#biker!joel miller x reader

[jobean12-blog]

All Mine

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 2,064

Summary: You're not a fan of Joel's neighbor and after he hears what happens, he isn't either (not that he ever was).

Author's Note: I was just thinking about how hot Pedro is and especially the idea of Joel as a biker and I missed my biker!Joel so I thought this would be a fun way to revist him! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy 🥰The edit below was done by my amazing friend Ellie @mrsmischief209 isn't he gorgeous? Thank you beauty! 💕

Warnings: there's some tension at first over the neighbor bc she stinks, but it's soft and sweet and there's fluff and some funny parts and then it gets super se-x-y and sp-i-c-y at the end.

Joel Miller Masterlist

The front door to Joel’s house opens before you even grab the knob.

“Hey there darl…”

You stomp past him with clenched fists and turn with a huff.

He stares at you and takes a tentative step forward, his arms outstretched.

“Your neighbor…” you start before crossing your arms over your chest and mumbling out something he doesn’t quite catch.

“Neighbor?” he asks with raised brows as he steps into your space and pulls you against his chest.

“This isn’t exactly the greeting I was hoping for,” he lightly teases as his head dips and he places a soft kiss just below your ear. “What happened?”

When his lips press to your skin you melt into his embrace, your whole body going pliant until you’re curled around him. His lips trail along your throat then ghost across your lips as he takes your face in his hand and forces you to look at him.

“Your neighbor needs to take a hint Joel!”

“What neighbor and what do you mean?” His expression hardens and you can feel his muscles tense. “Are you ok?”

You start to get wound up again and wiggle in his grasp but he doesn’t let go. He leads you to the couch and sits, taking you with him and placing you on his lap.

He waits as patiently as he can until you’re ready to talk, his fingers gentle along your skin as he rubs your back.

“She was outside when I pulled up and as soon as I got out of the car she scoffed. I mean who scoffs so loud someone can hear them from across the yard!?!”

Joel’s brow furrows in confusion as he continues to listen.

“On this side?” he asks, pointing to the left of his house.

You nod before you go on.

“Then, being the nice person I am,” you say as if it’s so obvious, “I said hello and asked how she was.”

He smiles reassuringly before giving your cheek a kiss.

“Do you know what she said to me?”

You huff out the words and your face scrunches up in anger.

“What darlin’?” he growls out. “Tell me before I go over there and find out myself.”

“You can relax…it wasn’t that bad.”

He looks at you expectantly.

“She said…and I quote, ‘oh, it’s you. I can’t believe you’re still around. Thought he would have been through with you a long time ago.’ Then she looks me up and down like I’m a piece of poo!”

“Poo?” he repeats and the corner of his mouth twitches with a smile even though his muscles are still taut.

“Don’t you dare laugh! THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER! THAT BITCH WANTS MY MAN!”

“What?” he says, making a disgruntled face.

“She totally wants you and she’s acting like if she gets rid of me you’ll be all hers!”

“What?” he says again, tightening his hold on you.

“What do you mean WHAT?” you screech. “You heard me! UGH! The audacity!”

“What’s her name again?” Joel asks.

You spit out her name.

“Oh right,” Joel says dismissively. “Who cares darlin.’ I’ve never looked her way. Not even once. And I never will.”

You study his face, his eyes full of sincerity, and soften against him.

“I know,” you whisper. “But it wasn’t nice and I don’t want her trying to seduce you or something when I’m not here.”

You bury your face in his neck and hide.

He starts to shake with laughter and when you peek up at him his eyes are crinkled and he’s wearing a wide grin.

“That’s ridiculous!” he says between laughs.

He softens when he sees you’re worried expression, his large hand lifting to cup your cheek.

“Darlin’,’ he murmurs. “No one could ever take me away from you.”

“And you’re right it wasn’t nice. Honestly, I have a mind to go over there and tell her to fuck off.”

“God I wish you could,” you huff.

“Why the hell can’t I?” he asks.

“Because…it might make her try harder.”

“That makes no sense.”

You pat his chest. “I know but trust me.”

He presses a calloused fingertip under your chin and keeps your eyes on his when he asks, “then how can I make his better darlin’?”

“Stop being so hot?” you pout with a small shrug.

His head falls toward his chest and he chuckles.

“Darlin’…”

You hop off his lap, evading his grabby hands until you’re standing between his spread legs. You look him over.

“For one…stop sitting like that.”

“Like what?” he asks and looks down at himself.

“Like that!” you say with a stomp of your foot. “You’re manspreading so bad you’re practically taking up the whole couch and those legs!”

“I’m comfortable,” he says defensively. “Besides…what do you want me to do with this thing.”

He points between his legs with a playful smirk.

“JOEL!!!!!!!!!!” you whine. “That’s exactly my point. She’s probably daydreams about how big it is!”

His eyes go wide and he shifts uncomfortably.

“You should probably stop wearing such tight jeans too.”

“I’m not changing my wardrobe for nobody! Like I said, she can fuck off.”

“Ughhhh,” you sigh as you fall dramatically onto the couch. “Forget it. Even if you wore a bag you’d be hot. It’s no use.”

“You should talk,” he says as he grabs your ankles and pulls you down flat.

He positions himself above you, caging you in with his arms. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile and play with the fabric of his shirt. “But the neighbor doesn’t give two shits about me. She likes you.”

“These arms,” you sigh dreamily and lightly scrape your fingertips along his biceps. “The tattoos…”

You emphasize the last word with a poke to his solid chest and his smile grows. Your fingers comb through the hair lining his jaw before they slide between the soft strands on his head.

“You know she probably goes nuts over your bike too,” you state with a roll of your eyes.

He presses into you, letting just enough of his weight settle on top of you so you can feel every inch of him.

“Pretty sure you went nuts over my bike…”

“Well YEAH. Of course I did,” you say, your expression full of ‘duh.’  “You…on that bike…pretty irresistible.”

He winks down at you, leaning closer until his lips are just a breath away.

“You…bent over my bike…that’s irresistible.”

You giggle and give his hair a tug, pulling his lips to yours.

“You wanna come help me?” Joel asks as he ties up his boots.

For a brief moment you just watch him, taking in his dark jeans pulled tightly across his thick thighs and his muscled forearms flexing with every movement he makes.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” you state decisively and lift your chin.

He gives you a lopsided smirk as he stands and takes your hand. “Good.”

He holds the door open for you and ushers you outside, stopping at his pickup truck to grab his tool box before he carries it to his bike that’s parked further down the driveway.

The neighborhood is quiet and when you peek over to the house next door it looks dark.

“She better not show up,” you mutter to yourself.

“What was that darlin’?” Joel asks, as he kneels to search for a tool.

“Hmm? Oh nothing,” you say and wave him off. “How can I help?”

As Joel’s kneeling down on one side of the bike and you’re on the other, hidden by the large machine, you hear a voice that makes you cringe.

“Oh Joel! There you are! I was hoping you could help me with something.”

You go still and wait. You can hear Joel’s sigh and see him stand and turn to your favorite neighbor.

“Hey,” he says blankly.

She smiles brightly and holds out a jar. “I just can’t seem to get this jar open for anything and I knew you’d be just the guy to ask…and here you are!”

She bats her lashes and steps closer to him. He quickly shoots his hand out and grabs the jar, effectively stopping her advance.

He takes it between his hands and twists the top once, easily popping it off.

“There ya go,” he says and hands it back to her.

She stands at stares at him in awe. “Oh wow. Thank you! You made that look so easy. You must have very…”

That’s as much as you can bear and you stand abruptly, causing Joel’s bike to wobble. The neighbor startles at your sudden appearance and her face goes sour.

“Oh yes,” you start with a saccharine smile. “His hands. They’re so big and strong and he knows just how to use them.”

Joel chokes out a cough to stifle his laughter and turns your way, winking knowingly. The neighbor drags her eyes away from you with a roll and pins them back on Joel, letting her gaze move down his body with appreciation.

“I love your bike,” she says to him.

You saunter over and stand next to Joel. He winds his arm around your waist and tucks you into his side.

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” you agree. “And the ride is even better.”

You lean into Joel and slip your hand inside his leather jacket. The way you emphasize the word ‘ride’ doesn’t go unnoticed and his fingers dig into your skin.

The neighbor ignores you completely and asks Joel, “is something wrong with it? I see you have all your tools out.”

“No,” he replies. “Just doing a tune up before we leave.”

With those words he releases you with a kiss and goes back to work.

“We’re going on an overnight trip,” you explain.

She gives you a look that screams, ‘I didn’t ask you.’ You go on anyway.

“We’re going to sleep out under the stars. It’ll be chilly at night…but Joel knows how to keep me warm.”

You giggle with your last words and lift your shoulders sweetly. The neighbors face scrunches up in anger.

“Alright darlin.’ Everything looks good. Let’s go.” 

You twinkle your fingers at the neighbor and wait as Joel puts the helmet over your head and secures the strap. He then takes off his leather jacket and puts it on you, zipping it up to your chin. You snuggle into it with a big inhale and say, “smells so good.”

The neighbor face gets even more sour but both you and Joel ignore her and hop on the bike. He revs the engine a few times before taking off down the road in a blur.

Once Joel reaches your destination he pulls over and moves deeper onto the soft dirt before stopping. He holds the motorcycle steady as you climb off and start to remove the helmet.

His hands settle on your waist and he looks you over.

“How’re you doin’ darlin’?”

“Better,” you whisper. “She got the hint. And I think I’m really starting to understand why riding is so enjoyable.” 

He chuckles and raises his brows questioningly.

“The speed, the wind against your skin, your body pressed to mine…all the vibrations.”

With those few words Joel’s entire focus shifts and his voice drops when he asks, “you like that?”

“Mm hm. I love it.”

“Darlin’,” he murmurs.

He closes the space between you, kissing you hard and grabbing your ass. He kneads your flesh and you arch into his touch. He doesn’t stop and gives your ass cheek a hard slap.

“Ohhh,” you moan. “Was that because of what I said earlier?”

“I liked everything you said. Now how about you turn around and bend over my bike darlin.”

Even as he says it he doesn’t wait for you to do it and spins you himself, pressing gently until your resting on the seat. He runs his hands down your back, reaching the waistband of your jeans. His hard cock grinds against you and you hiss in pleasure.

He leans over you, pressing a line of soft kisses down your neck while he makes quick work of your jeans, helping you wiggle out of them until they lock at your feet. His rough fingertips caress your newly exposed skin and he hums in appreciation before dropping to his knees.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Fuck darlin.’ I can’t wait to taste you.”

@hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @lizette50

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #biker!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #biker!joel miller x reader #biker au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[toxicanonymity]

twin peaks.

4k, Joel x afab!reader x Tommy, ONE SHOT A/N: This is my @pedrostories secret santa gift. @endlessthxxghts, you're on my nice list. Happy holidays! ♥️ Ty for the flexibility and for engaging with fics you like, which gave more ideas 🖤. Please excuse the extra men, don't need to remember names. Ty @jksprincess10 for your afab insights! WARNINGS: I8+, Motorcycle Club AU, but Joel is no longer riding. You're a chef. Language. Bar fight. Blood. Gunfire. My first attempt at mild grumpy/sunshine. Passing reference to a bar server's prior SA incident. An OC gets in your personal space and touches your side. Hurt/Comfort. Minor love triangle, I guess, but everyone’s cool. Unsafe P in V, creampies. MFM but only joel inside. The men can lift you. You’re shorter than them. Competency kink, mild size kink, sharing. Starts in Joel POV. Finished & "edited" on covid & meds, fck it we ball! BIKER JOEL RECS: both sides of the moon by @lunitawrites and (and ty for this list luna lol)  a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike, little mouse by @katiexpunk & @josephquinnswhore., the road to love by @jobean12-blog

dividers from @cafekitsune for POV change and time jump

“Changed the recipe,” Joel grumbles. 

Tommy shakes his head with a smile. “Ya know, brother. . . you might be the only one who comes here for the wings.” 

“Cause they’re the best. Or they *were*. Taste this.” Joel pushes the basket over to Tommy and takes a swig of beer, then adds, “If I wanna see some skin, I’ll go to a proper titty bar.”

The uniforms are cute at Twin Peaks, but Joel is there for two reasons: the wings and the company. He sold his Harley and quit the club after a minor accident. It left him only a little scraped up but scared his daughters to death. Now these biker bars are the only place he sees his old crew.

“Shit, they did change it,” Tommy concedes. “Maybe ya should send’em back,” he teases.

“Not a bad idea,” Joel mutters. 

“Really?” Tommy asks. 

“‘S’cuse me. Miss?” The scantily clad server turns around. “They musta changed the recipe, I can’t eat these.” 

“Oh no,” the server frowns. “Sorry ‘bout that, lemme see what I can do.” The server takes the wings back to the kitchen. 

-

A minute later, you emerge from the kitchen in your chef’s whites and Joel does a double take. You smile at him as you approach. 

“Oh, shit,” Tommy elbows him, but Joel hardly notices. He’s captivated by you, but he keeps a straight face. 

“Heard the wings weren’t to your liking,” you cringe empathetically. 

“Why’d ya go and change the Hot Honey recipe.”

“I’m sorry, hun. Hot Honey’s off the menu, that’s the closest we’ve got.”

“It’s *what* now? Why’d ya take it off?”

You sigh with an apologetic smile. “Wasn’t my call.” Then you perk up. “But I think you might really like the new Thai Spice recipe,” you smile.

“Don’t think so,” Joel grumbles. 

“He don’t like change,” Tommy explains. 

“How ‘bout a basket on the house?” You offer with a tilt of your head and raise of your eyebrows. 

Joel is flustered by your charm. “Uh, sure,” he mutters, trying not to check you out. Not much to see anyway with that chef’s apron.

“If ya like’em, buy me a drink sometime,” you add with a wink that makes Joel lose all his thoughts for a moment. 

“Yes, chef,” Joel nods, which makes both you and Tommy giggle. Then you turn and head back to the kitchen. 

“I dunno what they see in ya, man,” Tommy teases Joel and watches as you walk away. “Mm. Hottest thing here and dressed like a paper towel roll.” Joel fails to suppress a chuckle. “You gonna share?”

“We’ll see.”

-

The front door to the restaurant opens, and a hush falls over the dining room. 

Joel looks over his shoulder for only a second, then turns back toward the bar and mutters, “Fuckin’ Benny.”

“And the Jets,” Tommy adds as Johnny and at least half the rival crew follow Benny into the restaurant. Great, there’s Cal, Carter’s rotten brother. Real bad guy. Their motorcycle club is dangerous.

Joel gets his wallet out of his pocket and pulls out a few twenties, then downs the rest of his beer. “Didn’t come to babysit.”

“Think it’ll get ugly?” Tommy asks. “What about your new friend?”

“My new friend?” 

“‘member what happened with Carter’s girl?” Of course Joel remembers. Cal got handsy with her, Carter put him in a chokehold, and a nasty fight broke out. Carter got stabbed.

“Well, I ain’t in charge and don’t got a sweetheart, so I reckon chef hottie’s okay. Where’s Carter?” 

“Home. Can’t ride, already busted his stitches open once.” 

“Good. His girl ain’t workin’ either.” Joel’s face tenses and his nostrils flare as his gaze falls on Cal. “Cal shouldn’t be here.” Joel has to look away before his rage gets the best of him. Joel glances at a table of his own guys (now Carter's), and he isn’t surprised to see one of his buddies putting on brass knuckles. Ya don’t stab the leader and get away with it, but Joel sure wishes this would go down somewhere else. Joel does a double take when he sees another man at the same table reach for his hip. “Damnit, Harold,” Joel whispers to himself. 

“Better hit the boys room ‘fore all hell breaks loose,” Tommy mutters and gets up from his chair. 

—---you—--

Tonight’s the first time you’ve spoken with Joel, but you’ve noticed him before. His quiet, dark gaze is hypnotizing. The girls are all over him, and he doesn’t show any interest. He sits there scowling with his drink. 

When the chatter of the restaurant abruptly dies down, a pit forms in your stomach. Heavy boots click on the floor, and it sounds like they’re slowly circling the room like sharks.  “Hey sweetheart,” Benny croons out of view in that deep, smooth voice. He looks like a young, brunette Elvis. “You new?”

“Started this week,” the new bartender answers bashfully. 

“Bet they didn’t teach ya the whole job. Benny'll show ya the ropes,” says a deep voice that makes you bristle. It’s smooth. Southern. Sinister. It's Cal. You can visualize his infectious wink. 

One of your cooks puts Joel’s new wing basket on expo.  You compose yourself and grab it with a smile. “I’ll take this one.” You put on your blinders and don’t make eye contact with any of the men, but you notice Tommy walk by, headed toward the back. 

Before you make it behind the bar, Cal intercepts you. “Whoa, what’s cookin’, baby? You believe this, Benny? Keepin’ top talent locked up in the back.” 

Benny’s too wrapped up with the server to respond. 

“Thanks for the snack,” Cal tells you with his eyes roving your apron as he reaches for the basket. You pull it back. “Hey, what’s under this, anyway?” He skims your apron from the side and crowds you against the wall. He braces his arm against the wall, over you. “Got one of them sexy uniforms under this?”

“Excuse me,” you say and try to duck under and around him. 

“I wouldn’t move, darlin’,” Cal taunts.

“What the hell are you doin’ back here,” a man asks behind Cal. 

Cal laughs and looks over his shoulder, and you manage to free yourself. 

“Ain’t worth it, Harold,” Joel warns as he approaches, then Joel turns his attention to you. “You okay?”

-. . .-

Joel gets between you and the brawling men. You hear a blow land on someone, and they spit. Then there’s a click, and before you know it, you’re on the floor, tackled by Joel as a gunshot makes your ears ring. The wind is knocked out of you. 

Joel is on top of you, and time seems to slow down. Cal is slumped against the wall behind Joel, bleeding from the mouth and chest with a menacing smile. 

“Look at me,” Joel says and his massive hand turns your head to face him, bracing his other arm near your head on the tiled floor. “Look at me and only me.” His body is heavy on top of yours. 

You nod as chaos unfolds in the dining room. 

“You okay?” Joel searches your face. 

You nod again, and try to ground yourself with everything you’re physically feeling. The coldness of the tile under your hand. The weight of his body on top of you. The warmth of. . .the massive bulge pressing into your thigh. Joel doesn’t seem to be aware of it, but you sure are now. A wave of desire overwhelms you. Your thigh lifts against his hardening package and it twitches but he still doesn’t seem to notice with everything else going on. He glances behind himself.  

“Gonna get ya outta here,” he promises. “Ready?”

Behind you, someone opens the door to the men’s room, belt jingling. “Shit.” You recognize Tommy’s voice. 

“Bathroom,” Joel commands as he helps you up, then gently pushes you into Tommy’s arms. He nods toward the family restroom, which has a lock. “Gonna take this outside,” Joel pants as he heads into the fray.

“Joel, don’t–you’re outnumbered, don’t get yourself killed,” Tommy pleads.  There’s another gunshot. “Shit, I’ll be right there!” he shouts at Joel

“NO,” Joel barks. 

-

Tommy forces you into the family restroom and locks the door behind the two of you. “You okay?” he asks. You don’t answer.  You wouldn’t be able to without crying. He rubs your back, then searches your face. “Breathe for me, darlin’.”

You tug at the high collar of your chef’s apron, trying to unbutton it for relief.  Tommy quickly rips it open, exposing your tank top. His eyes linger for a moment, then he cradles your head and takes a deep breath, guiding you in your own breathing. He exhales, then murmurs, “You’re okay, honey.” 

You nod and take the apron off entirely, with him supporting you. “Yeah,” you laugh not to cry, but with tears in your eyes. “I’m good.” 

“Good, good. C’mere, darlin’.” His strong arms wrap you in a gentle, protective hug, cradling your head into his barrel chest. You take a deep breath, and the scent of his shampoo intoxicates you. “You’re okay,” he repeats. 

You pull your head back to look up at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches. Then something else twitches, against your middle.  That’s when you feel the denim slide under your hand and realize you’ve grabbed Tommy’s ass. What the fuck. You yank your hand out of his back pocket and stammer “Sorry–” feeling like your face is on fire. Why did you do that? You try to pull away but he gently holds you close. 

“‘S’okay,” he chuckles. “Adrenaline. It’s normal.” He dips his head and it’s close to yours. It gets a little closer, then there’s more gunfire and he releases his gentle hold on you. He bolts toward the door. “Lock it behind me” is the only thing he says as he leaves. 

You lock the door, then slump down against the wall. Is this real life? What’s gotten into you? Feeling up Tommy Miller in the bathroom less than an hour after you asked his brother out. Yeah, it must be adrenaline. The noise of the fight fades into the background while your thoughts drift back to Joel saving you. He’s so big and strong. So protective. You’ve heard how dangerous he is, but to see him in action? While he’s saving you, no less? 

-

Finally the noises have died down. You wonder if it’s safe to leave. You worry about whether Joel and Tommy and your line cooks are okay. You wait a little longer, then unlock the door and peek your head out. Cal staggers toward you, dripping blood. “It’s okay, I’m alright,” he drawls. Then you swiftly close and lock the door, heart pounding. A few seconds later, boots thud across the dining room and a punch is thrown. You hear Cal groan. “C’mon, man.” Another blow lands and Cal goes silent. There’s a knock at the bathroom door. 

“It’s me.” Joel’s voice. You’re still near the door. You unlock it for him. He comes inside and you must look terrified. He holds your cheeks, and his face and shirt are splattered with blood - surely not his own. He hugs you into him. “It’s me, baby. You’re okay.” His voice is deep and soft. He holds you for a minute. When he pulls back again to look at you, his eyes fall to your tank top and he wets his lips. He looks in your eyes again, then at your mouth. 

You close the distance with a soft kiss. Joel’s mouth spreads your lips open, and his tongue finds yours. As the kiss heats up, he pulls you tighter, moaning “Mm,” and you feel it again, you feel him. His hands slide down to grab your ass, pulling your hips into his, and he’s firmer. Lord, is he hung. He lets out a low growl from his chest, and he walks forward against you until the backs of his hands nudge the sink counter – thankfully clean. 

He bends down and his mouth latches onto your neck. He slips his fingertips into the front waistband of your pants, grabbing the button, then pulls away from your neck to pleadingly meet your eyes, and you nod urgently. He takes your pants and underwear down in a flash, then his hand engulfs your bare pussy and he groans at how wet you are. He kisses your neck again for a moment before hooking his massive hands, one of them wet, around the backs of your thighs. He lifts you onto the sink with a grunt as your legs wrap around him and you feel a rush of desire.

Joel sloppily kisses around your mouth with one hand between your legs and the other cradling your head. His scruff scratches you pleasantly. You grope him through his jeans, which are slick with your arousal, as you unbutton and unzip him. Then his own hand dives into his boxers and frees his thick cock, holding it at the right angle to slide right into you, pants and boxers resting below his balls.

“C’mere, baby.” He runs his stiff cock through your folds and you slowly grind against it with a moan. He spits on his shaft and his swollen, leaking tip prods at your entrance for only a moment before plunging into your wet hole and spreading your insides with his girth. There’s a brief burn, then your body catches up. On his second go, he bottoms out with a groan, and you gasp.

 “Yeah,” he sighs and begins to fuck you, slowly at first. “How’s that?” 

You can only nod, feeling so full of him you can hardly listen or form thoughts.  “Ohh,” you whimper as he stuffs you with his massive cock. Your skin feels hot. He speeds up to a moderate pace and you both moan and grunt as you fuck. He kisses and sucks your neck, moaning into your skin, then he breathes against it. He fucks you harder, deeper

“How’s it feel, baby–ohhh” He slams his pelvis into yours each time. 

“Ohhh, God, it’s, yeah, nngh–ohh”

Footsteps come down the hall, and stop outside the door. 

“Wait,” you whisper.”

“Want me to wait?” he whispers teasingly, slowing down to an excruciating pace, dragging slow and heavy inside you. 

You shake your head no. 

“Good,” he whispers. 

Tommy’s knowing voice outside the door: “Catch y’all later.” Then the footsteps recede. 

“Now please, please” you beg, wanting it harder again. You pull him close and grind your pelvis into his in just the right spot. “Ohh, Joel.” The pleasure overwhelms you and you whimper as you begin to clench and pulse. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Where do you want it?” 

“Right here,” you nod, pulling him closer, keeping him inside with your legs around him. 

Joel erupts with a groan, filling your hot, wet cunt with warm bursts, slowly thrusting into you as he empties his balls. 

“God damn, you’re somethin’ else.” 

---a few weeks later—

"Ain't wearin' a stupid holiday sweater," Joel grumbles. You and Joel have been seeing each other, and now you're going to Tommy’s holiday party with him.

"C'mon, just for the party. It'll be fun," you smile hopefully.

"Gimme a break, baby. Nothin' fun about sweaters."

"Don't be a Grinch," you pout.

"Thought I was a Scrooge," he retorts. 

"What if I let you fuck me in Tommy's bed?"

He squints at you. "God damnit, my heart just grew three sizes."

You look down at his jeans and smile saucily. You don't have to make the joke out loud. "Can't wait," you purr and hand him the sweater.  

"Tommy'd lose his mind," Joel shakes his head, then raises his eyebrows. "And not in the bad way." 

"Oh yeah?"

Joel gives a low whistle. "You should see him droolin' when ya walk away." Joel chuckles, and your face heats up. 

"Well. Maybe we shouldn't, then. . ."

"Don't see why not," Joel shrugs. 

You look away shyly.

"What's got you all flustered?" 

"Nothing," you shake your head, but you can't push away the thought of Tommy walking in and losing his 'mind.' 

Joel smirks. "Don't look like nothin'."

"Just excited to see you in a sweater," you run your hand through his curls. 

"I ain't the jealous type if ya wanna give Tommy some sugar, too."

You gasp and can't hide your embarrassed smile. Your face is burning. "He told you.” 

Joel plays stupid. “Told me what?” 

Your hand drifts up to cover your mouth. 

“Just sayin’, if ya wanna grab him in a nicer setting. . .”

“Joel!" You gently smack his chest. 

“Musta been the highlight of his life,” Joel laughs. “Post-divorce, at least.” 

"Naughty list for you." You press his sweater into his chest and go to the closet to change into your own. 

----

When you’re standing at the door of Tommy’s ranch, your heart is racing. 

“Relax, baby.” He rubs your back. 

“You were serious?” you ask. 

“Yeah, but ya don’t gotta. Just sayin’ it’s fair game.” 

Your eyes meet and he cups your cheek. You whisper, “thanks for wearing the sweater.” 

Joel gives you a kiss right as the door opens, and Tommy teases, “You two need a room already?” Tommy’s wearing a festive cardigan open over a wifebeater and his huge belt buckle. He stands aside to let you in, and you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your mouth. 

Sarah brings her husband, and you spend much of the night talking to them, hearing old stories about Joel. It’s a small party, adults only, and most of the parents have to get home to their babysitters, but Ellie is staying at Bill and Frank’s for the week to help with their Christmas tree farm. It’s a real treat for her and also her first “job.” 

—

You don’t steal Joel away during the party, and he doesn’t try either. But when everyone else is gone, you and Joel stay for a drink with Tommy. He offers that you’re welcome to stay over since the kids are with Maria. 

“Where ya want us?” Joel asks. 

“Well, my bed’s the most comfy,” Tommy looks at you and adds a wink that gives you butterflies. 

Joel nods with an intrigued frown. “Whatcha think, honey?”

“Okay,” you nod. You’re afraid to act too eager, but can hardly believe your luck. 

-

In Tommy’s room, Tommy reclines on the bed, while Joel holds you in a hug. Joel turns your chin to meet his eyes and asks “Comfortable?”

You nod and smile. 

“Ready to be even more comfortable?” 

Joel kisses you gently, sensually. Then his lips become hungrier, and you lose yourself in his rising desperation. He moans into your mouth and pulls you closer against him. He walks against you until you’re at the bed, and when you glance back to make sure you don’t fall, you see Tommy reclining with his ankles crossed, palming himself over his jeans. He holds your gaze and begins to undo that big belt buckle, and you get a rush of arousal. 

With you seated on the bed and Joel looms over you. The curves of his hulking muscles stretch his sweater. Your eyes fall to his jeans, and you can see the outline of his massive erection. You reach for the button and he murmurs, “yeah, there ya go,” and affectionately cradles your head while you unbutton and unzip him. Then he takes his sweater off over his head and his under-tee rides up exposing his happy trail. “Let’s get that sweater off, Tommy.” 

You turn around and see Tommy is on all fours with his cardigan already off. He’s prowling across the bed, to the foot of it where you sit. Tommy sits up on his knees behind you, and wraps his arms around. He lifts at the bottom hem of your sweater and brings his mouth to your ear to murmur, “Yeah, let’s get comfortable.” You raise your arms and he takes off the sweater for you then cups your breasts. You pull off your bra from under your tank top while Joel takes off his jeans. 

“Shit, let’s take it all off,” Tommys says with his voice briefly muffled by his wifebeater as he pulls it over his head. “Nothin’ like three bare bodies all twisted up.” His giant belt clinks as he unbuckles it behind you. Joel steps out of his jeans, leaving the tent in his boxers on full display, making you gush. He bends down to help take your tank top off, then he kisses you as he unfastens your pants. Joel kisses down your body as he removes your pants and underwear. 

“Come on up here,” Tommy mutters and wraps an arm around you. He pulls you up toward the pillows, then stacks them behind himself and pulls you between his legs where you can feel he is fully nude and hard. His skin is hot and smooth. You're both facing Joel. 

You sit between Tommy’s moderately hairy legs, and his broad palms cup your naked breasts. “How ya doin’, darlin’?” he whispers into your ear. His cock twitches against your lower back. “Ready for my brother?”

You nod, “Yeah.” 

“He’s ready too.”

Joel is kneeling onto the bed with his commanding cock in hand. He pauses to squeeze himself, eyes roving over you like you’ve never looked hotter. “Look like an angel, baby. Can’t wait to be in ya.” Tommy lightly grinds himself against your lower back, then his hands come to your thighs, and you spread them open for Joel. 

“Always so good,” Joel mumbles, then kisses you deeply and you feel his cock run through your dripping seam.  You’re wet, so wet for him. He’s still kissing you, letting your lips separate every second or so.  His face pulls back and Tommy slightly adjusts you between his legs. Tommy’s cock is stiff against your back. Joel’s tip nudges your entrance, then he pushes himself into you. Tommy’s hands are still on your breasts. Joel leans over you, bracing his hands on the bed to either side of Tommy’s thighs. It still makes you swoon how his big cock stuffs you full. As Joel thrusts into you, Tommy ruts against you, moaning softly. The force of Joel’s thrusts makes you rub against Tommy’s stiff manhood and he groans.

“Feel so good, baby,” Joel breathes. 

“Take’ him so well,” Tommy  whispers. 

Your breath hitches and you moan into Joel’s mouth with his cock dragging thickly deep inside you. Tommy massages your breasts and grinds into you while Joel kisses you and fucks you good. It feels better and better every minute. Joel dips his hips and grinds against your front as he stuffs  you with his cock. You feel the tension building in your belly, and your clit twitches. 

You tear your mouth away from Joel’s and whine, “Joel.”

“Oh, baby, gonna cum already?”

You whimper and nod. 

“It’s okay, baby. Go ‘head,” Tommy whispers. 

“Yeah, let it happen, baby,” Joel agrees. 

Then Joel, with his cock still seated inside you, rolls his hips to put more pressure on your front, and  Tommy grinds against your lower back, and you clench down on Joel’s cock with a moan. 

“Oh, Fuck,” Joel whispers and he begins to pulse at the exact same time you feel Tommy erupt against you. The three of you come in a cacophony of grunts and moans and Tommy’s sliding wetly against your crack as his cum trickles down. 

Joel stays inside as he catches his breath, then slides out of you, and some of his cum drips down between Tommy’s legs. 

“Think ya might be the one I been lookin' for,” Joel mumbles. He gives you a slow kiss.

You get cleaned up, then you sleep like three spoons stacked together with Joel in front. 

===

Thank you for reading!

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#pedrostoriesgift23 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader x tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #biker!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️ #joel miller x afab!reader #tommy miller x afab!reader #the bikeriders #the bikeriders x reader #bikeriders cal #the bikeriders cal

[lunitawrites]

Both Sides of the Moon - part one

pairing: biker!joel miller x fem!reader rating: explicit word count: 2.8k summary: After a troubled childhood you move back to your hometown. You are trying to avoid facing the dark past of your family, but you realize it will be harder than you thought when a mysterious stranger appears in town trying to take revenge. TWs: no-outbreak AU, age gap (reader mid-twenties, Joel is late forties), loss of parents, reference to sex work, reference to foster homes, guns, knife, alcohol consumption, cigarettes, Joel being violent towards reader, petnames, reader has hair long enough that it can be grabbed, otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n a/n: hey! so this is my first attempt at writing, I really hope some of you out there will like it. I am eternally grateful to @papipascalispunk who reviewed and edited my work. Thanks a million to @toxicanonymity and @hier--soir for their suggestions! Shoutout to the other Joel Millers on bikes: a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike, jailbird by @toxicanonymity and little mouse by @katiexpunk & @josephquinnswhore masterlist

You are fidgeting with your nametag in front of the mirror, trying to apply it to your uniform, but you must have bent the needle when you removed it last time because it won't stay up now.

“Don’t worry about it darlin’,” you hear Arlene shout from the kitchen, “It's a small town, everyone knows you by now.”

“I suppose they do,” you mumble and drop the pin to the dresser. She's always been nice to you, almost mothering you, since you started working together in the diner. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing out your uniform and walking through the kitchen to start your 7 PM shift.

It's a slow start. The townsfolk don't start coming until the sun paints the sky purple and orange, until the dust strats to settle and the cicadas’ song fills up the night. Your shift begins at the bar; whiskey, beer, salted peanuts, a smile or two for better tips. The bar fills up with a subtle buzz, stench of alcohol and anticipation.

Later on in the evening, Sam asks you to wait tables instead. You usually prefer staying behind the bar, but it's Friday night, the dining area will get busy soon. Arlene will need the extra pair of hands taking the orders anyway, so you pick up your notepad and pen and head out to the floor. 

You are always cautious out here, you have to be. The men are not violent, but they always try to take what they think they deserve. A brush of a knuckle on your thighs, eyes lingering on the swell of your breasts, an inappropriate comment disguised as a compliment, fingertips on the curve of your hips as they pass by. Sam, your boss, always makes sure that it’s not more, keeping an eye on you at all times from behind the bar. Sam is one of the few people who knows about your past, who knows that there were times when you were giving a lot more than a smile for some crinkled up bills, who knows that just a few months ago, your uniform was nothing more than a pair of thigh highs and your underwear.

—

You were six when your dad died, and you moved away with your mom right after. You stayed with her for another few months until they diagnosed her. She passed away before the next Christmas. By January, you were in your first foster home. After you got out from your last foster home with nothing more than a few pairs of clothes and the fifty dollar bill that you stole from your foster dad's wallet, you really didn’t see another option for survival. 

It started at a gentlemen's club called Red Rose, just outside of Austin, all neon lights and kitsch, velvet and satin from a decade before. They gave you a room in the motel next to it, but only if you worked the after hours shift, so you agreed. You didn't know what after hours meant at the time, but you would have agreed to almost anything if it meant that you would spend the night in a bed and not somewhere outside.

The after hours, you learned quickly, meant selling your body to anyone who took interest in it during the opening hours of the club. So while you did spend your night in a bed, it was with a truck driver named Dylan, who paid you hundred dollars for an hour of you being a good girl, as he described. Forty of those dollars covered the motel bill and twenty went to the club manager for organizing the deal.

You spent six years working at Red Rose, eventually saving up enough money so you didn't have to stay at the motel. You rented a flat with black mold and sticky linoleum floors, sharing it with three of the other girls from the club. You were driving an old Chevy that one of the girls passed onto you after she moved up north. Six years of Dylans and Bobs and Johns and Joses and Miguels. Six years of sweat and spit and bruises and slaps and come, until you couldn't anymore. 

You moved back to your hometown, although it was never really your home, and while you knew little about the circumstances of your father’s death, you were still afraid to come back, terrified to face the past. But as it turned out, you never had to, as if there was some silent agreement amongst the town that they never spoke of your family. No one gossipped, or if they did, they did so silently that it never reached your ears. They welcomed you into town as if you were a stranger. 

You moved into your old family home at the edge of town. White paint chipped from wooden boards, almost two decades of dust and sorrow covering every inch. You slowly made it your own home, settling into the master bedroom that was once your parents’, but leaving every other room untouched. You have not dared to open the door of your old bedroom yet. 

You still drove the old Chevy when you started working at Sam’s six nights a week, the only diner in town, serving the majority of the people who lived there.

—

It's Friday, which means a good crowd and better tips. Friday means an extra drink for everyone to celebrate yet another week survived in this dusty town in south Texas, just above the border. So you move among the tables with a smile so wide that your face starts to hurt.

It's almost eleven now and most of the tables are occupied; workers for their well-deserved after work drink, youngsters pregaming before driving up to Austin for a night out, some couples leaning over their drinks to be closer to one another, families finishing up their meals, greasy hands stopping you to order another basket of fries. The buzz is loud now, the air in the diner thick and heavy with alcohol and laughter. A usual Friday at Sam’s, until it isn’t.

The door squeaks open, heavy footsteps on the floor, broad shoulders in the doorframe. You really shouldn't be able to hear it over the sound of Friday in the diner, but you do. You lock eyes with deep amber, a pair of sad eyes, searching for a place to sit. Strong arms hidden under a black leather jacket, dark wash jeans, disheveled brown curls, almost halo-like, lit by the street lights behind him. The diner seems to catch up with you, surprised faces turning to the direction of the door, sentences left unfinished, whispers let out, cheeks turned red in surprise, Adam’s apples bobbing up and down. Is it? It can’t be. The sounds of Friday fun turn into whispers, and whispers turn to silence. Fear creeps up in your spine, something primal, something unexplainable.

He walks up to an empty table, heavy boots on sticky floor are the only sound now. The squeal of a chair, denim rubbing against the fake leather of the booth, fingers tapping on the tabletop, an impatient sigh. You move your feet from where they were rooted to the ground just a minute ago. Sweaty hands flipping paper on the notepad. You clear your throat before closing up the space between you and his table.

“What can I get you?”, your voice comes out raspy, almost scared. He looks up at you, a faint smile on his face, eyes not quite meeting yours. Instead, he looks at your lips, gaze burning on your skin, you press your lips together, as if you could hide them entirely. Your eyes flick over to the bar, searching for another pair of brown eyes, searching for comfort. But comfort is not what you find, Sam looks back at you with a wild gaze, almost panic in his eyes.

“Whiskey, neat,” the stranger says, now looking at his hands on the table.

“Coming right up!”, you answer with fake cheerfulness in your voice. Legs heavy as you move, “A whiskey, neat,” you say when you reach the bar, waiting for Sam to prepare the drink. You understand that the questions are not for now, the questions are for later. The people slowly turn their attention back to the drinks in front of them, conversations starting again. But still, the air stays as if it was frozen the minute the stranger came in, Friday never has been so quiet at Sam’s diner..

“There you go”, you say as you place the glass in front of him, voice heavy with the accent you thought you never had.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, not looking up at you this time.

Time feels slow, dragging on every minute, every second of the night. You cannot take being inside anymore. You feel like you are going to suffocate.

“I am going on my break,” you say quickly and don’t wait for anyone to acknowledge, just disappear through the kitchen. 

The muggy evening air hugs your skin as you open the back door of the diner. Being outside is just as suffocating as being inside, but at least it's quieter. You take a cigarette out from the crumpled package in your apron, place it between your lips but don't light it just yet. You should quit. You exhale sharply and put the cigarette back. Istead, you lean your head back to the wall, looking up at the moon. She's in her full glory tonight, casting pale light to the dark forest in front of you.

You are not sure what happened inside. This man who you are sure you have never seen in your life just woke up something deep inside you. You feel like you are drawn to him by a strange force, a force that is so foreign to you. There was a certain kind of sadness in his eyes that you only see when you look into the reflection of your own eyes. Grief. Lost. Denial. Something that balances between madness and sanity. 

You hear the front door open with a squeaking sound. Footsteps, drunk laughter and heavy drawls take over the silence of your break. You are about to go inside when you hear an intoxicated voice call out:

“Where do you think you’re goin´?” the drunk man shouts. “You think you can just walk in here and have a drink like the rest of us? Like you fuckin’ belong here.” he spits. The rest of the men stop talking. Now he is the only voice. “Let me tell you. You don´t. You should not come around anymore. You are not welcome here and you should know that.”

“So what happens if I do  come around?” the stranger's voice is laced with coldness. You slowly start walking to the front. You need to see him again. You need to understand what's happening. You feel yourself shaking, despite the warm humidity of the night. 'You should just stay out of it,' the voice in your head says, but you keep walking.

You peek around the corner of the diner. There he is with six men from the town. They all seem fairly drunk. They seem like they are looking for trouble.

“Well, if you are so fuckin´ sure you gonna come around,” he drawls “we might as well just give you a taste of what we are plannin´ to do with you. Right, boys?” he laughs and the men laugh with him, like a pack of coyotes. They all sound way too drunk to do any real harm, but there are six of them against him.

“Try me” the stranger grits through his teeth. He doesn't seem to be afraid, he seems like he would not care if he lives or dies. He seems like someone who gave up a long time ago.

“That ’s enough!” You shout and start walking up to the crowd. ”Go home or I will call Sam out and we will see who won’t be allowed to come around here anymore”. The loudest one flashes you a drunk grin and says: “That is just fuckin’ hilarious. You wanna protect him?” he asks.

“I am not protecting anyone, it’s my job to keep this place running. So I am doing just exactly that.” you say putting your hands on your waist. “Now, gentlemen, I would appreciate, if you all went home and cared about your wives and kids just as much as you care about your liquor. I reckon you had enough fun for tonight. Go! All of you!” you order them.

You are surprised to see that they do. It might be the mention of their wives and the reminder of how they would react if they saw them coming home drunk and all beaten up. The loudest one turns back for a second and addresses you. “You don’t know what you are doing.”

“I guess not.” you whisper and turn your head to the stranger.

“You didn't need to, darlin’. I can defend myself,” he says, drawl thick as the night above you. 

“Mhm, you seem like the type who can,” you say with a half smile. He laughs at that, but there is no humor in it. It should not be possible for a laugh to sound that sad.

“You new around here?”, he takes a step forward, cornering you to the wall. His eyes are searching for the name tag on your uniform. As he cannot find anything his eyes flick back to your face again. His gaze lights something up in you, deep inside your stomach. Frozen flames licking your insides. You are terrified of it, you are terrified of him.

“You can say that, moved back recently. And you? It seems like everyone knows you around here.” you say, heart pounding in your throat. 

“Wasn't hard to sense that, was it?”, you can feel his breath on your skin. Whiskey, burning on your cheeks.

“No,” you say, casting down your eyes. Somehow his proximity makes you restless. His presence makes the blood rush faster in your body. Your reaction is almost instinctual, you want to rip his flash and sink your teeth into him. To be closer or to get away. You are not sure.

He must sense it, a sly smile across his lips. He lifts his hand, hovers his knuckles over your cheeks tentatively. You are red burning fire. He brushes his knuckles over your left cheek, your chin, the curve of your neck. He rests his palm on your shoulder at last.

“You are shaking,” he murmurs. He takes his hand away. It's almost like you couldn't breathe while he touched you. Lungs filling up with air again. You lock eyes with him. “So what's your..,” he starts but cannot finish, Arlene opens the back door and calls your name. 

“Everything okay here?”, she asks.

His eyes darken. Amber turns black. “It's you,” he says, “I should have fuckin’ known.” One hand grabbing your hair, the other turning you around. Rough denim scratching the back of your thighs as he pushes you up to the wall. Head knocking on wood, you feel dizzy. You hear Arlene’s muffled scream, the door opening again. Cold steel pressed into your throat, you taste your death. “I couldn't have planned this better, could I?”, he whispers into your ear.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want from me?”, you spit, fear blinding you as you try to grab a hold of him behind you.

“You don't know who I am? That's good. That´s just fuckin’ good”, he laughs, blood freezing in your veins from the sound of it.

You hear footsteps, Arlene’s breathy cry in the background. Boots then. Heavier than she could be. 

“Joel Miller,” Sam says with venom in his voice, “Leave her the fuck alone!”

His gun is pointing to Joel’s temple. Sam takes a step closer, “Get out of here. Right fuckin’ now.” Joel slowly releases the handful of hair he still has in his fist. As he does, a bitter smile spreads on his face.

“Another time then,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. He steps back, walks slowly to the parking lot where he swings his leg over a 1990 Harley-Davidson, the exact same model that is in your father's garage. 

You look at Sam, eyes blurred with tears and confusion.You are certain of one thing, and one thing only. Joel Miller wants to kill you.

—

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. Please let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list for the next parts!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #biker!joel #dark!joel miller #dark! joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[art-estrange]

Biker!Joel x reader OR Art Professor!Dieter/Pedro x TA! Reader????

I have the beginnings of the biker joel x reader story going but like idk if i wanna continue it, especially since i had a dream the other night where pedro was my boss/art professor and i was like is ta and that shit went hard.

#pedro pascal #x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #joel miller x you #biker!joel #biker!joel x reader #TA!Reader #dieter x reader #dieter bravo #Art Professor!dieter #Art Professor! Dieter x TA! Reader #Art Professor! Pedro #Professor!Pedro #Art professor! pedro x TA!reader

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

time

Summary: Not wanting to face Joel after you found out that you're pregnant, you leave the Boston QZ to live with Bill and Frank. Almost four years pass before you can't hide from him anymore, letting him finally know why you ran from him all these years back.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 6.7k

Rating: E

Warnings: angst, unplanned pregnancy, secret pregnancy, secrets, fluff, trust issues, Joel being Joel, making up, kissing, age gap (not specified but it's around 15 years), smut (unprotected sex), mentions of alcohol, Joel really is bad at feelings, but he's trying, Girl Dad Joel Miller, happy end

A/N: if these two had a relationship status it would be "it's complicated" Another WiP done! So now I am allowed to think about Biker Raider Joel for a moment, right?

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Pedro Masterlist || Joel Masterlist || Main Masterlist

“You know you’ll have to face him at some point,” Frank had a fond smile on his lips as he sat in his wheelchair next to you. He was watching Bill who let himself chase across the yard of his picture perfect post apocalypse home. 

Nobody would expect that just down the street, outside of the fence the world as you knew it had ended. 

“I know,” you sighed. 

“He asks for you every time he’s here. If we had seen you, if we knew where you are. He’s gonna understand,” Frank said and you scoffed. 

“He’s not gonna care. He has Tess and… he’s not…” you shook your head, searching for the words, “he’s not the man I fell in love with.”

“We all can change,” Frank said, reaching over to squeeze your hand. 

“Bill is the best example for that. Could you have imagined him like that when you showed up here three years ago?”

You watched Bill play with your daughter, Ava, playing catch. 

“Joel is not like that. He was like that. Before. But that part of him died long ago.”

You sat in silence for a while, just watching Bill and Ava, trying to soak it all in. It would never be like that again and you were already dreading having to explain all of this to her. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whispered, fighting against the tears as you looked at Frank. He smiled softly at you before he came closer, kissing your forehead. 

Four years earlier

You knew he could tell when you were lying. He would know with one look at you that you were full of shit telling him that this was not working for you anymore. Whatever this between you was.

Joel and you had known each other since before the outbreak. You had started babysitting Sarah to earn some extra money while you were finishing you degree when she had just been nine years old and you had moved in next door.

You had been there on outbreak day. Next door, still living at home to take care of your sick father. You would never get the picture of his infected body lunging at you out of your head the night the world changed. 

You and Joel… You didn’t know what Joel and you were exactly. 

You loved Joel, you knew that. And you were pretty sure he loved you too. You just wanted… more. Most people did not allow themselves to love so openly anymore. And in Joel’s case? Losing Sarah had changed him. After fifteen years the man who had been Sarah’s father was gone, replaced by a man that still had his face, but was missing the warmth and comfort Joel Miller had once provided. 

You could see it in glimpses, whenever his hand would rest on your back when he passed by. When he fell asleep in your arms deep in the night. When he kissed your forehead before he headed out for work. 

Loving Joel Miller was easy. 

Being loved by him was close to impossible. 

You never really labelled your relationship, mostly because you did not think of it as important. You trusted him more than any other person on this planet. It’s why you ignored the way he had started looking at Tess. It’s why you did not question him when he stayed away at night. You ignored it all, opening your arms for him when he chose to come home to you, letting him in your bed just to feel close to him. To feel something. 

The jealousy was killing you slowly, making you reckless when you let him have his way with your body. 

But once you had missed your period the first month, and then the second, you knew that there was only one possible answer to your dilemma. You had never been late before. A ration card swapped for a twenty year old pregnancy test had your worst fears come true. 

You were pregnant with Joel Miller’s child. 

Fifteen years after you both buried his daughter. The daughter he never got over losing. 

You could already see his reaction. The eyes you loved so much empty before he would tell you to deal with it. 

You could not face his anger or disappointment, but mostly you could not face him not caring. So you packed your little belongings once he had left you in the morning, sneaking out of your bed without a word.

You did not leave a note, just fled the QZ, making your way over to Bill and Frank, hoping your friendship with Frank would make them take you in. 

Of course Bill hadn’t want to, but once he saw your stomach swell (and tasted the sweets you baked in his kitchen) he had put all his work into making the house next door into your home. 

“Mama, can we go get Strawbebbies?” you chuckled, holding her hand as you walked with her on your daily walk by the fence. 

“Strawberries, baby,” you tried to correct her. Ava pouted at you, her dark curls swinging in the wind, her brown eyes so much like her fathers. 

“That’s what I said!” she put her little hands on her hips and you smiled. 

She was definitely her father’s daughter.

“Okay, baby. Let’s get some Strawbebbies,” you picked her up, making her shriek with laughter. Once again you were glad you made the decision to come here. She could grow up like a child was supposed to. 

Even though now that Bill and Frank were gone it was getting kind of lonely. You had all enjoyed a last dinner together before Bill and Frank had tucked Ava in for one last time and read her a story. 

You had tried to keep the tears at bay as Bill had reminded you of the folder full of instructions of how to take care of things around here for you. 

After dinner you had walked them to the gate, opening the fence for them as they took their last walk. You had watched them until they had disappeared into the dark woods before you made your way back to their house. You had cleaned the dishes and tidied everything up, before with a heavy heart, you had turned off all the lights and closed the door behind you before you walked to your house, allowing yourself to cry yourself to sleep as you sat on the floor next to the bed of your daughter, watching her sleep. 

That night was almost three months ago. The days were getting shorter, the nights colder. You’d have enough firewood for this winter but come spring you would have to find a way to make more. 

You had just finished making breakfast for Ava when the motion detector alarmed you that someone was at the gate. You froze, telling Ava to eat her fruit salad before you made your way downstairs to check out what was happening. 

Your heart was pounding against your chest, once you noticed his face. 

Joel Miller. 

And a…. Teenage girl?

The gate swung open after he put in the code and you allowed yourself fifteen seconds to panic. You knew this day would come. The day after Bill and Frank had gone you had checked the basement, finding that Bill had put on 80’s music, the distress signal. 

Even though you had turned it off immediately deep down you knew he would show up at some point. 

You just did not think it would be that soon. 

You grabbed your gun, checking if it was loaded before you made your way back upstairs. You did not think you would need it, but it was better to be prepared. 

“Ava? Remember when Uncle Bill played hide and seek with you and showed you the best place to hide?” you asked, hiding the gun in the back of your jeans as you got to your kitchen. She nodded. 

“I want you to hide there until I come and get you,” you said. 

“Hide?” she asked. You nodded, kissing her cheek. 

“Take Sluggi with you,” you smiled. Sluggi was the stuffed plush slug Bill had gotten for her. She nodded and ran out of the kitchen and upstairs, You heard her door to her room close and took a deep breath, calming yourself. 

You knew this day would come. You knew one day you would have to face Joel Miller and you knew you would have to face his reaction. 

You never regretted your decision to leave. Life has definitely been better here. That did not mean you had just stopped loving him, no matter how much he had hurt you in the past. 

Stepping towards your front door you could see him walk towards Bill and Frank’s house. 

You closed your eyes, taking a calming breath before you opened the door and stepped out. 

His head snapped towards you once he heard the door opening, eyes widening for a split second before he pulled the girl that was with him behind his back. 

He was protecting her. 

“What are you doing here? Where are Bill and Frank?” he asked, his voice low. 

“They’re dead. Frank got worse and… he couldn’t…” you shook your head, lost of words. He just looked at you before he shook his head, trying to put in words what he wanted. 

“I just… We need some…” he took a deep breath, looking up at you, a million emotions playing over his face. 

“Are you hungry?” you asked the girl behind him. 

“Starving,” she replied and you smiled a little.

“There’s some fruit salad left on the kitchen counter if you want?” you asked. She stepped around Joel and he looked at her. 

“It’s safe. There’s… there’s no one there,” you lied. He gave her a nod before she walked past you into your home. 

It had been years since you’ve been alone with him. He did not really change. His hair maybe a little grayer, the lines around his mouth a little deeper, but he was still Joel Miller. 

“You left,” he said. 

“I did.”

“Why?”

You took a deep breath. You looked past him towards the house the girl had walked in, hoping your little girl continued to hide. Knowing her she had was working on her puzzle. She would be okay for a moment. 

You knew she was safe. You just needed a little moment alone. 

“You can have some fruit salad too. I am going to get some vegetables for dinner,“ you gave him a nod, before you turned around and walked towards your garden, ignoring him as he called after you. 

With a basket full of salad, cucumbers and some tomatoes you pushed the door of your house open. Joel was sitting on the stairs, across the door, already looking at you. 

The girl walked past the both of you towards the living room, an apple in her hand she was munching on. 

„This is so fucking weird,“ she shook her head and you snorted while Joel hissed at her. 

„What? It is weird,“ she said, her head turned towards him. 

You smiled a little as you looked at her, before you walked towards the kitchen, setting the basket down. You had to go up to check on Ava. 

And you had to talk to Joel.

You couldn’t hide her from him, even though you wanted to do nothing more than that. 

You took a deep breath when he walked into the kitchen. 

„Is it okay if Ellie takes a shower?“ He asked, knowing that there was warm water around town. 

„That’s her name. Ellie,“ he clarified.

„Oh. Of course, yeah,“ you nodded and Ellie walked in, snorting as she looked up at Joel. 

„You could use one too dude,“ she said and you had to fight hard against the grin as you watched the look on Joel’s face. 

You were about to offer her to show her to the bathroom when you heard a door upstairs click open, followed from little footsteps, your eyes widening. Joel frowned, his hand immediately searching for his gun, his arm putting Ellie behind himself. 

He raised his gun, taking a step forward as you ran around the counter, the knife you had put out to cut the salad now in your hand. 

„Gun down,“ you hissed and his head snapped to you, his eyes widening when he saw the knife in your hand. You stood in front of him. 

„I will not repeat myself, put the gun down, right now or I will put this knife in your thigh,“ you fingers flexed around the handle of the knife. The footsteps came closer as you kept eye contact with Joel until he slowly lowered his gun. You nodded at him once you saw him put the gun back to wherever it came from, then looked at Ellie who was looking at you with wide eyes, before you let the knife fall down to the floor just in time as Ava jumped the last step down, rounding the corner. 

„Potty?“ She whispered shyly, looking up at you with big eyes and you sighed, before you nodded, the people behind you forgotten as you picked your daughter up. You risked a glance at Joel as you turned towards the stairs, your daughter in your arms.

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, before you practically ran up the stairs. 

„Who is the man mommy?“ Ava asked as she was finished, washing her hands like you taught her, making as many bubbles as possible as she rubbed her hands together. 

You sucked your bottom lip in as you watched her, your hand brushing over her soft hair. 

„That is an old Friend of mommy,“ you explained, and she nodded. 

„And the girl?“ She asked. 

„That is a friend of him, I think. I am not sure.“

She finished washing her hands and you handed her the towel, her little face full of concentration as she dried her hands, making you smile.

You got down on your knees in front of her, your hands on her shoulders. 

„Do you think she’s gonna play with me?“ She asked, hopeful.

„We can ask her,“ you said with a smile.

You weren’t prepared for the sight in your kitchen when you came downstairs. Joel was standing at the counter, the sleeves of his shirt rolled back as he cut the tomatoes with the knife you had threatened with him not only ten minutes ago. 

He didn’t look up as you entered the room, but Ellie did. You looked between them warily. 

„I’m Ava,“ your daughter chirped and you took a deep breath, Joel still not looking up. Ellie looked at him with a frown, before she sighed, rolling her eyes, and walked towards you.

„I’m Ellie,“ she said and smiled a little and bend down to her knees. Ava looked first at her, then at you. 

„Ellie, do you like sea turtles?“ You asked and the girl looked at you. 

„Uh…. I guess?“ She said and you smiled. 

„Because Ava loves them. Her whole room is full of them,“ you said and saw interest flicker in her eyes.

„Can I see?“ Ellie asked and you nodded. 

„You wanna show Ellie your sea turtles?“ You asked Ava and she nodded eagerly. 

„Awesome,“ Ellie said, taking Ava’s hand before you could offer to show them, the girls already walking upstairs towards Ava's room. 

Which left you alone in the kitchen with….

„How old is she?“ Joel asked, still not looking at you as you turned to face him. He grabbed the cucumber after he had used the knife to put the tomatoes in the bowl you had prepared for the salad, beginning to slice them. 

You took a deep breath. 

„She turned three last month,“ you said, watching him nod slowly, the knife hitting the cutting board the only noise in the room. 

„She has my eyes,“ he finally said and you sucked your bottom lip in, nervous. 

„Yeah she has,“ you agreed and he finally looked up at you, setting the knife down, his hands spread out on the counter, resting his whole weight on them. 

„Why didn’t you tell me?“ He asked, his voice quiet. 

„I didn’t know how. Joel…. You were barely acknowledging me outside of when you were inside of me. You spend all your time with Tess doing god knows what. How would you have reacted if I told you that I was pregnant? You never even acknowledged what we…“ you stoped yourself, shaking your head. 

„You should have told me. I could have…“ he stopped himself, searching for what to say and you looked at him, waiting. 

„I could have helped you. I would have….“ He shook his head, his hands shaking. 

„I’m gonna need a moment. Can you watch after Ellie?“ He asked and you nodded, confused and he nodded back before he walked past you and out of the house. 

You just didn’t think it would be almost two days before he got back. You were outside in Bill’s garden, letting the girls help you pick everything that was ready from the garden when you noticed him walk towards the house. 

You knew he was still inside the little locked up town Bill had made his safe haven. None of the alerts had went off, indicating he had left. And yeah you could have searched after him, but what good would it have done?

You’ve known him from almost twenty years, and you knew that he needed time to process certain things. 

He hadn’t talked to anyone in almost a year after the outbreak and what happened to Sarah. 

„Look what the cat dragged in,“ Ellie said as she spotted him and Ava perked up, her little head turning towards where Ellie was looking. 

Joel nodded at the girls before he looked at you. 

The sun was already setting and you had dinner prepared inside. 

„How about we have some dinner and then Ellie can read you some more of the story you started yesterday?“ You asked and both girl smiled at you. Ava ran past Joel who looked after her as she disappeared into the house, Ellie following her. 

„Next time you ditch me, at least tell me?“ She glared at him before she walked back into the house. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. 

„Can we talk?“ He asked. 

„After dinner?“ You said, getting up and grabbing the basked full of fresh vegetables. 

„Yeah. Yeah okay,“ he nodded and you walked towards the house, giving him a hesitant smile when he grabbed the basket from you and walked inside after you. 

It was two hours later that you found yourself on the left corner of your couch, your legs tucked under you, a glass of wine in your hand. 

Because this conversation needed some alcohol. 

And not only because of what you were about to talk about, but because of the man who was sitting on the other side of the couch, similar glass of wine in his hand. 

Because he looked so damn good.

He had showered while you put the girls to bed after dinner, the whole scene feeling so domestic. Like a dream you had many many times before when you were still dreaming. 

Dreaming of a normal future. 

Dreaming of a normal life. 

Dreaming about how it would feel like if Joel Miller loved you back. 

Because no matter how much he may have hurt you in the past, you just could not stop loving him. 

„I’m sorry,“ he whispered after a while and you turned your head to look at him, his eyes already on you. 

„I’m shit at talking about those things….“ He stopped.

„Those things meaning feelings?“ You helped and he groaned. 

„Yeah. Always sucked at it. Even before….“ 

He sighed. 

„Sarah would be so angry with me with how I treated you,“ he whispered and your eyes softened. You could count on one hand how often he had brought Sarah up ever since she died. 

And while you thought you could understand him in the past, you loved her like yours after all, now that you had Ava, you realised that loosing her would kill you. 

It would be something you could never come back from. 

But he did. 

„I never cheated on you. I know you thought I did, can’t blame your for it. Tess was just…. Fuck, how do I explain this?“ He sighed, his fingers rubbing over his chin. 

„I never deserved you. You’re too fucking good for me. For everyone really. Because even after the whole world went to shit, you still had some kindness left for everyone around you. I know how much you hated what we did in the beginning. And I hated myself for putting you through it. I hated myself for putting you through everything I did to you since the moment Sarah died…“ he said and you could see his eyes watering. 

„Can’t blame you for hating me and leaving. And not telling me about….“

„Joel….“ You said, setting your glass down and getting closer towards him, your hand reaching for his. Slowly he turned his hand so you could put yours in it, his fingers wrapping around your hand softly. 

„I’m not gonna lie and tell you that it’s okay. Cause I was hurting. You were hurting me. Every time you left in the morning without a word. Every time you passed out drunk and drugged after you came back. It was like living with a ghost and it was killing me. That was the reason I decided to leave when I found out. I could…. I couldn’t bring a child into this. And I knew I wanted her before I even met her. Even though it seems crazy to bring a child into this world. But… She was half you. And the thought that there was even the possibility that you didn’t wanted her….“ You took a deep breath. 

„Honestly? I can’t tell you how I would have reacted. I was… I was really fucked up in the weeks before you left. I was taking too many drugs. Drank too much. Got too fucking reckless. But that changed when you left,“ he said and squeezed your hand. 

„Not right away. It might have gotten worse first but… I got better. Not perfect, but better. And I… Fuck I even talked through some shit with someone. Made me realise I never even told you how much I love you,“ he said and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing as he looked at you, a small smile tilting his lips up. 

„Pretty sure I fell for you the first time you walked through my door wearing that pretty baby blue dress. Even though you were way too young for me. Still are. But…. I hope you knew, know. I really fucking love you,“ he said and you felt a tear running down your cheek. 

„Can you tell me about her? About Ava?“ He asked before you could form an answer to his confession. And so instead you told him. 

You told him about how you craved strawberries your whole pregnancy. How Bill traded one of his guns for the seeds from Tess.

You told him that she only slept through the night in the beginning, when Bill put her to sleep. 

You told her how much she reminded you of Sarah when she smiled at you. 

You told her how every time you looked at her you saw him. 

Hours went by where you two talked, you ending up leaning against Joel’s side, his arm around you. His fingers brushing over your arm, his other hand still holding yours. His lips brushing over your skin when he told you about how Ellie ended up at in his care. 

How he wanted to take her to Wyoming to search for his brother who might know how to find the fireflies. 

„Do you know where he is?“ You asked and he shrugged. 

„Not exactly. I know he messaged me from the Cody tower, so that’s where we’ll be going,“ he mumbled and you nodded. 

„We could take Bill’s truck,“ you said and he stilled. You looked up at him. 

„We?“ He asked and you chuckled, sitting yourself up so you were facing him, your hand now on his cheek. 

„You really think I’m gonna let you go now?“ You asked with a smile. 

And then you finally kissed him. 

It was decided that you would leave within the next 5 days, giving you enough time to make a list (You always made lists) of everything you had to pack. 

Which was a lot. Getting four people across the country on a trip that hopefully would be just like you remembered road trips to be, took a lot of supplies. 

And while you were preoccupied deciding which food was best to take, Joel had asked you if he could spend some time with Ava. He wanted to get to know her. And of course, you agreed. Watching him, Ellie and Ava walk towards the garage where they spend hours doing god knows what. 

It was almost dark outside when they walked back in, your heart melting as you watched Joel carry a very sleepy Ava inside who told you all about how seatbelts where very scary, something you would make sure to ask Joel about as you took her upstairs, putting her to bed. 

The days went by quickly like that.

Joel quickly became Ava’s favourite person which could have to do with the fact, that she was always allowed to sit on his shoulders. Ellie had been confused, yet delighted at the change in the grumpy man she had left the QZ with. 

He even got his Dad jokes out, making the teenager groan in mock annoyance throughout the day. Ellie also spend a lot of time with you, wanting to learn everything you offered to teach her. Starting from making protein bars for the trip down to how to properly braid her hair. 

Even though she preferred you doing it. 

You got the impression that she never really had anyone how just… listened to her or wanted to spend time with her. She told you she grew up in FEDRA School and that her mother had died while giving birth. 

She had no family and her best friend (though you got the impression Riley had been more than just a friend) had died not that long ago. 

That the only thing she had left in life was her purpose to save the world. Joel had told you that she was immune, Ellie showing you the healed scars to confirm it. 

„You know that that’s not the only thing you have left, right?“ You asked her, sitting on the porch next to her, enjoying one last sunset, watching Joel and Ava play soccer. Her little feet chasing after Joel with happy squeals. 

„What do you mean?“ Ellie asked and you looked at her with a smile. 

„You have us, Ellie. You think we just gonna let you go?“ You asked and she stubbornly shook her head. 

„I have to do this. It’s my purpose. I have to save the world,“ she said and looked away from you. 

„Are you saying this because you feel that way, or because someone told you so?“ You asked and she looked at you. 

„Because it should be your decision what to do and what not. And… think about it, even if they are somehow able to make a cure out of your blood, do you really think they will be able to make enough to make a vaccine for everyone? Who will decide who gets it? And if they end up deciding on giving it to everyone…. There are so many bad people out there. Do they deserve to be saved too?“ You asked and you could see her thinking about your words and you smiled softly at her. 

„Even if you don’t like hearing it, your a kid Ellie. You should grow up and live first before you make a decision like that. You don’t even know how they would get whatever they needed from your blood. If I remember correctly Cordyceps grow in the brain, what if they have to get into your brain to get out whatever they need?“ You said and her eyes widened. 

„But Marlene….“ She whispered and you reached over her, taking her hand. 

„I don’t know how well you know Marlene, but I’ve known her for more than ten years. I know how she manipulates people to get what she wants. You wouldn’t even notice it,“ you said and she sighed. 

„I’m gonna think about it,“ she said finally and you gave her a small smile. 

„That’s all I ask about. Now how about you get upstairs and take one last long hot shower before we are on the road for days?“ You asked and she nodded, standing up and turning away from you to walk inside the house before she turned back to you and hugged you quickly.

After saying good night to Ellie later you walked towards your daughters room, her little suitcase for her toys laying open next to her bed, waiting for Sluggi to be put into the next morning. She was already in bed, Joel sitting on the floor next to her, reading to her. 

You wished you could take a picture of this. Unfortunately the Polaroid camera had broken earlier this year. 

„Mommy!“ A tired Ava smiled as she saw you, her arms raised towards you. Joel looked up and smiled at you as you walked over, climbing into the bed behind your daughter, pulling her into your arms. 

„What story is Joel reading you?“ You asked. 

„The little mermaid,“ she said and you found Joel’s eyes. You had been thinking about it for the last days now. Telling her who Joel really is. He slipped into your life like the missing piece, the man you had fallen in love with all these years back seemingly falling right back into his role as being the best father there ever could be. 

So before you could talk yourself out of it you said

„Your sister loved that one too.“

Joel gulped, his eyes growing sad for a moment, before he looked at Ava. 

„I have a sister?“ She asked you, her eyes big.

„Mmmh…. Her name was Sarah. She watched the movie every single night before she went to bed,“ you explained and Ava pursed her lips in an ooooh motion. 

„There was a movie?“ She asked in awe.

„Oh yeah there was. And a cassette with the music. Can’t remember how often she made me listen to it“ Joel said and smiled softly. 

„Where is Sarah?“ Ava asked and your smile went sad. 

„She’s where Uncle Bill and Uncle Frank are. Watching over us,“ you explained and she hummed. 

„I wish I could hug her,“ she whispered and you nodded, tears in your eyes, squeezing her against your chest, your hand reaching out Joel’s hand finding yours as you kissed her forehead, looking at him who had tears in his eyes. 

„Me too baby. Me too,“ you whispered before taking a deep breath.

„You know Joel is her daddy,“ you finally said and she looked at you. 

„He is?“ She asked and you nodded. 

„I bet he is the best daddy,“ she sighed and you chuckled at Joel’s cheeks turning pink. 

„Yeah he is. What would you say if I tell you that Joel is your daddy too?“ You asked and her big eyes looked at you first and then her head turned towards Joel. 

„My daddy?“ She asked and both you and Joel nodded with a smile, her smile getting wider, before she jawned.

„I always wanted a daddy,“ she whispered before her eyes dropped close. 

You were walking down the stairs to Bill's basement after you showered, finding Joel checking if he could manage to take any more guns. The supplies had all been packed into the truck already, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave anything of value behind. 

He looked up when he heard your footsteps, giving you a small smile. 

Walking over to him you were surprised when he reached for you, pulling you into his lap, one of his arms looped around you, his other hand on your cheek, his fingers brushing over your skin. 

„I didn’t know you were gonna tell her,“ he whispered and you smiled. 

„She deserves to know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell her sooner. If I would have stayed you wouldn’t have missed so much…“ he stopped you by kissing you softly. 

„None of that. We both know I would have fucked this up. I would have said some really fucked up things and hurt you even more. So, there’s nothing you have to be sorry for, okay?“ He looked at you, his eyes pleading. 

You released a long breath, bringing both of your arms up to cross behind his neck. 

„Have I told you lately that I love you, Joel Miller?“ You whispered with a small smile that he mirrored. 

„Don’t think so. But I don’t blame you, I gotta say it a lot more often than you to make up for all the years I didn’t tell you. I do love hearing it though. Love you,“ he mumbled before he kissed you again. His lips moving on top of yours slowly, his hand tilting your head up a little so he could deepen the kiss. 

With a little sigh you parted your lips for him, his tongue dipping into your mouth, a deep moan coming from him, his arm pulling you closer against him. 

There had been lots of making out in the last days, stolen kisses when the girls weren’t in the room, secret touches under the table while you had dinner. 

But you haven’t slept together. 

And you were ready. 

„Joel,“ you mumbled, parting from his lips. He hummed, his lips running down your jaw. 

„We aren’t gonna be alone for a while,“ you whimpered, your head tilting up to give his wandering lips some more space. 

„What are you proposing?“ He asked, playfully nibbling on your neck. 

„I’m proposing that you fuck me, Miller. Right here,“ you gasped when you felt his other hand slip between your legs. 

„Right here?“ He asked, his fingers over the seam of your slick panties. 

„Mmmmhh….“ You closed your eyes, biting your lip when he pushed the fabric to the side, his fingers dipping between you slick folds, lazily teasing you. 

„All that for me?“ He asked and you opened your eyes, crashing your lips against his. 

„It’s been almost four years Joel. Please don’t tease me,“ you whined and his eyes softened before he picked you up and set you down on the table behind him. Within the next minutes you were both naked, your hands in his hair as you kissed him as he stood between your parted legs, the heavy weight of his cock resting against your stomach. 

„Gonna need to prepare you,“ he hummed, his hands on your ass. You shook your head. 

„Please just fuck me. You know I can take it,“ you whined, one of your hands wrapping around his cock, making him hiss. He groaned, sucking your bottom lip between his before he slapped your hand away, his dark eyes fixed on yours as he held his hand out to you. Waiting. 

Feeling your whole body heat up you spit in his hand and the left corner of his mouth twitched. 

„My good girl,“ he praised you and you couldn’t stop whimpering. 

He brought his hand down to wrap it around his cock, coating it in your saliva, before he lined himself up. You had dripped on the table you were sitting on, more than ready to take him. 

„I love you,“ he whispered and you looked at him with a soft smile, your lips parting when he slowly pushed his cock into you. Filling you inch by inch, both of you starring into each others eyes. 

„Missed this,“ you moaned. 

„Missed you,“ you crossed your legs behind him, giving him a little push, his cock finally filing you up completely. 

„Fucking Perfect,“ he groaned kissing you again before he began to move, pumping into you slowly. 

You let yourself fall back down against the table, stretching your arms over your head, your back arching, your tits moving every time Joel fucked into you. 

He licked his fingers, bringing it down between your legs, his thrusts getting harder as he rubbed your clit, your pussy clenching around him. 

„Yes… Baby… Just like that….“ You moaned, your hands coming down to play with your tits. 

„You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?“ He asked, moving faster, his skin slapping against yours every time he moved.

Nodding, you moaned, your eyes rolling back as you came, your whole body shaking as he fucked you through it. 

„Shit….“ He groaned, both of his hands now coming to rest on either side of you as he leaned down, fucking into you deeply, chasing his own orgasm. 

„Want you to cum again,“ he grunted, kissing you, drilling his cock into you, the whole table moving over the floor. 

„Want you to cum inside me. Let me feel you,“ you whimpered, your hands in his hair, trying to meet his thrusts. 

„Fuck that is…. Not a good idea….“ He laughed and you grinned. 

„I don’t care. Wanna feel you. Cum for me, Joel. Cum inside me,“ you whispered and he groaned, fucking into you a half dozen times more before you felt him twitch inside of you, filling you, making you cum for a second time. 

Both out of breath you looked at each other before Joel leant down and kissed you. 

„Sleep in bed with me?“ You hummed against his lips. 

„As long as you let me,“ he answered against your lips before you both sneaked upstairs. 

Against all odds after six days of a rather boring trip across the country you reached the radio tower in Cody. And two days later a group patrol of people on horses found you, asking you all kinds of questions before a man pulled the bandana that had been covering his face down, revealing Tommy Miller in the flesh. 

By now you were living in Jackson for almost a year. 

Ellie had decided to stay and live her life, the constant threat of someone looking for her still on the horizon, but it was decided that the town was not in immediate danger. Patrols kept an eye out for fireflies, but they haven’t spotted anyone. 

You were living a happy life all things considered. 

Ava went to pre school, Ellie went to normal school. They really became sisters in the last year, spending a lot of time together. 

Even though Ellie started to spend more and more time with a girl called Dina you suspected was more than just a friend. 

Joel was always working on improving the house. 

He had changed the most, back to the man he had been before the outbreak. Yes, he still was the protector when he needed to be, but most of the time he was just Joel. Your husband. 

„Yellow?“ He asked, holding the can of paint up.

You walked over to him with a smile, nodding.

„It’s a happy colour. I like happy colours,“ you shrugged and he chuckled, setting the can down on the floor before he put his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

One of his hands came to rest on your growing belly, the baby inside kicking up a storm as if it could sense their dads hand, making you both smile. 

„Still think it’s gonna be a girl?“ You asked and he nodded, before he kissed you softly. 

„Think I’m meant to be surrounded by beautiful girls,“ he hummed before he kissed you again. 

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #Joel Miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

[palioom]

going for a ride

summary: you've been eyeing your dad's hot best friend joel for a while, but you never had the courage to go and approach him by yourself. one day while watching him work on his harley in his garage, you finally decide to make a move.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader word count: 3.5k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames); biker!joel with some tattoos; reader is in her early 20s; age gap; unprotected p in v; inappropriate use of a harley; cum shots; some dirty talk

• masterlist •

She was watching him.

Again.

He could feel her eyes stare into his back as he worked on his bike in his garage, door wide open in the hopes of letting a rare breeze in.

It was way too fucking hot today, and while Sarah was out with some friends, he used the time to get his bike ready, fixing some minor things and just checking if she was good to go still.

Because the weather was also good for taking his Harley for a ride again.

And her? His best friend’s daughter? Sitting in a chair on the lawn in front of her house, a big oak tree shielding her from the harsh sun.

Pretending to read a book, mostly just sparing long glances at him.

Trying to look innocent and occupied when he looked over to her.

Thinking she was slick.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t stop looking.

Joel Miller, her dad’s best friend, covered in tattoos, all over his arms, his chest, up to his neck. Dark, salt and pepper hair slicked back, some sticking to his sweaty forehead.

He was hot. Working on his stupid bike like almost every day when he had the time to.

She liked to see his muscles flex as he tightened some screws or polished the sleek, black metal.

How his biceps bulged when he moved some heavy part away, or a crate or something else that showed just how strong he was.

His veiny hands when he was over at their place or they at his, watching football or having a cookout. How thick his fingers were, wrapped around a beer bottle which seemed damn small compared to his large hands.

More than just once had she imagined what his thick fingers would feel like stretching her out, late at night when the heat made it impossible to sleep. When her own hand vanished into her panties because her thoughts kept revolving around him, moaning his name quietly while her hips bucked up.

She felt herself growing wet just watching him right now.

Not once had she gone over to him when she was alone. Too nervous, her dad always going with her.

But with him gone today, on some stupid trip with one of his other friends, she just really wanted to go over, watch him work up close.

Squirming in her seat, she snapped her book closed and stood up, setting it on the chair and just looking over to Joel.

Heart beating in her chest as she tugged down her tank top just a little lower and pulled her booty shorts up just a little higher.

Now or never.

He heard her approach before he saw her, turning around with a raised brow, squinting his eyes against the harsh sun reflecting off his driveway.

“Hello, Mr. Miller.”

She looked pretty, always did, no matter what she wore.

But he couldn’t deny that there was something about the skimpy shorts and the way her breasts threatened to spill out of her top that just made her prettier.

Hotter.

Hair done up and a nervous, little smile on her face.

“Hello, darlin’.” He greeted her, wiping some oil off of his hands with a rag. Joel was curious to find out why she had come over. This was the first time she had made the way alone. “Told you before you can call me Joel.”

She stopped not too far from him, looking a bit unsure, her eyes fixed on his hands, how the tattoos moved with them. 

How adorable.

He couldn’t tell if she was more fascinated by his hands or the images on them.

“What do you need, sweetheart? Did something happen?”

Joel knew nothing had happened, smiling as he asked. 

Of course he had noticed the way she looked at him when she thought he was busy. Or at dinner, when he was over for a beer. 

When he fixed something at their place.

Always staring with her pretty eyes, turning away whenever she thought he had almost caught her.

And he couldn’t deny that he had thought about her, even if he tried not to, for her old man’s sake.

How couldn’t he?

With the way she looked and the way she acted? He’d be stupid not to think about her.

“I just- I saw you working on your bike and just wanted to ask if I could watch?” She asked, internally slapping herself for just how stupid she sounded. Watching him work on his bike, yeah sure. “I think it’s really cool and-”

“Sure, darlin’.” He chuckled, cutting off her nervous rambling. Watched as her eyes snapped up to his, smile on her face. “Wanna get a closer look?”

She nodded, eyes sparkling. All she could think about was how good he looked, with that smile of his and how it let the corner of his eyes crinkle slightly.

Joel just laughed and beckoned her closer with a nod of his head.

There was literally nothing she knew about bikes, still taking it in with wide eyes as she stepped closer to the Harley. It looked cool, that was really all she knew.

And he looked cool when he sat on it, riding through the neighbourhood, leather jacket and helmet on.

Got her squeezing her thighs together every damn time he raced past her house, running to the window when she already heard the familiar sound of it echoing up and down the street.

Joel only watched her, a smirk still on his face as he saw her circle it, lips slightly parted.

He couldn’t resist letting his eyes roam down to her ass, just peeking out from under these little shorts, making his dick twitch in his pants.

“It’s pretty.” She said sheepishly. “Like, super cool.”

“You can touch, it won’t bite.” 

Her eyes snapped up to him, apprehensive to touch the obviously very expensive motorbike, but then reaching out to touch the cool metal, the soft leather seat.

It really was a cool bike.

“Ever ridden one before?” He asked, stuffing the rag he had wiped his fingers with earlier into the back pocket of his jeans, watching her shake her head.

The way she looked at the bike almost made him wonder if she really was here for that instead of what he thought she was here for.

“No, dad said it’s too fucking dangerous to ride one.” She chuckled, trying to imagine herself on one.

All cool, clad in protective leather with sunglasses on. But never as cool as Mr. Miller.

“You’re old enough, sweetheart, your old man can’t do shit if you want one.”

Joel laughed and she joined in, clearly relaxing now.

“Yeah, like I got the money for a fucking Harley.” She joked, finishing her round and coming to stand beside him. “Said he was gonna kick me out anyways if I get one.”

A half-joke, she knew he would never.

Joel just nodded, thinking.

“You wanna sit on it?”

She looked up at him, clearly surprised by his question.

“C’mon, do it. I don’t mind.” He added, seeing the hesitation on her face. 

She really looked adorable like this, biting her bottom lip and her fingers playing with the rings on her hands. 

Fuck, they were small.

How often had he imagined them wrapped around his hard cock while he was fucking into his own fist.

So nimble and thin compared to his. Made it difficult to really imagine it was her getting him off.

“You sure, Mr. Mill-” She quickly cut herself off, correcting herself. “I mean, Joel?”

Her calling him Mister had never failed to make his dick twitch ever since had really taken notice of her one or two years back.

It was like the switch had flipped one day and he had finally seen how fucking pretty and hot she was.

“Go ahead.”

He watched her get on, a little clumsy as she swung one leg over the machine but managed to sit down. Her ass looked so good on his bike, her hands wrapping around the handles apprehensively.

“How’s she feel?” He asked, stepping a little closer as she adjusted herself on it, looking over it.

“Feels good.” She said with a smile, looking back at him, and god, that smile could melt him more than the Texas sun. “Do I look cool?”

Joel had to laugh at that, nodding his head. “Very fucking cool. Wanna feel her?”

Her brows furrowed at his words, her eyes saying everything.

“Scoot over, darlin’.” He said, swinging his leg over the bike and coming to sit behind her, his hands replacing hers on the handles.

She went rigid, with him so close to her, gasping when he turned the bike on, revving it a few times.

His laugh was so close to her ear, his chest pressed against her back as he leaned forward a little.

“What do you think?” 

A nervous laugh escaped her, moving back just a little, having to bite back a small noise when she felt him.

Already hard against her ass, hips rutting forward subconsciously as she moved against him.

She could swear she heard him groan, the loud engine drowning out the sound of it in the small garage.

Shit, he really was hard. But she tried to play it off, like she didn’t feel anything.

“Really cool, Joel.”

Joel noticed, of course, the way she stiffened and became nervous now.

His hips ground into her ass again, mouth close to her ear now.

“Wanna go for a ride?” He asked, turning off the motor, the sudden silence almost louder than the bike had been. Deafening, suffocating. “Or are you interested in a different kind of ride, sweetheart?”

She whimpered, a small noise in the back of her throat, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. Eyes wide, maybe a little scared.

“What do you mean, Joel?”

Now that she had been cornered, she found it hard to speak, like her tongue had been tied up and rendered useless. He wasn’t actually implying what she thought he was implying, was he?

“You know what I mean, sweetheart.” He said, voice low. One of his hands came to rest on her bare thigh, feeling the softness of her skin, her eyes moving to it. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, darlin’.”

It creeped higher, her breath hitching when he squeezed a little.

“And now you come over in those skimpy shorts with your tits spilling out of your tank top and wanna tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“Joel-” Her voice was shaky, swallowing hard. “I’m-”

All he wanted was to kiss her neck, so inviting as his hand wandered down again, her hips squirming.

“C’mon, speak up like a big girl and tell me what you need.” The hand not on her thigh reached into his front pocket, finding the remote for the garage doors and pressing the button to shut them. 

Her heart was beating in her chest, whimpering as he pressed himself closer to her, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

“Want you, Joel.” She breathed out, whimpering when his fingers flexed, his lips attaching to her neck now. “Fuck, I need you.”

He smirked, kissing down the column of her neck, enjoying the little sounds she made. Smelling as sweet as she looked.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, hand wandering to the button of her shorts, fiddling with it, “you’ve been thinking ‘bout me, haven’t you?”

She nodded, watching his thick fingers open the button, then pull down the zipper. Mesmerized by the way the thick veins on the back of his hand danced as he moved his fingers.

His other hand came up to cup her breast, making her moan, the sound bouncing off the walls and making him groan. Soft and warm and full, like they were made for him to hold.

Fuck, she sounded so sweet, he wondered what she’d sound like moaning his name as he fucked her. Spread her sweet pussy open with his cock.

“Been thinking about my dick? What it’d feel like?” He asked, voice raspy as his hand vanished into her shorts, finding her without underwear which drew a chuckle from him. “Stretching you open?”

She was so wet already, hips jerking forward when his fingers found her swollen clit, brushing over it. So, so eager to be touched.

“Y-Yeah.” Her answer was quiet, breathy. Throwing her head back against his shoulder as he gently pressed into her clit. 

“Ever had someone fuck you, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, hands grabbing his forearm for purchase. Feeling the muscles move beneath his skin made her head feel light.

No.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath. Couldn’t believe she was a fucking virgin.

It was impossible with how she looked.

“Joel, please-” She whined, needing more. His hand on her wasn’t enough, she needed him inside of her, feeling an orgasm come closer as he put more pressure behind his movements.

“Is someone needy for some cock?” He said, biting into the soft flesh at the crook of her neck. “What would your old man say if he saw you here, sweetheart?”

“Please-” It was all she could say, his fingers on her breast pinching her nipple through the thin fabric of her tank top.

“Please what, darlin’?” He asked, kissing over her shoulder, breath hot against her skin, his finger speeding up. “Talk to me, ask nicely.”

Her whines grew louder, hips bucking into his hand.

She needed him, aching for him to stretch her open.

“Please fuck me, Joel. Please!”

He chuckled, biting her earlobe and taking his hands out of her pants, laughing at the noise of protest she made.

She felt him get up behind her, looking at him confused for a moment before he already dragged her off the bike by her waist.

With his broad hands on her hips, he bent her over it, pressing himself against her ass, making her gasp as her hands felt around for something to brace herself on.

“Got no idea how long I’ve been thinking ‘bout you, sweetheart.” Joel grunted, fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts and pulling them down hastily. “Your cute little ass peeking out of those slutty shorts, teasing me all the damn time, swingin’ your hips around me.”

His hands found her ass, giving her a playful, light smack, enjoying her surprised squeal. He kneaded the warm flesh before opening her for him.

“All wet for me, darlin’?” He asked, seeing her nod and moan, thumb hovering over her slick entrance and pressing against it just slightly. “What a pretty, little pussy.”

She whined, trying to press her hips back into him, making him chuckle.

Still kneading her ass, he shook his head.

“You’re such a needy little girl, aren’t you? Whining and moaning for some cock to fill you up.”

She nodded again, biting her bottom lip.

When she heard the zipper of his pants, she stilled, looking over her shoulder to watch him open his jeans and push it down along with his underwear.

Letting his heavy, thick cock spring free.

“Fuck.” She gasped, feeling warm suddenly. Nervousness settling in her stomach, his size unsettling her a little bit. “S’not gonna fit, Joel.”

He stepped closer to her, one hand on her ass and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, teasingly swiping the head through her slick folds, gathering the wetness and grunting at the feeling.

“Gonna make it fit, don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel pressed into her carefully, his own need making him impatient. “Gonna be nice ‘n gentle.”

She hissed at the sting, feeling him slide in carefully, stretching her out. A drawn out moan left her, unable to keep her voice down with how good he felt inside of her when he finally bottomed out and stilled.

So much better than her fingers.

“What a tight little pussy, darlin’. All for me.” His hands smoothed over her back, pushing up the tank top to expose more of her skin, feeling her pulse around him.

“Feels good, Joel.” She whimpered, biting her bottom lip. He was so big inside of her, nice and thick. Stretching her open just right. “Please.”

“Please, huh?” He chuckled, hands wandering to her hips again. One day he would have to fuck her so he could see her face when she said the word. “Always so polite, your dad taught you well.”

Joel pulled back slowly, hearing her moan ripple through her, before pushing back in all the way.

Setting a steady rhythm, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with their moans and grunts, echoing off the walls.

She felt hot, squeezing him tight and moving back into him with each thrust, her sounds so sweet he didn’t know how he had survived without them until now.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Looking so good bent over my bike, little pussy squeezin’ me tight.” He grunted, a particularly harsh thrust making her cry out and losing her balance for a moment, grappling for purchase. “But you gotta keep your noises down, don’t want anyone to hear you, hm?”

She slapped a hand over her mouth when his hips snapped into her again, as if to make her cry out on purpose.

“Don’t need the neighbours to know that Mr. Miller is fucking his friend’s daughter.”

He built her up fast, his cock feeling perfect inside of her, every snap of his hips getting her closer and closer to the edge.

His words were only spurring her on, his voice so deep and gravelly.

“C’mon, I know you’re close, sweetheart.” He grunted, losing his rhythm as he neared the edge as well. “Cum all over my cock like the good girl I know you are, ‘atta girl.”

She whined, sound muffled behind her hand, that familiar surge of her orgasm so much more intense when he pushed her over, crying out for him.

“There we go, ‘atta girl, pretty girl.”

Her legs felt wobbly as her entire body trembled, her slick coating his cock while he kept pounding into her, eyes on her ass, watching it jiggle in time with his thrusts.

Driving into her over and over, having just enough of a mind to pull out when he fell over the edge, stroking himself as white ropes of cum shot all over her ass and lower back, a deep grunt rumbling in his chest.

She whimpered, feeling so empty as he came all over her, his other hand on her hip holding her up, his noises making her shiver.

His cum felt warm on her back, a feeling she quite liked.

Her mind was hazy, hand falling from her mouth as she became limp, trying to gather her breath.

Joel swallowed hard, seeing her with his cum all over her.

What a pretty sight.

He knew then and there this wouldn’t be the only time this happened, already needing more as his thumb drew circles into her skin.

“You alright, darlin’?” He asked, reaching for the rag in his back pocket after he had pulled his pants up again and began to clean her up.

How he wished he could leave it there for longer, wished he could see her face covered in it.

Some day.

She nodded and hummed, slowly pushing herself up into a standing position, bracing herself on the Harley, legs wobbling.

“‘M fine, Joel, thank you.” She said, feeling him bend over behind her and pull up her shorts for her, helping her to close them.

He chuckled at her look when she turned around, hand on his tattooed forearm. Dazed smile and eyes glazed over, looking just a little too blissed out.

“Felt really good.”

“You good to walk home?” He asked, hand on her back, all the gentleman again now. “Or do you need a minute, sweetheart?”

Like he hadn’t just said all that filth about how tight she was. Or had his cock buried inside her to the hilt.

She nodded, walking beside him to the garage door which opened now. “Yeah, I think I’m good.”

“Good.” He said, wide, mischievous smile on his lips as the sun flooded back into the garage. Hand falling from her back now as they stood there, just looking at each other. “You know, sweetheart, if you wanna know more about bikes, just come on over.”

The look he gave her made her heart stop, but she giggled at his words.

“I’ll gladly teach you more.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

A wide grin graced her face, laughing again before she walked off, steps just a little wobbly still.

He could swear her hips swayed more than usual, ass peeking out at the bottom of her shorts again.

The barbeque at her place in two days would be very interesting.

And he really hoped she’d come over again, just so he could take her for another ride.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #fics #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 1: Can I Buy You a Beer?

You run into someone you don't expect when out for a drink. A continuation of Halcyon, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Yes it's a Javi gif but we're gonna say he's Joel because Joel is in his 30s for this fic, OK?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.7K

AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Austin, Texas

September 30, 2022

You were going to strangle Alyssa. 

It sure as hell hadn’t been your idea to go out drinking to celebrate the end of the first month of the school year. Definitely not your idea to do it at a bar that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned this decade. And it absolutely was not your idea to try to pick up a guy while out at said dingy bar. 

But it apparently was Alyssa’s idea of a good time. 

You sighed as you watched people go to and from the bar from your seat tucked in the corner. You tried to come up with stories for the people you could see in the dim light, like they were characters in a book you were writing. The biker in a leather vest, you decided, had been an accountant for 20 years when he bought a Harley during his midlife crisis. He’d become a mechanic when he became too obsessed with the bike to be satisfied behind a desk. His wife was pissed but his son thought he was way cooler now. The couple at the end of the bar were on a second… no, third date. She was deciding whether or not to fuck him. You thought it was going to go in his favor.

Alyssa had moved out of the seat next to the guy she’d taken up with and into his lap. You wondered if there was a world record for how far someone’s tongue could be down another person’s throat. It had to trigger her gag reflex at some point, right? Or maybe she didn’t have one. That must be nice. Maybe that was the key to being good at oral. Maybe you’d be better at it if you didn’t have a gag reflex. Maybe you’d still have a husband if you were better at oral. 

You downed the last of your Shiner and rapped your fingers along the side of the glass. That was one upside to being back in Texas, at least. Shiner Bock on tap was a nice perk. 

Next time you went out with Alyssa, you were driving yourself. If there was a next time. 

But you’d probably cave before too long. You didn’t have many friends and you liked her. Even though this night hadn’t been much fun and getting to know her at all had been awkward at first. Alyssa was a few years younger than you and the first time she’d stumbled into your office she had your book in her hands and a wide smile on her face. 

“I am so sorry if this is weird,” she said after a brief introduction. “But… I’m in love with your book and I am dying for you to sign it!” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little and she passed it to you. You flipped to the title page and scrawled “Alyssa, Thanks for reading. With love, your coworker” before you penned the signature you’d practiced a million times with your agent below and handed it back. She squeaked, a little giddy,  before offering to show you the best restaurants near campus. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d grown up in Austin so you had plenty of favorites without any extra help. 

Still, you had this strange drive to have Alyssa see you as a normal person. Award-winning author famous was, thankfully, not the kind to get you recognized on the street but it still made you uncomfortable. Book signings and readings were exercises in misery. There was the acute agony of being observed and noted, the strange knowledge that, for these strangers, this brief encounter was going to be something they remembered. They’d remember if you had a mustard stain on your shirt or if there was lipstick on your teeth or if the stress you were under as you traveled from city to city while your marriage fell to pieces around you made you snap at someone. You never realized how keenly you valued anonymity until it wasn’t an option anymore. 

The very last thing you wanted was someone who was a fan with an office two doors down from your own.

So, you’d decided to have her be a friend instead. Make it so she saw you as a person and not someone from the inside of a book jacket. The two of you had gone to lunch a few times and out for a quick drink once, too. It had been nice and, ever since, it felt like she had stopped watching you like a pseudo-celebrity and started seeing you as a friend. Or, at the very least, a friendly acquaintance. 

So when she’d asked if you wanted to get some drinks tonight, you’d said yes, envisioning the lounge she’d suggested the first time you’d gone out, one with jazz music playing quietly enough that you could chat over it. 

That was not where she suggested this time. 

But you were already here and edging in on tipsy and if you were going to spend the night alone at a bar and, eventually, at home with your vibrator, you may as well be drunk doing it. 

You made your way to the bar and ordered a tequila shot and another beer, drumming your fingers on the bar top as you waited for your drinks. 

“Well hey there, beautiful,” a man who had to have at least 10 years on you sidled up next to you at the bar. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ getting your own drinks?” 

“No one else was volunteering,” you gave him a tight smile. “But I’m not looking for company so…” 

“Don’t tell me you’re here all by your lonesome?” He smiled a lopsided, cocky smile, looking you up and down. The accent felt a little heavy handed and the cowboy hat put it over the top. You wondered, idly, if he was hiding a bald spot under there. 

“I prefer flying solo, but thank you,” you said, peering around him to watch the bartender flirt with a girl who looked like she was newly 21 and probably here slumming it at this bar that was far from the school. You sighed and settled in to wait even longer for your drinks. 

“Girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be all on her own,” he said, leaning against the bar and blocking your view. “No way someone hasn’t snapped you up yet, a face like that…” 

“Oh my face has nothing to do with it,” you smiled, forcing your eyes to go wide enough that you looked a little crazed. “It’s because I’m a murderous sociopath with six bodies buried beneath my house.” 

The man just blinked at you, a puzzled look on his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head and you considered, for a moment, timing him to see how long it would take to piece it together. 

“She’s right you know,” a familiar voice from behind you made you stiffen. “There's a reason she's here alone. This one’s insane, she’d chew you up and spit you out, man. Best you find someone else to try n’take home.” 

“Sorry, man,” he said. “Didn’t know she was spoken for.” 

You watched the man shove himself back from the bar and prowl off to find another woman to try and bed before turning, slowly, to the man standing at your back. Your heart beat picked up in spite of yourself when you saw him, as tall and broad and somehow even more handsome than ever. 

Joel Miller smiled, one of his cocky, lopsided smiles that made his cheek dimple. 

“Hey, Goldie.” 

***

It was you.

Here, in this shitty bar in his corner of Austin on a Friday night was you. 

Joel froze when he saw you, sitting in a corner by yourself, watching the bar with a far away look on your face. 

It was a look he knew intimately, even though it had been 11 years since he’d last seen your face in person. You’d get that look when you were thinking about something important, something you wanted to remember. You’d have that look and then you’d open up that gold notebook of yours and write furiously for a minute or two before stashing it away. 

“You ever gonna let me read any of that?” He’d teased one day as you sat, curled up in the corner of his couch, your notebook on your knees. 

“No,” you scoffed. “Trust me, you don’t want anywhere near this disaster area. It’s basically just the word vomit version of my brain, it’s a mess up there.” 

Joel didn’t push you on it but, truthfully, he’d have killed for a chance to see inside your mind for a moment. He wanted to crawl inside your skull and look at whatever you’d let him see. He wanted to memorize you, carry you with him, wrap himself up in you at every opportunity. You felt like home, more than anything else he’d ever had. Of course he wanted to be close enough to you to see inside your mind. 

But that was a long time ago. Yes, it had been 11 years since he’d seen you but it had been even longer since he’d seen you when you weren’t pissed at him. In fairness, he was pretty pissed at you, too, but you’d started it. 

And he wasn’t even sure why. He didn’t know what set you off to begin with. One night it was prom and the next thing he knew, you were gone. Taking off across the country before graduation without so much as a goodbye. You changed your number and your mom wouldn’t give it to him and you were just gone. Like the two of you hadn’t spent every day together for the last three years, like he had all meant nothing at all to you. 

Joel saved up the money to buy a bus ticket to your fancy fucking college, intending to find you there and demand an explanation, but that hadn’t gone as planned. He just settled into not knowing and not understanding why the most important relationship in his life had been ripped away from him without a word. 

But it had been a long time. He’d moved past the resentment of it and now he was all but awestruck at seeing you again. 

“Hey, do you want…” Tommy’s voice trailed off and his eyes tracked where Joel’s were looking. “Holy fucking shit, is that…” 

“Yup.” 

“Did you know she…” 

“Yup.” 

Tommy was quiet for a moment.

“Know she was gonna be here?” 

“Hell no.” 

Joel caught a glimpse of his brother nodding out of the corner of his eye - he wasn’t about to stop looking at you, he was worried if he did you might disappear again - and sighed. 

“You gonna talk to her?” Tommy asked after a moment. 

“No idea.” 

“Shit dude,” Tommy clapped his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Good luck with… whatever the fuck is gonna happen there.” 

Joel glared at him for a second but kept his eyes on you. One of the other guys on the crew went to get the first round, something he appreciated because it meant he could keep watching you at a distance. He wasn’t sure what the fuck to say to you and he wasn’t about to just go talk to you with nothing to say. 

But then you went to the bar and a guy was clearly annoying the hell out of you and, before he really knew what he was doing, he was heading for you. 

“Hey, Goldie.” 

You looked at him for a moment. You looked as surprised to see him as he was to see you. 

“Hey, Joel.” 

He smiled a little wider. 

“Can I buy you a beer?” He asked. 

“You’re a bit late, I’m afraid,” you said. “Already put it on my tab. But that’s assuming the bartender remembers I exist which seems like it might be aiming a bit high…” 

Joel hung over the bar and hit the top of it a few times.

“Hey, Jimmy!” He yelled. The bartender whipped his head around. “Stop fuckin’ around, get my friend her shit, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, turning back to the woman he was talking to for a second before making you a shot first and then pouring your beer. He set both in front of you at the same time.

“Thank you,” you said, both to Joel and to Jimmy, and you did the shot, wincing as the tequila went down. 

Joel whistled

“Shit, you lookin’ to get fucked up?” 

“Well,” you coughed a little on the liquor before taking a sip of beer. “I already need to take an Uber home because the friend I came with is currently being devoured by that charming gentleman over there…” You nodded to a man at a table against the wall, a brunette draped across his lap who looked to be surgically connected to the man at the mouth. “So I figured, fuck it, may as well get hammered.” 

Joel laughed a little at that. 

“Since you’ve got no one else to get hammered with,” he shrugged. “Want to do it with me? Catch up a bit?” 

You thought for a second, taking a sip of beer. 

“Sure,” you said. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Joel got a beer, too, and followed you back to your table before he settled in beside you. Part of it felt so natural, being next to you, but it was so different, too. You were different, fuck knows he was different. 

“So,” he said, watching you. “You’re in town.” 

“I am,” you nodded. 

“Visiting Anna?” He asked, even though he knew the answer. It had made news, the fact that you were coming to teach at UT.

“Work,” you said. “Moved back a few months ago.” 

“So what do you do now?” He asked. “For work, I mean.” 

“Teach, mostly,” you said. “I’m at UT now. Literature and creative writing.” 

“Seems right up your alley,” he nodded. “Always liked that sorta thing. You ever write that book?” 

You nodded, taking another sip of beer. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Just one, though.” 

“Ever publish it?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “A few years ago…” Joel laughed and you frowned. “What?” 

“You really think I don’t know you wrote a fuckin’ book?” He asked. “Course I know you wrote a fuckin’ book. Jesus, Goldie, your name is on fuckin’ posters and shit! You think I live under a rock?” 

You laughed. 

“You dick!” You shoved him playfully. “Look, you’re basically illiterate, I didn’t want to assume…” 

“Hey just because I do shit besides read does not mean I’m illiterate!” He laughed. “You’re just a nerd…” 

“You only finished high school because I’m a nerd,” you rolled your eyes. “Pretty sure your coach was ready to make me an honorary member of the team since me hounding you about homework was the only thing that kept your ass grade eligible.” 

“Oh, you were the MVP,” he smiled, watching you take another sip of your beer and you smiled that amused little smile, the one you had when you were humoring him, the same one you’d had since you were 15 years old. “No question about it.” 

“Since you know all about me apparently,” you teased. “What’s been going on with you?” 

Joel shrugged, taking a drink. Mostly to buy himself time. 

Did he want to admit to you that he’d all but taken his life and driven it into the ground since he last saw you? 

Not that he ever felt like he had much potential, anyway. You and his mom had been the only people who’d ever really seen anything in him. But then you left and she died and was he even failing anybody anymore? Certainly not himself. And everything he did now he did to make sure he didn’t fail his daughter who, for the last 10 plus years, had been the only thing in his life that made it seem like all the shit was worth something. 

But he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you about her, either. It seemed cheap, to bring her up in a bar to you of all people, one of the only reasons she existed in the first place. 

“Kept busy,” he said instead with a shrug. “Workin’ construction. Roped Tommy into it about a year ago, too. His dumb ass kept getting into it with people, told him I wasn’t going to keep bailing him out of jail if he didn’t at least look like he was trying to get his shit together.” 

You nodded and took another sip of beer. 

“Do you like it?” 

He shrugged again. 

“Pays the bills.” 

“Not what I asked, Joel.” 

He looked at you. You were watching him in that keen way you had, your head cocked slightly to the side, your eyes looking at him like you could cut through everything, everything he ever had or was or would be, down into the lanky boy he’d been when he’d first met you. 

“Not sure why it matters,” he said after a minute. “But it’s fine, I guess. Crew’s good. Work’s steady.” 

“It matters because you deserve something that fulfills you,” you frowned slightly. “Don’t you think so?” 

He laughed once, looking at you for a moment. 

“Haven’t thought about shit that way in a while,” he said. 

Since you left, he added silently. He didn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it, even though part of him wanted to. Wanted to demand an answer, wanted to yell at you, wanted to cry at you and make you answer for the destruction that you left behind you. Destruction that Joel wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever really recovered from, just found a way to live in the rubble of it all. 

But you were here now, talking with him again. 

“When was the last time we did this?” He asked. 

“Did what?” 

“Talked.” 

You smiled a little. 

“You mean besides the time you decided to yell at me about my romantic choices at my mother’s funeral?” You asked, brows raised. “Been a while.” 

“Since prom?” He asked quietly. 

He watched you clench your jaw before nodding and taking a drink. 

“Since prom.” 

Joel picked at the label on his beer bottle for a moment as you sat with your hands between your knees and looked anywhere but at him. Eventually, you picked up your drink glass again with your left hand and Joel traced your bare ring finger with his eyes. 

“Thinkin’ I might have been right about the romantic choices,” he teased lightly and you frowned before he nodded at your hand. 

“Ah, right,” you said, extending your hand in front of you and running your thumb over the inside of that finger like you would if there was a wedding band there. “Yeah, it turns out going on a book tour when your marriage is on the rocks isn’t the best way to handle things…” 

“Shit,” he shook his head a little. “I’m sorry, Goldie, that…” 

You scoffed. 

“No you’re not,” you put your hand back in your lap. “You hated him. You said all of three words to Gale and you hated him…” 

“OK first of all, his name was fucking Gale,” Joel cut you off. “And second of all, he was a fucking douchebag.” 

You snorted into your beer, coughing and choking on it for a moment and Joel clapped you on the back as you held on to the table, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time. 

“You alright there?” He asked, leaving his palm in the middle of your back. 

“Fine,” you coughed, pounding your chest with your fist. “I’m fine, I just… It’s so funny, but Gale isn’t even his birth name.” 

Joel gaped at you. 

“You’re shitting me,” he said. “That asshole chose the name Gale?” 

You nodded, still coughing and laughing. 

“He did,” you said. “He did, he thought it made it sound him more authorial and academic, he changed it before he started teaching. His birth name is fucking Bradley - his mom still calls him Brad - and I only found out when filling out the marriage license.” 

“What a fuckin’ dick,” Joel laughed, his hand still on you. He was touching you. He hadn’t touched you in so long and he was touching you. “Jesus Christ… Sorry if you’re still hung up on the guy but shit, you can do way better than that.” 

“It’s fine,” you laughed, calming down a bit and nodding to yourself. Joel watched you, uncertain. “Really, it is. I’m not going to pretend like I entirely agree with you but… things look different once you’re outside of the marriage and not in it anymore… Anyway. You married? Kids?” 

“Not married,” Joel said, still not sure how he wanted to tell you about Sarah. If he even should, if the two of you were going to just go your separate ways after tonight and never speak again it felt wrong to share her. “Not even dating, really. At least, nothing steady…” 

You laughed. 

“Christ, why am I not surprised?” You teased. “You always had a way with the ladies. Haven’t outgrown that yet I take it?” 

Joel smiled a little. 

“Why outgrow what’s fun?” 

You smiled a little back. 

“Fair enough,” you said. “Don’t you want that, though? Something stable?” 

“Is anything stable?” He asked. “Shit, half the people we went to school with now are fuckin’ divorced, what difference does it make?” 

“Yeah, I guess I am one to talk,” you said, polishing off your beer. 

Joel winced. 

“Fuck, not what I meant…” 

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “I just… it didn’t work out and that’s that, right?” 

“Right,” he said, watching you closely for a moment. “Hey, since you’re lookin’ to get hammered and I don’t got shit else to do tonight… shots?” 

You laughed a little. 

“I don’t know that I want to get that hammered,” you said. “I’m not a teenager anymore…” 

“C’mon, Goldie,” he teased. “It’s on me. Plus it was my birthday the other day, gotta do at least one with me for that.” 

“Oh shit,” you said. “It was, wasn’t it? You turned 33 on… Monday? Monday, right?” 

“Right,” he laughed. “So, you in?” 

You laughed a little back. 

“Alright,” you said. “You’ve sold me. But I’ve got the first ones, it was your birthday, after all.” 

The two of you moved to open bar stools on the end of the bar and ordered the first two shots - tequila - and clinked your glasses together before downing them, slamming them down on the bar top when you were done. 

“See?” Joel teased. “You still got it in you.” 

“If you say so,” you coughed a little and then laughed. 

“Another?” He asked. 

You looked at him for a moment. 

“Fuck it,” you said and Joel flagged down Jimmy and ordered another round. 

By the time it was last call, your friend had come over to say goodbye, her lipstick smudged around her lips and the mouth of the man she’d been draped across, and the bar had gotten quiet, just a handful of stragglers left even on a Friday night. 

It took a few shots but you’d given up on keeping any distance from Joel at all, your bar stool sitting against his, your body pressed against his side, your head on his shoulder. 

“Hey Jimmy!” Joel slapped the bar top a few times. The man came over and leaned on the bar, looking at you tucked against Joel. “Think you can get me a cab?” 

“Sure as hell not lettin’ either of you two idiots drive,” he replied, going to get the phone. 

“Hey,” Joel nudged you. “Where… where do you live? Need an address, gonna get you home.” 

You thought for a second and then devolved into half drunk laughter. 

“I don’t know,” your words were slurred. “Oh fuck, I’ve only lived there like… a few… a few… fuck. When did I move?” 

“Before the school year?” He asked. 

“Right,” you nodded. “Prob’ly right, that’s… that’s when. S’not long. I don’t know where it is, oh shit…” 

“S’OK,” he said, putting an arm around you. “Just… just come home with me, s’fine.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, raising your head slightly. “You… you don’t mind?” 

“Don’t mind, Goldie,” he said gently. “Never mind, not with… not with you.” 

You nodded and dropped your head back to his shoulder. 

Joel had to half carry you to the cab and you dozed off against him on the drive, pressing your warm, soft body against his, passed out enough that you were drooling on the shoulder of Joel’s t-shirt, soaking through to his skin. He didn’t mind. 

“She gonna be alright?” The cab driver asked as Joel paid him and nudged you awake. 

“M’fine,” you waved him off. 

“You know this guy?” The man asked, watching you in the rear view mirror. 

“Him?” You asked, brows raised. “‘Course I know him, this… he’s Joel, he’s my best friend, s’fine.” 

The driver nodded once. 

“Good,” he said. “Take care of her, alright buddy?” 

“Sure,” Joel said, setting you down in the back of the cab. “Always have.” 

He got out and went around to the other door, almost tripping on the curb, before tugging you out of the backseat and against his side. You laughed and then shushed yourself. 

“Sorry,” you tried to whisper but failed. “S’late, I should be quieter….” 

“S’fine,” he slurred. “The neighbors think I’m trash anyway, not gonna ruin my reputation…” 

You snorted at that. 

“Assholes.” 

He helped you up to the front door and fumbled with the lock, the two of you stumbling in. Julie, Sarah’s babysitter, shot up off the couch, a groggy look on her face. 

“Wha?” She blinked for a second. 

You yelped and Joel shushed you.

“Sorry,” you failed at whispering again. “But Joel… there’s a teenager in… you’ve got a teenager on your couch.” 

“Yeah, she does that,” he tried to whisper back. “S’fine. How’d it go, Julie? Everything OK?” 

“All good, Mr. Miller,” she stretched and got up, meeting Joel in the entry way. “She went down at 9:30 after trying to talk me into watching Coyote Ugly…” 

“Oh lord,” Joel sighed. “Last thing she needs is to get it in her head that she should be singin’ and dancin’ on a bar…” 

“Don’t worry, I said no,” she smiled. “But I think one of her friends at school is obsessed with it, not sure how else she’d know about it… Anyway. How about you pay me next week?” 

“Oh shit,” he said, going for his wallet. She laughed. 

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” she said. “Not sure you’d remember paying me right now and I’m even less sure you can count.” 

“Thanks,” he said, grateful. “You drive safe, alright kiddo?” 

“Will do,” she laughed a little. “Night, Mr. Miller. And Mr. Miller’s… friend.” 

“Night!” You said, a little loud before clamping your hand over your mouth and laughing. Once the door was closed, you turned your attention back to him. “Ooooo you’re Mr. Miller now.” 

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ old,” he said, guiding you inside. “Here, I’m gonna put you to bed and then I’ll take the couch…” 

“You absolutely will not,” you snorted. “I’m… I can sleep on the couch, not… not letting you take the couch in your own house. ‘Specially not when you’re old enough to be Mr. Miller.” 

“Goldie…” 

“I will move and sleep on the floor.” 

He sighed and started moving you toward the couch. 

“You ever gonna be less stubborn?” 

“Nope,” you popped your lips on the p as he set you down. He got the blanket Julie had been asleep under and draped it over you as you snuggled into the couch. “Hey Joel?” 

“Hm?” 

“Who was that girl?” You asked, eyes already closed. “Why… why did you have a teenager in your house? This is your house, right?” 

“S’my house,” he said, tucking you in. “And don’t worry ‘bout it. Just go to sleep.” 

You yawned. 

“Thanks, Joel,” your voice was groggy. “For taking care of me. Missed you.” 

He stopped and looked back at you for a moment. 

“Missed you, too.” 

He went to bed, trying not to think of the last time you’d fallen asleep on him. 

***

The Morning After Prom

May, 2008 

The pink and orange of dawn woke you up. You were on Joel’s chest, his shirt unbuttoned so you could feel his skin on yours and your dress was still bunched around your waist from when Joel had slid the straps down your arms the night before. 

You enjoyed it for a moment. The feel of Joel’s skin, how his chest rose and fell with his breaths, how the early morning light caught in the curls that had broken free of the gel you were sure his mom had put in it the night before. He smelled good, like cologne - the kind that a man would wear, not the Axe shit that drenched the hallways of your school - and soap and a hint of sweat that just felt like the essence of him. You wanted to stay like this with him forever. Be this close, know him in this way. It felt right, it felt beyond just good. 

And then you remembered, you weren’t supposed to be here. 

“Joel,” you whispered, sitting up from him and shaking him gently but urgently. “Joel, wake up!” 

“Hm?” He mumbled, groggy, his eyes opening slowly. 

“We fell asleep,” you said, still whispering even though there was no one here to hear you. “We’re not supposed to be up here, we have to go!” 

“Shit,” he blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked you over and you were suddenly fiercely aware of how naked you were, how the light of day was creeping in and casting over your exposed skin. Joel reached out and cupped your cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out…” 

“It’s OK,” you said quickly, clutching your dress over your naked breasts as you slid the straps back on. “But we should get home, we didn’t tell our moms that we were going to be out all night, I’m sure they’re pissed…” 

“It’s prom,” he said. “Think they expected it to be a late one. But… you’re right, we should get going.” 

Joel got up and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet. It wasn’t until you moved your lower half that you realized how sore you were between your thighs, your skirt falling back down to your feet. Joel held your hand for a moment once you were standing and his skin felt hot against yours. You dropped his hand and cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“You should button your shirt,” you said quietly, nodding to his bare chest. “And… um… Zip up your pants.” 

“Oh,” he looked down. “Um… Right. Right.” 

He moved quickly as you looked over as much of your dress as you could see and Joel used the glass of the press box as a mirror to adjust his hair. 

“Do I look OK?” You asked when he was done, turning so he could see the whole dress. “Not like… not like we….” 

“There’s… um…” he cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “I think we made a mess of the back of your dress, I didn’t think… should have moved it, I guess…” 

“Shit,” you twisted, trying to spot it. “Do you think…” 

“Just don’t turn your back to your mom,” he said quickly. “Should… should be OK.” 

“Right,” you said. “Yeah, that’s… right. OK.” 

Joel led the way to his car and the two of you sat in silence on the ride home. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his elbow propped on the door of the car, hand on his mouth, his face drawn. 

What were you supposed to do now? You’d never done… this. You’d never been in this position and now you were here with Joel, the person who was your best friend, the person you knew better than anyone else in the world, the person that everything had felt so right with it had been impossible to stop. 

But what did you do now? 

He stopped in your drive way and sat there, staring straight ahead. 

“Thank you,” you said. He looked at you, his eyes a little wide. “For taking me to prom, I mean. It was… I had… It was good. I liked it. It was good.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I’m glad I… got to go with you. To prom.” 

“Right.” 

You looked at him. You wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to hold onto you and tell you that everything was going to be OK and that you were going to figure this out and it would be you and him together just like it always had been. 

Instead, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. 

“I’ve got church this morning,” he said. “And then we’re goin’ to help my grandma in the afternoon so I don’t think I can see you until tomorrow…” 

“I’ve got that doctor’s appointment in the morning,” you said. “So… I guess I’ll just… I’ll see you at school?” 

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, right. I’ll… I’ll see you at school.” 

You smiled tightly at him and leaned in slowly to kiss him on the cheek, hoping that he would turn his head and press his lips to yours the way he had the night before. 

He didn’t. 

“Thanks, Joel.” 

“Yeah.” 

You went inside and got undressed in your bathroom, looking at the stain on your dress, hoping you’d be able to get the stain of your blood and his come out before your mother noticed and it ruined anything else.

Next Chapter

A/N: Eeeeeeee! I'm so excited now that this story is properly going!

I hope you enjoy exploring Joel and Goldie with me. I really love their friendship and the way they care for each other and I think there's so much to explore with the both of them.

I do have an updates blog. Follow it here and subscribe for alerts when I post.

Thank you for being here! It really does mean so much to me to share this story with you. Love you!!

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

[drewharrisonwriter]

On the Mend - Ch 1: Not Today

No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Read this on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

Word count: 829

A/N: (EDIT 09/17/2023) Okay so I heard ya'll! LMAO and decided to turn this into a mini-series. Not sure exactly how things will play out for these two, but I've written a part 2 and decided to call this mini-series On the Mend. LOL hope you like it. This is a one-shot for now, not sure if and how to continue this. I just got this idea recently and wanted to write it.

The merciless sun bore down as she parked her car. The Austin summer had been relentless, and today, it seemed as if even the universe was conspiring against her. 

It had been a thoroughly miserable day. Work had been a disaster; she'd spent hours redoing half of a project her co-worker had botched because she was still hungover from the previous night. 

The Texas summer heat, relentless and unforgiving, only added to her misery. As if fate had a personal grudge against her, she realized she'd left her house keys on her office desk when she was already halfway home. 

She sighed in defeat and turned her car around to retrieve them. All of this was compounded by her lingering morning sickness, a term she found deceptive as it had resurfaced with a vengeance upon entering her third trimester. She had naively believed she had bid it farewell for good when she'd crossed into the second trimester.

"Whoever called it morning sickness should be shot for lying," she grumbled, attempting to quell the rising nausea that threatened to surface.

Dressed in biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt she kept in her car for emergencies, she got out and beelined to the frozen aisle for a popsicle stick and savored the brief respite offered by the melting ice cold treat.

She sighed in relief and grabbed a pushcart. Her only mission in the store was to grab some Oreos, pickles, and frozen pizza to satisfy her cravings that were so intense, she literally cried in the car on her way over. 

As she rounded a corner in the store, she was suddenly face to face with the last person she wanted to see: Joel Miller. 

Great. She thought to herself. Couldn't have been on a better day. 

Ah, Joel fucking Miller.

The man who had once been the love of her life.

The same man who had taken her on the most memorable first date she'd ever experienced, and had filled the past five years of her life with the kind of joy she'd never known before.

But this was also the man who made it clear to her months ago, after five whole years of being together and living together for three, that he has no plans of marrying her and having a family with her. 

She and Joel were arguing at the time when he said it. 

--

In the midst of their emotional clash, she couldn't help but speak her mind, her frustration boiling over. 

"Joel," she began, her voice trembling with pent-up feelings, "if you get mad at every damn little thing, what's going to happen if we were married? That's not the life I want, and it's not the husband I need."

Joel's eyes flashed with anger as he retorted, "Of course it’s not! And who told you I was going to marry you?" His words cut like a knife, and she felt her heart shatter into pieces. 

"We never talked about it, what put the idea into your head?" he continued, his tone harsh and unyielding. 

Her jaw went slack in shock, as tears welled up in her eyes as she choked back her emotions. 

"But I thought we--," she whispered, her voice barely audible, she couldn't even continue her thoughts when Joel cut her off.

"No." He barked. "You knew from the start that Sarah is my priority. Always was and always will be. I'm not going through the whole marriage thing again." And have our hearts broken all over again when you realize that we're not what you want, he wanted to add. But instead he allowed the silence to linger. 

Silent tears slipped from her eyes but she did not respond. 

Instead she stood up and went into the closet and started packing. So be it, she told herself as she zipped the last of her bags before going into the bathroom to hastily shove her toiletries into another bag. 

She stopped when she pulled one of the lower drawers open. The positive pregnancy test sticks under her box of tampons glared at her, and for a brief moment she contemplated telling Joel. But when she heard the front door slam shut, she pulled herself together and shoved the sticks in the bag as well. 

--

That was seven months ago and she hasn't seen nor heard from Joel since. 

Their eyes met for a moment before his gaze fell upon her very round baby bump. Acting on instinct, she hastily placed her handbag in the shopping cart, a futile attempt to hide it from him, though it didn't do much given the fact that she looked like she had tucked an entire watermelon under her shirt.

She grimaced, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she locked eyes with him once more, she began walking backwards, her eyes not leaving him and before he could say anything, she had rounded the corner and all he heard was, “Nope. Not today!”

Next Chapter 👉🏻

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal edit #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal x pregnant!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedrito #pedrohub #pedropascaledit #now i understand the hype #Joel Miller #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fan fic #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us

[jobean12-blog]

In It for the Long Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 1,656

Summary: Joel is out for the night and when he returns early and wants you to leave work and come home you know something isn't right.

Author's Note: Just because I love him and missed him and this seems like something that could really happen when you're with a biker. PS our sweet little black kitten Ink is here too- she's getting big and just loves Joel of course! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, little angst sprinkled in here and there, mentions of blood but very light

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Joel just text me that he’s here.”

You look at your friend Jade with worried eyes.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t he going to come in?” she asks.

“He said he can’t come in. He wants to know if I can leave now.”

“Of course you can babe,” Jade says quickly. “Dan and I will be fine tonight.”

“Are you sure…I don’t know what’s goin…”

“Don’t worry,” Jade assures you. “Just go to him. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You nod with a hard swallow and rush to the back to gather your things, texting Joel as you go that you’ll be right out.

Your legs are slightly shaky as you approach the door, a feeling of dread weighing you down with each step.

At first you don’t see him but then you hear the rev of his engine and your gaze is drawn to his bike. He’s parked across the street with his headlights off.

“Joel?” you question when you reach his bike.

He holds his arms out for you and you rush into them, burying your face in his neck.

“What’s going on?” you mumble into his skin.

“Let’s go home,” he says quietly.

You pull back to look at him and let out a gasp.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine darlin.’ Really I am. Just need a little help gettin’ cleaned up.”

Your eyes instantly well with tears and you lift your finger to gently brush it across his bruised cheek.

“Aw angel, no tears. I promise it’s nothin’.”

“But Joel…you’re bleeding and bruised…”

The tears roll down your cheeks, hot and wet, and his hands cup your face, thumbs sweeping across your skin to wipe them away.

“Are you ok to drive? Should we take the car? Do you need a doctor?”

Your questions come out in a rush and your voice is high pitched with worry.

He shakes his head no and the side of his mouth twitches with a smile.

“No. Just need you.”

You study him, your eyes lingering on his face until you whisper, “ok, let’s go home.”

He takes his helmet from the handlebars and secures it on your head before unzipping his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Let’s zip this up. It’s chilly tonight,” he says.

“Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?”

“You always do darlin’.”

He kisses you softly on the side of the mouth and then helps you onto the back of his bike.

The ride home is short, less than ten minutes, but in that time the wind picks up and sky opens up with rain.

As you near the house the headlights from his bike reflect off the growing puddles on the street and you shiver against his back.

He pulls over and kills the engine, holding out his hand for you to hop off. He tucks you protectively under his arm and walks you to the door.

“I hope you didn’t get too wet angel,” he says.

“I’m fine,” you say as you walk in and turn on the light.

You turn to him and fresh tears fill your eyes.

“Let me just get us towels and the first aid kit. Don’t move.”

You rush off to the bathroom just as Ink hops off the ledge of the front window. She meows at Joel and then starts to rub between his legs.

“Hey, you,” he says as he picks up the small black cat.

Her tiny pink nose delicately explores his chin before she reaches up with a paw and softly presses it to his cheek.

“Don’t be worried like your mama. I’m fine,” he tells the cat.

“She knows you’re hurt,” you say when you return and find the two of them standing by the door staring at each other.

You take his free hand and walk him toward the couch.

“You might have to set her down for a minute. I want to get your wet shirt off.”

He puts the cat down on the couch and then grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Wait,” you say quietly. “Let me. Please.”

He drops the material and looks at you with big brown eyes.

“Ok angel. Whatever you want.”

“Lift your arms,” you instruct him as you start to peel his shirt up and off.

Inch by inch his wet skin is revealed, his tattoos along with it and you find yourself inspecting every inch of him for more injuries before gently pressing the towel to his chest. You do nothing to hide your shameless perusal of him and he’s clearly enjoying it, his eyes sparkling and his lips turned up into a boyish smirk.

“Anything else hurt?”

“Nah, but you can keep checkin’ all ya want.”

He winks at you when you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Ok sit and tell me what happened.”

He sits with a plop and extends his arm to pet Ink while you start to work off his boots.

“I can do that angel, it’s no…”

When your eyes meet his he clamps his mouth shut, only opening it again to explain that some out of town biker gang had started some trouble with him and the boys. No of the boys were hurt more than some bumps, scrapes and bruises but the other guys weren’t as lucky.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t any worse,” you sigh. “I got so scared when you said you wanted me to come home and all. I figured you would come in and have a drink…”

“I know darlin.’ I’m sorry I scared you. I knew I couldn’t go in the bar lookin’ like this though.”

“It’s ok. Just promise me you’ll always be careful.”

“Always,” he whispers.

After you have his boots off and dry socks on you stand and straddle his lap, settling your knees on either side of his waist and taking a smaller towel to run through his hair.

You then comb your fingers through the wet strands and give it a slicked back style. He raises a brow when you smirk and drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

“What?” he asks.

“Looks really good.”

“Yeah angel? Even with the blood?”

“Somehow it makes it even hotter…but I’m still so upset you’re hurt.”

“I’m ok.”

“You keep saying that.”

“But I am darlin.’ Honestly, couldn’t be better at the moment.”

His hands slide along your thighs and then settle on your waist. He pulls you closer and runs his nose along the column of you neck to breathe you in.

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp. “I have to patch you up first.”

“Mm hm,” he murmurs as his lips press to your skin and his fingers dance higher.

You flatten your palms on his chest and give him a light shove, giggling when he looks at you with pouty lips.

After a soft kiss you get the first aid kit and start to clean the cut above his eye and the one on his lip. When you press the antiseptic to the wound he winces, leaving his eyes closed as you continue to carefully wipe each spot.

You inspect every area of his face, especially focusing on the skin beneath his beard, lovingly caressing the gray spots as you go. He relaxes into your touch and you let your fingers gently trace his features.

“All clean,” you whisper.

You hand him the small ice pack you got from the freezer. “Hold this on your cheek.”

“But my hands are busy,” he sighs.

His hands graze the skin beneath your shirt, calloused thumbs caressing the softness before they inch higher.

“You only need one hand for this,” you lightly chide.

His eyes pop open and he gives you a stern look. “Fine.”

You bat your lashes at him and wait until he has the ice pack pressed to his cheek.

“Just until I finish up.”

You put medicine on the cut above his eye and one butterfly stitch then clean up the dried blood on his knuckles.

“You must have gotten a pretty good punch in.”

You can see his muscles tense when you press the pad to his bruised knuckles.

“You bet I did angel,” he boasts. “And that’d be plural…punches.”

When you meet his eyes he winks again and throws you a smug grin.

You kiss it right off his lips then smudge some medicine on his knuckles. He immediately puts down the ice pack and places his hands back on your body.

“That could probably stay on a bit longer,” you tsk.

“Later,” he murmurs.

Ink walks along the back of the couch and sits herself down right behind Joel. She blinks at you several times then starts to swat at the curls of hair at the back of his neck.

“She likes them almost as much as I do,” you tease.

“She’s just wantin’ attention,” he grumbles. “Gets that from you too.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare and then give him one more once over.

“Think I did a pretty good job,” you state.

“I feel brand new,” he says as he drags you closer and smooths his hands along the curve of your back.

When your lips meet you’re mindful of his cut but he doesn’t seem to care at all and dances one hand higher until he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you harder.

He moans into your mouth and tugs at the hem of your shirt. Your hands delve into his damp hair and then slide down to his shoulders. His bare skin is warm and when you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers you ease away and battle with the reminder of what happened, your eyes glassy.

His large hand cradles your cheek and he smooths his nose along your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Darlin’,” he coos. “It’s all right. I’m fine…let me prove it to you.”  

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #biker!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #biker!joel x reader #biker!joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x female reader #biker au

[toxicanonymity]

Brotherly Sharing

JOEL X F!READER X TOMMY MASTERLIST

DADDY JOEL & UNCLE TOMMY. Domestic, MFMs, Fluff.

Stuffing (11/18/23) - 5.7k

Sweet little mess (12/8/23) - 3.2k

Tommy breeder POV (1/27/24) - drabble

Ready (2/13) - 3.6k v-loss (alt timeline)

LEOPARD BROS.: NIGHTWALKSY. Casual and horny.

Non-fiction gas station Joel (5/14/23) - drabble

Leopard print (10/30/23) - 4.5k

FREE USE JOEL & HESITANT TOMMY.

Tommy's hard day (5/25/23) - 3k

RETIRED BIKER JOEL & BIKER TOMMY

✨Twin peaks (12/24/23)

⚠️ SEE WARNINGS ON ALL FICS ⚠️ If this isn't for you, please quietly move along.

Main Masterlist

FIC RECS

A few of my favorite fics where joel & tommy share:

I can be your pretty girl part 4, and part 5 by (RIP) walkintotheriveranddisappear who sadly inactivated.

Liquid Gold by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

BAD BLOOD - step uncle Joel Miller and stepdad Tommy Miller @aurorawritestoescape

Smack my b*tch up, a dark raider AU by @milla-frenchy

#joel miller x reader x tommy miller #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #cw dubcon #uncle tommy #miller bros #miller bros x reader

[lunitawrites]

Both Sides of the Moon - part two

pairing: biker!Joel Miller x fem!reader rating: explicit word count: 4.8k summary: After your first encounter with Joel you finally learn the truth about your family. a/n: hey! I am back with part two of this story, hope you will like it. Thanks for the edit and beta @papipascalispunk ! Please read the warnings carefully on this one!

Want to read a biker Joel story that's not depressing? Check out twin peaks by @toxicanonymity! More fic recs on part 1 of this series. TW: no-outbreak AU, age gap (reader mid-twenties, Joel is late forties), loss of parents, gun, knife, alcohol consumption, Joel being violent towards reader, injury caused by Joel, blood, minor blood play, masturbation (f), oral sex (f receiving), petnames, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n part 1 | masterlist

“I’m okay,” you whisper, “it's fine,” as your fingers smear the fog on the outside of the glass you are holding. “I just want to go home.” you say.

“Of course,” Sam answers, putting a hand on your shoulder, softly nudging you to stand up, “I’ll drive you.” 

“No, it's okay, I’ll be fine,” you insist after finishing the glass of water and putting it down on the diner table next to you.

“No, I’ll drive you home and stay with you tonight. Don't argue with me on this one,” he says as he stands up and starts walking towards the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a change of clothes and then we can go,” he calls back to you. ”Arlene, stay with her.”

“He treats me like a child,” you complain to Arlene as soon as he is out of sight.

“He cares about you,” she says softly, “we care about you.”

“I guess I'm just not used to that,” you confess. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “that you are not.”  She stands up too then, reaching for your hand, ”Come on, let's get you something stronger than water.”

“You should go back home to your actual kids, Arlene, just let me wait for Sam here,” you laugh, but still follow her to the bar.

“Will you stop with that?”, she laughs too and reaches for a bottle behind the bar. “So, tequila?”, she asks.

“Only if you want to kill me,” you say, but the smile quickly disappears from your face as your voice falls flatly, “I’d rather have a whiskey.”

“Darlin’”, Arlene says, putting a glass in front of you, “Sam will tell you everything, I wasn’t living here when it happened – only heard rumors.”

“When what happened?”, you ask, “I feel like everyone is trying to keep me in the dark.”

“We’re just trying to protect you,” she says.

“Well, that didn't work out so well out there, did it?”, you say and down your drink in one go.

“Let's go!”, Sam says from the kitchen door, “Could you please close up, Arlene? You can come in later tomorrow if you want.”

“It's fine, it's fine,” she says, “Just go!”

You climb down from the bar stool and follow Sam out to the parking lot. He helps you up in the passenger seat of the truck and closes the door behind you.

You drive home in complete silence. Rolling down the window and letting the night air blow in your face, you still feel numb. You catch a glimpse of Sam looking over to you, but you don't say anything, you just lean against the door and watch the trees go by, attempting to process the utter confusion of the emotions you are experiencing.

The moment you saw Joel, you were shaken alive from your usual apathy. It was as if the muscle memory of your heart recognized something it knew from long ago, making it beat rapidly. Like suddenly your body remembered how to feel; a strange gravity in his presence waking a long-forgotten need inside you. A need to belong? You’re not sure. How can you feel like you belong to someone when you know you should be deadly afraid of them?

–

Sam takes a right turn driving up your driveway. He stops the car and rushes to your side to open the door for you and help you out. “What a gentleman,” you tease, and you see him slightly blush as he reaches for you. 

Feeling his blush, he clears his throat, “Let me get my bag, don’t walk without me.” 

“Okay, boss,” you say, leaning on the side of his truck.

“Hungry?”, he asks, grabbing his bag from the back.

“No, I just want to take a shower,” you say quietly while you walk up to your porch. You open the front door and gesture to the living room, “I’ll just shower quickly, but make yourself at home. Kitchen’s that way,” you cock your head to the left.

Sam looks at you with concern, as if even being alone upstairs is a threat to your safety. You can sense his hesitancy, reassuring, “I’ll be fine,” as you nod and run up the stairs. You quickly grab your shorts and t-shirt from the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You take a shower with what feels like nearly-boiling water; an attempt to wash away the fear and confusion of the night. You feel lighter after; walking down the stairs with your wet hair still dripping on your t-shirt. You look for Sam to find him in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee.

“I thought we might need it,” he says, gesturing to the steaming pot, “I suspect we have a long night ahead.” You feel a strange sense of domesticity, seeing him in your kitchen, a place where you don’t even usually host guests, let alone invite a man to stay over.

“Thanks,” you say, “But again, I think I need something stronger,” you say as you reach for the cupboard to pull a bottle of whiskey, pouring a fair amount in two glasses and leading the way to the living room. “Thank you for doing this, Sam,” you start as you extend one of the glasses to him, “I know I can be difficult sometimes, but I appreciate you caring enough to do this.”

He laughs as he takes the glass and makes himself comfortable on the couch. You eye the place next to him, but choose to sit on the armchair instead. You take a sip from your glass and lean back. “So, where do we start?”, you ask, getting the courage from the warming liquor in your stomach.

Sam sits up on the couch a bit more, setting his glass on the coffee table, running his thumb around the edge of it as his face becomes more serious. “How much do you know about your father’s death?” he asks.

“All I have are assumptions,” you say and take another sip from your glass, “I know he was in a gang and that they were smugglers. And that it was drugs.”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a sigh, “They started off small – just helping the cocaine pass the border. But falling into a world like that never stays so simple. It starts with trafficking, but then you gain enemies and rivals, so you have to handle that threat to your business. The town had a difficult time back then. Everything existed and operated around smuggling. Nothing was sacred, nothing was safe.”

You nod slowly. You knew your father wasn't a good man. But it's not something you dwell on now, it’s a fact you buried within yourself long ago, and have not allowed to surface since.

“So what did my dad do in all of this?”, you ask quietly.

“Well, he was the leader of the club along with Joel, his best friend. They started out young, both growing up in this hick town and didn’t see a way out. They felt like they had nothing to lose, and that might have been true at the beginning, but then life happened. Both your dad and Joel got married and had kids, and that’s when everything changed,” Sam says, voice turning raspy.

“Kids? Joel has kids?”, you ask.

“Kid. And had. He had a kid. Sarah,” he almost whispers at the end.

“What happened to Sarah?”, you ask in a hushed voice.

“She died. She was killed,” he says solemnly as he turns to look out the window. You can feel your stomach twisting into a knot. “I’m still not sure I know the full story, honey. I don’t think anyone except Joel really does, but I’ll tell you everything I know.” He turns his face back at you, “What I do know is that Sarah was kidnapped. They say she was kidnapped by a rival gang to force your dad and Joel to give up their territory over the border. Your dad didn’t want to let it go, so they tried to rescue Sarah instead, but– but she didn’t survive ”

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“I told you, nothing was sacred; not friends, not even family,” he says.

“So Joel…”, you start, “Did– did he kill my dad?”

“Yes, but they never found his body, so it’s never been proven,” he answers as his eyes flicker to your face, checking your reaction, but you’re determined to not give any. “They charged him,” Sam continues, “but the prosecution didn’t have enough evidence. Everything was circumstantial.”

“So where has he been since? Why did he only come back now?”, you ask.

“He was serving time for trafficking. I assume he just got out and headed back here – I guess it's still his home, right?”, he asks with a bitter smile.

Slightly dazed as you stare blankly at your empty glass, you reluctantly answer, “Yeah,” you say as you stand up and go to the kitchen again. But this time, you take the whole whiskey bottle and place it on the coffee table after refilling both your glasses. 

“So,” you say contemplatively, “Joel blames me for my father’s mistake and wants to take revenge on me now? Like he hasn't already taken everything from me?” you ask. “He didn't just take my dad, Sam. He robbed me of my childhood, my home,” you say, emptying your glass. 

Sam takes the glass from your hands and places it on the table, his palms brushing over yours; soft, gentle. “Slow down with that,” he says at last, “I don't think we can understand what he wants. I doubt that he came back here planning to find you and taking revenge. I just think seeing you woke up something in him, you being here, alive and–”

“And Sarah being dead,” you finish. “But it's still not my fault, Sam. I’m just as miserable and alone in this world as he is,” you say, tears blurring your vision.

“Come on,” Sam says, taking you by your elbow and leading you up to the bedroom. You watch as a tear drops down on the wooden stairs. You sniff your nose. You see how Sam´s hand twitches next to his body, starting a move he never finishes. Probably reaching to wipe your tears. You are glad he didn't do it. He waits until you slip in the sheets and stands there for a second, not sure what he should do.

“There are some extra pillows and blankets in the wardrobe,” you say at last.

“Thank you,” he says and heads to get them.

“No, thank you for doing this,” you look at him with a faint smile, tears still shedding from your eyes, “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Sleep tight,” he says and closes the door behind him. 

Then you find yourself alone with your thoughts for the first time today. Your head is dizzy, and the room seems to spin around you. Despite the fatigue, sleep eludes you. The encounter with Joel replays in your mind, with the memory of his raw anger and the way his touch ignited a fire within you.

You close your eyes and imagine his hand grabbing your hair, his jeans scratching your bare skin. This is wrong, so wrong, but you place your hand on your stomach, moving it slowly under the waistband of your shorts, further and further until you find your center. You squeeze your eyes closed, as if you don't see it, it's not real and start circling your clit. You dip your fingers to your entrance and find yourself already soaked. “Fuck,” you murmur and keep pleasuring yourself until you are on the edge of your orgasm. You imagine it's not your fingers that curl deeper and deeper inside of you, it's not your palm that pushes down on your clit. “Christ,” you mutter and curve your back starting to shake from the pleasure finally spilling over inside of you.

You can feel tears running down your cheeks as you are coming down from your high. You turn onto your side and sob into the pillow. Your salty tears mix with salty residue on your fingers. You cry until there is nothing else, but the always forgiving darkness around you.

–

The next morning, your life begins to get back to its normal rhythm, the only difference now being that Sam has basically moved in with you.

You don't mind it at first, you’re glad someone cares enough to do this. He gives you the weekend off, so you spend it together. He fixes some things around the house while you read on the porch. You eat your meals together and, at night, you both curl up on opposite ends of the couch to dissociate in front of the flickering fluorescent lights of the TV.

You can't fail to notice how he looks at you, how comfortable he is in your presence, how seamlessly he fits into your home and your life. You recognize how he could become a part of it, if only you would let him. Yet, in your own twisted way, the more he cares, the less you want him around.

As Saturday melts into Sunday you start to feel suffocated. You tell him you want to go back to work. He agrees, maybe getting your minds occupied would help. So he drives you to work on Monday and drives you back home after your shift. You spend the rest of the week on the same schedule.

On Friday you tell him that it is fine, you will be safe, you will just drive home with your own car after your shift. He insists that he needs to protect you, that your life is still in danger. You explain that he cannot do this forever, that you can protect yourself. He walks you to your car, he hands you his gun, asking if you can shoot. You can, so you take it and hide it in your glove compartment while reassuring him for the hundredth time that everything will be alright. You turn on the engine and drive home, finally alone.

–

As you take the right turn to your house, you clearly see Joel’s bike is parked in your driveway, no attempt by him to even try to hide that he is there. You could turn around, go back to the diner, or call Sam, but you don’t. You know Joel isn’t at your house to talk, but your need to know the truth, the full story, pushes you to ignore the more rational, safe response to such a threat. So, you reach for the glove compartment and fish out the gun that Sam gave you.

You get out of the car and stuff it in the back of the waistband of your skirt. As you walk up the stairs to your porch and quietly unlock the front door, you see the house is still dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. Instead you begin making a sweep of the house, walking the ground floor to check the kitchen and living room, but he’s nowhere to be found. You make your way up the stairs, checking the bathroom first, followed by the master bedroom. When you finally reach the end of the hallway, the only door remaining is the one that leads to your childhood bedroom. You haven’t gone inside since you moved in, but the door is slightly ajar.

You place your palm on the door and push it open gently and he’s there, looking at the things on top of your dresser. Everything is covered in dust, your bedding, once bright pink, now faded into a muted rose color. He appears even bigger than you remembered, but maybe it’s the children's furniture in the room, making him look like a giant. You look around, but you can't recall the memories of you being there. Dolls and toys stuffed into baskets in one corner, books of fairytales stacked on the shelves along with framed family photos. It feels strange that once it was your home, that once you even had a home. That you had a family.

He sets down a framed photo on top of your old dresser. It's a photo of you and a dog, you can tell that much in the dark, but you have no idea where it was taken. He turns to look at you.

“His name was Mercy,” he says with a faint smile on his face, “He belonged to an old couple, who lived next door when–”

“When Sarah was still alive?”, you ask. You don't quite meet his eyes, you look at the soft leather of his jacket instead.

“Yes, when Sarah was still alive,” he repeats and takes a step closer, “Before your dad murdered her,” he adds, voice turning cold as ice.

“That's not how–”, you start, but he interrupts.

“Oh, please!”, he laughs, “You are not a child anymore to believe every tale you are told. He murdered her in cold blood and he was planning to murder me too – all for his business to make more money.”

This is the first time your eyes linger on him. He is handsome, very handsome. His side profile is lit by the moon, making him look like a Greek god. His graying curls disheveled on the top of his head that he probably ruffled it after taking off his helmet. He has a permanent scowl frozen to his face, you wonder if the deep line ever disappears from in between his brows.

“I understand your pain,” you say simply, “I've lost people too, you know?” You chuckle darkly, “Killing me would bring you nothing. If you kill me, what would you have left in this world?”

“You understand nothing,” he says, voice laced with anger. He moves fast then, grabbing the knife tucked in his belt and he’s towering over you in an instant.

“Then explain it to me,” you whisper.

“Explain,” he repeats, “I wish I could explain sweetheart, but your father did the unexplainable.” 

“Sam said she was kidnapped by another gang,” you say.

“Kidnapped, yes, but not by another gang. She was kidnapped by your dad, because I didn’t want to follow his orders. I wanted out, but he wouldn’t let me. So he took the only thing that mattered to me,” he says bitterly.

The truth hits you like a slap on the face. You cast your eyes down on the dusty wood below your feet, trying to stop your tears from falling. You look at his left hand still holding the knife. Your head feels dizzy. You lean on the wall behind you, the gun in the back of your skirt squishing into your flesh. You reach behind to take it out and place it on the desk next to you.

“Do it,” you say. You grab his hand that clutches the knife and point it just above your heart. His calloused hands are warm in your palms, you squeeze them harder. “Do it,” you whisper again, “If this is what we need to leave this all behind then do it.

He stares at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of fear. But you are not afraid anymore. If this is the end, so be it.

“I'm not afraid of dying," you say, your voice steady, "But killing me won't undo the past. It won't bring back Sarah, and it won't erase the pain." You close your eyes, waiting for the sharp pain that never comes. You pull your hand away from his, the knife slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the floor.

He is fast then, squatting down to grab the knife as long fingers curl around the handle, but he doesn’t stand up. He stays on his knees, pointing the knife to your left thigh as his other hand grips the flesh of your right thigh.

As if you are looking at yourselves from the outside, you see his hand move, the blade penetrating your skin as blood bubbles up to the surface. The cut is not deep, you don't feel pain just yet. You stay frozen in place, and you do nothing to stop him.

He pulls his hand away then, dropping the knife to the floor and places his hand over the wound; your blood seeping through his fingers. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. He presses on your thigh, trying to stop the bleeding, but he just smears it across your skin as it soaks the skirt of your uniform, pink fabric turning crimson.

He grabs your thigh with his other hand as well. You feel hot, but it has nothing to do with the injury. He leans his head on your stomach and you can hear his deep breaths, feel the warmth of them through your blouse.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he breathes, ”I'm so sorry.” 

Your hands move of their own volition, your fingers tangling in his graying curls. He lets out a deep breath at that, like someone who hasn't been touched for a long time, and you think that's most probably the case. He turns his head and places a kiss on your stomach through your uniform. Something twists in your stomach at the feeling, something that you have buried deep inside, something you have never even dared to feel. Not through your teenage years or after when you lived in Austin, working in Red Rose. You want Joel. You need him, right then and there, leaned upon your childhood bedroom wall.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispers again, but you are not sure anymore why he is apologizing. He moves his head placing small kisses along your torso down to your left thigh, where he cut you.

He places kisses around the cut, it's almost stopped bleeding now, but his scruff is painted with your blood.

He slides his hands on the side of your thighs, smearing blood there too, lifting up your skirt. His mouth never leaves your left thigh, now peppering kisses closer to your center, murmuring sorries after every kiss.

“Stop,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, “You want me to stop?”, he asks, still grabbing your thighs.

“I want you to stop saying sorry,” you say, voice breathy.

“So you want me to keep going?”, he asks, still looking up at you. You nod.

He moves his mouth back on your thigh, but he doesn't do anything more. “Let me hear it, okay, baby girl? Tell me.”

“Keep going. Please,” you whisper, almost pleading.

“Okay, baby,” he says and moves his fingers to the crease of your underwear, caressing the sensitive skin there. You feel your arousal dripping out of you, wetting the soft fabric of your underwear. His mouth starts moving on your thigh again, licking up your drying blood, smearing it all over your skin and his. His teeth scraping your thighs, dull fingernails digging into your flesh. 

You let out a whine as his teeth touch your cut, but it's more from pleasure than pain. Your hips move on their own, chasing more of his touch. You want him to have all of you. His fingers move to slide your underwear away, long fingers stroking soft curls. He pulls his head back then, and you try to pull him back towards your center where you need him most.

“I wanna see you,” he whispers, and your grip in his hair loosens. 

He looks at you with burning intensity, taking in all he can in the dim light of the night. “Beautiful,” he groans, almost pained, as he digs his nose into your curls, “Smells perfect too,” opening his mouth over your mound as if he’s trying to devour all of you.

“Mhm, can’t wait to have a taste,” he murmurs into your skin.

“Please Joel,” you say and try to open your legs wider for him, “Please.”

“So impatient,” he chuckles and moves his fingers over your folds. “So ready for me. Is this all for me, darlin’?”, he asks and lifts his fingers to show you your arousal mixed with your blood. The sight of it makes something in your stomach pull tighter.

“Yeah,” you say in a breathy voice, “It’s all for you, I’m all for you, you can have all of me.” You want to feel him even closer, you want him to make you his. You need to feel him want you. All of you.

He moves his fingers back to your folds, teasing the soft skin again. His fingers stop over your entrance and you can feel him slowly insert a finger into you while he locks eyes with you. Your lips fall open and you let out a soft moan.

“That's it baby,” he says and uses his other hand to lift your thigh over his shoulder. He does not move his finger in you, but as you open up for him he uses his other fingers to spread you wider. “You need another,” he whispers and inserts another one of his fingers next to the first one. He grunts watching his fingers spread you open.

“Now a taste,” he says and licks up from your opening up to your clit, flattening his tongue as he reaches your aching bundle, drawing circles, making your walls tighten around his fingers. He moves back to your hole then, lapping up all the arousal that trickles out of you around his fingers, and you can feel his soft groans vibrating against your pussy. He returns to your clit, licking and sucking, but his fingers still don't move, it’s like he’s keeping them still inside you just to observe all your reactions to his lips and tongue more closely. 

The room fills with the lewd sounds emitting from your chest and his occasional grunts. You feel yourself hovering on the edge of the ultimate pleasure, but Joel is in no rush. He’s devouring you just to enjoy your taste in his mouth, to feel the grip of your walls, to hear your sounds of pleasure, as you grind on his fingers, trying to chase your own pleasure.

“Not yet, baby, let me enjoy you,” he says, placing his other hand on your stomach, pinning you to the wall. Your muscles are tense in your whole body, but you feel completely weak at the same time. You are so close to your climax, but each time you near the edge, he pulls back, moving his mouth to pepper small kisses over your mound and on the crease of your thighs.

“Please, Joel, can’t anymore,” you whine, trying to move his head back to your aching core. “Please,” you plead again.

“Okay, baby girl, cum for me,” he murmurs as he returns to your clit, sucking it in his mouth while he curls his fingers inside you, having no trouble finding your most sensitive spot, sending you over the edge in an instant. Hot white pleasure blurring your vision, you feel yourself gushing all over his fingers, your walls gripping him and pulling him deeper. You can hear your blood rushing in your veins, his voice muffled from below; that's it, beautiful, you are doing so good baby. You can feel your knees weaken, your whole body going limp as the tension releases. 

He removes your leg from his shoulder and steadies you with his hands over your hips. He stands up and takes your hand walking you out to the bathroom. “Sit,” he says, pointing to the edge of the bathtub. You sit, needing to grab the edge of the tub to steady yourself, still dizzy from your orgasm.

He washes his face first and hands first. Your eyes follow the crimson streaks disappearing into the drain. He takes a cloth, wets it in the sink then kneels in front of you and slowly cleans the blood from you. Your eyes follow his hands, moving slowly and carefully over your soft skin. Your gaze darts at his pants then, his arousal evident, the hard shape of his length clearly visible through his jeans. You swallow, feeling the blood rush to your face. He notices and looks at you questioningly, but then continues to clean you.

Once he is satisfied, he stands again, opening some drawers, checking your cabinet, collecting a bottle of antiseptic and some gauze. He carefully applies the antiseptic and then dresses your wound, applying the gaze around your thigh and tucking in the end once he is finished.

He stands up then offers you his hand. You reach your hand, but instead of placing it in his palm, you stroke the front of his jeans, over his bulge.

“Let me–”, you whisper, but he brushes your hand away.

“No,” he says, voice cold and distant again. He looks at you, and you can’t find the man in his eyes you just saw minutes ago. “You should go to sleep,” he says, turning on his heels, leaving you in the bathroom with tears collecting in your eyes.

You are not sure how long you sit there, but you can hear his bike’s engine revving to life outside, leaving you alone with your heavy thoughts.

--

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

the lovelies who asked to be tagged: @spacecatbowtie, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @joeldjarin

@pedrostories

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #tlou joel #joel miller fic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #cw: blood #dark!joel miller #dark! joel miller

[wildemaven]

Duality Of A Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader / AU

WC: 1379

Warnings: T; Mentions of food; that’s all.

A/N: I literally woke up this morning and threw this idea at @heythere-mel and @kteague and couldn’t get it outta my head. I’m calling this AU because of the nature of the plot, but there’s canon sprinkled through it still— I really tried to stay true to his character as much as possible. I don’t want to reveal to much and spoil everything. Not beta’d and mistakes are my own doing.

Masterlist / Part 2 / Part 3

You wake long before his blaring alarm. The fan’s oscillating buzz streaming through the dimly lit room.

You turn to see he is in fact still in his sleepy state. You leave him be, a few more hours will do him good— the long hours at his latest job site really doing a number on his tired body.

You take caution as you slip from the bed. Slow movements as your feet hit the cold floor, a jolt to your waking senses.

You swipe the nearest shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. A quick once over before you’re pulling it over your naked form— his shirts are always comfier.

The slow pull from your dresser drawer, it’s usual creaking undetectable as you sift through its contents finding your favorite biker shorts.

One last look at your boyfriend, his handsome face cradle by his lumpy pillow that he refuses to replace. His dark curls messy, suitable to his laid back nature.

He looks the most relaxed when he sleeps.

You make your way to the kitchen to get the coffee started. The old machine, another item Joel refuses to replace, takes nearly twice as long as it should to produce the amber liquid, thankfully your jumpstart on the day will get it made before Joel has made it downstairs.

Breakfast will be a quick task this morning, fried eggs and bacon are a regular staple when Sarah is gone for the weekend at a friends house.

Sarah is Joel’s daughter, but you love her as if she were your own. You and Joel got together a few years back and he was hesitant in introducing you to her, rightfully so. You told him to take his time and you’d be happy to meet her when he was ready. It took all of 6 months for that meeting and you had instantly clicked with her bubbly personality.

The low hum of the stereo drifts through the kitchen. The well-done bacon placed onto a paper towel covered plate, draining off the excess grease. The eggs producing their sizzling pops, the edges crisp and yolks just barely done— Joel’s favorite.

Two broad arms find their way around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck— you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Joel! You fuckin’ scared the shit outta me!” Your elbow sending a slight jab into his stomach.

“Ow!” His arms tighten up, pulling you back into him. “Mornin’ Babe.” His voice still raspy and low. A quick kiss to your temple before he starts to move about the space.

“Breakfast is done. Coffee should be ready— we really need to get a new machine” You mention as you set the plates of food down on the kitchen table.

“Nothin’ wrong with it. It’s still makin’ coffee. Ain’t broke, no need to go replacin’ it.” Pulling two cups from the cupboard and pouring you each a cup before making his way to the table to join you.

Your eyes roll in response. The man has a weird fixation with keeping worn out dilapidated items— his other charming qualities are what won you over.

“What are your plans for the day? Sarah should be back by late afternoon. Thought we could go get burgers and ice cream?”

He nods, as he continues to chew, fork preparing his next bite. “Yeah that sounds fine. Just gotta go grab some tools from Tommy. Mrs. Adler mentioned needin’ some help fixin’ a few things. Figured I could go after a shower. Should be done in ‘bout an hour or two.” He looks to you to make sure you’re okay with it.

You lean back in your chair, one leg perched up on the edge, your coffee cup on your knee. “Yeah that will work. I’ll give you that Tupperware container to take back over.” You take a slow sip from the steaming cup. “I swear I could eat myself sick off of her cookies. Those things are dangerous, but delicious.”

His dimple peaks through his grown out beard as he smiles at your statement. Gulping down the rest of his coffee, he places his empty cup on top of his egg yolk covered plate. “Thanks for breakfast babe! Delicious as always.” He says, wiping his greased cover fingers on his sleep pants.

“You’re welcome.”

The dishes clinking together as he sets them into the sink, then moving back towards where you’re still sitting at the table. Quick exchange of “I love you’s” and a sweet exchange of kisses before he retreats to take a shower.

Anticipating Sarah’s arrival in the next few hours, you make work to clean up the kitchen and get a few house chores done— remembering the pile of dirty clothes at the foot of your bed.

It takes you no time to whip through each task before you find yourself relaxing comfortably on the couch. Flipping through the home improvement magazine you’d picked up while grocery shopping the other day.

The house didn’t need much improvement. To an outsider it would seem in perfect order. But Joel being the handy man he is, you seemed to find ways to spruce up areas that needed the help. Just last year he replaced the backsplash to something a little more up to date, less drab and 80’s.

The ringing of the door bell catches your attention. Neither you or Joel were expecting visitors, and Sarah knows well enough to let herself in.

You fold the corner of the page you were on, setting the magazine on the coffee table before getting up to answer the door.

When you open it you’re met with a women you’ve never seen before. She’s beautiful, must be in her early 30’s if you were to guess. She’s looking around outside before she realizes you’ve opened the door.

“Hi. Can I help you?” You ask.

“Um, yes. Hi, I’m Kelli.” Her hand extended out to yours, you politely shake it hoping she’s going to grant you with a reason for stopping by. “I’m hoping you can help me out. I’m looking for someone and from what I’ve been told, he lives here.”

You’re not quite sure where she’s going with this. You’ve never seen this Kelli woman in you life and never once have you heard Joel mention her either. She must have to wrong house, and you’ll gladly point her in the right direction once she gives you this man’s name.

“Um, okay. Who is it that you think lives here?” You question her as nicely as you can.

She begins to dig into her purse, pulling out a worn picture. She looks it over briefly before turning and holding it up to you. “Have you seen this man?”

You were ready to say no you hadn’t. But the truth was you had. The man in the photo was upstairs at this very moment showering in your home. It was Joel staring back at you, just a younger version of him.

Your mind reeling as you try to figure out why Kelli is at your front door looking for Joel. She clearly knows him and sounds like she went through a lot of trouble to find him.

She explains straight away why she’s looking for him. You can’t seem to take your eyes off the photo in your hands. Her explanation making zero sense to you. You get her number and tell her you will give her a call tomorrow, you need to still talk to Joel about it all.

The sound of the water shutting off signals Joel’s finished his shower, meaning he’ll be bounding down the stairs momentarily.

You sit back down on the couch, your fingers tracing over the photo. The sound of his boots hitting the steps break you from your trance.

“Hey, heard the door bell. Who was it?” He says as he enters the living room. He falls into his signature pose, hip cocked out and hands resting at his waist.

You stand, eyes still locked on the photo.

“Babe? Who was— What’s that ya got there?”

“Joel— Who’s Kelli?” His face drops instantly.

“Who’s Kelli and why did she say your name is actually Francisco Morales and that she’s your wife?” You spill as you hold the photo out for him to see.

“Fuck—“ Is all he manages to get out.

next

#Joel Miller #TLOU #the last of us #tlou au #Pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader

[katiexpunk]

Little Mouse | Pairing biker!Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Summary:  Date night. Your favorite. You're dressed up and ready for a good time, only to find out that your sleazeball boyfriend is really just a jerk. Stood up and now alone in a bar on the bad side of town, you quickly come to realize you shouldn’t be there for more reasons than one. An unexpected savior to your shit night, a masked motorcycle rider quite literally saves your life, not caring whose blood was on his hands as a result. His only ask as a token of your appreciation? That you go for a ride with him. What could ever possibly happen? Rating: 18+ Minors DNI, like seriously, this shit is dark AF. I say this with love -- GTFO. Word count: 10K (yeah, we know, wtf) Warnings: Implied cheating (fuck her boyfriend) mentions of being stalked, suggestion of sexual assault/rape (not by Joel!), murder, blood, alcohol (reader is tipsy), switchblades, motorcycles, prey/predator complex, dom/sub, use of ‘little mouse, little one, baby’ also ‘sir and daddy.’ Fingering, female stimulation, dub-con, collaring, leather kink, mask kink, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, painful sex, choking, reader crawling on her knees, unprotected sex, brat taming, p in v, cowgirl, size kink, creampie, ownership kink, breeding kink. Authors Note: I AM SCREAMING. This was such a treat to work on with the lovely and talented @josephquinnswhore. This is my first collaborative fic, and the whole time Tay and I were just crying at how much we wish this version of Joel was real. This was truly a labor of love. Whether this is a hit or a flop, it doesn't matter to me, as I was lucky to get a sexy new friend out of it. Tay -- ilysm. Thanks for working on this with me. P.S. to my U.S. followers, you get this earlier than Saturday because it's already Saturday across the world, so enjoy your Friday night smut sesh.

The thudding noise of your fingers tapping against the hardwood of the bar makes for an easy outlet for your anxiety, although the woman next to you gives you an irritating look, obviously annoyed by the vibrations rolling their way down to her elbows resting on the bar top. 

Twenty minutes. That’s how long you’ve been sitting at this miserable bar, the Cadillac Lounge.

It's quite a shit little dive – you had expected something fancier, but your boyfriend insists it’s ‘one of the best’, citing their famous hot wings and heavy pours. If it was truly one of the best, then shouldn’t he be here by now. Where the fuck is he? 

In the 20 minutes that have passed since you got here, not only are you getting uncomfortable sitting at the bar by yourself, dodging glances from questionable patrons, but you've come to the conclusion that not only is he late, but he’s also a cheap bastard, and probably doesn’t think you deserve anything fancier. 

Hell–you're dressed way too nice to be in a bar of this caliber in a sketchy part of town you’d never been to before. It's loud outside, and some people in the bar are too drunk—too rowdy, yet the man behind the bar stays silent as he passes you your second dirty martini. A marvel they even know how to make a martini. His silence makes you think it’s an all-common occurrence in this place; a pretty girl at the bar by herself, waiting for some shitbag guy to walk through the door. 

The dress that clings to your body is one you bought specifically for this occasion; specifically for him – a mid-thigh-black leather dress – hoping he’d take you out somewhere nicer than a run-down bar where the stool legs were uneven and the television hardly caught reception. The soft material hugs every inch of you perfectly, and the spaghetti straps allow for plenty of cleavage to be seen. Your wallet aches as you remind yourself of the price of your black red-bottom heels; the effort you’d put into getting your nails manicured, and eyelashes done.

The floor is mismatched, an ugly shade of dark red wood that hasn't been cleaned in god knows how long; by the way your heels stick to the floor with each step, you can only assume it's been months, maybe even years. The pool tables in the back of the bar are dimly lit, and the floor surrounding them is a dark crème colored carpet, although there are plenty of stains, deep red and mustard yellow from wine and beer spilled in the ‘no drinking zone.’

A ping from your phone alerts you of a text message, and you stop your anxious tapping on the bar, almost dropping your phone onto the floor you were fumbling so fast to see what message you’d received. The woman two seats down finally adverts her irritated gaze from you.

Hey, not gonna make it tonight – I'm going to give Ashley a ride home from work, sorry to leave you hanging.

Ashley, as in his former ex-girlfriend, Ashley. He’s skipping out on date night to give his ex-girlfriend a ride home? What the actual fuck. 

You blink stupidly, the longer you stare at the screen the blurrier the words become. Tears gather in your lash line, and the letters melt together to become large black shapes, eventually becoming unrecognizable, but it’s too late to forget them; they’re ingrained into the back of your eyelids, and when you finally close your eyes, a few tears fall from the outer corners. 

What an asshole. You’re done. This is the last straw. 

You begin to furiously tap out a response to him, leaving nothing but little click click click echos in the air as you do. Hot tears streaming down your face, no doubt ruining your mascara, you hit send on your response. 

You know what – if you’re gonna give Ashley a ride home from work and leave me in this absolute shitshow of a bar, by myself, on OUR date night, you can fuck right off. We’re done. 

Jerk.

You drop your phone back into your purse, and your fingers instinctively grip around the stem of the glass in front of you. You haven't even taken a sip from it until now; the vodka is sharp and bitter, but it slides down your throat with ease. You angrily slam the $15 cocktail, with a mission in your mind. Get drunk and forget your douchebag boyfriend, er, ex-boyfriend. 

“Another,” you say, signaling to the oddly quiet bartender. Seriously, what’s with this guy? He eyes you down before finally nodding, and reaching out his hand to swipe the empty glass from in front of you.

As you sit there waiting, you realize that everything about you stands out, suggesting the way you obviously don't belong here – not in this bar, in this part of town, not even in this dress, the one that clings so perfectly to your frame, hugging your tits just right. You shift in the stool under you, beginning to feel uncomfortable, leather sticking to your now too-warm skin, sticky from your tears and the flush spreading from each martini you’d greedily consumed. 

Mr. Silent I don’t say anything bartender places your third martini in front of you. You take a sip in silence, attempting to forget about the reality you are currently in. 

Suddenly the low hum of the bar’s ambiance is interrupted by an unwelcome interloper. A man, reeking of booze, staffers toward you, his leering, yellow-twinged, bloodshot eyes filled with inappropriate lust as they shamelessly gaze at your breasts. “Hey there hic gorgeous,” he began, his breath a foul mix of whiskey and cigarettes, “looking awful sad over here, ya hic need some company?”

You stiffen, fingers lightly clenched around the stem of your martini glass, and shoot him a withering look. 

This guy is a walking cliche of all things repulsive, like a welcome sign to the shitty part of town you were in. With him closer now, you’re able to really get a good look at him – his dirty and oversized clothes hanging loosely on his skeletal frame, a foul body odor clinging to the material, eyes hungry. The mostly gray and thinning hair that remains on his balding head indicates he’s too old to be interacting with someone your age, and his leathery and wrinkled skin clearly tells the story of a life spent mostly in the bottom of a bottle.

With his tone, you’re able to understand his intentions clearly. You take another sip of your drink and manage to squeak out a pathetic response, one that has no real bite or purpose, “sorry…’m not interested.” The man sits on the empty stool next to you anyway, leering eyes still painfully obviously drinking you in. You gaze at the bartender as if to say a little help here, but it’s useless, he’s not going to be of any more service than what’s required. 

The full realization of the situation you’re in begins to wash over you – you need to leave. Now. 

You slam the cocktail and let out a sputtering cough as the vodka begins to make its way back up your throat, now tinged with the flavor of bile. You grip the edge of the bar and your knuckles bleach white as you try and fend off the sudden wave of nausea that hits you like a freight truck. 

 Maybe drinking three martinis in the span of less than half an hour wasn’t your brightest idea. 

The man drops his forearms to the bartop in front of you and begins to lean into your personal space, before spitting out “pretty thing like you, I bet you taste real fuckin hic good,” he says with a coy, husky laugh, making you shudder. Shivers shoot down your spine in alarm, the hairs on the back of your neck standing in full salute, your instinctual response warning you of the looming threat.

His eyes are dark and his pupils are unnaturally dilated, the thought makes your skin crawl as you note he’s not only a drunk, but also probably under the influence of some kind of drug, which uproots the fear of this interchange turning violent; a dark scenario where your rejection makes him angry and unpredictable. 

The voice in your head shouts at you once more – LEAVE. 

You stand and push your rickety, uneven stool backward, not even bothering to pay for your drinks before you grab your purse and storm out of the building, fighting to move your shaky legs fast as the bottom of your heels stick to the floor once more. You ignore the shouts of the barman telling you to close your tab, but you ignore them. Now he says something. 

Once outside, the night air is brisk, but a welcome refreshment from the revolting encounter. You pause to take a look around at the world around you. The street practically screams danger to a young woman, let alone a drunk young woman. The dodgy streetlights that are functioning emit a hazy glow and don’t do much in the way of helping to light the path around you. 

You walk around the corner and steal a glance behind you before you rummage through your purse, opening the golden clasp, it’s cool on your fingertips and the sensation only adds to your growing anxiety. Your fingers fumble around in panicked haste to find your phone. Finally. You sigh a breath of relief as your fingers grasp the cold metal. You jab at the screen, but quickly find that it’s dead. Shit, shit, shit. Your last sliver of safety snuffed out, leaving you alone – you hope – in the unforgiving night. 

You think you might be sick as the wave of nausea returns. Your belly emits a low grumble and wait… fuck. No, you really are gonna be sick. Your pace begins to quicken as you scramble to find a place to throw up, away from the peering eyes of the residents who live on the wasteland streets that surround you. 

You stumble your way into the back alley of the bar, and the world begins to spin. Your heart pounds in sync with your dizzying head – the sickening laughter from the creep at the bar still ringing in your ears, deafening you to the life surrounding you. The grimy brick walls of the alley offer you little comfort, the rough texture of them leaving small indents on your hand as you lean into the wall for support, and empty your stomach onto the asphalt beneath you. You cough at the secondary burn of the alcohol that now sears your throat for a second time tonight. 

Although your stomach is empty, you continue to dry heave, bent over at your waist and staring at the rocks beneath you, when you hear the thud of loud footsteps behind you. Before you can register what’s happening, a grotesque shadow looms over you, and his smell hits you. 

Oh no. 

“Came out here to make it easy hic f’me, didn’t you, princess,” he snarls. “You knew what you were doin’, wearin’ this leather piece, didn’t ya babydoll?” He lurches out to grab you, but before he can, another figure materializes out of the darkness. His silhouette was hard and sharp against the pale light illuminating the alley, an unlikely savior in this hellish scene. Before you can even blink, he has the creep pinned up against the wall, his large forearm pressing against his throat. “You leave this nice girl alone, yeah?” he says, voice dark and menacing. He presses harder against the man's throat, “or I’ll make you fuckin’ regret it,” he threatens. Your savior spoke evenly, although there was an obvious underlying tone of threat muffled behind the black motorcycle helmet he wore.

“Chill out, man…was jus trying to have a good ti–” before he can even finish the thought consisting of violating you, your savior draws his head back and smashes it forward, the helmet connecting with a sickening crack against the creep's nose. A sharp, visceral sound reverbs through the alley, catching the attention of a few passers-by. They pause to look at what’s happening, but quickly keep moving, knowing better than to intervene. The now bloody man lets out a startled yelp, his hands reaching up instinctively to grab his now very broken nose. 

“What’d you just fuckin’ say t’me?” Your savior grumbles. “You do this often, huh? Come out here into back alleys, whip out your limp little cock, and try and show pretty ladies a good time,” he huffs. 

“I’ll show you a good time,” he says, snaking his free hand into his back pocket. There came a click, a sound as sharp and quick as a viper's bite, and the creep audibly whimpers, knowing what made it. There it was– a switchblade. 

The creep continues to gravel with the man holding him captive in his strong grasp, “listen, man, I was just messin’ around…I swear! I’ll leave her alone, you can have her, fuck, please just let me go! I promi–” before he can finish the sentence, the silver blade was already plunged up into his ribs. The sound of the gurgling man choking on his own blood catches your attention, a result of your savior's expert maneuver with the blade. Still holding the man flush against the wall with his broad upper body, he uses his free hand to open the visor of his helmet. Eyes glaring into the man’s now, he pushes the blade in deeper as says, “Oh, I will,” and a masked grin washes across his face as the crimson red blood begins to pour out onto his gloves and the ground below; your savior moving his feet as not to dirty his boots. 

With a swift movement, he releases the blade, and you watch in shock as the man thuds to the floor, sticky red blood stains his shirt and begins to pool on the pavement below, body limp, eyes glued open like he never saw it coming. 

Is this really fucking happening right now, you think to yourself, rationalizing you’re probably hallucinating or something.

You watch as the man reaches a gloved hand to pull his visor, a smear of blood left behind as he pulls it down, hiding what little identity he had revealed to the creep. He turns his frame to face you and begins to stride forward, little drops of crimson falling from his gloves onto the floor by his sides as he does. 

Eyes wide open like a deer about to be hit by a truck, you stare at him – your savior? You doubt it.

He just murdered a man in cold blood and told him he would have you. Surely that must mean you were going to succumb to the same fate or worse. Your fight or flight response kicks in, deciding on flight, and you begin to quickly back away from the man and the scene that just unfolded in front of you like a fucking horror film. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, narrowing the gap between your bodies.

You don’t respond as you continue your trek backward, gait unsteady as you try and keep your heels and ankles steady in your six-inch stilettos. Scared, you step back until your body unexpectedly meets the cool, hard metal of a motorcycle, causing you to let out a small squeak.

His strides are large and it’s not long before he has you trapped against his body and the motorbike; leaving you nowhere to run. 

“Cat got your tongue, little mouse?” The man’s question is rhetorical and humorous. His large figure looks over you, a leather jacket clings to his broad shoulders, preventing you from looking anywhere but him. 

You sure feel like a little mouse – small and defenseless. He tilts his head, looking down at you curiously as if you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. 

And you are. 

“You – you – killed that man,” your heart was in your throat as you spoke, unsure if your whispered accusation traveled the short distance to his ears.

“Yeah, little mouse, I did. Creep like that – trust me, he had it coming,” he says, voice muffled but sure. 

His large palm begins to rise to your line of sight, and your heart sinks to your stomach as you stare at the blood now ever so close to your face. He pauses before he drops most of the bloody fingers into his fist, leaving but one clean finger out as if to point to something. He drags it over your cheek, down the razor edge of your jaw, and uses it to tilt your chin up to face him.

“You know, I probably saved your life – really should be thankin’ me,” he says, presumably gazing back at you, face still hidden from view by the helmet. 

“And you can start by comin' for a ride." 

You gasp. 

He’s got to be fucking joking. 

“I promise, you’re safe with me, alright?” He says, voice soft this time. 

Right. Safe with the dude who just murdered another dude in the alley behind some sleazeball bar. 

You can tell his words aren't a request.

Everything about his demeanor is commanding. 

He demands attention.

Your attention. 

Perhaps it was the heartache or the way he just saved your life, maybe even the three martinis you’d smashed in a short duration of time, your rational thoughts impaired from the alcohol content flowing through your blood, you internally agree to his demands. And for some unfathomable reason you can’t comprehend, his voice melts you like butter, his attention making you feel special.

A pang of arousal shoots through you.

“Okay…” you say, voice sweet like honey, but hesitant. If you’d kept him waiting long, he doesn’t mention it. 

“Good girl,” he says, nodding to the back of the bike. 

He knew you were an obedient one. He could tell. He reads your emotions like braille, it is as if he can feel every single thought running through your brain. 

You need a protector, a savior, someone to tell you what to do and care for you. Someone who would do anything for you. You need him. 

His hands hover over your waist, guiding you to the back of the bike, a safeguard, he would catch you if you slipped. As if he would ever let you fall. 

You swing your leg over the back of the seat, sending your already tight dress higher up onto your hips as you do. The motorcycle's leather seat is cold against your inner thighs, a welcomed reprieve from the growing heat there. His hungry eyes watch as you adjust yourself, slowly gazing at the bareness of your legs, now prickled with small goosebumps in anticipation and response to the chill in the air.  “Here little mouse, take this,” he says, wiping the bloody gloves onto his tight-fitting denim jeans before taking off his leather jacket and handing it to you, revealing a white mesh tank top that clings to his sun-kissed skin. You can’t help but notice that his shoulders are littered with freckles, all over his toned arms and shoulders, and the back of his neck. You find that small detail about such a harsh man a little endearing.

“Leather on leather,” he says, pausing to eye you up and down, “looks good on you,” he finishes. He places his hand on your bare thigh, his touch causing you to hold your breath, making sure you’re stable before he too mounts the bike. 

“Hold on to me real tight,” he commands. You follow his instructions, your arms wrapping firmly around his waist, your fingers coming to a clasp as you scoot forward, your breasts pressed firmly against his warm and inviting back. 

“Atta girl,” he praises.

Fuck. His words go straight to your already aroused core. 

He couldn’t be sure if it was a button from the jacket pressing against him, or your nipples, but he decided it was the latter considering how cold you’d been moments beforehand. 

The thought causes his cock to stir in his jeans. His mind can’t help but wonder, with your soft hands all over his toned body, rousing deep and vulgar thoughts in his head. 

Your sweet little palms, what would they feel like wrapped around his—

He pushes the thought down, adjusts himself slightly, and turns to look over his shoulder at you as the bike begins to rumble to life. He jabs the kickstands with his heel and faces forward once more, palms firmly grabbing the clutch and throttle on the handlebars. 

The loud sound of the engine and the rhythmic vibration it gives stimulate your now aching clit. The only barrier between your sopping cunt and the bike was the sheer lace panties that did nothing to stop your slick from leaking onto his leather seat.

With your body glued to his, you both tear through the inky black of the night. It was apparent that this side of town not only lacks security, but safety too, the buildings are all run down and cars seem to be left on cinder blocks, being stripped down for parts and left to rust. For the first time tonight, you’re grateful you’re not alone – grateful to be with him. 

It seems the government had also neglected the quality of the roads, loose gravel flings out of the crevices of the back tire of the motorbike, and you grasp on tight to avoid the giant potholes that have now become a major problem on this one street. Without much warning, although you could have predicted it would happen, the bike jerked violently beneath you, the rear tire hitting a pothole with an unforgiving thud. 

You gasp and your grip around his waist loosens in surprise. The sudden jolt sends your hand sliding down, and before you can correct it, your fingers brush against his already painfully stiff cock. He freezes in response. The feel of his hard bulge causes you’re already sticky folds to dampen further. You grazed the area for less than a few seconds, eventually finding your common sense and snatching your hand back up to grab your wrist, but the tension in his body tells you he felt you do it. That he liked it. You did, too. 

You have no idea where he’s taking you, and though the streets of the unfamiliar town were a labyrinth to you, he seemed to navigate them with ease. Not before after, the bike comes to a slow as he pulls up to a nondescript warehouse.

Once inside, you take in the smudge and the grime of the shop. There was a surprising order to the chaos around you. The walls, washed with a pea-like hue of green, were the perfect backdrop for the display of tools in every size and shape imaginable, arranged perfectly above the wooden workbench. The air stank of oil, sawdust, and metal, but there was a certain comfort to it, a testament to the hours of sweat and hard work spilled within its confines. 

With the two wheels of the bike are now stationary beneath you, he kills the engine. He swings his leg off to stand at the side of the bike. He offers his hand to steady you as you get off yourself, leaving a little wet spot on the seat from your slick as you do. 

You know you’re aroused, but you don’t seem to notice just how much, but he sure does, eyes glued to the mark of you. The sight makes him shift and he adjusts himself to accommodate for the shrinking amount of space.

Taking in the surroundings, you do a tiny circle, before stopping facing him. 

“Why – why, am I here?” you cautiously ask, not sure if you want the real answer. 

“To say thank you t’me, properly, little mouse,” he rasps, voice dripping with suggestion. 

You wonder what it means to thank him properly. A surge of desire courses through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity at the thought. 

He takes a step forward, and his overwhelming presence engulfs you, bringing with it the scent of musk, twinged with sweat and the sickly sweet copper smell of the blood left on his hands. 

It’s absolutely intoxicating. 

In your haze, your fingers reach out to touch the cool plastic of the black tinted helmet visor, curiosity gnawing at you for just a peek of the man that had you enthralled; you hadn’t even seen his face and yet you were completely dripping for him. 

Before you could catch a peek, his fingers gripped your hand tightly in warning.  He tilts his head to the side as if you’d really just tried that.

“What do ya think you’re doin’, little mouse?” The warning in his voice only made the need between your thighs that much stronger. 

“I—I just wanted to...” you whine pathetically, trailing off as your mind begins to fill with obscene thoughts, rendering you unable to finish even a single sentence. 

Although you can't directly see his face, you can feel his harsh stare burning you to your core. His firm grip around your wrist causes your nipples to harden in response to the touch. Everything in your vision blurs suddenly, the room nothing more but a mere haze, you almost don’t feel the right grip on your hips as he maneuvers your body, pushing your chest over his bike. A small noise of discomfort leaves your lips as the fuel cap of the bike digs into your breastbone. It hurts, but you don’t complain, not wanting this to end before it’s begun.

With his hard cock now pressed firmly against your ass, one hand grips your waist and the other holds the back of your neck. His fingers are cool and they send a shiver down your spine at his touch, his grip tightens on the back of your neck, holding you in place – trapped. 

He hadn’t ever let a woman touch his bike, let alone ride with him; you should be grateful. 

He was doing something for you.

“You’ll take what I give you, little mouse, not a sliver more, got it?” He growls. 

You mewl under him; your non-verbal response only adds to your lack of cooperation, in his eyes, you were challenging him to make you submit to him.

He leans down, chest now flush with the curve of your back. You don’t dare to look back at him, feeling your legs tremble as he pushes his hard erection further into the exposed skin of your ass. Your leather dress had ridden right up, making for easy access, which his thick fingers happily take advantage of as they trace the thin lace of your panties.  

He can hardly pry his eyes away from the now-drying stain your slick had left on his seat, and now here you were; pressed under him and fucking soaking for him. 

“Now listen here, little mouse. When I speak, I expect you to answer me, or this all stops. Got it?” he says. 

You tremble at his words and pout as he halts the small glide of his fingers along the lace between your folds. Caught up in the sensation, you don’t respond quickly enough.

“Answer me,” he commands while pulling his hand away and landing a swat over your pussy, the sensation on your clit sends a little shock through your body.

Senses returning to your head now, you nod frantically, eyes widening as you stutter, “Y-yes, sir. I understand.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your response, his fingers resume their tortuous motion of gliding over your still-clothed folds, only taking a moment to recover from the moment you called him sir. It serves a bigger purpose, a large part to play in your dynamic. He rests his helmet on your shoulder and lets out a husky sigh, his own need beginning to catch up with him. 

“How badly do you want it, little mouse?” He asks, a hint of challenge in his voice, hoping to get a ride out of you, and frustrate you further. 

“Fuck–ppp, please touch me…I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll do whatever you say,” you say, realizing your begging is no better than the creeps back in the alley.

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you, finally soothing the gnawing, aching need inside you. He traces his thick finger over the crease between your folds before he hooks the edge, and pushes the soiled fabric to the side. Your cunt has a visible sheen from the slick that’s spilled over from all of his teasing; a warm invitation for his fingers, your inviting hole sucks two of them in and clenches around him. 

“So wet for me already, little mouse, fuck–,” he trails off. You moan in response, knowing he’ll expect an answer to his comment. He grins as he skillfully curls his fingers inside you to meet the spongey soft texture of your g-spot. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, every prod stretching you, getting you ready for him. 

He can feel you crawling towards the cliff of your orgasm, but he's gonna take his time with you.

He knows you want to cum, that's obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come. 

“Stop thinkin’ so damn loud,” he gruff voice circulates inside your head and descends down to your core, sending you spiraling.

Your fingers struggle to find purchase on anything as he continues to drive you closer and closer to your release, fingers prodding in and out, only leaving periodically to circle your clit before going back to their home inside you. The line between pain and pleasure has blurred; being bent over the bike is starting to get uncomfortable, and your neck is starting to ache from his hard grip that keeps you from slouching over. The blood is beginning to rush to your head, the lack of circulating air in the building and your lust cause your skin to heat, and small beads of sweat begin to form on your chest and forehead. 

You're so, so close. When was he going to put a stop to this? 

As if to read your mind once more, he says, “I know, baby. Doing so good. Concentrate on me,” his words bring you back to your surroundings, drawing you away from your demented brain's imprisonment of unease.

Your legs tremble against his groin, and the sweet moans that leave your lips echo through the workshop. You think he might, but he doesn’t tell you to shut up, he doesn’t cover your mouth. The pretty little noises coming from your throat only urge him to ram his fingers into you at a quicker pace, as if it were his personal mission to make you finally come. 

Your mind goes foggy as your whole body stiffens. Your fingers find a tight grip on the leather seat of the bike and mindlessly, you dig your nails into the material, creating several crescent moon-shaped marks into the leather as you do. He rides out your orgasm with you and doesn’t stop until you totally soften under him, legs weak and shaking from overstimulation and pain from the position you’re in.

Now satisfied, you catch a glimpse of your handiwork on the seat. The once perfect material was now marked by your desperation. 

“Tsk, tsk, little mouse – markin’ up my bike left and right tonight,” he says, voice firm, “I ‘otta punish you for that,” he scolds.  

It was already too much, the position he had you in, his taunting and tormenting. What would a punishment look like? you wonder. 

“‘M sorry, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you sputter, head still dizzy from your release. 

Still inside you, he pushes his fingers aggressively deeper into your hole and he holds them there. The noise is obscene; the squelching of his fingers pushing into you, slick dripping down your legs, coating his fingers. It only made him hungry for more. Beneath the helmet, he licks his lips, clenching his teeth as his eyes roll into the back of his head. What he wouldn’t do for a taste of you. 

“You're gonna be,” he says. The emphasis on his promise he makes you tremble, anticipation eating you from the inside out. 

“Gonna come for me again, little mouse,” he orders. 

Fuck. No. “I–I can’t, it’s too much, I’m too sensitive, and my, fuck, my legs hurt like this,” you say. 

Your words fall on deaf ears, as he ignores your pleading. You were going to come again, and he was going to make sure of that. 

He inserts a third finger and continues to fuck into you. His thumb reaches out to your clit, the small amount of pressure has you lurch forward with a yelp, the nub already extremely sensitive from your first release. The hand that’s gripped the back of your neck jerks backward harshly, forcing you back into his body. He wouldn’t allow you to do that, try to escape him. 

Holding you into his chest, he reaches his free hand around and finds your clit once more. His fingers move antagonizing slowly as he makes soft circles around it, his pace decreasing, the overstimulation going with it. Your pain begins to flourish into something softer, and he once again has you crawling the stairs to your climax. You fight the temptation to jerk your hips, to fuck yourself stupid on his thick fingers, and make yourself come all over his already, soaked and pruned fingers. The added texture to his fingers adds to the sensations you’re experiencing.

“Bein’ such a good girl, there you go,” he sets a stable pace, murmuring to you, rubbing sweet circles onto your clit, and resuming fucking his fingers into you, “gonna give my mouse what she needs.” 

“P-please let me come,” the plea leaves your desperate lips like a need, a key factor to your survival, like if you didn’t come again you were sure to die. The coil inside of your lower stomach winds once more, and your legs continue to shake, the only thing keeping you upright was the strength of his arms and his fingers unraveling you. Each swipe of his thumb on your clit is calculated, like he’s figured your body out already. He knows you’re close, the way you’re trembling and babbling senselessly, the way your hole clenches around his fingers, contracting to tighten around him to keep him inside. 

“You can come, little mouse – come for me, baby, soak my fingers,” he says. 

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like you were nothing but a pool of gas ignited with a flame. Your knees buckle, and he holds you tight to his chest. His sticky fingers leave your hole and away from your swollen clit. 

“Such a good girl,” he praises in your ear. You revel in it, letting his words soak deep into you to your bones. He moves his slick-coated fingers up to your lips, “Now clean ‘em for me,” he commands, once again leaving no room for there to be a question about what he wants. You do as he orders. He presses his fingers into your inviting mouth, and you lap at your release and suck him dry.

He doesn’t give you but a minute to recover to catch your breath, now satisfied with your cleaning job, before he grabs a fistful of hair to spin you around, gently, but assertively. Your eyes drop down to his waist, and you see his hand on his leather belt. He begins to unbuckle it, the metal making a small clank as he releases its clasp, and yanks it off, leaving a whip sound in its wake. 

You watch in anticipation as he uses both hands to make a small loop in the belt. You swallow your anticipation as you realize what he’s doing. It’s not long before he has it perfectly sized to accommodate your head, and he slips it onto your crown, and begins to lower it around your neck. Once there he secures it tightly, leaving enough room for you to breathe, but tight enough to feel its presence before tugging at the makeshift collar and deeming it satisfactory. 

“Get on your knees, little mouse, he gruffs. “ Told you I’d punish ya for what you did to my bike,” he continues, voice lusty and low.  

You pause, slightly dumbstruck. 

Is he serious? 

The little voice that gnawed at you to leave the bar earlier in the night comes back in full force and tells you that he most definitely was and that you’d be wise to listen. 

You drop to the cold cement floor, knees meeting the harsh ground coated with little flecks of sawdust and grease. Your perky tits were practically spilling out of your leather dress at this point. You don’t care. You don’t even care about the bruises that were now forming from the position you were in; you want to be a good girl, give him what he wants – impress him. You were ready to worship at the altar of the man who had saved your life. 

He watches you and palms at his hard cock before turning on his heels to walk away. 

The fuck. Where’s he going?

He walks over to the side of the shop. This side was more empty than the primary workspace, but primarily occupied by a file cabinet in the corner and an aging bed, presumably only used for mid-workday naps. There’s an old rusted heater next to the bed, too close to the wall for comfort, you wonder how many cold late evenings this man had spent in this workshop, every little detail gave you some insight into his life, it felt familiar. Like you know him, that he was just an ordinary man; although you know he was far more intriguing.

He pauses by the grimy mattress. His fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans, and he slowly undoes them, letting them fall to the floor, finally releasing the giant cock that was restrained behind the denim fabric. He takes himself in hand, tilts his head down, and spits for lubrication. 

“Crawl to me, little mouse,” he says, dark gaze fixed on yours, “come get this cock,” he adds, stroking his length up and down, letting his weight lean onto the back wall of the shop as he gawks. 

Crawl to him. 

The words pierce you like a bullet, tearing through your flesh until you have no choice but to tend to the wound to stop the bleeding. You're his little pet, and you’ll do anything to make him happy.  

You tilt forward, placing both palms on the ground so you’re on all fours. Eyes transfixed on him, and god, his cock, you begin to move, slowly crawling the distance of the shop. The already barely secured fullness of your tits gives way with the change in angle, allowing them to spill completely out of your dress. The sensation of the cold ground under your hands and knees, the cool air drying the stickiness on your inner thighs, and the thickness of the makeshift collar on your throat spur you on. You begin to crawl faster, needing to get to him sooner, needing to taste him. 

Once in front of him, he pushes himself off the wall and comes to stand directly in front of you. He continues to stroke at his cock, and you salivate at the sight of his angry red tip weeping beads of pre-cum, veins boldening from the blood rushing through him. You want so badly to touch him, but you wait for him to give you the okay to do so, your palms patiently resting on your knees.

“You want this, little mouse,” he asks, already knowing the answer to his own question. “It’s all yours, come get it, baby,” he says, giving a nod of permission. 

You reach up to take the weight of his heavy cock in your hands, and you admire the way your fingers barely touch. You stroke his length a few times, mouth watering at how silky soft his skin feels and the warmth it exudes. You look up at him from under your lashes and playfully dart your tongue out. You flatten it and lick a teasing stripe up to the tip of him, maintaining his gaze as you do. 

“If you know what’s good for ya, little mouse, you won’t fucking tease me,” he says, the words still bite, but you can tell he’s losing his resolve. As much as he wants to pretend he’s in control, you’re the one with all the cards. 

You slide the tip of him into your waiting mouth, wrapping your lips around, feeling a slight sting in the corners as they stretch to accommodate him. You stay shallow on his length at first, working up to wet him with your spit. After a moment, you feel confident you have enough lubricant to fully take him.

You begin to pick up your pace, allowing his cock to glide down your throat, kissing the back of it as you bob up and down. He lets out a satisfied sound, and you hum in response, savoring the taste of salt and musk that dance over your tastebuds. 

Using the makeshift collar as leverage, he wraps the free material around his fist and pulls it taught, holding you with his cock stuffed down your windpipe. Your eyes begin to water, it’s so much, but you stay put. Spit begins to pool at the corners of your mouth, long dribbles of it spilling out over your lips and down your chin to your chest. 

“Fuck, little mouse – so good, baby. Being such a good hole for me,” he praises. 

His words encourage you to open wider, letting your jaw relax as you do. He pulls the leather strap tighter until you feel him deep in the back of your throat, your lips wrapped obscenely around the base of him, nose flush against his skin. He’s so deep you can hardly breathe. He holds you there a moment longer until you begin to tear up. 

He slightly retreats, allowing you to catch your breath, your lips resting just around the tip of his girth. You look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mascara smudged, and he smirks. He was fucking wrecking you, and he loves every second of it. 

He allows you a second to catch your breath, before he once again pulls at the belt, sending you right back down to the base of him. He lets out a deep, guttural groan in response. He could feel your heartbeat on the tip of him this deep, and it was almost too much. He pulls back and fully retreats out of you this time, bringing with him strings of saliva that fall onto you pristine but red-marked skin.

“Up,” he says, finally allowing you the opportunity to find relief from the cement that turned your  knees and shins cherry red. You do as he says, pausing momentarily to brush the debris from your flesh before looking up at him. He pauses momentarily to admire you before bringing both hands up to undo the buckle of the belt, releasing you from the collar. 

As you look up at him, you can’t help but feel distaste towards the helmet, wishing you could just see the man behind it. You had given yourself to him completely, submitting to this dangerous and exuberant man. Why wouldn’t he show his face? You whine loudly in response to his touch on your sensitive neck, the belt had left a thick plum-colored mark ingrained into your pretty skin, your entire body was sore from the events of the night and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. 

Through his pleasure, his moans and raspy breaths of exhale, each and every opportunity for you to hear him have been tainted, unfairly muffled by the thick plastic. The noises he makes are primal, deep, something you crave more of; he’d been giving you so much tonight, made you cum hard more than once, and fucked your throat raw, but it isn’t enough; you want more of him, all of him. 

You hadn’t been bashful the entire night, but suddenly you aren't confident enough to verbally ask him; multiple attempts have already been made to try and convince him to take it off, which he has quite harshly rejected. 

He seems to sense your shift in energy, the anxiety radiating off of you like a pungent smell. His fingers grip your chin, curling them underneath to make you look up at him. Your mind flashes back to when it did it earlier in the night, only this time his hand wasn’t covered in blood. You suppose you should have felt some sort of relief at that, but your unease only worsens. 

His masked figure continues to glare down at you, looking as if he might offer something sweet in his words, but he doesn’t; instead, he simply says, “ready for a different type of ride, little mouse?” 

His words go straight to your already wet and stretched cunt. He’s finally going to fuck you.

He puts one knee onto the mattress, causing the springs of the frame holding it to scream out, the squeak an alarm that the sheer weight of them might be too much for their rusty coils to handle. 

He pulls you flush against his chest and reaches his arms behind you to unzip your dress, and you're grateful, the leather fabric had pooled at your hips at this point and you were starting to sweat under the heavy folds. You sink into the warmth of him, the side of your face flush with the cool plastic of the helmet. As he works to release you from your cloth prison, the dress you were once so excited to put on, your gaze drops to the back of his neck, and you notice a patch of sweaty salt and pepper curls under the bottom edge of the helmet. You reach your arms up around him and intertwine your fingers around the locks. You had thought maybe he was older, but seeing the greying hair was the confirmation you needed. 

With him now so close, you take in the opportunity to smell him, and fuck it was absolutely invigorating – like fresh coffee in the morning, the smoke from a campfire, and wait…is that, patchouli? Fucking patchouli? Because of course, your masked, murderous savior would smell like patchouli. You take a deep inhale through your nose, and hold it at the top, as if to commit his scent to memory. 

He finishes with the dress, and you step out of it, also deciding to ditch the scrap of panties that no longer serve their intended purpose. Now bare, you stand in front of him innocently. You were nervous, unable to see his expression, unsure if he likes what he sees. 

It doesn’t take much for him to give you the confirmation you need that he in fact, does, his rock-hard cock practically staring at you, begging for something to bury into. His rough and calloused palm traces over your arm, leaving goosebumps as it trails down. He latches onto your wrist, pausing to gently trace the blue veins and feel your pulse. His gentleness causes you to melt. 

He takes a seat on the mattress, pulling you with him. 

For the entire evening, your body had been riding the line between pain and pleasure, and it had never been more blurred than right now. Your knees are shaking as they find the broken springs under the grimy mattress. 

It's almost too much, your knees ache with bruises forming on them from their assault on the cement. Straddling his hips, he reaches between your bodies to position himself at the entrance of your wet and waiting hole. You sink down onto his length halfway, eyes falling shut as you do. 

Fuck – he’s big. Almost too big.

His hard cock fills you so good; and he gives you a second to adjust, frozen in pleasure for a moment when he finally reaches the hilt of you, the tip of his cock nudges in a painful pinch. For a moment he’s panting and just holding you on top of him, hands tightening around the delicious flesh of your hips. He’s just using you to keep his cock warm until he can catch his breath. He can tell by your incessant squirming that you’ve never had something so big stuffed inside of your small frame, and he was here to change that; fill you up how you deserve to be. 

“Shit, baby – you’re a tight one, aint’cha,” he says, groaning breathlessly. 

You begin to find your pace on him, rolling your hips into his as you find a rhythm, gliding effortlessly over his thickness with the help of his praise, his filthy words encouraging you to fuck him harder. His hands are still firm on your hips, leaving little bruises at the fingertips, and he assists your rolls back and forth as you grind your clit against the thick black hair at the base of him, teasing your swollen clit with each move as you do. 

“I’m going to ruin you, little mouse, fuck you so good all you’ll ever think about is me. All you’ll ever feel is me.” His claim is arrogant, but rightfully so, the way he’s filling you to your ribs was something that couldn’t ever be competed with. 

He knows it, and you know it. You are doomed to be a prisoner to an approach to sex you’d never experienced. Addicted to every touch. 

The possessive nature of this man wouldn’t ever be matched with anyone else. 

They would all fall short. 

He had broken you to need him. 

His hands roughly grasp at your breasts, pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers, and an airy moan leaves your lips as he watches them bounce, he gives them a harsh slap, earning a yelp from your lips as the sensation. The sting lingers and the red mark it creates is more proof of what this man’s doing to you; creating evidence that you’d remember long after he was gone, the ghost of the touch you’d feel one night in the future when you needed someone, no one would ever compare. He was leaving his mark on you. 

His calloused fingers are thick, wrapping around your neck, applying a small amount of pressure to the side of your neck along your pulse point, until your vision goes a little fuzzy and you subsequently relax into his hands with the notion. 

With as much as he's taking you—he curses under his breath when you let out a whimper of pleasure, holding the position, slipping his thumb into your mouth which you greedily sucked on, he feels the hum of a muffled moan. 

“Such a good girl,” he moans, “squeezing my cock so fuckin’ tight, little mouse. This pussy was fucking made f’me,” he praises, his words practically dragging you over the edge, and you cream all over his cock as he continues to relentless thurst upwards inside of you, practically touching your lungs.

Your slick makes it easy for him to fuck into you right to the hilt, burying himself into the most sacred part of yourself. Greedily, you clench down onto him, sucking him back in when he tries to retract from your hole. In your delirium you swear you can feel him in your stomach, you’d never had someone so fucking deep inside of you before. Wet mewls escape your lips as you feel him drag his cock in and out of you, reaching places no other man had ever been. With the way your cunt greedily swallows his cock, he starts to feel a sense of infatuation, he would do anything to keep you.

“This pussy isn't goin’ to take too nicely to another cock, will she, little one? She likes me too much,” he says, but you find it hard to concentrate on words when there are so many things stimulating you – his cock, his hand around the column of your throat, the growing need budding in your clit, your intense desire to fucking look at his face. 

Before you can register what’s happening, loud moans leave your lips, when they do the saliva that had accumulated inside of your mouth falls, dripping down onto the visor of his helmet. A gruff moan leaves his lips, one of shock and pleasure, seeing you drool all over him on his cock was a sight that spurred him on. 

“Fuckin’ you so good you can’t even think properly, can you little mouse? S’alright, just let daddy make you feel good.”

Daddy.

You want so badly to cum. 

But there’s something holding you back. 

You need to see him. It's no longer a question or a curiosity. It's a non-negotiable. 

“Shi–-shit, I’m so close, ugh I need to see your face,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes, “Please let me look at you while I cum on your cock,” you beg. 

He ignores the request, your hips still grinding onto him, until you pout and beg once more, “Daddy, please!” 

He grips down tight onto your hips, urging you to come to a slow, and eventually a full stop. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. He releases his grip and reaches up to place both hands on the helmet – yes, yes, yes, take it off – he pauses with his palms on the sides, before using the strength of his arms to take the helmet completely off. 

The cool helmet now in his hands, he sets it off to the side on the mattress, and the inside rolls to face up. 

That’s when you notice it – a small label, curiously out of place. You focus your gaze and the small letters focus in view; it’s a name. 

His name. 

Joel Miller. 

You smile and decide to tuck the new knowledge away, for now, and turn your attention back to him. 

Oh my.

He’s fucking hot. 

Seeing him for the first time is jarring. 

Like you should’ve expected him to look exactly like this, perhaps you’d expected him not to be so fucking handsome. 

His wide brown eyes are watching you, the stare lingering on your face, the same stare you’d felt burning into your soul the entire evening. His pupils are dilated, a sentiment of his arousal for you. You want to take your time admiring him, in case he changes his mind and reverts back into the comfort of his helmet, but it’s too late for that; you’ve seen him. 

You’ll remember every detail of him until the day you die. The patchy facial hair, his full mustache trimmed neatly; a small heart shape on the left side made your heart swell, it's well-groomed but still simultaneously unruly. He's a man who looks after himself. On the right cheek, there is a single dimple; showcasing itself as he bites the inside of his cheek. 

It seems you finally had him like putty in your hands. He looks anxious, his eyes scanning your face frantically, searching for anything that would make you retreat from him, any sign of regret. 

Your hand reaches out slowly as if approaching a stray animal, your pleading eyes begging for this one thing, just one simple touch. He flinches slightly as if this kind of feeling of your skin on his was foreign to him, but he doesn’t move, nor resist your action. 

The pad of your soft thumb rubs over his lips, and you lean forward as if to kiss him. 

You don’t. 

Instead, you pause with your lips inches away from his, your hot breaths mingling together. A smirk washes over your face, and you flint your gaze up to his. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you whisper seductively. 

What the fuck.

You uttering his name catches him off guard, rendering him surprised and vulnerable. He looks at you like he just got stabbed; he wouldn’t be the only one tonight. Like a bear preparing for a fight, he growls, and bucks his hips up into you, beginning to fuck you again, hard. 

With his cock stuffed inside of you and the sight of his face, you’re close to your release. 

Eyes gazing into his for real for the first time tonight, you feel a wave of pleasure overcome you, and you spill over onto him like a broken yolk. You fall forward, body limp and sore, and he lets you lay there, his chest your strength. He pauses, letting you work through your orgasm. 

Once your shaking has subsided, he brings his hand up to your jaw. He smooshes your cheeks together, your lips puffing as he does. He stares at them for a moment, his expression mirroring your own, eyes dark with desire, before pulling them to his in a fiery kiss. His tongue explores the recesses of your mouth, and you welcome it with a moan that rumbles from the very core of your desire. Fuck, finally. You savor the taste of him, all salt with a hint of mint. 

His lips part from yours, and he begins to chase his own release once more, his cock resuming its relentless pace, fucking in and out of you. 

Seeing and feeling your orgasm already had him close. For the first time tonight, he finally got sips of fresh air, each breath filled with the sweet scent of all things you. He was absolutely ravenous. 

“Fuck–,” he gasps, his orgasm not far off, “Gonna come, little mouse, wanna shit–wanna fill you up, make you full of me,” he says, breath heavy and shallow with each thrust.

“Yes, daddy, please,” you pant, moans weak and timid. 

“Fuck, Joel, give me your cum, want it so bad” you beg, your walls pulsing and squeezing around him, your cunt crying to be filled. 

He gives you a few more shaky rolls of his hips, and then slows, balls deep inside you.

“You’re mine now, little mouse,” he says, shooting long, thick ropes of milky white release, painting your cervix with his seed. 

At that moment you realize you are his, nothing more than a little mouse caught in his trap – and he’ll never let you go. 

END

...or is it?

Tagging: @sydneyinacoma @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls and @toxicanonymity (our queen of dark fics and source of inspiration)

Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.

#dark joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #the last of us #kinktober #dark writing #pedrohub #collaborative writing

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

It's gonna be May 🩷 we made it through April babies! Here's every glorious thing I read in April. Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 🩷🌷

Bucky Barnes ✨

Though I have never read it by @tuiccim

Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Her by @avecra

bucky barnes x reader

Sweet temptation by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob AU)

Thick as blood / punch in the gut by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Bucky x Darkish!F!Reader

Say the word and it's yours by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Cordially invited by @navybrat817

Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Female Reader

Grandeur by @navybrat817

Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Crossing the line by @jadedvibes

Beefy!Bucky x reader

Give it to me by @flordeamatista

dilf!neighbor bucky barnes x reader 

Dirty rock by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Rockstar!AU)

Send me an angel by @navybrat817

Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Hide and seek by @targaryenvampireslayer

Bucky Barnes x female reader

You are my burning love on nights like these by @flordeamatista

knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Fem!Reader

Headstrong by @flordeamatista

beefy!bucky barnes x reader

The kiss by @lunarbuck

professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

Namor ✨

Waves of love by @flordeamatista

Namor x reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Flamingo king by @onsunnyside

Trailer Park!Ari Levinson x inexperienced!reader

Biker!Ari by @angrythingstarlight

Biker!Ari x Reader

Excelled by @syntheticavenger

Dom! Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Pretty flowers for a pretty girl by @witchywithwhiskey

farmer!steve rogers x reader

His inheritance by @jtargaryen18

Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Magic fingers by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Andy Barber ✨

Sleepy sex by @worksby-d

Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Hold my heart by @flordeamatista

boyfriend!andy barber x reader

Joel Miller ✨

Sweet, sweet sugar by @unrefinedmusings

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Perfectly wrong by @psychedelic-ink

joel miller x fem!reader

Lloyd Hansen ✨

Gratitude by @kinanabinks

Lloyd Hansen x Mayor!Reader

Multiple characters ✨

Wicked little games by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Steve x Bratty Reader, Bodyguard Bucky x Reader x Bodyguard Andy

Peepshow by @labella420

Ari Levinson x F!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Let us take care of you by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Stucky x Assistant Reader

#fic rec #april fic rec #bucky barnes #namor #ari levinson #steve rogers #eddie munson #andy barber #joel miller #lloyd hansen

[writing-for-marvel]

These are all the fics l've read in April. Please go show all these amazing writers some much deserved love! Also please remember to read the warnings for each individual fic

🔥 - smut | 💗 - fluff | 💧 - angst | 😈 - dark

Dividers by @saradika

Bucky Barnes

💧💗 My Little Love (series) by @crazyunsexycool

🔥 Grind With Me by @caplanbuckybarnes

💗 Biker!Bucky x Tattooed!Reader by @fandoms-writings

💗 Sticky Notes by @/fandoms-writings

💗 American Booty by @mindingmyownbusiness

💧💗 Bucky + nap by @targaryenvampireslayer

🔥 Hide and Seek by @/targaryenvampireslayer

💧💗 Simplicity by @illicitfixations

😈 Bucky x Runaway Bride by @angrythingstarlight

💧💗 My Girl by @girl-next-door-writes

💧💗 Bandaged with Love by @jobean12-blog

💧💗 Chasing Love by @/jobean12-blog

💧💗 Save Me From Myself by @babydollhargreeves

💧💗 By Your Side by @preciousbarnes

🔥 Cockwarming by @bucky-barnes-diaries

💧💗 bucky comforts you after you have a panic attack by @lunarbuck

💗 Bad Day by @/lunarbuck

💗 Love Sick Puppy by @samdeancass

😈🔥 SALT by @buckets-and-trees

💗 Be My Muse by @themorningsunshine

🔥 Patience by @bellasburdens

💧💗 Move On by @sunshine-on-my-mind

Steve Rogers

💗 Confessions by @our-marvel-universe

💗 No Place Like Home by @mellowsaturns

🔥 Need You Now by @1-800-jjbarnes

🔥 Just a Taste by @/1-800-jjbarnes

💗 Period Camps by @espinosaurusrexex

🔥💗 Golden Hour by @buckymorelikefuckme

💗 Love On The First Splash by @rogerswifesblog

Sam Wilson

💧💗🔥 The Real America’s Ass by @hannibals-favourite-meal

💧💗 Sleep No More by @/caplanbuckybarnes

💧💗 Sad!? On Your B-Day? by @bigbadripley

Augustus Pugliese

💗 augustus "pug" pugliese x gn!reader (fluff) by @rodrikstark

Ari Levsinson

🔥 Kiss Me Through the Phone by @sidepartskinnyjeans

💧💗🔥😈 After Hours by @flordeamatista

💗🔥 Easy, Baby by @cevansbrat0007

Andy Barber

💗🔥 Sundaze by @sunshinebuckybarnes

🔥 Come on Over by @/sunshinebuckybarnes

💗 Hold My Heart by @/flordeamatista

💗 Down to Business by @navybrat817

Ransom Drysdale

💧 Come On Down by @intrepidacious

Nick Fowler

💧🔥 Kiss It Better by @late-to-the-party-81

Joel Miller

🔥 Joel Miller x reader by @holacia3

🔥💗 Interrupted by @/holacia3

Multiple Characters

😈🔥 Never Ending Nightmare by @/late-to-the-party-81 [Ransom Drysdale + Ari Levinson]

💗 Prelude to a Kiss by @/navybrat817 [Bucky Barnes + Steve Rogers]

#reading list #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #Sam wilson #sam wilson fanfic #augustus pugliese #Augustus Pugliese fanfic #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfic #Andy barber #andy barber fanfic #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfic #nick fowler #Nick Fowler fanfic #joel miller #Joel miller fanfic

[agentmarcuspike]

hi i'm ziggy (they/them) and i write on the internet! here's everything i've published

(* indicates smut, ≈ indicates angst)

joel & his kids

"i crawl home to her" (post-outbreak) ≈ synopsis: after being stabbed, joel floats in and out of consciousness, between then and now, before and after, and his two daughters, both saving him in their own ways. "lover, where do you live" (post-outbreak) ≈ based on the song with the same name, by highasakite "a promise softly sung" (pre-outbreak) synopsis: sarah crashes on her bike, joel freaks out

ellie

"mihá (pride)" (post-outbreak) ≈ based on the song with the same name, by mari boine

joel + f!reader

"naked in my bed"-series (dbf!joel, no outbreak) synopsis: after a date you end up in your neighbor, joel miller's, bed... with another man. joel doesn't seem to mind... – part 1, part 2, part 3*, part 4* "all my casualties of love" (post-outbreak) ≈* synopsis: Joel had decided to never love again. His brother left to find a different life, he lost his partner to the horrors, and now he finds himself wandering, gathering courage to end it all, secretly yearning for a reason not to. And then he finds her. And she ruins everything. "a minute from home" (biker!joel, no outbreak) synopsis: a mysterious man with a motorcycle saves you from a terrible date

marcus pike

“give and take” (pmamc 2024)* synopsis: marcus asks you for something he's wanted for some time...

javi peña

“let me fade away” (noncon, dead dove: do not eat) ≈* synopsis: javi catches you doing drugs in a public bathroom, and makes you pay

frankie morales

“two minutes” (triple frontier, frankie x f!dom) ≈* synopsis: after breaking up with you on a self sabotaging whim, frankie finds his way back into familiar arms to cope

marcus pike + f!reader + javi peña

"three's a crowd" (the mentalist/narcos) * synopsis: your boyfriend, marcus, asks you to hook up with his new good-looking colleague, javier peña. and he'd like to watch.

requests/prompts

javi peña + "leaving notes for them around the house"

joel miller + "painting their nails"

marcus pike + "getting the giggles together"

marcus pike + taylor swift ("you are in love")

twilight / tlou crackfic "sarah introduces joel to edward cullen"

i also write poetry sometimes, and make moodboards, if you're interested in that :-) (to follow along my process you can visit my writingroom tag)

header/divider by me, @saradika, @silkholland, @cafekitsune

#this is the most chaotic masterlist lol i'm sorry i'm working on it #masterlist #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction