#pirate! Joel Miller

[tightjeansjavi]

From Eden | AU Pirate! Joel Miller x Mermaid f! Reader

A/N: at long last, we have arrived. This fic was totally self indulgent for me as mermaid lore and pirates has always been a huge interest for me ever since I was a child (I blame pirates of the Caribbean) this is my first time dipping my toe in fantasy writing, but I am so excited to share this with you all. 🏴‍☠️🖤

~word count: 6.6k~

Summary: a prince with a desire for a new life, endures on a journey he’ll never forget. A journey that ends with you by his side always.

Warnings: angst, swearing, implicit smut, ambiguous ending that leads the reader to decide what has become of Joel, mentions of drinking, mild violence, awful mothers/fathers, arranged marriages, pirate talk, death, grief, magic, fantasy, mermaid lore, old English (that may or may not be historically accurate) reader has no physical description, no use of y/n minors dni! (+18)

The sea calls to me, mother. It beckons me. The salty breeze whispers my name. Do not fret where I have ventured. Tis be only in vain. Mourn me not for my departure. I will not live a life I wish not to live. I desire adventure and friendship. I do not wish to be pacified by marriage, and the duties forthcoming with it. I disdain the thought of growing old and grayed without discovering what the world has to offer. I will bear you no grandchildren, and our lineage will wash away with the tide. Pity me not, for I pity you. Leave thou tears unshed, for I will not shed my own in the thought of you.

-J.M 1721

On the eve of Joel’s wedding, under the flickering soft glow of candlelight, the husband-to-be dipped his feather quill lightly into the ink reservoir. He pondered what words would flow onto the parchment resting below his palm. The seconds ticked by as he sealed his destiny in ebony ink. Annabeth would find better. Someone more suitable for her mundane needs. Joel would not be her husband, she would not become his wife.

“My lady, does your mind ever drift and dream of faraway adventure? Does your heart not shriek in the darkest of night for more than these measly castle walls have to offer?” He gingerly took her hand in his own, fighting the bile that rose in his throat as his eyes drifted down to the ring presently shimmering on her finger. The ringer he dutifully betrothed her with.

“My prince, my only wish is to be your dutiful wife and bless you with as many sons and daughters my body can carry. Tomorrow brings new beginnings. In the evening light we shall be married, and you will bed me as you please. Is this no longer what you desire? My prince, what has become of thee?” The backside of her dainty hand rested upon his forehead for she was afraid he had come down with a delirious fever.

“Annabeth, my flower, I wish to see the world. I wish to know what lies beyond the steady horizon. To taste the sea upon my lips, to clench the sand beneath my palms. You speak of me as your prince, but I wish to not be addressed as one. I do not wish to bed thee.”

“Thou speaks evil upon thy tongue. My prince, oh how you wound me so. I wish not to be in a loveless marriage with a man who yearns for the caress of the sea. Why must your heart and mind wander? Why must you disobey your mother’s wishes? Have I not devoted myself to thee?”

A heavy sigh through the evening breeze. Joel’s forehead came to rest upon her bosom as his lashes fluttered shut. “Dearest Annabeth, thou hast not lived in happiness. Thou has lived by her mothers law since thou was just a babe. How cruel that you are expected to marry not out of love, but for status. Dost thou truly want to live a life imprisoned by marriage?”

She wept silent tears for she did not want to be married to a man that did not love her. She did not want to bear his children. She had dreams of a life far richer. Far away from silver platters, incessant lectures, and garments far too tight to breathe in. Her chin fell to rest upon his head as salty tears rolled down her cheekbones.

“My prince, I have always dreamed of becoming a poet. Mother disapproves. She believes that women cannot be anything but wives and mothers. I do not wish to bear children. It is expected of me, but I loathe it.”

Joel chuckled, pressing a kiss to the soft skin between the valley of her breasts where a smooth silver pendant lay. “Thou mother is an impudent cunt.” She giggled softly at his quick tongue.

her fingers threaded themselves through his hair, twisting ringlets mindlessly. “Mother would have thy tongue for use of such foul language.”

He snorted. “Dost thou disagree? Annabeth, it is just you and I in the gardens this evening. No one shall reprimand thee for speaking the truth.”

“My mother is a foul, loathsome, impudent cunt.”

“Recite it again, my flower.”

“My mother is a cunt.”

“Encore” he hummed.

“My mother is a cunt. I detest this all-too tight dress, and I do not desire to marry thee.”

“Bien joué, ma fleur”

“My prince, I thought thou despised French studies?” She pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Oui, mon chéri.”

She sighed, soft and gentle as she laid back into the soft cooling grass, gazing up at the glittering sky above. Joel followed her body, resting the side of his head in the lap of her flowy fabric dress.

“My prince, where will thou venture?”

“Tortuga, my flower. There I will be a prince no more. My lineage will fall as my mother weeps, and I shall step into piracy, and sail the high seas just as I have always dreamed.”

“Thou wishes to become a pirate?” She queried.

“Indeed. Tis true, my flower.”

“Thou shall make a handsome pirate.�� She softly giggled, gently stroking his soft curls that she would admittedly miss terribly when he would depart.

“Just as thou shall make a brilliant minded poet.” He assured her.

Dark maroon wax dripped languidly along the pale parchment. Joel sealed the letter with a practice hand. His heart raced within the depths of his ribcage as the realization set in that he would be a prince no more. No more pretentious royals, no more stingy small talk, no more ballroom dances, no more lectures.

Joel Miller was to be a free man for the first time in his 17 years of life. The dying candle along his desk was blown out as the smoke curled and lingered. Below his window and past the looming castle walls, Joel could hear the sea whisper his name. In a giddy haste he packed his necessities in a leather bag. He took one last gaze over his room before departing into the ominous night.

His midnight black steed was steady under the saddle as the moonlight guided their way to the port docks. They rode swiftly and silently through the cobblestone city streets. Moving through the shadows with a soft squeeze of his inside leg to spur Hendrix forward. Joel’s horse was one of his prized possessions. A jet black colt with a tiny star being his only white marking. He would be saddened to never see his hooved companion again.

He could taste the salty sea air along his taste buds as the crescendo of crashing waves neared. With a soft tug on the reins, Hendrix slowed to a steady walk along the dock. He was so close to freedom. It was there, in his grasp as he discarded the hood of his cloak around his shoulders. Joel had studied many books on ships and how to maneuver one. It was frowned upon by his mother, so for this reason he’d sneak out late at night and find himself enriched in the library on the east end of the castle. It was now or never for him to put his knowledge learned under a real test. So much for trial and error.

“My prince?” The old sailor hobbled from the shadows of the creaky dock. A lantern trembling in his weathered grip. A quizzical expression crossed his sagging features as he watched Joel dismount from his steed.

“Thou shalt not speak of what thy has seen. I offer my horse in trade for your ship. Hurry please, my fellow. Before they become aware of my untimely departure. I have gold to offer thee as well. My horse can carry you wherever thy desires to wander.” Joel uttered, urgency stricken in his tone.

“My prince..is thee not set to be married in the morn? What use do you have for my ship lad?”

“Good fellow, I simply wish to leave the life I once knew and explore the world and all she has to offer.” He pulled out a sack of gold coins from under his cloak. “All I ask of thee is to speak to no one. Take care of my horse. He’s a good steed, and I shall miss him dearly.”

“Aye, adventure calls thy name?” The sailor pocketed the gold and grasped the smooth leather reins in his palm. “Best be on your way then, laddie. Your steed will be in good hands.”

“Bless you, sir. I wish you good fortune in your days to come.” He gently patted Hendrix along his silky smooth neck. “I shall miss you, my dear friend.”

Just like that, Joel Miller was no longer a prince. His name held a title no more. The tide pulled him out further, and further as he let out a sound filled with glee. A ship of his own to sail the high seas, what a pirate's life f’me.

In the far off distance, Joel could faintly hear the panicked bells ring. The prince was found to be missing from his bed chambers. Where had he gone? No one except Annabeth and an old sailor knew the truth of the prince’s disappearance.

Being a pirate was not all it cracked out to be. Well, in the first few years of entering piracy. His hair had grown longer, longer than it had ever been. It was speckled with sea salt and curled at the nape of his neck. The curls were unruly both from the sea, and maidens that enjoyed tugging on the strands with slender fingers. His once clean shaven face had grown into a patchy beard. The whores he bed didn’t seem to mind how it would scratch the apex of their thighs as he went to town on their pulsing cunts. He felt far more like that of a man with his facial hair. Oh the horror his mother would feel if she were to know of how her once proper, budding son became a frequent customer at one of Tortuga’s many brothels.

He always paid in gold handsomely. It drew the eyes of company that he did not wish to partake in. He was strong, sure and able to fight without breaking a sweat but as soon as a pistol was pulled and he had yet to obtain one, he quickly realized he would not be coming out of this altercation unscathed. He did however get a few good punches in before ultimately handing over the gold coins he kept on his person.

He thought he had the opposing pirates out-fooled by keeping a stash of his gold back at the inn room he inhabited..until he returned later that evening to find his room ransacked and his gold stolen. So be it, he thought. At least they didn’t take the rum.

That’s how he presently found himself in a drunken stupor, wandering the streets, getting into more fights than he could count until a fellow pirate took pity upon him one early morning…

A swift kick to his gut from a heavy boot sent Joel coughing up the rum that was still sloshing in his stomach. He groaned, reaching for his pistol but it was knocked from his grasp and landed a few feet away.

“Get yer ass up laddie.” A gruff voice spoke above him.

“Who the fuck are you—”

Another swift kick had Joel scrambling to sit up as he finally grasped his pistol and cocked it at the intruder. “I suggest ye fuck off back to wherever ye came from.” He growled under his breath.

“Yer drunk, matey. Ain’t gonna get a clear shot even if ya tried.” The older pirate crouched down to his level with a low chortle.

“What’s it to ya?” Joel snarked back.

“Ye got a ship lad? A crew?”

“Aye. I have a ship..I do not possess a crew. Do ye not have a ship? What kind of pirate doesn’t have his own ship?”

“Lost ‘er at sea I’m afraid. Ye have a ship, but be needin’ a crew. I can provide the crew if ye provide the ship, savvy?”

Joel was weary of the older pirate’s offer. He had preferred to sail the seas alone but considering his current state..what more did he truly have to lose?

“Ye have a deal.” He nodded in agreement.

“Smart lad ye be.” He helped the younger pirate to his feet, clapping him on the back stiffly.

Joel had become a seasoned pirate in a short period of time under the guidance of the older pirate. When he passed of old age, Joel became the captain. His ship and crew echoed through the Mediterranean channel. He felt that he had become unstoppable. Driven with greed and the desire for more, he led his crew to their watery grave too soon.

“Captain! She’ll never fit through! You’re goin’ to kill us all!” His secondhand warned him as they steadfastly approached shipwreck cove.

“Aye, she’ll fit! Have I ever let thee down?” His grip along the helm was steady and true.

“No sir, thee have not!”

“Hold ‘er steady boys!” Joel’s confidence wavered when he faced the cold hard truth that his ship would not fit through the rocky channel. He turned the helm sharply to avoid a collision but he was too late, the bow struck true.

“Abandon ship! Abandon ship—” his men yelled in a panic.

a deafening boom

flames

blood curdling screams of his frightened men being dragged down to Davy Jones Locker.

blood oozed from a gash along Joel’s eyebrow as he struggled to pull himself up to his feet. His ears were ringing as he took in the sight before him. Everything in his sight was burning. The wood creaked and groaned as the growing flames licked at his skin. This was the first in many moons that Joel truly felt terrified. He dove into the depths below, using the strength he had left to swim to the nearest shore.

He swore through the murky waters that he caught sight of shimmery scales..a swishing fin. Or perhaps it was his deluded mind playing a trick on him. Mermaids were just old wives tales after all. Creatures of the depths that woo men to their watery graves with alluring songs and seductive beauty.

He struggled to breach the surface as exhaustion seeped into his veins. His lungs screamed for air as he fought against the strong current with everything he had left in him. Suddenly, everything went black.

As a young mermaid you were taught to fear men, whether their ships carried white sails, or black. All men were to be feared. Your father forbade you and your sisters from ever making yourselves known to the surface world. It was too risky especially with the uprising of pirates. Your sisters like to toy with lone sailors lost at sea. They used their beauty and their natural talents of song to lure their victims to the depths.

Their song was melodious, angelic, and addictive; it was almost as if the men were under a trance and unable to escape your sister's snares. It was all a game to your sister’s of course. When your father caught wind of what your sister’s were doing in the pitch black of the night, he encouraged it.

You had no interest in drowning men. You had no reason to cause harm to another being that had inflicted no harm to you. Why couldn’t men and mermaids live in peace?

You spotted the ship crash into the rocky channel from afar. You saw frightened men jump into the sea, thinking that they would survive to see another sunrise..till your sisters dragged them to where the sunlight never reaches. Ripping them limb from limb to become mere fish food.

You witnessed the last body to hit the water from the safety of a looming sponge coral. You watched his arms struggle to pull himself to the surface, desperately clawing for air. When he gave in to what he believed to be his fate, and his body began to sink like deadweight, you made the split second decision to save this man. You swam as fast as you could, gliding through the water as you wrapped your arms around his torso and swam towards the light.

He was heavier in the water, but you were strong willed, and determined to save his life. When you breached the surface the man in your steady grip made no signs of life as you swam to the shore and hauled his body along the wet sand. You discovered that he was quite handsome, with hair that fell in ringlets, and soft pillowy lips that paired with a strong aquiline nose.

This man, pirate or not, was stunning.

Your hand gently came to rest along his cheek, feeling the stubble along his patchy beard lightly prick your skin like a sea urchin. You checked his body for injuries in a haste. Your fingers gently pushed back his hair to find the gash along his forehead. It ran fairly deep into his brow line, while crimson blood continued to trickle down his face only to be washed away by the gentle waves along the shoreline. The sea had healing properties as you knew, and the many plants that dwell below the surface were rich in nutrients, and could heal even the deepest of wounds.

You worked quickly as your fear of the man waking up was becoming prevalent when you observed his dark lashes fluttering and his body twitch. You gathered up a bit of seaweed that was used to heal open lacerations on the skin's surface. You delicately lay a strand of seaweed across his dripping brow. The blood clotted as the miracle plant adhered to his broken skin like glue. Magic, or science? The world may never know.

Your eyes zoned in on the pooling of blood through the once white linen of his shirt. There was a stray fragment of splintered wood sticking out from his side. The intrusion went fairly deep and it would require a little more work.

“Oh, fiddlesticks. I’m deeply sorry, sir. If you can hear me, I’m afraid this is going to hurt a tad.”

Am I dreaming..or is that a maiden's voice?

I must be dead, for I have never heard a voice tis so soft and sweet sounding.

With a small huff you grasped the end of the jagged wood and gave it a firm yank.

Your jolly sailor bold let out a deep gravelly wheeze as his hand subconsciously went to clutch at his side. More seaweed was gently laid upon his open wound and when you were satisfied that beautiful man would not bleed out upon the sand, you turned your body to head back to the sea.

With a flip of your shimmery tail you disappeared under the waves surface, and back to the depths of your home. You didn’t wander far as your own curiosity got the best of you. You hoped that your jolly sailor bold would awake to see another day. Perhaps your sisters and father wouldn’t send a search party for you. Perhaps they would believe you to be crushed by the bow of the ship. For now, you waded in the coral reefs below the surface to patiently wait.

Joel awoke suddenly in a disarray to his surroundings. All he could remember was his prized ship crashing into the rocky channel, his men’s frightened screams, and then everything went to black. How did he end up on the shoreline? Did he swim?..The current was far too dangerous to tread. The waves would knock him down..did someone save him? Or, was it something?

He slowly rose to a sitting position as he tried to rack his brain for any missing important details. His head turned to the side as he glanced down at the apparent indentation along the wet sand. Someone was with him. An Angel? No, it could not be. Joel wasn’t a religious man by any means. Besides, why would an Angel help a pirate such as he?

“‘Must be dreamin’”, he concluded. “Or I’m really dead. Dead as a man can ever be. Forever lost at sea.” His fingers reached up to brush his hairline where he felt a dull pain. He expected to feel the coolness of blood on his skin instead he was met with a strange slimy, yet soft texture. His hand reached down to his side where the splintered wood had been wrenched from and he was met with the same feeling.

“Blimey. What Devil’s work be this?” He twisted his body to get a better look at the wound on his side. His eyes widened the slightest when he saw the seaweed adhered to his skin. Upon closer inspection, the plant was very much still alive, and he could see the tendrils weaving together slowly acting as a suture.

Confused, and ridden in exhaustion, his body flopped back down along the sand with a soft thump. He was unsure how many hours he had slept under the gentle sway of palm trees, and the steady sea kissing at his feet. When he awoke it was due to a voice he had heard. A whisper through the thick vegetation that lay a few yards behind him. It was the same soft voice from earlier. A woman’s voice; the most beautiful voice had ever touched his undeserving ears.

Struggling to his feet, he staggered towards the voice, and used the sturdy bases of the palm trees to balance him. His body was still fairly weak, but he’d be damned if he didn’t meet the maiden that possessed such a sweet sounding tune.

As he drew nearer, the voice became clearer and easily detectable. Oh, it was so beautiful. Chillingly beautiful. It would be fairly easy for a man to be driven into madness from hearing a song so saccharine.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal

My happiness attend him wherever he may go

From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep and moan

All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home

He followed your voice till he was greeted by the lagoon tucked away in the jungle. The water was crystal clear and below there were all kinds of coral and sea life thriving. What he was first to take notice of was the fair maiden that laid basking along a smooth damp rock. He could only see your upper torso that appeared to be covered by shimmering silk that wrapped around your breasts like drifting seaweed. His lips parted in surprise as he had never laid his eyes upon a maiden so stunning in his lifetime.

A twig snapped under the weight of his boot as he crept closer. You had not caught wind of your jolly sailor bold till your keen ears detected the sound of a twig snapping. It was enough to send your mind in a fury of panic as you dove below the surface. Your tail flapped as you slipped off the rock, it created a wild splash from the movement.

“Wait! I do not mean to frighten thee! Please, don’t go. Are you the maiden that saved me? I awoke on the sand..confused how I came to rest there. Please, need not to be afraid. I promise I will not harm thee.” He slowly approached the entryway to the lagoon, crouching down onto his knees.

You slowly peeked around the corner of the rock you had previously been sunbathing on. “I am the one to save you sir, but I am no maiden.”

“What are thee then? You appear to be a maiden, one that I now owe my very life to. I will forever be in your debt.”

“I am one with the sea..one of her many children that dwell in the depths below. You do not owe your life to me sir. I only wished to do a good deed.”

“One with..the sea? Is this a riddle? My head hurts far too much for any riddles, my dear. Do ye have a name?”

“Tis not a riddle, sir. For I am a mermaid. The sea is my home. I cannot utter my name to thee as it is forbidden.”

“A mermaid? Poppycock. Mermaids are just silly wives tales. I do not believe in such stories.” He swallowed a scoff that crawled up his throat.

Your tail suddenly swished above the surface as Joel clambered back, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

“By god, I must be dreamin!’ How can it be? Body of a woman, tail of a fish. Are the tales true?” He asked in disbelief.

“‘You are not dreaming, sir. I am as true as can be. Do I frighten thee?”

“No, no. I am simply just awestruck. A real life mermaid. I have never been confronted with such beauty to behold.”

You cautiously swam closer. You couldn’t help but to be drawn to the thrill of danger, even when every fiber in your scaled being was screaming at you to not draw nearer. Your arms slowly rose from the surface and came to rest along the rocky shore as you looked up at him through soft lashes. “And you, are you my jolly sailor bold?” You asked softly, tilting your chin to rest upon the top of your wrist.

Joel’s cheeks inflamed. Never had he felt so flustered by another being. His hand reached up and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never been pressured with such forward questions. Are your kind allowed to dwell with pirates?”

“For a pirate such as thee, you are quite sweet, and charming. Are all pirates like you?”

“I’m afraid not, my jewel. Most of us are quite brutish in nature. I come from Royal blood, and no matter how many years I have been away from my old life, my manners always find a way to sneak through. My men—” he paused rather suddenly. “My crew..were they saved? Please, tell me that they’re alive and not forever lost at sea.”

“Your men..didn’t survive. I’m so sorry, sir. My sisters are not as kind as I. They dragged them to the depths..ripped them limb from limb. Father would have a heart attack if he saw me conversing with you.”

“Fuck.” He whispered as he fell back onto his haunches and buried his face in his hands. “It’s all my fault. I am the cause of their deaths. If only I had listened..if only my ego did not shroud my judgment, they would still be alive.”

Your hand gently came to rest upon his arm. It caused you great distress to see another being in pain. Physical, or the mental kind, you felt it through and through. “You cannot beat yourself up over what has already been done. Not when you are still breathing air into your lungs, and tasting the sea along thy tongue. Do not weep for the dead, sir. You will see them when the time comes.”

Joel flinched at the soft contact, as it had been many moons since he felt the touch of a woman on his skin. “Joel.” He whispered. “My name is Joel, and I wish for you to whisper it as softly as thou sings.”

“Joel..I like the way it falls from thy tongue. Where doth thou wander from?..how did thou turn to piracy?”

“I like the way it sounds rolling past thy lips. I ran away from home, many years ago. I traded my trusted steed for a sailors ship. I was set to be married and live a life that I did not wish to live. My wife to-be was the only person to understand me, and my dreams. For you see, the sea has always beckoned me, and I finally answered it.”

“You ran away? That sounds awfully exhilarating. I’ve always wanted to leave my father and home behind. I suppose in a way I have, now that I am here with you.”

“Oh, it was. I still remember the rush through my veins when the sea carried me far away. All my life I had been searching for a purpose, and once I finally had it in my grasp, I could not forfeit what I always dreamed of. My jewel, why did thee choose to save me?”

“Your actions are very admirable, Joel. I struggle deeply with allowing other beings to be in pain. It goes against my nature. That is why I have never partook in my sister’s ploys. I never desired to drag lonesome sailors to a watery grave. Your life is just as special as the next. I could not bear to see thee perish.”

Your words touched a place inside Joel that no woman had dared to try and reach. It wasn’t that he was closed off to affection, he just simply didn’t have the heart for it. He bed women for an evening and he’d return to the sea the following morning. It was like clockwork. He only had felt for Annabeth, and even then he felt that it was platonic over romantic. He loved her, but not in the way that made his heart race and his palms sweat.

“I appreciate thee for saving my life. I do not feel that I am deserving to live while my men have died in a brutal fashion, but perhaps I shall take thee as a blessing.”

“Joel, every living being is deserving of life. Your woes shall burden you no longer. Doth thou wish to be happy, and at peace?”

“I wish for that, yes. How do I live with the grief in my bones?”

“You learn to forgive, and forget. You see the world for its simple pleasures of beauty, and grace.”

“Such as thee?” He boldly asked.

“If you wish it.” Your palm gently rested upon his own as you coaxed his hand from his face. “I have never thought pirates to be so..handsome.”

He leaned into your gentle cradled touch along stubble covered cheek. “How do you find such beauty in danger? I’ve killed many men. I’ve played the fool, and the instigator. I’ve made honorable decisions, and piss-planned mistakes. I am that of a scoundrel.”

“No, my jolly sailor bold. If thee were to be that of a scoundrel, you would have brought harm upon me. You are gentle at the core.” Your hand slowly drifted down to his exposed chest, feeling his heart skip a beat under your palm.

“You speak of that as a poet. I’d fancy to hear more of your honeyed voice.”

“Only if thou tells me tales of being a pirate.”

“Deal, my jewel.”

For many suns and moons, you and your jolly sailboat were engrossed in one another’s stories. He’d steal glances at your lips every few sentences as your fingers were gently toying with his soft ringlets. He’d recite to you stories of his past life, and present. Stories of adventure and thrills above the surface.

He craned his head to catch a glimpse of your shimmering tail below the surface. He was fascinated, as much as he was enamored. “Do you ever wish that thou had legs?” He softly asked as you twirled a curl gently.

“Sometimes I do wish for it. The sea has so much life and color to offer..but the surface land does spark my curiosity from time to time. I’ve seen ladies in fancy dresses upon ships with white sails. They always look so beautiful.”

“My dear, those ladies may look beautiful in their garments, they however can hardly breathe in them. You would be miserable in that life. Unless you somehow found your way to freedom.”

“Oh, would I be expected to marry for status? Not for love? I had no inclination to believe that their garments were suffocating, how dreadful.”

“Yes, your parents would have picked out a husband for you, before you’d properly experienced a childhood. You’d be forced into incessant lectures, proper etiquette, training and how to be a functioning member in society. Did I fail to mention you’d be forced to attend fancy parties and engage in mindless small talk? Life above the surface as a royal was draining at best.”

“My father has already picked a husband out for me. He is a fine merman, he just..doesn’t make my heart sing. Oh, how I’d love to dance under the moonlight. To hear a live orchestra..or an opera singer..”

Joel turned his nose up when you stated that you already had a husband picked out by the hand of your father. “I see.. Well, you did run away, did you not? You no longer have to marry. Not when you’re here with me. If you wish so terribly to dance, then we shall. All you have to do is wish for it, my jewel.”

“Joel, how are we to dance when you have legs. and I possess fins..” your lips curved in a soft pout.

“My love, in the crystal water you dwell in of course. Do you trust me?” He slowly sat up to rest upon his strong elbow.

“Of course I trust you. You have given me no reason to not trust you. Do you wish to dance with me under the moonlight, my jolly sailor bold?”

“I do, my jewel.” His words whispered against your skin like a soft warm breeze.

Just like that, Joel had stripped himself of his belongings, his holster that held his pistol and sword were discarded to the side as he struggled to unlace his boots. He had the ghost of a boyish grin across the shadow of his jawline. He truly was that of beauty.

You slowly swam backwards, wading in the gentle water as he swung his legs over the ledge and slipped in. His body was fully healed by now and only a scar along his browline and side were visible.

“Promise not to laugh..I am not the strongest of swimmers.” He chuckled as he swam towards you.

Under the pale moonlight and stars above, you were captivated by his golden tanned skin that was now speckled with water droplets. The gold that hung around his neck shimmered like your scales and the rings that encased his fingers.

“I’d only ever laugh in good fun at thee.”

“I never knew a mermaid could hold such humor.” He winked coyly.

“I never knew a pirate could be so..cheeky.” Your arms slowly looped around his neck as his gentle hands rested upon your scaly waist.

You slowly began to move your bodies under the water, mimicking that of a man and woman dancing to the sweet sound of a violin. The water rippled as the crickets chirped along the shore.

Joel Miller had never been in love; he decided now that his heart belonged to you, a mermaid that he believed was brought to him by fate alone. How blessed he was to be given a second chance at a fruitful life. He didn’t need a ship, or a crew. All he needed was you.

“Joel..” you whispered through the calm evening air.

“Yes, my jewel?”

“Do you believe that it’s ever too soon to tell someone you love them?”

“No, my love. I do not believe that there is ever a time too soon, or too sudden to confess your love for someone.”

“Then if that is to be true, I love you.”

“I love you, my sea.” His forehead gently came to rest upon your own as his hands slowly and delicately slid up your body. He stroked your hair, your cheekbones as his thumb dragged across your lower lip. “I wish to kiss thee. Do you wish it?”

You leaned into his gentle touch as your fingers threaded through his sea-salt speckled curls. “I wish to feel thy lips upon my own.”

He turned his head to the side, nose gently brushing against your own as his lips met yours. His hands were now gently cradling your face with the utmost care as he kissed you like a lover does for the first time. Your lips moved in synchronized harmony, you and your jolly sailor bold.

Upon one summer's morning, when the sea was at her angriest and the wind howled a ghostly tune as the skies above darkened to pitch black, Joel had decided that a life above the surface was a life he no longer wanted to live. He wished to be with you, forever.

“My jewel!” He yelled for you as he raced for the lagoon that had become yours and his personal oasis.

You swam up from the surface of the lagoon, his voice was like that of a beacon. “My Joel, you shouldn’t be out here. You must find shelter. The storm is picking up and I am frightened that you will be caught up in her fury.” Your tone was urgent as he crouched along the edge of the lagoon.

“My Jewel, my light, please. Please listen to the words I speak. The storm does not frighten me. I have no desire to seek out shelter when I am safe here. I wish for you to take me to the depths. I wish for you to take me to your Eden. Please, my heart aches terribly that I can not be with you fully. The surface world has become my prison. I don’t wish to dwell in it any longer.”

Your face fell upon his confession. Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head vigorously, grasping his hands in your own. “No, my jolly sailor bold. Do not wish such a thing. You are not suited to dwell in the depths of the sea. I forbade it.”

“Please. Please, I am begging you. I have given thee my heart, my soul, take me all; for I am yours.”

“Joel..my heart breaks for thee. You will never return to land if you make this choice.” His hand gently cradled your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

“It is a choice I am willing to make. I wish to be with you for the rest of eternity. Till the sun rises in the west, and sets in the east. Till mountains crumble, and the sea dries, and the earth cracks and shatters to dust. I wish to be with you, always.” He murmured softly.

“Take my hand, and never let go.”

“Never, my jewel. I will never let go.” He promised to you.

He grasped your hand bravely in his own. He kissed you swiftly, holding your face as close to his as possible. He could taste the salt dripping from your tears mixing in with his own. He took his final lungful of air, before you dragged him below the surface.

Joel Miller, once a prince turned a pirate; Was never seen by the surface world again. Some say he was driven mad by the loneliness, and grief that he took his own life and drowned in the sea's treacherous depths. Others say the sea always called his name, beckoned him to return home, and so he did. The sea claimed him, and he her, just as it had been written.

Tagging people I think will enjoy: @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @sinsofsummers @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tessa-quayle @saradika @chaotic-mystery @kirsteng42 @korynnekorynne @amanitacowboy @last-girl @lovers-liability @pedrostories

Banners made by the lovely @saradika

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller au #joel miller angst #pirate! Joel Miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller story #joel miller one shot #joel miller self insert #from eden #tight jeans javi fic

[divinehedons]

godless promethean, elektran rage.

navigation: masterlist

pairing: pirate!joel miller x siren!reader

word count: ~8.4k words (I KNOW I'M SO SORRY)

summary: when the wrath of poseidon brings in something not quite human, a hardened pirate with the harshness of a soldier at war faces a bright-eyed siren with the delusion of a dreamer.

warnings: this is a DARK, EXPLICIT fic. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT or i will BLOCK you. so much plot, pirate!au, siren!au, joel is a violent motherfucker, reader is a metamorphic creature that turns human-like when not submerged in water, graphic depiction of violence and injury, mentions of abduction and implications of abuse, explicit p-in-v sex, oral (f!receiving), squirting, creampie, soooo much murder. it's like a greek tragedy without the incest.

note: THANK YOU FOR 600 FOLLOWERS!!! much of this work was inspired by me rereading the odyssey by homer, but the trope of joel x siren!reader is not of my own making! thank you so much for reading, and as always, comments and reblogs are much apprciated!

Be strong, saith my heart. A wave crests over the hull of the ship. Then another. And another. I have seen worse things than this. Synchronized hands haul the rope for the sails, a last attempt to regain control of their vessel. The Balkan sea stretches before weary sailors, endless and unforgiving, with one foot in their watery grave and the other clawing to live.

In the midst of this carnage is The Flounder, harbinger of chaos, populated by a crew of men who pillage, murder, and destroy anything that gets in their way. Joel once thought of him and his men as indestructible. The Wrath of Poseidon makes him reconsider otherwise.

“Goddamnit, Bonnie, we’re never gettin’ out of this mess!” Joel yells over the deluge of rain, tightening his grip and growling as the rope digs in to the skin of his palms. He sees another wave crest over them, sturdy as a wall, coming down upon their shivering backs, leaving them spluttering out seawater. He coughs momentarily, heaving in air as he digs his feet into the deck.

When he regains his breath, he hears his name being called. He looks, their Captain bellowing from where he steered. His new orders came through in the middle of the crack of thunder and the whistle of an unending storm. Check beneath the deck for damages. Fix anything that could sink them. He calls for someone to replace his hold and he runs for it. 

In his head, he had begun to pen a letter back to his waiting daughter under the care of his brother. Dear Sarah, he thinks, climbing down the ladder and finding himself in knee-deep, ice-cold water. I promised you that this will be my last expedition. That after this, we shall live out however you want us to. I only hope that I can live up to that promise. He cusses under his breath when he finds a growing leak in the hull, crossing himself as he immediately went about to fix it temporarily with what materials he could find. You’re safer with your uncle Tommy than here in this misery. And should anything happen to me, know that I love you and I trust you to be good to him, too. He crosses the threshold to see if there was anything else, moving across floating bottles, bobbing up and down with remnants of booze. With a sigh, isolated from the chaos above deck, he leans against a column, grabbing a drifting bottle and swallowing down the booze to settle his nerves.

I grow old, I grow old. He mouths the words under his breath. I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

The muffled sounds of the world melts away as he tries to catch his breath, gritting his teeth from the ache in his hips. Getting too old for this. He tries to think of a way that rest can be comfortable in this mess. Sleep, he thinks, delicious and profound. The very counterfeit of death.  It is only when his nerves settle that he hears it.

A splash in the common room. Too loud to be some drifting object. Something that continues to move against the motion of the ship between the waves. He stills himself, the empty bottle slipping between his fingers. Slowly, he moves closer to the source of the sound, like a predator stalking his prey in the darkness. He retrieves a drifting harpoon, peeking through the threshold of the room to inspect. In the semi-darkness, interrupted by the flickering of lanterns and dying candelight, he catches the shimmer of something alive. He raises his weapon, looks through his good eye, his brows crinkling at the effort to focus.

Too old and too goddamn blind for this shit.

He blinks a few times more before he finally sees. And what he sees is you.

Your lithe arms reaching against the walls of the ship, trying to find a weak link that could let you escape. Were you brought in by the waves? Were you the very thing responsible for the leak he just had to fix? Initially, Joel made the movement to speak, to ask how you had ended up here—the sea is no place for a maiden like you. But his breath hitches when he looks closer to see… well, you. The incandescent flickering of a scaled tail, blending with inhuman yet somewhat human skin around your hips, and your upper body, glorious, unmarked, and completely fucking naked.

Perhaps it was the months at sea, conversing with no one but the same crew of men who, despite their intelligentsia and capabilities, do not exactly have the looks capable of producing in him the flustering exhilaration of some teenager. But he, of all people, know of the stories, too. The whispers shared in the saloons in the darkness. The shared thrill and excitement of such beauty and danger lurking beneath the temptresses’ skins. He has heard of claws coming for his companions’ throats, have heard of the trickery they can cause with the power of the ocean entirely at their disposal. He thinks of Odysseus again— tethered to the mast of his ship, The only one of his men to hear the voice of the sirens and have survived. Odysseus, who would have laid his life down  just to come close to the very presence of something so divine. 

Another thing he knows is that the price of one siren is half the bounty they had planned for. Months of work cut out for himself. Months closer to seeing his daughter again. It’s enough to give him the taste of freedom. His own little piece of heaven that, ironically, is someone else’s hell. The funny thing was, he does not feel guilt about it.

Perhaps he was not Odysseus. He was not as noble. Nor did he ever want to be. A noble character would never provide a good life for his Sarah, waiting for him oceans away.

That was the decision that sealed the creature’s fate before him. Without a second thought, he fires his harpoon, the sharp head piercing through the creature’s shoulder as an angelic wail emanates from her precious throat. With her pinned down, he had begun yelling, calling for the presence of men to see what they’ve caught in their vessel. Their ticket to riches. The honeypot herself.

The blade itself incites to deeds of violence.

He swallows down the guilt as the thunder of heavy steps descend upon their victim, her screams only growing louder and louder amidst the exhilarated, disbelieving laughter of his companions. He does not dare to look. Does not dare to see those doe eyes of yours begging for respite, pulling him into your charms.

An eye of an eye. A good life for Sarah in exchange for hers.

Fair enough.

—-

When The Flounder has escaped the barrages of the storm, the sea is quiet. Some would even say peaceful. Joel wouldn't exactly use that word. Not when he hears your wails breaking the silence. That first night, no one understood what needed to be done. No one even bothered to try and treat your wound. The very wound he had caused. Everyone had something more important to do. Clear the seawater beneath the hull, secure the sails, have a quick meal, get a few winks of sleep. Naturally, the mythical being, as all other inconsequential things, were tucked away, you dealt with the usual brusque nature of men.

So when he had been called to watch you before dawn broke, that's what he set his mind to. Stepping down beneath the deck, with spare scraps of cloth and booze in hand. They've cleared out the flooding. But the wood hadn't dried completely. Mick, who he had passed beforehand, gave him a questioning look. "Aren't ya scared she'd rip your throat out?"

He scoffs, tilting his head to the side as he speaks. "I'm more scared of the stench she'll make if she starts dyin' on us, Micky."

What he did not expect when he opens the closet you've been locked in is the metamorphic cross between a tail and legs you kick out at him. What he hears next is the snarl, your body knocking him over, small, webbed hands slipping around his throat. “You asshole!” That same heavenly voice, filled with so much malice that does not fit with the angelic features towering over him. You speak in a language he does not understand, a torrent of words driven by so much emotion that he sees a glance of what Homer was so distasteful about. You could kill him, devour him bones and all and you wouldn’t even flinch.

However, he sees how your rage blinds you, too. Blinds you to his precise movements, making you think you’ve subdued him, only to suddenly flip your positions, pinning you down by your wrists, trying to look into your eyes.

What you see, staring up at him as your last yells escape you, is the strands of silver in his hair. What follows next is his tired eyes. A sea of stories that you feel as if you can almost hear them if the world is quiet enough. However, you cannot deny the warmth to them. The fire that you failed to see in the other men that shoved you in the closet you have been suffocating in. It’s what makes you stop in your struggle as you finally hear his voice.

“Damnit, let me help you, honey, c’mon…”

It’s then that Joel finally comprehends what he sees. You, a mythical being that shifts from merfolk in one instance, to a walking goddess in the next. Perhaps it was what helped your kind survive; camouflaging yourself and disappearing amidst throes of people. “You turn when ya… when…?”

You swallow, breathless and trembling as you grit your teeth. He sees the panic in your eyes, the idea that he can just betray you if he wanted to. If it would benefit him.

“Let me help you, darlin’.”

“W-when I’m…” You breathe in sharply. “When I’m not in water.”

He nods, slowly, watching the lithe legs and your bare body, spotless and perfect in every way. “I see.” He removes himself from you, moving away from your periphery. You gather your breath, turning over to see him, kneeling over an upturned washtub, somewhat filled with some form of water or another. “Those men up there? They can’t see you like this, otherwise…” he trails off, preferring not to picture what they’d do. What they’ve all once done before at sea. “Ya hear me?” He looks back at you, watching the way your hands gripped your bleeding shoulder wound, evidence of what he had already done to you. “You don’t know what else they can do to a pretty girl like ya.”

So, gently, he kneels beside you with a pained groan from the ache in his knees. You flinch under his touch and he gives you a stern look. “Why did you do this?”

He shakes his head, opening the bottle he brought down with him to pour it over the gaping flesh. Your soft fingers grip on to his arm, the softest whine escaping your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re not the only one fightin’ to survive in this world, honey.” He shushes you gently, moving to wrap what pieces of cloth he could find, using them to bandage your wound as you finally soften in his hold. He helps you into the tub, and he tries not to look into your eyes again.

You spoke again when he turned away, giving you the privacy he assumed you needed. “Just because you need to survive doesn’t mean I need it any less.” He stops in his tracks, looking down for a moment before clearing his throat. “Are men always this wretched? That one must tear down the innocent to survive?” He moves to answer, turning back momentarily, before sighing, turning back to continue cleaning up the mess. “Thank you, though. For… this.”

You know exactly how to describe it. You just don’t want him to hear it. The gentleness that comes, not in the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

Joel hears the noise in his head, clouding his thoughts and drowning them out as he moves from one place to another.as he tries not to think about you, quiet in a tub of water, pretending to ignore him. Men are so quick to blame the gods…

He hands you a plate of scraps. The trimmings from a loaf of bread. A slice of some meat, and the last pieces of cheese he could find. “Eat,” he orders gruffly, moving to sit by the side of your tub, while he seats himself with a slice of bread. “Can’t have ya dyin’ of starvation either.”

You obey, weakened by the struggles of the evening, disheartened by your imprisonment, so close to freedom and at the same time so far away from it. You eat slowly, as if considering each little fragment you were handed, as if the world is unfamiliar in the presence of someone else.

Joel couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was your charm. Whatever it was, he started to tell you things.

He tells you of his life, so far away from the ocean, landlocked. He tells you how they make a living with animals. But he also tells you about Sarah. Sarah who dreamt of the world. Sarah who he was doing all this for. Sarah who asked him as a child to read to her every night. Sarah who was growing more and more with each passing day, the gap between the two of them becoming wider than he could ever comprehend.

“My survival may not mean much,” he says, “but hers is the most vital thing in my life, doll.”

He feels your gaze on him, becoming easier and easier to see as the sun slowly grows higher in the sky. In thirty minutes, his watch will end, and you do not know how the next man will treat you next. Will he be kind? Will he have Joel’s eyes?

He turns to leave, taking the plates with him as he stands up with a pained groan. “Don’t cause too much trouble, girl.” He only stops when you say his name, his gaze catching the blurry image of you, your tail sinking beneath you in the tub. “Yeah?”

“Will you read to me when you return?” you whispered, afraid to show fragility in your own internment.

He nods after a moment of thought, clambering up on deck to report back to the Captain.

Men are so quick to blame the gods.

—

For a while, a week or so, you believed things could be nice with Joel somewhat in your corner. Everyone else seemed to care less or cower in fear of you. Maybe because you do try to scare them away. At least, if you were going to be betrayed, it was Joel doing the betraying.

He returned at the same time just as he did the night before. And slowly, a routine emerges. He cleans your wounds, he feeds you whatever he finds. Then he reads to you. His eyes are too weak to read without you holding the lantern. So you learned that second night to emerge from your tub and to hold the lantern for him. He reads to you with the skilled words of a bard. He reads to you as if he’d read this tale before. Perhaps to Sarah? Perhaps to someone else?

You feel your stomach curdle at the thought of there being someone else in his life. You swallow down the bile and listen more closely.

When he leaves at dawn, you lie in the tub, dreaming of the words he had read to you, turning your back to the man that comes next. They do not bother you. You do not bother them. You become a ghost until he brings you to life.

Sing to me, Muse, of the Man of many wiles.

By the third night, he brings with him a blanket for you to wrap yourself in as you sit closer beside him, trying to follow the words he read, only to surrender because the letters are too rigid, too unnatural. You began shutting your eyes as he reads to you, learning of Odysseus, a once too familiar name you have heard in others of your kind before…

Sing to me, Muse, of these matters. Daughter of Zeus,My starting point is any point you choose.

You begin to talk to him too by the fourth night, observing your transformed toes as he hammered little areas he figured needed repairs. You tell him of the world beneath the waves, the languid distances you’ve traveled, never truly feeling as if you have found a home. You tell him, too, of wonders big and small.

You spoke of all these things, pretending to be unaware of the way he listens with such interest. It’s like you wanted him to be interested. How could you not, when night by night his eyes become warmer and warmer whenever they fell upon you? How could you not when he’s the only one that cared?

You try to read his thoughts, sometimes, when it’s quiet and he prefers to sit by himself, finding a few winks of sleep while you ate your food. He’s rather good at hiding them. You wonder if it makes his life easier. You wonder if any of it is easy for him.

Then he asks you something on his fifth watch.

“Is the whole singin’ thing somethin’ you actually do?”

You turn your head over your shoulder, setting down the snowglobe you’ve taken an interest in the last couple of hours. You saw it on a shelf this afternoon. And you had been impatient for Joel to arrive ever since. You consider the question, Then you smile and nod meekly.

“Do…” you pause, moving to face him instead. “Do you want to hear?”

He smirks, moving the chair closer to your seated frame, seating with the backing pressed to his front, legs straddling the seat, arms atop, covering that sliver of chest you had been sneaking glances from all evening. He had that thin linen shirt on again— the one that swoops down his chest. The one you see in your dreams.

“Only if it won’t kill me, sweet cheeks.”

You like that. Sweet cheeks. You barely understand what it means. You nod slowly, moving to lay on your back as you stare at the ceiling, monotonous and unchanged since you last looked. As you sing, you try not to look him in the eye. As if you cannot bear the sight of him seeing your capabilities and forever changing his perception of you. The hymn is warm, almost homely. A relentless Odyssey that means to take you home. A song that’s said to bring forth memories of home. You know Joel does not understand the language. Nor do you want him to. You won’t admit it, but you’re still terrified of what he could do if you remind him of how much he misses his home.

But what is even more surprising is this: instead of reminiscing about the tropics from which you have loved so deeply, all you can think about is him. All you can picture is his face. All you can see is possibilities of how he’s looking at you now.

When you finish, dawn is already breaking over the horizon. He has to go.

Quietly, you rose and slowly return to the tub with your snowglobe, watching as your body metamorphosizes— your last line of defense for survival. The shine of your scales so familiar, but never this clear under the water. The light is always so diffused— as distant as a foreign planet. Joel, on the other hand, stays there for a few minutes more, looking at the spot where you just were—at the plank of wood bearing the wet shape of your body. You started to think maybe he won’t leave when he swallows, rising from where he sat, and approaching you to hand the cheese he couldn’t eat from his portion of the meal.

“I quite enjoyed that,” he confesses, tucking the food into your palm. Just then, he encloses your hand in both of his, taking a moment to savor the feeling of your cool, changed skin against his. He wonders momentarily if you’ll feel different without your tail. “Thank you.”

He leans down, bringing your hand up to his waiting mouth, his lips pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. A shiver runs down your spine as you comprehend the sensation. His lips. How warm he is… the scruff of his beard against smooth skin. You feel him smirk against your hand, pulling away as he makes his way above deck.

And on your hand is the reddened skin that evidenced the smidgen of affection you were giving. And for now, it’s enough.

You turn your back to the world once more and into your own dream world, staring at your hand as you dream of Joel all morning long.

—

You suppose everything that goes around does eventually come around. You wonder why you're so optimistic. But, you supposed, just as things were getting better, the fates had other plans in store for you.

The call came just as you were coming of the stupor of sleep. From what you can tell, it was barely midday, and someone was yelling above where you resided. All hands on deck.

The thunderous noise of heavy feet trundle above head. The man watching you grumbled, muttering something along the lines of, "don't you dare think about running, li'l bitch."

You watch him slam the door, and curiosity gets the better of you. You rise slowly from the tub, slinking along the floor, struggling to lift yourself enough to peer out from one of the windows. But when you do, you've come to realize the gravest sin of your naivety.

There is a ship to be plundered. Slowly, the masks worn by the men where you are melt away. You see familiar men with their swords drawn, laughing maniacally, screaming and terrifying the ship they've found to appease their hunger.

You feel your body changing, and you begin to turn away from the window when you catch sight of silver hair and scruff. A visage that you finally see in broad daylight.

Joel is one of the men who almost seem to dance to the song of violence. Perhaps the stories were true. Perhaps the secrets of the shadows are laid bare in the light. Even Joel's secrets cannot escape the midday sun. When you see him, he is in battle with some toughened fisherman, their duel witnessed by cowering passengers and well-dressed women. For a moment, you think Joel will come to his senses, see how senseless all this violence is.

But then he takes the man by his hair, holding his head and facing him to the sun. His sword arches across the expanse of his victim's neck, rivulets of blood bursting forth in gush, an unstoppable stream. A squeal escapes you, the violent image burnt into the recesses of your brain, forcing you away from the window.

You run on shaky legs, screaming and yelling, reaching the doorway and attempting to push the door open, only to find resistance. Your fists pound the hard wood, your body pushing and shoving, unable to accept the fact that you can't call to him— show him that you saw and you demand an answer why.

For the first time, ever since Joel shot you with a harpoon, you truly understood something you tried so hard to ignore.

You sleep under the shelter of murderers. You think you felt affection from the hands of a man who just as easily took someone's life away. You are only loved because you're something else. Something not human.

You are only loved because you'll ensure their survival.

—

The blade itself incites the deeds of violence.

When the carnage ended, Joel raised his head to see the sky beginning to paint itself in bolder strokes of colors. He stretches his arms, only to feel the sticky plasma of drying blood sticking to his arms, his torso, spotting the expanse of his face. He is the last to leave their conquered ship, and he takes his time. He walks along the scattered piles of bodies, putting whoever hasn't perished out of their misery with the very same blade he wielded in battle. He's alive. He can go home. He watches the revelry on their vessel: men roasting the spoils from the kitchen, barrels upon barrels of ale and mead slowly being chewed through.

The stage is set. All they need is a little shock of entertainment.

But what he worries about is you. You who probably cowered from fear at the sudden influx of noise. You who definitely saw the things they are capable of doing. You with the wound on your shoulder, healing at a snail's pace with your imprisonment. So, he takes the time to find supplies to help you. He finds antiseptic. He finds needle and thread. It will have to do.

When he returns to his ship, He has spread oil across the deck where the bodies lay. With one bloody hand, he strikes a match to burn away the evidence of their carnage. The burning ship drifts further and further into the horizon, drowned out by the sounds of cheering. Joel is handed a mug of better than average mead.

As he watches the lights flicker and consume the rest of the ship, one question remains at the forefront of his thoughts, echoed and repeated by every voice in his head.

Do I dare?

Clarity comes when he's two mugs in, everyone else fucking off to see how much treasure piled up. He looks at the door that leads directly where you are and the question becomes clearer. It is in the iambic beat of his heart. I am, I am, I am.

It's in the excitement at the thought of seeing you tonight and having a good meal to offer. He begins to smirk, taking two plates and finding food he thinks you'll like.

Do I dare disturb the universe?

—

You do not look at him when he enters. You cannot, knowing the things you’ve seen today. Especially when you hear he’s happy, humming as he sinks down the stairs from the deck. The jump on his step was not there before. And instead of finding that itching curiosity to see if he was smiling or if you were responsible for this joy, you feel your stomach sour at one thought.

Perhaps the slaughtering of others brought glee to his bones.

“You must be hungry,” he says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You feel a strange stickiness to his touch. So strange that you finally look, only to be horrified by the sight of his bloodsoaked hand. You yelp helplessly, shrinking away from his touch. You shed tears, luminescent in the semi-darkness, as precious as pearls that only he can see. “Darlin’...” His hand comes to cup your face gently, trying to make you look him in the eye. In this form, your skin is cold, the warmth of his hands turning your skin red.

“Y-you killed them,” you finally manage, the iron smell filling your senses. Seeing you panicked, Joel reaches down into the tub to slowly bring you out of your tub and into his willing arms, slow shushes escaping him. “Are you going to kill me, too?”

So that was what you were so scared of.

You bury your face into his chest, his shirt smelling of him— of sandalwood and musk, tobacco smoke, and underneath it all, a few specks of blood. Meanwhile, he lets you, cradling you in his arms as you continue to shed your tears. He lets you, knowing you wouldn’t listen to him with so much emotion in that pretty little head of yours.

But when you do eventually calm down, he doesn’t miss a moment. He couldn’t.

“I can never harm you, honey.” He breathes in through his nose, finally close enough to smell you. The sea air in your hair, sunshine and honeysuckles from lands he can only dream of. “I can’t even if I tried.”

Slowly, he lays you down where he had dropped his sheet—the sheet you’ve been wrapping yourself around. The sheet that smells like the both of you; that way he could imagine waking up to you the past few times he had gotten sleep. Slowly, he straddles your changed form, naked and so fucking divine it has his head spinning. “Can I take care of ya, darlin’?” He waits for you. Even when everything is pushing him to kiss you— he has to know you want this.

He has to know you’re not miserable.

Seeing this, you take a deep breath. You hold his face. Your skin, smooth and not exactly human, bright against his, earth-marred, bloody, and burnt from days in the sun. And yet, you do not see those flaws. All you see are his warm eyes, so desperate to tell you he wants you, and yet so willing to walk away if you asked. So you grip him by his shirt, pulling him against you in a wanton, desperate kiss.

It is the first kiss you share. The first of the hundreds you’ll share that night. But you will always remember that first.

Because it’s burning against your cool skin. Because the scratch of his scruff is a sensation you have not felt in the long life you have lived. He holds your face, bringing your head closer to him, pressing against the front of his skull, making you whine from want as he deepens the kiss. You’ll always remember it because you know this kiss.

You can already see the ending before the two of you ever began.

His hand slips into your hair, his mouth pulling away from yours, only to drift down  your cheek, your jaw… He chuckles against your skin when you gasp so meekly, melting like butter in his arms.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispers, marking the crook of your neck with his mouth. “Let me show you how ya have me wrapped around your pretty li’l finger.”

Already, you can see him in your memories, tangled up in him. His kisses on your neck, his spit drying against your skin. His fingers reaching and tearing you apart. In the eternity you’ll be facing alone… he’s there. Just there, a willing invitation to a dream.

He’s pushing your legs up, now fully transformed, and he comprehends everything. Without words, it seems, things simply come naturally to him. He cups your cheek with one hand, folding your body in half as your legs drape over his broad shoulders. His thumb brushes your lips, and you part them for him. You let him fuck his thumb into your wet mouth, groaning at the way you suck on him. “Good girl…”

Just then, his other hand reaches down, a warm sensation cupping your cunt as you whine softly against him, looking him in the eye. “Good God, are you always this soakin’?”

You slowly pull back, shivering softly from the sensation of him parting your folds. Only you, Joel. No one else can do this to me. He comprehends, and he groans again, leaning down to kiss you. His cock aches in the confines of his pants. Just like that, everything dulls out and he can only comprehend this: to have you. You, you, and just you.

“Guess I have some makin’ up to do to ya, huh?”

Just then, his head disappears between the valley of your breasts, marking a trail of blood-red hickeys down to your stomach, one hand pinching a nipple harshly enough to make you squeal, to which he shushes you again. Gonna get us caught, doll. He continues his way, finally finding your sweet cunt. He shifts his hands so he can slowly part your folds. He kisses the inside of your thighs just as you clamp one hand over your whining mouth. And, with nothing left to do, he takes a deep breath, looking at your face as he sinks his tongue down between your folds, tasting you with a longing groan of delight.

Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.

All you can feel is the flurry of rhythm Joel sets. His trembling jaw, as if whispering prayers to whatever powers may be. His tongue splitting you open and fucking you raw in a way so obscene, you think it’s unbecoming. Perhaps it is. Perhaps by letting him have you this way, you have turned your back on your world. But he fucks one finger into your surprisingly warm cunt and everything else fades away into the silence.

“Fuck, baby…” It’s so easy, you whining urging him on, calling for him and begging to just keep going, dear God. One finger becomes two, then three. Then he raises himself so he can see your face better. So he can see the way your features contort into a heavenly amalgamation of beauty and pleasure and wonder in one full spectrum. But there is nothing more beautiful when his fingers brush against something that made you keen closer to his touch, eyes wide open with your mouth trembling.

“That’s it, isn’t it, darlin’? It is, huh?” He chuckles, the rumble of it vibrating from his chest, echoing to the backs of your thighs, and finally, straight to your wanting cunt. He smirks, his upper body shifting so his arm was much more free— just so he can keep aiming for that one spot that made you keen so beautiful he gets a glance of your otherworldly beauty.

A long forgotten poem comes up from the back of his head, just as he was pulling your orgasm from your willing frame, his other hand covering your mouth before you get too loud just so you wouldn’t be interrupted, caught, and possibly separated.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. “Good fuckin’ girl. Such a good girl, honey…” I did not think they’ll sing for me.

You shut your eyes, grinding your hips into his touch, chasing a sensation you can’t even dare put into words. You whine into the palm of his hand, feeling as if your skin, normally so cool, set on fire with the desire you have for Joel. You peer through your damp lashes, making out the silhouette of his smirk, his warm eyes somewhat swelling with pride.

“Joel… there’s… there–” you barely get the words out when you feel it. Your vision going white, the electricity flowing through your body, and coming out of you in warm bursts.

Heaven, you think, from how Joel so lovingly described it.

When you come to, he’s pulling his fingers away, and a spurt of fluids follow in the wake of his absence. He chuckles, the sound of it emanating the very depths of your consciousness. “Didn’t know ya could do that, pretty girl.”

It leaves you warm, slightly sleepy. Slightly drifting in and out—the way the ocean climbs and recedes from the shore.

You don’t notice the way Joel watches you. The way blood smeared your perfect face. You do not notice his hand tracing down your torso, coloring it a faded, rusty red. Marked by him, and for him.

And yet if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so will I endure. For already have I suffered so much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and wars. Let she be added to the tales of those.

“Please eat,” he finally says as he kisses your forehead. “I saved a plate for you.”

So you do. You sit up, trembling, the cool porcelain pressed against your thigh as you feasted. Grapes, expensive nuts, and meats you could only dream of. You try not to think of the price he paid to lavish you with such an offering. Because now, instead of the guilt, you feel the rumblings of power in your veins. You have become his very god, the one he’d slay men for. The very god to which he offers a plate paid for by carnage. And if you’ve become god, what can you offer him?

Heaven was not fit to house a creature such as I.

—-

He makes love to you after dinner. Slow, careful. He doesn’t want to terrify you. He doesn’t want to get caught, either. He has you on his lap, your cool hands cupping his heated face, spineless from pleasure as he fucks up into you, giving you a moment to accommodate him and get used to the feeling of his cock stretching you wide open. Every vein, his very length, arching and filling you up in the best way there is to be filled.

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, and you oblige him. You whine for him, calling, biting your lip and throwing your head back. You lead his hand to your chest, heaving with slow, shaky breaths. He knows what you want without ever asking it of you. And that is why he squeezes the curve of your breast, sitting up to press his mouth to your collarbone. The kisses set your skin aflame, his fingers pinching and pulling the pleasure from your willing body.

So he gives you everything. You cum once again with you on top of him. You cum again after he bends you over the nearest table with his rough fingers rubbing circles on your needy clit. And on the third time, somewhere when it’s quiet, you both lie on the blanket, your back to his chest, his cock unmoving inside of you.

It’s a moment of respite. A lull. A moment to catch breaths.

“How much did you see earlier?”

His arm is around your waist, his mustache brushing against the back of your ear. It’s nice. It’s almost domestic, a word so foreign to you. Perhaps domesticity is something innately human. But he makes you have a taste of it. And it tastes so sweet. You hum softly, tilting your head so he can kiss more of your neck.

“I saw the first man you killed,” you tell him, to which he groans, pulling you closer. “I couldn’t watch any more after that. It was… too much.” You feel his teeth brushing against the curve of your ear. Then he bites gently just to hear you squirm.

“I don’t want you lookin’ anymore, sweetheart,” he whispers, “not if it’s going to upset you this much.” He leans up, peering over your peaceful face, with your eyes shut and your body languid. “But… I suppose I’ll try.” You open one eye, peering up at him. “Less murders, my queen, yes ma’am.”

You giggle, pressing your palm to his mouth as he continues to tease you with such pet names. He speaks behind your palm. Angel baby, cutie pie… Other pet names you don’t comprehend because the sounds disappear into your cool skin.

And then he’s fucking you again, with you on your side and him above you, caging you in his arms. You catch your lip between your teeth, gritting out half-choked moans. Already, the pleasure has begun to border the line between pleasure and pain. Already, you feel your legs quaking, but you feel the tremble in his spine as well.

He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

That’s when you notice how sporadic his bursts of movement are becoming. Fewer and shorter in between. So, you begin to give back, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying on top of him once more, digging your blunt nails down against his biceps. You feel his hands on your waist. Bloody hands that have taken an infinite number of lives before you. Bloody hands that will take who knows how many lives after. Bloody hands, that, despite their track record, hold you as if you are so fragile in his grasp.

Gentleness incomprehensible. The best of the world in the palms of his hands.

The both of you, flying into deep, empty space. Alone with Joel in the aether.

Watching his orgasm wash over him just as yours does for the fourth and last time. He pulls you into his chest, letting you moan into his chest. The only thing that betrays his release is the stuttered breaths, the shaky fingers. That is all. And then you feel the warmth of his seed, buried deep within you, treasured and tucked away. It’s so much, you feel it reach places you didn’t expect it to be.

Even when he’s ending things, he’s giving you everything he’s got.

In the afterglow, he takes care of you. Already, the sun is rising  Once again, you won’t see him until it’s dark again. You’ll be turning away from the world and dreaming of those eyes and his smile. But for now, he wipes you clean, kissing your forehead as he brings you back to your tub. For now, you hold his hand for another minute.

“Y’know… Sarah loved playing siren as a fuckin’ kid,” he finally says, cleaning up the plates in silence. “She loves the sea.”

You peer over the lip of the tub, smiling up at him dreamily. “She must be so beautiful. With your smile?” You sigh, leaning back as you look up at the ceiling. “You must miss her much.”

He brushes your cheek with a sigh, shrugging. “Every fuckin’ day, baby.”

He walks away from you, and you wait for him to look back. He does, with a shit-eating smirk at your dazed eyes, neck marked up by his own doing. “Don’t kill anybody today, Joel.”

He nods slowly. “Get some sleep, squirt.” As you turn away, the smile drops. He cannot show that vulnerability out there, amongst the men he’s shared blood, sweat, and tears with. Men he killed from and men he killed with. Men who’d want to tear you apart and swallow you whole. Men who’d kill him if they knew what the two of you did all night.

Then how should I begin to spit out the butt-ends of my days and ways? How should I presume?

He doesn’t have to presume for long. Not when he emerges on deck and he sees the dark shadow of land specking the endless sea of blue he had grown accustomed to. There stands the rise and fall of a mountain, a jagged line breaking the skyline.

The Captain speaks, and the shock burns through him so rapidly that he tries to hide it by leaning against the starboard side.

We hit land midday tomorrow. Our li’l baggage ‘bout to finally bring in some fuckin’ money.

The clock is ticking, what else can he do? Go, go, go.

—

When Joel returns, he’s waking you from a long, languid sleep. You turn to smile at him, but there’s a different look in his eyes. An urgency, a finger pressed to your lips to ensure silence. He carries you from the water and you’re brought up close to see the crease on his forehead. When he wraps you in the sheet, that’s when he speaks.

“Need t’get ya out of here, baby.”

The great escape. The prison break.

Now you feel the tension.

He waits for you to turn, to become inconspicuous. Meanwhile, he’s hot on his heels. He’s gripping a rucksack in his hands, heavy with some inconceivable baggage, muttering to himself. You start to understand the madness. You start to wonder if there’s two versions of Joel waiting behind every door. One of them is the lover— the man who’d kiss you as he introduces you to a world of pleasure. Then there was the monster— the man who sliced open the throat of the person he was robbing blind, the man who fired the harpoon that caused your imprisonment.

“So the monster has come to set me free of my bonds.”

You rise, shaky on your legs and clothed in that sheet that kept you modest. It’s when he stops in his tracks, looking you in the eye before sighing, tearing the cloth away from you to introduce a linen shirt of his. It smells of him; perhaps it even reeks of him.

“They’re going to butcher you if I don’t try, sweetheart.”

You do what you promised to yourself you’ll do when he asks you something. You put your blind faith into his hands and take a leap.

He leads you through a maze of rooms you cannot comprehend. You stop at the crosshairs. You duck under tables when he asks you to. And you know why. Because the men who thirst for your blood can be found on every corner. Because you’re running out of time. Because he’d rather lose you to the waves than those who shed blood like he does.

In a matter of minutes, you find yourselves in the cool evening air. It’s a blind spot, and it’s far enough that he helps you to the raft while it’s almost silent. The sounds of men beginning to have dinner so distant and far away, it’s like an entirely different world. Skillfully, Joel lowers you both into the ocean, the distant beating of the waves masking the sound of him cutting the rope that tethered you to the ship.

He keeps one hand on the behemoth you’ve escaped, and he audibly counts. Quiet enough for you to hear. Tens. Hundreds. Then, a thousand seconds passes.

He pauses, straining to hear. In the flickering light of the lanterns, you see the silver in his hair and his beard. You wonder, momentarily, if it’s the last you’ll see of him. That’s when you hear it.

Yells. But not of alarm. Not of you, their treasured prisoner, missing from her cage. It’s the yells of panic. Of suffering. Of pain.

Upon seeing your features, Joel finally reveals the hidden card up his sleeve.

“I poisoned them. I poisoned them and robbed them blind so they’ll never come after you.”

You look to him, waiting for another shoe to drop. But there is none. This is who he is, laid bare for you to see. Your devotee, giving you the ultimate sacrifice. This is not the monster nor the lover. This is Joel. All masks have fallen to their knees and prostrated themselves before you. Every post abandoned and conquered, only for you.

“Go.”

You blink, and his trembling fingers hold your cheeks, his shaky lips kissing the crown of our head.

“No one’s coming for you as long as I’m there to stop them.”

When you don’t move, he grits his teeth, as if caught between a rock and a hard place. A second passes, then his arms take you, throwing you overboard and into the familiar depths of an ocean below.

The waves welcome you with a surge of power, relentless and enduring. More immortal than you. More divine than you can ever hope to be. The moment you are released from Joel’s hold, the saltwater licks clean the wound on your shoulder. It washes away the scent of Joel’s shirt.

He’s already being erased from you.

From beneath the depths, everything comes back to you. The kiss on your hand, the scraps of food. His sticky, bloodmarked fingers marking you. All of it, slipping through your fingers like sand. In the cool darkness of the open sea, all you can see is a flame starting from the base where you last saw Joel. A fire spreading amongst the ship which you once hailed your prison.

You can see Joel’s boat, smaller in comparison, already racing away towards the shore.

All you can do now, with the power of Poseidon surging and bubbling beneath your veins, is to sing. To sing a hymn that begs before the very gods themselves. But it’s a song that begs Joel, too. Begs him to remember you.

Don’t forget me. You do not know if he hears you. Don’t forget me.

You attempt to follow him beneath the waves.

Don’t forget me.

—-

Against all odds, Joel Miller disembarks from the train to find himself in a farmland so familiar to him. Against all odds, it is three weeks later, and he’s followed all the roads and finds himself home.

He breathes in the smell of wheat under the scorching summer heat. He embraces it. He puts one foot ahead of the other, sea legs no longer present. The ground is too still that it still sometimes unnerves him.

A few meters away, he catches sight of the house. The windows wide open, the breeze making the curtains dance within. And on his porch is a familiar figure that had lowered her book and peered in his direction. He sees her face, and relief encompasses his bones. Sarah.

She’s running to him, yelling, loud and youthful and her face is like the sun. He feels himself smiling, too. The first time in weeks. Miles of walking and sleepless nights fade away with each step you take closer together. Then she’s running to his arms squealing as he embraces her.

Tell me. Is this really then Ithaca?

Finally, the years that separate the little family are slowly bridged. He rebuilds. He tells her stories. He tells her about you. When the sun sets, he tucks Sarah in and kisses her forehead.

Now, here he is. A couple of months that feels like decades have passed him by. He dreamt of you every night for the past three weeks. He sits in his bath, wondering if this was ever how you felt in those long, terrifying days. Did you feel peace, too?

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown.

His eyes fall shut. His breath slows.

A moment of peace as he sees your face, smiling at him, languid hands reaching and asking him to follow you.

He hears your voice, singing into his ear as he chuckles.

Until human voices wake us, and we drown.

-

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @boofy1998 @persephone-girl @lunxramour @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pirate!joel miller x siren!reader #pirate!joel miller #pirate!au #siren!au #mermaid!au

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Love Amidst The Blue Masterlist✨

A/N: I have been wanting to write a mermaid au for years now, so what better way to do it than have Joel Miller be a sailor/treasure hunter where he falls for a mermaid 🥰 I’m super excited to get started on this series!

Summary: Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader (Chapters will be in both reader’s and Joel’s POV)

Tags: Chapter tags will be updated with each chapter. Adventure, sailor! Joel, treasure hunter! Joel, mermaid reader, smut, soft Joel, protective Joel, pining, lovers, sirens, angst, fantasy, fluff, Joel is 35 and reader is 24, more to come

Chapter 1: Discovering the Siren

Chapter 2: Captured

Chapter 3: Let Me Show You My World (Coming soon!)

Chapter 4

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller pedro pascal #protective joel #soft!joel miller #soft joel miller #sailor! joel #mermaid au #mermaid #siren aesthetic #little mermaid aesthetic #no outbreak!joel miller #no use of y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fantasy #fantasy au #pirates #joel miller x female reader #joel miller masterlist #joel miller x reader

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Lessons to learn from HBO’s “The Last of Us” and Netflix’s “One Piece” when it comes to making a successful live-action adaptation:

1) Make sure the original creator has a ton of creative control. It’s their story, let them dictate how it should be re-told.

2) The showrunner should be a major fan of the original. In general, get writers and directors who are fully committed to doing the source material justice since they’re fans of it.

3) Doesn’t have to be 100% faithful. Changes are fine if it doesn’t hurt the overall story and actually improves on the original. For example, (SPOILER ALERT) Bill’s storyline in TLOU was overhauled completely, which was considered an improvement. And based on what I read from One Piece fans, Buggy the Clown was done better in live action and Zoro was set up better since the show used a scene that wasn’t in the anime or manga (the Mr. 7 stuff was apparently off-screen).

4) Casting is always key, but doesn’t have to be completely perfect. What’s important is that the actors understand their assignments. Pedro Pascal and Bella Ramsey don’t exactly look like Joel and Ellie (Pedro even has a different accent) but they make up for it with their chemistry and understanding of their characters. Meanwhile, I feel that’s it’s generally agreed that the cast for the Straw Hats Pirates captured the spirit of the characters, even with the minor changes that were made.

5) If you’re adding original content, make sure it adds to the story. For example, the already mentioned Mr. 7 scene and Frank actually being present during Bill’s storyline.

#the last of us #one piece #tlou #netflix one piece #hbo the last of us #opla #tlou hbo #one piece live action #joel miller #monkey d. luffy #ellie williams #nami #tlou bill #roronoa zoro #tlou frank #buggy the clown #live action #live action adaptation #joel and ellie #straw hats pirates #video games #anime

[backtothefanfiction]

I don’t know about you, but I could really go for an angsty fight with one of my fictional boyfriends right now, followed up by some steamy make up sex.

#fictional boyfriends #boys in books #book boyfriend #movie boyfriends #peter parker #Spider-Man #aramis #musketeers #pedro pascal characters #Joel miller #Frankie morales #Santiago garcia #saltburn #felix catton #Poe dameron #insert fictional boyfriend here #cassian #rhysand #will turner #pirates of the caribbean

[hauntingblue]

Cordyceps in The Last Of Us

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #ellie williams #joel miller #pedro pascal #bella ramsey #ellie is infected and joel loves and protects her (through any means necessary) #just like cordyceps #sorry for the bad quality but this is screenshot from a pirated site lol #this fucked me up so much when i thought about it #in the series joel's decision feels more selfish than in the game and it's only going to make part 2 even more difficult #ooooof #talking tag #i loooove looking for paralels and metaphors.... mwah #pulling strings

[doctorstarlock]

Okay so yes obviously a man must be a little pathetic but you know what else? He needs to be dirty. He needs to be dusty, sweaty, muddy, greasy, maybe even grimy. When freshly polished and dressed up he needs to look uncomfortable being so clean, like he might go rogue and wipe dirt or blood or engine grease on his face the second you look away. If a man’s looks aren’t improved by a layer of filth well. I’m not interested.

#I think you all get it #I’m talking about your cowboys #your pirates #your mechanics #your aragorns and witchers and joel millers #etc etc etc #all that dirt and filth IS their makeup bestie

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #peter parker smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #din djarin smut #poe dameron smut #spencer reid smut #remus lupin smut #sirius black smut #james potter smut #bruce wayne smut #joel miller smut #tommy shelby smut #matt murdock smut #billy russo smut #rafe cameron smut #the darkling smut #ben solo smut #jj maybank smut #stiles stilinski smut #pietro maximoff smut #sam wilson smut #sam winchester smut #dean winchester smut

[tightjeansjavi]

I randomly found the inspiration to start writing one of three of my Joel AU one-shots and this one is called “From Eden”

It’s pirate! Joel x f! mermaid reader

I have written almost 900 words so far..anyone want a sneak peek? 👀

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #pirate Joel miller x f! mermaid reader #from eden #tight jeans javi fic

[divinehedons]

🚨 pirate!joel x siren!reader fic announcement! 🚨

considering the amount of work i'm putting into it (word count is now around 3k words!), i'm going to open the taglist for this fic!

please like this post if you want to be tagged when the fic goes live! i won't tag ageless / underage / blank blogs so make sure you have an age indicator on your profile!

and, as something fun, i've attached a lil teaser of some of the writing in this fic under the cut!

#circe writes #taglist open! #joel miller x reader #pirate!joel miller x siren!reader

[reese-tasteslikepepsicola]

Thinking about:

Joel and Reader having a similar relationship to Jay and Gloria Pritchett from Modern Family HC <3

No outbreak au! Joel miller x Fem!Reader

(I recommend you watch Jay and Gloria clips on YouTube <3)

Disclaimer: My fics are inclusive and open to any size and any ethnicity + race reader 💕

————

• Joel Miller is at peace with his life.

• He recently has turned 56, Sarah is attending her dream college, Tommy finally moved out to live with his wife, Maria, and Joel’s contracting business has been doing very well which makes him no longer stress about paying bills on time and worrying about being able to afford Sarah’s college.

• A relationship was not something he was trying to look for, he didn’t see why he had to at his age.

• He has already had his fair share of girlfriends, his last and longest lasting one ending in a messy divorce.

• Her name was Diane. She caused Joel nothing but stress and negative energy, and showed clear signs of mental illness.

• The day that she moved out of the house, Sarah came home from college to visit and she expressed to her dad that the house no longer felt suffocating and negative.

• She tried to get him to open up, but Joel was very closed off when it came to his feelings, and he didn’t want to put all of his emotions on his baby girl.

• Even though Joel had everything, he still felt grumpy due to his older age stopping him from being able to bend down for long periods of time at work like he used to, and having to shamefully ask his young colleagues to complete those jobs, and also that very crazy ex-wife of his that burnt him out.

• He thought that was the end to his love life until he met you.

• It was mid July on a hot Texas day, Joel and Tommy decided to meet up at a small 50s themed Diner to catch up.

• While the brothers were chatting and eating their greasy meals, Tommy doing most of the talking, Joel heard a sweet, soft voice from behind him,

“What can I get y’all today?” A soft voice spoke. Joel’s head perched up and he began looking around, the voice dragging him in like a siren calling out to a pirate at sea,

“The specials today are our strawberry cola float and cheese fries” His eyes finally landed on you.

• There stood you, a pretty, young waitress in a white and pink uniform, a smile beaming on your sweaty, glowing face.

• Joel was hypnotized by your beauty.

• He watched as you laughed at something the old couple said, your head thrown back and your hair swaying from side to side in almost slow motion.

• He could feel his face heat up and his mouth no longer chewing the few fries he shoved in seconds ago,

“Earth to Joel?” He broke out of his trance and turned around to look at his little brother,

“Who were you lookin’ at?” Joel shook his head and went back to chewing,

“Nobody. So how’s Maria?” Tommy smirked and squinted his eyes,

“I just said how she was that whole time you were ogling over that young waitress” Tommy laughed,

“I ain’t lookin’ at anybody, alright?” The oldest brother snapped, rubbing his beard. Tommy laughed even louder and leaned back in the booth,

“She is quite a doll, ain’t she? I’d ask her out” Joel scoffed and kicked his brother under the table,

“Calm down, brother. Your married for fuck sake” He responded, giving him a serious look.

Tommy rolled his eyes and became defensive,

“Y-Yeah, I know! I was just sayin’!” He shoved a handle of fries in his mouth to shut himself up.

Joel chuckled sarcastically at his brother,

“Yeah. Whatever ya say”

• Anytime you passed by their booth, Joel would un-knowingly straighten his posture and suck in his stomach and clear his throat, giving you an awkward nod and grin. And it made Tommy laugh every time.

• To put an end to his big brother’s suffering, the younger brother politely called out to you and signalled for a refill on their coffees.

• You happily did so, and to Joel’s surprise, you began sparking up a conversation with him.

• When Joel noticed your finger twirling in your hair and your laugh at his lame jokes, it gave him the confidence to ask you out.

• He felt like a young man, again.

• He swooped you off your feet.

• From then on, you guys fell in love and began a relationship.

• Joel proposed to you only five months later.

• Anybody would’ve told you both that you were moving too fast, and most importantly, that you were both very different people.

• Joel was a closed off, rugged 56 year old man, and you were an expressive, confident, hot-headed 27 year old woman.

• In a way, you balanced each other out perfectly.

• You would push Joel out of his comfort zone to be more honest with his feelings and open up, and Joel would show you how to be more tame and not immediately become defensive or sensitive about things.

• Your wedding was small but fancy, and Sarah had helped you plan it and went shopping with you a lot, using those times as a way to bond with you since she was not sure how to feel at first with her old father marrying a very much younger woman so quickly.

• After spending time with you, she became close to you and knew you were going to love and cherish her Daddy.

• Also, she thought it was impressive that you got him to start showing emotions and slowly open up, talking about his feelings and becoming less stubborn.

• Now, it took a while for Joel to get used to you, as in the way to get used to how you treated life, your friends, your family, and how you were a magnet to hot men.

• He always had a very small family and a quiet life. It was always him, Tommy and Sarah.

• Holidays were never a big deal, always just ordering Chinese food and watching old Christmas movies with Sarah and Tommy.

• So, when you moved in and quit your job to be a stay at home wife (very much Joel’s idea), he was surprised as to how much serious you took holidays,

“Woah, woah! What’s all this?” Joel asked, watching you put up colourful Christmas lights. He looked around and saw little snowmen statues and Christmas themed pillows laid out on the leather sofa,

“It’s Christmas, Joel! It’s the time of the year where you spend time with you family and decorate and dance with your loved ones and cook turkey!” He placed a hand on his hip and lifted an eyebrow,

“Ain’t this a little much? I usually just get a fake tree and decorate it” You rolled your eyes and climb down the small ladder,

“A little much? This isn’t even half of it! When I was a little girl, my mommy and daddy would throw a huge Christmas Eve party that had games and dancing and a bunch of home made food. Then, after twelve a.m, we’d set off fireworks!” Joel rubbed his forehead and flopped down on the couch,

“I usually just order Chinese and watch sappy Christmas movies all night” You sighed and tossed a Santa plushy at him,

“Listen, I quit my job and left my apartment to come and live with you and take care of the house while you are away at work 24/7. The most you can do is include how I celebrate Christmas. Okay?” He nodded and stared down at the Santa in his hands,

“Okay?” You repeated, placing your hands on your hips and giving him that ‘you better verbally say something’ look,

“Yeah, yeah, okay” You grinned and placed a kiss on his cheek,

“Good” You started waking down the hall, the sound of your expensive heels echoing,

“and, we are going out with Sarah tonight and cutting down a real tree!” You yelled out. Joel groaned but couldn’t help crack a smile,

“Yes, m’am”

• When it came to your family and friends, Joel was very surprised and not very ecstatic when you wanted them to visit for a few days during the summer.

• When you both arrived at the airport to pick them up, Joel wanted to hit his head against a brick wall when he saw a group consisting of eleven people walking down the escalators yelling your name excitedly,

“Ya never told me how big your family was” He mumbled into your ear, keeping a fake smile on his face. You turned around and slapped him in the stomach. He grunted and rubbed the spot,

“Quit that complaining! They haven’t seen me in forever” You whispered harshly, plastering a fake smile as well while keeping eye contact with your family,

“I cant wait to spend a week with you, muffin!” Your grandma squealed, pulling you into a tight hug. Joel’s eyes practically bulged out of his head,

“A week?!”

• It was no lie that you were a gorgeous woman. Men always did a double take when you passed by, and women found them selves staring you down with envy.

• So, when you decided to throw a barbecue for the Fourth of July for the neighbourhood, people all showed up, curious as to how Joel’s young, new wife was gonna be able to plan a barbecue on her own.

• Most people were probably gonna show up, the intimidating older women to critic your decorations, food, and your so called ‘inappropriate clothing’ that they had been gossiping about since you moved in with Joel and Sarah,

“Hm, really outdid yourself, y/n. Wasn’t expecting…this” Edith, an older woman who has been living on the same street as Joel for many years, said passive aggressively.

With your head held high and a confident smile on your face, you nodded and rubbed her shoulder,

“Aw! Thanks, Edith. Wish I could say the same for your barbecues” Edith stared at you with her mouth agape.

Maria, who was sipping wine and watching the scene unfold, covered her mouth in hopes to hide the cackle that was about to escape her mouth. She gave you a thumbs up and mouthed “solid”

• The men there, married or not, found any chance to try and talk to you, surrounding you like you were a celebrity,

“Beautiful dress, y/n” Johnny, a friend of Tommy’s said, slyly rubbing a hand on your waist. You smiled and stepped back to show it off to everyone, oblivious to the men’s flirting,

“Thanks! Joel bought me it!” The men grumbled, and Johnny pursed his lips,

“Right, your with Joel”

• It didn’t stop at Tommy and Maria’s son’s 5th birthday.

• Kids were screaming and running around, which meant that there were their fathers around as well.

• The bouncy house was empty, and you were two glasses deep into wine, so you took your heels off and crawled in to jump around while the kids were out to go have lunch.

• The fathers gathered around the bouncy house and were watching you with smirks, and Joel came running to push past the men to see who they were watching,

“Jesus Christ” Joel grumbled, watching as you jumped around, your revealing dress showing your “greatest assets” bouncing up and down,

“Joel, look! I’m jumping so high!” You screeched, a big smile on your face, innocent to the men who were undressing you with their eyes,

“Yeah, I see that! Now get out” He looked around and saw all the men with their smug, smirking faces,

“Really, guys?! Your family men. Come on, now. Walk away!” Joel yelled, shaking his head and pointing them to the snack table. The men all scoffed and grumbled, reluctantly turning away from the sight of you.

• Tommy was no better.

• He was so obvious with his flirting, it made Maria and Joel side eye each other every time,

“Uncle Tommy and Maria are here!” Sarah called from the front door. You squealed in happiness, taking the turkey out from the stove with a little dance. Joel chuckled and placed a kiss on your cheek,

“We saw them this morning at the grocery store, sweetheart” You rolled your eyes and playfully slapped his shoulder,

“So? It was only for a couple of minutes! C’mon, let’s go say hi”

You gave Maria a hug and kiss on the cheek, as well as her adorable son. You passed to Tommy and did the same, and said,

“Two times today, huh?” You joked, referring to the earlier surprised meet up at the store. Tommy raised an eyebrow and confusingly grinned,

“Oh, okay!” He went to give you another hug and kiss on the cheek, but you had already turned around to go back to the kitchen, and Maria grabbed his arm and yanked him back,

“She meant we saw them two times today, Tommy” she warned, glaring at him.

• Yeah, you were a lot.

• But, Joel still loves you.

• He loves your crazy big family, your revealing outfits, your confidence, your expressiveness, your need to help and care for everyone around you, and how amazing you were with his baby girl, Sarah, providing her with the motherly love she was missing out on.

• The thing he loved the most was how you were with him.

• You were changing him in a good way, You were teaching him to open up, to do things out of his comfort zone, not always make everything be his way or the highway, and you put him in his place and called him out when necessary.

• You take care of him, he takes care of you.

• Joel sat on his front porch, plucking away at his guitar, occasionally sipping his beer and watching the sunset,

“It can’t get any better than this” He said to himself in his head, sighing contently, strumming away at his six-string,

“Joel, baby! Come join me upstairs! I’m wearing your favourite matching set…” You called from the open window, a seductive and playful tone in your voice.

Joel grinned then smirked, running a hand across his greying beard,

“It definitely can get better this”

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[pedgito]

summary | using your neighbors address for deliveries doesn’t seem like the worst idea until you find yourself with a world of dilemmas and a burgeoning crush on the single dad who lives there. [10k+]

pairing | pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no explicit use of y/n, reader is a teacher (only for loose plot purposes) meet-weirds, a cliche stranger neighbors to pining lovers take on pre-outbreak joel, lots of sweet interactions with sarah, joel's internal struggles to be a good dad, awkward interactions & flirting, soft sexual content (oral, protected sex, joel talking you through it like a gentleman)

author’s note | this came from a prompt i saw (ignore that actual legality issues of this, it's just for fun) that was meant to be a quick blurb but turned into this monster of porn with plot…i regret nothing, enjoy! or don’t that’s fine

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

To be clear, this wasn’t the first route you took to avoid the problem. And for whatever reason, fate or be it some other evil, unseen force, it always stuck you in the awkwardest positions. 

It also didn’t help that your mailman was probably the judgiest person on this earth, despite it not being his business, the suspicious amount of packages and content of said packages were enough to garner a few looks and even the occasional mumble under his breath.

So, when you start to put down your neighbors address for all of your future packages, it doesn’t seem like a problem.

He’s gone a lot anyways, his truck only pulling once the sun has already set and you’re laying in bed, bright headlights cascading against the walls through your upstairs window. His exhaust kicks off a couple times and it always rouses you from your sleep just enough to annoy you. He's hardly there, it's fine. You've got nothing to worry about.

You’ve only caught a glimpse of him in the morning, a young woman prancing at his side as she hops into the passenger seat. Her name is Sarah.

As for him, he was Dad. 

You’ve been here for three months and haven’t made any attempt to be neighborly or make friends, yet you were brave enough to slip his address onto your order forms and go on about your day. 

And, in your defense, it works well. 

Packages always arrive around the time you’re pulling into your driveway, the perfect opportunity before the trail of buses traverse through the cul de sac and flush out the rowdy kids from their seats. 

A quick jog over and you’re snatching up the package without any inclination that something is amiss.

Until again, it becomes a problem.

Not even a problem, really—but it’s still a weird conversation to have, standing at your neighbors doorstep with a package in your hand and looking like some porch pirate with bad manners, if that was even possible.

He was home, but that wasn’t the issue. It was Saturday, a small overlook when you placed your order last week that led you to the position you were in now, staring down the man with your package clutched in his hands.

“This yours?” He asks, an eyebrow raising inquisitively. The contents shake as he holds it up.

“Yeah.” You start, sounding unsure of yourself, “I accidentally gave them the wrong address, didn’t realize until it was already shipped and I’ve been waitin’ all week.”

He didn’t need the explanation, but he lets you speak until your heart’s content, taking a quick glance at the label on the box.

He says your name, double checking to make sure it was you. You nod, extending a friendly hand. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize. It’s sweet, clipped, believable enough that he doesn’t try to implore further.

He finally hands the box over, not a word on your tongue as you fetch the package and retreat back to your home with your heart racing like it was going to burst out of your chest.

You’re already long gone by the time the smirk reaches Joel’s face, a sudden glance back at his daughter. Sarah is laughing from the couch, the noise muffled behind her hand.

“Maybe she’s flirting with you.” 

Joel huffs at that, a warm laugh bubbling from his chest. 

“Darlin’, I doubt that.”

“That’s the sixth package that’s been sent here.” Sarah adds, “I’m not orderin’ anything. Are you?”

Joel gives her a look that answers itself.

“Then?”

Things are smooth sailing for another couple weeks, but the shared secret between Joel and Sarah is unbeknownst to you.

 So, smooth sailing for you, you think. 

Joel drags it out until another day when he’s free from work, waiting for those footsteps to reach his porch, a quick nudge from Sarah that has him standing from his comfortable spot on the couch as she moves away from his shoulder.

But, they never come.

And Joel doesn’t know why that sends a surge of confused worry down his spine, but it’s out of the norm. He should check on you.

Sarah's the one to remind him of it.

“Take it over there.” It startles Joel, her ability to sneak up on him so easily. His brow furrows, flipping the package in his grip after he finally opened the door and gave in. 

“Go.” 

Sarah’s practically shoving him out of the door before he can refuse. 

When Joel reaches your front door he can already see you, arm tucked under your head, resting over the arm of your couch as you napped silently, the soft hum of the television muffled by the front door. Joel knocks once, a softer and gentler attempt than he’d usually go for, and when that doesn’t work he goes for the latter, one solid knock that could surely wake you.

It doesn’t.

Joel leans over the trimmed hedge resting underneath the window sill and taps on the glass, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you finally wake. 

It takes you a moment to adjust, but your eyes are stretching like saucers when your blurry vision becomes clear. 

“Shit, shit,” Joel hears the tail end of it as you open the door, “—I’m so—“

“Look I’m not judgin’” He begins, handing the package over without question, “but seein’ as you’re using my address, it would be nice if you clued me in.”

Your mouth opens slightly, wondering how in the hell you could explain this. Joel catches wind of your uncertainty.

“My daughter’s pretty observant,” He scratches at his forehead idly, shoving his other hand into his front pocket, “and I’ve noticed it for about a month now—m’just curious.”

“Uh, okay—how do I explain this?” You ask aloud, placing the package on a nearby surface. “I order a lot of stuff for work. Like, more than normal. It’s a bunch of different things, sometimes a little odd, I guess?”

Joel flashes a grin of amusement, subtle, but there. He nods, urging you to continue.

“Our mail guy kept giving me weird looks—not like it’s his job to judge but I haven’t been here long, the last thing I needed was someone spreadin’ word around the neighbhorhood.”

It was a small community, tight knit. It was a reasonable defense, but Joel kept quiet.

“I’m sure he thinks I’m a psychopath, but I figured maybe putting your address down and pickin’ them up after would help. I mean, it did for a while, but—It was a stupid idea, I'm sorry.“

“What’s in the box?” Joel asks curiously.

It catches you off-guard, blinking a few times as you glance over at the package.

“Uh, pipe cleaners. You know, the craft ones. All different colors.”

“And what about the other ones?”

It was justifiable, the questions he had.

“Huh, um—lots of paint, some rolls of tape, rope, these little face masks for the kids to work on for the town carnival next week. I can keep going but...I don't think you'd find it that interesting.”

“You’re…a teacher?” Joel assumes.

You don’t realize until half a second later that you’d slipped up so easily. 

“Yeah, first grade.”

“Well, I don’t mind it, but don’t worry about that kid.” Joel tells you, “We’ve been workin’ on that street by the office for a few weeks and he’s always causin’ some type of trouble. If anything, I can talk to the boss up there, let ‘em know.”

“It’s fine, there’s no need for all that.”

“Well, just trying to be neighborly,” Joel shrugs, and the smile that breaks through, one that you can see, is something indescribable, “I can help you out and have Sarah drop the packages off when she can, unless I happen to catch it before she does to save you a trip.”

“You’re okay with me using your address still?” You ask, a little perturbed.

“Don’t see why not, it’s not hurting anyone.” Joel responds, “And if it saves you a few minutes of feelin’ embarrassed.”

“I don’t know, this is pretty embarrassing too.”

Joel doesn’t seem bothered, shaking his head with the corners of his mouth downturned. 

“You’re fine, again—it’s harmless.”

You nod slowly, relenting to his unusual politeness. You weren’t sure southern hospitality was a real thing, but there he was, standing on two legs before you. 

“Thank you, uh—“

“Joel.” He answers for you, “Probably should’ve started with that.”

And putting a name to a face had never been more satisfying. 

“Thank you, Joel.” You repeat once more, name rolling off your tongue foreignly, smiling nonetheless. 

“If you need anything we’re just across the way,” Joel jabs his thumb in the direction of his home, “as much as Sarah loves the Adlers', she might end up clingin’ to you if you let her get to know you.”

Unfortunately for Joel, he’s sealing his own fate by speaking it into existence.

He leaves without a word, waving a quick goodbye over his shoulder as his boots scuff against pavement. 

The deep, shaky breath you let out is a reminder that being in new places, trying new things, forming new relationships, wasn’t always a bad thing.

Sarah greets you with a big smile the first day she catches a package before you, opening with a line you don’t expect. 

“Do you have markers, by chance?”

She’s all sunshine and adolescent innocence, eyes too wide and unguarded from the world—it’s an effect of Joel’s obvious overprotectiveness he feels toward her. He’s shielded her from so much, though if you asked Joel, not enough. 

“I do,” You answer with an airiness to your voice, “whaddya say, fair trade—my package for the markers?”

“Sure.” She nods, handing over the box.

You disappear briefly, the heels of her converse teetering on your doorstep, a gentle rock back and forth as she curiously peers inside your home.

It’s fairly boring, but it’s home. That’s all that matters to you. 

“Just try to get them back to me when you’re done?” It’s not so much a demand, handing the pack over to the young girl. “No rush, take them as long as you need ‘em.”

“Yeah, I will!” She responds cheerfully. “I’ve been reminding my dad for a few days but he works a lot, forgets things—are all adults that bad at remembering?”

“Some of us have a lot on our mind,” You shrug, speaking candidly, “You know what—just keep those.”

“Are you sure?” She asks warily, “I didn’t mean to, like, guilt you or anything—“

“No, no.” You assure her, “It helps you both out, that way your dad won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Okay.” Sarah responds wistfully, glancing back as the sound of Joel’s truck inches up the street. Joel is pulling the toolbox out of his truck bed when Sarah calls out loudly, “Dad!” shaking the boxed markers in the air.

“She hustle you for those?” Joel calls out, eyes connecting with you. “Sarah, we talked about this—“

“She did not,” Still, the implication earns a laugh from both of you, “they’re free, less for you to worry about.”

And it stings a little, but Joel hides it well. 

“Don’t let her fool you,” Joel warns, “She’s just as evil as she is sweet.” 

The smile that stretches across Sarah’s face is telling in its own right.

There’s a month of nice, minimal interaction with your neighbors. The Adler's bake too much, always offering up baked goods to the surrounding houses, yours included. You always end up with the extra oatmeal raisins because Sarah despises them and apparently, so does Joel.

Sometimes you catch Sarah at the front door or outside, kicking her soccer ball around or waiting on the steps for her father, even into the later hours of the night. Sometimes it’s Joel, who always ends up at your doorstep rather than you at his. 

Joel likes to ask about your day, a polite but awkward attempt at small talk.

He hasn’t tried talking to anyone since Sarah’s mom, it felt forced—but he was trying, even if it was nearly impossible to get through some days.

Joel talked a lot about Sarah, or work, occasionally bringing up his brother Tommy—he works with him too. You’ve seen him a few times and finally put another name to another face, and he's younger than Joel by five years, closer to your own age. Joel opens up little by little, day by day, completely by his own doing despite how little you talk about yourself.

Joel enjoys the way you always have a smile on your face despite how your morning goes, always hanging on to his words like they're the most interesting thing you've heard in a while. He enjoys having someone to talk to that isn't family or people who he's obligated to converse with to get himself through the day. It's the first time he's really started to go out of his own way to get to know someone.

It’s late Friday night when you end up at his doorstep, dressed in some thin pajamas to combat that Texas heat and humidity—nighttime somehow felt worse, the bugs pricking at your bare legs and the material sticking to your skin.

Your package should’ve arrived today and you didn’t see it outside—but a quick glance through the open entrance, albeit guarded by a screen door, showed that it was sitting right there on their kitchen table.

You knock on the glass pane lightly.

“Dad!” Sarah calls out from somewhere you can’t see, “Door!”

“You can’t get it?” He shouts back, also nowhere to be seen.

“I’m busy!”

You chuckle to yourself, hearing Joel's gruff, “Like I ain’t!”

Sarah’s silence is answer enough.

“Shit—“ It’s a gruff noise, stuck deep in Joel’s gravelly undertone, “hold on!”

Joel’s pulling his shirt over his head as he rounds the corner, leaving you a small glimpse of the tan skin underneath. He relaxes when he realizes it's you.

“Just come in,” Joel says, “you’re probably getting eaten up out there.”

And truly, you’ve never been more thankful.

Joel opens the door to let you pass, the strong scent of fresh body wash invading your senses, his hair still wet from the shower.

“M’sorry, I was gonna bring it by later.” Joel apologizes, “I got off a little earlier tonight and wanted to grab a shower.”

He’s handing you the box with a calculated movement, flicking his watch over his wrist as he secures it, glancing at you briefly.

“Should I guess?” Joel asks.

“Uh—“

“The box.” He clarifies.

You decide to tease him a little, head tilted slightly as you grin, “You’d be guessin’ for a while.”

Joel hums a small noise, fidgeting with watch as he shifts it into place before standing with his hands resting against his hips.

“Uh, let’s see—clay?” 

Not a terrible guess. An odd one to go for on the first try, though.

“God no, that would be everywhere.”

“Those creepy little eyes?”

“Googly eyes?” You correct with a faint laugh, “No, but that’s definitely been one of the packages I’ve ordered lately. The kids love them.”

“I give up.” Joel says in defeat, hands raising up slightly before slapping down at his sides. A rather quick win on your part.

“They’re seeds, for flowers.” You tell him, “We’re going over photosynthesis right now. All that boring stuff about plants and how they grow but the kids are more excited to play with dirt for a couple hours.”

Joel nods slowly, thoughtfully, top lip disappearing behind his bottom in a pout of thoughtfulness.

“Invite her over already!”

Joel sighs, rubbing his palm over his beard as he scratches lightly.

“If you don’t I will.” She adds.

You don’t have to see her face to know that smile. She was evil, and damn was she good at it. 

“Right, uh—“

“No, please don’t feel obligated,” If anything, it made you feel like more of a bother, “my feelings won’t be hurt.”

“No, I was—I planned on asking.” Joel admits, “Just kept forgettin’.”

That and he didn’t know to casually bring it up in conversation.

Point one, Sarah. Joel, zero.

“They’re throwin’ a little party for my birthday. Just a cookout is all, gonna have food, beers—is that somethin’ you’re into?”

Joel feels ridiculous, a grown man in his mid-thirties and sweating over the prospect of inviting a woman over.

“I can be.” 

Your smile is relaxed, reaching your eyes in the way that makes them squint a little.

You can smell the fresh soap and spice of his cologne from this distance, a welcomed change from his usual worn, dirty state—not that you hated it, but Joel did clean up nice.  

“Great, tomorrow at 7?”

“6!” Sarah quickly corrects, sounding exhausted.

Joel rolls his eyes, a sign of an also very tired father.

The snort of laugh slips out before you can hide it, slapping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“Uh, I’ll just show up somewhere in between, how about that?”

Joel seems unfazed, fighting against his own grin as he nods. 

He forgets to tell you goodnight as you leave, something that doesn’t even cross your mind, but to him, feels like a missed opportunity. 

“So out of your league, brother.” Tommy whistles lowly, shaking his head in disbelief as he flips the half-cooked burger on the grill. “Shit—explain it to me again, actually.”

“She sends her packages here,” Joel’s short, to the point. “s’not much to explain, Tommy.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Tommy counters.

Joel shrugs.

“What the hell’ve you done with my brother?” Tommy jokes lightly, earning a half-hearted shove from Joel.

Tommy’s eyes flick toward you briefly, helping Sarah in the kitchen as she ices the cake. Sarah smiles at whatever you’re saying, your back turned to both of the men.

“Don’t act like you’d be lettin’ slide for just anyone. How well do you know her?”

“Well enough,” Joel shrugs, “Sarah likes her, probably a little too much.”

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know much about you at all. But, he wanted too. Tommy saw right through it, but he didn't push Joel. He knew better.

“Careful,” He warns with a soft chuckle, “once that kid sinks her teeth in, there's no way she’s letting her leave.”

Joel knows it’s too late—her eagerness to invite you over, always finding excuses to talk to you or force Joel to do the same. The kid was too smart for her own good.

Even after all is said and done, you decide to stick around to help clean up. Tommy nearly runs at the opportunity to skip out of the mess, waving a quick goodbye to three of you before he’s gone.

Sarah doesn’t fight Joel when he tells her to head upstairs to get some sleep, knowing that he could manage it on his own. He didn’t deny your offer to help either, taking the kind gesture in stride. 

“How does it feel?” You ask, breaking the silence as you swipe up the dishes into your right arm, stacking the plates and cutlery with a careful movement. “35, I mean?”

Joel chuckles aloud at that, short and flippant as he turns his back, swiping the empty beer bottle from the grill.

“Old,” He answers simply, “and with Sarah getting older it feels like five years for every one.”

“You look like you’re doing alright,” You admit, but it feels like an overstep, your mouth backtracking before your brain can think, “at least, it seems that way.”

Joel smiles slightly, an emotion that only fills half of his face. He’s unsure of it all.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a more cheerful kid,” You sidestep through the backdoor and into the kitchen, placing the dishes in the sink, “and she talks about you a lot.”

Joel drops the empty bottles into the trash, joining you by the sink before politely shoving you aside, “I got ‘em.”

You pull away begrudgingly, but it fades quickly. 

“I’m probably the last person you care to hear this from, but I’ve met a lot of parents, seen a lot of different situations, families—she’s happy, so you’re doing somethin’ right.”

“I’m just tryin’ to keep things normal, I guess.” Joel explains  with his hands halfway submerged in soapy water. “I’m all she’s got.”

A system flows smoothly as Joel passes off the wet dishes for you to dry, stacking them up on the counter.

The glaringly obvious lack of a second parent is not lost on you and if Joel didn’t want to bring it up, it wasn’t your business. But, his face reads guilt—it always does.

Guilty for working too much, guilty for forgetting things, guilty for making Sarah (and Tommy) worry about him so much. 

“Enough about me,” Joel shakes away the excess water, taking the offered dish towel from your hands and patting his own dry, “you want a piece to go?”

The beautiful cake Sarah made, homemade and imperfect, nearly devoured by the four of you already.

“No, I’ll be okay,” You wave your hand freely before resting them in the back pockets of your jeans, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the flooring, “thank you for inviting me, by the way. Not that Sarah gave you an option.”

Joel laughs behind his curled fist, a finger scratching at the fullness of his beard before he’s rubbing his palm over the expanse of it and down his neck.

It doesn’t matter that Joel was the one to mention it to Sarah, wondering if it seemed to forward. The look she returned was typical of a teenage girl and nothing short of making Joel feel stupid for asking. 

“You’re good company,” He compliments, “plus the Adlers might think I’m stiffin’ them if I don’t bring a plate over in the morning, so it’s probably best you don’t take that piece anyways.”

“Hey, they’re sweet,” You chastise him lightly, shoving him gently in the side with a finger, “— and those cookies, man.”

Joel smiles thoughtfully, glancing up toward the open front door, a windless night covered in a blanket of silence.

“Can I walk you back?” Joel asks, mostly out of his habitual politeness but a few more minutes with you would be nice.

“Joel, I’m practically in your backyard.” Your eyes study him shortly, the subtle shrug in his shoulders. It was a kind gesture, one that you wouldn’t expect from anyone else. “Fine, have it your way.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, hearing you giggle on the way to the door, his footsteps following closely behind. 

And it feels akin to the awkwardness you feel after a first date, the will he won’t he, who should make a move—is there a move to be made? It’s the unspoken giddiness that terrifies you, something you haven’t felt in a long time. 

But, it also doesn’t surprise you when Joel does absolutely nothing—not that he needs to feel the responsibility too, but he always looks like he’s poised to say more, ask another question, and even now as you turn to him, fingers wrapped around the handle of your front door, he’s thinking. 

You're quick to quiet his mind.

“Hey,” You call to him quietly, “I’ll give you a quick tour, if you want?”

It’s harmless, giving him a chance to get a peek inside your life, as hectic and unorganized as it was. You were single, alone, and didn’t have to worry about anything but yourself and the overload of things you’ve accumulated in your space, namely for your job. 

But, despite the disorganization it’s nearly spotless. 

“You still haven’t unpacked?” He asks curiously, tapping his fingers against a pile of cardboard stacked high, unopened. 

“Mostly,” You answer candidly, leading him through the open floor of your home, doors wide open, the freshness of lemon lingering throughout, “living room, some of the kitchen, bedroom—it’s mostly done, it’s just the last room on the right that’s kickin’ my ass.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, silently asking you to lead him further. He ignores how soft your fingers feel as they wrap around his wrist, shoving his watch a few centimeters higher as you do and pulling him down the hall with a leisurely stride. 

He whistles lowly at the sight, a hoard of boxes and no homes. It was the perfect size for an office, probably what you were intending, a small desk buried underneath the rubble.

“No shelves, no storage?”

You point at a few larger boxes stowed away in a corner. 

“I couldn’t build one of those things without breaking somethin’,” You admit with an aura of embarrassment, “plus I need a power drill and bunch of other shit I don’t have right now, so I’ve been putting it off.”

“I’ll help,” Joel suddenly offers, “Given I can manage a day off soon, but I can come over early and we can knock it out in a day.”

“That’s nice, Joel, but—“

“I don’t need your money and I’m not takin’ no for an answer.” Joel realizes how aggressive that sounds, quickly adjusting his manner of speaking, “You’ve been keepin’ Sarah company when I can’t, let me do this.”

Your eyes soften slightly, head tilted at an angle to admire the almost apologetic look on his face. 

“You are too kind, Joel Miller.”

And if he could have the smile engraved into his memory, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I never told you my last name.” Joel looks at you quizzically, eyebrows furrowing.

“Got a piece of your mail the other day by mistake,” You admit, “s’kinda funny considering the situation. I was curious. You still trust me?”

“You are somethin’ else.” He grins. “Can I trust you?”

Flirty Joel was sweet, you liked it. But, it was gone in a flash. Too soon, too quick.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

The part of you that wishes Joel would’ve stayed a little longer that night aches as you lay in bed, dragging your fingertips lightly over your stomach, shirt pushed up near your breasts. It feels ridiculous, pining over your neighbor. 

But, even as you fingers dip inside you, explore your body in all the ways you need, a steady pressure over your clit until you’re coming with a soft gasp, the only thing you can picture is Joel—his face, his hands, and the softness of his voice as he calls out to you, comforts you into that deep void of sleep. 

Joel ends with a second shower that night when the world is quiet and everyone is already tucked away in bed, climbing into the brisk cold of the water before it even has the chance to heat up, hoping it calms him down. He ends up in a similar predicament, dragging it out until it’s nearly painful as he squeezes the head of his cock, your sweet smile still fresh in his mind. Joel calls out your name as he comes, just as quiet, and he knows he’s fucked.

You don’t see Joel for a couple weeks, outside of a few occasions where you’re greeting him from your yard, albeit taking out the trash or spending time on your front porch as the tail-end of summer was winding down and evenings were becoming cooler. 

He seems more preoccupied than usual, smile not always reaching his eyes and you’re wondering if you’ve done something wrong, if he can read the guilt that oozed from you—crushing on a neighbor? Preposterous.

Most of Joel’s own guilt rides on the fact that he’s always busy, it never fails. A screw up at work meant another setback, setbacks meant longer hours and they had been experiencing far too many these days.

He’s stressed about work and bills and everything any normal adult should while also trying to maintain the balance of being a good dad to Sarah. He hates leaving her home alone so often, even though most of the time she would wander next door to the Adlers’ or over to yours, always supplying herself with the company when she needed it.

He greets you on a Sunday morning, mid-October when the Texas heat was still prickly enough to keep you in a tank top and shorts more often than not. He’s already dressed for the job, tattered jeans and an old shirt on his frame, toolbox clutched in his right hand while he rubs the fingertips of his left against the inside of his palm. 

Joel looks a little cleaner around the edges, his beard was trimmed, the hair that started to curl over his ears was shorter and tucked behind his ears and he’s taken a shower despite how much work they had ahead of them for the day. 

And, hell, it was work.

Joel made it look easy, but the sheer amount of energy needed to put all the furniture together was something you just weren’t equipped with. He’s explaining random things to you—the importance of anchoring things down, keeping things stable by balancing out the weight distribution and why he always marks and rechecks things twice before drilling. 

It’s all a completely foreign language, but you can fake the perplexed look on your face as long as needed—you’d nearly mastered it being around an army of tiny children all day, fighting for your attention to show off their new tricks. 

“You’ve been sittin’ on this stuff for how long?” Joel asks, eyebrows pulling together in amusement.

“A few months, maybe. Only a couple days after I moved in, really.”

“I work in construction, sweetheart. You could’ve asked.”

It’s the first time Joel lets his fondness slip, a little word that you skim over entirely when his eyes avert away at the realization.

“Well—I mean, you offered.” Like that wasn’t obvious as he kneeled crouch on your floor, jeans spread tight over his thighs, shirt riding up his back as he leaned in to twist the screw in at an awkward angle. His head is nearly touching your knee, legs tucked under you as you watch. “Seems a little too forward if you ask me.”

“And using my address for your packages don’t?”

He’s got you there, chuckling under his breath at your silence. He thinks back to Sarah’s constant nagging, pushing him to get over his own self-loathing and talk to you, or at least make an attempt.

“Sarah thought you were doing it for other reasons.” He admits, rising slowly to rest his palms against his thighs, sweat collecting around his neck, wetting his collar slightly. “Flirting with me, I guess.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” You answer honestly, “I mean, you’re nice to look at but—“

Joel’s eyebrows raise, intrigued.

You shrug, making a noncommittal noise as you hum.

“It’s the first time she’s been really eager about me getting back out there since, ever, I guess.”

It startles you a moment, the revelation, a small glimpse into his real life, the deeper parts—it’s the tiniest crack, but it’s there. 

“Can I ask you somethin’, Joel?”

He nods slightly, stuffing away the screwdriver and lifting the stand with ease, resting his forearm against the surface of it.

“Has it always been—shit, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You huff softly, rubbing some sawdust between your fingers, “I guess I’m just tryin’ to say that even if Sarah’s mom isn’t in the picture, for whatever reason, she’s always welcome to come to me for stuff. I remember being that young and losin’ my mind when I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone.”

“Oh, she’s got you hooked.” Joel’s grin grew wide for a moment before softening, “Sarah’s mom, she—I’ve raised that little girl from birth on my own, so she doesn't know anything but her. She doesn’t ask, I’m not gonna force it on here either. But, I’m glad she’s found someone she’s comfortable with.”

There’s a moment of silence that feels like a new connection, a tether tying the two of you together—closer.

“What about you?” Joel asks suddenly, turning the topic of vulnerability and family back toward you. “If you’re comfortable sharin’.”

“Family moved around a lot, my parents traveled for work so it was just me most of the time—boarding schools, weeks by myself during breaks where I was fending for myself, really. My parents always kept me secure financially, but I raised myself.”

Joel sits on that, absorbing the information as you sit a little deeper into the floor, back resting against the front panel of your desk as you shift your legs in front of you, knees bent. 

Joel mirrors you after a moment, the soft cream of the ceiling fan filling their air as he leans his head back, enjoying the faint breeze. 

“Never wanted kids of my own, either.” You admit, “But, I loved ‘em when they weren’t my own—partially why I started teaching. I just don’t want my kids feeling the way I felt, so if I never have them then…”

Joel understands, fidgeting with his fingers as they rest over his knees.

“I was so young when Sarah came, I didn’t have a clue.”

It’s something you never really thought about, the quickness to grow up at such a young age—not quite a kid but barely stepping into adulthood.

“Well, it seems like you figured it out. She’s got a strong personality but she’s smart, that’s gotta count for something.”

Joel laughs a short, silent noise through his nose, shoulders shaking with the movement. You push away some of the mess from your bare legs, finding that building things was a lot messier than you thought.

“A wet paper towel or washcloth can help,” Joel adds, pointing toward the dusting of wood on the floor, “the rest,” he waves a loose finger toward your hair, pulling at a small piece and flicking it away, “a shower will do just fine.”

Joel glances over your frame briefly, but the gaze he holds is intense, the time that burns even when he finally looks away.

“I can clean this up for you,” Joel offers, “go ahead and take a shower and I’ll be outta your hair before you’re done.”

And you don’t put up a fight, as much as you could have.

The shower feels like heaven after a long day, nearly into late afternoon now and having skipped out on lunch completely—maybe you should offer to feed him as a thank you, knowing he’d never take any money. You hear him moving around outside the door, shuffling with tools, rearranging some of the furniture that was probably a little on the heavier side, falling silent as you finally turned the faucet off.

You should’ve wait a few more seconds, could’ve—you would have missed him completely by then, but you’re wrenching the door open in a hurry to the short distance to your room that was attached to your bathroom, but not before colliding with Joel on the opposite side of the wall as he dug through a cabinet, admittedly a little lost. 

“There weren’t any hand towels in the kitchen,” Joel explains calmly when he turns to you, holding his gaze with yours, avoidant of your blatant nakedness as you silently reach for a towel, wrapping it around your frame without a single blink, “I figured—seemed like the second best option…” 

He gestures vaguely to the cabinet full of towels.

You nod slowly, speaking evenly, to your own surprise.

“And I was gonna invite you over for dinner, or out—whichever, but that seems a little cliche now, seein’ as you just saw me naked, don’t want you getting the wrong impression.”

“Can’t have that,” Joel nods, agreeable, the remnants of smug grin catching the corner of his mouth, “can we?”

It takes every last ounce of self control to keep you from making a mistake, beg him to take you there—wherever, on the floor, the counter, the bed just some several feet away in the adjoining room.

“I’ll just…finish cleanin’ up and see myself out,” Joel nods, letting his gaze drag down slightly, fingers tightening around the towel instinctively—for your own good, “sorry ‘bout all this.”

You nod slightly in response, wracking your brain with any reason you could give to keep him here a second longer, convince yourself to stop being so scared of putting yourself out there. 

It wasn’t lost on you that Joel seemed interested. He’s got that look that lingers when you’re around, always catching glances when he thinks your attentions drawn somewhere else—you see it in the early mornings when you’re leaving for work now, less before you had gotten to know him, and the soften in his voice when he talks to you lately, it’s comforting; he feels safer allowing himself to relax around you now, free of any judgment. 

But, he’s also never made any attempt to cross those boundaries, polite to a default and sometimes his own demise—until now, something telling him to go for it.

“But, if you were wanting to treat me to a nice meal,” There’s a calmness to his tone, that same drip of snark you always had toward him but teasing in a way that made your body run warm all over, “Sarah’s spending the night a few blocks over with a girl on her soccer team, so—a little peace and quiet, some dinner,” Joel shrugs, arm raising up to lean against your frame of the door, palm pressed high and fingers tapping along the woods, “it does sound like a fair trade. For the work.”

And whatever he’s trying for, it’s successful.

Hell, you would’ve ended up finding your way over there somehow, but the fact that Joel’s reciprocating and in a way that almost seems playful, it’s too good to pass up on no matter how stubborn you wanted to be to cover the embarrassment you were feeling right now. 

Sure, for the work.

“Deal.”

It doesn’t take long for you and Joel to settle on something simpler than some meal that would take too long, too much work, and it was glaringly obvious from the moment you arrived at Joel’s front door that neither of you gave a shit about dinner or deals or paying him back for the work he did.

Whatever was lingering between you now was bigger, much bigger than it had been before and impossible to ignore. 

But, the attempt at small talk is nice—a slice or two of pizza into dinner and you’re settled on his couch, legs crossed and facing him fully with his leg stretched out and resting on the coffee table settled a few feet away. He’s no more dressed down than usual, a pair of jeans (arguably one of his cleaner pairs) and a loose shirt that’s design had faded, probably from years and years of wear. You settled for something similar, comfortable, a knitted blanket slung around your shoulders for comfort.

“Cold?” He asks around a bite. 

One word. A simple question, but it feels like an answer to so much more. An excuse, even.

“A little,” You nod, punctuating the answer by pulling the blanket over your shoulder more, knees rising to huddle your body closer to yourself, “it’s not that bad.”

“Let me turn the heat up,” Joel’s standing before you can respond, messing with the small panel on the wall, pointing toward the vent settled conveniently above the couch, “feel it?”

You reach a hand out feebly, waiting for the rush of hot air that never comes. You shake your head slightly, rising on your knees slightly, waddling yourself forward until it finally hits you, closer to Joel’s original spot as he returns, settling back in the same position as before, though you’re much closer in proximity now.

You snort softly, falling back on the heels of your bare feet, palms pressing into the tops of your thighs in an attempt to keep the height you had on Joel currently, the smugness in your expression unavoidable. 

He’s got his left arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers curling and straightening in a subconscious movement, food forgotten on the table, his eyes dragging toward yours lazily, the buzz of the television filling whatever silence was settling between you two. 

Joel is playing oh, so innocent—you can see right through it.

“Smooth,” You can give him some credit, he’s got you closer—not where he wants you or needs you, but he can touch you if he wants, right now, yet still, “how long did you think that over in your head?”

“An hour,” He admits sheepishly, eyes squinting with the half-hearted smile that stretches his face, “pathetic, right?”

You shrug indifferently, settling in deeper, more comfortably. The shift in your movements has your knees pressed against his thighs, hands settling in your lap and just a few inches from his own. There’s a small tear in your jeans that Joel can see, right against the bend of your knee—he’s got the urge to touch you, so he does.

His touch is rough, warm, all calloused from hard work but containing the hominess you crave so deep in your bones. 

“I can let it slide,” You assure him, fingers inching closer to his, the width of his palm covering your kneecap now, a slow, precarious movement as your fingers slip over his own, wrapping around his wrist and feeling the faint thrum of his pulse as it quickens, “if you’ll do something for me.”

It's been weeks of build up, unnecessary tension between the two of you that threatened to spill anytime one of you moved to close to the other, a simple touch in passing or looks that dragged on too long.

“‘Course, anything.”

The admission comes quickly. He doesn’t even need to think it over. He’s staring more intently, the shadows of his face changing with every flashing picture on the screen several feet away.

“Stop torturing me,” You supply softly, guiding his hand between your legs until his knuckles bump against your center, a soft squeeze to your thigh as his fingers fit comfortably against your body, his brain mapping out how the levels of his touch affect you, “you take me to your room,” it’s your turn to reach for him, fingers leaving his wrist to trace alone his thigh in return, though stretching past the the button of his jeans to find the soft skin of his abdomen under his shirt and dragging over his stomach delicately until he can’t stand it anymore, using his free hand to lock yours in place, pulling your attention to his face once more and away from the slow rise and fall of his breathing, “and you fuck me.”

Joel frowns slightly, the creases in his forehead becoming a little deeper, the beginnings of his crows feet wrinkling around his eyes and he’s trading the spot where his hand is cuddle against the apex of your thighs to slip his fingers under your jaw, tracing the fragile lines of your face until he can cradle your cheek gently, using the pad of his thumb to press on your chin, guiding your face down to look at him, and somehow pulling you impossibly closer.

“Fuck you?” He questions, eyes searching yours briefly, tongue swiping at his bottom lip, “No—no, that’s not how I do things, sweetheart.”

You smile under his touch, watching as he mirrors those emotions and urges you toward him and over his lap, large palms holding steady at your waist. You filter your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing until you reach the shell of his ear, playing with the short tuft of hair that curls behind it, his eyes watching your movements carefully.

“Care to enlighten me?” 

Joel chuffs out a laugh, short and brimming with a darkness that wasn’t there before, using the leverage he has to lean forward and secure you on his lap until you’re hanging by a thread over his knees, letting out a small yelp at the change in position that quickly dissipates into laughter.

“Darlin’, I’d rather show you.”

*

There’s a certain giddiness to your energies as you clumsily climb your way up the steps, Joel suddenly a lot more handsy than earlier as he grips at your hips, your thighs, pulling you in for quick, fleeting touches that tickle and have your breath catching in your throat until you can finally break away, nearly tripping into his bedroom before he catches you with a swift hand, shoving the door closed with his heel as he closes in on you, pulling your legs up around his hips in one heft of a motion, arm slung around your backside while the other paws at your thighs, make the small trek to his bed and resting you down slowly, chest heaving with a quickness.

A sudden dip in the bed has your ass nearing the edge but his legs are there to catch you, knees barely pressing against the end of the mattress while he reaches for the button on your pants wordlessly aside from the gaze he’s holding with you, his expression is rather flat (a little concentrated even) and he’s popping it open with ease, thick fingers sneaking around the waistband and tugging until there’s nothing left but a small snag at your ankle that he wrangles quickly, soothing the spot after with his thumb.

“M’sorry about earlier, again,” Joel finds himself apologizing, “never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable around me.”

“I wasn’t—I’m not,” It’s something you’re sure of, more so that anything right now, “I could’ve cleaned up the mess myself.”

Joel shrugs, large palm spreading over the width of your hips, thumbs pressed gently into the ridge of your hip bones as he folds your legs in closer from where they’re hooked around his own waist, the soft cotton dragging against denim and igniting a deep yearning that could only be satiated once he was inside you—it’s what you were hoping for, urging him closer with your foot as you nudged him forward.

“And you were so respectful,” You comment coyly, tilting your head up at him as you reach for the fabric of his shirt, grinding the wet heat of your cunt against the front of his jeans for friction, bottom lip pulled between your lip momentarily when it feels just a little too good, “didn’t even try to take a look, did you?”

Joel laughs quietly, a short huff through his nose when he shakes his head, “I tried—god, did I try—”

His thumbs dip lower, under the waistband over your underwear while his fingertips slide under your shirt, rubbing against the soft skin of your belly, your own hands coming down to claim his, pulling them higher until they settle over your breasts, completely bare underneath.

“I’ve been picturing it since I got home,” Joel admits, glancing up at the ceiling briefly in a desperate plea when he touches the bare skin, nipples pebbling against his touch and he squeezes greedily before he finally has the courage to look at you, watching as you pull the top over your head casually, “you’re poisonin’ my mind, sweetheart.” 

It’s a compliment wrapped in some form of emotion you can’t decipher as his mouth drops open an inch, rubbing his thumb over the soft bud of your nipple until you grow impatient, a small whine of protest leaving your mouth as you reach the short distance between your bodies to rub against the swell of his jeans, “Not just that I hope.”

“You really want me to fuck you?” Joel asks sweetly, a little condescending with the way it’s delivered as he glares down at you, his touching lingering from your breasts as he slides a thumb over your clothed cunt, a gentle pressure against your clit until your breath stutters at the sensation. He says your name softly, a warning for your attention to be brought back to him. “Hey, need you with me—you like that? Getting fucked?”

You squeeze him firmly until it forces a chuckle out of his chest, his hand squeezing around your thigh to pull you taut, rocking his hips into the touch before swatting your hand away and working at his belt, jeans, everything keeping him constrained until he can finally reach his cock, working his boxers half away down his thighs and reaching for your hand again, wrapping your softer, less overworked hands around his dick until it registers in your head what he wants, his hand a guiding light as he builds a slow rhythm, squeezing your grip until it’s just right.

“Usually, yeah,” You nod, using your touch to admire every last bit of him, thumb drifting over the head of his cock as you squeeze tight, letting him buck into your touch impatiently—he’s breathing hard through his nose, eye contact more intense now that it ever has been, staring down at your over the bridge of his nose, all beautiful and godlike, sculpted to perfection, “feels good.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s been months. But it has. Almost a year, truthfully, and just by the quick glance you take at him—nothing compares. He doesn’t make a big deal about it, talk himself up like he’s everything you need. He wants to hear what you like, what you want.

“I can do that,” He obliges and suddenly his hand is hit against your folds, middle finger spreading you open gently, pressing against your opening testingly, “do what you like—or we can do things my way.”

“Your—your way?” You gasp softly, nodding without hearing what he has to say, “Yeah—fuck, your way is fine.”

“Didn’t even let me talk, sweet girl.” Joel remarks smugly.

But, it doesn’t matter. The second his finger breaches you fully it’s nothing but white noise, his thumb working just as tentatively at your clit.

Joel drones on anyways, his voice like a warm current as it guides you into a state of calm.

“I’ll get you there, real close, just like this,” He nudges his fingers against a soft spot inside of you that has your eyes squeezing shut, choking off a moan as you squeeze tight around his cock, hands moving a lot less now that he had you distracted, but Joel didn’t mind, “then I’ll fuck you, slow…hard, whatever you like, okay?” And there comes your name again, a bouy pulling you back to the surface as you nod, “But, fuck if I don’t take my time with you—I’m gonna save her for last,” He slips another finger in silently before pulling out and rubs the collected slick over your clit in a couple quick movements, “show her all the attention she deserves, right?”

“Joel,” You whine—a beg, a plea, just another reason to say his name so desperately, “Joel, please.”

“I gotcha,” He comforts, lifting a knee up to rest against the mattress, shifting your leg higher and switching up the angle entirely as it forces his fingers in deeper as he pushes back in, “relax, breathe, lean into it, baby.”

Letting yourself go, he means. The baby is an afterthought and maybe he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it doesn’t fail to send a flutter through your insides and somehow calm you in the same instance. 

And really, nothing compares. He’s attentive in a way that’s new to you, never something you’ve experienced in the past and maybe it helps that he’s got a few years on you, or more experience, but it’s addictive—he’s got a hold on you that you can’t seem to break. 

He listens to the way your breath buckles when he rubs your clit a little too fast, clearly nearing your edge quicker than he or you would like, but he knows just when to stop and slow down, fill you full of his fingers and keep you wanting more. He sees the subtle pull of your brow when he drags it on longer than you’re used to, that’s when he finally pulls away. 

“Joel, can’t—“ You breath out tiredly, eyes closed and resting as you catch your breath, his hands nudging yours away from his cock as it bounces against his stomach, quickly shoving his jeans and underwear the rest of the way down, “want you inside, need you to fuck me like you—you said—“

He rubs a comforting hand against your stomach, up your sternum until he’s flat against the center of your chest and you’re looking at him again, more focused this time around.

“Scoot up,” He tells you softly, nodding while he reaches behind his head, yanking his shirt over his head in one fluid act, “get comfortable, sweetheart.”

He’s unabashed and cool in the way he holds himself before you, yielding a vulnerability that he never would’ve had with you if he hadn’t gotten to know to you more, if he didn’t have the chance to—he walks around the bed and to his nightstand a few feet away, admittedly littered in either dirty clothes or laundry he hadn’t put away yet, rustling through one of his top drawers for something you can only assume, his bare ass on display and in perfect view. 

It’s something to admire, firm and toned from the heavy lifting and upkeep he kept on his body, through work and exercise, the muscles in his backs molding to each move he made as he stretched, rolling a tight shoulder as he closed the blinds a little tighter, turning to you then and switching on his bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow that leaves you nowhere to hide from him.

Not that you felt the need to anymore. Maybe a few weeks ago, but definitely not now. 

“Here,” He’s adjusting a pillow underneath your head as you lean forward, assuring you’re comfort as you nod to his waiting look, eyebrow raised slightly, “do you—I can turn that off if you want?” He rubs a curious hand down your chest again, clambering to settle between your legs as he kneels, cock hanging heavy between you as he rips the foil open quietly with his opposite hand, the other again, curious as he palms your breast, pointer finger dragging along the swell of it as he traces down to the underside, “I just—I like seein’ you.”

“It’s fine, Joel.” You answer him, stalling his movements with your touch as you trap his hand, watching as he spits away the foil and rolls the condom over his cock with ease, stroking languidly until he feels secure, somehow making the moment even more tender as he winds his fingers through your loose ones, subconsciously asking for the touch as he smile when your eyes catch his gaze. 

“You let me know what you need,” He orders kindly, though there’s a sternness behind it, “I’ll be damned if you’re not gettin’ what you want, alright?”

You nod, inhaling silently on the first press of his head against your cunt, his shaft sliding against the center and coating in your wetness before he’s pushing in with a carefulness that’s indicated through the tight grip you have on his hand, loosening when he finally bottoms out.

Joel groans low, quiet, savoring how tight you’re gripping him in the moment, pulsating with need from how hard he’d edged you to near orgasm. He’s thankful, for once, because he’s not sure he has much will power to hold off either. 

“Slow,” He reminds you, a gentle rock of his hips as he focuses his attention toward the point where you two meet, watching the way you pull him in with greed, fingers once twisted between his fingers now clawing tightly at the sheets, “shit—it’s been too long.”

You nod knowingly, other hand shifting to put space between you and the headboard, placing opposite pressure against the wood with your hand, in turn allowing you to gain some leverage and work yourself easier against Joel, whatever slow place he was going for quickly dissolving into madness, hands wild and gripping at whatever flesh it could reach.

“Oh, hell.” Joel groans, head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut for his own good, fingers digging into your thighs so he can fuck himself into you with fervor, your moans quickly morphing into pleas for, “more, more—please, Joel.”

“Gimme your hand,” He gruffs out, voice scratchy and raw, guiding your fingers until they lock around the back of your thigh, pushing until you’re spread wide and he’s guiding your other leg over his chest, ankle resting against his shoulder as he pulls out without warning to adjust himself, “you’re gonna hold yourself open, baby—keep yourself open for me.”

And then he’s sliding back in with no preamble or words of comfort, just a desperate slide of his body against your own, seeking to be back inside you.

The angle is almost unbearable this way, teetering on the edge of too much but whatever words you’re trying to form in your head aren’t making sense, eyes locked on Joel—all of him; his face and the subtle way his forehead creases, mouth dropping open wider when you clench down on him, gasping through every thrust of his hips, and his chest in the way it flexes as he pulls you tighter, biceps flexing as he strains, his own self control breaking down piece by piece. You’re mostly mesmerized by the way this angle gives an almost perfect view to watch him fuck up into you, the veins running along the side of his cock and how careful he is too pull all the way out before he’s driving you insane with the forceful thrusts he gives as he returns, his eyes flicking up briefly when he catches you staring. 

“Oh, fuck—“ He huffs through a laugh, your name falling from his lips once more, “sweetheart, you’ve got no clue how good you feel.”

He moans a little louder, unrestrained and rough, almost like he’s growling with every sharp snap of his hips and it’s driving you insane, that subtle throb of need turning into an ache that had to be soothed.

“Joel…” You call out to him, sounding soft and broken.

He’s right there with you, ripping your hand away from where it’s latched to your thigh and bringing it between your legs, feeling exactly how wet you were for him, his thumb covering your own as he helped you start a steady rhythm against your clit.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” Joel notes, voice sounding even more strained, his grip growing tighter as he seeked to wrap you around him more, more, more, leaving your hand to wrap around the back of your thighs and push you apart, “I got you—come for me. Think you can do that?”

You nod absently, feeling like you were falling into a trance, a dark void that was just you and him and nothing else, touching yourself with an urgency that didn’t let up, fingers immediately speeding up when his hands moved away and he sees it, the desperation.

Joel chuckles to himself, a noise that breaks you from the haze as your eyes creep open, watching how he admired you openly with no shame, “Fuck—you really need it, don’t you?”

You can hear yourself, him—that wet squelch of arousal, skin against skin as he fucks into you with no restraint. You nod again, a quick jerky movement as you feel that familiar heat in your belly build, “Yesyes—god, Joel.”

And Joel soothes you every step of the way as it finally hits you, his hands giving your thighs that desperate relief they needed as he pulls you close, a hand cupping the back of your neck firm and tilting your chin up, lips dragging along yours without taking the step to press against them for a full kiss, a intimate moment of breathing against one another while Joel follows a few moments later, his hips rocking to a slow halt as he rides through the force of his orgasm, groaning deeply against your mouth as you feel everything calm around you, the soft hum of the fan on his dresser pulling you back to earth. 

You want to kiss him so badly, watching him pull away for a brief second to check in with you, eyes scanning your face for anything—but you’re tired of overthinking so you do it, no second guessing, no worrying, cupping his face gently and pulling him in for a long, but simple kiss that feels like it could go on for eternity. He melts into it instantly, the firm grip on your neck softening to cradle your face, one of you (though, maybe both) eventually coming up for air with grins wider than you’ve ever seen. 

There’s nothing left to do but feel it, both of you laughing into each other’s skin and that small snort of amusement slipping from you, feeling Joel mumble something against your collarbone but not asking him to repeat it, watching him smile to himself again as he rises on steady legs to dispose of the condom.

“How are you even—“ You giggle softly, rubbing a gentle hand over your face and through your hair, watching as he retreats toward his ensuite bathroom to retrieve something small, a tiny towel as he wipes up the last remnants of mess around you and his own body, but not yet reaching for you, “my legs are shaking, can you—“ You reach weakly for the towel.

But, he’s spreading out between your legs before you can protest, that smug fucking look on his face as he tosses the towel to the side and waits for you to finish.

You never do.

“Didn’t forget, did you?” Joel asks, eyebrows raised in question. “I’m takin’ my time, sweetheart.”

And the night lends all the time in the world, watching with a sated grin and tired eyes as Joel presses a kiss to your core and dives in, finding every last bit of you to taste, devour, savor in the off chance he never gets to experience this again. 

“Pussy’s fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.” He murmurs—and how he manages to make that sound so endearing despite how depraved it actually is, you’ll never know.

He also really loves when you play with his hair, the delicate traces of your fingertips as you take through his soft tufts of brown and pull when things get a little too intense.

Joel brings you to a slow, but satisfying second orgasm that has you whining at how intense it feels after the first, gasping when his tongue works you through it and nearly has you cursing his name in a plea to stop, but he pulls away at the perfect moment, careful as he cleans you up now, not a word shared until he’s settled in the bed beside you, reaching to pull at the lamp string and let the room succumb to darkness. 

Part of your brain thinks this should feel strange—screwing your neighbor after he’s been helping you out for weeks and building your furniture for free (technically), but Joel’s mind is elsewhere, rubbing softly at your side as he turns you in bed, pulling the sheets up over you both despite your obvious states of undress, clearly too tired to go searching for your clothes.

You want to make an excuse to leave. You do, but Joel quickly squashes that worry of making things weird by staying.

You can't see face but you hear him, lips brushing the top of your head as he speaks in a soft tone, “Sleep here,” He encourages you, but adding a quick, “if you want—only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Tommy’s pickin’ Sarah up for me in the morning,” He tells you, sensing your hesitation of an uncomfortable face to face the next morning, and you voice that to him softly, “don’t worry, I can sneak you out if it comes to that.”

Joel lends a soft touch to your thighs, still sore and shot from earlier as he squeezes the flesh gently.

“M’not gonna fuck you like that and let you leave,” and that shouldn’t make you feel the way it does, leaning into his touch a little further, wanting more, but it does, “somethin’ about you relaxes me, can’t put my finger on it.”

“The mind-blowing sex to start,” You joke lightly, speaking softly to him despite the empty house, “among other things.”

Joel’s laugh is the last thing you hear before you both lose the battle to exhaustion, curled around one another.

*

Tommy catches you in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee before you even realize he’s inside, quiet as a mouse as Sarah trods up behind him and beyond, waving a quick greeting with no outward comment or acknowledgement on why you were here, at the Miller residence, somehow stuck in the middle of their morning routine as they readied for work around you.

“My brother?” He asks with a smile, polite but amused.

“Bathroom, shower.” You answer, watching him nod, digesting the context clues and laughing to himself.

You hand him a cup wordlessly, filling the coffee for him.

“Didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Tommy comments off-handedly, blowing out a faint puff through his lips as he shakes his head, dipping his head into the fridge in search of breakfast. 

Joel saves you soon after, walking you back to your house without a word to his brother aside from a quick shared look, one that reads him getting teased to all he’ll later.

There’s a silent agreement that’s made as Joel backs you against your front door, tilting your chin up briefly to press a chaste kiss to the side of your jaw, not quite your lips, not quite your cheek, but still somehow more sensual than it should be. 

“I’ve got a lot of fixin’ to do, still,” You admit, “could really use your help—if you’re still offerin’.”

“At your service, sweetheart.”

Tommy’s waiting eagerly in the kitchen when Joel returns, digging into a blueberry muffin like an animal.

“You are so screwed, brother.”

And Joel knows it’s true.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #my writing

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Love Amidst The Blue Part 1: Discovering the Siren✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to my little mermaid au world featuring sailor! Joel 💙 I hope you enjoy this story I put together, and please tell me what you think! Comments and reblogs always appreciated and thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for reading over this and giving me suggestions! 🥰

Summary: Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Pairing: sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Word Count: 9.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Longing, feelings, eventual smut, Joel discovers a mermaid, mermaids try to drown Joel, slight angst

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

The crystal blue water of the Tyrrhenian Sea is calm, the wind gently blowing the sails of the Deep Blue Oasis as it rocks back and forth slowly. That was the name of Joel’s boat, one of his most prized possessions. A gateway to the unknown where he could clear his mind and get lost on the aqua ocean tides that have called to him for as long as he could remember.

A call to the side of him that loves history , ancient things, and to the treasure hunter in himself. He spent countless days out on the tides of the sea, always looking for hidden treasures that may be hiding under the deep blue water. His scattered map was marked with red inked circles and x’s of areas where there was said to be lost treasures down below. He swore to his father he’d find them one day and make him proud.

Joel’s father was a wealthy businessman, always focused on the clients in Italy and making a fortune of his own. Joel didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to be out on the sea, out where the ocean breeze could ruffle through his curly locks and carry him into the unknown. He always loved the water and the salty sea air, always wanted to become a sailor to travel the world. His father never approved of it, though. He said it was a waste of time and money, until that dark day that he passed away. His last dying breath was him telling Joel to buy a big boat and sail. Make me proud, son. Follow your dream. Those words still haunt him to this day, the few words he begged his father to say his entire life. So on his thirtieth birthday, that’s exactly what he did.

Five years later Joel had his own boat, his own crew, his own freedom to do as he pleased. His crew wasn’t the most trustful men, but they earned his trust little by little. He befriended some filthy pirates on one of his sea explorations a couple of years ago. At first they threatened him, but he was smart and talked them out of stealing from him and taking over his boat. He offered them so much money that they couldn’t refuse. They agreed to work for him and show him parts of the sea that he’d never been to. Sure, they had their flaws and their bad habits, but he couldn’t do this without them. So he decided to give them a chance.

Joel unfolds his large map of the area and lays it out flat on the side of the railings, studying the area like he knows exactly where he’s headed to. He rolls up his white cotton sleeves and traces lines of the faded map, mapping out this specific area with the tip of his finger.

“Captain Miller, the boys think it’s in this area,” Jasper voices over the blowing breeze, making Joel stop to look up from his marked map.

“What is?” he asks with a raised brow.

“The hidden underwater city of Capri,” Jasper says with excitement in his flushed swampy eyes. His linens are tattered, his blonde hair outgrown and unkempt, his crooked smile waning up at Joel as mischief plays in his scattered mind.

“I thought that was just a folktale? The underwater city. People have searched for years and found nothing. What makes you so sure this place is here?” Joel asks with narrowed dark eyes, waiting for an honest answer from his so-called pirate friend.

“Mermaids, cap’n. They’re here in this area,” Jasper says with the gleam of his eye, sure of himself as much as he’s sure of how to sail this boat.

“Mermaids…” Joel questions, flicking his eyes out to the blue tides as the water gently laps at the large rocks in the water. “I’ve never seen a mermaid, Jas. Only seen them in some old books in my study. As far as I’m concerned, they aren’t here.”

Joel starts to turn around, but Jasper catches his arm. “I swear on my life, mate. They're as real as you and me. Seen one with my own eyes. Not long ago either. Beautiful creatures they are, their siren songs able to hypnotize anyone who dares to look them in the eyes. Saw one drown one of my men before. Grabbed him by the arm and pulled him under with her song. He was never seen again,” he says with sad eyes, looking out into the bright horizon as seagulls and pelicans flock the sunny sky.

Joel ticks his jaw and looks out amongst the miles and miles of open ocean, only seeing the lapping waves as they hit the bottom of the boat. “Jasper, I’m gonna have to see one with my own eyes to believe it. Maybe it was sun poison that made you see things.”

“It wasn’t sun poison, Joel! If you won’t believe me, then I pray one day you do see one. Am I one to lie?” he asks with a heated stare and a hand on his grimy hip.

Joel knits his brows together and stares for a minute at the pirate that swears on his life he’s seen a mermaid. While Jasper doesn’t usually lie to Joel, he’s still a pirate. Still willing to lie and cheat his way around the system. But he’s also the most trustful of his crew, so he’s torn. Maybe it wasn’t a mermaid he saw, but maybe another sea creature. Yes. That’s what it must’ve been. Something else.

Joel puts a hand on Jasper’s shoulder and nods his head. “Sure, Jas. But let’s keep our eyes out for this.” Joel puts his index finger on the red x that’s marked right around the sea cave that sits a few hundred feet from the boat. Supposedly there was a ship wreck that happened years ago, and men have tried and failed to discover what great treasures were lost to the sea that day. Those who go in, never come out. Joel would find out, though. One way or another he’d discover the secret of what happened so many years ago.

“Go on and have the men anchor the boat. Wanna stay here overnight and see if we can find anything.”

Jasper nods his head and huffs out a breath. “Yes, cap’n. Right away.” He turns and yells at the men to hoist the anchor and get ready to search the area.

Joel folds the map back up and places it in the pocket of his tan trousers. He sighs and looks out at the massive sea cave, watching the waves churn calmly against the rough rocks.

Mermaids. There couldn’t be any. He would’ve seen one before, would’ve remembered if he did. He lets his thoughts go back to the task at hand and clears his mind. No time to think of maybe’s and false folklore. It was time to find some treasure.

The water is crystal clear today, sunlight beaming through the long seaweed that sits tangled in the ocean. You swim your way past a pod of dolphins, waving hello to the newborn calves as they whistle out their greetings. You dive down hundreds of feet and hum your favorite lullaby. The one your mom used to sing you every night before you fell asleep in the comfy bed of a massive clam shell.

A school of colorful fish swim past you, and you smile up at them as you propel yourself faster to get to your favorite discrete area of the bay. You call it the moonlight sea cave because at night you can see the moon shine all the way through the entire cave system, even under the water. It’s beautiful, a place where you can go to think and relax.

You always have to sneak off to this area. Your sisters would never approve, and you shudder thinking how your father would react. How many times has he told you to never go up to the surface again? How many times had your sisters dragged you back home over the years? You couldn’t keep track, didn’t want to think about it.

After that awful day that happened so many years ago, you weren’t supposed to want to go back up to the surface. You weren’t supposed to look for treasure that humans always dropped off their boats, but you still did. And you definitely weren’t supposed to be this close to shore, but you were still quite a ways out. Your father would kill you if he found you swimming around these parts, but you chose to ignore his wishes like you always did.

You swim up to the surface and lift your face into the sunlight, breathing the fresh salty air as you inhale the warm breeze. You push your long hair over your shoulder and take a few strides through the water, floating in the waves as the salt water dries on your shoulders.

When you look up, you freeze as your blood runs cold. A boat, there’s a boat. It’s big, towering over the water as a crew of men work on casting nets and walk along the deck. You duck down in fear and hide behind a rock, hoping that they haven't seen you. You slowly peek your head around the corner and stop in your tracks when you see him. The most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, and has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. His hair is dark, tousled curls blowing in the wind as a few strands fall near his eyes. Brown, warm flecks coat his eyes. Eyes you could get lost in, eyes that you’d now dream about for days on end. And his arms. They’re strong, built, powerhouses that could take down a large man. The top buttons on his white cotton shirt are open, exposing tanned skin that must bathe in the sunlight on a regular basis.

You’re supposed to hate humans. You don’t trust them, you don’t think you could ever trust them again. But him… he looks like a walking dreamboat, a sailor you’d like to get to know. He doesn’t look like all the other ones, no. He looks kind, caring, maybe even dare you say trusting. But he’s a human, and you’re a mermaid. This can’t happen, this can’t ever happen.

Scar bumps your hip with his large fin as he makes a circle around you, warning you that you could be seen. “It’s okay, Scar. They can’t see me, I don’t think. It’s alright.”

He bumps you again with his snout and looks at you with his big black eyes, his dorsal fin coming just above the surface. He tells you to be careful, tells you he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You only smile and brush your hand against his sandpaper like skin.

“I’m alright. Promise. Go on, I’ll be fine. Just gonna stay here for a few minutes,” you confirm. He huffs out a sigh and dives back down into the deep depths of the water, but he stays close. He always stays close. Who knew that a great white shark would be one of your best friends in the sea? They usually don’t want anything to do with mermaids, but you saved him that awful day that was full of bloodshed and death. And ever since then he never left your side. You were grateful for him. He was the best protector you ever had.

You stay there against the rock and lean your elbows up on it, continuing to watch the handsome man look over what looks like an old map of some sort. You lap your tail up and down in the water and lean your cheek against the rock, daydreaming of meeting the man with dark eyes.

He was going to get you in trouble, but you didn’t care. You’d risk your life just to get a chance to stare into the maps of his golden brown eyes.

Joel clings to the side of the boat as he digs his nails into the warm, polished wood. He turns his head to watch his crew stay busy on the deck as they bustle around and drag their worn out shoes against the floorboards. He sighs and takes another look at his intricate map, tracing his finger over every crevice of the parchment until he gets frustrated and throws his head up to look out on the bright horizon.

As soon as he looks up, he stops cold as he spots the gleam of a sparkling tail in the near distance. It’s not just a tail, there’s a girl leaning up against a rock that’s staring right back at him. He rubs his eyes to make sure it’s not the sun playing tricks on his mind, but she still appears there in the same spot just staring blankly at him. He sees a young woman who’s beautiful, dreamlike, something he only thought was a fantasy. He sees you, a mermaid…

Mermaids aren’t real, mermaids can’t be real. But how does he explain what he clearly sees now? You are very much real.

His ears ring with white noise, the sounds of his crew scrubbing along the deck nearly nonexistent now. It’s just you and him, staring at each other as if you’re the only two people out on the calm waters. It’s just the gentle breeze kissing his tanned skin and the distant noise of waves lapping against the rock that you so subtly lean against, eyes locking with each other as if the world crashes on its side to bring the two of you together.

He grabs his golden telescope, looking through the lense as you come into view just inches from his vision. The sight of you nearly knocks the breath out of him, his eyes widen as he takes in the beauty that sits before him. He thinks you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on, thinks you’re absolutely divine, a treasure that should be well cared for.

His eyes trail down your lush curves, taking in the dusty coral colored seashells that cover your breasts, scanning every inch of your shimmering tail that’s soft pink as it flicks back and forth against the water. It’s almost sparkling like diamonds, maybe even soft to the touch. He wonders what you feel like, what you sound like. He bets your voice is like an angel’s, captivating and melodic like nothing he’s ever heard on earth. He wonders what your hands feel like, how they’d feel entwined in his own.

You should swim away, dive back underneath the blue water, but you can’t move. You can’t look away from the handsome stranger. You want to know his name, want to ask him all about what land life is like, want to know if his voice is as soft as his tousled curls look, want to see him again and again…

“Cap’n, whatcha lookin’ at?” Jasper asks as he comes up to Joel and nearly sends him over the edge of the boat. Joel drops the telescope from his unsteady hand, and it lands in a heap on the wooden deck. He scrambles to pick it up, and when he stands up and looks back out at the rock he sees that you’re gone.

He huffs out a sigh and shakes his head slowly. “It was nothing, Jas. Just thought I saw something. Was only a dolphin, nothing else,” he says with a hint of sadness on his tongue, wishing you were still on the rock so he could look into your entrancing eyes.

“Too bad it wasn’t a mermaid. Could’ve made you a true believer,” Jasper laughs as he hits Joel on the back of the shoulder with more force than he meant to.

“Yeah, too bad…” Joel says quietly as he stares at the vacant rock, doing nothing for his peace of mind as he wishes you were still there.

When he turns away from the rock, he sets his eyes back on the folded out map and grabs it up, heading toward the rest of his crew as they send down row boats to go inspect the area.

Joel makes a promise to himself then. Tonight he’ll go out late at night and look for you, hoping you’ll hear his thoughts that he wants to see you again. He will see you again. That’s a promise he will surely keep.

Later that night, Joel tosses and turns in his cabin quarters underneath the boat. He can’t sleep, can’t think as he tosses and turns back and forth in his bed. He thinks of you, the way your tail shimmered in the glow of the sun, how your eyes called to him from the deck of the boat. He needs to see you again. He needs to talk to you.

He crawls out of the bed and throws on his leather boots, lacing them up as he climbs up the stairs and enters into the glow of the full moon as the stars sparkle in the sky. He tiptoes around drunken pirates that are passed out cold on the deck, snoring and limbs scattered about as he passes them carefully to not wake them.

He paces the upper deck, sliding his hands along the edge, searching and searching for any sign of moment in the water. He only sees the faint laps of water against the boat, sees nothing out of the ordinary. He starts to doubt himself, maybe he saw nothing. Maybe it really was the sun playing tricks on his brain. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He sighs and starts to turn around, until he hears a soft melody carrying through the water. He turns around sharply and latches onto the wooden edge of the boat, eyes searching as he hears the sing-song voice start to come closer. It’s angelic, harmonious, nothing that he’d ever heard before. It sends him into a trance-like state, needing to find the owner of the beautiful song.

You wade through the water, flipping your tail as you hide behind the large rocks, singing the song of your people as you let your voice blow through the breeze, hoping he can hear you, hoping he’ll come.

Please, come. Come out to the sea, let me see your beautiful face.

You let your voice carry over the water, humming out melodic notes as you flip through the water. He has to come. He has to hear your voice, has to listen to you call him with your siren song. Come on, handsome sailor. Come find me.

You peek your head out from behind the rock and see him standing there on the deck, staring at you as his eyes go wide. You smile triumphantly as you duck back under the water, tempting him to come chase you.

Come get me, come get me. Find me under the water.

Joel wastes no time and lowers a wooden row boat to the water, climbing down a ladder as he jumps carefully onto the small boat as it rocks underneath his weight. He rows it out slowly to the middle of the water, searching his eyes every which way to find you.

“Where are you? Come out,” he whispers into the crisp night air.

He hears a splash to the left of him and throws his head in that direction. He sees small bubbles that form over the water, but there’s no sign of you. He sighs and pulls his eyes toward the rock and then he sees you.

He audibly gasps as you splash your tail and hide back behind the shelter of the big foundation in the water, nerves pulling in you as you’re so close to the human. The human with dark eyes and beautiful face. A human you want to meet.

He crawls to the edge of the little boat and places his hands on the edge, calling out to you in a deep voice that sends goosebumps down your arms. “Hey, come out. It’s alright, I won’t hurt you. Please, don’t hide,” he says, calmly holding out an arm as if he wants you to take it.

You peek your head out from behind the rock carefully and see him leaning against the boat, a little too close to the water. He doesn’t know what dangers lurk beneath him, what things would reach out and drag him under the water.

You shouldn’t go, shouldn’t talk to a human. Humans are bad, humans are cold, cruel, vial. They killed so many of your kind, tortured your friends of the sea. But him… Well, he looks kind. He looks… safe. Safe? Could humans be safe? No. Could they…

This was stupid and reckless. You start to turn back into the shadows until he calls out to you again. “Wait, please. Don’t go. Stay,” he pleads, his eyes searching yours with some kind of intensity and longing that you’ve never seen before. It frightens you more than the horrors humans have caused in your life.

Stay. The word wracks your brain over and over as it pulls at your insides.

Stay. He asked you to stay. You decide then that that’s exactly what you’ll do. You’ll stay. You’ll stay for him. You might regret it later, but for now this is what you wanted. What you needed to do.

You start to swim slowly over to him, diving under the water and breaching just inches from his wooden boat. You come up for air, realizing just how close you are to his face now. He’s so beautiful, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life.

His skin is tan, the sun bronzing him as he seems to spend days on end on the water. His shoulders are broad, so strong as your eyes trail down his thick arms, ropes of taut veins spread wide over his lower arms. His hands look strong, big, calloused from working on a boat. You bet they feel nice, would like to feel them pressed up against your face or maybe have them entwined with your fingers.

His dark, tousled curls kiss his forehead as stray curls fall over his skin. You have to stop yourself from reaching out your hand to push them back into place. You think it must feel so soft, so smooth…

And his eyes. God, his eyes. They’re deep brown, flecks of golden warmth sprawled across the crevices of his irises. They’re beautiful, deep, intricate as they study you carefully.

He digs his hands into the side of the boat and leans so far forward you’re afraid it may tip over. You make sure that it doesn’t because these waters are dangerous to humans, dangerous to men such as himself.

He looks at you with wide eyes, his lips parting as he takes in your features. He’s so close that he can make out details he couldn’t see up on the boat through the telescope. Like your eyes. He’d never seen such beautiful eyes such as yours. They glisten like the stars, almost as deep as the ocean itself, captivating and breathtaking.

He takes in your long hair that sits over your shoulders as you nervously run your hands through the damp strands. And then there’s your tail. That glittering, magnificent tail that almost looks too intricate to be real. He focuses on each shiny scale, watching the way the colors go from a deep pink to a lighter flamingo shade of coral. He wants so badly to reach his hand out to touch it, see how it feels underneath the weight of his calloused fingers.

Just one touch, that’s all he needs. One touch to make this dream a harsh reality as a mermaid sits right in front of him, right in his grasp.

You see the way he stares all transfixed and in a trancelike spell. You might be insane, but the first words fall from your lips without a hint of hesitation there. “Do you want to touch it?” you ask shyly, pulling back a lock of hair behind your ear as you position your tail so it’s sitting out of the water, just inches from his waiting hand.

“What?” he asks surprised, eyes wider than the full moon in the clear night sky.

“My tail. Do you want to touch it?” you ask again with more courage this time, flicking your tail above the water as you entice him to go on.

“Oh-uh… yes,” he whispers out as he slowly but steadily reaches his arm out, ever so carefully extending his fingers as they brush over the side of your tail.

He gasps as his fingers come in contact with the shiny scales, like the breath has been knocked clear out of him. It’s nothing like he imagined it’d be. It’s softer than he thought possible, smooth as he glides his fingers underneath the cold water.

You almost stop breathing as you feel his fingers explore the magnificent scales on your long tail, almost sigh at the contact of his skin. No one had ever touched you quite like this, even if it was just the brush of fingertips. It feels… good. And you want more, need more.

He pulls his hand back out of the water, and you almost whine as you lose the contact of his fingers. You’d let him touch you again, let him marvel your tail all night if he wanted to. It was silly really, how attracted you were to him when you only just met him. He was just that beautiful, that mesmerizing. And for a moment you think he is the siren, not you.

“You’re a… you’re a…” he stutters, voice hoarse as he continues to stare at you with a starstruck gaze. He’d never seen a mermaid before, that much is certain.

“A mermaid?” you finish for him, almost giggling at his gaping stare.

“Yes,” he says in disbelief, nodding his head up and down. “I didn’t know you, mermaids existed,” he says with a look that says everything you need to know. He’s harmless, not here to hurt you.

“Well, we’re very much real. We’re just discrete, careful. We don’t really come up to the surface, not anymore,” you say quietly, shaking away the memories of distant screams and bloodshed that once was long ago. The memories are too painful to relive, so you lock them out of your mind and try to forget every day that you exist in a world that did that to your kind.

He doesn’t ask about the distant sadness in your eyes, you just smile and clear your eyes as you continue to gaze up at him curiously.

“What’s your name?” he asks slowly, eyes never leaving yours as you let your name slip past your tongue. You drop it carefully, giving him information that seems too personal, but you’re in too deep now. You want to know about him, and he clearly wants to know about you. So you’ll let him in, even if that’s a bad idea. A very bad idea.

He repeats your name slowly, going over every syllable so carefully as it rolls off his lips effortlessly. It sounds beautiful the way he says it. You could lean against the edge of the boat and lay your head against your arm as you look up and hear him repeat your name over and over again. Almost like a lullaby as it could put you to sleep with how deep and mesmerizing his smooth voice sounds.

“My name’s Joel. Joel Miller,” he says with deep brown eyes looking down into yours.

You repeat the name over and over in your mind. Joel, Joel, Joel. It pulls at you, calls you as you hook your fingers around the edge of the small boat and feel his hand brush up against yours. You gasp and pull your hand back, feeling an electrical shock run through your entire arm at the connection of skin on skin with him. You’d never felt that before, that kind of connection with anyone. This was new, this was scary, this was dangerous.

He notices the panic in your eyes and puts his hands up calmly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” he asks as he surrenders his hands, letting you know he means no harm.

Darlin’. The name sends warmth through your stomach as you mull over his words. I’m not gonna hurt you. You let those words be a promise as you cautiously put your hands back on the edge of the boat. He brings his hands back down, just enough where if you shift your fingers they’d brush up against his. But for now you stay like this, just enough to still feel that electricity deep in your body.

“Darling, what’s that?” you ask with a raised brow, not having heard the word before.

“You’ve never heard the word darlin’ before?” he asks as he knits his thick brows together, pulling at the seams of your heart.

You shake your head no as droplets of water trickle down your back. “No, guess I haven’t,” you say with an even breath.

“It’s just a term of endearment where I’m from. A nickname, you can say,” he answers, his hand moving just enough for him to brush the outer edge of your pinky finger. You suck in a breath and try not to get too flustered at the action.

“Oh, I see,” you say quietly. “Darlin’, I like that…”

You ponder over the name and ask something else in return. “Do you have any other nicknames you use?” you ask, biting your lip at the question as you wait patiently.

He twitches his jaw and looks you over carefully before he responds. “I mean, there’s a lot I could use, I suppose. Darlin’ just comes naturally to me, but you…” His soft brown eyes flick over yours slowly before he speaks again. “Sirena, yeah. I like that,” he smiles to himself as your lips curl up slowly.

“Sirena, hmmmm,” you hum to yourself. “I like that, but what does it mean?”

“It comes from a Greek word. It means siren or enchantress, which you are. You are quite enchanting,” he says with a gleam in his eyes, his words in a trancelike state as he stares into your eyes.

You gulp at the meaning, eyes fixed on his intently. He called you enchanting, he thinks you’re enchanting. It shouldn’t make you feel so much closer to him, it’s only a nickname, a silly name. But it does. It does.

When you don’t speak, he asks another question. “What’s it like out there? Under the water? To be able to breathe and see things I couldn’t quite imagine myself?” His brown eyes sink into yours, shifting his weight slightly as the wooden boat creaks underneath him.

“It’s the most amazing thing you could imagine,” you say enchanted, your tail grazing above the water as you spin up a small current underneath you. “Unearthly, exquisite. There’s truly nothing like being able to connect with nature, to be able to see the wonders of fathoms below that no human has seen before. It’s freeing, beautiful, amazing, but…”

Your voice cuts off at the last part, thinking about all the things you wish you knew about the real world outside the waters of your home. Something you always wanted to know ever since you could remember. A taste for knowledge of the outside world, the human world.

“But what?” he asks quietly, almost putting his hand on top of yours before you shy away and move your fingers out of his reach.

“I just… I just wonder what the human world is like sometimes. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I just have that deep fascination with things I don’t quite understand. I crave to know the history of the land, want to know what it’s like to touch actual sand out of the water. Want to know how a…. oh, what’s the word?” you wrack your brain for what seems like minutes until you think of the word you once saw on a picture in a book. “How a fire burns,” you say proudly after remembering the strange words.

“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about the human world. If you teach me about the underwater world.”

You mull over the words, think of what you could be risking. You could expose too much, you could open up a can of worms that you couldn’t close. You could risk everything. But for him maybe it was worth the risk. You could trust him, right?

As if he can read your mind, he places a hand gently on top of yours and you gasp at the contact. His touch is so careful, so soft atop yours. You think you like it, a lot. “You can trust me, darlin’. I swear on my life, I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?”

Do you trust me? The words ring through your head as you question the words yourself. Trust was a big deal, trust meant you were putting your own life on the line. But as you look into his soft brown eyes and see the genuine smile curled on his plush lips, you can’t help but lose yourself as you automatically nod and respond, “I trust you.”

His face is so close to yours, so close that if he leaned down just a little he could brush his lips against yours. It’s as if he can hear the wild beating of your heart as it beats like a pod of dolphins traveling as fast as lightning through the water. Your eyes gaze into his, begging him to sink his lips down to yours.

He reaches his hand out and traces the edge of your jawline slowly, intimately. You gasp at the feel of him, as his calloused fingers trail gently over your skin. It feels warm, safe, so very right like his hand was made to touch you, to know you. He sees you. He sees you.

Just when he’s about to lean down and give you what you desire, the boat suddenly flips over and Joel goes crashing into the water.

“Joel!” you scream as you dive down to retrieve him, but he’s not there where he should be. Where is he? You call his name again, search below the dark depths below, twist your way through the seaweed and look frantically around until you see what exactly happened.

Your eyes go wide, a scream escaping your mouth as you find two of your sisters holding him down below the water trying to drown him. He fights their grip, trying to hold his breath as he looks terrified of what’s happening. Your sisters just smile vindictively to each other as their aquamarine and deep purple tails flick against the water and draw their sharp nails into his arms.

“Stop!” you beg as you swim desperately up to them and try to grab his arms out of their reach. They back up just enough so you can’t quite grab him.

Cleo stands her grown and flashes her white incisors your way as her blue tail fans out behind her. “He’s a human! A man, for crying out loud! All men should die for what they did to us,” she spits out, a snarl deep on her flawless face as your other sister Marissa agrees with her.

“He’s different. Joel is different!” you plead, reaching your hand out again.

“Joel. You know him by name? Can you believe that, Cleo? He has a name. How thoughtful of our sister to learn such information of this beast,” she laughs sadistically as she yanks him under again.

You watch his eyes start to close, watch his breath gasp for air as he slowly fades from the light. You grow desperate, hasty as you swim with all your might to grab his arms out of your sisters’ grip.

“Please, he’s kind! Don’t do this. Don’t take this one!” you beg as tears start to pour from your eyes, landing against your cheeks as they float off into the unsteady waters.

Your sisters drop their hands, eyes wide at how desperate you’re acting over a human. But he’s not just a human, he’s different. This one is different.

They both watch you take his body against yours as you wrap your arms behind the backs of his arms and start to hoist him to the surface. They stop you before you breach atop the water, grabbing your slippery fin as they stop you from swimming any further.

“You better be careful, sister. You don’t know what danger you’re putting us in. Interacting with a man? You’re foolish, selfish. How do you think father will handle this?” Cleo asks with narrowed eyes that could kill a man with how sharp she’s staring.

“Don’t you dare tell him, Cleo. Just… let me go. Please,” you beg as you try to squirm out of her hold. “He’s going to die if you don’t!” you scream, eyes wide as his head slumps against your shoulder weightless, almost like he’s already dead. Panic consumes you at the mere thought of it.

“Go on, then,” she says with a snarky look. “I won’t tell him… yet. But be warned. If he does anything to sway my judgement and I mean anything, I’ll have no choice but to tell him,” she warns as Marissa spits in your direction.

Cleo finally releases your fin as you swim frantically up, up, up until you break the seal and breathe fresh air again. Joel doesn’t stir, doesn’t even seem to be breathing as his head still rests lazily against the crook of your neck.

You look around desperately for anything you can lay him on, needing to stir him awake somehow. You need to get him someplace dry.

“Joel, just hold on. You’ll be alright. Please, just hang on,” you cry out as you circle around frantically looking for anything you can use.

That’s when you see it, a large flat rock that lays above the water in the middle of the sea cave you always find yourself in. You push yourself forward in the water, making sure to keep his head above the stirring waves. You turn on your back and hold his body above yours as you propel your strong tail in the water, trying with all your might to get there faster.

He’s going to die and it’s all your fault. Why were you being so reckless? The words taunt your mind like your sisters’ glaring warnings. You can’t think about them now, the only thing you care about is getting Joel to wake up. He needs to breathe, he needs to wake up.

You drag his body up on the smooth rock and lay him flat on his back. He has no sign of breathing anywhere, his chest is still as dawn like the sun slowly rising in the horizon.

You try to shake his shoulders, try to rub at his sternum forcefully as if that’ll wake him up. Nothing happens. You try again, calling his name and shaking him, screaming for him to wake up. But again there’s no movement, no breath coming from his mouth.

You crash down on top of him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting a tear drop from your melancholy eyes as it falls against his still chest. You whimper out a pathetic sound that sounds like you’re choking on your own words. “Come back to me, Joel. Come back,” you plead, face still pressed against his hollow chest as you let another tear fall in his presence.

You feel cold, hard pressed, wounded as if someone just took a sharp stake to your chest. You shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t let yourself feel so much for a human who you barely know. But he was going to show you his world, was going to teach you everything you wanted to know, and you were going to show him your world. But that’s no more. He’s gone. He’s gone.

You let the falling tears dry up on his cotton white shirt where the buttons lay half opened to expose tanned skin, can feel just how broad and strong he is underneath your weight. And you wish he’d wake up, wish he’d open his soft brown eyes so you could sink into them, sing him a melody while he grazed his fingers gently against your face. You want it so bad, want him so bad. But it could never be now. Not anymore.

You let your hand fall to his chest and wrap your fingers around his damp white shirt. You start to hum out your favorite lullaby, a way to soothe you over against the hurt you feel in your chest now as it aches and twists like a knife in your gut. Singing has always been a way to make you feel braver, a way to drown out the sorrows of dark days. Your mother always said you had the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard, but she was also gone now. Gone on that awful, dark day where blood filled the waters of your home. Gone.

You push the thoughts away, continue singing your song as if this will make the situation better. You close your eyes and drown out the lapping waves with your voice, making sure it echoes off every corner in the open cave.

Just as you’re about to push yourself off him, you feel movement underneath you. Just a faint lurch beneath you until he’s turning on his side and coughing up water out of his lungs rapidly, spilling it all over the glossy rock as he tries to catch his breath from all the choking and coughing his body expels.

“Joel?!” you ask alarmed, your hand shooting up to his face as you caress the soft, patchy scruff against his jawline carefully.

He lays on his back again and slowly opens his eyes, placing his hand over yours as he calls your name softly, his words still laced with salt water that still burns the back of his throat, but he answers anyway. And your name out of his mouth sounds like the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re alive?” you ask quietly, eyes wide as you stare down at him with your mouth parted open slightly.

“Thanks to you, I am,” he says with a nod up at you, his hand still lingering on top of yours as his calloused fingers send sparks down your arm. It’s electric, shocking as it blinds you with need.

You gulp but don’t say anything else, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Your voice,” he says nodding to you again, “I’ve never heard a voice quite as beautiful as yours. I thought I was in heaven for a second there, thought you were an angel.”

Beautiful? An angel? Oh.

“An angel? Not quite,” you giggle, dropping your hand from his face to rest on his broad chest.

He lifts his arm up slowly and hooks a piece of damp hair behind your ear, trailing his calloused fingers along your cheek as he stares at you with wide brown eyes. Eyes that make your insides turn to putty.

“You are an angel,” he nods, his lips curling up into a soft smile that could knock you back into the water.

He thinks you’re an angel…

“Oh,” is all you can say.

He looks at you like no one else has, looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world. He sees you for what you are, a siren, and yet he doesn’t run. He doesn’t run. He stays.

His lips look so soft, so plush that you think you’d like to feel them pressed up against yours. His eyes flick back and forth between your wanting eyes and your parted mouth, and you think he wants the same thing.

You start to drift toward him, closer and closer until you’re almost there, almost touching his lips. He reaches to cup the back of your head, steering you down, down until you’re barely a breath away from him.

Suddenly there’s a large splash in the water, and you jump apart from him as he sits up on his elbows and gazes out into the dark blue rippling water. He sees a large fin and goes ghost white as he takes in the long body of the great white shark that lurks around the area. His eyes go wide as he sinks against the cave wall behind him as if to hide from the creature of the deep.

“It’s alright,” you say calmly as you reach your arm under the shadow of the water and call the shark over to you. Joel’s chest rises and falls unsteadily as his eyes remain locked on the terrifying features of Scar.

“Your hand, get your hand out of the water,” Joel urges as he tries to pull you back, but you wave him off.

“Joel, it’s alright. He’s my friend.”

Scar circles back around and brushes his body up against your hand as you pet his back and let him disappear back under the water.

“You’re friends with a shark?” he asks surprised, eyes still peeled on the shadow that looms around the area.

“Mhm. I saved his life many years ago, and he’s never left my side since then. Kinda ironic how people misinterpret them. Sharks may look scary to the human eye, but they’re really peaceful creatures. If you just took a few minutes to really see them, you’d see they’re just trying to live peacefully in their home. They just want to survive like any of us do.”

Joel looks at you as if really hearing you for the first time. The way you talk about the ocean, about the creatures of the deep makes him feel things he’s never even thought of before. He thinks you’re beautiful, breathtaking, and so kind. So very kind…

“You’re really something out of a fairytale, aren’t you?” he asks with wonder in his voice, his brown eyes sinking into yours as he focuses on the warm smile you give him as you blush crimson.

“I guess you could say that, sailor?” you giggle out. “That’s what you are, right?”

“Yes,” he nods as he looks over at his boat that sits idle over the calm tides.

“Is that your boat?” you ask as your eyes wander over to the large vessel that sits in the water under sparkling stars. You flick your eyes over the sides, noticing the large blue flags that fly gently in the cool breeze and notice the words Deep Blue Oasis written in cursive letters that hang down the side.

“Yep, that’s my beauty. Been sailin’ on her for a few years now. Probably one of my favorite things ever. To be able to sail across the waters and explore areas I’ve never been to before. It’s all very… exciting.”

You watch the way his eyes light up the way he talks about the sea, watch the way his smile curls over his lips as he talks about his love for sailing. You think it’s hypnotizing, beautiful. You think he is beautiful.

“What are you doing around this part? Looking for something?” you ask as your eyebrows rise up, intrigued why he was staying around these parts.

“There was a ship that went down many years ago here. There’s all sorts of tales and rumors that some great treasure was lost here with the ship. And I want to find it,” he states excitedly.

A shipwreck many years ago? You think you know which one he’s talking about, like maybe it was that same night that all the bloodshed went down. The night you lost your mother to those bloodsucking humans…

He notices your eyes shift from lit up to cold irises, feels the dread that seems to take over your body for the moment. But then he’s cupping your chin and lifting your eyes up to his warm brown eyes, and you feel like you’ve made it safely back home.

“You alright, darlin’? You went away for a minute there,” he asks as his concerned eyes gaze into yours. You nod your head and let him continue to keep his hand on your skin. You’ll let him keep it there for as long as he wants.

You smile up at him and nod in response. “I’m okay, was just thinking about something,” you say with a daze to your tone, somber eyes coming back down to earth.

“Was there something specific you were looking for?” you ask as his fingers continue to trace down your skin. It feels like complete magic that holds you under a spell.

“Not really. You see, I kinda have a fascination with history. You should see my study. I have hundreds of books and ancient artifacts that I’ve found in the sea. You’d love it,” he says with a crooked smile splayed against his face. It makes a dimple form deep in his cheek, and it nearly takes your breath away.

His study sounds a lot like the secret cave you have deep underwater that’s full of human treasures that you’d collected over the years from lost ships and things thrown overboard from wasteful humans. It’s a little sanctuary for you, a place you can go to clear your mind and wonder just what it’d be like to walk on land. What it’d be like to have your own pair of legs. But you love the sea so much, you don’t think you’d ever want to leave. But for him, you might just follow him anywhere.

You sigh as you lean into his touch, wishing you could see just what he’s talking about. “I wish I could see it,” you say quietly, eyes trailing back to his doe eyes as he speaks again.

“Maybe someday you will.” And it sounds like a promise, like he will show you one day. But how? You have a tail, you can’t walk. Your home is in the ocean, not on land. But if you could find a way to do both then you would. There had to be a way.

“Maybe,” you say dreamlike as you dream of warm sand on your feet, walking hand in hand with him on the beach. A distant wish you so wanted to be true. But it wasn’t, and you had to deal with that.

You stay there another moment letting his calloused fingers run along your jawline as you watch his eyes settle in on your face. Before you get lost for too long, you pull out of his reach and sink back into the cool water.

“I guess I should get you back to your boat,” you say sadly, eyes averting from his as to not dwell on the beautiful flecks of mixed browns that you want to get lost in again and again until you can’t see anything but them anymore.

“Yeah, guess so,” he says quietly, a voice that screams for you to stay, but you can’t. He doesn’t belong here.

“Wait here,” you say before you take off to retrieve his small wooden boat that’ll take him safely back to dry ground.

As you wade through the water you get a sick sense that this can only end badly, but it was too late. You were already in too deep, and you already wanted to see him again. This was bad, so bad.

You turn over the toppled boat and throw the rows back inside, pulling it along as you drag it back to him safely. You place it against the rock he sits on and watch him climb in, situating himself as he takes the rows in his hands. Before he heads back to his large boat, he stops and stares at you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks quietly as the cool breeze blows a tousled curl against his forehead. Without thinking you reach up and push it back into place, feeling just how soft his hair really feels. He lets you, and it feels as soft as velvety moss.

You drop your hand back down and before you can, he grabs your wrist and stares deeply into your eyes, eliciting a gasp out of your mouth as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. You let him keep you there until you give him a clear answer.

You think of your options, think of what you might be risking if you see him again. Would your sisters try to drown him again, would he try to steal you away from the sea, would your father find out that you were meddling in human affairs? All of the questions were valid and unknown, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You wanted to see him again, needed to.

“Yes. Tomorrow night,” you say without any hesitation.

He nods his head and smiles down at you as he gently lets his fingers fall from your skin as your hand splashes back down underneath the water.

“Tomorrow it is then. See you later, Sirena.” The nickname falls off his tongue like a sweet melody that fills your ears. Sirena, enchantress, siren.

You watch him row back to his boat, watching the way his biceps bulge every time he pulls back on the rows. He looks a little like your own Prince Charming. A sailor that had captured your heart, and you weren’t willing to take it back. It was his now, as long as he wanted it.

He looks back at you before climbing up the steep ladder. He smiles gently your way and nods before turning back to the ladder and climbing up, disappearing from your view as he makes his way below the deck.

You sigh and rest your elbow against the glossy rock he was just sitting on minutes ago, daydreaming about those dreamy brown eyes and his smile that knocks the breath out of your chest.

Scar circles back around and comes up beside you, nudging you with his large snout as you gently pet the top of his head. “I know, Scar. I know. I’m in so much trouble.”

You sink back underneath the water and follow him back home, back to the kingdom of Capri where you belong. But you keep your mind locked on those sweet, syrupy eyes that you so desperately want to see again.

Joel was going to be your undoing.

Tags: (Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged) @janaispunk @amyispxnk @princesatracionera @vividispunk @keylimebeag @pedroswife69 @littlevenicebitch69 @poeticbarnes @tuquoquebrute @awkwardprovocateur @ayamenimthiriel @everythingiwanttoread @burntheedges @hc-geralt-23 @joelmillersblog @joelalorian @vivian-pascal @untamedheart81 @laurrrra @dugiioh @blueseastorm @pedrostories @morallyinept @vvitchesh3x @frannyzooey

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller pedro pascal #protective joel #soft!joel miller #soft joel miller #mermaid au #sailor! joel #mermaid #little mermaid aesthetic #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #love amidst the blue #no outbreak!joel miller #no use of y/n #the last of us au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #lots of fluff

[rosepascal]

pedro characters + halloween couples costumes

ft: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Agent Whiskey, Marcus Pike, Marcus Moreno, Max Phillips, Frankie Morales, Max Lord, Javier Pena, Javier Gutierrez, and Dieter Bravo

Joel Miller - This man does NOT want to do couples costumes but with you and Sarah begging him he caves in pretty quick. Though he'll be sure to grumble about it every damn day before Halloween. Okay lets ignore the outbreak and say it never happened. With that being said. The Addams family. You and Joel as Moritica and Gomez adams like come ON. And Sarah as Wednesday. Killer costumes

Din Djarin - Idk why but I could totally see you, Mando, and Grogu going as the tin man, Dorothy and either toto or the lion. Like Mando is obvi the tin man because we call him that anyways and how cute would you and grogu be as dorothy and toto or the lion.

Agent Whiskey - 100% without a doubt you would go as Jessie and Woody from Toy Story. Whiskey is as cowboy as it gets sooooo. Plus it would be so cute to see him all dressed like woody.

Marcus Pike - idk why but I feel like Marcus is really good at Halloween costumes but for some reason. I could see the two of you go as Orpheus and Eurydice. I really can't explain why but I know the two of you would KILL those costumes.

Marcus Moreno - I meannnn he's already a superhero so I think that You, Marcus, and Missy could be the Incredibles with Marcus being Mr. Incredible and you elastigirl with Missy being Violet .

Max Phillips - Max goes as a vampire every year because he says hes got a built in costume right here so why change what's working. So you kinda have to adjust around him. So how funny would it be if you show up to the office Halloween party as a vampire or monster slayer like Van Helsing or Buffy

Frankie Morales - I feel like Frankie would do the more cute couples costumes with you. So something from a Disney movie would be adorable. Like Rapunzel and Flynn or Cinderella and Prince Charming.

Max Lord - I feel like Max and Alistair really love Halloween and have good costumes so with you in the mix I could sooo see the three of you being whatever Alistair's obsession is that year. So a crew of Pirates or astronauts or cowboys. Its always fun and always matching.

Javier Pena - I don't think Pena really does Halloween so he does not go all out. He'll usually wear whatever you tell him to as long as its not too much effort and not embarrassing. Tbh I could see the two of you going as like Batman and Catwoman but he goes as Bruce Wayne or something.

Javi Gutierrez - Javi 100% will go all out with you every year. Whatever you want he's 100% down for. But I think the best costume for the two of you is Barbie and Ken. Tell me Javi doesn't radiate Kenergy. He would wear all the bright colors to match and it would be perfect.

Dieter Bravo - idk why but I feel like Dieter would be down to do famous movie couples like Jack and Rose or Han and Leia. Westley and Buttercup from Princess Bride, Sandy and Danny, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. All of them.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #max phillips #max phillips x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader #max lord #max lord x reader

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - One Shot #1

The Little Things

Plot: Joel and Y/n reminisce on life before Cordyceps

Word Count: 913

Warnings: language, loss of a child (16+)

A/N: Welcome back, folks! I feel like I’m stretching my Rosebud/Joel muscles after a long break, but hopefully this is a good way to dive back in 🏊🏻‍♀️ I’ve always thought that in an apocalyptic setting, eventually your mind would have to drift to wondering what things in the world you’d missed out on!

These one shots/chapter will vary in length, but the majority of them will be set in Jackson. I’m planning a few flashbacks (where to, I’m keeping a secret 🤫) but it will mostly be Rose, Joel and Ellie adjusting to life together. I’m excited to keep this lil’ world going 💜 Enjoy, my loves!

——————

“Big Macs.”

“Ugh.”

“Why ‘ugh?’”

“Because Big Macs were disgusting.”

“Says you.”

Joel and Y/n were laid in their bed, one elbow bent towards the ceiling, their hands intertwined. It was late, they both knew they should have been asleep an hour ago.

“Whoppers were better,” Y/n mused, sticking to her fast food opinions long after the chains were gone.

Joel scoffed, “Okay…”

“What was the name of that place by the fire station?” Y/n asked, lightly slapping her flattened palm against Joel’s.

“Mmm,” he thought for a second, “Mimi’s?”

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded, “That place was good too.”

“It was,” Joel smoothed his hand against Y/n’s before threading his fingers through the gaps between hers.

In the two weeks since they’d been married, both officially and unofficially, Joel and Y/n’s excitement to share a bed hadn’t wavered. Neither one of them could get home fast enough to one another after their mutual shifts in various parts of Jackson. Retiring to each other’s arms at the end of a long day of work was the sweetest reward to be earned.

“I’ve got a stupid one,” Y/n spoke up.

“There’s no stupid ones,” Joel offered back, his eyes were closed in relaxation.

“No, you’ll definitely think this one’s stupid.”

Joel smiled, “Hit me.”

Y/n inhaled deeply, sighing as she released the breath, “We never found out how Star Wars ended.”

To his credit, Joel tried to contain the laughter bubbling in his throat. But the pressure became too great to suppress and he snorted, rolling on his side and pressing his face to Y/n’s shoulder.

“You asshole,” Y/n joined in on her husband’s laughter.

“It’s not stupid,” Joel said with a contradicting smile, “It’s just that we already knew how it ended.”

“But we didn’t know how we got there,” Y/n gestured with her free hand to the ceiling, “We’ll also never know how Friends ended or if there would have been another Pirates of the Caribbean movie…”

Joel snickered into Y/n’s shoulder once more. Where Y/n would have once jokingly pushed him away, she let him stay. After two decades apart, no intimacy between them was ever rejected.

“I miss music shops,” Joel added once his laughter had ceased, “Can still remember the smell of all the guitars and the polishes.”

Y/n hummed, nudging her head closer to Joel’s till the tips of his curls were tickling her face.

“Maybe it’s just the playin’ I miss,” Joel continued, getting settled in Jackson was their top priority, but he was itching to find a guitar.

“I miss that perfume I used to wear,” Y/n added another entry to their game.

Joel’s head tilted in attention, “The lilac one?”

“How do you even remember that?” Y/n chuckled, their hands had separated and she was absentmindedly combing her fingers through Joel’s hair.

“I bought it for you for Christmas,” Joel replied, the heat of his breath fanning Y/n’s shoulder, “‘Member?”

The memories came flooding back from the dusty attic she’d hidden them in. “Right,” Y/n recalled.

“You said it was too expensive,” Joel added to the memory.

“Because it was.”

“You said you only bought yourself a bottle every few years,” Joel continued.

“I did.”

Just like every other time they talked about the little parts of life they missed, the conversation would inevitably hit a stopping point. A space where the memories of what once was began to press down on their chests, sometimes out of sadness, sometimes out of anger.

Joel could distinctly remember the scent of the perfume Y/n wore, how it would linger on his sheets long after she rose in the morning. All of Y/n’s memories of getting ready for date night involved spritzing the floral spray on her neck and wrists. It was the trivial things like it that represented a chapter of their lives they could never go back to.

The silence took over and Y/n’s fingers stopped their soothing motions. Joel craned his neck to look up at her, his emotions mirroring hers perfectly. Melancholia mixed with nostalgia and resignation.

This was the part of the night where they settled into each other’s arms and drew comfort from their mutual presence. It was all still so new, despite their history, and the simple act of holding one another was something for muscle memory to recall. But it was better to have the sting of what was lost soothed than to yearn in solitude.

Y/n dug her nose into Joel’s chest. Reminiscing on the past had once been a choking stab, now it was more like an ache. Ever present and ever painful, but bearable. Joel was making everything feel decent again.

Joel settled his chin on top of Y/n’s head, inhaling the scent of the simple soap they both used. Only upon Y/n and Ellie’s entrance into his life had Joel began to truly remember his past, both consciously and unconsciously. It was a whole new world to navigate, balancing his memories and building the future he thought he’d lost. But, much like Sarah’s memory, they were beginning to morph into something he could handle. He could even smile at most of them. And the ones that left him feeling hollow were filled by the embrace of his wife.

They were learning, Joel and Y/n, learning how to function as one again. If one stumbled, the other was there to pick them up. If one broke, the other was there to put them back together. It was beautiful and battle-scarred and above all else…it was safe.

————

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us imagine #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #twenty years later

[boliv-jenta]

Joel Miller x f!reader smut. Inspired by this comment by @miss-mandalorian

Dressing Up

"You have got to be shitting me!" Ellie's voice rang out through the partially dilapidated store.

Joel cracked a smile in your direction. Things between them hadn't been great. They wouldn't talk about why. It's wasn't your business to ask but you couldn't just let it go on. 

A week ago you came out this way on patrol and stumbled across this place. As well as it reawakening your own long forgotten obsessions, you knew Ellie would love it. Maybe her happiness would soften her towards Joel. She had practically fallen over herself to get inside when she saw the comic book store. Once inside she only grew more excited. Forgetting herself she even grabbed Joel's arm to drag him over to her favourite comics. "Look at all these! They're all perfect. They were kept in these little bags. Weird but so fucking cool." 

Half an hour later, Ellie had finally found the keys to the backroom. You and Joel had raided the food section while you waited. Joel had even found some coffee. It was Japanese, with a animie character on the front, but it was coffee. 

"Check this out!" Ellie appeared from behind the counter. Well, it sounded like Ellie. It looked like a character from one of her Savage Starlight comics. 

"Endure and Survive!" It shouted as it leaped from one side of the counter to the other. When it slipped making another leap, it removed it's mask and return it it's Ellie form. 

"You guys, there's toys and costumes. We need to take some back for the kids. They'll go apeshit. There's grown up costumes too! Did you ever dress up?" She sat on the counter eagerly awaiting your response. 

"Once or twice." You smiled at the memory of comic cons past. 

"Joel?" She asked. He seemed surprised and relieved to be included in the conversation. 

"Nope. This wasn't my thing." He told her.

"You never dressed up at Halloween for…fun." Ellie caught herself before she mentioned Sarah. 

"No. I have never dressed up. For anything." Joel firmly shook his head.

Ellie shot you a look before scrambling to get to the backroom.

"Looks like you are dressing up." You teased him.

"No, I'm not." He came to stand by your side. His arm pressed against yours. Showing affection when Ellie was around was still relatively new. He'd wanted to keep things between you private. His fingers just began to lace with yours when she appeared with a few costumes in her arms. 

"Here." Ellie grinned triumphantly. She was so pleased with herself, she completely missed the little squeeze Joel gave your hand before he moved forward. 

Humouring her, he sifted through the bags. There was a blue alien, some sort of space pirate complete with metal eyepatch, the last one was some sort of space armour. 

"Hunter." He heard you breathe as he got to the space armour. He didn't miss the slight flush on your cheeks but he pretended to. 

"What even are these?" He asked Ellie.

"This guy is a trader." She pointed to the blue alien. "This guy." She pointed to the space pirate. "Is a morally ambiguous space bandit and this guy…" She pointed to the metal looking suit. "...is a mysterious bounty hunter."

"What makes him so mysterious? The mask?" Joel prodded, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

"Kind of. He never takes it off, not even the girl that loves him has seen his face. No one knows his name. They just call him Hunter because, you know, bounty hunter. In the newer comics he has to help this kid and everyone sees that he's not just a skilled killer, he's really a good guy…it was a fun arc." Ellie grinned at recalling the comic Joel had climbed down a hole in the floor, into a basement to get for her. 

Even though he was distracted by the smile Ellie was finally giving in his direction he saw the blush on your face spread further. 

"So who did you dress up as?" She turned her attention to you.

"Erm…a character from a vampire show and…er…Captain Annabelle Croft." You avoided Joel's quizzical gaze.

"Hunter's girlfriend?" Ellie chucked before jumping off of the counter and shoving the Hunter costume into Joel's arms. She walked off laughing to grab some decades old comic book themed candy. 

It was Joel's turn to blush. He opened his mouth to say something before the sound of Clickers cut him off. 

The warm water of Joel's shower was just what you needed after having to climb through two buildings to pick of the last of the infected this morning. Luckily, the comic book store was only a short ride from Jackson. It was on the patrol route of a couple of older guys who just didn't get the significance of it. It was only when Tommy asked you to cover that you found out about it. Climbing out of the tub, you made your way to Joel's room in your bath robe. Ellie had made it suspiciously clear that she wouldn't be near the house tonight so you left your things on his bed. 

The door to Joel's room was open, you know you left it closed so he must have been in there. When it was clear he wasn't still there you began to undo your robe.

"Don't move." Joel's voice gritted out behind you. 

"What?" His direction confused you. Your body instantly reacted, it froze in place, your breathing slowed, your ears searched for sounds of infected. Your mind knew you were safe here.

"I have orders to bring you in dead or alive." Joel continued.

That was the point when you turned around to come face to face with Hunter. The laughter that peeled out of you was uncontrollable. Joel's own laughter, muffled as it was, joined it. Removing the mask he smiled at you. "That sound was definitely worth strapping all this on. It even got me an hour of no shit from Ellie. I might keep the suit."

Finally calming down, you took Joel in. The amour plates accentuated his muscle thighs, his solid chest and broad shoulders. 

"Maybe you could keep it on for a little while longer." Your fingers traced lightly over his chest plate. 

"You like it, huh?" He smirked. 

Taking his hand, you removed his glove before pressing his hand between your legs. 

"Oh, you really like it." He groaned against your neck as he pressed kisses to it while he slipped his fingers inside of you. 

"Joel? Erm…helmet?" You blushed at your own request.

Thankfully, the helmet covered the shit eater grin he gave you. You were definitely going to hear about that later. With his fingers stretching you and his thumb on your clit, you didn't even care. 

"Look at you. I bet you'd let me cuff you and take you back for the reward the King has for me, as long as I kept doing this. Dirty little thing." Joel teased.

Your inner fangirl squealed as your inner walls gripped him. Joel had actually learned about the character. In the comics he had met his love when she was a bounty he was assigned by the king of a small planet. He definitely didn't make her come on his fingers embarrassingly quickly in the comics. 

Joel slipped his fingers out and under the rim of the helmet to lick them clean. "Maybe this is a better reward. You got anything else for me?"

The words were barely out when you were on your knees for him. The zip of his jumpsuit was down and his cock was in your mouth in seconds. 

"Jesus!" Joel exclaimed. The helmet almost came off of his head at the speed of which he threw his head back. 

"I take it back. The way you suck dick is worth more than any reward." He chuckled as he threaded his fingers into your hair. They rested there as your head bobbed up and down on his length. Your split rolling down over his balls made them easier to manipulate in your hands as you massaged them. Joel's gripped tightened as he urged you off of him. 

"I want to feel that little pussy around my cock before I come." He helped you up as he spoke. 

Not being able to kiss him was a little strange so you pressed a kiss to his ungloved hand. 

"If I let you fuck this pussy with you let me go?" You asked, dropping your robe. 

"I'll be honest. I don't know. I might just have to keep you for myself." He surged forward and grabbed you against his chest. You giggled as you turn him toward the bed. "Sit up, at the headboard."

He did as he was told before you straddled his lap. His groan echoed around his helmet as you sunk all the way down on to him. 

"Maybe I should run. Then you'd have to catch me and cuff me." You panted as you began to ride him.

Joel picked up what your were putting down real quick. He grabbed you hands in his, holding them behind your back. He used his grip on you to help you bounce on him. The next few minutes were an intense mix of skin slapping on skin, the wet sound of Joel's girth sliding in and out and your collective moans as you rode him with all your worth. Joel did enough for you but Joel dresses as your favourite fantasy had you feral.

"I don't think I need to hold you. You ain't running anywhere. Not away from a fucking like this." He let go of your hands allowing you to grip his headboard and bouncing even harder on him. 

"You want me to give up my bounty? Then you better come for me. Soak my cock." His dirty words were enough to push you over the edge you'd been balanced on pretty much since he entered you. 

"Oh fuck, yes! You feel so good, Baby." He groaned as your pussy tried to milk him. "Oh shit." He pulled out, your hand joining his jerked him a few times before he shot his load. Some of it spurting as high as your breasts.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass

Suddenly, he wrenched the helmet off his head. His face was flushed. His curls were drenched with sweat. It dripped down the sides of his face. "You had to have a thing for the guy with the helmet?!" 

Next

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #soft joel miller