#joel miller x oc

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Promises. | joel miller x f!reader, 2.2k

Summary: A word escapes your mouth, you think you got the upper hand. You don't. Joel eats your ass to put you right back where you belong.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, pwp, rough sex, dom!joel, sub!reader, established relationship, everything that happens has been previously discussed and is consensual, cursing, size kink, dd/lg kink, brief p in v, (1) spanking, (1) pussy slapping, rimming, tongue fucking, brief v!fingering, cum eating because.. OF COURSE, sentimental joel at the end, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I don't know what happened, your honor, I swear! I just- I can't- I don't know what to say, ok? It is what it is.

P.S.: Come on, tell me how bad I am at summaries. I'm fine, it's fine, TOTALLY FINE. 😒😶

Dividers by @strangergraphics & @inklore

“Pull me out.”

Joel’s lips brush against your jawline, his hands cupping your ass, grinding you against his hard-on.

You reach for his restrained erection, pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants. How do you always end up completely naked while he’s still clothed, is still a mystery to you.

You look down at his cock, already angry and leaking. You purse your lips and spit on it, lubricating it more, as you slowly stroke it up and down.  

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”, you confess as you work him. He laughs through his nose bashfully and shakes his head slightly at your compliment.

“You’re so warm and big and hard, daddy.” you add, your eyes fixed on his massive length.

The words slip out of your mouth without a second thought. Your body stiffens over him; you never thought about this before. And he never asked you, either. You close your eyes hoping he didn’t get that. In your dreams. 

He stops the movement of your hips and tilts his head to look at you. “What did you just say?”

His eyes are dark, wild fires of desire dancing across them. But you can’t see that, hidden behind your shame. 

“Uh-” you hesitate, feeling embarrassed, needing to explain yourself. Yeah, he won’t have that. His hand grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to look at him, to repeat your words. You groan at his rough treatment, because this is how you love Joel. Sweet and caring, but also dominant and possessive.

“Say that, again.”

You see the look on his face now, the desperation behind his stern demeanour, and it spurs you on, makes you feel in control.

“I need you inside me, daddy.”

“Again.”

“Please, daddy.” you whine, trying to rub your clit on his erection, but his fists tighten around you even more.

His throbbing cock twitches in your palm, leaking all over your knuckles. 

“Did you like that, daddy?”, you grin at the effect you are having on him.

The time has come to remind you who is really in control here.

He grabs your hips hard and slams his cock into you with all his might.

“Did you like that?”

You can’t answer, your eyes closed and your mouth wide open, you’re paralyzed from the intense sensation of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

“ANSWER ME.”

“Yeeeeees.” you whimper, boneless in his lap.

“You are not in charge here, little girl. You never were. You do as I say, when I say.”, he commands. Your head is still spinning from the adrenaline rush.

“Answer me when I speak to you.” He emphasises his demand by slapping your asscheek with all his strengh, with the hand he had buried deep inside your cunt earlier. It stings delightfully. 

“Y-yes, daddy.”, you frown, your mind confused by the arousal his humiliation brings, your eyes filled with tears. 

But his face is still filled with hard lines, he’s not done here. 

He pulls you off his cock and pushes you back onto the bed, turning you onto your stomach, completely flat on the mattress. He presses all of his weight over you, his warm body touching every inch of yours. 

“Look what you made me do, little girl.” he growls into your ear as he gently removes your hair.

“Wasted all your delicious juices on your cheek, tryna’ put you in your place. I needed to taste that.” You never know what to say when he talks like that. You pray he won't punish you for your silence. But he doesn't seem to care.

“I guess I’ll have to lick that off you now, won’t I?” Fuck. 

His calloused palm continues to press down on your back, making it clear that you are not to move an inch. He snakes down between your ass, grabs a handful of your cheek and shakes it to watch it jingle. He licks a wide stripe of your still aching skin, collecting the smeared arousal from it.

“Hmmm” you hear him moan at the taste. 

He continues to lick, nip and suck at your skin, moving closer and closer to where your ass meets your thigh and then further inside, close to where you want him most. You arch your back and raise your hips, bending your knees slightly, your legs still completely closed to give him better access.

“Demanding, aren’t we?” he asks rhetorically.

“You’re lucky I’m so goddamn thirsty.” He licks another wide stripe with the flat of his tongue from your center to your tight ring of muscle, leaving your clit untouched. Oh. 

No, that can't be. That was an accident. And then he does it again. He licks into your hole, through your folds, dragging your slick up your asshole. Oh. 

He begins to swirl his tongue slowly, making deliberate circles, moistening the folds around your puckered hole. Ok, he’s eating your ass, it is happening. He flattens his wet muscle against your tight ring, pressing it firmly to feel the weight and texture of it and he licks as if you’re a fucking ice cream. 

His tongue becomes more persistent, aggressive, he’s making out with it now, his lips closing around the tight skin as his wet muscle pushes against your opening. You’re panting at the sensation, strange and new, scary and taboo. Perfect. You start to clench around him, it’s ok baby, I got you and your muscles relax to the assault of his tongue. He feels you become putty in his hands and that makes him wild. Your devotion, your trust, your openness to everything he wants to give you.

He cups your cheeks in such a crushing grip, literally lifting your hips by them, spreading you even wider for him, your skin stretched and aching. Your head is in a haze from the dichotomy of sensations. The pain is almost too much, your skin is red and stinging, almost pinching your heart, but the intense pleasure your asshole receives from his hungry mouth is unbearable. Your cunt is fluttering in a desperate effort to clench around anything and you’re dripping, dripping, dripping. 

“Please..” you mumble into the sheets, not knowing what you’re pleading for exactly. 

He doesn’t answer, lost in his own pleasure. 

“Please.. Daddy, please..” you whimper breathlessly.  

That seems to bring him back to the present. “What is it babygirl? What do you need?” You continue to whimper and wriggle on the sheets.

“What is it? Daddy eating your tight little asshole isn’t enough? You want more?”

“I- I- just- need to come, daddy, please, it’s too much- it hurts.”

“Does it, now? Where does it hurt, little girl?” 

“My- my pussy, please-”

He then bites down hard on your cheek, making you yelp.

“Where. Here?” He prods a finger at your drooling opening. “Here?” He pets softly your swollen bud and you let out a deep moan of relief. 

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry little girl, but it’s not her turn. What is going to happen is I am gonna fuck your tight asshole with my tongue and if you are good for me I’m gonna fuck that little pussy of yours with my fingers. And you’re gonna come like this; am I making myself clear?”

“Yes.” you whisper on the verge of collapsing.

“Yes, what?” he demands, slapping your pussy. 

“Y-yeeees, daddy.”

“That’s my girl, being so good for her daddy.” he mumbles and then continues. “Or maybe… I should fuck this little hole properly-”

“D-ddaddyyy-” your brain short-circuits, anxiety overwhelming your senses.

“What’s the matter, baby girl, daddy’s too big for you?” he chuckles wickedly. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” he coos next to your ear, his stiff length resting between your asscheeks, “I’m not gonna hurt you. The time will come, but not now.”

You relax, even though you already know Joel would never do anything by force.

He begins to grind his hips against your bottom, his leaking cock smearing pre-cum along your folds and ass.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he grunts through his teeth, “it would be so easy, so easy to slam my cock right back into your tight cunt; look at her crying for me, fuuuck.”, he talks incessantly, his hot breath ghosting over your damp skin.

Your eyes roll back at his dirty mouth and you raise your hips more in invitation.

Joel presses his hips down, taming you, easy babygirl. The warmth of his pelvis melts you to the mattress. 

“But daddy promised, didn’t he? Hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“That’s it, baby. Those are the only words you need to know.” Joel whispers into the back of your head, kissing your hair. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you now.”

He straddles your closed legs again and lifts you up by your hips, your cheeks already showing the results of his rough treatment, red and sore to the touch. He spreads your puffy folds with his thumbs one last time to look at your begging hole, beautiful, you think you hear him mumbling. 

The tip of his tongue plunges into your soaked cunt, collecting as much of your slick as he can and dragging it up, up, up to your tight ring. He spreads it all around, tonguing your folds, then flicks his tongue up and down and from side to side, driving you mad. You can feel every vertebrae in your back from your tail to the back of your neck due to his ministrations.

His thumbs now slide higher up your cheeks, opening you up even more. He caresses and prods your opening with his nose giving you a whole new sensation and then he fuckin’ spits on it. It’s warm and sexy and dirty and you clench involuntarily. Relax for me, his lips brush against your sensitive skin and as soon as you do, he pushes all the way in, as deep as he can get his slick tongue to go. He starts bobbing his head up and down using the force of his head to fuck you deeper, the squelching sound of the penetration making your swollen clit twitch. His cock is painfully hard, leaking onto your legs beneath him.

You’ve never felt more aroused in your life, the smell of sex in the sheets, the position he’s got you in, the act he’s performing on your- well, his body-, because everything that's yours belongs to him; you've long since surrendered your resistance to those deep brown eyes and those capable hands. Your whole body trembles with his attention, the way he moans into your skin brings you almost to a climax with precision. 

“I- I n-need your cock, daddy, please.” you beg in a trembling voice and he smiles against your aroused flesh. 

“No, baby, you’re right there,” he replies, always in tune with your body and the way it responds to his touch, “you just need a little.. push” and with that he plunges three thick fingers into your cunt and begins to shake them from side to side, creating a sensation of vibration in your soft walls and at your g-spot.

“D-ddddadddyyyy” you drool incoherently into the crumpled sheets, your face pressed against the mattress as you begin to come, both your holes spasming hard around his tongue and fingers. Joel groans deeply through his chest, a pained moan and pulls away to watch your trembling body riding out its high. Your skin in covered in sweat, your back is arched and your cunt and ass are on display, slicked and shiny, clenching through the last waves of your orgasm.

Still straddling your legs, he fists his throbbing cock, guiding its swollen head against your pulsating ring and he pumps himself with his cum-covered fingers, two, three, four times and he comes; thick, hot ropes of his spend sprouting through his slit and onto your asshole, running down your puffy cunt. 

The warmth of his cum on your abused holes creates a new wave of euphoria, the adrenaline making your body shake even more. Joel milks the last drops of his cum, watching as his seed drips from your cunt onto the sheets, as you lie flat and limbless on the bed. He cups your mound, the heel of his palm on your asshole, his fingers on your clit, massaging his creamy release all over your pleasure points. You want to back away and grind on his hand at the same time, a broken sigh escaping you as you bite your lower lip.

Joel enters you with two fingers, fucking some of his cum into you gently and nonchalantly, the thought of his seed being wasted outside your body almost unbearable to him.

“Open.”, he commands and you obey, as you always do. He slips his slick fingers inside your mouth and you immediately suck them clean.

“That’s you and me, darling; that’s what it’s all about. You and me, together.”, he whispers and you bite softly at his fingers as he pulls them away from your warmth, unable to find the right words to say back.

He crushes his body over yours, his semi-hard cock twitching between your asscheeks, his soft belly against the small of your back, his warm and sweaty chest enveloping your upper back, as he cages you between his forearms on either side of your own folded arms. He rests his sweaty forehead between your shoulder blades, regulating his breathing and moaning softly as he exhales against your skin.

“Jesus Christ, baby, that was..”

You don’t answer, you can’t, still panting from the intense orgasm and his crushing weight.

“Shit, I’m crushing you, baby- sorry- let me clea-” he tries to move away, but you cage his forearm between your own hand and your ribs, intertwining your fingers with his.  

“Just a little longer,” you slur sleepily, “just stay a little longer..”

Joel hums obediently; now he’s yours to do with as you please, your turn, pressing one side of his face to your skin, inhaling your mixed scent, his favorite in the whole damn world.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller au #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel x you #joel x oc #joel miller pwp #smut writing #dom joel miller #joel miller dom

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 36: Severed

Joel, Tommy and Ellie search for you. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-35 found on Tumblr here.

I'm sorry I couldn't resist.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and a step beyond. Torture. Mention of past sexual assault (not described). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 8.2k

A/N: I want to state, real quick, that Bambi is NOT going to be sexually assaulted again. This is a highly triggering subject and, given the situation she's in, I understand if folks are bracing for it. That's not going to happen. The threat of it is there but it's not going to happen.

We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. This character returns NEXT CHAPTER. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter

Joel had rarely paid much mind to how long it took to get out of Jackson before. 

“Tommy,” Maria was stalking after her husband as he, Joel and Ellie headed for the stable. “Be reasonable, you can’t just take off…” 

“Sorry, babe, but I can’t just sit here and let ‘em have a piece of her,” Tommy said as they went to the stable. There were the two horses Tommy and Joel had just returned on, the three that had carried the kids back, and some horses you’d been working with. You’d been telling Joel about their progress, how one was nearing well broke and you wanted him to go with you to the shooting range with her soon to get her accustomed to the sound of gunfire. 

“Do you have some kind of death wish you haven’t bothered to tell me about?” Maria planted herself in front of her husband, her arms crossed, defiant. “You have responsibilities here, Tommy! People who depend on you, people like me and our fucking son! You don’t get to just take off at your brother’s command anymore!” 

Joel stiffened at that. He and Maria had gotten to a good place in their relationship over the years, her moving past the thought that he’d been the driving force behind all her husband’s misdeeds. They’d settled into a mutual respect and eventual affection since he’d come to Jackson, Maria seeming to appreciate what he did for the community and the way he loved her son and Joel admiring her leadership and the way she was a partner to his little brother. He thought they were past this. 

Maybe he was wrong. 

Tommy took his wife’s shoulders in his hands, his thumbs rubbing little circles against her. 

“If it were you, he’d be going with me,” he said gently. “That’s my baby sister out there, Maria. Can’t live with myself if something happens to her and I didn’t do everything I can to stop it. I’m goin’. You can either help and hope we get back soon or you can be pissed while I’m gone but I’m goin’, you can’t stop me.” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went and stood beside Joel, looking over the horses. 

“What’s better,” he asked. “Tired mounts or ones that might spook?” 

Joel looked at his brother for a moment, thankful that he had him to rely on, and ground his teeth. He didn’t know the answer. 

“They’re on foot,” Ellie said, joining them. “Tired is probably better, we’re still going to catch them. But I don’t expect this to be quiet and if we’re on horses that spook, well…” 

Joel gave her a stiff nod and went to get the horses ready to leave. He was moving as quickly as he could but it felt slow, everything felt so slow. It felt like he should be running, pushing himself to the brink so he could reach you sooner. Every second you were away from him hurt. It was worse than when you’d left Jackson to search for Savvy in the blizzard. That had been bad enough but at least then he could believe that you were in one piece, that you could take care of yourself. 

That wasn’t the case now. He knew you weren’t safe. He knew you weren’t OK. He knew he’d vowed to protect you, the night the two of you made promises to each other in his bed he had sworn to keep you safe and never let anything happen to you. 

He’d failed at that. 

He’d failed and now he was here, doing what he had to do to make sure he could reach you. It just didn’t feel like enough. Nothing would, not until he held you again. 

Tommy and Maria talked in low, harsh voices until they had things situated. Food, water, ammunition, medical kit.

“Tommy,” Joel said, jerking his head toward the horses, voice sharper than he’d meant it to be. His brother jogged over to him, taking the reins of his horse from him. 

“The guys who brought the kids back are going to wait here until a few more crews come in,” Tommy said. “Then they’re coming out after us. We can mark a path. With fresher horses, they’ll catch us quick.” 

Joel nodded stiffly and the three of them led their horses to the gate, Maria following with her arms crossed over her stomach. In another situation, Joel would have taken the time to talk with her and reassure her. He didn’t have the luxury of time now. 

He mounted up as the gates opened, Ellie and Tommy following suit, the three of them riding through the gate the moment there was room. 

“Joel!” Maria called after a moment. He looked back at her. “Bring my husband home.” 

He watched her for a moment, at the fear on her face and in her wide eyes, a mirror of what he was feeling now. But she was still letting him go. He wasn’t sure he could do the same in her position.

“I will.”

 Ellie took the lead, pointing out the spot in the fence where kids left town. Joel ground his teeth and resisted the urge to yell yet again. What good would it do? What was done was done and this lesson was one he doubted Ellie would forget. She didn’t need to be taught it again.

They rode for nearly two hours when they came upon a small clearing and Ellie jumped off her horse before it had even come to a stop. 

“We were here,” she said, looking around, almost panicky. “We were here, I know we were, they had us behind that tree…” 

She ran over to it, walking around it until Joel couldn’t see her anymore. 

“Ellie!” He called. He couldn’t have her out of sight, not right now. 

“I was right,” she called back, coming around the tree. “I took a chunk of bark off of it, this is where we were but they’re gone, completely fucking gone, I don’t…” 

Joel was less surprised than Ellie. 

“They weren’t about to sit and wait for us to find ‘em,” he said. “We need to track ‘em. We’ll find them.” 

He, Tommy and Ellie circled the clearing on foot, looking for signs of a trail. It didn’t take them long to find one. Unfortunately, they found more than one. 

“The fuckers split up,” Tommy kicked a plant in frustration. “Any way to tell which group had her?” 

“Smaller boot prints, maybe,” Joel said, looking closely at the ground. 

“But there were other women,” Ellie said. Joel’s head snapped toward her. “They had a few women. I didn’t talk to them but… She wouldn’t be the only one.” 

“We can’t split up,” Tommy said. “It’s too goddamn risky, there are too fuckin’ many of ‘em, we have to stick together…” 

Joel nodded, trying to think. He tried to keep his shit together but he could feel it happening, the panic setting into his bones. He could hear the blood in his ears, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He was having a hard time taking a full breath, his head spun. He reached out, his hand finding a tree trunk, giving him something to root him to the ground. 

“Joel?” Ellie’s hand appeared at his back. “Hey, you can’t die on us right now, we have to get her back, you can’t do this now, you gotta keep it together, you hear me?” 

He nodded quickly, closing his eyes for a moment. His mind scrambled for something - anything - to hold him here, something to make him push past the fear and do what he had to do. 

He thought of you. 

He thought of the first time he’d felt your body against him, on the back of a horse in the snow-covered forest. The first time he’d held you because you wanted him to, how you’d sought comfort in him. The first time he’d kissed you, how your lips had fit softly against his, the quick little breaths you’d made, the way you’d felt so close to him. The first time he’d touched you as his wife, how your body was so familiar to him but was brand new, too, with this new context. You were his, he was yours and he needed to keep himself together long enough to get you home. 

He took a deep, shaky breath. 

“We follow one trail,” he said. “We either find her or we find the people at the end of it. If she ain’t with ‘em, we get ‘em to tell us where she is.” 

“You really think they’re just going to, what, tell you whatever you want to know?” Ellie gaped at him. “They’re not going to just answer your fucking questions, Joel!”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on askin’ nice,” Joel said, stalking back toward the horses. “We follow the middle track. See where it leads.” 

Joel knew he should feel some kind of shame about what he was about to do. What he wanted to do, how he wanted to hurt them. He’d never told Ellie the finer points of what he and Tommy used to do - still did, when the need arose. He’d never told her what he did to find her when David had her and he was desperate. She knew he used to kill people, he thought she had some idea of just what that entailed but he’d protected her from the worst of it, the most shameful parts. 

Now, he was hungry for it. If he were a dog, he’d be salivating for it, aching to get his jaws around the throat of the man who had taken you from him. He didn’t want to just kill him, that wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough the year before when he’d sent him away from Jackson and it wasn’t enough now when he was doing who knows what to you. He was going to enjoy pulling him apart, piece by fucking piece. He almost hoped that Cody wasn’t with the men they were tracking, that he’d find you and have the chance to take every ounce of pain from them before finding Cody and taking it from him, too. He couldn’t even regret the drive to do it or the fact that he knew he could do it and do it well. His only concern, after finding you, was exposing Ellie to that. 

But they lived in a harsh world. Maybe it was good for her to know the harsher parts of it. 

Joel led the way, slower going now that they were beyond where Ellie knew the group to be. They were carefully tracking a group of what looked like seven people - including two women - for hours. It was dusk when Tommy noticed the signs of people first, giving a low whistle that sounded something like a bird. Joel looked over his shoulder and Tommy nodded toward a patch of sky he could see through the trees. Joel looked up. There was smoke. 

He dismounted and tied his horse off, Ellie and Tommy doing the same, before the three of them prowled, quiet and slow, toward the smoke. It wasn’t long before they could smell it, hear the quiet laughs of men. Joel tightened his jaw and his grip on his gun. His heart raced. 

The group they came upon largely had their guard down. Joel spotted someone through the trees, beyond the fire, looking like they were patrolling. Otherwise, they weren’t paying any attention. Joel gestured to Tommy and Ellie, sending them behind larger trees, Joel going to one himself. He peered around the thick trunk to find them there, make sure these weren’t just innocents passing through and seeing if he could catch a glimpse of you. 

But they weren’t innocents, a woman with her hands bound sitting beside one of the men at the fire, another one - also tied - with her back against a tree. There was no sign of you or Cody. 

Tommy met Joel’s gaze, his face set and determined. Joel gave him a stiff nod before turning to Ellie, her own expression hardened with barely controlled rage. She didn’t even look at Joel, too busy watching the men around the tree. 

Joel took a deep breath and raised his gun, stepping around the tree and firing, catching the man with his back to them in his head. He fell forward with a thud. 

There was a moment of stunned silence, the only sound birds fleeing the crack of the gun. Then, it was chaos, the men scrambling for weapons. One of the women screamed. 

“Need two alive!” Joel yelled to his brother and daughter, pressing closer and firing again, felling another man. 

Tommy shot next, a third man going down. A bullet whizzed past Joel’s head, close enough that he felt the heat of it on his skin, the shot clipping his ear. He ignored the sharp pain of it, watching as the shot Ellie got off dropped a fourth man. The fact that they’d caught the men when they’d stopped for the night was to their advantage. They were clearly used to traveling in a larger group and running unchallenged, only watching for infected who often made themselves known with crackling breaths, the sound of crunching through the brush and sharp clicks. They weren’t expecting a small group to come in, guns blazing. They were slow getting their weapons, rifles on the ground and out of reach, making picking them off like shooting fish in a barrel. Joel shot the man on watch as he came running toward the fire, his gun raised and aimed at Joel. 

Tommy charged forward and grabbed a man who was just getting to his feet, his back toward the three of them. He was just raising his gun when Tommy swung the butt of his rifle at his head, catching the man in the temple and knocking him off balance. He took advantage of the moment and ripped the weapon out of the man’s hands, casting it aside before shoving him to the ground and putting his boot in his chest. Tommy leveled his rifle at his head, holding the man in place. 

“Got one!” He yelled to Joel. 

There were two men left standing now, one reaching for a gun. Ellie shot him in the shoulder before Joel got a chance to react, sending him sprawling on the ground. The other was smarter. He grabbed the nearest woman and pulled her in front of him as she screamed, pressing a gun to her head, his eyes darting between Joel and Ellie. 

“Keep coming and I kill ‘er,” he panted. 

“Joel,” Ellie’s eyes darted toward him. “What do we do?” 

“Let me go,” the man said, the woman in his grip trembling. “Him too, and I leave her alive.” 

Joel didn’t have time for this. He moved quickly, raising his gun and firing, hitting the man in the middle of his forehead. The woman screamed again, covered in his blood and stumbling forward as his body went limp on of her. 

“Shit,” Ellie lowered her gun, looking at Joel. “I thought we needed two.” 

“Think we got two,” he stalked over to the man Ellie had hit in the shoulder. He was whimpering on the ground, clutching the hole that was gushing blood. 

“Please,” he said, eyes wide. Joel ignored him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him to the man Tommy still had at gun point. He dropped the man there with a pained groan and he looked to the women, the one who had been a hostage sitting up next to the body of the man who’d had her. 

“C’mere,” Joel said. They looked at each other quickly but stayed still. Joel, again, resisted the urge to yell. He didn’t have time for this. “Ellie, cut ‘em loose, tell ‘em how to get to Jackson if they want. Give ‘em whatever they need. See what they know.”

Joel turned his attention back to the man on the ground, going down on one knee beside him. He grabbed his hair in his fist, forcing his eyes to meet his own. 

“You’re gonna tell me what I wanna know,” Joel said. “And you’re gonna do it quick. Understand?” 

“Why would we tell you a goddamn thing?” The man below Tommy asked, watching Joel. His words were quick, panicky. Joel looked back at him for a moment before he ripped the injured man’s hand away from his wound with one hand and thrust his thumb inside the bullet hole, pressing up into the tendon below his skin. The man thrashed and screamed, the shrill sound sharp and cutting. Joel left his thumb jammed inside him until the other man spoke again, his eyes wide. “Fuck, OK! OK! What do you want to know, we’ll tell you! We’ll tell you, please!” 

Joel pulled his thumb free of the man’s body and wiped the blood on a clean spot on his shirt, turning his full attention back to the man below him. 

“Should get one thing straight now,” Joel said. His voice was flat. “I don’t mind hurtin’ you. In fact, I like it. Like gettin’ justice for everything you’ve done wrong in this life. I can promise you’ve done a lot wrong and I can promise I can make you pay for every goddamn ounce of it in blood. I know how to make it last. But I’m in a hurry and I want this over quick. It’s in your best interest to give me what I want. Got it?” 

The man gave a shaky nod. 

“Your boss has got my wife,” Joel said. “You split up. I need to know where he’s takin’ her.” 

“He gave us a meet up point,” he said, voice shaking. “We were afraid of someone coming after her, he had us split up, he’s got her not us, I swear…” 

Joel ground his teeth. 

“Where.” 

“I don’t know where he’s taking her,” he said quickly. “I know where we’re supposed to meet him tomorrow, that’s all! I swear, I don’t know where he’s going.” 

Joel thrust his thumb inside the gunshot wound again, plunging it deeper, pulling harder at the structure of him as he screamed and writhed. 

“No, stop!” The man below Tommy begged. “We don’t know, we don’t know! We just know he was taking her to trade, that’s all we know!” 

Joel froze before pulling his thumb from his body. He grabbed the man’s hair again, forcing him to look at him. 

“Trade?” His heart was pounding. “Trade for what.” 

“Territory,” the man panted. “Please, there’s a guy who wants ‘er, promised us territory if we got her for him, that’s all I know. He was going to try and meet with him, see if they can cut a deal. If he couldn’t find him or couldn’t get what he wanted, he’s meeting us in the morning.” 

Joel looked to Tommy, his face hard. Tommy just gave him a nod. It seemed like the truth. Joel turned back to the man. 

“You’re gonna tell me where the rendezvous point is,” he said. “And you’re gonna keep it real quiet and then we’re gonna ask your friend the same question and he’d better say the same place as you. Got it?” 

Joel leaned in close, the rattle of the man’s pained breaths hot and wet on his ear. 

“North, ten miles,” he said. “Where the rivers meet.” 

Joel sat back from him and looked to the other man. 

“Now you,” he said. “Better say the same damn thing as your fuckin’ friend.” 

The man’s eyes darted toward Tommy, who pressed the gun closer. 

“Don’t look at me,” Tommy said. “I ain’t savin’ ya. You wanted to live? Shouldn’t have taken my brother’s girl. Answer the question.” 

“North of here,” he said, looking back to Joel. “Said they’d be there in the morning, we were just stopping to rest for a bit, that’s all…” 

“Where north of here.” 

The man’s eyes darted to his friend before looking back at Joel. 

“Ten miles or so,” he said. “There’s a spot where two rivers meet…” 

Joel nodded slowly and looked to Tommy before getting his knife out. 

“No,” the man below him shook his head. “No, I told you what you wanted to know, I didn’t lie, it was the truth I swear it was the truth!” 

“Oh, I know it was,” Joel said, adjusting his grip on the knife. “But you took my daughters, took my wife. Not about to just let you live.” 

He thrust the knife into the man’s stomach and he gasped, his eyes and mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. Joel angled the blade up, forcing it towards his lungs before twisting it and pulling it free with a harsh tear. He wiped the weapon on the man’s pants before getting to his feet, watching as he tried to hold himself together, not able to take a full breath. He’d drown in his own blood before too long and Joel wanted to watch him do it. This man had taken everything from him. He was owed his suffering. 

“Joel,” Tommy said, nodding down at the remaining man at the end of his gun, one who was clearly about to make a run for it. He knew he was done for, he was desperate. “What are we doin’?” 

“Shoot ‘im,” Joel said. “Not worth the risk.” 

Tommy obeyed, the man dead even had a chance to flinch. Joel went back to watching the the first man gasp and gargle, fighting to breathe and failing. He should feel something, he knew that. He should feel guilt or some kind of pity. He didn’t. He barely even felt satisfaction. You were gone. He was hollow of everything beyond pain and fear and rage. 

“Joel,” Ellie’s voice was quiet behind him. He turned to face her, her eyes wide as she looked between him and the dying man. He’d almost forgotten she was there. 

“Get the women out?” Joel asked, shifting instinctively to block her view of the man suffering at his feet. She peered around him, anyway. 

“Yeah,” she said. “They didn’t know anything. Gave them directions back to Jackson and some guns from these assholes. I don’t know that they’ll end up there but…” 

She looked at the man again for a long moment before looking up at Joel. 

“Did you get an answer?” She asked. “Do we know where Mom is?” 

His chest got tight, hearing Ellie call you that, knowing that he shared children with you and you were gone. 

“We know where Cody’s headed,” Joel said. “Let’s get what we can from here and head out.” 

The three of them took ammunition and weapons and food from the dead before mounting up, Joel taking the lead again. 

It only took a few hours to reach the place the men indicated. The group had stopped here before, Joel could tell. There were signs of fire pits, places where fallen logs had been dragged over for places to sit, cleared brush. 

“What do we do now?” Ellie asked. 

“We wait,” Joel said, not happy about his answer. How was he supposed to just sit here when you were out there, with them? But he didn’t have another choice. 

They got the horses settled and found places to watch and wait where they should see people coming and have the advantage. Joel settled in, Ellie sitting beside him while Tommy kept watch. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” She asked eventually, quietly into the dark. 

“Do what,” he asked, even though he knew. 

“Hurt someone like that,” she said. “Make them give you information.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment, twisting his wedding band over and over on his finger. 

“You know some of what me ’n Tommy did after the outbreak,” he said. “Did some of that, too.” 

She nodded slowly.

“You never talk about it.”

Joel shrugged. The sound of crickets seemed loud, louder than they should be. 

“Not exactly somethin’ I’m proud of, baby girl.”

“But it’s useful,” she said pointedly. 

He sighed. 

“I’ve used it a few times since, when it’s important,” he said. “When it’s to protect you or her. It’s not somethin’ that’s good to know how to do.” 

“I want to know how to protect people, too,” she said, her voice dark. “I have shit to protect, too, Dad. I want to know how.” 

Joel sighed, looking over at her, the outline of her barely visible in the light of the moon as it filtered down through the trees. 

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to know this stuff. That he would always be there to look after her, to do these ugly things that needed doing. But he knew that wasn’t true. 

He’d doomed her to this life, in a way. One where she wanted to know how to pull answers out of someone with pain, how to turn the love you carried for the most important people in the world into a deadly weapon. There was no other way to be in this reality, one with infected and raiders and the last gasp of human kind struggling to continue on. If he’d left the doctor alive, at least, maybe things would be different. Maybe he’d have succeeded without Ellie, maybe the world would have been better for her eventually. 

But he would have come after her and there was no point in fixing the world if it had to continue on without her in it. Good, bad, indifferent, there was no point to any of it if the price was her life. Hers or yours or Savvy’s, the three of you were all that mattered. And he liked knowing he had skills he could fall back on if he needed them. 

“We’ll take care of what needs doin’ now,” Joel said. “Then we can talk.” 

The three of them took turns keeping watch. Joel wasn’t able to sleep. Instead, he thought of you. How he’d had to coax you into life in Jackson, how you’d come to find your place there, how you’d chosen to do all that with him at your side. 

There was a lot in this life he knew he didn’t deserve. He’d never deserved Sarah, that was for damn sure. The world hadn’t deserved her, either. He’d squandered the gift that was her existence, let her down when she’d needed him the most and he’d bourn that weight the rest of his life. He didn’t deserve Ellie, either. He certainly didn’t deserve you, something so strong but soft, vibrant but centering. You were meant for something more than him but you’d chosen him, anyway. He remembered when your fingers first brushed his, when he first heard you play guitar, when he first saw how you loved his daughter like she was your own. He wasn’t sure how he was meant to keep going if he didn’t get you back. What would be the point? Ellie was grown now. Savvy had survived all on her own for years and Ellie had taken her under her wing. They didn’t need him. But he needed you. 

Dawn was just beginning on the horizon when Joel heard it, the sound of people coming in from the north. He roused Ellie and Tommy and the three of them stood, lying in wait amongst the trees, rifles at the ready. 

Joel wanted to come out guns blazing but then he saw Cody, riding on horseback with just two other men. 

They weren’t outnumbered. You weren’t with them. 

Joel readied to step out from the trees, rifle raised. 

“Joel,” Tommy hissed.

“Go around the side,” he said, voice low. “Kill the others. But he’s mine.” 

He moved from behind shelter then, weapon leveled at Cody’s chest.

“Cody!” Joel called, watching as the men’s heads all whipped around to focus on him, scrambling for rifles. “You have what’s mine.” 

Cody lifted a hand to his henchmen and they lowered their weapons as he smirked at Joel. 

“Think she was mine before she was yours,” he sneered. “Seems to me I just took back what got away.” 

“Where is she,” Joel said, prowling closer, straining to keep his voice calm. 

“Back where she belongs,” he said, fishing in his pocket for something. He found it, pulling it out, unwrapping it from a kerchief and throwing it onto the leaves at Joel’s feet. “But you can have the part of her you laid claim to.” 

Joel looked down and his vision narrowed to a sharp, bloody point. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the soreness of his legs and back and the pain at his ear that had been nagging at him suddenly gone. His hands shook as he dropped the rifle and lowered himself, slowly, to the ground. Lying there were two fingers. Your fingers. The wedding band that had been there since Joel had slipped it onto you was bloody, ragged flesh dangling from the ring he’d made you. 

Something inside of Joel snapped then. It was a sharp, clean break, one that he could he could feel deep at the core of him. A severing of his humanity, a setting aside of the things that made him who he was. The love he held for his family, the care he had for the place he called home, the remaining parts of him that were gentle and good - those things were closed to him now. Joel Miller had been called monster many times in his life but he knew he’d never become one. Not truly. He knew it because this had always been there, lurking below the surface, brought forward when he needed it most but always controlled, always contained. It wasn’t contained now. It couldn’t be. 

Joel left the gun on the ground, gently picking up your fingers - sticky and cool - and putting them delicately in his pocket before getting to his feet.

“Thought about sending you back with her whole hand but,” Cody shrugged. “Mitchum has use for it. Nothing she can’t do down a few fingers, though.” 

Joel didn’t even see Ellie and Tommy getting into position when he roared and lunged for Cody, ready to kill him with his bare hands. 

***

The Day Before 

“Move.” 

You glared at Cody, your wrists chained in front of you. 

“Not telling you again,” he said. “They’re still close enough, we could run ‘em down if you want to try me.” 

Your stomach got tight. 

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.” 

He split his men into three groups, hauling the man you’d killed to the brush and leaving his body behind. There were three women you hadn’t seen yet, one going with one of the groups, two with another. You didn’t get a chance to say anything to either of them, just sharing a look of desperation before you were led away. 

“You’re going to regret this,” you said as he shoved you forward. 

“Why, because you’re fucking guard dog is going to run me down?” He sneered. “Think we’ll handle him just fine. Besides, by the time he finds us, you’ll be long gone.” 

You followed his command, trudging through the forest and trying to find some way to leave a trail to follow. Joel would come for you. It would likely be hours yet before he was back from patrol, hopefully long after Ellie and Savvy made it back to town. You knew he’d come looking for you the moment he discovered you were gone, that he’d do anything to get to you. You just needed to make sure he could find you and that you were in one piece when he did. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked once you’d been walking for hours, looking at Cody. “You said you knew it was wrong, you helped me. Now you’re doin’ this? Takin’ me and other women?”

“Let’s just say I learned my lesson with you, Doll,” he said. “Could try to be a ‘good’ man all I wanted, try to do the ‘right’ thing but it wouldn’t get me anywhere. Not like there’s much left here to live for, right? I should just take what I want while I can, no one is going to give it to me, even if I deserve it.” 

“Deserve it?” You stopped and turned to face him. “You think you deserved something from me? You held me prisoner, you fucking raped me, you…” 

His backhand caught you off guard, sending you sprawling to the ground, unable to catch yourself with your bound hands. He stood astride over you, grabbing your face sharply and forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t fucking call it that,” he hissed. “That’s not what it was.” 

You spat in his face. 

“Fuck you.” 

He squared his jaw, like he was considering doing something more to you before he straightened, wiping your spit from his cheek. 

“Get her up,” he said. “We’ll stop here for a bit, take a break. Make her take a piss, get her cleaned up a little. Maybe we’ll have some fun before we hand her over.” 

You hoped the fear didn’t show on your face, that the way your stomach dropped and heart stuttered wasn’t obvious. 

It’s not like you didn’t know, consciously, what this was all leading to, what you were going back to. You’d been there for long enough before, you knew what it was and what this meant. 

But you weren’t sure you could survive it again. It had nearly killed you before. If you hadn’t escaped when you had, you weren’t sure how much longer you would have really lasted living that way and now you were going back to it. It would be worth it to protect your children but the fear of it was still there, the claws of it sharp and harsh inside you. 

Cody smirked. 

“Maybe I’ll show you just how nice I was before,” he said. “Show you what you took for-granted.” 

Two men pulled you roughly to your feet and shoved you into the trees, off the trail you’d been walking. Your chest got tight and your stomach turned and you found yourself flexing your fingers, clenching and unclenching your hands into fists as you tried to focus. Your vision threatened to narrow but you forced yourself to see beyond your own body, think beyond the fact that your lungs couldn’t seem to fill and your head was getting light. 

The men pushed you for a few minutes away from the rest, toward a stream. One stayed further back, watching the forest for signs of infected or someone who might come to take you. 

“Alright,” the other said, nodding to you. “You heard ‘im. Piss, get cleaned up.” 

“You think I’m gonna just do that with you watching?” You sneered, brows raised. 

He stalked forward, drawing his gun and pressing it to your chin. 

“You really think I won’t blow your goddamn head off?” He asked, his breath reeking of rot and liquor. 

“No,” you smirked back. “Your boss has you by the balls. You can’t do shit to me.” 

He stepped back and you saw the strike coming that time, dodging it enough that he caught your cheekbone more than your chin and you stayed standing. 

“I can do that,” he snapped. “And I’ll do it again.” 

“Go ahead,” you said. “Because you’re a little bitch. I’ve had good sex that hurt worse than that.” 

He bared his teeth and he went for you again. 

But he was stupid and big and slow and you knew where he was going to be now. You dodged him, not fully thinking and with no real plan. He stumbled where you’d been standing and you stepped behind him, looping your arms around his neck and pulling back so the chain constricted on his throat. 

He choked and gasped, dropping his gun on instinct as he clawed at your arms, trying rip himself free and trying to make a sound but you were pulling too hard, the other man too far to hear or see what was happening. 

The weight of him thrashing against you sent you off balance and you fell, taking him down with you, his body heavy on top of yours. But you didn’t give in, keeping the chain tight over his throat as he kicked and flailed. You held it there until he went limp and you released him, shoving his body off yourself and panting for breath as you did. You didn’t have time to get the feeling back in your body or to ease the panic, though. It was sheer fucking luck the other man who was standing just out of sight hadn’t heard something and you had to take care of this now. 

You found the gun where the man you’d killed - thought you’d killed, at least, you weren’t about to risk shooting him - had dropped it and took a guess at what direction to run in. 

You didn’t make it far. 

“Hey!” You heard the crush of leaves, someone moving for you. “Fuck, she’s running!” 

You turned and shot, the first bullet going wide as your hands shook but you were able to keep it together enough to get off another shot, this one hitting him square in the chest and he dropped like a stone. 

You kept running. 

You weren’t sure how long you ran for when you heard them, the men closing in on you. You couldn’t afford to look back and take the time to shoot, you had to keep moving, even as the sound pressed closer and your head was swimming. And then a hand closed on the collar of your shirt - Joel’s shirt - and ripped you back and down. You twisted on the ground, trying to aim the gun but it was kicked away from you. 

“You’re gonna regret that you little bitch,” the man panted over you. “We could’ve made this easy on you. We ain’t now.” 

He hauled you to your feet by your bound hands and forced you back to where the group had stopped, finding the two other men who had been sent after you on the way. Cody was standing where you’d stopped before, a small fire built on a patch of dirt in the middle of the trail. 

“You really think that was the smartest thing you could have done?” He asked, his voice almost eerily calm. 

“Did you really think I was just gonna let you hand me over?” You replied. “That I’d just go quietly into being a prisoner?” 

“I guess that’s why Mitchum’s so obsessed with you, isn’t it?” He asked, prowling closer. You wanted to shrink away but you couldn’t, not with the man at your back. “Because you just keep that fight in you. You didn’t give up like the others and he’s a man who likes a little fight.” 

He nodded toward the stump of a tree and the man at your back shoved you to it, forcing you to your knees beside it. 

“Thing is,” Cody said, pulling his knife free of its sheath at his belt. “You don’t need to be… intact for the shit he likes best about you.” 

Your eyes darted. You were surrounded, there was nowhere you could go and nothing you could reach. 

“Don’t be too worried about it,” he continued, kneeling on the other side of the stump. “Think he’d be pretty pissed if we took your whole hand, for example. But I don’t think he’ll miss a few fingers.” 

Your heart raced, the blood pounding in your ears. 

“That a risk you want to take?” You fought to keep your voice calm as you clutched your hands tightly to your body. “You really want to go through all this trouble for nothing?” 

He shrugged. 

“Think we’ll be fine.” 

The man at your back took your wrist in his grasp and shoved your arms down to the jagged wood of the stump, your hands clenched in tight fists. Cody took your left one and pulled at your fingers, trying to pry it open as you grimaced and fought him on it. After a moment, he gave up. 

“Fine,” he said. “Don’t want to cooperate?” 

He took the knife and slammed it through your forearm, on the side of it so it missed bone, making you scream as the blade went through the muscle and skin and into the wood on the other side. Your hand went limp on instinct and Cody spread your fingers with one hand, holding the other out. Another man handed him a knife and he lined it up with the base of your ring and pinky finger, smirking a little as he did. 

“Would you look at that,” he traced your wedding band and you tried to look at your hand through the blur of pain and tears. “The feral woman got hitched. You marry that animal of yours, that it?” 

You considered begging. If you thought it had even a chance at working, you’d have done it. But it didn’t.

“Fuck you,” you said instead. 

“Think this’ll make for a nice keepsake of you, if he ever comes looking,” he said, pressing the knife in just enough that you could feel it, even through the pain of the blade still lodged in your arm. “Wedding ring won’t mean much where you’re going, anyway.” 

He started cutting then, the automatic response your body had to pull away ripping and tearing against the knife holding you to the wood. You couldn’t look away from it, even though what little there was in your stomach was threatening to come up and the pain had deafened all the sound around you. You weren’t sure if you were screaming or not but you couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think as you watched part of your body be cut away. 

Cody finished, wiping the knife on your shirt - Joel’s shirt - before passing it back to one of his men. He held your bloody, jagged fingers up, turning them slowly in front of his face. You could hear again, the ragged sound of your breath and the rustle of leaves on the trees, the breeze moving through as though you weren’t being dismantled on the forest floor. 

“Think your guard dog will even still want you now?” He asked, holding them in front of you. Your blood dropped from them onto the sleeve of the shirt. “Not sure he’ll be interested in such… damaged goods.” 

You stared at the fingers in his grip in disbelief. It didn’t seem real, the things you’d used to play guitar and grip the reins of your horse and hold your husband’s hand were separate from you now. You remembered, for a moment, marrying Joel. The clarity of it was almost visceral, how he’d taken the ring that was now slick with your blood and slipped it onto the finger that was dangling before your eyes. It was a part of you then. It wasn’t now. 

Cody held his empty hand out and the man he’d given the knife to returned it. 

“No,” you shook your head, your voice wet and raspy. “Please, I…” 

“Not taking anything else,” he said, his tone almost kind. “Just going to make sure you don’t bleed out on us.” 

With that, he pressed the blade to the place he’d cut part of you away and you screamed, the metal scalding hot. You realized they must have put it in the fire, using the heat to cauterize the wound. Without warning, one of the men pulled the knife that was still in your arm free and the heated blade moved there, too. You could smell your skin burning, the man at your back holding you still as your body fought to escape the pain of it. They moved you around like a rag doll, cauterizing the other side of your arm, too, before stepping back from you. 

“There,” Cody stood, handing the knife off and taking a kerchief from his pocket, wrapping your bloody fingers in it before stashing them away. “Now you should know I’m not fucking around. Get up. We’ve wasted enough time on this shit and Mitchum won’t wait on us forever.” 

The man behind you pulled you to your feet by your shoulders and you swayed on your feet for a moment, your head swimming before you doubled over, vomiting mostly bile before your legs gave out, the man catching you before you hit the ground. 

“Shit,” Cody’s voice sounded far away. “We’ll have to find a way to move her…” 

You passed out. 

When you woke up, it was dark, a hand around your jaw. 

“There she is,” Cody said, releasing you and patting your cheek twice. “Need you up and walking, can’t trade you half dead. Move.” 

You tried to orient yourself, get some kind of understanding. You weren’t where you’d been when you’d passed out. You were on some kind of makeshift litter, your left arm and hand throbbing dully. Your hand was bandaged. Cody grabbed a fistful of your shirt, pulling you upright and you all but collapsed against him, stumbling as you tried to find your footing. The second you did, you pulled away from him. You couldn’t bear to touch him, even if that meant you ended up on the ground again. 

“Just gotta make it about 100 yards,” he nodded toward a flickering glow in the distance. “Then you’re not my problem anymore.” 

He nudged you in that direction and you moved, almost mindlessly. You weren’t strong enough to fight it. You were barely strong enough to walk. You cradled your injured arm to your body as best you could, watching as the glow of the fire drew closer. 

“Stop right there,” an unfamiliar voice said, a man coming through the trees with his rifle raised. But he lowered it as he drew closer, looking the group you were with up and down. “Cody. Starting to wonder if you weren’t going to make it.” 

“Got held up,” he said. “But I got what he’s after, if he still wants to meet.” 

The guard just jerked his head toward the fire and led the way, you trailing along behind him with Cody and his men at your back. 

The fire was in the middle of a large clearing, one with a cluster of about 20 men around it, the man you feared more than any other sitting at the back of it. 

A wide smile came over his face when he saw you, the spread of it sinister and slow. 

“Well well,” Mitchum said, getting to his feet and walking closer. He was still so much bigger than you, tall and broad and you knew just how well he could force you to do what he wanted. “The prodigal son returns, with my favorite toy no less.” 

“Told you I could get her,” Cody said, pushing you toward him. “And I believe we had an agreement.” 

“Sure, sure,” Mitchum waved him off before looking you up and down, just feet away from you now. Your head spun. “Jackson is yours when we take it down, as is anyone who survives. S’long as you remember who gave it to you.” 

Mitchum reached out, grabbing your injured hand roughly and you cried out with it as he pulled your arm toward him. 

“The fuck is this?” He held it up. “Thought I told you I wanted her intact, there’s no deal if you fucking maimed her.” 

Cody shrugged. 

“She killed two of my men,” he said.

Mitchum dropped your hand and clenched his jaw before snatching his gun from its holster and shooting Cody’s man who was at your side, making you flinch away from the sound. 

“You think I give a fuck how many of your men make it?” He asked. “You think their lives matter? Got fuckin’ news for you, theirs don’t and neither does yours so you better do a damn good job of explaining why you brought her to me damaged.” 

“She tried to take off,” Cody said, eyes darting down to the man who was dead  on the ground. “Had to do something to keep her under control. Figured you’d want her at all, even if that meant damaged.” 

Mitchum holstered the gun with a huff and pulled you away from Cody, your skin crawling where he touched you. 

“Well, she’s back where she belongs now,” he passed you off to one of his men before turning back to Cody. “Jackson’s yours, when we take it.” 

“And I want horses,” Cody said. “For my trouble.” 

Mitchum seemed to think for a moment before giving him a stiff nod. 

“Fine, three horses,” he said, waving them forward. “Take ‘em and go. Don’t want to see you again for a while or else I might change my mind.” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Cody smirked before looking to you. “Told you you should have given me what I deserved.” 

You didn’t say anything. Instead you just stood there, in the hold of one of Mitchum’s henchmen, watching as the man who’d stolen your freedom rode off into the night. 

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A/N: I know it's a rough chapter but... feral!Joel?

We've only seen the beginning of him, he's about to go on a rampage like no other I can promise you that.

Also, I'm sorry for making this chapter quite so brutal. I really didn't want them to get off easy in this situation, I wanted to make sure we know that there are going to be some long term repercussions from all this - in this case, Bambi's missing fingers. They live in a brutal world and they're facing brutal things and I wanted this to be reflective of that.

Thanks for sticking with the story. I really do love you all!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚅𝙸. 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: inherent power imbalance due to boss/employee dynamic, Feelings Turning Into Action™, fucked up family relationships and drama, abusive relationships, brief mention of abusive child/parent interaction, alcoholic parent, Joel being protective, Joel being an old man, dialogue on steroids, the messy journey of healing | WORD COUNT: 10.4k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: After a chaotic, tumultuous New Year's Eve, you start the New Year off with Joel by your side and make some much overdue resolutions.

The light is coming from the wrong direction.

The gentle glow of the hazy, hesitant sunrise creeps slowly through the blinds and sheer purple draperies, ghosting against the impending day. There’s an unfamiliar but welcome stillness to it all, but the subconscious recognition that you aren’t waking in your own bed stirs you. Your lids lift and flutter as your mind begins piecing together all the atmosphere and context of your current setting.

The cuffs of Joel’s flannel, bunched up in your grasp, beckon your nose closer just to breathe in the scent of him. When your eyes flutter again, the room is significantly brighter. The blink of an eye and hours gone by. You’re fully awake this time, though; no drifting again. The house is still a comforting quiet, but there’s the intimations of someone else already up and about. The crust in the corner of your eyes feels particularly sharp as you rub them. The floor is cool against the arch of your foot when you swing your legs from the warm bedding and finally start to face whatever awaits you.

You’d kissed Joel. He’d kissed you back.

And then you’d practically run off upstairs while he sat there in shock. Did he regret it? Did he think you regretted it? Do you regret it???

No. There’s no amount of mortification that could ever make you truly regret finally getting to know what his lips felt like against yours. Still, you can’t quite meet your reflection’s eye while washing your hands in the hallway bathroom after peeing. His pants feel soft and warm around you. You stare into the sink, finger dabbed with toothpaste acting as a brush, and give up looking for mouthwash after a minute or two. Nothing left but to go downstairs and be confronted with the aftermath of your impulsive, reckless advance last night.

Music drifts low from a speaker somewhere in the corner of the kitchen.  A spice bottle is almost to his nose as he squints at the label. He huffs and glances off the other way and snatches something off the countertop. The swell of his bicep stretches the hem of the sleeve as he bends his arm towards his face. The slightest peek of his torso is revealed when his shirt lifts from the movement.

Joel Miller in all his scruffy morning glory. Pajama pants impressively wrinkled. T-shirt sporting several misshapen areas that droop and give from being pulled too many times. Hair mussed and tousled. Scruffy beard serving as a place for his hand to rub contemplative passes as he skims the label on the spice bottle, words and letters coming into focus with the help of his readers perched atop his curved, proud nose. His lips move in little rounded and bent shapes as he wordlessly reads through what you imagine is the ingredient list. He looks so warm and cozy and homey.

He’s breathtaking.

Your silent ogling is noticeable, apparently, because Joel notches his head in your direction in a swift jerk, eyes and mouth softening at the sight of you.

“Morning,” you offer up nervously.

He smiles, an affectionate, relieved wash over his features, and returns the greeting with more confidence. “Mornin’.”

“Uh, Happy Ne–” You stop yourself short of wishing him a happy new year when you remember you already did that several times last night and would rather not bring up your incredibly forward advance that went with it.

He grins easy like he knows your train of thought. “Hey, it’s—”

“No,” you interject. “Listen, I shouldn’t have—” You take several strides into the kitchen. You need to own up to your actions and take responsibility for making things weird. Had you made things weird? There was something shifting and new in the air, that was certain.

He holds up a hand to stop your spiel, but you drive the conversation forward.

“I’m really sorry about last night, and I shouldn’t have just done that,” you hastily apologize. “And if I crossed a line, I’m– I really wasn’t meaning to make— I just–”

“It was nice,” he contends with a casual shrug.

“Wait, what?”

You weren’t really sure what to expect, but it wasn’t that. A reminder that things need to remain professional, maybe. A gentle correction that you hadn’t asked permission before kissing him. But a declaration of acceptance? You hadn’t let yourself hope for that much.

“Yeah, you know, I haven’t had one of them in a while,” he explains. “A midnight kiss on New Year’s Eve,” he adds when you shake your head in confusion.

“So you’re… not upset with me?”

“The only thing that’ll upset me is if you don’t help me read the fuckin’ tiny writing on this thing.” He holds the spice bottle out for you to take. 

“Um.” You hold it in your hands and read out the list of ingredients in the mix. You hand it back to him and fix your face from the dubious, hesitant hope it wants to broadcast. 

“Thanks, Pluck,” he beams and gives your upper arm a quick rub before continuing whatever it was that you’d walked into.

Was that it? Was it really going to be that simple? No big conversation? No huge deal made about it? You aren’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, and you aren’t sure if it makes you feel better or worse.

“Y-Yeah, Goob. No problem.”

He sorts out some additional spices and sets them beside some pans. The oven is already on a low heat, and you smell something salty and sweet. 

“You, uh, got anywhere you gotta be this mornin’, or ……?” he hedges.

Is he asking because he’s trying to be polite and doesn’t want to outright ask just how long you plan on invading his personal space? Is he asking because he wants you to stay but doesn’t want you to feel obligated to do so?

“No. Is that–Is that okay?”

“Perfect,” he chimes. “Need me a sous chef today.” The corner of his mouth twitches up like there’s some funny inside joke. 

“What’re you making?” you ask, deciding to just take his lead and act like everything is normal. 

It’s the least you can do for letting yourself get out of line last night. You wish he could just understand the sense of calm and safety that overrode your brain when you woke up with his arms around you. You wish you could explain how after months and months of feeling seen by him, you’d finally given into wanting to be felt by him, too.

“Classic New Year’s Day dish. Ham, cornbread, and black eyed peas.” 

“Never had it,” you admit with a shrug.

He gives a theatrically shocked look, wide palm clutched across his chest, with an exaggerated gasp to pull it all together. You giggle and give him a small shove with your elbow.

“You’re acting like everybody should’ve heard about it – like it’s some huge deal.”

“‘Round here it is,” he contends. “Been makin’ this every New Year’s since, well, as long as I can remember. Used to have it as a kid, and then I just sorta kept it up when I got old enough, I guess. Now I still make it even though it’s just me around to eat it.”

“Oh.” Even though he hadn’t said it in any way to suggest it, you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding on some private tradition meant for those nearest and dearest to him, which you most decidedly are not.

“What’d’ya mean ‘oh’?” he snorts.

“Just sounds… I dunno, sounds special, I guess. Sounds nice.”

“It is nice,” he agrees. “And, yeah, pretty special, too.”

You force yourself to meet his eye again, and the warm, welcoming brightness there speaks volumes.

You belong in this space. You’ve earned yourself a seat at the table for something like this. I want to share this with you, too.

“So you gonna learn the ropes and join the ranks?”

“Such a fearless captain at the helm, how could I refuse?” you jibe.

He throws you a flimsy salute and stations you to prepare the cornbread. Your body feels electric every time his shoulder bumps into yours side by side at the counter as he explains the “absolutes” and the “must nots” of the meal.

He explains how you soak the beans the night before so they cook evenly and timely, how it's imperative to use yellow cornmeal for the cornbread, how a pinch of sugar brings out the flavor and compliments the ham.

“You gonna eat greens if I make ‘em?” he asks over his shoulder, digging through the fridge for various ingredients.

Thankfully your brain autocorrects I’ll take anything you want to give me, Joel into “I’ll give them a try, sure.”

The morning passes languid and cozy as you watch him come to life, animated and bright over something clearly sentimental and meaningful to him. Part of you knows that you’re involved simply because you happened to be here, but another, smaller part of you likes to imagine that he would’ve liked to have had you here and a part of it all regardless.

Being this close to him, all soft and cozy in the kitchen as you share in a little feel-good bubble, brings the simmering want that your kiss last night sowed. It’s teething and clawing in your belly, this need for more more more of him heightened in every conceivable way. Any minor and innocuous movement or glance threads a burning wire throughout every bit of you, all alight and inciting as though it was being done just to pull you further into the clutches of him.

Your body feels hot and itchy, the urge to just throw caution to the wind and kiss him again - just to see what would happen - inches closer and closer to drowning out all the sensible thoughts in your head. You’d expected a more stilted, awkward atmosphere this morning and had waited for it, but it never came.

The better than expected reception has emboldened you in a way that you don’t recognize. The only thing keeping you from throwing yourself at him again is the notion that he deserved – you both deserved – to know that you weren’t just being reactionary from last night’s trainwreck and seeking out something to comfort yourself as a result.

You get the first major distraction from your inner thoughts when Joel’s phone lights up with a call. A silly little photo of him and Sarah together, her name bright across the top of the screen. It’s a video call. His eyes flit to yours, something apologetic mixed with something imploring. You aren’t sure if he wants you to be in the background of the call or not, but you aren’t up for all the questions that would garner.

“I just remembered I should probably charge my phone from last night,” you point out. It’s not untrue. You went to bed with it unplugged and didn’t think too much of it with everything else swirling around your mind at the time.

He nods and tells you there’s a mix of chargers on the desk in your room before picking his phone up just as you make your way out of the kitchen. It doesn’t take much searching to find a charger that works with your device, and you quietly descend the stairs to avoid alerting Sarah to your presence. You listen to the light, affectionate lilt in Joel’s voice as he talks with her.

You find the closest vacant outlet and plug in your phone. It takes a few moments before it comes to life again. There’d been no notifications on your old phone, which hadn’t died because old bricks like them seemed to survive just about anything, but you still worried you’d missed something on your work phone. No missed calls or texts from your dad, which is a relief, but there are a few from Kenzie along with dozens of texts.

A quick scan through the messages reveals numerous apologies and pleas for you to let her know you made it somewhere safely. There are a few notable messages, namely i wasn’t thinking straight as well as i fucked up so bad pls im sorry i just want to know if ur ok.

You feel guilty for worrying her, which annoys you for some reason, but it’s the overwhelming feeling of self-disgust for leaving her by herself last night that takes center stage. You know deep down you should be making sure she’s okay, too – that nothing horrific happened after you abandoned her, drunk and emotional with two creeps in an already unpredictable environment.

You lock the screen and push the phone aside on the table to finish charging. A hearty chuckle from Joel draws your attention back to the kitchen where you stealthily creep against the doorframe to listen closer. He’s holding the phone at an unnatural angle above his face, fat fingertip poking and jabbing at the screen as Sarah mocks him for not knowing how to use technology.

“You sure got lots of energy for somebody who was so drunk last night she didn’t even text me that she got home okay,” he chides half-heartedly.

“Ohhhh my god, dad, I’m sorry,” she groans almost petulantly. “I was with Ben – you know that. I was perfectly safe, I swear.”

“Uh huh. Weren’t you just sayin’ how y’all were both taking turns throwin’ up earlier?” he snickers.

“It wasn’t that much,” she scoffs. “Like, two times each max.”

“Yeah, enjoy that while ya can, kiddo, because once you hit about thirty those hangovers start lastin’ longer and hittin’ harder.”

“Yeah, well, right now I’m young and invincible,” she jokes. “And hungry.”

“You mean you ain’t had any time to cook up some peas and ham in between all the puking?” he snorts. “How’re you gonna usher in good luck and prosperity in the coming year?”

“Ugh, that actually sounds so good right now,” she huffs. “Me and Ben should try to find somewhere that makes it so we can have it today.”

Joel rambles about how next year they should just come stay with him so he can play chauffeur and chef for them. You’re hyper-aware of how neutral and nonjudgmental the conversation is. She’d called him and evidently spoken freely about how she’d had too much to drink, hadn’t been entirely responsible during her night out, and had been sick as a result of her revelry for a good part of the morning. 

Joel hadn’t given her a lecture about being hungover and overindulging and hadn’t admonished her for not texting when he’d told her to. It was just an uncomplicated, warm conversation about their lives and happening –  a simple exchange between two people who simply cared about each other.

You wish you could see Calum.

“Alright, tell Ben I said hi and all that.”

“I will, dad. Love you.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you. Bye.”

He’s smiling warmly at the screen when the call disconnects. His expression holds so much tenderness and warmth it makes your insides feel syrupy. He rests his phone on the counter without locking it and continues staring fondly. When you crane your neck to see what’s holding his attention, a little gasp gets caught in your throat. His head snaps your direction, fingers quickly turning the phone over and hitting the lock button.

Your eyes meet, and you swear you must’ve imagined it. Surely he hadn’t taken one of those pictures Kenzie sent of you yesterday and made it his wallpaper. His bugged eyes and mouth practically agog suggest otherwise.

“Phone charger?” he chokes out while regaining some composure.

“Huh?”

“Found a phone charger?” he repeats, fumbling forward with the conversation and glossing over the fact that he almost definitely has you set as his phone background.

“Um, yeah. Yes. Charging it now.” You nod and clamp your teeth together to hold down the nervous giggle threatening to bubble up.

“Good. That’s good.”

His cheeks are flushed a delightful shade of pink as he runs a hand along the nape of his neck, eyes zipping around for a diversion. “Your, uh, friend doin’ alright? She text you that she got home okay?”

Classic Southern gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead, apparently, but you’d wish in Joel’s case at least that it’d take a long nap. He never would’ve left anyone, especially a young woman, in a situation like that. If he knew the truth about how you’d deserted her and threw her to the wolves, he’d probably not be all warm and fuzzy about sharing sentimental family traditions with you and letting you spend the night in his house.

“She’s fine,” you mumble, now also avoiding his eye and looking around for something to occupy your gaze.

“You, uh, you never said what happened last night other than some sorta fight between the two of ya….”

“Just dumb stuff,” you say quickly – dismissively. “It’s fine.”

He bobs his head, slow and understanding despite the fact that you both know you’re lying. “Okay.”

“So anyway—”

You rock on the balls of your feet and gesture broadly to the stovetop. He takes the hint and gets back to putting the meal together. Things return to a normal cadence, and he strikes up conversation again as you plate the dish into pale blue bowls that somehow are so distinctly Joel that it makes your heart ache for something you don’t understand.

“Any resolutions?” he asks when you finally sit down together in front of the steaming food.

You chew a tender piece of ham and work it over for a moment in thought. “Mmmmm, this is delicious,” you praise. “And, uh, I dunno. Always seems like I’m jinxing something if I try to think that far ahead. High expectations means big disappointments, you know?” 

Being candid with him felt so dangerously freeing. Even sharing that small bit of truth had you hungering to let everything out in all its chaotic, thorny veracity.

“I do,” he sympathizes. His forehead scrunches and relaxes. “Ya know, sometimes when things feel like that, it can be less intimidating to just pick somethin’ real small.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs and works through a heaping spoonful before answering. “Just mean that you can start with somethin’ that ain’t high stakes. Even like watching more movies, like you said a coupla weeks ago. Just somethin’ you wanna do more of, somethin’ to make you happier.”

You hide a smile behind a big bite. His preoccupation with you getting to watch and enjoy more movies – all because you’d mentioned it almost offhandedly some weeks ago – makes your tummy feel fluttery. 

“That actually doesn’t sound too bad,” you concede. “I think that’s a really good one.”

“So there ya go: resolution sorted.” He has that big, lopsided grin that makes you want to devour him.

“And what about you? What’s your resolution?”

He thinks it over, takes it earnestly into consideration, and decides on something you think wouldn’t hurt for you to take up, too.

“Taking bigger chances, maybe? Maybe not like crazy leaps of faith or somethin’, but just– I dunno, not letting me talk myself outta somethin’ every time. Maybe just not thinkin’ too hard on things every single time, learning to lean into instincts or whatever a little bit more.”

“Trusting your gut,” you summarize.

“Yeah, trustin’ my instincts,” he reaffirms.

The meal and the company have left you feeling full and comforted, and the two of you make quick work of cleaning up the kitchen. It’s so calming listening to Joel hum a song you don’t recognize, feeling like somehow you know it intimately after hearing him sing it. Midday rolls around, and it’s the first point where the bubble bursts.

“You never said anything about a ride home,” he starts.

“Oh. I guess I didn’t.”

The sentiment that you’ve overstayed your welcome leaves you embarrassed.

“I mean you’re more’n welcome to stay as long as ya want. Just don’t want you stickin’ around because you feel sorry for me bein’ by myself or somethin’. Don’t wanna hold you hostage.”

“Joel,” you huff, entirely incredulous that he could ever think you wanted anything other than to be right next to him, wherever that happened to be. “This is the best New Year’s I’ve had since… well, this is the best New Year’s I’ve ever had, actually.”

Joel makes a face, and you’re sure he’s wondering how on earth that could be true when you had such a terrible night last night with Kenzie. “Kinda hard to believe that,” he chortles. “Bar must be so low it’s in hell for that to be true.”

Just as he often did, Joel ran straight into the point without knowing just how right he was.

The burgundy sedan parked outside your house isn’t one you’ve seen before, and it’s certainly seen better days. You don’t even bother lying to Joel about the fact that you don’t recognize it despite it being parked clearly in front of the curb of your house.

“M’comin’ with ya” is all you get before he’s opening your car door  and herding you to the front of the house like a personal bodyguard. Not up for discussion, and certainly not going to be disputed. It doesn’t feel domineering or demanding, though. It gives a sense of calm and protection. Your dad’s compact SUV is parked in the driveway as usual.

Joel inspects the lock and seems satisfied that there’s no sign of forced entry or damage to it. You tense as he turns the knob and heads inside first. You tail him like a second shadow, eyes darting furiously around for any indication of something amiss. The foyer has several shattered picture frames on one side, and the doorframe into the living room is missing a chunk out of it at about shoulder height. You set your handful of items on the foyer table with a shaky hand as you strain your ears to listen.

“You stay behind me, you understand?” is Joel’s firm demand, maybe the first one you’ve ever really heard from him with such a tense tone. You nod and let him take the lead again.

“Dad?” you call out. Joel whips around and pins you with a look that says you probably shouldn’t be shouting out your location into a house that’s clearly had some sort of disturbance recently. You duck your head down and mumble an apology.

How could you explain that the state of the house isn’t out of the norm? How could you explain to Joel that you wouldn’t have looked twice at the damaged areas if you’d come home like usual? The only aspect of it that was unexpected was the worn down sedan parked outside.

A soft sound travels down the adjoining hallway where your room is located, and your heart sinks. Had your dad gotten drunk and decided to ransack your room for an impromptu inspection? Was he going to find the envelopes of money you’d hidden around that end of the house in various vents? How fast could you get a handle on the interaction before Joel put his foot down and demanded you tell him everything? Could you control the situation enough that your dad and Joel wouldn’t get into a physical altercation?

Without thinking, you rush towards the sound and get an immediate hiss of disapproval from Joel who picks up his strides to cut you off right in front of your bedroom door. A louder sound comes from somewhere you can’t see, and you’re almost knocked on your ass with how quickly Joel shoves you behind him, acting like a shield. There’s some shuffling – whoever it was in your room now being alerted to you and Joel’s presence in the hallway - but you can’t see past the width of Joel’s back, and his arms are outstretched behind him to keep you bracketed and guarded.

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doin’ here?” he snarls.

“Jesus christ, man! What the fuck! Who the fuck are you?” a man’s voice snaps back, a trill of panic laced in the challenge.

“You got ten seconds to get the fuck outta this house before I–”

Joel doesn’t have a chance to finish his threat as you launch out from behind him and stagger towards the stranger’s voice — except it’s not a stranger at all.

“Calum!” you gasp when your eyes land on him, confirming that it really is him even under all the bumps and fresh bruising and dried split lip.

You’re running and crashing into him with loose limbs before you can even process the situation fully. Hot trails stream down your cheeks as you grab at him and grip him tight so he can’t get away – not that he’s trying. Your chest fractures into a tiny million pieces when he lets out a soft exhale that’s one breath away from weeping as he grabs you up into his arms and holds on for dear life.

You’re a blubbering mess, but Calum isn’t far behind, sniffling and warbling your name as he holds you closer and sways you both on the spot in a meager attempt at self-soothing. 

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry he keeps saying over and over.

Your strangled whispers of “it’s not your fault” and “it’s okay” fall on deaf ears.

“This your brother Calum?” Joel interrupts. His voice has a tense edge to it, like he’s still not at ease with the situation.

You break away from Calum and nod. “This is my brother Calum,” you confirm.

He eyes him with patent suspicion but doesn’t speak on it. You step closer to Joel, who surprises you by angling his body slightly in front of yours and directly addressing Calum.

“You make a habit of going through her shit?” he demands in a harsh voice you’ve never heard from him until this moment.

“Joel!” you snap. “He can be in my room. Stop it.”

You and Calum exchange a loaded glance and drop it quickly. You know he can sense that Joel isn’t abreast of all the nitty gritty details of your life. Joel cocks his head sideways and back to meet your eye like he’s sizing up whatever silent, weird undercurrent he’s clearly not privy to.

“There’s a car you don’t recognize parked in front of your house and then we come inside to find shit banged up and broken. Then there’s sounds from your fucking bedroom? After you called out and nobody answered? He’s lucky I don’t fuckin’ carry because plenty of people woulda assumed it was a fuckin’ intruder and shot his ass,” he gripes.

It’s so unlike Joel to be so tightly wound, and it’s hard to pin exactly why he’s reacting so severely.

“Hey, man, I didn’t mean to scare anybody,” Calum offers. “I’m sure that it was kinda crazy to walk in on the house like that. I’m sorry.”

Joel is still tense, the lack of being clued in on the unspoken situation clearly causing him further agitation. “You got any explanation for why you look fucked up?” he demands.

“Joel!” you hiss. “Don’t fucking talk to him like that!”

You round on him now, placing yourself between the two of them, and square up your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get why he’s–” You’re sure Calum is ready to stick up for Joel, but you’re not having it. Joel has no right to come into your house and demand anything from Calum. 

“He doesn’t get to talk to you like that,” you say plainly.

Joel’s outstretched hands beckon you closer, a gesture of apology and placation. “Can I talk to you in private in the hallway for a minute?”

Calum gives you a terse nod, and so you agree.

“Somethin’ weird is going on here,” he starts in a low voice once he makes sure Calum’s out of earshot. “I don’t know what it is or if you know what it is, but I don’t feel comfortable leavin’ you here alone with him.”

In a moment of clarity, you’re afforded the realization that Joel is acting so unkind and sharp because he’s afraid. Not of Calum and not of the mysterious stranger he’d been up until he’d confronted him in your bedroom. No, he’d been afraid that something or someone could’ve been lying in wait to harm you. Leftover frustration at the feelings of adrenaline and fear that you could’ve been in a potentially unsafe situation by yourself if he hadn’t insisted on accompanying you inside. A threat to your well-being that ultimately ended up okay but still left him with an electric energy to keep you out of harm’s way.

You soften and take his hands in yours. “Joel, I trust Calum with my life. He’s safe. I promise you, he’s okay.”

Joel swallows hard and slides his jaw back and forth in a moment of calculation. “Would you tell me if he wasn’t?” he wonders. Your head inches back in surprise at the question, but he’s talking again before you can even answer. “You would tell me? If you needed to get out of here? Because you know if you said the word, sweetheart, we’d be outta here no questions asked. You’d come to mine, and we’d figure it out from there. You’d tell me if that’s what you needed, right?”

His hands slide above your hips on either side of your body, a gentle squeeze pressed into the flesh there. Something in his pleading eyes and open, earnest face that tell you he’s not just talking about right here and right now. He’s begging for you to tell him that you’d come to him if you needed somewhere to go, someone to talk to.

“I know more than ever that you’d show up for me, Joel. Last night you came to get me without a second thought. Trust me, I know I — I know that I have you.”

“You do,” he repeats firmly. “You have me.”

You’re locked into each other much in the same way you were on the couch last night. His lips part ever so slightly, and you don’t need the fireworks bursting into the night air to feel that same fiery explosiveness between you. You tilt your head back in an invitation. Kiss me.

“I can, um, I can go if that would….” Calum’s head is peeking out of your doorframe, eyes darting curiously to where Joel’s hands rests on your waist.

“Let’s just take this outside,” you announce abruptly, turning on your heel and making for the front door. Calum follows in step with Joel stepping in sync behind him. You know Calum doesn’t have anything he needs to grab on the way out. There’s nothing for him here anymore. You grab your things from the front table and hop down the porch steps.

“Ride around the block and talk?” Calum surmises from your silent thoughts.

“Yeah. Just give me a minute, okay?”

He nods and shoots Joel a wave before heading to his sedan. You turn to find Joel still watching him with a probing stare.

“Hey,” you gently prod him.

His gaze settles down to you and softens. He’s still worried. You can see it in every etch and downturned corner of his mouth.

“He just ain’t gonna explain anything about why the fuck the house looks like that? Who the fuck was he throwin’ hands with? Your fuckin’ dad?”

He sounds almost incredulous, as if the idea of Calum and your dad beating on each other was outlandish rather than the normal fare that it actually was.

“Probably,” you answer plainly. Your mind is racing too fast to come up with something, so you opt for the most simple version of the truth.

Joel’s brow pinches together with a whole new expression of concern. Why doesn’t that upset you? Why does that sound like it’s not a surprise to you in the slightest? Why don’t you seem fazed by any of this?

“Listen, I’m going to go for a drive with him so we can talk—”

“In that piece of shit car?” he balks.

“Joel,” you warn. “I’m going with him. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

His hands splay wide across his hips, one knee jutted out while he thinks it over. He huffs but eventually appears to come to the conclusion that you’re getting in that car with or without his approval.

“I want you to check in. Not a text, okay? Call me,” he urges. “Please,” he adds softly. 

“I promise. I won’t leave you hanging, okay? I’m going to call you first thing.”

“That thing even have heat?” he wonders aloud, almost to himself. “You gonna be warm enough?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer and instead peels off his outer flannel. He helps you work your arms through the sleeves and straightens it up on you. He brings you into a tight hug and rests his mouth just beside your ear.

“You tell me if you need anything. Anything. I’ve got you.”

You shiver when his lips graze your earlobe as he pulls away. He watches you get into your brother’s car, sparing an inquisitive look at your house just as you round the corner and lose sight of him in your rearview mirror.

The drive to a nearby park is quiet and serene. It feels unreal and leaves you almost giddy just to be in close proximity with your little brother again. He parks and cuts the engine. He turns to face you, and for a moment you just smile back and forth. A rarity to be in each other’s company without the threat of imminent harm closing in on all sides.

You break the silence first. 

“What happened with dad?”

He scoffs and flicks the steering wheel. “Came to talk to him. A real conversation - or at least that was the goal. Figured if I did it on New Year’s it wouldn’t be so bizarre. New beginnings and setting intentions and all that.”

“I can’t believe he even let you in.”

“He didn’t. I still had a key. Dumbass hadn’t changed the locks. Probably thought I’d be too afraid to ever step foot in the house again, so no need to change them.”

You swallow hard thinking back to that fateful day Calum had left. He’d have every reason to be afraid of crossing the threshold of that front door ever again. You straighten up and dismiss the memories for now.

“So, you waited up for him? Or …. I mean, what happened?”

He smirks, but it lacks any trace of amusement. “Well, he was already pretty hammered when he got in. Saw me waiting in the living room and accused me of coming to ‘kill him like the coward I always was.’ Told him I’d come to talk with him and see if those bridges were really burnt up, you know? I think he got kinda smug thinkin’ I meant I wanted to make sure I hadn’t burned any bridges because I wanted to come back, so he let me stay and say my piece.”

He shakes his head and laughs as if recalling the memory of it was too absurd to be real. “ Once he realized I was basically letting him know I had no intention of speaking to him ever again, he got pretty pissed. That’s when we started scuffling. I tried to hold back so it wouldn’t escalate, but he just kept going harder. You know how he gets.”

Your lips press together in a tight line. You knew very well how your father got.

“Anyway, I got him off me and told him I was leaving. Didn’t need him calling the cops or something. He was already bent over the kitchen table with a bottle of something when I went out the back. I hung around until he blacked out because I could tell he was going to, you know? Didn’t know where you were and wanted to wait up for you. Wanted to see you and make sure you were okay.”

“That unfortunately sounds about right, I guess,” you sigh. “ Um, thank you for sticking around to see me. I’ve– It’s been a little bit. How’ve you been? I’ve been worried about you.”

“Been doing okay,” he offers up noncommittally with a lazy shrug. “Don’t wanna jinx it by saying it’s been going good, you know?” he exhales in a laugh. 

“But you are? Doing good?” you press. 

“Yeah. I am.”

He picks at his hands like he’s hesitant or unsure of what to say and where to start. You give him the space and time he needs.

“I stay and work at a halfway house sorta place. They agreed to let me board there even though I’m not on anything. No drug habit or whatever to overcome, but they still allow me to board there.  Guess they took pity on me and needed some extra help anyway. So. Yeah. Got a safe place to lay my head at night. Get two free therapy appointments a week there. My counselor specializes in sobriety and recovery, of course, but he’s still been a big help with all… my stuff.”

“Wow,” you breathe. Your chest feels like it could burst hearing how well he’s doing and how secure he sounds. “That’s so amazing!”

He snorts and waves off your praise. “Yeah, wasn’t all that impressive when I first got out there. Bouncing from shelter to shelter. It’s where I met Jaz, though. She’s the one who got me linked up with the sober house. Wouldn’t be doing as good if it weren’t for her.”

“Jaz?”

He gets noticeably antsy at the way you clocked his attachment to this Jaz person. “Yeah, Jaz. Or Jazzy. Jasmine.” He says her name so delicately, like if he spoke a syllable too harshly the name would crumble altogether on his tongue. There’s a soft reverence there, and you want to know all about whoever it is that has your brother so clearly happy.

“So you still get to see her then?”

“I guess you could say that.” His shy grin stretches until the glint of his teeth is visible, his palpable joy unable to be contained. “Only about every day.” He doesn’t bother holding back now, his whole face beaming with a bright smile.

“So are you….”

“Yeah. Girlfriend territory, definitely. I mean, we haven’t sat down and had the conversation or anything official, but… I mean, if having Thanksgiving with her folks isn’t official then I don’t really know what is.”

You stiffen slightly with a twinge of hurt at the mention of him spending Thanksgiving with a new family. A normal family. One that didn’t include you. 

Realizing the impact of his choice of phrasing, he quickly attempts to correct himself. “I shouldn’t have said it all casual like that. I’m sorry.”

A watery smile plays on your mouth. You tell him that it’s okay. That you know he didn’t mean anything by it. That you thought about him on Thanksgiving Day, too, and imagined that he was somewhere with a group of people who were warm and kind and welcoming. How happy you were to know just how right you’d been in your wishful hoping for him. That you don’t begrudge him for doing so well all these months apart.

He in turn tells you that he thought about you often. About how he’d told Jaz’s parents all about you already. That her mom was a Community Outreach Coordinator who, along with Jaz’s Nonprofit Organization Lawyer father, had given her the passion for helping others and offering the gift of her empathetic heart.

Calum went on to share that Jaz and her parents knew all about his upbringing and what had landed him in a shelter on his own so young in the first place. How they’d taken it in stride and applauded his steps to bettering his situation. How they’d said how proud he should be of himself and how proud they were of him.

His own eyes shimmer now with fat lines of wet threatening to spill over. He sniffs loudly and clears his throat. You imagine it’s probably the first time in his life a parent, even if it was someone else’s, told him they were proud of him.

“I came back because… well, I wanted to see you, but also because my counselor had said I should give myself ‘the gift of closure.’ Coming back to talk to dad and make sure that deciding to go no contact was the right thing. Because I was starting to doubt myself, you know? Even with all the good things happening with him out of the picture, there was still that little thought of what if. And thinking like you and him were a package deal or something since you still live at home. My counselor said that wasn’t true, you know? And after all that went down this morning, it was the push I needed to cut ties with dad completely.”

“I understand.” You look out into the clouded sky, a visual white noise to let your coherent thoughts through. “There’s no path forward there. Just a dead end.”

“Yeah…. I always sort of knew it, in a way, but I think I needed to come here to leave myself with no doubts. And – just let me finish saying this, okay? – I owe you an apology. I should’ve reached out. I didn’t have your number when I left because my phone died and got cut off, but I still could’ve— I dunno, I could’ve called the grocery store or something. Reached you that way. I was just so into my own shit and getting my head clear that I just left you behind, and I didn’t even mean to. I didn’t realize it had even happened, and that’s what makes me feel so fucking bad about it all. I didn’t realize how long it’d been since we last spoke, and it’s not okay. I got so lost in my own process to deal with all this shit that I just left you here even though I know exactly the sort of shithole it is.”

“I don’t blame you for getting out and not looking back.”

“I know that. You were always too nice for your own good, I think.”

You share a small laugh at the truth of it. The laugh runs short when he offers a place for you to come with him.

“Just… up and leave? Calum, I-I can’t do that.”

“Dad’s not stable. You know he’s not fucking stable,” he rebuts. “It’s only a matter of time before he does something serious. Not just a broken door or a slap across your face. He’s dangerous, and he just gets worse the longer time goes on.” You can hear the tinge of fear in his voice.

“I know,” you concede. “I’m-I’m working on it, okay? I’ve got a real job now, and I’ve been able to put aside more money than ever. I’ve got myself into a good path to getting out, but I want to do it on my own terms.”

“And do those terms include Joel?” he pries with a smile you can hear in his voice without even needing to look.

“Maybe.” You bite back a grin and shrug.

“So, what? I tell you about Jazzy, but I don’t get to hear about him? Fuckin’ guard dog of a boyfriend. Thought he was gonna beat my ass for a second there,” he huffs in a laugh.

Boyfriend. The sound of it makes something warm and syrupy drip down your spine. As much as you’d love to claim him as such, you tell Calum it’s not quite that straightforward. You don’t downplay your feelings for Joel when Calum asks you about it directly. He’s delighted at all the thoughtful gifts you received for Christmas. You tell him all the small things Joel does that make you feel supported and set up to succeed and seen. You tell him how you don’t know what to do with all of it sometimes. How you feel overwhelmed with the goodness of it all at times. 

“I know. It’s such a weird feeling, isn’t it?” he commiserates. 

“What feeling?”

“Of somebody taking care of you. Wanting to. Not expecting anything in return. It’s a mindfuck.”

You both burst into a fit of laughter, something so freeing and weightless about the candor and being so deeply, intimately understood passing between the two of you. 

“You know, Joel seems like a good guy,” he notes after a beat of quiet. “I think you should go after it – whatever it is to you. Really. Just– Just chase happiness, you know? Because you deserve it. You deserve to have that.”

You reach over and squeeze his arm, shooting him a soft look of appreciation. “It means a lot to know you get a good feeling from him, even if he probably was about to rock your shit at the house.”

He chuckles again and tucks his chin down in reflection. “I do. But I trust you, too. Your judgment. And, if you feel safe with him, then he’s my new favorite person.”

Your next exhale feels like you’re breathing out all the tension and last bits of apprehension about diving head first into Joel. 

“Plus he’s just so handsome,” Calum gushes theatrically.

You playfully shove him but don’t argue because it’s the truth. But just as good things do, it has to come to an end eventually. Calum apologizes for having to leave so he makes it back by curfew. You aren’t ready to go back home just yet.

“Drive me to Joel’s?”

“Like I didn’t figure that’s where you wanted to go,” he snorts. “God knows you don’t wanna go back to dad.”

His engine sounds pitiful as it cranks to life, but you’re quickly headed back into the neighborhood. He pulls to a stop outside Joel’s house but motions for you to wait before getting out.

“Hey, promise me you’ll go to him if dad does anything.”

“Calum, I can’t just—”

“No. Promise me.”

You sigh and give in. “Okay. Fine. I promise if anything happens, I’ll go to Joel.”

That placates him, apparently. He leaves the car running while he walks you to the door. You see him grin from the corner of your eye when the front door swings open to reveal a relieved looking Joel who appears appropriately sheepish and apologetic about their previous interaction.

“Sorry about that. Earlier, I mean. Just got a little high strung there for a minute. Hope you don’t take it too personal,” Joel says with a sort of tail between the legs kind of tone.

“Not at all. Consider it history, Joel,” Calum supplies brightly. “Actually pretty glad there’s somebody out here looking after my sister like that.”

They shake hands and put the awkward first meeting behind them. You hug Calum as tight as you can and triple check that he has your number before seeing him off. Joel shuts the door softly behind you both just as Calum rounds the end of the street.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t text or call before coming over.”

“You can come over whenever you want. Open invitation. You should know that by now, sweetheart.”

A loud sound from the TV draws your attention, and Joel skirts around the couch for the remote to mute it. You follow closely and ogle the way his shirt stretches the span of his back with each movement. You hear Calum’s voice echo in your head.

Chase happiness. Chase happiness. Chase happiness.

You can’t stop thinking about kissing Joel. He’d kissed you back last night, hadn’t he? Was it just reflexive? You’d both just woken up. Maybe he was just so shocked by it that he didn’t have time to react in a way that was aligned with his actual feelings? Had it meant anything to him? But then you could’ve sworn he wanted to kiss you again just a few hours ago in the hallway of your house.

“Found it.” He switches the volume off and sets the remote back down on the table before plopping down onto the couch and patting the spot next to him. You sink slowly into the cushion beside him and work your flannel – Joel’s flannel – off you.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this.”

“You can keep it on if you need to.” He almost sounds like he wishes you’d keep it.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“So, did he… what was goin’ on with–”

“Can I ask you something first?” you interject.

Joel sits up straighter and angles himself towards you. “Yeah, of course.”

“Are you– Did you think anything after… when I … last night when those fireworks woke us up?” you gulp, chickening out on asking a straightforward question.

He’s quiet in thought for a few beats and reaches out gently for your hand, which you readily slide into his warm palm. 

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

“I was thinkin’ about how guilty I felt to just take from you like that,” he admits.

“What?” you gasp. “ You didn’t take—”

“You’d just been in a fight with your friend – obviously had a bad night. Needed somewhere to crash. Probably weren’t in the best of mind, and that still wasn’t enough to keep me from kissin’ you back.”

You sit in a stunned silence and absorb this alternate version of events that hadn’t even occurred to you. It made sense from his perspective, you suppose. You’re glad you didn’t tell him about Logan because you can only imagine the sort of unwarranted guilt he’d feel about it.

“And I, you know, I’m your boss, and if I’m puttin’ you in a weird spot–it’s just – I don’t wanna take advantage–”

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?” you interrupt in a strained whisper.

His head inches back in surprise. “I– Would you want me to?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I would. I really would.”

He licks his lips and nods, eyes skirting down to your mouth and then back up. He reaches out for you no sooner than you’re clambering onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. His mouth is hot and eager on yours, the plush give of his lip contrasting delightfully with the scratch of his beard. He rocks up into you, pressing on the curve of your spine to flatten your body against his. The wet smack of your mouths is only drowned out by the breathy moans escaping your throat.

The warm pad of his palm runs along your back where his hand is shoved under your shirt – his shirt – and dances across your bare skin. Your body writhes against him instinctively, seeking out more points of contact between the two of you, as the kiss deepens. His free hand wraps around your hip and encourages the swivel of them against his lap. Joel’s gravelly groans spur you on until you’re deliberately rocking against the plump of his belly. 

You’re thanking yourself for forgoing your bra and panties from last night and just donning the clothes Joel gave you to borrow because there’s so little separating your bodies. When your reflexive grinding lands the heat of your core against the firm pressure of his thigh, you gasp and break from the kiss.

 Joel’s eyes are dark and half-lidded, eyeing you with a hunger that makes you clench around nothing. 

“You gotta tell me to stop if you need it to stop,” he grits.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you choke out as you rush to resume the heaven of his touch.

You chase his lips and pout when you realize his mouth is drifting to the side as he pulls away for a moment longer.

“Listen, I just gotta– I gotta make sure of somethin’ before I get caught up in all this and can’t string two thoughts together. Are you, uh… you been with … somebody before?”

You blink a few times and level your breathing while you process the unexpected question. “You mean am I a virgin?”

His face flushes a million degrees. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m askin’.”

“Are you a virgin, Joel? You’re pretty pink right now.”

He flushes deeper. “Nah, quit it. M’serious. I just, you know, I wanna make sure you’re— I don’t wanna hurt you or anything is all. I don’t mean to ask after your whole history or somethin’—”

“You sorta sound like you’re interested in deflowering me,” you tease.

“Christ, I dunno about that,” he scoffs.

“You mean the idea of a sweet, innocent virgin doesn’t do anything for you?”

“Honestly, it’s — that would be— that’s a lot of pressure if I’m bein’ honest. Not that I wouldn’t— I would take care of anybody that needed— I mean, of course, but I think I’d be so in my head about it the whole time worried I’d ruin your first time or somethin’.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. I’m not a virgin.”

He gives you a crooked smile. “Phew,” he jokes.

“But, um. Well, I’ve actually never— I’ve only been with girls, so I’m sort of new to … your type of equipment,” you admit.

“Oh. Oh.  So– wait. You— you’ve had stuff up there before though, right?”

“Fingers.”

“Small fingers if it’s just been girls.”

You shrug. You can feel heat flooding your face now, too. You hoped you weren't coming off as inexperienced and scaring him away. “Normal fingers,” you petulantly argue.

“No, what I mean is—” he takes your hand in his, easily cradling it in the size of his own “—mine might be a little more to take. Among other things.”

Heat floods your cheeks and panties. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” you assure him. While you really do mean it, you pray that Joel doesn’t want to stop.

“How about we just see after you today, huh?” he suggests. “See where that takes us.”

“What did you have in mind?” You roll your hips against his lap and giggle when he groans and grips your sides.

“You gonna be trouble for me, huh?” he rasps. He slips a hand under your  waistband and curves his hand around the meat of your inner thigh, knuckles grazing against your pussy lips.

You jolt forward with a loud moan and grip onto his shoulders, mouth gone slack. You catch the satisfied grin on his face before he ducks his head to nuzzle your throat where he lays a line of wet, open mouthed kisses.

You grab at his wrist to push him closer to where you ache to be touched, but he freezes for a split second in confusion, thinking you wanted him to stop. A devilish grin blooms on his mouth when he realizes it’s quite the opposite, and then he’s teasing his thick fingers in a V on the outside of your lips.

“Can’t even wait for me to touch you there, can ya?” he goads. “You need it real bad, huh?”

You shake your head dumbly at a complete loss of words. He grins even wider.

“Yeah you do,” he hums low and breathy.

He presses against your thigh creases before drawing his fingers together, trapping your lips between his middle and pointer fingers. He massages the engorged flesh and applies pressure and friction to your clit with your own folds. The smear of his movements makes your dripping arousal smack and pop.

“Please touch it,” you beg, not even caring how desperate and needy you sound.

“Like this?”

Four of his fingers stacked on top of each other form a wide, flat plane against your folds where he runs firm passes. Your hips buck as you cry out, and you feel a release already building. You could say it was the much needed tension relief or how long you’ve wanted Joel like this, but it’s undeniable that he is about to make you come faster than you can ever remember with anyone or even yourself.

“Yeah, you like that,” he husks. “All wet and needy. You just let me take care of that.”

“I think I’m gonna come,” you squeak out.

“Yeah?” His face lights up with an eager hunger. “Come for me, sweetheart. Lemme see how much you like my hand, and we’ll see what else I got that you like.”

You grind in sync with his rubbing, and your pussy clenches hard and deep inside, feeling so intense you could swear it’s pulling on your stomach muscles with each contraction. Everything is a hazy euphoria as your orgasm tears through you. You’re vaguely aware of Joel’s running commentary to himself as you come down from your high. Murmurings of “pretty when you come for me” and “look so good like this.” You whine when he removes his hand, but he just chuckles and goes back to kissing and nuzzling your neck.

“You gonna let me see it or am I just allowed to feel it today?”

“You can do whatever you want to it,” you breathe, drunk on pleasure.

“Mmmm, just like I thought. Trouble.”

He turns and lays you on the couch. You feel weightless and warm. He asks if it’s okay to tug your pants down, and you draw another chuckle from him when you impatiently start shoving at it yourself. He pulls them down to your thighs and drags one pant leg all the way off before discarding them completely. He sucks in a sharp inhale when he leans in closer to your soaked pussy.

“Fuck me that’s pretty,” he murmurs under his breath. 

He drops a leg off the couch so he can crouch forward and rest his cheek against your thigh. You nearly launch off the couch when he presses a soft kiss to your clit. “Sshhh sshhhh, I got you. So sensitive, sweetheart.”

“I can’t help it,” you pout.

“I’ll be real gentle, okay? I just wanna taste you.”

“Okay,” you say back in a hush. “Lemme feel your mouth.”

He grunts at the invitation and hovers just next to your glistening core. “Look at me. Wanna see your face when I eat this pretty pussy.”

You oblige and prop yourself up slightly on your elbows until you’re holding Joel’s gaze. Your head snaps back when he flits his tongue just inside your slit, and you have enough mind to crane your head back down to look at him like he asked you to. His grin is wild and devilish, eyes locked onto you and waiting for you to look at him again before he’s lapping slow strokes up and down. 

You’d always thought that if you ever did end up getting with a guy that they wouldn’t be as skilled at going down on you as the girls you’d been with or even want to at all based on stories you’d heard from others. Apparently neither applied to Joel because you can barely keep yourself conscious of anything but him and his mouth as he devours you with a genuine enthusiasm that only further turns you on.

“Feels so good,” you whine.

He groans in approval, and the added vibration nearly sends you over the edge right then and there. He yanks your lower body closer to him so he can drape your leg over his shoulder, and you realize the loud, pitiful whimpers and moans floating through the room are coming from you.

“Look at me when I make you come,” he urges.

You hold eye contact right as he latches onto your clit and sucks with wet, pursed lips, and you’re freefalling again. Your entire body droops against the cushions, hands grabbing Joel’s curls as he rocks his head back and forth to work you through your high. He gently laps at your release, slipping his tongue around and inside you and suckling every drop until you’re limp and worn out.

Your head lolls to the side, and you watch as Joel grips a large bulge in the crotch of his pants. He almost looks pained as he squeezes, and your eyes widen at the size of his outline.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

“Just tryna…. tryin’ not to come, sweetheart,” he grits, leaning back to sit against the couch.

You scurry over to him and palm him through his pants. “I want you to come, too.”

“This is about you tod—” He lets out a ragged exhale when you clumsily stroke the outline of him.

“Please. I wanna see you.”

He obliges with an okay, sweetheart, and you keep your expression in check when the heft of him falls free. You’ve never seen one before, but you’re pretty sure that his is bigger than average. You awkwardly grip a hand around it and gently tug up and down.

“Show me how to do it,” you whisper.

He presses his hand around yours and strokes faster, but it feels a bit dry. You spit onto the tip of it, and his face is something you wish you could capture forever. Brow knitted, mouth hung open and low. Looking like he’s indebted to you and astounded all at once. The added lubrication makes your hands move faster, and you watch curiously as his balls start to pull up into themselves.

“M’gonna come,” he warns, and a few seconds later he’s erupting all over himself and both of your hands with a guttural moan.

It’s unfamiliar and arousing to see the thick ropes of cum spurt and splatter everywhere, and you watch with unabashed interest. You’re only pulled away from examining the way his stomach rises and falls as his breaths even out when he slings an arm around you and pulls you into a kiss.

It’s slower and more deliberate than before, and you taste the tang of yourself on his tongue. You get into a lazy, sated rhythm, exploring and learning one another, until you both eventually slow to a stop.

“That was really nice,” you say in a hush.

He grins and nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“I feel so good.”

“Mmmm, me, too. Wanted to make it about you, but I just got so fuckin’ hard tasting you.”

You giggle and cuddle up against him. “You looked so hot when you were coming.”

“Same to you times ten. Looked like an angel singing when you came all over my fingers and mouth.”

“The devil was an angel, too, you know,” you joke.

“Like I said earlier: trouble,” he laughs. “Just my kinda trouble, sweetheart. Just my kinda trouble.”

Thanks for your patience on this one. I will be slow responding to anybody who comments or reblogs because of irl shit, but I will do my best. Thanks for reading.

tagging:

@survivingandenduring @bizarrelove-triangle @cumberpegg @verybigvag @jodiswiftle

@umnitsa @ellenmunn @fairy3333 @doblasftcisco @ctrlaltdel3te

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#fic: chrysalism #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #hurt/comfort #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fluff

[lokischocolatefountain]

Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew. 

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to. 

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate. 

That was where his troubles began. 

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours. 

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?” 

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade. 

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair. 

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.” 

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either. 

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole. 

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked,  groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile. 

“Depends. Do you like it?” 

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip. 

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal. 

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth. 

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?” 

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.” 

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.” 

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?” 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.” 

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.” 

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance. 

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type. 

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive. 

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up. 

Fucking disgusting. 

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world? 

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man. 

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes. 

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing. 

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements. 

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers. 

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety. 

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time. 

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did. 

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked. 

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.” 

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave. 

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew. 

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.” 

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.” 

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.” 

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?” 

“I’m not a doctor yet.” 

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.” 

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.” 

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.” 

“Like me.” 

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.” 

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.” 

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.” 

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.” 

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.” 

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.” 

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen. 

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?” 

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived. 

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside. 

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts. 

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines. 

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this? 

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass. 

He should leave. 

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home. 

He should leave. 

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day. 

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one. 

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open. 

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about. 

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.” 

No, it couldn’t be anyone else. 

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was. 

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch. 

“J-Joel?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.  

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks. 

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you. 

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one. 

“Touch me!” 

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you. 

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?” 

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.” 

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to. 

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time. 

“Any man?” 

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage. 

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest. 

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire. 

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way. 

“Please… I don’t– what was that?” 

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore. 

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.” 

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!” 

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you. 

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree. 

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed. 

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties. 

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you. 

“Be a good girl from now.” 

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller age gap #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #all that i've inflicted on the world

[joelsgu4tar]

JOEL MILLER FIC RECS

⇾ 18+ minors DNI, read at your own risk! ⇽

an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3

Series

— Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...

— I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

— The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at arm’s length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.

— By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...

— I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

— If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.

— Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance.

— That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.

One-Shots

— No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

— White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

— Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

— Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

— Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.

— Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

— Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.

— Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.

— Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

— Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

— Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

— Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.

— Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

#joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller oneshot #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #soft joel miller #joel miller blurb #joel miller masterlist #joel miller series #hbo joel miller #joel miller imagine #game joel miller #joel miller one shot #joel miller self insert

[nexusnyx]

miss sunshine

pre-outbreak Joel Miller x neighbor!reader [7.3k] summary: He's always been out of reach. A fantasy. Joel was too much of everything—too handsome, too friendly, too una-fucking-vailable for any of you. Too bad his kid adores you. (What a blessing.) Too bad she uses you as a scapegoat and lands him right on his door. One bottle of wine, and Joel shows you he might be closer than you thought. 📝 I wanted to try something different. Less hurt, less end-of-the-world bullshit. Let me know your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. ⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex, oral (f and m receiving), riding, missionary, passionate neighbors sex, yay.

read on ao3 | masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Summer of 2002.

When the bell rings, you think it's best to ignore it.

Living alone equals a lot of privileges, but the ability to go out alone and answer the door on a random Wednesday evening was not one of them. You're wearing compromising clothes and a robe, the bottle of wine you craved was finally open, and the last thing you wanted was to be murdered before enjoying it.

Then, you hear it. Your name, followed by, "It's Miller. Joel."

Fuck.

Well—this is exactly how many of your dreams started. Although this wouldn't go like them, for him, you'd open the door.

His eyes do little to hide the once-over when the door slides open.

They go down, then back up, and he seems to catch on to the fact that you saw it. Then, he shakes his head just a little, and says, "Is Sarah here?"

Well, well, well. You lean against the door. "Did she say she was?"

Joel pierces you with his Dad Look. "Yes." Obviously, it goes without saying.

What other reason would he have, right? Clearing your throat, you feel the anxiety bubbling underneath the surface. "Uhm. She isn't," you look apologetic as you say it. As if it's your fault his prepubescent daughter uses you as a scapegoat.

His sigh is enough to make you feel how tired he is. Overworked. Exhausted.

You try to understand what might've happened before he loses his mind, "What time d'you usually come back from work? Maybe she's at a friend's. She probably thought you'd be back later than this."

He finishes rubbing both palms all over his face, and he threads one hand through his hair. "I'm usually back at nine—well, I'm supposed to be back at nine. I'm usually home by ten." That checks out, then. "But—that doesn't explain why she lied to me."

"Any special occasions coming up soon?"

Joel frowns. "Uhm. My birthday's in a few days, but—"

"Ahhhh." It shuts his mouth, the way you exclaim it so clearly. "She's brainstorming, Joel."

"Brainstorming...?"

"A gift." No daughter had easy access to what made their fathers happy. You take pity on him. "C'mon—let me scare the little one."

You walk inside without waiting for his reply, knowing Joel will make his way in. "What d'you mean, scare her?"

The noise of his boots hitting the floor makes you happy.

You take the phone out of the wall and look at him. "She always keeps that cellular phone with her when she goes out?"

"Always," he nods.

"Perfect." You know it by heart already. As you dial, you feel Joel's eyes on your house. It's the first he's ever been inside, and it makes you hyperaware of every movement of his. "It's ringing," you inform him with a grin forming.

He looks confused. More tired than anything else, but it'll make sense in a second.

"Hey, miss Sunshine!" the nickname she gave you always brings a smile to your face.

Time to put on a show. Feigning panic in your voice, you yell-whisper on the phone, "S, love, would you mind telling me why on Earth is your pops—" you fake cover your end of the line to yell, "one minute!" then you're back at whispering again, "why is he parked outside my house right now? Is there something I should know?"

"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit—"

You're glad he can't hear her end of it. "No time for panic. Explain."

"I am so sorry, Sunny! I thought he'd be back in like, two hours or something. Oh, god, can you please cover for me? I wrote a note saying I was at your place. Sleeping there. I was gonna call you before he came back home but Jenny and I—"

"You're at somebody named Jenny?" you repeat the information, looking at Joel with a question in your eyes, and when he nods, your heart soothes at knowing she's safe. "And you didn't think to mention your brilliant idea earlier?" going for the full effect again, you yell out, "One minute, Joel!"

At least she's fast in her rambles. "Yeah, yeah. My best friend. She's trying to help me come up with a surprise for him. I'm not there often and it's never on his birthday. I wanna make it special."

"Okay. Cool. Next time, fill me in as you make the plans."

"I will, I promise. Pinky promise. You think you can convince him I'm sleeping there?" the plea in her voice is adorable.

You chuckle. "I've got you, S." Joel sighs in relief in front of you. "Just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Be back here tomorrow first thing in the morning. 7:30 sharp. I'm gonna invite your dad for breakfast, as punishment for your lack of planning, and you'll be the one making us the pancakes," before she can even answer, you go, "Toodles!" and hang up.

When you put your phone back at the base, you turn around with a proud smile.

Joel's looking at you funny. "You're good at that," he says.

"At what? Acting?" you laugh when nods. "I was a trouble child. I'm great at lying."

"Aren't those the same?"

"Eh. A thin line separates them." You can sense his awkwardness creeping up, so you do your best to think on the spot. "Is she one to escape?"

"Not really, no." He's shuffling on his feet, uncertain of what to do in your home. "She's never done this before."

"From what she told me, she's never around for your birthday."

"That's true."

"She wants to make a surprise for you," you inform. It puts that smile on his face that makes your knees a little weak. "And now she has to be back here at seven in the morning. All is well."

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

He's gonna see himself out. You swallow all the nervousness that being in his presence creates and just... goes for it. "Is it hard? Having a kid?"

That relaxes some of the tension in his shoulders. He leans on the counter of your kitchen and shakes his head. "Not really. It's a lot of work, but it's not hard. It's rewarding."

I wish my mother felt the same. You smile at the truth in his words. "I can see it's hard work." He laughs again. "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell," you point at the Pinot on top of the counter. "Want a glass? Unless you tell me you're 'only beer' kind of guy, then I can't help ya."

Joel looks between you and the bottle a couple of times, then looks down at himself. "I'm uh—I'm all greasy and gross from work. You sure that's the company you want for wine?"

Rolling your eyes, you walk towards your glasses cabinets. "If I told you that you can go home and shower, you'd never come back."

"And that'd be a bad thing?"

"Sure it would. You're the only person in this entire street that hasn't interrogated me on my life so far, I feel left out. Offended, even," you add with a dramatic twist. Your robe flows around you, and you can't help but smile when you see his eyes following you.

It's the way he swallows visibly, almost audibly, that plants a seed of maybe inside your head. "I'm not usually one to pry."

You place both glasses on the counter. "Neither am I."

"I know. It's why I like ya," Joel says it with eyes on the glasses instead of you. "That and the way you talk to the plants."

Your hand on the corkscrew stops, and you want to slam your forehead against the wood. "Oh, god."

His laughter is so nice. "Nah, don't be embarrassed. 's why I gave you your nickname."

"Don't be embarrassed? That's mortifying, Joel. I thought no one—wait." Had you heard him right? "What d'you mean you gave me my nickname?"

Joel's head tilts, and he's definitely a charmer kind of guy. If you do have a chance, you might be fucked. "Your nickname."

"Miss Sunshine?" He nods. "I thought that was Sarah."

"No, Sarah used it first in front of you," he pulls one of the glasses closer to him. "I said it first."

Well... that made it just as special but in a different way. You pour the wine into both glasses. "Good to know. I was under the impression she was the creative genius in the household—I just. Quick question that I never asked her: Why?"

"'Cause every mornin' before I left for work you're there on that big window," he points at the glass window that's occupies ceiling to floor, the very reason you picked this house, "talking to your plants as if you're the sun itself waking them up. 's cute."

Cute. You hate how he has the ability to make you blush. What is this, fucking high school?

"That makes sense."

Joel wipes his palms on the side of his t-shirt and then looks up at you. "If I go home with the promise of comin' back, will you let me shower?"

Let me. You're thankful your arms are covered because you're unsure of what this man is capable of when he knows the effect he has on somebody.

"I'll let you," you answer.

Joel nods and his smile is so genuine that you wonder why you never tried before.

"'kay," he takes one sip of the wine, hums in approval, and then takes a deep breath. "'m gonna go. I'll be back to interrogate you."

"I'll leave the door open."

"No—Jesus bloody Christ, are you and Sarah mad? Lock the door, Sunshine." You like it so much when he's the one that says it. "I'm serious."

"Alright, jeez," you laugh.

It's less tense than you imagined as he puts his shoes back on and walks out of your door. Joel crosses the street with a little wave in your direction, and all you can think is—what on Earth am I gonna do to him?

When he's back, Joel smells so good it's intoxicating.

It makes your brain melt.

Minty and fresh. That's what his stuff smells like, and you know the idea of that scent's now painted on the walls of your brain.

He does that stupid little dad pose, widening both arms and lifting them up in a display of 'what do you think' before walking in.

It makes you want to push him against the wall, but you do your best at behaving.

For now.

"Brand new man?" you ask.

He points at his glass of wine, untouched since the moment he left. "Will be in a sec."

You wait for him to take a sip before extending him what you held in your hand before he arrived.

Joel eyed the cigarette and, thank fuck, there was none of the annoying judgment sometimes people carried. He stops his movement to sit on the stool and asks, "You smoke in here, or are we goin' outside?"

"There's a table there. Weather's nice. D'you mind?"

Joel grabs his glass, shaking his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Lead the way."

"Ma'am," you echo him, sounding disgusted. He laughs behind you, "Who am I, Mrs. Adler?"

Still laughing, Joel answers, "Nah. Too talkative for that."

You turn around with your mouth hanging open, trying very little to look offended. "I beg your pardon. We never spoke for longer than, what, five minutes?"

Joel shrugs his shoulders. His smile is as intoxicating as his presence. "I hear things."

"You hear things?" you ask, pushing open the door that leads outside.

"I do," he sips his wine, looking to the small terrace where your little table is. "My daughter's a gossiper, little Sunshine. I think y'should know that."

Little Sunshine. Goddamn this man.

"Should I be scared, here? I haven't even told her anything, but I feel like I should be."

"If you didn't tell her anythin', than why would you be?"

"Because!" you laugh, feeling just a little out of your depth with his smoothness. You expected more closeness from Joel. Less teasing, easy banter. "You're talking like someone who knows a lot, that's all."

"And I do," he says, sounding every bit as serious.

You sit down on one of the chairs — your chair, precisely — and watch as Joel walks around a little, taking in the environment. He adds, "Did ya know," pausing for a dramatic effect, he sips again, "that in all of three months, you became one of my daughters' favorite people?"

He pins you under his gaze.

You cross your legs, and watch happily as his gaze drops to the motion.

"Did I?" if you sip at his pace, you'll be throwing yourself on his lap in an embarrassing amount of time.

Joel nods behind his cup, touching one of the many plants that cover your backyard area from floor, to walls, to ceiling. "You did," he smiles, dropping the fake seriousness. "Are you ready to deal with the six months absence? 'Cause from personal experience," he points both hands at his chest, "you try convincing yourself you won't miss her all that much 'cause, y'know, it's "just" a girl, but—fuck," he spits the last word, smiling widening around the fact. "She's so cool to have around. You'll see. Your phone's bill's about to create life."

It grounds you.

The way Joel speaks of Sarah makes you feel comfortable sitting here, and any doubts you had are sucked by the green life around you and returned as oxygen.

Joel talks about anything, no reservations.

In his absence, you doubted whether this could be any different than most times.

Would Joel be like that—like any of those other guys?

He wasn't.

Joel, as much as you hated to admit it, was an exception.

Maybe these things were fated. Simple chemistry. Similar mindsets. Whatever it was—you had it every once in a blue moon.

Your expectations settings were long ago molded to expect the least, and it takes only half a bottle of wine for you to notice the need to rear it in.

He's so damn easy. Joel goes from one topic to another like he's interested. He answers your questions with full interest, sometimes going on tangent stories, and he's the one who keeps the glasses filled.

Attentive, you take note the second time that happens. Before any of the glasses got empty, he served you both.

He compliments your taste in music and sounds genuine about it.

The weird silences you most dreaded never happen—if he's not answering you, Joel asks things. Interesting things, unlike any other neighbor.

"Was it you who decorated your place inside? 'Cause, there are very specific things in there. And you seem like the type to know what you like."

Joel was very attentive.

He asked, "and is this what you like to do with your free time?" pointing at the books you put away when you both arrived, "Drink wine, read, talk to your plants?"

"I still can't believe you've seen me doing that."

He laughed at that. "It's a pretty big window, Sunshine. Jesus Christ—you don't lock the door, you don't know people can see through your gigantic-ass window—I'm genuinely starin' to get worried here."

"Okay, first of all, I do lock my door."

"Do you?"

"'Course. Most days."

"Oh my—"

"—and! Now that I was reminded of my window's size, I'll consider buying drapes. Long, white ones. That'd be cool."

It was easy.

Talking to Joel—sharing a table with him, a glass of wine—so easy.

He never looked uncomfortable. Even if he moved a lot, Joel looked good—so damn good you lost focus every now and then—, but good with himself.

In his skin.

That was intoxicating.

When he does more than just talk and asks things; it's almost too damn easy. Was time supposed to go this way?

The first bottle end, but it's too soon.

You know it. He knows it—plays with it, in fact. Waves the empty bottle after pouring it for you and him in the air very lightly then places it on the floor.

Offering another one is almost a visceral reaction.

You don't have the same finesse he does, or at least, you think not, but if his smiles and closing proximity are anything to go by, he's enjoying himself as much as you are. "I dance around opening these a lot," you say pointing at the empty bottle. Pulling your legs closer to yourself despite the voice of your mother telling you that's a body language sign of insecurity—fuck insecurity. "Don't wanna be the wine lady on top of the plant one. But they're good. I like it."

"I only drink wine when my brother cooks," he offers.

The glass in your hands makes you feel safe enough to land this conversation where you want it. "Really? He cooks a lot?"

"More than me," Joel confesses with a shrug. "He likes to match the wine to the dish and that type o' stuff."

"I was taught how to be picky, but if I'm being honest—" you like the way Joel leans in closer when you pause it. You smile, "it's all just grapes tastin' really, really good." The sound of his damn laugh. This man's gotta have a flaw, you think. "As long as it's wine, I'm happy."

"I think that about a good beer after a day of work."

"We're all just trying to give ourselves little positive reinforcements for playing nice at doing our jobs, huh?"

Joel pauses at that. Lifts his eyebrows, then bursts out laughing. "Oh, wow—"

"Oh god", while it took you a lot of alcohol to get drunk, being open-mouthed about weird things came with the territory of feeling comfortable.

Joel made you comfortable, even if you were mortified at how amused he was.

When he's done laughing, he looks at you. "That's cute. You're the philosophical type."

"Isn't everybody who enjoys wine?"

"I don't know. I enjoy wine and I'm not one to go that far, I think."

"Hmm. Philosophizing can involve different topics. Lenses."

Joel wolf whistles. "Well, I think I'd need a couple more glasses to unlock that side of me."

"Not a problem," you get up, and resist the urge to wink at him. "I'll be back."

Your reflection in the kitchen mirrors is the confirmation of how fucked exactly you are.

It's more than just the color on your cheeks—it's the glassy screen over your eyes, making it shine like...

Well, very few times.

Fuck, you think.

Maybe that's why your palms are sweating.

He's more than you bargained for—Joel's looks were hard to move on from, but this?

Once in Rome...

Fuck it.

It's not as if either one of you was blinded to what a moonlight late-night conversation leads to.

The air outside could be felt.

When you're going back with the opened bottle, another pin drops in your mind.

He has the whole night free.

You don't break the bottle, but it's a close call.

Joel asks you the second you're back, "I have a depressing confession to make—I was tryin' to keep to it to myself, but honestly, it's all I taught about when you left."

You place the bottle in the middle of the table carefully and sit back down with your eyes on him.

He moved his chair closer again.

"Do share," you urge.

Joel looks around the yard—he seems to do it a lot when he's dipping his toes into personal places and says, "This is the first time in a—uh—I don't even know. A while. That I just... sat with another adult. Drank something nice. Talked about more than just—fucking politics, or whatever." Joel's eyes on you make you feel honored. You know he'd say that's a silly thought if you said it out loud. "It's really nice. And—the depressing part comes in now: I'm only here 'cause of my brother."

You tilted your hair. "You're here because... of Tommy?" you tried connecting those dots, but came up short.

Thankfully, Joel was here. With his smile, and his explanation.

"You see, before Sarah's mom and I decided she could spend some months here instead of just a few weekends, I was already... shutting in. His words, not mine," Joel picks up his glass for a sip, and you hang onto every word he says. "So when she came, he took me out one night. That little bar a few blocks from here—y'know Mr. O'Donovan's place?" when you shake your head, he waves a hand, "I'll take you someday—'s the only place around here that's worth a dime."

"I'll take your word for it." I hate bars. You'd go for him. With him.

"I think I know what beer you'd like," it comes off as a whisper, and you have to hide behind your glass again. "I only remember that talk because he made me promise. He's not one to ask for promises."

"What did he make you promise?"

"He was upset 'cause I kept turnin' him down every time he wanted to do his 'meet my friend and you'll be good friends' match-making shit, so he said, 'you promise that the next time someone invites you do somethin' you actually wanna do, you're not gonna turn 'em down? You'll actually fucking go, without makin' excuses to yourself'. And that sounded fair. So I promised."

You take note of the effort he's making.

The subtle 'this isn't just about what's about to happen'.

'I'll take you someday'.

'Next time someone invites you to do somethin' you actually wanna do'.

So more than just neighbors. You nod at that, smiling at him. "He seems like a good brother," you say. "Siblings can be a pain in the ass."

Joel stops his glass on the way to his lip to shake his head at you, "Oh, no no," he takes the sip first, and says, "one doesn't negate the other. He very much is a pain in my ass, trust me."

You laugh. "Older and younger?"

"Younger," he nods. "I had a lil' bit of peace here and there before he was born."

"Can't imagine you'd have it any other way nowadays."

He agrees with you.

When he doesn't, Joel scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.

He does silly faces. You wonder if he's aware of how unfair it is that he gets to look like that. Tender. Charming.

He proves your theory to be right with only half another bottle.

Put two or more adults plus a certain amount of alcohol in a closed environment, and sex will be on the table.

It makes you blush when you think... it could literally be on the table.

Joel pretends he doesn't see you growing hotter. He keeps his eyes on you as you take off the robe instead of looking at your arms. Listens to what you're saying without losing focus.

Only when you're done and asking him something in response that he looks.

It makes your throat dry when he does.

Joel has an unabashed, almost cocky tilt to his mannerisms.

You thought he'd be quieter than he is—more serious.

It's a welcomed contrast.

When sex is laid on the table, it comes because he brought up the joke you made at the beginning of the night about his lack of interest in your life, and decided to ask you things. Where you grew up. If you were always like this.

"Define 'like this'."

"Smart with the calculating glance, and sweet-talking."

"Is that me?"

"Sure is, Sunshine."

None of the questions that people usually ask.

It makes you bite your lip more than you wished—his manly, tall presence gets under your skin in ways that no previous partner managed to. Tucking your hair behind your ear, avoiding leading the conversation to the exact places you liked, giggling—those weren't things you did.

He pulled them from you.

When he does ask you the 'usual' questions, it lacks the malicious curiosity inflating others whenever they did.

Sex is laid on the table because Joel looks you in the eyes with that easiness in his shoulders and asks, "I'm not as private as you, though—all of my neighbors already know Tommy, and Sarah. You, on the other hand... the mysterious crime and horror novelist, who talks to her plants and moved from so, so far. I might not be the prying type, but I was curious about you long before my gremlin set her little claws on you. How come I never see anyone coming in or out of here? You tellin' me not one friend of yours followed you here to god-forsaken Texas?"

Your glass is almost empty, and you focus on the twirling of the red inside it to avert your mind from the way he's sitting. "The point of moving was getting away from them. All of them, as bad as that sounds," you cover your eyes with your free hand, and Joel's hand touches your forearm.

"Hey—it's fine. Don't feel bad. 'm happy you had the privilege of gettin' away. If you wanted to move away from all of it, I'm sure you had your reasons."

Looking between your fingers, you try appraising his face. "Really?"

"Really," he nods.

"Okay." You sit up straight. "And I do have people over, sometimes. You're just always at work."

"Yeah? You made friends already?"

"A few, yeah."

"Where?" he removes his hand from your forearm but drops it to your chair's armrest. The proximity is doing something to you. "I thought you worked from home."

"I do," you agree. "But I do other stuff. I'm not always here with my plants, Joel," you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly.

Joel laughs, "I wouldn't know. If I could work from home and stay with my tools and wood, I would."

"And I believe you," you nodded.

He bites on his smile before asking. "What other stuff d'you do?"

"I joined a book club," you reply, feeling all levels of boring.

From his look, he disagrees. "You got the patience for that?"

"Sure do," you nod again.

He nods, pouting in awe. "Nice," he says. "Are your book club friends givin' you the right impression of Texans?"

"I'm warming up to them," you smile.

Nodding, he asks, "Should I ask now the questions all my neighbors already know the answer to? 'Cause I am curious. Did you know Mr. Adler tried tellin' me what he 'discovered' about you? He tried looking blasé when he said that, but I'm sure he just wanted to gossip about the pretty girl who moved across from him."

"Ew, Joel," you laugh.

His eyes never leave you—you feel it even when you're not looking at him. He's laughing too. "What? It's true."

When you look back up at him, you wonder—when did you two get this close?

"You can ask," you say. "It's not that exciting, the answer. Actually, it's not exciting at all."

"Hmm, I'll be the judge of that," he sips his wine, and leaves the glass on the table. "You already know my backstory, so kill my curiosity now," he pierces with his eyes for a moment, "how on Earth is there no ring on this finger?" he points to your ring finger, then he leans in closer, and you can smell the wine in his breath; you want to kiss it until it's taste is gone, "and how is it that I never see anyone leaving here early in the mornings?"

Well. "No ring 'cause I didn't want one so far," you reply. To him, you give more honesty than anyone else who's asked. "And I have the luxury of living without it. I know many friends of mine who don't—and actually, that was part of..." don't go there. "Nevermind," you shake your head, pinning yourself to here.

"You just didn't want it?" he echos.

You nod, "Never did," there's no reason to lie to him. He smells so good—why would you lie to him? "Most men bore men, Joel."

"Wow," the smile that widens is a little baffled. A little dirty. "Should I be scared?"

At that, you burst out laughing. "Really?" You have no clocks outside, but the starry sky and the deep silence in the houses next to you are a good enough indicator. "It's been... a couple of hours, at least. We're one bottle and a half," you say, looking at your glasses shining on the table, "deep into conversation... and you wonder if you should be scared?"

Joel's still looking at you when you look back. His arm is around your chair, and your back touches it when you lean back against it. "I'll take that as a no."

"You are very far from boring."

"'m happy you think so," he smiles. He lets his eyes drop to your lips, without a care for the two palms of distance that separate your faces. It's meant to be blatant. Obvious. "Just another question..."

Here it comes, you thought. Why no kids? Why so alone? Do you feel lonely?

"Why me?" he asks.

It's nothing more than a breath.

You could ignore it. Give any answer, and close the gap. Instead, you give him honesty. "Honestly? I was so attracted to you, the second I saw you, that I was willing to even hear somethin' stupid coming out of your mouth if I could just—," do it, do it, do it. Seeing his eyes darken from up close is torture. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat between your legs. "Now, if I were any smart, I'd be wishing for you to be bad at all the rest, because..."

This was amazing already.

Joel laughs, just a single, breathy laugh, and then does something you would never see it coming.

He pushes his chair back with the weight of his hips and drops to his knees.

The gasp you let out is enough to put the most insufferable smile on his face.

"Don't say that," he feigns hurt, as if he wasn't smiling with his eyes and lips. "It might've been a while, but I don't think I lost my touch just yet."

Joel's hands envelop your knees and slowly pull them apart. You feel like an open wire—aware of every breath your body takes and each minimum reaction to him.

You feel the wet pulse inside your panties when he kisses the skin of your inner thigh, right above your knee.

Joel smiles up at you, blinking his eyes.

Damn him, you think. His hands caress their way up your skin, and you wished you were naked already.

He seems like someone to enjoy the torture—when his hands reach the curve of your ass, they stop there, holding onto your waist.

"Have I?" he asks, kissing the other inner leg. You feel a hint of his tongue in the short kiss.

What could you say to that?

"You really haven't."

Feeling the hot breathing of his laughter on your inner thighs was not in your list for tonight.

"Do I get a kiss, then?"

He would never have to ask you twice.

Your legs wrap around his torso when you lean down to meet him for the kiss. Joel seems to love the position—he smiles at first, gripping you by the neck.

He takes his time to look at you before he dives in. A mental check-in. Maybe just admiring, just as you were from the second he kneeled.

His kiss comes from experience. A lot of fucking experience.

If you were weak in the knees before, you seal the notion that you're out of your depth there and then.

Joel kisses like no one's ever kissed you before—like he wants to explore, discover, conquer.

He licks his way inside of you with the first kiss.

His tongue isn't shy; he makes you adjust to his rhythm, to let go and open up, and when you, you're rewarded with it—he pulls up just an inch, just to whisper, "that's it," and then dives back in.

Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and neck in a possessive manner. It's why he makes it so easy for you let him guide it—he's holding you, and you moan as you melt into him.

He wants to feel your body.

The more you press yourself against him, the more Joel grants you little sighs of his own pleasure.

He never pushes his hips against you. Never presses you towards him.

It makes you want to scream.

When he pulls away, Joel sighs happily. He presses his right thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and nodding, kneels on his heels again.

"Joel..."

Your face remains close to his, gravitating to where he does. He whispers, "Lift your hips up for me, Sunshine," wrapped around a smile.

You do as he says.

His hand takes off your shorts without your eyes ever leaving you, and when the item is on the floor, Joel releases the robe you foregone earlier tonight from your backrest to slide down where you sit.

To not make a mess, it says.

Your face is burning up, but not as much as the rest of you.

"Is this ok?" he asks.

He waits for your nod of approval before pulling you by your knees. "Good," he's strong enough to get you where he wants in one pull. Your hips are nearing the end of the chair and from this angle, Joel gets to look.

He eyes the underwear as if it's personally offending him.

"I like the color," he says. He traces a finger across the baby blue lace and looks up at you. "Suits ya," he says. That's when he hooks a finger on the fabric, pulling it to the side. "I dreamt about this."

That gets to you.

Joel's fingers are thorough—able. He uses his knuckles to spread the lips apart, uncaring about the whines you let out above him, still holding on to the shame of being the only one exposed.

It lasts until he places two knuckles on each side of your clit, stimulating it with back-and-forth movements.

You were right about the torture.

He enjoys it.

Joel waits for your clit to be hard between his fingers before he puts his mouth to it.

You can only cling onto his hair.

I dreamt about this, too.

"Fuck—I dreamt about this too," you confess.

His moan vibrating against the core of your pussy makes you clench.

Joel's only starting.

He takes his time in finding the rhythm you most feel pleasure on your clit. He never bites, never nibbles, and doesn't go softly, like other men.

He eats.

Joel's mouth is stuck to you—the way he laps and slurps and sucks on your hardened nub only makes your volume go from whines and pleas of his name to moans in very little time.

That's when he dips his tongue inside. When he uses it as muscle and proves to you why the idea of oral is so good for men.

Because it's good.

Joel gives no indicator that he wants to stop at any time, and it turns you into something that blossoms.

At some point between him almost making you cum just by sucking on your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you, your legs made their way to his shoulders, and his hands have secured themselves groping your ass.

He pulls back for air, once.

His fingers enter you instead, two at once.

"So wet already," he says. You only hear it, until, "look at me," he asks.

As if his thick, long fingers dripping into places inside of you weren't enough, you get to look at him.

His face glistening on your back porch is something that burns behind your eyelids the second you see it. You feel incoherent, needy, and exposed in more than one way.

Joel looks like he could eat you like this.

"Joel—please. Please," you're begging, but for what, you're not sure.

"Cum for me first. I'll give you whatever you want later, just," he pumps his fingers inside of you, keeping a steady and strong pace, and then says, "You look so good like this, Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Profanities.

That's what he says before getting his mouth back on you—his tongue sucking and vibrating against your clit.

It's too much. Too fucking much, and, "Joel, Joel—"

He pulls back just to say it, "That's it, doin' so good, Sunshine—" and that's when you lose it. The coaxing. It's so earnest. Sounds so pleased, dipping in honey as if it's him who's feeling this good.

"'m gonna cum Joel, fuck me, just like that—"

"Like this? Hm? Show me. Cum on my mouth."

All it takes is for him to put it back on you. Joel knows how to push himself inside—knows how to explore the hot and tight confines of your cunt, because he coos a first orgasm out of you with the right pace only.

No strength. No speed. Just sucking, and curling right against your spot.

Your vision whites out.

The time you take to come back to yourself, he keeps playing with your pussy and the mess he made in it, seeming as satisfied with the result as you are. Somewhere in white land.

What a little death.

After that, it's more a mess and clashes of teeth and desires than you knew you were even capable of.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you pull him inside the house.

The idea is to make it to your room, but you never make it past the living room.

When you press him against a wall to finish taking off his clothes, seeing him only in briefs makes gravity pull you in.

Nothing but black briefs.

You have to drop to your knees.

Joel curses under his breath and tries his best at keeping his posture, but you're with a mind entirely clouded by raw need.

To him, you want to do only your best.

You're addicted to the way he mutters, "atta girl," every time you discover something that brings him pleasure. It sounds so fucking dirty.

"That's it. Atta fuckin' girl, god."

With him, you use tricks your friends once told you that are buried in the back of your mind. You hold the part of his cock your mouth can't cover and move it in sync with your lips. You make it wet, make sloppy, make it whatever he leads it to be.

Joel hisses and moans louder when you find the special places hidden—the sensitive skin between his balls that leads up, you lick it from start to finish and are rewarded with a full-body shudder.

He shows you what strong body means.

"Where's your room?" he pulls you by the arms, and you somehow end up jumping on him. Exactly what you wanted.

"I'm not makin' that far," you tell him with a grin.

He has his thumb on your lips again—he seems to like your mouth.

"Didn't think you'd want my bare ass on your couch."

"That is exactly where I want your bare ass right now," you tell him.

He's good at following requests, just as he is at giving them.

Joel sits with you already straddling his lap, and bless his gentleman's heart, he says, "I left my pants outside—wait," he curses under his breath with your hips circling his shaft. Letting it slide between your pussy lips. "Fuckin' hell."

"Fuckin' hell indeed," you sigh. "Wait here."

You run outside for it, only because you're not on the pill. Maybe you'll start taking it. Maybe you shouldn't think that far.

Joel's waiting for you alright—he has his hand at the base of his cock, sitting on your couch like a modern-day Adonis.

A sluttier Adonis. Sexier, too.

"Stop starin' and c'mere," he demands;

And who are you to say no to that?

Joel does you the favor of putting it on as you make yourself comfortable on his lap again, taking all of your out of the way. He looks like he wants to eat you alive piece by piece, and you love it.

"Lemme know if you want me to take over," he tells you.

"Yes, sir," you whisper in a taunting manner.

Joel rests his forehead against yours when you line himself up with you, and it's a reward of your stupid, gigantic-ass window letting in the light from outside that allows you to see the pleasure on his face as you sink around him, burying him to the hilt.

His digits press so hard on your sides they'll brise.

You'll be bruised tomorrow morning.

Fingerprints on your hips, beard burns on your inner legs, palm shapes across your ass.

When you start moving, none of you say a word about how it feels.

It's criminal.

Only curses and your names are allowed in the thin space separating your wet bodies.

The thin layer of sweat makes you two glide on each other, and the drag of him inside of you is almost too good for words.

You're scared of the ones that'd make their way out, anyway.

So you let out what you can. You call for him, and he calls back. Joel slaps your ass, both sides of it, and urges you on to take him as you want it.

"Fuckin' christ, I'm never gonna—fuck—never gonna sleep again."

There it is. Being pussy-drunk makes him loose-lipped.

Your own are aching with how hard you bite on them.

Joel lets the reigns remain on your hands as you stay on top. He lets you ride him painfully slow, and faster, just because it feels good. He lets you climb all the way up only to slam back down, praising you through the fog in your brain.

"Does it feel good, Sunshine? Mm? My cock feels that good for you?"

You're sure it'll all come back to haunt you once your brain can be coherent.

He takes charge when you start begging him, and for what, you're unsure of. It's a mixture of please and his name, which Joel takes as his permission slip.

He flips you onto your back, hooks one of your legs on the middle of his back, and fucks you both into another orgasm.

It should be concerning the way he does it—like he's familiar with your body and your cues. He just follows your pace and moans until you're clawing at his back, and when his name comes out over and over again, he coaxes it again. Coos at you, holding your face in one hand. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Do it. I'll cum for you when I feel you shakin' around my cock, Sunshine. Cum for me."

It comes so hard you almost faint; blackout.

Joel takes care of you afterward.

Of course he does.

Even with the weakest legs and the minimum sense of reality around you, he manages. Joel leads you upstairs, tells you he's collected your clothes, and even lays down when you ask him.

"Just for a while," you ask.

He lays in front of you in bed, and pulls your arms around him. "I'm puttin' an alarm."

Little spoon. "You gotta be back here in the morning anyway."

"I know," he kisses your wrist. "Can't wait."

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[mountainsandmayhem]

God Bless The She Devil Who Made Joel Miller

Pairing: BFD!Joel x F!Reader

18+ only!!!

Summary: After a fight with your boyfriend, your best friend Sarah invites you to say with her at her childhood home with her dad.

CW: Joel be peekin, Joel is mean (but you like it). I’m choosing not to say anything else to not spoil anything so engage at your own risk.

AN: You can all thank @littlevenicebitch69 for this. She asked for being caught, but I am daddy and I know what she really wants 😉 thank you @mermaidgirl30 for being my forever beta xo

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

God bless the absolute angel who brought Sarah Miller into your life. She somehow convinced her dad to let you stay with them over spring break after your boyfriend locked you out of your shared apartment and then refused to answer the phone or let you in. Sweet, empathetic, and dependable Sarah was at your apartment minutes after you called her and didn’t have to say much to her dad to let him allow you to stay.

And God bless the absolute she devil who made Joel Miller and put him in close proximity with you. You have a boyfriend, maybe, you can’t be sure, but you do know you have it HARD for Joel Mother Fucking Miller. He’s exactly the type of man that would classify as a DILF, and you don’t even consider yourself into older men. But Joel isn’t older, he’s experienced and charming and every single thing he does seems to turn you on.

Sarah has been working a day shift at the local grocery store during the break and Joel is off running his contracting business. Joel Miller, sweaty and dirty and building things with his large calloused hands. Fuck, you try to shake that image from your brain because you certainly do not need another image of him to touch yourself too.

You have a job serving in the evenings so the house is quiet and all yours during the day. This afternoon the sun peeks through your curtains and wakes you. Sun dancing along the pale yellow walls of the spare bedroom. You pick up your phone and see that it’s clear and sunny, the perfect day to lay out by the pool that Joel said you could use, “make yourself at home, darlin’, any friend of Sarah is welcome anytime.”

You practically leap out of bed and into your ensuite bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready to lay out in the sun. You rush down the hall in the swimsuit Sarah lent you, a large blue and white striped pool towel tucked under your arm.

You love Sarah, but there’s no chance you’re wearing this ridiculous one piece swimsuit to tan, plus you’re alone so what’s the harm? Joel doesn’t get home until well after 5 pm most nights, Sarah usually around 3 or 4, and she’s seen you naked more than once. Plus the backyard is fairly private, most likely no one will see anything.

Fuck it, you think to yourself, slipping the red lycra straps off your shoulders and then shimmying the suit down your body. The sun immediately warms your skin and that boost of vitamin D already has you feeling lighter and happier. You spread the towel down on the chair and lay on your stomach, tying your hair on top of your head and then grabbing your phone.

You flip through Spotify before settling on the album Ten by Pearl Jam. As the first song floats across the backyard, you rest your cheek on your hands and let the fast paced grunge music wash away your thoughts of your boyfriend and what you’re going to do next week when you go back to school. All that matters now is the sun on your skin.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel was just about to start working on some paperwork for his next building when he heard movement in the hallway. You must be up for the day, he should probably let you know he’s working from home today, just in case. He wants you to be comfortable here, even if it’s killing him to see you wandering around his house in those small denim shorts you wear to work. Last night he was almost certain he could see your hard nipples peeking out from the fabric of your tight white t-shirt.

Absolutely not, Joel. He scolds himself.

He hears you pad down the hall and then the unmistakable swoosh of the sliding glass door to the backyard. He glances out the window in his office to see you slip the red swimsuit Sarah lent you off your body. His cock was already painfully hard behind his jeans.

She just turned 21. The Angel on his shoulder reminds the devil that’s tempting him from the other side.

His mouth waters as he looks at your body. Your tits are perky, pink little nipples hardening as the air hits them.

She's going through a hard time. The good side of his conscience seems to be losing but he finds an ounce of strength and looks away. He can’t be staring at you.

He tries to focus on this goddamn contract but even little deadline and “initial here” blend together and all he can see in the jumbled words of the page is that little strip of hair that leads to that bundle of nerves he so badly wants to suck on. When he looks up again you’re laying face down, round and perky ass facing his window and on display for him. She must not know he’s home, and now she’s going to think he’s a total fucking creep if he says something now.

She’s your daughter's best friend. No, she’s off limits. Beyond off limits. Get it together, Miller.

And then your music drifts through his cracked window. You’re listening to Pearl Jam. So now not only are you incredibly tempting but you also have the music of his teenage years blasting. He can’t resist anymore, glancing out of the window to see you still laying on your stomach and your plush ass bouncing along as you wiggle to Eddie Vedder singing about still being alive.

He’s not sure how it happens, his body seems to move without him knowing, and suddenly he’s standing at the window, staring down into the backyard at you. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the large window frame.

He slows his breathing and focuses on you - every dip and curve, every freckle, every little bit of skin being absorbed by his heated gaze. Your legs are slightly parted, but not enough for him to be able to see your cunt, and fuck does he want to see it.

His palms tingle with the need to cup your ass, maybe spank you for being naked in the middle of the day. He has neighbors, they could see you right now. This is unacceptable and you should be punished.

Just as he’s about to head downstairs his cell phone rings loudly and you shoot up onto your elbows and look over your shoulder at him, eyes locking with his before a tiny smile crosses your face. Joel looks away quickly and grabs his cell, almost crushing the device in his grasp as he answers.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel Miller was fully lurking at your naked body, and while that should probably embarrass you, you need to get fucked. You need something, anything, to forget about that piece of shit boyfriend who locked you out and refuses to talk to you or let you get your stuff. Sarah told you when you first met that he had her when he was 19, so it’s not like he’s THAT much older than you. Plus it’s just fucking.

Yep, I’m going for it.

You gather the towel around your body loosely, hooking your swimsuit on your finger and twirling it happily as you head into the house, determined to confront him and then seduce him. When you head up the stairs he’s standing in the doorframe of his office, just across from the spare bedroom you’re occupying. He looks deliciously pissed, one arm propped above his head on the door frame, the other on his hip, knee popped out. Your pussy flutters at the thought of his large, angry body above yours.

The opening bars of Jeremy fill the silence between you two, almost daring the other to make the first move.

“Turn that off,” Joel snaps. “I’m working.”

“Didn’t look like you were working a few minutes ago,” you say back, matching his energy.

Joel’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing, but you can tell he’s fighting to keep his eyes on yours. You lick your lips, testing him, teasing him, pushing him to see if he’ll take the bait. The flick of his eyes to your lips happens so quickly you almost miss it.

You let out a scoff, “Ya, that’s what I thought.” You step towards him, so close that you can smell the coffee and sawdust on him. “Wanna take a break from all that work?” You say the word work teasingly, trying to entice him.

“Go to your room and put some clothes on. Don’t let me catch you naked in the backyard again,” He says deeply, then closes his office door in your face.

You smirk to yourself, dropping the towel at his door and wandering into your room leaving the door wide open. You hook your phone to the Bluetooth speaker as you lay on your bed completely naked. You hit the volume button and slip your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, little circles.

“Daddy didn’t give no affection, no

And the boy was something that Mommy wouldn’t wear

King Jeremy the wicked

Oh, ruled his world”

Joel whips his office door open looking absolutely furious. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. Bare, wide open, and soaking wet. You don’t stop, don’t even bother to look his way, as you dip your fingers into your pussy and cry out his name. Joel steps into your room and hits the power button on your speaker. The only sounds that film the room are your moans and the squelching of your arousal as your fingers slip in and out of your pussy.

“What the fuck did I just say, little girl?” Joel says darkly.

You open your eyes to look at him and the expression on his face sends your heart into your stomach. You’ve always been a little bit of a brat, getting in trouble lots growing up. Truthfully, you like the rush of it, the adrenaline of the unknown. But Joel looks dangerous, eyes blown out with rage and lust, hands clamped into fists at his sides, a slight blush pinks his cheeks, lips in a tight line.

You sit up, crossing your legs and covering yourself with a pillow as you turn towards him. You’re suddenly not feeling so confident, you may have pushed the wrong man.

“Y-you said outside,” you start, your voice wavering. “I’m inside.”

Joel moves so quickly that you don’t even have time to register what’s happening as the pillow is ripped from your grip and disposed of on the floor in front of you. You’re bare and exposed to him again.

“Spread your legs,” he says hungrily, voice a raspy whisper.

He watches your throat as you swallow hard, leaning back on your elbows and planting your feet on the edge of the bed. You look at him tentatively, jumping and letting out a little squeal when he barks, “I said spread your fucking legs.”

You relax, letting your knees fall open. His breathing is rapid, a growling moan leaving his parted lips. He takes one step, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

“Joel -” you start.

“Shut up. You knew what you were doing, you wanted this. Didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes, but…” his hand slaps the inside of your thigh and your knees slam together as you cry out.

“Spread. Your fucking. Legs,” he repeats in a slow and deep command.

“That hurt!” You say back, squeezing your knees together tighter. It feels like he set fire to your thigh and you can already see the red handprint forming.

“If you’re gonna act like a little brat, I’m going to treat you like one. Now spread your legs so I can hit the other one.” He raises an eyebrow at you cockily. “If you keep them open, I might reward you.” You’ve bit off more than you can chew with Joel Miller.

You take in a calming breath through your nose, relaxing your knees as you exhale slowly. Joel can see the milky, sticky strings of your arousal as your pussy lips spread open for him. He has to swallow the excess saliva that pools in his cheeks at the sight. He wants to taste you so fucking badly.

“I think you liked it,” he taunts. “You’re makin’ a mess, you like being slapped around, don’t you? Treated like a little whore.”

Before you can respond he lays a hard smack on your other thigh. Your hips involuntarily buck upwards, your head falling back and a moaning, whimpering cry you don’t recognize as your own leaves your lips. You focus on your knees, fighting against your body’s instincts, keeping them pushed into the mattress.

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he kneels in front of you and yanks your ass to the edge of the bed. “Think you should get a reward now?”

“Y-yes, please, Joel. Please!” You have never had to beg for sex before, boys your age are usually fired up and ready to go, but men of Joel’s age know sex is so much more than just penetration - it’s a game, a tease.

He bites down on your thigh, “Please. Please, Joel!”

“You smell so fucking good,” he says as his hooked nose trails down your little line of pubic hair. You squirm under him as your clit twitches, aching for his attention. “And so goddamn wet. My little whore, aren’t ya?” His warm breath hits your needy clit and you flop down onto the bed, whining in need.

“Please -” but your words are cut off by the front door opening and Sarah’s voice calls through the house.

“Everyone can celebrate, I’m home now!!!” She yells jokingly.

“Fuck!” Joel huffs under his breath and bolts for his office, kicks your towel and swimsuit into your room, you follow and click your door shut quietly.

“Hello?” Sarah calls, heading up the stairs.

“Just getting dressed,” you call through your closed door. “I think your dad is in a meeting.”

“Put on your swimsuit, it’s gorgeous outside!”

Taglist

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

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#joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #pedrohub #joel miller fanfiction #joel x oc #daddy joel #brat tamer or soft dom #dom!joel miller #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel x y/n #joel x you #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x oc #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel continues an affair with his innocent neighbor, having a quickie in her backyard while her husband is home.]

PART TWO

“You don’t worry about him when I’m fucking you, ya hear me?”

That night after Joel left, your husband didn’t get home until nearly dawn. You faked being asleep with your back to him hearing him walk inside and go straight to the shower.

You couldn’t sleep that night but for the first time it wasn’t because of your husbands absence …but more so….Joel’s absence. It was hard to stop thinking about him…thinking about what you had just done but you knew it could never happen again.

The next morning you made breakfast silently, your husband not having much to say to you as usual so it was easy to avoid him. A quick peck on the cheek before giving you an excuse of how it will be so hard for him to call you on break, his voice fading in the background…before you even realized it, he had left.

The trash from the night before still sitting by the front door, you sighed cursing at yourself before taking it out yourself.

“Can’t count on him for a damn thing” you muttered to yourself as you lifted the top of the bin not realizing Joel was outside next door. Once you closed the bin that’s when you were caught off guard by the image of him before you. He didn’t say a word, barely getting a chance to as you quickly looked away rushing back inside. Joel watched as the door slammed shut before hearing Sarah come out behind him.

“Dad, you ready?” He cleared his throat turning away from your direction.

“Yeah, let’s go. You’re gonna be late” Joel hopped in his truck and drove off.

Peaking through your window you watched him leave. Sighing to yourself you turned away, how the hell were you suppose to face him?

Especially in front of your husband.

Joel had woken up that morning reminiscing on the night before, standing in the shower he remembered how wet you were for him as hesitant as you may have been.

If you weren’t married he swore he would’ve let himself cum in you..over and over.

That evening after running some errands you got home to find your husband and Joel talking to each other on the front lawn. Stopping in your tracks, your lips parted, it being the last thing you expected to come home to.

“There you are, look what Joel got for us” Henry grinned showing you the very same bottle of wine the two of you had opened together the evening before.

“This is one of my favorite brands, how’d you know?” Henry laughed as you stood nervously before them.

“Lucky guess” Joel shrugged as he glimpsed at you with a smirk.

You could kill him.

“This is gonna go great with the game tonight, thank you-“

“I better get dinner going” you interrupted making the two men look over at you.

“Sure go ahead,”

“Thanks, Joel” you muttered uncomfortably as you quickly walked away. Henry continued on talking about the game that night not noticing the way Joel’s eyes followed you. He noticed your husband not offering to help you with the two heavy bags you had bought in, yet it was all things you were used to.

“Dinner almost ready?” Henry called out to you from the living room as you put his clothes in the laundry.

“Just a couple more minutes!” You responded when you noticed the collar of his shirt had a weird stain on it. Your heart sinking as you came to realize it was stained with a woman’s lipstick. Sitting down on the bed you sighed, unsure of how you were suppose to feel.

Of course it hurt, yet you couldn’t help but think about what you were doing the day before.

It didn’t make you any better.

Although, it was very much obvious Henry had been doing this for some time now…you just never had any physical evidence of it.

Serving Henry his dinner as he sat in front of the tv he noticed you hadn’t served yourself.

“Aren’t you eating now?”

“No. Um, I was feeling a little queasy earlier. I’m not too hungry” you lied. Henry shrugged his shoulders and went on to watch the game.

Quickly walking away you held yourself together before walking out the back door. The sun had gone down, it was nearly eight o’clock, it was a quiet evening…it was what you needed. Closing the door behind you, you took a deep breath standing in the middle of your backyard when you heard a noise next door.

Of course it was Joel Miller.

The second he lay eyes on you, you froze, your arms crossed as he walked closer to the fence.

“You gonna run away again, darlin’?”

“What are you trying to do? Gifting him the same wine bottle I had-“

“Actually it was for you” he interrupted before realizing you seemed distracted, you seemed upset. Raising a brow he took a step closer.

“You alright?”

“Yes, what makes you think I’m not?” You asked defensively just as the sound of your husband cheering loudly was heard from your window making you turn to it. Joel took advantage that you looked away and quickly climbed over the low fence. The sound of his boots hitting the ground making you turn back and gasp.

“Joel! Are you crazy?!” You whispered as he proceeded to walk towards you.

“What are you doing? My husband is inside!” His arm closing around your waist pulling you against his body.

“You tellin’ me ya don’t wanna see me?” His question making you look up into his playful brown eyes, a smirk on his lips. Your hand on his chest yet you weren’t applying pressure to push him away. There it was again, those intense feelings of confusion…

“Joel…please..if Henry-“

“Forget about Henry” he whispered looking down at your lips. Slowly he leaned towards you, his hand gently tilting your face up, he kissed you softly before the sound of Henry’s voice caused you to quickly push him back.

“This is insane, you need to go” you turned away from him refusing to look back at him when you felt his hands roughly take hold of your hips.

“Joel” you gasped when you felt him push himself up against you. A full erection could be felt through his sweats, his pelvis thrusting against you.

“Joel please…I shouldn’t..” you whispered feeling him slowly pull up your dress. Looking behind him making sure no one was around he pushed down his pants, his cock sticking out of the hole in his boxers, he slipped his hand between your warm thighs and pulled aside your underwear. The sounds of the two of you breathing loudly as you felt his cock meet with your wet pussy. Your eyes rolling back as he slid in you and proceeded to work in a slow steady rhythm. Each stroke he could hear how wet you were, the juices from your pussy beginning to leave wet stains on his boxers as he slowly picked up his pace. His quick thrusts causing you to hold onto the wall beside you to keep yourself steady before he pulled you back into his body.

“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” He whispered roughly in your ear as he fucked you harder.

“Tell me that pussy only gets this wet for me-“ he grunted. It was true, the level of arousal his touch bought you was like nothing you had felt.

“Say it!” He gave your hips a tight squeeze as you struggled not to moan.

“I’m only wet for you, Joel-“ you panted.

“You promise?”

“I promise!” You whispered as a whimper escaped your lips. Henry yelling at the tv making you jump and turn to your window until Joel grabbed you by your hair turning you away from it.

“You don’t worry about him when I’m fucking you, you hear me?” your head back against him as he pulled on your hair with such force that only turned bought you closer to orgasm.

“Yes-yes” you gasped as he continued to thrust his hips. Sex wasn’t like this with Henry.

Sex with Joel felt like a wild ride you didn’t want to end. Staring up at the clear sky with stars you couldn’t believe you were having a quickie with Joel Miller in your backyard. The strap of your dress slipping down your shoulder causing Joel to push it down further.

“Joel-“ you gasped quickly covering your breast.

“No one’s gonna see a thing” his large hand squeezing your breast as he continued, the sound of his breathing growing heavier right before he came.

“Shit-“ you felt him quickly slip out of you as you turned and watched him leaned back against the wall and jerk himself off onto the floor. Squeezing his eyes shut you watched as cum continued to shoot out of him. Out of breath he proceeded to fix his pants still leaning back. You could tell with how much he came he just had any energy sucked out of him. Looking over at you he winked at you, reaching over and fixing the strap of your dress not realizing you had never fixed it, distracted at the sight of Joel cumming. The sound of your husband still yelling at the tv as you worriedly looked at your window. Joel pulled you back against him seeing the guilt slowly make its way through you again.

“Hey” he whispered making you look up at him.

“I know he’s cheating on me” you blurt out.

“I just…I never thought I’d be married sneaking around with another man”

“Come over Friday” he whispered unexpectedly.

“What?”

“I’m off, Sarah’s in school, Tommy’s working, you’re home alone- I want cha in my bed” his eyes darkened, the thought exciting him.

“I…I don’t know, Joel..I can’t keep doing this.”

“Promise me you’ll think about it” his eyes were desperate for a positive response.

“Yes..I-I promise. I gotta go, Joel” before you could pull away he pulled you in for another kiss. Never had you felt this way from a kiss with your own husband, you couldn’t explain it. Joel let you go and watched you go inside before he climbed back over the fence as if nothing had happened..

#pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x oc #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine

[outoftheseine]

- JOEL MILLER FIC RECS -

(most of these fics are age-gap romance. some fics have mature content (+18) so minors please respect the authors and do not interact). also please beware of the canon trigger warnings (violence, language, guns, death, blood etc.))

part 2 | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

one thing i am missing • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @joelscruff (fluff, smut)

to do the right thing • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @pedgeitopascal (very angsty, tw: abortion and ppd, childbirth)

if the door wasn't shut • joel miller x platonic!reader

↳ by @heartpascal (very angsty)

joel miller x feral!fem!reader

↳ by @ohraicodoll (angst, lots of blood, sometimes gore, reader has a given nickname, smut)

if he wanted to • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @sl-ut (angsty, tw: mentions of suicide and sa, drug use)

twenty years later • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @yelena-bellova (angst)

weakness • joel miller x fem!reader part two

↳ by @pedgeitopascal (fluff, little angst, smut)

the stable girl • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @guess-my-next-obsession (mature, angst, fluff)

friendly fire • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @the-ginger-hedge-witch (angst, smut)

uneven odds • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @theetherealbloom (angst, fluff, smut, anxiety)

burning in a hopeless dream • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @tightjeansjavi (angst, implied smut)

ONE-SHOTS/BLURBS

from love and life • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @bubbles-for-all-of-us (child birth, fluff)

adjustments • joel miller x fem!teacher!reader

by @softlyspector (fluff, smut, mentions of dead loved ones, tw: mentions of suicide)

kiss it better • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @morningbluebell (mostly fluff)

why can't i breathe? • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @oliviajdjarin (fluff, flustered joel)

no time to die • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @davosmymaster (very angsty, hurt/comfort, chef's kiss, so good)

she's a gun • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @cowgurrrl (fluff)

darlin' • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @charnelhouse (angst, tw: sexual assault and mentions of suicide, smut, hurt/comfort)

alone and foresaken • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @chelseasdagger (smut, very good smut actually)

once again in your arms • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @foli-vora (angst, tw: loss of a child, fluff)

too late • joel miller x reader

↳ by @alloftheimagines (angst, injuries, hurt/comfort)

don't let me drown • joel miller x reader

↳ by @alloftheimagines (angst, hurt/comfort, tw: drowning, some nudity but nothing explicit)

nightmares • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @youlightmeupfinn (tw: panic attacks, nightmare, hurt/comfort)

saving • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @youlightmeupfinn (angst, hurt/comfort, joel being an asshole)

a house in nebraska • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @highdramas (angsty, heavy feeling of nostalgia, mentions of sexual interactions)

spring breeze • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @thedgeoftheuniverse (fluff, hurt/comfort)

for you, anything • joel miller x reader

↳ by @mellowsaturns (fluff, sick!reader, domesticty)

perfectly wrong • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @psychedelic-ink (enemies to lovers, smut)

domesticty looks good on you • joel miller x reader

↳ by @girlscull (sooo fluffy)

ghosts of his past • joel miller x reader

↳ by @lol-im-done (very angsty, made me cry)

soft touches • joel miller x reader

↳ by @theeoriginals (fluff, hurt/comfort)

close call • joel miller x reader

↳ by @rogueonestan (hurt/comfort, angst)

first kill • joel miller x reader

↳ by @alloftheimagines (angst, hurt/comfort)

illusory light • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @lavendertales (angst, injuries, fluff)

playing house • joel miller x reader

↳ by @me-and-your-husband (some angst, smut)

try to love me, honey please • joel miller x reader

↳ by @peterhollandkait (hurt/comfort, angst, sad and soft joel, mentions of blood and death)

confused warmth • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @rise-my-angel (angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut)

soft spot • joel miller x gn!reader

↳ by @orangevtae (very fluffy, some hurt/comfort, sunshine x grumpy)

love in the time of cordyceps • joel millet x fem! reader

↳ by @sameheart-sameblood (angst, fluff, mentions of blood)

one bed • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @frannyzooey (good old one bed trope, explicit)

sleeping bag • joel miller x reader

↳ by @quin-ns (very fluffy)

lavender haze • joel miller x pregnant!fem!reader

↳ by @forever-rogue (soo fluffy, made my heart flutter)

intent • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @forever-rogue (angst, joel is an asshole, fluff)

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #fanfiction recommendation #fic recommendation #masterlist #joel miller x reader fluff #joel miller x reader angst #joel miller x reader smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou fluff #tlou spoilers

[ohraicodoll]

DESPERATELY NEED FERAL READER WITH EP 8 WITH AN INJURED JOEL AND KIDNAPPED ELLIE…….. I KNOW OUR CRAZY QUEEN WOULD KILL EVERYONE ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Yall asked for it lol

Violent Delights Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: They took her kid and she was getting her back. Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and torture

She woke up with a start, having drifted off unknowingly after trying to keep watch, a sense of disorientation as she tried to figure out where she was and what was happening. The basement. They were still in the basement, the cold leeching any warmth from the walls and floors, the haggard breathing of her companion her only company. It’d been over 48 hours since she last slept, since Joel was hurt and they’d had to drag him into the house and patch him up. He wasn’t in good shape. Joel was so close to death’s door, it terrified her. They were so close to losing him and she had never felt more helpless.

She could still hear his pained groans, the glazed and blank look in his eyes, as she put pressure on the bleeding hole in his stomach just a couple days before. “Don’t you dare die, Joel. You still have to make shit up to me and you can’t do that dead. You can’t leave us again.” He’d tried to tell them to leave him. To go back to Tommy’s and leave him behind, the stubborn asshole. But Ellie managed to find the first aid kit and they’d sewn up the hole, wrapping it best they could with the little supplies they had. She knew it wasn’t enough. There could be shards left from the baseball bat, they weren’t the cleanest, nothing was sterile. She didn’t even know if something internal had been damaged. But it was all they could do. They’d been so focused on getting to Colorado they’d been using their food storage rather than hunting over the past week. Now it was biting them in the ass, their supplies dwindled. She’d managed to briefly go out and hunt down a rabbit, but game seemed scarce and leaving meant leaving Ellie and Joel alone. Without Joel, it was hard to sleep, look after Ellie, look after him and keep him stable, look after the fucking horses, and hunt. She was overwhelmed. So sleep went out the window. She took watch when Ellie was asleep, went and tried to hunt and scavenge the nearby houses when she was awake, and kept an eye on Joel in between taking care of the two horses in the garage. But at some point she’d fallen asleep finally, fallen deep and hard enough that she hadn’t noticed Ellie slipping the rifle from her hands and leaving the two adults alone.  A small scribbled note was placed on her lap on a piece of what looked like newspaper, “Be back soon -E.” She scrambled to her feet, looking around and cursed herself. Joel was still breathing steadily but his brow was covered with sweat from the infection he was staving off. Both their packs were against the wall but Ellie’s was gone and the panic that took hold was like a lightning bolt. It stole the breath from her lungs. Ellie was gone, Ellie was gone, Ellie was gone- it was a racing thought that circulated over and over again. Her main purpose, main job, and she’d fucking fallen asleep.

Her heart jumped further at hearing footsteps above her head, the slight creak and shift in the old wood, a door slamming…then it all came out in deep relief as she recognized the light shuffling.

Ellie raced down the steps, cheeks pink from cold and wind, and breath huffing out in a rush as she entered the basement.

She grabbed the girl immediately, shaking her by the shoulders with the vestiges of panic still in her blood, “Where did you go, Ellie? You weren’t supposed to leave!”

The teenager paused, eyes frantic and a little wild, but a tough set to her lips as she shook her head, “I went hunting and you needed sleep! I had to, but look! I got Joel medicine!” Ellie took the bottles out of their wrap, quickly moving away from her and kneeling down to Joel, beginning to lift up his shirt before she could even get a good look at what she had. The wound was ugly and discolored and she could hear him groan at the small touches. Her mind was still caught up in the panic of discovering the girl was gone and she quickly snatched the bottles away before the syringe was inserted. “Where did you get this?” she asked, turning it over in her hands. Penicillin. Two whole bottles of penicillin, practically liquid gold in their world, and Ellie had managed to get it while she slept. The teen looked nervous and tried to snatch it back, but she was quick even if she was exhausted and pulled her hand away, “Please, can we give it to him first and then I’ll explain?” Her eyes were so big for her face, cheeks pink. Her desperation to help Joel was evident. Ellie knew how bad he was doing and believed she held the cure to it all in her hands. She could only sigh and hand it back over, instructing her to give just a fourth of the bottle and to tap the syringe. Joel would probably have a heart attack if he knew she was letting the kid give it to him, but she knew Ellie had to do this herself. It was her win and she had to feel like she was the one saving him so she let her. But then they both stared, her knowledge only getting them that far. “Where the fuck am I suppose to put this?” Ellie cursed, looking at the wound and Joel’s arm, eyes switching between hers and his closed ones, “Fuck, how are we supposed to do this?” She cursed herself. Her medical knowledge was mediocre. Stitching, cleaning wounds, pulling out bullets, the basics they needed. Infections and medicine she had no clue about, “Just give it to him in his stomach. As long as it enters his blood stream, it should be fine.” At least, that’s what she thought. Ellie winced and inserted the needle, Joel giving out pained groans as it sunk into the sensitive area. They both watched the plunger empty the contents and then she pulled it out, trying to clean the needle the best she could. They only had one syringe and would have to reuse it. “And now we wait,” the teen commented and looked at his face as if at any second he would be magically better. He would wake up and smile and tell her good job. But he didn’t, staying silent on the small makeshift bed. “No, now you tell me where you went and how you got that,” she bit out, sitting on the other side of Joel to face her. Ellie winced and looked down at the small glass bottles in her hand, “You needed to sleep and we needed food. I know you think you can take care of all of us, but you can’t and I wanted to help by trying to hunt.” “That’s not your responsibility-” “It doesn’t matter. I wanted to help,” Ellie cut her off but then sighed, “And I did manage to actually get a deer…but I ran into these guys...” Instantly, she was on high alert, eyes searching everything that was visible and checking her for any wounds, “You ran into people and you’re barely telling me!” “I know!” the young girl argued back, hand resting on top of Joel’s, “They found my deer before me and said they were from a group with starving women and children. They offered to trade for half the deer and said they had medicine. I did everything I was supposed to! Got them to drop their guns, unloaded their rifles, and had them back away. One went to get the medicine and I kept the gun on the other.”

“So you gave them half the deer and they gave you the medicine then just let you go?” she asked and clenched and unclenched her fists. Ellie wouldn’t look so nervous if  that was the whole story and she wasn’t nearly tired enough to have been dragging half a deer carcass back. Shrugging, Ellie grimaced and refused to meet her eyes, “That was the deal…but they knew who we were. The people that attacked us at the university belonged to their group and this guy started talking about how one of theirs had been killed by a crazy man with two girls. He knows that was Joel. I don’t know why he let me go, but I think they’re looking for us.” With a curse, she quickly stood, hands on her hips and pacing in a tight circle, “Fuck. Fuck. And they didn’t come after you?”

“No, I think they let me go because I was a kid.” She doubted that. People rarely were that charitable, even to children in this world. Especially a child with a gun and an attitude like Ellie’s. The unspoken words were there though. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t come for her and Joel though. Ellie may be deemed innocent but the two of them were problems and only one of them was in commission currently. But what could they do? They couldn’t move Joel in his state. They couldn’t leave him behind either. They were stuck. “Okay. Maybe if they let you go they don’t plan on coming. Maybe they think both of us are injured if you were out on your own and won’t come,” she lied comfortingly and tried to speak the words into existence, knowing the kid was probably feeling guilty and needed some hope. They needed rest, needed to breathe for a second, and panicking now wouldn’t help.  It took a while to relax enough to let the adrenaline fade away.

Ellie laid down, exhausted, tucking into Joel’s side as she had the past couple nights and resting her head on his shoulder. He subconsciously leaned into her, still alive for now. Her heart ached at the sight, the way they held each other in their own ways. She didn’t have the strength to get after the girl more or uproot them out of precaution. They were all exhausted and Ellie had somehow managed to bring hope even if there was a cost.

She sat down by the stairs, flipped her knife between her fingers to keep her awake and focused, and watched the two sleep with her heart in her throat.

The men would come. Now that they knew they were in the area, they would come and they were stuck in this spot until Joel was better. There was no way they could get him on a horse and move him now without undoing all the healing he’d done. A thousand scenarios went through her head, sleep now a distant memory in the face of the panic and anxiety plaguing her. How was she supposed to fight off a group and keep them both safe?

She couldn’t. That was the reality of the situation.

The thought hit her over and over again like a blow to the chest, the knife turning between her fingers. _________________________________________ Morning came and she could see Ellie’s disappointment that the medicine hadn’t instantly woken Joel up and made him all better. To ease her mind, they gave him another dose, trying to make the bottles last before shoving the remainder in their bags. They were out of food, the rabbit she had caught two days ago long gone without a way to store it. Joel still wasn’t eating or drinking and she worried that even if they got the infection under control, his body wouldn’t be strong enough to get better. Things were bad. The possibility of Joel dying was a constant chime in her head. It felt like a mockery that he had left and came back only to be almost taken from them permanently. She was angry. He wasn’t supposed to be the one that took the hit. It had been meant for her but he’d pushed her out the way as the bat swung, breaking on the tree, and then tackled the guy. If it had been her, Joel would know what to do. He could take care of them both or at least would have the strength to leave her behind if necessary. She wasn’t sure she could. She was failing him. Failing them both. The basement was suffocating, pressing in on her, and she took the opportunity to go tend to the horses, leaving the girl and her unconscious companion to the pressing weight of disappointment. Her body was beginning to ache from the lack of sleep and food, joints protesting her movement, but she reached down and scooped snow into the small metal bucket for them to get some water. Soon the horses would starve too or be too weak to carry them. Death was creeping up on them. Looking over the neighborhood they were held up in, she sighed at the obvious foot steps leading up through the streets before beginning to methodically cover what she could. Ellie knew better than to leave a trail but she guessed in her hurry to get the medicine back to Joel and get away from the men she had forgotten. And as birds took off in a rush further down the road towards the wooded outskirts, she froze and her heart thundered in her ears. 

She felt fear run through her as her thoughts from the night resurfaced and became reality, a living nightmare. They were coming. They had waited for daylight to search them out and were coming now. She knew it, could feel it, and they were out of time. Quickly covering what she could and making false tracks from the other houses, she ran back inside and flew down the stairs to the basement taking two at a time. No time, there was no time.  Ellie startled at her rushed appearance and the way she flew across the room to the rifle and her own pack, “What’s happening?”

“Those men you saw are coming,” she huffed out, grabbing the rifle and checking it was loaded before looking around the room as if she could find the answer there.

Turning to Joel, Ellie began to shake his shoulders as if he were merely sleeping and not borderline in a coma, “Fuck. Joel! You have to wake up, Joel. Joel, wake up! Wake the fuck up, Joel!” But he only gasped, pained whimpers leaving his lips, eyelids fluttering.

She bent down and grabbed Ellie by the shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes, “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. I need you to take the horse and run.”

“What? No, what about-”

“You run and I’ll follow behind and try to pick them off,” she interrupted, voice adamant, “They’re going to search every house and they will find us eventually. I can’t hold them off like this. I need to know you’re good first and if we’re away from here then it will take the focus off Joel.”

“You want me to go without you?” Ellie’s eyes were wide with fear and her heart ached at the sight, but there was no time.

“I’ll find you,” she promised and dug her fingers tightly into her shoulders as if she could sink the words into her skin, “I will. But you have to go now. We’ll block the entrance to down here, give Joel some time.”

Ellie pressed her lips together and nodded, running to grab her backpack and last minute grabbed one of the larger knives they had. Running back over to Joel, the teen knelt down and placed it on his chest, forcing his hand to grab it. She let her while grabbing the rest of her stuff and placed Joel’s pack into a small cubby under the steps to make it less noticeable.

“Okay, look at me,” Ellie whispered to him while he only groaned in reply, “There are men coming, okay? I’m gonna lead them away from you, Red is going to help get rid of them. But if anybody makes it down here, you fucking kill them. You got it?”

“Ellie, hurry,” she bit out, peeking out the small window along the top of the wall. “Joel, do not fall asleep,” the teenager pleaded desperately, squeezing his hand around the knife. She could see his eyes partially open, see his lips trying to move and his fingers twitching trying to grasp the knife. But Ellie finally got up quickly and rushed up the stairs. She went to follow after her and paused, staring back at the unconscious man on the floor. A part of her whispered that this could be the last time she saw him alive. One or both of them could be dead if this didn’t go right. Heart in her throat, she ran back to him and kneeled, kissing his forehead and grasping his hand. “Stay alive for us, please, Joel,” she whispered, squeezing the hand around the knife, but getting back up and running up the stairs. She tried not to look back. Both of them moved the tall kitchen cabinet over the door entryway to the basement, trying to shuffle things around to not make the spot obvious before heading to the garage. They got both horses out, grabbing what she needed from hers and sending silent apologies to Tommy before forcing it to gallop away in the opposite direction with a sharp smack. The other she saved for Ellie to ride, closing the garage door behind them. They’d figure out transportation later when they were out of this mess, but they needed the guys off their trail and two different horse tracks would help. With quick hands, she helped Ellie climb up onto its back. 

Shakily, she bit out, “You ride hard and fast and loud. They’re going to come after you but if you go fast they won’t catch you and I’ll hit them from behind. They only know for sure about you right now. Do not look back, Ellie. I’ll find you once it’s safe, I promise.” Ellie was shaking but tried to put on a brave face, nodding and holding onto the reins. She wanted to hug the girl, tell her it was going to be okay, but she wouldn’t lie to her. Not now. The men were close, she knew that. She patted the rear of the horse and nodded a final goodbye, beckoning her to go forward. Her heart screamed to not let her go, that it was safer with her than alone, but they were backed into a corner and she had no choice. They wouldn’t win in a shootout and losing meant Ellie would die. So she watched as the girl rode away down the street away from her, turning until she was completely out of sight, and tried not to flinch at the gunshots that came soon after and the yells of men. She tried to shut off the part of her that wanted to panic, to react and worry. That wasn’t the part she needed to listen to at the moment. Running as far as she could, crossing over fences and staying against the walls of the house, she followed the sound of loud hoof beats and chased after them as they chased after Ellie. Her ears caught on one of them screaming that she was to be left alive, but that didn’t ease the worry in her. Being captured alive wasn’t always a good thing. One of the slower men chasing Ellie fell the furthest behind, wheezing in the cold and trying to clamber in the dense snow. Her own knife in hand, she ran and jumped onto his back, using both their weight to send them forward onto his front behind the cover of some of the shrubs. 

He hadn’t been expecting to be attacked from behind and it took him a moment to try and struggle, to lift his face out of the snow to breathe, and she took advantage of that by stabbing deep into the back of his neck. He groaned, the sound muffled, and she pulled the blade out and sunk it in again and again with a growl. The snow was staining red around them. He stopped moving. One down. She stood and took off, the cold biting into her lungs and stealing her breath. The terrain was hard and the one kill had put her farther behind the group, forcing her to cut across more backyards to catch up, but she could only hope Ellie had done what she asked and was out of range. She could catch the rest of them once they scattered. But then a gunshot rang out close by. The sound of a horse’s cry ripped through her, tore her soul to shreds, and she knew if she lived beyond the day she would hear that sound forever in her nightmares.

She ran. She left all care of stealth behind and ran fast and hard, dodging trees and fallen branches and then ran faster when another gun shot rang out. The chest felt like it was being cleaved open by the panic, fear gripping her tightly. They wouldn’t have shot her. They wouldn’t have killed her. She was a kid, they wouldn’t-

And then she watched from the trees as the group surrounded Ellie who was on the ground, her horse unmoving not far away, and a tall skinny man picked her up and began to walk away with her. She raised the rifle, looking down the scope, and cursed as the men separated and began to head back into the neighborhood. No doubt to continue their search for Joel and her.

She could see Ellie’s face through the scope, the loll of her head, but she was gripped too closely to the man’s body. He was walking further and further away. Two sides of her screamed. Leaving to go after them meant abandoning Joel, but staying behind meant leaving Ellie. She wanted to press the trigger, shoot, but knew it was too risky with Ellie in the man’s arms. She could so easily accidentally kill the girl if she was one inch off and her hands were too shaky from exhaustion to be precise. Only some of the group was going back, the others looking like they were continuing to scout the area.

She knew what she had to do, what Joel would tell her to do, but the reality of it felt impossible. If they found Joel, he’d die for sure. But she wasn’t sure she could live with leaving Ellie.

The men with the girl were getting farther away and a choice had to be made.

So she swallowed the sob in her throat and let the rage she felt consume her completely, push her forward, and followed behind the group to where they would take her kid.  __________________________ It was getting harder and harder to follow along as the wind began to kick up a notch. She needed to see where they were taking Ellie, but she was tired and the cold was sinking in, her body struggling to keep going. And as they entered the town, it was getting difficult to avoid being seen. Too many buildings, too many open areas, and she didn’t know who could be watching. She knew they had entered one of the nearby buildings, but wasn’t sure which. The clock was ticking in her mind, Ellie’s life on one hand and Joel’s on the other. What good was she if she couldn’t save her people? Blood crusted on her fingers as she entered the first of the buildings quietly, finding a back entrance. It was dark but she could hear voices nearby as she found herself in some kind of storage room, the cold still reaching her through the walls. She wasn’t used to carrying the rifle. It had always been Joel’s weapon thanks to its weight, her preferring knives or a small pistol or even a bow when she could find one. So when she crouched down to ease her way over to the swinging door leading further inside, she winced when it thudded and scraped against the floor, the sound so loud in her ears. The voices paused and she froze, eyes wide and watching the door. There was shuffling and she quickly backed away into a darkened corner, pulling her knife out. Steps came closer and she held her breath, trying to calm her racing heart. The door swung open and she could see a man enter, beard a little rough and looking a little ragged, cheeks red from the cold. He frowned, looking around, gaze shifting over what he could. He turned to look at the back door, back facing her, and only then did she realize she had tracked snow inside and it hadn’t quite melted. Lunging, she stuck the blade deep into his lower back with all her might and threw her arm around his neck, choking him hard. A cry of pain tried to leave his lips, breath cut off, and he struggled wildly. She twisted the knife, feeling blood coat her hand. “Where is the girl?” she hissed, jerking the blade deeper. He sobbed and made pathetic mewling sounds of pain, voice wispy from lack of air, “Please, I don’t know-” She twisted, hearing the squelch of flesh tearing, “The teenage girl your buddy grabbed, where is she?” The distinct smell of piss lingered in the air and he sobbed out, “I don’t know! Oh god.” Steps were coming close again and she growled, keeping her grip on the knife buried in his body and shifting her arm away from his neck to hold the back of his collar. He wheezed in air, blood starting to bubble from his lips. The door burst open and the distinct sound of a gun rising echoed in the tiny room, only to pause as she held the man in front of her like a shield, mostly hidden by his body. “Howard-” A woman’s voice. All the people who had attacked them had been men. 

She wouldn’t have the information she needed. With a growl of frustration, she shoved the body at her, letting his dead weight hit her and trap the woman against the wall. She let out a startled cry and the delay gave her just enough time to unholster her pistol and shoot her in the head. The numbness that was a twin to her rage had sunk into her skin, blanketing her all over. She’d search the buildings, one by one, and kill whoever she had to to find her kid. She didn’t care. Stepping over the bodies, she moved into the area they had been in before she drew their attention and paused, icy horror filling her. A leg was in the process of being cut apart, small chunks set aside and being wrapped up as if to store for later. It was a kitchen, most likely used to prepare food for stage, large makeshift smokers and pits along the back unused. The ticking clock in her mind sped up as the reality of what she’d uncovered hit her. Cannibals. These people that had taken Ellie were cannibals. A strong hit to her back sent her stumbling forward and clattering to her knees. She grunted and scrambled forward as a stomp missed her, hitting the ground instead. There’d been someone still in the room and she’d been too distracted to notice. 

Rolling onto her back, gun still in her hand, she aimed and managed to shoot the knee out of her assailant as he raised a butcher knife. He crumpled to the ground with a cry and she got to her feet slowly, gun raised and trained on him. 

The guy was younger, but thin and haggard looking. His bravado hadn’t fully left him though as he stared her down, anger in his eyes, “You fucking bitch. You blew out my fucking knee.” He tried to get up but she aimed at his head, making him freeze. “I’ll shoot the other one too if you don’t shut up and tell me where the girl you kidnapped is,” she snarled, adrenaline helping to keep the firearm steady on him. His nose wrinkled and he spit at her, brow furrowed.

Stubborn. Younger guys were so stubborn.

She pulled the trigger and watched his other knee explode as the bullet met his target. The man screamed and she quickly knelt down, shoving her hand over his mouth and placing the still warm barrel against his forehead. Tears leaked out his eyes, making little dirt tracks through the grime on his skin.

“Where the fuck is she?” she screamed into his face and the sound was almost inhuman, gravel and fury warping it almost into a howl.

But he only shook his head, eyes defiant. Frustrated, she stood, looking at the meat cleaver in his hand and the human leg on the table. She didn’t have time for this. Ellie was out there and the situation was worse than she thought. Not even meeting his eyes, she raised the gun and shot him in the head. He wasn’t going to give her any information.

She raced back outside through the back door she had entered, heart in her throat and a panicked scream wanting to leave her lips.

The storm was picking up as an idea hit her. If she searched each building, there was no guarantee she’d find someone with information in time. She had to draw their attention. Maybe lure them out. They had wanted Ellie alive for the moment. If she could distract them, it may buy her time.

Chewing her lip, she kneeled behind the building and swung her pack around to dig through it. Her hand wrapped around a small glass bottle that had been carefully secured in the middle of her clothes and yanked it out along with one of her old shirts. They’d been saving it for emergencies, using it to sterilize what they could, but she needed it for something else now. Her face stung from the cold wind and her hands shook, but she managed to tear cloth and shove it into the liquor bottle, saturating the fabric, before she put her pack back on and stood.

Time to make a big fucking distraction.

Blocking the wind with her hands, she lit a match and watched as the tip of the cloth burned bright with flames.

With a snarl, she tossed the molotov through the window of the next building, ducking down and watching as the flames exploded inside. Screams and shouts followed, telling her there had been people inside, and she waited for more voices to join them. Someone would investigate or come outside.

Like clockwork, a man rushed out into the cold and she gripped her bloody knife at the familiar face. One of the men that had come back with Ellie. He cursed and ran through the snow, yelling that he was going to grab the fire extinguisher next door while the others scrambled to put the flames out. She followed, quiet, lava flowing through her and teeth bared. She couldn’t even feel the cold anymore. 

The wind blocked any sound she made as she rushed after him into the alley and lunged, shoving him into the cold brick wall with a loud crack. She growled and grabbed his hair, gripping it tightly and smashing it into the bricks once then twice. He tried to push away and turn, but she kneed him hard in the spine, driving him to his knees. “Where is the girl?” she snarled into his ear, knife to his throat. Blood poured down an open wound on his forehead, one eye blinded by red, as he finally took in who had grabbed him, “fuck you,” “Wrong answer,” she yanked his hair and slammed it into the wall again. When he went to raise his hand to fight her, she stabbed the blade through his hand and into the ground. His screams were carried away by the wind and snow, the shouts of his group telling her they were still distracted by the fire. “The girl your group grabbed,” the words were all razors and broken glass, almost the sound of an animal snarl, “Where did you take her?” He sneered at her, trying to put on a strong front through the pain, “That bitch is probably soup by now.” She stepped on the knife, the blade so far in his hand the hilt was pressing against the back, “I can make this last a fucking lifetime. Your choice. Where-” “Please, don’t-” Frustrated, she ripped the knife out and placed the tip just inside his mouth, “Last chance. Where is she?” The tip clinked against his teeth and he hung his mouth open to avoid being cut, his beard a mess of blood and spit and green eyes wide with fear finally. She tried not to feel satisfaction as seeing that, understanding setting in for him. He lifted his bloody hand and tried to point across the street, stuttering out, “Steakhouse. The fucking steakhouse. David has her in there.” She looked at him, eye swollen, and blood coating the front of his face, clearly terrified.

Slowly, she took the blade away, watching his lips wobble with sobs and slight relief. Then she slit his throat, continuing to move behind the buildings even as his blood sprayed out and soaked her clothes and his pleas gurgled and quieted.

The steakhouse was a few more buildings down across the street, “Todd’s Steakhouse” still written on the sign out front. The storm was a blizzard now, sharp stinging snow hitting her skin and turning the blood on her into patches of ice. There were yells, panicked screams, and she wondered if they had found the bodies. If they had found the blood and chaos she had left in her wake.

But with a destination in sight, she had let her guard down and she cursed herself later on for it. Arms wrapped around her torso, crushing the rifle into her back, and she kicked at the air as she was dragged back against a brick wall.

“You fucking bitch!” Screamed into her ear and she was tossed to the ground, teeth clattering from the impact.

A kick landed in her stomach and she grunted, the air leaving her lungs, but she had enough sense to grab onto the leg and cling to it. The move caught the man off balance and he tripped, falling to the ground next to her. Her blade was somewhere in the snow and she struggled to dig around for it, sharp steel nicking her fingers as she found it only to be thrown onto her back.

The man climbed on top of her, straddling her waist, his weight so heavy and her pack on her back making the move crushing. She grit her teeth and bucked, thrashing to try and get him off of her. But he only grinned, pulling back and decking her in the face. Stars lit up behind her eyes, a high pitch ringing all she could hear as pain exploded through her head.

He pulled back to punch again and her fingers found the cold metal in the snow. She wrapped her hand around it, feeling the sharp steel cut into her palm as she grabbed it by the blade instead of the hilt, and stabbed it into his lower throat. She didn’t stop, only switching to pull it out by its handle this time, and stabbed again and again, blood reigning down onto her.

With a howl, she shoved him off of her and sent a final stab into his face, snow soaking into her and pain a radiating heat. Everything hurt and it was an effort to get up and roll onto her side, staring at the decimated body next to her. 

She spit blood on him and stood. There was smoke coming from all around her, the fire having caught from the molotov and moving on building to building. Across the way, smoke could be seen from the steakhouse and she swallowed her pain, letting adrenaline carry her to the front doors. Her hands shook as she tried the handles, pulling again and again but they stayed locked and shut. Growling, she threw her shoulder into it. She was so close. She had found the place and was so close and a locked fucking door was all that was keeping her away. Her breathing was quick and frantic as she looked over the front and tried to reason that there had to be a back door or an employee entrance. Her hands skimmed the wall to try and keep upright, knowing soon the exhaustion and pain would take over, but she tried to push it back. Ellie had to be close. She needed to keep going a little bit further and then she’d get her kid and they’d go get Joel. 

Her steps stumbled and she pushed off the wall, screaming at herself to stay steady. There, she could see the back door. Plain and wooden, easy enough to shoot the lock off and get inside. With shaky fingers, she unhooked the rifle from her shoulder, the weight of it almost unbearable, and took two shots to get the lock blown off. Her legs were shaky as she climbed the few steps and opened the door, smoke pouring out. She coughed and tried to wave it away, stepping inside and feeling the heat. She had taken only a few steps into the building and stopped, hearing a familiar voice. “Red?” Relief flooded her, eyes instantly filling with tears, as Ellie emerged from the smoke not too far in front of her. Ellie was there, hair a mess and half tumbling out of her ponytail, blood splattered and smeared all over her face and clothes. It took her a while to realize she was standing there, actually standing there, watching as the girl stumbled forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. 

Smoke and fire was all around them, but she couldn’t care because she had Ellie and they were both alive and safe now. With shaky hands, she managed to direct them back out of the building and into the cold, fresh air. Her promise rang in her ears and she whispered them out loud as she clung to the girl, “I found you. I found you. I’ll always find you.” And she had, but not quick enough. She knew that something awful had happened, that Ellie was now one step closer to being what her and Joel were. The tough exterior had crumbled away and all that was left was a shocked girl who’d had a piece of her soul cleaved away. Her nose was busted and she knew that look in her eyes, the horror and pain at doing something ugly but necessary. Ellie’s lips were shaking as she looked her over and she was so focused on the girl she almost didn’t see Joel coming around the corner. Joel, standing and whole and alive, coming towards them like Ellie was a gravity well pulling both of them towards her. His eyes met hers and the relief was bright, even if she was dripping in blood. But Ellie hadn’t noticed the shift in attention, hadn’t heard his steps, and when he went to grab her she bucked and thrashed in his arms in sheer desperation. So much like her, a wild animal fighting not to be caged. Her heart tore apart, shredded to pieces, at the painful screams then broken sobs as she realized who was holding on to her. 

Joel only kept whispering, “It’s me, it’s me, I’m here.” “He- I-” she stuttered, eyes glazed and searching both of theirs. Joel held on with all his might, trying to ease her, gentle words soothing. And the girl crumbled, falling into his arms and clinging to him tightly as much as he was clinging to her. His eyes met hers and she let the exhaustion hit her and carry her towards them, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around them both. All three of them, blood soaked, finally home with each other.

______________ Feral Reader Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x oc #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #tlou #the last of us #feral reader #series: feral #raicodoll writes

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The falling | joel miller x f!reader, 5k

Summary: It’s a weird feeling, the moment you realize you’ve lost everything. You're falling. It is never ending, the falling, even after the moment, that exact moment, is long gone. Or you catch Joel cheating on you. The world comes crushing down.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST. That's it. Ok, bye. But seriously, angst, a whole lot of angst, alternated POVs, husband!joel, wife!reader, cheater!joel, married couple, Joel fucks another f!person, reference to sexual activity but nothing too detailed, as I said before-ANGST, excessive use of the word fuck, Joel is kind of a dick on this one, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Let me know how you feel about this lost little puppy, I know he sounds arrogant and awful, maybe I can rectify that, on a second part. If you're interested in a closure for these two, hit me in the comments! Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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It’s a weird feeling, the moment you realize you’ve lost everything.

Everything dear and loved and cherished and so close to your heart. Your heart itself.

You still can’t decide if it’s liberating or torturing, to have that exact moment burned in your thoughts like a Polaroid.

But the pain is real. The pain is excruciating. It spreads like vines through your whole body, starting from the pit of your stomach in the form of a bile you try to hold back, moving to your heart’s agonizing clench, licking to the ends of your numb limbs which remain obstinately immobile. It feels almost like floating, but not exactly.

You’re falling; you’re still falling as if there’s no luxurious, expensive floor underneath your feet, holding you surprisingly still up. You wait for the landing, the crush, unmoving, unblinking, not quite breathing. It is never ending, the falling, even after the moment, that exact moment, is long gone.

Your designer’s tote bag, another unnecessarily extravagant gift from your husband, drops from your hands to the floor with a loud thud.

Joel’s thrusts stop immediately and he turns his head to look behind him, while he’s on his knees, balls deep in a female body on all fours. His eyes shut tightly in something you’re not sure how to interpret, dropping his head between his shoulder blades and his palms squeeze the hips of the female body he's holding, until his fingertips go white.

And you’re just standing there, on the threshold of your bedroom, taking in the scene. It’s weird how the mind works under stressful situations. Is the absurdity of the reality that keeps you calm? Is it your brain’s reaction to protect you from collapsing? Are you shutting down right now?

You feel your eyes unable to move around and at the same time you see clearer than ever, as if you’re looking through a wide-angle lens.

You notice all of the stripped clothes, which they don’t seem hastily taken off, the way they pool on various surfaces of the room; they took their time undressing each other.

You notice the crystal tumbler of a half finished liquid, Joel’s whiskey, on his side of the nightstand; they took their time having fun.

You notice the absence of a condom on Joel’s cock as he removes himself from the female hole he was buried deep, all splayed out for him and now you; they took their time before, it seems, there is an intimacy there. This is not a stranger, this is not a first time.

Joel is calm, collected even, as he stands to his full height, grabbing his pants from the floor next to the king sized bed and putting them on. Calculated, steady movements, he looks like he’s trying to stay in control of the situation, diminish it to something else. You pray he doesn’t go down that path.

You look behind him, the female body’s gathering itself into a ball, sitting on your bed now, hands hugging it’s knees, trying to protect its nudity. Your eyes roam her form until they settle on her face. Oh, you know her. She looks -hm, there’s a mosaic of emotions behind her eyes, which are surprisingly bold to look back at you. You see shock, you see fear, you see.. satisfaction?

“Darlin’” Joel’s approaching you, crossing the ridiculously big room, with a steady pace.

His chest is heaving from the effort to regulate his breathing, he’s sweaty, his muscles all bulged from the interrupted fucking, his curls -your curls, fuck, that hurts- damp. He’s so handsome in all his disheveled form. He looks like your Joel.

Imaginary flashes of her fingertips combing through his hair are passing through your mind and you feel your esophagus contracting, a sense of a burning hot liquid moving up to your mouth. You swallow it down.

He reaches to touch your arm, don’t you dare, is all you mutter lowly, still without moving a muscle as if you do, the world will come crushing down. It already did, didn’t you get the memo? Your voice feels foreign to your ears, your tongue feels rough like sandpaper. He obeys.

When does this falling end?

“Baby-”, he tries again, while he steps forward, a condescending tone to his voice, like he’s addressing a toddler.

“Don’t-”, you roll your eyes in your head, god, he smells so good, even with the sweat someone else poured out of his skin, he smells so fucking good. He smells like your Joel. “Don’t come any closer.”

“This-” he exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, as if it’s an unnecessary effort to explain, as if you should understand; of all people, you should know, “this doesn’t mean anything-” his hand gesturing between him and the female body, “she doesn’t mean anything.” You should understand, baby, you should know.

And for the first time her eyes leave yours and land on the face of the deceiver. If this wasn’t happening to you right now, you would take pity on her pained expression. You almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

“Does she know that?” you ask him, your eyes never leaving her tangled form on your bed.

Joel snaps his head to her direction, narrowing his eyes in warning, “Yes, she does.”, his voice comes out strict and final, signaling there’s no room for doubt. He doesn’t sound like your Joel.

“I need you to leave.”, you breathe barely audible, your eyes still on her face; now she doesn’t know where to look, the rug pulled out from under her feet from the man she had inside her minutes ago.

His gaze is cold and indifferent, as if everything is her fault, looking still in her direction. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, the empathetic part of your brain feels for her.

“Get your shit and get the fuck out, what are you waiting for?” he snaps at her.

“Not her, you.” you whisper, it’s impossible to speak louder, all of your energy powers your two standing feet.

He turns to look at you, shocked, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

“Wh- what are you talking about, sweetheart?” he tries to reason with you, “We need to talk, to-”

“Joel-”, you try again and thank god he’s interrupting you, you don’t have the strength to negotiate right now. Let the dice roll. It’s all fucked, anyway.

“This is my home; I’m not leaving.” he simply states, shaking his head from side to side, staring at you expectantly.

“You’re right. This is your house.” you acknowledge, coming to a painful realization. “Everything is yours; you own everything, don’t you?”, you smile sadly, crouching down to collect you bag.

You turn on your heels and leave the residence formerly known and felt as home, behind you.

Alarm system disabled.

Joe’s hairs are rising on the nape of his neck, when he checks the alarm app notification on his phone, thinking you came back home.

It’s been an awful month without you, without being able to contact you. He knew where you were of course, he could not for the life of him leave that information escape him, but he didn’t pressure you with an unexpected visit, he knew better.

It’s been a month. That’s plenty of time. You took your time and now you’re ready to talk. You have to be, this can’t be the end of this relationship, this marriage.

He presses your number and hits call. Fuck, he’s still blocked. Maybe you forgot to unblock him, it’s ok, it doesn’t mean anything.

He checks the house’s cameras. Shit. That’s not you. What is she doing there? What the fuck is going on? Alright, he’s going back to the house.

He stands on his feet, right in the middle of a meeting with the board and just leaves them. There’s a distant muttering of where does he think he goes, what happened, what’s gotten into him, this is important for the upcoming deal, but he pays no mind to them.

He needs to talk to you.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got everything you need,” Maria facetimes you, showing around your closet via her camera. “I’m loading the suitcase to the car and I’m out of here.”

“Thank you Mar-”

“MARIA?” Joel’s voice travels through the space from the ground floor, up.

“Shit, shit, shit, what am I gonna do?” Maria whispers to you turning the call to voice only.

“Just take the suitcase and leave, it’s ok, I only got personal stuff if that’s what he’s worried about. Let him check if it comes to that.”, you try to calm her down.

“Ok, ok-” Maria grabs the handle of the suitcase and moves to leave the walk-in closet.

“Hey.” Joel comes through the door to the bedroom taking in the scene. He hasn’t set foot in this room for nearly a month now.

“Hey.” Maria sounds pissed on the line.

“What are you doing here? Where's Tommy?”, Joel’s face frowns in question. “Tommy's not my keeper, his my partner. My husband, not that you would know what that means, apparently.” Maria just shrugs and moves to pass him by.

“What are you doing, what’s going on here?” he insists, blocking her way.

“I’m just collecting som-”

“How is she? Is she ok?” his voice softening when he asks about you.

“Oh, please, Joel, how is she? Really?” Maria scoffs at him. “She doesn’t want to see you, Joel or hear from you, that’s how she is.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much, thank you.” he mocks back. “Is she on the phone, can I just talk to her?” he extends his arm to reach for the phone. “Over my dead and cold body.” Maria says, pressing the phone on her chest.

His eyes are raging storms, his nostrils flaring with quiet rage. He takes a deep breath “Can you please ask her if I can talk to her, just for five minutes?”

“Why don’t you call her, Joel?” Maria taunts him, emphasizing the pronunciation of his name.

Joel just stares back at her, unfazed. Maria doesn’t move a muscle, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. Well, she did move one muscle.

Joel sighs exasperatedly “She blocked my number.”

“I wonder why that is.” Maria twists the knife, “I guess you have your answer, then.”

“Christ-” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “just- just ask her, please.”

Maria lifts the phone to her ear, rolling her eyes in frustration in the process. “Hey, Joel’s here, he’s ask-”

“Yeah, I heard everything.” you interrupt her, “No, I don’t want to talk to him.” Maria is shaking her head negatively at him as you talk, to pass the message.

Joel’s face goes cold and emotionless. “Well, tell her if she wants her belongings, she needs to come and get them herself.”

It’s been five weeks now and you can’t keep living in your best friend’s and sister in law's clothes. You’re gonna have to go and grab your stuff yourself.

Because it wasn’t enough what you’ve been through, what you’ve heard until you reached that goddamned bedroom door, what you’ve witnessed when you’ve entered, now he’s making you go back there to humiliate you. As you’re checking your calendar for your work schedule to decide on a suitable day, it hits you. You have Joel’s calendar on your phone, too. You always do, it was the only way to have some time together between his visits to work sites and board meetings and bussiness trips and fucking-behind-your-back, apparently.

And then you remember that day where you both stole some time off and decided to spend it cuddling with each other on the couch, talking nonsense and laughing at silly things and hugging and kissing and fucking all night long.

A brainstorm of thoughts run through your head instantly. How could he do that to you? He looked so happy in your arms. Maybe he was right, maybe it was nothing, maybe you should understand, you of all people, you should know. Do you need to do an STD test? How careless could he be? Where there others? Did he ever love you? Do you want to know?

Does it really matter?

You focus again on that day. He’d told you about a big deal coming up, one of the biggest in his career, if not the biggest so far and how important it was to the future of the company.

You searched frantically through his calendar until you found the date of the final meeting, the date where they’d seal the deal. Because there is no way they weren’t. If Joel wanted it so badly, he’d find a way to make it happen.

And you knew your husband, ironic as is sounds now. He was focused to a fault. He wouldn’t even check his phone that day. He’d done it every time since you were together. History indicated that he probably had other reasons, too, for not checking his phone in a timely manner, but you wouldn’t dwell on that. Not right now. Because now you had your chance.

That date was your chance.

Alarm disabled.

Joel’s phone is vibrating momentarily, not that he noticed, it was silent and tacked away in his jacket pocket, the jacket itself hanging on the back of his chair.

Don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, he’s chanting in his mind, under all this calm and confident demeanor, he’s sweating inside.

This is it, this is it, this is it, he repeats like a mantra, watching his opposite CEO, Leo Marks, playing with the pen between his fingers. He’s inspecting the contract again and he’s so close, so close to what he wanted. The room is silent, the long table full of seated lawyers and consultants from both sides, holding their breaths in charged expectation.

Joel knows that Marks is going to sign. He knows it. He worked for it. He convinced him, he made his vision clear as day and he lured him in. This is it. He got this.

Then your face appears in his mind. No, not today, he can’t do this today. You will have to wait. Like you always have. Joel shakes his head slightly, as if to remove you from his thoughts. His fingers get itchy, he wishes he could just check on you. Yes, he just want to check on you.

Are you alright? Are you thinking about him? Do you miss him like he does? Do you stay wide awake at night replaying the same scene over and over until you feel physically ill? Do you know that he thinks about you? Did he show you at all that night? Maybe he should have appeared at your friend’s door out of the blue. Maybe you think he doesn’t care. All he was trying to do was give you space. Respect your boundaries. Let you work everything out.

Fuck.

He reaches for his phone. He doesn’t know why. He knows his number is still blocked. He checks every night, when he's too exhausted from the lack of sleep and prays he could listen to your voice, or the soft sound of your breath when you slept next to him. But he fishes it out of his jacket pocket, anyway and then he sees it.

38 minutes ago.

Alarm disabled.

Alarm disabled. Alarm disabled. Alarm disabled, the only thought repeated in his head. He immediately searches the cameras for you but no movement is recorded right now. Maybe you already left. His heart rate spikes, his temples feel the pressure of his blood pumping violently in his veins. Cold sweat pours out of his body.

He’s squeezing his eyes shut, mentally counting all the places without cameras inside the house. What if you are still in there and he just can’t see you?

Fuck.

Mark’s voice extract him from his thoughts, “Mr. Miller, everything looks in order as we agreed.”

Joel snaps his eyes back to him, slightly irritated, “Of course it does, your legal team already did a thorough check all these months to get us here today.”

“Yes, yes,” Marks laughs entertained, “I just wanted to look it over one more time, I mean, we really are going to…”

What if you’re still there? What if this is his chance? He could always try to reach you after the deal, convince you to hear him out. Yeah, he can do that. He doesn’t need to chase you down. He can wait a little bit longer, can’t he? He can have it all, right? He was the man that had it all.

A mail pops up on his phone, a compliment note from the management of one of both your favorite hotels in Europe, thanking you for choosing their establishments for your stay, once again. Shit. You’re fleeing the fucking country? Are you fucking serious?

“..Mr. Miller?” Marks insists.

“Hm?” his eyes are glued to the screen of his phone.

“I said, before we sign, I need you to walk me through it one more time.” he demands like a little child asking for its favorite bedtime story. “I mean, this is the project of my dreams. I need your reassurance that this is as important for you as it is for us, that it’ll be your only focus for the foreseeable future.” he looks at Joel expectantly.

His only focus.

For the foreseeable future.

Fuck.

“HONEY!”. Your blood runs cold in your veins to the sound of his baritone voice. Your hand freezes over the shelf with the t-shirts, not making a sound. You didn’t take that long, why is he here? Why isn’t he in his meeting?

Joel enters the bedroom but you’re not there. Fuck, you hear the curse running softly from his lips. You don’t move, you don’t blink, you don’t breathe.

He moves to leave and check elsewhere but then he stops. You hear soft steps and you see the door of the walk-in closet opening. His wide form blocks the light from the outside, his broad shoulders almost taking up all the space of the frame.

He looks disheveled, his baby blue shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the top, his hair a mess, like he kept combing his fingers through them. You don’t dare meet his eyes though. You keep your gaze as far as his chin goes, concentrating on the bare patch there. His sole presence electrifies you like he’s already touched you. Your whole body feels on fire and frozen simultaneously. God, you missed him.

“I was calling for you.”, he breathes out and you can feel his fear pulsing through his body. He’s scared you’re gonna run. That’s why he doesn’t leave his spot, blocking the door.

“I know.”

“Were you hiding from me?” his brows are furrowed in a seemingly pained expression from what your peripheral vision could help you understand.

“No, I just chose not to answer you.”, you lower your head, looking at your feet.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” you say hastily, but he’s waiting for a real answer. You breathe deeply, “It- it felt too domestic, you calling for me, me answering back, like how we were before.” He nods, biting his bottom lip. “What are you doing here, Joel?”

“In our house?” the edges of his lips are slightly turned up, his head tilting to one side.

“No, this is your house as you said yourself.”

“Darlin’, you know I didn’t mean it like that..” he sighs in regret, his head deepening in his shoulder blades in an effort to attract your gaze upwards.

“But you’re right.”

“I built it for you.” his voice soft, like it’s a secret meant to stay that way.

“Hm.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his brows raise in genuine surprise.

“Nothing, forget it.”

“No, tell me.”

“You first.”

He looks perplexed, he forgot your question.

“What are you doing here, right now, Joel?”

“I got the alarm notification and.. it was the only way I could talk to you, honey..”

“But- your meeting-”

He searches your eyes, although you refuse to look at him, analysing your confused expression and it hits him. He smiles in understanding, nodding his head. “So, you chose today on purpose..”

You don’t respond, you keep looking everywhere but his eyes.

He laughs through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t drop everything to come and see you?”

“I really did.”

He gasps in disbelief, almost offended.

“Baby, look at me, please; look at me..” he pleads with you softly. You close your eyes as if in fear you would obey, your chin trembling from the effort to remain calm.

“Baby, look at me. I want you to look at me, now.” he presses in a more authoritative way. He thought he could order you around? Break you?

“No.” you shake your head.

Joel calls you by your name but before he has a chance to spit another soft command-

“I SAID NO!” you open your eyes, targeting them to his chest, tears spilling uncontrollably now. You can see from your periphery the look of shock on his face, because you’ve never yelled before. Ever.

“Why, sweetheart?”, he retreats back to his soft side.

“Because that’s exactly what you want. And you can’t always get what you want, Joel, not anymore.” You can’t hold back your tongue now.

“Jesus Christ,” you grit through your teeth, “what do you want from me, hm?” your eyes keep dancing around his face but never on his eyes. He looks dumbfounded, his lips part slightly but you don’t wait for an answer. “What else do you want? Is this some kind of ego thing? You expected me to shout and break things and hit you and tell you to leave her and come back to me? Because your ego is safe, Joel, if that’s what you worry about. I didn’t leave you, you did that first when you went behind my back. So, you walked out on me and not the other way around. Happy? Ready to go on with your life?” You’re grabbing the shelf where your hand previously rested so hard, trying to steady yourself.

For the first time Joel is speechless. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t find the words to defend himself, to convince you about his feelings, to soothe you at the very least. He begins to have a glimpse of how he appears in your eyes right now. How much damage he’s done, even before that night. How much ground he’s lost over time.

“Darlin', I just wa-” he begins softly, almost like walking on eggshells, but your body visibly tenses, you jaw shuts tight, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Stop, just stop! Stop saying what you want! Stop making this about you! Don’t you see? You keep asking me for what you want! Have you stopped for a second, just a second, to think what I want? What I need? I don’t- I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“I-” he closes his eyes in distress, “I love you.” His last retreat. He’s trying anything that could help him. He doesn’t get it. He can’t. He’s not capable. But he used to be. He was the most empathetic person you knew. What the fuck happened?

Your eyes snap though the open closet door at his admision and on to the perfectly made bed.

His gaze follows yours behind his back and shakes his head once more in regret.

“It really didn’t mean-”

“Joel-” you warn him, “have some self respect and don’t say what I think you’re about to say. At least have the guts to admit exactly what you did, I’d appreciate it more.”

He exhales heavily, you’re not giving him an opening to fix this. You’re hanging onto every word he mutters. Not a single one of them is left unparsed and he's not used to that. He knows that if he does not control his anger right now, it's game over.

Heavy silence is hanging between you, each one lost on their thoughts.

“Do you know when you really lost me, Joel?”, you ask him eventually.

Half an hour ago he would swear he had all the answers, but now? Now he sees he’s in the deep, so he stays quiet, searching your eyes that still won't reach his, for answers.

“You lost me when you humiliated her in front of me.”

His face goes white, shocked, he can’t believe his ears. His mouth opens and closes but he makes no sound, how on earth does he respond to that?

“You still don’t get it, do you?”, you pinch the bridge of your nose exasperatedly. “You valued her enough to endanger our wedding, you valued her enough to bring her to our own house, to our bed, Joel; you valued her enough to fuck her raw, to let her know that you were unhappy with me, before I had a chance to realize it myself-”, Joel interrupts you almost panicked “I’m not un-” and for the first time your eyes pierce his in such an anguish that the words die in his throat. “-and then you just diminished her like she was nothing, just to prove a point to me. While she was naked, vulnerable on our bed. And trust me, this is not me defending her, she is as responsible for this as you, but you’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.”

Now he’s the one averting his eyes from you, looking down on his overpriced shoes, his demeanor defeated, this is not the Joel you know anymore.

“And what was the point, Joel? Hm? What? That she means nothing? Then why were you with her? Why did you choose her? Why did you spend your precious time on nothing, while I had to make an appointment to see you? That’s what you did with me, too? I mean nothing, too? Just a warm hole to fuck when convenient?” he snaps his head back to you, shaking it in denial frantically, his eyes blown wide and red from all the emotional stress you push onto him.

“But I guess I got my answer about a month ago, hm?” It’s one of those moments that epiphanies hit you as you speak uncontrollably, you just can’t stop your mind from running wild, your mouth from spilling bile, your heart from pounding so hard in your chest, your ears start to ring, your grasp on the shelf tightening even more for balance.

“And that tells me a lot about who you really are. It’s not just about the fucking, Joel, Jesus-, -for the brilliant man I know you to be, you’re stumbling through your blindest moment.”, you shake your head in disappointment, tears still running freely down your face, licking your jawline and falling like a waterfall to the carpeted floor. You feel so done, you find it pointless to explain any further.

“I- I don’t know you, Joel, I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I never did,” you conclude, “maybe you’re right,” you slowly nod to yourself, “and everything is my fault after all.” you whisper, not sure if you want him to hear that part.

He did. “I never said that it was your fault, baby. When did I ever say that?” his face is contorted in pain, “None of this is your fault, none of it, you hear me?” he wants so desperately to cross the fucking room and hold you tight, crush all your pain and insecurities and self hatred under an asphyxiating hug. He also knows that he won't make even two steps before you flee, or step back from him and he can’t for the life of him witness that. Because that’s how much he needs you. He prefers you standing there, where he can see you, where he can have you, even if you wither and die under the enormous trauma he’s putting you through.

“So stupid.. I was- I am so stupid..” you’re repeating to yourself almost deliriously, rubbing your fingers on your forehead.

“This isn’t you, sweetheart, you don’t talk like that, don’t- don’t do that to yourself.” Joel tries to bring you back.

“But this is you, isn’t it, Joel? The real you?” you bite back. “This isn’t me, really? How do you like the new me, Joel? Do you take pride on your creation?” you laugh bitterly at him. “Yeah, how you’d always call me? Polite little thing? Sweetheart?” you’re infuriated now, a rise fighting to explode through you. “How does it feel, Joel? To know you’re responsible for changing someone to their core? To know you had that much power over them?”

Joel’s shaking his head once again in desperation, hot tears spilling from his eyes, god, had he ever cried before? this is not a battle he can win, he sees that now. The damage is too great. What on earth was he thinking?

“Please, please honey, can we just take a breather, sit down and talk about everything?” he pleads with you, a last thread of hope shinning in his red rimmed eyes.

“Take a breather..” you mutter through your teeth, “you mean the breather you took while you were fucking someone else instead of talking to me?”, Joel shuts his eyes in defeat, there’s nothing he can say anymore. “I think you got it backwards, Joel.”

You take a steadying breath and command your legs internally to hold on a little while longer and move forward; clothes, suitcase, life left behind.

“Don’t contact me again, unless is via your legal team.” is the last bullet that hits Joel’s chest, right through his broken heart.

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[justagalwhowrites]

Undone

After a stressful week at the office, Joel knows just how to take care of his wife. AKA Joel Miller doms the stress out of you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No Outbreak AU. Established relationship, husband and wife. Dom!Joel x Sub!Reader (light). Tiny little age gap (like 5 years? I'm picturing Joel at 44 and reader at 39?) Unprotected P in V sex. Oral sex, F receiving. Creampie. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Length: 5.4k

A/N: This is totally self indulgent. It's also like... entirely smut. Sorry. But not really. OK love you bye!

Joel knew what you were after the minute you kicked the door closed. 

It was Friday and it had been a hell of a week for you. Joel had done his best to support you through it - he’d finished up one big job on Tuesday and didn’t start the next one until Monday - so he’d taken the lead on keeping the household running while you put in extra hours and came home frustrated and exhausted every night. 

He knew it wasn’t going to magically be better just because it was Friday, so he’d spent the day trying to make the end to your work week as good as he could. He went to the HEB and got your favorite snacks, picked out flowers for the kitchen table, even went by the liquor store on the way home to get everything you’d need to unwind at the end of your day. He started smoking ribs early that afternoon and was outside to sauce them when he heard the door slam behind you. 

Joel didn’t need to see what happened, he knew from the sound that you’d thrown the door open and then kicked it shut behind you. He’d bet the check from his next job that you’d be face down on the couch, your shoes and briefcase a little trail from the front door to the living room. He shook his head, taking a swig of Shiner before closing the smoker and heading inside to find his wife. 

You were exactly where he thought you’d be, taking up almost the entire length of the couch, flat on your stomach, blazer still on but your heels and bags scattered between you and the front door. 

“Aw baby,” he said sympathetically. “That great a day, hm?” 

You made a sound that was caught somewhere between a grunt and a groan. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

You made the sound again and Joel tried not to laugh at it. 

“Here,” he said, coming and adjusting your legs so he could sit beside you on the couch. You groaned as he did but he guided you from lying on your stomach to sitting up to leaning on him, your face in his chest. He put his arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “Tell me what melted down.” 

“We have our quarterly earnings release going out in less than two weeks,” you sighed. “And it’s a shit show. Legal’s been reviewing that shit for what feels like an eternity and I need to issue the goddamn release announcing the date of the full release but I can’t do that until I actually know that legal and financial are going to have stuff sorted in time and the CEO has emailed me twice a day about it the whole week because sure, the legal team definitely falls under my department…” 

Joel held the still mostly full bottle of beer in front of you and you took it from him, your fingers brushing his and you were quiet for a moment as you took a sip before handing it back. 

“Also, HR is going to be the death of me,” you continued, on a tear now. “I swear, it shouldn’t be that hard to find a qualified entry level candidate but here we are, still short staffed 10 weeks after I got the OK to hire. They’ve sent me two resumes, Joel. Two. I called them today to ask how many they’d received and they’ve had 226 candidates apply and they’ve sent me fucking two! I refuse to believe that just one percent of applicants were remotely qualified so I asked them to forward me all the applications since, apparently, recruiting can’t do their damn jobs so I’m going to have to do it for them…” 

Joel nodded along, handing you the beer periodically when he felt you getting too worked up. He found himself, not for the first time, awed by what you did for a living. He didn’t understand much of it, really, and he was thankful he didn’t need to. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of shit. You, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet when you’d started at your company seven years ago when the two of you had just started dating, You’d risen up the ranks quickly and you now had a team of several dozen people reporting up to you. As gentle and sweet as Joel knew you to be at your core, he knew you were also unflinchingly driven at work. During the COVID shut down, he’d gotten a glimpse of it, listening to you take people - mostly men who seemed to think you weren’t as capable as you clearly were - to task and get things done. He was eternally grateful that, when the two of you fought, you didn’t take him down the way you did people who crossed you in the office. Though that stood in sharp contrast to how Joel heard you talk to the people who reported up to you, with you seemingly always happy to lend an ear or provide guidance or take the heat if they fucked something up that was going outside your department. 

Unfortunately, that meant you had weeks like this one, where plenty went wrong and you had no one to pass the buck to. And he knew as well as you did that you wouldn’t just let something fall apart, not if there was a damn thing you could do about it. Even if that meant working yourself into the ground. 

After a while you just deflated against him and he handed you the beer again. You took a long drink, emptying the bottle, and Joel took it from you to set on the side table. 

“Feelin’ better?” He asked, his nose brushing your hair. 

“Kind of,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“Somethin’ more I can do?” He asked, trying to make sure that he wasn’t nudging you in the direction he was hoping this would go. 

“Yeah,” you said, something shifting in your tone when you said it. No longer frustrated and fed up, instead needy and wanting. You sat up from him and looked at him through your eyelashes, practically pouting. “Turn my brain off for a bit?” 

Joel’s heart picked up, heat and tension already gathering low in him. 

“Aw, my baby need me to fuck her stupid?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. His thumb traced along the arch of your cheekbone as his eyes locked on your blown pupils. “You need me to make that big brain of yours slow down for a while, that it?” 

“Yes please,” you breathed. He could feel your skin getting warmer below his touch. 

“Please what?” 

“Please sir,” you said, holding your hands up with your wrists together, like an offering. “Please fuck me stupid. Please sir.” 

He quirked his jaw before he smiled, dark and low.

“Good girl,” he growled. He got up and closed his large hands around your wrists before pulling you sharply to your feet, looking you up and down as he did. There was something that drove him wild, seeing you like this. Dressed in your armor of the business world, a place where lesser men had to go to you for permission to do a goddamn thing, and you came home to him, begging him to strip you down to something small and vulnerable and easily consumed. 

He wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people. When you’d met almost eight years earlier, his first thought was that you were way out of his fucking league. A friend of Tommy’s then girlfriend now wife, you were a few years younger than him but had clearly kept your life on the right fucking track the whole time instead of driving it into the ground for a while first. You’d gone to college, built a damn impressive career, had goals and dreams and plans for yourself. You were beautiful and smart and funny and kind and the first time he’d taken your clothes off he was still not entirely sure why you were letting him do it. 

He’d been even more surprised the first time you’d shared with him that you wanted him to take control in the way he was now. 

“I just have to make decisions all the time,” you’d said, folded into a corner of his couch with a glass of wine in your hands. “I just really want to have someone else take over for a while, you know? Not have to make any plans or take care of anybody else, just enjoy and be enjoyed.” 

That, Joel had thought, he could give you. 

It wasn’t something the two of you always indulged in but there were days like this one where you seemed to crave it. Maybe even a step beyond that - you needed it. You needed the safety of Joel’s guidance, the comfort of his control, the ease of his pleasure. He liked to give you those things. More than liked it, sometimes he lived for it. 

Today was one of those days. 

He led you to the bedroom and stood you at the foot of the bed, your wrists still firmly in his hands as his eyes searched yours. 

“You just want to be my little doll, is that it?” He asked, his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists. Your pulse was heavy and hard. “Want me to take control so all you have to do is feel what I let you feel?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir,” you were practically squirming. 

“What are your colors,” he said more than asked. 

“Green, yellow, red,” you answered quickly. 

“Where are you now?” 

“Green.” 

“Good girl,” he guided your hands so they hung at your sides. “Don’t move until I tell you.” 

He watched you resist the urge to nod and he slipped his hands below the lapels of your jacket, running his hands over your skin for a moment before shoving the sleeves down your arms and leaving the blazer in a pile on the floor. He watched you swallow, your throat working and he tried not to think about making you kneel and taking his cock into that pretty throat of yours. He knew just how good it would feel while you sucked him, how fucking good it would feel to come down your throat. 

Maybe later. Right now, he needed to take care of you. And that’s exactly what he was going to do. 

*** 

When Joel touched you like this, it was like something unspooled inside yourself. There had been a knot in your stomach for days at least - maybe longer - and nothing had worked to untangle it. Not crossing things off your to do list at the office, not the yoga class you’d skipped lunch to take, not the iced latte your assistant had ducked out to grab you that afternoon. But Joel’s hands on your skin as they slipped the slender straps of your satin top down your arms were better than anything else, especially when your mind wasn’t going a mile a minute thinking of ways to please him in return. You watched as he moved to undress you, his eyes heavy and hot and hungry as your top pooled around your hips. He reached around your body to unhook your bra, casting it aside before cupping your breasts in his large palms, groaning as he did. 

“You feel so good,” his thumbs brushed your nipples. “My soft, pretty fuckin’ girl.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. He’d told you to stay still and you had to obey. If you didn’t, you knew he’d drag out your first orgasm for what felt like an eternity, bringing you just to the edge of it but never letting you fall into your climax until you were a desperate, dripping, squirming mess. 

“What, baby?” He almost cooed at you, just a hint of a teasing edge to his tone. “What’s my baby need?” 

“More,” you whined. “I need more, please, I need…” 

He took his hands off you then and looked you in the eye and you almost reached for him before you caught yourself. 

“Who decides what you need right now,” he said. You moaned and he ignored you. “Who. Tell me, pretty girl.” 

“You,” you said. 

“That’s right,” he nodded. “And I’ll give you more when I decide you need more and I decide I’m done enjoyin’ the parts of you I’m enjoyin’ right now. So. You stand still like a good little doll and we’ll see when I’ll let you have more. Got it?” 

“Yes,” you said. 

He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir.” 

His crooked smile dimpled his cheek. 

“Good girl.” 

He returned to touching you, running his large and callused hands over your shoulders to your chest, holding and massaging your breasts and you could tell he was taking his time less for himself and more because he knew what it was doing to you. That it was making you achy and desperate and the thoughts that had been weighing on you all day at the office were slipping out of your mind, drifting far away into the ether. 

“Think I remember you sayin’ something about more?” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly as his hand slipped over your stomach, below the bunched fabric of your shirt, below the waistband of your pants until his fingertips were brushing your bare mound inside your panties. You whimpered. “How about I give you some more, hm?” 

His index finger reached out and brushed the top of your clit, sending a shiver through you, all the heat you had inside yourself pooling low in your stomach. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Think she likes it.” 

He pressed a little lower, a little firmer, working your sensitive nub in slow, languid circles. 

“She like this too?” 

You nodded frantically. 

“Thought I told you not to move,” Joel said, stern. 

“But…” 

“No buts,” he cut you off. “You wanted to give me control so you give me control. Otherwise, you won’t get what you want. Got it?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“You’re lucky,” he said as he went to open your pants. “Got me all worked up, too. Too worked up to draw this out the way you deserve, squirmin’ the way you are.” 

He got on his knees in front of you and gathered the fabric of your shirt, pants and underwear in his hands and pulled them all down in one go, the sudden exposure of your skin to the air making you gasp and goosebumps scatter over you in sharp little pin pricks. 

“Fuck, there you are,” he groaned, his hands coming to grip the thick swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat of you as he pressed a kiss to your stomach just below your belly button. You moaned, wanting nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his curls. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms, acutely aware of where he was touching you because of the absence of him everywhere else. 

He trailed his mouth down to your slit, his tongue dipping into you there, brushing against your clit, the heat of his mouth in sharp contrast to the cold air against your wetness. His hands slipped up your back, finding your waist before Joel stood, his still clothed body so close to your naked one. 

“Lie down for me,” he said, a little breathless. “Middle of the bed.” 

You rushed to obey and watched hungrily as Joel undressed himself, his black t-shirt coming up and over his head, his jeans opening to reveal his tight boxer briefs with his thick, hard cock straining the fabric. He took off everything before crawling up the bed over you and, for half a moment, you thought he really was going to give into you that quickly, give you exactly what you wanted that fast. But instead of settling between your thighs with his heavy length brushing against your slit and his mouth on yours, he fell to the side of you, the weight of him jostling the mattress. You turned your head to look at him, confused, and he laughed, dark and low. 

“You didn’t think you were gonna make me give in that fast, did you?” He asked. He slid one arm below your ribs, his hand coming up and around the back of you to hold your breast while his other hand teased a feather light path down from your throat, over your chest, your stomach to your slit. “No, not done with this yet.” 

“But…” 

“You just lie still and let me worship you,” he said, his palm cupping your mound, his middle finger settling between your lower lips as he put gentle pressure against your clit. The tip of his finger circled your dripping entrance but didn’t slip inside where you were aching and desperate for him. “Want to enjoy you for a while.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, his mouth finding just the right spot on your throat at the same moment he added pressure to your clit, grinding his hand against your most tender place and making your back arch below his touch. 

Joel kissed and licked and sucked along your neck, your collarbone, your breast, his cock brushing against your thigh as he manipulated your body and you could feel his precome on your skin when it did and you were desperate to touch him there, to feel just how hard you’d made him, make him start to unravel the way he was doing to you. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, a finger sliding inside of you, making you groan. 

“But I want…” 

He pulled back from you to look in your eyes and you could tell from the glassy look on his face that you probably already looked like a fucked out mess. 

“You tryin’ to make me feel good or you want it for yourself?” He asked, brows raised. You tried to find the words but couldn’t. He nodded. “S’what I thought, you sit still like I fuckin’ told you. You try to touch me and I won’t let you come, got it? This is about you, not me so you’re gonna lay there and take it, understand?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

He went back to working you over, adjusting so that he could fully kiss down your body until his head was between your thighs, two fingers buried inside of you as he looked up your body to your face. 

“New rules,” he said, pressing his lips to your clit for a moment and sucking it into his mouth before continuing. “Want you to come and I want you to come hard. You’re allowed to touch my head to put me where you need but you do anything else with those hands and we’re startin’ over. Understood?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

He practically dove into your pussy, his thumb working your clit, his tongue licking deep into your channel. The fire in your belly burned brighter and it was like you could feel all the blood in your body pulling into the center of you. Your hands flew to his head, the thick of his hair and the heat of his scalp almost sharp against your fingers after having felt nothing but your own palms for what felt like forever. You rocked your hips against his face as he ate at you, a finger slipping into you alongside his tongue, working the inside of you deftly so that you were never empty but never lacking the friction of him moving in you. His fingertip curled into the soft, sensitive place inside of you that he found so easily now, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his thumb and nose worked your clit and you felt your pussy get so tight and hot you worried, for half a second, that it would hurt him before every worry flew out of your head entirely, your entire body flooded with waves of pleasure as you came on his tongue. 

Joel worked you through your orgasm, never letting up as you moaned and panted, your grip on his hair easing as your body started to go limp. Your pussy was so sensitive when your climax eased but Joel didn’t pay your little whimpers any mind. He pulled his mouth from you but added another finger, fucking into you with his hand and adjusting so his palm was grinding against your clit as he did. 

“There you go,” he panted, wiping your slick from his mouth before taking his cock in his hand and working himself with it. “That what you needed, pretty girl?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

“Good,” he said, his eyes ranging over you, dark and hot. “Because now it’s my turn.” 

He pulled his fingers from you and spread your thighs a little wider, lining his cock up with your still weakly grasping hole for half a moment before thrusting deep into you in one devastating go. You gasped at the stretch of him filling you like that, the inside of you still soft and tender from your orgasm. Your fingers scrambled at the blanket below you, your back arched and taut and you tried to hold onto something - anything - in your head beside how he was splitting you open. 

“I say you could use your hands like that?” He asked, his fingers finding your wrists and clamping around them. He pressed deep inside you and folded over you, bringing your hands with him, pressing your wrists down into the mattress over your head. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little doll right now, ain’t you? Mine to do what I want with and I want you to take it.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered. 

“That ain’t my name right now, is it?” 

“Sir,” you corrected, resisting the urge to rock your hips up against him. “Please!” 

“Please what?” 

You couldn’t put words to what you wanted to ask for and Joel just smirked before releasing your wrists and sitting up, looking down over your body to where he disappeared inside of it. 

“What I thought,” he said, his hands pressing your thighs wide before his thumb trailed over where you were split open on him to your clit, teasing you in a slow circle that made you jerk involuntarily below him. He took it away, his hand on the soft flesh of your thigh again. “You leave those hands there and take it. You can take it, pretty girl. Know you can.” 

With that, he pulled back, slow and aching, before fucking back into you, hard and fast with a forceful grunt. You watched him fuck you, his cock slamming into you with enough force that it jerked your body up and down the bed. You were lost in it, the way you could see his muscles flex, the way his eyes ranged over you - watching the place he was spreading you open and the way your tits bounced for him and up to your face to meet your eyes and back again. It was almost hypnotic, like there was nothing else in the world that existed outside of him. He was controlling you totally, fucking into you with enough force that you couldn’t even breathe out of sync with his thrusts, your body just something he could manipulate and pleasure and use however he saw fit. 

You weren’t sure how long he fucked you like that before his hands ran over your thighs to your core, his thumbs brushing along your clit, pressing into you there and working you in hard little circles as your channel started to tighten around him again. 

“There we go,” he panted. “Got another one right there don’t you? You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you pretty girl. Gonna give me everything, ain’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you whined, your fingernails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your hands still. 

“Good girl,” he pressed himself deep as he worked your clit and returned to his same punishing rhythm, the head of him finding the place inside you he’d claimed for himself. He left one thumb on your clit, his other hand stretching up and over your stomach, fingers splaying wide on you until it was in the middle of your chest where you knew he could feel how your heart was pounding behind your ribs. The feel of him everywhere was overwhelming, the tight spool of pleasure that had never fully relaxed after your first orgasm already wound unbearably tight again. 

“Want you to come for me,” he said, voice needy. “Want you to be a good girl and come. Give it all to me, baby, want you to just let go and give it all to me, let it all go, c’mon and come for me, make me fuckin’ feel it…” 

You cried out as you obeyed, your channel fluttering over his cock as he kept fucking you deep and hard. You could feel your orgasm in the very center of you, in every muscle and every nerve, your climax taking hold of you so firmly that you felt a gush of liquid rush out of you. 

“Fuck, there you go,” he said, not letting up. “Fuck baby, love when you squirt for me, such a good fuckin’ girl…” 

The wet snap of his hips into you was obscene and, as your orgasm eased, your body was already drawing tight again. Your heart raced and you could feel everything, everything, so sharp and harsh and overwhelming. Your head swam, your skin prickled. 

“Love feeling you come for me,” Joel was still fucking into you, hard and bruising like he was trying to climb inside your skin and claim a place for himself there. “Love when you get all tight and desperate, love making you all needy…” 

You let out a fucked out little whimper, tears pricking at your eyes, not able to see straight through the haze of your already building orgasm. Joel leaned over you, his cock buried deep but going still. 

“You with me, pretty girl?” He asked, his hands sliding up your arms to find your wrists, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t seem to find the words to answer, too overstimulated to think of anything beyond how he was filling you and surrounding you. “Gimme a color, baby.” 

“Yellow,” you managed. 

 He took your limp wrists in his large palms and guided your hands to his skin, resting them on his broad shoulders. 

“That help?” He asked. “You can nod.” 

You nodded quickly, your breathing evening out, body still tight and strung out. 

“Color?” 

“Green,” you said, the tears that were in your eyes slipping down your cheeks but not being replaced by new ones. 

“Good,” he shifted inside you, pulling back a little before thrusting in again. “Because I ain’t done with you yet. You keep those hands right where I put ‘em and just focus on coming one more time for me, need you to milk me dry, baby.” 

But his pace eased, less frantic and more desperate, working you slow and firm from within. He buried his face into your neck, his mouth finding that place that sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. His hands ranged over you, fingers hungry and grasping at your skin, his hips working against your clit as his cock found its home deep within you. 

“Know you’re close,” he said against your skin, lips still close enough to brush against you as he spoke. He kissed along your neck, nose teasing along your throat. “You got one more in you, baby, I know you do.” 

“Sir,” you whimpered, pleading, not sure if you wanted to come or wanted to just dissolve. 

“You can come,” he fucked you slow and deep. His public bone pressed against your clit and your back arched. “Want you to come, want to feel you come. Make me feel you, baby. Be a good girl and make me feel you.” 

You dared to let yourself move, just enough that you could rock your hips up against him, working yourself with his body as you felt him grow impossibly thicker and harder inside you. Or, maybe, you were just tightening further around him, body clinging to him in one last desperate push for closeness as your climax hit again. You cried out with it and you couldn’t just leave your hands on Joel’s shoulders, instead latching onto his hair and sliding down his back, pulling him flush against your body so the only thing left in the world was him and his skin and the thick of his cock as he started to pulse inside of you. 

Your orgasm almost hurt it was so intense. You could feel every inch of Joel’s cock in you, the heat and softness of his skin against you, every muscle in your body going rigid and tense for a moment before relaxing. Your vision went spotty and you got light headed and you lost track of time. 

The next thing you knew, you were in Joel’s arms, cradled against his chest, his fingers trailing a gentle path along the edge of your hairline and jaw, thumb brushing the plush of your lips. 

“There you are,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his large hand coming to rest against your cheek as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were soft and warm and there was a gentle smile on his face. “How are you feelin’ love?” 

You took stock of your body for a moment, everything feeling light and airy. 

“I’m good,” you smiled a little. 

“Yeah?” He said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Take a deep breath for me, OK?” 

You nodded a little and did as you were told, only realizing then just how little your lungs had been inflating before. 

“How’s that feelin’?” He asked. “Good?” 

You just nodded, still smiling. 

“How about this for the night,” he said, going back to tracing an easy trail over your skin with his fingertips. “In a few minutes, I get up and get you water and a cocktail while you put on that pretty little swimsuit of yours. You float in the water while I look at ya and finish those ribs in the smoker…” 

“You’re making me ribs?” You almost pouted, your brows going up. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Yeah, that OK?” 

“That’s my favorite,” you said, feeling like you might be about to cry. 

“I know it is, baby,” he said, kissing your temple again. “S’why I made ‘em. Got that potato salad you like, green beans, cornbread too. Even got that chocolate cake you like so much…” 

“The Oreo one?” You sniffed, tearing up. 

“The Oreo one,” he brushed your hair back. “You still with me there baby?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, crying a little. You weren’t entirely sure why, just every emotion you’d had over the past week seeming to bubble up at once. “I think so…” 

“You’re OK,” Joel said, pulling you closer, his lips gentle on your skin. “I’ve got you.” 

You just nodded against him and focused on how his skin felt on yours, his warmth and strength grounding while your mind was still swimming. 

“What about after dinner?” You sniffed. 

“We can watch one of those movies you like so much,” he said. “I know the ones that’ve been on your list, you don’t gotta pick unless you want to. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “But… can we just stay here for a little while first? Please?” 

“Course baby,” he said. “Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you.” 

You nuzzled into his skin and breathed deep and you didn’t really know why you’d been so stressed when you got home to begin with. You just knew that you had Joel and that, as long as he was there, everything else would be OK.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #dom!joel miller

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

#pedro pascal #smut #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #a03 fanfic #a03 writer #joel smut #tlou hbo #joel tlou #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #wip #pedrostories #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

[bluemusickid]

Private Chef! Joel thots

ok so I've had this idea lingering for a while now, and the SAG outfit has just FUELLEDDD more of my thots!!!

Side note: (He has never looked sexier, how dare he age this well; how am I supposed to go on with my life; this is absolutely not fair)

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!plus size! reader

Warnings: smut, mentions of sex, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller, 18+ only, minors DNI

Sharing a smallish drabble/thotty abstract, if you will:

Ok, so maybe Joel has joined your family as your private chef. After all, your parents are SUPER rich, so they might as well look and feel the part.

You had to admit, he was worth every penny your mother was paying him. Not to mention he was easy going on the eyes, which made your mother glad; she would parade him around her lavish parties to the "cougars"/bored rich housewives, something which made your eyes roll.

Little did they know that the ever so charming Joel was a FREAK with a capital "F" in the sack.

You honestly don't even remember how it happened. A few conversations here and there, he had offered to teach you how to cook and bake; and those lessons were often plagued by thoughts of him bending you over and having his way with you, leaving you throbbing and wanting. If you didn't know any better, you could tell that it was affecting him too. His voice got huskier, eyes darkening every time he looked your way. It was a game of chicken, almost, how long either of you could keep the distance before the inevitable damn bursting.

You had once gone to "ask" him "a cooking doubt", and saw quite a sight indeed. Gone was the prim and proper Joel, with his neatly ironed and clean apron and immaculate dress shirts. His curly hair was mussed up, his shirt slightly untucked and his top buttons undone; he seemed to be engrossed in a video, hie eyebrows scrunched together as his fingers kneaded some dough, prepping for tomorrow's party. It was honestly like porn, the way his strong arms kneaded the dough, his thick fingers making you nearly drool. It took all your strength to walk away from there before you embarrassed yourself and begged him to throw you to the ground and pound you into the ground, no matter how desperate that sounded.

And it had happened finally. Another one of your parents' shindigs, and you found yourself bored out of your mind, only half listening to one of your mom's friend's son, whose one semester in London had "like, totally changed his life." Excusing yourself, you made your way to the kitchen, topping off your drink.

You saw him there, again, making small talk with Angela, one of your mom's friends who just wouldn't take a hint. You'd never seen Joel this tense and yet Angela seemed oblivious, throwing herself at him, her screeching laugh loud enough to wake the dead.

You took pity on the man and made up an excuse on his behalf, beckoning him to join you, picking up a few wedges of limes on the way, an idea forming in your mind. He bid Angela goodbye, hurriedly following you before she engaged any further.

"...Whyyy are we going to your room?" He asked bewildered, hesistant as he stood at the threshold.

You shrugged, "figured you could use a proper drink, not the shit downstairs." Taking out two shotglasses, you handed him a rather large shot of Hendricks, your drink of choice to get "classy-drunk".

You toast, downing the smooth liquid as it left a slight burn. Wincing, you pour another, his eyes widening at the pour.

"I'm technically on duty."

"And i'm technically meant to like all the guys my mom has shown me, but life doesn't work that way, does it?" You quipped, clearly goading him.

One shot turned to two. Two to four. The party was long forgotten, the both of you pleasantly tipsy and unguarded. For the first time, it felt like Joel was opening up to you.

"If I didn't know any better, i'd say you were planning on getting me drunk, sweetheart." He drawled.

You smirked. Making your way towards him, you poured another shot, promising him it that it was the last one, and that he could go back to his job. He chuckled, knowing that he would a tough time walking to the kitchen, let alone serving the guests. Lucky that the crew took over for the rest of the night, huh?

Wincing, Joel blindly searched for the wedge of lime to soothe the burn. Opening his eyes, he saw your cheeky grin as you held the lime between your lips, challenging him to take the next step.

He nearly growled as he shuffled closer, your faces mere inches from one another. His fingers ghosted over your lips as he inched closer, his lips tasting the juice of the lime. Plucking the wedge from your lips, his mouth was on yours, urging you to open up for him. You groaned, tasting the citrusy hints of the gin along with the slight tang of the lime, your tongues weaving an intricate dance.

While the party downstairs was loud and had taken a rather raucous turn, up in your room, the only noise you could hear was the sound of harsh grunts and panting breaths.

When your mom had first hired Joel, you didn't understand exactly why she did so, because the chef you'd had earlier was perfectly fine. Now, you couldn't thank her enough for hiring him.

Joel had you pinned to your bedroom door, as he ate you out enthusiastically. Pulling your thigh on his shoulder, he doubled down on his efforts to get you to come undone. Running your fingers through his beautiful curls, you tugged on them as his wonderful tongue worked its magic on your swollen nub. He hummed, circling his finger around your center, urging you on.

Pulling your other leg on his shoulder, he moved to pick you up. You were uncertain about this, but he was insistant, picking you up like you weighed nothing at all. He didn't stop his ministrations as he dropped you on her bed, continuing his amorous assault.

This display of strength had you clenching and reaching your end in no time, as you moaned loudly, yanking on his curls to ground yourself.

"Oh baby, keep doing that, don't stop." He moaned, as he made his way up your body, leaving small kisses and nips along your thighs, your belly. He reached your breasts, taking a swollen nub in his mouth and sucking enthusiastically.

Looking down, you saw one of the most erotic sights ever. Joel worshipping you, his curls a wild mess, his pristine white shirt damp with your release and with a few buttons undone, coming untucked out of his tight black pants.

You groaned. You needed him so badly it practically hurt. Reaching down, you palmed him through his pants, as he thrust himself into your wandering hands.

Pulling his erect length out of his pants, you panted as you worked him over, stroking him as he moved his hips in tandem with your hands. His harsh breaths as he groaned and grunted through gritted teeth turned you on like nothing else.

"I'm close, sweetheart." He managed to blurt out, as you increased the speed of your strokes, tongue moving along his already sensitive head. He pulled his length from your grasp as he worked himself to his climax, yelling out and cursing as he came all over your breasts.

You were mildly disappointed that he held back from fucking you; hell, you were sure he was going to finally take that step and put you through the mattress.

"Joel, I need you. Please." You begged, the need to feel him fill you up dangerously high. You sounded pathetic, sure, but you were beyond caring at this point.

Joel smirked, catching his breath.

"I have to get back sweetheart. Your mom would kill me if she didn't see me in the kitchen."

You couldn't hide your frown as you watched him neaten up, running a hair through his curls. Joel leaving you high and dry was not how you saw your plan panning out. He was about to leave as he turned back, made his way to you, holding your chin between his fingers.

"But I promise you, this isn't over. Not by a long shot." He breathed against your lips, leaving a small peck as he left, leaving you weak and wanting for more.

Silently seething, you began to plot your next steps. Joel Miller wouldn't know what hit him.

Oh no i don't like it i don't think this is my best work but omg it's out there *runs and hides in a corner*

Will there be a part 2?? That's a great question. Honestly i think i could've done better so maybe i have a redemption arc as well lolol, who knows atp

#pedro #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x original character #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller fic #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut

[lokischocolatefountain]

Denial || Men Like Me

Part 2 of the Men Like Me series. Part 1

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girthy age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), masturbation (male & female), cis fem reader, descriptions of reader's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, Joel ignores you until he can't, slightly insecure reader, very insecure Joel, corruption kink, mild fem!dom, reader turns the tables a little, name calling, fetishization of virginity, face fucking (not the mouth, but cheek), kneeling, stripping, moneyshot, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 10.4k Summary: After your steamy encounter, Joel ignores you out of guilt, leaving you feeling unworthy. But you make a discovery that makes you turn the tables on him. A/N: The reception that chapter 1 got gave me enough serotonin to keep me going, you guys. I hope everyone likes this chapter at least half as much if not as much as the first one. Even the half would give me a lot of joy. And do say hi in my inbox or my asks. I would loooove to talk about these two. As always, pleaaaaaase give me reblog and/or a comment to recharge my writing batteries. Most importantly, a big thanks to @tobuildahomeinthewoods because the smut part was from their idea in the last chapter's comments .

“Long day, huh?” 

“What?” you asked, your brain taking a second too long to process the words. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” you said, going back to your glass of whiskey. 

“I heard about the kids. They gotta be more careful,” Tommy said, looking to his brother for some kind of confirmation. Joel nodded hesitantly, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he traced the rim of his glass with his middle finger. So cavalier like he didn’t fuck you with that very finger. Asshole. 

“Yeah, yeah. Climbing trees is not wise,” you agreed, willing yourself to look away from his brother. You didn’t want to get caught staring, or worse glaring. The chatter of the dinner crowd at the Tipsy Bison drowned into the sound of you tapping your fingers on the wood counter of the bar. You got up abruptly, the bar stool going down from the force of your actions. You bent over to pick it up, a hand moving to your chest instinctively to keep from flashing everyone. With no such protection for your ass, you could feel familiar eyes on them. Eyes that you’d become accustomed to having on you no matter the distance. 

“You ok–” Tommy began, but you cut him off.

“You have a good one, Tommy,” you said, grabbing your bag from the bar counter and slinging it over your shoulder. “I gotta go. I’m really tired.” 

Like the fool that you were, you picked your glass up and downed the rest of the whiskey, your throat rejecting the choice with a cough that had you spit out half of the burning liquor. Great. Now you’d have to wash your scrubs before going to bed so it didn’t stain. Fucking great. 

There were some protests from the younger Miller brother, some words of concern. But you ignored him as you hurried out of the Tipsy Bison and into the night. At least one of the Millers had some manners. And it wasn’t the one that broke into your house and showed you what a clitoris was. It was fucking embarrassing that he was ignoring you after that. Even more embarrassing that you had to learn it from a random guy when you were the one poring over anatomy textbooks trying to become a doctor. You should know anatomy better than anyone else. Your mentor should’ve taught you. You’d learned how to conduct a safe childbirth. Even been allowed to close up the last c-section patient. But you didn’t fucking learn how the baby got in there. 

Alright well, you did. But you hadn’t been told about some of the especially sensitive parts of the body that would be involved in the process. 

You tossed your bag on your couch, got yourself some cookies that you traded for last week and climbed up the stairs to your bedroom. It wasn’t a nutritious dinner, but it filled your tummy. It came in handy when you didn’t want to spend time chopping vegetables and boiling pasta or whatever the hell you had to do to cook. 

Your bedroom had become your prison in the last two weeks. You felt trapped, unable to see beyond it. How could you, when it ironically was right here that you found freedom? 

Even as you did something as mundane as eating cookies on bed and spilled crumbs on your sheets like a child, the chair in front of your dressing table was in sight. From where you sat, you could see very clearly the scratch on the black paint that revealed the light wood underneath. Evidence of how you had to hold on to dear life as Joel worked your pussy expertly. Like he knew it as well as he knew the tools of his trade. Like weaving his fingers between your folds was as familiar to him as it was for you to weave through skin with your suture needle and thread.

You felt yourself dripping at the mere memory of his thick fingers pumping away inside you, unraveling the fibers of your being. The sight of him at the bar– his finger tracing the rim of the glass– it took you to the memory of that very finger teasing your pussy.

The pornographic magazines, the entertainment for men, no longer saw the light of day from their box under your bed. Pictures of nude women you wanted to model yourself after in order to be attractive to men no longer sufficed. All you strived for now was to be attractive to him. To be strung like a puppet in his hands while all he seemed to want was to get away from any place where you were. 

You felt a pang in your chest as you recalled the first time you went to the house of worship after your time with Joel to find that he’d been replaced with the younger Miller. Tears stung in your eyes as you felt rejected by his absence. Like he no longer wanted to be in the same room as you, hammer nails into wood as you spoke to your fellow townspeople about their wellbeing. You told yourself it was just a temporary thing. That the brothers just liked to alternate shifts and he would return soon to fix the windows that shattered during a storm in the winter. 

He never came. 

You’d never experienced such rejection before. You’d never wanted before. To want was to risk rejection, to feel the pit in your stomach as you felt now. You never wanted to feel less than, undesirable, unwanted. So you pulled away from all the men you dated. If you could even call that dating. Maybe it was your own fault for thinking it would be easier with Joel. What did you think? That he would fold immediately because you showed off your legs and touched his arm and pushed your breasts out to present your femininity? 

Naive, stupid girl. 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

Something twisted in your belly and you lied down, pulling your covers over you as though it would contain the shame coursing through you. 

You probably looked silly to him, like a little girl playing adult. Like a kitten picking a fight with a lion. Less than half his age, just a fucking preschooler on outbreak day when he would’ve been a fully grown man. Maybe already beginning to gray, the skin by his eyes crinkled from the years he spent smiling at and wooing women. Why would he want a girl? He’d want a real woman. Someone like Tommy’s wife, perhaps. Someone he wouldn’t have to teach.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man?” his taunt rang cold in your ear, sending chills down your spine like he was still behind you, fingers buried deep inside the most intimate part of you. You pressed your thighs together, heat pooling between them as it always happened when you thought of what he did to you. 

Shame didn’t deter you as you brought your fingers to your pussy, brushing one against your clit with curiosity. With fear. It felt so good, like its sole purpose went beyond the animal need to survive and propagate. You bypassed it to touch your weeping slit, more comfortable with what you were already used to for carnal pleasure.

Your own fingers had always been enough. Out in the wilderness when you needed to release pent up energy. After long days at the clinic and sharing notes with the other students. When you were tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep. Your fingers always took you to where you needed. You were always satisfied.  

Not anymore. 

You whined as the different angles you tried failed to work. The physical pleasure was the same. But not quite like how it felt with him. His hand was larger, his fingers longer and thicker. He showed you sports inside you that you’d never been able to touch yourself. Maybe this was what people meant when they said ignorance was bliss. Knowledge of pleasure you could have but couldn’t give yourself was torture.

As much as you resented Joel now, you couldn’t help but conjure images of him as you brought yourself closer to release. His deep brown eyes, his large hand that he wrapped around your throat, the way he carried you from your chair and deposited you on your bed. Like a human being weighed nothing to him. Like you were his toy that he could bury his fingers in, play with and set aside when he was done, when he was bored. Entertainment for Men came to your mind again and you cried like you never had at your own touch. 

Your thighs trembled as you imagined yourself as one of those women in the magazines, but only for him. Entertainment for Joel. Splayed out on the center page for him to look at and fuck his hand to. You wouldn’t mind being tangible entertainment. Laid out on his bed, limbs arranged in an attractive manner for him, so he could access whatever part of your body he wanted to play with. To be bent to his will and fucked, to be used, given an affectionate pat on your pussy and put away when you’d outlasted his needs only to be given attention when he wanted to get off the next time. 

You shook uncontrollably, your eyes squeezed shut and the world went blank as you reached your peak. You pulled your spare pillow to your chest, needing some physical comfort after experiencing such a high. You wished it were him instead of an inanimate object. That he would make you feel good and hold you and kiss you all over. That he would stay when you woke up the next day and do it all over again. 

Once the haze of your orgasm cleared up, you cringed at the feelings it had brought out of you. How stupid… Wanting a man who broke in, fucked you with his fingers, and began ignoring you like you did something horrible to him. Fuck Joel Miller and fucking his stupid fucking face. As he said, there were other men in the town. Men who wouldn’t ignore you.

⌘

“How are the windows lookin’?” 

“Fixed ‘em up in time for the cold winds. No thanks to you, fuckin’ asshole.” 

“Sorry. Y’know I ain’t the church going type.” It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t the church kind before Sarah died and he certainly wasn’t anymore. That the young aspiring doctor he fingered in her bedroom was the real reason behind him swapping work would remain his secret.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbled, playing with the now cold fries on his plate. “It ain’t a church, by the way. Maria keeps correctin’ me. It’s the house of worship.” 

Joel rolled his eyes at that. He got the reasoning behind it. The town had people who believed in different Gods and had different religions. Calling the place a Church would be as unfair as calling it a– whatever, he didn’t know any other kind of place for worship. But it still pissed him off when his little brother came to him and went on about something his wife said.

Go off and do whatever your wife tells you, motherfucker.

No matter how he tried, the snide voice in his head that hated Maria never went away. He never said anything to her or Tommy. Maria was decent to him too, unlike the time he first arrived with Ellie. She trusted him with Miles. Invited him and Ellie over to family dinners. But they kept their interactions to a minimum, as though there’d been a silent agreement that it was best they kept it civil so as to not sow discord in the family. 

“Whatever. No point in worshiping, be it Jesus or whatever stuff they got goin’ these days.”

A shudder went down his spine, triggered by the talk of religion. As it became colder, Ellie had begun to revert to the empty shell of a child she was after the events in Colorado. There’d been grifters in the past hiding behind religion to cheat people out of their money, to damage children irreparably while preaching the word of God. The end of the fucking world somehow didn’t stop them from going on. Didn’t stop people from believing that an all-knowing, all-powerful guy in the sky was still watching and would protect them. 

If what protected people was God, guns were God. And Molotov cocktails. Sharp rocks and shoelaces.

Ellie didn’t tell him much, but from what he could piece together, it was a religious group with one guy leading them. And they were fuckin’ cannibals. Sounded like a goddamn cult.

“It’s a nice place to meet people,” said Tommy, snapping him out of his descent into the void of the recent past. 

Joel simply snorted and took a sip of his glass of water. He couldn’t handle his alcohol like he used to. Age and that he had been off his usual cocktail of oxy and whiskey for a long time now. He had to resort to having a lot of water to sober himself up after the occasional evening drinks with Tommy. 

“What? It is! I go there, catch up with everyone in town. Usually people go there when they’re going through some shit. It makes them feel conscious if you visit their house. So I just run into ‘em at the Chu– house of worship– and I just talk to them about their lives ‘n see if there’s anything I can do for them.” 

“Guess you’re right,” he said, slotting his thumbnail in the ridges on the bar counter absentmindedly, scraping off bits of the old softening wood. 

He could go again. Only so many days he could ignore you. But the reminder of the shame coursing through his veins when he saw you this evening made him shake the thoughts off. There was no way he could be anywhere you were without shriveling up and dying of embarrassment. 

You were so young.

Relatively unblemished by the world. A fuckin’ virgin. Never known the touch of a man and moaning his name as you touched yourself. 

Nope, nope, nope. Shouldn't have gone there, he thought as he felt himself hardening in his pants. Shouldn’t his dick be non-functional by now? He was dangerously close to sixty and spent a good two decades without adequate nutrition. Shouldn’t that be enough to turn his dick limp forever?

“Come over tomorrow, then. We’re doin’ a little memorial thing in the back of the house of worship. That young doctor’s idea, actually. She put the idea forward at the last council meeting. Thinks it’ll help people to have something physical to remember their people by.” 

Young, sweet, and so fucking thoughtful. 

Not meant for men like him.

Yet he went the next day. 

The topic of Sarah hung in the air around him and Tommy like a fog beyond which they couldn’t see. It sat heavy in his chest, the memory of his baby and worse, everything his shit brain had forgotten. He remembered that she gave him shit, mocked him over everything. But she didn’t have a voice in his head anymore. He could describe the sweetness of her voice, but it no longer sounded out in his mind. No matter how hard he tried. 

Her favorite color was purple and she loved soccer. He couldn’t recall the name of her team. She loved reading. He didn’t remember her favorite author. She liked animated movies. He couldn’t remember a single one. Just the vague memory of her falling asleep on his lap as cartoon characters chirped away on tv. Even her face was beginning to blur. When he recalled her features, it was only through images of the last seconds of her life.

“We could just do alphabetical order. Simple.” 

“Not really,” you said, scribbling lines on the paper. “We get new people in the town sometimes and we don’t want the names they add to stand out, away from the alphabetically ordered list. Might make them feel bad.”

“Yeah, you’re right. What about age?” Tommy suggested. 

“Still the same problem. It would force newcomers to have their own separate list at the bottom.” 

“How about a first come first serve system? We tell people when we’re taking names down for the memorial and they can come over, form a queue and give us the names they want included. That way, people can keep the names of the people they love in one spot on the memorial instead of having it scattered all over because of age or alphabetical order.” 

“What do you think, Joel?” Tommy asked, making him fold his arms over his chest and sigh. He didn’t give a shit. But that wasn’t the most amicale thing to say when someone was trying to do an objectively good deed. Unlike the other people in this town, he didn’t deserve to add the names of his people to a memorial. He failed in protecting them. He didn’t deserve to mourn like he wasn’t the reason they went into early graves. 

“Yeah, ‘s good. I agree.” He said, finding no faults with your proposal to order the names of the deceased by the order in which people gave it to ‘em. He didn’t know why he was being asked all this. It wasn’t like he was on the council like them. He was just takin’ measurements when he got dragged into this. 

“How many names do you think we’ll get?” Tommy asked him in yet another attempt to get him involved. 

Taking pity on his brother, he began a rough estimate of the number of names they’d get for the memorial and how much surface area they’d need for carving them in. “Six hundred people in town. Babies don’t have names to give. Kids wouldn’t have too many and if they had any, it would be on their parents’ list too. How many kids in this town?”

It was a fucking nightmare, sitting there at the table with you and doing calculations when all he wanted was to throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his place. Make you pose like you were posing in front of your mirror that day. Like women in those porno magazines he sneaked into his teenage bedroom and jerked off to. The fuck were you even thinking? Door left open, tits out, fingers in your cunt and his fucking name on your lips. 

Did you notice him at your door and decided it would be a fun trick to play on an old man? Or did you always scream his name when you fucked yourself? When was the first time? Did you always come so prettily on your own fingers like you came on his? Being in the dark drove him crazy. But part of him felt that getting the answers would drive him absolutely fucking insane. 

The thought alone was enough to make him feel uncomfortable in his pants. He adjusted himself on his seat and looked away from you, afraid that somehow you’d be able to tell that he was having improper thoughts about you when you were talking about honoring the dead. If thinking about you sexually in a church was bad, he was sure it was worse to think it when you were trying to help people memorialize their dead.

You had an air of innocence about you. The brightness of your eyes and the way you moved your hands about as you planned the details of this memorial and scribbled them out on your little notebook. He’d been attracted to that innocence from the very start. A rare thing to find out in the world. When even babies were born into violence and oppression, innocence was a luxury no one even thought to acquire. 

A virgin, too. 

His cock twitched in his pants. He gulped and looked around to check if anyone had caught his shameless response. Nope. 

He was surprised you were a virgin. For all your innocence, you were also fucking beautiful. There were plenty of guys in town. Ladies too, if you liked that. Anyone would’ve snatched you up quick and made sure to show you a world of pleasure. It didn’t take him long knowing you to give in to temptation. It was fucking impossible that no man had worshipped with his head between your thighs. That no man who saw you in your pretty little dresses bent you over and filled you up with his cock.

You were beautiful. Even more so when you came on his fingers. Made all those pretty little sounds. The way you said his name… Nobody had said it like that in such a long time. Not even Tess. 

It rang in his head whenever he found himself alone at home. Being in possession of your panties didn’t help matters. White cotton. Innocent. Covered in your dried up release. When he left that day, he made sure to suck on his fingers. Moaned like a fucking creep while going down your stairs. Eyes closed, he could still taste you on his tongue. After so many days. A little tangy with a hint of salt from your sweat and all woman. 

It had been embarrassingly long since he felt like a man. He’d been father, brother, smuggler, and father again. But long since he was just man. Never someone desirable. Out there, sex was just for release. Purely biological. The end of the fucking world did not afford good hygiene. You fucked someone because they were the safest option. Not because you were attracted to them.

You, however… You had others in this town. You were here before him. Younger, smarter, with a body that worked perfectly fucking well. You could have anyone but it was his name you were moaning out in the privacy of your room. 

He grunted as your voice crept back into his mind. The ‘Joel, please’, and the ‘Sir’. 

He grabbed on to the railing as his thighs trembled, afraid he would have an embarrassing fall. His breaths grew quicker and his mind void of everything but you. 

On your knees. On your back. On your front so he could fuck you from behind. Your hand around his cock. Your lips stretched out around him as you struggled with his size. Fistful of your hair as you begged for release. Please, Sir. Please, Joel.  The heat of your tight velvety cunt. Tears blurring your wide eyed innocence as he stretched out your rear hole. He wanted to take you everywhere, leave you burning with him. Mark you so deep every man you let in after you would know who fucked you first.

It didn't take long. The mental images of you were far too effective. His last time was too long ago. He was too old to last. Too old to want you. Somehow the reminder only pushed him further along. Sticky white cum coated your panties, mixing your scent with his. The mirror showed him a reflection of himself. Old, gray, crow’s feet by his eyes. He dropped your panties in the hamper, the warmth of his own release on his hand and the shame on his face sobering him up quickly. 

He wanted to teach you sin. But you had taught him more of it already than you would ever know.

⌘

“Cool jacket, dude!” 

“Uh…thanks. I traded for it years ago” you said, digging your thumb nail between the teeth of the zipper. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it worked well on cold nights that weren’t cold enough to warrant a sweater. “Is Joel in? I need to talk to him about a building project.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie before pressing her lips into a thin line. “I mean, he was awake half an hour ago when I left, but he could be in dreamland by now. Cause he’s old.” 

“Ah. Of course,” you said, smiling awkwardly at the girl. Joel’s kind of, sort of daughter. You were closer to her than Joel in age. You rolled the memorial plan tighter and tighter, your hands needing to be occupied with something as your mind reeled at the inappropriateness of your desires.

“I’ll make sure I don’t wake him up,” you said before leaving the girl to return to her group of friends. 

He was old enough to be your father. It should disgust you, scare you. Maybe it would’ve if you’d had an actual father in your life. A point of reference to know how vile a man of that age would have to be to want a girl your age. You tried to force some disgust into your veins, hoping that would help in putting out the fire in you that threatened to consume you whole. But it was hard to convince yourself that this was wrong when he’d made you feel so good. 

Your fingers had become inadequate overnight. If his fingers were so powerful over you… You shuddered to think what he could do for you with his penis. It had to feel better. The organ was made for it, unlike fingers.

You stopped outside his door and knocked without giving it a single thought. If you’d thought about it, you would’ve fled. It had already taken you hours to muster up the courage to make the walk to his house with the draft sketches for the memorial. You wouldn’t let your desperation ruin it. 

He looked surprised to see you, mouth opening and closing as though he’d forgotten how to process language. His dark brown curls and the silver that decorated it sat messily atop his head. Like he’d run his fingers through it. An old t-shirt stretched over his chest and struggled against his arms. A pair of dark sweatpants sat on his hips, the drawstrings hanging in the front. 

“Hey? Uh…what’s wrong?” he asked, bringing a hand up to his face and scratching his beard. Why was that hot? You had to be out of your fucking mind.

You cleared your throat and looked up into his eyes. “Does something have to be wrong?”

“You’ve never come here, so I thought…” 

“I’m here about the memorial plans. I have a few designs I want to run by you,” you said, holding up the rolled up sheets of paper.

“Ah. That. Sure, uh come in,” he said, opening the door and stepping aside to allow you passage. You looked around his house, careful to seem disinterested so he didn’t have more reasons to think you were a stupid little girl pining after him just because he made you come once. 

Shit. He probably already thought that. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me.”

You swallowed at the reminder as he led you to the dining table and offered you a seat. You looked around while he cleared the table. Plates, tools, some worn out novels. So he was the messy sort. You didn’t know who you would be if you’d had the chance to just be. You didn’t know if you would leave things lying around like that if you’d had a normal start to life. Like Joel. Like the others who were old enough to remember life before the cordyceps.

The place didn’t scream Joel Miller. There were no personal artifacts decorating his living room. No framed art. No books. No throw pillows or even a blanket on the couch. 

You knew what it was like to have nothing in your house. When you were still new to the town and it hadn’t hit you yet that you were allowed to have your own things. Collect stuff and not worry about having too many things to carry with you when you had to run. You didn’t own anything you couldn’t fit into your backpack. And you took that backpack everywhere when you managed to step outside your new house. 

But over time, you’d decorated your house. People you helped out at the clinic often gave you things as a token of their gratitude. Kids drew pictures for you. A lady once gave you the art off her wall that the previous owner had put up. Tommy and Maria gave you a new sweater that she’d knit when she was pregnant. New yarn from new wool from the town’s sheep. The first time you ever got something truly new. 

“No decorations, huh?” 

“What?”

“You don’t have any decorations here,” you pointed out again and licked your lips nervously.

“Uh, yeah. Not really the priority. Have’ta trade wisely. Can’t be gettin’ pictures when ya need bread.” 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “But you don't have to trade for it, you know? You could put up something of what’s in the house already. Surely the previous owners left some stuff.” 

“They did. Traded ‘em all for things we need. Fresh fruits, bullets, that kinda shit.” 

“Well, it doesn’t have to be framed art. You could cut up a nice picture from a magazine or something.” 

Joel looked up from the plans, head tilted and an eyebrow raised. Shit! Of course he thought you were talking about your magazines with the naked women. 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” you said, your voice coming out squeaky. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and looked down at the plans. 

“Let’s discuss the plans,” he said, his voice all gruff and his tone so stern. 

“I-I- uh… May I use your restroom?” you asked, unable to look him in the eye after what you’d said. After how he’d reacted. You really didn’t mean it like that. But you could see why that would be hard to believe when the last time he saw you, you had a box full of those men’s entertainment magazines on your bed and one open in front of you as you touched yourself. 

Touched yourself and moaned his name. 

“Upstairs, second door to the left.” 

You squeaked out a thanks before you bolted out of his dining room and made your way up the stairs. There were two bathrooms. One decorated with band posters and a poster of a girl with weirdly cut black hair sitting on a motorcycle. Had to be Ellie’s. The second door to the left was another bathroom. Joel’s, apparently. There was just one bar of soap, a toothbrush, and a pot of toothpaste. No shampoo bar. You pulled the toilet seat and lid down before taking a seat. 

You let out a groan and planted your face in your hands. Why the hell did you have to go and make it awkward like it wasn’t already that way. After he made you come that day, he’d refused to be anywhere near you. You hoped it was just coincidence, but after over a week it became undeniable that he was avoiding you. 

He probably thought you were going to catch feelings. A girl in one of the romance novels you read fell in love with a guy who took her virginity. And there was the time you overheard this guy talking about not wanting to sleep with a girl because she was a virgin. He was afraid she would catch feelings and get clingy. 

Now here you were in his bathroom because you thought it was wise to make small talk and ended up insinuating he should put up dirty pictures on his wall. You could scream. But you wouldn’t. There was already enough awkwardness with him. 

You could always jump out of the window and run off to your house. Never speak of this again. Pretend nothing happened if Joel tried to talk to you about it. But something told you that he wouldn’t. He would probably be happy if he never had to interact with you again. You had been acting desperate. He caught you touching yourself moaning his name, for fuck’s sake! 

Your hands, permanently dry from all the times you scrubbed them clean for your patients, found some moisture from your salty tears. It was embarrassing, sitting in the bathroom of a guy who wanted nothing to do with you after you scared him off with your stupid little infatuation. 

You were a grown woman. Still young, but too old to be acting like this. You should have some experience already. Not sniffling over a man more than twice your age. He was right. He had been a grown man with experience longer than you’d been alive. Of course he wanted nothing to do with you. 

The window looked more and more attractive as the seconds passed. It had been a while since you did something like that. You didn’t need to jump out of buildings or trees anymore. You didn’t go on patrols like some residents. With no need to fight for your life and having all the food you could need to never go hungry even once, you’d become a little unfit. If you broke a bone jumping out of Joel’s bathroom window, there would be questions. And everyone would know. You’d have to avoid the whole town instead of just Joel. 

You’d just have to face it. Even if facing it was doing as little as just bidding him goodbye and bolting out of his house without an explanation. You got off his toilet and pressed the flush just so he didn’t think you were weird. Like it fucking mattered. He already found you weird and desperate. 

You washed your hands, letting the water wash away the tears on your hands before wiping your wet hands over your face in an attempt to remove traces of your crying. 

You should’ve just left after that. Not looked around. Not snooped like a creep. You didn’t ever dig. You didn’t have to look too deep to catch it. But a sliver of white peeked out through the netted walls of the laundry hamper. A sliver of white cotton with a light blue stitch. 

Without second thought, you dug into his dirty laundry. You came up with the white cotton fabric, going straight to the gusset where the blue thread stitched the fabric pieces together. The original stitch had given out and you sewed it back together just some time back. The blue thread was all that you had at the time. 

As though the sight of your panties in Joel’s bathroom wasn’t jarring enough, next came the smell. Of you. Your cum. You felt practically hear your own heartbeats as you recalled how he’d cleaned you up with your own panties. You recalled that he stuffed the fabric in his pocket as you lied on your bed, pussy still pulsating from his handiwork, brain melted, and life changed forever. 

You took another whiff of your panties, goosebumps raising the hairs on your body as you felt it. Your cum and something else. It was still damp.

Blood rushed back up to your face and you felt yourself getting tense. 

This fucker. How dare he? You’d been embarrassed just a minute ago over your desires and he was doing this the whole time? Noticing you on the streets and running away for days. Running back to his home where he kept your fucking panties, apparently. Avoiding you for so long only to cum in your panties. 

So he wanted you. 

If not you, he at least wanted sex. Dirrty old man who liked attention from you, but you weren’t even disgusted. Just angry he was pretending to be better than that. He could’ve used any old rag, but he used your panties. 

You brought your defiled panties back up and smelled them again. Strangely, it smelled something like bleach. Or you could be wrong. You’d never… You didn’t know what a man’s release was supposed to smell like. Was it different for each man or did they all smell the same? 

Wetness pooled in your panties as you imagined him touching himself. Large rough hand wrapped around himself. Did he think of you when he did it? Think of you naked in your bedroom and taking his fingers? What did his penis look like? What would it feel like? Soft? Rough? You’d wondered about having one inside you, but never about a particular man’s anatomy. But this was Joel. Joel was the only one who’d gotten this far in your head. 

He couldn’t deny it to you anymore. If nothing else, you could at least call him out for ignoring you when he was wiping his ejaculate off with your stolen panties.

“Joel!” you called out before your fears could talk you out of confronting him. Unsure if he would’ve heard you, you opened the bathroom door and yelled his name out again. “Joel!” 

“What?” 

“Come up here!” 

“What happened?” 

“Just come here.” 

You heard him sigh, the sound followed by the typical grunts and groans he made when standing up. Fuckin’ old man, ruining your life. Ruining your self-confidence. Ruining your fucking panties. His heavy footsteps thudded against the stairs as he climbed up, the sound getting louder as he got closer to the bathroom. 

“Why were you screaming my name like y–” he stopped mid scold, frozen in place by the door as he saw what you had in your hand. He opened and closed his mouth, as though attempting to explain but deciding otherwise. He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. 

“Do you not have rags, Joel?” you taunted, taking a step towards him and enjoying seeing him step back. You felt powerful, moving a large man with just your voice. It was very unlike how he made you feel all the days he ignored you. Weak, insignificant, undesirable.

“You weren’t meant to– Fuck, I’m sorry!” 

“Which part are you apologizing for? For breaking into my house and touching me? For ignoring me ever since? For stealing my underwear? Or for doing whatever you did with it?”

You moved him out of the bathroom, making him walk backwards in the hallway you hoped led to his bedroom. Even if it didn’t, you’d be fine. You’d exact revenge in any place you can. As long as you got to make him feel the way he made you feel. Pleasure. Shame. Want. 

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve—”

You took your last step towards him, finally trapping him against a wall. You stood close enough to place your hand on his chest. You licked your lips, the rock hard muscles beneath your touch storing itself away in your mind for later use. 

“Imagine what would happen if I told someone? You sister-in-law, perhaps… She hates you, doesn’t she?” You smirked, though you were screaming on the inside. You didn’t know where you got all this courage from. You didn’t know you had it in you to threaten a man as imposing as Joel. 

He turned pale, his hands up against the wall in surrender. If you’d asked him, he wouldn’t tell you the truth that it was to keep himself from touching you. “Please don’t tell anyone. I won’t do this again, I swear.” 

“Maybe I want you to do this again…” 

“You don’t. Trust me.” 

“Shh!” You said, placing your index finger on his lips. Pink, perfectly shaped, and so damn kissable. “Don’t tell me what I want. You ignored me ever since you walked into my house without my permission and shoved your fingers inside me. I was walking around town believing I wasn’t good enough for big old Joel Miller. What did you say? That you’ve been experiencing longer than I’ve been alive?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him when he didn’t answer. Then he nodded reluctantly.

“Why were you coming in my panties then if I didn't measure up? ” 

“I won’t do it ag—” he groaned when you grabbed his cock through his pants. He let out a low grunt and his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed. You replaced your index finger with your thumb, tracing his trembling lips as you lazily stroked his cock with your other thumb. 

He filled your whole hand and there was still more. It took everything in you to not moan at the sheer size of him. To not grind your belly against it to feel it against you. You didn’t know how big it was supposed to be, but the romance novels you read always described the big ones as more desirable. 

“I don’t want to hear excuses. I asked why. Why did you steal my panties, Joel Miller?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Did you come on it? Don’t fucking lie to me cause I can fucking smell you on it.” 

“I did. I jerked off with it.” You had to choke back a moan at that. No, you had to be strong. Show him you could take the upper hand just like he did with you. You weren’t a little girl with a crush. You were a woman and you could have this effect on a grown man. You refused to be discounted with a pat on your pussy no matter how much you wanted him to touch you like that again. 

“Mmm. And that’s enough to get you going. Just a pair of my panties.” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Show me how you did it.” 

“What?” He asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Show. Me. How you did it.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, his hand coming up to stroke the base of his neck. “Wh-What?”

You felt your heart thud against your ribs and if you didn’t know from experience and your textbooks, you’d have been afraid that he could hear it. You’d never done anything so daring. You were the timid girl when it came to this stuff. That the thought even occurred to you was a testament to how much you desired Joel. Not just to sleep with any guy, but to have Joel. Without a word, you reached under the skirt of your dress and tugged your panties down. 

He inhaled sharply as you bent down and came back up with your panties. Undyed white fabric, a little green ribbon in the shape of a bow stitched to the front, gusset a light gray from your wetness. 

“Show me. I want to see what you were doing in your bathroom with my panties after ignoring me everyday,” you said, taking his hand and forcing the fabric into it. His hand curled around it and you found yourself feeling lighter. You didn't know how long you could keep up the brave front if he continued to have no response. 

“Take your clothes off.” 

It was like something changed the moment you gave him the garment. His eyes were on you, his gaze unrelenting. He took a step ahead and you stepped backward. His lips curled up in a smirk. It seemed playtime was over… Like a lion letting the cubs play at predation before taking over to show how hunting was really done. 

You didn’t know if you were ready for that… Sure it was nothing he’d never seen before, but it was different. The last time, you didn’t do it with the intention to have him see you. He just happened to see you bare and you didn’t cover up when you realized. 

“I don’t have a box full of dirty magazines. I need to see somethin’,” he said, his eyes going down your frame like they had every right to be there. “Or you could leave these,” he said, holding your panties up in front of your eyes, “and run back home. What d’ya say?”

You swallowed, your hands shaking as you reached behind to find the zipper of your dress. You weren’t going to run off. Not when you’d been desperate for so long to do something, anything with him. Cold air kissed your back as you pulled the zipper down and the hairs on your body stood up in full attention. You pushed the sleeves off your shoulder and shimmied out of the dress, standing in just your dress in front of him. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He looked you up and down. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down. He radiated superiority, putting you in some kind of a daze. “Your bra too. Show me your tits.” 

The crudeness had more wetness pooling between your legs. You nodded wordlessly, afraid that pathetic whimpers would be the only sound you’d make under his gaze. You reached behind and felt around for the clasp of your bra. With his eyes piercing into you, you failed to find it quickly like you usually did. Your mouth dried up, your tongue sticking to the roof. 

He made no effort to help. A mocking smile assumed its place on his lips as he watched you struggle in front of him. 

When you finally managed your task and stood fully naked, he stood up straight. His tongue darted out and licked his lips. You felt like a piece of meat placed in front of a starving man. Just seconds ago, you were telling yourself you didn’t need his approval, that this would just be revenge. But as he evaluated your body, your pussy wept with the need for your body to be nothing but what he liked.

“Room’s that way.” He nodded in the direction of the room. You turned around and took small steps, your shoulders curling inward and your head bowed in submission. Every inch of your skin burned with the strength of his gaze. 

“Kneel.” 

You placed your knee on his bed, ready to climb up. 

“On the floor.” 

One knee still on his white sheets, you turned around to look at him. He was so large. Imposing. The kind of figure you would follow without question. So, you did. 

“You look pretty on your knees.” 

He took a few steps towards you, stopping when the distance had your neck straightening to look up at him. Large, powerful, imposing. Another step and you were face-to-face with his crotch. His bulge was right there. 

“Go on, take it out. Since you wanted it so bad.” 

Joel didn’t think you would do it. You looked even smaller kneeling at his feet. Meek little thing. He didn’t at all expect you to taunt him the way you did. Especially after you threatened to tell on him to Maria. He fully expected you to start crying. Guess he really underestimated you. Virgin didn’t necessarily mean innocent. 

Yet you folded as soon as he took the reins. He saw the change in you right when he told you to take your clothes off. When your eyes went from determined to defeated. All that spunk evaporated to reveal the little girl underneath. He liked it like that. Made him feel like a real man. Not that there was any scarcity of masculinity in his life of taking out clickers and defending this town. But somethin’ about a beautiful woman accepting his authority did the trick faster than every other display of masculinity. 

Your hands fiddled with his belt, trembling as you tried to take it off. He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. “Just undo the zip.” 

No way he was going to get naked in front of a pretty little twenty something. It wasn’t anything great to look at even before he began a life of violence and traversing the wilderness. Sure he was well built from all the hard physical labor and constant fight for survival. It’d left several unappealing scars on his person. Time had done a number on him too. Especially his pudgy belly. It didn’t help that food flowed free in Jackson, fattening him up a little. 

Thankfully, you listened. You looked up, as though you expected him to complete the task for him. He challenged you with a look. Wanna be a big girl so bad, act like one.

You reached inside his pants and took his cock out. Your lips parted and he heard you inhale through your mouth. His cock hung in front of him, hard from your teasing. He had to give it to you, you were daring for a meek little thing. No one in town would believe him if he told them all that you’d done. And he suspected he didn’t even know the half of it.

“Not too late to back out, you know?” he said, wrapping his hand around himself. It took everything in him to give you an out. As much as he wanted to grab your face, force your mouth open and make you gag around him, he was man enough to let you know you didn’t have to do anything. Young girl probably bit more than you could swallow. And seeing his cock and your mouth so close by showed that he was definitely nothing you could swallow.

“I’m not backing out.” 

“First time seeing one?” 

“Of course not. I work at the clinic. You think I haven’t seen a penis?” 

“No anatomical terms. I ain’t your patient. Go on, touch my cock.” 

You reached up for him, but he stepped back, delighting himself in the disappointment on your face. “Come on, you want a man so bad, work for it.” 

You moved to stand up. “Did I say you could stand up?” 

“No.” 

“Then get back on your fucking knees.” 

You dropped to your knees and he groaned in satisfaction. The euphoria of wielding power over someone rushed through his veins. And he wanted more. It was the same sick satisfaction he got when he beat men to death. When he broke bones and dressed animals he hunted in the wild. “Good girl. You’re going to listen to what I say. Got it?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Fuck! That fucking word again.

“Come on, come get it. Hands and knees. Crawl to me.” 

He beckoned you forward with one hand, his other still on his cock. You bent over and god fucking damnit, you were a vision. You were an eager girl and he could see what you could become in the right hands. His hands. The things he could show you… Introduce you to your own body. Bring you pain and pleasure that were indistinguishable.

Your tits hung from your chest, swaying as you crawled towards him. Feverish, bright eyes followed him as he continued to refuse what you wanted. Too fucking late. He warned you. Told you men like him weren’t for pretty little things like you. But you didn’t fucking want to listen. Now you’d have to deal with the consequences. Maybe you’d stay away then. 

“Please, Sir,” you whined so prettily he almost gave in. 

“What are you begging for?” 

“You. Y-your penis.” 

“My cock,” he corrected. “Say it.”

“Your cock, Sir.” 

“Good girl. C’mere,” he said, giving you a nod to come closer. You crawled to him and when he didn’t back away, sat up on your knees. He placed his hand on the back of your neck and gripped your hair, making you hiss. Holding you in place, he brought his cock to your face. You looked up at it, your eyes widening and your mouth slackening. You brought your hand up and touched his tip with just your thumb. The rest of your hand followed, wrapping around him. He gasped silently as you stroked his slit with your thumb, making him leak precum on you. 

“Did…? Did you?” 

“No. Gotta do more ‘n that to make me come. That’s precum.” 

“Oh.” 

He didn’t think you knew what precum was. Probably not the focus of your education here. Not the most important thing when townsfolk came in injured after patrols or suffering from a fever that was life threatening without the medicines of the past. 

He pressed his cock against your cheek. The sight presented a visual of how you’d struggle if you took him in your mouth. He’d have you choking on him before you even took half. He twitched against your face at the mere thought. You were the picture of innocence, even with his cock on your face. Even with the stunt you pulled before he put you back in your place. 

“Think I’ll just do this. Fuck your pretty face.” 

You whimpered, spurring him on. He wanted to force himself inside you, punish your mouth for having the gall to speak to him the way you did. Make you cry from how full of him you were. Give you a sore throat so when you spoke to him again, you’d remember to speak with respect. But you wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he’d settle for defiling your sweet features, hold his cock against your cheek and rut like the animal he was.

“I ain’t gonna lay you out on my bed and take you nice and slow. I’m just gonna use you. ‘s what men like me do.”

He pulled away, giving you another opportunity to rethink this. “You can put your fucking clothes on and leave if you don’t like it.” 

To his surprise, you stayed put on your knees. You shook your head before reaching up and rubbing your cheek against his cock. You let out a soft moan, eyes closed and your thighs pressed together tight. “No, no. I like it.” 

“Fuckin’ slut,” he said, his hand back in your hair. He tugged at it and took his cock in his other hand. He tapped your lips with his tip, smearing the precum that leaked out of him. “You like an older man using your face like it’s a pussy?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He snorted, amused. “Never met a virgin slut before. Getting your face fucked before your pussy. Bet you’re wet from this.” 

There was the sweet little whimper from you again. He wanted to hear more of it. Trap you underneath him and make you weep and cry and whimper as he split you in half.

“Let me see. Touch your pussy, show me your slick.” 

You obeyed, spread your knees and touched yourself. Your hand glistened under the light of his bedroom, your wetness stretching between your fingers in strings. “Goddamn, would you look at that…” he said in a low rumble. “Rub it on my cock.” 

Your hand trembled slightly and you stared at him with a blank look in your eyes. He guided your hand to his cock, withdrawing his hand when he’d brought you close enough so you could decide whether you wanted to follow his command. You touched your slickened hand to his cock, covering him in the evidence that you wanted this. Wanted him. You reached between your legs and brought more of yourself, eyes soft yet glazed with lust as you smeared yourself all over his length. 

“Ask me for it.” 

“Please,” you whined. 

“Please, what?” 

“P-please fuck my face. Sir.” 

He returned his cock to your cheek, your wetness lubricating your face. Hand cradling his cock, he began to thrust. It wasnt much different from fucking his own fist. It was just skin. Not the tight velvety wetness of a pussy or a throat that would gag with his thickness. But your face was softer than his gun callused hands. Even better was your pretty face, looking up at him so adoringly… So full of desire. 

He didn’t have to let his imagination do the trick now. Not when you were right in front of him, lending yourself for his use. And no imagination, no memory did justice to you. Your body. Scarred, but beautiful. Tits that filled his large hands, clean and styled hair, a belly that showed you were well fed. He wanted to lay you out on his bed and consume you. Take your tits in his mouth, grab handfuls of your ass, spread your cunt lips and lodge himself inside you. Give it to you hard so your thigh jiggled and you felt them ache as they rubbed against each other when you walked around in your pretty little dresses. 

But as depraved as he was, he knew he shouldn’t be the first to take you. He’d have you just this once. Store your image in his head to get off with for as long as his dick worked. You acted all brave, but he couldn’t shake off that you were still inexperienced. The first time was meant to be good. The world was no longer normal, but you could have normality within the insular walls of Jackson. 

Even this was wrong. Using you like this instead of making sweet love to you. But he hadn’t been that man in a long time. He was selfish and cruel. If there was no town, no community where everyone knew everyone and you still threw yourself at him, he would’ve taken you in all your holes with no hesitation. Ruined you, kept you until your body wasn’t of use and tossed you aside. But being in this semi-normal place had gotten its claws into him. Softened him up.

He grew closer to the edge embarrassingly quickly, the haze of carnal pleasure beginning to muffle the voices screaming in his head to let you go. He only barely noticed that you were touching yourself. Enjoying this treatment of you. That spurred him on. There was no stopping now. 

You let out soft moans, your eyes never once leaving him. He struggled to get himself to focus. To check for any signs you didn’t want this. But all he saw was you on the precipice of pleasure. The world disappeared. His house, Jackson, the darkness that lay beyond. It was all him now. He felt lighter, like he would float out through the window and everything he’d ever been through would disappear. Every ounce of goodness quietened down, the last shreds of his morality discarded with your dress. He grunted and moaned your name as he kept fucking you. Your features morphed into nothingness. No longer a face, no longer a human woman. All he knew was the ache in his body, the tightness that begged to be released. 

He slapped a hand against the wall as his thighs stiffened and every muscle in the vicinity of his cock tightened. He took himself back in his hand and stroked himself over your face. Once, twice, and thr– mid stroke, he growled and spilled on your face, coating your innocent features in sticky white cum. You flinched as the first stream hit, screwing your eyes shut. He wanted to make you look, see how he could defile you, show you that he wasn’t for you. Force you to confront what you’d allowed into your life so you’d run and never look back. 

But all he could do was keep stroking as he came down from his high. It was unlike anything he’d had in the recent past. Not his imagination, not just his hand. A real human woman who wasn’t just a convenience. One who sought him out, stripped for him, and let him use her face like a toy. 

He took a minute to collect his breath and let his senses return to him. His cock hung semi-hard outta his jeans, like it could go again if he willed it. Like it wasn’t almost six decades old. But he wasn’t too surprised. He could go again for the utterly debauched girl in front of him. Innocence eclipsed by milky white ropes of his cum. Without thinking twice, he grabbed your hair and pulled at it. You yelped, but let him pull you up from the ground and drag you to the other side of the room. 

He stopped you in front of his mirror, and slapped your hand off your pussy before replacing it with his. “Look at yourself. I fucking told you,” he said, forcing two thick fingers inside your cunt. You sucked him in with little resistance, your cunt leaking enough for him to force a third finger inside you. You gasped and tried to wriggle away, but he wasn’t having it. He was a fucking monster, but he would never leave a woman unsatisfied. Especially a young thing who’d never had anyone else before. 

He wrapped his free hand around your throat, his half hard cock begging him to go again when he felt the vibrations of your moans. “I warned you,” he whispered into your ear. “Fuckin’ warned you. Told you how starved I was. And you still taunted me. Look at you now!” 

“Please… Please, Joel! Sir, please…” 

“Fuckin’ slut. Maybe you ain’t really a virgin.” 

“I am, I am, I promise. I wa–” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he pressed his thumb on your clit. 

“What was that?” 

You made some incoherent noises, too far gone to form words. Yet you managed to thrust onto his fingers and roll your hips like a real natural. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, pretty girl… I know,” he cooed, the softness in his voice contradicting how he’d used you just minutes prior. Contradicting the cum on your pretty little face. 

“You gonna come for me? Give me another one after you came so sweetly on my fingers that day?” 

There were no answers from you. Not even an acknowledgement that you heard him. Just whines and moans as you let him support your entire weight. Your head lolled back on his shoulder and your eyes rolled back into your skull as he fucked you stupid with just his fingers. Oh the things he could do with his cock… Reach deeper, take the virginity you’d held on to for so long. If he ever had you, he would never let go. He was too selfish a man to willingly lose a girl so precious after taking her cunt. 

You gripped him like a vice, so tight he couldn't pry his fingers out. Something that vaguely sounded like his name spilled from your lips as you crumpled in his arms. Your pussy pulsated around you as he held you against him, unwilling to remove himself from you so quickly. 

He withdrew your panties from his pocket– the fresh pair you took off in his fucking hallways like it was no big deal. He wiped your face with it the same way he cleaned up your cunt that day. Instead of tucking it in his pocket, he forced it into your hand. 

“Put it on. Your fucking dress, too. Hope you learned you fucking lesson.”

As you put it on and scampered away naked into his hallways, he hoped it would be enough to scare you away. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he would always crave you like an addict craving a drink.

⌘

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[nexusnyx]

keep close | joel miller

Summary: It takes you six months to break. You thought you'd last longer. Tried convincing yourself that everything in your head was because he saved you, not because of real attraction. One night, Joel proves that to be wrong. a/n: I'm nothing if a byproduct of my environment. And my environment right now is a mind palace made only of Pedro's role... so here we go. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. [WC: 3.7k] Warnings: Mostly fluff. A hint of indecent thoughts, so maybe reader discretion is advised? Protective!Joel, strangers to friends, unresolved sexual tension.

masterlist

What lived under your skin the most was Joel's duality.

Registering the range of what he was proved to be a difficult task from the very beginning.

Here he was, the man who saved you. The man who somehow, despite the gritty and cruel ways of existence, managed to keep a kind bone in his body. Kind enough to step in when you were in danger, even if he didn't need to. Life-threatening danger—most people would look away these days. But not him. Not Joel.

Here he was, the man who was kind enough to look you in the eye when he saw you crunched down in a corner, sweating profusely due to the wounds and most likely looking like a rabid or wild animal, and still tried putting some calmness to his voice before asking: "Can you walk? I heard you. 'm gonna help, ok?"

That man. The same one who beat the bastards who were keeping you to a pulp. That man, currently, slept only a couple of feet away from you, with his face half-tucked inside his scarf and jacket, and for the first time in your life, you saw Joel... smiling.

It was the first time you witnessed it.

The book on his lap told you he fell asleep mid-chapter. While the sprain and cuts were minor compared to what they could be, Joel fussed as if they were broken bones. The most worrisome part was your ribs, but those, he cut out fabric from an old t-shirt of his ("they're all old now though, aren't they?") and wrapped your body as firmly as he could.

It made you smile, even if only at your own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

How could this be the same man?

Sometimes, you closed your eyes and saw him like that.

Mid-fight, rage and sadness oozing out of him as if they were radiation, his fists flying so fast it seems impossible to catch up to the act.

When violence is needed, Joel breaks the calm surface and introduces outsiders to the storm within.

It goes calm, storm, drizzle.

He'd never change that.

Now that it was too late, Joel would always be this sea of turbulent waters, often hidden by its vastness.

Joel "I will punch you in the throat" Miller asked you very few questions at first.

Dinner on the day he rescued had been awkward, to say the least.

Not that it mattered in the long run.

What was awkwardness in the face of not looking over your shoulder, and what was feeling left out and intrusive in comparison to the jittery stress of always checking if the gun is loaded?

Nothing.

Having two people close by who seemed alright in the head — a rarity, if there ever was one —trumped it all.

Joel and Ellie were headed West. So were you.

It was logical, only. Or it was, at first.

"I could definitely use an extra pair of hands with this one," Joel admitted. It was the first night walking together after one week stationed at the same place to wait for yours and Ellie's healing—a night of dubious whiskey and traded information.

"She doesn't seem that difficult," you answered, eyeing Ellie's sleeping frame on the other side of camp.

He scoffs. "She isn't." His lips pursed in a thin line. "I just—" his shoulders shrugged. "Think she might get bored with just me."

For someone who had barely said a word for a whole week, it was more than you first perceived him to be. "The world's quite a boring place now," you whispered. Then, shrugged your shoulders just the same. I don't care. "I like it."

"Do you?"

"I do." You remembered how noisy things were. So many nowadays lacked the age for that, but not you. "'s nice hearing nature. And that one," you tilted your chin towards Ellie, "should be happy to be alive."

The truth of that hung in the air.

That first conversation sealed it for you—Joel making an effort to ask things and answer your inquiries surprised you.

"Think we can keep her alive 'till we get to the Fireflies base?" Joel asked you.

You thought it over for a second, and came to a conclusion. "We can definitely try." A purpose other than escaping — all you've ever known — and surviving sounded good to you. "And if that's your mission, probabilities of success rise with another member on the team."

That night, all you got out of him was one eyebrow raised. "Is that so?" It sounded teasing, but he looked so serious saying it. "Well. 'm gonna hope you're as good with that rifle as you are with your probabilities."

To his delight, he quickly discovered you were.

Faster, even.

Joel might have risen an eyebrow at first, but your sentence proved to be true in the next couple of months. There's a team there. The two of you do your best at trying, even through hardships.

When there are no Fireflies, you make Ellie look away from the bloodshed. With no clear plan or direction in sight, you're a helpful extra set of eyes when Joel decides it's best to look for Tommy.

In all of the three months where you, Joel, and Ellie head towards Wyoming, a routine is established, and the days looking after each other make it hard to pretend there's any distance between your little group.

Ellie is fond of your Encyclopedia of Unbelievable Facts.

She's a quick learner, an agile fighter with a wicked sense of humor, and enough cursing to rival you in the games of "unladylike shit and sounding like pirates, honestly," as stated by Joel.

He hid a lot of his amusement in scoffs and sighs, you thought.

Joel is fond of doing perimeter checks, sleeping on his side, and 'peace and quiet'.

It takes you a bit to understand that it's easier to pull conversation from him when Ellie is safe and sound. Tucked in her sleeping bag, showering in the river streams (and swearing incessantly under her breath), eating her food.

Without Ellie around, Joel opens up, bit by bit.

He talks about Tess.

About how close he and Tommy always were.

"I bailed him out of jail, y'know? That night of..." he doesn't say it.

Most of us never do. "Did you?"

He chuckles drily. "I did." He shakes his head, sips his water. "Stupid fucker."

"More like lucky fucker." When Joel turns his head to you with furrowed eyebrows, you elaborate. "If you hadn't gone, no more Tommy."

Joel takes a second before nodding. "Yeah."

"Were you always bailing him out of trouble?"

His face softened for a second. Before him, you embraced the darkness as you did the silence, but now, you wished for better lighting. "Often. Once, he and I were at our dad's house on a winter hunting trip. He hated those at first, but before..."

You started living for the stories.

Joel's presence became warm when he shared.

Vivid, and so fucking tempting.

It was all soft whispers back and forth, until the day he dropped her name.

"Sarah."

You knew the second you heard it—an open wound starts smelling the longer it stays open, and this one carried literal weight to it.

A whiff in the wind, and mourning was all over the air.

Joel left, and in the morning, nothing more is said.

Colorado changes everything.

It gives you the smile.

It comes at a cost, like everything else.

Since there's been no Tommy, you advise and convince Joel to check the Fireflies base here, only to find out they're relocated to Salt Lake City. When you three are coming out of the building with the fresh news hot on your laps, a group tries to ambush and kidnap you three.

As it does in this world without order, hell breaks lose.

Other than hell, a lot more breaks—protocol, jaws, ideas, trust.

Theirs thankfully.

You, Joel, and Ellie make it out alive, but not good.

You find a safehouse in a mountain cabin.

"Friend of Tommy's used to live here. Thank fuck it's still here," said Joel.

"Thank fuck indeed 'cause I don't know how much longer I can—oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel."

"Hey, hey, take it easy, slow down." Joel is just if not more fucked up than you from the fight, but he's still the one holding you up. He whistles—a call for Ellie. "Help with her other side, we can finish lighting up the place afterward. She needs to lie down."

Ellie hooks her frame underneath your left side, and you thank her with your weak and sweaty smile. "And your sure just lying down and resting will heal her rib?"

"It just cracked. Bones heal, El."

"I'm just checking." Ellie always checks. "You might need some penicillin, too. That knife looked ugly."

"I'll get it once we're all cleaned up. I'll go on a run," says Joel.

You're hurt too, you bastard.

"I'm the only one not limping here, can't I go?" asks Ellie.

"No," you and Joel say in unison. "I'll go tomorrow. I'm bruised, but nothing's infected. I think I saw a warehouse down there."

Ellie sighs next to your ear. Then, she mumbles to you right before you're lied down on the bed. "Bet this will be Pittsburg two."

Pittsburg.

The fight. Joel deciding to save you despite your brother almost ruining Ellie's life.

Joel's frame sleeping next to your cot.

"You shouldn't have run off like that."

Not a single request for your apologies, or a comment on the shitshow that happened before you just 'ran off'.

Joel, the same man who saved you from a group of lunatics by bashing one of their member's head against the nearest tree, huffed and puffed before saying, "you saved Ellie's life by shooting your brother. and... i'm sorry about what came after that."

An apology from him.

How was that fair?

"You don't need—to thank me."

"I do."

"...You just saved my life, Joel."

"Well, you saved Ellie's, so consider us even."

That was then.

That was before deciding you were a team. Before heading West, before finding out about Salt Lake, before the attack.

Joel probably needed to rest himself.

Except—

There he is.

The first thing you think upon waking up in the candle-lit room.

Joel slept next to you, almost as if keeping guard.

It stirs the strings in your chest.

It's one thing to be observed by him after he saved you from those three men because you're bruised and traumatized by the whole thing.

It's whole other to know Joel is just as bruised.

Six months have passed since then.

A lot has happened. More than you could compute, sometimes, but less than your heart desired.

All the struggles, the Infected, the long days of walking, and the hard nights of worrying have molded this new thing into its own ecosystem.

This Joel sleeping on an old mattress right next to you lets Ellie take watch because he trusts her abilities and her notion of danger. He knows if you two prefer your 'apocalypse grub' — an Ellie trademark term — all mixed together or separated, if you can be trusted with the bourbon bottle (no), and that your taste in music is "atrocious but expected" (his words, clearly).

This Joel knew you kept your distance for a reason.

He'd seen it in you, months ago.

And yet, there he was.

With the book — your book — in his lap, sitting with his back to the wall and his legs already tucked inside the raggedy blankets you found in one of the cabinets.

Joel's extensive list of injuries had you waking up in a cold sweat, but the same as you, he seemed to recover fast.

In two days, he's wincing less to get up, and comments on his wishes to go look for pharmaceuticals.

That's the night you wake up to him sleeping—both of you could do it, but he insisted on taking turns.

When your eyes open, first, you see the book.

Then, you notice he moved the mattress closer to yours.

They're touching.

The raggedy blankets make them look like a single bed, and the thought feels foreign.

Next, you notice...

Joel is right there.

Sure, he's a few inches away, but... you could touch his legs if you extended your arm. All it would take is a little bit of wiggling to make a pillow out of his thighs, and you know how much more comfortable than what you have underneath you.

His smile is the last thing you see.

Not because you skipped his face—on the contrary, Joel's face is the first thing you see in the morning and the last you see at night.

Maybe that's why.

He never had this.

A gentle, real smile.

You hardly blame him. There are no reasons to smile nowadays, not for long. Not without sadness poisoning the eyes, or without the grin turning into a grimace.

Joel is smiling.

His dream must be good, because his features all softened somehow.

Good gods, he's handsome.

That's why you look so little at his face. The real reason.

Staring at Joel too much can cause you to think of nothing else, and in month one you learned the lesson of eyes wide open or head blown open wide.

Mistakes meant death.

Joel's eyes crinkled as he lifted one of his mouth's corners in the closest thing that could come off as a 'smile', and that meant distraction, which meant an eventual mistake, and so on.

When your gaze searches for the lines left by his crinkles, Joel's eyes are on you.

As serene as the quietude outside, Joel stares down, and in a contrast to the weather howling cold winds outsides, your body says it is morning, and it rises.

The longer he stares, the more it rises.

Your blood pumps harder under his gaze.

Joel knows that. He has to.

Silence with fixed gazes turns the air into a thick, palpable fog.

Why is he staring? It's probably the busted eyebrow. Busted lip. Joel never stares at you, never looks too long, too hard, never looks enough—

"I can almost hear you thinkin'," Joel's voice is a whisper, but it startles you nonetheless. Not in fear.

Once, somewhere, you read something you never forgot. The body, it always betrays itself. It blushes. It trembles.

It was true.

The shiver is involuntary.

Your mother used to say the sound of sirens meant trouble and ever since, you always heard sirens in your head as you panicked. "Was observin' your hair," laugh, look away, know your place. "It's gettin' whiter."

It gets a chuckle. A tight-lipped smile. "I'm gettin' older."

"So you say." Constantly.

The first reminder of why he kept his distance, probably. Of why he had no interest in you. Too young.

"Doesn't it look like it?"

You shrug, hugging the makeshift pillow tighter under your head. "'m not so sure how old people are supposed to look." Definitely not this good, right? This broad. Soft. Strong "Haven't been around many."

Joel points at himself. "Right here."

"You're not old."

His lip twitches. "No?"

"No."

"I'm over my forties."

"That's not old." You don't know why you're arguing. You never argue.

Joel closes the book, then hums. "I remember the world before it turned to ruins and vines."

Maybe it's because he's so damn close. Your fingers itched to touch him countless times before, but usually, there are more counterarguments in your head as to why you shouldn't. "So do I."

The smile returns to his face, but it's the awake and lucid kind—a little sadistic. Sad. "Let me rectify it—I lived in it."

"So did I." Albeit, not much. "Less than you, though." A decade or so more. Almost two.

"Right." Joel takes a deep breath, and the movement quiets you down.

Sometimes, you wished you had just a few years more. Five, or six would suffice. Would he look at you, then?

As the silence goes on, your mind starts with at least three different scenarios where Joel met you under different circumstances.

"Can't sleep anymore?"

There's no shiver this time, but you look up at him again, desperate to see some more of his sleepy eyes and that damned smile.

"Don't know," you whisper.

If he smiles again, you'll count the night as a win. Tuck his happiness somewhere out in the front of your mind to see if it occupies space. If it makes you think less of what he used to be like as a lover.

The tainted thoughts always make you avert your eyes, but this time, you have the benefit of only candle lights, so you let the embarrassment burn you as you keep staring.

Joel is looking at your face the same way. Heavy eyelids, gaze searching.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

The question makes your brain swim in the lingering pain, but for other reasons.

Every scenario still opened in your mind leads to the same corridor—he placed his big hands on your neck right now to feel your temperature and caressed somewhere in your body to put you to sleep.

Somewhere he could touch the skin.

Through foggy vision you see Joel starting to frown, so you're quick to answer before he worries.

"'m just uncomfortable." True enough. "Anxious."

He nods. "Makes sense." He exhales slowly, placing the book on the floor next to the mattresses. "It'll take a while to calm down from it. It... they came out of nowhere." You nod. He clasps his hands together on his lap. "It could've been a lot worse."

Your group had a rule. "No what ifs about the past."

Joel made your heart jumpstart all over again by almost doing it—he almost smiled. "Right. Sorry."

"We're both in one piece."

"We are." He looked down at you and then, in a gesture that your entire body freezing on the spot, one of Joel's hands leaves his lap, and makes its way to you. It places on top of your head. In administrated, slow moves, it starts petting your hair. Then, Joel speaks. As if you can listen. "None of us needs penicillin..."

His words seem to trail off.

You need a second longer to relax under his touch. When you do, the tension melts so visibly you might as well be snow under the sun.

This time, the silence is thick.

Liquid.

When his hand moves lower, it ends up on your back, rubbing between the shoulder blades, and clearing the line of sight for his eyes again.

That's when he must see it.

The second he started to touch you, your blood become fuel. You could feel it burning hot inside your veins, moving faster than it ever did with you two alone in a room. The only times it's beaten like this before you were either in life-threatening danger, or muffling your sounds behind your hand as your other did quick work between your legs.

Joel sees it.

Even if the illumination comes only from the candles, he has to see it.

The way your lips parted for him.

There's no way your eyes aren't saying as much as the temperature your body is exuding.

Joel keeps on rubbing circles for a few more seconds, but eventually, he whispers. "What?"

It makes you want to cry.

If you answer, he'll probably do the thing. He'll turn you down gently, politely.

You shake your head, swallowing a lump in your throat. "Nothing." Your eyes sting. I want you so badly it makes me a bit crazy sometimes. Instead of that, you settle for whispering. "How d'you feel?"

It takes him a minute to answer. His eyes keep shifting between where his hand is rubbing and your face. "Good. Hurts less. Unfortunately, that means thinking more."

"Dangerous."

"You have no idea," he chuckles.

This time, the silence lasts. You keep on staring, while Joel is happy to continue making your back and hair feel a tingling warmth they never saw before.

"Is this ok?" he asks eventually.

Without noticing, your eyes had closed.

Always a man of few words. "Of course."

He nods to you. "'kay."

Stay here. Don't go anywhere.

Watch out for her.

Keep close.

Those and okay. The words you most heard over these past months.

When your eyes open again, Joel's hand is traveling back to your hair and this time, the silence between you two becomes a cord.

Tension.

His fingers do careful work once they find your strands—goosebumps rise all over your skin and for the first time, you're thankful for wearing long sleeves even to bed.

You know there are words hanging in the air, begging to be said, but...

Insecurity pulls you back.

Even if your eyes keep locked on his for a small amount of forever, you swallow down your wants and needs in fear of being blinded by your own attraction and ending up projecting yours on him.

All Joel does is stare back.

Maybe if you weren't inexperienced. Maybe if you had any previous knowledge of what intimacy and relationships had been like, but this world was not the same as before and things were... harder.

So you burned in silence.

Eventually, you burned for him in the dark of your sub-conscience.

With the ghost of Joel's hand still on your nape, caressing on top of your hair, you dive into a deep slumber, and it's in dreams that everything cracks.

You're not even present in mind to witness his world shift.

Joel, in silence, watched you going under. Watched those eyes staring up at him with so much said, so much written in between your lines. He watched with his heart pounding in his chest loud enough for him to hear.

When you sleep, he observes with reverence.

Trying to push down the feelings curling up inside him.

That's when he hears it.

Spoken through your glued lips at first, then louder, more confidently. Joel's heard your sleeping mumbles before, but this one is the one that breaks him.

"Joel..." soft. Breathless. Dangerously low. And then, "Joel."

That's when Joel realizes it—late at night, alone in the silence.

It changes something in him.

📝 PART TWO →

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