#the last of us fanfiction

[punkshort]

A Christmas Miracle

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Years of tension after a failed hook-up attempt with Joel boil over at your office Christmas party, but not in the way you expect.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, enemies to lovers, smut (18+ MDNI), hate sex that turns soft in the end because it's shortie writing this, fingering, unprotected piv sex, semi-public sex

WC: 4.6K

"Goddamnit, why did he show up? He hates shit like this," you grumbled to your friend, Tina, when the elevators slid open to reveal the latest batch of co-workers trickling inside the hotel ballroom your company rented out for their annual Christmas party.

Tina glanced over her shoulder, scanning the crowd of well dressed men and women before her eyes landed on the one in question.

"Who, Joel?" she smirked, turning back to you.

"Yes, Joel," you seethed. You bellied up to the bar to flag down the cute bartender for another martini. If you had to listen to Joel share horrible stories about his latest conquests, sales or otherwise, then you had to make sure you had a decent amount of alcohol in your system first.

"Oh, come off it. Why don't you just fuck him already and get it over with?" Tina joked. You gasped in disgust and covered your mouth.

"Do not even joke about that. Who knows what kind of diseases that sleaze-bag is carrying around."

Tina tossed her head back and laughed, the sound dancing in the air like music. She was one of the prettiest women in your office, but much to everyone's chagrin, she was recently married and officially off the market. But that didn't stop the men in your office from harmlessly flirting with her now and again for the ego boost.

"Nah, he's all talk," Tina said with a wave of her hand.

"Not true - Lainey in the mailroom slept with him two years ago, remember that fiasco?" you shot back instantly before taking a grateful sip from your glass. Tina raised a suspicious eyebrow at you and propped one hand on her hip.

"You're keeping track?"

"No," you replied defensively. You rolled a shoulder and shifted your weight before taking another sip. "I just remember her crying over it every chance she got. Couldn't eat lunch in peace for weeks."

"Uh huh, sure," Tina said, rolling her eyes. She scanned the room again, hips lightly swaying to the music while you sat next to her, determined to have a miserable night. "Didn't you guys kiss once, though?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut. "Don't remind me. Worst mistake of my life. Thank god I didn't fall for his shit and go home with him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because believe it or not, I had standards," you clipped. "I didn't want to sleep with him after a sloppy office happy hour. I wasn't dumb enough to put out the first time we kissed."

"Alright, so if you were into him enough to kiss him and potentially see him again, what the hell happened?" Tina pressed. You sighed and let your chin rest in your propped up hand. Tina hadn't worked at your company as long as you and sometimes it was easy to forget she didn't know the full history.

"He took someone else home from the office that night, instead," you muttered under your breath. Tina whistled and shook her head.

"Damn. Alright, dick move, you win."

"Told you. Ever since then, I can't stand being in the same room with him. He's such a smug douchebag, always trying to push my buttons and piss me off just for the fun of it. Like the whole thing was a game to him."

"But it wasn't a game to you," Tina said, slowly connecting the dots. You nodded sadly and took a long sip from your glass.

"Nope."

Tina's expression softened when she saw the look on your face. "I'm sorry. I had no idea-"

"It's fine," you said, cutting her off. "I'm better off. It didn't mean anything, anyway. It was just one kiss," you chuckled, trying to play off the hurt you still harbored somewhere deep down.

"But still-"

"Evenin', ladies," a familiar drawl came from somewhere behind Tina. You didn't need to look. You knew who it was.

"Oh," Tina said when she swiveled around and saw Joel standing against the bar. "Hey, Joel."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and adjusted his tacky red tie.

"Apologies. My reputation seems to have preceded me," he said, glancing once in your direction before giving her a dazzling smile and stretching out his hand. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Tina, and give it a rest, I'm married," she said, holding up her left hand with her massive diamond while shaking his hand with her right.

"That's a damn shame," Joel said with a flirty smile. You rolled your eyes and tossed back the rest of your drink but it didn't matter. You were essentially invisible. "He must be one lucky fella. He treatin' you right?"

"Fantastic," Tina replied, pulling her hand out from his grip before turning to you. "I need to use the restroom," she murmured. You stood to follow her but Joel stopped you.

"How 'bout you? You seein' anyone special?"

You huffed and shook your head. "Kiss my ass."

Joel howled with laughter before sliding onto the stool Tina vacated.

"If I recall, few years back I was willin' to do that and more, but you shot me down."

"Yeah, thank Christ for that moment of clarity," you grumbled. You swept your eyes around the room, pretending to lose interest in the man sitting beside you, but unfortunately you couldn't bring yourself to get up and just fucking leave.

Joel held up two fingers, signaling for the bartender in a frustratingly effortless way that set your teeth on edge and had your thighs pressing together.

"Whiskey, neat. And-"

Joel turned to you, waiting for your drink order, but you shook your head.

"I'm good."

"Shot of tequila," Joel told the bartender with an award winning smile.

You glared at Joel as the bartender walked away.

"Tequila? Really?"

Joel chuckled and swiveled in his stool to face you. "You thought I forgot what loosened you up that night?"

"You're a pig," you snapped, and you should have grabbed your purse and left, but your feet refused to move. "You're a pompous asshole who doesn't give a damn about anybody's feelings so long as you're getting your dick wet. I can't fucking stand hearing you walk around the office gloating like you're hot shit. Tell me, Joel," you said, leaning forward now that you were on a roll. "When you go home to your empty apartment at night, who listens to your bullshit? Hm? The fucking plants?"

Joel didn't say a word but you could tell by the look on his face that he was taken aback. For once you had the upper hand, and you weren't going to let it go.

"Enjoy this schtick while it lasts because one day you're gonna wake up and it'll be a thing of the past. One day, they'll hire a new Joel. Someone younger and hotter and probably nicer than you and suddenly you'll be all alone wondering where the fucking time went."

"You got a real mouth on you, huh?" he shot back. "Think you know a goddamn thing 'bout me? You got no fuckin' clue, sweetheart. But maybe if you gave me half a chance all them years ago, you'd know a thing or two."

You laughed, voice dripping with sarcasm as the bartender placed his whiskey and tequila in front of him.

"What are you saying? Do you even hear yourself?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He scowled and took a long sip from his whiskey. "How the hell would I ever have known anything about you, Joel? Can't learn much about a person after a few drunken hours and a half-assed attempt at foreplay because let's face it - that's all you're willing to offer anyone."

As a last second attempt at a power move, you grabbed the tequila and tossed it back with a wince before slamming the glass onto the wooden bar top and grabbing your purse.

"Thanks for the drink. It's been lovely catching up," you sneered, then finally forced yourself to leave his orbit before you lost yourself completely.

You slid through the crowds of people mingling and laughing in the ballroom, eyes darting this way and that as you tried to either find Tina or the nearest exit. When you eyes began to blur with unshed tears and you were about to resign yourself to crying in the middle of your fucking office Christmas party, you felt a strong hand wrap around your bicep.

"C'mon, this way," Joel's deep voice murmured before hauling you in a completely opposite direction.

For some unknown reason, you let him lead you from the packed ballroom towards the stairs. It was quieter, the sound from the Christmas music dulled against the walls, the only people around to hear it were you.

"We need to set some shit straight, once and for all," Joel said when he pulled you into an empty hallway. From the looks of it, it was an area meant for the hotel staff. One door was labeled laundry and the other maintenance. The elevator bank was right there. You could have easily tapped the button and left, but instead you crossed your arms and defiantly scowled up at him.

"Yeah? This should be good," you told him. He growled under his breath and you had to stifle the primal reaction the sound caused between your legs.

"That night... the happy hour. When we... y'know..." he trailed off and you sighed dramatically.

"Yes, Joel. Unfortunately I remember."

"I didn't go home with anyone else," he said. You blinked, unsure if it was the alcohol or if you were truly losing your mind. Did he really just say what you thought he said?

"What?" you whispered.

Joel shrugged. "I didn't. I might've spread that rumor 'cause my feelin's were hurt but I didn't go home with anyone else. I only wanted you."

"Me?" you sputtered.

"Yeah, you," Joel repeated, annoyance lacing his voice. "You'd been drivin' me crazy for fuckin' months. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you. Ask Harris, he'd tell you. I talked 'bout you non-fuckin'-stop. Then that night, I got 'nough liquid courage in me to make a move and, well..."

He trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You shot me down. Ruined all the confidence I had 'n left me heartbroken."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," you said. "I didn't want to sleep with you that night and you took that to mean I wasn't interested in you? At all? Did it ever occur to you some women don't sleep with men the very first night they're shown a little attention?"

"Did it ever occur to you I wasn't tryin' to sleep with you that night?" he shot back.

"Oh, please!" you exclaimed with a dry laugh. "'Lemme walk you home, baby,' and, 'my place ain't too far from here'." You snorted and shook your head in disbelief. "Don't try to rewrite history. I was tipsy but I fucking remember."

"I was worried 'bout you!" he practically shouted in despair. "You'd been drinkin' and I wanted to make sure you were safe! Goddamnit, I didn't expect you to freak out 'n fuckin' shove me in front of the whole damn bar!"

The more Joel talked, the more the pieces began to slide into place. Maybe you did misread his intentions that night.

"W-well... y-you still continued to sleep around with the entire office," you stammered, gathering yourself again and shaking off his bombshell. "You had sex with Lainey from the mailroom and god knows who else! You might not have gone home with someone that night, but who cares? It's obvious you were just looking for a quick fuck."

"There's that fuckin' mouth again," he grumbled angrily. "Yeah, alright. Fine! I slept with a few women but Jesus fuckin' Christ, what'd you expect me to do? You clearly had zero goddamn interest in me. I couldn't sit 'round and be miserable forever."

"I never said I had zero interest in you!" you exclaimed before you had a chance to catch yourself. But your admission was out there. It was too late, and Joel's eyes darted up to yours in surprise.

"What's that mean? You... liked me?"

"What is this, high school?" you scoffed, crossing your arms. When he just continued to stare at you, anxiously waiting for you to answer, you sighed and dropped your arms to your sides in defeat. "Yeah, fine. I like you."

"Wait, wait, wait," Joel said excitedly. "Like or liked?"

"Oh, my god!" you cried out before turning on your heel to storm back down the stairs towards the party. "I'm not doing this with you! I'm fucking not-"

In the blink of an eye, Joel snatched your arm and twisted you back around to crash against his chest. You gasped right before his other hand cupped your cheek and pulled you in for a deep kiss.

For one blissful moment, you let yourself forget it all. You forgot all the anguish you felt when you heard about Joel's latest conquests. You forgot about the way it felt watching him breeze around the office without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the way he hurt you. And you definitely forgot about the way you turned down a perfectly good date just two weeks prior because he wasn't what you were searching for and you fucking knew why.

"I'm not some cheap, quick fuck," you panted when you pulled away for air. Joel had managed to turn you so your back bumped up against the wall. Your eyes slid shut and a soft moan escaped from your lips when he began to drag his mouth down the column of your throat.

"We can go fast or slow, whatever you want," he mumbled into your skin. Your hand connected blindly with his shoulder and gave him a forceful shove, making him chuckle. "I know what you meant. I don't want that, either," he said before straightening up so he could look at you. "I don't want this to be a one time thing. Never did. That's what I've been tryin' to say."

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to come up with a response. The way things had changed so quickly left you scrambling to keep up, and although you couldn't deny the reaction your body was having to Joel crowding you aggressively against the wall, your mind couldn't give in as easily.

"I can't stand you," you growled before pulling him back down to your level. Your mouth crashed hungrily against his, chasing the taste of peppermint and whiskey on his tongue. You were so lost in the feeling of his surprisingly soft lips pressed against yours that you hardly noticed when his hand skated down your side. With a muffled yelp, he yanked you off your feet, using his broad body to pin you against the wall while his hand began to travel up the skirt of your dress. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him with your legs curled around his waist so you didn't fall.

"Fuck," Joel groaned when his fingers brushed against where your underwear should have been had you not chosen to forgo them for the evening. You smirked against his mouth and grabbed roughly at his hair.

"Didn't want panty lines," you breathlessly explained.

"Yeah, can't have that," he murmured right before plunging his tongue back inside your mouth. At the same, his thumb grazed over the slit of your cunt, pulling a moan from you both.

"You like yellin' at me, huh? That why you're already this wet, baby?" he purred, nipping at your earlobe while his middle finger teasingly probed at your entrance. You dropped your head back against the wall with a thud, hips chasing his hand, eager for more.

"Shut up," you whispered, then gasped when he finally slid one long, thick finger inside you. Joel chuckled against your neck, curling his finger inside your tight heat every time he dove back in. Your chin was tilted towards the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as he slid a second finger inside with ease. You were vaguely aware of your compromising position, knowing full well anybody could turn the corner or exit one of the rooms at any moment, but neither of you cared.

"Ohmygod, fuck! Keep going," you begged, rolling your hips as best you could with your legs wrapped around his waist. The palm of his hand began to slap steadily against your clit each time he thrusted his fingers into you, driving you to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

"How 'bout you talk a little sweeter to me if you want it so bad?" Joel countered, yet his hand never stopped between your legs. He pulled away from your neck to watch your face contort with pleasure, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, you saw the flush in his cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You smirked amidst your gasps for air and rolled your hips faster.

"Why? I think you like it when I'm mean to you."

His eyes darkened a shade and his hand began to move faster, fingers curling and brushing against a spot inside you that stole your breath. His free hand was pressed against the wall next to your head for leverage, but his fingertips curled with the desire to grab you fucking anywhere.

"Least lemme hear you say my name when you come," he said through clenched teeth. And that defiant streak inside of you really didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but his skilled fingers were making short work of your resolve.

Joel got what he wanted. A few quick snaps of his hand had you loudly coming undone with his name on your lips. He laughed before shushing you and pressing his mouth tenderly against your own to keep you quiet while slowing the rhythm of his hand between your legs.

For a few minutes, you each forgot where you were and all the bullshit you were arguing about moments before. Joel kissed you so softly through your high that it had you melting against him. Your fingers were no longer tugging at his hair. Instead, you found yourself gently raking them through his dark brown curls almost affectionately while your tongues slowly danced together.

You gasped when he carefully pulled out his hand, breaking the kiss. With glassy eyes and swollen lips, you stared at one another while trying to catch your breath. It was almost too soft, especially with the way his eyes searched your face, desperately trying to figure out where things stood after what you just did. He was so fucking hard that his stomach hurt, but he couldn't tell if you wanted to take things further or if you were having regrets.

"So that's all it takes to shut you up?" he finally teased when the silence had gone on too long for his liking. You huffed and rolled your eyes before tightening your legs around his waist, tugging him closer. Joel smirked when his hips collided with yours and you felt the massive erection he had been fighting with for the past fifteen minutes.

"Hmm, no I don't think so," you breathed while allowing a hand to fall between your bodies. Your fingers brushed against the outline of his cock straining against his black dress pants and you grinned. "But maybe this will."

"Thank fuck," he groaned in relief. His breath instantly grew more shallow at the mere prospect of feeling you wrapped around his cock, but when you nimbly undid his pants and pulled out his throbbing length, his chest was practically heaving with anticipation.

"Easy," you murmured when he leaned forward, sinking his teeth into a sensitive spot on your neck. You relished in the way you managed to make him so weak with just a few strokes of his cock. His entire body had pushed forward, chasing your hand. You felt short of breath from the pressure of his body pinning you against the wall but you didn't make him move. You liked the feeling of his broad frame caging you in far too much to make him stop.

You lined him up with your entrance and pulled your hand away, but just as he began to press forward, a squeaky door opening and closing around the corner from your hallway made you both freeze.

"Shit," you whispered. Joel locked eyes with you and quickly shook his head, signaling for you to be quiet. Both your shoulders were rising and falling fast but your mouths remained clamped shut so your heavy breathing couldn't be heard by whoever was walking down the tile floor with high heels. You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face when the footsteps sounded moments away from turning the corner, then by some miracle they stopped in their tracks.

"Oh dear, I forgot my phone," a woman's voice said softly to herself. You both began to relax when the footsteps turned in the opposite direction and finally disappeared all together.

"Jesus Christ," Joel laughed shakily. You smirked and wiggled your hips, impaling yourself further on his cock.

"Better hurry up," you told him with an arched brow after his eyes locked with yours in surprise. Then a slow smile stretched across his face, positively gleeful that almost getting caught didn't change your mind. With one swift thrust, he sunk inside you the rest of the way, pleased with the way your jaw silently fell open and your head tipped back against the wall.

"You told me to hurry," he reminded you as he began to move his hips. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you hung on for dear life.

"Fuck... you..." you whispered with your eyes closed and brows knit together. Joel chuckled and nipped your chin.

"Yeah, baby, that's the idea," he grunted, snapping his hips faster. "Fuck, wish we had more time. Feel so fucking good."

"I thought you'd be used to - shit - thought you'd be used to quickies by now."

Joel grabbed your chin and stilled his hips, forcing your eyes open in surprise.

"Knock it off. Told you I don't want that. Not with you."

You were surprised to hear the seriousness to his voice. You fumbled for a moment with how to react before saying, "Guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

"Yeah, you will," Joel replied. He released your chin and began to move again before he added, "I'm a lot of things, a liar ain't one of 'em."

He sounded truthful, but it was difficult to reconcile what he was saying to what you'd been hearing over the past few years. But since time was of the essence, you chose to let it go. After all, how long could it possibly take for someone to grab their phone?

"What? Got nothin' else to say?" Joel chided. You could see the flush creeping up his neck and even a little sweat beading just above his collar. The urge to drag your tongue across his tanned skin was growing impossible to ignore, so instead of answering his question, you decided to lunge forward and do just that. He groaned and began to grind into you, the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit fucking perfectly.

You whimpered and buried your face against his neck, doing your best to stifle your sounds as the heat in your belly grew once again.

"Just like that," you gasped into his skin, hands grappling at the back of his neck, trying to draw him closer. "Oh, god, Joel... I'm close," you whined. It was building up too fast after your last orgasm. Your eyes began to water the harder he ground his hips and you bit down harshly on your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out.

"That's it, just let go," he whispered in your ear. The intimacy of it sent a shiver down your spine. "Lemme have it. Say my name again, baby, please... I-I need it," he added, voice strained.

You lifted your chin so your lips could find the shell of his ear, moaning his name without your voice being muffled. What felt like just a second or two later, with your orgasm still rolling through you, Joel stilled and groaned softly into your shoulder, hips stuttering as he came.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he rasped as he pumped the last of his release deep into your cunt.

Panting for air, you slid your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against his. You felt his nose nudge against yours and you smiled before searching for his mouth and brushing your lips tenderly over his own.

"Look at you," Joel whispered against your mouth. "All soft 'n sweet now that you finally got fucked right."

"Do you ever stop talking?" you asked, trying to sound irritated, but the smile tugging at your mouth gave you away.

"You fuckin' love it," Joel said right before his tongue slipped past your lips with a groan.

The door around the corner opened and once again the familiar tap of high heels echoed down the hall. You sprung apart and hissed under your breath after Joel pulled out of you too fast.

"Sorry," he whispered while he tucked himself back into his pants and you adjusted the skirt of your dress.

You had just enough time to run your fingers through your hair and swipe a finger under your lip to catch any smeared lipstick when a woman neither of you recognized turned the corner.

"Oh! Good evening," she said after she slid to a halt. Joel cleared his throat and adjusted his tie before reaching for your hand.

"Evenin'... Dolly," he replied, squinting at her nametag. "My girlfriend's lookin' for the bathroom, could you point us in the right direction?"

"Of course! Sorry to say you've gotten yourself quite turned around. If you just go through those double doors there, you'll find the restrooms up the stairs and to the left."

"Thank you," you called out over your shoulder when Joel tugged you back in the direction of the ballroom. Once you were out of earshot, you dissolved into a fit of giggles, the sound making Joel grin ear to ear.

"Didn't take you for bein' such a naughty thing," he teased before holding the door open for you to step through.

"Yeah, me either," you replied with a little shake of your head. "You must be a bad influence on me."

"Care to join this bad influence for dinner tomorrow night?" he asked when he found his place back at your side. The ballroom was just on the other side of the wall. You could hear clearly now the drunken voices of your co-workers singing Christmas carols off-key.

"What, like a date?"

"Yeah," Joel said, grabbing your arm and spinning you around before you entered the room. "Like a date."

His dark eyes were sparkling as he gazed down at you. You noticed some of your lipstick had transferred under his ear and you grinned before using the pad of your thumb to swipe it away.

"Yeah. Okay. Let's do it."

Joel couldn't resist ducking down to your level for one more kiss, but it wasn't quick enough. To your left you heard a sharp gasp and you pulled apart to find Tina and two other co-workers staring at you like they just saw a ghost.

The tension was thick for a moment. Nobody knew what to say or do until finally Tina whooped and cheered before shouting, "It's a fucking Christmas miracle!"

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[mssalo]

ma'am

Joel Miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. As your right-hand man in Jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshiping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sub!Joel, dom!f!reader, oral (male and female receiving), nipple play (SUCKING JOEL’S NIPPLES like he deserves), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, desperation kink, Joel whimpering, explicit sexual content, mutual devotion, protective partnership, reader is emotionally supportive but firm, Joel finds comfort in being cared for (he’s babygirl) and Joel being so far gone it’s frankly adorable.

11k. enjoy.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller had always been the guy people turned to when things needed fixing—whether it was a busted fence, a tough decision, or clearing out a horde of infected, he was the dependable one. The solid one. The man who got things done without flinching.

But with you, it was different.

You weren’t like anyone else in Jackson. You’d arrived last winter, stepping into the town’s bustling life like you’d always belonged, and somehow, you’d made it your own. 

People respected you—trusted you—not because you demanded it, but because you commanded it. You were sharp, resourceful, and unshakably confident. 

Joel couldn’t decide if you reminded him of a soldier or a queen, but either way, it made his chest tighten every time you spoke.

It started innocently enough.

“Joel, we need these supplies moved to the north gate before sundown,” you said one day, standing by the depot, that calm, no-nonsense tone that made Joel’s stomach flip.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied without thinking, the words slipping out as easily as breathing.

You’d looked up, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Didn’t peg you for the ‘yes ma’am’ type,” you teased lightly, your lips curving into that small, knowing smile.

Joel had flushed, shifting on his feet like a boy caught stealing. “Guess it’s just… habit.”

You didn’t push, just nodded and turned back, but Joel couldn’t get the moment out of his head.

Something about the way you spoke to him—firm but never condescending, confident but never overbearing—lit something inside him he hadn’t felt in years. 

Respect, maybe. Or something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous.

The more months you worked together, the worse it got for him.

“Joel, grab the shotgun and cover me,” you ordered one day, crouched behind a rusted-out truck as infected skittered through the woods ahead. Your voice was steady, even in the heat of the moment, and Joel’s chest swelled as he followed your lead without question.

Another time, while patrolling the perimeter, you had said, “Check the west side at dusk. Let me know if anything’s out of place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel had answered automatically, his voice softer, almost reverent.

You didn’t always notice how easily he fell into step with you, how much he craved the way you trusted him to follow through. 

But Joel noticed. Every damn time. 

And it wasn’t just respect—though that was there too—it was something raw and magnetic. Something that made his chest tighten and his cock stir in ways that left him fumbling for composure.

It wasn’t just the way you spoke. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you moved through the world with confidence that was effortless, never forced. 

You weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone—you just were. You called the shots when they needed calling, and people listened, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Joel wanted to. And more than that, he liked it.

One night, it all came to a head.

Jackson was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of lanterns strung between buildings. Joel was walking back from the stables when he spotted you on the porch of the town hall, a map spread across the railing in front of you. 

The way the light hit your face, catching on your jawline and softening your features, made his chest ache.

“Joel,” you called, your voice slicing through the stillness like a blade.

He froze for half a second before making his way over, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. 

His pulse quickened as he got closer, his eyes darting over you—your loose hair falling over one shoulder, the curve of your wrist as you held the edge of the map, the faint furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his. “Come take a look at this,” you said, motioning him closer.

Joel stepped up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he looked at the map.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, and Joel had to force himself to focus on what you were pointing at—a marked spot near the riverbank.

“Been seeing signs of movement out here the past couple nights,” you explained. “Could be nothing, but I want to clear it tomorrow. Need someone to back me up. You in?”

“Always,” Joel said immediately, his voice quieter than he intended but no less firm. His fingers brushed yours as he took the map, and he swore he felt a spark.

You smiled then—just a small curve of your lips—but it sent heat rushing through Joel’s chest. “Good. Be ready at dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel murmured before he could stop himself.

Your brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks warming. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his gaze sliding to the ground. “Suits you.”

Your smile widened just enough to make his heart stumble. “If you say so.”

With that, you folded the map, tucked it under your arm, and disappeared into the town hall, leaving Joel standing there like a damn fool, his chest tight and his jeans uncomfortably snug. 

He swore under his breath, adjusting his stance in a futile attempt to ease the ache building low in his belly.

It wasn’t fair. 

The way you got under his skin without even trying. The way you made him feel… lighter and heavier all at once. 

Joel had spent his whole life being the one people leaned on, the one who carried the weight, and for once, he didn’t mind letting someone else take the reins. 

Hell, he wanted to. 

He wanted to follow you, to listen to you, to give you every ounce of control you asked for.

Joel stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door of the town hall long after you’d gone inside. 

His pulse pounded in his ears, the ache in his jeans growing unbearable as his mind replayed the last few moments—the way your voice curled around his name, the subtle command in your tone when you told him to be ready, the approving smile that lingered on your lips when he’d answered.

It was ridiculous, he thought bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, and yet here he was, rock-hard in the middle of Jackson like some lovesick idiot. 

His cock throbbed against the tight denim of his jeans, a constant, humiliating reminder of how badly he wanted you—how badly he needed you.

Joel swallowed hard, adjusting himself as subtly as he could manage, though the motion sent a shiver of frustration through him. 

This was nothing new. 

Every time he was around you, it was like his body betrayed him, reacting to the sound of your voice, the sway of your hips, the smallest flick of your wrist as you gestured for him to follow.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

The way you carried yourself, confident and composed, made his chest tighten in ways that were equal parts admiration and raw, aching need.

You were everything Joel wasn’t. Steady. Collected. In control. And fuck if he didn’t crave that about you.

More than anything, he craved the way you made him feel. Like he could just… let go.

The thought sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock, and Joel bit back a groan, his hand clenching at his side. 

He’d spent years—decades—being the man people turned to, the one who handled the tough shit without complaint.

But with you? He didn’t want to be the guy in charge. 

He wanted to be the one following orders, wanted to be the one looking up at you, waiting for your approval. 

He wanted to make you proud. 

To hear you say his name the way you had earlier, with that faint hint of amusement, like you saw something in him that no one else ever had.

Goddamn it, he was pathetic.

Joel shook his head, muttering a low curse under his breath as he turned away from the town hall. 

The walk back to his house felt like a blur, his thoughts too tangled to focus on anything but you. 

Every step sent a dull throb through his cock, and by the time he reached his front door, his hands were trembling, his jaw tight with restraint.

Inside, Joel leaned heavily against the door, the cool wood pressing into his back as he exhaled shakily. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, the pounding of his heart loud in the stillness of the house. 

The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots reminded him he wasn’t dreaming, though he almost wished he were—wished the memory of you wasn’t so vivid it set his whole body on fire.

His jacket slid from his shoulders and hung limply on the hook by the door, but the ritual did little to calm him. 

His hand lingered against the fabric, fingers gripping tightly for a moment as though holding on to it might anchor him. But there was no escape—not from the way you lingered in his thoughts, the way your voice echoed in his ears like a melody he couldn’t shake.

C’mere, Joel. I need you to check this.

C’mere, Joel….

The words played on repeat, the confidence in your tone, the subtle curve of authority behind every syllable. 

The way you’d glanced at him tonight, your eyes catching his for just a second longer than necessary—it was enough to drive him insane. 

Joel groaned softly, the sound rough and guttural as he pressed the heel of his palm against the stiff, aching bulge in his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as if that might clear it. But it didn’t. It never did. He’d thought about you like this too many times to count. 

Late at night, alone in the dark, his fist slick and tight around his cock, imagining you leaning over him, your voice a breathy, commanding whisper.

“Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

It was the praise that undid him every time, the approval he ached for, that soft edge of control in your voice that made his chest tighten and his hips buck into his hand. 

Joel’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed off the door, his steps hurried and uneven as he made his way toward the bedroom. 

His body was hot, his skin flushed as he kicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, his breath coming fast and shallow.

He didn’t bother with the lights. There was no point when the image of you burned so brightly in his mind.

His hands fumbled with his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp hiss before he shoved his jeans down his thighs, kicking them aside. 

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Joel wrapped his calloused fingers around himself, his rough palm dragging slowly along the length as his head tipped back against the door. 

A soft, broken groan escaped his lips, and he tightened his grip, savoring the sharp sensation.

“Yes,” Joel whispered hoarsely, his hips jerking into his hand as the thought took hold.

The image was so vivid it made his knees weak.

“On your knees, Joel. Let me see how much you want it.”

He imagined you standing over him, your hands on your hips, your lips curved into that wicked, knowing smile.

You’d look down at him like you owned him, and Joel would crumble beneath that gaze, his body desperate to obey.

His hand moved faster, his strokes rougher as his chest heaved. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken. “I’d do it. Anything you want, darlin’. Just… just fuckin’ tell me.”

And then, there was the fantasy he couldn’t shake. You’d guide him down—your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him hiss as you tilted his face up toward yours.

“You want to make me feel good, baby? Show me.” You’d press his face between your thighs, your warmth surrounding him, and Joel would lose himself.

He could almost feel it—the softness of your skin, the slick heat of your cunt against his lips. His tongue would trace slow, deliberate circles around your clit, savoring the way your body trembled beneath his mouth. 

You’d moan his name, your voice breathy and broken, and it would be the only thing he cared about.

Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking off the door as his hand tightened, the slick sound filling the room. “Please,” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Please, darlin’. Let me be good for you. Let me—”

He imagined you grinding against his face, your thighs clenching around his head as you guided him, demanding more. “That’s it, Joel. Just like that. Don’t stop until I come, baby.”

The thought of your approval, of hearing you call him a good boy as he worked tirelessly to please you, made his cock throb painfully in his hand. “I’d do it,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’d fuckin’ worship you, darlin’. Just say the word.”

The tension snapped, his body locking up as his release hit. Hot, thick spurts spilled over his hand, his voice breaking into a low, guttural groan as his hips jerked helplessly. 

Your name fell from his lips, raw and reverent, as the pleasure coursed through him, leaving him trembling and spent.

For a long moment, Joel stood there, his chest heaving, his hand still wrapped loosely around his softening cock. 

The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, the evidence of his need dripping onto the floor, and yet all he could think about was you. Your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel like he could let go of everything and just… be.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he finally pushed off the door and reached for a towel. 

He cleaned himself up quickly, his thoughts still tangled, his body still thrumming with the remnants of his release. But even as the tension faded, the ache lingered—the desperate, aching need for you.

For your voice. For your touch. For your approval.

And Joel knew he’d never stop wanting it. Never stop wanting you.

Because this wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not until he had you.

Not until he could hear you say his name the way he’d always dreamed, soft and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders as you told him exactly what to do.

· · ───

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as you and Joel set out toward the riverbank, the chilly morning air biting at your cheeks. Joel kept a steady pace beside you, his rifle slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dense treeline with practiced precision.

Despite the tension that always came with patrols, there was a comfort in your presence—a grounding force that he couldn’t quite put into words.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, familiar and steady, and Joel found himself stealing glances at you more than he should.

You walked with such assuredness, each step purposeful, and the soft sway of your hips had him swallowing harder than necessary.

He tried to focus, but your commanding presence made it impossible not to feel both overwhelmed and grounded.

“See this?” you murmured, crouching near a patch of disturbed dirt. Your voice was low, clipped, yet patient as you gestured for him to come closer. “Looks like someone’s been through here recently. More than one.”

Joel crouched beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he examined the ground.

The way your hair caught the morning light, the subtle curve of your neck—it was too much. His chest tightened as he forced his gaze to the dirt and away from the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than intended. “Could be raiders.”

“Could be,” you agreed, straightening and adjusting the strap of your pack. “Let’s keep moving. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out instinctively.

You glanced at him, one brow arching, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

You turned without a word, leading the way through the uneven terrain. Joel followed close behind, his pulse quickening with every step. 

You always had this effect on him, like you were a magnet and he couldn’t help but be pulled in.

The ambush came fast. 

Raiders poured from the treeline, their weapons raised, shouts breaking the morning quiet. 

Joel moved on instinct, diving behind a fallen log and returning fire, but it was you who commanded the chaos with sharp, decisive orders.

“Joel! Left flank! Cover me!”

He obeyed without question, his rifle steady as he took down one of the raiders attempting to circle around. 

Even in the heat of the moment, his eyes kept darting to you—how you moved like a ghost through the underbrush, your aim deadly, your composure unshaken.

But when one of them charged at your blind spot, Joel didn’t think. He moved.

The gunshot echoed like thunder as he dropped the man with a single shot. 

You spun to face him, your eyes wide—not with fear but with something else. Relief? Gratitude? Whatever it was, it made his chest swell.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone steady despite the chaos. “But I told you—stay back.”

Joel gritted his teeth but nodded, ducking back behind cover as you finished off the last of the raiders. 

When the dust settled, you stood amidst the wreckage, your rifle slung over your shoulder, your expression calm but sharp. 

You scanned the area one last time before nodding.

“We’re clear,” you said, turning toward him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, though his arm burned where a bullet had grazed him. 

He shifted, trying to hide the blood seeping through his sleeve.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re hit.”

“It’s nothin’,” he muttered, brushing it off.

“It’s not nothing,” you snapped, stepping closer. Your hand grabbed his arm, firm but not harsh. “We’re done here. You’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

Joel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I can keep goin’. I’m fine.”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry, almost dangerous smile. 

“Joel,” you said, your voice low but laced with authority that sent a shiver down his spine. “Do I look like I’m asking?”

Joel swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice quieter this time, almost reverent.

“Good.” Your fingers lingered on his arm for just a second longer than necessary, the heat of your touch branding him, before you turned toward the horses. “Let’s move.”

At the clinic, Joel sat on the cot, his shirt discarded, the gash on his arm raw and angry. He winced as the doctor worked, stitching the wound with quick precision. 

But his eyes weren’t on the needle or the thread—they were on you, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

“You’ll need to rest for at least a couple days,” the doctor said, tying off the final stitch. “No patrols, no heavy lifting.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but your sharp glance silenced him immediately.

“Got it,” you said curtly, nodding at the doctor. “Thank you.”

When the doctor left, you turned to Joel, your arms dropping to your sides as you stepped closer. “Let’s get you home.”

Back at his house, you guided him inside, your hand on his arm, your touch firm and steady. 

Joel sank onto the couch with a groan, his body heavier than he wanted to admit. You moved with purpose, disappearing into the kitchen before reappearing with a damp cloth and a glass of water.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a look that had him snapping his mouth shut.

“Let me,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You knelt beside him, pressing the cloth gently to his arm. Joel swallowed hard, his breath catching at the sight of you so close, your fingers brushing against his skin.

The faint scent of you—clean and sharp, with a hint of something sweet—filled his senses, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out.

When you finished, you sat back on your heels, your eyes meeting his. “Joel,” you said softly, “why do you push yourself so hard?”

Joel looked away, his jaw tightening. “Don’t wanna feel useless,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna… be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you said firmly, leaning closer, your voice carrying a weight that made Joel’s chest ache. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his breath catching at the intensity in your gaze. “I just…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I just wanna be good for you. Wanna make you proud.”

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips.

“You already are, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to cup his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and Joel leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Joel’s breath was uneven, his good hand curling into a fist on his thigh as he struggled to find the words.

You sat beside him on the couch, quiet and steady, your eyes on his face, your expression calm yet unreadable. It only made him more frantic.

“I—I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel stammered, his voice rough and breaking. 

He rubbed a hand over his face, his palm trembling slightly as if he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“I need… I need you close. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, but I—I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak. You just nodded slowly, your gaze unwavering, and it made him feel both exposed and comforted all at once. The tension in his chest was unbearable.

“I—dammit,” he muttered, his voice thick, his gaze darting everywhere but your face.

“I’m tryin’ to say it right, but I don’t—I can’t—I need you, alright? I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you—how you’re always so damn steady, and you—”

He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes finally locking on yours. They were glassy now, his vulnerability laid bare. “You make it easier, y’know? Just bein’ around you… I feel like I can breathe. Like maybe I ain’t so—so broken after all. And I… I need that. I need you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t pitying. It was understanding, warm, and Joel swore it made his chest ache even more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. “You like me…romantically?”

Joel froze for a moment, his breath catching as your words settled over him. His lips parted, but all he could do was nod, the movement small and jerky, like he was afraid to admit it outright.

“Want to be good for me?” you asked, your voice a low, soothing hum.

Joel’s nod came faster this time, his breathing growing heavier as he leaned into you, desperate for something he couldn’t quite name.

You leaned in slowly, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw. 

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut as you pressed your lips to his, soft and lingering, and the low, guttural sound he made against your mouth was filled with need. 

His hand reached out, gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, and his lips parted under yours, seeking more.

But just as he leaned into the kiss, you pulled back, your face still close enough that your breath mingled with his.

“Get better for me first, yeah?” you murmured, your thumb trailing along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. “No, please,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate. 

“Please, I can’t—I’ve been waitin’ for so long. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

You shushed him softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, and Joel practically melted under your touch, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back.

“You’ll wait,” you said firmly, though your tone was still warm. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not about to let you go. But first, I need you strong, Joel. Need you rested. Yeah?”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he nodded, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Alright. But just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

“Well…you know me, baby,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the crown of his head.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were real. And as the weight of the moment settled between you, he felt something he hadn’t in years—peace.

· · ───

Joel had never been good at resting, but being sidelined for days was pure torture.

His arm still kinda ached where the stitches pulled at the edges of the wound, but the pain was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety that came from not seeing you. 

Three days felt like a lifetime, and every hour that passed without you made his chest feel tighter.

You’d been on patrol since the crack of dawn, and Joel had spent most of the day pacing around his house, every creak of the floorboards setting his nerves on edge. 

He hadn’t wanted to push his luck with the doctor or you, so he’d stayed home, but the absence of your presence was like a physical ache.

He’d heard the patrol schedule—you were checking the area near the riverbank, where the raiders had been sighted. 

The thought of you out there, alone or with someone who wasn’t him, made his stomach churn.

Joel knew you could handle yourself—he’d seen it firsthand—but the idea of you in danger without him there to back you up was unbearable.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Joel couldn’t take it anymore. 

His boots thudded against the wooden floors as he grabbed his jacket and rifle, the pain in his arm be damned.

If he didn’t see you soon, he was going to lose his mind.

The gates of Jackson were quiet, the air cool and crisp as Joel made his way toward the watchtower. A few guards gave him curious glances, but no one stopped him. He wasn’t exactly known for staying out of trouble, injured or not.

“Have you seen her?” Joel asked one of the guards at the gate, his voice gruff.

“Think she’s still out near the west ridge,” the man replied, tilting his hat back. “They were due back an hour ago, though.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. An hour ago. His grip on his rifle tightened as he set off toward the west ridge, his boots crunching against the gravel.

The relief was like a flood when he spotted you in the distance, your silhouette unmistakable against the fading light.

You were walking back toward the gates, your pack slung over your shoulder, your rifle in hand. Joel’s breath hitched at the sight of you, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel barked, his voice harsher than he intended as he reached you.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his tone. “Patrol. Where I said I’d be.”

“You were late,” Joel muttered, his gaze sweeping over you, searching for any sign of injury. “Anything happen out there?”

“Couple of runners,” you replied, brushing past him toward the gate. “Nothing bad.”

Joel followed you, his chest tight as he struggled to find the right words. “You could’ve sent word. Let someone know you were runnin’ behind.”

You turned to face him then, your eyes sharp. “Joel, I’m fine. I’m more worried about why you’re out here when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was worried about you,” Joel admitted, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Didn’t like not knowin’ if you were okay.”

Your expression softened, and you let out a quiet sigh. “Joel, I told you I’d be back.”

“And what if somethin’ had happened?” Joel pressed, his voice growing rough. “What if—” He stopped, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

You stepped closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. “Hey,” you said softly, your tone soothing. “I’m here. I’m okay. And you need to trust that I can take care of myself.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the steadiness in your gaze. “I know you can,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna worry.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his arm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel huffed a laugh, the sound low and rough. “Ain’t what I meant, but… yeah, take it how you want.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him toward the gate. “Let’s get you home. You’re not supposed to be out here.”

Joel wanted to argue, but the warmth in your voice and the steady grip on his arm made it impossible.

He let you guide him back toward his house, the tension in his chest slowly unwinding with every step.

The walk back to Joel’s house was quiet at first, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm. But as you neared the porch, Joel’s tongue loosened, and the floodgates opened.

“What was it like out there today? Was it quiet before the runners? Were they close? You eat somethin’? Drink enough water?”

You chuckled softly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Joel, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his steps faltering slightly as you led him inside. “Just… can’t stop thinkin’ about it. About you. Out there without me.”

His voice was rough, his words tumbling out so quickly he barely had time to filter them. “I mean, I know you’re capable—hell, more than capable—but I wasn’t there, and… I hate not bein’ there.”

You stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face him. Joel’s eyes darted over you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, his breathing uneven, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“You’re rambling, Joel,” you said softly, your voice calm and steady as you reached up to cup his cheek.

Joel froze, his breath hitching at your touch, his wide eyes locking onto yours. “I just…” he began, his voice faltering. “I just—”

“Hush,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere for another 4 days.”

Joel exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch like a man starved. “I know,” he rasped. “I know, but I can’t stop—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips soft and warm against his, and Joel melted beneath it, his whole body going taut before he relaxed into the moment. 

His hands found your hips, tentative at first, then firm, gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear.

When you pulled back, his lips chased yours for a heartbeat before he caught himself, his eyes fluttering open. He looked dazed, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you.

You smiled softly, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the space between you.

Joel’s lips parted as if to speak, but before he could, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time. His groan was low and deep, the kind that seemed to come from the very center of him, vibrating through your chest.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his need unmistakable.

When your lips parted and your tongue brushed against his, Joel whimpered—a sound so desperate, so raw, it sent a rush of heat straight through you.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly into the kiss, and Joel’s grip faltered for a second, his lips pulling into a shaky smile against yours.

“Why’re you laughin’?” he asked, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re eager,” you teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the strength there. “It’s sweet.”

Joel groaned again, his cheeks flushing as his hands smoothed up your sides. “Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “You’re drivin’ me crazy, darlin’. Been thinkin’ about this for too long.”

His gaze dropped, and his eyes darkened as they settled on the curve of your breasts, visible through the gap in your blouse.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare without permission. “You’re perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you ran your fingers along his jaw. “Joel,” you said, your tone firmer now, and he immediately snapped his gaze back up to meet yours, his breath hitching. “What are you lookin’ at?”

His cheeks went even redder, but he didn’t look away.

Your lips quirked into a sly smile, and you reached up to unbutton the top of your blouse slowly, deliberately. Joel’s eyes tracked every movement, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his cock straining visibly against his jeans.

“You’ve healed up, huh?” you asked, your tone playful, and Joel nodded quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Barely feel it,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, darlin’. Please let me—”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as you pushed the blouse from your shoulders, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“Go ahead, Joel,” you said, your voice steady but laced with heat. “If you think you can handle it.”

Joel groaned, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashed into yours.

His kisses were messy, desperate, his lips sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed your body, shaky but reverent, sliding up your ribs and hovering just below your chest.

“Eager little thing,” you murmured against his mouth, and Joel whimpered at the words, his hips pressing against yours as his arousal became undeniable.

“Can’t help it,” he breathed, his voice shaky and desperate. “Been wantin’ to get my mouth on you for so long. Wanna lick every inch of you. Fuck, those pretty nipples—been dyin’ to suck on ‘em, darlin’. Let me taste you, please.”

The way his voice cracked, the way he clung to you—it was enough to make your resolve waver. But you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. Not yet.

“Bed,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to guide him toward the bedroom. Joel followed without hesitation, his hands still on you, his body trembling with barely-contained need.

“Sit down, baby,” you murmured, your voice firm but teasing as you pushed him gently onto the mattress.

Joel sat immediately, lips wet and swollen from your kisses, his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were a goddess he was desperate to worship.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to your chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You stepped between his legs, running your hands up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you’ve been dreamin’ about, Joel?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in close. “Me, standin’ over you like this, lettin’ you look your fill?”

Joel groaned, his head tipping back as his hips jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Every night, darlin’. I—fuck—I think about you all the time. Can’t stop.”

You smirked, running your hands higher until your fingers brushed against the hard, throbbing bulge straining beneath his jeans. Joel’s breath hitched, his hips lifting slightly as if to chase your touch.

“Bet you’ve been strokin’ that cock to the thought of me, haven’t you?” you purred, your nails scraping lightly along his thighs.

“Thinking about my tits, my mouth, wonderin’ what it’d feel like to have me all over you?”

Joel let out a broken whimper, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as he nodded. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Fuck, yes. I think about you all the time—Drives me crazy.”

You laughed softly, Joel’s eyes focused, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you, his gaze zeroing in on your breasts, the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air.

You reached up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them lightly, your thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Wanna taste them, baby? Wanna feel my tits in your mouth?”

Joel groaned loudly, his hands clenching into fists as his cock strained painfully against his jeans. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, let me—fuck, let me taste them."

You smirked, stepping closer and guiding his hands to your hips. “Go on then, baby,” you murmured, leaning in until your chest was level with his face. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples with a desperate groan. 

His lips were hot and eager, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. “Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

Joel whimpered against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently as he switched to your other nipple. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, his lips tugging and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Finally” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less desperate.

You chuckled softly, grinding your hips against his lap, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh. “You’re so needy,” you teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Can’t even keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

Joel shook his head, his mouth still attached to your nipple as he let out a low, guttural moan. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he rocked against you, his cock throbbing beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

“Can’t help it,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “You’re all I think about. All I want.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Then be a good boy for me, Joel,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Keep sucking.”

Joel groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as his lips moved back to your breast, sucking and licking with renewed fervor. His hips bucked against yours, his need spilling out in every touch, every sound.

“You like these, baby?” you murmured, cupping your breast and brushing your thumb over your wet, glistening nipples. “My sweet boy likes them, hm?”

Joel froze for a moment, his pupils dilating as the meaning of your words sank in. His hips bucked sharply, and he let out a strangled moan, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“Fuck, I-,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his head fell back against the headboard. “Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry—I can’t… I’m—fuck!”

You felt the unmistakable heat and dampness spreading as Joel’s hips jerked one last time, his moans spilling into the quiet room. His face flushed a deep red, his chest heaving as he realized what had just happened.

“Shit,” he muttered again, his voice thick with embarrassment as he covered his face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m so sorry. This is so stupid—”

“Joel,” you interrupted, your voice firm but soothing as you brushed his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

He did, his eyes wide and vulnerable, his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath. The sight of him—flushed, desperate, and utterly wrecked—only made you want him more.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m flattered, baby. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to come in your pants for me.”

Joel let out a choked sound, his hips twitching involuntarily beneath you.

“I… fuck, darlin’, you make me crazy,” he admitted hoarsely. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I need you. Please… let me make it up to you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Still wanna keep going, baby?” you whispered, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “After you’ve already made such a mess?”

Joel nodded frantically, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop, ma’am. Please… let me taste you. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head as you studied him, your expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, you smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Undress me,” you commanded, your voice soft but firm.

Joel flushed, his hands moving to your waist again. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission. 

You nodded, leaning back onto the bed as you let him guide the fabric down your legs, his touch careful but firm.

By the time your pants were off, you were sprawled out on the bed, your back resting against the pillows. 

Joel knelt between your legs, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail like he was trying to commit it to memory.

"You're beautiful," he said again, his voice breaking slightly as his fingers slid along the waistband of your panties. 

Joel groaned low in his throat, his hands clumsy but desperate as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them down your legs.

He paused when he saw your panties, a visible wet spot already soaking through the fabric. His breath hitched, and he let out a shaky, “Fuck… look at that. So wet for me, darlin’. Goddamn.”

His hands trembled as he paused, glancing up at you for reassurance.

You smirked, one eyebrow arching as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

"Go on, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and encouraging. "You've got me all to yourself. Do what you've been dreaming about."

Joel’s hands hovered over your hips for a moment before he finally let them settle there, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your panties.

Joel settled between your legs like he was kneeling before an altar, his chest heaving and his fingers trembling as he slid along the waistband of your panties.

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and wide with need, and you gave him the softest smile, threading your fingers into his hair as you gently tugged him closer.

“yeah, baby” you murmured, your voice dripping with encouragement.

His breath hitched, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He kissed you there, slow and reverent, his beard grazing your flesh and sending shivers through you. Each kiss was accompanied by a low, throaty groan, his lips moving steadily closer to the source of your heat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he reached the edge of your panties. His nose pressed against the damp fabric, and he inhaled sharply, the sound guttural and desperate.

“Fuck, you smell so good, darlin’. Like heaven—sweet, wet heaven.”

His hands trembled as they gripped your thighs, holding you open as he buried his face against you, nuzzling and inhaling like he couldn’t get enough.

The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against your calves, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his breath and the wet heat of his mouth against your panties.

“Been dreamin’ about this—about your sweet cunt for so fuckin’ long. Want it so bad, baby. Wanna taste you—wanna lick you, suck that pretty clit between my lips and drink you down till there’s nothin’ left.”

You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently, encouraging him.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice low and breathless. “You wanna eat me out, baby? Wanna show me how good that mouth of yours is? Then take them off.”

Joel knelt between your thighs, trembling as he slid your soaked panties down your legs.

He didn’t even try to hide the way his breath hitched when your cunt was fully exposed to him, glistening and perfect.

His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths as he just stared for a moment, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“You just gonna look, Joel?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently. “Or are you gonna be a good boy and show me what you can do?”

That broke him. His head dipped instantly, his breath ghosting hot over your slick folds as he whispered, “Yes… yes, ma’am.” His voice was low, reverent, almost a prayer.

The first touch of his tongue was hesitant but deliberate, a slow drag from your entrance to your clit, as if he wanted to savor you.

He groaned into you, the sound muffled but deep, and then he leaned in further, pressing his mouth to your cunt like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soft but thick with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so eager for it. Just like that.”

Joel didn’t answer—couldn’t answer.

He was too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open as he worked his tongue through every inch of your folds.

His breath hitched as he tasted you, his lips sealing over your clit for a moment to suck softly before his tongue returned to explore your entrance.

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, your hips arching slightly into his mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that. Look at you, so hungry for me. You love this, don’t you? Love worshipping my pussy.”

His only response was a desperate, muffled groan and moaning as he shifted his grip, spreading your thighs wider. 

His nose pressed against your clit, and he rubbed it there as his tongue delved inside you, slow and deliberate, tasting you from the inside out. 

His breathing was ragged now, warm puffs of air against your heat between each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered hoarsely against you, his voice barely audible over the sound of his mouth working your cunt. “Fuck… taste so good. Yes. Yes, ma’am…”

You tugged his hair lightly, guiding him just where you wanted, and he followed without hesitation, his moans vibrating through your core. 

His nose nudged your clit again, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice breaking slightly as he found just the right rhythm. “Such a good boy. Keep going, baby. Make me come.”

Joel groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit. 

Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him. “Keep going, baby. Suck my clit just like that.”

Joel whimpered against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls. 

He groaned again, his hips shifting slightly as if he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress, completely undone by the act of pleasuring you.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as the tension in your core tightened to an unbearable degree.

“Fuck, Joel—don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He moaned louder at your words, his hands tightening on your thighs as he doubled down, his lips creating just the right amount of pressure while his tongue worked you mercilessly. 

His nose nudged against your clit in rhythm with his sucking, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” he murmured against you between strokes, his voice trembling with need. “Wanna make you come, ma’am. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as your orgasm slammed into you, waves of pleasure crashing through you so hard you couldn’t even form words. 

Joel groaned against you, his tongue and lips relentless as he rode out your release, his moans vibrating through every sensitive nerve ending.

When you finally came down, your thighs trembling and your breath shaky, Joel slowly pulled back, his lips glistening and swollen, his face flushed and eyes glazed with pure adoration.

He looked like a man on his knees at the altar of a goddess.

“perfect,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, his gaze fixed on your blissed-out expression.

“Did I do good?” he asked quietly, his voice raw and hoarse.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Better than good, baby,” you murmured. “Fuck.”

Joel’s eyes darted to yours, wide and full of something raw and pleading. 

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke, his voice trembling with need. “Please… can I keep goin’? Just a little more. I don’t wanna stop. Wanna taste you again, ma’am.”

His mouth found your clit in a featherlight kiss, his tongue flicking out experimentally, careful and reverent as though seeking permission. 

His hands slid up your thighs, holding them open like you might change your mind.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hand threading into his hair and tugging just enough to stop him. “No, baby. I wanna feel you now.”

Joel froze, his breath hitching, and he whined softly against your skin, the sound almost pitiful. “But—” he started, his lips pressing to your clit again in a desperate, fleeting kiss. “I can make you come again. Please, I—”

“Joel.” Your voice was sharper this time, not cruel but commanding. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips glistening and his pupils blown wide. “You’ve been so good, baby, but I want you now. Don’t make me ask twice.”

The words sent a visible shudder through him. He hesitated for half a second before pulling back reluctantly, his lips parted as if to protest but no words came out. His hands lingered on your thighs, squeezing gently as he swallowed hard.

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse, the respect and submission in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for your next command.

You leaned up slightly, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing over his flushed skin. His lips were parted, breathless, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. 

“You’ve done so well, baby,” you murmured softly, letting your other hand trail down his chest. “But I need to see all of you. Let’s get this off.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his wide eyes locking onto yours as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. “Yes,” he whispered, the words shaky and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed this moment.

One by one, you undid the buttons, the fabric parting to reveal the broad expanse of his chest.

You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the bed as you sat back to admire him.

Your gaze swept over the planes of his body—the strong curve of his shoulders, the scars that marred his skin, the soft dusting of hair on his chest.

“Fuck, Joel,” you murmured, your voice full of heat and awe. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.”

His cheeks turned a deep red, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “Don’t know about that,” he mumbled, his voice low and unsure.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding over his chest, your thumbs brushing along the ridges of his scars.

“Oh, I do,” you purred, your tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re fucking perfect, Joel. Every inch of you.”

Your fingers grazed his nipples, and Joel froze, his breath catching audibly. The faintest shiver ran through his body, and he let out a soft, shaky, “Ma’am…”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Sensitive, huh?” you murmured, circling the hardened peaks with your thumbs.

Joel let out a broken gasp, his hips jerking into the air as his hands gripped the sheets beneath him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and desperate. “Didn’t… didn’t know I -.”

“You didn’t?” you teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss to one nipple before flicking your tongue over it. Joel’s reaction was instant—a guttural moan that sent a wave of heat straight through you.

“Sweetheart I-” he gasped again, his hands trembling as they hovered near your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I—fuck, I—”

“Hush, baby,” you whispered, shifting to his other nipple and sucking it into your mouth. 

Joel cried out, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest arched into your touch.

His hips bucked again, and you could feel how hard he was, straining against the confines of his jeans.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know… didn’t know I could feel this good. Please, don’t stop.”

You hummed against his skin, your tongue teasing over the sensitive bud before you nipped at it gently. Joel’s whole body jerked, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured, sitting back to admire the way his chest heaved, his eyes wide and glassy. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this before.”

Joel shook his head frantically, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No,” he breathed. “Never. Fuck, it’s—ma’am, it’s so good.”

You let your hands drift lower, tracing the sharp lines of his ribs and the soft curve of his stomach. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a shaky moan as your fingers teased the waistband of his jeans.

“You want more, baby?” you asked softly, your voice teasing and full of promise.

Joel nodded frantically, his voice barely above a whisper as he rasped, “Please… please, ma’am. Anything you want.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his underwear, your eyes drinking in the sight of him as he was finally exposed.

Joel’s cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the head an angry, swollen red and glistening with his earlier release.

Pearly streaks of cum had smeared down his shaft, pooling at the base and even dripping onto his balls. You let out a low hum of approval, your lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Such a mess,” you tutted, your voice thick with teasing affection. “You’ve really made quite the mess, baby.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he avoided your gaze, his embarrassment clear. But his hips jerked slightly, almost involuntarily, at the heat in your voice.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” you teased, your fingers curling gently around his cock, feeling the slickness of him against your palm.

“This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It just shows how much you need me.”

Joel whimpered, his voice breaking as he finally met your eyes. “I… I can’t help it,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice trembling. “You make me—fuck—you make me crazy.”

Your thumb stroked up the length of his shaft, smearing the sticky remnants of his cum before circling the sensitive head.

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening just a touch. “And I love how desperate you get for me. Let me clean you up first, okay? Can’t leave my good boy all messy like this.”

Joel nodded frantically, his lips parting as a shaky moan escaped him. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice thick with submission.

You leaned down, your tongue darting out to trace along the underside of his cock, starting at the base where his cum had pooled and slowly working your way up.

The taste of him was intoxicating, salty and musky, and you let out a quiet, pleased hum as you licked him clean. Joel’s entire body trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he struggled to stay still.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ma’am… oh, fuck…”

You didn’t stop, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, collecting every drop of his release before moving lower.

Your lips closed around one of his balls, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke him, coaxing soft whimpers and gasps from his lips.

His thighs trembled, his breath hitching as you moved to the other, lavishing it with the same attention.

“You taste so good, Joel,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you pulled back slightly to admire your work. “Such a pretty cock, too. Look at you, all clean and perfect for me now.”

Joel moaned loudly, his head tipping back as his hands clenched the sheets even tighter. “You’re—fuck—you’re perfect,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I don’t deserve this.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing along the length of his cock, your touch light and teasing.

“You deserve every bit of this,” you said firmly, your voice dipping into a commanding tone. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you? Letting me take care of you like this.”

Joel’s hips jerked against your hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he nodded frantically.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Yes, ma’am. Please… please don’t stop.”

You leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive slit.

“You want more, baby?” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction. “Want me to make you feel even better?”

Joel’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours as he nodded, his desperation palpable. “Please,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything. Just… please let me feel you.”

You smiled, soft and knowing, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Anything, huh?” you teased, your voice low and dripping with promise. “Then show me, Joel. Show me how much you want this.”

Joel’s hands trembled as he gripped your hips, helping you straddle him. His cock pressed against your slick heat, and he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through both of you.

His eyes flicked between your face and where your bodies were about to join, his chest heaving with anticipation.

“Don’t make me wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please, ma’am. Let me feel you.”

You reached down, guiding him to your entrance, your breath hitching as you slowly sank down onto him.

The stretch was delicious, the thickness of him filling you completely, and you couldn’t help the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped, your hands bracing on his chest. “You feel so good, baby. So big—.”

Joel’s head fell back against the pillows, his lips parted as a choked moan escaped him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect. Feels like heaven, darlin’. I—fuck—I can’t believe this.”

You rocked your hips slowly, letting yourself adjust to the feel of him before setting a steady rhythm.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he bucked up to meet you, his movements desperate and hungry.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding as you leaned over him, your lips brushing against his ear. “That’s it, Joel. Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need.”

Joel whimpered beneath you, his hips stuttering as he clung to you.

“You’re… you’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he rasped, his voice cracking with emotion. “The way you—fuck—the way you handle everything. The way you handle me.”

You tilted your head, studying him with soft affection as your hips moved steadily against his.

“Finally can let go, hm?” you murmured, your tone soothing yet commanding. “Yeah? Let me take care of you, Joel. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Joel’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath hitching as his hands slid up to cup your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hips bucking harder into you. “I—I worry about you, darlin’. But… but it’s an honor to. Always an honor.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, swallowing the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

His thrusts grew erratic beneath you, his chest heaving as he neared the edge.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid to let go.

His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his hips moved with a frantic rhythm beneath you, desperate and unrelenting. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

“You’re so fucking good, Joel,” you murmured against his lips, your voice heavy with affection and desire. “So perfect, baby. Keep going—don’t stop.”

His head tipped back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat, a choked moan escaping his lips.

“I—I can’t—fuck, darlin’,” he gasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “You feel so goddamn good. Can’t… can’t hold on much longer.”

You cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek.

“You don’t have to hold on,” you whispered, your voice a soothing command. “Let go for me, Joel. Let me feel you.”

Joel’s eyes widened, his pupils blown, and his hips snapped up into you with desperate force.

“You’re—God, you’re everything,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hands slid up your sides, trembling as they roamed over your body. “Everything, darlin'. Don’t wanna stop… don’t wanna lose this.”

“You’re not gonna lose anything,” you reassured him, your own voice breathy and uneven as you rocked against him harder, the friction pushing you closer to your own edge. “I’m here, Joel. Always. Now, give it to me, baby.”

Joel’s body tensed, his back arching off the bed as a guttural moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck!” he cried, his hands gripping your hips as his release hit him, his cock pulsing inside you with a heat that sent you spiraling.

The intensity of his climax triggered your own, your body tightening around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Your cries mingled with his, the room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, raw and unrestrained.

Joel’s hips stuttered beneath you, his movements slowing as he rode out the last shuddering waves of his orgasm. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, sliding up to cradle your back as he pulled you down against his chest, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds in the room your labored breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. Joel’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re… you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with awe. “I don’t deserve you, darlin’. Don’t deserve any of this.”

You lifted your head, brushing your lips against his with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. “You deserve it all, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady but warm. “Every damn bit. You’re good to me—you’re good for me.”

Joel’s eyes searched yours, shining with an emotion he couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to hide. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing your forehead in a lingering, reverent kiss.

"Now rest up. We’ve got work to do.”

· · ───

From then on, you and Joel became Jackson’s most formidable pair. Whether it was managing patrols, handling disputes, or protecting the town, people knew better than to question the two of you. Joel was your rock, steadfast and loyal, while you were the sharp, commanding presence that kept everything moving forward.

He was at your side for every decision, every challenge, always watching your back—and stealing those quiet moments when it was just the two of you. Joel wore his pride in you like a badge, unspoken but deeply felt, in the way his gaze lingered and his touch steadied you.

And every night, as the world outside grew dark, you both found solace in each other—a partnership built on trust, strength, and the kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood.

Joel always said it best in his own way: “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, darlin’. Always.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I am not beta reading all of that so if y'all find any errors tell me or ignore them like I did the past 22 years. Hope this was fun for you - please comment your opinions (plsplspls). I kinda feel like this is too long idk-

love youuuuuu

[chronically-ghosted]

i'm empty without you, so come grow within me

AO3 Link | main masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

rating: explicit (18+)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 9K

summary: with winter approaching, joel takes stock of what he wants and what he has in his life. he wants you, but he's not quite sure he has you, not in a way that only a life in Jackson can afford. joel's an old-fashioned guy, so he's looking for an old-fashioned love . . . if he can only remember how to do it right.

inspired by the songs 'why don't we just dance' by Josh Turner and 'the kind of love we make' by Luke Combs, this fulfills a request from @handsomehelmet for my 1k celebration (creativity struck and now i'm going to make it everyone's problem)

warnings: the nastiest thing i can possibly imagine which is romance and sincerity, some willie nelson lyrics, established situationship, no age of reader specified, body insecurity, feelings of unworthiness/shame, survivor's guilt, blatant disregard for old man knees by eating pussy on the floor, unprotected piv, a teenager bullying fully grown adult to quit being stupid.

a/n: i know everyone gets into a tizzy when Joel doesn’t name what Tess is to him in front of Bill and while there probably was a heaping amount of guilt that accompanied that omission, i wonder if it might be a bit more complicated: he simply couldn’t name one thing because she was all things to him. A friend, a lover, a guide, a support system, a protector, a partner. So he says it the best way he can: “she’s mine.”

come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

By the fourth bag, all you can think about is a warm shower. 

A chance to scrub away the dirt smeared on your arms, your neck, probably your face. You’d brought your own work gloves to bag fresh dirt for the greenhouse, but the longer you work, more sprinkles of dirt find their way down the lip of your gloves. You can feel it against your palms, under your nails. The cold winter air lurks beneath the crack of the door, stifled from invading by the artificial heat provided by the generator just outside, and it stifles you too with its oppressive weight. You’re fairly sure the dirt on your forehead has turned to mud, sweat and damp earth encrusted on your dry skin. 

By the sixth, you doubt your shoulders will ever move again without popping. 

You know Joel’s already do. 

Never a particularly chatty man even in his best moods, the greenhouse had become stuffy with heat and silence, both you and Joel too lost in the work to find the energy to even fake idle chatter. But, knowing this about Joel and a certain degree yourself, silences with him were never a bad thing. That was one of the things you enjoyed most about being with him; you two could do your own things together. Many snowy days were spent with him stretched out on the couch, reading, and you working on writing your sheet music on the floor, his knee hovering over your shoulder with your back to the cushions – spent in total silence, and they are some of the fondest memories you had since coming to Jackson and falling into the third and final piece of the Miller-Williams household. 

Like with the end of the world, you weren’t sure how you got there until everything had fallen into place around you; Joel and his adoptive daughter had been just another group who were taken in by the town of Jackson . . . until they weren’t. Ellie was just another foul-mouthed kid who had seen too much and had too much taken from her . . . until she wasn’t. Joel was your occasional patrol partner and a fellow Willie Nelson fan. . . until he wasn’t.

Until that unmistakable line, one that seemed to be lost on a global scale beneath the blood and the gore and the grief, had been crossed when he asked you out for drinks and the both of you knew the evening wasn’t going to end in a nightcap. 

And then you were partners, even outside of patrol. Partners in re-enforcing a weakened part of Jackson’s outer walls. Partners in cooking, attempting to recreate an enchilada recipe Joel only vaguely remembered from a Tex-Mex hole-in-the-wall fifteen minutes from where he used to live in Austin. Partners when it’s snowing heavily outside and there’s not much to do except to read and, well . . . Joel was a fantastic partner in that.

Joel Miller was a great partner for a lot of things. He worked diligently, quickly and, unless the conversation was started by someone else, silently. 

He, in short, was not someone who was easily distracted.

Which, in combination with your own exhaustion and a desire to scrub the first layer of your skin off with a loofah, is why you feel a flare of annoyance when you look up and see him staring off into the distance. His fingers loosely grip the handle of the shovel, his palm resting over the curved point, Joel’s expression is nearly unreadable, except for the small crevice between his eyebrows. He stands, fixated on the greenhouse wall, as if watching the blurry Christmas lights from the town square, suddenly oblivious to the work you two have been doing for the past hour and a half. 

“Joel.” Nothing. “Joel!” 

You raise your hand to smack him on the leg when, without looking down, he asks:

“When was the last time I took you out?” 

“What?”

His weight shifts, holds the shovel by one hand now. You catch a sliver of frustration in those deep brown eyes as he looks at you. He wears what you and Ellie secretly refer to as his “pouty-mouth”, a classic expression when he isn’t getting his way about something but won’t draw attention to the fact that it annoys him.

“Tell me about the last date I took you on.”

You huff, standing up with a pop in your hips. Your knees are aching from kneeling on the cold winter ground and your skin fluxes between overheating under your jacket and stiffly frozen on your extremities. 

“Joel, c’mon, be serious. We’ve got three more –,”

“I am being serious.” Dumb-founded, you watch as he digs the tip of the shovel into the ground with a hollow chunk. Crosses his arms and continues to frown at you like you just suggested doing away with the Christmas holiday entirely. “We’ll get to this, but I want you to tell me right now what we did on our last date.”

You roll your eyes, humoring him. “Fine, I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but okay. On our last date, we . . . we did . . . you took me to . . .”

It’s your turn to frown. He raises a petulant eyebrow and it’s eerie how many times you’ve seen that exact expression on Ellie. 

“Okay, fine, so it’s been a while. We’ve been busy – we’ve all been busy with the winter season coming. All of Jackson has been out battening down the hatches. What does it matter if we’ve let things slide a bit?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, quiet in his Joel way. He glances out through the blurred greenhouse glass and maybe he was actually staring at the string lights hung over Jackson’s square. Normally, you didn’t mind being unable to dissect his every expression, every sigh, every carefully wielded silence, but when it came to you and his feelings about you – feelings that were always implied in those silences – you wished you had a little window, some hint, as to what rumbled on behind those earth-dark eyes. 

Joel drums his fingers on the handle of the shovel, unease rolling through his body as he shifts his weight. 

“Matters some,” he tells the ground. “With the holidays comin’ around . . . matters for Ellie – her first winter here in Jackson. Matters for Tommy, with that new baby of his . . .”

“Your nephew,” you supply as much as prod. Sometimes the only way to get an honest answer out of him was when he was just a bit pissed off and less guarded. Instead he just nods, gloved hand on his hip, thick jacket widening his already confounding broadness.

“It matters because it’s important. To me. It’s important to me.”

He meets your gaze and you’re struck full force again with that feeling like you drank too much of the Tipsy Bison’s shitty whiskey too fast. Same feeling that couldn’t be drowned even with the Tipsy Bison’s shitty whiskey when you shared a drink with him for the first time. When you managed to laugh when he bet you a whole day of stable cleaning duties that Willie Nelson and Chris Stapleton survived the apocalypse somewhere in a shack in Tennessee. Joel Miller was disarmingly funny when he wanted to be.

And even worse, disarmingly sincere.

You take his gloved hand in yours. You feel the sensation of his fingers threading through yours but not the heat you’ve grown so accustomed to. 

“Alright, then. What do you want to do about it?” You ask quietly, to the upturned collar around his neck, his green flannel peeking out from behind the zipper of his jacket. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s a lot of snow on the ground so that makes our options for date night kinda limited.” You scrunch your nose at him because you like to see the light in his eyes bloom when you do.

He chuckles, a rumbling sound, and he drops his forehead against yours, fingers tightening their grip around yours. Suddenly in your throat, your heart pounds. He’s never this affectionate in public. Maybe it’s those miraculously blurred greenhouse glass walls. 

His breath smells like that peppermint toothpaste that came in last week, infused with the warming-coil smell from the greenhouse. 

“Dunno yet.” He admits. “I’ll think of somethin’.”

“No ideas yet?” You raise your eyebrows against his forehead and he grins, shaking his head.

“Not yet.” 

“Then can I make a suggestion?”

“‘Course.”

“We finish bagging this dirt, then head home for a shower. In a really sexy way, obviously.” 

He huffs, smothering a laugh, and quick as lightning he kisses you on the cheek. But in the same movement, steps away and grabs the shovel again. You don’t have time to react to the fact he just kissed you for the first time outside of the four walls of his house before he’s scooping up dirt. You drop to your knees to pick up the bag again, your legs already weak.

“We both know you’re going to pass out on the couch the second we’re home.”

Your voice is steadier than you feel, as you look up at him. His face is flushed and that worry line between his eyes is gone. 

“You got me pegged, Miller. You got me pegged.”

Two days later, he stands in the middle of his living room, hands on his hips, surveying his handiwork. All of the furniture has been pushed to the far ends of the room, up against the walls or against the staircase out in the hallway. He’s kept the overhead lights off and put the standing lamps in the corners, bathing the room in a despondent glow. He thinks, after a quarter of a century never even entertaining something like this, it might be interpreted as romantic. He hopes you’ll see it that way at least. 

He hears it now, in his head, even though she’s out in the disconnected garage, snug and warm as he could have possibly made it – you worry too much, old man. 

Ellie knows there’s something going on between you two. Hell, the entire town has cottoned onto whatever this is; you’re often seen leaving his house early in the morning, and he’s been seen on occasion strolling up to your house with flowers. It’s not new, it’s not a secret, but it is . . . it just is and that’s about as far as he’s gotten. 

He hasn’t had you over for dinner with Ellie in that very specific way that very much needs to happen, as it often does when there is a new presence added to an established dynamic – as Maria often reminds him. But that almost feels like presenting your head on a silver plate to Ellie to either sniff with disinterest or tear into – both terrifying scenarios, even though they seem unlikely. Ellie does in fact seem to like you very much, as her riding teacher and occasional greenhouse buddy. But would she continue to like you in the context of you being one half of “You and Him” as a pair? Together. As a couple . . . of people who are seeing each other, whatever that means in a world filled with the most aggressive form of fungus imaginable. 

This life in Jackson, this fragile second chance to remember and rekindle his own natural instincts, is too precious to bet on a question like that. 

So he doesn’t ask it. At least not out loud. 

That’s one of the things he likes so much about you: his silences aren’t entirely indecipherable and often are encouraged by your own. Except this silence about this particular thing doesn’t feel like one of your shared, comfortable moments and instead it’s encroaching rapidly into avoidance. 

Standing in that greenhouse and seeing the string lights over the town square reminded him of a long ago Christmas, dancing with his favorite person under a Christmas tree, and how good it made him feel. How special it made him feel. All these years later, safe in a way his body has almost forgotten, there’s an urge he has to share that feeling, to recreate it under entirely different circumstances, with someone new. Someone else. To not try and fight the smile that constantly threatens to buoy up every time he’s around you. 

It’s foreign, that feeling in his chest, but it’s not entirely alien, at least not of late. 

He knows he’s white-knuckling it because he knows firsthand how painfully quick it can all be gone. Taken away. Left and buried by a black river while the world burns.

But he’s worried he’ll crush it with how tightly he holds on. How hard he begs a silent universe for it to last just a little bit longer. 

His knees ache, his left shoulder goes tight when it rains, his body is not what it once was, but his mind is still there, still clear, and he remembers how romance used to feel, where it used to reside in his younger body, and as he stares out at the cleared room, listening to your footsteps overhead as you attempt to follow his vague instructions to “make yourself feel pretty” (because you already were to him, even covered in dirt and sawdust), he thinks this feels like the old world. An old world romance. It’s foreign, that feeling, but for the first time in a long time he doesn’t want to hold it at arm’s length.

“Joel?” You call from the top of the stairs, your voice tentative and cautious. But not cautious like you peeking around a corner to look for clickers. But cautious as in unsure, doubtful. You are a woman made up of a lot of things, with foundations unlike he’d ever seen before, but doubt is not a part of you. You never doubt him. 

“Yeah, baby?” Your nerves make him nervous and he futzes with a lampshade while waiting for you.

“Are you done down there?” 

He has to breathe slowly through the fluttering beneath his breastbone before he can answer. “Yeah, baby, all finished. You can come down now.”

“Okay . . . but you can’t laugh.” Him, laugh at you? There’s the instinct to smother the faint grin that spreads out across his mouth, but he told himself he wasn’t going to fight whatever came across his face tonight. If you see it, then you see it and he’s come to accept that. 

(Maybe even want that.)

He shakes his head, his only pair of nice boots (a thank you from a former rancher when Joel fixed his family’s heater) clicking on the hardwood floor as he stands at the bottom of the stairs. You must be hiding behind the wall because he can’t see you. 

“I’m not gonna laugh, sweetheart. Why d’ya think I’d laugh?” 

Silence faces him at the top of the stairs, and then:

“Because quite frankly I forgot my tits could look like this and I don’t know how to feel about it.” 

The snort that comes out of him is a poor attempt to muffle the chuckle. He thumbs the wood finial at the top of the bannister. 

“Can’t remember ever having any complaints before and I don’t think I’ll have ‘em now, no matter how they look.” 

“Whatever, Miller, you’re just a horn dog.” 

He rolls his eyes, fingers rubbing anxiously together at his side, as if he could tug the fluttering out of his chest. He leans on the other foot, the one with the bad knee, to adjust the slightly uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. A dark swirl in the second step of the stairs has become wildly interesting.

“Baby, just come down here. I’m not gonna laugh. Promise.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” you grumble, still out of sight. “I know where you keep your feral child and I will not hesitate to let her loose on you.”

Joel nods, grinning faintly, still focused resolutely on the whorl in the floor. “That’s a real big threat from someone who –,”

The words die in his throat.

In fact, he’s quite sure he won’t be capable of speech for a very long time. 

That foreign feeling – that feeling he’s worked for twenty years to suppress – is ignited in his chest. 

You walk, no, maybe you float down the stairs in the most stunning red dress he’s ever seen. It’s definitely not yours – he knows every inch of your closet because he had inspected it studiously when you offered to keep some of his clothes at your place and he was trying very hard to delay putting a handful of his belongings beside a woman’s things in a move that felt heart-stoppingly domestic. 

No, he has never, ever seen you in this dress. 

Come to think of it, he’s never seen you in any dress and you were entirely correct that your tits look wildly different. Fantastically different, but –

“Maria didn’t have any heels that fit me to go with the dress,” you announce airily, your chin up. But your eyes dart over his face as if looking for something you need to find. “But it’s fourteen degrees outside, Joel, and I’m not doing whatever this is in just socks because that’s ridiculous so you’re just going to have to deal with the boots.”

The Boots. The ones you wear while crushing clicker skulls and tending the stables. They still bear damp spots from where you tried to clean the blood and dirt from the leather.

It’s rather incapacitating how arousing he finds this particular combination.

So much so, he doesn’t realize he hasn’t said anything in a full minute until you bark at him, a cold tinge of panic in your voice.

“Joel!” His eyes snap to yours. Of course, you’re fucking beautiful – your eyes seem bigger, cheeks pinker, mouth wet – fucking Christ, where did you get make up? 

“Say something!” Those rosy lips drop down and to his horror, you’re upset. “Please!”

“B-baby, you look . . .” He doesn’t mean to grab your entire ass in one hand; he just wants to feel as much of that velvet on your skin as possible. You stumble into his arms, another something that is so unlike you, as he tugs you forward. Bends his lips to your ear to discover how fast you’re breathing. How fast your pulse races in your neck. The shudder that breaks the rigidity of your body when he brushes his mouth, the short bristles of his beard, against your skin is no surprise; you told him exactly what that sensation does to you in no uncertain terms the first night he ate you out on the table of your kitchen. “You look incredible.”

Your fingers bite into his biceps. Push back out of his arms, despite the obvious warmth in your cheeks. You level his arousal in a single glare. “Joel, I asked you not to tease.” 

Tommy once told him he was a pain in the ass to be around sometimes because he displays every negative emotion as anger and so it’s damn near impossible to figure out whatever it was he was so bent out of shape about.

Sadness as anger.

Shame as anger.

Guilt as anger.

Fear as anger.

With your fingers balled up, it's the tremor in your fists that gives you away. 

He had genuinely intended this to be a quiet night away from the cafeteria, away from the Tipsy Bison, away from anyone else. He wanted you all to himself and in his greed, he didn’t see it until he saw it in your eyes. 

How vulnerable being pretty made you. How vulnerable privacy made you. 

How being vulnerable made you so deeply, deeply afraid. 

Almost as afraid as he was. 

Without a word, he turns to the record player, strategically hidden behind the couch and puts on the carefully selected record. The silent scratches for a moment before –

Your eyes widen as Nelson begins to sing his most beautiful love song (in Joel’s humble opinion). Your shoulders slacken, hands lose their grip, you blink up at him in total bewilderment. You aren’t an indecisive person, you’re quick as a whip, rarely confused – so this befuddled look on your face is kinda cute. 

Tucking that rare look on your face away for another time, Joel wanders to the center of the room, in the heat of the light from the fireplace, his good boots clicking over the wood. He opens his arms, hand out to you.

“Let’s try something new tonight.”

I'll always be with you for as long as you please

For I am the forest but you are the trees

The decision you make is a visible one. 

Your palm is warm, weighted as it slides over his. This time his hand respectably settles on your waist, then on your low back when (to his surprise) you come closer. He’s delighted to watch you smile at him, distantly aware of the stretch of his own on his face. 

Willie strums on his guitar, crooning softly, the sound warm and deep. With the weight of you against his chest, that feeling crackles like the flames over the wood logs in the fireplace. You drop your head, turn your cheek, and just before you come to rest on his shoulder, he sees your smile slide into a smirk.

“New, huh? What’s new look like for a sixty-five-year-old man at the end of the world?” Even with teasing, your voice is soft and sweet, the soft powder of cinnamon. Slowly, as if not to startle either one of you, he leans his chin against your forehead.

“You n’ I’ve been burning both ends, keepin’ the lights on. New to us is having a goddamn break.” His voice is low, meant only for you, and in the tremble of his deep bass, the words elongate in his mouth. He brings your intertwined hands just under his chin and when that goes well, he tightens his grip around your back, drawing you flush against him. It reduces the dancing to more of a sway but Joel can’t find a single thing to complain about. You gently tap the pad of your middle finger in the hollow of his collarbone to the beat of the song.

I'm empty without you so come grow within me

For I am the forest and you are the trees

And the heavens need romance so love never dies

“‘N ‘m only fifty-six, jackass.” 

You grin, twisting in his grasp, rub your nose on his chest to wrap your arms around his neck. He clutches to your back like a key finding its lock. 

You'll be the stars dear and I'll be the sky

And should any of this find us let them all be forewarned

That you are the thunder and I am the storm

“This is nice, Joel,” you murmur in his ear. The backs of his arms are growing warm by the fire. He presses his lips to your exposed shoulder, unsure of what to say, or what not to say, only nodding. He closes his eyes, trying to hold this moment forever in his memory. The soft flare of your waist, the winged-spread of your ribs, beneath his hands brings him back into your arms.

"Yeah?" Quiet, into your skin as if to muffle the question entirely, to muffle the unsure wobble in his voice. "It's good?"

He feels you nod beneath his chin, the smell of fresh soap escaping from the back of your neck, and the clamp around his throat loosens. He breathes, unimpeded for the first time all night, a low exhale taking the tension from his body as the air leaves his lungs.

Relief. A sinking down into the moment, into your arms.

You chuckle with your cheek against his chest and he feels the vibrations down to his stomach.

"Yeah, Joel, you did good. Really good." With the hand he holds in the air, you rub your thumb over the knuckle of his thumb, soothing. It used to bother him you could read the lines of his emotions as well as you read a book, as well as you write your own name, effortlessly, as if you had been given a guide no one ever thought to show him. But now, now that you understand how much this means to him, that you know he needs to be told he made you happy, it's more than relief. It's an unburying – a resuscitation of pieces of himself (seed-like bone fragments) that he thought had long since died in the soil of his ribs. "Thank you. I needed this."

He wants you to see the whole of him. Lift up an antiquated silver plate and show you the dents and scratches in his reflection. When you kiss his cheek gently, the hope floating in his chest flares, a solar explosion with tendrils that reach into the blackness of space and it asks him, what would you do to keep her?

Everything. Anything.

He shuffles closer, feels the warmth of your body lined up against his, the clean scent beneath the edge of your jaw blooming in his nose and throat. The hope hums, pitches dark like the forest floor in the rain, and grows teeth. His want for you digs into his skin and evolves into a needy, unsatisfied thing.

“Where’d you get this dress, hm?” He asks, lips half an inch from your shoulder. It falls and rises, never catching on your skin as he plays with the fabric. He runs his palm up your spine, the velvet coming with him, and watches as the swell of your thighs and the tease of your ass is revealed. Dirty old man. “‘N who do I have to kill to get you to keep it?”

You laugh into his neck. He wonders if you’re intentionally twisting his curls at the base of his neck to send sparks of arousal down his spine or if you are completely unaware of the cause of his insanity. Your hands are littered with scars and calluses and every time you touch him, he could melt through the floorboards.

“They found it in some strip mall and were actually going to strip it down for material. But Aaron at the sewing center owed me a favor and you said wear something nice, so . . .” You thumb the lip of his collar, your fingertips brushing the knot of his spine every time you drag your fingers back and forth. 

And I'll always be with you for as long as you please

For I am the forest and you are the trees

He knows you well enough to know that something lingers in your mind, but even after all this time, even after what he’s seen with you, been through with you, the things he’s done to you – he isn’t quite sure if he has the right to ask. 

Instead, he squeezes you. He means to do it just with his hands, but ends up swallowing you in his arms. 

Your mouth is pressed up against his chest when you finally go on. 

“It just seems silly to keep, Joel.” 

The high he’s been riding on all night falters, since you first walked down those stairs to him. Your eyes are wet when he pulls back and cups you by your cheek. He stops swaying with you.

“Why’s that?” 

There it is, that all too familiar flicker of fear. You can’t look at him, despite his every touch, his every glance pulling you into him, to be near him. 

“Because other people should have it. They should have a chance to . . .” 

You withdraw your head from his hands, his thumb brushing your jaw as you retreat. He might actually lose a piece of himself if you let go now, but instead you clasp his wrists in your fingers. You stare at your hands and his between you, as if this whole thing between you could solidify at your feet, finally real. 

Willie has stopped singing, only that musky drone on an empty track.

“Someone else should have a chance to feel pretty, to feel this way, because it shouldn’t be wasted and I’m afraid – I wonder if –,”

He knows he’s being a bit too rough when he takes your jaw and straightens your gaze to him, but his heart might fly out of his chest before he has a chance to say anything. His stomach turns, not knowing he’s not at the peak of a roller coaster drop, that he’s standing on solid ground, even if it swims under his feet.

“What you feel is not wasted.” A murmur, stern, as steadily and as serious as he possibly can be.

That feeling aches in his chest and you haven’t even gone anywhere. You haven’t left . . . yet. “What this is, is not wasted time. I spent twenty years wasting time, looking for something that wasn’t there, and with you . . . I can’t say I’ve found it –,”

“Why? Why can’t you say you’ve found it?” Your grip around his wrists tightens, eyes hard. “Why can’t you name it, Joel?”

“Can you?” He pulls his hands out of your grip and you let him go. “How can you ask for what you want when you can’t even ask to keep this dress?” 

“Because I don’t deserve it!” It’s not silence that follows; it’s emptiness. You face away from him, pressing the heel of your hand into your brow bone, teeth slightly bared. Your arm bars across your stomach like you are literally holding in your guts. Finally, you lift your head, the few scant tears on your face sparkling in the firelight. “I don’t deserve you, Joel. I don’t deserve any of this. Ellie, the way she . . . I’m here, warm and happy, acting like the fucking world hasn’t ended. Playing house, playing pretend. Pretending like I’m your –,”

You swallow the words caught in your throat, gaze leaping away from him. At your side, your hand trembles again. 

Oh, honey, the shit I’ve done . . . 

With wide, wet eyes, you watch him approach. He doesn’t look at you, instead seeing exactly where he’d like to put his lips on your stomach beneath the fabric. 

“Then what do you want, hm?” There’s a fold in the front of the dress and he runs his fingers along the edge of it. “We can’t fix it. Can’t go back ‘cause there’s nothin' to go back to. I don’t care what you had to do to get here, right here, with me because I’m so fuckin’ glad you are. I’m not pretending, not wasting my time, never was. ‘Cause you’re right.” 

Your hand over his stills his endless roving and then it stays, scarred hand over scarred hand. Your gesture says something to him, something so meaningful he has no idea how to put it into words. He swallows his attempt and instead, slowly, drags both hands over your hips, where they stay. Heavy against the velvet. 

You rest your own against his forearms, neither pulling him in or pushing him back. 

“I was right about what?”

His eyes flick to yours and maybe it’s presumptuous, maybe he really is an old man afraid of his feelings, or maybe living this long – despite everything that ever tried to make it otherwise – living this long has granted him the privilege of knowing with perfect clarity what you’re thinking when you look at him like that. How he wants to whisper it back to you and he decides he will the next time your skin is warm and tacky, body helpless beneath his. 

Your eyes shamelessly track the brush of his tongue against his bottom lip.

“That you’re mine. Just like I’m yours.” 

The hands at his forearms glide up to his chest. The rims of your irises have gone a bit blurred, a bit unstable, and you can’t decide whether to look at his mouth or his eyes.

“Joel?” Suddenly breathy, all begging, pleading.

“Hm?”

“Get me out of this fucking dress.” 

When your lips crash into his, his entire world narrows down to where on his body, yours touches: 

your rough hand cradling his cheek, the other fisting the collar of his shirt. His fingers digging into your skirt, the heat from your thigh nearly driving him to tear straight through the fabric to get to you. Your sweet, perfect mouth smeared against his, lips puffed pink, nose to your cheek. 

That warm, wet cunt he thinks he can feel through his boxers, jeans, the dress and your underwear. 

It’s not enough. 

The cry you let out is some mangled mix of a moan and his name when he licks the soft supple skin behind your ear and nips your earlobe.

“Baby, please – please – bedroom, we have to–,”

He grunts his disapproval at your words, overwhelmed by the scent that makes his mouth water as he stains the column of your throat with wet, humid kisses. 

“Joel, c’mon, honey, just upstairs –,” 

The last flickering tiny speckle of logic in his brain fights with itself; take your right here or haul you over his shoulder – which isn’t great for his back and, quite frankly, he intends to spend most of the night on his knees. 

First option it is. 

You mumble in confusion, eyes shut, chin brushing the thread of gray curls on the top of his head as he purposefully sucks a bright hickey into your collarbone, one hand cupping your breast, the other pushing you backwards. You go willingly, of course. 

Until the backs of your legs hit the couch and there’s nowhere else to go. In the stumble, your dress rides up even higher and those thighs he’s actually lost sleep over appear to him. He drops to his knees, hands like meat hooks as they squeeze your waist, pulling that warm cunt even closer to him over the edge of the couch. You groan when he pushes the skirt up even higher, practically to your tits, as he explores your outer, then inner thighs with soft strokes of the back of his hands. He presses his nose to the crevice between your thigh and hip and inhales. 

“B-baby, the windows,” you swallow thickly, slurring like you’re drunk, grabbing at his shoulders like you’re trying to steady yourself, or turn him towards the windows. “I mean – the curtains, baby, the curtains are –,”

“It’s a fucking blizzard outside,” he explains tersely with his eyes still closed, as if irritated to have a conversation instead of focusing every ounce of concentration he has to the heat and smell beneath your black panties. He drags his teeth over the elastic band around your hips and makes you whine his name for an entirely different reason. 

You don’t make him stop or wait when he tugs those panties down your hips. In fact, you help, lifting your hips, the irises of your eyes so wide and black, you look halfway out of your mind.

Good.

He gathers the skirt he was once so fond of and stuffs it into the cushions behind you. You watch him as he moves, eyes half-lidded, finger scraping your bottom lip. Around his ribs, your knees dip back and forth, moving targets, like he’s forgotten why he’s here and needs reminding. 

His big paw, the size of which makes you feel indescribably small, catches your knee and stills it, gaze dark and heavy. Do not test me right now. You try not to moan. 

“Can’t believe I’m going to let you fuck me with my boots on,” you whisper airly, watching with delirious fascination as he puts one of your slender legs over his shoulder. His mouth is actually watering at the sight of your damp curls. 

“Not gonna fuck you. Just gonna eat your pussy. You’ll know the difference.”

“Semantically, it’s the sa-a-me thi-ng, Jo-e – ah, Joel!” 

His tongue up inside you turns you into a whiny, high-pitched, feminine mess. He eats like he does everything else: diligently, quickly, and silently. 

Until you bury your fingers in his ash-flecked curls and tug. 

That first deep, loud moan ripples through his body, rolling him up just off his heels, his crotch seeking some kind – any kind – of friction. 

The feel of his mouth humming against your cunt has your eyes rolling back in your head. “Please, oh fuck, please –” 

You are a grown woman. You should not be making these noises. 

You also shouldn’t be using a man’s face to get off . . . but you do it anyway.

“Tha’s it, baby,” he mutters when your hips grind against his face. His nose catches your clit and around him, your thighs wobble. “Use me, fuckin’ use me.” 

His grip around your calf over his shoulder turns rough and he knows he’ll bruise you, but fuck, the thought of you walking around town with a mark in the shape of his hand where everyone can see —

He briefly lifts his grip from your thigh to adjust his iron-hot cock in his jeans. From his view over your cunt, it doesn't seem like you noticed, or even saw him leave your skin. He watches you writhe, try to capture your breath, eyes crammed shut as your hips rock almost without your control. He takes a chance to lick the musky dampness from his upper lip when your cunt rolls back from his face a fraction of an inch — and then he sinks in again.

Call it age or the fact that you both are here at the end of the world, but the first night he ate you out, you told him exactly how and where you like it, unabashed and in control and honestly it’s the hottest thing he can think of in recent memory. 

He would have written it down on the backs of his eyelids if he could. 

He follows it to the letter.

“Joel – Joel, baby, please don’t stop –,” You buck and moan beneath him as he spells out your instructions with his tongue along your cunt. He dots the i’s with a tap of his tongue or a lick on your clit. Just inches above his head, your chest heaves, your fingers locked into his curls, gently pushing him closer to your puffy pussy as if he’d ever waste a drop of what leaks out of you. 

With a flat-tongued brush against your suffering clit, you arch off the couch, your sighs now verging on desperate, high and whinging, because it’s just not fair how good he makes you feel. He can feel your foot curl against the planes of his back, the rubber heel heavy, your mouth open and wet, with your eyes locked on the ceiling as you try to ride out your humming orgasm with a semblance of control.

“Look at me.” 

No other man has ever been able to make you come with just his mouth, you told him once.

And no other man ever will. 

It’s sweet, the way your eyes soften briefly when you lock eyes with him, crouched between your thighs — before your head tips back, lips wrenched apart in a silent scream, and you come, as hard as he has worked for the flush of slick down his chin.

There’s goosebumps on your thighs, he notes. He rubs his thumb against your raised skin and you shudder, head rolling against the back of the couch.

He’s already feeling a slight twinge of shame at the noise his knees will inevitably make when he stands, but for now he’s content watching you glide down from your high, his head against your knee, shoulders still stretching your legs open wide. 

To his delight, you manage to laugh, your hand draping over your eyes. You can see the shine of the dull light all across his lips, his chin, his nose and you have to close your eyes. He should make you lick it off him, but not tonight.

“Top marks, Miller, as usual,” you mumble, “but the threat of voyeurism really deserves the extra credit.” 

He grins. Still waiting for your breath to slow, he wipes his mouth with his palm and slides the leg over his shoulder down in between his own thighs. Propped up on one knee, he begins to unlace your boot. He holds your calf like it’s delicate as he gently drags the boot over your heel. 

He’s just as reverent with the other side. 

And then your boots, the pair, sit at the end of his couch, like they were always meant to be there. 

His heart, easing down from its own thunderous beat, squeezes and that feeling, that strange-not-so-strange feeling, the one that dictates practically every action with you, dribbles into his veins. 

You open one eye. A flutter of lashes, coy and playful, the curve of your mouth guarding a hoard of secrets.

“Now, Joel Miller . . . will you take me to bed?” 

It’s a question. A request. Your eyes, as dark as ever, on his warm his chest, all the way down his spine. You’re asking, politely, for a thing you both know he would never, ever deny you. 

He cannot lose you, he just can’t. 

He stands and, yes, his knees crack and pop, but he regains stability when he toes off his only good pair of cowboy boots. He nods, grinning, and offers you his hand.

The walk, half-run up to his bedroom is something his brain designates as not important enough to store away. 

Instead, it languishes in the way you stretch out on his mattress before him, ass in the air, knees spread over his blankets and arms sliding through crumpled sheets towards the headboard. 

The room is dark, the only light fighting its way through the downpour of snow comes from the lamp posts that dot the street outside. But the veil of snow warps the light and everything in the half-darkness is doused in blue. 

The shadowy, blurred curve of your shoulder, blue. 

The spread of your fingers on his mattress, blue.

The swollen bottom of lip of your mouth —

“Joel.” 

The snow falls so fast and hard, it patters against the windows and the sides of the house. It’s the only thing he can hear over the pounding of his heart and the short breath in his lungs. He stares at you, soaking his blankets in your scent and slick, and you stare right back in utter and total silence. 

You sit in the center of his bed, bare for him beneath the velvet dress that is red like blood, your patchy white socks at complete odds with your smeared make up and the fucked-out look in your eyes. But there’s something else there too. 

Something softer. Gentler. 

You reach out a hand to him and he goes to you, like always. The instant your skin touches his the instinct to fuck you hard until you’re bruised and crying evaporates. He doesn’t think you want that anymore either. 

No, you need — 

“Joel, please come here. I need you.” 

You need him.

The mattress squeaks when he settles one knee and then the other on top of it, his fingers stroking your ear, brushing the tips of your hair, while he kisses you with an ache that is not physically manifested. Instead, it resides —

“I love you,” you whisper. 

You pull back infinitesimally, just enough that your eyes are all he sees. 

A patient silence hangs from the ceiling. The sound of snow falling. Of baited breath. The scratch of your fingers against at his beard —

“I love you too.” You smile and his body is no longer big enough to contain his heart. “I feel like I’ve always loved you. Is that strange?” 

Your gaze traces the same path your fingers take when you think he’s sleeping; it runs over his nose, his forehead, his eyebrows, the plush curve of his lips. Like you can’t believe he’s there with you. Like you can’t believe he’s real. 

That feeling — that feeling he had been fighting because it always was the only thing that would ever really do him in — is love. He loves you. 

He loves you.

And you love him. 

Didn’t think they told stories like this anymore, not in a world like this. So maybe, for once, Joel Miller just got lucky. 

“No. It’s not. Just be sure you mean it.”

He can't tell if the glow in your eyes comes from within you or it beams out of him. “Every word.”

Eventually, he sheds you of his favorite dress of yours, your only dress, and he lays you back, fully bare in the nest of his blankets. In the corner of his bedroom, the heater hisses like the wind from a purple storm, the static crackle of warmth hovering in the air. You watch, with eyes that shine like stars, as he pops apart the pearl-snaps holding his shirt together. 

And then his white undershirt goes next. He used to worry what he looked like, until he found someone else who had done exactly what was necessary to survive. 

When he goes to unzip his pants, you sit up, hair mussed and the hickey he gave you earlier throbbing like a dream. 

“I wanna do it.” 

He lets you unbutton his jeans, slide the zipper down, at the edge of the bed, but your hands are shaking, your breath stunted.

“I’m fumbling like a teenager,” you huff, a small, flustered smile on your face. “It’s like I’m nervous, but what is there to be nervous about —,”

His mouth pressed up against yours creates the most beautiful silence of all. 

How do you want me, you ask him and he thinks, all the time. But he takes you both under the covers and settles in next to you. He positions one leg over his hip and immediately you know exactly what he’s asking for. Quick as a whip, you are. 

There’s a rustle of covers, the bed slats squeaking, and then he’s nearly nose-to-nose with you. You kiss him again, maybe nervous still. 

He disconnects, when you slip between his legs and take his thick, leaking cock in your hand. 

“Baby, wait, do you need — I know it’s a lot — I’m a lot –,”

He can’t fathom why he’s so nervous either. But you chuckle, shake your head, smile at him. 

“Don’t need anything but you.” 

Your leg wraps tighter over his hip, knee up to his ribs, as he sinks inside you. The palm wrapped around the back of your knee grips roughly only once.

This is true silence. The instant where the world goes muted, everything distant and muffled, when he’s first buried deep in your heat. 

Your fingers thread through his curls and suddenly all sound is cranked up to an eleven. Your rapid, stilted breathing, the groan of the bed, your soft smothered moans, or are those his? —

“Fuck me, Joel.” 

Eyes never leaving yours, he does. 

Your fingers dig into his skull, nails biting, hand wrapped around his neck to hold yourself steady as he thrusts up into you. He thumbs your stiff nipple, half of his hand still grasping your ribs. 

You meet him thrust for thrust, a slow steady pace that draws sweat to his hairline and endless gasps from his mouth. But your gaze stays strong, never falters. Your hand slips to his shoulder, to stabilize just a bit more, but then it's on his chest, twisting his chest hair and he thinks he feels that sparkle of sanity, of rationality, any restraint to hold back crack and shatter between the clench of his teeth. 

“Goddamn–,” 

He rolls, taking you under him and demanding a faster pace. You push your hand against the headboard, the bed knocking against the wall in rhythmic, hypnotic thuds. 

He thinks you hiss his name before you bite down his shoulder. 

The sharp shock of pain lights up his brain, channeling the sudden awareness that he liked that so fucking much all the way down his spinal cord where it presses hot against his groin. 

He lifts up onto one elbow, skin sweat hot and sticky as it splits from yours. 

“Tell me what you need to come,” he pants.  

You whine again, your throat dripping sweat, but that’s not an answer. Knowing he has about a half-a-dozen to a dozen good grinds before it puts too much strain on his back, he uses every single one of them to drag you to the knife’s edge. 

“What–,” grind, “do you need –,” grind, “to come?”

The wail you let out nearly makes him come on the spot. Your eyes have that same, out-of-this-world, off-this-planet unfocused gaze, any sort of language impossible. You plead with him in the silence. A silence loaded with damp moans, grit teeth, and skin against skin against skin against skin against skin. Best sound in the world, as far as he was concerned.

You arch until he lifts above you and, taking the hand that was by your head, tuck it down between your legs. You let him grasp around with spread fingers where you are wet, where his cock rocks into your body, watch as that pulls him apart faster with dark eyes, before pressing his thumb against your clit. 

There, you say without words. There is where I need you.

Once, twice, he circles – he can feel the tightness in his back already settling in, his jaw fixed and locked, his body battling the two overwhelming sensations of dull pain and fierce, wild pleasure – and you hit your release and you soak him in it. 

He falls then too, falls just as hard and as fast as you, the chronic pain he holds in his shoulders, his neck, his back, his knee fleetingly gone in the rush of heat that branches out of his body from his groin and it feels divine.

When he lies on top of you, face buried in the curve of your neck, the heat from your humid skin warming up the breath in his lungs, the throb of your body matching his, his mind wiped clean, the thought occurs to him:

It’s not silence he’s found with you, it’s quiet. 

It’s peace.

Eventually, some awareness seeps back into his trembling body and he rolls off of you, but takes the curve of your jaw in his hand as he goes. He can’t settle into the pillows because he can’t stop kissing you, love bites occasionally against your lip, as if where his body fails, he proves his love for you won’t end so easily.

Eventually, you press your fingers into the base of his skull and, like a reset button, he groans and drops onto his back. 

Eventually, the quiet returns. Only soft noises, murmurs of existence outside of this perfect little room, fill the space. 

Eventually, he falls asleep with you curled up next to him. 

He knows you love waking up in bed together, but he also knows you love fresh coffee even more. 

Which is where Ellie finds him the next morning. 

He nearly adds too much ground coffee to the pot because he’s distracted, lost in thought about the way your curves looked in the bright morning light, when the back door slams open and a little creature made of entirely scarves, mittens, and an oversized purple jacket stomps into his kitchen and clomps its snowy shoes on the rug. 

“Joel, we gotta go!” She’s a little breathless, red-cheeked too as she unwinds the scarf around her head and her face is revealed. “We don’t wanna miss it!”

“Miss what?” Joel asks, this time carefully measuring how much water the pot needs. 

His question is not met with her usually buzzy chatter. Instead, she’s stopped undoing her scarf and just stares at him like he’s been beamed down from another planet. 

He realizes all too late that he’s still in PJs at 9AM (basically a sign of another apocalypse), he’s making more coffee than just for himself, and he’s smiling. 

Shit.

“Ellie, um, I –,”

She rolls her eyes. Her scarf is flung off her neck and she starts yanking off her gloves, her plucky attitude back, if not a bit smug.

“Get your girlfriend up too. They’re lighting the big tree in town square in an hour. I know she’d be pissed if she missed it.” 

So definitely caught. Time to be “The Adult” here and put it out on the table. 

“Don’t call her that.” Joel eyes her. Coffee percolating, he grabs a slice of bread and Ellie’s favorite jam. “Makes it sound like we’re fourteen.” 

She frowns at him, classic “pouty-mouth”. 

“I’m fourteen — rude. But seriously, and I say this because I care, get over yourself. Call a spade a spade. You’re dating her, fucking her–,”

“Ellie!” 

"– and you make gross ga-ga eyes at each other when you think I’m not looking."

She slides into the seat at the island in front of him as he pushes the toasted bread with jam across the marble to her. She takes a bite, chews with her mouth open, and shrugs. “That’s a girlfriend, dude.” 

Joel turns back to the eggs that might be burning, his shoulders hunched and fist tight around the spatula. Hate it when the kid is right. 

He salvages what he can of the eggs, plates them along with two strips of bacon on two plates, and balances a mug of coffee on each. He tries to salvage some of his dignity with a glare. 

“When you’re older, you’ll see some things just don’t need labels.” 

At that, she rolls her eyes again and snatches up the last strip of bacon from the folded, greasy napkins. “Whatever, you dork.”

Argument soundly lost, he gathers up the plates and heads back up stairs. She’s still mumbling to herself as he goes. 

“'Girlfriend', pfft . . . much better than fuck bunny!” She yells to no one in particular.

You hear the entire conversation from bed, the door cracked open enough for the sound to travel. Muffling a giggle, you snag his white shirt from the floor and draw it over your head. You should probably be more embarrassed that Joel got caught in his Walk of Shame, even if it was to his own kitchen to make breakfast. But . . . you’re just not. 

The smile is still on your face when his footfalls approach the door and he sticks his head into the room.

“Sounds like we’re busted,” you smirk. 

Joel almost chuckles. “'Bout as busted as you can be.” He hands you one plate and sits on the end of the bed with his own. He takes a low, slow sip of coffee and you follow him. The eggs are nibbled at and the bacon is perfectly crunchy.

“So . . . girlfriend?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Not you too.” 

“I mean," you slip the plate and coffee onto the bedside table, then hug the sheets around your knees, "I agree with you on the bit about labels. It seems silly. And not wasteful silly. Just . . .”

“Silly.” Joel’s eyes are as dark as his coffee, warmer than it too. “Doesn’t really capture the whole thing, does it?”

An apocalypse and a half later, and a boy’s sweet eyes on you can still make your stomach swoop. 

“No, it doesn’t.” 

“Then what do you wanna say, if people start askin’?”

You bite your lip, eyes up in faux-thought. “Truth be told, I'm kinda partial to fuck bunny. Cute like with a little tail and ears —,"

The groan from Joel and subsequent head shake makes you laugh enough for you to take pity on the old guy. You crawl closer and his eyes slip from your face to where the sheet tucks under your knees. But a hand on his cheek returns his gaze.

"I like what you said last night." Your smile is soft, pleased. "That I’m yours. Like you’re mine.” 

Joel’s warmth bleeds from his whole frame as he leans in close to put his mug on the bedside table, then leans in closer still to you. He drags his nose over your bare, exposed shoulder, in a way that is sweet and sensual all at once. He stops with a kiss on the hinge of your jaw. 

“I like that too. I like saying that you’re mine.”

Ignoring the shiver that rockets up your spine at the low hum of his voice, the flutter of his lips barely against your cheek, you tuck an errant curl around his ear and it immediately springs back up again. You smile and he smiles back, a youthful shine in his eyes.

“Wherever you are, I am too.”  

Listen to: I am the forest by Willie Nelson

[aurorawritestoescape]

YOUR BOYS || 800 words

Joel Miller x f!reader, Tommy Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re about to spend the night with the Miller brothers.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, dom/sub dynamic, polyamory, sub Joel, sub Tommy, dom reader, cock ring, cuck chair.

A/n: a drabble, inspired by this ask by @romanarose 💞 aka my first try at writing subby men🫣 kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics Happy Birthday to Gabriel Luna💕

MASTERLIST

You walk into the bedroom where the brothers are already waiting for you. Joel is standing by the window, he’s tense like a guitar string, impatient, ready to rush to you and do whatever you wish, fulfill your every desire.

Not Tommy though. He’s lounging on the bed, back against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, still in his boots. He’s an image of disobedience, wildly different from his brother. He loves to be broken. And you love breaking him.

Joel’s in front of you in a second, his big hands on your hips, puppy eyes fixed on your face, waiting for a command.

“Glad you’re home, my love.”

You reach for his lips and give him a kiss. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest but even through its pounding you hear Tommy’s scoff.

The rivalry between the brothers is delicious, a constant battle for your attention, your love, your pussy.

“Have you been a good boy, Joel?” You ask the older brother, raising your brow, and he replies immediately but without words. With haste fingers he opens his jeans and pulls them down mid-thigh. He’s not wearing anything underneath except for a metal ring around the base of his cock that you told him to put on for your arrival. He’s already getting hard, tip fat and red, his balls pushed up at the base and accentuated by the shiny silver. It’s a sight to see! You anticipated your boys wearing them and Joel’s pushing his chest out proudly, showing you that he’s indeed been a very good boy.

You give him your widest smile and then a longer kiss. Joel moans when your hand grazes his member and you gush at this sound.

Getting impatient you take Joel by the hand and lead him to the bed. Stopping at the foot of the bed you glare at Tommy and your cold voice rings in the quiet bedroom.

“Take your boots off my bed. Now.”

Your tone is full of steel and disappointment. Tommy’s eyes get dark. He loves testing you, loves when you degrade him. The praise is always sweeter after a little bit of scolding. He smirks but moves his feet off the bed and then bucks his hips. ‘Is the brat getting hard?’ you wonder. Or is he taunting you with another act of disobedience.

“Show me,” you command, pointing at his crotch with your chin. Tommy takes his time, unzipping his jeans, and then he pulls his cock and balls out. His member is semi hard, free of the ring.

“I ain’t wearing that thing,” he throws at you, holding your heavy stare. His expression screams defiance.

In your peripheral vision you notice Joel shaking his head at his younger brother with disapproval. The anticipation of the night makes your pussy throb, you have so much work to do.

You turn to Joel and take his hand again before leading him to the side of the bed.

”Let me help you, sweetheart,“ you purr to the man twice your size and bend down to take his jeans off completely. Then you motion for him to lie down. He immediately follows your order and soon he’s lying next to his brother, naked from the waist down.

Your tongue slides over your lower lip as you ogle the man splayed in front of you. Joel’s ringed cock is standing proudly, drooling precum down the shaft, and you can’t wait to taste it, to come on it.

“Joel, baby, I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good tonight.”

“Yes, please, my love.” Your words make Joel squirm on the bed and his cock bobs cheerfully while his balls pulsate with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Now you, Tommy,” you snap your eyes at his brother, “you’ve been bad. Very bad. And bad dogs don’t get to sleep in the mistress’ bed. Chair!”

Tommy’s fiery eyes are boring into you but his member betrays him. A clear drop of pre cum beads on his pink slit and you gloat,

“Aww, look at your poor dick, crying for my pussy. Bet he’s sorry that he’s attached to such a brat.”

Tommy gets up, mumbling something incoherent, and walks to the chair, standing in the corner of the room. He takes the “bad boy’s seat“ and throws his thighs wide, his cock stiff, leaking on his jeans.

You sit next to Joel and caress his wet shaft with your index finger and thumb, slowly gliding them up and down. Joel’s hips fly up but you shush him and look at Tommy.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen tonight. I’m gonna ride Joel’s face because only good boys get to taste my sweet pussy.”

Joel licks his lips and a low growl simmers in his chest.

“Then I’m gonna take his ring off and suck his cock and balls. He can fuck my throat too if he wants.” Joel stirs impatiently on the bed while you continue pumping his cock with two fingers.

“And I’m gonna let him come into my sloppy, tight pussy. Would you love to fill me up, Joel?”

The older brother eagerly nods, almost choking on his words, “Yes, my love, yes—please—yes.”

”And you, Tommy, are gonna watch until you’re desperate. Until you don’t want to behave like a brat anymore. Until you beg for my cunt.”

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the story <3

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @huskyfox5

[kirsteng42]

Loved this first chapter so much. Sarah is a sweetie as always and of course Joel is just heavenly!!!

stages of devotion {away from the city}

Pairing: Tired Dad! Joel Miller x Experienced Camper! Reader

Summary: The neighboring campsite hosts a tired dad who seems to be ill-equipped for what he openly admits was a rather impromptu getaway with his teenage daughter. Thankfully, you keep extra supplies in your hatchback and are willing to share.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: canon typical language, cussing, brief mention of bleeding injury, sexual tension, pining, mutual pining, fluffiness, super soft yearning, sexual content, adult content, piv, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, depraved descriptions of the male body, just a light little piece for me!

A/N: hoping this isn't as lame as it seems in my head. imposter syndrome is flaring, y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“God dammit.” A deep, gravely voice solemnly murmurs from the next site over. Slightly muffled from inside the tent the broad-shouldered man had dipped into shortly after pulling into the parking spot in a dark blue trunk. He had managed to get it pitched in a miraculously short amount of time despite the giggling and bouncing teen tangling the guy lines and rucking up the corners of the tarp underneath.

“Everything okay, dad?” The teen in question asked as she popped up from the cooler she was digging around in, a can of soda in her grip.

“…yeah, everything’s good, baby girl.” She glanced over at you with a roll of her eyes, not believing him for a second and needing someone to share in the moment. Before she could call him on the obvious lie, a loud hissing sound ruffled the side of the tent, billowing it out in a rather funny way.

Trying to keep your laughter low to avoid attention, you got up from your spot tending to the flames of your fire, foiled single use pan over the grill plate of the pit. A casserole you had parbaked last night in preparation for today. It was a broccoli cheddar one, the noodles and chicken beginning to season the air along with the crackling pine offered for visitors at the general store at the entrance to the park. The trunk of your SUV was silent as you lifted it and scanned the supplies you had stocked up in the space.

The spare air mattress you kept was on the smaller side, but it didn’t hurt to offer it to the little father and daughter duo. You pulled the fabric of your hiking shorts down a little, to cover up the bandage over a cut you had gotten earlier that afternoon on a hike before gripping the box and walked over to the edge of your site.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Uh, give me sec!”

“Sir?” You walked over the invisible line between yours and theirs, aware of the girl now fiddling with a small MP3 player, wired earbuds already popped into her ears beneath a mane of kinky hair pulled back into low buns at the back of her head. “I’ve got an extra mattress if yours has holes in it.”

“Huh?” His head appears in the opening of the tent, dark curls tousled and slightly damp with sweat. His brown eyes were wide, his plush lips parted underneath a thick moustache. He was on his knees, prompting you to look down as you approached the tent. He looked up at you through his hooded eyes and you swore your heart jumped in your chest. He had crows’ feet at the edges of them, those and the deep wrinkle in his brow adding to his appeal.

“This is my spare, you’re more than welcome to borrow it.”

His eyes flicked behind you, gauging where his daughter was and why he hadn’t heard an interaction from her before you appeared before him with a gift in your hand and kind words on your lips. She knew how to hold her own, but he still worried for her because the world could be cruel. Her music was a low hum even from here, telling him she was gone from his world for the meantime, social battery probably low or even just a bit bored with him out here in the middle of the state park while he set things up.

“Uh, thanks. Who’re-“

“I’m from just over there,” You lean back a little to wave to the left. He had seen the hatchback parked there all day but hadn’t seen the camper until just now. You must’ve snuck back into the grounds from a mid-morning hike that begins off the campgrounds or a nap you were possibly taking in your rather clean tent. He felt self-conscious at the way he was looking up at you with wide eyes, the dirt and dust that coated everything from his cooler to his own truck to the tent he was currently kneeling in. The trip was last minute, but it just reminds him of how much better he needs to be about upkeep in his own home and garage. The truck he could get away with, but he didn’t want to bring his work home with him more than he already did. “We’re campsite neighbors.”

“Mighty nice of ya, think mine has a leak somewhere.” The admittance is easy from his lips, shocking you in its honesty. The last time you had tried to offer similar help, you had been shot down and denied a chance. Told you didn’t know what you were talking about and that the person who had been having trouble knew more than you did, that you should mind your own business. Shaking the bad memory and relationship from your mind, you offer a polite smile and lean over a little to peer into the space around the man eclipsing the entrance.

“Mind if I take a look?” You set down the rather hefty box containing the spare bed and lean down to unhinge the ankle strap on your campsite sandals. It may be a little forward of you, but he seemed willing to discuss the issue, and you wanted to help any way you could. When he doesn’t protest, still gazing up at you with that doe eyed expression, you step into the rather dusty interior. The mattress is in the center of the back wall, the foot end of it facing toward your campsite. You crouch down to inspect the area around the boston valve. Just as you reached out a hand to feel around the base of it, you felt heat at your right side.

“’s over on the other side, I think.” The man’s voice was close, the baritone of it vibrating through you as you turned your own curious expression over to him. He seems to have composed himself, as he shuffles close to you, nearly pressing his broad chest into your side to motion to the left side of bed. The near contact makes you jolt, the way he had almost unconsciously fallen into your personal space. Not having been so close to anyone in recent memory makes the moment into more than it is on the surface, and you try not to let it get to your head. Just a friendly interaction, that’s all.

“Apologies,” He’s moving away just as suddenly as he had appeared beside you, leaving your heart racing in your chest so loud you hope he can’t hear it within the confines of the nylon enclosure. You can’t tell with the bright afternoon sunlight, if there’s a tinge to the tops of his ears and the back of his neck. But you’re pretty sure if there is one it’s because of his embarrassment of the thoughtless act and nothing more. A simple accident of invading a stranger’s space and nothing more.

He’s just a stranger who needed a bit of help, nothing more. Tamping down the runaway thoughts of the man and how calming his presence is even with just a few moments of interacting with him, you focus on the task at hand.

After a few moments of fiddling with the valve and ensuring its secure, you have him press down the palms of his hands on the top of the mattress as you scoot it out to feel where the air is leaking from.

There’s a slit in the groove that helps to support the weight of whoever lays atop it, barely visible.

“Ah, yeah. It’s here.” You switch places with him and he sees what you’re talking about.

“Shit,” He’s rubbing a hand over the dark scruff on his chin, dragged down the column of his neck as he realizes it’s not even a hole but a tear. A mighty long one that he’s incapable of fixing out here with no duct tape or putty.

“No worries, you can use the spare I brought over.” Standing up, you clap your hands to rid them of the dust that you had gathered on them. Doing the same with your knees, you glance around the space and realize how small it is. “Is this the only tent you brought?”

“No, uh, Sarah – my girl out there,” Joel is hunched over, the inside of the tent not tall enough for him to stand at his full height, he’s following your form as you exit, taking the offered box that contains the solution to his current problem. “This one’s hers. Gotta get mine set up. Was just gonna give her mine if hers was damaged. Saved me the pain of sleeping on the ground.”

“I’ve got a small handheld vacuum, if you want to get the dust cleared up for her.” You offer with a slight smile, the small worry of overstepping making you self-conscious. “Just…if you want to.”

He pauses as he places the box beside the slowly deflating bed he had tried to set up. His eyes catch yours and you see something flash in them.

“’m not normally this unprepared, but she was…well, she was havin’ a bad week so we packed up after school and just hit the road.”

“Hey, no worries at all! I totally get needing to get away sometimes. That’s why I have enough to offer you my spare. Keep a bit in the car, a bit in the garage. Kinda ready to go whenever I feel the need.”

“It’s much appreciated.” His own lips twist up and you feel butterflies between your ribs. He’s effortlessly handsome, his chocolate curls mused and his face showing the years he’s spent raising his daughter and no doubt working hard to do it.

“I’ll just go grab that real quick then, leave you to finish setting up.” You crook your elbow and point back to your own campsite, but your feet stick to the ground when you see Joel crouched back down on the ground in his simple tee and jeans. His biceps flex with the way he begins to roll the remaining air out of the no-good mattress, catching your attention like a cat to a sunbeam.

“You’re an angel, can’t believe we lucked out with such a cool neighbor.” Joel chuckles to himself as he works, unaware of your watching gaze. “Last time we had this older couple that didn’t believe she was mine. Kept asking if she was okay or needed any help.”

“S-Sounds like a nightmare.” The lump that appears in your throat sticks even after you attempt to swallow it down. You couldn’t imagine the stress that caused, even if just fleetingly. They were obviously bonded, their easy temperance with each other speaking volumes for those around.

“Much better this time around, despite the faulty mattress.” He looks up once it’s rolled up and secured with velcro ties. His smile is brighter, reaching his eyes in a way that makes them sparkle. “Name’s Joel, and the tone-deaf teenager out there is Sarah.”

You look over your shoulder at the dancing, twirling teenager. She’s still got her music playing a touch too loud, her lips mouthing along to most of the words. Some of them she sings aloud, and it’s…it is rather tone-deaf. But it brings a smile to your face all the same, she’s allowed to feel like she can be herself around her father. That’s an impressive feat, that they seem so close with no underlying awkwardness or feelings of insecurity.

Turning back to him, you offer your own introduction.  

The sounds of Joel finishing setting up his campsite fill the air but aren’t bothersome. Just a part of the afternoon that grows into the evening. Others showing up as well, the sound of rubber mallets securing tent spikes in the soft ground, of vinyl and tarp being stretched out and shifted into place, of grills being filled with charcoal and the sizzling of food as it hits the hot grates. Laughter and soft conversations float through the air amid the gentle breeze and you sigh as you sit down at your table with a bowl of the casserole that had finished cooking.

The peaceful reverie is enhanced by the infectious giggling of Sarah, the teenage girl just over the invisible line between the campsites. Joel’s own carefree laughter making your chest feel light. They’ve got their stuff all set up, the propane grill Joel brought working hard as he cooks what looks like too much food for just the two of them. But they both load their plates up and settled at their picnic table with freshly opened drinks from the cooler.

You feel the look before it registers, so caught up in the book gripped between your hands. It’s been on your list for far too long, a few pages read here and there throughout your hectic day, before bed as you try to wind down but end up passing out with it flattened on your chest. But now, the reading seems to be disrupted in the form of Joel. He’s at the edge of your space, calling out your name.

An offer for food if you wanted some, that there was a little bit of everything and plenty of it if you cared to join them. With no thought for the passage you had just been immersed in, you close the book and leave it in the seat of your camp chair. The vinyl hushes with the wight of the paper but you pay it no mind as you ask after what all he’s got and pick up a fresh beer from your cooler.

Easy conversation flowed and soon your laughter rung in the air alongside theirs.

Sarah had gone to bed after a bit of gentle prodding from Joel. Her head had bobbed a few times, trying her hardest to stay up despite her fluttering eyes and deep breaths as she sat in front of the dwindling fire alongside you both.

They hadn’t been able to get one going in their own pit, too much debris left behind from the previous inhabitants. So yours had been stoked and kept alive for hours now as night fell. Their chairs had been effortlessly moved beside yours, surrounding the once roaring warmth, something you hadn’t minded in the slightest. He’s walking back up to now, hands in his pockets and a flannel added over his tee. He looks so cozy, so at home now that he’s gotten settled.

He sighs heavily as he plops back down in the chair beside your own, scooting it closer now that you’re alone. You can smell the lingering scent of his cologne on the new addition of clothing and it has you unconsciously leaning into his space.

“Mm, you smell good.”

“Thanks, darlin’. You smell mighty good yourself.” He’s smirking when your eyes snap up at the realization that you just said that out loud.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t-“

“’s okay. But I’ve been wonderin’ something.” His tone tilts, pitches low as he regards the fire that’s more smoldering ashes than flames in the pit. The shadows cast over his profile take your breath away, make your heart ache for how beautiful he is. He’s a good man, if your evening together was anything to go by.

A devoted father, a caring family man, a capable man who worked himself perhaps too much sometimes.

“Y-yeah?” You feel the air shift, something sparking between you two now that you’re alone. You wonder if he’s about to tell you his wife is back home waiting for their return, if he’s going to ask you why you keep stealing ogling glances his way. If he’s going to reveal to you that he’s onto you and doesn’t like the attention. But his question is exactly what you wanted to hear, because you have the exact same one for him.

“You got anyone waitin’ for you back home?” Joel’s voice is even, despite the way one of his hands is tapping away at the armrest of his chair. The empty beer in his mesh cupholder sweating and the label is peeled off. It’s endearing to see his quirks, the man rather enticing despite only knowing him for a few hours. Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies tickling your insides as you realized he may be as attracted to you as you are to him. Unless he was just making polite conversation now that it was just the two of you…

“Like a boyfriend?” You dare to ask, seeking clarification. Feeling the slight charge in the air is making you a little dizzy, the looks you had caught him giving you when you were busy helping Sarah with her smores only making you feel even more so as you recall the way his eyes had shown in the amber firelight. You lean toward him, finding that he had done the same. There are only a few inches between you now, elbows crooked and bodies curved toward each other. You try to disguise your surprise, but you’re sure he can see in as his lips quick up on one side.

“Like a boyfriend.” His breath is so warm as it puffs against your lips. He’s so, impossibly close and it wouldn’t take but a tilt of your head to close the gap.

“Oh.” Your eyes search between his own, looking for something behind them. Finding no ill intent, no underlying darkness. There’s only hope flickering there, shielding the loneliness you can sense in him, the same that you mask in your own life. You feel your lips pull up into a teasing smile as you glance down at his plush lips. “No.”

“Good.” And he’s closing the gap. Hands coming up to cradle your face and nose brushing against yours as his lips capture yours.

The next morning, you’re packing up the remainder of your stuff as quietly as possible. The sun has yet to rise, the sky barely beginning to lighten on the horizon. Joel is snoring just loudly enough that you can pick up the sound coming from inside his tent. You don’t want to bother him, seeing as he’s resting after a rather long night. You feel the ghost of his lips against yours, the way they had dragged down your throat, your collarbone, lower still beneath your shoved off flannel and rucked up tank top.

“Don’t normally do this kinda thing.” He groaned into your skin as his exploring fingers undid the small tie at the front of your shorts. The thickness of them as they hooked in the waistband and pulled made you dizzy, made your body clench around nothing at the heady thought of them delving lower.

“What? Make out with strangers?” You huff a giddy laugh that turns into a choked whimper as his knuckles graze between your legs, feeling the dampness there. He presses close, and you feel the pressure of his hand against your swollen lips, can feel the way he slowly parts them with gentle movements. Fingertips find your sensitive bud and your body glitters, eyes fluttering shut.

“Make out with anyone. Been so focused on other stuff.”

“Focus on me then, just for now.” You whisper as you reach for him, guiding his face back up to yours and kissing him deeply. He swallows the moan that bursts from your chest as his fingers find your fluttering entrance. He’s knuckle deep and crooking them before you can catch your breath. It hitches, leaves you and causes you to break away from him when they nudge a spot just right, lighting up your body in a way it hadn’t been in ages.

“That’s the spot, huh darlin’?” He thrusts his fingers in a slow, deep rhythm. Feeling your soft walls clench around him, the jolt to your body and the arching of your back telling him he’s found exactly the right spot. “C’mon, you feel so damn good. Lemme see how pretty you are.”

Through a heavy-lidded gaze, you see him hovering above you. His outline stark in the glow of the string lights strung up around your campsite. His brown eyes are glittering and blown wide, his lips are parted and panting for breath, chest dusted with the same dark hair atop his head. When had he even taken his shirt off? It doesn’t matter, you lose the thought as your hands begin to explore his chest. Nails raking lightly down his pecs and toward the softness of his belly. Belt unbuckled and pants undone, but still secure around his waist.

Heat encompasses you, your body alight as he beckons you closer and closer to the edge. You fall with a cry of his name when he leans down to nip at your breast, nipple taut between his teeth. He guides you through it, fingers dragging it out before he gently removes them from your fluttering core and twitching clit.

“That’s a pretty sight indeed, darlin’.” He kisses your temple, your cheeks, your forehead. A grunt of surprise falls from him when you surge up and wrap your arms around his neck and use your feet to push his jeans off. His rumbling laughter fills the dark space as he quickly pushes them off all the way and kicks them off the bed. “Gonna let me have you, sweet girl, gonna let me feel you come on my cock?”

“Fuck, Joel, yes, please.” You rut against him as his erection bobs up toward his stomach, needing more, needing to feel him. This safe, beautiful stranger you hadn’t known existed until today. He was intoxicating. The hot, long line of him hard where you grind against the underside of him. He groans a deep, guttural sound at the feeling, the slick of your swollen lips and the beads of precum falling from his tip making for such an easy glide.

His hand snakes down to guide himself a little lower, eliciting a cry from you when his head rubs roughly over your clit.

“Shh, shh, gotta be quiet now, don’t wanna wake the whole campground, do we?” He’s watching your face twist in pleasure, the way your bottom lip plumps between teeth as you try to quiet yourself. He tries to muffle his own loud moan when he finally pushes in. Everything stills for the barest of moments, eyes meeting and breath hitching. Before he’s snapping his hips against yours, bending over you to lift a leg over his shoulder and his teeth grit as he tries to keep his sounds restrained.

You’re lost to the feeling of his body moving against yours, moving inside yours. He’s filling you so deeply, hitting that spot you didn’t believe any guy could find and it’s making your vision sparkle bright white.’

Your face heats as you recall the way he had desperately asked ‘where’ in that gravely twang of his. The feeling of him still filling you, dampening your underwear as he dribbled out a little bit at a time. It had been rather risky a move, but the pills you took everyday would help prevent any…mishaps with the handsome man you hadn’t expected to meet on your own impromptu excursion from the city.

Austin.

He was from there too and something compelled you to write your name and number on a blank page of your small notepad. A little note saying to call you for a coffee sometime because it had been nice to talk to him and his daughter. You left the remainder of the casserole in the tin and secured the crumpled foil over it before cautiously lifting the lid to their large cooler. Thankfully there was space for the extra food, they would need it with their additional night in the park.

But you needed to go, real life responsibilities calling your name back from the slice of reprieve you had sought out.

Picking up the packed tent, the handles rough in your hand like Joel’s calloused palms, you looked the campsite over one last time. Everything was packed now, the city beckoning you back though this camping trip had provided you with something you hadn’t had a taste of in a long time.

Hope.

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[myownwholewildworld]

13. DEATHROW

chapter 12 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 14 (soon)

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: tommy's ill-placed trust brings you to an impasse. a/n: uhmmm... hi... the only thing i'm going to say is that i'm really sorry. please know that writing this chapter took an emotional toll on me and was crying towards the end. if you're sensitive to certain topics, please heed the warnings. i will tell you though that there will be a happy ending, i promise. as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, and if you do all three, i'll treasure you forever. take care, lovelies <3 x warnings (spoilers!!): 18+, mdni. some fluff until it isn't. explicit gore, violence, murder. miscarriage. angst and grief. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov. dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~5.2k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

“Fuck, no,” you grunted, turning the keys in the ignition while your other hand tightly gripped the steering wheel.

The Jeep’s motor spluttered, wheezing as you tried to bring it back to life. Pressing on the gas pedal, you spun the key around again to no avail.

Last night you should have checked on the battery. Having thought about it and then not doing it was infuriating, but at the same time you couldn’t blame either Joel or yourself for it.

You both had been so focused on the conversation, your fears being washed away, that preserving the life of the car battery had dropped several spots in your list of things to worry about. It wasn’t every day that Joel opened up to you, so when he did, you hadn’t dared stop him.

Despite the simmering fear under the surface of your skin, the excitement outweighed everything else. A much-needed ray of happiness among the darkness. Even though it was still too early, you couldn’t wait to welcome this baby into the world. To introduce them to Joel. Imagining him holding your baby, nestled in his arms, him pressing a soft kiss on their forehead…

Your chest swelled with emotion, a wave of warmth overwhelming you, filling your core. You definitely couldn’t wait.

And yes, there were infinite threats out there, but you and Joel would keep them all at more than arm’s length. This baby would be loved, protected. Joel would not let anything happen to any of you, but neither would you ― you would do absolutely anything and everything for them. Whatever the cost.

A big part of you was sure that Tommy would do nothing with the information he had unearthed about you. After all, he was your friend and Joel’s brother. You liked to think that, despite how he ditched you both when you were bit back in Chicago, he still cared about the both of you. Having spent months with him in the wilderness, he had been like the big brother you never had. Always the older sister, you never had someone looking out for you when you were younger. Tommy had filled that part in a sense, albeit briefly.

Joel, on the other hand, was keen on leaving, hence why you were trying to resuscitate the Jeep. Blamed how his brother had changed solely on Laney. And although you agreed that Laney had been an extremely bad influence on Tommy, she could not be the only culprit here. Tommy had decided, of his own free will at first, to get involved with that group, to drown his sorrows in alcohol and harder drugs.

But he would do nothing that would put Joel or you in harm’s way. Despite it all, he was a good person, just a tad lost. Tommy would eventually find his way back to his brother, to family. You were darn sure he would make an amazing uncle.

Grunting, you jumped out of the car, keys dangling from your gloved fingers. Trudging towards the cabin, Joel came down the steps to meet you halfway through in the overgrown path.

“Any luck?”

“Nope, sorry,” you apologised although were not sure why. You handed over the keys. “I should’ve checked the battery last night.”

You unintentionally pursed your lips in frustration, but Joel’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip to soften the gesture. Your eyes flickered to his as his fingers splayed across your jawline.

“I could’ve checked too and didn’t. This ain’t on you, baby,” Joel reassured you. “We’ll find an alternative, don’t worry.”

You pecked the fingertip of his thumb, which earned you one of his lopsided smiles, tiny dimples sinking in his cheeks. Joel was always a sight to see, handsome as he was, but when he grinned, his whole expression shifted. The worry would ease its grip on him, the crow’s feet around his eyes accentuating and the skin on his lips tensing into a boyish smirk.

No wonder he had such an effect on you. Couldn’t be any other way. Because Joel Miller was gorgeous on the outside, but it was his heart what you treasured most about him. His passion, his predisposition to help those who needed him, his good intentions, his kind nature towards you was what stole your heart.

Yes, he could be a huge prick sometimes, but it was out of fear, of love. Not that it was a good excuse for some of his behaviour, but you knew he was trying his best.

“What’s crossing your mind?” he probed, sensing your absent-mindedness.

You shrugged, a half-smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Nothing, just mentally listing the reasons why I love you,” you whispered as he bowed down, replacing his thumb with his mouth.

“Oh, yeah? I bet it’s a long list. Care to share?” Joel taunted you, lips moving against your as he spoke.

You chuckled, slapping his shoulder playfully as you stepped back.

“Stop being a flirtatious tease, Miller. You’ve already knocked me up, you don’t need to impress me anymore,” you joked.

His hand slipped to yours and pulled you into his hard, broad chest. You couldn’t help but titter when his arms wrapped around you in a bear hug. Joel kissed the crown of your head, his palms sliding down your back until both cupped your ass to press you on him.

His mouth made its way to yours lazily, his lips prying yours open with ease. The tease of his tongue swirling around yours pulled all air out of your lungs, his wet warmth pouring into your thirsty mouth. His tongue retreated and you whimpered lowly, for him to lick back in your mouth with ravenous need.

Joel broke the kiss a minute later, gasping for oxygen. You panted as well, slightly flustered.

“I may not need to, but I definitely want to impress you every single fucking day of our lives together until death do us part,” his tone grew darker, more intense, as he mumbled such words against the soft skin of your lips.

Your heart jolted, the bare intensity of his promise making you shiver with raw love. Warmth settled in your core, his pledge a reassuring blanket that nothing would break you apart. You knew he meant every single word, which made it even more significant to you. You didn’t think you could ever love someone else the same way you loved Joel ― it would be simply impossible.

Your eyes got glassy, a finger brushing your waterline as you laughed it off, taking a step back.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry,” you said, a chortle loosening the emotion in your voice. “I don’t think I can even blame the pregnancy hormones for that.”

Joel cradled your face, his thumbs stroking your cold, wet cheeks. His brown eyes softened as he leaned in for a chaste kiss this time. Then his forehead rested against yours intimately.

“I do mean it. I love you. And this baby too,” he hummed, one hand drifting down and then up the hem of your padded coat until it landed on the bare skin of your belly. His thumb trailed an invisible line below your belly button. “I don’t think you understand how much, sweetheart.”

You swooned. How could you not when Joel was talking like that? You liked him being so vocal about his love for you, for this baby, because you knew it was rare.

Hugging his neck, fingers laced at the nape of it, you pushed him down for another kiss, his warm palm still stroking the skin over your womb.

“I do understand, because I feel exactly the same. Now stop this before I lose my mind and lock you up,” you laughed against his lips.

“As tempting as that is, you’re right. We need a vehicle,” he sighed loudly, almost exasperatedly, while he stepped back from you. “We’ll go into town, see what we can find.”

“I can stay here with our supplies, so we don’t have to carry everything with us,” you offered.

“No, you’re coming with me. Tommy knows we are here, it isn’t safe anymore. We go together,” his steely tone told you he would not be convinced otherwise.

“Do you really think Tommy would come back and do something rash? I highly doubt it, Joel. He’s your brother, he wouldn’t harm either of us,” you reasoned with him, knowing it was a lost battle.

“It’s not him I’m worried about, but the others he’s with if he opens his goddamn mouth.” He had a point, so you didn’t argue anymore. “We’ll hide some things in those bushes over there, so you don’t have to carry that much weight, and then if it’s safe, we’ll come back to retrieve everything else.”

You nodded, sliding your hand in his and squeezing it.

“Let’s go then, it’s freezing out here.”

Joel’s senses flared the whole time, even the twigs breaking under his heavy boots made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. The nagging feeling stalking the back of his mind kept him on edge, checking his surroundings at all times.

Oswego felt alien, otherworldly even. Joel had not set foot on this town for years―decades―and nothing had really changed. But the atmosphere had, the mist adding a layer of mystique to how he perceived it. Being here felt… wrong. His skin bristled at the thought, instantly turning around to check on you. Again.

“Yes, I’m still right behind you, just like the last twenty times you’ve checked, Joel,” you mocked him with a gentle smile in an attempt to ease his uneasiness.

Joel pursed his lips, swallowing the snappy retort. His mood had soured with every step closer to the dam on West River Road. With no cars to be seen, you had to venture further in than what he had anticipated.

“I know, just making sure no one is following,” he said instead.

You did not deserve his spoilt temper.

Slowly coming down the hill, you both got to the asphalt. The dam was on your right, fenced off and in big disrepair. The water was pouring over, the winter almost forcing the river to overflow.

Joel quickly moved to your side, keeping you close to him, as you both walked northwards.

“See that red-bricked building? Tommy once got inside and almost didn’t make it out. He tripped over some bare cables, and they came in contact with water… It was a shitshow,” Joel recalled, trying to get his mind off that nagging feeling that made his skin crawl. “He almost electrocuted, got a nasty burn on his hands.”

“And let me guess, you went after him to try and stop him from being even more reckless,” you added, intertwining your gloved fingers with his.

Joel cocked his head, looking at you askance with a subtle grin. You knew him too well by now.

“Damn right I did. That kid could never be left unsupervised,” he tutted at the memory. “I had to break him out while the guard was chasing us. When our old man found us, he was not impressed.”

You chuckled, a melody to his ears in this decrepit world. Joel loved the sound of your laughter, how easy going you were when worry was not gripping you tight. He gently yanked at your laced hands to push you into his side, his arm quickly draping over your shoulders as you trudged forward through the thick layer of snow.

The light screech of distant tyres made him stop right away, his alertness going through the roof as he turned around to discern where the noise was coming from.

His heart jostled against his chest, blood rushing through his eardrums with anticipation. Danger was nearby, Joel could sense it.

He pushed you towards the trees on your left.

“Go, hide in the woods, but don’t strand too far,” his voice was unusually calm, especially considering how his heart pounded, threatening to break a rib.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Someone’s coming. Trust me,” he pushed you again, this time with more urgency. “Please.”

Your eyes widened when you heard the car approaching too.

“It can be anyone. Doesn’t have to be―”

“I said go.”

“But you―”

“I’ll keep ‘em busy. I’ll be fine. Go,” he insisted, keeping calm even though the fear bubbling inside him was asking him to yell.

Finally, you nodded, a last squeeze on his hand before you ran towards the cover of the woods.

Drawing a deep breath in, with the coolest demeanour he could muster, Joel faced northwards and kept on walking, pretending he didn’t know you were being followed.

Soon enough, a vehicle approached him from behind, his whole body stiffening in preparation for what was to come. His left hand gripped the leather strap hooked to his shoulder, while the right tested the weight of his riffle’s stock. Blood pumped thick through his veins, mind rushing at lightspeed.

Joel dared to shoot a sideways glance to the trees, checking you were nowhere to be seen. His relief was short-lived when he noticed the trail of imprinted footprints on the snowy, frozen ground, a clear path leading to where you were hiding.

If he could throw up his heart, Joel would have done so there and there. But he couldn’t fix that, not now, so could only pray that whoever was following would not spot them.

Not whoever ― Joel knew who they were, as sure as the sun would rise over the horizon tomorrow morning. You were adamant that Tommy would not give you up, that his little brother would smarter than that. But Joel knew better than that ― knew Tommy too damn well. Although he probably meant no harm, his need to belong, to find his people, was far greater than anything else. A fucking irony, if you asked him ― Tommy had him, had you, but apparently neither of you had been enough to satiate his longing.

It had always been like that though, so why was he surprised? Even as a kid, Tommy would find the shittiest people he could to hang out with, and then it was up to Joel to get him out of dire situations.

A loud honk coming from the car derailed his train of thought. Halting suddenly, the riffle’s strap came off his shoulder, the barrel weighting heavy on his left hand while his right pawed the grip.

Joel slowly turned around to face four people coming out of the Jeep. He recognised Laney straight away, the woman who had gotten Tommy’s head up his own ass. A baseball bat rested on her shoulder. The three man that accompanied her were strangers to him ― all of them had drawn their guns.

Fucking outnumbered, but his coward of a brother was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey there, Joel. Long time no see,” Laney greeted him, a wide smile showing her crooked, yellowed teeth. “Going somewhere?”

Joel eyed his opponents, pondering how to get out of this unscathed. His hand tightened around the riffle’s grip, but he kept it steady. Didn’t want to force a situation he wasn’t sure he could win.

“No, just aimlessly walking around,” he barked back, snappy.

He had no time for pleasantries.

Laney laughed, closing the distance with the three man right on her back.

“I see. Tommy was telling us all about how you have forgotten about Sarah already and decided to replace her with another shot at parenthood. Is that right?” She stopped six feet away from him, her grin spanning across her mouth like a fucking clown.

Her words hit him like a motherfucking lorry. The most primal anger flared his nerves, his vision reddening at the thought of Tommy airing his personal life to fucking strangers. Could he not trust his own fucking blood anymore? Why the fuck would Tommy tell her anything about Sarah?

He wasn’t replacing her. Never could, would never even try ― Sarah was irreplaceable. This baby could never supplant Sarah. He’d love them to death―already did―just as he had Sarah. Tommy should fucking know that.

Displaying the highest forms of control for the sake of you both, Joel stood there, white knuckles under the fingerless gloves. He petted the trigger, wanting to give in to this urge ― the urge to right a wrong. But he had you and the baby to worry about, couldn’t be so reckless.

“Did that clicker you call your girlfriend eat your tongue or what?” one of the men chipped in, snickering at his own tasteless joke.

Of course Tommy told them that too. When would the younger Miller ever learn to shut his fucking mouth up?

“What do you want, Laney?”

“Ah, well, you see…” she shrugged, folding arms. Joel wanted to wipe her smile off her stupid face with the blow of his shotgun. “This is our town now. And we don’t like having fucking pregnant clickers around here, Joel. Have you considered the kind of monster that is gonna come out of her?”

Fury crawled up his throat, closer now to losing his goddamn composure. Joel had to blink a couple of times to clear his vision from the tinge of red buffering around his eyes.

You’re the fucking monster, leave my family alone, you bitch, was what he wanted to yell, but instead forced himself to try and diffuse the situation.

“We’ll leave. There’s nothing here that would keep us in this place,” and by nothing, he truly meant no one.

Tommy’s betrayal stung like a swarm of raging wasps.

“Ditching your brother already? Wow,” Laney cackled like a parrot. Then tutted, her head cocking to one side. “Bit late for that, I’m afraid.”

“Let go of me, you bastard!”

Your high-pitched shriek froze the hot blood running wild in his veins. His head snapped to his right, just in time to see a fourth man dragging you out of the woods, grabbing you by your hair as you kicked like a madwoman to break free.

His heart literally stopped, brain trying to catch up with what was happening. He had missed the moment the fourth guy had diverted from the group to track you down through the snow. And Joel was afraid you would pay for his inattentiveness.

A dense knot swelled in his throat, his lungs straining to get some oxygen in. He couldn’t afford to panic now, nor to lose his goddamn mind, but the urge to give in to desperation was overwhelming.

You were everything he had left in this godforsaken world. Joel couldn’t lose you too, not to his brother’s stupidity.

So he persevered, forcing himself to remain calm. The seconds dragged on like a thread being pulled off a blanket, time standing still the moment that vile man threw you to the floor.

On your fours, you fought for a gasp of air before the same man yanked at your hair again, another painful scream as he forced you on your knees.

“You son of a bitch,” you spat, feeling your scalp pinching with the pull.

For a moment you avoided Joel’s gaze, because you knew what you would find there: helplessness. The same you were feeling right now. But his eyes were burning a hole right through your face ― and you finally met his glare.

Even if he had a tight grip on his composure, you could feel his anger, his guilt, his rage. To someone else Joel might look eerily calm and steadfast, but to you, who had learnt everything there was to know about Joel Miller, he looked like a man in penance.

Your captor slapped you, the blow pushing you onto the frozen ground again. Your skin prickled at the contact, a grunt slipping through your lips ― but that was all you would show them.

Joel moved towards you suddenly, a reaction he could not have suppressed even if he wanted to. But the moment the other three men pointed their guns at him, you regretted him doing it. Luckily, the sound of the firearms being cocked stopped him before he could reach you.

“Look, it doesn’t really need to be this dramatic, Joel. You get in the car, we take care of her, and we drive you to your brother,” Laney spoke as if you were not there.

Why did people had developed the ability to talk about you as if you were an object, as if you were not even present? What the fuck was wrong with people? Had they stopped seeing your humanity because of a fucking bite?

“No, you get in the car and leave, before I kill y’all,” Joel muttered under his breath.

Only when you saw the feral look in his eyes, did your heart start racing. This could only go down one way, because Joel would not let them do anything to you. For his own preservation, you wished he did, so one of you could make it out alive.

Launey laughed, followed by the four men.

“You reckon you can take on the five of us?” she taunted, her teeth becoming yellower with the white background. “You are delusional.”

Joel was not someone who took being challenged graciously. You had seen him unleash his temper before, and how that had turned out for the men who tried to rape you. He had not only killed them both, but then spent hours hunting down every single member of their group on his own.

This, though, was different. Joel had already three guns pointed at him.

You felt the shift in the atmosphere before the rest, the twitch in his jaw alerting you that Joel was at his wit’s end. His pose stiffened almost unperceptively, one finger slowly sliding towards the trigger. He didn’t need to communicate with you ― you knew what was about to happen.

Joel lifted the riffle, turned around promptly, and shot the man who had dragged you out of the woods. His body fell to your side with a muffled thud.

Then hell broke loose, the three men coking their guns at him in an instant, stepping in front of Laney to protect her.

“Don’t kill him, Tommy wouldn’t forgive me,” was her only order.

Two of the men holstered their guns, one of them still keeping Joel at gun point, and lunged forwards towards him. A second shot knocked the second man down, while the other two grabbed at Joel’s shotgun’s barrel. A fight ensued while they struggled to get hold of the firearm.

Your pulse accelerated, forcing you out of your state of shock as you raised to your feet, hand slithering to your back to grab your own gun. You would fight besides Joel even if this was the last thing you did.

Then Laney’s body blocked your vision, the baseball bat swinging in front of your face.

“Where do you think you’re going, you fuckin’ clicker?” were her only words before the bat swayed again, hitting you harshly on the sternum.

Your lungs evacuated all air, leaving you mouthing for a gulp of oxygen. Your knees quivered and you managed to stop the fall, your nails digging in the dirty snow underneath. A second shot of pain ran down your spine when Laney hit your back with all the strength she could muster, and both your arms and legs gave way, your gun falling and dropping a few feet away from you.

Your face kissed the white blanket beneath as you crawled onto your side, still trying to catch a breath, wincing and panting, clutching at your chest. This much pain could only be caused by a broken rib, the stabbing feeling worsening with every breath you tried to get in.

“You’re disgustin’,” Launey snarled before she started kicking you, her boot and the bat taking turns.

She hit you everywhere, but most of the blows landed on your stomach. You crouched down, protecting your head as best you could, while searing pain cursed through your body, sharp and dull at the same time.

You could still hear the struggle between Joel and the two men, and you hoped he would prevail. But you couldn’t wait for him to help you, not with the burning cramps taking hold of your whole body. Another minute of this beating and Laney would end up smashing your skull open ― it was only a matter of time.

Through the agony, the worst pain you had ever endured, you rolled onto your back as the woman kept on hitting you with boots and bat. Not the best idea, but it was your only chance to reach for your gun on the ground.

Laney was so focused on you, she didn’t even notice the moment your fingers wrapped around the grip of your forgotten gun. With no hesitation, your finger slid to the trigger, and pressed it.

The bullet lodged right between Laney’s brows ― a millisecond later, she fell on her back.

You drew in a breath, then a trembling sigh escaped your lips, trying to slow down your heartbeat. A cloud of mist lingered in front of your mouth. Closed your eyes for a minute, trying to reign in the pain coursing through your being.

Tilting your head to one side, you saw the last two men on the floor. Joel was on top of one, fisting and punching his face until his head cracked open. A pool of blood tinted the white snow, and only when his brains were spilling over onto the ground, did Joel sit back and look in your direction.

You saw the fog lifting off his mind, his rage forgotten the moment he landed eyes on you. Those brown orbs you loved suddenly widened with fear and his face expression completely transformed into anguish.

“Baby, no,” he whispered with despair, crawling his way to you.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled the moment he reached you, helping you sit up and hugging you so tight you feared he might break the last of your ribs. “Joel, I’m fine,” you reassured him.

All your body ached just as if you had been put through hell, but you were alive.

“No, no, no, no,” was everything he could murmur, his lips pressed onto your temple. His breath so warm it was soothing. “No, no… can’t be… I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh God, please forgive me. I’m sorry…”

Joel started to rock back and forth still holding you, his eyes so broad and glassy you knew you were missing something.

That was when you looked down and saw the blood staining your jeans where your inner thighs met, leaking through the fabric onto the snow underneath.

For a second you didn’t―couldn’t―understand what was happening, why you were bleeding so profusely.

And the moment it hit you, your lungs tore apart with the loudest scream you had ever let go of.

Joel saw realisation dawning on you, your eyes a window to your instantly broken soul. He cradled your face so you would only look at him. You almost wrestled with him, trying to get up, but his arms kept you bound to him.

The void in his chest grew bigger and bigger with every screech and cry you emitted, breaking him down until tears spilt over his waterlines. This couldn’t be happening ― losing another child. One he had only started to love; one he had let himself wish and hope for. One he promised he would protect at whatever cost. The idea of a family with you, snatched away in the blink of an eye.

He had tried getting to you the moment he saw Laney approaching you, tried to attack her, but the two men had tackled him to the ground and beat him almost to death. Only got a tiny reprieve when he saw you kill Laney before one of the attackers struck him in the head. Then Joel’s instincts kicked in and didn’t simmer down until they were both dead.

Joel had been so focused on eliminating the last two threats, he hadn’t stopped to check on you ― his survival instinct too strong to ignore. Now hated himself for it, for letting Laney get to you, do this to you.

Because of his ineptitude and tunnel vision, you had miscarried. He had not been able to protect you, this baby of yours. Just as he had not been able to protect Sarah almost two years ago. He was a motherfucking failure.

But he couldn’t break, not now when you needed him the most. He had to be strong for the both of you, because your pain was much, much greater than his.

“Baby, don’t look,” he begged you, palms framing your face while his thumbs swept away your tears. “Please, don’t look.”

“J-Joel!” you wailed, your arms draping around his trunk and burying your face in his coat. “No… our baby…”

His hand landed on your crown, pressing you gently onto his chest, his dead heart breaking a tad more.

Joel pressed a kiss on your forehead.

There were no words to describe the loss, the grief for someone none of you would ever meet. Would they be a baby boy or a baby girl? What would they look like? Would have they taken after you or him? Would have they grown to be a happy, chirpy toddler? Their first steps, their first words ― so many firsts gone, firsts neither of you would ever witness.

You both remained there for what felt like hours, Joel hugging you tight, rocking you in an attempt to calm you down, calm himself down too.

Only when the bitter cold started to filter through your clothing, making you shiver, did Joel help you stand up. His arms slipped under your body, and he carried you to the car while you cried your loss in the crook of his neck. Made sure you were comfortable on the seat, put your seatbelt on, and jumped into the driver’s side.

Joel was a man on a mission. Not on a hunting mission―Tommy was dead to him―but on a mission to get you to safety so he could tend to you.

Little did it matter how much he was hurting. Your sobs had quietened down, your face tilted towards the window. On the reflection he could see the dried tears on your soulless eyes, but the moment they drifted down to your lap, you started quietly crying again.

He felt so damn helpless, the only thing he could do was to remove his coat and place it on your lap. He tugged at you again, embracing you without speaking a word. You hugged him back, silence lingering between the both of you, grieving together.

Time was a funny thing, because neither of you realised that darkness had begun to win over the light. With the night approaching, he needed to find somewhere safe to bunker down. After what felt like hours, he kissed your forehead and sat back up on the driver’s seat.

The vehicle roared alive, and Joel pressed the gas pedal like a man on death row.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu

@smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille @harriedandharassed

@thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus @theoraekenslover @vickie5446

@hiroikegawa

[joelsdagger]

only then, i am good || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

pairing: daddy jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. warnings: jackson era [well into the tlou2 timeline but nothing bad happens], implied age gap [i warn you, joel is old old], angst [in the form of internal turmoil], feelings of guilt/burdening, established relationship, ddlg dynamics, soft daddy dom!joel, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, finger sucking, pet names galore [baby, sweetheart, little girl, angel] size kink, reader is hella needy, reader has pubic hair bc i said so, smidgen of cockwarming, just the tip mention, dubcon*, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, nipple play, belly bulge, creampie, joel is reader’s personal weighted blanket, fluff, aftercare. *reader is not in the right headspace to properly consent to piv but she’s a-okay with it! word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’ve been to emotional (and physical) hell and back (are we back? who knows) these last few weeks and it had me yearning for daddy jackson!joel. so this is what this is. it’s a tad different from my typical style of writing and it’s not betaed and very very loosely proofread (barely looked thru it while in the waiting room lol), so it’s probably shit but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx

You should’ve double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it. As always. Hand to God, it slipped your mind. You were tired. Achy and sleepy, and you just wanted to go home. Back to Joel. Curl your spent body into the thick, burly warmth of his and let him cradle you until the whole day wipes itself from memory. 

You’ve been asking them for more responsibilities — a more serious role within Jackson, for months. After today, you’re sure they’ll never take you seriously. Never see you as one of them. They’re so much older and wiser — experienced. And you…well, you are not.

They never fuck up. Never make mistakes that would risk losing an important asset to this safe haven. And today you have. You fucked up. You don’t know how you forgot. It’s been your only job here, the only thing they let you have, and still — you messed it up. 

You forgot to lock the stall door to the stable for one of the horses. And not only did the horse escape but now the town is technically down one patrolman. You have completely thrown off the patrolling schedule, one that was meticulously crafted and has been in place long before you arrived in Jackson. It very rarely changed. 

You offered to lend a hand, practically begged them to send you out with the rest of the search party. But Maria, Tommy, and Joel all told you to go home while they sent a group (of which included Joel and Tommy themselves) outside the gates, well past dusk, to go looking for him. You felt entirely useless.

Begrudgingly, you scurried home, a beaten puppy in need of licking one’s wounds. Feeling the weight of the day and the frustration that has accumulated over months suddenly seeping into your bones, and you just…broke. You crawled into bed, alone in the dark, and you cried for hours, your mind spiraled, turning over the mistake you made, again and again and again. 

When it stops and the wracking sobs slow into shuddery hiccups, it’s only because you hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Tired. But steady — sure. And that nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach returns as the footsteps grow closer and closer. 

The door creaks open slowly, pale yellow light from the hallway spills through the crack, your puffy eyes squint and flutter against the sudden light, shape of him vague in your blurry vision, but you know it’s him: tall frame, broad shoulders, pale skin, and dark features.  

Joel. 

You curl your body tighter, making yourself as small as possible. Close your eyes, and bury your tear-stained face back into the damp royal blue of his linens, the piney scent of him everywhere: his pillows, his sheets, his mattress, clouding your mind. You hear his footsteps as he rounds the bed, feel him reach over and switch on the lamp beside you. He grunts, his joints creak as you feel his weight sinking the edge of the bed, settling himself down in the ‘c’ shape your body had formed.

“We found him. Fella was out by Hidden Pines,” voice soft, almost cautious. 

You nod silently, but you don’t look at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, not wanting him to see how pathetic you look after spending hours upon hours sobbing into the pillows over a mistake you made.  

A heavy hand cups your knee over the sheets, thumb stroking bone through the fabric there. 

“It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He says, surely.

But you don’t really believe him. 

You sniffle and tilt your face away from the tear-soaked pillows just enough so he can hear you. “Yes, it was. I was the last one in there. It’s my job to take the horses back and settle them in for the night. My job to make sure they stay in the stables. It’s been my job, my only job all this time, and I can’t even do that right,” you ramble, voice breaking, bottom lip wobbling, fat tears pricking your red eyes once again. 

“No. You listen here,” he says sternly, feeling his body turn beside you, bed covers bunching up around your knees. “You did lock it, but the latch was loose, honey. Tommy and I tried ‘em. They’re due for a fixin’ n’ we should’ve been checkin’ ‘em, but that’s my job, not yours. This wasn’t on you, darlin’. You hear me?”

You avoid his eye and stay furled on the bed. Silence swells between you, and you fiddle with a stray thread in his sheets.

“He wasn’t supposed to take off like that, but he’s a younger horse,” he shrugs, and a sigh falls from his lips. “It happens. Whoever was mannin’ the wall tonight should’ve seen him. Many things were at play, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Your head snaps over your shoulder in a fury. “I could’ve helped fix it. I could’ve made it right,” you bite, shaky voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it manages to stifle the sob that threatens to claw up your throat. And for a second, the irritation in your voice doesn’t rattle you until you notice Joel’s shoulders tense, and you regret it immediately. 

A whirlpool of emotions swirls in your belly. A weird noise squeaks out from your lips as you try to fruitlessly blink away the sleep and salt in your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You bury your face into the pillow again, trying to muffle the sob-like groan as you cringe away from Joel, ashamed. 

His hand drifts up your thigh, broad palm splayed across your flesh, his touch unwavering. “Sweetheart, the only reason I told you to stay here s’because it ain’t safe out there. The amount of infected may be less this time o’year but the cold…” He trails off, his grip tightening around the meat of your thigh unconsciously, “makes people meaner,” his voice grows unsteady at the thought. 

You shiver, and you suspect he feels it. He clears his throat, and tender fingers brush the strands of hair out of your face, then they trail down, and you feel the cold roughness of his skin against the warm softness of yours as his calloused hand cups your jaw, tilting it to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

Your eyes pinch shut, and the dam breaks. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart sits heavy in your chest, feeling the guilt creeping back in at his touch. His hands, usually warm, are now icy cold, and all you can think about is how you are the cause of it. He had been out in the cold longer than he needed to be because of you. You and he both know his worn bones can’t handle it, and yet, he went out there in the dead of winter as nightfall cloaked over Jackson to right your wrong, and it makes you feel terrible. 

“Baby. Look at me,” he whispers softly.

You do, and through bleary eyes you meet his weary gaze. His lips are downturned into a frown, and with a twist in his brows, that worry line in the middle of his forehead materializes. You hate being the cause of it. Your heart plops to your stomach, your throat goes thick, something rising at the base of it. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he implores, his voice stern but soft, eyes shifting back and forth between yours — dark amber irises so warm, pleading.  

Teach me to be good. “Just you, daddy – just need you,” you blubber, your voice innocent and small. Weak. 

He knows exactly what you mean. You have been together long enough that he reads you like an open book. You watch as he wordlessly toes off his boots with a thud. Watch as he moves to stand to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a soft clink, his jeans, jacket, and flannel following shortly after. Watch as he shifts onto the bed, bones crackling as he lowers himself and presses his broad form into you, his knees popping as they coax yours open. Watch as one of his hands drifts south between your bodies to grip the thick root of his cock while the other bunches up your nightgown to your navel, revealing your unobstructed cunt to him.  

You whimper when the leaky head of his cock notches at the already slippery entrance of your cunt. He glides the wide cockhead between your folds, up and down, up and down, while the warmth of his breath fans across your face when his lips part to murmur, just the tip tonight, baby, s’not a good idea for you to take all o’me right now, alright? 

You nod numbly. You don’t care how much he gives you — you just need to feel him. Need him to fix you. Need him to make the hurt you feel inside go away. Need him to search for the good. Maybe it’s there, buried deep in a place only he can find. 

His hands find yours, pins them firmly above your head, and with his dark gaze holding yours, he very gently pushes his tip inside your tight, wet hole. His mouth pops open in a deep groan, and you catch it with a soft gasp of your own. 

“There you go. S’that feel better, pretty baby?” He murmurs, his jaw ticks, brows twitch.  

You nod desperately, your wide, glassy eyes going hooded. Your thighs tense around him, causing a little more of his cock to push inside, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.  

“Good. Now just listen to my voice. Just focus on me, right here,” he grunts haggardly, voice so low and commanding. And that alone makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You try to focus all your energy on his voice and the heavy weight of him on top of you and the fat tip of his cock stretching your too little hole open, but suddenly, he pulls out, and you almost whine at his absence.

But Joel doesn’t give you enough time. 

Your body moves up the bed with a jolt, gasping when his hips push forward with more force, filling your cunt with the head of his cock, and then some more, only to slip out of you again immediately after. He’s toying with you, and he’s doing so because he knows you really need this. 

He slips his cockhead gently back inside you, and you whine at the soft squelch your slicken pussy makes. The two of you revel in the lewd, wet sounds that ricochet through the room, all while never breaking eye contact. 

“My little girl just needed me to fuck all the bad thoughts away, hm?” he breathes, his nose brushes against yours.

“Mmhm,” you sigh, cunt flittering around him. 

“Needed me to stretch out her sweet little hole and make everything better, s’that it?” 

You nod frantically, moaning breathlessly. 

Joel growls. “Say yes, daddy,” he commands you softly, his fingers squeezing yours.

“Y—ye—yes, d–daddy.” Your words come out broken in between the slow rolls of his hips, but by the smirk that tugs on his lips, you know he’s proud of you anyway. 

“Good girl,” he praises, his touch featherlight as his fingers push the stray strands of hair away from your forehead, and the scruff of his chin tickles your nose as he lays an open-mouthed kiss between your furrowed brows.  

“But daddy—” you start to protest, scrunching your nose. 

Joel harrumphs as he pulls back. All of his features pull into a stern look, and to stop you, the pad of his roughened thumb sweeps across your cheek and sinks between your parted lips. 

“Na-uh. No fightin’ with daddy,” he presses gently. 

By instinct, your lips close around his digit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the thick of it, tasting the salty, woodsy flavor of him, and it only feeds the foggy haze in your mind more. 

Spit pools at the corner of your lips. His thumb moves in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucks his cockhead in and out of your hole. Your mind begins to blur, but there’s still a storm stirring in your swollen eyes, and Joel, as always, can see it. 

“Alright, this ain’t workin’,” he sighs exasperatedly. 

And you think he’s utterly fed up with you not obeying him. He unsticks his body from yours, and your eyes search his face — the lines beside his eyes, the hairs in his brows, the muscles around his lips — trying to decode the emotion that flits across his features. Though, as expected, it’s near impossible to read him. Joel may have been able to crack you open, and although the years he has spent in Jackson have managed to soften him up — tiny cracks in his stony exterior over time — he remains inscrutable. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to scold you. Tell you you’re no good for him anymore. You wouldn’t blame him. You can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe he thought he wanted to take you apart, bit by careful bit. But what if he peered through the gap and saw something he didn’t like? What if he had a change of heart — now that he stepped back and assessed the damage? What if the severity of it was too much to mend? Burden too heavy to carry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone good. Someone not in need of fixing. Someone unbroken. 

But Joel surprises you. His hand retracts from your face, and instead wraps his arm around your middle, maneuvering you onto his thighs so you're straddling him. His free hand fists the hem of your nightgown, and in one swift motion, tugs the fabric over your head and tosses it aside to join his pile of clothes on the floor. His heavy hands find your waist once again, and with the head of his cock still buried deep in between your legs, he sits up and back against the headboard, grunting a low, alright, c'mere, as he takes you with him with ease.

You cling to him like a koala, body putty and pliant as he brings your weak arms to wrap around his neck. And then, a firm hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, lets you nuzzle your wet face into the dip in his shoulder, and breathe in the comfort of his scent while his other traverses the line of your spine.

Slow but steady, Joel bucks his hips up, up, up, until the entirety of his thick length works its way into the slick slide of your cunt. Your soft thatch of curls meets his, softly grazes your clit, and you writhe in his arms, sniffle, and whimper brokenly against his shoulder, but sure, gentle hands pull you into his chest tighter. You feel the strong drum of his heart against yours, thrumming against each other: ga-gung, ga-gung, ga-gung, pace quickening, like they're trying to catch up, trying to sync. Your body melts into his. Skin to skin, heart to heart, heat of your cunt to the heat of his cock; and then suddenly, two become one.

“Shh, shhh, I know, baby, I know. You got it,” he whispers, as he begins to rock you back and forth, back and forth, lulling you gently back into the haze, and everything finally fades away. 

He presses a kiss right behind your ear. “Therrrre we go, just take it, good girl,” he murmurs as a heavy hand pets your hair. And whether he’s talking about his cock or his praise, you obey regardless. Your cunt sucks the heat of his cock in deep. Let him fuck himself into you; let his warmth smolder you until your cunt ignites. Let it roar and burn and spread through your system like wildfire. Let him make you good.

The tips of his fingers move through your hair in small ministrations, gently scratching away at your skull. “Daddy—s–so big—” you whimper, your fingers pulling the hair at the nape of his neck, tears welling up in your eyes as something low in your belly begins to churn. 

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay. I know, s’a lot,” he soothes, feeling his deep voice reverberate against your chest. Your cunt contracts at his praise, and the steady pace of his hips falters briefly; he groans deeply when he feels his tip choked tight within your walls, “you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, so good.”  

He continues his shallow thrusts while he rocks you in his arms. There’s a low static buzz in your ears, but you can still hear the perverse chant that manages to fall from your lips — one that grows louder with every roll of his hips, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. And in turn, he murmurs incessant blabbers of, you’re okay, angel, daddy’s here, daddy’s gotcha, into your hair, punctuating every one of his words with a soft kiss to your temple and a slow buck of his hips.  

The tip of his cock nudges that soft ridge deep inside you, and he feels your cunt flutter around him. “You gonna come for me, angel, hm? You gonna be a real good girl for daddy and let me feel this drippy little pussy come all over me?” He coos.  

“Uh-huh,” you murmur. 

Deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, and with the slightest of pressure, he squeezes once, gently instructing you to use your words. A silent command. 

“Y-yes, daddy, I prom–I promise, I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” you mewl.

His nose drags along the side of your face, down, down, down, until his heated lips meet your pulse point. “Go on, baby, let go n’ get daddy all messy. Show daddy how good of a girl you are,” he rambles, his voice a low vibration, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

With your tight cunt full and impaled on his cock, your clit throbs, eager for more friction. You rut your hips against his, humping him like a dog in heat as you rub your puffy pearl against the graying curls there, smearing him in your slick just as he insisted.   

And within seconds, your body constricts, navel pulls taut, and then something fiery in your belly erupts. Your body begins to tremble as stars burst behind your eyelids, liquid heat turns your mind and body molten, melting away completely with the force of your release.

“Daaaddy,” you cry, lips quivering. Your muscles go lax, and your body slumps in his hold, feeling the last of your energy leaving you. Your head lulls back, and his hand slides up the base of your neck in time to catch it in his massive palm.

He clutches you tight, marveling at your fucked-out form in his arms while babbling praises of,  ohhh–that’s it, that’s it, good job, baby, such a good fuckin’ girl— daddy’s so proud of you, as warm tears roll down your face. And it only spurs him on. 

His languid strokes speed up, your body jolts above him violently, weeping cunt fluttering repeatedly around him. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans escape past your parted lips as he fucks you harder. “Christ, that’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, perfect little thing,” he pants, coaxing you through your orgasm. 

His eyes drop quickly to watch the bounce of your tits, nipples peaked and gleaming with beads of sweat. He dips his head to one sticky breast, and with a flick of his hot tongue, he laps up the salt on your skin. 

It elicits a sharp gasp from you, your chewed fingernails desperately trying to claw at him, your body arching against his mouth, and you feel him grin against the curve of your breast. His mouth drifts, wraps his whiskered lips around your other swollen nipple, tongue swirls the pointed bud, teasing you with a graze of his teeth across the wet peak before nipping it, tugging the stiffened point ever so slightly between his teeth.  

“Daddy–oh!” You choke on a moan, and your spent pussy clenches around him so tight, your cunt is almost forcing him out. His hips buck into you harder in response, his thrusts growing more erratic as he seeks his own release. 

Joel hisses, mouth releasing your tit with a wet pop, “sweet Jesus, m’gonna give it to you real good, baby—like you deserve, fuck—”

He's cut off by the strangled groan that rips through his chest, his back arches off the headboard, and you feel him twitch. His grasp on your enervated form tightens, and then a blazing heat spreads inside you. His sweaty forehead falls to your dampened chest, the swell of your breasts cushioning the drop of his head, his body convulsing as he pumps upwards into your core. Cock pulsing and spasming within your walls as he continues to spill inside you, your belly swelling and set to burst full of his seed.  

Joel slumps back against the headboard, his arms loosen, but they don’t release you, just holds you there on top of him as he presses hasty kisses and whispers shaky sweet nothings into your hair while his hot seed dribbles out around his length, turning the hair at the root of his cock into a pool of sticky milky white.  

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass by as you stay limp in his lap, breathing in the sweat and sex on his skin as you snuggle back into his neck, the heat a low simmer. But when he runs a warm, wet rag between your legs and uses the same one to wipe your mixed wet off of his shaft before he tucks you in with a peck to your lips, the tip of your nose, a long kiss to your forehead, and lays himself on top of you with the full weight of him, pulling the comforter up to trap the heat of your bodies between you, sore cunt plugged with his softened cock once more, you know that he makes you feel whole. Not ruined or broken. Not stupid or useless or helpless. And in truth, it's all you’ve ever known with him.

As you slip gently into the waiting black, small fingers that draw circles into his silver curls come to a slow, you think you hear a quiet sigh — feel his lips lazily form around the words against your tacky skin — something of, you are good, angel tucked away into the valley between your naked breasts like a secret. And you think you believe him, and for now, that’s enough for you.

[mybworlds]

Bruises

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You, after a very long trip alone across the country, arrive in Jackson. Joel is a very lonely man and after Ellie broke up with him, he's even more alone and grumpy. Tommy and Maria decide that you're going to stay at Joel's house for a while, at least until more houses are built. Will your cohabitation be easy? Or will it be more complicated than everyone thinks?

Warnings: use of you, use of alcohol, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, a short story about sexual assault that occurred in the past I won't go into details, violence, blood, lots of sexually explicit content, use of petnames, dirty talk, fluff elements, mutual pining, the main characters spy on each other for a while, the image of the female character has the sole purpose of representing the character, but you can imagine her however you want, unspecified age gap, no physical description of the female character except for long hair often gathered in a ponytail or braid, she wears a bra and jeans (most of the time).

A/N Hey there, before leaving you to the chapter, lemme thank you so much for your support, it means a lot. Likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory, but very appreciated! ❤️

Masterlist

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

Patrols resume as normal after there was further heavy snowfall that flooded the roads and woods around Jackson. You've teamed up with Joel a couple of times, but only because Jesse or Dina were busy in town. Joel continues to be on the defensive, no word or gesture more than necessary.

A couple of times you get distracted by thinking about how the world and your life were before it all ended. Before, you were a little girl full of life, you were always around, you dreamed of singing, dancing, playing the piano, you liked running, drawing, writing, you went horseback riding with your mother and with your father to shoot archery as a hobby, that's why today you have no problem doing both of them. The only two times you got distracted, you made too much noise and bumped into Joel who almost walked into a trap. He obviously glared at you and railed against you.

That afternoon you went to Maria to ask her how and when you should leave Joel's house, but you ended up talking about your pasts. Or rather she talks mostly, you listen.

She offers you a cup of tea, noticing your cold hands when you greet her, then you sit in the living room to talk.

“You know, just two days ago I had kind of a flashback about what I liked to do before the outbreak day and I remember that I couldn't help but take long walks in a small park near my house." Maria smiles sadly "Do you ever think about the past or how everything was different before?"

"Yes." you reply sipping your tea "Nearly every day."

"I think about, you know, how different our lives were. How simple and sometimes even trivial everything was." you smile bitterly "You know, I think we even had bizarre tastes and plans." she adds and you feel so uncomfortable all of a sudden "We wanted to live, have a family, maybe even a child, a job" you raise your head and see her looking out the window with a small smile and an absent look "but today all this no longer matters, I suppose."

You nod.

"Thinking about the past sometimes hurts, right?" asks Maria.

“Yes, and sometimes it digs into you.” you reply, looking anywhere but at the woman in front of you.

"How were you?" she asks, looking at you.

“The opposite of how I am today.” You reply briefly, looking outside. You don’t want to seem a weirdo, but it almost hurts to mention the way you were. “I used to talk a lot, about everything, fashion, nail polish, clothes, horses, I talked about everything I liked." You look at Maria who instead seems so serene about her past "Can I ask you something?"

“Sure,” she replies.

"You and Tommy are together, right?" she nods "Have you ever... Um, have you ever thought about having a child with him?"

You're now officially a weirdo.

"Well, I can't deny that the thought was there." she answers immediately, then suddenly falls silent.

You don't insist, maybe you've touched a sore point. After all, you don't even know her.

“Sorry, it's none of my business.” You tell her. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,”

She massages her thighs, then smiles weakly at you, “No, don't worry. Actually, we thought about it, but the idea of having a child and condemning him to all this,” she says, looking around, “the mere thought terrifies me.” You even seem to see tears in her eyes “The thought of him running away from Jackson and into the woods and running into one of those creatures paralyzes me or if he were to come across one of those many groups of raiders,” she continues, this time her voice shaking.

Feeling guilty for asking this question, you lower your head and look at your now empty cup of tea.

“And you? Would you have a child? I mean, I don’t know anything about you. Are you… married, do you have children?”

You lift your head and shake it, “No, I'm alone. I don't... I don't have any children of my own or a family of my own.” You almost feel a weight in the pit of your stomach, “I had friends at QZ in Boston, but I left ‘em a long time ago.” you reply watching the snow fall again outside the window “I don't even know if they're still alive. I left ‘em. I left everything behind.” you add.

She gives you a compassionate look reaching out a hand towards you and squeezing it in a gesture of silent compassion, “Have you ever tried looking for them?” she asks.

The answer is no. You never went back to Boston. Even though your friends are — or were — there after what happened you never went back. You left everything there. Even the carefree little girl you once were.

You release yourself from Maria's gentle grip and put down the cup, "Maria, thanks for the tea. And for letting off steam." you say before getting up and wearing gloves and hat.

“Our door is open whenever you want.” she tells you with a warm smile then you take your leave.

You hadn't thought about your friends anymore since you started your solo journey across the country. You wanted to forget. Or at least try. You always felt guilty for doing so, but you had to.

You wander aimlessly through the streets of Jackson, enter Tipsy Bison and approach the counter. Never before you'd like to forget everything, you'd like to be able to stun yourself and prevent all your thoughts in the way and order in which they are flowing.

“Can I help you?” a middle-aged man asks you.

You're undecided. Part of you is afraid of giving in and losing control again, but the other part of you needs it. Maybe this getting lost will alleviate everything.

“Something strong, please.” you reply in an almost pleading tone.

“I have some vodka, okay?” you nod and hear clearly the liquid poured into the glass.

You want to forget. You have to. . .

You laugh. You laugh so hard.

It seems impossible for you to laugh like that. You didn't remember the sound of your laughter. Actually, you don't even recognize it now. It reaches your ears disguised as if you weren't even laughing.

You throw your head back and laugh, you slam your hands on the counter and say something, you don't even know if it's really that funny, but you laugh.

You are surrounded by two or three or maybe four people, they are boys or at least young men. They laugh too.

One of them pats you on the shoulder, you snort and then laugh. Again.

It's so weird.

Another caresses your thigh, you move his hand away barely noticing it, so much so that you are overcome by this unusual euphoria.

When it's almost two o'clock, the owner sends you away inviting you to return to your homes, you are about to do so, but you stumble on one of those guys with whom you had spent the evening.

"Come, sweety." one of them says, he's hidden in the dark and gestures you with one hand to get closer.

The rational part of you tells you not to move and not to reach him, but it's almost immediately crushed by that state of intoxication. You lean towards him and reach for him with a drunken smile on your face.

He makes you lean against a wall and brings his face close to your neck, he kisses it. He smells like sambuca and vodka. It's nauseating.

You wrinkle your nose, “No.” you moan, turning your head from side to side as if to escape that contact.

"Shush." he admonishes you, while a second reaches you and looks around "Hurry up, I want to fuck her too," he adds.

"Shut up, you idiot, at least I have to get her a little wet." says the first, resuming his kisses on your neck and looking for your lips, but you forcefully push him away and perhaps with the help of alcohol, he staggers backwards a couple of steps, while you limply try to escape from that dark alley.

What the fuck were you doing?!

"Come here!" the second one shouts, grabbing your arms again and jerking you backwards, you fall.

"NO! No, please." you scream, trying to break free from his grip.

You are joined by the first one who grabs your wrists roughly and drags you back towards that dark alley.

He's fumbling with the zipper of your jacket, you wave your hands at him, you grab his face so hard that you scratch him, he screams, but that doesn't stop him. He hits you with a backhand so hard that it makes your head tilt to the side and the gesture leaves you completely stunned, you close your eyes absorbing the pain you are feeling, tears run down your cheeks.

That's when those violent memories suddenly burst inside you, you open your eyes and you scream. You scream at the top of your lungs and hope that this time someone will hear you.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??” someone shouts a few moments later, you hear someone not too far from you and so you shout even louder “I'm here, please help me! Someone. . . anyone. . . help, please.” you feel the heat in your cheeks and your cheeks streaked with tears.

In truth, you don't understand, nor can you see clearly what happens in the following moments, you only know that you're sitting somewhere and Joel is in front of you and that he has his hands on the sides of your face, his large hands cupping your cheeks completely "You all right?" he asks you.

His voice reaches you distorted, distant, almost echoing in your head, you look at him, but you don't really see him. Your vision is totally blurred partly from the alcohol and partly from the tears.

“Joel,” you mumble his name.

“Joel?! Fuck! What the fuck happened here?” someone asks in an agitated tone.

You don't see him, maybe it's Tommy, maybe Vasquez, his voice is not unknown to you, but you can't focus anything except Joel who stares at you with a concerned look.

“Take her home, Joel.” the second voice adds.

“Can you walk?” Joel asks you.

You nod, “C'mon” he places his hands on your forearms, you on his shoulders.

You're on your side in your bed, one hand under your cheek. Joel brought you a cup of hot tea and left it on your bedside table. You've been staring at it for almost an hour and you can't move a muscle.

You feel empty.

You almost feel like you weren't the one who was about to relive the same trauma.

You close your eyes.

You have a weight on your chest.

You feel lost.

You were about to relive it all over again. The trauma, the humiliation, the pain. Everything again.

Your eyes fill with tears, some rolling down your cheeks. There's a knock on your door and you wipe your tears away with one hand as best as you can.

"Come in," you say weakly. You don't know if you have the strength to talk to Joel. You know he won't have the words to help you.

To your surprise, you see the last person you thought you'd see there in your room.

She steps inside, her expression tense and worried "I heard what happened," she says, pausing and almost uncertain about the choice of words, "can I have a seat?" she asks pointing to the bed.

You nod slowly and she sits down. You find yourself thinking about how much this person in front of you meant to the man you share the house with and how their relationship influenced him.

You don't say anything nor does she say anything, maybe she doesn't know what to say to you.

"I was almost raped too. When I was 14." you frown, also assuming a tense and sad expression “I know the feeling.” she adds further.

"You do?!" you ask her and she nods, you shake your head and sit up drying the tears that still wet your eyes “I’ve been raped a long time ago.” you confess to Ellie.

No one knows, not even your only friends left there. You never told them anything. You've always carried this burden alone.

After taking you home and closing the door, you sit down on a stool blankly.

Joel invites you to take off your jacket and you obey with your head down, feeling empty.

"Everything's fine." he tries to calm you down "Lemme see." he adds, gently grabbing first one of your wrists and then the other in his hands.

He turns them delicately in his hands and notices for the first time some white scars, you try to hide them from his sight, but he tenderly caresses your wrists with his thumbs, silently inviting you not to be afraid.

You swallow and let him look at your wrists again, he notices the scars again and then sees the bruises those two assholes left on you. Once again your harsh and violent past hits Joel.

He looks at your face, but you don't look back. He wants to tell you something, something to make you feel good, but he doesn't know what.

"I'll take you upstairs." he says, releasing your wrists from his sweet grip "Come." he adds, holding out his hands which you grasp in a few moments.

Your hands are so small and a little chapped. Suddenly he imagines you fiddling with weapons, wood and the various streams you had to cross, the endless nights on guard for fear of the infected and the raiders.

Were you alone the whole time?

You let him guide you up the stairs, Joel holding your shoulders gently until you reach your room. He opens the door for you and turns on the light on your bedside table, you feel so helpless and powerless.

"Good. Um, change and rest." he says looking at your face “D’ ya... wanna a cup of tea?” he asks, putting his hands on his hips.

You nod.

"Okay, um. . so I'll go downstairs and come back, okay?" he says. You nod again with your head down, then he walks past you and gives you some privacy.

He feels so uncomfortable. He can't even imagine your pain, your discomfort, he almost feels pain at the pit of his stomach. He gulps and shakes his head, he goes to the kitchen and starts to prepare your tea.

He really wants to say something to you, something to make you feel better, but he can't think about anything at the moment. All he can think it sounds stupid or useless. He has never really been much for words, but in this circumstance it's even worse.

Your tea is ready. He pours it into what has now become your cup. He grabs it by the handle and then goes upstairs.

Joel is desperately trying to think of something to say to you, but he can't think of anything coherent or worth telling you.

When he reaches your room, he knocks on the door and waits a few moments before opening it. You are on your side with your back to the door. Some strands are sticking out of your braid, you are breathing regularly perhaps you fell asleep.

Or at least, he hopes so.

He enters with a light step, places the cup on your bedside table, then arranges the covers for you and, after giving you one last look, he leaves.

His house is silent again. No footsteps, no sound of furniture being moved, no noise from the kitchen where you were recently trying your hand at preparing of various dishes, no faint hint of a smile. Nothing.

And deep down in his heart the lack of all this hurts, it almost causes him a burning sensation of emptiness.

He's about to pour himself a drink when someone knocks on his door. He goes to open the door almost with an annoyed look, but when he sees her his expression softens.

"Can I come in?" Ellie asks with a small sigh.

"Sure, come." he says, moving aside and allowing her to come in “Good to see you, kiddo.”

She seems almost uncomfortable, her gaze is lowered "I'm here for her, not for you." direct as always.

He looks down with a hurt look, deep down he hoped she was there to talk to him.

"Where is she?" she asks him.

Joel looks up and hopes with all his heart that Ellie doesn't notice the tears in his eyes “Upstairs, down the hall.”

She nods and disappears from his sight.

The searing pain of what happened to you combines with the searing pain he feels towards Ellie. He feels so lost and so alone. He doesn't think he can handle such a weight.

After a couple of minutes he goes up too, he only does it because he would like to lock himself in his room and let off steam in some way and instead fate wants him to feel your terrible past at that very moment and therefore only then he can understand your silences, your discomforts, those half sentences.

Poor little thing!

A sudden and almost irrepressible urge to enter your room and hug you almost forcefully makes its way through him and when he understands this, he wonders what is happening to him.

He almost does violence to himself by continuing towards his room and locking himself inside. He leans against the door, staring at an unspecified point in front of him. An almost unbearable feeling of emptiness fills his heart and head: he acted like an asshole to you without knowing anything about you.

What kind of monster has he become?

NEXT CHAPTER ➢

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 11

Summary: After learning that they have never gone to New York City for Christmas Negan takes Y/N, Joel and their family on three day vacation there. Joel has a hard time coming to terms with his feelings toward Negan and watching him interact with his family.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, Elizabeth, Peter, Maria, Tommy Miller, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/156076450

Warnings: Swearing, angst, etc.

Uncomfortable would be an understatement for Joel. For the last few hours he found himself questioning all the decisions he was making in his life. Especially right now feeling extraordinarily cramped in the very back seat of the SUV that he was in. Shifting uneasily, Joel’s legs were sore and he desperately wanted to get the fuck out of this car.

How he ended up in this position was beyond him. At the front of the car was Negan driving with Y/N beside him in the passenger’s seat. From where he was seated, Joel could see that the two of them were holding hands which only pissed him off further. In the middle row was Elizabeth and Peter who were watching some kind of television show and he was stuffed in the back with Maria and Tommy. Tommy had offered to sit in the middle, but there wasn’t really all that much room for the three of them to be there together. They were three grown adults and sitting cramped up like this for a few hours was not ideal.

Apparently during one of their conversations when Negan was over, the children had let Negan know that they had never been to New York for the holidays. And Negan being Negan decided that he was going to take them for a few days to see it at Christmas time. Of course the children were thrilled. Tommy had invited Negan over for dinner that night which thoroughly pissed Joel off, but he kept his mouth shut since his children genuinely seemed to like Negan. And that’s how Joel ended up cramped in this car with everyone. During that dinner Negan decided to ask Joel if he wanted to come and invited Maria along with Tommy. Tommy of course hopped on it immediately. Excited at the idea. Which left Joel in a weird place. The children were begging him to come, Y/N insisted that he should and Tommy was desperate to go himself, so he agreed.

Now? He was regretting that decision.

“Holy shit, I see it!” Peter leaned forward in the seat he was in, eyeing over the skyline of New York City. “This is so cool!”

“It’s not all that different from the city that we live by champ,” Joel reminded his son who seemed in awe of the city.

“It’s New York City dad. I’ve always wanted to come here,” Peter reached back to smack Joel on the knee, bouncing in his seat at the idea. “This has been such an awesome Christmas break. We always talked about coming here, but we never did.”

Huffing out, Joel lowered his head hating to hear something like that. Sure, they always talked about going to New York City when the children were younger, but they were always busy. It was hard keeping their head above water just in the small town that they were living in. Let alone taking a trip to New York. They lived a few hours away, but it was always hard getting away at all.

Part of Joel was offended that Negan was taking his whole family on a completely paid trip to New York City and the other part of him was just annoyed. So easily his family had opened up to Negan and welcomed him in like nothing which genuinely upset him, but he kept his mouth shut. Tommy was just happy to be included, especially with his new girlfriend. His children were excited to go anywhere different, so they would never understand the way he was feeling.

Driving through the city Joel found more so annoying, but he just kept his head down and counted to himself. This was something the whole family wanted to do. Being in crowded, busy places really wasn’t his thing, but he’d get his shit together long enough for things to work itself out. It was so close to Christmas and Joel only imagined how busy everything was going to be.

“Where are we staying?” Elizabeth was curious where Negan was headed.

“I have a friend that has an apartment out here. It’s right by Rockefeller Center and some of the coolest Christmas things going on in the city,” Negan explained, tossing his hand about in the air being expressive as he spoke. “My friend is out of the country right now with his family for Christmas and he said we could borrow it for the next three days. He’s rarely here anyways, so he just usually let’s his friends hang out.”

As they pulled into a parking garage that was attached to an expensive looking apartment building it had Joel scoffing, “If you guys liked my apartment, you’re gonna love this one. He has the top two floors, looks out at the whole city. It’s really cool. And like I said, it’s close to everything. For the shit we can’t walk to, I have a company that is gonna be driving us around so we don’t have to worry about taking the subway or anything like that.”

“Of course you do,” Joel muttered under his breath, letting out a grunt when Tommy hit him on the chest with the back of his hand. Giving his little brother a glare, Joel smacked Tommy back on the shoulder. Maria almost looked amused with the two of them bickering with each other.

The only thing that excited Joel about parking was finally being able to get out of this car. It was an almost four hour ride and that in itself was a pain in the ass. Eager to get out of the car, Joel hopped out quickly and stretched out his body. Everyone was excited to see the city and get situated, but he could truthfully care less. He just came so he could be with his family and he felt forced into going here.

Being led up and into this apartment made Joel want to throw up. It looked like something out of a magazine. Not an apartment that someone actually lived in. And it was huge. It told Joel that Negan was more of a rich bitch than he could have ever imagine his old friend to be. If he was friends with someone that owned something like this? He could only imagine the kind of life that Negan led.

Ahead of time it seemed like Negan had planned out what rooms went to each person. Tommy and Maria had a room on the first floor. The children had separate rooms upstairs on the second floor. Negan and Y/N were on the first floor and Negan put Joel in a room upstairs near the children. That was five bedrooms. That was insane. And this apartment still had so many fucking surprises. A huge kitchen along with a bunch of areas that the children seemed excited to learn, but Joel didn’t give a fuck.

All he did when he was in his bedroom that Negan had set him up with was throw his bag on the bed. It felt like he was in some kind of movie with how everything looked. The windows were huge and it would be awkward sleeping at night being able to stare out at the skyline. Joel was a very private person so this wasn’t exactly his thing.

Going downstairs, Joel stopped when he saw that Negan was standing at the glass panel walls staring down at the city below. Clearing his throat, Joel got Negan’s attention having him look back over his shoulder at him.

“I was thinking about this…” Joel approached Negan slowly, stepping in beside Negan to look out over the city with him. “Is it really safe with you being here?”

“What do you mean?” Negan’s face scrunched up, his brow line creasing showing the confusion in his features.

“I mean think about the team that you play for,” Joel pointed out followed by an amused rumble of a sound from Negan. “You do realize New York City hates that team, right? They are like mortal enemies in terms of baseball. You aren’t worried you are going to get shanked in the streets?”

“Oh, that,” Negan bobbed his head about letting out a long exhale. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his feet and shrugged his shoulders. “If I was playing a game, yeah, I’d be more nervous. People get excited when it’s game season, but on the off season I feel like I’ve had a pretty decent time here. I used to bring Lucille out every Christmas and people were always very kind to us. Of course, you get the fucking smart mouths every now and then, but it’s nothing I can’t take.”

“You come here a lot?” Joel inquired, not sure what he was doing in talking to Negan in the first place. The last thing he wanted to do was get chummy with the guy that was dating the woman he loved.

“Not recently, no,” Negan responded biting down on his bottom lip as he surveyed the area outside. “I haven’t been here since Lucille was alive. She liked staying by central park when we were here. I’ve only been to this apartment a few times.”

Well, there went all of his conversation. Joel didn’t know what the hell to say to Negan after all of that. Suddenly things felt awkward when Negan turned on his heel to stare out at Joel with a smirk, “I’m glad you agreed to come on this trip Joel. I was fucking worried you would say no.”

“And why is that?” Joel scoffed knowing that he found that to be bullshit. Being invited on this trip felt like it was Negan just trying to gain brownie points with Y/N and the children.

“Why am I glad that you came?” Negan confirmed what Joel was asking. Taking a minute to think about things, Negan simply shrugged and nodded toward the city. “Because you were my friend too. We were supposed to do all this shit together, remember? The three of us. Me with baseball. You with football and your music. Y/N with her journalism career.”

“I…” Joel paused, he didn’t know what to say to that. What could he say to that? “I don’t know what you want me to say to that Negan. It didn’t happen that way…did it? You’re the one famous and we are the ones that are still stuck at home.”

It looked like Negan wanted to say something but decided against it and looked back toward the windows. Snow had started to fall pretty heavily and Joel could feel a fire flooding throughout his veins, “You didn’t have to shut us out completely.”

“You know why I did,” Negan suggested in a whisper drawing Joel to growl in response. “I’ve regretted doing that every day for the last few years. Y/N, Tommy, you…the three of you were a big part of my life and you should have remained part of it.”

“So let me get this straight,” Joel blurt out, folding his arms in front of his chest and leaning his shoulder against the window. “Who do you blame for all of this?”

“Blame?” Negan repeated what Joel said, a smirk tugging at his features. “I don’t blame anyone Joel. It was the past. Shit happens. I’m not still holding onto that stuff. I moved on. I had a life. You had a fucking beautiful family. I don’t blame anyone.”

“Bullshit,” Joel pressed taking a firm step forward so he could speak quietly. “I know you had to have hated me. You likely still do.”

“I don’t,” Negan claimed, outstretching his hand to squeeze over Joel’s shoulder in attempts to stress to him how he actually felt. “I would really like for the two of us to be close again. We were really good friends and I’d like to go back to that.”

“Yo, this apartment is nuts,” Peter’s voice interrupted the two of them drawing them to look back as Joel’s son made his way down the stairs of the apartment. “Whoever this apartment belongs to has to be loaded.”

“Hey,” Joel called out when Peter scrambled over toward the expensive piano that was at the corner of the room. “Don’t screw with that thing kiddo. That’s super expensive.”

“You play the piano, right?” Peter looked to his father for confirmation with Joel approaching the piano with him. “We used to have one in the basement for a while.”

“Nothing like this,” Joel shook his head, his nose wrinkling when Negan moved in beside them. “It was just an old piano that your grandparents had with me growing up. Your grandmother wanted me to learn how to play it, so I did. I guess it helped knowing how to play this. I just liked the guitar better.”

“Do you remember our parents actually made us take lessons together?” Negan reminded Joel hearing him groan in return. “We had that really old teacher. With the thick glasses. And she’d smack our hands any time we did something wrong.”

“You know how to play too?” Peter seemed shocked to hear that Negan could play the piano. “No shit?”

“No shit,” Negan snorted loosely hooking his arm around Joel’s shoulders which had Joel tensing up underneath the touch. “Your dad and I used to get in so much trouble during those lessons that they had to split us up.”

“To be fair, we really hated that woman,” Joel acknowledged the memories that Negan had brought up and he grumbled under his breath. “I reckon she hated us just as much. It really burned her that we were good at what we did because she wanted to hate us so bad.”

“You should play,” Elizabeth’s voice spoke up from behind the both of them and it made Joel chuckle. Shaking his head, Joel looked over the piano and could only imagine the worst happening if he did try to play it. “Why not?”

“That thing is not meant to be touched by hands like these,” Joel wiggled his fingers about eliciting a snort from Negan who pat him on the shoulder a few times and went over to talk to Peter who was eyeballing something else now.

“You originally were teaching me how to play when I was little,” Elizabeth reminded her father with a smirk stepping before it. Lowering down on the bench in front of the piano, she looked at the sheet music and her eyes narrowed.

“You were more into the guitar,” Joel sat beside Elizabeth, keeping his hands on his knees while she traced her fingertips over the keys.

“That’s because you were more into the guitar. Whatever you would have taught me, I would have happily listened,” she retorted with a long sigh, leaning her head on Joel’s shoulder while they sat together. “I’m glad you came with us. I’d rather have these memories with you than without you.”

“Me too Ellie,” Joel grumbled, lowering his head enough to press a kiss over the top of hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she responded, leaning into her father who lovingly wrapped her up in his arms. “Three days really doesn’t feel like enough, you know? I have so many things I want to see and do. Looking things up online, there is so much pretty stuff.”

“We’ll just have to do as much as we can,” Joel nuzzled his nose in against the top of her head and squeezed her close to him. “And anything we miss, we can come back later and see,” Joel began speaking up louder now. “Right Negan?”

“Of course,” Negan agreed and Joel even wondered if Negan knew what he was talking about, but he was going to take the answer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Joel saw Y/N moving out of the bedroom she was sharing with Negan. Jealousy ate away at him with his chest tightening when she headed toward Negan. Grabbing Negan’s hand, she squeezed it firmly and then tipped up on her toes to press a quick kiss against Negan’s lips.

“Where’s the love birds?” Y/N wondered looking for Tommy and Maria eliciting a smirk from Negan who looked back over his shoulder. Shrugging his shoulders, Negan loosely wrapped his arms around Y/N and sighed. “What’s the plan today?”

“Well, I figured we’d take a few to unwind after that drive. I have reservations for a bar down the street that does this crazy amount of decorating for Christmas. It’s really cool. The food is more so bar food, but it’s the environment you’re paying for. Then after that, I thought maybe we’d go for a walk. In this general area we can walk through Bryant Park and see the shops they have set up there. We could walk through the toy store. Go to Macy’s. See all the decorations over there,” Negan listed off all the things he had planned getting the children to now approach him to listen to his plans. “And then we can end the night at Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree. It sounds like a lot, but…it’s all the same general area so I think you’d really like it. Plus we get to walk around. After being in the car for almost four hours, I bet people would appreciate that.”

“I only caught the end, but it sounds good to me,” Tommy was heading into the living room area holding onto Maria’s hand to lead her into the room. “I feel like I’m in that Home Alone movie.”

“Let’s not cause as much trouble,” Negan suggested with a wink, reaching for his cell phone to do something. “I’m gonna text all of you the address of this place so you don’t forget where you are. I told you, we aren’t that far away from all the locations I picked, but New York is busy and it’s big. It’s easy to get lost.”

Negan was like the ringleader of the group. Sitting in the back of the room to himself felt weird for Joel. Everyone was so far up Negan’s ass and he was alone to himself since this really wasn’t his thing to begin with. Everyone was excited and he was just rolling with the punches.

Even when they left the apartment to walk around, Joel never felt more like a third wheel in his life. With Tommy holding onto Maria’s hand and Negan with Y/N, Joel was just left to himself to walk in the back of the group behind the children who were in awe of the whole scenario. Of course with it snowing, everyone there saw it as magical. Joel saw it as loud, crowded and frustrating. Y/N was more the type to enjoy being around people and wanting to interact with the world around her. Also, Christmas was never really Joel’s thing.

Negan really wasn’t kidding about things being close. The restaurant was right by the apartment building. Inside the place was covered from head to toe with Christmas decorations. They might as well have labeled themselves the North Pole with how over the top they were inside of the place. You were certainly paying to be in the environment. Watching Y/N, Joel knew that she was loving this. This was right up her alley. All these decorations reminded Joel of her. How she would always go crazy decorating both inside of their home and out. From floor to ceiling everything was covered with decorations. Tinsel, oversized Christmas ornaments, lights, stockings, nutcrackers and so much more. If you could think it, it was there.

The people at the restaurant were extremely eager to get Negan into the building, giving him an area where they would have a little privacy. They had pushed multiple tables together to accommodate all of them. Joel had taken a seat across from Y/N and Negan so he could be close to Elizabeth and Tommy just in case he was uncomfortable. Multiple times before they even got to look at the menu, the people working at the restaurant asked Negan for photos. Which led to conversations about him being on the enemy’s baseball team. Some smart ass comments came from Negan, but of course he killed them with kindness. Being overly friendly with all of them.

And then came the drinks. Free drinks. Negan was rich as fuck and yet this place was willing to allow all of them to get whatever they wanted to drink as much as they wanted. It drove Joel crazy that people were like that. You had someone who didn’t need things for free, but people were eager to throw everything at them.

Joel felt weird taking advantage of things, so he just ordered himself a beer, but the children thought it was so cool and ordered the flashiest of virgin drinks they could get. Negan, attempting to be a people pleaser bought a few appetizers for them and the prices of things drove Joel nuts. It wasn’t as expensive as he expected with it being New York City, but it was still too rich for his blood.

Sitting through this dinner was hard. It was noisy in the restaurant and the whole table was raising their voices loud enough for people to hear. Most of the time Joel kept his head down and just ate. If people mentioned him by name, he’d tried to interact but he didn’t have much interest in it. Watching Negan and Y/N together sickened him too. Constantly whispering to each other, laughing and holding each other’s hand. Regret from coming here flooded through him because it really bothered him seeing the two of them together.

Most of the dinner seemed like everyone was trying to get to know Maria to make her feel more comfortable and welcome in their family. Especially since she was being away from her family to spend time with them. Dinner lasted an incredibly long time for Joel. Maybe it wasn’t as long as it felt, but when they finished he felt overwhelmed. When they left, he was thankful for it. As he got up from the table, Joel caught a glimpse of the tip that Negan left the waitress and it made Joel want to throw up. The number that was left there was bigger than he would have ever wanted to pay for any kind of meal. Yet Negan didn’t seemed bothered by it at all.

Forcing himself out of the restaurant, Joel didn’t think he could endure this any longer. He was the first person outside and he waited for a while. The others took their time looking at the decorations and he allowed them that. Truthfully? Joel needed a breather. This was overstimulating him and he wasn’t comfortable. A lot of negative thoughts were running through his mind and he just wanted to calm himself down.

Once everyone exited the restaurant, Negan directed them in the way to go. And of course, everyone was excited to continue on their way. Joel just pulled his jacket together tightly, lowered his head and followed along.

“What’d you think?” a raspy voice pressed in beside him, surprising him that someone was walking with him instead of being with the group. Scoffing, Joel realized that it was Negan again attempting to start a conversation with him.

“It was a bit much,” Joel answered honestly getting Negan to smirk and nod his head about. “I felt like a Christmas store exploded and then shit everything out.”

“You’re not wrong,” Negan agreed with Joel, pushing his hands into his pockets as they walked. Considering Negan was the person who knew where he was going, everyone was following them. “I thought the children and Y/N would like the place. Plus, the food isn’t awful.”

“I think that was a good idea,” Joel confessed with a sigh, looking back over his shoulder. Y/N and the children were talking enthusiastically about everything. They were happy. And that was a good thing. “You picked a good place.”

“Is there anything that you want to do while you are here?” Negan inquired with a curious expression. It surprised Joel that Negan would even care about what he wanted in the first place. A muscle in Joel’s jaw flexed and he shrugged. “Nothing comes to mind? We used to talk about this shit all the time when we were kids.”

“We were kids Negan,” Joel focused on that part of Negan’s statement. “My yearning for things disappeared after years of realizing that things were never going to happen.”

“Do you want me to get you a tour of Madison Square Garden? I can do it,” Negan offered with Joel rolling his eyes and looking away. “Come on.”

“I hate New York teams,” Joel reminded Negan with a scoff, a throaty laugh falling from Negan’s parted lips.

“But it’s Madison Square Garden,” Negan stressed to Joel who shrugged his shoulders dramatically. “Okay. Scratch that shit out then. You want to go to the Empire State Building? We could see a play?”

“I’m sure whatever you have planned will be good enough,” Joel interrupted Negan instead of allowing him to continue to search for things that he wanted. “I just want them to be happy. That’s all that really matters to me and I think they are going to love whatever you come up with.”

“I want to make you happy too,” Negan declared, his brow line creasing eliciting a grumble from Joel. Even though Negan was saying that, it was hard for Joel to believe it. And Joel’s reaction to him seemed to disappoint Negan. “Damn Joel. Why is that so fucking hard to believe?”

“We’re not friends anymore, Negan,” Joel countered with a quiet tone attempting to make sure that Y/N and the children didn’t hear him. “Stop worrying about me.”

“But we can be,” Negan refused that answer, shaking his head with a huff. “You’re being fucking stubborn is what you’re being.”

“Y’know, if you want to talk about things later we can. Alone. But right now is not the place for it,” Joel was firm in the way he told Negan to knock it off. “You’re not here for me. You asked me to come because it would have been weird bringing my brother and his girl with my family without me. You didn’t bring me because you wanted to get close to me.”

“Yeah. Cus’ it’s so hard to believe that I’d like to be close to you again too,” Negan frowned with a roll of his eyes, looking ahead instead of at Joel. Frustration flooded Negan’s features, but he wasn’t pressing the topic much further. “Maybe this trip will make you realize I’m not as bad as you truly think I am.”

“Of course you’re not,” Joel stopped when they reached the entrance of Bryant Park for their winter village. Closing the distance, Joel leaned forward so only Negan could hear him. “You’re Negan fucking Smith. All around nice guy eager to please everyone around him. There isn’t a single fucking thing wrong with you.”

“Hey,” Negan grabbed a firm hold of Joel when he went to walk away, pulling Joel back to him so they could lock eyes. “I’m nowhere near perfect. Nor do I think I am. And whether you believe it or not, I fucking care about you. I know this is a hard situation, I do. I’ve been there, but please try to enjoy yourself on this trip. I’m trying.”

“No one thinks you aren’t,” Joel spoke faintly noticing that his family was starting to approach them eager to talk about what they saw. Staring down at Negan’s fingers around his wrist, Joel swallowed down hard and stretched out his fingers. “Let go of me.”

Obeying, Negan unhurriedly released Joel’s wrist and allowed Joel to walk over to Peter to wrap his arms around his son who laughed when Joel stroked his fingers through Peter’s hair to mess it. Taking a minute to himself, Negan bit down on his bottom lip. A moment later, fingers were hooking with his and he looked to see that it was Y/N moving in beside him.

“This is cute,” she cuddled her head in closer to Negan’s arm walking with their group through the rows of shops that were set up throughout the small part in the middle of the city. Stopping to browse with Elizabeth at the occasional store that would catch their attention had Negan following them protectively. With Elizabeth gazing over the ornaments that were handmade, Y/N turned to press her hands in over the center of Negan’s chest, staring up at him with a faint smile. “This was really nice of you. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Negan hushed her, sweeping his glove covered thumb in over the side of her face. There was a chill in the air that brought her in closer to him with her head resting against the center of his chest. Stroking his fingers over the back of her head and down to her neck, Negan pressed a kiss over her head and sighed. Taking some time to cherish her against him, Negan swallowed down hard and thought about his interaction he just had with Joel. “Do you think Joel is ever gonna like me again?”

“I don’t know,” she spoke honestly, shocked that it seemed to be something that was weighing heavy on Negan’s mind. “He’s a little grumpier than he was when we were younger Negan.”

“That may be the case, but he was never grumpy with us,” Negan retorted, knowing that Joel was never this angry toward him in the past. “I’m trying really hard with him, but I think he fucking hates me.”

“I’m not sure he hates you as much as he’s…” she looked back at Elizabeth knowing that this wasn’t something that she really should have been talking about around their daughter. “He’s just jealous of your life.”

“And I’m jealous of his,” Negan pointed out with a grunt, his hazel eyes narrowing with her tipping up to press a quick kiss over his bottom lip. Humming against her flesh, Negan knew that she was trying to appease him and he shrugged his shoulders. While Joel was jealous of the life that Negan had made for himself, Negan was jealous of Joel for being able to have a family like he did. “I don’t think he realizes how much he truly has.”

“This is cute,” Elizabeth interrupted calling out to her mother pulling Y/N away from Negan.

Together the two of them seemed to be lost looking at something together. Allowing them to have their moment, Negan stepped outside of the shop. Near where he was standing, he could see that Joel and Peter were eyeballing a few things in the distance.

“Dude,” Peter began when he noticed that Negan was behind them, “I suddenly hate that we ate dinner because there are so many cool food places here.”

“Do you want something?” Negan wondered with Peter gazing over all the food places with big eyes. It made Negan smirk with the panic that seemed to set in with Peter having a hard time focusing on just picking one thing. “You can try multiple things if you want.”

“That place! It has a gingerbread hot chocolate. That sounds really good, right?” Peter looked to his father for confirmation which had Joel looking at the price of everything. “And they have a frozen or hot cider dad. It comes with an apple cider donut! You like that stuff!”

“I’m good kiddo. We had dinner not that long ago,” Joel waved his hand about reaching to pull his wallet out to buy Peter what he wanted, but Negan instead walked off without him. When Negan came back, he had the gingerbread hot chocolate for Peter. There was a large gingerbread man cookie that was half sticking out of the cup of hot chocolate. The other was the drink that Peter had pointed out to Joel. Peter eagerly accepted the drink, thanked Negan and started eating the cookie. Shaking his head when Negan held the drink forward, Joel scoffed. “I can’t take that.”

“Course you can,” Negan pushed it forward with Peter’s big eyes staring out between the two of them. Negan obviously heard Peter attempting to get Joel to get that drink and decided to buy it for Joel. “I got it for you.”

“At least let me pay you back,” Joel stressed, accepting the drink in one hand having Negan shake his head when Joel used his free hand to reach for his wallet. “You can’t keep buying me things Negan. You’ve been very generous with my family as it is.”

“This whole trip was meant to be a gift to all of you,” Negan reasoned with Joel, looking back when he saw that Elizabeth and Y/N were approaching them. There was a bag in Elizabeth’s hand so she obviously bought something for herself. “I’m eyeballing the hell out of that smores hot chocolate myself. So I’m gonna go get me one of those.”

“What do you got there?” Y/N asked with Joel staring down at the hot cider that was in Joel’s hand. Taking a sip of it, Joel let out a huff and shook his head. Why did that have to taste amazing? “Is it good?”

“I hate it here,” Joel grunted drawing her to laugh when he reached for the half donut that was hanging over the side of his cup. Elizabeth walked away with Negan to go with him to go get a hot chocolate. Dipping the donut in the whipped cream, Joel took a big bite that had Y/N smiling. “Do you know how much these both cost?”

“Ten bucks a piece,” Peter blurt out with a mouthful of the cookie he had just shoved into his mouth. Unlike Joel, Peter really didn’t understand the meaning of money because if it was up to Joel? He would have never gotten them. “Worth it though. You should taste this!”

“Hey!” Y/N laughed with her son throwing the cup up toward her. Accepting the cup, she took a sip of the hot chocolate that was very rich with a gingerbread after kick. Giving a nod of approval, she handed it back to Peter and smirked. “It’s good.”

“Right?!” Peter was very dramatic in the way he did everything. “It’s worth the ten bucks.”

“Your food is just as good,” Joel commented, pushing the rest of the donut that was there in front of Y/N’s face. It had her eyeing over it with a strange expression and he huffed. They used to share everything together and Joel figured he would let her have a taste. “I don’t have cooties.”

Accepting the donut, Y/N smirked when she chewed at the sugary sweet treat. Holding the hot cider up, he allowed her to take a sip to go along with it. A smile tugged at her lips when she wiped at her bottom lip, “No, I can totally see why you hate this place. That didn’t taste good at all.”

“That’s sarcasm,” Peter noted, throwing his hand up in the air at his mother.

“He likes it,” Y/N informed her son with a wink hearing the sound of Negan’s deep, raspy voice behind her talking with Elizabeth. With them gone, he had gotten Elizabeth the same hot chocolate that Peter had gotten. For himself he got the smores hot chocolate that had a large chocolate covered marshmallow on top and he had gotten Y/N the same hot cider that he had gotten Joel. “Thank you.”

“I figured you might want that. You can try mine too and you can have whatever one you prefer,” Negan took a dramatic bite of the marshmallow that was on top of his drink making the children laugh with his antics that covered his lips in chocolate sauce. Carefully holding it out to her, Y/N took a tinier bite than Negan and gave him a nod. “Good?”

“Sweet,” she gave him a wink, stepping in beside Joel. Negan headed over toward one of the tables to sit down and Elizabeth followed. At this point? They had no idea where Tommy and Maria had gone off to, but she was sure they were fine on their own. Dipping the donut in the hot cider, she raised it to Joel’s lips and pushed it forward smashing it against them. Laughing, Joel’s lips parted and he almost choked when she shoved the donut into his mouth. “I took part of yours so you have part of mine.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” Joel was amused with her antics, doing his best to swallow down the piece of her donut that she had given him. It was a big swallow that had her smiling with her sipping her drink slowly. Dragging his thumb across his bottom lip, Joel had a warmth growing throughout his body watching her smile. “That’s a yes.”

“Death by donut,” she teased Joel finding amusement at the idea. “I guess there are worse ways to go. At least that way it’s from something that tastes good.”

“I can think of better ways to go,” Joel gave a cheesy smile which had her pushing faintly at his shoulder. With a laugh, Joel realized that he was still apprehensive about Negan paying for everything like he was. The sound of the children laughing drew Joel’s attention with him looking to see that Negan was dramatically telling them a story. “I don’t like him buying everything. It makes me feel tense.”

“I understand,” she breathed out, clinging to the drink that Negan had gotten for her. “This makes me uncomfortable too.”

“And he knows that?” Joel inquired, his eyebrow arching in curiosity. By the way that she was avoiding looking at him he knew that she was ill at ease. The quieter he spoke, the deeper his southern accent grew. “You told him it made you uncomfortable and he still does it?”

“He insists,” she declared, her voice growing anxious about Negan spending so much. Spinning what was left in the glass of the drink that Negan had gotten her, she shrugged her shoulders. “When he buys me things, it makes me think about what we talked about the other day. I feel like what you said.” 

“Like I said?” Joel didn’t know where she was headed with that, waiting for people to pass. An uneasiness flooded over her features with him stepping forward. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a nobody being pampered by someone that seems to have everything,” she whispered, her eyes shifting when she spoke not daring to look Joel in the eye. “I feel like I don’t belong here. Like I’m not good enough for this life.”

“That’s not…” Joel started with a nervous breath thinking that she truly thought he felt that way about her. Shaking his head, he attempted to reach out to her, but Elizabeth called out to her waving her over. Instead of saying what he wanted, Joel frowned and lowered his head. Pointing at a store, the children headed over to one of the small shops and instead of going to Negan and Y/N, Joel followed. Making sure the children were okay, Joel thought about what Y/N said and he wondered if she felt that way because of him.

It was a candy store, so the children were taking their time waiting in the longer line. Telling them to wait, Joel went to go back to ask if Negan or Y/N wanted something but paused when he noticed the two of them facing away from him and heard his name mentioned.

“So wait, what happened?” Negan snickered with his shoulder nudging Y/N teasingly. After Negan asked her, the color in her face was growing deeper. Even though it was cold out, it seemed like she grew severely embarrassed with Negan trying to get her to talk.

“I told you,” she frowned, clearly not finding as much amusement in this as Negan was. By his expression, Negan was severely entertained with whatever she had just told him. “I had a dream that you had come over to the house. We were sleeping in my bed and in the middle of the night Joel came down from the attic. The two of you were fighting and you said something about wanting me happy. Whether it was with you, him or the both of you. And then the two of you started kissing up on me…”

“You had a dream that we had a threesome with Joel?” Negan blurt out, a small smacking sound following when her hand covered Negan’s lips. An amused rumble of a laugh erupted from Negan’s throat when she finally pulled her hand away. It had Joel stepping away trying to blend in with the crowd, but still he was close enough to listen in. “Was it good?”

“I don’t know. It stopped before it could really get started,” she explained to Negan who reached out to squeeze over her knee and pat it several times. “My dreams are even being an asshole to me right now.”

“Or maybe you just want to have a threesome with the two of us,” Negan suggested with a long exhale. Drinking what was left of his hot chocolate, Negan tossed the cup in the garbage that was beside him. Stretching out his hand, Negan curled his fingers in underneath her chin to get her to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed about that. There is nothing wrong with wanting to have a threesome with the two men that you are attracted to.”

“I’m dating you,” she reminded Negan and it looked like she was disappointed in herself with still thinking about Joel. Yet, to Joel? That was a good thing.

“And I’d be perfectly okay with it,” Negan stated with an arrogant bob of his head. “I’m confident enough with things that I wouldn’t turn down the idea if it made you feel good.”

“Dad, look!” the sound of Peter calling out to Joel had him cringing when he looked over his shoulder. Pretty immediately, Y/N and Negan stopped talking. He hoped that they didn’t realize he was there listening to their personal conversation about her dream that involved him. Excited with what he had found, Peter shared with his father what he got.

“Yeah, that’s really cool buddy,” Joel tried to act like he was focusing on Peter the whole time. Yet, he wondered if he had been caught in the act of eavesdropping and it made him severely uncomfortable.

“Hey!” Negan called out to them, getting up from the table that he was sitting on, helping Y/N up as well. “I was thinking! There is a place here that is really popular. They make these things called stroopwafels. They taste great and you can pretty much get whatever you want on them. We should go get a couple. Then finish walking around. What do you think?”

“Sounds good,” Elizabeth moved in behind Joel, hooking her arm with her father’s. Following Negan, they made it to the area where the shop was. Negan ordered a couple of boxes of different flavors and they all took a seat at one of the tables.

“You want one?” Negan looked back over his shoulder at Joel who was standing behind him from where he was sitting between Elizabeth and Y/N. Shaking his head, Joel didn’t want to continue eating things that Negan got. Standing up from the table, Negan held open the box and showed him the flavors that were in it. “How about Oreo or Reese’s? I know you love peanut butter because I remember from when we were kids.”

“I’m good,” Joel waved his hand about, grunting when Negan grabbed one of them and shoved it into Joel’s mouth. The children laughed with Negan still holding onto the other half of the sweet treat.

“Take a bite,” Negan urged with the taste of the peanut butter cups lingering in Joel’s mouth. Doing as he was told had Negan smiling brightly with Joel swallowing down his bite. Holding it in front of Joel, Negan shrugged his shoulders and smirked. “I’m sure you didn’t like it. If that’s the case, I can just…”

Negan went to take a bite for himself, but Joel snatched the treat from his hand and stole Negan’s seat to eat it. With a snort, Negan moved around the table and sat between Elizabeth and Peter so they could all enjoy the time eating their desserts together. What was sad? Joel actually seemed to be enjoying himself spending time with all of them. Even Negan.

“We should go ice skating before we leave,” Elizabeth commented, standing beside Joel while he stared out at the ice rink that people were skating on at the center of Bryant Park. Resting her head against Joel’s shoulder, Elizabeth seemed caught up in sharing the moment with her father. “This has been great.”

“It’s been pretty nice,” Joel agreed with her, wrapping his arms around her to give her a big bear hug. Out of the corner of his eye, Joel could see Negan and Y/N laughing together and it made a lump develop in his throat. Right now he just needed to get his shit together and focus on the moment with his family. Because that’s what mattered most.

After spending quite some time there, they eventually found Maria and Tommy. Which led to them starting to walk around the city. Since it was dark outside, Negan insisted that it was the best time to go see Christmas lights. Together they walked the streets to see the decorations outside of Macy’s along with the other store fronts. Often they were all stopping to get photos which most people seemed to do. So it took a while and it was rather crowded. Negan insisted that earlier tomorrow they would go inside of Macy’s so they could get to experience the store in the daytime.

Everyone liked the lights so much that they walked the streets several times. When they started heading back to the area the apartment was, he could hear Elizabeth asking Negan if they would be able to make time to go back to see those lights again before they left. What was sad was how fast Negan truly understood his family. He knew that something like this would bring nothing but joy to Joel’s family and provide them with endless amounts of happiness.

Their next stop was a toy store that was close to the apartment. It was a welcomed change of pace. Since they had been outside this whole time and it was still snowing, Joel was incredibly cold. Getting into the store felt nice, but at the same time it wasn’t the perfect case scenario. It was packed. Which should have been obvious. It was New York City and it was close to Christmas. Being in a toy store was asking to be placed in a big crowd. Just seeing the outside of the store was thrilling to his family. This was a very famous store that had been featured in multiple films that they had all undoubtedly seen.

Originally, Joel thought Elizabeth might have tried to play it off like this wasn’t something she was into. Both of his children were teenagers. Which meant at times they tried to play it off like they didn’t like things that younger children would, but both Peter and Elizabeth seemed in awe of the place. Even as an adult Joel could appreciate it. It was multiple floors loaded from top to bottom with things. It was a store right out of the perfect Christmas film’s setting.

Immediately the children ran off to look around and Joel was quick to keep up. Even though they were older, it was still New York City and Joel was protective of his children. Maria and Tommy seemed to go their own way, but Negan and Y/N were never too far away from the children. What was cool about his children was the fact they still found the magic in things. Joel figured that came from Y/N. Because if his parents brought him here when he was their age? He probably would have been a pain in the ass.

Back in their hometown? They would have been lucky to have a store even a third of this size. Every store was small. And it was nothing like this.

Heading upstairs, the sound of piano keys being played immediately made Joel cringe. It had Peter grabbing a tight hold of Joel’s arm leading him over toward the area it was coming from. Backing the large glass window paneling was a large floor piano where people were hopping over the keys.

“Dad!” Peter blurt out, squeezing firmly at Joel’s arm. “It’s kind of like that really old movie we watched together! You know what I’m talking about? The one where that kid makes a wish and he gets old. With that tall, skinny guy and the curly hair. It’s super old!”

“Big?” Joel muttered, tensing up at the idea of his son calling that movie extremely old. Joel had seen that film many, many times in the past.

“That’s it!” Peter snapped his fingers, getting in line with Elizabeth moving in beside him so that way Peter could get a chance at it. “This is so fucking cool dad!”

“Peter, language,” Joel hushed, trying to get his son to contain himself in this place considering how many children and parents were filling the store. Once it was their turn, Peter excitedly moved out to start jumping on the keys. Standing at the corner, Joel pulled out his phone to record Peter with Elizabeth standing beside him. They both laughed when Peter started off running and then slid on the floor across the keys. “Be careful buddy.”

“He has had way too much sugar today,” Elizabeth commented on her brother’s actions realizing that he was bouncing around everywhere. Both Y/N and Negan were standing nearby watching as well getting a kick out of Peter. “He’s going to crash later.”

“He’s totally going to crash later,” Joel agreed with her, a tiny snort of amusement falling from him.

“Dad!” Peter ran back to Joel, reaching for Joel’s wrist to pull him toward the floor piano. “You play the piano! Do you know how to play the song that they did in the movie Big? You should do it. It would be so cool if you did. Do you know the song?”

“It was actually two songs. It was Heart and Soul. Along with Chopsticks,” Joel corrected his son, tipping his head to the side realizing the smile that tugged at Peter’s features. “They are two songs they teach you pretty early when you learn to play the piano.”

“So that’s a yes then,” Elizabeth stressed, her hand reaching out to place in over Joel’s shoulder getting his dark eyes to look at her. “Then do it for us. Please?”

“I’d love to, but I can’t,” Joel began, lying about the love to part. Hell, the last thing he would want to do was jump on that thing in front of this big crowd of people. “You need two people to play it. I’m only one man. You both saw that movie. Plus, there are other people waiting that want to get a crack at that thing.” 

“Negan!” Elizabeth called out to Negan who was just standing out at the other end of the line. Both him and Y/N were looking at one of the teddy bears that were on a stand near the area. Unfortunately, Negan heard Elizabeth and looked back which caused Joel’s heart to skip a beat. “You need a second man? I can get you one.”

“No. No,” Joel immediately shook his head, cussing to himself when Negan started to move through the crowd toward them. “Ellie, no. I can’t do this. Not with all of these people around. Don’t make me.”

“Hey there kiddo, what’s up?” Negan stammered, his smile growing larger with him rubbing his hands together. Gazing back at her father, Elizabeth considered what Joel had just begged of her, but she swallowed down hard. “Everything okay?”

“Peter and I really like that movie Big. We asked dad if he could play the songs they do, but he insists that one man can’t do it,” Elizabeth began, her words causing Joel to drop his head down in defeat with color growing into Joel’s cheeks. “Do you know the songs they play? Have you watched that movie? And if yes, will you play it with dad so he’s not alone?”

“Negan,” Joel held his hands up, his brown eyes almost begging Negan not to agree to it. Under his breath, Joel stepped forward so only that Negan could hear him. “Please say no.”

Stepping back, Negan’s jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed. Taking a moment to think things out, Negan pulled his eyes away from Joel and nodded his head once, “I do. I know them. You want us to play it?”

“Very much yes!” Peter stomped on the keys a few more times having a hellish sound flood the air. Groaning out, Joel dropped his head back with his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat.

“Okay,” Negan agreed, slowly pulling his jacket from his body. Handing it over to Peter, Negan stepped in beside Joel pressing in closer to him to make sure that only Joel could hear him. “You do this, you are going to fill your children with so much joy and happiness. They won’t stop talking about it. You were the most talented musician I know. Far better than me. Don’t let your social anxiety hold you the fuck back in giving you a moment to have your children be proud of you.”

“I don’t like playing in front of people,” Joel reminded Negan, a chill running down his spine as he gazed upon Elizabeth and Peter who both seemed excited at the idea of all of this. “I haven’t played in front of people in a very long time.”

“It’s just a toy store. None of these people matter,” Negan assured Joel with a wink, patting Joel on the shoulders. “You used to love playing music. Find that one thing that balances you. Erase the rest of the world and just come have some fun so your kids can enjoy it.”

Pushing up the arms of his black long sleeve henley, Negan nodded over toward the floor piano giving his attention back to Elizabeth, “I would have been much better at this when I was younger with my knee. But I’ll do my best.” 

Heading to the far side, Negan started to step on the piano to test the keys. There were some whispers when people started to realize who Negan was. Of course Negan was eager and willing to do this for the children. He never had a problem being the center of attention. Negan was always charming and outgoing when he had to be. Joel was always the shyer, reserved one that would rather blend in with the background. Even though he liked the attention, it was hard for him growing up.

“Come on dad,” Elizabeth tugged at Joel’s arm trying to get him to go up and join Negan. “You wanted to be a musician when you were younger. At some point you have to get over that fear of playing in front of people. Please dad, for me?”

Cussing under his breath, Joel started to take off his heavy tan colored jacket which excited both Peter and Elizabeth. Holding it out to Elizabeth, Joel tried to find a way to not talk himself out of this because he was only thinking of excuses to get out of it. But he didn’t want to disappoint his children. That’s why he was ultimately doing this. Negan was right. It was for them. And he was doing it for them alone.

Stepping up at the other end of the floor piano, Joel tapped at the piano key. Lifting his head, his heart skipped a beat when he realized how many people were actually standing around them. Of fucking course they were going to draw people. Negan was a fucking celebrity. Which was only going to make him more anxious.

Then he remembered something that Negan told him. Find that one thing that balances you. And moving in beside the children was Y/N. In her eyes, Joel could see that she was impressed that he was standing up there. Her eyes were on him. Not Negan. And that’s all he needed to erase the rest of the world around them. Y/N, Peter and Elizabeth. He was doing this for them.

“Ready?” Negan called out to Joel, a wolfish smile tugging at his features.

Truthfully? No. Joel was anxious as hell. Was this some big kind of performance? No. But he didn’t want to make an ass of himself in front of so many people. But he just gave Negan a nod.

Negan started off the tune and Joel followed behind. Yes, they fumbled a few keys at first. This was a giant floor piano and they were used to playing with their hands, not their feet. Once they got a feel for playing together, they did a decent job. There was no question that he would regret this later and be embarrassed, but for once Joel just wanted to prove that he was just as special as Negan was. Focusing more so on playing with Negan, Joel didn’t want to focus on the crowd that he heard around them.

With each key they played together, Joel found himself more relaxed. This was just like when they were younger screwing around at piano lessons. In the past he loved playing music and other than screwing around with his guitar sometimes, it had really been so long since Joel had done it. But Elizabeth was right, this was something he would have loved to do when he was younger.

Playing the first part was easy, but by the time that they got to the chopsticks part of playing? That was when Joel started to realize how out of shape he was genuinely feeling. He did his best to keep up with Negan, but he couldn’t believe how hard this part actually was. In the film they made it look so easy, but it really wasn’t. And it was in that moment he had realized people were recording them taking videos and photos. Of course they were. Negan was famous. Why did he not realize that? That thought made him stumble up a little bit, but he just had to focus himself and go back to work. By the time they reached the end, Joel was thankful.

Negan gave an over the top, dramatic bow with the people clapping for them. Trying to catch his breath, Joel felt his heart hammering inside of his chest and he wondered if Negan was in the same position. Joel was sweating feeling a little out of place since he was the nobody in the situation. Turning his attention back to his family, Joel saw that Maria and Tommy had showed up to see the tail end of everything. There were smiles on Y/N’s face along with the children and that was all he needed to know that he made the right decision. They were happy. And that was all that mattered.

Going to head in their direction, Joel felt fingers curling around his wrist to pull him back toward the piano. Looking back, Joel realized that Negan was holding his hand to point at Joel so that way people would cheer for him too. An amused rumble escaped Joel. What was crazy? He actually had fun with this.

“Thatta boy,” Negan held his hand up to give Joel a high five. Recently? Joel would have walked away, but instead he accepted the gesture giving Negan a high five. Pulling Negan forward, Joel gave his old friend a one-armed hug. Even if he was furious with Negan? If Negan wouldn’t have given him that pep-talk he would have never done that. So he owed him the respect of that. Patting Negan’s back, Joel stepped back and he could tell that Negan looked genuinely excited that they did that together. Lifting his hand, Negan patted the side of Joel’s face and nodded back toward the children. “Look at them. They are so proud of you.”

Doing what Negan suggested, Joel couldn’t help but smile at how much his children lit up, “Go get em’ big guy.”

“Dad!” Elizabeth clapped with Joel approaching. Hopping up into Joel’s arms, Elizabeth hooked her arms around Joel’s shoulders and hugged him tight. Pressing a kiss against Elizabeth’s temple, Joel could hear the sounds of other people in the store starting to hop around on the piano after him and Negan left. “You did so good! I could have never done that.”

“Anything I do, you can do better,” Joel hushed her, nuzzling his nose in against the side of his daughter’s face, squeezing her tightly.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” Elizabeth wondered eliciting a rasp laugh from Joel. “It was just children and their parents watching you play.”

“It was awful,” Joel whispered in her ear, tipping back to give her jaw a playful nudge. “But if it made you happy? That’s all that matters to me.”

“That’s sweet, but I sense a layer of bullshit in there,” Elizabeth commented with a skeptical look in her eyes. “I think you enjoyed yourself because you look happy. Very happy.”

“I love you,” Joel snickered having his daughter calling him out in the moment. “You mean everything to me.”

“I love you too,” Elizabeth assured him, giving him another big hug which he happily accepted. After, she stepped back and gave him his jacket back.

Moving around Joel, Elizabeth seemed to be heading to Negan. What he saw had jealousy flooding through his veins all over again. Y/N was peppering playful kisses against Negan’s lips. Pulling back with a smile, Negan whispered something to her and it had the both of them laughing. Once they pressed their foreheads together, it filled Joel with that disappointment again. When Negan saw Elizabeth approaching, he pulled away from Y/N and gave Elizabeth a big hug. The two most important women in his life loved Negan. And he hadn’t even been in their life that long. Before he could react any further, a large amount of weight was jumping onto his back with a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“See! You didn’t suck as much as you thought you would,” Peter joked, his arms tightening around Joel’s shoulders to make sure that he didn’t fall. Joel adjusted Peter’s body weight and managed to hook his arms under Peter’s knees to keep him safe. “That was pretty awesome dad.”

“Thanks kiddo,” Joel gazed over his shoulder at his son giving him a quick wink. Walking through the crowd, Joel realized that it looked like someone official was talking to Negan. Stepping closer, Joel could pick up on the fact that they were talking about what they had just done.

“Well, I appreciate all that, but the real talent is my friend here,” Negan noticed that Joel was approaching, his hazel eyes locking with Joel’s. Making a tense expression, Negan moved in beside Joel to push him forward to put the attention on him. “We’ve known each other most of my life. He’s one of my oldest friends. People were loud around them and Joel was just trying to focus on what was being said. “We took piano lessons together when we were about this one’s age…”

Negan pointed to Peter who hopped down from Joel’s back. Moving in at the other side of Joel allowed Joel to wrap his arm loosely around Peter’s shoulders, holding Peter close to his body. The man that Negan had been talking to smiled brightly, nodding dramatically like he was excited. Stepping forward, the man extended his hand and Joel looked between the stranger and Negan.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr…?” the man looked for a response which had made Joel uneasy.

“Miller,” Joel accepted the gesture and shook the man’s hand. Although, he wasn’t sure why he was being introduced to this person or why it even mattered.

“This is the man that owns the store,” Negan announced, his hand lifting to curl his fingers around the back of Joel’s neck. Motioning Y/N forward, she moved in beside Negan and Negan wrapped his free arm loosely around Y/N’s waist so that they were all together. It seemed like Negan wanted them all to be involved in the moment. “He wanted to thank us for the free entertainment tonight with us playing. Which I would love to take credit for it, but we all know that we were just copying that movie that did the same thing.”

“And not all that well,” Joel admitted realizing that while they had fun with it, they weren’t nearly as good as the movie or the actual song.

“I think it was awesome,” Peter refused to believe what his father said, patting Joel on the stomach firmly. 

“Well as a gift Mr. Smith we would love to give your children anything they want. One single item from the store each. It’s free,” the man offered up causing a rush of color to flood into Joel’s face. Hooking eyes with Negan, it was obvious that Negan could tell the displeasure in Joel’s eyes. “It’d also be amazing to get a photo of you to add to our wall of celebrities that have visited the store.”  

“While that’s a very kind gesture, how about instead I donate to the foundation that you’re raising money for,” Negan pointed his finger that was wrapped around Y/N’s waist toward the area where the store was promoting donating toys and money for a charity.

“That’s a much better idea,” Y/N spoke up, having the store owner look toward her. “Plus, Mr. Miller here and I appreciate the offer of you giving our children anything here for free, but anything they want, we’ll happily pay for.”

Hearing Y/N correct the owner of the store about the children being theirs instead of Negan’s had a warmth flooding his veins. Joel’s eyes connected with hers, when she moved away from Negan to wrap her arms firmly around Peter’s shoulders and messed at his dark hair.

“Oh! Oh!” the owner realized the mistake he made with instant regret, shaking his head vigorously. “I’m so sorry. Of course. The boy looks exactly like you Mr. Miller.”

“I appreciate that,” Joel winked, his heart skipping a beat when Negan stepped forward. “Thanks for allowing us to have some fun in your store.”

“We’re happy to have you here,” the owner held his hand up to motion Negan to follow him toward the front of the store.

“I’ll be right back,” Negan promised, following the man toward the area where customer service was at the front. In that moment, Joel realized almost immediately that Negan was limping but doing his best to hide it.

“The man was just eager to be so far up Negan’s ass, he didn’t take the time to look at Peter,” Y/N whispered in Joel’s ear getting him to look back at her with an amused expression. “You looked good out there tonight Mr. Miller. I was surprised to see you do it.”

“I did it for Ellie,” Joel turned around to face her, slowly pulling his arm from Peter. Looking around, Joel realized that Elizabeth wasn’t there and it made him nervous since it was the first time he didn’t know where she was. “Both her and the little man here wanted me to do it and I couldn’t disappoint them.”

“I was gonna say, way to leave me out,” Peter shoved into his father’s side getting Joel to laugh out loud.

“That was a good reason,” Y/N stepped forward, reaching out to brush back a piece of hair that fell in front of Joel’s eyes. Dropping her hand down, it dragged over the side of Joel’s face causing his eyes to flutter to a slow close. Leaning into her touch, Joel felt his heart skip a beat with his lips parting. What her touch alone could do to him was incredible. “You should play your music in front of people more often.”

Sweeping her thumb along his jawline had Joel’s eyes opening back up, staring out at her. With a weak smile, she nodded and sighed loudly, “You’re good at it.” 

“We were just being silly,” Joel reasoned with Y/N knowing that she always wanted him to play more often when they were younger. This wasn’t like that though. This was just him having fun for the children to appease them.

Surveying the store again, Joel was in search of Elizabeth. When he saw Tommy and Maria together, but not Elizabeth, it made him panic. Stepping away from Y/N and Peter, Joel spun on his heel in search of his daughter. Pretty quickly, he found her in the crowd and it looked like an older boy was talking to her. By her body language, Elizabeth didn’t seem completely comfortable. Yet, she still seemed to be charmed by the fact that he was talking to her. Once the guy reached out to touch her face and then trail his fingers down Elizabeth’s arm, Joel felt his heart jump starting in his chest.

“I’ll be right back,” Joel assured both Y/N and Peter, heading in that direction.

Moving through the crowd, Joel’s heart hammered in his chest ready to full on attack this guy that was no question flirting with his seventeen-year-old daughter. Ready to deck this guy, Joel came to a quick stop with the sight of Negan moving between the stranger and Elizabeth. With his fists clenched at his sides Joel was trying to calm himself when Negan turned the guy away from Elizabeth.

“I think your mom is looking for you Liz,” Negan suggested, pointing in the direction that Joel left Y/N with Peter. Leaving Elizabeth, Negan pulled the guy into the corner of the store and Joel hid behind one of the shelves to listen to the conversation. “Listen here fuck stick. I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’re gonna be honest with me. Okay?”

“Yeah,” the man nodded, a wince falling from his throat with Negan slamming him up against the wall. “Yes sir.”

“That’s better,” Negan hissed, grimacing as he spoke. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah. Yes. I do,” the man’s answers were short and Joel could tell that he was scared by the way that Negan was holding onto his jacket.

“How old are you?” Negan inquired with a grunt, stealing a quick look around to make sure that no one saw them.

“Twenty-four,” the stranger answered, his eyes big with fear when Negan’s eyes grew dark with anger.

“That girl is seventeen years old. So keep your fucking fingers and eyes off her,” Negan demanded with a growl, shoving the younger man further back against the wall. “Because if you don’t, you know who I am. If you even steal another look at her, you don’t want to know what I’m capable of. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” the younger man stammered, his jaw tensing up when he tried to stay steady on his feet with how firmly Negan was shoving him against the wall. “I didn’t know. She looks older. I thought she was at least over eighteen. I swear. I won’t look at her again. I promise. I was just flirting. I didn’t mean anything by it. I thought she was really pretty and…”

“Stop talking now,” Negan snapped at the stranger who immediately started bobbing his head dramatically agreeing with Negan to stay quiet. “Get the fuck out of here. Now!”

Scrambling once Negan released him, the man went to leave and just as he passed Joel outstretched his foot. Catching Joel’s foot, the man fell hard onto the floor and into one of the shelves causing some toys to fall out across the floor. Turning over onto his back, the man reached up to touch his mouth realizing that it was covered in blood.

“Shit, you need to be more careful,” Joel stressed lowering down to stare down at the man Negan saved him from killing. “You don’t know what’s gonna happen to you when you do stupid shit. You could get really hurt. We don’t want that. Do we?”

Shaking his head, the man scrambled to his feet and ran out of the store eager to get away from both Joel and Negan. Starting to pick up the things that the guy knocked over, Joel saw a pair of hands reach out to help him. By the tattoos, he knew it was Negan and Joel cleared his throat.

“Thanks for doing that,” Joel stammered, his throat going dry knowing that he would have torn the guy apart if he got his hands on him before Negan did.

“Nice job on the trip,” Negan snickered, holding his fist out toward Joel. Giving Negan a quick knuckle bump, they cleaned up what the guy knocked over. Smirking, Joel shook his head and sighed loudly. “That was smooth.”

“I wanted to do more,” Joel admitted looking to see that Elizabeth was now looking at something with Peter. “If you wouldn’t have gotten to him first, I probably would have broken his neck without questions.”

“I can’t say I fucking blame you,” Negan grunted, noticing how worried that Joel looked.

“I uh…” Joel paused, a muscle in his jaw flexing thinking about how Elizabeth seemed to be charmed by the boy who was flirting with her. “Excuse me real quick. I need to talk to her.”

Patting Joel on the shoulder, Negan allowed him to walk away and Joel grabbed a soft hold of Elizabeth’s shoulder taking her far enough away from Peter so only she could hear him, “Honey, don’t allow yourself to be put in a situation like that. Okay? That guy was twenty-four.”

“I didn’t put myself in that situation dad,” Elizabeth explained, looking around to see if the guy that was flirting with her still was around. “I was just looking at something and he came over to talk to me. I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with him or anything.”

She took a moment to pause and think about what Joel said, “Wait, how do you know how old he was?”

“I just don’t want someone that age fucking around with you Ellie. You’re still a kid,” Joel stressed to his daughter having her face twist with confusion.

“First of all, I wouldn’t have done that. Second, isn’t that a little hypocritical? Mom got pregnant at seventeen. A few months older than me. And you were older than her,” Elizabeth blurt out having a muscle in Joel’s jaw flexing at her point out. “I’m not wrong.”

“I was two years older than her and we had been dating for three years by the time you were born. We were both underage when we started dating,” Joel scoffed, his nose wrinkling at the idea that his daughter was trying to compare what just happened to what his relationship with Y/N was. “That guy was seven years older than you and he was a complete stranger. Your mom and I knew each other for years before we even started dating and…”

“Stop,” Elizabeth held her hands up to interrupt Joel’s frustrations. “I get it. Trust me. I had no intentions of it going anywhere.”

“You just have to be careful Ellie. People see a pretty girl and they are going to try to take advantage of you. Men are…gross,” Joel acknowledged with a grunt and it made Elizabeth smirk. Knowing that she was amused with his response to things upset him in the sense that he just wanted her to be careful. “This is a serious topic Ellie. It’s a big deal.”

“I know,” she agreed with her father who had gone red from the whole situation. “Trust me. I get it. I have no interest in anything that you may have thought was going to happen dad. I know not to trust random strangers that come up to me in a store.”

“Good,” Joel didn’t know what else to say other than to step forward to wrap his arm around her in a protective embrace. Now that he saw that happen, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to let his daughter out of his sight. “People are just sick and I want to keep you safe.”

Tugging her in for a one-armed hug, Joel deposited a kiss over her temple and then motioned her back toward the group. It looked like Tommy was handing something out to all of them when they approached, “What are you doing little brother?”

“I got us something,” Tommy alerted Joel with a big, goofy smile reaching out to place an elf hat over the top of Elizabeth’s head. That’s when Joel realized that his brother had given everyone something to wear on their heads. Y/N was wearing a Santa hat, Negan was wearing reindeer antlers and the rest of them were wearing elf hats. After Tommy got on Elizabeth’s hat, he reached for the last item and put them over Joel’s head. Scowling, Joel’s brown eyes lifted to look up at the reindeer antlers that Tommy had given him. Unlike Negan’s his lit up like it had Christmas lights wrapped around them. “Oh, that’s good. That’s so good.”

“You’re adorable,” Peter teased his father with a loud boisterous laugh that had even Y/N smiling.

“The real question is who wants to be Rudolph between the two of you,” Tommy seemed proud of himself with the whole thing. Pulling out the last remaining item which was a flashing red nose. “I’m thinking Joel.”

“You put that on me and I’ll break your face,” Joel warned with Tommy holding out the red flashing nose. Even though Joel said that, Tommy didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. It just had Tommy laughing and everyone else seemed amused with Joel’s warning. “You’re lucky I haven’t knocked you on your ass already for this.”

“Come on Joel, it looks good,” Negan suggested with a laugh, hooking his arm loosely around Y/N’s shoulders. “We make good looking reindeers.”

Motioning Negan to wait, Y/N grabbed the red nose from Tommy and carefully put it over Joel’s nose. The expression over Joel’s face had her laughing. Taking advantage of the moment, she took a photo of Joel who had an unenthused expression over his features. Smirking, Negan stepped forward to squeeze the nose hearing it squeak when he did it.

“Are you all done?” Joel scoffed, hearing both his children laughing the hardest. At his expense everyone seemed to be getting a laugh out of him being the Rudolph in the situation. “I’m glad you’re loving this.”

Taking the nose off of himself, Joel stepped forward and placed it over Y/N’s nose, giving her a wink as he back stepped, “Lead the way Rudolph.”

Not letting Elizabeth out of his sight, Joel stayed with Elizabeth even when they were walking to the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. There was still that fear that the guy who flirted with her would come back even though he was pretty certain both him and Negan scared the shit out of the guy.

Together they all stood around the Christmas tree talking until Peter and Elizabeth asked if they could go ice skating. All of them agreed to do it, but when Negan said he was going to stay back and sit down Joel knew why. Negan’s knee was hurting from doing the piano bit with Joel at the toy store. Instead of going, Y/N decided to stay with Negan allowing the rest of them to go ice skating. Negan insisted that she go, but even Joel knew that would never happen. In the past Y/N had always believed in the buddy system. Leaving someone alone was not the kind of person that she was.

The time limit was ninety minutes out on the ice with the tickets that they got. And originally Joel really didn’t think that he would be there that long, but it was fun. It had been a long time since him and his children had this much fun. Laughter from the children fueled him to keep going and he knew he would be feeling it tomorrow, but it was nice getting to spend this time with Elizabeth and Peter. What started out as a kind of shitty day ended better than he would have ever imagined. Even though the place was busy, that was easy to forget with how much fun his children were having.

When their time was up and they headed back up to the tree, Joel felt his heart skip a beat at what he saw in the distance. Standing before the tree was Negan and Y/N kissing. Negan’s hands were settled at her hips, with his forehead pressed to hers. The sight of them together, the way that Y/N looked at Negan—it all told him that this wasn’t just a fling with Negan for Y/N. What the two of them felt for each other was real. It was pure. Probably purer than anything he could ever have with Y/N again and even though he was happy in the moment, Joel’s heart was broken at the sight knowing that what he once had would be no more.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

[discodinosaur]

✧˖°. A Stranger's Heart Without a Home by morninstarjoy ✧˖°.

I have been patiently waiting for @morning-star-joy to get their copy before posting this and it’s FINALLY there!

I am so honoured that you let me make you one too! I had the best time with these and everything came together so well! I love the brown typeset ✨

I reached out to @snifsnouf-art about using their work for the endpaper, title page and jacket, and they were so patient and kind with me ✨ thank you for letting me use these, they’re so stunning!

To finish these off, I had these revolver charms leftover and they screamed Joel to me and were perfect??

I am deeep into my Joel Miller brainrot and will need approximately another 5-7 working days to get over how well these came out.

Typeset, printed and handbound by me!

Link again because you've got to read this! <3

More photos under the cut!

[aquariusmiller]

cowboy like me

Chapter I: Save A Prayer

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Series Summary: You turn out to be Joel’s biggest lesson in trust – how will he handle the second side of the same coin?

Chapter Summary: Your view of the harsh post-outbreak world is slowly turning around when you discover an unusually friendly place. You have an encounter with a stranger that pushes you in the direction of staying.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: anxiety (reader is cornered), a tiny bit of swearing, flirting, kissing, overboard drinking, dark!reader if you really really squint (will be darker in other chapters), canon compliant

A/N: I've had this idea for a while for a reader with a con artist past so dark it could rival Joel's, inspired of course by "cowboy like me" by Taylor Swift haha. The reader would have a chapter committed to a backstory and the fic could be read with or without it if you don't like your reader having too much of a story by themselves. But yeah, I'll see the interest and see if I'll edit this as a standalone instead. First time writing, so be kind and enjoy :)

song recs: save a prayer - duran duran ("So I asked you to dance but fear is in your soul") and enchanted - taylor swift ("I was enchanted to meet you")

You had... An interesting day, to say the least. Walking through the thick woods in the chilly fall morning, the only sounds accompanying you were the stream of a nearby river and an occasional wild animal. You were looking for abandoned houses, low on ammo and hoping to find some, but you had no luck. You walked back to the river and decided to try crossing it. You found a wooden plank near the river, obviously used often and you stopped and debated on your decision. If it was used so often, you could be walking straight into raider territory, or worse. Groups of people were rarely friendly. With no other choice, you moved the plank and crossed the river, hypervigilant as you continued searching.

Soon, you realized your hypervigilance was well-earned, as you heard the trot of horses. You ran to hide behind a nearby tree. The hooves pounding the ground were growing louder and you tried to calm your breathing and will your anxious mind and body into silence. The group was looking around for you, one of the men getting dangerously close to the tree you were hiding behind. He suddenly turned around and saw you, shouting.

“I found her! Behind this tree!”

Horses quickly surrounded you and you were scared to death, thinking you’ve run out of luck. Thinking your days are numbered. But you were surprised as after harsh questioning, a man that introduced himself as Tommy and had this kind look in his eyes, like he wanted to help you, approached you and asked you to come with them.

You didn’t trust him fully. You knew the horror stories about people acting out all types of stories to lure you into a trap. Hell, you’ve done it. But when Tommy told you about a walled settlement with food, water and electricity, were everyone works to get their share... You really wanted to believe it. You were tired of running. Tired of being alone after two weeks of only the open sky and your black Toyota keeping you company. You went with him, keeping in mind you could always escape if things go awry.

You looked around in awe as his story turned out to be true. You saw big walls and friendly guards protecting the settlement. Guards were never friendly, the way you recall them from the QZ. As they let Tommy and you through, you looked around at the houses, the working streetlights, the people talking and laughing without a care in the world on a small bench, kids running around and playing on a grass field. How was this real?

That’s how you ended up in Jackson. You’re still not over the initial shock as you unpack clothes from your backpack and put them in the closet of a cabin within the walls that Tommy deemed as yours. You’re astounded and warmed by the kindness you haven’t experienced in a long time.

You’re not sure you’re staying. Why? You’re just waiting for the twist. Waiting for something to go wrong. You decide you’ll enjoy your stay, though, and try to sniff out this community.

Jackson has a bar. A bar! You decide it’s the perfect place to go as night has already set in and it’s your first day in this peculiar settlement. You take out the only clean clothes you have and smile widely as you head into the shower. A working shower with hot water. You could cry of joy right now.

You walk into the bar named “Tipsy Bison”. Such a typical name for a bar that looks like this, you think. It’s obviously an old and restored dive bar, and you can’t help but marvel at the coziness of the rustic interior. It’s mostly in wood, bottles of hard alcohol on the shelves and what you assume is homemade beer on tap. The lamps are casting a warm light against the dark wood.

You straighten your black turtleneck and sit down, noticing a man sitting a few barstools from you for the first time. He’s lost in thought, sipping a glass of whiskey. He’s wearing a warm green button up shirt and jeans and... He’s handsome. Very much so. You can tell he’s fairly older than you by the slight salt and pepper in his hair and beard. He has dark hair, an unapproachable facial expression and a full beard. You can also instantly tell he likes to keep to himself by his clear disinterest in talking to others. But that just draws you in more... What is hiding behind the gruffness?

No, fuck no, you’re not doing that. You’re not going to try to figure out who he is. Figure out his tells, his secrets, what makes him tick, then use it against him. No. But... Some time with him in Jackson wouldn’t hurt. You’re not sure you’re staying anyway. Might as well have some fun, even if only for a night.

You order a whiskey and when the bartender brings it over sip on it for some liquid courage. Then you stand up and sit down next to him. You give him your best smile, hoping your forwardness would cheer him up.

“Hello, handsome.”

He turns around and looks at you surprised, not without a little amused smirk on his face, clearly not used at all to being approached like this. He looks at you from head to toe, sizing you up or checking you out, you’re not sure yourself. You’re just sure he’s already trying to figure out your angle. He nods politely and says.

“Hello. You seem new around here.”

You notice a thick southern accent and a deep voice, and you can’t help but like it. You give him a friendly smile and a nod. “Yeah, just got into Jackson this morning, with the help of Tommy.”

He smirks slightly as he hears Tommy’s name, obviously knowing the guy. “Yeah, he’ll bring about just about anyone with a sad pout and a sob story.”

You’re surprised by his brazenness, you’d think with what he said he’d be worried he’d offend you. He pays no mind to it, though. You are also curious about what he says. Seems like Tommy’s kindness and naiveté was real. You smile. “Well... You’re not wrong about that.” You chuckle.

“How are you settlin’ into Jackson?” He asks politely.

You nod and smile. “Well... This place is amazing. I couldn’t believe it when I first heard it from Tommy. But then I came in and... It’s like a small town. People hanging out without worrying about infected. I had a shower with warm water.” You chuckle happily as you stare at the bar. “It’s... Incredible. I couldn’t imagine in my wildest dreams places like this existed anymore.”

He nods in understanding, having reacted similarly when he came into Jackson. It’s soon switched with a stern look. “You’re gonna have to earn your share, y’know? We don’t need any freeloaders.”

You turn to look at him, trying not to get offended at his continuous brushing off. You nod swiftly. “Of course. Tommy has told me. I’m just still trying to figure out what I’m going to do around here.”

He nods, satisfied with your determined expression. You obviously didn’t think this came for free. “Erm... Tell me, what’s your name?”

You smile and tell him your name.

“I’m Joel.” He holds out a hand to shake.

You shake his hand as you look into his eyes. His calloused hand has a firm grip and you find yourself really liking his touch.

He looks back up at you and sees the mischievous smile you’re sporting as you look back at him. He wants to pull away and forget all about this, but your eyes and smile draw him in. Make him want to see where they will take him.

You shake hands for a moment too long and pull away, looking at him with a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Joel.”

He nods as if he’s trying to gather himself. “Likewise.”

“So... What do you do around Jackson?” Your mischievous tone is obviously teasing him for his cold demeanor earlier.

He smirks sheepishly. “I patrol. Fix around things. Hunt for food.”

You look at him curiously. “Patrol?”

“Ya think this place runs on hopes and dreams? Yeah, a few of us patrol the perimeter, make sure to keep the infected, raiders and other unfriendly folk away from the walls.”

You nod. “Interesting. Think I could do that around Jackson.”

He has an almost condescending smile. “Yeah? Can you shoot a gun?”

You nod. “Duh. Of course. How do you think I came all the way here?”

He looks at you, sizing you up again. “Fight? Work in a group?”

You nod, even though you know damn well working in groups has never ended up well for you. “Yeah. I could even fight you, I reckon.” You smirk.

He smirks widely, amused at the thought. By the look in his eyes you can tell he could have you on the ground in five seconds flat. “Careful. I don’t pull punches.”

You smirk and lean your elbow on the bar, your hand on your cheek as you act (though you’re not sure you’re acting) impressed with him. “Good.”

He smiles slightly and takes a sip of his whiskey, very aware of your antics.

You take sips of whiskey too, finishing your glass. The music starts playing. It’s an old song you know well. “Save A Prayer” by Duran Duran. Joel is obviously shook out of his thoughts as he hears the song playing.

“Haven’t heard this song in a hell of a long time.”

You nod. “Me neither. I love it.” You smile.

He turns to look at you surprised. “You know this song? Ya don’t seem the age.”

You nod. “My father used to play it for me all the time when I was little.” You chuckle. “Grew up to like it.”

He nods as he looks at you for a second, obviously appreciating your taste in music, even if it’s not completely yours. “So you know Duran Duran?”

You nod and smile widely. “Yeah. Think it’s my favorite band from the eighties.” You get an impulsive idea and turn to him. “Say... You wanna dance?”

He instantly shakes his head. “Nah... Not the dancing type.”

You smile widely as you take his hand. “When was the last time you had fun, old man?” You chuckle.

He smirks as he takes your hand and leads you to the small space in front of an old jukebox meant to serve as a dance floor. “You’re gonna regret sayin’ that.”

You laugh lightly as he takes you to dance. “Yeah? What are you gonna do?”

He lets the question linger as a promise as he stands in front of you and looks at you, lust in his eyes. You put your left hand on his shoulder, your right hand in his as you start to dance. He lets his hand snake around your waist as you lead the slow dance. You look at each other, both trying to find something in the other’s eyes. The alcohol, the way his hand feels around your waist... They’re enveloping you, making you lose yourself in him. You raise his arm and twirl around it, laughing happily. He pulls you gently back in, a laugh threatening to break his stoic demeanor.

The song ends and a slower one starts, and you two are close, dancing and keeping eye contact. You glance down at his lips and he leans his face in instinctively as he glances at yours. You begin closing the distance and he leans in too. You meet halfway in a slow kiss. You’re not sure you’ve felt anything better than the taste of his lips in this old dive bar. You pull away and lick your lips as you lean in for another one and he gently puts his hand on your cheek to stop you. “Not here...” His gruff voice is quiet.

You nod and pull away, smiling at him softly. You’re not sure why this man is affecting you so much. “Alright... Wanna head back to the stools and talk?”

He nods with a faint smile. “Um... Sure.”

You head back to the barstools and sit down. You talk for a long time about where you came from, how you ended up in Jackson. Neither of you reveal much, but you manage to pull a hearty chuckle out of this rough man. You feel warmth in your chest as you do. He’s from Austin, Texas, you’re from LA. He came from the Boston QZ, you came from the Detroit one. You could tell he’s also been through hell to come here, trying to hide the pain in his eyes as he says “Been in the QZ for twenty years before some business brought me here.” You can tell there’s a long story there, but you know better than to ask. You can only get a faint sense of the darkness behind them, just like you’re sure he senses yours. It’s a silent understanding.

You down whiskey after whiskey as you talk, enjoying the way the alcohol takes the edge off after the stress you’ve endured lately. Joel looks at you questioningly a couple of times and asks you if you’re sure you can handle the amount you’re drinking. You nod but you get progressively drunker until you start to slur words. Joel’s look of curiosity is replaced with faint annoyance as you try coming onto him wasted.

“Yeah, I live alone in Jackson.” You tell him with a wide drunken smirk.

He nods. “Yeah, I’m sure you do.” He looks at the way you’re slightly swaying on your stool and your eyes are already half-shut from the liquor. He thinks for a long moment, practicing restraint before he says “Say, want me to walk you home? Think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

You smile and lean in slightly, leaning your arm on the bar again, almost missing it as Joel slightly moves, ready to catch you if you fall before your arm lands safely. “Wanna come home with me?” You look at him with a teasing and offering expression, not even noticing how slowly you’re speaking.

He shakes his head, frustrated with your insistence while he’s trying to control himself. “I’ll just walk ya there. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You teasingly pout at that and shake your head. “Thought we had something.” You chuckle.

He just looks at you sternly for a few moments before he speaks. “Let’s go.” He starts getting up from his seat and helps you up gently. You lean on him as he keeps you in a firm grip and you feel his core strength and his frame. You take your purse and he helps you out of the bar.

Cool night air hits you as you exit the bar. You sober up slightly, but still feel the pleasant buzz from the alcohol, combined with the smell of him: wood, metal and something uniquely his. You lean on him as you walk languidly, letting him lead you. He asks you where you live and you murmur the place. He drops you off at your cabin and you manage, after two attempts, to put the key in the lock and walk into your new home.

You walk into the cabin and stumble to your small bedroom. As you think back on the interaction, you’re hit with slight embarrassment as you realize Joel was actually irritated with how drunk you are. You lay in the bed, too tired to change and close your eyes, vivid pictures of everything that has happened today crossing your mind. For the first time in forever, you’d say you feel good.

You think as a small smile crosses your face. Maybe you’ll stay for once. Maybe it will turn out well for once. You feel something bubbling up in your chest after such a long time, you almost forgot what it felt like. But it’s unmistakable – it’s hope.

[lillaydee]

The One That Got Away

BFF Joel Miller / Reader

You and Joel had been best friends since the first day of school.

Best Friends Forever, Right?

Word Count: 5271 words

WARNING: BFFs, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is a Fucking Idiot, Joel Needs a Smack to the Back of his Head, Angst, might write a continuation, Angsty Mind Worm.

This is actually the first new work I have uploaded to Tumblr. Might expand one day, way, way, way in the future.

---

You met Joel Miller on your first day of school. He sat behind you and yelled at Billy Jones for putting gum in your braid. Then, he made his Mama wait for your Mom to come get you, as she was late and you couldn’t stop crying.

Your Mom never picked you up. She had an aneurysm at her office and just dropped. Joel and his Mama waited with you until the office closed, and his Mama, Aunt Anita to you from then on, asked the school for your address so she could send you home.

Your Dad was so overwhelmed with shock when he found out about your Mom he forgot to pick you up. He forgot you existed at all that day, in fact. Thank God for Aunt Anita. She spent the better part of that evening cutting your hair so the gum no longer became a problem, Joel holding your hand as you sobbed. They only went home when your actual aunt, Aunt Esther came over to get your Mom’s jewellery.

They didn’t know Aunt Esther left immediately after, leaving you alone at home for the night. They didn’t know you were alone at home the next day either, not knowing what to do, eating cereals to fill your tummy as your Dad drank his sorrows at the bar. They only found out when Joel made his Mama drive him over after school to check on you. His Papa found your Dad under a bar somewhere, chastising him for leaving a daughter alone at home. His parents took you home just so you had some sort of a stability that week – it was clear your own Dad couldn’t give that to you. You cried in his brother Tommy’s bed that night, missing your Mom so much you couldn’t breathe. Joel heard, and slept on the floor next to the bed, hand holding yours.

And you and him became inseparable from then on.

Your Dad snapped out of his stupor three days after your Mom passed. He apologized to you, telling you that he was so heartbroken at your Mom’s passing he couldn’t function. Your Mom had handled everything when it came to you. He left for work before you woke up and came home after you’d gone to bed. He had no idea what to do with you. A week after your Mom’s funeral, Aunt Esther moved in. She and your Dad married less than a month later.

She was nice enough to you, fed you, clothed you, but she was not interested in being your Mom. Your Dad was the same as ever. Aunt Anita and Uncle Jake took over, basically being the parents you needed, and the Millers became your family. When you got your first period, Joel was the one who noticed. He gave you his jacket to tie around your waist, going to the school nurse with you. He called his Mama up, and Aunt Anita came with a set of underwear and skirt for you to change into. You had a drawer in their house. You were practically the daughter the Millers never had.

You and Joel talked about everything. Shared everything. You studied together, ate lunch together, went to movies together, hung out together. You told each other about your crushes, became each other’s wing person, held each other when you got rejected, defended each other when you got bullied. You spent an entire summer reading to him and playing games with him in his room when he broke his leg falling off a bike once, trying everything you could to cheer him up.

You even practiced kissing together. First on the back of your own hands, and then on each other’s hands, and finally, on the lips.

It was nice.

Your life at home was not bad, if that meant that you were basically ignored except to make sure you were alive and well. You got used to living alone, your Dad taking Aunt Esther on his work trips and vacations every few weeks. They didn’t neglect you, exactly, but they didn’t yell at you for your grades either. Aunt Anita and Uncle Jake did that. They were the parents you needed.

And Joel Miller was your best friend in the whole wide world.

Your luck of being in the same class ended when you became seniors in high school. He would still have lunch with you, though. You two waited for each other for after school activities and walked home together.

Best friends forever.

Or so you thought.

He came to see you all excited one day, telling you that Laura Jacobson had asked him out. The most popular girl in school. She was gorgeous. President of the Chastity Club in school. She was so gorgeous, boys were willing to be at her beck and call even if she wouldn’t let them kiss her, or even hold her hand. They were enamoured by her purity, the teachers loved her, the girls idolized her, the boys worshipped her.

You knew you hold no candle to her. All the boys who had ever been interested in you ran willingly to her as soon as she batted her eyelashes at them. It’s always her. One boy literally broke up with you during a make out session because his little brother came knocking on his bedroom door, telling him Laura was on the phone. His spit was still all over your mouth when he told you he didn’t think you two should see each other anymore. Every single one of them left you as soon as she so much as looked their way. Every single time, you would sob into Joel’s chest as he ranted on and on about stupid, weak-willed boys going putty for a girl who wouldn’t even kiss them. You never thought Joel would be idiotic enough to fall for her charms, but, it seemed, you were dead wrong.

She came a calling, and he went a running.

No more daily hang outs. No more lunches. No more waiting for you. No more walking you home. No more talking to you on the phone for hours doing homework together.

Strangely, Laura hung on to him. She was notorious for leading boys on for a couple of weeks and then moving on. She hung on to Joel all the way through senior year. You didn’t see him at all after they got together. All his time was spent with her. You could only watch as he carried her books for her, walked with her, had lunch with her, eyes all weepy and googly at her.

It made you sad. You missed your friend.

He came to your house one day, about a week before senior prom. You honestly thought he was there to ask you to go to prom. You’d always said the two of you would go together. But no, he came to borrow a bow tie from your Dad, belly laughing when you asked if the two of you would still be going to prom together.

As if that was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever heard.

His expressions morphed from laughing to guilt when you handed him the bow tie and went to cry in your room, slamming the door to his face, locking the door behind you.

You didn’t go to prom. Joel and Laura were hailed as the Prom King and Queen. They were voted as most likely to be married, while you got voted as the most likely to end up a lonely old cat lady. Blown up posters of those pictures were posted all over school. You became the butt of a joke, and you no longer had your best friend to cry to about it.

That summer, after school ended, he came over and asked you out for a drive. And again the next day. And then for a movie. And then for bowling. After two weeks, it was as if you got your best friend back. He didn’t even see Laura throughout the summer, though her name was always gushing out of his mouth. He was swooning over her. He couldn’t stop talking about how lucky he was to have someone like her. How lucky for him, that she chose him. Of all the boys in school. She, the most popular girl in school, chose him.

It made you sad, sure, but you focused on the good things. You had your best friend again. You had missed him all these months. You missed his company. And now you had him back. So you listened. You listened as he droned on and on about this perfect girlfriend of his, the woman he declared the love of his life, the one he was going to marry and have a family with. You listened, savouring in the presence of the best friend you had ever had, happy to have him back by your side. You two were even going to the same college. Maybe he was just too besotted during those first few months. Now that he’d gotten used to having her around, he was ready to have both of you in his life. Surely?

It turned out, Laura was travelling with the church that summer. She volunteered for the missionary. She came back just as college was starting, and just like that, your friend was gone again.

And so it went. For the next three years, you had him during the breaks whenever she was gone but was left alone again when she came back. You became his standby break-time friend. You missed him so much you didn’t even tell him how much this was upsetting you. You looked the other way. You made a new friend, though. Maria. She was in your class. The two of you quickly became close, spending all your time together, except for the breaks, when she would go visit her parents.

When you graduated with your diploma, you came home to find out that the house you grew up in had been sold. The lady who just moved in gave you a card, telling you your Dad had left it for her to give to you. It was a card for a lawyer. Turned out, your Dad and your Aunt Esther had been having an affair long before your Mom died. She was disowned by her parents, your late grandparents when the truth came out. Your Dad refused to divorce your Mom, as he would have been left with nothing, and your Mom didn’t want you growing up without a father. Before they died, your late grandparents had set up a very generous trust for you, one that you could only access when you turned 21.

The other, equally generous trust was left to your Mom. A quarter of it was released to your Dad when she died. Your Dad and his wife, your Aunt Esther, could only access the rest of the trust if you were taken care of until then. It was the only reason you were not neglected after your Mom’s death. Now that you were alive and well at 21, they got hold of the trust, withdrew everything, sold the house and left town, just like that. You never heard from them again.

You had nowhere to go, so your Aunt Anita and Uncle Jake took you in. Stay as long as you need, they said. You got your best friend Joel Miller back when you moved in. Both of you like old slippers, applying for jobs together, going for interviews, supporting each other, helping each other prepare for yet another interview, both getting dead end, temporary jobs to fill in the time you had.

Laura never came to hang out at his house though. In fact, she never hung out with Joel whenever you were involved. Joel would make it clear that his time with her was his own, so you waited at home until he came back, where he would gush again and again about this perfect woman he was dating.

He confided in you his frustrations too, sometimes. They’d been together for years. And yet, she didn’t even let him kiss her, much less have sex with her. She was devout. And he respected that. But then, she had never taken him home to meet her parents, and had never come over to meet his, despite his many invites. He hated that about her. He hated that she never made the effort to get to know his family, or even you. In fact, she made it quite clear that she didn’t want to hear your name mentioned at all whenever she was around, not that Joel would ever say this out loud to anyone, even you. But even he couldn’t explain it, it was as if she had some magical power over him. He was infatuated by her. Most of the time, he didn’t even know what she was talking about, but he would keep quiet, mesmerized by her beauty, and just let her talk.

He just couldn’t believe someone as beautiful as her would want someone like him. And, she stayed with him for years, when other boys only got her attention for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t going to just let her go. He’d be dumb to. So he waited. He’d had sex a few times before, and he lived years before that not having sex, he could live a few more without.

You listened to his vents and rants, pushing your annoyance down as far as it would go. You wondered if he ever saw you as a woman. Lots of boys did in high school, but Joel was like a built in guard dog, fending off boys he thought were unsuitable away from you. During those summers Laura was gone, he would get all big brotherly and protective of you whenever guys approached you, asking if the two of you were together, and if they could get your number.

The last time he did that, you were so annoyed by his actions, you couldn’t help yourself. You let it all out. For once in your life. Who was he to be all picky for you, when he himself didn’t see you as a woman? He didn’t have the right to gatekeep you, not when he’s off pretending you didn’t exist every time Laura was in his vicinity. Just because he didn’t find you enticing enough to date, didn’t mean other men couldn’t. Were you supposed to remain single forever? For what? So he could have a backup person to spend time with in case Laura went galivanting off into the sunset on a missionary trip again? Was that all you were good for in his eyes? Someone to spend time with when his chosen woman was away? When his preferred person was not available?

He looked shocked at your outburst. You got up from the table and got a ride home. By the time he got home, you were all locked up in your room. You didn’t speak to him for days. You’d had enough. You were not going to let Joel Miller control your life anymore.

You came home from work one day to Laura sitting on the couch in the living room, a smiling Joel sitting next to her, holding her hand, and a very subdued Anita and Jake sitting across from them. He got up excitedly and came to you, Laura just came back from another trip, and she proposed to him! He’s getting married! He hugged you, excited to share the news with his best friend. You wanted to be happy for him, you really did, but you saw how Laura’s eyes narrowed when he hugged you. You said a quick congratulations to the both of them and went to your room.

Joel was stunned. Why couldn’t you be happier for him? You knew he had waited for this moment for years. He wanted to go after you, but Laura pulled him to sit back down. He didn’t get it. Even his parents didn’t look too happy. His Mama eyeing the way Laura held his hand on her lap.

Laura went on to say that she wanted to get married as soon as possible. The church had an availability a month from that day, and it was perfect, as she needed to leave for another trip a week after that. He could come with her, a honeymoon of sorts. Joel couldn’t stop smiling. Anita suggested they wait a while, there was no rush, right? They were too young to get married anyway. Laura insisted, saying that they had dated long enough. And this was meant to be.

You listened to their conversation from your room, eyes filling with tears. You couldn’t understand why you were so upset. He was your best friend, you should be happy for him. But for the life of you, you couldn’t. It just felt… final. Like this was the end. You’d lost him, forever. Let’s face it. Today, after more than three years together, was the first time Laura was together with Joel in your presence. You only had access to him during that time whenever she was away, even when you were living under the same roof. What would happen now that they were getting married? You sobbed as you began to prepare for a life where you would never see your best friend ever again.

Aunt Anita came to your room that night. She didn’t say anything but held your head in her lap as you cried. When you finally got up and composed yourself, she looked as if she wanted to say something but decided against it. For a woman whose son just told him the happiest news of his life, she looked as if she just received the worst news ever. But Anita Miller had always believed that as a mother, she could only raise her son as best as she could, and then let go. He was an adult now, she couldn’t mother him forever. If this was what he wanted, this was what he should do. All she could do was be there for him should he ever need her.

The next day, Laura came for dinner. You sat quietly, listening to the loving couple plan their upcoming wedding, all rushed to the bones. She talked about the dress she had found, her friends from high school being her bridesmaids, her sister being her maid of honour. It was the most you’d ever heard her voice in all the years of knowing her. Joel didn’t get a word in edgewise. She went on and on about the pastor, the one she had known all her life, the one who led all the missionary trips she had been on, who taught her everything she knew about God and her path in life.

She finally stopped speaking to have a sip of water. Anita took the chance to ask Joel who would be in his wedding party? He said all he wanted was for his parents to be there, and for Tommy to be his groomsman and you as his best woman. Laura choked on her water and told Joel that she had it covered. There was no need for you or Tommy to stand with him. In fact, she said, finally turning to look you in the eyes after all the years seeing you around at school, there was no reason for you to be there at all. No offence, but back then, people thought you and Joel were a couple, so she really would prefer if you didn’t attend the wedding. She would rather be the only woman beside Joel that day.

Tommy, Anita and Jake protested, saying that you and Joel had been friends long before she came into his life, of course you should be there, you were practically his sister. Laura was adamant. No, you were not invited.

You sat there, looking at Joel, waiting for him to say something, defend you, insist for you. Truth be told, you didn’t even want to go, but it would have been nice to have him defend you to her for once. You had taken a step back from his life for her all these years, and you had never complained. “Just this once, Joel, be my best friend and defend me. Tell her you wanted me there,” you thought.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at you. He just listened as his fiancée reiterated the importance of not having you there by his side on the happiest day of his life.

The next three weeks went by in a blur. You avoided him at all costs, hurt that he would so easily cast you aside like that. You felt so stupid. All those years of being his friend, listening to him, comforting him, helping him, and he so easily gave in to Laura as if you hadn’t been there for him all this time. The week before the wedding, he cornered you in the kitchen and begged you to go to the tailors with him, he would like to spend as much time as he could with you before the wedding, he said. He needed his best friend. Please?

Like an idiot, you agreed. You spent the week going around town with him, getting his tux fitted, getting the rings, his truck detailed, knowing full well this will be the last week you spent together. There was no way Laura was going to let him out of her sight once they were married. She’d already given you smug looks whenever she talked about her plans for the two of them once they were married, basically planning for his 24/7 down to the last second once they were married. Tommy joked that she needed to let Joel go a couple hours a week for drinks with his brother. She didn’t retort, but something about the way she held on to his arm told you that that was never going to happen.

The night before the wedding, you received a text from an unknown number. It was Laura, telling you that you had better savour the last few hours you had with Joel, as he would be gone from your life once they said their ‘I dos’, making it clear that you were never going to be welcomed into their lives from then on. You had taken the one thing she cared about away from her, she said, and now, she had taken the one thing you held dear away from you. She won.

You asked her what she was talking about. She never responded. And to be frank, you couldn’t even gather the energy to pry further. You didn’t care if she hated you. You cared that your best friend didn’t stand up for you.

You sat on the couch, staring at your phone. Joel sat next to you, head on your shoulder as he once did all the time, asking you if you would watch a movie with him. You told him he should sleep, big day tomorrow! You got up and went into your room, shutting the door as fast as you could, before he could see the tears falling down your cheeks.

You woke up early the next day, making sure everything was ready for the big day. Anita, Jake and Tommy were already dressed, the three of them hugging you, telling you how sorry they were that you couldn’t be there to stand with them. You smiled, it wasn’t their fault. As if they had any say. As if perfect Laura would let them.

Joel came out of his room, his bowtie hanging on his neck, asking you if you could tie it for him. You did, telling him how good he looked. You’re all grown up now, Miller, you’re gonna be someone’s husband soon. He smiled his cheeky smile at you. Once you were done, he checked himself out in the mirror, asking you if he looked okay. “You look perfect,” you said. “Go, get married.”

He smiled excitedly, kissing you on the cheek, and left. You closed the door behind them and went into your room to get ready for the day, your tears falling, your chest tight.

**********

There was a commotion at the church when they arrived. Laura was screaming in the office she was using to get ready. It was the Laura no one had ever seen before. She was panicking. Her dress wouldn’t zip. Nothing anyone did could get the zip up. It fit just a week ago. She was going ballistic, throwing a tantrum, screaming at the seamstress for screwing up. The poor lady was gobsmacked. She couldn’t understand what was happening. Joel had to be called to calm her down, despite her protests. She was throwing things at people, yelling at them not to let him in.

Joel was worried, what the heck happened? He had never even heard her raise her voice at anyone, and suddenly she was screaming like a banshee. He knew he shouldn’t do it, she said he shouldn’t go in. She was wearing her wedding dress. It was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony. But he had to calm her down. He opened the door just in time as the seamstress finished measuring her waist.

“Your waist grew in measurement by two whole inches. Are you pregnant?”

Laura’s face turned white as she turned around to chastise the seamstress and saw Joel standing there, his face serious.

“Joel…”

“Well? Are you?” he asked.

“I can explain,” she began, stumbling around to cover her midriff, a small, but clear bump on her previously slim stomach.

“Explain what? We’ve never had sex. How do you explain this?”

**********

Joel drove his old beater of a truck home, tears still pouring down his face. He had never felt more stupid in his life. He’d been so blinded by Laura, he didn’t see this coming. At all.

As he walked out of the church, Laura crumpled up in a weepy mess in the room she had gotten ready at, all he could think of was to get to you. You would know just what to say to him, just so he wouldn’t drown at the bottom of a bottle at a bar. He had been so stupid. The sudden proposal. The rush to get married. Missionary trips indeed. How could he have not seen this? It was so obvious. She couldn’t shut up about him.

And to think, he was going to marry the two of them off, knowing that his spawn was in her belly.

She was going to trap him into believing the baby was his.

In the 20 minutes it took for him to drive home, he couldn’t help think about how much he had wronged you. He left you behind for Laura. She had made her distaste for his close friendship with you very clear. She didn’t want him to spend any time with you. He did tell her that you would always be in his life, you were his best friend. He even told her at the beginning that their relationship couldn’t continue if he had to give you up for it. She actually conceded, telling him that she had no interest in being all buddy-buddy with you. He now saw that she made sure he had no free time for you. Every time she came back from one of her trips, she would be all sulky with him, knowing that he had spent his time with you. She threw a fit when she found out you moved in with him at his parents’ house, telling him she was certain you were going to seduce him, accusing him of sleeping with you whenever she was away.

And all the while, she was giving her all to someone else.

When she proposed to him, he was too happy, he didn’t even register her demands for you to be cut out of his life. Surely she was kidding? He told her he was never going to do that ages ago. He could understand why she wouldn’t want you at the wedding, but surely everything would remain the same after?

And now, he saw how blinded he had been by her.

Stupid, stupid.

He parked his truck in his parents’ driveway, a brand new truck already there. He couldn’t even be bothered to be mad at the neighbour for parking in their driveway again. He stormed into the house, sobbing, calling your name.

You held his head as he cried. Sat with him as he droned on and on about how stupid and blind he had been. He didn’t want to eat, drowning his sorrows with a bottle of whiskey. You held him as he slurred his way through his heartbreak, begging you to lie with him in bed, keep him company. Please?

You did, stroking his hair as he mumbled about how much he had wronged you. How you were the only woman who got him. He was sorry. He was so very, very sorry. Please forgive him. He loved you so much. He couldn’t live without you. Please.

And then, in his drunken stupor, he kissed you.

You let him, you let him have his fill kissing you until he fell asleep.

And then, you slipped out of his bed, and gently shut his door.

Joel woke up a few hours later, well before the sun came up, a hangover clouding his head. He looked for you, somehow remembering your sweet caresses on his hair as he fell asleep, his lips on yours. The house was asleep. He stumbled out of his room, going to yours, gently knocking. No answer. He tried the knob and your door swung open.

The room was empty, nothing but the furniture was left, save for an envelope on your desk, a key fob matching the brand new truck outside on it. He opened it, a card congratulating him on his wedding in it, along with a message thanking him and his family for their friendship, a wish for his lifelong happiness, and a goodbye.

He called you. But your number had been disconnected. Tommy, Anita and Jake woke up to a sobbing Joel, all three of them shocked that you had disappeared without notice.

Joel Miller finally realized, a little too late, that he had lost his best friend, the one woman who had been there for him all this time.

**********

Maria helped carry your things from the cab when you arrived at her apartment. Her neighbour, a trainee FBI agent helped, shyly introducing himself to you.

Maybe this was the best decision you’d ever made.

You had called Maria from the terminal with your new number, telling her you were on the way to her. You decided to go away. You made this plan before the disaster at the wedding. At the time, you thought that there was no way you could stay and watch Joel be happy with his new wife, knowing that things would never be the same ever again between the two of you. But now, after he kissed you in his drunken state, you knew you shouldn’t stay and become the rebound. He had all these years with you to realize any potential your friendship could have had, and yet, it took Laura betraying him for him to finally see you.

So you left, taking with you everything you had, along with your friendship with Joel Miller.

Time for a new start.

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[kirsteng42]

This was so sweet then so so hot 🥰🥰🥵🥵

stages of devotion {holiday hustle}

Pairing: Holiday Impaired! Joel Miller x Expert Holiday Baker! Reader

Summary: The holidays came fast this year, but with it comes a father and daughter pair you didn't ever expect to see again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: holiday triggers, holiday stress, baking stress, food industry triggers, family issues, minor off screen family dynamics, super soft yearning, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v, creampie, joel's dirty talk deserves its own warning, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: so its a few days after the holiday that i announced this on. so so sorry for the tease, y'all. finally made it to my "weekend" only to get sick :c trying to make the most of the days though (within reason). love y'all and hope you enjoy this!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The holiday season sucks.

That’s about all you’re confident in as you twirl the piping bag in your hand for what feels like the thousandth time that morning. There’s an entire rack of pies beside you, tray after tray that needs to be garnished with cremieux and a little chocolate coin that has the first letter of your bakery branded on it in gold. Behind it are three more of the same pie. Behind that are four more of apple.

Apple and pumpkin. The only flavors you offered for the season. One hundred each, plenty enough to keep you afloat for the next month or so if you sell out. Especially if you sell out the display case as well.

Your bakery is small, just you and your friend Colbie. Something to be passed in the blink of an eye on the busy downtown street. But it was born of passion and creativity, a space you carved out in the big scary world all for yourself. You’re none the wiser of how your day will turn out as you continue to pipe the faintly black spotted vanilla over the remaining pies, moving onto fetching things out of the oven as timers begin to go off and garnish the ones already chilled from an earlier bake.

Just down the street, Joel and Sarah are strolling down the sidewalk from where they parked the car at the end of the block.

“Don’t see why the crew needs more food, baby girl.”

“Because we need to show our appreciation for them, dad. They’re working the morning of thanksgiving, for crying out loud.”

“This isn’t exactly a tax write off…”

“Dad!” The exasperated teenager nudges at his side with her shoulder, catching his ribs lightly. But he doesn’t stumble nor do his steps falter, he lets her win a lot of the time but this? He still loves how she tries to roughhouse with him only to realize that he’s always gonna have the upper hand unless he gives into her. Her pout and huff draws a laugh from deep in his chest.

“It’s true! I gotta pay for it all outta my account, not the business. We already picked up breakfast for everyone and half the men are gonna store it in their coolers for a later time.” He pivots her toward the doorway just past a large window display, squares of glass allowing for a glimpse inside a local bakery.

“Don’t you put the catering on the business card?”

“Well yeah, but their overtime for today is coming out of it too.”

“Maybe if we ask the owner, they can discount us or something?” Sarah is suddenly stopping just inside the threshold, watching with wide eyes as her father walks in behind her. The scent of fresh baked bread and flaky pastries welcomes them despite the empty lobby. “Is there a reason you’re so hesitant to use the company card? I thought the business was doing good?”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh, placing both his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her attention and give her all of his.

“Everything is fine, Sarah.” His brown eyes take in the way her own multifaceted ones gleam in the bright sunlight shining in the muted green space the lobby has been painted. Plants alive and well, live wood bar top against the window for people to sit at. “Money is my worry, but there ain’t nothing to worry about okay?”

“We can still ask after a discount, it doesn’t hurt, right?” Suddenly shy, her eyes break contact with his and turn down to her scuffed shoes. “I know that it’s new, but the therapy sessions aren’t exactly cheap or covered by the insurance.”

“Hey now, don’t go worrying about all that either.” Joel’s voice is so soft, floating through the air and sneaking into the kitchen through the siding of the swinging door. You pause in the rosette you were piping atop a cake, just little personal ones with autumnal flowers for the season. “I’m the dad, and that’s a dad thing, okay? You want to keep goin’ and that’s all that matters. Just want you to be okay, that’s all I ever want ‘cause I love you so damn much, okay?”

She nods once, still not bringing her eyes back up but she huffs out a giggle when he leans down and kisses her cheek, deliberately nuzzling the scruff on his cheek against her own.

“Besides, I don’t wanna bother them, baby girl, it’s such a small place.” With that settled they both turn back to the display cause and counter, just in time to see you approach through the window in the door.

“Joel?” There’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face as you push through the swinging door that leads separates the kitchen and public area. Even despite the inner turmoil you had endured after first meeting him. The will he won’t he of leaving your number for him…

“Camp lady! Dad, look, it’s her!” The excited teenager hops up and down on her long legs, arms hanging onto one of Joel’s and she jostles him. The slight melancholy of her previous words and worries forgotten with the aid of Joel’s soothing ones and your appearance. “You work here? That’s so cool!”

“Yes, Sarah, honey, I see her.” He rolls his eyes for you to see as she skips forward up to the counter. He looks good, if a little tired. His scruff is longer, body a little leaner than when you had seen him last…two months ago now. You had been so sure he would call or text, reach out in whatever way was easiest for him. And when he hadn’t…you had thrown yourself into work and prep for the holiday season. Reveling in the night you shared and taking it for what it was, not letting the lack of communication taint what had been an electric connection. His eyes are glued to you, ignoring the twirling and excitement of his daughter as she flits in front of the display case.

As you round the corner of the counter and display case, it’s obvious how busy you’ve been in the morning hours as stains darken the fabric. Reaching with a flour dusted hand, you go to shake the man’s hand but he surprises you and pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of his spicy cologne and wood shavings spurs butterflies to life in your belly and heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s good to see ya, darlin’.” He whispers in your ear, voice all baritone gravel. He releases you just as Colbie enters back in through the front door. You see the way her eyes widen at the show of affection, she knows you better than anyone and casual touch is not something you’re a fan of. But you can tell that she immediately knows who Joel and his daughter are if the sparkle in her eye and the smirk she flashes at you says anything.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I locked the door behind me. Want me to keep it unlocked, we’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re open.”

“Leaving it open will be fine, do you mind-“ The timer pinned to your apron tie goes off and a second later the one for the oven blares from the kitchen.

“Got it!” And she’s rushing behind the counter to slip back through the sliding door.

Joel looks like he’s about to apologize for barging in, Sarah leading him in the early hour. Coffee thermos left on the counter in the rush and his brain is working overtime without it. The pickup order she had placed with a breakfast place too busy for him to grab something there. You wave him off with a soft smile, not minding the intrusion one bit.

“My dad would not shut up about you on the way home, especially since we still have that air mattress you leant us! Thank you again so much for that, I didn’t want my dad to have to sleep on the ground with his bad back.”

“Hey now, you’re a little too forward with the embarrassing details.” Joel’s bashful words are bathed in an even tone, trying to parent his daughter but still treat her like the independent person that she is.

“So what can I do for you?” You try to fight the slight awkwardness of randomly happening across them as customers in your shop and you swear you see Joel duck his head as he roughs a hand across the back of his neck. Your causal tone and polite smile dousing the hope that had flared in his own chest when you walked out from the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty of pastries, the pies aren’t quite done yet but if you need one or two, I can add the finishing touches real quick?”

“Dad, we should get them pie! Like one each, you think? There’s five on the crew and then the secretaries too, they should get one since they’ll be waiting for us in the office. We can put the bonus checks on top with some pretty stickers! Oooh, dad we gotta stop at the art store now!”

“Sarah, honey, take a breath.” Joel claps hand over her shoulder and she beams up at him. “We only got half an hour to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We can still do the pie each thing, right?”

“Whatever you wanna do,” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, her kinky curls flattening as he does so and earns him a grumbled ‘spent so much time on it this morning, old man’.

“So that was seven pies then?” You ask, trying to keep up with the both of them, they’ve got such an easy-going way that they communicate. Their bond obvious and their love pure as you had witnessed back at that campsite, he wants for her to have everything he can give her. It’s admirable, a good man, a good parent.

“Uh, make it ten, please.” Joel steps up to the counter, taking out his wallet from a back pocket. “Half pumpkin, half apple. So folks can pick whichever one they want.”

“Ten, got it. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to finish up, do you want a coffee while you wait?” And you swear his gaze hardens as he looks up to see the price displayed on the screen, card ready to press against the pad after you finished punching in his order on your own side of the register. The same way they had just before he had kissed you, angled toward you in front of that fire, the determination set his face in such an endearing way.

“Would be wonderful, darlin’. Just a black drip, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hey, just so you know, ‘m sorry I didn’t call.” Joel shuffles on his feet, watching as Sarah starts up the truck and begins to dance to the loud beats he can make out through the cracked window. You had walked out with the pair to help load the bags into the extended cab of the gleaming gray truck. “I wanted to, but-“

“Life is hectic sometimes, it’s okay. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t disappointed, but I do understand.” You know he’s got a lot more going on in his life, with a child he’s raising on his own. The bakery keeps you busy, hours not quite the same as everyone. You never want to feel like you’re holding expectations for a life that just doesn’t fit into your schedule sometimes. And that included Joel, his own busy schedule not allowing for personal indulgences either. It’s hard not to feel like it’s a cruel twist of fate, that you two met only to realize the puzzle pieces of your life don’t quite match up.

“The paper, I had it. Put it in my pocket but my brother snatched the flannel instead of his own at the work site and washed the damn thing.”

“Little brother?” You tilt your head to the side, all too familiar with the chaos of sheer unpredictability one could bring.

“Yep, meddling, clueless little brother.” He’s fascinating, every little detail you learn about him draws you in closer, a pull toward the man you’ve only gotten glimpses of as of yet.

“Mine is pretty clueless too, god love him.”

“But- uh…oddly enough,” A large hand rubs at the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm straining against his flannel sleeve and catching your eye. “Mine is having a small dinner tonight, just us two, Sarah and his wife. Their twins. I know you got work today and don’t really know me at all, but I was wondering if-“

“Apple or pumpkin?” Lips pulling into a wide smile, you swear your heart is about to beat out of your chest, thudding wildly the second you realized where he was going with his explanation of his own holiday plans.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to bring an apple or pumpkin pie?” You look up at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your chest at the insinuation he wanted you there, at the invitation you hadn’t been extended in years. Everyone always wanted the good you baked, the bread, the skills you had for the kitchen. But they never particularly wanted you around for the holidays. The family disappointment, for not being married, for not having kids, for not finishing school, for being too different.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to bring anything, just want you to come and be my date.”

And he couldn’t have said anything more perfect as you feel your throat constrict and tears well up in your eyes.

“Hey now, I mean it.” He’s shifting, hands reaching for you and you feel a little sorry for the ‘oof’ he lets out when you crash into his open arms. “Wanna get to know you, but only if you want that too. If we can carve out some time for each other.”

“Of course, Joel. That would…that would make me happy.”

“’m droppin’ Sarah off now, gotta head to the site for a few hours but I can pick you up here once I’m done. That sound okay to you?” He looks so hopefully, so happy that he can ask you in person, can ask to see you again now that he’s found you and it melts your heart. You’re sure the smile you give him is just as dopey at the one he’s beaming down at you.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Here.” You pull away from him just enough to reach into your back pocket and brandish a business card at him. The thick cardstock is embossed in gold lettering, your name and number displayed on it proudly. “This is a little more permanent than a flimsy piece of paper.”

He pulls one of his own business cards out from his wallet as he securely puts yours away.

You continue to feel the warmth of his fingers passing it to you even hours later as you hold piping bags filled with cooled frosting, as you add frills and garnishes to pastries set in the cooler after leaving the oven a nice golden brown. And even as you feel your face heat up at the confrontation Colbie sneaks in throughout the day about your ‘gentleman caller’.

Around noon, Joel’s truck parks out front of the bakery. He’s showered, it looks like it as you see the shine to dark curls. He’s taken a shaver to his scruff as well, it’s not as long as it had been this morning.

“Please tell me you’re closed tomorrow.” Joel taps the hours displayed on the door as he steps through it, the gold lettering telling him that you were in fact not. But open at seven am sharp. Looking up from where you’re closing down the register, you hold up one finger up to indicate you need a moment.

As you continue, you can sense his gaze as it takes in the space you poured your blood, sweat and tears into. Devoted hours to manifesting and making it a reality. The case is completely empty, parchment paper adorned with errant crumbs all that he sees inside through the shiny glass.

When you step out from behind the counter, bag and keys in hand, you clock the second Joel realizes you’ve taken a moment to change as well. No longer in your dirty apron or black athleisure, but in a skirt that flows to about midthigh, tights underneath and a thin sweater. Your hair is down too, now, no longer pulled back into low pigtails and covered with a beanie for safety reasons around the kitchen.

“Darlin’, you look-“ He swallows, tongue watering as he takes in the sight of you all dolled up for him, for a date with him. “You look amazin’.”

“Just some spare clothes I had in my office. Didn’t wanna roll up to your brother’s house covered in flour and chocolate.” He’s shushing you as he ambles up, pressing his lips to your forehead as he cradles your face.

“He wouldn’t have cared and neither would I. Today is about family, no matter their shape or mess, got it? Miller households are safe places, you hear me?”

The drive over to his brother’s is short, the two of them in the same neighborhood but different blocks something that tickles you to know end. Watchful big brother, independent little brother who didn’t want to stray too far. It’s endearing, so different from you own family. Parents live upstate, brother is still in university, opting to live in the dorms instead of with you. Younger sister god knows where now, she pops up every year with a crazy tale of where she ended up for most of the time she had disappeared.

His brother doesn’t seem surprised in the least when Joel shows up on his doorstep with you at his side, his greeting a wide smile and bright eyes. His wife, Maria is just as easy going, just as welcoming. Praising you for bringing dessert and that she had totally blanked on it for after the meal in the hectic planning of the day.

The atmosphere is cozy, holiday cheer abundant despite the temperate Texas weather that plagues the state year round. Sarah is particularly excited to be helping out this year, the first she’s old enough to. A set of twins half her age run around with shrieking laughter as Joel and Tommy chase them around and keep them busy while you help out in the kitchen as well, not wanting to just show up and sit around waiting for everything to be done.

It's so different from your usual meal alone, normally just leftovers from the day before on a tray as you settle in bed and binge watch something once the bakery closes up.

It warms your heart and makes you feel full in a way that being with your family never has. From the easy going conversation with Maria, the light teasing and focus of following instructions from Sarah, stolen glances with Joel, the wide brimming smile of his brother as he realizes that the scene is a little more complete with you there now.

“Tell me I can kiss you, please.” Joe’s lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver at the vibrations that caress the sensitive skin. He’s been angling closer all afternoon, the couch cushions flattening and sloping. Pooling you closer to where his thick thighs rest, to the intoxicating warmth of his body and the heady smell of his spiced cologne. The movie credits are playing softly on the screen, everyone well fed and just now recovering to tend to things such as packing up leftovers and beginning to organize what was left.

The second you two were alone, Joel had used the arm he had slung up on the back of the couch around your shoulders to tug you in close. Tucking you into him, he used his other hand to pivot your legs into his lap. He’s kneading the skin there, over your tights. Thick fingers daring to trace higher and higher as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, can’t believe my streak of bad luck.” And at the flash of guilt in the depths of warm brown eyes, you surge forward and kiss him with a ferocity that startles him. The small ‘humph!’ and the tightening of his hand around your thigh curls desire low in your middle as his tongue eagerly meets yours as you part your lips.

“Bad luck, good luck. Doesn’t matter.” You manage between deep kisses, hands threading through the thick locks of chocolate curls atop his head. “We’re here now, I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He’s swallowing the moan that bubbles up from how he presses into you, how he pulls you flush with him.

“Joel! We got a house full of impressionable kids and you’re just makin’ out on the couch with the baker?”

The deep rumble of his chuckle does nothing but make your stomach jolt as heat lances through your core. The sound hitting deep and making you bury your face in the man’s neck as he parts only his lips from yours.

“Gotta embarrass me always, huh?” He’s holding you tight still, hands gripping and knuckles straining with the effort it’s taking to stop his ministrations.

“Just keep it in your pants, we’ve got everything packed up for y’all to take home. Sarah’s tucked into the spare room, helping out this year really took it outta her.”

“That where she snuck off to?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can watch her for the night. She don’t go back to school until next week right? Just come get ‘er tomorrow. And you,” Tommy aims twin finger guns at you. “Are welcome back anytime, Maria really appreciated the help in the kitchen but mostly I think she just loved having another woman around to chat with. Seriously, she’s gonna offer to come by the bakery and grab lunch one day soon.”

With that, Tommy saunters back into the kitchen with a snicker of his own and some words you can’t quite make out to the woman in question.

“Well, what do ya think?” Joel moves to whisper in your ear again. “Wanna come back to mine? Or I could take you home? Whichever you want, sweetheart.”

The sudden image of you and Joel tangled up on top of your bed has you kissing him full on the mouth one last time.

“Take me home and then take me to bed.”

Giddy anticipation fills the cab of his truck, the engine ticking as he shuts it off and just sits back for a moment. His eyes find yours and you can’t help the giggle that bursts from your chest, hands tangled and fingers twisting around each other in your lap. His hand reaches and takes one of your own, engulfing it with the sheer size difference. His beautiful hands that craft houses and woodwork, his beautiful hands that raised his amazing, rambunctious but sweet daughter, his beautiful hands that held his young nephew and niece with such care. His beautiful hands that you’ve felt explore your body twice now, the urge for him to do so again so strong it makes you feel dizzy.

“I can leave if you’re nervous, darlin’. No pressure, no hard feelings.” Joel Miller, the man that he is, knew just what to say to ease your worries.

“No, no. I just…”

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper, emotions getting the better of you. “I really thought that…this year I’d be alone again. My family only ever asks after desserts, always schedules the meal late and too far away for me to make the drive. I…I really liked spending time with you and your family today, they made me feel so welcome and included. It- it was really nice, Joel.”

The trembling of your lower lip is embarrassing but you can’t fight it off as you bare your heart to the man beside you.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I got ya,” He’s shuffling closer, the console pushed up to allow him to slide across the bench seat. “They loved you, ‘m sure they wouldn’t mind seein’ you more.”

And it’s easy, the way he soothes the turmoil in your mind, begins to help heal the trauma that bubbles up this time of year.

It’s easy how he kisses you and makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s easy how he let’s you guide him into your home with clasped hands and a shy smile.

It’s easy the next morning when you wake up beside him, his naked body like a furnace under the sheets as it wraps around your own. The hours posted on your bakery door correct except for the day that follows any holiday. His breath little puffs against the back of your neck as you both share a pillow, while your exhalation becomes needy as you feel an ache between your legs. Little whimpers thrown into the air with no regard to how desperate they sound.

Heat sparks through you as you recall the desire in his hooded eyes the night before as you straddled him, taking your time with lowering yourself onto his hard cock, already dribbling when he had shucked his pants off for you to see all of him for the first time. The sight of him sprawled across your bed, head thrown on the pillows and bronze skin gleaming in the low lights strung up over your bed had all but turned you possessive. The memories were too much, kindling desire and pleasure in you in such a way that should be a warning in itself that you were fucked.

You were gone on him and you could only hope he felt the same way.

Soon enough, the shifting of your thighs to relieve pleasure that tingles there rouses him.

“Woke up needy, huh darlin’?” His voice is deep velvet, the early morning blessing him with such a soothing baritone that it almost has you rolling your eyes at it caresses over your skin much like his exploring fingers.

“Mhm, can still feel you. Right here-“ And his hand flattens against the soft give of your stomach where you guided it, just below your belly button.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He’s crowding you, body shifting to press your chest to the bed, his legs tangling with yours as he kneels behind you. He hinges your hips, bringing them up to rub the length of his cock between your glistening folds. “So full a me still, holding it like such a good girl for me.”

The whine of his name from your lips has him pushing in, slowly and carefully until his hips meet the back of your thighs. Turning it into a low moan that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Your panting is all he can hear, the clench of your walls all he can feel as your back arches and you press back into him.

“Right here, huh?” His hand is still on your belly, and it presses now, pulling a yelp from you as the pressure in your core intensifies. Your cunt gushes around him, earning you a hiss as he grinds himself against you to make a squelching sound.

“Please please please tell me we’re going to do this again.” You move on him, pulling forward a bit, knees spreading and hands gripping tight to the sheets underneath you. Joel’s answering groan is more than enough but his voice delivers your fate in such an easy way.

“Oh darlin’, we’re gonna be doin’ this every day for the rest of our lives.” And with that he moves to grip your hips so tight you’re sure there will be reddened imprints of his fingers, pulling out in a slow drag before he slams back in and sets a brutal pace.

And maybe the holidays aren’t so bad, after all.

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[myownwholewildworld]

wip wednesday

i missed last week's wip wednesday because i didn't have much to share, but today i come with goodies!! 🤓 i'm leaving a couple of snippets here on what i'm currently working. the first one is for the nasty Boston QZ!Joel oneshot i hinted at yesterday, and the second one is for my ongoing series, "wherever you go". hope you enjoy!

untilted Boston QZ!Joel oneshot:

warnings: 18+. joel is a menace. read at your own discretion. “On the count of three, I’ll let you go. If you escape, then you’re free,” Joel groaned behind you, his teeth sinking in the bare skin of your left shoulder. “But if I catch you… I’ll fuck you.”

His voice was a low threat that left goosebumps on the nape of your neck, your survival instinct flaring alive like flames rekindled by a gust of wind. All the muscles in your body contracted, anticipating the chase you would have to endure to flee. Your heart was pounding so hard, you almost missed his next words. “And believe me, I ain’t holding back if I get my hands on you,” such dark promise dripped from his lips, your heart twisting inside your ribcage. Joel slowly untied your wrists, uncomfortably resting on your back, taking his time. He yanked at the rope and your hands slammed against his swollen bulge, an animalistic growl tearing his throat. You swallowed, eyeing the open door in front of you and planning your escape route. Joel kept on tugging at the thick cord to free you from his grasp, your hands unwillingly brushing the tent on his worn jeans. Then the hemp string completely loosened up, the tingling sensation in your fingers slowly fading away. The tethers keeping you bound were quickly replaced by Joel’s hands, his meaty fingers wrapping around your wrists to keep you in place. The bastard pulled at your right hand, forcing your palm open to rub his covered erection. Making a decided effort to ignore him, how he used you to get off, your eyes fixed on the door, your face expression a blank canvas. You knew better than showing him fear. “One,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Two,” Joel continued to count out loud.

chapter 13 of wherever you go:

warnings: none (yet). The light screech of distant tyres made him stop right away, his alertness going through the roof as he turned around to discern where the noise was coming from. His heart jostled against his chest, blood rushing through his eardrums with anticipation. Danger was nearby, Joel could sense it. He pushed you towards the trees on your left. “Go, hide in the woods, but don’t strand too far,” his voice was unusually calm, especially considering how his heart pounded, threatening to break a rib. “What?” you asked, confused. “Someone’s coming. Trust me,” he pushed you again, this time with more urgency. “Please.” Your eyes widened when you heard the car approaching too. “It can be anyone. Doesn’t have to be―” “I said go.” “But you―” “I’ll keep ‘em busy. I’ll be fine. Go,” he insisted, keeping calm even though the fear bubbling inside him was asking him to yell. Finally, you nodded, a last squeeze on his hand before you ran towards the cover of the woods. Drawing a deep breath in, with the coolest demeanour he could muster, Joel faced northwards and kept on walking, pretending he didn’t know you were being followed.

np tags (ignore me if you've done it already!): @inept-the-magnificent @almostfoxglove @syd-djarin @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk

[pedge-page]

Joel and preggo wifey making out, about to get nasty as you pull him closer in bed.

You breathe heavily through your nose as he kisses you. Your eyes flash open, but Joel doesn't notice, already trying to slip your undies off. You play it cool, pulling away. "Mmm let me smell your breath, baby," you whisper all sexy.

He chuckles but doesn't ever question your hormonal sex craves as he huffs his breath onto your lips.

You smile at him, "mmmmmmm.....Yeahhhhhh," you moan. He smirks before going in for another kiss, but you stop him short.

"Where'd you get that chocolate chip cookie, joel?"

He frowns, rolls his eyes and gets off, pandering down to the kitchen to go get his now-discovered secret snack cookie bag he'd been trying to hide from your hungry clutch.

He comes back, holding it guiltily in his hand. You snatch it and open it up, indulging in satisfying crumble of cookies in bed. Completely forgoing any sexy time with him to focus all your cravings on this delectable, and now certified-yours, treat.