#tess is really really hot

[pettson]

i could make a comment on how tess being overlooked in the tlou fandom is because of the misogynistic views on older women we have in this society where any woman over 35 is not considered sexy anymore and therefore loses her worth, but do i want to

[gramarye]

made this playlist as a joke in may last year knowing only 3 songs that fit this niche but less than a year later i have eight whole songs. never give up follow your dyke dreams

[messrmoonyy]

After the new episode my mind went to Tess because what else would it do. And I was thinking. Imagine Tess in the interrogation scene. Like reader has gone missing and Tess is trying to try them down so she tortures and torments people to try and find you? I shouldn’t love it as much as I do I’m sorry 😭😭😭😭😭😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

DO NOT APOLOGISE YOU MAGNIFICENT HUMAN BEING.

We love feral unhinged woman here my love. We thrive on that shit.

Angry, aggressive Tess fighting to find the love of her life? Makes my brain go brrrrrrrr.

She would not rest until she found you she would beat the shit out of as many people it took to track you back down.

I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. You don’t fuck with Tess’ girl.

[gutsby]

Halftime

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: A chance meeting a week before Thanksgiving leaves you and your dad’s best friend to handle your feelings the only way you know how: fucking on the couch when your dad falls asleep during the game.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Age gap. Soft dom!Joel. Daddy kink. Praise kink (!) Makeup sex. Pussy pronouns.

Note: ‘Or maybe on a fifty yard line watchin’ Bama beat the hell out of Tennessee’ is a line from Riley Green’s ‘Hell of a Way to Go.’ I was in Knoxville when we played this year, but in my fic, Alabama wins. If you’re a Vols fan, I’m sorry. And RMFT.

Word count: 10.5k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Guilt brought you home, and liquor helped you stay.

These were two of the shittiest things a daughter could admit, but the fact was that you simply wouldn’t be here if your dad hadn’t broken his leg at work last week. That you wanted to help, but your patience was thin, and the only way you knew how to reconcile the two was to drink. A lot. Friday you came home, and by midday Saturday, sometime around eleven or twelve, you were plastered.

Staggering up the front steps of your childhood home with Theresa Servopoulos—newfound friend from camp and the heaviest drinker you’d met in a long, long time—hot on your heels. You’d just had brunch, and the meal was mostly liquid. Bottomless mimosas had been Frank’s idea, and when his husband Bill had offered to be the DD after the fact, you’d had no choice but to accept, really. You drank your weight in citrus and champagne and spent the whole morning getting to know Tess’s friends. As your state of intoxication progressed, you’d told them your troubles and all that had been plaguing you lately.

Now, hours later, you didn’t want to think at all.

You wanted to sit your ass down on the couch, turn the TV on to Disney+, and spend the next three to thirteen more binging Star Wars spin-offs and discussing with Tess at length whether Katee Sackhoff or Timothy Olyphant was the more fuckable supporting actor.

“Honestly…I’d let Jabba the Hutt hit,” you confessed, slurring your words a little as you fumbled for your key.

“You’re fucking lying,” Tess half-groaned, half-laughed.

She watched you try and jam metal into metal and fail twice before steeling herself against a rocking chair and reaching out her hand. You waved it away. At a distance, you heard the hum of an engine and another voice, loud:

“You ladies need a little help over there or wha-at?”

That was Frank. He was arguably the most drunk out of the three of you and hanging his handsome, greying head out of the passenger side of Bill’s Chevy S-10. He’d seen you try and fail with the key, too, and seemed more eager than ever to lend a hand, while his husband was likely kicking himself for ever offering to drive you back.

Tess gripped the porch chair harder and gestured, dazed.

“Give her a minute, she’s—” She hiccuped once. “—intelligent and entirely capable. She’s got this, OK?”

You didn’t. You really didn’t. And by the way you were finessing this key you didn’t feel too fucking smart either. You crammed your key against the tight, rigid slot in the front door of your home, missed it completely, and then wondered, dimly, how men were able to aim their dicks.

How Joel ever managed to fit that massive, throbbing—

“Fuck!” you cursed, kicking the doorframe with a huff.

The periphery of your vision was spinning and swimming a little now, and before you knew it, Tess had snatched your keychain from out of your hand. She got to work.

And while she did, you turned back to Bill and Frank, whose truck was still idling quietly in your driveway.

Frank had an eyebrow raised. His chin was in his palm, and his elbow was planted in the car’s open window. With that look alone, you knew what he wanted to say.

“Fine…fine,” you capitulated in a loud, droning shout. Head spinning, “You can give him my fucking number.”

Frank grinned at that.

“No shit?” he yelled back.

“Yeah. I really am that horny.”

From somewhere in the car, Bill groaned his disapproval. Frank’s smile only widened. It’d been his idea to set you up with one of their neighbors after you’d divulged all of your dating life turmoils over eggs benedict and grits that morning—how fucking your dad’s best friend had, in fact, not been the wisest decision and you needed something new to get your mind off the man for a little while. Frank had been all too happy to offer supplying your number to the so-called ‘dreamboat’ next door to them. Initially, you’d brushed it off, but the longer you stood on this porch contemplating the hellish few days you’d be spending at home for Thanksgiving, the more you drunkenly reasoned a dick might do you some good.

And if it wasn’t from Joel Miller, even better. You leaned against the nearest porch column and pointed at Frank.

Then at Bill, squinting dumbly and faux-accusingly.

“I’m desperate, but I’m trusting y’all, too, alright?”

You wanted to get fucked, not fucked over, again. Frank seemed to understand right away and nodded his head.

“I’ll give him your number, tell him you’re hot—which you are—and you two can work something out. It’ll be fine.”

He pointed back at you, still smiling, and you hoped it would be. Behind you, Tess had solved the puzzle of the chrome-plated house key, and had thrust the door open. She stumbled inside, and your feet started to follow hers.

“Tell Tess to text us your number!” Frank had to cup his hands saying it, as Bill was already starting to pull away.

You nodded and waved. Watched the world veer sideways and your kind, considerate, hammered new friend-of-a-friend repeat how great this was going to be—this guy’ll do you so good you’ll forget Joel exists—while you backed into the house. A gust of warm air from inside pricked at your skin, and along with that touch came the tiniest trace of hope. A sanguine sort of warmth that twisted low in your gut and made you smile.

And cup your hands, as Frank had, while calling to him:

“How old is Mr. Dreamboat, anyway?!”

The truck was crunching its ways down the gravel drive. Its path was slow, though, and Frank’s voice was clear.

“FORTY-ONE!”

It was as though you were hearing those words in a dream. You almost couldn’t help what you said next.

Fanning yourself, you yelled back, “I lo-o-o-ve that!”

“What?!”

Frank hadn’t heard you. They were farther away now.

You had to practically scream it now, but you were drunk enough that you didn’t really care. Tess was entertained, half-hunched on the floor and trying to work off her shoes while she laughed at this stupid exchange.

In truth, it didn’t matter how loud you yelled, because you lived on several dozen acres of land, and your dad wasn’t home. He’d told you that he was hitching a ride with Tommy to their usual weekend haunt to watch the Alabama-Tennessee game, and it started an hour ago. The house was empty, and you were free to screech.

“I said, ‘I love that’!”

“Yeah? Love what?!”

Frank was hanging halfway out of the passenger window by now, and his face was flushed with moronic humor.

Bill was probably grinding his teeth together as he drove.

“O-O-O-OLD MEN!” you shrilled, as loud as you could.

Next thing you knew, Tess was on the floor. Wheezing.

It didn’t matter whether Frank could hear you now; evidently, he’d gotten the message. Their truck was crawling down your drive with a low, rumbling crackle, and the eyes that were still glued to yours were shining.

Before they turned out of sight, Frank waved again and blew you a kiss, as you and Tess had done to him at some point earlier that day. He slipped back into the car, and your sides were nearly aching from how hard you were giggling—nothing was even that particularly funny, but with a nice noontime buzz and Tess’s relentless cackling from across the foyer, you couldn’t help it. You shut the door, staggered over, and were about to drop.

Right when you were about to collapse, though, Tess wobbled up. You saw her raise two hands in front of her.

“I’m— I’m gonna pee…or puke…possibly,” she warned.

That wasn’t good.

You pointed up.

“First door on your left. Do you need any—”

But Tess was already staggering off. You might’ve laughed again, and trailed after her with a plea to try not to projectile vomit all over those nice festive towels your dad had bought, but the moment came and went quick. In fact, it wasn’t even brought to an end by your friend’s departure but rather the screech of her feet on the floor.

Nearly tripping over herself to leave, then crashing into something else before she could. You heard a thwack.

Then her huff, ‘Fuck. Sorry!’ And you turned.

You looked up and cursed.

Again, you felt like you might be in a dream. Only this time, the sight had more of a nightmarish hue, and you had only to grip the edge of a chair—no, a table, a side table—beside you in the hall to keep yourself upright.

Your sweet, sloppy-drunk friend had run straight into Joel. She was raising her hands again and saying sorry.

You could tell she meant it, too. She was just shaking her head, appearing to try and rid herself of the stunned, dumbfounded feelings, when she tilted her chin up.

Then, somehow even brighter, she smiled in recognition.

“Lucien Flores!”

Not missing a beat, like you knew she wouldn’t:

“You fucking prick.”

Of course she was sober enough to remember his face. The time she’d mistaken him for an uptight FEDRA counselor back at camp. How you’d fucked him on her bunk. All the shit-talking you’d been doing about him since, too. You knew she wasn’t a woman to mince words, so it didn’t surprise you in the slightest when next she placed a hand on his pec, patted it lightly and added:

“You’re an asshole. A spineless, slimy, sad sack of shit.”

Joel blinked as she walked past him, toward the stairs.

“Good to see you, too, Tess.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“Theresa.”

You hadn’t even meant to say the last aloud; it just came out. Tess was holding the rail, going slow but determined to get upstairs without losing her food all over the floor.

The next thing you heard was the slam of the bathroom door. You winced and thought of your dad’s decorative towels a moment. That thought was then supplanted by another, though you pretended not to feel it, at least outwardly. You brushed past Joel to go to the kitchen.

Why was he here? He surely wouldn’t have come unless your father was there, and your dad was supposed to be watching the Vols take the ass-beating of a lifetime from the Tide. Or maybe vice-versa. You weren’t sure how the latter was doing since Saban retired. You rubbed one temple as you opened a cabinet and looked for a glass.

Reconsidering, you opted for a plastic cup instead.

Your head was throbbing as you walked to the sink.

You sensed you likely weren’t of a mind to be holding anything fragile, and the second that followed only proved it. A footfall sounded by the kitchen island, and you flinched, dropping your cup like a fucking idiot.

“Where’s my dad?” you blurted out, not thinking.

You didn’t want his voice to be the first to fill the silence. You picked your cup off the floor and turned on the tap.

More silence followed. You couldn’t be sure if it was your own drunken paranoia or a genuine feeling of two eyes on your back, but your skin bristled. You were prepared to pose the question again when your answer came in the form of a new sound: not Joel’s voice, but another’s.

An announcer, apparently. You turned your head and saw ESPN on the living room TV, where the game was playing. In front of the screen, your dad was supine on his recliner. His jaw hung slack, and his eyes were shut.

So much for those morning beers with Tommy.

His leg was armored with a boot: a real, no-bullshit cast meant to protect the tibia he’d shattered, propped up in front of him while the other dangled haphazardly from the chair. You watched him, feeling an odd mix of pity, nausea, and love, and for a second, you didn’t think to move. This man was the reason you were home, after all—and why Joel was, too. You almost forgot your anger.

Your cup was full. Overflowing. You turned off the sink, then poured what excess you could as your hand shook.

You shouldn’t have been holding anything in that moment, off-kilter and unnerved as you were, but you wanted to seem occupied. You inhaled and started past Joel again, who was leaning against the counter, quiet.

He still didn’t talk, and let you stroll about half a foot in front of him before you felt the cup lift out of your hand.

“Hey—” you started.

But Joel was resuming your path before you could finish. He’d snagged the water from your grasp and made his way out of the kitchen, calmly, and you didn’t have to ask to know where he was going. You felt a pang of rekindled resentment but said nothing, knowing that was useless.

Arrogant motherfucker. Patronizing asshole. Clearly, you couldn’t be trusted to carry a cup of fucking water up the stairs in your own home, so he had had to do it for you. You went over to your father in the living room, blinking through a dozen more pissed off thoughts, when you glanced down at one of your hands again. You winced.

Stop shaking.

You needed to stay busy. Make use of those dumb, trembling hands while Joel was here and not let him see that it was all from memories of him—not the mimosas—that you couldn’t keep a steady hold to save your life.

You started to clean, mindlessly. Cleared the old coffee table of its manifold beer cans and plates of stale pizza. You walked with an unsteady gait, the room still tilting a little, but you ended up getting a decent amount cradled in your arms and into the trash or the sink shortly after.

You had just taken a bite of a slice of pepperoni and made a face when your dad shifted in his seat, letting out a grunt. Still unconscious, he rubbed at his arms. The house around him was warm, but never quite enough for a man who appeared to have been born cold-blooded. After years of this, you knew the routine; you dropped your pizza, went to the thermostat, and cranked it to 75.

Less than a minute later, it came: “Boiling us alive, huh?”

It was the first you’d heard from Joel since he spoke his curt greeting to Tess. You were over by the closet getting a blanket, and Joel was stood in the doorway, frowning.

You turned, holding up the big wool throw for him to see before you went back over to your dad in the recliner.

“He needs it,” you replied, gaze averted.

“By ‘it’ you mean his electric bill gone through the roof?”

He could be such a father sometimes. The worst kind.

“No, keeping him fucking warm, Joel.”

And the end of the last sentence you hadn’t meant to be so loud. Or mean. You didn’t really care whether it offended him, but the thought of waking your dad to hear that—being rude to your ‘Uncle Joel,’ as your dad had so innocently called the man last month—was awful. You squinted seeing him stir under the blanket, but then he turned to the side and snored even louder. You sighed.

“Doctor’s got him on some heavy painkillers. He’s been out since before the last game even ended,” Joel said.

You glanced at the TV. The game was crawling to halftime at a snail’s pace, by the looks of it. You smiled, seeing those puke-pumpkin-hued fucks getting smoked. In a second, though, the curve of your lips was fading.

“Will you stop?”

Your voice was shrill. You hurried over to Joel, who was busy dicking around with the thermostat and trying to get it down to 68 degrees—freezing, in your dad’s mind.

“It’s too hot.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re being—”

“This isn’t your fuckin’ house, Miller! Quit!”

“Yell a little louder, why don’t y—” Joel began to scold.

You wouldn’t let him. Of all things to get on your ass about now, volume wasn’t the hill he’d die on today. Before you even realized what you two were doing, you shoulder-checked him like you might do an annoying brother, and his arm wound swiftly around your front. It didn’t hurt, but it sure as hell made you mad to be held.

You made a jab at Joel’s ribs and ignored the grunt from him. Anger was a natural defense—your default state.

Every last semi-tranquil encounter you’d shared with someone you cared about before was always marred by rage at some point, and with Joel, it came as easy as breathing. If you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off, you were ripping him a new one, or he was grating your nerves. You didn’t get along, and you likely never would.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t need there somewhere. You just smothered it with something hostile, constantly.

You wished it would go away. You shoved at his arm.

“You’re gonna wake him,” you hissed, strained.

“Yeah? That’s what you’re worried about?”

You wriggled against Joel’s hold and, scrunching your nose, made a pass for the dial on the wall. He caught it.

Now he was holding your hand in one of his, and your shoulder with the other as his forearm crossed your chest. Joel’s frame was looming over yours, and you glared ahead of you, where the screen still read ‘68.’

You could throttle him—Joel Miller simply refused to lose

“Is that all you’ve gotta say to me, after this whole time?”

His breaths were tight like yours, but the voice was slow.

“What else is there to say?” you snapped.

“You’ve been ignoring me all month.”

“I’m in college. I have shit to do.”

“Like block all of my calls?”

“Go fuck yourself, Joel.”

“Just tell me why.”

“Fuck. You.”

Your last two caustic words were still warm on your tongue when Joel turned you around. Again, he wasn’t forceful or harsh—your looks had enough vitriol for the two of you—but he pushed your body against the wall. Right beside the thermostat, your spine straightened, and your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist.

“Is that an invitation?” he hummed, voice palpably lower.

Un-fucking-believable, you thought. Of course, it was.

Silently, you prided yourself in wearing a dress that day. It wasn’t the short, red-and-white gingham thing you’d worn to the fair with Joel last month, but it was loose. Flowing. Easy enough for him to hike up your legs, sliding a coarse, warm palm up your thigh while the other held you tight to the wall. His hips pinned yours, and with that gesture, you felt him hard and desperate in denim.

“Need me to fuck you now or what? Is that the only way I’m getting a word out of this mouth?” he pressed again.

Honestly, it was. You nodded once to say as much.

Then he pushed you harder against the wall. He wrestled with his jeans just enough for you to hear a belt, and a button, and a short, sharp zip come down, and your mind was swimming with filthy ideas when he grunted.

Joel nosed your cheek, and a hand made its way to your mouth. You sucked in a breath right before you felt three fingertips graze the seam of your lips. Prying them open.

“If I’m fucking you here, I need more than a nod, kid.”

You really, really hated him now. This felt like a game. His index curled into your bottom teeth and pulled your mouth open wider, while his own was smiling, faintly. It was hard to talk with his fingers skirting your tongue—his warm, bare member springing out and grazing your folds through your panties down below—but you tried.

Your words were muffled as you spoke, “Please fuck me.”

Clearly, that was all Joel needed. With an easy nudge from the head of his cock, he pushed your underwear to the side, and his grin got bigger when he felt you soaked.

You were drooling down his length, and he hadn’t so much as touched you before he pushed you up against his body. It felt almost shameful as he slid himself inside.

Then, in the next moment, your brain went blank. Your bodies were joined completely, and Joel had you seated all the way down to the base of his cock, where a tuft of salt-and-pepper hair tickled your skin. His fingers hung limply from your lips while he nestled in; when you groaned, he used his middle and index to stifle the noise.

“Shh, hey—” he started, as if suddenly remembering where he was, and whose daughter he was fucking, “You’re okay. You’re good…I know that feels good.”

You despised him even more when he was right. He pressed the heft of his belly into you, and with the friction, you couldn’t help but whimper against his hand.

“Fuck you,” you bit again, this time through fingers.

“I am.”

Then he pushed them in further, and he made you suck. Joel started fucking you gently against the wall, and with the first few strokes, you knew you’d be putty soon enough. You focused on feeling and trying not to whine.

“I’ve been texting,” Joel continued, breath labored, sounding half-crazed, “Calling every chance I got—”

He paused to jerk his hips harder. Make you bounce on his cock or maybe just hold him closer from the force of it. And you did, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and reluctantly burying your face into the side.

He was familiar, that was for sure. You tensed seeing something else familiar—your dad in the next room—and preemptively swallowed a moan while Joel kept going.

Fucking you stupid and talking to you, per usual.

“—to make sure you were OK,” he finished, panting.

Pulling his fingers from your lips so you could answer:

“I’m fine.”

“Are we?”

“You lied to me!”

And no sooner had he retracted his hand that he needed to clamp his palm over your mouth. You’d said that loud.

In the next room over, through the open space between the kitchen and the den, you heard your dad snore softly. When your gaze flitted back to Joel’s, it was like you were chiding the other at once—whose idea was this, anyway? Slowly, he moved his hand down, but his gaze was stern.

“Didn’t mean to lie,” Joel answered, now lower than ever.

“But you did. Dad’s been fucking his old sidepiece, my mom’s best friend, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was my place—”

“Your place?!” You made sure to keep your indignation hushed this time, but your eyes went wide. Incredulous.

You would’ve shoved Joel off if he hadn’t moved first. Neither one of you had had a fraction of the presence of mind to be thinking straight here, obviously, so when he carried you closer to a table in an adjoining room, all you were thinking was how not to lose your cool completely. When Joel tried to set you down on the wooden surface, you slipped away. You moved to the couch; you weren’t even considering where you were going, just that you wanted more of him, and you needed to be done quick.

If that meant fucking on the sofa behind your dad’s recliner, so be it. Joel balked a second before following.

“Are you…?” he started, voice no louder than a whisper.

“What? Not your ‘place’ here, either?” you shot back.

Admittedly, you were both insane. No matter how far away your dad’s sleeping form happened to be, or how thoroughly knocked out he appeared from the drugs, this was batshit, objectively. Joel’s eyes narrowed at you.

Then he moved some more. Casting a sidelong glance at the recliner less than ten feet away, he gripped himself and gave you a look as if to say, ‘Are we crazy now, or…?’

You nodded to confirm that you were.

By moving again, apparently, Joel was saying the same.

Except now it wasn’t with words but with a look—eyeing you hungrily and setting all rational, sane thought aside to climb over the couch to you. Your legs were spread.

Joel slotted himself quickly between them, then inside you, without another word. His body crowded yours. The scent you knew was also the fragrance you hated most: the smell of his American Spirits. He tried to kiss you with those lips, and you dodged them, choosing instead to hold the coarse greyish hairs at the nape of his neck and pull them. Draw him closer to your body without letting him get too close to you. Joel let out a grunt.

His hips rutted in short, quick, shallow motions again, like he was desperate to feel anything. When you wouldn’t accept his lips on yours, they fell to the side of your face. He held your sides while he dragged his cock in and out of your pulsing heat, and his breaths fanned heavy on your cheek. His stubble was sharp on your skin.

“Anything you want,” he huffed shortly.

His mouth was right by your ear, and his words were spoken in a breath. And another. And another. Still panting and dragging his old, weary hips back and forth in an effort to pleasure you. He felt indescribably good.

“Want…what?” you murmured back.

You clawed at his torso and locked your legs around his waist. You glanced over at the recliner, turned away from the couch, thankfully, and hoped it wouldn’t move again. Your dad’s breaths were deep, and so was Joel inside you

Sliding a hand under your head and cradling your body to his, and still maintaining a bruising pace with his cock—you almost couldn’t take it. You wanted to come undone.

And there Joel went, murmuring in your ear. Battling the urge not to get too loud with your father there, but still:

“I’ll do anything…anything you want.”

“W-Why? For what?”

“To say I’m sorry.”

“You don’t—”

But your words were cut short. For a second, your heart leapt into your throat thinking the sound was coming from your dad’s old chair, and then you realized that it wasn’t. Just the same, your terror spiked again when you sensed it was somewhere inside—coming from the back.

“Can I get a…ROLL TIDE?!” someone yelled.

Tommy Miller wasn’t even an Alabama fan.

Still, it seemed he was here to celebrate like one anyway. You froze momentarily, taking in the shout, then the steps, then the linoleum floor of the mud room being shuffled across before the boots were kicked off quick.

His brother was quicker. Joel climbed off of you in a blink, jeans and boxers trailing just as fast. Then his hands were dropping to you, gripping your arms, and heaving you up. You stumbled. You shoved your skirt down, fast, and barely had the time to breathe while you skittered after Joel, still in his hold. The two of you ran like hell: quiet, but like your asses might’ve been on fire. You made it out to the foyer, and from there, you could hear Tommy making a fuss in the kitchen. Joel strode three steps at a time going up the stairs, and behind him, you nearly face-planted. He tugged you up then, swiftly.

Silent as death at the top of the stairs and trying to usher you into a room, not saying a word. You dug in your heels

“Wait. Wait—Tess?”

“Napping in the tub.”

Of course. You cast one last pensive look at the bathroom door before you let Joel nudge you away.

You were pushed into a room; you knew it was yours. Steeped as you were in fear, shame, and lingering inebriation, you couldn’t waste a second getting in—and neither could Joel. His frame followed close while Tommy’s old, familiar sounds grew louder downstairs. He ushered you further, walked you forward, pushed you in an inch or two too far, and before you knew it, your knees were bumping along the front of your bed. You tripped.

Your hands flew out to break your fall. Unfortunately, the limbs that were meant to stay straight were weaker than you’d hoped, and instead of holding you up, they crumpled beneath your weight. You fell on your face.

The spot where you landed was soft, though.

You let out a muffled grunt into cotton sheets.

Across from where you lay, Joel’s steps were slow—painstakingly so—and when you’d propped yourself up and blinked again and again to adjust your eyes to the dim half-light of the room, you could see him there. Pacing. Skating a look to the doorknob, as if checking to make sure he’d locked the thing properly, then running a hand through his hair. From your perch, you saw a wince.

Then his face turned to you. Again—guilty.

What the fuck am I doing here with you?

That was what you thought you saw in his expression, anyway. You felt compelled to ask him the very same.

“Why are you here? Why is Tommy here?” As if to punctuate your question, more footfalls followed, loud, “I thought he was taking my dad to the bar. And you—”

“I know. He was supposed to. Then he texted and said your dad crashed before the Notre Dame game even ended, so he figured he’d head over to the bar himself.”

You were about to speak, but Joel continued.

“I said he was an idiot to leave your dad home alone, since the man can hardly walk on his own. So I came.”

You swallowed. While some momentary swell of gratitude threatened to constrict your throat, you forced out a frown and scooted back. The room swayed a little.

“That the only reason?” you asked, clipped.

At the foot of the bed, Joel held your gaze. It was stern. Your own vacillating look was no match for the man who, in spite of the two or ten beers he’d likely guzzled that morning, could stand firm. Prop his hands on his hips.

Look every bit the displeased fatherly figure while he watched you crawl across the plush, pink bed at length.

It wasn’t right. You saw it in his eyes: the want painted there, however burdened by shame they might’ve been. No doubt seeing your childhood bedroom had kicked the guilt into overdrive, reminding him, plainly, that he was his age, and you were yours. And his best friend’s kid. The irises that shone in the glow of warm white fairy lights overhead flitted to the canopy where they hung. Joel sized up the mesh overtaking most of your bed, all flowing and girlish and juvenile as it cascaded from the four wooden posters, and he had to shake his head. He blinked faster, as if trying to rid himself of some thought.

“I’ll go,” he choked out.

“Alright.”

You unzipped your dress and let it fall to the bed the second Joel had started to turn. He stopped. Got himself an eyeful and probably could’ve bruised every fingertip from how hard he tightened his grip along his belt loops.

He watched you slip out of the fabric, then brush it aside. Clothed in just your bra and panties, you went to the nightstand and opened a drawer. You leaned down.

And, while you kneeled and bent over to reach, Joel was afforded a too-perfect view of the wet patch in the fabric between your legs. You could’ve sworn you heard a groan before you crawled back over to the place where you’d been—American Spirits and a lighter now in your hand.

“Where’d you…” Joel started, only to lose his train of thought the moment you sat and unclasped your bra.

You lit up, comfortably. Nodding to the window.

“Mind opening that?” you asked him.

Joel stood back and stared. He squared his shoulders, seeming poised to say ‘no,’ when his gaze dropped lower.

“Those’ll kill you.” But he was just looking at your breasts

Reluctantly, he moved from where he’d fixed himself at the center of your room and walked over to the window. He slid the pane up, but he didn’t let his gaze stray from you too long. As soon as the smoke found a place to go, he turned. He shook his head again. You smiled, then.

“These are yours,” you replied. You bared your teeth at him with the cigarette in between them, teasing a little.

After, you closed your lips and inhaled once. You blew a breath through your nose and let the smoke trail out. Joel scowled as he took a step closer to your bed.

Somewhere downstairs Tommy had cranked the game up louder. You could hear the blare of fanfare and a booming, cheery voice announcing a first down.

Meanwhile, Joel’s jaw hadn’t flinched. His lips were still curled in that sour, unsightly grimace. He had to have gotten a good deal of practice doing that while you were away, with every text, call, and FaceTime you’d declined over the past month, you imagined. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of being ignored as it was getting smoke blown into his face that made him irritated. Galled, even.

Joel made a pass for your mouth as if to take the cigarette away, but you were too quick. You slid back.

“Finders keepers,” you chided, trying not to giggle.

“Give it.”

“Make me.”

“Kid, don’t start.”

Joel’s face was turning pink as he leaned in again. In no more than a second, though, you’d made it safely out of his reach. He had to plant a knee on your bedspread, grit his teeth even tighter, and stretch his frame further in, and just when he’d gotten within half a foot from where you sat perched at the head of the bed, you felt a snap.

Or perhaps heard a groan and surmised the rest. Joel cursed, ‘Fuck!’ then fell to his elbow, hissing with pain.

He gripped his side, and he winced. Your eyes went wide.

“Joel?”

The cigarette fell from your lips; as soon as it did, Joel swept a brusque, graceless touch in your direction. He held tight to his side while he swatted the thing away. The second the still-lit stick hit the covers, Joel had it brushed to the side, sending it flying off of your bed.

His nostrils flared when he stood again. He crushed the cigarette underfoot. He looked pleased—then pained.

“Joel!” you hissed. This time reaching for him, and catching him narrowly before he lurched into your bed.

“‘M’alright. Stop, stop. It’s okay.”

Joel grunted, low. He held one bedpost. He clutched somewhere on his body close to the small of his back, and you could tell he felt a strain. He noticeably tensed.

“I’m fine.” And then he was starting to wave you off, too, “Lifetime of smoking’ll do that to you. And turning forty.”

You believed him. What you wouldn’t accept was how fast he tried to bend down and retrieve the cigarette from the floor. His cheeks flushed red with the effort.

And just when he’d started to tilt, you tugged him back.

You gripped his shirt and yanked him onto the bed.

Maybe that wasn’t the best for the muscle he’d pulled. At any rate, though, it was better than straining another by trying to pick up a cigarette butt, you reasoned. You hadn’t even jerked him that hard, and your bed was soft. Joel fell with a thud amidst a sea of satin, plush faux fur, a half-dozen pillows, and a mound of stuffed animals. His lips frowned as if annoyed, but the eyes betrayed relief. He breathed out a shallow puff of air once he’d settled.

“You need to stop smoking.” Grumbling now, of course.

You wanted to pinch the pout clean off his mouth.

“Yeah, really, Joel? You first,” you shot back.

“I’m old.”

“No shit.”

“Watch it.”

For someone who’d practically thrown out his back just bending at the waist, Joel Miller loved to wax poetic on the dangers of Big Tobacco. And getting old. By the time he groaned and laid flat, you decided you’d had enough of this sexless intermission, and you straddled his hips.

“Wh—” Joel huffed in protest, pushing at hands all too eager to act on his belt, “You still haven’t answered me.”

“What was the question?” you returned, careless.

But you knew it clear as day: Are we alright?

The old man didn’t stop the path of your hands, but he certainly made a show to try and pretend to stall their speed. He watched, curiosity piqued and shame still roiling in his gut, and he let you unbuckle, unzip, and finally free him from the confines of his briefs. He sighed.

It was then that you felt him hard against your palm, firm as he was before. Your mouth watered even more. When your eyes flitted up to his for permission, you didn’t expect to find resistance there, so the subsequent grip around your wrist took you back. Joel seized hold of your hand in his, and, rather than stopping you completely, he paused it in place. Sank your touch into his groin, as though tempting you with the outline of his bare length.

That was cruel. He knew what feeling him did to you.

“You know exactly what question I meant.”

What such a move would do to any girl in your position—freshly fucked and eager for more—and in your bed, no less. You didn’t care for the guilt Joel harbored today; he didn’t get to demand answers you weren’t ready to give.

“What? Feeling bad for boning your friend’s kid all of a sudden?” You smiled, voice devoid of any humor as you tried to pivot subjects, “Didn’t look like that downstairs.”

Shame flared in Joel’s eyes. Two could play at this game.

His grip tightened around your wrist, and he kept it still. In spite of this hold, you were able to flex your fingers the tiniest bit and take him snugly in your hand. He held you, and you held him, and for the next few excruciating moments, that was all either of you could do. Until:

“I would do it again.”

And then Joel’s touch was moving yours. Rubbing him. Seizing your hip with his free hand and rocking you back.

Making you hold his gaze while his dick swelled bigger.

“I don’t care if that’s wrong,” he added through his teeth.

“Wrong,” you mumbled absently. Touching him more.

It was as though you both were rooted in place by warring feelings—Joel by guilt, and you by knowing. Needing each other, and being unable to break apart. Words flowed like molasses; their end was no less sweet.

“I’d fuck you anywhere you asked if you would just—” Joel broke off suddenly, taking a breath, “Forgive me.”

Please.

The eyes beneath yours were pained with remorse.

You squeezed him tighter, and you stared more carefully.

“Here?” It left you more like a breath.

“Here.”

Your skull still buzzed. Your vision still wavered some. You could scarcely hope to know what it was that made this man a worse intoxicant than every drink you’d guzzled that morning, but the way he reached for your body and slid you back in the bed made answers pointless anyway. All you needed to know was that he wanted you, too. You could sort out the rest of it later; you let him lie you down

Joel was out of place here, that much was obvious. Clearly, no man skating through middle age belonged in the bedroom of a girl as young as you—and that was overlooking the paternal connection altogether—but all the same, he guided you back. Trailed your body with his. If it weren’t for the greys and the striations on his face and the legions of freckles bred from decades spent baking under the sun, he might’ve struck you as a much younger man. His every move now seemed to show it.

His hands shook like yours had earlier.

He watched you slide under the covers, then swallowed.

“Still cold?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a long look, as though considering what to say. You beckoned him over and decided to talk for him.

“Like father, like daughter, I guess,” you added. Teasing.

You could hear the groan start to bubble in his throat, but Joel let you pull him in. He climbed under the sheets.

Like a much younger, doubly nervous teen around his date past curfew, he slotted between your legs with a moment’s indecision. He shed his clothes but was slow. Your gaze flitted to his torso, then his legs, and watching him gingerly undress, you couldn’t help but grin a little.

Both of you were naked in under a minute. Joel’s body was like a furnace searing hot between your thighs.

And while you smiled at him, he frowned down at you.

You might’ve expected anything next, except hearing:

“We aren’t gonna be parents anytime soon, right?”

You choked.

“What?”

Joel blinked.

“The Plan B, I mean,” he went on, color crawling up to his cheeks. He blinked harder, like he’d been dreading this, “Wasn’t sure if you ever got your…yeah. Just wonderin’.”

Just wondering.

After Joel’s Cenozoic-era condom had broken the first time you two had ever fucked, you realized you hadn’t bothered to tell him if you ended up getting your period. He’d probably been trying to ask that over the course of several dozen unanswered texts and calls the last month, but you’d been radio silent. Your drinking today had to have given the truth away, but you still felt a pang of guilt

You admired his sincerity. You didn’t want to mock it.

But when your lips twitched the tiniest bit, Joel’s did too. He’d heaved a sigh of relief before you’d even answered him in words, and for a moment, things were easy again.

“I’m sorry, Miller. That probably had you scared shitless.”

“It did.”

And, under most other circumstances, you probably would’ve expected him to chastise you for it a little. Chide you for your immaturity and shake his head, because this was always how it went. But he didn’t.

Joel smiled back instead, and he kissed your forehead.

You blinked, shortly summoning words to try and deflect.

“I mean, like…can you even imagine us having a kid?”

“I can’t. I think I’d be…” Joel trailed off, at a loss.

“Pissed to be changing diapers in your fifties, I bet,” you finished for him, and that made him laugh. You joined in, grinning, and for a second you almost forgot he was still between your legs. His cock softened against your belly.

“You’d be a hot mom. I’d be an old dad,” he countered, suddenly lowering his face to kiss and nuzzle your neck. When the ebbs of your laughter were renewed in a fit of giggles, and your feet kicked helplessly under the covers as he used his mouth and hands to tickle you then, you had to choke through your words—‘Joel, stop, I mean it.’

“Ticklish and hot, I forgot.”

His fingers were relentless on your ribs. You kicked again.

“Don’t fucking test me. I—I will kick you out,” you warned

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on, then.”

Evidently, the thought of ordering him back downstairs with your dad and Tommy seemed like the least likely outcome at the moment, so Joel kept tickling you. He moved his lips to your ear, about to whisper something stupid and teasing, most likely, when you jerked yourself the other way. You slid just far enough to reach off the bed. While you clawed at your nightstand, Joel simply draped his body over yours and went on kissing and touching and relishing the sounds you were making—even while you were cursing his name under your breath.

“Go. Go. Enough of this shit, Miller,” you finally told him, nudging Joel back and waving something in his face.

“Wh—”

“Since getting knocked up is the last thing either of us wants, and we’ve been terrible about playing it safe…”

It didn’t take long for Joel to recognize what it was. As soon as he’d lifted his head to ogle it, you didn’t let him stare at the box of condoms for more than a second or two before tearing it open. Its seal had still been intact.

“New stash for someone special?” Joel hummed, low.

“Nope. Just you.”

Your old friend didn’t seem to appreciate that remark, returning your smirk with a roll of his eyes, but he took the metallic-wrapped rubber when you offered him one anyway. He tore off the top. He probably would’ve liked to put the thing on, but with all the time and brainless banter that had passed, he had to get himself hard again. He eyed you once, and, wrapping a hand around himself semi-erect, he seemed to want to say something more.

You wouldn’t let him. You kissed him, and he kissed back, and with your legs sliding around the backs of his own underneath the soft, warm sheets, he probably forgot what he was going to say. Your lips and tongues intertwined without needing those words to be spoken, and before long, Joel was growing harder. He sucked in a breath when your hand reached down to touch him, soft.

Joel grunted when your touch replaced his. While you stroked his length, you could see the muscles tense in his stomach. The heft of his belly was smooth, and firm, and protruding with little patches of black and grey hairs, and the man looked so undone already with just your fingers curling over his shaft. You would’ve held him that way for as long as he asked. Would’ve relished the warmth of him in your hand, the way his breaths grew more ragged as he kissed you and let you pump him gently between your body and his. You might’ve mistaken it for something romantic when he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face, before pulling away and mumbling, ‘That’s it. That feels real good, sweetheart. You’re doin’ so good.’ But being the way you were, you couldn’t accept such intimacy without wanting to shy away. You pushed his words aside and reached for the condom in his hand, swallowing thickly as you did.

The latex went on quickly. Joel hardly seemed of a mind to try and slow things down with his body just as taut, on edge, and desperate as yours. He planted an arm beside your head, and you guided his length between your legs. It felt cozy. Tender. Nervous like this could’ve been your first. A little strange seeing how you’d done this multiple times before—had started it just downstairs, against a wall and on the couch—and somehow, felt different now.

Joel sank in, and both of you groaned.

“I missed you, baby.”

It came from him all in the same breath. Your walls clenched, and he said it again. You peered up at the man, half-expecting to see his eyes shut and the feeling of you guiding his words more than anything else—he hadn’t meant you, but what was between your legs. But when you looked, you met his gaze. Joel was earnest, clearly.

“Did you miss me?” he panted, hips dragging back.

With the head of his cock drawn all the way up to your entrance, tip stretching that soft, sticky flesh, you could scarcely do more than whimper. You laced your fingers together behind his neck, felt him push in again, and suddenly, the sensations churning low in your gut got warmer. Stronger. They made you want to hold on longer

He felt so big inside you. Overwhelming you with his size and his scent and the way his lips trailed over yours while he fucked you; it all seemed too much to give a response.

Joel kissed you again, and your bodies fell into a rhythm. You squeezed his neck, let out a breathy whine when his cock grazed something soft and sensitive between your walls, and then pulled away fully to look down and watch.

He did too. He kissed the crown of your head, mumbling:

“See how good we fit?”

Those words could’ve sent you over the edge. Your body shuddered at the next thrust, feeling the warmth of his breath still fanning across your face, and you nodded.

Your eyes all but glazed over as you watched Joel’s big, glistening cock disappear and reappear from inside your body, coated with your arousal and the rubber and looking every bit as dizzyingly good as it had before. The wet noises only increased in volume the more he sped up, and with the need blossoming in your stomach, you had no choice but to moan. Joel plunged even deeper.

“Did she miss me, at least? Did she miss her daddy?”

Your walls clenched at those words—‘she,’ ‘daddy.’

Still, you couldn’t speak. You just nodded back.

Joel’s motions grew stronger, and with every stroke inside you, his cock hit something plush and sweet. You had to bite your lip to keep the sounds from coming out too loud, but the effort was almost wholly in vain. The harder he went, the more your throat came to betray you. The more Joel seemed keen on getting you to speak.

“Feels like she does, hon,” he said, tone dulcet and low, “Pussy’s been squeezin’ like she needed daddy here.”

That was true. Your heels dug deeper in his ass, and you felt something tender swell up inside, almost painfully.

Joel was moving your whole frame with the weight of his thrusts—your body bouncing beneath him, the bed creaking under the force, your old childhood room being filled with the sounds of your blooming pleasure and his. Your cunt stretched even more; it begged to be fucked deeper. Though your mouth couldn’t form the words, it seemed Joel was more than able to make out the rest.

He brought his thumb to your clit. He rubbed it, then caught your lips in a hot, steady kiss when a whimper from yours was just about to threaten to tremble out.

“Atta girl,” he grunted against your mouth, “That’s it.”

His hips worked faster. His thumb moved with even more precision, more persistence, as though begging your pleasure to come. You could feel the sweat bead on your skin and his; your bodies seemed to blend together. Your legs tightened around his sides, and while he fucked you and kissed you more fervidly then, you could feel your resolve start to slip. You broke from the kiss, panting.

“I can feel her, honey. Keep goin’,” Joel urged.

You weren’t sure if you could. It felt good.

It felt safe. You hadn’t felt that in a while.

Or maybe just since you’d been away.

You thought of the last, vulnerable state you’d been forced to endure—feeling hurt and betrayed after Joel had lied trying to keep you ‘safe’—and your body tensed. You held tighter, but you also couldn’t lose that feeling completely. You were so close, and there was still something else you couldn’t yet define, or explain.

“Cum for me, baby,” Joel kissed the side of your mouth, knowing the feeling coursing through your body too well, “Take what you need. Just let her feel good. It’s all okay.”

All okay.

Your walls fluttered again; your moans grew breathy and faint as Joel’s cock wedged deeper and deeper and his kisses grew softer along your face. It was evident you were there—you knew you were there—but then, the way you felt was like no place you’d ever experienced before.

You wanted to tell him something.

You met Joel’s gaze, and you almost did. Then he withdrew and fucked back in, and all words were lost.

The headboard thumped against the wall; you didn’t hear it. Joel’s one free hand was cradling your cheek, and his face drew closer, and right when you sensed the man was about to drop another kiss, you felt release, at last.

A snap.

A dizzying blow.

Your climax struck with all the force of a seismic wave, and, at the same time, you could feel Joel groaning, pulsing, spurting thick ropes of cum into rubber while his gaze stayed locked on yours and your body came apart. The look from him was sickeningly soft, even at his peak.

Intimate, again.

You couldn’t help it.

With your legs trembling, cunt spasming, and eyes still plastered to Joel’s, you felt that something resurface. This time, you didn’t have a hope of keeping it inside.

“I— I— I love you, Joel. I love you,” you stuttered out.

Your voice was tight. Your eyes burned with tears you hadn’t even sensed might threaten to appear with it.

You broke down and felt the sudden urge to sob.

And, just as quickly as you did, you shoved him off.

Regret flooded your chest. You shouldn’t have said that.

Joel was slow to move, no matter how much you tried getting him away. He was still in your bed, crowding your space—and worse yet, he was staring at you, eyes wide.

“Baby—”

“Don’t.” Your gaze was still wider. Wild. And remorseful, “I didn’t— I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to say that.”

Joel had pulled out, but he was still between your legs. You slid backward in the bed, cheeks flaming with heat.

He followed.

He reached out.

“Please don’t,” you begged, shaking your head before his touch could find you. Your pulse thundered in your skull.

The sound almost drowned all other noises out.

At the next, you wished it would deafen you completely.

“I love you, too, baby,” Joel said.

No sooner had his palms come to rest on your face when you were shoving them away. Standing up from the bed.

“You don’t mean that. I didn’t mean it. Just— just stop.”

“I—”

“Need to go.”

You hardly realized it, but you were pointing to the door.

Joel was just getting the condom off, about to stand up from where he was, when a new sound startled you both.

The garage door was closing. Tommy shouted your name saying he needed help bringing something in, and for a second, you both froze. It was happening all over again.

You knew you couldn’t risk getting caught another time. Not with your father in the house, unconscious or not. Silently, you thanked your lucky stars for the opportunity afforded by this moment—getting Joel out—and bent to grab his clothes off the floor and throw them, one by one. He dressed, albeit reluctantly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you were busy racing to throw on your own clothes, thinking of ways to get him out unnoticed. You heard the door to the garage slam shut downstairs.

“He’s gonna be back any minute. You need to go, Joel.”

“Come with me. We have to talk—”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“But you—”

“I lied. And so did you. Just like before,” you gritted out, “You can spare my feelings—I didn’t fucking mean it.”

He felt bad, that was all. You could see it in his eyes.

The pity, the self-loathing, the guilt; it was all there.

The sight made your stomach turn, and though your legs weren’t steady or sure underneath you in the slightest, you knew you had to go. If Joel didn’t intend on making things easier, you would have to leave first. You felt him reach for you, saw the plea in his eyes and knew how wrong this really was—that you had both fucked up—and couldn’t stay there. Again, you wrenched yourself away.

You didn’t give him the chance to protest. You heard words, dimly, but barely had the sense or self-possession to process one syllable of it, so you left. You bounded down steps, pulse hammering even louder than before, and you didn’t think to turn around or let Joel follow or even remotely allow yourself to stop feeling embarrassed

Leaving was for the best anyway.

If Joel had lied once, he’d lie again.

Downstairs, you cleaned. You folded laundry.

Joel had snuck out a while ago, having slipped from your room, down to the kitchen, and out the back door while Tommy was busy retrieving beer out of the garage. You’d gone down there to distract the younger Miller brother while Joel packed his shit up and left. Like he was meant to do. Luckily, Joel’s departure was quiet, and Tommy was all too happy to have some help toting cases of Budweiser inside. Your dad and Tess were still fast asleep

And now, nearly half an hour later, you had only to sweep the hardwood floor, fold your clothes, and busy yourself as best you could—or else grit your teeth so hard you could’ve broken your jaw. You were so fucking dumb.

“Almost done?” Tommy poked his head inside the room.

You’d told Joel you hated him last month. One measly fuck and you’re spewing, ‘I love you’? What the fuck?

“Just about,” you replied, dropping an old shirt of your dad’s into the nearest, neatest pile, “You heading out?”

Tommy jingled his car keys in his hand and hummed to say that he was. He had a happy, Alabama-just-beat-the-shit-out-of-Tennessee smile on his face as he stood there

“Yeah, I’m going back to Mando’s now to celebrate and watch another game. Was wondering if you wanted to come along,” he said, leaning against the door frame.

“I would, I’ve just got so much shit to do around here—” Gesturing indistinctly to the mountains of clothing stacked high all about the laundry room, “—cleaning.”

Beating yourself over the head, mentally, for ever telling his older brother that you liked him in the first place. Wishing you could crawl in a hole and wallow alone.

“Aww, that can wait. You’re here the whole week—”

“I know. But I gotta keep an eye on my old man, too.”

You rubbed at your face and pretended to get re-invested in a pair of socks with two gaping holes. Your father wouldn’t discard old, ratty clothes to save his life.

Then Tommy was at your side. Pressing against the washing machine and watching you work. Smirking.

“By ‘your old man’ do you mean your dad…or Joel?”

For the second time that day, you almost choked. You tried not to let it show but were sure you failed miserably.

“I— I— what?” you huffed, all terse, feigned incredulity.

“Don’t play stupid. Only suits my dumbass brother,” Tommy returned coolly, turning to face you head-on, “You sound just like him whenever I ask about you.”

“Whatever he’s said—” you started again.

“I heard his truck hightailing it out of here while you came down to distract me. Heard his footsteps, too.”

While your cheeks warmed, Tommy’s smile only grew.

“Aaaaand the headboard was bangin’ pretty loud—”

“Alright!” You threw your hands up, “Fine. OK. Enough.”

Your surrender was fast, far too grossed out to fight it.

You closed your eyes and wanted to die. From next to you, you could hear Tommy’s amusement morph into laughter. It didn’t take much to wring the truth out of you, and for a man who knew you as well as he did, there was really no telling where this would end. Once Tommy Miller called bullshit, there was rarely ever room to argue.

The last time that had happened, he’d sent you and Joel packing to abstinence camp and had never looked back.

Why he was finding humor in this now was beyond you.

You dropped the socks you were holding. You shot him a look as if to ask him just that, and the man shrugged.

“I know y’all skipped out on camp. Could’ve guessed there was some sort of fight between you two after that, because I’ve never seen Joel so goddamn grumpy for—”

“Yeah, well,” you cut in, not wanting to hear the rest, “That’s over now. Seriously. Today was just a fluke.”

Before he could even try to voice his disbelief, you added:

“Just don’t tell my dad about this. Please.”

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that was probably the furthest thing from his mind, but you asked it all the same. Tommy scoffed, and then he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest like he couldn’t believe a word you were saying now. Like a smug big brother who didn’t know how else to say that you made a terrible liar.

Because that was what he’d been to you before you ever got with Joel in the first place: a good, no-bullshit friend. The recognition of this made you feel even worse inside.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said at length, much to your surprise.

His arms constricted even tighter against his chest and his eyes scanned yours thoughtfully before continuing.

“I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in y’all’s business. What you and Joel do is up to you—I just hated the thought of things, uh…going south. Making it weird between you.”

“Like now,” you said quietly.

A beat.

Tommy scratched his neck.

“Yeah, a little like that,” he replied, breathing out a laugh, “But that’s alright. Joel’s my brother, and I love him, but the man can’t navigate a relationship to save his life. Much less with a girl your age. So just…keep that in mind. I don’t wanna see either of you getting hurt.”

In other words: don’t be stupid and get attached.

‘You’re right,’ was all you knew to say. All you felt capable of telling him now, after what had come to pass that day.

Frankly, you didn’t need to speak another word to get the gist of what he meant, and like he’d said, it wasn’t on him to dictate how you handled things with Joel. The message was clear enough, and the truth was all there.

You couldn’t make this work.

Joel wouldn’t make this work with a girl as young as you.

He’d only said what he said today out of habit—a knee-jerk reaction. He didn’t know what the fuck else to say when his best friend’s kid he’d been banging spilled out ‘I love you.’ And you didn’t blame him for it. But you also couldn’t expect him to be something he wasn’t when all this was ever supposed to be was a casual fuck here and there. You’d been confused and needing to feel safe. He had wanted access to something he shouldn’t have, and now that the thrill of that was wearing off, he felt trapped and cornered into saying what he had, for your sake. The best thing for the two of you now was a clean break, before any more feelings got muddled and misspoken and brought to anything worse than they already were.

It would suck for a while. You knew it would. The next second had you leaning in unconsciously, watching Tommy uncross his arms and pull you in for a hug.

This would really suck.

You buried your face in his chest.

There wasn’t much to say; still, Tommy said it best:

“Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. I know you will.”

[seethesunny]

This fandom is truly so blessed to have Andy, one of the best, most talented and hard-working artists I know <3 girl we love u

watch the world burn

@seethesunny this is for you

[quin-ns]

Invisible String (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 3K

Summary: bill and frank host. tess is jealous. joel is confronted with his feelings. you cry over a shower

Tags: 2007 (as seen in ep3), age gap, protective!joel, jealousy, tess isn’t painted in a bad light but she gets her feelings hurt a lil, angst, joel being emotionally suppressed, everyone hiding their emotions actually no one copes normally, emotional hurt/comfort, hugs, pining!joel, hugs, fluff

Request: anon: “hello! i am totally obsessed with your work! i was womdering, if you still take requests, if you can write a joel x reader fic where the reader has a tough exterior with everyone, including Joel, but he knows how sensitive and delicate she is on the inside and behind closed doors. picture this for reference: she had warm water at bill and frank's and she started sobbing uncontrollably, but in front of joel she will always deny she doesn't feel depressed and emotional, but he knows better that this and they both help each other to open up.”

Request: anon: “loved your first joel fic!! if you’re okay with requests can you do another joel fic where maybe tess is jealous of how joel softens around the reader? like he’s not really an affectionate guy but with her he is and tess realizes how he feels about the reader? maybe they’re at frank and bills house and she knows joel doesn’t want to stay but for the reader he will? or something like that it’s up to you- you’re the writer after all”

A/N: so since both of these requests included joel being soft for the reader and them being at bill and franks, I decided to combine them. I liked both concepts and I thought mixing them would lead to something interesting. I feel like there’s more to this story so if y’all want a part two lmk

TLOU masterlist + main masterlist

When you, Joel, and Tess first met Bill and Frank, none of you had any idea how you’d end up feeling about the two men.

Frank had allowed the three of you to enter their isolated town and introduced them both (okay, nice enough), and then Bill had pointed a gun at you (not so nice). Why you? No particular reason other than that you were his closest target. From that moment Joel wasn’t a fan.

“If you’re gonna point that thing at someone, point it at me. Not at her,” Joel said sternly, his hardened gaze fixed on Bill. The two stared one another down for a moment as Bill quickly identified Joel’s weakness. Tess looked at Joel, working hard to hide the frustration on her face.

He obliged, turning the gun onto Joel.

“Bill,” Frank said softly yet firmly.

Bill glanced at Frank, who was silently asking him to relent. Bill lowered the gun with a huff.

With the hostility out of the way, or at least set aside for the moment, Frank offered you an apologetic smile.

“Would you like to see our home?” he asked as a peace offering.

“We’d love to,” Tess answered at the same time as Joel, who said—

“We actually should be going.”

You didn’t say anything, which caused them both to look at you. Tie breaker.

Tess had a feeling you’d agree with her, but what happened next still bothered her.

You and Joel exchanged a look, having a silent conversation. Joel registered that despite the gun incident, you weren’t fearful. It was only because of that that Joel looked at Frank and nodded.

“Alright,” he changed his answer.

Tess wanted to scream.

Frank seemed relieved and his smile grew. He led the three of you to the large white house that the two men called their home.

“You’re welcome to anything in the house,” Frank said kindly, ignoring the disapproving grunt that came from Bill. “Clothes, medicine, water, food—although Bill will be starting dinner soon—and of course the shower,” he listed off.

Your ears perked up at “shower.” Joel could tell by the way you actually lifted your head. Just a day ago you had been reminiscing on how long it had been since you felt clean. Like, really clean. Hot water, soap, soft towel—you longed for it and Joel knew that.

Frank noticed too. “Shower it is.”

“Thank you,” you said immediately. “For being so kind and sharing your home with us.”

“If I’m being honest, I’ve been bugging Bill for us to find some friends,” Frank admitted to you quietly. “Speaking of which,” he started. “Bill? Maybe you could get our other guests some drinks? I’m going to show—“ he looked back at you.

“Y/N,” you filled in.

“—Y/N to the shower,” Frank finished.

You didn’t hear what Bill had to say, but that was the least of your concern as Frank gestured for you to follow him.

Joel watched as you followed Frank away. He itched to go after you, not comfortable with you being apart from him. He felt incredibly protective over you and maybe it wasn’t the healthiest reaction, but he didn’t like to let you out of his sight. It scared him—not that he’d ever admit it.

“Don’t worry, I think she’ll survive without you,” Tess said sarcastically, smothering the genuine bitterness she felt at the man’s reaction. Joel was never like this before. Well, before you.

Joel threw her a glance, but didn’t say anything. Bill was approaching them and grumpily suggested they follow him into the kitchen.

They all made casual conversation, Tess doing most of the talking.

Upstairs, Frank was showing you to the shower. He’d given you a towel and found you soap, shampoo, and conditioner.

“Thank you so much,” you said yet again. Frank just laughed it off and told you no worries, and that if you needed anything you could just call for him.

You closed the door, isolating yourself in the bathroom. You turned on the water and held your hand under it until it was warm. A smile spread across your face. You quickly stripped and stepped under the water, longing for the feel of a hot shower.

It was everything you had hoped for. You relished in the hot water rushing over your tired body.

You prided yourself on being tough—like not even flinching when Bill pulled his gun on you—but something about the comfort that reminded you of the old world brought tears to your eyes. Their house was so normal. Nothing like the wilderness, the destroyed towns, or even the QZ. You were only a child when the pandemic happened, but you held onto a few fond memories. You never felt at home in the QZ.

The only thing that made it feel comfortable and safe was Joel, but this was still so much better than the QZ. It was overwhelming.

Next thing you knew, a sob of happiness broke free. And once it started you couldn’t stop.

In the kitchen, Bill was standing at the stove cooking. Joel didn’t know what it was—but it smelled delicious. Frank had excused himself to set up a table outside so everyone could eat together in the nice weather.

“Sorry, by the way,” Bill announced, off topic from the previous discussion. He didn’t look up from his task of sautéing onions as he spoke. “For the uh, gun thing. Can’t be too careful.”

Tess and Joel looked at one another. They both suspected Frank must’ve said something to convince him to apologize. But beyond that, they both thought back to the incident. A flash of anger shot through Joel at the memory of the weapon being targeted at you. Tess remembered how reckless Joel had been, asking Bill to turn the gun on him. Would he really trade his life for yours? Once Tess started thinking about that, she couldn’t stop.

She started to become quiet during the conversation, which was pretty much when the talking fizzled out. Joel wasn’t very talkative, and clearly neither was Bill.

“I’m gonna go see if Frank needs help,” Bill decided after a few minutes. Joel and Tess exchanged a look. Obviously he just wanted away from them for a moment of relief—he wasn’t anticipating having to be social and wasn’t too happy with it.

Once they had a moment alone, Joel had a feeling Tess was going to unleash. It had been building up, Joel could tell her mood had turned sour.

“What was that?” she asked vaguely. Joel furrowed his brows. “Earlier,” she clarified.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joel stated. He had an inclination, but he was hoping Tess would drop it.

She didn’t. “You asked him to point a gun at you!” Tess said in a hushed yell, frustration seeping out in her scolding tone.

“He wasn’t going to shoot me,” Joel deadpanned.

“He wasn’t going to shoot at all,” Tess confirmed. “So then why did you tell him to turn it on you?”

She was pushing for an answer she didn’t want, but now that she had started Tess wasn’t going to let up. She was stubborn like that.

“I didn’t like him pointing a gun at Y/N,” Joel admitted. The memory of it made him clench his fist. Tess didn’t see that, but she saw the way Joel wouldn’t hold her gaze.

Her jaw clenched. “You’re too soft on her.”

At that, Joel scoffed. The sound came out before he could stop it. “How is that being too soft on her?”

Tess was quiet for a moment, contemplating her next words. “It’s not just that,” she said, quieter, almost distant. It was a contrast to how loud she’d been getting.

Joel took a deep breath through his nose, then let out a heavy sigh. He finally looked Tess dead in the eye. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

If it wasn’t for the desperate look on Tess’s face, he would’ve gotten up and walked away. She wasn’t done. She was struggling to say what she wanted to say, and Joel didn’t want her to.

“The moment she came into our lives, that was it,” Tess told herself just as much as she was saying it to Joel.

She was backing Joel into a corner. “Where is this coming from?” he questioned.

Tess let out a humorless laugh. “This has been a long time coming,” she confessed. “I see the way you look at her, how you act around her. She’s just about half your age and yet you always seem to find something in common. You cut me out, Joel.”

Joel was at a loss of words. He couldn’t seem to find the words to defend himself. Tess continued.

“We’ve been in that scenario before, do you remember? When you and I were making a trade and the punk pointed a gun at me?” Tess recalled. Joel recovered the memory quickly, and he began to zero in on exactly why this meant so much to Tess. “You never would’ve considered trading yourself for me. I know because you didn’t.”

“That was different,” was all Joel could come up with.

“I never would’ve made you choose between me and her, but you did on your own,” Tess held firm. Her jaw clenched as she fought to not let herself get any more emotional. “And you chose her. I see that now.”

“Tess,” Joel started, but she shook her head.

“Don’t try to lie to me. Please.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Joel said. He wasn’t even sure what he was planning on saying before. This had all come out of nowhere. At least for him, Tess had clearly had this on her mind for a long while and today just happened to be the final straw. “I’m sorry,” he decided, but it was too little too late.

Tess liked you. She really did. And you hadn’t done anything on purpose. You probably didn’t even know the effect you had on Joel. That’s what made being jealous of you so hard. She wanted to not like you, to blame you for stealing any ounce of affection Joel allowed himself to have, but she couldn’t.

She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go check and see if they need any help setting up outside.” The sudden calmness was eerie. Joel looked at her cautiously. “We’re going to just… drop this,” Tess decided. “And we can all try and have a nice time together, eat a real meal, take hot showers, and relax for the night before we head out in the morning.”

Suppression. Tess was going to bottle everything up. Ignore it and move on. It was something her and Joel had in common.

She left him then, and Joel felt no desire to go after her. He felt guilty about that, but he had nothing left to say to Tess about that and she’d concluded her piece.

Instead, Joel found himself leaving the kitchen table. He followed the sound of running water upstairs. You’d been in the shower for a while and there was a nagging feeling in Joel’s chest that longed to find you.

His feet carried him to the bathroom door, where he knew you still were.

Joel heard a sad, gasping sound from you. It was nearly drowned out, but he heard it. Concern overwhelmed him in an instant.

Joel pressed his ear to the door. He almost busted in, but wanted to take a moment. And it was good he did. What he had first thought were sounds of distress, was actually you muffling cries of relief. He could tell. He wasn’t sure how—maybe it was the tone, or the softness to the sounds, or he just knew you too well—but he could tell.

His hand reached for the doorknob. Joel grasped it and contemplated turning it. He leaned the side of his head against the door.

“Y/N?” Joel called through the door. He went blank over what else to say. Should he ask if you were alright? Would you be weirded out if he asked to come in? You were showering after all. Instead he said nothing.

You went silent. Joel felt bad now. You were never emotional around anyone, you tried to hide it from him. Joel wished you wouldn’t. But he supposed you were just following by example.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Um,” Joel stalled. “I was just checking on you.”

“Oh, um, I'm alright,” you replied. A few seconds of quiet passed. “Thank you, though.”

Joel listened to the sound of water rushing from the shower. You’d stopped your tears it seemed, but Joel could hear the quiver in your voice when you’d spoken.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Joel told you carefully.

“I’m fine, Joel,” you assured.

When Joel first met you, you were innocent despite the dark world and wore your heart on your sleeve. You used to express yourself emotionally, but now Joel couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you let yourself break.

You’d gotten better about hiding it. He wanted to help you open up, but that was something even he struggled to do.

Joel went down the stairs and to the living room. No one else was in the house, he could see out the window that Frank was showing Tess around their garden while Bill was setting up the food.

Joel sat on the couch and thought over your interaction through the door. He wished he would have waited for you to come out of the bathroom to talk to you, to make sure you were okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Because then he’d have to explain himself as to why and after the conversation with Tess, he feared how you’d react to the knowledge of his feelings.

As if on cue, there were light steps descending down the stairs. Joel turned to look at you.

Your hair was damp, and you were wearing an oversized clean shirt that must’ve come from one of the hosts (Frank was the nicer one, so Joel guessed it was him who lent you it) and a pair of jeans that you’d packed that you hadn’t worn yet.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey,” Joel said, watching you as you moved over to him. “Everyone else is outside.”

“I see that,” you said lightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Joel asked.

You shrugged. “I thought I heard arguing earlier. You and Tess,” you explained. “Bathroom is right above the kitchen…”

A brief moment of unease filled Joel. “What all did you hear?”

“No words clearly, just Tess raising her voice,” you revealed. Joel just gave you a slight nod. He had a feeling that wasn’t the only thing you had to say. “Did you, um… hear me earlier?”

Joel knew instantly what you meant. “No.” He hated lying to you. “Yes.”

“I thought so. I just”—you searched for your words—“I’m fine. That was just—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You swallowed and took a breath. “I’m not weak.”

Joel let out a small huff. “I know that.” That fact that you thought you had to tell him was amusing in an odd way. He was well aware.

“Well, alright then,” you said decidedly. “It’s just been so long since we’ve had hot water and—“

“You don’t have to explain yourself. You’re allowed to feel,” Joel reminded. “I know you. You’re strong. But you’re also a good, sweet, caring person and I just”—Joel sighed, struggling for his words even as they were tumbling out—“I don’t want to see you go numb to the world. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

You looked at him curiously. He stood for some reason, it felt more natural for him. Your eyes held his on his way up. “You’re not numb, Joel,” you told him, sounding so sure of yourself. “I don’t think that. I think you put on a brave face just like I do. Although I guess I’m not as good at hiding it as I thought.”

A small laugh left you as you shook your head.

“What?”

“It’s just been so long since I talked about… feelings,” you admitted.

“Same here,” Joel agreed.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I shouldn’t be, but it is.”

Joel got an idea. He hoped it wasn’t a bad one. “Maybe we can… help each other with that. Y’know, find a way to talk about it.”

You gave him a gentle smile. Before Joel could process, you were wrapping your arms around him and clinging to him in a hug. It was a sudden, unfamiliar movement. Joel held you against his body, resting his chin on your head.

“That’s a good idea,” you told him, your voice muffled against him.

Joel hadn’t touched, let alone held, someone in so long. It was nice. Mostly because it was you.

The sound of a door opening and heavy steps alerted you, causing you and Joel to part from one another. Frank approached the two of you with a welcoming smile on his face.

“Dinners ready,” he informed, looking between the both of you.

“Seriously, we cannot thank you enough, Frank,” you said kindly. He gestured towards the door in an “after you” manner. You gave him a smile and headed outside. Before you stepped out, you gave Joel one last grateful look.

There was a slight smile on Frank’s face as he looked at Joel, who hadn’t moved yet.

“It’s nice to have someone in a world like this, isn’t it?” Frank asked in a sincere tone.

Joel looked out the window towards the garden where you joined the table. You smiled at the sight of the food and took a seat.

After having a whole conversation about allowing feelings, Joel decided that he didn’t want to suppress the small smile of appreciation that crossed his own face.

“Yeah, it is,” Joel answered.

starting a joel taglist, if you’d like to be on it lmk through an ask or message!

joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose

[lokidjarin-7567]

Day 9: Hate Sex

Joel Miller x you

Contents: fem!reader x Joel Miller (TLOU), smut, kinda dubcon (??), not well edited

W/C: 1.4k

I love Pedro Pascal and I love Joel so here we go!!

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

"Oh Joel, why are you so angry?" you muttered, watching as he gritted his teeth. You moved towards him slowly until you were a breath from his face, eyes boring into his. "It wasn't me who messed up that deal. It was my brother. I'm just the messenger…"

"Bullshit," he spat. "Tess told me you were there, and I'm inclined to believe her, not you."

"Look, if you wanted the goods so badly, you should've come yourself…"

"It was a fucking deal, and you went back on it."

"Not my choice."

"You play so fucking innocent," he muttered, venom in his tone as he moved slightly closer. "You know exactly what you're doing."

"And what's that?" The air was charged suddenly, and you couldn't help but flirt a little. You enjoyed pissing him off, and you could see his anger, but you also couldn't deny how insanely attracted you were to him—especially when he was angry.

"You're…" You edged closer again, just inches from him, and watched as he tried to get his words out, eyes scanning your face. "Trying to get a rise out of me."

"Am I?" You glanced at his lips pointedly, and he maintained the same infuriating eye contact. There was such intense hate seeping from him, and you couldn't help but smile.

"You're insufferable." You swallowed, questioning your next move, but then you glanced down to see the tent in his trousers.

"You sure about that?" He snapped, forearm against your collarbones and pressing you against the door with a force that almost winded you. You laughed at the outward display of aggression, but he cut you off as his lips smashed into yours. It was violent and instinctual, his arm moving to the base of your neck. You gasped up into the heat of his mouth as he applied some pressure there. He growled as your body responded, leg wrapping around his waist and hips grinding into his.

You couldn't breathe, his lips continuing to press against yours combined with his forearm against your neck, and it just made you buck into him more. He laughed darkly into your mouth, the taste of him frustrating you. You had started this. Teasing him. Goading him. Trying to get him to snap. And now that he had, you wanted to play hard to get, to resist him, to carry on hating him… but you couldn't. Your body was betraying you.

It wasn't until your nails dragged down his forearm that he let up, the sudden access to air making you moan just as the hot furnace of his mouth left yours and fell to the sore spot on your neck where his arm had been.

"What are you doing…" you finally managed to gasp between whimpers, hands gripping his shoulders tightly as his own pressed your hips firmly to the wall.

"Just shut up," he grumbled, pulling you harshly from the wall and pushing you towards the bed. You had been flipped over before you could say anything else, and you couldn't help but grin as you felt his hand come down across the back of your ass.

You were glad he was being ruthless. If you were being honest with yourself, you had wanted to fuck Joel for a long time— there was just something about his low, Texan drawl and slutty jeans that made you press your legs together. But you just wanted to fuck him. In this world, there was no space for relationships, just animalistic, filthy, hateful sex. You wanted to be used, to be thrown around to his liking, to be spanked and choked and slapped because if you fucked like that and never really spoke, there would be no room for feelings.

You were so caught up in the moment that you barely registered Joel's hands grabbing at your pants. With fumbling fingers, you managed to undo the button, allowing him to swiftly slip them off your ass. The cool air hit your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Without warning, his hand cracked against the soft flesh of your backside. This time, the impact was more intense, a sharp sting that radiated outward. A feral moan escaped your lips, and you instinctively pressed yourself back towards him, craving more of his touch.

The back of your thighs made contact with his own, the heat from his body seeping into yours. You could feel the hard length of his shaft pressing insistently against your folds, the thin fabric of your underwear doing little to mask the sensation. Unable to resist, you ground back into him, relishing in the friction. The movement provided a slight relief from the relentless aching in your core, but it only made you want him more.

“Jesus, fuck me, Joel.” You groaned as you continued to press into him, and he just shoved you against the bed in response, leaving you face down in the sheets.

“Just shut up.” He grumbled again and you started to situate yourself. You moved to your hands and knees, how you’d assumed he’d want you, but he pressed you down and forwards, tearing off your underwear and climbing on top of you. You were completely at his mercy. His body weight was on you, you were pressed to the bed on your stomach, completely flat, only really able to lift your head. You even couldn’t see what he was doing. You should be scared. But you weren’t. For some reason, even though you fucking despised him, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. Well, not without reason.

There was no warning as he grabbed you roughly by your hips, so tight it was painful, slightly pulling them up and positioning you just right before sheathing himself into you completely in one swift, merciless thrust. The noise that was pulled from your throat was primal and unrestrained, almost a scream as every inch of his think member sunk into your core. He was big, so much bigger than you expected, and the sudden intrusion left you aching and gasping for air. You ached from taking all of him so quickly, but it was a good ache, a delicious fullness that had you seeing stars as he hit that perfect spot inside you. His own groan was addictive, deep and animalistic, a sound that reverberated through you. He tried to muffle it by sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder, the sharp pain making your cunt clench involuntarily around him, drawing another low growl from his throat.

He dropped your hips, one hands moving to your hair, gripping it tightly at the roots and twisting, forcing your head down against the bed. His other hand remained planted firmly beside you, supporting his weight as he loomed over you. You really couldn’t move now, hands scrabbling for purchase as he pulled out slowly, the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls almost unbearable. Then, without mercy, he slammed back into you, setting a punishing rhythm that left you gasping and whimpering beneath him. Your body was no longer your own, your total lack of composure making every sensation stronger and more devastating, every single one of your muscles turning to jelly, head spinning. You could feel the pressure building embarrassingly quickly, your impending orgasm coiling tightly in your core, and he could feel it too.

“Getting close there, doll?” He growled out, voice breathy, and you grit your teeth.

“Fuck… You… Joel..” You could barely breathe, using the last of your breath and focus to cuss him out, gasps and moans in between each word giving you away. It a few more smacks across your ass, the skin there feeling red raw and he grabbed the soft flesh, using it as a handle almost to pull you back into his hips. It worked, and within moments you had locked up, pussy pulling him further into you as pleasure washed over you. It was white hot, skin tingling all over as he continued to fuck you through it.

You were shaking by the time you were done, every thrust into you sending jolts through your body of building pleasure and overstimulation.

“Joel…” you muttered, a pathetic whine that escaped before you could catch it.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He moaned sarcastically. “You feeling sensitive?”

It was going to be a long night.

[justagalwhowrites]

Bane of My Existence - A QZ Joel Miller One Shot

You and Joel Miller have never gotten along, always at odds whether working together or avoiding each other. But when a smuggling job goes bad, you discover that there might be more to his harsh demeanor than meets the eye.

Pairing: QZ Smuggler!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; Joel is bad with emotions; hurt/comfort; canon typical violence; injury that's probably poorly handled because I don't medicine; vague threat of SA (not by Joel, not made to reader); unprotected vaginal sex. Joel carries reader but look... My Joels are all 6'5" and strong as hell, especially in life threatening situations. Man can carry anybody. I'm in love with him because he's a big strong man. No description of reader.

Length: 8.9k (sorry)

A/N: A lil one shot gift for my beautiful bestie @dundienominee :)

Full Masterlist | AO3

“Hell no.” 

Of course Joel Miller said hell no to working with you. Of course he did. 

You weren’t surprised at Joel’s reaction when his smuggling partner, Tess, brought you to their safe house in the QZ. He’d never been the president of your fan club. 

“Joel,” she sighed. 

“Fuck no,” he said. “Not bringin’ her anywhere, she’s a goddamn liability.” 

“Joel,” she said again, sterner this time. 

You, however, just smirked, watching him pace and glare at you, his face getting flushed as he did. 

“She takes stupid fuckin’ risks,” Joel said. “She’s cocky, she’s…”

“Saved your ass from infected?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. 

You knew you were adding fuel to the fire. Tess glared at you for it. Your smirk grew. 

“Wouldn’t have been near the fuckin’ infected if it weren’t for you,” he snapped. “Not. Goin. With. Her.” 

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Tess said, standing up a little straighter and crossing her arms, staring her partner down. “She’s the one with the contact, they agreed to two people meeting them and she has to be one of them…” 

“How the hell’d you make a contact?” Joel turned his full attention to you, his eyes molten hot and angry. “Anyone you touch ends up fuckin’ dead…” 

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped before you regained your composure. “Don’t get pissy with me because big bad Joel Miller isn’t the top of the smuggling heap in the QZ…” 

“I ain’t pissy!” 

“…Not the top of the heap in anything at all, really…” 

“That’s it!” Joel stalked over, looking like he wanted to slug you. Instead, he just put his finger in your face, a slightly unhinged look in his eyes. “You think I’m doin’ a goddamn thing with you…” 

“You don’t have a choice, Texas,” Tess came and stood beside you, her arms crossed as she looked to Joel. “You burned the bridge we had with the FEDRA officer I need to buy off to get our next round of pills inside, I can’t go on this run because I have to deal with the mess you made when you couldn’t keep your shit together. We want to actually be set before shit gets snowed in for winter? We need her connection. So. You’re going, you’re leaving tonight, and you’re not going to fuck this up. Got it?” 

His jaw tightened. 

“Got it.” 

“Good,” she looked to you. “Your contact knows you’re coming?” 

“They do,” you said, serious now and completely ignoring the wall of muscle who was still standing uncomfortably close to you. “The walk back is going to fucking suck but it should be worth it. Good with the split?” 

“Good might be a strong word for 60/40,” Tess said, shaking her head a little but grinning all the same. “But I’ll take it.” She looked between you and Joel. “Trusting you two to not kill each other out there. Don’t make me regret it. See you in a few days.” 

She left the two of you there in the threadbare apartment without another word, Joel’s glare practically drilling a hole into your skull. 

“Together again, eh Miller?” You smirked at him. 

He didn’t respond. He just went and sat heavily on the worn couch before lying down and closing his eyes. 

“What, didn’t get enough sleep?” You asked, going and standing over him. 

“Slept fine,” he said, eyes still closed. “Just would rather spend the few hours we have before we leave the QZ not listenin’ to you.” 

You rolled your eyes but took a moment to look at Joel when he wasn’t glaring at you. 

It was a rare occurrence, seeing him when he wasn’t scowling and pissed. He let himself relax down into the cushions and the lines in his face eased. As much as you hated to admit it - and you did hate it - Joel was beautiful. Frustratingly so. What’s worse, he’d somehow gotten better looking in the years you’d known him. Jerk.

You’d first met him before you came to the QZ, almost 10 years ago now. You were holed up in your own little corner of Boston, doing your best to stay out of the way of FEDRA, infected and raiders alike. 

It was basically a full-time job, even more so since you’d become the last person standing. A job that you failed at the day you met Joel Miller. 

And, as much as he liked to blame you for it, he was the one who showed up in your corner of town. You’d been napping through the worst of the afternoon heat in mid-July when you heard a clatter: someone tripped one of your alarms. 

“Fuckin’…” 

He swore loud enough that you heard him from your perch and you watched him shake glass out of the wrinkles of his shirt. 

“Someone’s here,” the second man said, much quieter. “That ain’t no accident…” 

The two men moved slowly, cautiously, their rifles raised as they searched for whoever it was who set that trap. When you thought they were far enough away, you started to move, slowly and quietly, going to sneak up on them and take them out before they could do the same to you. 

But as you drew close, you heard it. The clicking. 

You gasped, close enough to the strange men that they heard it and close enough to the clickers that they did, too. 

“Move!” The larger man snapped out of his moment of shock first, shooting forward and grabbing you and throwing you to the side before shooting at the incoming infected. You scrambled to get back up, fumbling to get the knife you’d been readying to thrust into that man’s back. 

It turned out, you didn’t need it. At least, not for the infected. The two men made quick work of the clickers and turned to you, your knife raised and ready to take at least one of them down with you. 

“The fuck are you doin’ out here?” The larger man said instead. 

“The fuck do you think?” You snapped. “Go on, do it! Kill me, take my shit, whatever it is you’re going to do…” 

“Don’t much like killing women,” he said, looking to the other man, their guns still in hand but pointed to the ground. They looked alike, these two. Like they could be related. 

“What, because I’m a woman you think I’m not a threat?” You asked, brows raised before realizing that you probably shouldn’t be egging on the large, armed men in front of you. 

“Not really, princess,” the younger man said, voice teasing, and you considered throwing your knife at him. 

“Should count yourself lucky that we don’t,” the older man said. “Why don’t you come with us, out pickin’ up just a few things and then headin’ back to the QZ…” 

“Right,” you scoffed. “Because I really wanna live under fucking FEDRA.” 

“Guessing you want to live,” he said. “Got news for you, princess. Even we’re steerin’ clear of this area of Boston after this. Lot more infected than we bargained for. Your little hideout ain’t gonna be safe much longer. Assuming you want to keep on living, QZ’s your best bet.” 

“And you’re just, what, inviting me along out of the goodness of your heart?” You scoffed. “Please.” 

“Don’t much like killing women and don’t much like leaving people to die, either,” the other man said. “Seem capable enough. Come with us, at least out of this part of the city. Would rather not have you added to the infected population.” 

You ground your teeth for a moment, considering. They could easily over power you. You were out numbered, out gunned and they were both large and strong. 

But… you had been noticing more and more infected lately. You hadn’t left your hideout in almost two weeks and you were low on supplies. Part of the reason you hadn’t dared venture out in so long was the seemingly constant press of infected you could see from the best vantage points in your building. You’d been starting to worry that you wouldn’t have a good opportunity to leave for supplies again. And, if you did, you were starting to worry your home would be overrun when you got back. 

These two were the closest thing you had to a safe option out. 

So, you took it. The pair introduced themselves and you were right, they were related. Joel and Tommy Miller, smugglers who lived inside the Boston QZ. They were strong, smart, capable. Handsome, too, not that it really mattered. What mattered much more was your ability to keep each other alive. 

And, it turned out, you were useful to them. Enough that they wanted you around as help for other runs outside the QZ. It made sense, you knew certain corners of the QZ better than anyone else seemed to. It had been your territory - at least, in some way - for a long time. 

Then, it happened. You’d taken to calling it ‘the incident’ for lack of any better word. You were out on a smuggling run with Joel and another man, Harvey. In spite of the fact that you’d been working together for years, Joel had never really warmed up to you. He tolerated you at best and it seemed like growling was his preferred form of communication where you were involved but you always made it back to the QZ in one piece when you went out together. You watched each other’s backs - you were proud that your kill count was higher than his and that you were almost positive he’d be dead by now if it weren’t for you. 

The three of you were at the edge of the city, heading to rendezvous with someone from a small settlement in New York State when you heard it, the first, distinctive shriek of infected. 

Suddenly, there were dozens of them, maybe more than 100, far more than you were capable of handling even if you had unlimited ammunition. 

And, like a fool, you froze. 

You’d scouted ahead and saw no signs of them, no indication of anything more than one or two strays that had been ambling around. You had no idea where they’d come from or how they’d come to be here but that didn’t matter. They were here, they were bearing down on you and you couldn’t seem to make your body move, the shock of the sight making you completely shut down. 

It was Joel who saved you. 

“Move!” He’d grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and thrown you behind him as he fired at the infected, pressing back as quickly as he could while laying down cover fire. Harvey joined him, their guns up and blazing as you tried to force your body to listen to you. “Fucking run!” 

Your limbs decided to obey then and you moved as quickly as you could, turning and firing behind you when it felt like you had a moment to spare. 

But you misjudged that moment once. Just once, but that’s all it took. Infected were closer behind you than you realized and Joel dove in between you and the reaching, groping thing. 

“Joel!” You shrieked, desperately trying to get a shot off that wouldn’t hit Joel as he strained to hold back the runner who was snarling near his throat. You were about to shoot when Harvey tackled the creature, knocking it off of Joel but into the mass of infected that was closing in quickly. 

They swarmed him and he screamed and you took aim as Joel scrambled to his feet. He shoved you on before you could fire and you stretched to shoot around him but he nearly threw you away from the swarming monsters and your screaming companion. 

“He’s gone!” Joel yelled as you stared at him, aghast. “He’s gone, we have to fucking move, now go!” 

You kept turning, looking back toward the sound of the snarling and the screams. 

“We have to go back!” you said. “We can’t just leave him like that, we have to at least shoot him we can’t just leave him, we…” 

“You should’ve thought of that before you fucked up!” He kept pushing you forward, toward the QZ. “No point in gettin’ us killed to save a man who’s already dead.” 

Joel had gone from seemingly finding you to be a nuisance to hating you then. He refused to even be in the same room as you let alone leave the QZ with you again. 

It took you a long time, after that split, to figure out how to survive. You’d become dependent on the cards you got from smuggling to get by but you couldn’t leave the QZ on your own and expect to make it back in one piece, not with how things had devolved with raiders and infected in recent years. You found a small group who was going out from time to time - which is how you met Tess - and you cobbled together a living. 

You never worked with Joel again. 

At least, not until now. 

You sighed and perched in the window, watching the QZ go by and thinking of the best way out of the city once the sun went down. You tried not to think about the likelihood that Joel would kill you while you were outside. 

It was a long walk ahead of the both of you, 30 miles each way through infected no man’s land, not that raiders hadn’t been trying their damndest to get a foothold. But you had a connection there who had been growing marijuana and had a hell of a crop they were willing to trade for plenty of ammunition and antibiotics. You’d been orchestrating this trade with Tess for weeks, both of you carefully avoiding the sore subject of Joel. The initial plan had been you and her heading out but then Joel beat the shit out of a FEDRA guard for some imagined offense and they were suddenly without the connections they needed and suddenly, Joel became part of the plan. Lucky you. 

Once darkness started to fall, you picked up a little stone that was stuck in the frame of the cracked window. You took careful aim and flicked it, watching it sail to hit Joel square on the forehead. He twitched in his sleep, grimacing, but he didn’t wake. 

You looked around a moment, searching for something else to use against him. You found it in the form of a wad of paper that you had to stretch to reach but you did. You tightened the ball and aimed, throwing it. It didn’t make it quite as far, bouncing off his hands as they sat folded at the base of his chest. He didn’t even flinch at that. 

“Dammit,” you muttered, looking around again. You found a rubber band then, perking up a little as you picked it up. You arranged it carefully on your fingers, pulling it back and aiming it like a gun, targeting Joel’s nose. His oddly beautiful nose. Not that you ever really thought that way about him, of course. You shot the rubber band and it flew, snapping right where you’d aimed it. He jerked awake and you turned quickly so it seemed like you were just looking outside into the night. 

“Wha…” He mumbled. 

You turned your head to look at him as he sat up, seemingly disoriented. 

“You hit me with somethin’?” He asked. 

“What would I hit you with, Joel?” You asked. “I was about to come wake you up, though. Can’t get a late start because of your lazy ass…” 

“Show you lazy…” he muttered, hefting himself up off the sofa. “Let’s move.” 

You gave Joel this much, the man was efficient. You’d forgotten just how efficient in the years it had been since you’d last worked together. He cut through the QZ quickly and smoothly, the knowledge of routes run by FEDRA guards seemingly innate as he knew exactly when and where to avoid and how to do it. In what seemed like no time at all, you were outside the walls and starting into the ruins of the city. 

“Got a safe house about an hour’s walk,” he said, setting an almost punishing pace as you moved alongside him. “We get there, wait for daylight, press on in the morning.” 

“Oh, because you’re the decision maker?” You asked, brows raised, even though you agreed with him. “Just expect me to fall in line…” 

“You know what, princess?” He rounded on you, forcing you back into the wall of a building you were passing. “You’re lucky I came out here with you after the shit you’ve pulled…” 

“Shit I pulled? I fucked up!” You all but yelled at him. “I know it! I think about that all the fucking time, that he’d still be alive if it weren’t for me! I don’t need you to fucking remind me, I know what I did and I’m sure you’re fucking perfect and that no one’s ever died because you fucked up…” 

“You don’t know a goddamn thing,” he growled, pressing closer to you for a moment and his eyes were dark and dangerous. For a moment, you thought he might kill you. Or kiss you. He didn’t do either. Instead, he just stepped back, looking you up and down once. “Keep your shit together this time. Don’t want to die because of you.” 

Tears burned your throat and eyes and you swallowed them and walked a few steps behind Joel, trying to keep an eye out for signs of infected and raiders and trying to make sure that Joel didn’t die. Even if it was just out of spite. 

The next day was easier than you expected, too. You made it quickly out of the safe house in the morning and dodged a hoard of infected, skirting around the writhing mass of them lying on the street. You didn’t really feel like you could breathe until you were outside the city, where the air was cleaner and you didn’t feel the specter of what happened years ago looming over you. 

You and Joel mostly ignored each other, watching the tree line as you kept an eye out for whatever might be lurking for you there. But, every now and then, you thought you caught Joel looking at you out of the corner of your eye, his head snapping around the moment you seemed to take notice. 

After walking for most of the day and covering 20 miles, the two of you stopped and made camp, Joel deeming it safe enough to make a small fire. You watched him after the two of you had eaten and settled, the light casting flickering shadows on his face. 

Joel, you were almost loathe to admit, was an incredibly good looking man. There was a roughness to him that you found almost comforting in the world you were both trapped in but there was beauty to him, too. The symmetry of his features, the plush of his lips, the cut of his jaw. You wondered what he was like before all this, not just when he was younger but before this world had a chance to sink its teeth into him. Maybe you would have been friends then. Maybe something more than friends. 

“How’d you end up smuggling?” You asked, not able to keep sitting here in silence any more. 

“What?” He asked, looking up from where he was cleaning his gun. 

“Smuggling,” you said. “Doubt you were born a smuggler and you don’t seem like you were a drug mule or something in the before times. How’d you end up doing it?” 

“How does anyone end up doin’ anything?” He asked. “Needed cards, people needed drugs. If people want to pay me for ‘em, I’m not about to argue.” 

“So that’s it,” you said. “You woke up one morning and thought to yourself ‘I think I’m going to tell FEDRA to fuck off today by running drugs’ and started a whole new career.” 

He sighed but didn’t say anything. 

“I don’t buy it,” you continued, sitting back against the tree you were propped against. “There’s something else…” 

“Not your business if there is.” 

“So there is something else!” You said, almost smug. “I’m on the right track, excellent.” 

“You always this nosy?” 

“Usually,” you said. “Let’s see… Maybe Joel Miller just likes an excuse to hit things.” He scoffed but didn’t say anything. “Not that? Interesting… Maybe Joel Miller gets off on breaking the rules. Is that it? You have authority issues?” 

“Can we go back to not fuckin’ talking?” He asked. 

“Not authority issues then,” you nodded, ignoring him. “Well, that leaves just one other theory.” 

You were quiet, looking away from Joel and fighting the urge to smirk as you did. It only took a minute of silence before he sighed. 

“Goddammit,” he said. “What. What’s your theory.” 

You let the smirk happen then, looking back at him. 

“That Joel Miller doesn’t feel alive unless he’s about to die,” you said. “And that Joel Miller needs to feel something so he decides to do the thing that almost kills him because what else is there to have?” 

He watched you for a moment, his eyes hot and angry, before he looked back at his gun. 

You laughed once. 

“So predictable…” 

“And why do you do it?” He asked, looking up at you, the rage barely contained on his features. “Must have a reason, right? Livin’ outside the QZ as long as you did, fuckin’ around outside it now, what is it? You got some kind of death wish?” 

“Yes,” you said, looping your arms around your knees. He blinked at you in surprise for a moment and you laughed a little. “I’m not nearly as mysterious as you, it’s not some secret…” 

“Why?” He cut you off, gun set aside now. You frowned but he pressed on. “You got a life, why do you want to just throw it away…” 

“You call what I have a life?” You asked, brows raised. “Never thought you’d be so generous in regards to anything related to me…” 

“Ain’t it?” He asked. “Sure, it’s not what it was before, can’t just do what we did then but…” 

“You think that’s it?” You gaped at him. “That I miss being able to go to fucking happy hour with my coworkers or grab dinner at Chili’s so I might as well drop dead?” 

“That’s not…” 

“I lost people, Joel,” you snapped. “I know everybody did but when I say I lost people, I mean I lost everyone. By the time you and Tommy found me, there wasn’t a single person left on Earth I knew. My parents turned in the outbreak, they bit my brother and his wife and their daughter. I survived with my fiance for a while but he got shot by a FEDRA officer when we were trying to make our way to the fucking QZ and then I was alone. I stayed out there because, what, was I supposed to go live with the people who killed him? No thanks. What the fuck is there? So yeah, you know what? I smuggle shit. I like the risk. I like telling FEDRA to fuck off. I like being able to handle myself because I’m the only thing I can count on. Don’t act so fucking surprised that I’m not thrilled with life in the QZ just because you brought me there.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment and you just squared your jaw and looked away, arms crossed tightly over your chest. You knew you shouldn’t let Joel get to you the way he did - especially not after you’d picked at him and pushed him here - but he got under your skin the way no one else left alive really seemed to. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about your fiance, not in years. It was a wound you’d long set aside, a casualty in the war on humanity that had hollowed you out so much that it seemed like you couldn’t really feel anything unless you were on the edge of your own destruction. Or, apparently, picking a fight with Joel fucking Miller.

“Could be worse,” he said eventually. 

“Yeah, well.” 

“M’sorry.” 

You looked at him then, brows knitted together. 

“What?” 

“Said I’m sorry,” he said, voice a little gruff. “Didn’t… didn’t know. Wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.” 

You blinked for a moment, trying to get your bearings. Of everything you’d expected to hear out of Joel Miller’s mouth, I’m sorry wasn’t it. 

“I’m sorry, too,” you said eventually. “If you want to talk…” 

“I don’t.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Well…” 

“I got first watch,” he said, picking his gun back up. “Get some sleep.” 

The next day, you reached the trade you’d arranged, the woman you’d run into a few times when outside the QZ there with her partner. They hauled so much marijuana out - wrapped tightly in old newspaper - that they had to use wagons to carry it all. You unloaded your haul and the trade went smoothly, Joel lurking toward the back and standing guard, keeping a surly watch over the whole proceeding the entire time. It took some doing to pack all the pot into your bags but you managed it, thanking the couple and starting back toward the QZ. 

You were close to where you’d stopped the night before when it happened, the snarl of infected crawling over your skin. 

“Fuck,” you slung your rifle down from its place over your shoulder and turned to where the sound was coming from, seeing a cluster of at least a dozen infected moving for you. You shot, catching the first in the head and you watched it drop. 

“Go!” Joel yelled, planting his feet and taking aim. 

“Fuck you!” You snapped, ignoring him and shooting. “I can handle myself.” 

He growled at that but didn’t say anything else. Instead you stood with him, side by side, trying to pick off the group that was charging for you. For a moment, you thought you’d done it, that you were in the clear. 

And then, Joel’s gun jammed. 

You realized it when you didn’t hear any more gunfire coming from beside you as the remaining infected drew closer. 

“Joel!” Your eyes darted his way and you saw him trying to force the lever back, to no avail. He looked to you and the infected and back to you, his jaw squared. 

“Get back to the QZ,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond. Instead, he charged forward, gun held not like a firearm but a staff and he swung it, hard, so the butt of it slammed into the skull of an infected as three others dove for him. 

“Fuck!” You yelled, ignoring him again. Like hell he was going down out here like this, like fuck you were letting this asshole die for you. You took careful aim, taking down infected that you were confident you could headshot without putting Joel at risk, just one bullet going wide and exploding on the bark of a nearby tree, the rest finding their mark. And then he was on the ground, just one infected left, too close to him for you to be able to shoot and it wasn’t that you chose to do it, not really. It was more like instinct, flying forward, shedding your backpack and dropping your gun as you did, wrenching your knife from its place at your hip and jumping onto the back of the creature, your arms going around its neck as you yanked back on it, hard. 

Your weight threw it off balance and it shrieked, starting to claw at you, twisting in your hold to see if it could sink its teeth into your skin. It bit as best it could at your arms but the thick of your coat kept it from getting any further and you struggled to adjust your knife to drive it into the thing’s neck but you couldn’t get it, not without letting it go.

“Goddammit!” Joel was panting for breath and you could barely see him out of the corner of your eye as he scrambled to his feet. You tightened your grip on the infected, the stink of the rot of it from the inside out making you gag, and it slammed you back into a tree, catching you off guard. You barely registered the sound of your skull hitting the wood before you passed out. 

***

You didn’t listen. You never fucking listened, why could you never fucking listen? 

You were the single most infuriating person Joel had ever met. Stubborn as hell, independent to a fault, seemingly desperate to pick every fight you could find. Of course you didn’t fucking listen to him. You never had before, why would you start now? 

Seeing you that close to infected - again - was terrifying. 

This was why he didn’t want to go out like this with you. This, right here. Because he knew you wouldn’t listen, he knew you’d wind up in this situation, knew he’d have to deal with the fear and the pain of you dying when it was his fucking fault why couldn’t you just fucking listen?

He’d thrown himself at the infected to give you a chance. One of you was probably going to die out here and he wasn’t about to let it be you. Not when he’d already done so much, gone so far to try to make sure you fucking survived. Because dammit, if he couldn’t make sure one of the few people he actually cared about actually lived, what was the damn point? 

But did you take the chance he was giving you? No. Of course you didn’t. 

And all he could do was watch in horror as the thing you’d jumped on top of slammed you into a tree with a sickening thud, one he could hear above the snarling and snapping of jaws. Your body went limp and you slid from its back to the earth, landing in an unnatural looking way. No one who was in control of their limbs fell like that. His blood was ice and he moved without considering, roaring as he ripped his knife from his belt and tackled the infected who was turning to go after your throat. He hit it so hard he rolled with it, the creature’s mouth reaching for him as he held it back. They came to rest on the ground, that thing on top of him and Joel slammed his knife into its neck again and again, until it went quiet and still and Joel was bloodied and panting for breath. 

He shoved it off him and he half crawled to you as he got to his feet, not willing to wait until he was standing to start moving. You were still when he reached you, your head thrown back, half on your side, mouth open. 

“No, no, c’mon,” he pulled your coat open to get at your chest to try to do what he thought was CPR - not like there were fucking certifications for it in the QZ - but, when he did, he realized you were breathing. He lowered his head near your mouth and could hear the soft, shallow sound of your life and he sat back on his heels, taking a deep breath. 

So he hadn’t gotten you killed. Not yet, anyway. At least there was that. He let himself sit with the relief for a moment before checking you over, looking at your throat and wrists for signs of a bite but didn’t find any. Another lucky moment. 

“Alright princess,” he said, tapping your cheek lightly. “C’mon. We gotta get movin’, let’s go.” You stayed still. His stomach twisted. “Know you like to fuck with me but now ain’t the time, we need to get out of here, time to wake up…” 

He half expected you to respond then. You’d love this, the fact that he was damn near panicking because you were hurt. He knew you’d want to draw it out. 

But you wouldn’t be stupid about it. You wouldn’t put them at risk, not really. 

“Fuck,” he swore, adjusting your limp body as best he could before lifting you to his chest. The hair at the back of your head was matted with blood. He tried not to think about what that might mean. “S’alright. You’re gonna be fine, just… You’ll be OK.” 

He kept thinking that, over and over, as he carried you, looking for somewhere he could protect you for a while. 

It took him time to find it, a farmhouse with overgrown fields that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The door was hanging open, creaking on its hinges, and Joel brought you to the kitchen island, setting you gently on the dust-covered formica. 

“Stay there for a minute,” he said, leaning against the counter to recover his strength and his breath for a moment. “Gotta… gotta make sure we don’t got company.” 

He went through the house room by room, barricading the doors on the ground floor and pleasantly surprised to find most of the top floor intact, no holes in the roof or broken windows. He gathered some blankets from the main bedroom and carried them down to where he’d left you. He propped your head up gently, pouring some water on a cloth and cleaning the cut there with care before covering you with a quilt and pulling a kitchen chair up beside you. He checked to make sure you were still breathing before sitting down, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands folded almost in prayer. 

He should have told Tess to fuck off. He knew better, when it came to you. There was a reason he’d avoided you ever since that day everything had gone wrong. Hell, he’d been avoiding you before that, too. 

From the moment he’d met you, he liked you a little too much. You were the exact kind of woman he’d gone for before, one who was capable and strong and a total fucking smart ass. He liked a woman who challenged him, one who made him think. You did those things, you did those things like it was second fucking nature, all while being one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, before the outbreak or after. 

He knew he had to keep his distance from the beginning, that he’d get too attached if he let himself. But you were a valuable partner, so he did his best to keep you at arm’s reach while going on runs with you and his brother. He thought that had been enough, that he’d done a good job of protecting himself from the disaster that waited at the end of any form of attachment in the life he led now. 

And then he saw you freeze in the face of infected. 

He was so afraid in that moment that it shocked him how fast he made the call. The decision to put his body between you and the infected was an easy one. He wanted to make it back to the QZ, to his brother he’d found some reason to live for over the last few years, but he wouldn’t want that if you didn’t come back, too. But you didn’t fucking listen then, either, too busy trying to do the same damn thing he’d have done in your position. If you hadn’t been with him, he’d have tried to save Harvey. He was a good man, he’d watched Joel’s back plenty, Tommy’s too. He deserved a better end than the one he got. 

Joel just couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk you. 

He let himself rage at you about it. Even though it wasn’t your fault, none of it had been. He’d known it then but even more so after. Years later, outside the QZ, he watched as a large hoard worked its way south for the winter, just passing through. You couldn’t have seen them coming, no one could have. 

He never told you that. Because, after the day you froze, he was far enough away from you that he wasn’t going to have to watch you die and he wasn’t going to have to carry the blame if you did. He couldn’t do that again. He knew that much of himself, he knew what he wasn’t capable of surviving. If you were out of reach, he’d have room to breathe. 

But you were still leaving the QZ. He hadn’t known that, at first. He’d just assumed you’d stay put and take the shitty jobs FEDRA offered to get by. He hadn’t even known that Tess knew you, not for years. It wasn’t even her that told him you were still smuggling, it had been a FEDRA guard. He’d overheard your name when Tess was handling a trade and put two and two together. He damn near marched over to your apartment that second and demanded to know what the fuck you were thinking. But he didn’t. He kept it together, he kept listening for news of you, kept waiting for the day that he knew was waiting for him, the one where you didn’t come back and he’d find out about it from some other smuggler or some asshole guard who found out when you didn’t show up with his supply of pills.

And then your name came up when he was trading with a FEDRA guard. It was a small deal, some pills for cigarettes and liquor, just enough for one guy. He was a new client of Joel’s, one he was happy to have. His demand was low and he was good leverage for bringing shit through the gates, turning a blind eye for a good deal on drugs. He just hadn’t seemed to learn quite yet that Joel wasn’t a friend. 

“You know other smugglers, right?” He asked, glancing at Joel as he counted the pills out in his palm. As though Joel was stupid enough to short change a fucking FEDRA officer. 

“Suppose,” Joel shrugged. “Why?” 

“There’s this one…” he talked about a woman who was coming and going, one who was cocky and beautiful and hadn’t caved to his demands for sex the last time she came through and he tried to blackmail her. Joel ground his teeth but kept quiet as he prattled on, eventually pocketing the pills and handing over the cigarettes and booze. “Anyway, wondering if you think she’s the type who’ll give in or should I stop wasting my time and just take it?” 

Joel’s hands curled into fists. 

“Take it?” Joel asked. “Take what, exactly.” 

He looked at Joel, incredulous. 

“C’mon,” he said. “You know. They never fight too hard against a uniform but it’s more fun when they’re at least a little willing.” 

Joel’s punch came so quickly the man didn’t have time to put his hands up. He took him to the ground fast, blow after blow raining down on the man’s face until the air smelled like copper and his knuckles were split. The man gargled on his own blood below him, desperate gasps that sounded something like “please” but he couldn’t be sure. Joel grabbed him by the collar, his head lolling limply to the side as he tried to breathe. One of his teeth was hanging on my a thread.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” Joel panted. “Tell your fuckin’ friends. I hear about any of you messing with women around here? I’ll kill you.” 

Joel dropped him back to the ground and flexed his fingers. He thought he might have broken part of his hand. Wouldn’t be the first time. At least this one was worth it. 

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” he said, fishing around in the man’s pocket and taking a pill from him. He popped it in his mouth, chalky and bitter on his tongue. “For my trouble.” 

He left the man there in the alley, knowing full well that he’d just shot his whole team in the foot. He didn’t much care. 

The irony that it had landed him here, outside the QZ with you unconscious and your haul on the forest floor was almost too biting. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he’d been doing this wrong all along. 

You groaned and Joel’s head shot up as you started stirring on the counter, your hand going to the injured part of your skull. 

“Easy,” he said gently, getting up slowly so he wouldn’t startle you. “Took a nasty hit to the head, you were out for a while.” 

“Ow.” 

Joel laughed a little at that. 

“Glad you think it’s funny,” you said, sitting up. He rushed to help you and you gave him an incredulous look as his hands found your back and your hand. “Jesus, I feel like I got put through a meat grinder…” 

“Well, s’long as you ain’t bitten, think we can handle that,” he said, taking his hands back now that you were sitting up. 

“Amen to that,” you said, stretching a bit before looking him over and then looking around, a small frown on your face. “Where are we?” 

“Farmhouse,” Joel said, shoving his hands in his pockets just to give them something to do. “Think about a mile from where we were. Can find our way back OK. I’ll have to, your pack is still out there.” 

“Shit,” you said. “Yeah, we can’t afford to come back without it, I traded my entire stash for my share of the pot…” 

“We’ll find it,” he said. “Don’t think anyone else is comin’ through here any time too soon.” 

You nodded slowly before looking back to him, your eyebrows knitting together before you flinched, your hand going to the back of your head again. 

“Will you actually listen for a change and take it easy?” He asked, going to check the wound. “Jesus, bane of my fuckin’ existence, not doing a goddamn thing I tell you…” 

“Why are you still here?” You asked, ignoring him yet again, fingers finding the gash on your head and tugging at it until it started bleeding again. Joel sighed before pulling your hand away. “Hell, why’d you bring me here at all? You just said I’m the bane of your existence, why the fuck did you go through this much trouble? You could have just left me there, taken my pack, kept all the haul for yourself…” 

“You really think I’m capable of that?” He asked, brows raised. He knew he hadn’t exactly been kind to you over the years but fuck, he didn’t think it was that bad. He pressed the wet cloth to your head again, watching as the red filtered over it. 

You shrugged. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Yeah, alright, you piss me off more than… shit, about anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re the bane of my existence…” 

“So…” 

“Will you let me talk?” He snapped. “Fuck, woman, always gotta be right, always gotta have the last damn word, always gotta do whatever’s gonna get you into the most trouble…” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I managed to save your fucking life today,” you snapped back. “Please forgive me!” 

“I don’t want you saving my life if it costs you yours!” He yelled. 

You pulled back from him sharply, eyes wide as you blinked at him in shock. He shook his head and pulled the cloth away from your skin. At least the bleeding had stopped again. 

“Don’t fuck with it anymore,” he said, dropping the bloody fabric to the counter. “Gotta leave it alone so it can start to heal, head wounds bleed like a motherfucker…” 

“Joel,” you said quietly, watching him. 

“What.” 

“Joel,” you said again, eyes still on him. “You… What did you mean you don’t want me saving your life if it costs…” 

“I don’t…” He cut you off before he took a deep, centering breath. “I don’t want anybody dying for me but… Christ, it can’t be you. Yeah, you’re the bane of my existence, you piss me off so much sometimes I swear it’s like you got a goddamn degree in just how to do it but you make me feel more alive than anything else left and I can’t…” His heart was pounding so hard it felt like a bruise. “I can’t lose you, especially not when I could stop it. Not when I could save you. I need you to stay alive, OK? I don’t want anyone else to piss me off the way you do, I want you to be the one getting under my skin every goddamn day…” 

“Joel…” 

“Still not gonna let me finish?” He gaped at you. “Fuck, I’m tryin’ to…” 

You didn’t let him finish that time, either. Instead, you kissed him, your arms going around his neck and pulling him roughly against you, your lips so soft and warm and demanding on his that it felt like you were trying to swallow him whole. 

It was like the logical part of his mind only worked for half a second after that. He knew, in that moment, that he should probably hold you back. Talk things out, make sure you didn’t hurt yourself - you’d just had a head injury for fuck’s sake - but that part of him vanished, consumed by you and the way you kissed him like you were trying to climb inside his skin. 

His arms went around you, pulling you to the very edge of the island so your pussy was pressed tight against his quickly hardening cock. 

He couldn’t help but grind himself against you, the zipper of his jeans harsh contrast to just how soft he knew your pussy would be and the last bit of resolve he should have held snapped. Your fingers fumbled at the snaps on his coat, pulling it open before going to the buttons on his shirt and he did the same, desperate to get at your skin and suddenly not caring that it was nearly freezing or that the two of you had nearly died not all that long ago.

His hands found your breasts, sliding inside the cups of your bra to cradle the soft warmth of them and you moaned into his mouth when his thumbs found your nipples, gently brushing them before working them in little circles as they pricked against his skin. 

Joel had tried to not think about this with you. It was tempting, always tempting, but he knew better. He tried to limit his thoughts of you to frustration and anger but he often failed at that. He had failed at it often enough that he had an idea of how you would feel in his hands, how you would taste on his tongue. He thought he would have known enough to be prepared for it if it ever happened. 

He wasn’t. 

You were, somehow, so much better than he’d ever let himself imagine. You were so goddamn soft, like the whole of you had been spun out of silk, tenuous and tender. There was something almost inherently wrong in how he was touching something as soft as you but he shoved that nagging guilt aside, too obsessed with feeling more of you. If this was how your tits felt in his hands, how your lips felt on his, how your hands felt in his hair, he had to feel inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to think about anything else if he didn’t get to be inside of you, his mind would always be trying to create the way you would feel, to know how warm you would be, how safe he would feel in you and how calming it would be to know that you were safe, too, because nothing could reach you if he was there inside you, nothing. 

His hands reluctantly left your breasts and slid down to your waist, finding the button on your jeans. You quickly, clumsily kicked off your boots and lifted your ass from the countertop so he could slide your jeans and panties down, leaving you all wet and swollen and bared for him. 

“Fuck,” he panted, looking down at you for a moment before reaching one callused finger forward and almost reverently tracing your dripping slit. You groaned, your head going back in pleasure, your hips almost jumping toward him. 

“Joel,” you whispered, voice so goddamn needy. The sound went straight to his cock, skin stretched tight and balls aching. “Please…” 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, opening his pants and tucking his jeans and underwear below his throbbing sex. “Make you feel so good, just…” 

He took his cock and brushed the head against you and you looked down to where he was about to push inside you and gasped. 

“Holy fuck,” you panted, looking at him, your eyes wide. “Joel, you’re… Are you going to fit?” 

“I’ll fit, baby,” he said, looking down again and notching the head of him inside your wet heat. You groaned as you stretched around him, fingers digging into the skin at his nape. He pushed the first inch of himself inside and stopped, looking back to you. He took your face his hand and your eyes searched his, desperate longing written there. “Just watch me, I’ve got you.” 

You didn’t say anything, you, just nodded quickly. His other hand went to the small of your back, angling you just so as he started to thrust into you, pushing in a little and then pulling back before going again, claiming more and more of you with each stroke until he was fully within you. He stilled inside you and pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes on his own, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath on his skin. 

He’d been right. Inside, you were fucking perfection. He could feel how you stretched over him, how your body perfectly took and held his own. You were so soft there it seemed impossible, like the world should have destroyed anything this delicate and supple. But you felt so like you, too. The heat of you was almost overwhelming, the strength of you sharp and clear when your cunt fluttered over him, already nearing your orgasm with telltale little spasms holding him tight.  He wanted to consume you and be consumed, devour and be devoured and he needed to fuck you deep and hard and leave part of himself inside of you or he might never think of anything else ever again. 

“Fuck, Joel,” your breaths were sharp and shaky. “I’m so… you’re so big, I’m so full, I… You have to move, I need you to fuck me, please fuck me, please, I need…” 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, gently angling your head just so. “Give you just what you need.” 

He kissed you as he started fucking into you, setting an almost punishing pace as he moved inside you. He drank down your desperate groans, savored the way your fingers scrabbled over his shoulders and neck and back, got lost in the spread of your thighs as you kept trying to take him somehow deeper. As if there was more of you for him to take, as if there was more of himself to give. 

Your channel grew tight over him and he knew he wasn’t going to last once you came but he was afraid he wasn’t going to even make it that far. He’d already given up on pulling out, he’d deal with the whatever fallout came from filling you up, but he had to feel you come when he was inside you. He was desperate for it, needed to feel how you’d draw so tight over him and pull his come from his body into yours, he needed it. He drove deep and found the spot inside you that made your legs clench a little tighter, fingers clutch a little harder. He pressed into it and held himself there, more rocking into you than fucking into you, grinding the head of him into the very softest part of you as your cunt drew tighter and tighter over him and you pulled away from his lips to cry out as you came. You throbbed around him and he could feel every part of you there, the pulsing of your body and the satisfaction of your cries damn near ripping his own orgasm from him. 

He pulled you close and tight as he came, feeling like his whole being was pulled down low and sharp inside him as he spilled deep into you. Your arms loosened on him but you still held him gently as he all but collapsed into you, his head on your shoulder as he panted for breath. 

“Fuck,” he managed after a moment, still deep inside you. 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. 

He sat back from you, eyes searching yours again now that you’d both started coming back down to Earth. You reached up and ran your fingers through his curls, brushing them back from his face as he started to notice the cold air again for the first time. 

“Bane of your existence, huh?” You asked, teasing lightly. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little. “My whole damn existence.” 

You smiled a little back. 

“Think I can work with that.” 

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER TWO

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya | lmk if you want to be added! wc: 7.6k notes: check masterlist for content warnings! honestly a pretty lowkey chap but it's strictly business 🧐 thank you for the love on chapter 1 ���� i fear this chap and the next couple of parts are slow-ish but i've reread this literally a million times and im sick of it so what do i actually know. no beta we die like brian thompson

'Bueckers and Kennedy, Two Dynasties, Both Alike in Dignity'

College basketball fans are excited for what appears to be the end of the "Tess Kennedy Destruction Tour." After a quiet few days, the South Carolinian guard took to social media where she shared a photo of her and a faceless individual meeting for coffee. The Instagram story was captioned "and a new day will bring about the dawn," a lyric from Frank Ocean's "Sierra Leone." Supporters interpreted this as Kennedy's recovery journey taking a positive turn, but the song lyric was not the star of the show.

Fans were quick to point out the identity of the individual was not as hidden as it seemed. Kennedy's companion was wearing two notable necklaces - one with a silver cross and one with a studded #5. The phone case in camera was also purple with a wallet attached to the back. One commenter pointed out there was a University of Connecticut student ID poking out, and after review, we believe that much is true.

Early speculation declared Kennedy's friend was none other than Paige Bueckers, the star point guard for the University of Connecticut Huskies. Then, roughly an hour after Kennedy's post, Bueckers herself took to her Instagram where she shared a photo of her holding an icepack to someone's left knee. Both Bueckers and the mystery individual are faceless; however, fans noted Bueckers's companion was wearing a silver bracelet with familiar charms and a #25, Kennedy's jersey number.

All of the signs point to Bueckers and Kennedy spending time together, although nothing has been confirmed officially. One fan noted that Bueckers tore her own ACL the year prior, believing that Bueckers flew out to South Carolina to lend a supportive hand to Kennedy amidst her own recovery and hardships. Whether or not this is simply two friends rehabbing together or the most obvious soft launch in basketball history, sports fans are united on two things: Tess Kennedy is beginning to take her recovery seriously, and Paige Bueckers might just be the guardian angel people were calling for.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MAY 3, 2023

“So, lemme get this straight.”

Tess hums around a mouthful of Chipotle, feeling lighter than she has in weeks. Kamilla and Bree returned to their apartment roughly a half hour earlier and immediately put Tess on the hot seat. Once she made it through her countless apologies and explanations with minimal interruptions, she gave Kam and Bree the green light to ask their questions, and it seemed as though they had plenty.

Kam raises her fingers as she lists off the recent happenings of Tess’s life. “Because you went off a bender–” Tess frowns at the way it’s phrased, “–Amaya is forcing you into mandatory PT, therapy, and a shit ton of PR. Honestly, about fucking time.” Bree snorts, although some of the worry leaves her body. “If all it took was tough love, I woulda been meaner to your ass a month ago.”

“Don’t think it would have had the intended effect,” Tess concedes thoughtfully. She pushes around her rice and chicken, shoveling a pepper in her mouth. “I wasn’t really in a listening mood back then.”

Bree raises a brow. “And you were today?”

The injured guard shrugs a shoulder. “Well, when your manager tells you that your brand deals are about to cut their contracts, and you’re at risk for losing your basketball scholarship for behavior and academic reasons, and you’re slowly killing yourself…that kind of puts things into perspective.”

Kamilla nods solemnly. “And the Paige situation.”

Tess almost flushes under their scrutinizing gaze. She hasn’t forgotten. She has Paige’s receipt tucked into the pocket of her pants, unwilling to throw it away but also feeling weirdly vulnerable for wanting to keep it. It wasn’t a huge gesture by any means. Paige doing PT with her was objectively more intimate than buying her lunch, but the mere idea of Paige saying goodbye to her and sitting in an Uber trying to figure out what Tess likes in her Chipotle bowl is just fucking insane. “Guess I’m not single anymore…so, yay?”

“You’re taking this a lot better than I expected,” Kamilla admits hesitantly. Tess clocks the concern in her expression, like she’s thinking about her next step if she wakes up tomorrow and Tess is back to her old ways. That thought alone makes guilt squeeze at Tess’s heart.

Tess sighs. “It was like a wake up call,” she says after a moment. “Like those stupid ice baths Coach makes us do in recovery.” Kamilla and Bree crack a small smile at the joke. “To me, it was just easier to self-destruct than to let something else kill me. Basketball’s more than a sport to me – it’s my purpose, right? So after I heard I might not be able to play again, I just…let myself sink. And, Christ, people were so cruel online.” Tess huffs out something like a laugh, her throat tight with pain. “It’s funny ‘cause it never bothered me before, but… I just wanted to forget. I wanted them to hurt like I hurt. It was too easy to give into that.” The silence rings out in the living room as Tess searches for her next words. “I don’t think all hope is lost. Today helped me understand that a little better. So, I’m gonna try. I’m just fucking terrified it’s all going to be for nothing, that my knee’s never going to get better and I’m going to put myself through so much pain for a what if.”

“Okay, what if you never play again, but, God, Tess, what if you do?” Kamilla says slowly. “What if you do everything right and you get better and you can play with us again in March? I want that for you. We want that for you. Do you want that for you?”

“I mean, of course–”

“Then do it!” Kamilla exclaims, voice cracking. Tess blinks at her owlishly. She’s never seen Kamilla like this, ever, wide-eyed and desperate. It’s a near 180 shift from the girl she’s spent the last 30 minutes talking to, a complete and total shift from the girl who she’s shared an apartment with for two years. “Please, Tess. Do the PT, your therapy, get back on track; whatever it fucking takes, Tess, you need to do it. We miss you. On and off the court. I know it’s not about me, but watching you throw yourself away like that was the worst thing I’d ever witnessed, especially because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get through to you. I thought I was going to lose my best friend!”

Tess’s jaw falls open as the sudden realization of how badly she’s fucked up dawns on her for the second time that day. “Kam,” she tries, her throat tightening with emotion. The taller woman wipes her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Kamilla was never one to be mean, no matter how upset she was – that was a trait of hers that made her such a good leader and role model on the court. She was big on accountability and ensuring that past mistakes would never happen again. Seeing all of the emotion she kept under tight lock and key because she knew she needed to be strong for Tess (even before Tess was aware that she needed someone to be strong for her) is unbelievably sobering.

When Tess and Kamilla first met, they almost instantly knew they would be each other’s best friend. They were alike in so many ways – they were fierce competitors and proud haters of The Office; they bonded over shared struggles of not quite knowing what home was and being just a little too different from everyone else. Tess isn’t sure where she would be without Kamilla. She always prayed she’d never have to find out, but the idea that she nearly subjected Kamilla to finding out where she’d be without Tess feels both arduous and damning.

“Kam,” Tess says again, her mind reeling. “I’m so sorry – I’m so fucking sorry. If I could do it all over again, I would. I’m trying. It’s so hard but I’m trying.”

“I know,” Kamilla says, nodding rapidly. Bree is unnaturally quiet, glancing between the two of them with a conflicted expression. Sure, the three of them shared an apartment, but the bond between Tess and Kamilla exceeded friendship; they were like sisters. Bree knew that and it never bothered her. Now it seems as though she’s unsure where to stand, but she understands that this is a much-needed conversation that Tess and Kamilla need to have. “I know, Tess, I’m just – I’m glad you understand it now. Just… please, please let us help you. Don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t,” Tess vows. “I can’t promise I’m going to be at 100%, but fuck, I’m going to try.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Kamilla concedes.

The living room is quiet for a long while until Bree shifts uncomfortably. “So… PT and mental health counseling, those I understand,” she says. “I’m still a little lost on why fake dating Paige is good for your reputation. Rumors are rumors but…it’s giving new flavor of the week.”

“It’s not like that,” Tess argues, a little too defensively. Bree raises a brow and Tess immediately flushes. She’s not sure why that jab at Paige felt personal. She made a similar jab only a few hours ago. But it wasn’t her business to judge. People have their own reasons to do what they do, right? “Well, she said it wasn’t like that,” she amends, which sounds objectively worse. Tess frowns, wishing she’d just kept quiet.

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Bree raises her hand in surrender. “It’s her vice, right? Her free time is her own, but I mean, she’s Paige Bueckers. It’s easy to get caught up in her. I just don’t want you becoming another notch on her bedpost, even if you’re just fake dating her to make people forget you’re on Twitter restriction.”

Tess wrinkles her nose. “My account is unbanned now, thank you very much,” she deflects, but Kamilla’s knowing expression has her redirecting. “I understand what you guys mean, but you don’t have to worry about that. We’re strictly business.” Bree grins wryly, huffing out something akin to laughter that sounds vaguely like, ‘that’s what they all say.’

“Was the Chipotle strictly business?” Bree asks.

Tess’s face is a perfect picture of confusion, but her heart thrums a little faster at the insinuation. What could she possibly know about that? “What does Chipotle have to do with anything?” she asks casually.

Bree’s smirk widens. “You never order bowls. It’s always a burrito with you.”

“I’m trying something new!”

“Yeah, new like a six-foot blonde hooper–”

Kamilla and Bree break out into howling laughter as Tess buries her head in her hands, blushing again. “Oh, my God. You guys are the fucking worst.”

And, sure – the joke is at Tess’s expense, but she can’t help but feel like everything is aligning once more, that they’re returning to the way they once were pre-injury. She expected that it would have taken her a lot more groveling to earn back their favor. Tess was a huge jerk to them – the more she thinks about what she’d likely said to them under the haze of several shots of tequila, the more she wishes she could take it all back and do it over again. She tore her ACL, a season ending injury for many athletes, and for a smaller few, it changed the course of their careers drastically. Tess wants to find it within herself to have some grace, to understand why she behaved the way she did, but now that she sees it with a clearer mind, she can’t help but be disgusted by herself.

For Kamilla and Bree, it’s probably all water under the bridge. They’re kind people like that, perhaps too kind after the way Tess treated them. Maybe the real gotcha! moment is the idea that Tess didn’t need to earn back their favor, anyhow. Sometimes friendship just works like that – it’s confusing and a great risk, but most times that risk pays off. Sometimes friendship just is, accepting a mistake and trusting that it wouldn’t happen again.

Feeling lighter than she has in weeks, Tess retires to her room for some much needed rest after a long day. She lights a candle, settling against her headboard and adjusting the pillow cushioning her knee. Deciding to face the music sooner rather than later, she begins combing through her mountain of notifications and unread DMs. The apology from Caitlin is touching. Tess feels an odd mix of guilt and appreciation as she drafts out her overdue response: “thank you for checking in, been a rough couple weeks. the injury is not your fault but trust that SC will pick your pockets next year!!!” Caitlin’s own response is swift – a simple 'Bring it on' that Tess can’t help but smile at.

She sends similar responses to some of Caitlin’s teammates and the other college players who reached out. She even had a couple of pros expressing their condolences, which honestly shocked Tess. There was Napheesa Collier, Sabrina Ionescu, and A’ja Wilson – A’ja’s DM made Tess’s Gamecock heart beat just a little faster. She was basically South Carolina royalty. Having that kind of support in her corner fills her with an insurmountable confidence.

Her last post on Instagram was a collection of pictures following their Elite Eight win. The sight of herself from a month ago, healthy and glowing, nearly made her thumb falter as she flicked through the images. It was a simple dump – a couple of action shots, a fierce one of Tess celebrating, one of her setting up for a deep three. It was captioned “nowhere else i’d rather be.” That much was still true. She’s pushed it to the recesses of her mind, but instinctually, she can feel the deep ache and the yearn to get back on the court, even though her knee hardly lets her sleep through the night most of the time.

Her eyes fall to the comments. She knows she shouldn’t look at them. She’s practically memorized each and every single one of them. Her teammates’ comments live at the top, celebrating the win with her; under them, there are newer ones from South Carolina fans, offering prayers and support, confident in their belief that Tess will bounce back from this. She can’t help herself from reading the hate comments, either. Her eyes catch on one in particular. Their username isn’t particularly memorable, but it reads, ‘Upsetting to see how Tess has responded to a normal injury for athletes. It’s shameful that South Carolina has let this go on for so long. Grow up!’ 

Well, he’s not wrong. Tess’s response was a pretty terrible one and Amaya herself admitted that they made a mistake in handling the situation. Frankly, he should be proud that Tess has grown up! If she read that comment a week ago, she probably would have crashed out. The thought alone makes Tess crack the slightest of smiles. Before she can keep reading, a text message from an unknown number pops up at the top of her screen, inadvertently saving her from a doom scroll.

Yo How’d I do on lunch? It’s Paige btw

Tess fights the warmth she feels in her chest. Honestly, she would have guessed that it was Paige from the ego she can identify through the screen alone, but she saves her contact regardless.

i’m afraid to admit i prefer burritos but the bowl was a 9/10

Paige’s response is swift.

9 cause I’m the 1 you need?

Tess rolls her eyes.

9 bc there was too much pico and bc the girl who ordered it flirts like a 12 year old

That’s insane You KNOW I have better game than that

you have no rizz, just blue eyes and a bunch of nil money like joe burrow if he was a hey mamas lesbian

Gonna ignore that hey mamas comment just cause I fuck with Joe Burrow The Bengals don’t have nothing on my Vikings though

i think i just got the ick im not gonna lie

Are you a football hater???

i don’t watch men’s sports at all i try to protect my peace

Pause So no Lebron???

ok well obviously i’ve watched the NBA

You scared me Don’t say that shit again

why are you so high maintenance

Why are you so mean

someone has to keep you in check settling down, remember?

I think you could be a little nicer!

hmmm i’ll consider ok i decided no

Just plain evil

i need to get my kicks in early if im stuck with you again on friday

You invited me???

i don’t think that’s how that happened

Pretty sure that’s exactly how that happened Paige please come to PT with me 🥺 Please Paige

ok now you’re just being delusional i see how you’re forgetting the whole ‘tess let me buy your coffee 🥺please tess’

Chilllll Did your doctor check you for a concussion after the ACL?? There’s something wrong with your brain

be honest, are you a natural blonde or did you work really hard to be this stupid

Hard work always baby Also, wanted to ask if you wanna come to the airport with me on Saturday, be seen together I fly out at 11:30am so I think it would be good for us The story I mean

you gonna pay for my uber back?

Duh

paige i was kidding

I wasn’t No rizz, just blue eyes and a lot of NIL money, right?

you’re insufferable

So you’ll come?

don’t sound so excited but i will for the story

Of course See you Friday ma 🫶

Tess likes Paige’s message before shutting her phone off with a sigh. She needs a nap.

MAY 5, 2023

Friday arrives after a day and a half of binging 2 Broke Girls, independent physical therapy exercises, and lots of ice packs.

Tess slept like shit Thursday night, though she’s unsure if it’s because of the pain in her knee or because of how badly she wanted to haul her ass to the bar and order a couple of shots to numb the throb. She knew she couldn’t do it, no matter how much she thought she needed it – it was bad enough that she spent half of the night sweating through her shirt and chewing on ice cubes to distract herself from the slow downward spiral of her thoughts. Not addicted, she’d remind herself, nursing a cup with rapidly melting ice as she watched Max and Caroline put themselves in weird ass situations. Psychologically, no. Physically…who knows. Tess certainly doesn’t know what that means, but she’s not addicted, period.

Her first therapy appointment was scheduled for Monday afternoon. She just had to hold out until then. Tess hopes that she would glean something useful from her counselor, but she’s been self aware and independent enough for years that she’s usually good at identifying her problems, though slightly less efficient at figuring out what to do about them. Her typical coping methods included a casual mantra of, ‘Pitbull’s been there, done that,’ and running a couple of drills in the quiet of the gym. And, sure – it sounds weird, but the idea that she’s not the only person facing an issue is comforting enough that she wonders if it’s even that deep. It works most of the time and she’s able to shrug it off. She will admit there’s an eventual crash out one way or the other, but she prefers one big explosion over a series of small, ill-timed ones.

With nothing but time on Thursday night, her Google search history consisted of queries such as how long does it take to establish alcohol dependence and symptoms of alcohol withdrawals. Then, around 3am, she got distracted and switched over to TikTok where she scrolled through edits of herself, but that’s less important. She learned that establishing alcohol dependence usually varies from person to person (Tess hates when something ‘depends;’ why can’t there ever be a straight answer?). It’s less clear if she’s officially ‘addicted,’ but she will concede that after a month of heavy drinking, there’s a little something there. Which isn’t ideal, of course, but hopefully it’s mild at the least. It was only a month and people intervened early…ish – maybe if she sticks to recovery then she should be good and clear within a couple weeks at the most.

Google also informed her of the several symptoms of withdrawals, which usually set in anywhere from six to twenty-four hours after going cold-turkey on the drinks. The withdrawals explained, obviously, the need to ransack the liquor store, but also the restlessness, the slight headache she was nursing for the past twenty-four hours, and the perpetual stomach ache she couldn’t seem to get rid of.

She had some answers. So, things were looking up!

…At least they were until she got the call from Amaya at 9:30 as she was struggling to eat a bagel. Google also mentioned a loss of appetite, which Tess was less than happy about. Much like everything else about her recovery, she would have to force herself into doing a lot of things that her body didn’t want her to do. She’d get used to it. She lets her phone ring for a short moment before she sighs, accepting the call and putting it on speaker, greeting Amaya.

“Good morning, Tess!” Amaya chirps, unusually chipper. The basketball player immediately frowns, brows furrowing.

“You get laid?” she asks, unsure of what else Amaya could be happy about in her life.

She can almost hear Amaya’s eye roll from across the line. “No, not that it’s any of your business, though.”

“Boo.”

“Anyways, back to business.” Amaya clears her throat. Tess can hear the slight shuffle of papers. “So, I really liked what you and Paige did, soft-launch wise. The press is eating it up and so far, both of your brand deals are seeing a slight surge in activity. I’m guessing people are flocking to your accounts for raunchy details and seeing you advertise, um, really cool make up products and homework help.” Tess huffs out a laugh at that. “Good job. Also, Craig let me know you showed up to PT as scheduled on Wednesday and did really well. He said you and Paige worked really well together–”

“Stop,” Tess says, listening to the sound of Amaya’s smug laugh. “Don’t insinuate anything.”

“I’m not insinuating anything!” Amaya says defensively and Tess cracks a smile. “So, we just need you and Paige to keep up what you’re doing. Do the small things for a couple of weeks, then hard-launch. We’re going to give you guys most of the control over that. We want it to seem more authentic and less like two PR agencies trying to salvage their clients’ images.”

“Of course,” Tess says innocently. “She’s coming to PT today. Then I’m going with her to the airport tomorrow.”

Amaya sighs dreamily. “You’re such a wonder to work with when you’re being cooperative.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tess grumbles, giving up on the bagel and tossing it in the trash.

“Alright, one more thing,” Amaya continues, “then I’ll let you go.” Tess hums. “I need you to draft an apology to post on your socials – and I know, it sounds corny, but–”

“You don’t need to explain why,” Tess interrupts softly. “I got it. I fucked up and I made a huge mess. I’ll email that to you Saturday night.”

Amaya is quiet for a moment, contemplative. “Thank you, Tess. And, hey, how are you feeling?”

Tess doesn’t answer for a beat, considering keeping her thoughts to herself, but she reminds her promise to Kamilla to not shut anyone out, so she sighs. “Um, not gonna lie, I didn’t sleep at all last night,” she admits. “My knee hurt and I really wanted to drink – but I didn’t! I binge watched TV and ate ice cubes. Probably not the best thing I could have done but it was all I had to work with.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Amaya says gently. “It’s gonna be hard for a while, especially when your injury is still new and fresh and you’re all over the place mentally. I’m proud of how you handled it, even if you think you could have done better. Don’t forget you can call that counselor, okay? She’s available at all hours for you.”

“I don’t wanna be a bother–”

“It’s her job,” Amaya states, before adding in a more mother-hen tone, “but she also requested to work with you specifically because this issue is close to her and she really wants to help you. So if you need help, call her. Got it?”

Tess blinks back the impending tears. “Yeah. Got it.”

“Listen, I’m proud of you, I mean it,” Amaya reiterates. “Thank you for being patient and doing this. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tess says again. “Talk to you soon.”

Amaya hangs up with one final goodbye. Tess presses her head to the cool counter tile and takes a deep breath. She hardly has the time to think before a knock sounds at the apartment door. Already knowing it was Paige, Tess wipes her eyes and slips her crutches under her arms as she slinks towards the door and opens it.

“Mornin!’” Paige greets, far too cheery for barely ten in the morning. She’s holding two cups of coffee in her hands. When Tess glances down, she easily recognizes her coffee order. Then, a frown covers Paige’s face as she walks in and shuts the door behind her. “You good, ma?”

“Just a tough conversation with Amaya,” Tess says as Paige hands her the drink. She takes a long sip, feeling a little more regulated. “Too many feelings.”

Paige smirks at her. “I’m guessin’ she said the same shit my manager called for? ‘Keep up the good work and keep doing couple-y stuff?’”

Tess hums. “More or less. Oh, I also get to publicly apologize, so there’s that.”

The blonde raises a brow as Tess hands back the coffee cup so she can slip into her shoes. “You? Apologize?”

Tess swats her with her crutch, drawing laughter from Paige. “You’re such a jerk. I apologized to you on Wednesday!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you called me a whore,” Paige says with a dramatic pout. “Really hurt my women-respecting feelings.”

“Please walk me to PT and stop talking.”

And Paige does just that. She holds onto both of their coffees as they walk as Tess’s hands are otherwise preoccupied with her crutches. The silence doesn’t last too long before Paige is rambling about all of the questioning she’s getting from her teammates, and Tess can’t help but listen – correction, she has no other choice but to. Paige admits that she doesn’t like keeping secrets from her team, and Tess feels sympathetic enough that she gives Paige the go-ahead to confess their little ruse. Paige’s denial, however, is shockingly mature. “I trust them not to say sum’ maliciously, right? But you never know who’s listening.”

Tess shrugs a shoulder. “If you change your mind, go for it, okay?” she says. “This is our punishment. Don’t wanna fuck up your friendships.”

“S’all good,” Paige says. “Actually, they’re pretty happy about it. Aubrey thinks I’ll play better next season since I ‘got a girl.’”

Tess snorts. “Yeah, you’ll play better until March, then I’ll get cleared to be back on the court and I’ll drop 25 on you.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “No way, ma. Try 2-point-5. As in 2.5 turnovers every time I guard you.”

Their banter continues until they reach the PT’s office. Craig greets them with an infectious grin and Tess immediately brightens. He helps her take the brace off of her leg and rolls up her pant leg, poking and prodding at her injury. After just a day and a half of actual care, much of the inflammation has reduced.

Craig walks her through some guided exercises, and much to Tess’s silent appreciation, Paige joins them, too. She has a charming smile on her face the entire time, tacking on ridiculous jokes at the absolute worst moments when Tess is out of breath from the stretch and when laughing feels like gasping for air. Paige is strangely helpful. She boosts both Tess’s morale, comforting her in the fact she’s not doing this alone, but she also has a plethora of tips on how to manage the pain and get a better stretch on the exercises. Her hands are warm on Tess’s knee when she adjusts her leg and the way it bends. Craig looks on with an approving nod, though he jokes that Paige is coming for his job, to which Paige huffs, “Tess don’t listen to me.” Tess can only roll her eyes at that, pretending like she doesn’t care about the way Paige’s hands massage the tension out of her leg.

When Craig steps out to grab his wrapping supplies, Paige stretches out her legs and reaches for her phone. “For the gram?” she asks easily, glancing at Tess for permission.

“Don’t call it that,” she grumbles, but nods anyway and pulls out her own phone. “You sound like an old person.”

“You sound like an old person,” Paige mocks, effectively lowering her age by a solid ten years, and Tess rolls her eyes in amusement. She slides a little closer to Tess, reaching for her left leg and draping it over her right one gently, locking their ankles together. “Good?” Tess hums, looking over Paige’s shoulder and throwing a thumbs up into view of the camera. “You’re so unoriginal,” Paige says, but she sticks her free hand in frame and presses her middle and ring fingers to her thumb, raising her index and pinky in the Husky salute.

“That’s basically a hard launch,” Tess says, though she doesn’t really care.

“Everything we do is a hard launch,” Paige retorts. “We got Instagram detectives, remember?”

Tess mulls it over for a second before turning to Paige with a mischievous grin. “You wanna break the internet?”

“Oh, now we’re talking.”

Paige posts her picture to her story, forgoing any sort of caption, and silences her phone. She gives Tess her undivided attention as she plots. Tess pulls Paige closer into her space, hooking her chin over her right shoulder and leaning against her. Setting up her phone at the right angle, she says, “Look to your left,” and Paige does so until her piercings, half of her low bun, and the slight curve of her jaw are the only things in frame. The lights glint off of the diamond studs in her ears – Tess has to resist a smirk at how obvious the picture is, but she quickly controls her expression, her lips drawing into a natural pout as she takes the photo.

“Got it?” Paige asks, tilting her head to look at the photo. A smile covers her face as she takes it in. “Tess, you’re evil. Everyone is gonna flip.”

“My notifications are going to explode,” she says forlornly. “This is the price I pay to be mysterious and sexy.”

“Mysterious, nah,” Paige says. Her eyes linger on Tess’s face for a moment before she breaks out into a grin. “Sexy…? Hell nah.”

Indignant, Tess pushes her away, sending Paige sprawling to the floor dramatically. “Asshole! What happened to those ‘women-respecting feelings?’”

“You just pushed me to the ground!” Paige cries. “Where are your women-respecting feelings?”

Craig walks in just then, his face morphing into amused confusion as he looks between the two of them, wrapping supplies in hand. “Am I interrupting something?” he jokes.

Tess tries to keep the blush off of her cheeks. “Paige is just being mean to me,” she declares. “Poor Tess Kennedy whose left knee doesn’t even work.”

“Bro!” Paige’s tone is exasperated, and it brings a smile to Tess’s face. “You’re full of sh–” Paige cuts herself off with a cough. “...Sharks. Full of sharks.”

Craig chuckles as he examines Tess’s knee one last time before nodding and beginning to wrap it. “Same stuff, okay? Ice it when you do independent exercise, keep using your crutches, absolutely nothing strenuous.”

Tess nods, thanking Craig and heading out with Paige at her side. Even though the PT combined with her lack of sleep the night before has left her exhausted, Tess is in a significantly better mood than she started the day with. It’s likely too early into her recovery to feel any sort of earth-shattering hope, but she can’t help but feel like she’s doing it. She has yet to attend her first therapy appointment and the light at the end of the tunnel is still ten months away, but it feels like she’s making it out alive. And for now, that’s good enough for her.

MAY 6, 2023

Sleep comes easier to her Friday night. The cravings returned in full force as she was getting ready for bed, but Tess was exhausted – she took a melatonin gummy and passed out, although her knee woke her up a time or two. She felt well-rested for the first time in a couple of days. The drinking numbed her enough that she was able to sleep, but the abrupt cut-off has her body in disarray. It’s a double-edged sword. Her body craves it, but every time she thinks about a drink, she’s so disgusted at the thought that she can nearly taste the bile in her mouth. While it makes the cravings subside for a moment, they always return. She takes Tylenol in the morning to ward off the impeding headache and chugs a cup and a half of water, feeling as though she needs to flush all the bullshit out of her body.

Kamilla and Bree are up early and the three of them mill about the kitchen as they prepare a light breakfast. It was a Saturday morning tradition for them, usually consisting of pancakes, bacon, and eggs and a lengthy conversation about their weeks or anything in general. They’ve missed out on it for the past month for…obvious reasons that Tess already nurses a lot of guilt over, but she’s keen on making up for lost time. Kam and Bree put her on bacon duty as it’s the least strenuous. She portions the meat in the pan and slides it into the oven as Kam and Bree bicker over their shared stovetop space.

It’s grounding. Tess contributes where she can, enjoying the peace of the moment and laughing along with her teammates when they say something stupid. It nearly makes her forget about her knee, about the guilt she’s working through as she continues to make amends. Part of her wonders why she’d ever resorted to shutting everyone out and losing herself when all she really needed was to just let them in. She watches Kam shout in indignation as Bree jokingly flicks a bit of pepper into her pancake batter, and all Tess can think about is how could she ever hurt those girls. She remembers her promise. Tess has let too many terrible things become a habit, but she refuses to let mistreating her friends be a continued one.

They all sit to eat and the chatter only stops long enough to pass around their bottle of maple syrup and the butter. Kam and Bree ask how PT’s been going, and Tess is honest when she answers. She’s only two days into it and more often than not, it hurts – but she knows it’s for the better. She doesn’t voice the worry that she might stop taking it as seriously once Paige is back in Connecticut. Tess was only partially joking when she told Craig she had an enforcer. Paige holds her accountable in a way she’s been trying to force herself into doing, but her mind is still such a mess that it’s difficult and all she wants to do is mope in bed all day. She knows Kam and Bree wouldn’t let her live that down and she doesn’t want them to feel like she still needs a babysitter.

They tell her that they're proud of her, and Tess feels the tears well up as she tells them to shut up.

“She’s so back,” Kamilla cheers, high-fiving Bree. “Our little ball of sunshine.” Tess can only roll her eyes.

Breakfast ends and Kam and Bree ensure that they’ve got the dishes. The clock on the stove reads 10:30. Tess knows that Paige is likely on her way. She hugs them both, promising to be back once she’s seen her off, and slips into her shoes just as a knock rings out at the door.

Paige’s brows draw into a dramatic furrow once they come face to face. “Damn, you opened this door mad quick,” she says. “Tryna get rid of me that fast?”

Tess cracks a smile, shutting the door behind them with the leg of her crutch. “The sooner you’re out of South Carolina, the better.” They walk down the hallway.

Paige sighs as she punches the elevator button for the lobby. “You’ll miss me,” she says, assured. “You’re gonna miss me bringin’ you coffee, DoorDashing you Chipotle, and making sure you don’t re-tear your ACL.”

“On the contrary…I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet.” Paige shoots her a dirty look and Tess can’t help but laugh.

Paige escorts her to the Uber she has waiting for them. She holds onto Tess’s crutches as she helps her into the passenger side backseat, laying her leg flat against the leather. Her foot nearly brushes the door. Confused and wondering what Paige is doing, the blonde shuts the door and rounds the side. As she settles in, she drapes Tess’s leg over her lap. “You good?”

Mouth dry, all Tess can do is nod, and Paige leans forward enough to instruct their Uber driver to head to the airport. Her palm falls flat on Tess’s shin, her thumb brushing against her leg, and with the way Paige stares out of the window, it’s almost like she doesn’t even register what she’s doing. Their ride is quiet, save for the driver's soft R&B that Paige bobs her head to. Tess slips her phone out of her pocket and snags a quick photo, flipping her phone screen to show her. Paige smiles at her wordlessly, knowing they shouldn’t verbally scheme in front of the driver, and Tess posts the photo to her story.

She refreshes her feed, combing through all of the shit she’s been tagged in from various college basketball update accounts and Instagram sleuths. She and Paige are the face of a new account named taigeupdates – which Tess is assuming is supposed to be their ship name? Given that the alternative is Pess – not that Tess has given it any thought, because she hasn’t! – she could live with it. The admin already has Tess’s story reposted and the comments are flooding in with many begging for an official hard launch since it’s already obvious.

Their driver parks in the designated drop off lane and Paige helps Tess out of the backseat, ensuring she’s stable on her crutches before she’s looping around to the trunk and pulling her carry-on and suitcase out. Tess can already feel the eyes on them, the hushed whispers of, “Is that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy?” And despite years in the spotlight, she can’t help the anxious flush that creeps up on her neck. Having so many eyes on her makes her feel vulnerable enough, but combined with the fact she has a huge brace on her leg and she’s walking around with crutches? She feels uncomfortable, like she’s a pacing animal behind bars in the zoo.

“Ready?” Paige murmurs, stepping up behind her, pressing her free hand to the palm of Tess’s back. The touch comforts her slightly, but only because she’s accustomed to Paige right now and because they’re in this together. Tess gives her a solid nod, tightening her hands around the bars of her crutches. The blonde moves her hand down to her hip to give her a reassuring squeeze before placing it at the center of her back. Paige leads them into the airport, though she leans down, her mouth close to Tess’s ear as she whispers. “We shoulda talked about this earlier, but…what’s on and off limits right now?”

Tess swallows, trying to ignore the nerves. “Just do whatever feels right,” she answers honestly. “The media knows we just spent three days together, right? Don’t overthink it. I’m your girlfriend sending you off at the airport. Make it look like that and not two strangers trying to look the part.”

Paige grins insufferably at her. “Aw, I think that’s the first time you claimed me,” she says. Tess rolls her eyes, tempted to swat her with her crutch, but decides against it. The last thing she needs is Paige tripping and fucking up her knee even more. “So…nothing's off limits?”

“You wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid,” Tess says, nudging Paige with her elbow. From the corner of her eye, she can see the phone camera pointed at them, so she swallows her pride and looks up to Paige with a grin. “I think we should hug for sure. Anything else is too soon...like I said, we've spent three days together. I don't U-Haul.”

“Fine by me,” Paige says, looking far too comfortable as she walks through the airport. “Don't wanna do nothing you're uncomfortable with. Even if it would break the Internet. I know you like that shit.” Tess shrugs, but she was pleased with the media’s reaction so far. Between the two of them, Paige was definitely the menace and chaos-monger, although Tess enjoyed setting a fire once in a while. They finally reach Paige’s terminal and she leaves Tess’s side long enough to check in at the counter.

While she’s gone, a teenage girl approaches Tess with a shy expression, phone clutched in hand. “Excuse me, are you Tess Kennedy?” she asks.

“Guilty,” Tess jokes, leaning on her healthy leg.

“Do you mind if I get a picture?”

Tess shakes her head, saying, “Not at all,” as she moves to stand next to the girl. She angles the phone and Tess throws up a peace sign, grinning, and she snaps the photo. Before either of them can say anything else, Paige is walking back from the check in counter and the girl looks like she’s about to start doing cartwheels.

“Is that–”

“Unfortunately,” Tess sighs, which makes the girl laugh and Paige narrows her eyes. Remembering where they are, Tess smiles innocently.

“Can I get another picture with the both of you?”

Paige and Tess can’t resist. Paige rarely turns down her supporters in the first place, and all Tess can think about when she’s in these situations is all the times she’s ever met her idols and how it changed her life. Being in a situation to give back to the youth like that is one of the best parts about playing basketball. They pose on either side of the teenager as she takes the photo, and after quick hugs and a lot of gratitude, Paige and Tess are left alone.

Tess checks the time, realizing that Paige is boarding soon. The overhead PA confirms as much and Paige glances at Tess once more, hiking her carry-on bag higher on her shoulder. “You gonna miss me?” she asks teasingly, and Tess taps her chin, thinking.

“Hmm,” she ponders. “Not one bit.”

“You will,” Paige says confidently. “I got motion like that.” Tess rolls her eyes, unable to curb the warm fondness in her chest. She just pretends like it doesn’t exist. “Make sure you eat, alright? And go to PT. And be real with your therapist. Lemme hear you’re bein’ irresponsible and I’ll fly back down to set you straight.”

“Yes, Paige. Anything else?”

Paige shrugs, an easy smile on her face. “I know you pretend like you’ont like me, but I had fun with you. Even when you were mean.”

“Not mean,” Tess argues weakly. She can’t hide how touched she is by Paige’s words. “Just trying to keep your ego at a reasonable level.”

“Whatever you say, ma,” the blonde concedes. She opens her arms and Tess forgets all about the media, their story, whatever it is they’re supposed to be pretending to do as she wraps her arms around Paige’s waist. She could care less about the cameras, about the social media explosion they’re undoubtedly causing. Paige’s hands are warm on her back and her perfume makes Tess’s head spin. “Gimme a call if you need anything, I mean it. Don’t try to do this by yourself. Promise me.”

“Promise,” Tess vows. Paige pulls back ever so slightly, her eyes studying Tess’s face as her hands slide down her back, resting on her hips. Paige smiles at her and gives her a gentle squeeze before pulling away completely. She and Paige are both flushed, though the red creeping up Tess’s neck feels strangely like embarrassment.

“Call you when I land?” she asks quietly. Tess nods, forcing a smile, and they share their final goodbyes before Paige walks away.

Tess watches as she goes, suddenly hyper aware of the cameras and the crowd, and she holds back a sigh. She needs to get it together. None of that was real. She’s just a mess emotionally, touch-starved after a month-long crash out, and she’s letting it get to her head. She’ll feel more regulated after a nap and some stretches.

Hopefully.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

❋ It wasn't your fault - Sweet gentle priest!Javi G x hurt grumpy!Joel Miller Javi G helps Joel to accept his loss.

❋ Perfect - Soft Boyfriend!Joel Miller x Curvy AFAB!reader When you're feeling insecure about your body, Joel knows exactly how to get you through it.

❋ Be Still, My Foolish Heart - Soft Single Dad!Joel Miller x Curvy f!reader A meet cute at the clinic where you work leads to finding the best date you could ask for.

❋ Happy Birthday, Little Finch - Jackson!Joel Miller x AFAB!reader Everyone forgets your birthday but you receive an unexpected invitation (wink) that will change the fate of the day. (No spoilers from the original second game, Jackson is totally made up by me)

❋ Guess - Boyfriend!Joel Miller x AFAB!reader Joel guesses the color of your underwear during a dinner at a restaurant… PWP inspired by Guess by Charli xcx featuring Billie Eilish.

❋ Special Needs - DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader You convince Joel that you can help him get more exercise.

❋ Shirt On - Sub!Joel Miller x Soft dom f!reader Joel getting pegged by you while you wear his plaid shirt. ❋ On a razor's edge - Joel Miller x f!reader Joel helps you shave. There.

❋ It Started Out With a Kiss, How Did It Ended Like This? - Young!Joel Miller x f!reader You meet Joel at a party, everything is fine, he’s beautiful… will it end well?

❋ The Right Ones - Soft Boyfriend!Joel Miller x reader Your period comes early and Joel offers to go to the supermarket for you. (written in a neutral way so every person who menstruates can identify with it)

❋ Slow - Joel Miller x afab!reader Drabble. Just pure smut.

❋ It Feels Like Hope - Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader There's a new parish priest in your parish and he's very different from anyone you've ever met.

❋ We All Need Someone - Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader Joel says I love you for the first time.

❋ Hold It - Joel Miller x afab!reader (p!ss kink)

❋ Hold it pt 2 - Joel Miller x afab!reader (p!ss kink)

❋ Do you think I'm your babygirl? I think the fuck not - Joel Miller x afab!reader A casual fling with Joel. He calls you babygirl and you get triggered. For reasons.

❋ Something Rotten - Dark!QZJoel x afab!reader x Dark!QZ Tess Dead dove do not eat - Joel and Tess catch you stealing from their apartment. Consequences are inevitable and cruel.

❋ A heart that hurts is a heart that works - Dark! QZ Joel x afab!reader x Dark! QZ Tess Dead dove do not eat - a sequel for Something Rotten that digs a little bit more into reader's mind.

❋ Waffles for Breakfast - Joel Miller x afab!reader Joel makes you breakfast. I mean, he tries really hard.

❋ You know what I love? - just a melancholic drabble about my fav man

❋ A Good Grade - Joel Miller x afab!reader You always thought you would have a future in the art world, until you met Mr. Miller, your professor who decided to make your life hell. What are you willing to do for a good grade?

❋ Please - Joel Miller x gn!reader Filthy drabble about sucking the man off

[sunflowersteves]

only for you || j.m.

pairing || joel miller x fem!reader

summary || there was one routine that you and Joel never broke, not even when the world goes up in flames.

author's note || a part two to singing in the shower! but also can be read as a stand alone. this was supposed to be posted two sunday’s ago but um procrastination kicked in. hope you enjoy <3

warnings || angst, some fluff, mentions of death, canon typical violence mentions, reader is five years younger, soft!joel, hurt/comfort, joel with wet hair, SMUT, vaginal sex, praise kink, soft sex, creampie, soft dom!joel, [18+ only]

Joel wasn’t as soft as he used to be. 

His calm, gentle smile that shined when you and Sarah danced around in the kitchen, listening to Johnny Cash, had faded into hard lines and gray stubble. His movements were brash and jarring, almost threatening with his hard-set glare that bore into everyone around him. 

He never smiled anymore, not really. 

His lips would quirk slightly upwards in amusement from your insults to other people in the QZ that deserved it, or his lips would curl in delight from the safe haven of his apartment, but that was all you really got. You didn’t complain much, though. It wasn't like you smiled that often either. 

Only with him. Only with each other.

Instead, Joel tended to show his affection toward you in ways of touch.

He was protective—that much is true. Any time you had to leave the albeit protection of Boston for whatever reason, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. He would have his hand guiding you by the small of your back. His arm would reach out to stop you from walking any further to the dangerous depths of the unknown.

He always squeezed your wrist in anticipation of what was to come. He never lets you walk behind him, ever. You are always first. He would make hard-set rules with you on outing trips, despite the grit of your teeth from irritation. 

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t handle yourself. No, he knew that. He has watched you decapitate a shambler or two over the years. He has seen you take on about five men at a time and make it out with only a couple of stab wounds. He knows you can handle yourself just fine. 

He just couldn't bear to lose you. Not on his watch. He has lost a fuck ton in his life, and the thought of losing something that is keeping him on his last thread and something so pure and good to him—well, it terrifies him. 

You are the only thing that matters to him.

So, his only way of truly showing affection, to know nothing has changed with how he truly feels about you, was through his feather-light touches and protective manner. 

It was endearing, really. You knew he still loves, and fuck, did you still love too. 

There was one guarantee, though, through all of his overbearing protectiveness and crinkled wrinkles of menacingly deadly eyes that you knew Joel was still enamored by you. There was one constant—a routine that never changed. If there was one thing he could look forward to, it was that constant. It was you that he could rely on.

It was simple, really. It almost seemed stupid that there was one moment in time every single day that the two of you could count on one another. 

You both always showered together. Always.

It didn’t matter if the water was cold or if there was barely even any water, to begin with. It didn’t even matter if you weren’t in the QZ. Overgrown hot springs and vastly green rivers still counted as getting clean. The shower walls of your shared apartment weren't the biggest, either, but the two of you made it work. 

But that one constant that he could always look forward to was holding you in the shower and pressing gentle kisses against the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He craved it.

Joel would always walk through the front door with a grunt after getting home from smuggling Oxy to some FEDRA soldier with Tess. He was tired, absolutely exhausted. He was like that pretty much every day, and he could feel his age catching up with him. 

You were sitting criss crossed on the beat-up couch, reading Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. He could feel something beat and sprout across his chest at the sight. You have read that book probably about ten times by now, and yet you read it all the same with an immersed furrowed brow.

He had gotten the book for your birthday a couple of years ago. He watched you unwrap the shitty old newspaper with animated eyes as you stared at the cover.

He could’ve sworn he saw tears on your lash line. You enveloped him into a hug—hands pressing tightly against his back to keep him close and you kept him there. You both sat like that for a long time. 

He always loved watching you read. He didn’t pay that much attention before everything went to shit, but now, it was his favorite pastime.

Your lips would lick the corner of your mouth in concentration, and your eyes rapidly scanned each individual page as if you were hanging on the edge of your seat. It was always a heartfelt reminder for him of you—of how much he truly cherishes you.

Before the outbreak, you had been a philosophy professor at UT Austin. It’s how you met, actually. You were grading papers in a coffee shop when you saw the two of them walk in. Sarah had begged him for a chocolate chip muffin, and since it was a special occasion to be in the heart of the city, he couldn’t resist saying yes. He had accidentally bumped into your table, causing the three of you to have a lengthy conversation as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Long day, handsome?”

His eyes focus back on you. It was like his thoughts had put him in a trance until your soft voice punctured the air. 

You were peering through the dusty book, and a ghost of a smile wrapped around your lips. He nodded, stretching out his hand for you to take it. You dog-eared the book and placed it face down on the couch. You took his hand—feeling the dry calluses and rough skin.

“Long fuckin’ day.”

He guided you to the cramped bathroom, and you squeezed his hand. He turned on the shower head while you took off your shirt and pants. A shiver ran through your body from the lack of isolated heat. He did the same, unbuttoning his plaid shirt and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. 

He stepped into the shower to place his hand under the water to test it as if he didn’t know that the water was barely even warm. He did it every single time you two bathed. Every time. It was all routine. 

You let him guide you into the shower, eyes noticing his own trailing down your figure. Every single day, he couldn’t help but look at your beautiful curves and supple skin.

He wanted to admire you for the rest of his days. He wanted the scene of you washing your body of dirt and grime to be seared into his brain like a farmer branding some cattle. You close the curtain behind you and watch as his eyes never leave you. 

“Pretty girl.” He whispered into your ear. You felt yourself softly smile—something you hadn’t done in hours, not since Joel woke you up with a kiss on your cheek. 

You let the feeling of him wash over your body and soul, his arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close. He smelled earthy and bold, with a hint of cedar from his own musk. You could feel his chest fall and rise against your shoulder blades, and his chin dug into your shoulder—endearingly.

You let out a hum before untangling his arms. As much as you love these moments, you know you shouldn't waste too much water. You rubbed a shampoo bar into your hands and lathered them together to create a sudsy mess. Joel felt his eyes flutter close in anticipation for your hands to dig into his hair.

He lets out a soft moan when your hands finally grab hold of his hair. His jaw slacks open, and you try to suppress a smile from his relaxed state. Your hands scratched against his scalp to clean all of the dirt and oil off of him. Joel’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head from the euphoric emotions that sunk deep within his chest. 

His eyes snap open in disbelief when he feels your hands leave his hair, and you almost laughed aloud. He could see the amused expression radiate off of you, and he felt himself heat up—you never failed to make him feel a certain way.

You gasped as you felt his hand harshly grip your hips, but you saw a bright smile wrapping around his face that almost made you freeze. His smile. It punctured the air and made your head feel dizzy with delight. Your eyes rake over his pearly teeth and deep wrinkled lines on his cheeks. It was ethereal. He was ethereal. 

“What you starin’ at, pretty girl?”

You pressed your thumb into the crevasse of his dimple, and his eyes fluttered back closed. “I think you’re the pretty one.”

He lets out a small snort. “Not a day in hell.” His Texas accent was gruff against the planes of your ear. His hand trailed itself up to rest on your cheek, thumb swiping so soft and caring that it brought a bigger smile to your lips. “Ain’t pretty at all.” 

“I beg to differ, Miller.” His eyes crinkled in a smile at the use of his last name—knowing you were super serious now. But the teasing gleam of your eyes told him otherwise. “You’re too pretty.”

He clicks his tongue. “Too pretty, huh? Think I’m takin’ a run for your money?”

You shake your head in bubbled-up laughter—adoration spreading from your shoulders to your toes. Throughout all of the tragedy and suffering this world has put the two of you through, you are so elated to have each other. 

“Oh, handsome, you took it and buried it deep.” He rolled his eyes and gently pinched your cheek to get you to stop teasing. Although, if there’s one dynamic that never changed, it was giving each other shit. 

He lets out a huff. “Whatever you say.”

You gently guided him under the stream of water and rinsed out all of the shampoo. You cupped a hand over his eyes to avoid any product from stinging his eyes. You turn to pump some expired conditioner in your hands, but his rough fingertips halt you to a stop.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

After Joel relaxed in the lukewarm shower with you, he always got a little soft. Even if the shower was no less than five minutes, you could always tell how much he enjoyed it.

It reminded him of home. It reminded him a little bit of what once was or what could be. 

He always stares—lovingly—at your newly clean body. He watched your chest rise and fall so gently from the calm atmosphere of your apartment.

His soft brown eyes skated across your figure with such love—such hope and elation. He felt like he was in pure bliss just from the exhilarated feeling of the thrill of your gentle touches caressing his skin. 

He felt whole in these moments with you. 

He watched you gently rub expired lotion onto your skin. Boston was always humid and lacked the airy feel of dry Texas winters, but the frigid cold of light snowfall always broke out your skin. Joel loved to feel your soft curves, and his hands would spread across your legs to relish in the feeling. He was obsessed with your thighs, too, gripping and nipping at them until you had to tug his hands away. 

You stood near the bed to find that his eyes were already on you—his naked form sitting on the uncomfortable mattress. His wet hair glistened underneath the yellow glow of the overhead light. He looked so handsome like that. The gray hairs poked loudly against his soft brown ones, and you watched as the water dripped down his neck. 

“C’mere.” You didn’t need to be told twice before taking your seat onto his legs—straddling his waist and your hands gripping his shoulder. His thighs were tense and hard, muscles flexing underneath your own.

“Y’smell so sweet—” He whispered into the frizz of your hair. His hands rested on your hips, while his fingertips squeezed around your love handles. “Could eat you right up.”

You looked into those grumpy brown eyes, and pure adoration sprouted from your chest and into your lungs. He was intoxicating in each and every way, from his rough exterior to his soft lingering touches that send love aches into your bones. 

“Joel.” You whispered.

You pressed your lips against him, tasting burnt coffee and of him, that lingered in your mouth. Your lips were molding together with each open-mouthed kiss and teeth clashing to be closer and closer. You could feel yourself start to squirm in his lap, and he had to have a tight grip just to keep you somewhat still. 

Your hands pushed themselves into his damp hair, spreading your fingers across each strand. You pulled gently at the base of his neck, and a moan vibrated against your lips.

He pulled away from you—much to your dismay—to reach and pull down your underwear. The material pooled around your ankles, and you anticipatingly shrugged them off. 

“Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.” 

You shivered from the suspense of what was to come, but you wanted to stop him from taking control. He deserved to be loved on too. He deserved to feel the euphoric dance that pooled in his stomach just like you did. 

You shook your head. “W-Wanna ride you, Joel. Please.” He let out a shaky breath because god, he could never say no to you. You could ask for all the stars in the sky, and he would give them to you in a heartbeat. 

He finally nodded after gaining composure and re-adjusted his hands to rest more gently on your torso. You could tell your wetness dripped from your lips and spread to your hood. Your walls ache and plead for the sweet stretch of his cock. 

You watched his cock twitch from your glistening cunt. He knew you were wet. He always knew. He could practically taste it on his tongue if he thought hard enough, but his brain couldn’t catch up. Not when you take your hand to position his length and slowly sink down onto him. 

He let out a groan as he listened to your sweet whimpers. “S-Shit.” 

You both stayed still for a moment while you caught your breath from the long stretch of his cock. No matter the twenty or so years you have been together, you could never get used to his thick cock filling you up to the brim. 

“Fuck, baby, feel so fuckin’ tight.” And you always did. You always hugged him completely and squeezed until your juices ran down his thighs. You were always fucking heaven. 

The gentlest of moans left your throat, and as if he wanted to capture them, Joel started pressing kisses up and down your neck. “Y’take me so well, darlin’.”

You grind up and sink your way back down, a whine escaping you. His eyes are glued to watching himself disappear inside of you—hands tightening once again around your love handles. “Goddamn, baby—”

“Fuck, Joel. Yes—”

Your thighs spread even wider as you snapped back down his length—the soft cushion of the bedspread flushed against your knees. “You like this hmm? Like bein’ in control?” His words slurred together, and he took in every snap and roll of your hips.

You nodded. “Love when you’re a mess for me, Joel.” Your head lulled back, and he groaned—sultry and deep as it hit your ears. “Yeah, Joel, Yes—”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek in the softest of ways and it made Joel’s brain short-circuit. He whimpered at the contact of your skin and the simultaneous rock of your hips. You could barely make out the next sentence he says because you squeezed his cock, and Joel became too drunk off of you.

“Fuck, d-darlin’, baby—shit—” He gasped and puffed—chest heaving from the pure sensation of your spongey walls. You started to feel that familiar coil wrap against your stomach, pushing yourself to find that angle. 

You started to lean more toward the side to grind and swirl your hips as fast as you could. You could tell the angle wasn’t quite right, so you tried again—gasping and moaning in the process. You almost wanted to groan in frustration alone when you still couldn’t find it. 

Joel just watched in amusement as you tried to find the spot he was always able to find. He almost didn’t say anything from your adorable expression until he saw the frown across your face. 

“You want me to help, darlin’?” You looked down to see a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. You almost wanted to say no, but you ground your hips again, causing the two of you to moan, and you gave in.

You mewled out. “Please, Joel. I-I need you.”

In one swift movement, Joel flipped you over so that your back was pressed up against the mattress. He presses a kiss to your calf as if it gave you any warning. He swung your leg right over his shoulder and thrust so deep inside you; you had to hold onto the bedroom wall behind you. “Fuck! Joel!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” His cock pounded into you, and he hit that spot over and over and over. You screamed into the night air and chanted his name as if it was the only thing on your mind—and it was. All you could think about was Joel.

“Joel! P-Please! Oh, Fuck—”

“Yeah? Gonna cum, sweet girl?” You couldn't even respond back to him because his thumb presses up against your clit, and your jaw slacks in a silent scream. “Cum for me. Please, pretty girl. Cum.” 

With a “JoelJoelJoel” and a clench of your walls, your juices flood around yours and his own thighs. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he thrusts through your climax. “Yeah. That’s it, darlin’. Look at you. Pretty thing.” He almost coos. He could watch you cum around his cock until it was the only thing he thought about. 

One, two, three thrusts into your sweet ecstasy, and Joel sighs out your name as he spills inside of you. Thick ropes of his cum filled your walls, and it caused you to clench once more. He pumped his cock to feel the sticky mess of his cum and yours as they swirled together inside of you. 

“So good for takin’ care of me, huh?” He joked, breathless. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple.

You fought the urge to punch his arm. Instead, you rolled over so your back was facing him. 

“Shut the fuck up, Miller.” 

He pulled you close and wrapped his arm around your torso. You reach around to squeeze his hand, causing a shadow of a smile to stretch his cheeks. You both always cuddled silently before having to take another, very cold, shower.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[t3l3vangelism]

NEW BOT ALRRT

new bots based on 8 songs that have been on repeat for me

note : just a small fyi, these are heavily, HEAVILY inspired by my lovers @voidsuites and @pearlzier!!! i meant to make wayyyyy more but like half of the songs I listen to on the daily are essentially about the same thing 😞

DEAN WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Sarah by Mojave 3

dean had a part in raising sam , but he knew he was entirely responsible for raising his youngest sibling, user. so when sam runs off to college and user tries to follow, dean pushed them away. years later, they reunite and dean still feels a little bitter that they left him behind.

SAM WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ California by Lana Del Rey

sam finally found solitude in someone else’s arms for the first time since jess passed. but when user starts asking too many questions about what he does for a living, sam decides to break it off for their safety whether they like it or not. months pass and sam finds himself back in california and dean heavily injured on a rough hunt. the nearest hospital is too far, but user is just down the block.

JOSH WASHINGTON ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ No one noticed by The Marias

after beth and hannah disappeared, josh formed a dependent relationship with user when they were the only one to show up in his time of need. now that everyone has agreed to return to his cabin for the one year anniversary of his sisters, josh can hardly stand anyone else holding user’s attention.

THEODORE NOTT ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ It’s good to be in love by Frou Frou

theo and user have been friends for years, user was really the only person he even considered a friend. over time, theo found himself growing feelings for user. however, user in in love with cedric. theo is forced to watch from afar, even growing distant from his friend until he accidentally confronted in them in the slytherin common room.

CARMEN BERZATTO ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Lover, you should’ve come over by Jeff Buckley

while carmen is trapped inside of his restaurant’s fridge, he goes through emotional turmoil thinking about the argument he got into with his partner the night before. richie obviously sensed the tension and tries to confront carmen while he can. his confrontation turns into a battle of fury until richie steps away, leaving carmen to scream against the metal door in front of him. he doesn’t know he’s alone until he’s faced with silence, he decides to break it by calling for the one person he hurt the most. he just hopes he wasn’t too deaf, dumb, and blind to lose them entirely.

JOEL MILLER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Here in California by Kate Wolfe

joel’s first real world lesson was taught by his mother; don’t fall in love too quickly before you learn to know yourself. as he got older, he realized how important his mother’s advice really was. but when the virus hit, it seemed to get lost in the translation. years later, joel has found himself forming a wordless bond with user, a stranger ellie had forced him to help when tess was still around. but now they were in tommy’s little community, spending their first night together in front of a dim fire and joel feels the need to enforce his mother’s word.

FRED WEASLEY ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey

fred basks in nature during the last few days of his honeymoon with user.

SYDNEY ADAMU ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ flamin hot cheetos by Clairo

sydney and user sit on the front steps of her apartment building, enjoying the crisp air of night. sydney rants about anything and everything she can about the recent hectic events since the opening of the bear. but when she realizes how intently user is staring at her, sydney’s mind once again wanders into questioning if the nature of their relationship is more than just friendly.

[brighttears]

Pheromones

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description other than having hair and female sex organs, no use of y/n

Summary: while searching through a mall with Tess, Joel, Tommy, and the couple others in your small group, you and Tess find a makeup store and decide to have some fun. It drives Joel crazy and you find out that he has just as big of a crush on you as you do on him. You sort it out in a furniture store. (Takes place pre-Boston)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), unprotected PiV, rough sex, Joel has a big ol wiener, public sex, hair pulling, creampie, Joel calls you a slut (with permission), dirty talk, pet names (baby, babygirl, pretty girl, sweetheart)

A/n: here’s another one from the drafts and some nastiness for the folks at home before I disappear for like a week bein busy 

—

“Ok, I’m warning you right now, Joel is going to fucking love this.” Tess tells you as she sweeps her finger over your eyelid with a very sparkly shadow called ‘lazy lapis’. You sit crossed legged in front of her next to a dirty floor length mirror, a collection of various makeup supplies spread between you.  

You giggle nervously, trying very hard to sound unbothered or confused or indifferent or something, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Joel,” she smiles, “you’re gonna drive him fuckin’ nuts with this.”

“Pff—what do you mean? Why?” You laugh too hard.

“Oh, you don’t have to lie to me. I can tell, and it’s the most entertaining shit I’ve seen in awhile so I’m encouraging you, actually.” She moves your head in her hands, pulling your other eyelid closed to brush on more sparkly blue.

You chuckle and nudge a question further, “Why is it gonna drive him crazy?”

“Because he’s a man, and he already thinks you’re hot, and I doubt he’s seen anyone done up like this in fuckin’ years. You really don’t have to do much at all to get him all hot and bothered. I’m surprised I haven’t caught him drooling already. Now, with the skirt and the shaved legs? Sister, he is done for.”

“Shut up.” You chuckle.  

“I’m right, and I can still tell you’re red under all that blush.”

“Fuck off!” You giggle, swatting her hands away, “Ok, that’s enough, your turn.”

“Fine, fine.” Tess smiles, handing you the palette, dropping her hands in her lap and closing her eyes for you with one more chuckle. 

You consider the sparkly palette and dip into ‘mossy mess’ to stroke gently over Tess’s lids. 

“So, you trying to make anyone ‘hot and bothered’?” You ask her.

“No one in particular. If the right one comes–a–knockin’, though…” You both laugh. “You’re lucky you’ve got one, though.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, one locked and loaded. Not trying to sound flippant, I just mean—and you can deny it all you want, and I know you’re both still just kickin’ rocks, but he’s got you and you’ve got him. That’s a special thing. It’s not just fucking.”

You hold her chin, tilting to assure it’s mostly even. “We’re not fucking.”

“Not yet you’re not.” She smiles. 

You remain quiet as you even out the eyeshadow on either side, glad that her eyes are closed so she can’t see how red you are. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, no, you’re fine, Tess. Here, look,” you take your hands away from her face and turn her to the mirror. While she turns her head left and right, examining herself, you comment, “Green is totally your color.” and smile. She returns a light one, then goes back to staring at herself. Finally, you ask softly, “…You ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just, haven’t… seen myself in makeup in a long time.” She chuckles, but you can see melancholy behind it in her eyes. She flattens strips of hair over her shoulders and down her chest.

“You look really beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She replies softly, then blinks, clears her throat, and turns to you with a smile. “Alright, where’s the lipstick?” 

Allowing back some childish fun, you both giggle, debating shades, laughing at their names, and making fun of each other. You settle on a pink lipgloss for her and she talks you into a blood red matte. The finishing touch is struggling to pencil on eyeliner and applying mascara. 

When you’re both all done, Tess whistles and you’re stuck on your reflection. It is a bit startling, firstly because of the bright colors Tess has picked out for you, and because of how much it changes your look. She shifts behind you and lays her head on your shoulder so that your faces are side by side. For a moment you just gawk at each other, then laugh. 

It’s a bit of a shock for both of you. One aspect is the experience itself, being ‘girlfriends’, playing with makeup, talking about boys, and feeling pretty. Your mind isn’t sure what to do with it—savor it, try to isolate it, forget what waits outside, or grieve for what’s already inside with you, what you can’t escape, no matter how much you pretend. 

Tess decides for you, sighing, “You know, I really, really missed this.”

You hum. “I never saw myself ever doing this at all.” You add, “But I’m really glad I’m doing it with you.”

She smiles brightly at you in the mirror. “Me too, kid.”

“Kid?” You turn to her with a smirk.

“You know I’m never gonna stop calling you that.” Tess slaps your shoulder after she pushes herself up from it. “Come on, we gotta get back. They’ll be sending out a search party any second.”

—

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Tommy announces your presence as you and Tess show yourselves back in the food court, getting the attention of the other three scattered around. Joel stands frozen facing you until Clancy throws a spoon at him, which then pings on the floor followed by Clancy’s laugh. Joel turns his head to him with a completely blank expression, except for his slack jaw, which remains down when he looks back at you. Tess elbows you, you shove her back, glancing at him a couple times before sitting down with Tess at a table across from Tommy and setting your packs down, the other seat filled by Neveah with signature lightning speed. 

“Was wonderin’ what was takin’ you two so long.” Tommy remarks, smirking. 

“You didn’t come and get me?” Nevaeh pouts dramatically. 

“We brought some things for you!” You assure her, and Tess sets on the table the paper bag you loaded up for her, which Nevaeh squeals over as she unpacks.

“Could you not make that fucking sound?” Clancy scolds, making Nevaeh’s smile fade and she hunches over a little, sticking her tongue out and making a face at the table instead of him. 

“Hey, could you suck my fucking dick, maybe?” Tess calls at him, humor absent on her face. She’s pretty much the only person he’s afraid of, and therefore pretty much the only one he’ll take seriously when she takes that tone. 

Refering to your perfume, he calls back, “You fucking stink, by the way.” 

“Smell way fuckin’ better than you.” Tess returns. 

He gives her a face but shuts up, turning back to digging through the ruins of an Auntie Ann’s. Tommy snickers. 

“You find anything good?” Tess asks him.

“I did not, but Joel found a furniture store.” “What’d you find in there?”

“Haven’t checked it out yet, wanted to touch base with you two first.”

“Well I wanna sit down, how about you go sweep it with him?” Tess looks at you. You stare at her, she stares unrelentingly back, smiling, “Come on, he’s not that bad.” You stomp on her foot, she cackles, and when you look at Joel he’s staring right back at you, looking like a deer in the headlights. Refusing isn’t really an option, because for one, it’ll look weirder to everyone else than if you just go, and you don’t want to hurt Joel’s feelings either. You do work well together, plus you’re friends, you like spending time with him, and… well, yeah, you kind of hope Tess is right about this ‘driving him fucking nuts’. You offer him a small smile and get up. 

“Go on, Joel, don’t leave the little lady hangin’.” Tommy says to him, Joel shoots him a look, and he cackles just like Tess had to you.

“It’s a big place,” Joel says as he joins you, “it might take a minute. But if we’re not back in an hour, start worryin’.” He calls over his shoulder as he starts out of the food court. 

“Alright, just scream if you find anything weird.” Clancy jokes. 

“Will do.” You salute him, turning on your heel to follow Joel. 

—

It’s silent for a few minutes before you break it to ask, “Are we almost there?”

“Uh, yeah, just around this corner here.”

“Pretty far.”

“Yeah.”

There’s only your footsteps until you’re at the wide glass doors, shattered along with the rest of the panels fronting the shop. 

You take your gun and flashlight from your pockets, crossing them over each other as he does and follow him in. 

The store is quite big, but wider rather than deep, with a separate room connected by a large open doorway. It doesn't take long to clear the first half due to it being one big open room, so all you have to do is walk around the perimeter, easily able to see over mostly tables, chairs, and couches, assisted by clear lighting coming through the open front windows. Joel glances back at you as you step into the next room, which is darker, the front windows covered by hanging racks of colorful, patterned rugs. Your heart rate increases as you flip through the racks, but there’s nothing hiding between them. The rest of the room is also relatively easy to run through though, being mostly beds. Once all cleared, you both take a deep breath and sit down on one of the large beds in the back corner, down the hall from the open doorway. The give from the bed surprises you and you let yourself sink in. 

“Wow.” You chuckle, looking at Joel.

“This must be one of those orthopedic mattresses,” he comments, lips curled. 

“If I laid down on this I would be asleep in fucking minutes, I guarantee it.”

You both chuckle, and then feel yourselves realize at the same time that you are currently sitting on a bed together, alone. You look down at your bare knees, pressed together, but don’t move. 

“So you did your makeup.” He says.

“Yeah, with Tess.” You look up at him and smile, then decide to add, “Do you like it?”

Joel’s eyes linger for a few seconds and then fall to his feet. “Yeah, I do. Been a long time… since I’ve seen uh… a woman in makeup.”

“Been a long time since I’ve been in it.” You stand then, making him look back up at you, and hold your arms out, “Do you like my outfit, too?” Underneath your normal jacket is a new shirt, actually your size rather than scrounged from other people’s belongings, and below it is a short skirt. You took an actual pair of pants, too, but just for fun, you decided to try this out, even if just for a few hours; and, when you picked it out, you did have him on your mind, just a little bit.

Joel looks you over, throat bobbing as he swallows, “Yeah, yeah,” he swallows again and looks down, “I–I do.” His smirk is shy when he looks back up at you, “Makes me feel like a man.” 

“You are a man.” 

“Well I know, but it just… y’know, you look like… a woman. Not to say you don’t usually, I mean, well, you look… desirable—shit, that sounds bad. You always look desirable, I just mean, uhm,” Joel clears his throat, panic visible in his eyes, and you can’t hold back the smile growing on your lips. Tess was right. “I’m not tryna—I mean, I just, fuck, I’m tryna say you look really good. And you know, there’s not a lot of… mainstream, uh, girly stuff left, and it just looks really good on you.”

“Why does that make you feel like a man?”

“Eh, uh, b–because… I guess what fits better is that you make me wanna be a man. More of a man.”

“What’s being more of a man?”

Joel is completely lost in how to respond. No way can he get away with being as crass as you’re kind of asking him to be. Nothing he thinks of trying to say sounds right, either patronizing you, accidentally insulting you, being mean, or lying. 

You take a huge risk, based on your trust in Tess, and he watches you with wide eyes as you walk over, bending his head up when you’re over him, and removing his hands from his lap when you sit down on it. You wrap an arm over his shoulders. Moving fluidly and automatically, one of Joel’s hands goes to your lower back, the other smoothing over the end of one of your legs, down your knee, resting at the top of your shin.

“You shave your legs?” He asks, soft but audibly astonished. Round brown eyes look up at you and you allow your free hand to rest over his chest. 

“Mh–hm.” You nod. 

His eyes flutter. 

“You wanna fuck me, Joel?”

He swallows. At this point, you’re sure you’re right, you just don’t know if you can actually ask him, like that, like this, now. He blinks. Out of embarrassment, your face heats and your heart begins to race. You nervously pull the fabric on his shoulder into a fists and then smooth it back out, looking for every clue you can in how his face moves. 

“Yes.” He finally admits, mostly plain, a little nervous. Then, he swallows again, and looks into your eyes while he moves his hand back up your leg, over your thigh, slowly into your skirt. Your lips part as his fingers graze over the very top of your thigh. He slows more as he lays his hand flat, then inches it down to inbetween your legs. You open them up, but he pulls them apart himself further to slide his hand down over your front, thumb resting on the top of one of your thighs while the rest of his digits pet over your pussy. A breathy moan escapes you and he breathes deeply out through his nose. His eyes flick to your lips and you lean down slowly to meet his. The softness of the kiss doesn’t last long, and while one of your hands grips his hair, moving your mouth into his, the other is tugging at the collar of his shirt. 

The heat is on, and Joel moves quick, pulling his arm around your back to maneuver you onto the bed, leaning over you to keep his tongue in your mouth, one hand on the bed and the other back down under your skirt. You grasp the front of his shirt in both fists as if to secure his position and eagerly link to his mouth, concern over the lipstick a ghost of a thought, that of the others out there not much more of one. Fuck all of that, you don’t even care if they hear you.

Joel removes his hand from you and you whimper, but they go to your hands on his shirt and you let him take them to instead intertwine with his and press into the bed. 

“Fuck,” he breathes outs, hot into your mouth, “baby,” you whine at the nickname, biting his lip to pull his mouth back in. He has to pull away to get a chance to speak, both breathing hard, your hands trapped against the bed. Joel’s eyes wander down to your chest as it rises and falls, then back up, pausing at your lips, then up to your eyes. “Goddamn, baby girl, look at’chou.” You whine and chuckle and his teeth flash. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah,”

“Shit,” he takes a long breath out and hums, looking over you again. He pauses over you, then leans down for a softer, sensual kiss. The end is drawn out, neither of you able to take your lips away, until he raises up again, freeing your hands, but then comes back down, using his arm on the bed once again to hover over you while his other hand slides over your face. His expression alone has you soaking wet, you’ve been dreaming of something like this for months, pretty much ever since you met him, and finally, here it is, literally on top of you. His mouth is smeared with red and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“What?” He asks, breathing a chuckle with his eyes stuck on your lips. 

“You look good in lipstick.”

“Shit, it’s all over me, isn’t it?” You nod and giggle. “Well I’ll deal with that later.” He leans down to your lips again, his hand smoothing up and down your leg. The heat between you is electrifying, snaking tongues and bodies rolling to meet each other. Inside your chest, rising high and dipping low, is its own event, hot, heart rapid, butterflies and all. It reaches down between your legs, too—quivering, throbbing, a needy sensation. Joel does something to your body that you don’t even consciously understand. All you know is he’s not touching enough of you, so you pull your legs in to draw him closer. He follows your lead and lets his groin press against yours, hand feeling over your inner thigh, so sensitive, his touch the only one you want there, you’d trust there. 

He pulls his face away then, looking over your face as he slides his hand up to your chest, kneading your breast, then comes up under your shirt, twisting your nipple in between his fingers. You let out a shaky breath, watching him watch you with his jaw slack. 

“Joel,” you whine quietly, unsure of what you’re begging for, just more.

“Mmm, you need me to fuck?” He growls into your mouth. 

“Fuck, yes,”

“I’ll give you what you need babygirl, don’t’chou worry.” Joel smirks, eyes fixed on yours as he takes the hand from your chest down to undo his belt in one swift motion. He quickly undoes his jeans and pushes them down enough to free his cock, as large as you expected, hard and colored by veins. Joel pumps it slowly, his hips rolling into his own hands. “Shit, you’ve got me fuckin’ going. Need you so bad, baby girl.”

You furrow your brow at him; you couldn't help this pleading expression if you tried. You’ve had sex, even good sex, during the apocalypse, but never has someone taken much actual time for foreplay. And, you’ve never had sex with someone you’re this attracted to, nope, not by far. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you whine quietly. 

With a growl, Joel stands on his calves, keeping one hand up your shirt and the other still on his manhood, then shifts his hand up to work at removing your jacket and shirt. While you take it off yourself, in the brief moments where it blocks your vision, you feel Joel pulling at your skirt and panties at the same time, and when you can see again as you toss your clothes off the side of the bed, it’s at the perfect moment—Joel is pulling his t-shirt up over his head, his arms stretched up showing off the muscles as they shift with his movements, the roundness of his belly, and his pants already down with his hard length almost touching his belly. He doesn’t bother moving his jeans down anymore, just grabbing your thighs to tug you closer to him, then hooks an arm under one of your legs to hold up. His free hand slithers over you, feeling your hips, belly, around your waist, over your breasts, up to your face. His thumb pulls at your lip, trailing red down your chin. 

“You wearin’ all this to get me goin’, huh? All that perfume. God damn been so long since I’ve seen a woman so prettied up like this. You’re gorgeous, you know that? Lookin’ like a fuckin’ pornstar.” Joel leans down, forcing your leg further up under his arm, and drags heavy lips over yours. When he pulls away your lipstick is streaked all over his mouth and you laugh breathily. 

Joel smirks, then drawls,“Pretty girl.” As he speaks, his hand slides back down your body to back between your legs, making you gasp.

“Sooooo fuckin’ wet for me. Can I call you a slut, sweetheart?” He quickly checks in, you laugh and nod. “Yeah, you know you are.” While his thumb circles your clit he eases a finger inside of you. Your head leans back and you moan out because Joel’s finger is inside of you. That’s his trigger finger, too. “Yeeeah, I know, baby. You need a big man to make you feel good, don’t’chou baby? Huh?” He curls his finger and you gasp deeply, rolling back until your back arches, eyes closed, overwhelmed with pleasure. He hasn’t even done much, but your want for him makes every move more sensitive. “God fuckin’ damn it, that’s right baby. That’s right.” Joel removes his finger and you lay back flat to watch him dramatically lick your juices off of it, briefly closing his eyes as he does. Then, he shifts his hips closer, “Imma give you what you want now, babygirl, what you need, my big fat cock inside you, my pretty little fuckin’ slut.” And he does, taking himself in his hand to slowly glide into you, all the way in, and as you whine a moan he sucks in a breath. Once inside, he starts to very slowly pull in and out, only by an inch at most first. His fingers dig into your thigh that he holds against his hip. His other arm, hooked under your leg, angles to raise it up straight, sliding his hand up so that he can kiss your ankle as he moves, pulling farther out for longer strokes in. Joel fills you completely, just on the verge of pain, but the foreplayed paid off, as does the level of attraction you feel for him, widening you up for him, ready, wanting, carnal. 

You’re noisy as he speeds up, hitting your head back on the bed repeatedly and grasping at the sheets. 

“Joel you’re so big,” 

“I know I am, and I know you love it. Yeah, you need a real man to show you how it’s done. You did yourself up just so I’d fuck you didn’t you? Huh?” He emphasizes his question with a jolt, hitting against your limit. 

Head back and arms spread, you answer, “Yes, yes, Joel, harder like that,” 

“Mmm. Yeah?” Brutally, he obliges, and slips directly into your A spot, his length able to easily hit that area near your cervix. You react loudly and throw an arm down, reaching generally towards him. “You were lookin’ for a big man to fuck you good, that’s what you need. You need this,” Joel bucks into your harder, firmly hitting that spot inside of you that twists a snake of pleasure up through your whole body, making your chest feel full and you relax your legs, letting them fall open farther for him, overwhelmed with need for him. The only thought in your head is—

“Joel, yes, more, god, please, fuck,”

“Tell me you’re my little slut, my pretty little slut.”

“I’m your pretty little slut, fuck, uh-huh,” you whine out a high “yeah,” 

As he lowers his grip to your hip, your leg falls back over his hooked arm, and he copies the position with his other. Your legs bump against his arms as he slaps against you, his hair bouncing with the force of it, and to the beat of skin against skin are your moans and his grunts, growls, moans, and voice, telling you things like “Pretty woman needs a real man to fuck her” “All prettied up just for me” “That feel good?” “I fill you up so good?” and you accompany with a chorus of “Fuck” “Oh my god” “Yes” “So good” “I need you so bad” “Fuck me fuck me”

“Oh, fuck,” Joel’s voice shakes and he removes one of his hands under you, “Can I pull your hair baby?”

“Yes,”

One hand still holding your hip for him, his other holding a bundle of hair down into the bed, you get a full show of his mouth, forming O’s, licking and biting his lips, his eyes intermittently squeezes shut, rolling up, his head leaning back then returning to you, to watch himself slam into you, watching your chest bounce, on your lips, back in your eyes. 

“My beautiful lady, all made up for me to fuck, baby can I cum in you?”

“Yeah,” you moan out.

“Yeah, you’re made for me to cum in. You made up just for me to cum in, ah, fuck,” Joel’s head flips back and when it returns he removes his arm from under your thigh, pressing deeper into you to make up for the grip, then held in place by his body on yours as he drops down. One arm falls to support his hovering, forearm on the bed, so that he can rub his other hand over your face. He drags his thumb out from your eyelid, pulling both the color and mascara, making your eyes water, “Pretty woman, waitin’ for your man,” his fingers drag down to your open mouth, then gently squeezes your cheeks and swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, “to fuck you good. Only a man can fuck a woman this good. Isn’t that right?”

“Uh–huh,”

Joel hums, then, more devouring your mouth rather than kissing you, nipping at your lips, swirling his tongue, dragging his wet mouth around yours. 

The bed is shaking wildly now as he bucks his hips against yours, deep, hard, and fast, in the most erotic fashion you’ve ever experienced—not the jackhammer, copying porn kind, but a genuinely lustful force, still directly in the spot that derives a satisfaction that pulls your legs around him, holding him in place as you draw closer to your climax.

This movement makes Joel almost chuckle, and he fucks even more impassioned. The forearm on the bed lifts for his hand to find yours, intertwining your fingers to hold down on the bed. He keeps his other hand on your face, cupping your cheek. “You need me, you need me, tell me you need me baby,” you can tell Joel is nearing the edge by the way his tone heightens. 

“I need you, I need you, I need you,” you obey truthfully. 

“My god, can’t believe I get to fuck you like this, I get to cum inside you, cause I’m your man, you’re my woman, and I make you feel good,” Joel punctuates perfectly with one hard, deep thrust that finally takes you out. Your free hand awkwardly grabs at his wrist near your face as you torso rolls off the bed, as high as it can with his body pressing you down. Your legs squeeze around him and then release to open as wide as they can, and all you can think about is how much you need him to keep fucking you, how much you want him to cum inside of you, and you remember how much he’ll want to hear it, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming you make me feel so good please cum inside me I want you to cum inside my pussy, ahh, mmm, show me I’m yours Joel, fuck me like I’m yours,”

“Oooohh, baby,” Joel drawls, your mouths lazily and helplessly dragging over each others as Joel bounces you up and down underneath him, “I’m gonna cum,”

You reach your free hand up to grip his hair and tell him, “Finish inside me Joel I need your cum in my pussy, my pussy just for you, I’m yours, fuck your cum into me, fuck me til you can’t anymore, I wanna take all of it, I wanna make you feel good, I wanna make my man feel good, let me make you feel good Joel,”

He goes silent for one moment and then his whole body rocks into you, face messily pressed on yours, both of you releasing open mouthed moans, which he grunts through with his last final bucks, stroking out his ropes of cum. He slows, but stays inside you, fully riding his orgasm out, basically slurping your lips. You lay nearly limp under him, still grasping his hand, then moving your other over his cheek, watching his expression as he finishes. 

After a few more moments, he finally slides out of you and then sits back up on his calves to hike his jeans back up. When he’s covered, both hands come back down to smooth back and forth your thighs, shamelessly staring at your still open pussy. 

“Guess it doesn’t matter if we make a mess on this bed.” You chuckle, and he smiles up at you, teeth parted with a tug on one side of his lips. He shifts back up to over you to kiss you again with a long, soft moan, then sits back up, pulling your panties and skirt back up with one hand to then gracefully lift you back up to straddle his lap. His arm wraps around your waist with one over your cheek, and your hands come to rest on his bare chest, bare belly’s on each others. 

He strokes his thumb over your cheek. “I fucked you’re makeup up, sorry.” He mumbles, smiling. 

“It’s alright, it was just for you, anyways.”

“Really?” Joel smirks shyly. 

“Kinda, yeah,” you smile back. 

“Lucky me.”

You chuckle, reaching your hand up to swipe your fingers over his lips. “We gotta remember to take yours off, too.”

Joel closes his eyes and chuckles, “Shit, yeah we do.”

You hum a chuckle back, watching your fingers. How long you’ve been wanting to be able to touch him like this, be this close to him. 

“This took too goddamn long.” He mumbles, and you blush at his thoughts matching yours. 

“Sure did.” Then, you swallow, smile fading. 

“What is it, baby?”

You look down but keep your hand on his face, savoring the touch. “I guess I should have said this before, but, I don’t want this to be… like… I don’t want to just be your fuck buddy.” 

“Oh, no, no,” Joel quickly answers, “I don’t want that either. I really like you.” 

You look back up at him and he swallows hard under your gaze. A relieved smile slowly spreads over your lips and you slide your hand to the back of his neck, looping a finger in his hair. “I really like you, too.” You chuckle then, “I feel like a teenager.”

Joel grows his own smile, “Me too.” 

You kiss him again then, gentle and slow. When you pull back, he hums with a slanted smile, eyes half lidded. 

“We should probably get back.” You whisper. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Joel sighs, then lets you out his grasp. 

You slide down and get off the bed to stand, looking around you, “Shit, how am I gonna get this off?” You wipe your hands over your face, only really dragging the makeup around. 

Joel slips off the bed to stand, searching around with you before reaching around to grab the corner of the sheet. “Here,” he pulls it up to begin stroking it over your face. His brow is slightly pinched as he goes, methodically removing your makeup for you. Then he stands back some and sighs, “Good ‘nough.”

“Your turn,” you take the sheet from him and wipe at his mouth. The lipstick is more resistant, but the remaining saliva helps to get off as much as you can, though the act itself is a bit distracting. 

“Alright, that’s the best I can do.” You look back up to his eyes and stop in his dreamy gaze. 

“You’re blushing.” He whispers with a slight smirk. 

“You’re dreamy.” You admit freely. 

“Dreamy?” He smirks further. 

Sheepishly, you say, “Yeah,” but your shyness is relieved when his lips meet yours again. You drop the sheet to smooth your hands over his still unclothed shoulders and Joel rests his hands on your hips. 

He pulls away then, keeping hold of your body, “Alright, we really should get going.” You nod, sighing, then let go for him to grab his shirt and jacket to pull back on while you do the same. 

You watch each other as you adjust yourselves, and then Joel leans in, pulling your cheek for a quick kiss. He keeps his hand there when he whispers, “You’re so damn beautiful.” You feel your cheeks warm again. Then he steps back with a slanted smile, “Gotta admit, that's the best sex I’ve had in years.”

“God, me too.” You both chuckle, then he reaches over to take your hip and turn you back to walk down to the door next to him. 

“Alright, let’s go before they come lookin’.”

—

“Hey! You wiped off all my hard work!” Tess calls out as you approach. She, Tommy, Nevaeh, and Clancy are now all gathered at a table, talking and laughing while Nevaeh sorts through her pile of makeup.

“Ah, it just got annoying.” You lie with a nervous smile and tug at the hem of your skirt, “I’m just not used to it. It feels, like, heavy, you know? So I just took it off.”

“Mmm.” she nods, completely unconvinced. 

“So, all clear?” Tommy shouts over to you. 

“All clear.” Joel replies.

As you sit, you see Tess turn her attention to Joel next to you with a smirk, tapping her finger at a spot just under her lip. Joel quickly takes the hint and attempts to stealthily wipe away what must be stray lipstick. Tess shakes her head, trying to hide her laughter, and you focus down on the table, amused but embarrassed and a bit nervous of who else may have noticed. Being the good friend that she is, Tess speaks up, loudly beginning an unrelated conversation. Soon, you feel safe enough to look back up and join the conversation. Under the table, Joel sneaks a quick squeeze of your knee and then you lean it into his. He turns to you, smirk visible in his eyes as he looks up and down your face, and then turns back to the conversation, pressing the side of his legs against yours. 

“You know, I like it in here.” Nevaeh comments, swiping colors over her wrist. 

“We could always stay here for a night or two, there's that furniture store, beds in there right?” Tommy turns to you to ask. 

You and Joel both freeze. You’re tempted to lie, but Joel clears his throat and speaks before you do. “Uh yeah, but they’re all pretty dirty.”

“Are they now?” Tess raises her eyebrows with a smirk and you try not to smile back, widening your eyes and shooting her a look.

“Yeah, I mean, they’re been sittin’ in there for fuckin’ years.” Joel recovers. 

“Fair enough,” Tess says, pointedly not looking at either of you, “Plus, who knows who's done what on those? Fucking golden opportunity for anyone who’s even thought about fucking whoever they’ve come in this place with.” 

“Gross!” Nevaeh screws her face up at her.

“She’s not wrong.” Clancy says, leaning back in his chair. You catch him glancing at her next to him and laugh. “What?” He demands defensively. 

You shake your head, still chuckling, “Nothing.”

“Well, there’s always couches, right?” Tommy asks, looking at Joel.

“Plenty a’ couches.” He assures him, nodding.

“There we are then. We’ll stay the night at least.” Tommy decides and you all nod in agreement.

When you turn to Joel he gives you a knowing look, eyes widened with a slight smirk, and squeezes your knee under the table. You slide your hand down over his and he slips in into his, intertwining your fingers. You remind yourself to thank Tess later.

[bluebeary-jay]

Hold me close and hold me fast

Hi, my darling @always-andromeda!! I'm your secret santa from the space sisters server 🥰 I hope you're having a fantastic day and will enjoy what I wrote for you 💕 I tried to mix fluff and angst into your Joel prompt and it was tricker than I thought it'd be but hopefully I did it justice 😌 I wish you all that's best and happy holidays!!

Summary: It's been a long time since Joel was in any relationship and because of that he has absolutely no clue how to react to your affections. It culminates into an angsty conversation which he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, fluff and angst, soft and shy Joel, hurt/comfort, established relationship 💕

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: dividers by @saradika, beta read by @reddedmiller ❤️

Twenty years ago, when the apocalypse started and Joel Miller lost his only daughter, he was certain that he’d never feel happy again. Time didn’t heal his wounds – he still thought like that when he was fighting for survival with Tommy, then when he was doing side jobs with Tess in the QZ… It was never going to get better.

But somehow, as he looked up at the massive tree he just helped the others set up in the middle of the square in Jackson, he realized that it could. It did. Now Joel had a home here. He had his brother back, he had Ellie whom he cared for like his own kid and he had a community that welcomed him into Jackson, people who didn’t know about the horrible things he’d done and therefore didn’t hate him.

“Hi, handsome,” he heard from behind his back and turned around to the most beautiful face in the world – the main source of his newfound happiness. You. His girl. “Are you done with work?”

He nodded with a small smile gracing his lips. You were the newest addition to Joel’s life, but the most precious one in his eyes. Unlike everyone else in Jackson (excluding his brother), you knew all about the sins he’s committed. And yet, you still chose him. Every day you continued to choose him, to envelop him with the warmth of your love which Joel wasn’t sure he deserved.

He’d never tell you, though. Not as long as you kept him in your heart.

“Yeah, no, we’re done. M’pretty sure my back will blow if I have to pick up or carry one more damn thing.”

Right at that moment Tommy walked by with another box full of tree ornaments in his arms, and huffed a laugh when he heard his brother complaining.

“Jesus, Joel, you really are gettin’ old.” He put down the heavy box on the snow and sighed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding at you. “You sure you’ll be able to put up with this grump?”

“Positive.” You climbed onto your tip-toes to press a kiss to Joel’s cheek, and he felt his skin growing hot under your lips. He turned his head to hide the embarrassment evident on his face, missing the slight furrow of your brows, but not missing a hearty laugh his brother let out.

“Aww, is the big, scary man gettin’ all shy from a little kiss on the cheek?”

“Get lost, Tommy.”

Tommy chuckled and bent down to pick up the box again. “By the way, you two have any plans for today? We’re makin’ a screening of some Christmas movies for the kids, and after that the adults will head to the bar. You should come.”

“Well, if you want to?” you directed the careful question to Joel, but he shook his head just slightly, causing you to smile. “But we actually have other plans for tonight.”

That was true, and there was no way Joel would trade those precious hours spent in your company for having to sit – or worse, dance – in a loud room full of half-drunk people.

“Sounds like somethin’ I don’t wanna know about.”

“We’re just gonna bake some cookies for Ellie,” Joel murmured when you bumped his arm lightly with a giggle. The irritation at his brother lessened slightly when he heard the sound of your laughter. “But don’t tell ‘er.”

“My lips are sealed.” Tommy winked at Joel, then shifted his eyes to you. “Enjoy your evening, lovebirds.”

“That’s the plan.” You took Joel’s hand in both of yours, beaming up at him with excitement. “You’re ready?”

“Yeah.” He inconspicuously let go of your hands to brush the arm of your jacket lightly, and then nodded in the direction of his house. “C’mon, darlin’.”

He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too harsh as he hid his gloved hands in the pockets, intending to blame it on the cold in case you asked. But instead of saying anything, you just matched his step and slipped your hands around his arm. Joel went rigid when you leaned your head on his shoulder, the side of your body almost hugging his.

Joel loved you like no one before and until he met you, he hadn’t been this happy in years. But there was a problem, a major one, in your relationship that he didn’t at all know how to address.

Because Joel didn’t have any clue how to react to all your touches.

No matter if they were tender or needy, brief or lasting, he always felt out of his depth. It’s been so long since he actually wanted to be intimate with someone that when the chance arose… he was at loss. You were such an affectionate person and he loved that part of you, he cherished all touches and gestures you graced him with – craved them even – but…

He stole a glance at you, wondering if you could feel the stiffness of his body when you were so close, but it seemed that you were none the wiser. He tried to will his muscles to relax, but it didn’t work and he still felt an uncomfortable feeling crawling up his arm.

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do as your partner, but ever since Sarah died, he hadn’t had an opportunity to show affection to someone. Everything he thought about seemed awkward and incongruous, but he really didn’t want you to think that he was an inexperienced old man who didn’t know how to please – and in your case, love – a woman.

He did. In theory.

So he tried his hardest to show you in other ways how much he cares about you. He brought you gifts, whether they were knickknacks scavenged during his patrols or wooden figurines he made for you. He did what he could to relieve you of your duties, helped around the house and out in the town. He found time during the day to spend with you or at least just talk in passing if you both were busy.

But that still wasn’t enough. He knew that wasn’t enough.

Every damn time you cuddled, every time you kissed him or did something as simple as lay your head on his shoulder, Joel never felt better. He never wanted those moments to end, but at the same time he just couldn’t reciprocate, and it was tearing him apart, because he could see how hurtful it was to you.

“You’re quiet.”

Joel snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at you, noting that you’re almost at his place. He breathed a little lighter when he realized that he managed to go all this way without the need of pulling his arm out of your grasp.

“Is everything alright?” you asked with concern in your beautiful eyes and squeezed his bicep slightly, causing Joel to clench his teeth. “Listen, if you’d prefer to go with Tommy, just tell me…”

“Hey, I’m okay, sweetheart,” he assured you quickly and even managed to smile as if the guilt of not being able to even kiss your forehead wasn’t eating him alive. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with right now.”

“Just right now?” you asked teasingly, and Joel couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“Listen here, you little tease…”

A bright smile returned to your face and you tugged his arm down so your lips could reach his stubbly cheek – and (only a little) reluctantly, he let you kiss him with a huff.

But the guilt of not telling you the true reason of his worries was still swirling in his stomach, making him feel sick for the rest of the way.

An hour and a half later the cookies were already done, and somehow the attempt to clean each other off the flour and the colorful frosting you used to decorate them ended up with you sitting in Joel’s lap, kissing him softly.

Not that he minded.

There was nothing as wonderful as the feeling of your lips on his skin, Joel was sure of it. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since he was with someone that made him feel like a young boy in love again, but your every gesture, every sound coming out of your mouth and every day he got to spend with you was just a confirmation of how lucky he was to have you.

Even now, as you were kissing him slowly and without any rush, he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. But while they initially appeared from the happiness and giddiness you were causing in him, the longer your hands wandered – and the longer his stayed uselessly at his sides – the worse and more stressed he felt.

“You know you can touch me, right?” you asked playfully at last, and the pit in Joel’s stomach grew almost tenfold in size. “It’s highly encouraged, actually.”

There was an actual question in your voice, which made him feel even worse. He should’ve known you’d address it eventually – after all, nothing went past you – but it still felt so awfully embarrassing to admit it to you. He was an old man, but felt like an inexperienced teenager who didn’t know how to make a woman feel good.

You moved to kiss him again when he didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, but on instinct Joel pulled back – actually ducked – out of your reach. Immediately regret painted his face at the rejected look in your eyes, and he started to rake his mind in search for something he could do to fix it, but nothing came to him. He knew what you’d want from him – you’d forgive him if he took your face in his hands, kissed you with all his strength, let you know that you did nothing wrong… but it made him nervous just thinking about it, let alone do it.

“Sorry,” he quickly muttered. “I didn’t– didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, look at me… What’s wrong?” You brushed some hair out of his forehead and Joel exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the knees at your touch. “Talk to me, baby. Did I do something?” Joel shook his head and you pressed your lips together. “Did something happen, then?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly, but he avoided your eyes. “No. Nothin’.”

“Joel…”

The room got too stuffy all of the sudden, the shirt on his back too tight and your body too heavy on his lap. Joel knew he was panicking over nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want you to see him like this, so unsure and embarrassed over his own insecurity and behavior… So he gently removed you from his lap and stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I gotta… I need some air. I’ll be right back, alrigh’?”

“Joel.”

No ‘baby’. No ‘handsome’. The tone of your voice made him stop dead in his tracks, and he turned around to meet your sad, solemn eyes.

“Just tell me if you don’t want me anymore.”

Your voice, so small and weak, took him off-guard and for a couple of seconds Joel wasn’t sure if you really said that, or if it was just his imagination playing cruel tricks on him. He blinked several times, but you were still in front of him, sad and… oh, god, you were on the verge of tears.

“What?” He couldn’t help a curt, disbelieving chuckle that escaped him – which was a terrible reaction, he realized when you turned your head away from him. “I– I don’t understand.”

“You don’t ever want to touch me first.” You let out a shuddering breath and lifted your arm to wipe your eyes, and Joel realized with mortification that he fucking made you cry. “And when you do it’s only when I initiate it, but sometimes you just pull back and it… it makes me feel so unwanted. And I know I might come off as too clingy…”

“Hey, none of that.” Joel quickly made his way to you and sat back down, gazing at you with his brows furrowed in worry. Your face was tearstained already and you avoided looking at him, but didn’t pull back when he took your hand gently in his. “Darlin’...”

“Just tell me if it doesn’t work for you,” you breathed, your voice thick with tears which also welled up in your pretty eyes again. “I hate not knowing if I… if our relationship makes you happy.”

“Of course I’m happy, babygirl.” Joel lifted your hand as if to kiss it, but hesitated. He had half a mind to draw back, but you needed him now, and he needed to prove that he really loved you. So, tentatively, he pressed his inexperienced lips to your fingers, making you look up with suspicion dancing in your irises. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever felt.”

“You’re pretending.” The quiet accusation combined with you withdrawing your hand caused Joel’s heart to break and he opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him a chance to. “I don’t want you to pretend now that I’m upset, I want– Joel, I need you to be honest and tell me if it isn’t working for you. You always move away when I try to hug you and during all this time we’ve been together I can count on one hand the number of times you kissed me first. I don’t…” you choked down a sob and a new wave of tears flew down your cheeks. “I don’t want to waste either of our time if that isn’t what you want. If I’m not what you want–”

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I want,” Joel whispered with pain in his voice, moving so he could sit closer to you. “M’so very sorry that I wasn’t…” He searched for the right words, but everything felt flat on his tongue. “I’m sorry. For everythin’ I did that made you feel this way.”

“But why?” you asked pathetically, staring at him with defeat and sadness. “You never said anything and I wouldn’t try to touch you so much if you just told me you didn’t like it!”

“I do like it,” he cut you off with a firm tone, which caused you to stop abruptly. “I fuckin’– I love it when you touch me, darlin’. I’m dyin’ for you to keep doin’ it, but I…”

“You what?” you asked, softer this time, and Joel swallowed hard, nervous how you’ll react. But you had the right to know, so ultimately he pushed through his discomfort.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he finally settled on that. “I really, really love when you touch me, babygirl, no matter in what way.” He took another deep breath, bowing his head to look at his hands so that he didn’t have to face you. “But it’s been so long, damn decades, since I… since anyone touched me in the way you do. I never loved someone the way I love you. I’m very sorry, I just don’t know what I’m s’pposed to do… when someone…”

He trailed off, worried that he might break down and cry in front of you if he says another word, and he’d prefer to avoid it at all cost. The world outside was so harsh and cruel already, and you needed someone strong – a safe haven, a pillar you could lean on. He was that someone for everyone around him for the last twenty years, and even longer before the outbreak.

But it was so much different now. You made him feel safe and loved no matter what he could provide to you and it was almost scary how vulnerable he was becoming in your presence.

“...when someone cares for you?” you asked quietly. Joel nodded, and tears gathered in your eyes again, though now for a very different reason. “Oh, Joel…”

“M’sorry,” he whispered, his own vision also going misty. “I want to give you everythin’ you desire, darlin’. If you give me another chance, I promise I’ll try to…” He shook his head, defeated. “I don’t know. I’ll try to get past it.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You scooted just a little closer and put your hand on his knee lightly. He looked up with anguish swimming in his brown eyes, not believing that you were still here and not already out of the door. You worried your lip between your teeth for a couple of seconds before inhaling deeply. “How about… I show you what to do? We can go as slow as you want.”

Joel slowly shook his head, not understanding. “...show me what?”

“You said you don’t really know what to do, right? So how about I show you exactly how… you know.” You smiled almost shyly, but it only caused Joel’s heart to beat even faster. “Where to put your hands.”

Joel was nodding before you even finished speaking.

It was embarrassing, really, how excited he got at this idea, but just the thought of your hands guiding his, demonstrating where and how to touch you, had him feeling weak in the knees and hot under his clothes. You smiled, almost with relief, and moved even closer until your thighs were touching.

“Here, just relax. We can stop at any time, just say a word,” you said soothingly, placing his palms on your hips and sending him a small smile. Joel wondered if you could see how red his face surely was, feel how sweaty his palms got. “Is this okay?”

“S’better than okay,” he breathed in something akin to wonder. “It’s easier… Everythin’ seems easier with you.” His chest was tight when he looked up at you. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t a lie. You did make it seem effortless, and though Joel could still feel the rigidness of his muscles and tendons, the tension was slowly melting away, replaced by a tingling warmth on his skin.

You gave him a reassuring smile and his eyes flickered to your lips almost involuntary. You noticed it, of course – Joel didn’t think he was exactly subtle with his staring – and cupped his jaw in your hands. His arm, practically instinctively, encircled your waist and pulled you closer before he could stop himself, but you didn’t berate him – in fact, you seemed delighted by his action.

“Now, are you going to kiss me or not?” you whispered coyly, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of your thumbs. Joel chuckled at your attempt to put him more at ease, but it worked and he leaned in to press – very, very carefully – his lips to yours. He felt you smiling against them and his eyes filled with tears from the overwhelming relief.

“I love you so much,” he murmured with his mouth only millimeters from yours. “So much, babygirl.”

You hummed a quiet love you, too, and moved your lips up to softly kiss his eyelids, then temple, then cheeks and nose. Joel almost wanted to cry when you started running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. It felt so good, your touch so nice and tender… He couldn’t remember when was the last time someone treated him with such care. Maybe never. “Next time it becomes too much, you tell me, got it? And I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

Your touch didn’t bother him now that he admitted what was weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now, it felt soothing. Grounding.

So, so loving.

Joel held you closer, melting into your embrace, and claimed your lips in a soft – if not a bit shy – kiss.

There was nothing else he’d rather be doing tonight.

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 7}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Tensions run high as you can't seem to recover from your bout of sickness even though Tess is back on her feet and helping the newest member of your pack sort out some things. Neither of you had told Joel yet, bidding your time until some things are taken care of but you have a feeling it's more than just that if Tess's determined silence is anything to go by...

Word Count:

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, mean joel miller, degrading language, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), sexual propositions, oral (f receiving), talk of pregnancy, angst, reference to off screen assault, medical jargon, mentions of nausea, mentions of past trauma, mentions of canon death, mentions of past childloss, i think that's it for this one!

Fic notes: we are officially 10 years into the apocalypse! joel is 46 at this point and cane is early 30's, but please imagine her to look anyway you want! these are just rough estimates and descriptions that are not set in stone as per the x reader tradition. simply a way for me to get the story fleshed out a bit c:

A/N: this fic really just got so big and it can't possibly be contained to the original ten chapters when i first started it. these two have really taken the reigns and i am all for letting them develop and flourish as they wish ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

Joel scrubs a hard hand over his face, brushing away as much of the ash and dirt as he can as he lowers the bandana wrapped around his head as a mask. It’s not much, but it eases his mind enough for him to keep using it.

He’s been pulling more shifts, as many as they could give him. You and Tess both being sick was something that worried him, stressed him out. The dangers of the end of the world were rampant, too many to count and keep track of. A weakened immune system brought on by fever and sickness was something from Before that he had completely lost the notion of.

Seeing you beaten up and bruised from fights or shows of power, from hard days working whatever shitty physical labor the zone needed done or from crawling your way through the rubble of the fallen city around them in search of things to trade and sell- it was different. Different than seeing you wrapped up in all the thin blankets in the shared apartment, that he could get his hands on only to still see the shivers that rack your body and chitter your teeth together. It was different than seeing you barely manage to keep water down to take the pills he paid far too much for only for you to gag on the weight of it settling in your empty stomach.

The scraps of chicken and bone he managed to trade for had cost so many ration cards. But the medicine, the stock he was able to pull from the bone- all of it was worth it for you and Tess to start to get better.

Well, Tess was better. You were…you were…are still sick. No longer plagued by fevers, cold spells, and heat flashes. But your stomach was unsettled, and your appetite was borderline gone, the weight you dropped a little concerning and the color drained from your skin.

He’s been playing caretaker to whatever extent you’ll allow him when he’s in the privacy of your shared apartment. Even if it’s as simple as refilling your mug with hot water for a second cup of tea, of collecting the bowl you had used to try and eat something with before he got home. He’s willing to do it, to do more. But you won’t let him. Determined to hold onto your independence in a way that both makes him proud and feel a little useless.

So he works. To provide. To make it easier. To give you space. Doing the long standing trades, showing his face more on that side of things while you’re unable to do so. Tess now, too, is back at it and it seems like you’ve given her clear orders on who to trade with and who not to as the weather grows colder.

But right now all he can focus on is the sprawled out form of you on the bed. Sheets and blankets tossed and kicked to the end of the bed and nearly crumpled on the floor as you pant heavy breaths while trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep.

The baser instincts in him rise at the smell of sweat and the sounds your making, the slight groan of the mattress beneath your wiggling form. it’s not that he wants it for himself, well, not just that he wants it for himself. But your body is stressed, it’s fighting, mind and nervous system out of whack. He’s on you the second he steps over the threshold into the room, determined to give you some sort of relief. To give you something else other than seemingly endless days of sickness and being unwilling to leave the building.

“Joel, ‘m still sick.” You mumble halfheartedly, that tug in your navel letting you know that despite everything, your body still sings for him- because of him. And it’s intoxicating, the immediate reaction as you feel plush lips against your skin, feel the weight of his body so close.

“Don’t matter, want you.”

His kisses are like fire, trailing down from your chin where he nips hard to your neck and chest. Tank top pulled up as carefully as he could manage, ridding you of the thin fabric. His lips close around hardened peaks to pull out desperate sounds from you, so sensitive to the soothing swipe of his tongue after biting teeth. His nose skims across your skin, the sharpness of it driving you wild as his hands make quick work of removing the pants you had fallen asleep in.

His teeth nip gently at the swollen lips of your cunt through the fabric of your underwear before he breaths in deep. “Gonna get you outta your head for a bit.”

And like a switch, your mind and body only focus on him.

The drag of his nose over the same place, the tug of his fingers pulling the now damp fabric down. The hot, thick line of his cock against your legs as he pulls them up to bend into your chest. His tongue swipes flat over your folds, delving between them after, shockwaves of pleasure so intense after experiencing nothing but aches and pains for the last couple of weeks. It pulls a moan deep from your chest, the responsive chuckle earning him another as you feel the vibrations of it skitter across your skin.

He's pulling pleasure from you like he was made for it, his knowledge of your body all he committed to memory and you’re crying out within minutes. His fingers grip the backs of your thighs, spreading them to make room for his body to line of with yours and then he’s pushing in slowly. Through a crack of your eyelid, you see his focus on where the two of you connect, brown eyes dark and hair slicked back save for one stray curl folded over his temple. Teeth gritted and breath hissing as he fills you, slowly, taking in the sight for what it is, feeling it for what it is, living up to his promise to get you out of your head as he bottoms out and your mouth goes slack.

“Theeeere we go, huh, darlin’?” One of his hands snake up to grip your chin gently, pulling your thrown back head toward him. Thick fingers caress the too hot skin there and his eyes soften as your own fly open when he leans forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, the obscene sound of him pushing in deeper and your walls clenching around him. “Look at those pretty eyes, starin’ up at me with nothing behind them, that’s exactly what we wanted, wasn’t it?”

All you can do it try to nod, his hand so large cradling the side of your face, his lips so tantalizingly close but your body is frozen, the breath caught in your throat as you pulse around him, pleasure rippling through your body as he throbs deep inside you. He must see the way they tremble and he closes his mouth around yours, giving you exactly what you wanted without you needing to ask. When he pulls back, his teeth glint in the faint light seeping in through the window.

“Don’t gotta think about nothin’ else but how full you feel. Deserve to turn your thoughts off and just focus on gettin’ fucked.”

He’s pulling back a bit, his knees caging you in as they squeeze around your hips.

You can barely take a breath before he’s slamming back in and it’s pushed from your lungs.

Over and over again.

The day starts off normally, a plan in motion to tell Joel once he returns from one of his shifts. Tess spends the day helping to move most of Jean’s stuff out of the shitty apartment she had been given alongside two other single girls. Not enough room for her to even have her own space. But Tess was willing to give up her bedroom and move into the living room to provide some semblance of privacy and control for the young girl. You had taken her to the clinic, as well. Dropped her off and were due to pick her up any moment now, but you’re kneeled down in front of the toilet.

Your own sickness seems to linger while Tess is back in good health. Her color coming back while yours remains pallor, hot flashes and cold spells waring underneath your skin and making you nauseous. You were doing your best to hide the worst of the symptoms from Joel, not wanting him to feel like he needed to use the stock of goods and cards for more medicine that only worked at first. You’re just grateful that awful cough that rattled your brain and hurt your throat was gone, the phlegm that seemed to either clog up your sinuses or run far too freely gone as well. It had been a bad chest cold, same as Tess and you didn’t understand why you were better, but you weren’t…better.

You had given blood at the clinic, just to be cautious.

Because you were beginning to get worried. Between the new responsibility of caring for and protecting Jean, the rather startling reach out from Bill concerning new habits from Frankie he’s developed and the increasing scarcity of things to find in the city, you were feeling a slow simmering panic begin to form in the back of your mind and weigh down your mental and physical resolve.

The cold chill settling in the air wasn’t helping, telling you that it was about to get a while lot worse as the temperature dropped and winter weather became a daily struggle on top of it all. Snow and ice in Boston was normal this time of year, to begin falling from the sky and form on the ground.

Picking Jean up from the clinic was supposed to be a simple task. But you honestly don’t remember much of it. The ringing in your ears had started once the doctor had turned to you and read the results of your own testing. Effectively pulling the entire god damn earth’s crust from beneath your feet. You don’t remember the trek back to the apartment, nor the way that Jean was glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. Bottom lip between teeth as she contemplated commenting on same diagnosis that was read to you.

Shock. You were in shock. Mind reeling from the fact that now there wasn’t just one pregnancy to navigate, but two.

All you know is the startling cold of porcelain seeping through the towel you had placed over the top of the lid as you knelt in the bathroom once again. Stomach heaving and throat burning, heart beating far too fast as you struggled to regain your breath. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, a sharp contrast in how hot they were compared to the tile that surrounded you.

Just as you managed to stand up from your rather humbling position in front of the toilet again, you hear it.

The boom of Joel’s voice through the thin walls.

He was home early.

And Tess must’ve just told him what you two have been handling the past few days.

Keeping as silent on your feet as possible, not wanting to sound the creaks of your aged flooring, you inch into the living room and move into the kitchen. His voice is clear as a bell and angry.

“It’s just another fucking human being that’s going to be subjected to a shitty life and even shittier people. How do you think that kid is gonna feel when they learn about how they were conceived? You think she’s gonna be able to sit her kid down and explain to them the shit she had to endure? That she was raped and it was either go through with the birth or risk her life ending the pregnancy? You think that’s any kind of thing to put on child in this god forsaken world?”

“Joel, she’s scared. She said you told her to come to you for help. And Cane and I are an extension of that-“ Tess’s voice is raised, an attempt to wrangle in Joel’s own but its fruitless. You’ve only heard him sound like this when he deals with less than savory trade partners. You’ve only heard him when it was that first year of knowing him. When he didn’t trust you or share your bed. Before the shadow of a life you two slowly and carefully curated together.

“Just cause y’all are women doesn’t mean you know better about this than me. Don’t you try to pull that sexist bullshit with me, Tess. You know just as well as I do that bringing a new life into this world is a mistake. The risks of pregnancy before were deadly, with the help of machines and medicine. But now?”

He scoffs loud enough for you to hear it through the walls. You don’t flinch, though you know you would’ve once upon a time. There’s truth in his words, no matter how he’s weaponizing it to prove his point. To deny getting involved in the situation.

“Now she’s as good as dead if she goes through with it. And what if she does manage to give birth to a healthy baby and she’s the one stuck paying the price? Bleeds out or needs to be cut open, then there’s just another orphan the system is gonna abuse and use for their twisted sense of righteousness.”

“Joel-“

“She’s gonna be stuck with a kid, do you realize how much time and effort and work is gonna go into that and it’s all gonna fall on us. On me. And I am too fucking old for this shit.” You can hear silence that greets his harsh words, the raw and unfiltered emotions he feels on the matter. You knew Tess had a kid before all this and it must be hard for her to grapple with the reality of the situation. Especially as it brings up memories and her own past emotions. “There is no way in hell this is going to work out.”

“She came to us for help, Joel. You instilled in her that you would look after her, no matter what. And guess what? This is something big! She can live here with me, I can…I can help her through the rough patches, I know what it’s like to have a less than smooth time of it.”

“Tess…”

“I’m going to help her, Joel. From one mother to a prospective one. As a parent, I would think you feel at least a little connected to the issue at hand.” That gave you as much pause as it seemed to Joel. The silence that permeated the air was heavy, crackling tension palpable even through the walls.

“This is dangerous, this is stupid and reckless. Children aren’t a blessing, they’re a curse.” His even but thudding steps could be heard as he makes his way to the door. You’re still in shock a few moments later when it doesn’t slam shut, it doesn’t even open. He must’ve turned around and you can almost picture him looking over his shoulder. All broad and brooding, angry. “This is a mistake.”

With no other outlet for what you’re feeling, you shove your hands into the sleeves of your jacket and grab your keys from the nails they hang on beside the door. Glancing on the sleeping form of Jean on the couch, you’re relieved that she’s in a deep enough sleep to not hear the harsh words of the man who she had sought out for help.

You don’t even dare glance at the end of the hallway, not knowing what you would do if you glimpsed Joel at this moment.

And that scared you.

That you didn’t know if you would curl up into his chest, wrap your arms around his neck or waist and burrow your face into him. Inhale his scent and be comforted by the way he holds you back. Or if you would scold him for his choice of words, for the way he’s backtracking suddenly as the situation turns now to something he doesn’t have the patience and energy to deal with.

That you didn’t know if the words would immediately fall from your lips or stay lodged in your throat and suffocate you.

He had given Jean his attention, his protection, his word that he would look out for her. And he’s standing there determining the course of her future that would best benefit him. That would work in his favor, to not have to deal with something so monumentally important. The news isn’t the best, it isn’t born of a decision between two consenting adults who are determined to nurture and love. Hell, you aren’t even sure if Jean had ever admitted to wanting to be a mother beyond not feeling right with doing away with her condition. But it was something, it was someone.

Hope. It was hope you were feeling as you sped down the hallway and away from the harsh words that hang in the air.

Hope for a future that isn’t the same damn thing day in and day out. Fighting and hustling for supplies, for food, for water, for space in a crowded zone. That isn’t protecting your territory and your smuggled items, that isn’t holding fast to your going rates as people challenge them and clamor for them because even if you did want to provide things that were hard to find or considered contraband, you still needed to benefit from the effort and skills that go into supplying them.

The news Jean brought to you, born of devastation and immoral means, could be the universe’s push of urging you toward something else. Your own news born of a moment of passion under the influence with someone who you found rare solace and genuine companionship with. The naïve notion of taking it in stride and shifting everything for the better, for the hope of making something of the situation you’ve landed yourself in is a painful one. Cultivating and nurturing goodness back into the world where you could, back into your life that had become so violent and overwhelming in its eat or be eaten nature.

You’ve been violent for so long, have had to be violent for so long. The world demanding it of you if you wanted to survive, to breath, to live to see another tortured day. And all those days that it seemed like too monumental a task, too hard a thing to commit to once again. A flicker of your old, weaker self rising up and arguing that there was no point, that it was useless to survive a hard day and the only reward was another string of them. But now you know why it was imperative that you stuck with it, defending yourself, protected yourself, used teeth and nails and haunting violence to make sure you saw the sun rise each morning and set each night over a world that was decimated beyond help.

And that reason was a phantom weight low in your belly. The new reason you would fight even harder from this point on until the moment you drew your last breath. Your child would know better than you were thrust into, would know better than this broken world and mockery of what was once city life.

You would bite and claw and fight, shoot or slash anything that threatened the life you were determined to give to your child, to give back to her. That younger version of yourself lost piece by piece as things quickly fell, as people gave into temptation and damnation the second civilization crumbled.

You don’t realize the heavy words in your mind are coming out as snarled sounds every time your boots hit the ground with your fast pace. The man Jean had described was walking home, you on his tail and none the wiser about what fate was about to deliver. What you were about to deliver.

Crazy bitch. Depraved dog. Ruthless.

His insults don’t mean anything, as you stalk him through the streets and down the hallway that leads to his apartment. His pained groans and stuttered breaths mean nothing to you as you land hit after hit, they don’t give insight to anything but satisfaction that curls your lips up at the corners.

His words, Joel’s words, ring in your ears as you feel the impact of your knuckles on the man’s face. Each punch, each hit landing as the echo inside your head gets louder and louder. Those are the only ones that mean anything, the only thing that fuels your violence. The man crumpled beneath your knees deserving of every last bit even more so and you’re convinced he would feel the exact same way. He would see his own actions as righteous, taking what was his, what was deserved- the consequences not on his mind nor something he would feel like needs his attention. An afterthought, the result of an assault he forced on someone.

All of it, everything in the entire world was just- mistake, mistake, mistake. After goddamn mistake.

But this? Delivering retribution on the man who is weaker than you ever were, it feels right. It feels like something you’re meant to do. Despite the depravity and brutality of the sentence you’ve given him, it’s a step in the right direction. It’s a step toward a better future.  

Please. Stop. I’ll do anything you want. Take anything you want. Please- no…no!

And then he’s no longer breathing the air he doesn’t deserve.

With bruised hands, swollen knuckles and aching fingers you gather everything in his apartment into his own duffle bags hidden beneath the bed.

You leave the apartment, ignoring the cracked doorways as people peek through them to see what the scuffle was about, who had been target this time- the only thing left inside besides dirty linens and dishes is his body with a note stabbed into his chest with his pocket knife.

Don’t mess with my people.

Signed off with a stamp of ink in the shape of a paw.

And though it’s far too early to feel the weight in your belly, something settles there and you feel it the entire walk back to the apartment building, even as you stand at the sink and wash the blood from your hands. The stain of it lingers even with the aid of soap and cold water.

His figure used to be refreshing, a comforting thing to see at the end of every tumultuous day. But now, your eyes track him, take him in as if he posed a threat. As if he had done anything other than simply walk into the room, his muscles rippling with the action of removing his jacket. His scruff a dark shadow in the low light that glitters when the gray there catches the light. He’s so broad, the entire doorway filled by the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest. The same body you found comfort in when it curled around you or pressed down upon you. But now, it’s as if a stranger has strutted into your home for all that had happened recently.

Large, calloused hands reach for his belt, remove with a simple pull through the fabric holding it in place and you feel nausea rise at the spike of desire that pools between your legs. Feelings and urges war with each other in your mind and heart, body reacting to his as he approaches. Your head tilting into the cradle of his palm even as your mind screams at you that he doesn’t care. This is the same man who had declared loudly and determinedly that he wanted no part in the situation at hand. The one that involved a child. He hadn’t known his words were not only for another woman but for you too.

“You okay, darlin’? You look a little waxy there. The meds workin’ alright or do I need to go and get some more from the infirmary?”

“Fine, Joel.”

“Hey,” His eyes search yours as he tips your chin up, locking onto them and trying to find out what you’re not voicing. But he can’t seem to, because his brow furrows and the corners of his lips pull down. “You sure?”

“Had to take someone out, is all. Muscles weren’t used to being used like that.” The admittance doesn’t lift any of the weight in your chest, but the words are out. No longer caged between your ribs with the other secrets you now carry.

“Tell me you didn’t.” He takes a step back, and he’s not upset…but he’s- something. How were you supposed to know it was fear, when you swallowed yours down so long ago?

“I’ll tell you I did, because it needed to be done. He didn’t deserve to breath anymore. He forced her, Joel. He manipulated her long before that and then when she was finally free from him, he goes and-“

“You shoulda let me handle it.”

“Why? Because I’m too weak?” The snarl in your words has him removing his hand from you, giving you space. He lets out a heavy breath as he realizes the way you had taken his worry, his fear.

The room is crackling, the energy flowing from you having built up for days, weeks now. It hadn’t bothered you at first, it hadn’t bothered you at all. Until someone had made a comment that you had been made to heel, fucked into your rightful place. Just as you had been leaving the clinic earlier that day. You had been preoccupied, yes that’s true, but that didn’t mean you had taken a step to the side and allowed for authority to shift. You had simply begun to focus more on finding things that would not only benefit the anticipated needs of the zone’s occupants, but of Bill and Frank as well. Then you had gotten sick, all of that paired with the reality you were facing alongside Jean and no one could blame you for the whirlwind that had replaced your heart.

“You’re just tired, is all. Not weak, I could’ve been there for backup.” He tries to keep calm, but you can see the way the muscle in his jaw twitches. He looks from the collection of items on the dining table, to where you had made up a nest of sorts on the couch as you had tried to get some time out of the bed you really should be swathed in to recover. “Let’s get you another dose of meds and maybe a shower.”

And you know he isn’t trying to belittle your emotions or step around them. He’s seeing them for what they are, as least as best he can. He knows you’re overwhelmed, that small things grow into big things over time, and this is one of those moments where you realize that they have and it’s completely out of your control.

“‘M fine.” You can’t help the snap of your teeth as you clench your teeth, head pounding and stomach turning. You hadn’t left for days but you had heard the rumors going around as you and Tess all but disappeared from the scene when you both fell sick. Determined to get out and reclaim some semblance of control, you reach for your coat. The clack of plastic makes you freeze, worried that the object got shoved from the depths of the inside pocket it’s hidden in.

Joel takes the moment to come up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. Grounding himself and attempting to ground you too, knowing there was no stopping you if you wanted to get some space. You know he wouldn’t take that from you, try to control that part of you. He needed space sometimes too, even on the good days. But this wasn’t one of them, this was a bad day. A monumentally bad one. And it’s made even heartbreakingly worse by the confession he breathes into the back of your neck, his forehead pressed to back of your head as he inhales your scent. Don’t go. Love you. Need you safe while you’re sick.

You freeze, processing.

Love you. Love you. Love you.

It echoes in your mind, his voice caressing and soothing despite everything. It calms you enough to take a deep breath, to try and center yourself for the barest of moments.

And it sounds so good, his voice quietly voicing the warmth and affection that had developed, that had been carefully cultivated between you two over the years. But as good as they sound, they don’t bring you the comfort you know he hopes that they will. Because he’s already undermined the sentiment, he’s already crumbled the very foundation of what you two stand on. It breaks your heart a little to not return the words, even as you feel them harden and catch in the middle of your throat.

“You gotta know that, by now.” He fills the silence as your body tenses in his hold.

But the timing of it, the words he had spoken so devoutly just the previous day are like shrapnel stuck in your skin, burning and stinging. No amount of picking at them will take away the damage they’ve done, clear the burns and the irritation, the pain.

“Didn’t know you were the type of man who cast aside a pregnant woman who came to you for help. A woman who you’ve done nothing but try and watch out for until this point.” Your voice is a whisper, anger bubbling up, heartbreak spilling your chest open, body almost numb from the way everything was so poetically fucked.

“You’re right, I’ve done nothing but try and watch out for her. And guess what? She still got hurt, she still got assaulted, she’s still in this goddamn situation that has no good outcomes!” He’s pulling away, you turn to face him. The darkness that had fallen as night settled is not longer comforting against the onslaught of photophobia you had been experiencing all day. Now it feels suppressive, it feels like you’re in a cage that you can’t escape from. The words Joel had said and is now saying are like locks, connecting together in a twisted way to make you feel the weight of how they can’t possibly be coming from the same person.

“Is it really that bad of a situation?”

“Is it- for fuck’s sake, Cane.” He scrubs a wide palm over his face, the scruff of his neck bristling at the action and causing goosebumps to sprout all along your arms. “I think I get a decent read on you and then you go and ask somethin’ like that. Do you not see how this will affect us? Affect everything we try to do to survive?”

His voice has shifted from anger to something that rings warning bells in your head, it’s not desperation and its not beseeching. But there’s something in the deep timbre that alights your nerves and makes you feel as if everything between you will be determined in the next choice of words. Despite how you feel, despite the way things have been going, the groove you’ve found with him and Tess. Despite the smuggling getting harder but still holding a majority of the supplies and power, and how Joel returns to you every night. Despite it all, the phantom weight you feel low in your middle compels the words that leave your lips next.

“I’m not even sure if I know what love truly is but if it’s not what I feel for you then I have no clue. It’s never simple and perhaps it just speaks to how I’m meant to be alone.”

“What’s more simple than telling me how you feel?” His eyes are narrowed, though you see the way his irises are blown out. You wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s panicking, but he’s not…he’s hadn’t expected anything other than reciprocation. And it breaks your heart, the chasm in your chest deepening as you realize you can’t gift them to him as easily as you would’ve been able to just twenty-four hours prior.

“Because I heard you, Joel!” Your words leave you in a shout, an angry frustrated cry that bursts from your chest. Unable to quell the spike of emotions, this wasn’t just about Jean anymore. “I heard you talking about how that girl you’ve taken under your wing suddenly means nothing to you the second you can’t handle the situation. The things you said, the fucking vitriol in your voice when you talked about an innocent, a baby.”

“That’s what changed your mind? Affected everything I’ve done in the past four years, we’ve done in the past four years.”

“Yes! Because you- it- because it was so hateful. Like, I get it, Joel, really. You’re a big scary man, you’ve got the brooding scowl down and the razor sharp glare, but she needs our help with this. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but I’m not about to tell her what to do with her own body. You cannot be so daft to not think that that’s not going to alter the way I think about you at least a little.”

He doesn’t seem to know how to respond, his full lips pull down into a deep frown and his brow furrows, but he doesn’t say anything else. His eyes hard, sharp on you as he watches the way you shrug your jacket on and stand in front of the door. With a hand on the knob, you look back over your shoulder with a set expression, not willing for him to see any glimpse of what’s going on in your head.

“I’m going to take Jean to Lincoln. It’ll be safer for her there, better place to raise her mistake.”

The instinct to run, to protect, to build for not one but two mistakes settles deep in your bones as you realize the notion was a solitary one. Joel’s own instincts clashing with yours. Preservation and protection flare up and make you defensive, make you willing to walk away from the life you created with someone you love, to deny them the last true thing that makes life worth living- of loving and being loved in return, they allow you push through the heartache of leaving it all behind.

“I’ll be staying there to help her through everything.”

You don’t hear the whispered plea to not leave that falls from his lips, eclipsed by the sound of the slamming door. Or you do, and it push it from your memory for all the pain it brings to recall it.  

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[covetyou]

no shortage of sordid

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pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, Joel Miller x m!OC (unnamed) rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: very dubious consent (not from reader), oral sex (m receiving from m), voyeurism/exhibitionism, degradation, brief mention of food and allusion to hunger, unnamed m!OC, m/m, Joel is not exactly gay he's just a domineering asshole, drug reference word count: 3.1k summary: Your deal with Joel has changed into something else, something different to when you first came to his door asking for help months ago. But, when you try to take him up on your new arrangement, you're met with something you never expected.

A/N: this was originally a much shorter deleted scene from the start of the dark caress of someone else. I took it out because it was too much and after writing that chapter I told myself I would avoid writing threesomes for as long as possible, because god damn it there's too many body parts. well, me, fuck you, this is threesome adjacent and not technically a threesome at all.

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Six days. That's how long it takes for you to cave and admit you want him. It takes you another two to do anything about it.

The first time you make the trip to Joel's apartment, no pills necessary, you're faced with silence and a door that won't open.

With an hour break between your jobs the next day, you make another attempt. But, you barely make it through the market when you see him trailing behind Tess, hulking figure parting the crowd with ease. You don't stop to see where they're going, instead choosing to turn on your heel and head back the way you came. The less you know, the better. Using the cards he handed back to you nine days ago, you stop by a street food vendor on your way to your next job, eating your first hot meal not only of that day, but that week, the warm food soothing more than just the emptiness in your stomach.

It takes you much longer to convince yourself to try on the third day. Your thoughts hadn't immediately gone to Joel Miller that morning. You had toyed with going for a walk, with seeing if you could pick up more work. But soon your hands ache, bones creaking in their joints as you clench them once again, trying to stave off the want in your belly with the pinch of nails digging into your palms.

Fuck it. You're going. Whether he's there or not, the need to get out of this apartment far outweighs the desire to stay warm inside it.

So, one gray trudge across a gray Boston to a gray apartment block later, you're at his door. Again.

Only this time there's not silence on the other side.

You can hear a murmur - undoubtedly Joel by the heavy rasp of a wry laugh that follows it - and a garbled whimper.

And, of course, you could leave. You could turn your back and leave Joel up to whatever it is, whoever it is, he's doing in there, but you don't. You knock, wanting him to know that even if he's occupied, you showed up. You came to him, not for pills, but for sex. For want, for desire, for the ease of the ache between your legs and the itch in your palms that just won't quit no matter how much you make yourself come.

Even with company, he doesn't make you wait long.

So it's not that you're not expecting the shuffle of two sets of feet. Or the thud on the door, heavy and dull like something big had caught itself before falling down. You knew he wasn't alone and, after all, the only thing you could really expect when visiting Joel was that nothing would be as expected.

No, that's not what surprises you at all.

What surprises you is when the door drifts open a fraction, a disembodied hand reaching through and pulling you through the gap, dragging you inside. What surprises you is tripping over his shoes, only they're not his shoes, the feet turned the wrong way up to belong to the all too familiar man standing before you.

What surprises you is seeing a man on his knees in front of Joel Miller.

It surprises you so much, you don't even notice as the door clicks shut and the hand that dragged you inside pulls you once again to stand at his side.

From here you can get a full view. There's a man on his knees in front of Joel. Joel's pants are unbuckled and pulled low on his hips. And then, the entire scene becomes very, very clear.

There is a man on his knees in front of Joel with his cock in his mouth.

So, when Joel looks at you with a glint in his eye, you're suddenly rooted to the spot, staring between him and the man beneath him. A smirk from Joel tells you you've been looking a little too long so, embarrassed and not quite sure what to do with yourself, you spin around, turning to inspect the back of a chair as if it was the most interesting thing in the room, not the man currently bobbing his head up and down on Joel's length.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he drawls from behind you. "Ain't no fun for me if you ain't lookin'."

As you always do where Joel is concerned, you do as you're told, taking a deep breath as you turn back to watch the man swallow down Joel's cock. You'd seen this kind of thing before - turned down the wrong street at the wrong time more than once only to see someone on their knees for someone else, earning yourself a wink or an insult for the privilege. But you never stayed to watch. Yet, here you are, staying and watching either because it was Joel, or because he asked, you weren't too sure.

The why doesn't exactly matter, you figure, not when your cheeks were rapidly heating and the wet patch in your panties was doing nothing but grow.

"Think he likes the audience too," Joel is saying, nodding down to the guy on his knees. "Don't you?"

You can see that he does. There's a hard bulge in the front of his pants, a bulge that looks much harder than the cock currently in his mouth.

"Dick always so hard for a straight guy. Think you like being a cocksucker." Joel gives the man an awkward pat on the head and huffs out a laugh, looking away from him to look back at you.

"Likin' what you see, sweetheart?" he jokes, casting dark eyes up and down your body. He can't see much. It's still fucking freezing, which is no surprise for a February in Boston, and you're still wrapped up against the elements because of it. But you know his gaze is looking through all of it, seeing through the layers straight down to your flesh, to your hard nipples and the wetness between your legs. He raises that infuriating, knowing, eyebrow at you and you roll your eyes.

"'m serious, you gotta keep lookin' or I'm never gonna come," he says then, and you drag your eyes back in an instant. You briefly wonder why - how - he would never come from this until it hits you.

Having a man suck his dick isn't Joel Miller's idea of a good time. Whoever the man on his knees is, he owes Joel. Maybe just like you did, or maybe worse. It doesn't matter, because you're not witnessing a blow job, you're witnessing a fucking business transaction.

And so you laugh - not at Joel, or the man, not really, but at the entire fucked situation and the world that brought you to this place.

"Y'hear that?" Joel growls down at the man. "She's laughin' at you."

Pinching his eyes shut, the man groans, and you swear you can see a dark patch starting to form on the front of his pants. It almost feels wrong, looking at another mans bulge like this when Joel's cock is right there, disappearing in and out of the strangers mouth at a languid pace. You can't even ask his name - his mouth too full to get out more than a garbled moan. Maybe names don't matter either.

Joel's eyes haven't left you, and yours haven't left the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. He's harder now, softness completely gone now that you're here to witness it. Giving and watching a blow job are so much different to what you expected. There's a wet sound in the air, for one. That rhythmic, wet noise of a throat being fucked was usually masked by your own moans, made easy to ignore by the distraction filling your mouth. But here, several steps away, it is loud.

"That's it. Keep your eyes right there," Joel murmurs before pointing to your outer layer. "Unzip your coat, lemme see. Get those pretty tits out for me, sweetheart. Don't mind him. He ain't gonna look. Are you?"

The man groans again, keeping his eyes shut as his head bobs on Joel's cock, taking an impressive amount of him down his throat with each movement. There's a small shake of his head, and while you don't believe him, you find you don't care either. You don't know the man on the floor any more than he knows you, and you have a feeling he's likely to keep his mouth shut once he leaves Joel's apartment today anyway.

A fraction of a second later, you're pulling your jacket open and yanking your sweater up above your tits, baring them to Joel. He murmurs something to himself, fisting his shirt tightly as he holds it up, exposing his belly. It strikes you then how damn distracted you had been every time before now - Joel's fingers, or tongue, or cock working you in such a way that you were brainless and oblivious to the physical affects you had on him. Now, its obvious. Like a man possessed, he watches you with blown eyes, his cock in full hardness now as the man below him works him over with his mouth and tongue.

Dragging cool fingers down your exposed chest, you meet your already pebbled nipples, pinching them and holding back a soft gasp. It's as much for you as it is to get a reaction from Joel, and if he didn't know you were wet before, he does now.

"That's it, play with 'em. And keep watching, sweetheart. Want you to watch when I come down his throat."

It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but certainly not a chore. The man has picked up his pace, sucking and moaning around Joel's length as he slurps it down. He holds back a splutter when Joel's hips buck forward just as you pinch your nipples harder again, squeezing the flesh of your tits in cold palms.

"Fuuck, that's it, keep watchin'. You like that? Bet you want a taste of this dick too, huh?"

You nod, words stuck in your throat as Joel presses the mans head further into his crotch, rocking his hips to fuck lightly into his mouth.

"You needy and dripping over there ain't you?" he growls. He doesn't wait for you to nod, he doesn't need to. "Yeah you fuckin' are. Dirty fuckin' girl, watching my dick gettin' sucked. You like watching, don't you? Say it. Wanna hear it."

"I like it. I like watching, Joel," you say, barely more than a whisper as you become more and more entranced by Joel's cock in the mans mouth.

"Shit. Keep watchin'. Gonna come. Need you to watch."

It's all you can do to hold back a moan, your panties now probably ruined by your dripping, neglected cunt. This was not what you came here for, but watching Joel mumble obscenities and growl filth to you and the man on his knees as he gets his cock sucked was something you never knew you wanted before now. Sure, you want to touch, to play with him yourself. But watching is getting you wetter and wetter without even a finger or the press of your thighs to help you along the way.

"That's it. You keep suckin'. Fuck. Gonna bet you want this load in you not in him, right?"

Nodding frantically, you move a hand to your waistband, a soft plea on your lips, ready to pull your pants down any second. "Please - "

"Fuck - shit - well too bad, sweetheart. You look at that dick gettin' sucked. Shit - gonna come. Look at me. I said look at me."

Your eyes meet his just as they flutter closed. Joel groans a curse, his balls starting to empty into the throat of the man in front of him until he's suddenly tugging the mans hair, pulling his mouth off of his cock. The man gasps, swallowing down what he can as Joel rapidly strokes his spit soaked length, jerking the remains of his spend over the mans face and mouth. His eyes immediately flick to yours, a soft moan having left your own lips the moment Joel started to come, and he groans again, a final spurt coating the mans chin, soaking his facial hair. It's filthy. Not the most filthy thing you know Joel's done, but the most filthy thing you've ever seen him do from the outside. You can't help but stare on in silence, too captivated by the spurts of milky white dripping over the mans face, his eyes still screwed tight. You're aching and desperate to stick a hand down your pants, to feel how wet you are, to touch your clit and make yourself come as you try to hold yourself upright on shaky legs.

Through syrupy blood pulsing in your ears you hear Joel growl down at the man, removing his hand from his hair like it's burned his palm. Then, he's looking to you again, deep brown eyes searching your own before falling down, down to where your hand cups your breast and your other fists the waistband of your pants in a tight grip. He knows - knows that even if you came here already wet and wanting, you were even more so now.

And it's with a smirk and a sharp snap of his fingers that he pulls you back into the room. The man's eyes are open now, avoiding yours as he wipes cum from his face with his sleeve, covertly licking his lips for any remnant taste of Joel. You can't blame him, fuck knows you'd done the same when Joel had swiped a taste of himself over your own lips, but you can't help the jealousy at wanting to taste again too.

It's then you remember your exposed chest, and you yank your sweater back down without another glance to the man on his knees. Joel shakes his head, a shit eating grin spreading across his face as he strides across the room. He goes to the cupboard where you know he keeps a small amount of his stock, rifling through for a second before coming back with a baggy and tossing it down on the floor at the mans knees. He scrambles for it immediately, climbing to his feet and grabbing the door. Joel doesn't look at him again.

"Say hello to your wife for me," Joel calls over his shoulder, and the man scurries away without a word.

Now it's just you and him, his unbuttoned pants the only remaining evidence of what just happened.

You hesitate, partly in stunned silence, partly your brain having turned to liquid between your ears, all coherent thought lost the moment Joel's cum spurted across the mans face. But there's still that unsatisfied ache between your legs, throbbing and making your hand twitch, willing you to reach for him now that he's so close.

Joel sees it, he knows, knows what you came here for and knows what you won't be getting.

"Not today, sweetheart. Couldn't even if I tried," he says gesturing to his spent already dick tucked back into his pants. "Gotta head out again too, so whatever you got goin' on in those panties, you gotta deal with it yourself." He finishes with a wink and a tap to your chin before grabbing a small gym bag from the couch. You hadn't even seen it there, brain too occupied by more interesting things happening in this room at the time.

So it's no surprise, really, when your mouth starts running before your mind can process what it's doing. There's only one thing you're thinking of. One thing, aside from the throb in your core, that you can't stop thinking about, that envy won't let you give up.

"Would you - " your mouth gapes, opening and closing like a fish while your mind stutters and stops. You shouldn't even ask. There's no answer that can satisfy that particular itch. Not as quickly as you'd want it, at least. If he said yes, he'd already said nothing could happen right now, and if he said no, well... there was something about the thought of him denying you that did something to you too. There was no winning.

"Would I what?"

Of course, Joel had already heard. Even as he potters about the apartment, dumping stuff into the bag from places you've not been paying attention to. He stops, prompting you to go on.

"Would you... Would you come in my mouth like that? One time?"

He stares at you with his mouth open in disbelief. "You want me to come in your mouth?"

You nod, your mouth suddenly so fucking dry you can't speak anymore. You'd been salivating, able to practically taste the phantom flavor of Joel's cum on your tongue just a moment ago. Now, it was like you'd been chewing on bricks, tongue sticky and dry and your teeth feeling like an awkward jumble in your mouth.

"Well, shit. Call the press. Respectable good girl wants to be my little cocksucker -"

"Fine, if you're going to make fun, I don't -"

"Woah, hold on, I'm fuckin' with you. I ain't gonna turn down shutting that pretty mouth up with my dick. Gotta do it more than one time though, sweetheart. You around tomorrow?"

Between jobs and your dad having a day off, it would be a few days before you could come back. Shaking your head, you offer up Thursday instead. It's only three days away. You can make it three more days. Right?

"Thursday works for me. Come by in the afternoon. I'll come in that mouth, and then I'll play with that pussy while I get worked up again," he says before adding, with a cock of his head, "Then I'll come in that too."

And you're dumbstruck - the fantasy you concocted in your own head far surpassed by Joel's own, seemingly thought up right on the spot as he maneuvers you out into the hallway.

"See you then, sweetheart."

He pushes you out of the door, fingers electrified where they touch your shoulder. You expect the door to snap shut behind you, like it has so many times before, but he follows you out into the hallway, locking the door behind him. With a wink, he stalks off down the corridor, legs carrying him out of the apartment block too quick for you to keep up.

Later that night, alone in bed and wondering how the hell you're going to last two more days like this, you rub yourself stupid to thoughts of Joel's cock in a mouth that isn't yours.

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