoming unbearable. You want him so bad. You want him to drown all your senses. You want him inside, outside, under and over you.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You held his head with both your hands to pull him away from your chest before saying “need to see you too, Joel” you pleaded as you fumbled with the hem of his shirt trying to lift it. His eyes darkened at your desperation. As quick as the lightning that occasionally lights up the room around you, he flipped you so your back is against the couch and took off his shirt and jeans and hovered above you.

You took a steadying breath and your eyes drank in the sight in front of you, bringing your hands on each of his wrists. You mapped the outlines of his thick arms, moving towards his shoulders. Then brought them back to his broad chest, bare except for the hair that formed a thick layer in the center. You felt the muscles ripple under your fingertips. Built from the physical labour that a contractor would endure. You lowered your touch a little to feel his soft stomach. Squishy tummy, a sign of a man that was actually living and feeding himself well. Not shying away from a meal or obsessing over fitting society’s mould of perfection. You wanted to kiss it and nibble on it so bad, but you weren’t sure if he’d be okay with it, that was probably more of a second time type of thing. Mentally shaking your head away from the idea that you’re already thinking of next time when nothing even happened yet. Lastly, you ran your fingers on the smattering of coarse, dark hair that dipped further down into his tented boxers.

Mostly empty coffee cups long abandoned on the table. He knelt on his knees between your spread legs, and yanked your pants and panties in one quick motion. Towering over your naked form. His eyes danced around every inch of your body. He brought his thumbs to each side of your heat. Tracing the outside of your folds. He murmured so low, almost as if he’s talking to himself “Too goddamn pretty for your own good, baby”. He was basking in the sight of your desperate writhing as your need for any kind of friction became unfathomable.

“Please,” you whined in frustration, A smirk pulled on his lips at your little pouty face.

“Please what, darlin’?”

“Touch me” your keen hands reach for his wrists to coax them where you want him. But he was determined to keep his hands at their place.

Yeah, your hands are too small, too soft for such a sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager little thing.

“I am touching you now, ain’t I?” He keeps stroking the outside of your lower lips.

“More, please.” You whimpered.

“Well, you leave me no choice now, since you asked so nicely”

He wasted no time gathering the slick from your opening and plunging his thick middle finger in and out. Your breath catching at the sudden but welcome stretch. Not long after, his ring finger joined inside and he curled them both up, searching and finding the spot that makes your eyes roll and your hips buck into his hand in shock.

“sit still, angel.” He placed his other hand on your lower stomach to keep your back rested on the couch. He picked up the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, massaging the same spot over and over and over. He felt your walls slightly tightening around his fingers, and there’s a change in the rhythm of your breathing. You’re close. “Cum for me, angel. Come on lemme see this pretty pussy droolin’ for me”. He kept his pace up until you were gasping for air. And with a specifically strong stroke, your walls clumped down, choking his fingers and soaking them to the wrist. Working you through your high, he kept his eyes on you, the sight of you coming apart on his fingers. Heavenly.

He took his fingers out and sucked them with lewd, obscene sounds. He made a show to lick his palm clean of your release and humming around his fingers. “Next time, I’m havin’ it straight from its source” he leaned down and kissed your parted lips. “Oughta have a palate cleanser ‘f we’re gonna give your coffee a fair shot” he gave a playful smack to your ass “and you sure know how to make ‘em.”

You blushed and giggled as you couldn’t help the giddy feeling of the prospect of a next time. The image of Joel relishing the taste of you is already seared deep in your brain. You couldn’t wait to have these slurping noises happening between your legs, certain already that he doesn’t eat, he devours.

He sat up on his haunches and lowered his boxers below his balls. He took his cock in his hand. Not even his large hand wrapped around it makes it seem any less girthy. The head is angry and leaking a steady stream. He gives himself slow, languid strokes from base to red-purplish head. You couldn’t help yourself, you sat up and your hand took over his. Stroking him at the same pace he was. He shuddered at your touch and marvelled at the contrast between his rough, calloused hand versus your soft, smooth ones on his cock. You gradually increased the pressure, adding a twist at the end that sent his head falling back with a stifled groan between his clenched teeth.

His hands were tight fists by his sides, desperately trying to hold off but ready to pounce at you any moment. “Hold on, baby” he groaned “I- I gotta grab a condom”

“But I wanna feel you, and I’m safe” you said in a little, unsure voice. Still stroking him and loving the velvety softness enveloping the steely hardness. When your gazes met again, the hungry look in his eyes made a tiny sound climb to the back of your throat. With that, the last thread holding off the beast inside him snapped. With a low growl he grabbed your ankles, yanking you closer to his pelvis, making your back hit the soft pillow on the couch with a dull thud.

“Baby, I’m clean too. But I need ya to be sure, angel. ‘Cause when I start, ‘m not really sure I can stop” He said through dark eyes that were straining to hold off.

You held firm eye contact with him “I’m sure, Joel. Please fuck me now”

“Yes, ma’am” with that, he ran his cock through your slit, gathering you wetness before lining it with your entrance and with one quick motion he sinks into you. Your moans and his name on your tongue, dripping honey onto his ear. He feels your warmth enveloping every inch of him. He wants to get lost in the feeling. To replace every bad memory he has with this sensation, the divine fit of your silky smooth walls, encompassing him. So tight, so soft, so perfect.

As his hips rocked back and forth, you wrapped your legs around him, and dug your heels into his ass, wanting him impossibly deeper. Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy little thing. He removed his hands from beside your head to hold the base of your skull in one of his palms and wrap the other under your waist for leverage. Grunting into your neck while your pretty moans filling his ears got louder as he moved in a pace that promised him a date with painkillers and an ice pack on his back tomorrow night.

When he felt the telltale signs of your near release, he gently let go of your head to bring his hand down and circle your bundle of nerves. Your continuous string of frantic pleads prompted him to lay soothing kisses to the corner of your mouth. With a compulsive string of “it’s okay, baby”, “sound so pretty whinin’ like that”, and “just let go for me, princess.”

The last one pushing you over the edge. With your legs quivering, your breathing turning into shallow panting and your hands clawing at his back. He was working you through it all with a “that’s it, angel. There ya go”, “so good for me” and “look so pretty cummin’ on my cock”.

Once your muscles stopped contracting and your heartbeat settled on. Joel switched to a more gentle pace. You stuttered out between small gasps of air “cum for me, Joel. Fill me up”. Leaving him no choice but to buck into you wildly with renewed vigour. Fucking you like all of his goddamn life is depending on it.

Loving the effect you have on him, you whispered “Wanna feel you inside me after you leave, Joel”. This makes his release hit him like a freight train. With a few forceful plunges and a string of grunted out fucks. He shoots his load with a prolonged groan of your name, painting your walls with strong, long spurts. He came so hard, he thinks he blacked out for a minute.

He collapsed on top of you, nuzzling in your neck and surrounding himself in your scent as he comes down from his high. In the middle of the chaos of regulating heartbeats and relaxing bodies, your laboured breathing turns into a giggle when his beard tickles your neck and under your jaw. He lifted his head to look at you with a “what?” and scrunched eyebrows. You stifled your giggle with a shake of your head. Only failing when he dips his head in your neck again. He smirked when realisation hit him. Lifting his head again “You’re ticklish ain’tcha, angel?” His face is so close your noses were touching.

You pressed your lips in a firm, straight line and shook your head again.

“No? So you don’t mind me doing this?” He rubbed his beard on your neck again and again. You went into a giggle fit that triggered his own breathy chuckles as he switched to the other side.

“Okay, okay I am, I am!” You managed to say between giggles.

He stopped and looked you straight in the eyes “ ‘s what I thought” he descended his lips on yours and they mingled in a soft, deep kiss that made you lightheaded. He wouldn’t mind getting used to this, “Lemme clean ya up, princess”.

One year later.

The anniversary of your first “get together” is today. Joel wanted to skip work all together, but he knew Tommy would give him shit about it. How ironic.

He rented a gorgeous, comfy cabin for the weekend, that’s a thirty minutes drive away from town. Joel coaxed Sarah into a slumber party at her uncle’s, which she would’ve very happily agreed to either way. But she’s a smart kid and she chose to haggle for a later bedtime and ice cream for dessert both nights.

He wanted to take the extra time to prepare everything you might need, from basic essentials like food or first aid kits, to extra entertainment options like books or puzzles. He doubts they’ll need the latter though.

——

But then again, it’s April, and a storm was closing in. Rendering the drive there too dangerous to make during the night. And the storm is predicted to last the whole weekend, even threatening to close schools on Monday.

“I’m just upset you didn’t get your money’s worth from that cabin” you say with worried expressions as you put away the food that you aimlessly packed earlier.

Joel brings the last of the suitcases in, sitting them by the door. “The owners seem pretty nice, bet they’ll understand and agree to push the reservation back”

“Then, that settles it.” You sighed and closed the fridge with finality. “We’re having our anniversary weekend here” you approached him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He instinctively placed his hands on the dip of your waist, and grunted with furrowed eyebrows “I got a long ass list of things I wanted to do to you in that cabin, now ‘s just sitting in my wallet mockin’ me”.

“It’s for the better, gives me time to make my own list” you teased him with a wink and a bite to your lower lip.

He squeezed your waist with a low, gravel groan. Eyes on your lips in a strong, hungry stare.

But before he can act on his thoughts you unwrap yourself from his tight grasp and turn away with a shout that carries upstairs “Sarah, change of plans! We’re staying here for the weekend!”

Hearing her footsteps descending the stairs, Sarah asked “you’re staying with us too?”. She squeals when you nod with a bright grin. “Now we can watch that movie I told you about last week!” With that, she drags you into the living room, gushing to you about the movie while you listen with interest and occasional oohs and aahs and reactions Joel knows are genuine.

Every other sound dies down as one thought only echoes in his head.

Oh god, please let me keep her.

The black, velvet box burns a hole in his suitcase. And item no.1 on his list sits idle by, just waiting to be checked.

He knows you’ll say yes, this isn’t a subject you avoid. You’re both aware of what you want in a relationship and you communicate your needs to each other. So you’re both sure that you’re on the same page. The element of surprise lies in the timing and method only.

As he looks at you and his daughter, he knows that this feels right. This is how it is supposed to be.

Okay, he owes Tommy an apology. Because now he understands disgusting, lovesick smiles and the urge to get out of work early. He understands six month anniversaries, because when he’s with you; there isn’t a damn thing he wouldn’t do for the mere chance to make you happy.

A Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy, dreamy little thing.

My Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy, dreamy little thing.

——

A/N : Again, if you’re still here, I love you so much & you made my day <333 pls tell me your thoughts! I write cuz i love doing it but i need to know if i should continue to upload or just let the contents of my delulu brain stay in my phone 🫣

Loon out, luv yaa <33

#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #joel miller x f!reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic

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diazsdimples · 4 months ago

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Fuck It Friday!

Sharing a little bit of my Bucktommy spinoff of my Bathena Ranch AU, featuring baby Alfie. This wip and Alfie in particular have been my guilty pleasure over the past couple of months and I'm so happy that I've finally had some beans to write them.

Buck hurries over to his son. “What’s wrong, is he okay?” he asks, holding his arms out. Eddie surrenders the baby to his father, looking a little regretful as he passes a hand through Alfie’s soft curls. ��He’s fine, just getting tired.” Eddie tickles Alfie’s cheek and the baby gives another hiccup, his lip trembling. “Too much socialising for you, huh bud! I won’t take it personally.” Buck smiles softly at his best friend’s tenderness towards his son – ever since Alfie’s birth, Eddie had been by his and Tommy’s side, helping them with cooking and cleaning, and even taking Alfie for talks around the block when Buck and Tommy were in desperate need of a nap. Alfie whimpers again before his face splits into a huge yawn. “Ohhhh, yeah, that’s a sleepy baby if I ever saw one.” Tommy smiles as he walks up behind his husband, wrapping his arms around Buck’s waist. He presses a feather-light kiss to Buck’s neck and gazes adoringly at his son over Buck’s shoulder. “Want me to take him?” “Nah, it’s okay. I’ve got it.” Buck gently bounces Alfie as he makes his way back to his chair beside Bobby. The fire captain gives Buck a fond look and stretches out a hand to gently brush against the back of Alfie’s onesie, before returning to his conversation with Karen. The volume levels are still quite loud, aided by Jee, Christopher and Denny’s animated conversation about which Disney film is the best. Jee seems firmly stuck on Moana and will not accept Christopher and Denny’s suggestion of Mulan. Alfie can’t seem to settle, wriggling in Buck’s arms until he lets out a frustrated cry. “Shhh sweetheart, it’s okay,” Buck soothes, adjusting Alfie so he’s lying on Buck’s shoulder. “Daddy’s here.”

Bonus: Tommy introducing Alfie to the horses & tags under the cut

The horses trot towards Tommy as he runs his hand along the fence of their paddock, hopeful he’ll slip them an apple slice or some sugar cubes. Clover tosses her mane, the long silky strands flowing behind her like finely spun gold. Ranger – Bobby’s grey gelding – snorts and paws at the ground, nudging Tommy’s arm with his blunt nose. Tommy chuckles and rubs Ranger’s nose, enjoying the velvety feeling beneath his fingers. “Hey boy,” he says as he scratches along Ranger’s jaw. Clover seems content to let him get all the attention, nosing instead at the small bundle strapped to Tommy’s front. She huffs out a breath of air and gives Tommy an almost quizzical look. Tommy smiles. “That’s right, you haven’t met this little guy yet, have you?” He opens the wrap, revealing the top of Alfie’s head which he supports with his hand. Alfie’s mouth hangs wide open as he sleeps and there’s a patch of drool on Tommy’s shirt. “This is my little boy, Alfie. He's only a couple of weeks old, but he's the most precious thing in my life, aside from Evan.” The horses toss their heads at the small, weird looking thing in Tommy’s arms, but Clover takes a step forward and nudges him with her nose, gentler than she would do to Tommy. Alfie stirs in Tommy’s arms but doesn’t wake. “I never thought I'd have a son, so this is kind of surreal to me you know?” Tommy continues. “He's so small and precious, and he relies on me or Evan for everything and it's nice? To be needed?” Tommy finds that he doesn’t struggle to say this to the horses. He’s been thinking it for weeks, how he never thought he’d find a man who would love him enough to want to start a family with him, and he never dreamed he’d have a baby as perfect as his son. He’s biased, of course, but every word he says to the horses is founded in truth. It all still feels like a dream to him. Tommy clears his throat, pushing aside the emotion threatening to well up. “Anyways, this is him, you can sniff his head if you like.” He moves closer and Ranger snuffles at Alfie’s head. The fine hairs on Alfie’s head swirl as Ranger breathes out. “He smells really good, which apparently is common for newborns,” Tommy continues with a grin. He scratches behind Ranger’s ears before letting out a long sigh. “I should probably take him back inside or Evan will worry. He's a little clingy of Alfie right now, but don't tell him I said that.” He gives Ranger one last pat and rubs Clover’s nose fondly before turning around and making his way back to the house.

NP tagging friends/mutuals (feel free to ignore) @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @buckera @watchyourbuck

@bidisasterevankinard @babybibuck @bibuckbuckgoose @actuallyitsellie @bucks-daddy-issues

@wikiangela @loveyouanyway @spotsandsocks @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @thekristen999

@tommysdaddykink @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @monsterrae1 @bigfootsmom

@perfectlysunny02 @inell @agenttommykinard @buckevantommy @bucksbignaturals (lmk if you want adding or removing for this wip)

#james writes #bucktommy #bucktommy wip #evan buckley #tommy kinard #ranch au #ranch au: bucktommy edition #boy!dads bucktommy #911 abc #911 #911 fanfic

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zablife · 4 months ago

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Ruins

Summary: With Tommy's love and support, Lily speaks to her husband for the first time in over a year.

A/N: A continuation of my AU between Tommy and his catatonic wife Lily, a victim of the Changretta family's brutality. Read their journey beginning with Lily, then Windflowers.

Warnings: mention of abuse, PTSD

"Tommy," it was the first word she'd spoken since her kidnapping and it nearly broke him. The sound of her fragile, aching voice calling for solace within the walls of their darkened bedroom.

He'd sprung forward instantly to embrace her, too afraid to let the fleeting moment for connection slip through his fingers. "I'm here. You're safe with me," he'd whispered against her skin, wondering how much she heard. "I love you, Lily," he professed early that morning, tears falling into her thick hair as he cradled her into him as carefully as he could manage.

Tommy didn't dare breathe as his wife rested her cheek atop the Romani sun just above his heart. In fact, he didn't sleep for hours afterward, devoting himself to her comfort as he lovingly stroked the long strands of hair that fell across his shoulder. He could only watch in hushed awe as her ribcage rose and fell against his in total relaxation.

"I never thought I'd hear you say it again," he whispered gratefully into the silence, chest swelling with emotion.

-------------------------------------

The days after passed quickly, Lily's progress suddenly moving at a pace that frightened Tommy greatly. Words turned to sentences and soon he feared she would speak of the brutality she'd endured.

"What if I'm not ready, Pol?" he gulped, watching his aunt with anxious eyes.

"She can't put a face on any longer, my boy," Polly reminded him. "You've heard the doctor's reports...know what those men did to her. This will be the hardest part, I won't lie to you."

She took a deep breath as she rose from her chair, staring out the window to watch Lily in the garden, memories of her own misfortune returning to her. Turning to face her nephew she added thoughtfully, "The awful truth is the fingerprints stain your skin forever....All you can do now is be there for her, listen to her." Eyes filled with unshed tears, Polly squeezed Tommy's hand as she gave a firm nod, an unspoken understanding he would do the right thing.

Tommy bit down hard on his lower lip to keep it from trembling, a deep inhale of breath to steady himself before searching for his wife in the gardens.

"Lily, my darling," he greeted her with a soft kiss to her cheek. "How are you today?"

"It's hard...to...to be brave... alone," she stuttered.

"You don't have to be alone anymore," he promised, taking her hand in his, the ache of her limp hand never quite leaving his consciousness, guilt weighing him down like a boulder. "I'm here with you and if there's anything you want to say, I'm listening," he assured, the softness of his blue eyes washing over her in gentle waves.

Lily remained still for a lengthy period, back rigid against the garden bench and Tommy sighed in bitter disappointment for the silence lingering between them.

Then unexpectedly, her voice began in trepidation. It was a shaky start as she seemed to hum first, testing out her throat to see if it steady enough before venturing forth. Then, much to Tommy's surprise, the words came tumbling out. "I didn't say a word...surely that proves it," she seemed to accuse herself. Though the content was troubling, her tone remained flat and her eyes stared ahead, watching something far in the distance.

Tommy captured her face in his palms, forcing her gaze toward his. "Proves what, eh? I know you did everything you could," he insisted.

She fought against him for a moment, eyes wild as she jerked her chin defiantly, a harsh catch of her breath letting him know some agonizing memory was reaching the innermost workings of her mind, too deep for him to penetrate. Tommy lifted his hands from her face, palms raised in surrender to show she was free to do as she pleased.

When Lily saw she was safe, her breathing slowed and she ventured a glance toward Tommy. Passing a trembling hand through her hair she confided, “They said our girl would live…” her voice broke before adding bitterly, “They laughed because I was stupid enough to believe them.”

Then in a voice so quiet it was almost carried away on the wind, she whispered to the ground, “I wish I could explain why…”

Tommy reached for her once more, an empathetic warmth to his words as he promised, "I don't fucking care about those bastards. And you know why? Because what they’ve made you believe is a lie! You're so fucking strong. You fought to come back to me and you have no idea how much more I love you for that."

Lily's tear stained face turned slowly toward her husband, a mixture of shame and desperation pleading for his help, hoping just this once he could hear her through the broken words. “How could you love me now? It’s my…my fault.”

"You're not to blame, you hear me? I won't let you frame yourself for their sins anymore," Tommy answered with conviction.

She hung her head in disbelief, a single protest left upon her lips. "I'm in ruins, Tommy," she confessed, sadly. "Is that the wife you hoped to welcome home?"

Tommy gave her his answer by cupping her chin and brushing his lips to hers tenderly. The gentle affection was reassuring, a forgotten memory resurfacing of a spring afternoon like this one many years ago. Something in the familiarity of her surroundings, combined with Tommy’s comforting scent relaxed her, body melting into his as he cradled her against his broad shoulder. The kiss was short and chaste by comparison to those they'd shared in the past, but Tommy's heart soared as Lily reciprocated his affection with a sigh upon her lips.

Foreheads pressed together, Tommy sought Lily's hand, lacing their fingers together. "We'll rebuild," he proposed with a gentle squeeze. "Because you're mine and you always will be," he swore beneath the canopy of wisteria and roses.

-------------------------

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#peaky blinders fanfiction #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfiction #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy shelby x OC #Tommy Shelby #Cillian Murphy

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bucktommywinterfest · 3 months ago

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Warm-up rounds:

Halloween - October 27-Nov 2: couples costumes and/or magical realism

Thanksgiving - November 24-30: firefam friendsgiving and/or accidental texts

Event Prompts:

December 1-7: first [insert winter holiday/tradition] together and/or clothes sharing

December 8-14: hallmark movies/movie night and/or “I've actually never seen snow before.”

December 15-21: holiday-themed calls/a q-word shift and/or mistletoe kiss

December 22-28: Christmas/Hanukkah and/or firefam holiday party

December 29-January 4: midnight kiss/resolutions and/or early mornings/late nights

January 5-11: holiday/post-holiday blues and/or trans character(s)

January 12-18: enemies to lovers and/or weird weather/stranded

January 19-25: sports au and/or love confessions

January 26-February 1: different era (80s, 90s, etc.) and/or painted nails/Uncle Tommy

February 2-8: Tommy in the Firefighter calendar and/or buck 1.0 meets closeted Tommy

February 9-15: Valentine’s Day and/or secret(s)

February 16-22: seeing each other on calls and/or time travel/time loop

February 23-March 1: meet cute/meet ugly and/or different jobs

March 2-8: daddy issues/daddy kink and/or dancing in the kitchen

March 9-15: werewolves au and/or polyamory

March 16-22: married in Vegas and/or bucktommy dads/accidental baby acquisition

March 23-29: bucktommy anniversary

#bucktommy #bucktommywinterfest

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steelstreqq · 11 months ago

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pov i revive an old project from 2021 because i watched one sorry boys video

this is the 'rustout au', its a combination of TWD, fallout 4, and rust but i shoved silly block men (and ted nivison) in it. essentially its a zombie apocalypse au that takes place at some time in the 80s or 90s following a nuclear fallout that occurred due to undisclosed government activities with foreign global superpowers. none of the normal civilians really know why the nukes went off and only a few of the most wealthy in the community really were able to get down to the bunkers in time

there are a ton of characters i want to include in this au, but considering i made this in the peak of the dsmp fandom i have to be kinda careful to not pick out any ccs who are still a part of dream's posse.. :pensive:

so far, the other characters in this au who aren't displayed here are fundy, techno, philza, bizly, grizly, condi, connor, jack, eret, and a few others i cant think of rn >_<

some character information below ^-^

WILBUR G. SOOT - the widowed father to fundy. wilbur lived in a house in a suburban neighborhood with his teen aged son before the nukes went off. once the initial fallout occurred, will and fundy had an argument about where they should shelter. the day after the argument, wilbur awoke to find fundy had completely disappeared. grief stricken at the loss of another family member (under the impression that he was the reason fundy had 'ran off'), wilbur risked his safety to search for his son, traveling from settlement to settlement. he hated himself and blamed himself for his son's disappearance. by this point, he wanted to lie in the dirt and rot with the corpse of the land below him

TOMMY ZA - the adoptive son of phil, a single child. tommy was at school during the blasts, thus he was separated from his father. he and the rest of his school were ushered to the basement following the explosions to protect them from fallout. when given the all clear, tommy ran down barren streets to find his way home, and never did. too frantic and unable to navigate his way properly, he became stranded and lost. the crushing anxiety of being alone seemed to summon a taller man with a guitar case from a local town. he had found himself wandering into tommy's neighborhood. and therein, an alliance was formed.

"RANBOO" - ranboo is a mysterious creature who doesn't really appreciate questions about his history. tommy and wilbur found him a month or two into constructing their own settlement. ranboo was found uncomfortably asleep in a cramped car not far off from Dome. he was rudely awakened with a violent mugging from tommy. wilbur caught up to the shorter brit and apologized for his actions, suggesting that ranboo could stay at their camp as compensation for the troubles that tommy had brought to ranboo. ranboo reluctantly agreed and now is a part of the dome's settlement. tommy speculates ranboo is secretly a mentally mutated creature-freak-thing and must be put down immediately, ranboo just wants to eat dinner in peace.

CHARLIE SICKLE - charlie is the latest member to join the settlement. the former front man for the hit pop group Roll With You. during an england tour, the nukes went off and front man charlie had been stranded during his burger lunch break. separated from the rest of his band mates. charlie has faced deterioration in his mental state due to the stress of surviving during such a gruesome time period. by the time wilbur finds himself at the receiving end of charlie's gun, he is already unhinged. wilbur manages to talk charlie into submission carefully, and decides to see if he can form a fragile alliance with charlie for some sort of twisted protection. charlie agrees, as he is so *sick* of being alone. charlie simply insists he is just a silly billy, everybody else thinks hes clinically insane

DOME- dome is a passive settlement founded by wilbur soot to bring in local survivors and give them a small and safe community to rebuild humanity. although this is a large goal in such a hostile and dangerous situation, tommy gives wilbur hope to keep going. who knows, maybe while scouting for survivors, they could stumble across phil or fundy

TED - ted is a serial killer, plain and simple. hired by schlatt to be a bodyguard after the fallout, ted had escaped his cinder block hell to essentially be a guard dog thanks to the nukes. it turns out prisons arent explosion-proof. ted is silent, he doesnt speak much, but he has a clear cut focus on what he wants. when he does speak, he talks clearly and normally. mostly, about his travels with his good buddy 'eddie nine pins', whom he apparently did everything with before getting caught

J. SCHLATT - schlatt is a larger than life business mogul, the ceo of a handful of companies that produce clothes, products, music, etc. hes an incredibly creative and intuitive man who knows how to get what he wants. he is the forefront leader of his settlement in the bunker. schlatt is falsely married to quackity, both of them agreeing to commit marriage fraud when they initially entered the world of entrepreneurship as it looks better and improves both of their charisma in social situations. their 'marriage' is entirely superficial and loveless, purely for aesthetics

A. QUACKITY - you might say quackity is a strange last name, he'd tell you to mind your own business and call you poor in two different languages. quackity runs a small 'medicine' dealing business on the surface. in exchange for fancy goods and food, quackity will give out medicine to needy survivors with no real idea of what any of it does. indirectly, quackity has killed 15+ people with his medication and harmed countless others. he doesnt feel bad, as long as he gets something out of it. he's been spoiled by his previously lavish life and just can't stand to let it all go

TOBY "TUBBO" SCHLATT - tubbo is the adoptive son of schlatt. while schlatt opted to adopt tubbo purely for aesthetics, just as he did with his marriage, he ended up getting somewhat attached to the little guy (and so did quackity). adopted at the age of 13, tubbo was quickly exposed to the inside mechanisms of business, the lying and cheating that goes on behind the retina and he has no interest in becoming a mogul like his father. rather, he opts for weapon studies and collecting a massive arsenal of different types of guns and bombs. tubbo sees the fallout as more of a playground than anything, being able to collect and test as many 'toys' as he wants. tubbo and tommy have crossed paths on several occasions, wherein they both will have a bit of a scuffle until theyre tired, then sit and talk. they consider each other friends, and neither of them know of the conflict between schlatt and wilbur

THE BUNKER - the bunker was once a safe haven for the one percent in england, but only a week into shelter, everybody was slaughtered. quackity and schlatt performed a hostile takeover of the bunker for no greater reason than the fact they wanted more space and more liberties. theyve now claimed the entire bunker as their home, and they want to see how far they can expand their power and control.

if youve made it this far, thx so much for reading it means the WORLD to me.. ill be posting abt this au alongside my other projects like claymore hills and the sanatorium au (which also was a 2021 thing!!)

heres a playlist i made for the rustout au if anybody is as interested in music as i am

thanks sm again, likes and reblogs are both appreciated ^-^ asks are open and heavily encouraged if you wanna know more :DD i know dsmpblr is a little dead but maybe mcytblr might like this, u never know if u dont try so ill take shot in the dark ^-^

note: NONE of these characters should be confused with the CCs. they are loosely based off of real interactions and projects but are entirely FICTIONAL in this universe. i do not support the actions of content creators such as dream, george, sapnap, punz, and many others associated with dream thus they will NOT be in this project. thank you.

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salem-witch-slut · 7 months ago

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Unrequited

Ellie Williams X Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: Ellie and Abby hate each other, and all of Jackson knows it. But when Ellie has a dream about the blonde one night, she suddenly starts to feel things that are not exactly hate... and Ellie does not like it.

WARNINGS: Swearing, Everybody Lives AU, loser!ellie, no real warnings its SFW

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

for @olliesasimplething who always encourages me to keep writing. my biggest supporter

It was a cold day in winter when they first met 3 years ago. One of the worst blizzards to ever come about Jackson was upon the city and two patrol groups were stranded in the snow. Teton County, and Elk Creek became a maze of white and ice, and the creek group took shelter within an abandoned library, while the other group was forced to keep moving…

Infected were swarming the massive office warehouse building near the lodge on the Teton County trail, and the two assigned to the route before the sun came up were able to spot what was happening. A young woman, no more than 24, tackled by a runner into the snow, struggling to keep its gnashing teeth away from her but failing due to clear exhaustion.

Joel reacted first. His revolver pressed into the runner’s face, and he fired a quick round, reaching down and shouting at the blonde to give him his hand. She was disoriented, shaking, but otherwise unharmed as she stood on her feet.

“We’re gonna have to run!” Joel warned as his brother, Tommy, laid down the cover fire that was needed to escape. The blonde went along with the two men wordlessly, and it seemed that she was just as desperate to escape as they were. No questions were asked as they ran throughout the entire building, deflecting attacks and fighting off the infected that just seemed to never, ever, ever end.

The group made it to the lodge where two horses were, but the infected just kept coming. Very slowly, Tommy reached out to get the woman’s attention. Her heart was racing and her pupils were dilated, barely able to focus on what was what.

“Hey, I’m Tommy, and that’s Joel,” Her eyes flittered between the two and she shared a moment of centering herself. Almost like her ears were still ringing from the gunshot. “What’s your name?”

“Abby,” She stated, out of breath as her hands trembled on the gun with every bang against the door that was just barricaded shut. Tommy asked her if she was okay, and she barely agreed as she took a step back, almost like she was preparing for the door to come down at any second.

The two brothers seemed to have different ideas about what to do. Joel wanted to get out of here, but Tommy was adamant that staying put was the best option due to the horses being with them and they would not outrun the blizzard.

Abby was quick to offer a solution. “My friends! My friends are at a mansion just north of here; It’s fenced in, we have the whole perimeter secure.”

Joel looked towards his brother and nodded. “It’s the Baldwin place. That could work.”

“I’ll get the door!” Tommy rushed to the front door and began to untie the horses while Joel put his pistol down.

“You ride with me, come on!” Joel told Abby who was quick to agree, following close behind him like her life depended on it; and it, in fact, did depend on it. Without these two, she would be deader than dead. As soon as she was close to Joel, she grabbed his hand and he lifted her onto the saddle behind him.

In seconds, they were gone.

All Ellie needed to hear was that Tommy and Joel never showed up to the lookout point. In mere seconds, she was out the door on Shimmer to find him in the snow, regardless of the blizzard state outside. She split up from the group, covering the entire Teton County trail in a few hours.

“Joel! Tommy!” Ellie shrieked over the howling wind, desperate to find the two most important people in her life. Shimmer ran through the snow quickly, her rider frantically searching the area and coming to a halt when she saw the dead infected at the gate of the Baldwin place… Her stomach dropped and she immediately dismounted from her horse, tying Shimmer up to a tree out of the direct sight line as she made her way down the hill.

Ellie knew the Teton County trail and she’s been to the mansion before. She knew how to get in the back way. Her legs wobbled in terror as she slunk down through the hole in the fence and jumped the railing to get inside. “Joel? Tommy?”

Her voice seemed to reach on deaf ears as she came in through… an open sliding glass door? Something about this felt far too eerie. Ellie’s fear was at an all-time high as she moved through the mansion, looking for something… anything…

The sounds of voices had her jumping as she pulled out her pistol and followed them. Those voices could belong to anybody, and trespassers were always a problem, but Jackson’s policy wasn’t to shoot first, it was to see if they would shoot first… Ellie breathed slowly and followed the voices, down a large staircase to a door that led to a basement.

Laughter echoed in the room and Ellie gulped, grabbing the door handle and slowly pushing the wood out of her way. She was not expecting the number of people inside of this room and before Ellie could even blink, she had at least four guns pointed at her face.

“Hey, hey, put your fucking gun down!” Ellie shouted, not giving one shit that she was outnumbered as she lifted the pistol and stepped inside of the room. “Back up! What the fuck are you—”

“Ellie!” The voice rang in her ears as Ellie looked up and almost immediately, her fears were quenched. Joel ran right up to her and immediately put his hand on her pistol. “Ellie, calm down, it’s alright. They ain’t dangerous—”

Ellie didn’t even care about the crowd as she immediately wrapped her arms around the man and let out a breath of relief. Joel stumbled back and wrapped his arms around her, pushing his nose into the top of her head and scratching her face somewhat with his beard. “C’mon now, what’s this all about?”

A moment passed before Ellie stepped back and immediately shoved him with her hands, making him stumble back yet again. “You fuckin’ dick, don’t scare me like that!”

“Could- could you put the gun down, Ellie?” Joel said, holding out a hand and the girl sighed with a slight growl, tucking the gun back into the waistband of her jeans and putting her hands on her knees. She was covered in snow and her nose was red from how long she had been traversing the landscape looking for him and his brother. “Here, there’s a fire in this room, alright? C’mon.”

The others in the room seemed to be relaxing at the girl’s presence as Ellie stepped in time with Joel, going to the other room. “Who are these guys?”

“They’re just passin’ through Wyoming, trynna get back to Washington… We came across one of ‘em in the snow ‘bout 2 hours ago? She was getting’ swarmed by infected near the lodge,” Joel explained what happened and why they had to hunker down and wait out the storm. Tommy was sitting by the fire and Ellie let out a sigh of relief at seeing him, crouching down next to the blonde man and whacking him in the shoulder.

“Hey! Respect yer elders, girl!” Tommy joked, making Ellie chuckle before she sat down on her knees and put both hands on the warm ground near the little firepit. “Ellie, this here’s Abby. She helped us get outta the storm.”

Ellie was confused who he was talking about but she heard heavy boots fall in front of her and she looked up to see a blonde that was at least half a foot taller than her, long hair in a braid going down her shoulder as she knelt down next to the fire across from her.

“Hey,” Abby said, looking at the girl for a bit too long before she looked over her shoulder at where Joel went, seeing him talk to a man with reddish-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. “See those two got along almost immediately?”

“Well, yer dad’s easy to like,” Tommy shrugged his shoulders. Ellie watched Joel converse with who was apparently Abby’s father, seeing them talk away from the group a little and try to keep things hush. Ellie had a suspicion of what he was declaring…

That was over 3 years ago. The rest would be history. Joel said that if they didn’t find what they were looking for in Seattle, they were welcome to come back to Jackson. Half a year passed by, and just as spring was coming to an end for summer to roll in, the group reappeared at the gates in front of Jackson, minus a few people… It seemed that Jordan, Leah, and Nick didn’t make it back with them.

It was almost too easy for them to integrate into the life of Jackson as Joel vouched they were good people and they were offered a place to stay. At first, Ellie was indifferent to Abby and the rest of the group… but that began to wear thin.

Abby was quickly becoming a pain in the ass. Whenever they were paired together for patrol, which happened quite often, Abby insisted searching everywhere and anywhere possible, causing more trouble than was needed and nearly getting them killed on several occasions.

And it didn’t take long for Abby to break Ellie’s record of the amount of infected killed on a patrol. It didn’t matter what either of them did, everything felt like a competition, and Ellie was losing. She hated losing.

It was the night after a particularly hostile patrol, and Ellie was sporting a brand new set of stitches on her cheekbone and two splints on her left ring and pinky finger while sitting at the bar in the Tipsy Bison. Dina was sitting next to her, going on about something that Ellie just wasn’t paying attention to, but then she flinched at hearing the door open. Ellie didn’t need to look to see who it was.

Abby’s right arm was in a sling for a few days thanks to an infected knocking her onto the ground and having her roll down a hill into a riverbed. Ellie laughed at first, but she knew that Abby needed her to save her sorry ass, so she was quick to join her at the bottom of the hill.

She was so busy worrying about the runner that she didn’t hear the clicker approaching and before she could defend herself, the infected knocked her down onto the ground, her fingers breaking under her body and her face slicing against a very sharp stone in the dirt.

Everything was fucked, and Ellie was pissed off, but Abby was just as equally pissed as she approached the bar and slammed her left hand down onto the counter. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I’m not the idiot that went into that trailer—”

“You’re such an asshole,” Abby grabbed Ellie by the front of her shirt and lifted her off the barstool. “You stood there and laughed at that runner taking me down!”

Ellie shoved her hands into Abby’s chest, a hand getting too close to her dislocated shoulder and making her grunt in pain. Ellie could have cared less. “Stop acting like you’re fucking invincible, you dense cunt! You could have gotten both of us killed!”

“And I could have been bit,” Abby got near Ellie’s face, close enough for the redhead to smell her pine scented soap that she used. Ellie tried not to inhale, finding that she detested the smell now more than ever before. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Guys, can we just calm down?” Dina stood up, stepping between both of them and Ellie scoffed. Abby could see blood dripping down her cheek and sliding into the collar of her black t-shirt, her adrenaline rushing and opening her wound back up. Her heart raced as she picked up the glass of whiskey and downed it in almost two seconds. Abby tried not to flinch at seeing the ugly bruises on her splinted fingers.

“I may fuckin’ hate you,” Ellie snapped. “But that doesn’t mean I wanna see you dead, Anderson.”

With that being said, Ellie left the bar and went straight home, leaving Abby to be her brooding self inside of the building. The entire walk home, Ellie wanted to tear her hair out. How can one human be so damn infuriating?! Ellie can’t remember the last time a person had pissed her off so badly. Her heart was racing, and she felt nauseous… or maybe that was just the whiskey in her system.

In her haste to get inside of her home, she didn’t even acknowledge Joel on his back porch, Jerry sitting next to him on a chair and both of them bonding over the coffee they recently got through a trade. Joel tried to say hi, but she ignored him and slammed her door.

Ellie slammed her hand against the wall, and immediately groaned in pain at her broken fingers throbbing under the skin. Her blood was boiling and dripping from the wound on her cheek. Everything felt overwhelming and she had to calm down somehow. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape from her chest.

After a very short shower, she replaced the bandages on her cheek and changed into a different set of clothes not covered in her sweat. After getting her shit rocked today, Maria agreed to give her a few days off to recuperate from having her bones broken. Ellie could sleep in… And forget about bitches named Abby.

It was well into the night and Ellie had been tossing and turning through her entire dream. Turning onto her left side, she curled both hands into her chest and muttered something under her breath; something she would have slapped herself for saying if she was conscious… “Abby…”

The sensation of rough, calloused hands across her cheeks had Ellie’s eyes fluttering in an embarrassingly lovesick manner. The strong palms on her face slid up, a thumb swiping over her lower lip as Ellie reached up, her own rough-skinned hands sliding over massive biceps to rest on broad, freckled shoulders.

The blonde braid was unmistakable, and Ellie leaned ever closer to her, feeling the heat of her body against Ellie’s own and trembling in the blonde’s grasp. Oh, the scent of pine filled her nose, and she reveled in the pleasure that coursed through her entire being.

“We’ll take things slow, yeah?” That melodic, heavenly voice that stroked along her brain and sent shivers all over her nerves. Ellie sighed, almost like she couldn’t get enough of this, and leaned forward. Her hands went higher, one curling around the base of her braid and pulling her down a little more, but she stopped Ellie with a palm on her chest. Ellie’s heart quickened.

“Abby,” Ellie begged. Abby chuckled, and she leaned forward slowly… Her lips got so close, and Ellie swore she could feel the heat of Abby’s breath on her face. She was so close… so close that Ellie could practically taste her on her tongue—

Ellie let out a loud gasp and jolted upward from the bed. Her body glistened in the moonlight pouring from the window and she grabbed at her chest over her shirt with her good hand. Everything felt like it was buzzing and Ellie couldn’t calm her heart down.

“What the fuck did I just—” Ellie’s thoughts went to her dream, and lingered on Abby… Where she once saw annoyance, Ellie found herself BLUSHING! She remembers the way Abby once grabbed her hip to keep her from falling. She remembers that time Abby patched up her leg when she got hurt. She remembers the way Abby winked at her once a long time ago…

Ellie remembers the dream, and suddenly…. Abby was the one thing on her mind. She tried to think of anything else, but the sound of Abby’s breathing in her head refused to escape and she found herself wondering what she would look like in such an intimate moment…

A pure whine of pitiful defeat, and a little annoyance, tore through the air and Ellie simply covered her face with the pillow, screaming and wishing that she was now dead. What was once in her mind of Abby— all the hatred and disgust for her existence? Ellie couldn’t get the image of her hands caressing her face out of her mind.

If she closed her eyes again and brushed the spot where dream-Abby touched her cheekbone, her entire face would glow with a blush again and it felt borderline sickening.

“Fuck, fuck,” Ellie cursed, not knowing how else to react to this situation.

Ellie was content on hating Abby for a long time, maybe even until one of them inevitably got killed on patrol or by raiders or anything of the sort. But noooooo… that would be too easy for her brain to comprehend. So instead, Ellie would avoid her. And this time, she wouldn’t even look at Abby Anderson, afraid that if she looks at her for too long, she’ll wonder what she tastes like.

So, Ellie did what any normal person would do: she locked the door and pretended to die for a few days.

“Has anybody seen Ellie?”

The question had everybody stopping for a brief second in what they were doing. Dina shared a look with Tommy who simply just shrugged. No one has seen her in, apparently days? It had been three since her fight with Abby in the bar.

“She ain’t been comin’ out of her room,” Joel concluded, his features creased with slight worry at the idea of Ellie being hurt, or even sick. He knows that having 2 broken fingers wasn’t very fun, but she burned herself with chemicals in order to hide her bite mark. The girl was tough as nails, she could do anything with 2 broken fingers.

“I haven’t seen her either,” Dina frowned. It wasn’t like her best friend hiding away on her days off. She’s always doing something. “I can go check on her?”

“Good idea,” Jesse said, lifting a hay bale off the ground and tossing it towards the pile where the others were. “She’s gotta come back for patrol tomorrow.”

Dina stripped off her gloves, tucking them away in her back pocket before she left the stables. The walk to Ellie’s little garage home wasn’t exactly long, but it felt like forever under the Wyoming sun. Sweat dripped from her hairline as she approached Ellie’s front door, gently knocking on the wooden surface.

“Ellie? It’s Dina,” Dina announced, hoping that saying just her name would be enough for Ellie to let her in. But when she was met with silence, Dina began to tap her foot on the ground outside of the door. “I know you’re in there, Ellie. I can see you moving around in there.”

A curse echoed in the bedroom before Dina could hear Ellie actively tripping almost every single thing in her wake. And when she opened the door, Dina had to step back in order to fully take her in. What the hell happened to her?

“Ellie, are you—” Her nose wrinkled up a little as she smelt the unmistakable scent of weed and alcohol on her breath. “Fuck, have you just been in here getting shitfaced for three days?”

“What do you want, Dina?” Ellie deflected, like she always does when she’s got so much on her mind. Dina doesn’t know what upsets her more; that Ellie is getting high, or she’s getting high without her.

The redhead pushed her sweaty forehead against the doorway, almost like she was going to collapse if she stood there for another second than she needed to. So instead of talking outside, Dina pushed herself into Ellie’s home like it was her life’s purpose. Almost instantly, Ellie fell onto her ass, either too blazed or too plastered to fully take in what was happening.

“Dina, what the fuck—”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Dina crouched down, slapping her hands on Ellie’s cheeks and making her blush under her freckles. “And it isn’t the broken fingers because you broke your nose last month and still went on patrol the next day!”

“Wh- nothing! Nothing is wrong, I just—”

“I know you’re lying,” Dina snapped, still holding onto Ellie’s face. She looked like a bunny staring down a rifle barrel. “You wanna know why? Cause you suck at it!”

“Get off!” Ellie shoved Dina’s hands away, attempting to stand on her own but failing miserably. Her knees wobbled as she got off the ground before she fell right back onto the floor and for a few seconds, simply laid there with her face on the dirty rug near her sofa. “Just… Just go, Abby—”

Dina immediately froze in place, her brows knitting together for a brief second as it seemed like the whole world was coming back into focus. Before this moment, Dina was prepared to knock some sense into her best friend, but that moment passed quickly.

“This is about Abby,” Dina said, standing up and running a hand across her face. “Come on El, Abby is always gonna be a bitch, that’s just how she is!”

“S’not about that,” Ellie finally stood up off the ground, her shirt sticking against her sweaty skin as she rubbed her forehead, trying to stop the room from spinning. Her wobbly legs managed to carry her to the bed where a half-burned blunt was sitting inside of an ashtray. “Just go. I can’t deal with this right now…”

Dina watched as Ellie picked up the roach and inhaled very slowly, the end of the blunt glowing and illuminating her face. Dina could see the bruises under her eyes from a lack of sleep. Whatever was happening inside of Ellie’s head, Dina couldn’t figure it out… So she left.

As soon as Dina was gone, Ellie let out a harsh breath as she looked down at the sketches littering her bed. And if Dina had stayed, she would have understood. Abby’s face was all over the papers, her eyes staring back with that characteristic scowl she always held, and the slight pout to her bottom lip…

A curse escaped Ellie’s lips as she shoved all of the drawings on the floor and shoved a pillow back over her face. There was no reason that this affected her so badly, she’s had stupid crushes before—

“No, nope, absolutely fucking not, this is not happening,” Ellie scolded herself, gripping the fabric of the pillowcase like it was her lifeline from drowning. Lines were drawn on the invisible white board in her mind, and she felt like thoughts were knitted together.

Realization hit her like a bus. Ellie Williams has a crush on Abby frickin’ ANDERSON!

When Ellie emerged from her so-called hobbit hole, as Joel called it, she looked like death warmed up. Her face was pale and she looked like she was going to be sick at any given moment. Her trek to the stables felt like the longest walk of her life. She chugged a ton of water just to get through the day and Maria had been gracious enough to give her one extra day to sober up…

Wandering around the town was normally a good idea, so she decided to take a walk and try to clear her head. Everyone seemed to be out in full force today enjoying the warm weather while Ellie is starting to wish that she grabbed those sunglasses she saw on patrol last week. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy as she turned a corner towards the stables, going to see if Joel was back yet. But on her way, Ellie nearly fell over as she ran directly into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re–” Ellie looked up, ready to fight whoever wasn’t watching where they were going, and then she went completely silent.

That blonde braid was unmistakable, not to mention the sling over her shoulder. Abby looked pissed, to say the least. Her brows were pulled together and her bottom lip was pouted out even more than usual. It was a look that Ellie has seen almost a thousand times… so why did it feel different now?

“Can you get out of your own world for five damn seconds and watch where you’re going?” Abby snapped, readjusting the sling on her shoulder and biting her lip to try and hide the wince of pain she felt. Normally, this would be the time that Ellie would fire back. She was waiting for her words that usually cut as deep as her switchblade.

But when Abby looked back, she saw Ellie had gone red in the face. Abby figured she was coming up with some “clever” retort, and she decided to poke the bear again. “What’s wrong, Williams? Clicker got your tongue?”

If Abby had been looking closely, she would be able to see Ellie’s hands trembling slightly as she took a step back and immediately turned around and walked in the other direction. What the fuck, that didn’t make sense– Ellie never misses the opportunity to fight with Abby. What was going on?

“Williams,” Abby started following behind Ellie, who pretty much refused to acknowledge Abby’s presence. If Ellie was even more childish, Abby would assume she was being given the silent treatment, but she was more mature than that… by a miniscule fraction. Ellie was never afraid for someone to know just how much she hated them. Reminders of Ellie almost stabbing Seth in the bar will forever be a prime memory for Abby.

She wasn’t stopping, and Abby didn’t know what to do. “Ellie,” A hand went on the redhead’s shoulder and she immediately went still. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ellie said way too fast to be convincing. Her heart was racing and as long as she didn’t look at Abby, the blonde couldn’t see the color rising to her cheeks. “Can you just…”

Abby watched Ellie carefully grab Abby’s wrist with the hand that had two fingers in splints. Suddenly, Abby felt a surge of guilt in her stomach from the sight. It technically was Abby’s fault that Ellie had broken two of her fingers, but she was also responsible for her dislocated shoulder.

Actually… No, it was all Abby’s fault. Had she been thinking, she wouldn’t have gotten attacked by that infected. She let her guard down, and in doing so, almost got both of them killed because of her dumb quarter collection. She’d never tell Ellie that’s why she went exploring; Ellie would only make fun of her for it, and she didn’t need the girl to have anymore reasons to pick on her.

“Are you-” Abby tried to step around to look at her face and try to see if the stitches on her cheek were okay, but before she could, Ellie turned her head to avoid eye contact. “What is wrong with you? Why are you–”

“I have somewhere I need to be,” Ellie immediately changed the subject, turning away as fast as possible and going towards the stable. This time, Abby didn’t chase her. The blonde just stood there, looking more confused than she’s ever been before in her life.

The redhead, on the other hand, felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest and she immediately hid behind a house, covering her face with both hands and feeling like her skin was suddenly too tight for her own body. Her stomach twisted, and she wanted to bash her head into the brickwork of the house behind her.

What the hell is her problem? She’s had crushes on people before, none of them have made her act like this! Even when it was Cat, she was cool about it… Well, as cool as she could be. And even with Dina, she didn’t go practically paralyzed with fear or pure discomfort that she may discover how Ellie feels.

So why did she do this with Abby? Why couldn’t she play it cool and act like nothing was wrong?

Because Ellie didn’t fucking want to like Abby.

#lgbt #ellabs #ellie x abby #ellie williams x abby anderson #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2 #alternate universe #everybody lives #lgbtq #loser!ellie #mean!abby #kind of cute ngl #if you remember my writing style from someone that recently got deactivated #boy do i have news for you...#one sided attraction #probably gonna make a part 2 #its too cute to resist

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finalgirlkateausten · 2 years ago

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she has my name but not my face

A 911: Lone Star fic

Chapter 1 - Prologue

Canon-divergence post-3x14. Despite Tommy's assurances, Nancy's ear doesn't really stop ringing after the shooting at the pile-up. She does her best to ignore and adjust, but when others start noticing, she has to admit to herself that something more is wrong. The only question is... where does she go from here?

3,258 words - rated M - TW for guns mention, internalized ableism

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zialltops · 1 year ago

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky attitude or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: hi guys!! I’m fresh off finishing east side of sorrow and couldn’t wait to hop into this work. I can not thank everyone enough for the fun we had with esos, but i am beyond stoked to meet this joel because i am ferallllll for him all dirty on a ranch with a cowboy hat on a horse ughhhh, give it to me already. anyways, let me know if you like it 🤍 thank you to @sawymredfox for letting me idea dump on you and give me all kinda of ideas! i love you to pieces! this ones for you my dear!

A03 Link | Spotify Link | Masterlink

Pt. 1: Oklahoma Smokeshow

Half a mile from the turnpike, two miles from home, along the winding and twisting asphalt of Cold Creek road, Joel Miller rasps his gloved hand against the steering wheel of the Rising Sun Ranch’s newly bought—second (maybe fifth?) hand old pickup truck. A beat up nineties chevy with rust on the floorboard and a new-car tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Beside him, his brother Tommy bounces his knee while he takes a long drag off his second cigarette since this drive started. The smoke plumes through the window, then back inside when the chill outside pushes the hot smoke back into the cab, whirling around Joel's senses like it belongs there. The smell is insufferable and makes Joel’s skin crawl, takes him to a time before ropers scars and belt buckles.

“Know that shit’s gon’ kill you, right?” He doesn’t need to look over at his brother's form beside him to know the younger man is anxious, like he usually is on long car rides. “You used to do it too, big brother.” Joel scuffs at him, keeps his one gloved hand on the wheel as he keeps on driving. He’s not wrong, if he wants to talk about the Joel of ten years ago, a distant, ragged and angry version of himself. “Don’t remind me.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the snow coated road ahead of him. He’s cautious at this time of the year, the winter storms usually leave them stranded on the ranch for a few weeks, but he’s lucky enough to have caught the dark clouds before they started to let down too much. The salt on the roads seem to do the trick for the time being, so long as he stays away from the embankment and keeps his eyes on the dimming road ahead.

It was mid day, but the sun sets early in the winter, so it hangs low in the sky amongst the cold abyss, like it’s desperately reaching out for the horizon—like it wants to run from this place too. He looks ahead and silently wishes to himself that he could follow those last rays of sunshine into tomorrow, like maybe he would find something there.

He shakes the thought and sets his mind back on track, why they were out here. “When we get back to the ranch, you need to find a way to apologize to Miss Lou. She really was just tryin’ to be helpful, Tommy. She ain’t wrong for that.” Louise had always been more than welcoming and kind to them, she’s saved their asses more than once and she feeds them more than she needs to, but his brother can never seem to let a good thing be, always biting the hand that attempted to feed him.

“Don’t like it when people go through my shit, man, you know that.” He’s nearly done with his cigarette, thank fuck because Joel wants to grab it from his hand himself and chuck it out the window. “She wasn’t goin’ through your stuff, dipshit, she was doin’ your laundry! Doesn’t give you any right to snap at someone like that. Especially a nice lady who’s husband give’s us a dollar in our pocket and a roof over our heads. Do you have any Idea where we’d be without that?”

It cuts deep because Tommy flicks his butt out the window and sinks down in his seat, he knows Joel is right because they are incredibly lucky to be where they are now. They would probably never find somewhere as appealing as their little shared hunting cabin a half mile from the main house. “Hank ain’t happy,” he adds, like Tommy doesn’t already know that after the argument that led to them leaving. “We wouldn’t be out in a goddamned snow storm for fuckin’ flowers if Hank was happy.”

Joel finally glances over, but when he does, it’s at the bouquet of flowers sitting beside him on the bench seat. “Doesn’t matter, you still need to apologize—to both of them. We wouldn’t have shit if it weren’t for them—“ they wouldn’t, they were on their last leg, hitchhiking across half the country when they found an ad outside of the feed store in Jackson looking for a ranch hand in exchange for room and board. Joel gave them two for the price of one and the rest was history. Tommy makes an annoyed sound and interrupts. “Joel, what's that?” Directly in front of them, on the side of the road caught in an embankment is a little blue car sunk all the way down to the lug nuts. It doesn’t look like the person lost control, but they just drove into the embankment.

This road isn’t frequented and the cell service is spotty, but the taillights on the car tell him there's someone inside. “I’m stoppin’ to help,'' Joel informs him, but Tommy shifts and rolls his eyes—he’s never been the humanitarian type. “Why? I’m sure they can pay for a tow truck. Besides, if they are stupid enough to get stuck in an embankment, they can suffer.” Usually, Joel would agree, but the closer they get to Christmas, the more that iced over heart of his starts to thaw out.

Joel stops the truck on the road and leaves it running while he looks over at his brother. “Ain’t leavin’ nobody stuck out here in this storm, even if they’re stupid. They won't make it through the night.” He shuts the door behind him and stuffs his hands into his pockets. An agitated gust of air leaves his lungs in the form of cloudy condensation amongst the snowfall. He walks up to the car, leaning down so he can glance inside without getting too close. Through the fogged window, he can make out the figure of a woman leaned against the steering wheel, her face casted by her hair hanging all around while she slumps her head against the wheel. Stupid—stupid girl. What the hell is she doing way out here?

He rasps against the window and she jolts just as Tommy comes up behind him, finally having left the comfort of the truck cab. “S’a girl, should have guessed.” Tommy interjects with a crude tone, thankfully before she rolls the window down. She looks a little scared and a lot embarrassed, her eyes are red like she’s been crying her heart out. It doesn’t make Joel sad, it makes him uncomfortable. Emotions make his skin crawl, make him uneasy. He doesn’t handle people crying well, he doesn’t know how to react to it, what he should say or do.

“You need someone to pull you out?” He asks, trying his best to sound mellow tempered and helpful. He’s not, but he won't be able to sleep tonight if he has to drive by the coroner unsticking her frozen body from the seats in the morning. “I’m so sorry—I was checking my phone because my mom texted me and I didn’t see the corner—“ stuck in the snow because she was on her fucking phone? “You hit a snow embankment because you were textin’? You dim or somethin’, girl?” She gives him a hard glance, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “I’m not dim, but I can tell you’re dense.”

Tommy scuffs from beside him and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll grab the chain,” he tells his brother as he heads towards the truck. “I’m gonna pull you out, but after that you’re on your own, kid. This storm is just starin’, might be smart if you headed back to whatever city you blew in from.”

She’s the furthest thing from appreciative when Joel hooks a chain to the frame of her car and the hitch on the front of the old red chevy. When she gets out of the little blue car, Joel gets the full extent of how unprepared she is for a full on impending whiteout snowstorm. Her pants have rips and holes, like they are meant to be there, no way they are offering any kind of protection from the chill. Her boots have a three inch heel like she’s walking along some new york sidewalk with a tiny dog in her arms. She has a jacket, fur lining the hood and yet she’s still shaking like it all does nothing to protect her from the snow.

“Thank you for doing this, but I really could have called a tow truck or something. They probably would have been a lot nicer about it.” Her voice is dripping with disdain when he stands upright again. “You want nice, or you want to be dead? Because there ain’t no company sending a driver out here when were forecasted to get two feet overnight.”

She puts her hands on her hips in an attempted threatening manner, like that might scare Joel into an apology when she looks like an angry child who didn’t get their way. Joel hated people like this, too good for the world with their nose up in the air. He turns around to head back to the truck when he spots the piles of boxes in her back seat. Great—another fuckin’ know it all who think’s living out here is romantic and rustic. “You movin’ out here somewhere? You know there ain’t a mall for like, a hundred and fifty miles, right?”

She’s irritated now, with all the rude comments Joel is throwing her way—but he doesn’t care because the last thing this place needs is more city people thinking they can tame this untouched land. It shouldn’t bother him, because how long could she really last out here anyways? With those three inch heels and clothes fit for a concrete jungle, not muddy plains and cattle. She won't make it a month out here in the dead of winter.

“Just pull my car out, or leave me be, because the last thing I need right now is to get harassed by some old dumb fuck cowboy.” Dumb cowboy? Old? Like he’s the fucking moron out here in the middle of a blizzard in a car with bald ass tires and pants with holes in them. Maybe he should fucking leave, let her strand around trying to find a signal to call a tow company that wont come. “You know what?” Teach her a lesson, maybe then she’ll learn this place isn’t for people like her. With her done up hair and makeup—she’s pretty, unnaturally so—like she’s trying to damn hard to look that good—god damnit—“walk around in those stupid fucking shoes and see if you can find your own way out,” he leans down and undoes the hook under her car roughly. “Come on Tommy, were out of here.” She stomps her foot in the snow and starts to pace back to her car.

Joel makes his way back to the truck and unhooks the chain from the front. He’s had a long fucking day of taking care of his idiot bothers problems and he doesn’t have the patience to help some girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her.

“Hey, big brother.” It’s Tommy’s voice in his ears when he finally closes the door behind himself, huffing in discontent as he puts it in gear. “What.” He snaps, backing away from the stuck car and those sinfully tight jeans on that tight little—mother fucking son of a bitch, stop it!—he cant stand people like her, fucking with his head and getting under his skin. The type of girls who have looked him up and down and laughed in his face at the thought of someone like him being up to standard for someone like them. That snot nosed brat can sit in the snow, for all he cares.

“No need to get all hostile at me, man—I’m just checkin’ on ya. You’re all red and pissy, and nothin’ gets you all worked up like that.” He shrugs beside him with a cocky sort of snort. “I mean, unless—“ Joel jerks on the wheel and sneers over at his brother. “Drop it. Not another fucking word or I’ll leave you here too.”

Tommy’s jaw snaps shut and he looks out the passenger window, the radio playing quietly while the storm picks up, and the road carries on. Joel doesn’t think about what he’s done, only how his knee bounces and his hands flex the whole way back to the ranch. How his heart pounds and his blood rushes and it makes his head throb.

When they pull into the muddy drive, he shuts off the truck and turns towards his brother and the bouquet of flowers. “You really need to mean it when you talk to them, I’m serious. They are nice people who’ve looked out for us for two years. We owe them that, at least.” His little brother seems serious when he nods, so Joel passes him the flowers and heads inside. They have sacrificed so much to help Joel and Tommy. They’d been through dark winters with them, when they lost half the herd to the cold and Joel spent the night in the barn with what was left to make sure they all stayed upright and dry. They’ve all had empty bellies at night, didn’t have two nickels to rub together between the four of them and they’ve stood by each others sides through it. They’ve seen Tommy lose his shit a few times, too—so they know he’s capable of coming back from it. He just hopes this time wasn’t too far—Tommy had yelled at her for simply washing his clothes for him.

When the door to the big white farm house creaks open, Joel steps inside to the warm scent of roast in the oven and potatoes on the stove, Hank in his recliner with the newspaper in his hand and his reading glasses on while the game plays in the background. Hank was a large man, kind of chubby in the joyous kind of way, kind eyes and balding on the top. He laughs a lot, but he takes no shit while he’s at it.

“Kitchen,” Joel directs Tommy, who makes his way to the conjoining room where Louise was probably busy cooking dinner. Joel makes his way over to the couch across from Hank, who drops his paper and gives Joel a long look. “You talk to him?” He nods his head and glances down at his snowy boots. “He’s been real anxious all day. Storm comin’ in is messin’ with him and he knows it's no excuse to snap at anyone. He’s in there apologizin’.”

The older man nods at him and glances over his shoulder where Joel can barely see Tommy handing her the bouquet. “She was really shaken up over it, I hate seeing her so upset. She’s been excited all day and trying to make the house looks nice. I think it was just a misunderstanding, but don’t give him any excuse to yell at her like that.”

Joel twists his hands around and looks up at Hank who wears a solemn expression. “I know, I’m real sorry, Hank.”

The man across from him sigh, then offers a faint smile as he stands from his chair. “It’s alright. You boys are like family, families fight—it happens. Lets get some dinner, forget about all this mess, alright?” Joel is thankful for the reason to drop the conversation and stands with the older man as they head towards the kitchen. Louise and Tommy are talking quietly, smiling at each other until she reaches out and embraces him in a soft looking hug. It's an ease on Joel’s wound tight mind, thinking Tommy had finally thrown a wrench in the only good thing they’ve had in ten years.

Dinner is delicious, savory roast that he can dip soft bread in, let is soak up all the juice that he tries and fails to not get all over his beard. When his bowl is empty and his stomach feels distended, he leans back in his chair and sighs contently. “That was amazing, Miss Lou—I don’t know how you do it.” The smile she gives him isn’t like one of her usuals, it’s slightly saddened and disheartened when she looks across the table at him. For a moment, he worries that Tommy’s words are getting to her again. “Everythin’ okay?” He sits up a little in his chair.

“I'm a little worried. Our daughter was on her way home from college today, she’s finally graduated and she called me this morning to tell me she’d be home before supper, so I made her favorite.” She looks towards the window. “The storm is getting worse, I’m worried her little car wont make it,” Joel’s whole stomach lurches into his throat and he nearly throws up in his hands. “I told you we should have gotten her a truck, Hank, you know she’s not the best driver in snow.”

Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!—he’s such a fucking idiot. He knew she was coming home today, Lou has been talking about it for weeks, the impending return of the prodigy child, home with a degree to save the ranch—or whatever it is that she was doing. He’d heard them talk about her so many times, she was all brains and no know-how, Hank always talked about how clumsy and awkward she was, but how brilliant her mind was at the same time. He’d always questioned how uncoordinated she really was, based on the photos of her as a young woman roping in the rodeo. Fuck—he should have recognized her... “What’s her name again?” Tommy asks like he has no fucking clue Joel is losing his ever loving shit right now. They left her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of this damn snow storm. He hears Louise say her name but it doesn’t register because he feels like he’s on fire and drownings at the same time. “But everyone’s always called her Honey. Since she was a little little thing. She was always so ornery and stubborn until one day she got into a bee box and got covered in bee stings. Ever since that day she was so sweet, so we started calling her Honey.” Lou has this soft smile and all Joel can think about is how he’d told her to crawl back to whatever city she came from in her stupid fucking shoes. “She’s got a real mouth on her till something puts her straight.” Hank chuckles and Joel abruptly stands from his seat.

“I’m finished, I can go out and have a look incase she got stuck somewhere.” He slings on his jacket, but Tommy is still eating and doesn’t think much of it—dumb ass. “Are you sure? She’s probably fine, she knows better than to get caught out in these storms, she probably got a hotel in town.” Joel shakes his head at them and throws on his thick Carhartt jacket that Hank gave him his first winter here after watching him shiver in the fields. “I’m sure, it’s gettin’ bad, just gonna make sure she ain’t stuck somewhere.” Joel makes his way out the door quickly, grabbing the keys to the truck that they had given to him—“how are you supposed to manage a ranch if you don’t have a way to get around?”

He starts up the old chevy and it fires to life despite the snow coming down in heaps now. He’s worried about the road back to her car, about the probably eight inches lining the long driveway, but he throws it in four wheel drive and tries his damndest to get through it because despite all the things stacking up against him, his biggest worry is the police finding her frozen to death in the morning and her parents faces when they find out it was Joel who abandoned her there to die. God—he’s such a prick.

The road is slippery and tricky, a winding snow covered path along the hillside leading towards Jackson. It takes him twenty minutes in this blizzard to get there, all he can think about the entire time is the half freezing girl hiding in her car and the warm food in his belly that was meant for her. He stops the truck when he gets to the car, the lights are off and it looks abandoned—his gut lurches again, what if he’s already too late? Two hours have passed since he left her stranded and the sun has set now, real cold is creeping in.

He jumps out of the truck and walks up to the window. He can't see inside because the glass is fogged, so she has to be alive in there. He knocks on the window and the door jerks against the cold. “Hey,” he pulls the door open more, she’s sitting in the driver seat, pale and shaking with a small blanket pulled around her to keep in some warmth. The look she gives him could kill a man if he didn’t feel like he was already going to die the second she tells her parents that he left her there.

“Y-Your conscious f-finally get to y-you, asshole?” She’s absolutely shaking, her fingers look purple. “I’m so sorry—C’mon, it’s warm in the truck.” He reaches for her hand, but she snaps it away from him like he might burn her. “I c-can get o-out on my own.” She can and does, wobbles on her too tall heels and starts to head towards the running truck. Joel grabs the door for her and she sneers at him—yeah, yeah—he deserves that. He closes the door behind her and runs over to the other side. When he jumps in, she’s got her hands pressed against the heater while she relishes in the welcomed heat.

He pulls away from her trapped car, he’ll come back for it when the snow has cleared up a little bit, but for now—it’s too dangerous to try and yank it out just for it to get stuck in the road because it has no traction. It's ten agonizing minutes of silence while Joel taps his fingers against the steering wheel, trying his damndest to keep a close eye on the woman beside him. She’s warming herself up and thawing out that burning rage Joel knows is inside of her. When they get closer to the driveway, she starts to fire off. “You takin’ me to some backwoods shack to tie me up and keep me?” He scoffs and looks out the windshield, trying to keep the truck steady in the snow.

“If I was going to tie up and keep some girl, I’d make sure she was less bitchy.” She growls at him, growls lowly and it actually does the job, makes his skin prick in goosebumps while he drives. “Wouldn’t be so bitchy if you didn’t leave me on the side of the road. You know I could have died, right?” He is painfully, agonizingly aware of that fact. “I came back, didn’t I?” The driveway is in view, a long fenced path up to the old farm house. “How’d you know I was comin’ here?” Her voice is a tad quieter now, less abrasive on his ears.

“Cus’ I’m comin’ here too.” He says quietly, halfway hoping it won't reach her ears, but her mom was right—she is quick, smart too. “You’re Joel, aren’t you?” She laughs menacingly, crossing her arms across her body and her left leg over her right with a scoff. “You know, my parents said it was Tommy I wouldn’t like. Said you were this big southern gentlemen.” She laughs a little harder, looking over at Joel. “They were half worried they’d have to chase me out of your bed, that you were right up my alley. My daddy said you were the type to charm any woman’s pants off. Guess they don’t know you like they thought they do, huh? Under all that chivalrous facade is just another self centered, selfish cowboy.”

Joel shuts off the truck and glances over at her. “Look, I’m real sorry. First impressions aren’t my strong suit, got a thing for people who don’t belong out here. Didn’t know you were their kid. Would’ve pulled your car out if I’d known.” She opens the door of the cab and steps out into the snow. “So you’re only a good person when someone’s lookin’, I’ll keep that in mind, dickhead.”

She slams the door and storms off towards the house while Joel slumps against the wheel with his head in his hands. Fuck…if it’s not Tommy risking their welcome, their jobs, then it was him, making an absolute ass of himself in-front of the bosses daughter. The bosses fiery, too good—too good looking—

“Son of a bitch!”

—

He gets into the house ten minutes after she does, his hands stuffed in his pockets and half expecting her parents to kick him out right then and there. He pretty much told her to fuck off and left her to freeze to death. There’s no doubt in his mind that they would have found her dead in the morning, the temperature was below freezing already.

To his surprise, it's quiet when he gets inside. Hank and Louise are in the dining room with their daughter, laughing and smiling and surprised to see her, to see her with Joel. “And he just found you there?” She looks so…so..chipper standing there beside her dad with her arm on his shoulder while he sits at the table. “Yep, got my car stuck because I was texting, I know—not bright.” She sounds so fucking fake and dramatic in her tone, Joel’s hands flex and unflex. “And I couldn’t get out and find a signal because of my stupid fucking shoes. I probably would have died there if not for…good ol’ Joel.” She cocks her head with this shit eating grin on her face that makes Joel's gut clench up and his heart pound.

This fucking bitch—is she blackmailing him right now? In those stupid fucking pants and that top he’s finally getting a glimpse at—and then…shit…

Look at you…just—his brain is going haywire right now. He hates your fucking guts right about now but his brain makes other notes about your guts and its desire to be in them—and that tight ass shirt with your tits just pourin’ out of it—Jesus CHRIST, Joel, get it together here.

He shakes his head, bites the inside of his cheek and meets your eyes, everyone else is looking at you, but you’re looking at him, fully aware of the way his eyes just ate your body up for dessert until he was stuffed. “Real winner you guys have here, mom and dad…real winner.”

If there’s one thing Joel is certain of, it’s that he is in big, big fucking trouble.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #archive of our own #joel the last of us #joel tlou #rancher joel #joel miller moodboard #cowboy joel miller

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