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callmelittlebuttercup · 2 days

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Peace Offerings Pt. 9

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Summary: Joel makes a bad impression on the reader when he cuts in front of her at the radio station in the QZ. Abe, a father figure to her and an informant of Joel’s, informs her that the two have something in common: A brother in Wyoming. Joel reluctantly follows Abe’s wishes when he asks him to take the reader along to help find her brother too. As the journey goes on, she finds that despite his best efforts to make her think so, Joel isn’t a complete asshole, and maybe even a little… attractive?

Series Warnings: Slow burn, Age gap (reader is 34, Joel is 56), 18+ Minors DNI, Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Cursing, Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

Chapter Warnings: Beginning of the Jackson au!!

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Part Nine

After we said our goodbyes and thanked the older couple, we started back on the road. A few miles from the cabin, we came across sounds of running water and hurried up the bank. A huge reservoir, still turning out water gushed before us. “A dam… and it’s still running.” I remarked. Joel came to stand next to me, his eyebrows knitted together as he took in the potential sign of life. “Might not mean anything.” He said before looking down at me. “It’s been 20 years, Joel. You expect a dam to be running this smoothly after being untouched for 20 years?” I argued. He turned his gaze back to the rushing water before shaking his head and pursing his lips. I rolled my eyes and pushed past him to continue onto the trail along the reservoir.

When we rounded the reservoir, we came across a larger river and began to climb a hill. The sound of voices and hooves pounding against the ground stopped us in our tracks. Before I could even flinch to grab my gun, a group of people on horses had come out of the treeline and surrounded us. Joel grabbed my hand and practically threw me behind him. Each of them had a gun pointed straight at us. “We ain’t looking for any trouble, we’re just passing through.” Joel called out with his arms raised. His signature greeting. “Drop the gun.” The closest guy called out. Joel obeyed, slowly and cautiously. “Girl, take five steps back.” The man demanded. I began to take slow, shaky steps back from Joel, having to pry his hand off my wrist. “How about we just talk this through.” Joel said calmly. “How ‘bout you shut the fuck up.” The guy suggested sternly. “Ok, ok. Easy.” Joel kept his hands raised as the man approached him. “You been near infected?” The man asked. “No infected around here.” Joel answered. “The hell there ain’t.” Our attention was directed to the sound of a dog barking, and we turned to see a man struggling to keep his grip on a huge german shepherd. “Last chance for a bullet. If you’re infected, he will smell it and he will rip you up.” The man’s voice sounded far away as my heart pounded in my ears. I was pretty sure I wasn’t infected, neither was Joel, but the mere possibility of the dog ripping us apart was terrifying.

I held my breath and closed my eyes as the dog approached. I felt it’s warm breath on my leg as it sniffed me. Nothing. I released the trapped air from my lungs, and dropped my hands to my sides. “You just bought yourself ten more seconds.” The same man said, “What are you doing out here?” Joel answered, “Just looking for our brothers. That’s all, nothing more.” Once those words left his mouth a woman with long, dark dreadlocks rode forward from behind the man calling out, “Hey! What’s your name?” “Joel.” She eyed the both of us, “And yours?” I eagerly told her my name. Her face dropped in realization, and she then ordered the men to lend us their horses as we rode back. One man gave Joel his horse, and I rode with another man from the group. I gripped the man’s jacket tightly as we followed the others along their path towards giant wooden gates in the middle of a long stretch of tall fencing. One of the men on the horses raised a red flag, and the gates began to open.

My jaw dropped at the sight. It was as if the town hadn’t been touched by the tragedies that the rest of the world were touched by. There were people laughing and talking as they stood along the streets outside of shops and houses. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I looked at Joel and watched his eyes searching for his brother, and I was brought back to the reality of the situation. Please let them be here. I begged. We rode a little further into town, passing more people who were now staring at us. All of a sudden, Joel called out, “Tommy!” I raised my head up to see if it was really him, not even knowing what he looked like. I caught sight of a man quickly descending the stairs of scaffolding on the side of a house. A look of pure disbelief was painted on his face as he stared at Joel. I could see the resemblance between the two. Joel stepped off the horse and enveloped his brother into a bear hug. The biggest smile I’d ever seen stretched across his face. They shared a long embrace and a few hearty laughs. Soon after, Joel came back over to help me off of the horse and introduce me to Tommy. I smiled at the man as my feet hit the ground, and introduced myself as I reached out a hand. He repeated my name back to me with a warm smile, and shook my hand firmly. Joel came to stand next to me, and as they talked I couldn’t help but notice Tommy’s eyes flitting back and forth between us. I stepped away from Joel, not wanting him to get the wrong impression.

Through all the fuss of the brother’s reunion, I heard my name being called from a distance. My eyes widened and my chest filled with excitement. I stood on my toes to see over the men’s heads, and I finally caught sight of him. I smiled and pushed past Joel before jogging to hug my brother. He looked the same as the day he’d left Boston, except for the beard. “Matthew.” I sighed as we finally embraced. “You made it.” He said before placing a kiss on the top of my head. “Barely.” I joked as I pulled away, “You can thank him.” I said as I gestured to Joel. “Who’s that?” He questioned. I bit my lip, “Uh, his name is Joel. He’s Tommy’s brother. We found out both of you were here and he offered to let me travel with him.” I could see Matthew’s jaw clench before he let out a deep, “Mhmm.” I studied his face, wondering why he seemed to have an opinion about Joel before even meeting him.

Matthew and I caught up as Tommy and Maria did the same with Joel. They’d brought us to the restaurant in town and Maria gave him and I two plates of food. My eyes widened and my mouth watered as I eyed the first square meal I’d seen in years. “Where did you get this stuff?” I asked as I stabbed a piece of fresh broccoli with my fork. “We have some crops. We managed to get some seeds through a trade.” Maria explained. I nodded in understanding, my mouth too full to give a verbal reply. As he and I scarfed down the food, I noticed my brother staring at Joel, who had sat next to me. “So, Joel, things go well on the road with my sister?” Matthew asked as he crossed his arms. Joel’s eyes left the plate and traveled between Matthew and I. I gave him a reassuring look, hoping it would encourage him to answer. “As well as they could go.” Joel said before shoving a bite of food in his mouth. I bit my lip nervously, hoping Matthew would just take the answer and end the interaction. “And what do you mean by that?” He questioned. “Matthew, please.” I blurted, unable to stand the tension any longer. He pried his accusatory gaze off of Joel and back onto me, “Can I talk to you outside, sis?” I eyed the other witnesses of the interaction. Tommy sat with an eyebrow raised, and Maria’s face was stone cold. I huffed impatiently and got up from the table, not bothering to push in my chair.

“What is your problem, Matthew?” I seethed as he pulled me around the corner of the restaurant and into the alley. “I’ve heard things about that man,” He whispered, “He’s killed people, sis. A lot of people. He did all sorts of illegal shit in the QZ. Did you have any idea who you were travelling with? Did he hurt you?” The words left his mouth in a panicked flurry. “Where did you hear those things?” I asked. “Nevermind that. How stupid can you be to travel across the country with a dangerous man like that?” He prodded angrily. I stared at him for a moment, unable to believe the fact that I’d travelled across the country to save him and I was being yelled at about who I chose to do it with. “I travelled hundreds of miles to find you, and all you can think to say is this shit?” I scoffed. “He’s dangerous.” He said after taking a deep breath. “He may be, but who isn’t, Matthew? Who hasn’t killed to survive these days?” I argued. “He killed for the wrong reasons. He’s a smuggler, a raider.” I shook my head, “No. You’re wrong.” My brother’s face dropped in realization. “You didn’t…” He muttered in disbelief. “Didn’t what?” I asked panickedly. “Please tell me that you didn’t fuck him. I swear to god I will kill him right now.” His face reddened with rage, but I pressed my hands into his shoulders, “No, Matthew, I didn’t. I swear. Nothing happened between us. All he did was make up a plan to get us here and he protected me when I needed it. We barely even spoke to each other the whole time. Now will you please calm the fuck down so I can go finish the first meal I’ve had in months?” I begged. The tightness in his shoulders eased after hearing my explanation, and he nodded, “There’s nothing going on between you two?” He asked, needing my reassurance once more. I shook my head, “I promise.” I lied.

Before Matthew and I could move to go back inside, we heard the door to the restaurant bust open. It was Joel, storming out of the restaurant. He caught my eye and paused for a moment, but kept walking off towards what looked like a stable. The urge to follow was tugging at me, but there was no way Matthew was letting that happen. I followed him back into the restaurant and finished my meal silently as he had a hushed conversation with Maria and Tommy at the bar.

Later that night, after being shown around more by Matthew, we neared the front porch of the house he’d been living in. “This is it.” He said proudly, “Fixed it up myself.” I followed him into the front door and felt as though I’d walked into a thrift store. Not one piece of furniture went with another. “When did you get your interior decorating degree?” I smirked before plopping down into a red bigham armchair. He rolled his eyes as he reached into the fridge, “I didn’t have much to work with. Beer?” I nodded and reached my hand out to grab the cold can from him. Cracking it open and tasting the malty liquid was a feeling I never knew I missed.

“You owe me an apology.” I said after swallowing a huge swig from the can. He pressed his lips together as he plopped down onto the hideous floral patterned couch, “I do. ” I sat up, resting my elbows onto my knees, “Three weeks, Matthew. Three weeks without a fucking word from you. I thought you were dead.” He took a sip of his beer then knitted his fingers around it, “We were told to stop contacting outsiders. That they were threats to us.” I flinched, “Threats?” He nodded, “We had too much traffic around the perimeter. Maria decided it would be safer if we kept outside communication to a minimum.” I stared at the floor, unable to look at him, “Your own sister, a threat.” He sighed, “Look, I tried my best to contact you.” I stood up off of the chair, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to be over. “Not hard enough.” I spat as I stalked to the front door, slamming it behind me.

My mind reeled as I walked aimlessly down the street, my way being lit by hanging lights and trash can fires littered along the blocks. I looked around, attempting to find any building that was familiar from earlier in the day. I spotted the stable I’d seen Joel rush into earlier and figured it woud be empty at this time of night. I neared the door and unhooked the latch before opening it slowly, not wanting to spook the horses. With the tiniest bit of light shining through the door, I caught sight of a beautiful chestnut horse with a white stripe down its face. It reminded me of the horse my uncle owned on his farm. “Hi there,” I whispered as I offered it my hand to nibble.

I’d been so deep in my own head that I hadn’t noticed the sound of voices traveling from somewhere outside the stable. Itching with curiosity, I stood on a hay bale and put my ear up to a hole in the wood. “I don’t want to hurt her, Tommy. After Sara, after Tess… I can’t do that to her.” My heart sank when I realized it was Joel. Who was Sara? And Tess? “It’s safe here, Joel. If you stay, you’ll have the opportunity to start over… like I did. I’m gonna be a father in a few months. And to be honest I’m scared to death. But I don’t know… I think I’d be a good father.” Tommy said. “I guess we’ll find out.” Joel sighed. Tommy clearly didn’t like that response, “I guess we’ll find out? Maybe you think your life stopped when Sara died, and believe me, I thought mine did too, but I found a way to start it again. You can too.” Joel scoffed, “It won’t be as easy for me. You’ve never lost a child.” The men’s voices became more intense, “I lost her too. I was there, Joel, remember?” Tommy grunted. I gasped quietly, the realization that Joel had a daughter, maybe even a wife before all of this. It all made so much sense now.

I’d been so focused on the conversation that I hadn’t noticed the hay slipping out from under my feet. Before I could regain my footing, my boots lost their grip and I tumbled to the ground. I couldn’t stifle the shriek that escaped me as I felt the pain in my ribs all over again. “Shit.” I grunted through clenched teeth. The men’s voices turned to silence, and I heard footsteps outside of the barn. I tried to get up, but was dizzied from the pain in my abdomen. The door creaked open, and a flashlight shone in. My name left Joel’s mouth as he caught sight of me. “The fuck are you doin’ in here?” He grunted as he placed his flashlight down and pulled me to my feet. I swallowed. My mouth felt like it had been filled with cotton. “I uh… had a fight with my brother. Just needed somewhere to think.” He looked at me through the light peeking in through the door. “The hell did you do? Your nose is bleeding.” He said before reaching up to my face. I pulled away and pressed the sleeve of my shirt to my nose. “I’m fine.” I insisted as I used the wall to pull myself up. “You’re obviously not.” Joel grunted. “Joel? What was that?” Tommy asked as he appeared in the doorway. Joel and I’d heads snapped to look at the figure. “Everything alright?” Tommy questioned again. “Yeah, I just… tripped over something in the dark.” I said. “Well what were you doin’ in the first place?” Both of the men looked at me, then Joel turned to his brother and said pointedly, “She had a fight with her brother. Needed some peace and quiet.” Tommy shook his head and shrugged defeatedly, “A congratulations would have made things a whole lot easier.” I stood there awkwardly as the two men shared a tense look, and finally Tommy disappeared from the doorway after huffing angrily.

“I’ll walk you home.” Joel said as we exited the barn. “I’d rather sleep in the stable.” I scoffed. He looked at me, seeming annoyed at first but his face quickly twisted into concern. “Jesus, your nose is bleeding like hell.” He breathed as he reached into his pocket to try and find something to wipe it with. His attempts were fruitless and he dropped his hands to his side. He looked to be struggling with something internally as his eyes shifted between me and the house we were standing in front of. I waited patiently, holding my hand to my nose to stop it from dripping onto my shirt even more. He sighed, “Dammit,” and grabbed my arm before leading me into the house. “Joel, you don’t have to-” I tried to argue, but he pushed me onto a chair at the island in the small kitchen. He stalked over to the sink and wet a rag, then pulled a chair over to sit in front of me. “You’re always gettin’ yourself hurt.” He grumbled as he pressed the rag to the base of my nose. I winced at the contact, and his eyebrows furrowed as he focused on cleaning up the blood. “‘S probably broken.” I didn’t respond. Between the lightheadedness from the pain and the feeling of Joel being close to me again, I didn’t have much to say. For the first time, I didn’t feel patronized by him helping me, didn’t feel like it was some sort of peace offering. He wasn’t doing it because he had to, he was doing it because he wanted to.

I couldn’t help but watch him intently as he focused tending to my nose. He subconsciously leaned closer and closer, and I was able to feel his warm breath on the bare skin of my chest, causing goosebumps to rise there. All of a sudden, Joel froze. I’d been so distracted I hadn’t noticed my hand moving up to rest on the forearm of the hand that he was using the rag with. My first instinct was to pry it off panickedly, but that wasn’t what this moment was about. It wasn’t about instinct. My instinct was always to run away from the uncomfortable things, and it seemed like that was Joel’s too. It was about facing our fears. Joel had pushed his fear of caring for someone aside, and it was my turn to push through my fear of intimacy.

My eyes didn’t leave his as I pushed down on his forearm, lowering his hand to the table. His face was inches from mine, and soon milimeters away. I hesitated, but was encouraged by a hand on the back of my head pulling me into a gentle kiss. He pulled away and looked at me in a way that seemed like he was asking for approval. I answered his question by standing off of my stool and pressing my lips to his once more. His hands moved to grip my waist as our lips began to move together, our desperation for each other taking over once more. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he pulled me closer so that I was standing between his legs. His hands slid underneath my shirt and traveled up my back, his fingers gently gliding across my skin sent shivers up my spine. His hands continued up onto my neck, lingering there, then tangled in my hair and pulled at it lightly. I bit his bottom lip as I pulled away and looked into his eyes. They were staring at me hungrily, and widened slightly as he felt my hand press up against his firm length through his jeans. I felt him twitch against me and watched his face as I began to rub him gently. His eyes closed and he let out a long, heavy breath. His obvious pleasure fueled my fire and I leaned in to close the gap between our lips again. He met me with just as much hunger. I pulled lightly on his jacket to get him to stand, and pushed him backwards towards the couch. He stumbled backwards, drunk with lust, and sat down. He practically worshipped my body with his eyes as I stood over him. I straddled his legs and sat down, pressing myself against his excitement. His hands slid up the sides of my thighs and onto my hips as I instinctively grinded against him. He breathed into my ear as I leaned down and pressed gentle kisses into the scruff on his jaw. My hands traveled down to the hem of my t-shirt and I began to pull it over my head, but Joel caught sight of my bruise again and was pulled back to reality. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” He gently pushed me up and off of him, “I think.. you should get some sleep. I’m sorry, I lost control.” He stood and adjusted himself through his pants. I couldn’t help but feel rejected again. “Was that another mistake?” I scoffed. He glared at me, “You know it wasn’t.” I sat all the way up now, facing him, “Then why did you stop?” I pressed. “I didn’t want things to get out of hand.” He said as he plopped down on the couch and slid his hands down his face. “What does that mean?” I questioned again. “You know…” I rolled my eyes, “Joel.” He groaned, now fully backed into a corner. “I just don’t want you to get attached.” He finally said. There it was. The familiar feeling of my stomach dropping. Of course. Of course he would find a way to ruin this, just as we were connecting further. “You don’t need to worry about that.” I spat as stood up walked towards the door, and as my hand gripped the doorknob he finally spoke, “Where are you goin’?” I turned around and hooked my hands onto my hips, “To sleep in the stable in the hay. Like the baby Jesus.” He rolled his eyes at my attempt at comedy and stood up off the couch, “You’re not sleepin’ in a stable.” I straightened my back as he approached, “What do you care? I thought we weren’t getting attached.” He placed his hand on the door frame above my head, “You’ll annoy the horses.” I saw a smirk threaten the corner of his mouth, and a full smile stretched across mine. For the first time in months, I almost laughed.

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Author's note:

Hi all! Sorry for the wait! Finals are coming up and I've had a lot of school work to do, but I've been trying to work on the fic as much as possible. <3

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@demonsasss @ayamenimthiriel @ashleyfilm

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callmelittlebuttercup · 7 days

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Peace Offerings Pt. 8

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Yelling, Dead animals/eating meat (rabbit/dear), Vomiting.

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Part Eight

Our boots crunched through the snow as we made our way through the thick woods. My cheeks stung from the bitter cold, my hands were still numb despite being buried into my pockets, and my stomach was practically eating itself. I thought about asking Joel to stop so I could eat something from our stash, but I kept ahead, dreading a conversation with him. I didn’t trust myself to not mention last night. Our kiss was implanted into my brain. No matter how badly I wanted to forget it, to purge the embarrassment that I’d felt afterwards out of my mind, I couldn’t. The desperation of his hands clenching my shirt, the way his beard stung as it rubbed against my face, the way he tasted. It was all painfully unforgettable, and I didn’t dare mention it. Afterall, it was a mistake.

About 20 quiet minutes down the path, we came across a lone cabin. I gawked at the smoke coming from the chimney, and the rabbits and deer hung up outside. Joel put a hand up for me to stop walking. “It’s occupied. Might have to keep moving.” He muttered. “But they have food… and warmth!” I argued a little too loudly, letting my immediate need for both of those things spill out of me. Joel glared as if saying “Shut the fuck up.” By the time we turned back to the cabin, an older woman was standing on the porch looking our way. Joel handed me his gun and walked towards her slowly with his hands raised above his head. “Ma’am, we’re not looking for trouble, just passing through.” Joel called out. She stared for a moment longer, her eyes meeting Joel’s, then mine. “You guys hungry?” She called out. We looked at each other. Joel shook his head, no. But I walked forward, my stomach making ungodly noises at the mention of food. “Starving.” I called out. Joel shot me a look. “I think she’s alone, Joel.” I whispered. “Or she could have someone waiting in the house to slaughter us.” he seethed back. “We’ll find out.” I said as I walked past him, hands raised. My name left Joel’s lips in an exasperated sigh, “Goddammnit.”

“Leave your guns at the door, my husband will be back soon.” She said bluntly as we timidly entered the house. Joel shot me another look as if saying “I told you so.” I ignored him and surveyed the area. There was wooden furniture arranged around a fireplace, and the walls were decorated with fur and animal bones. A fire warmed and incensed the small cabin. “Soup okay?” She asked as she moved to the small kitchen on the opposite wall of the same room. Joel and I nodded, watching closely as she ladled the already warmed soup into wooden bowls. She slowly made her way over to us, her age dwindling her speed. One of the reasons I wasn’t afraid of her. She handed me a bowl first. I whispered, “Thank you.” and immediately tipped the contents into my mouth. “Slow down.” Joel grunted as he accepted his own bowl. I ignored him and gulped down the so-called soup. It was broth with either rabbit or deer meat. Either way, I was ecstatic to have food in my stomach.

“There’s a bed in the loft,” the woman spoke over the rhythmic creak of her rocking chair, then nodded towards me, “your girl looks tired.” Joel’s eyes reluctantly shifted towards me but I did my best to avoid eye-contact. A place to rest my aching self sounded like heaven. I began to stand up, but Joel grabbed my wrist before saying, “She’s not- She’s fine.” I pulled away and shot him an annoyed look. I knew he didn’t want to split up, but the last thing I wanted to do was sit next to him on a tiny wooden bench. It was hard enough to fight the urge to lean against him. And in addition to that, my side was throbbing and it was a chore to keep my back straight while sitting on the hard surface. “I would love to lay down ma’am. Thank you.” I said politely before climbing up the stairs to the loft.

In the corner of the room was a small mattress with what looked like handmade quilts. I

sighed and gently laid down onto the plush material. I was just starting to give in to the heaviness of my eyelids when I heard the door open and the unzipping of a jacket. There was a moment of eerie quiet before a man’s voice blurted “Who the hell are you?” Joel’s voice calmly answered, “Just someone passing through. Take the gun out, two fingers only and put it out of reach.” The gun clattered onto a table. “Why didn’t you shoot him?” the man asked. I assumed he was addressing the woman. “The gun was all the way over there.” Another moment of silence passed and then she spoke again, “He didn’t hurt me by the way.” The man groaned, “Yeah I see that… You made him soup?” His voice hurled towards annoyance. “Yeah…I did. It’s cold out.” the woman answered in a tone that made it seem like it was the obvious thing to do. I almost giggled at the casualness of the couple. Any other people would have Joel and I at gunpoint or even dead by now, but here they were worrying about soup.

I moved silently to peek down at them between the rungs of the railing. The man had plopped into a chair, seemingly unbothered by Joel holding him at gunpoint. He was still layered in multiple sweaters, and as he took off his hat, short, white hair was revealed. “I’m looking for my brother.” Joel said, trying to get the interaction on track. “Well I ain’t seen ‘im.” The man responded. “I haven’t told you what he looks like.” Joel replied, a hint of sass in his tone. “He look anything like you?” The man asked. “A bit.” I tried to imagine what the man would look like, whether he was younger or older, all questions I could never ask. “Then I ain’t seen him.” The man grunted. The woman spoke again, “He’s got a woman with him.” My stomach dropped and I moved to hide behind an animal skin that had been draped over the bannister. “Uh..No.” Joel said panickedly. “He does! Just saw her.” The man exclaimed. “Dammit.” Joel cursed under his breath as I stood up, keeping my hands visible to them to show I wasn’t a threat. “Who’s this beauty?” The man asked, his eyes following my form as I descended the stairs. I clenched my jaw nervously and went to stand next to Joel. “Nevermind her.” He said while moving his body in front of mine. I stepped out from behind him, annoyed with the fact that he’d pushed me away but still insisted on bossing me around. I felt the woman’s eyes on me. A soft smile was spread across her round face. I responded with a smile of my own, and then focused back onto the men’s tense conversation.

Joel finally got the man to plant a finger to show where we were on the map. He sighed frustratedly and paced, “Well you found a great place to hide I guess.” The man chuckled, “Look, I came out here before you were born, sonny.” The woman turned to Joel and I and said, “I didn’t want to.” I furrowed my eyebrows in empathy, but my attention was brought back to the man as he continued to speak. “And I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother, but if you’ve come this far then you know what’s out there. You seen Cody?” He asked. I sat up and joined into the conversation, “Yeah we’ve been close enough. It’s crawling with infected.” He nodded, “Laramie, Wind River Reservation… Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.” Joel finally sat down and rang his hands nervously, “So you haven’t heard the name Tommy?” The inflection of his voice had changed slightly. I sounded more anxious than usual. “Or Matthew?” I asked hopefully. “There’s two men you’re looking for?” The man asked exasperatedly. “Our brothers are supposed to have been in the same state. They left together with a group of fireflies.” I explained. “Like the bugs?” The woman questioned, her face twisted in confusion. “Not the bugs, the people.” I said again, trying to stay patient. “There are firefly people?” She asked again. The couple burst out laughing and I bit my lip, desperately trying not to join in. Joel was not having it, “You got any advice on the best way west?” The man leaned forward, “Yeah. Go East.” He pointed to a depiction of a river on the map, “Never go past the river here. Ever.” I looked up from the map, “What’s past the river?” I asked reluctantly. “Death. We’ve never seen who’s out there, but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some infected, some not. If your brothers are west of the river, they’re gone.”

The woman’s words felt like a punch to the gut. The thought that I’d done all of this- gone through all of this only to find that my brother was dead made bile rise up into my throat. My pulse thumped in my ears as I stood up. “Need some fresh air.” I breathed as I stumbled towards the door, almost tripping over the rug made out of bear fur. I squinted from the blinding sun as I opened the door and walked back out into the freezing weather. I leaned against the side of the house as I sucked in the cold air, trying to keep myself in reality. I needed to hold onto the hope that Matthew would still be alive. Those people were clueless. They had no idea what was going on in the world besides the cordyceps. There’s no way I was letting them convince me my brother was dead. The “what ifs” were still enough to make me lean over the railing and spew the soup all over the white snow.

The door opened behind me and I heard Joel’s heavy boots step onto the landing. My name fell softly from his lips, and I felt his hand on my back. I leaned up off of the railing and shoved away from him. “Don’t touch me, Joel.” I sobbed. His hand retracted from me and he stepped back. His face was heavy with a mixture of grief, anxiety, anger and everything in between. “I’ve been thinking about this.” I said shakily as I wiped my face and turned to him. He looked at me through the side of his eyes, refusing to face me. “I’ve been thinking… what if they’re not there. What if this dream I’ve been having is real-“ He cut me off and growled, “No. DON’T FUCKING SAY THAT.” The volume of his voice caused me to shriek and recoil back. My body shrunk into the corner of the landing, and I stared at him wide-eyed. He dug his hands into his hair and pulled his head downwards onto the railing opposite to me. “We can’t believe that.” He whispered, his voice cracking under the immense weight of the situation.

He was losing it. No longer able to keep up the cold, emotionless, strong man act. The thought of losing his brother broke something in him. He stood at the railing and heaved. He wasn’t crying, he was panicking. Fighting the same thoughts I had been for the past few weeks.

I decided that this time, I would be the one to put my hand on his back. I pushed up off of the side of the house and slowly moved towards him. I raised a shaky hand to the brown leather of his coat, and pressed it in between his broad shoulders. His head raised up from between his hands and he caught sight of me in the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry.” He breathed. I shook my head, “Don’t be.” He slowly straightened from his crouched position and stood facing me. “Joel.” I said while maintaining eye contact, “I’m going to hug you now. Not because I want to, but because I need to. And you’re going to let me, because no matter how strong or manly you are, I know damn well you need it too.” He stared down at me, neither accepting or rejecting my declaration. I slowly raised my arms to his torso and my hands connected with the warmth of him. As I brought my body closer and closer, I waited for him to push me away or yell at me, but he didn’t. He stood still as our bodies connected. I pressed my head against his chest while wrapping my arms tightly around him. He didn’t hug me back. I didn’t expect him to. But the absence of his refusal was a sign that I was right- he did need it. Not wanting to push my luck, I began to pull away. It was only then that he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulled our bodies back together, and rested his chin against my head. I closed my eyes and breathed in a full breath for the first time in years. My heavy heart felt lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always, thank you for reading!! <3

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Tagging ppl I think would enjoy!!:

@demonsasss @ayamenimthiriel @ashleyfilm

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callmelittlebuttercup · 9 days

Text

Peace Offerings Pt.7

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Seven

I’d fallen asleep on the couch. Joel placing a mug of coffee onto the table beside me had been my sign to wake up. “What time is it?” I asked while wiping the sleep out of my eyes. “Early. We need to catch up on time.” He said. He was back to his rigid self. I guess last night had been too much for him. I sat up and stretched before taking a sip of the hot, stale liquid. It burned my tongue, but I played it cool. He dropped my backpack in front of me and slung his own over his shoulder. “Be ready in five.” He grunted and turned to walk out the front door. “Aye aye captain.” I mumbled under my breath as I reached for my boots.

I nearly stumbled out onto the porch, and met Joel at the bottom of the stairs. “Ready.” I said. He stood up with a grunt and we began our trek. The air was beginning to get colder, and soon my sweatshirt wouldn’t be enough. I took stock of the clothing I had left in my bag, and even then, I still wouldn’t make it through the winter. “We should find somewhere for warm clothes.” I suggested. He nodded and replied, “Keep an eye out.” I plucked the map he had tucked into the side pocket of his backpack and opened it up. My eyes scanned the area, and if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, there was a shopping mall about 10 miles north. I relayed the information to Joel, and of course he grabbed the map from me, needing to confirm it for himself. I stood close to him, pointing to where I saw the mall. He nodded and folded up the map before handing it to me to shove back into the pocket.

It took five hours, but we’d finally caught sight of the mall. After 5 hours of walking, my mind was fried, and I was even convinced the mall could have been a mirage. “You see that too right?” I asked Joel, my words slurring slightly. “Yup.” He answered. “Just making sure.”

We closed the distance between us and the ginormous building. “This is going to be a bitch to clear.” I sighed. “Just keep it down.” Joel demanded as he pushed the door open with a creak. Memories of my childhood flooded back as I caught sight of the grand entryway to the abandoned mall. “Stay behind me.” He whispered as we entered the building cautiously. I kept my head on a swivel and kept up with Joel’s quickened pace. He stopped at the opening of what looked like a sporting goods store. I followed him inside, and once we deemed the area clear, we untensed and began to load any clothes we saw into our bags. I chose a wind breaker with a sherpa lining and a few sweaters to go underneath. Joel grabbed us each a pair of gloves and a hat. I’d wandered off to see if there was anything else of use, and was eyeing the picked over shoe racks when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I heard it before I saw it. The familiar raspy breath of an infected. I turned around and caught sight of the nasty thing. It came barreling forward but ran into a rack and sent it flying into me. It slammed against my torso and pinned me to the shoe display. I began to lose vision from the pain of my already cracked ribs being beaten even further. With the little strength I could muster, I pushed the rack off me and used it to keep the distance between the monster and I. It’s arms flailed over the side of the rack as it tried to get a hold of me, but I ducked and dodged each time. I prayed for Joel to find me since I didn’t have the time to take my eyes off of the infected to get my gun from the floor. I stood there fighting the creature as hard as I could all while trying not to collapse from the agony. I finally hurt a gunshot and the creature dropped to the floor. I let go of the rack and paused, ensuring that it was fully dead, and soon after Joel’s hand grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards. “We gotta get out of here. Go!”

I ran as fast as I could behind Joel, and once he felt that we were far enough away from the mall, he slowed to a jog. “You promised you wouldn’t do that.” He breathed. “I know.” I gasped. “So what the fuck possessed you to?” He questioned, his voice gaining volume from growing anger. “I…I don’t know, I just wanted to see what else we could get.” I stuttered, feeling fear pulse through my abdomen. His dark eyes practically burned holes into me. He said nothing and turned to continue to walk along the path we’d fallen upon.

About two hours later, we’d come upon a and cleared school to rest in for the night. He’d been silent, clearly angry at me for wandering away from him. I didn’t want to speak to him either. Even if his anger was because of the fact he cared about me, I hated being talked down to and treated like an irresponsible child. He sat across the grimy, dust filled teachers lounge and bore his eyes into me. I tried to ignore the pain across the right side of my stomach, but it got worse with each breath, and would soon be impossible to ignore. I needed to do something about it, but if Joel saw that I was hurt I would get another lecture. I sat still on the couch, picking at my fingernails to avoid eye contact. “I know you’re hurt.” He grumbled. My eyes shot up to him, “What? I’m fine.” I said defensively. “Then get up and twist to the side.” He demanded. I raised my eyebrows, continuing to act confused, “What the fuck are you on about, Joel? I’m fine, I’m just tired.” I insisted. He stood up and walked over, standing over me and studying my body with his eyes. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.” He said, his voice getting lower with impatience. I sighed, my side rippling with pain, and reluctantly sat up while stifling a grunt. I stood, causing Joel to take a step back. “Here’s your proof.” I said as I began to twist to the side. The pain was so bad the wind was knocked out of me and I stumbled backwards, my ass landing on the couch. Joel’s face remained unchanged except for a small glint in his eye. He clearly loved when I was wrong.

I stared up at him angrily while catching my breath. “Lift up your shirt.” He said. I chucked, “Woah, Miller, take me out to dinner first.” He unsurprisingly did not laugh at my joke, and sat on the couch next to me, leaving about two feet between us. I rolled my eyes and lifted up my shirt while sucking air through my teeth. Joel’s eyes widened and his lips parted. “Wha-” I began to ask but my breath caught in my throat when I caught sight of the nasty multicolored bruise painted across the right side of my abdomen. “Must’ve broken a rib. A few ribs at least.” He said before absentmindedly moving his calloused fingers up to touch it. I jerked away and spat, “Don’t fucking touch it.” He quickly moved his hand away and muttered, “Sorry.” I pulled my shirt back down and sat back on the couch with a grunt. I looked at him, wondering what his next move would be. He stood up and walked to his backpack on the other side of the room, unzipped it, and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt. “Joel, don’t waste a perfectly good shirt, I’ll be fine.” I said, but he ignored me and I watched him as he ripped it and tied it to make a longer strip of fabric.

When he was finished, he walked back over to me and gestured for me to stand again. I raised my shirt up for him again and he didn’t move. He cleared his throat and said “It’ll need to go under your shirt.” I nodded and reluctantly pulled my t-shirt off, leaving only my ratty bra to cover my breasts. He unraveled the fabric and began to wrap it around my torso a few times, then looped it over my opposite shoulder. I winced as he pulled it tighter before tying one last knot in the center of my chest. Pulling the fabric had forced our bodies closer together, the warmth of his breath brushing over my face. His head turned down, and his eyes bounced back and forth between my eyes and my lips, and I could have sworn he leaned in closer before pulling away quickly. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks as he took a step back and studied his work, making sure it was tied correctly. The tightness of the wrap pressed into the bruise causing a dull ache, but moving with it on felt much better than nothing. “Thanks.” I said quietly. He nodded and sat back down on the other couch, not thinking to look away as I put my shirt back on.

“I told you to stay behind me. And now look at you.” He huffed after a minute of silence. “Oh save it, Joel.” I spat. He leaned forward on his knees, “There was no need for you to go and get yourself hurt. We agreed what I say goes, so you need to start actin’ like it.” His eyes were intense, he wasn’t fucking around. I only agreed to that sentiment so he would take me with him to find our brothers in Wyoming. I thought he knew that since I showcased my hardheadedness often. “We both lived, and I’ll be fine.” I said, wanting to end the conversation. “We’re staying here while you heal. Not getting back on the road until you can move correctly again. S’not safe.” I lifted my head off the couch to look at him, “You can’t be serious. My legs are fine! I can walk!” He pressed his lips together and shook his head, “You can’t move your upper body. You can’t fight.” He said. I rolled my eyes and let a puff of air leave my nose, “Staying here will only make the trip longer. I want to get to Wyoming, Joel.” He thought for a minute and then looked up at me, “We’ll get there faster if you take the time to rest.” He argued. I stood up and grabbed my backpack, stifling the grimaces as I gathered my things. “What’re you doing?” He asked, eyeing me as I moved around the room. “I’m getting on the road. Don’t need someone to hold me back.” I muttered as I began to walk towards the door of the lounge. Joel bolted to the door and stood blocking it. I stared daggers at him, “Move.” He shook his head side to side slowly. I pushed on his chest as hard as I could with both of my hands, “Fucking move, asshole!” I winced when he grabbed my arms and pushed me to the side, pinning my back against the wall beside the door. “I can’t let you do that.” He grunted, using his strength to hold me. I tried to struggle against his grip but my side was searing with pain. “You can. I’m a grown woman, Joel. I don’t need you to protect me like some guard dog. I’ll do just fine on my own.” I seethed, “Let go of me. Please I just want to get to my brother.”

Tears of frustration pooled in my eyes. Joel’s hard gaze softened, and so did his grip. “You will. But you won’t get far with broken ribs. I’m trying to help you.” He said calmly. I looked at him through my tears. Took in his wild brown hair which was sprinkled with grey, his square jaw inhabited by a patchy beard, eyes the color of ground coffee, eyes that were pleading for me to stay. I didn’t know why, but I was beyond attracted to him. Sure, he was older, but what did that matter nowadays? In addition to his looks, his commanding and dark personality intrigued me. He clearly cared about me, but he had walls up. Hard, concrete walls that were going to take maximal effort to break down. But hell was I going to try because I’ve never said no to a challenge.

“You want me to stay, huh?” I asked, blinking away my tears as a new idea popped into my head. “I don’t want you to get killed.” He said gruffly. I smirked slightly, “Then admit it.” I blurted. His face twisted into an expression that was confusion mixed with fear. He took a step back, letting his arms fall to his sides. “What?” He questioned. “Yeah, that’s right. If you want me to stay so badly, admit that you care about me.” I taunted as I walked towards him. He stumbled over his words, but I cut him off again, “C’mon, Joel, you’ve slaughtered people but you’re afraid to confess your feelings to a woman?” I chuckled. He stood staring at me. His chest rising and falling with his panicked breaths. He said nothing, and my heart fell slightly, but I kept my confident air. “Fine. See you in hell.” I said before turning to walk out of the door. Before my hand could touch the handle, I felt a calloused grip on the back of my neck. The hand pulled me backwards and I turned. I barely had time to process, and suddenly my lips were moving hungrily with Joel’s.

Warmth and excitement spread through my stomach as his arms gently wrapped around my waist. His hands shakily held onto the small of my back, his fingers clenching into the fabric of my shirt when I let a small moan slip into his mouth. We lost ourselves in each other. Our hands explored places neither of us ever thought we’d touch. His strong hands moved cautiously up my waist and around my shoulders to settle into each crook of my neck. He used his body to push me backwards into the wall. My hands gripped his torso, pulling him closer, using anything but words to ask him for more. His tongue licked my bottom lip and I eagerly let him in. He tasted better than anything I’d imagined. Suddenly, he pulled away. “I can’t.” He grunted as he gently pushed his hands off of my hips and stalked away into the other room, leaving me with swollen lips, heavy breathing, confusion, and rejection.

I sat on the couch staring at the ground and chewing on my fingernails. I felt embarrassed at how desperate I’d been for him, and for actually thinking he would open up to me. I dropped my head into my hands and let out a frustrated groan. His footsteps caused my head to snap up, and he stood in the doorway. His face was unreadable. “Joel,” I started to speak but he cut me off. “Don’t. It was a mistake. Won’t happen again. Now get some sleep. We’re getting back on the road in the morning.” He said as he laid down on the other couch. I nodded and laid back, turning away from him. My thoughts made sleep seem unreachable. His voice grounding out the word “mistake” over and over in my mind. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was all one huge mistake. Me leaving the QZ for my brother, Joel agreeing to take me with him. But it was too late now. We were so close to Wyoming. I decided I would suck it up, not enage with Joel unless I had to, and stick to his plans no matter what. I just needed to survive, and I would make it to Matthew.

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Author's Note: Hi hi! We're finally getting some action in this part;) Also, I've had a request to start a tag list so please let me know if you'd like to be added!! I hope you enjoy <3

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callmelittlebuttercup · 11 days

Text

Batter Up

Baseball Player Joel Miller AU x Female Reader

Playlist

18 Seasons Joel Miller has only ever known playing baseball for his hometown team, and they’ve just announced they’re not resigning him. He heads to a fancy hotel bar to drink alone and wallow. He doesn’t except to find you, the team owner’s daughter, there. Golden Corral You've been keeping your budding relationship with Joel a secret, now back home in Texas to visit him, Joel takes you on a date to his favorite places. Five More Games You haven't seen your boyfriend in over two weeks, your longing for Joel interrupts a FaceTime session.

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callmelittlebuttercup · 11 days

Text

'somewhere to run' masterlist

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Series Summary: You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.

Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, angst, slow burn, smut (18+ MDNI), domestic violence (mostly just talked about or implied, nothing too descriptive, i will put a big warning on those chapters), implied SA (nothing descriptive), jealousy/possessiveness, alcohol use, drug use (not by Joel or reader), technical infidelity - more warnings will be stated for each chapter but these are the biggies

Status: complete

Chapters

1: a fresh start

2: book club

3: the statement

4: the carnival

5: first date

6: the confession

7: break the chain

8: restrained

9: three lies

10: austin

11: austin pt. 2

12: the trial pt. 1

13: the trial pt. 2

Epilogue

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

Asks/BTS/Inspo/Extras:

Joel's Morning Routine

Police Station Layout

Love Languages

Joel's Likes & Dislikes

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callmelittlebuttercup · 11 days

Text

Peace Offerings Pt.6

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Creepy men (raiders) & Attempted SA (NOT Joel dw <3)

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Part Six

Joel and I dug graves for the boys right next to each other in the field behind the motel. We shoveled and moved the bodies in silence, a soft sniffle escaping from me here and there, but Joel stayed straight faced and silent. Once they were covered and I’d placed the makeshift crosses above them, we’d decided it was time to move on.

We’d been on foot for a few miles when we came across a vacant gas station. Joel forced the door open and held his gun up to make sure there weren’t any unwanted surprises. Once the coast was deemed clear I followed him into the dusty shack. The shelves had been mostly picked over except for a few cans and bags of things here and there. The most important thing I’d found was an old box of tampons. “Score.” I celebrated under my breath before shoving them into my bag. I had lost track of my period with all of the stress of the journey, but the full ache in my abdomen indicated it was oncoming.

Joel and I met at the front of the store again and agreed we’d gotten everything we could before heading back out onto the road. We’d begun walking but stopped in our tracks when we heard what sounded like a wolf whistle. I whipped my head around to see where the sound was coming from, and spotted a hooded man crouching behind an abandoned car. “What do we have here?” Another guy appeared from behind a closer car. “We don’t want any trouble.” Joel said, raising his hands. I copied his movements. “We don’t either, friend. But see, this territory is ours, and we’ve been livin’ off of that gas station for a couple weeks now, so I’d say we have dibs.” The guy said in an obnoxiously condescending tone. Air puffed through my nose as I tried to hold in a mocking laugh. His eyes shot to me, “What’s so funny, sugar?” His tone slightly lowered. I shook my head and kept my eyebrow raised in judgment at him, “Nothing, friend.” He placed his hands on his hips and pushed them towards me, “That’s what I thought. Knew a good lookin’ girl like you’d know not to disrespect a man like me.” I could feel Joel’s anger rising just the same as mine, but I kept cool. “And what kind of a man are you, sir?” I asked before stepping forward, and letting my eyes travel up and down his frame. My tactic of making him insecure was clearly working when he answered, “The kind who ain’t afraid to hit a lady. What with gender equality and all.” I balled my fists up and couldn’t control myself any longer. My knee connected with his crotch, and he doubled over momentarily before grabbing my shoulders and throwing me to the ground. By this time, the other guy that had been hiding had beelined for Joel and the two were in hand to hand combat. I yelped as my back made contact with the hard concrete and the wind was knocked out of me. The man stood above me with a menacing grin. I scrambled to get back to my feet but the heel of his boot was planted on my abdomen. “Look at you. Like a stuck little bird.” He taunted. I tried to roll out from under his foot, but as I turned to my stomach, his arms wrapped around my waist and he lifted me off the ground. I tried to kick and thrash, hoping he would drop me, but his grip was too strong. I heard Joel hollering after him but he was in a chokehold. “Let fucking go of me.” I shouted. “Can’t just yet, baby. Gotta teach you a little lesson about keeping your mouth shut.” He dragged me behind the gas station. A sickening feeling of dread filled my body as I realized what the man’s plan was. He threw me to the ground and kept his body on top of mine.

I shrieked and squirmed, trying to make this process as hard as possible for him. He became frustrated and raised his fist before bringing it down into my side. Agonizing pain spread up through my rib cage. My head flew back upon impact and my vision went blurry. I’d begun to accept my fate, but was incredibly relieved when a bullet pierced through the man’s skull and his body dropped to reveal a wild-eyed Joel. He practically ripped the man off of me and knelt down, “Did he-“ I cut him off, “No. Thank you.” I breathed. He let out a breath of relief and helped me to my feet. I winced at the pain in my side, but insisted it was nothing.

“Should’ve just let me handle it.” Joel grumbled as we walked off. “Negotiating wastes time. Would’ve been easier just to shoot ‘em.” I argued. “Wasn’t wasting ammo over some hicks. Next time, you let me do the talkin’.” He said sternly. “Not like you were the one who ended up behind a gas station getting your clothes torn off.” I mumbled angrily. “Again, wouldn’t have happened if you’d just kept your goddamn mouth shut.” Joel turned and stood, causing me to almost run into him. “You’re just like them.” I grunted. “Excuse me?” He said, his eyes squinting with astonishment. “You think of me as a small, weak thing. Just like they do. Telling me to shut my mouth, to obey you, and follow your lead.” I said, my voice wavering as tears of frustration threatened to fall. He breathed deeply through his nose and pressed his lips together, “Don’t you ever say that. I have done everything in my power to keep you alive and be respectful towards you.” He seethed. “Respectful?” I questioned, my voice filled with disbelief, “Telling me to shut my mouth is respectful? Barely talking to me and treating me like a piece of cargo is respectful?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I didn’t have to take you with me on this trip. I could have damn well told Abe to fuck off and gone off on my own. Would have been a hell of a lot easier, but I chose to do the right thing for once. All I asked was for you to follow my direction so we don’t get ourselves killed. I’m already doing my part. I don’t owe you friendly conversation, or emotional support.” He lamented. I stood there staring at him, “You’re right. I’m sorry for experiencing all of that shit and having a human reaction to it. I’m sorry I haven’t yet become jaded and calloused by the shitstorm that the world is like you have. But just like no one forced you to bring me with you, no one is forcing you to be my emotional support. You could have left me sobbing on the ground, I would have snapped out of it at some point, but you chose to comfort me. As for friendly conversation, we’re spending months together. Would it be such a bad thing to build some kind of trust? I promise I’m not trying to be a burden, or to cause more issues. I’m trying to get to my brother just like you are. It’s not my fault shit keeps happening to us.” He kept his eyes on the ground, “I know. I didn’t mean to blame you. I just… I was worried he was gonna..” He stumbled over his words. “Well if we’re not getting invested in each other you don’t need to care about that. We agreed to just get out of things alive and move on.” I said sternly before continuing to walk in front of him. I trudged along but my body flew to the ground when my foot got caught on something. “Shit. A trip wire. Get up!” Joel yelled and grabbed my backpack to lift me off the ground. I stumbled, but got to my feet and ran as fast as possible.

Trees whizzed past as Joel and I raced through the woods, trying to get whoever was after us off of our trail. “Don’t go straight, zig-zag!” Joel called out as he veered around trees and rocks behind me. The impact of the ground caused the pain in my ribs to spread across my chest, laboring my breathing even more. Joel must’ve heard my wheezing because he reassured me, “Just a minute more and we’ll probably have cleared ‘em.” I nodded, not having enough air to answer. We came to a clearing and Joel slowed down, leaning over to rest his hands on his knees. I did the same, but as I tried to catch my breath, my vision was blurring again. This time I wasn’t able to shake it, and felt myself collapse to the ground. Joel’s voice calling out my name sounded far away as I lost consciousness.

I woke up to a figure leaning over me and slapping my face gently. My name fell off of his lips followed by “Stay with me. C’mon.” I blinked, trying to regain my vision. Joel’s face became clear and I looked around. We were in a room. The walls were wooden logs stacked on top of each other, and the familiar musk of a cabin filled my nose. “Where are we?” I asked groggily. Joel handed me my canteen before explaining, “We’re in a cabin. Not far from where you collapsed on me.” I took a swig and put the cap back on while swallowing the warm, yet refreshing liquid. “Damn. I don’t remember walking here.” I grunted as I sat up, my side filling with the same searing pain that had knocked me unconscious. Joel shook his head, “You didn’t.” I shot him a questioning look, “You carried me?” My cheeks reddened at the thought of his arms wrapped around me, bearing my dead weight. I should have been embarrased, but to my dismay, I’d found it the slightest bit attractive. “Yeah. Not far. Just wanted to get us out of sight.” He explained. “Sorry you had to do that. And thank you.” I said. He just nodded and turned his attention to his backpack. “Joel?” His eyes shifted up to look at me again. “I’m sorry I compared you to one of them.” I said sheepishly as I played with the cuffs of my sweatshirt, “You’re nothing like them, and that was a really shitty dig. You’ve done a lot for me already, more than you’ve needed to. So thank you.” He kept his eyes on me and pressed his lips together before giving me a slight nod, then stood up from the side of the bed I was laid on and began to walk towards the door. “You’re still an asshole though, just in a different way.” I teased. He stopped in his tracks and turned to glance at me once more. I swore I saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. “Get some rest.” His gravelly voice commanded before he disappeared into the hallway. I laid my head down onto the soft pillow, and fell asleep with a slight smile on my face.

I woke up drenched in sweat. The room was darker than before, signifying that it was late into the night. I was pretty sure I’d woken myself up screaming, so I tried to slow the heaving of my chest by taking slower breaths, but the images of my gored brother continued to flash in my mind. I whimpered and smashed my head into my pillow, attempting to beat the irrational fears out of my mind. None of my usual tactics worked, and I realized I wasn’t getting back to sleep, so I painfully sat up and stood up off the bed. I opened the door slowly, avoiding the inevitable creaks from the old hinges. The hallway was dimly lit by the moonlight shining in through a large window at the end of it. It was propped open slightly, and the wind rippled through the thin fabric that was draped across it. I continued to explore the small cabin, and looked for another place to try and clear my thoughts. As I turned a corner, I jumped about four feet off of the ground and screamed bloody murder as I came face to face with a tall figure. “Shhhhhh it’s me.” Joel’s voice pierced through my panicked shrieks and his hands wrapped around my fists that I’d been blindly throwing around. “Fuck, Joel. What are you doing?” I breathed. I was relieved to know it was just him but also pissed that he would sneak up on me like that. “Findin’ out what the fuck you’re doin’.” He snapped back. “I couldn’t sleep. Was just finding a place to clear my mind.” I explained, still catching my breath from the fright. I leaned my back against the wall. “I see. This about Sam and Henry?” He asked. I sighed, “My brother. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.” I said as I pushed up off of the wall and began to walk back towards my room.

“I ain’t sleepin’ either.” Joel said, stopping me in my tracks. Another peace offering. “Hmm. Too bad you ain’t keen on friendly conversation.” I said, mocking his southern twang. “Doesn’t have to be friendly. Could just be conversation.” He said in a suggestive tone. That was the first hint of charisma I’d ever experienced from him. It pulled a slight chuckle from my lips, and I subconsciously walked towards him. “You mean you’re willing to engage with me for more than five minutes and about something that’s not a travel plan?” I asked, hiding the excitement in my voice behind sarcasm. “We’ll see how much of it I can take.” He mumbled. We were not only having a casual conversation but were, dare I say, flirting?

I plopped into the couch that had been pushed up against the front window of the cabin. Joel sat back into the chair across the room, sipping something from a glass. I perked up, “Is that?” I asked. He nodded and offered me the glass. “Where did you find it?” I asked again as I accepted it from him. “Took a bottle from Bill and Frank’s reserve. The bottle’s gone. It was back in the truck, but I had some left in my flask.” He explained. “Oh… I won’t drink your last few sips then.” I said, holding it out for him to take it back. “Nah… you need it more than me.” He said waving me away with his hand. I hesitated at first, making sure he was serious, and then took a swig. There was about a sip left and I insisted he take it back. He obliged.

“What makes you think I need it more than you?” I asked, licking the remaining sweetness off of my lips. He thought for a moment, mulling his words around his brain, then spoke, “You were havin’ nightmares.” I nodded. “Bout what?” He asked, his tone staying monotonous so as to not expose his curiosity. I sighed and turned my head, regretting the fact that I’d agreed to talk to him. I’d wanted to continue to throw his words back into his face, but even he was going against his previous statements now. I was breaking him down, brick by brick.

“It’s a recurring one. My brother getting ripped apart by clickers. It’s the ugliest death possible, so of course my brain would decide it should be the focus of my dreams.” I said sarcastically. Joel just nodded, taking in my words. “I don’t know why that’s the one. I’ve gone through so much other shit that could easily be in my nightmares. Why am I dreaming about that specifically?” I lamented. “Cus that’s the thing you’re most afraid of.” Joel answered, “Simple as that.” I clenched my jaw, “Guess so. What do you dream about?” I asked. He swirled the last sip of the whiskey around in the glass before gulping it down and saying, “Don’t dream much these days.”

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Next Part | Masterlist

#joel miller x reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x female reader #tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #romance #slow burn #enemies to lovers #light angst #the mandolarian #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #forced proximity trope

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callmelittlebuttercup · 14 days

Text

Peace Offerings Pt.5

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Warnings: Slow burn, 18+ Minors DNI, Age gap (Reader is 34, Joel is 56.) Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Cursing, Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical suicide, suicidal ideation, claustrophobia, symptoms of a panic attack

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Five

My eyes shot open and the hair on my neck raised at the sound of glass crunching. I stayed still and eyed the figures approaching us. With the dull light coming in from the windows, I could just barely make out the figures of a taller man, and a small child. The figures got closer and closer, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I sat up and gripped my knife in my hand before calling out, “Don’t fucking move.” The man froze and put his hand up against the kid’s chest. My eyes shot to Joel. I was surprised to see that he hadn’t been woken up, then I realized he’d turned over onto his other side.

The two pulled guns out of their pockets. The taller boy was aiming at me and the small one was aiming at Joel. “Shit.” I whispered. “Your man dangerous?” The tall one asked, his voice shaking with anxiety. I looked at Joel. “Harmless.” I said, as I looked up to the young man. “I don’t fucking believe you.” He shook the gun in my face and I flinched, “Fuck. Wake him up and we can talk.” I shook my head, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Look, we have a little food and some clothing in our packs. That’s all. You can take it and get out of here unharmed. Best option in my opinion.” The man looked to the little boy, and moved his one hand, making out symbols. Sign language. He looked back at me, “We don’t want your things. We want to help you.”

I didn’t know what to do. His offer for help was confusing to me. How did he know we were in trouble? If anything it seemed like he needed help, especially having a little boy to take care of. There’s no telling how Joel would react to me accepting their help without his approval. Plus I was already teetering onto his bad side.

The man’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, “C’mon lady!” I put my hands up and stood up very slowly. “He’s hard of hearing, can I get closer to him?” I asked. He nodded quickly and shifted his eyes to the sleeping figure. I cautiously walked over to him, and stood above him a safe distance away. “Joel.” I said. Nothing. “Joel!” I raised my voice and he shot up, first looking at me and then whipping his head around to comprehend the situation. “Eyes on me. You don’t have to worry about what to say. We don’t want to hurt you.” The young man demanded, “We wanna help you.” Joel’s eyes were wild, but he answered calmly, “Okay.” The boy shifted on his feet, “Um okay… so if I lower my gun, we didn’t hurt you. So you don’t hurt us. That’s how this works right?” Joel responded in the same tone, “That’s right.” Panic filled the boy’s voice, “That’s a wierd fuckin’ tone man..” I swallowed, “That’s just the way he sounds. He has an asshole voice. Joel, tell him he’s okay.” I breathed. Joel paused for a moment, keeping his intimidating stare planted on the man before saying in the same tone, “Everything is great.” I sighed angrily and reprimanded him for once, “Joel!” The man, still holding the gun to me shouted, “Fuck! Okay… listen, I’m gonna trust you.” And signed something to the little boy across from him. There was an exchange between them, and then he continued, “But if either of you guys try anything….. yeah?” I nodded, and he gestured to Joel who gave a small nod before asking, “Can I sit up?” The man nodded, “Yeah. Slow.” Joel raised his back off of the makeshift cot, and questioned again, “Who are you?” The man shifted on his feet again, still not lowering his gun. “My name is Henry. That’s my brother Sam. I’m the most wanted man in Kansas City.” Joel’s face dropped and so did my stomach, “Although right now, my guess is you’re running a close second.”

Once the negotiations simmered down, I offered the boys some food from my pack while ignoring the look Joel gave me. We sat around the lantern and ate quietly. “Where’d you get these?” Henry asked, referring to the sandwiches we’d split up and scarfed down. I waited for Joel to speak, but received nothing. “From a friend of his.” I answered. There was another moment of glum silence before Joel wrapped up the rest of his sandwich and leaned over to offer it to the little boy. My heart fluttered at the gesture. Maybe this would be okay. “He says thank you. I’m guessing you don’t have much so this means a lot.” Henry said after the boy signed something to him.

Now that there wasn’t a gun to my head, I told the boys my name and watched Henry sign it to Sam. We all looked at Joel who was absentmindedly chewing. I slapped his knee with the back of my hand and he jumped, his eyes shifting between me and the boys. “I’m Joel. Look, you ate. we didn’t kill each other. Let’s call this a win-win and move on.” I rolled my eyes and watched as Henry wrung his hands together. “Well, I’m betting… that y’all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out.”

Daylight came, shining through the ginormous windows of the conference room we’d moved to so Joel and Henry could draw out a plan. I sat with Sam and got to know him a little more by exchanging his little drawing pad he had wrapped around his neck back and forth. My heart melted from the kid’s sweet smile every time he wrote something and showed it to me, then waited for my response. As I interacted with Sam, I still tried to keep my ear in the two men’s conversation. I couldn’t make out much except for “tunnels” and “rats” which didn’t sound like much fun.

After a few more moments of giggling and talking to Sam, there was a light tap on my shoulder. I instinctively jumped and turned to see who it was. Joel was standing behind me with his arms crossed. He nodded his head towards the hallway before saying, “Come with me.” I wrote “Be right back!” on Sam’s notepad and handed it to him with a warm smile before standing up and following Joel into the hallway. He stopped a few feet away from the door, making sure we wouldn’t be heard. I stood there with my arms folded over my chest and shot him an expectant look. He cleared his throat before speaking, “The kid claims he knows his way through the tunnels under the city. Promises he can get us out with little to no risks.” I made a pfffft sound and repeated, “Little to no risks?” He nodded, and crossed his arms, “I know. Sounds like a load of bullshit. But he insists.” I stared at the floor, mulling through my thoughts. The sound of tunnels in a world like today’s did not sound enticing in the least bit. The thought actually made me feel lightheaded. “Do we have any other choice?” I asked. “I can’t think of a better plan.” he shrugged.

We packed up our things and began our journey. We snuck through a few buildings before coming to the entrance of the tunnels. Henry opened the door and started in, but I paused. My feet felt like they were glued to the ground and my legs had turned to static. I heard Joel say my name, but I just stared into the door and down the long, dark tunnel. A hand on my shoulder jolted me back to reality, and I turned to Joel. “You okay?” Joel whispered. I nodded and pried my feet off the floor to walk through the large metal door.

The tunnel was cold and had a strange, unsettling smell. Our footsteps and the sound of something I desperately hoped was water dripping echoed. I held my flashlight tight as I followed Henry through every twist and turn. Our group had been arranged into a very specific line. Henry first, Sam, me, and then Joel. My anxiety about being trapped in a tunnel was slightly relieved with the knowledge that he was behind me, but the place still started to feel suffocating after being down there long enough. I tried to steady my breathing, and dug my nails into my palms to stay alert. I must have slowed down my pace because I felt Joel’s hand pushing lightly into my back. “Come on, we’re almost there.” He whispered. His words grounded me, and I was able to keep myself together the rest of the way.

We emerged from the tunnels long after nightfall, and began to walk down a suburban street that was littered with abandoned cars. We stayed quiet and moved swiftly down the street, being sure to keep our bodies low enough to not be seen over the cars. Just as I thought we were making it through with ease, a bullet whizzed past my head. I threw myself to the ground and rolled to press my back up against a car. Joel was next to me, but Henry and Same had split over to another car across the way. I looked at Joel, his eyes were wide as he peaked over the hood to get a glimpse of where the bullets were coming from. He knelt back down to face me. “They’re coming from that house up there. I’m going to go try and take him out. You get Sam and Henry as far away from here as possible and I’ll find you.” He said as he grabbed his gun out of his backpack. My chest tightened at the thought of him leaving us, “Joel…” I said, fear tightening my throat. He looked up from his gun and saw my fear-stricken form. He leaned in and placed his hands on my arms, “Do you trust me?” His brown eyes searched my face for an answer. I closed my eyes, took a hefty breath, and nodded. He nodded and squeezed my arms before standing and sprinting off to sneak to the house.

After taking another deep breath, I stayed low to the ground and scrambled to meet Sam and Henry behind the car they were squatting behind. Henry looked confused, “Where’s Joel?” I pulled my gun out of my bag while answering, “He’s going to try to take out the sniper in the house. I’ll lead us out of here and he’ll meet us.” He nodded and took Sam’s hand. We scrambled from car to car, moving slowly, but still making progress. We took a longer pause behind a yellow car to catch our breaths when all of a sudden we heard the sound of an engine roaring down the street. Henry and I stared in horror at the giant tank motoring towards us. I shielded my eyes from the light as the vehicle approached. “We gotta move.” I yelled before sprinting through a line of cars. Sam and Henry were on my heels, but we were forced to drop down behind another car when the trucks barreled through the cars and a line of bullets sprayed down from the house. They weren’t aiming for us anymore which told me Joel had made it.

I didn’t have time to celebrate as a group of men with guns surrounded the three of us. I raised my hands above my head, and the boys did the same. “Henry!” A woman called out. I could only assume it was Kathleen. She appeared in front of the tank, her petite frame and soft features were even less intimidating than her voice was. “Remember me?” She asked condescendingly as she approached. I looked at Henry, trying to get a sense of their relationship, and from his panicked face, I concluded it was not good. “Please. I’ll surrender if you promise to leave them alone.” Henry breathed. Kathleen shrugged and trained her gun onto the little boy. What she said next made my skin crawl, “Well kids die, Henry. They die all the time. You think the world revolves around him? That he’s worth everything? Well this is what happens when you fuck with fate.” Her gaze traveled towards me, and I froze as her eyes met mine. “And you. I have someone who’s been wanting to see you.” She turned to the side to let a man walk in front of her. My chest tightened as I realized who it was. The man from the attack in the city stood there with his lip curled into a sickening grin. I shot back a menacing stare as I prepared myself to fight him yet again. “Do whatever you want to her. But him, he’s mine.” the woman demanded.The man nodded and began to walk towards me but stopped short as a huge rumbling sound filled the air. The group of people turned around and I strained my neck to catch a glimpse.

Horror numbed my body as I watched the ground crumble underneath the weight of the tank, causing a horde of clickers to come flooding out. Seeing opportunity, I grabbed Sam’s hand and began to sprint towards the house. Joel was attempting to shoot any infected that got close to us, but there were too many. We made it a few feet before the horde caught up to us and we were forced to hide under a car. I pulled in panicked breaths as I thought of our next move. Suddenly, Henry began to scream as he was pulled out. I grabbed onto his hand and tried to play tug of war with the clicker over him, but it was too strong, and pulled me out with him. I jumped to my feet and slammed my knife into the infected’s head. Henry shook its limp hands off of his leg. “You okay?” I asked him, scanning over for any bites or scratches. He shook his head and pulled his brother from under the truck. There was a lull in the waves of infected as they became preoccupied with destroying Kathleen’s people.

The boys and I were nearing the house when the woman called Henry’s name again. She was standing on the hill, just feet away from us, pointing her gun towards Henry. “It’s over Henry. Surrender now.” She called over the chaos ensuing around us. I saw her hand tighten around her gun. I was ready to push Henry out of the way, but was pleasantly surprised to see an infected little girl launch her small body onto Kathleen. I pushed Henry and yelled, “Go!” We sprinted to the side of the house, finally escaping the hell scape of the street. I began to do what I promised Joel, and ushered the boys further into the woods, but a familiar voice caused me to stop. It was Joel.

Relief washed over me as he came into view. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern. Sam threw his small body towards him and wrapped his arms around Joel’s waist. He looked at the boy, a pained expression on his face, but then reluctantly patted him on the back with one hand. I let a small smile spread across my face at the fondness Sam had developed for Joel in such a short time. I found myself having the urge to hug him too, but I quickly pushed that thought from my mind as Joel pushed ahead of us and began to lead us into the woods.

We came across a motel for the night which Joel and Henry cleared before letting Sam and I in. Henry was in the other room, tucking Sam into bed, and I sat in the living room on the couch next to Joel. I’d decided to change the bandage on my hand since I had a moment. I’d been too preoccupied to take proper care of it the past few days. “So who was up there?” I asked absentmindedly. “Some old guy. I tried to negotiate, but you know how that goes.” He said solemnly. I nodded, “Now you get why I like to take action.” I teased lightheartedly. He shook his head, the side of his lip twitching. I looked at him. He was exhausted. His eyes trained on the floor, and his dark hair ruffled atop his head. I studied the patchy beard that inhabited his strong jawline. I’d never noticed the small amount of gray sprinkled into it, showing his wisdom. I quickly shifted my eyes off of him when I noticed myself leaning towards his figure. What was I doing? This man wanted nothing to do with me, and here I was admiring his features. I sucked in a breath and stood up. His eyes followed me as I did so. “I’m going to get some sleep.” I mumbled while avoiding eye contact. “G’night.” He grunted. I nodded and walked over to the bed across the room, stretching my aching back before I laid down onto the soft, dusty mattress.

The next morning, Henry, Joel, and I sat in the main room of the motel, silently mulling last night’s situation around in our heads. We had tended to our wounds from the fights as we waited for Sam to wake up. “Alright, we said we’d let the kid sleep as long as he wanted but it’s been long enough.” Joel said impatiently. I looked at Henry who was elevating his leg. He’d twisted his ankle when he was running from the hoard. I stood up, “Ok if I get him?” Henry nodded. I turned and walked towards the door, opening it slowly. Sam was sitting up on the bed, staring vacantly out the window. “Oh, you’re up! Good morning silly goose.” I cooed. He turned towards me and immediately bared his teeth. My stomach dropped. He then jumped up and lunged towards me. I stumbled backwards as his body made impact with mine, and my panicked screams filled the air has I pushed to keep his mouth as far away from me as possible. Joel and Henry jumped up, Joel immediately pointing a gun at Sam, but Henry threatened him. “Then you better fuckin’ do something.” I heard Joel say. Sam continued to attempt to bite me but I kept pushing and kicking as panicked tears streamed down my face, “Sam please!” I begged. I knew he was gone, that he’d been taken over by the cordyceps, but some delusional part of me thought he might’ve been playing and would just snap out of it at any moment. “HENRY.” Joel screamed, and a shot rang out. Sam’s body flew off of mine from the impact of the bullet. I laid there, shaking, unwilling to look at the now lifeless child, and turned my head towards the two men. Henry still held the gun and had a vacant look in his eyes. He first pointed it at Joel, then me while repeating “What did I do?” He continued to aim the gun at me and I shakily raised my hands above my head. “Henry, get the gun off of her.” Joel pleaded in a calming voice, “Just put the gun down, you’ll be okay.” Henry stared for just a moment before turning the gun to his own head. “HENRY, NO!” Joel and I’s voices filled the air before the gun went off one last time.

I sat huddled on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees, my eyes flitting between the two bodies. Joel stood with his chest heaving, eyes doing the same as mine. No matter how hard I tried to keep the sobs from escaping my throat, the grief was too powerful. I pressed my hand against my mouth as they came in between desperate heaves. Joel hesitated, but then came to kneel beside me. His hand hovered above my back, and then I felt the warmth of it press against me. I looked up at him, he held that same look of pity in his eyes.

I barely knew the man, but I knew that I trusted him. He ensured my safety an uncountable amount of times already. As I sat there on the floor in between the two, sweet, brave, and now dead boys, I needed a shoulder to cry on. Joel was there, though it was stiff and unmoving, it was warm and let me know I wasn’t alone. I sat up off of him and sniffled, “How did we not know he was infected? We should’ve checked.” His hand didn’t leave my back as he remained next to me, “Wouldn’t have changed his fate.” Joel grunted, “N’ Henry would’ve killed himself some other time.” I looked at him through teary eyes, “Why would he do that? In front of us?” I sobbed. Joel pressed his lips together and shifted his eyes to the floor, “Death is less painful than living after losing someone you love.”

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Author's note:

Thank you for reading!! I'm sorry you had to endure the Henry and Sam heartbreak again :(

Next Part Here! | Masterlist

#joel miller x reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x female reader #tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #romance #slow burn #tragic #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #forced proximity #forced proximity trope

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callmelittlebuttercup · 16 days

Text

Peace Offerings Pt.4

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Warnings: Slow burn, 18+ Minors DNI, Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Four

The next morning, I helped Joel load up Bill’s truck as the battery charged. We took everything we would need, and everything we could fit. Joel started off the drive, and I was in charge of the map. I’d done this for my parents for every roadtrip since my brother couldn’t be trusted to pay attention. I stayed focused, making sure to not worsen the tension between us by steering him wrong.

We approached the city. Its condition was almost identical to the Boston QZ, except for one thing: No FEDRA. “That’s not a good sign.” I mumbled to myself as Joel backed the truck away from the congested tunnel. “No shit.” He replied. We drove around the tunnel and through some smaller, more narrow streets. I could tell Joel was stressed, and he became even more so when a young guy limped out into the street while waving his hands and screaming “Help! Please help!” Joel sped up and I gripped the door handle and the center console, “What are you doing?” I asked panickedly. Joel pressed his foot farther down on the pedal and sped towards the guy. I closed my eyes and braced for impact, but it never came. I looked back to see the damage, but the guy was walking away without a limp. “Those were raiders.” I realized. “Yea, and we’ve gotta get the fuck out of h-” Joel’s words paused when he saw another man drop a barrel straight onto the windshield of the truck.

“Belt off, now!” I heard Joel call as the truck crashed into a storefront. I looked down and saw shards of broken glass scattered across my abdomen. I gasped and moved to take my seatbelt off, but as I reached down I ran my hand straight into a huge shard sticking up between the seats. I yelped in pain, and saw Joel run to my side of the truck. He practically ripped the door open and leaned over me to undo my seatbelt. “You okay?” He asked as his eyes scanned my face. “My hand,” I said as I lifted it up to show him. “Shit. Okay come on.” He pulled away and helped me out of the truck. We covered our heads with our backpacks as we ran to the nearest source of shelter. My hand stung as I dug through my pack to find extra ammo while Joel kept a lookout.

We heard men approaching and hurried to press our backs against the truck. I looked at Joel, his eyes were wild. They had the same look as when he beat the shit out of the FEDRA gaurd back in Boston. He looked at me and quickly looked back down to my gun. “Hey! We know you’re back there. You can come on out with your hands above your head.” A man’s voice called out. Joel looked at me and shook his head. I kepted still, and waited for my next demand. All of a sudden, Joel stood and began shooting at the men. I did the same alongside him, and took out two of the three. Once we thought we were clear, we turned around and headed for the door in the back of the shop. Before we could reach it, the door burst open and a teenage boy appeared screaming. He held a baseball bat above his head and wielded it wildly. He saw me and aimed, but a shot rang out, and more screaming filled the air. “Please! Please my mom will give you whatever you want if you don’t kill me. Please.” He begged. Joel stood over him, and I watched. “Joel, he’s a kid.” I whimpered. He looked at me, and his eyes widened. I felt two hands grab onto my shoulders and I was yanked back. My body slammed into a taller, more muscular form, and I felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against my head. “Let him go, or Kathleen won’t be happy.” the man holding me demanded. I struggled against his grip, but there was no point, I wasn’t getting out of his hold. The man’s hand moved from my neck, his fingers never left my body as he slid his hand over my breasts down to my torso, then settling it into the curve of my hips. “Got yourself a pretty one, don’t you? It’d be a shame if I took her for myself.” He purred. My stomach turned sour and my cheeks burned with anger. Joel’s face twisted in disgust, “Get your fuckin’ hands off of her.” He growled. “You get your hands off the boy first.” My free hand felt around my thigh for the knife I had strapped onto it. I breathed out in relief when my fingers grasped the wooden handle. I pulled it out slowly, then as soon as my grip on it was good, I jammed it into his thigh. He let out a gutteral scream, and his grip on me loosened. I jumped away from him, flinging my body to the floor. Joel fired two shots into his chest, and the huge man crumpled to the ground.

I sat up and shook off whatever had just happened. Joel kept his gun trained on the kid who was slowly losing his strength, but his eyes were locked onto me. “You o-” He started to ask, but I cut him off as I stood up, “I’m fine.” He nodded and turned his attention back to the boy. His eyes had closed and his chest was no longer moving. I swallowed back the tears that were forming in my eyes and picked my backpack off the ground. “We need to move.” I said before opening the back door of the shop and exiting into the alleyway. Joel followed me.

We broke into another vacant store to recuperate for a second. I slid down the wall and onto the floor, folding my legs against my chest and Joel sat on a desk across from me. He was checking how many bullets he had in his gun, but his eyes kept drifting over to my crumpled up form. I had been staring vacantly at the floor. “Better get that hand wrapped up.” He said as he gestured to my shaky, blood covered hand. I picked bit up and looked at it, reminded of the injury. My mind had been so focused on the way the man touched me. The places his hands violated, though not injured, hurt worse than the slice taken out of my hand. I wanted to shed my skin. Just slough it off in one piece and walk away. I nodded and reached into my backpack for a roll of bandaging that I’d stolen from Bill’s medicine cabinet. I sucked air through my teeth as I finally felt the pain of the wound while wrapping the bandage tightly around it. Once I’d tied off the wrapping, I shoved the roll back into my pack. My eyes lifted and met Joel’s. He was staring at me with a look I’d never seen before. It was soft, almost resembling pity. “Are you okay?” He asked again. I raised my hand in front of me to show him the bandage, “Yup.” I sighed. “No… like…” He groaned, clearly tripping over his words, “He shouldn’t have touched you that way. That’s all.” I swallowed, becoming uncomfortable with the vulnerability Joel had seen from me, then spoke, “Not much we can do about it now. After fighting for so long, women are back to being pieces of meat.” I mumbled. His brows furrowed, he wasn’t a fan of that sentiment, “That’s happened to you before?” He questioned, his eyes following me as I lifted myself off of the floor. “No personal shit. You said so yourself.” I grunted as I walked over to the window to peer out into the street. Joel remained quiet, tending to the bruise from his words being thrown back at him.

The truck was not drivable. Kathleen’s men had looted it, leaving nothing behind. Joel and I decided to find a place to hunker down for the night while we figured out what to do next. We’d found what looked to be a high rise apartment building. We climbed 33 floors before we were both desperately gasping for breath. “Jesus, I thought I was in shape.” I coughed as we both sat on the floor with our backs to the wall. Joel was wheezing so hard he was unable to answer. I pulled my canteen out of my bag and handed it to him. He took a few sips and closed his eyes in relief before handing it back to me. I did the same.

Once we had our breaths back, we began to make ourselves comfortable. I lined up couch cushions to act as beds, and Joel broke glass and sprinkled it all around the entrance of the room in order for us to hear any intruders. I laid down in the makeshift bed and sighed loudly as my aching back settled into the soft cushions. Sleep was not far away, but before my eyes fully closed, Joel spoke, “Make sure I stay on this side. I’m deaf as shit in my other ear.” I raised an eyebrow, “Uh…Okay?” He pressed his lips together, “From shootin’.” I nodded in understanding and returned to my back. Though the information was minimal, it was yet another peace offering. I decided to accept it and offer another in return, “G’night, Joel.” He opened his eyes and grunted, “G’night.”

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Sorry for the length of this one ! You know what that means though.... next part is going to be GIRTHY ;)

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#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #forced proximity #forced proximity trope

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callmelittlebuttercup · 16 days

Text

Peace Offerings Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

~~~~~~~~~

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

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callmelittlebuttercup · 16 days

Text

Peace Offerings Pt.3

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Warnings: Slow burn, 18+ Minors DNI, Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (mentions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

Part Three:

That morning we packed up and continued on our journey. We walked for a few days, stopping and sleeping in the woods every night after sundown. My back was in bad shape from the hard ground, and I could tell Joel’s was too by the way he winced whenever he bent down.

We only spoke to each other when it was for safety, or planning, so I still hadn’t learned much about him. I wasn’t willing to give up much information either. He was simply another set of hands if danger were to come our way, and me? I was a favor he was doing for Abe, nothing more.

My eyes drifted from the ground as the scenery changed from monotonous trees and dirt to what looked like a small town protected by a high, barbed wire fence. I looked at Joel. He’d paused with his hands on his hips, eyeing the place. He continued on and I trailed behind as he approached the padlock wired into the fence. He casually typed in a code. The fence buzzed and squealed as it began to roll open. Joel walked through the growing gap, and gestured impatiently for me to enter. “Is this place yours?” I asked, my eyes traveling across the charming houses and landscaping. He shook his head, “Friends of mine.” I was shocked to hear he had friends, but kept that to myself.

He approached a White House with green shutters, and paused to eye the dead plant sitting on the bottom step. His face dropped, and he looked up to the door before stomping up the steps. He took in a breath before turning the doorknob, preparing himself for whatever the scene would be. I didn’t know what I was preparing myself for, but I sucked in a deep breath too. The door opened with a creak, and a beautiful living room was revealed. The walls were lined with floral wallpaper, and the furniture was strategically placed and had been kept in pristine condition. I took a step in behind Joel and caught sight of a baby grand piano. There was music still on the stand. Long Long Time by Linda Rondstadt. A familiar song from my childhood.

I pushed that memory down as I followed the man further into the house. Watching his tense figure eye each room and carefully turn each corner. He stopped in the dining room, his eyes locked onto an envelope on the table. He opened it slowly, being careful not to rip the beautiful stationary. I watched his eyes move over the words. He’d turned the paper away from me in order to keep me from reading. But I saw from his expression that the news was not good. He sighed, closing his eyes, and stuffed the note into his pocket. I didn’t dare ask. I knew the subject was sensitive.

I followed Joel down into what looked like a bunker. The walls were lined with all kinds of guns and weapons, and in the middle was a desk with a PC and multiple monitors. There was 80s music playing from one of them. “They have electricity?” I gasped, unable to contain my amazement. “Bill set up a generator. Powers the whole house.” Joel answered.

I ran my fingers over one of the colts. The shiny metal was practically begging me to pluck it off of its mount. “It’s funny. We all thought the doomsday preppers were crazy.” I said as I marveled at the collection. Joel grunted and nodded as he stood at the computer desk. “So, since they have electricity, does that mean…” I began, but Joel cut me off, “Running water. Shower is on the second floor to the left.” I clasped my hands together in excitement, “Holy shit. Thank you.” I beamed before going to run up the stairs. Joel’s voice called out in a serious tone behind me, “Don’t go into any closed rooms.” “Copy that.” I called back from the top stair.

I neared the top of the steps and noticed that every door was open except for the one at the end of the hall. My need for a shower was stronger than my temptation to see what was inside. It was also better to avoid pissing off Joel. I headed toward the left and opened the door to the bathroom.

The sight and sound of running water was enough to bring me to tears, let alone the feeling of it. I watched as the water mixed with the film of dirt on my skin before running onto my legs and down the drain. The soap smelled like roses and I couldn’t help but stay in the warm water as long as possible before I heard a knock on the door. “Sorry! Be out in a second.” I called out from behind the shower curtain. “Just leavin’ a towel outside the door.” Joel’s muffled voice stated. “Oh, thank you.” I said sheepishly as I stepped out of the warm, steamy stall. I heard his footsteps fade as he walked back down the hall, and I opened the door carefully. I reached down to grab the fluffy, green towel while holding my hand across my breasts. I quickly closed the door and began drying myself off. Yet another small, but kind gesture from Joel.

Once I was dry enough to not drip water all the way down the hall, I padded to the nearest open door. The room was a small guest bedroom that looked like it had been decorated for a girl. There was a mattress with an iron bed frame and a white duvet. The pillows were neatly organized at the top. As I eyed the room, I noticed a box in the corner. The word “women’s” was scribbled on it in black marker. I went over to see what was in it, and excitement flooded over me as I caught sight of the neatly folded clothes. I picked up the red shirt on the top of the pile and dug through for a pair of pants. I settled for a pair of jeans that were two sizes too big, figuring I could use a shoelace or something to tie them tighter. I dressed myself and headed out into the hallway.

Joel was waiting on the couch downstairs. His hair was still damp and had been combed backwards, and he had changed into a new flannel and clean pair of jeans. “Well don’t you look pretty.” I teased. “Shut up.” He muttered before pulling his eyes off the floor and towards me. They remained there as I plopped down in the armchair across from him. “What?” I asked, noticing his stare. I felt shy all of a sudden and pushed my damp hair off of my shoulders. He blinked, diverting his gaze to something else in the room, and said “Just uh… didn’t know your hair was that long. You’ve always had it up.” I palmed my hair again, bringing the auburn locks forward to flow down to the middle of my chest. “Oh. Yeah, I haven't had many opportunities for a haircut.” I joked. He nodded and tapped his fingers on his knee. I could tell the awkwardness of the situation was getting to him. He was trying to avoid silence, though not at all interested in making conversation, but I was.

“Abe must’ve done a lot for you if you’re letting a clutz like me tag along.” I scoffed as I stared out the window at the bright colored houses lining the street. “Well… the things the man did for me were worth a lot more than a pack of cigarettes each visit. He helped me keep track of where my brother was all this time, and helped with… Anyway, I do owe him.” Joel answered. That was the most I’d heard him talk. It felt good to know that he was becoming more comfortable with me. “You’re also not a clutz. I saw you take out those two infected with no sweat. The third one just caught you off guard is all.” He continued. My stomach fluttered at his acknowledgment of my skills, “Thanks.” I said, trying to seem casual.

Joel cooked dinner with the food Bill had been storing in a deep freeze, and we ate at opposite sides of the table in silence. The candlelight only exposed the curves of our faces and the outline of our plates. He had opened one of the last bottles of wine, and filled our glasses to the brim. My tolerance for alcohol was non-existent since it had been years since my last drink, and I was feeling brave enough to strike up a conversation.

“What’s in the back room?” I asked, while setting down the crystal wine glass to the side of my plate. Joel’s eyes shot up to me, “I told you not to go in there.” He grunted. “I didn’t. That’s why I’m asking.” I said, keeping my confident tone. “Not somethin’ for you to worry about. Ok?” He said gruffly. His tone indicated that that was the end of the conversation, or so he thought. “I know they were your friends, Joel. I’m sorry for your loss.” I continued. He slammed his fork down on the table, causing the rest of the dinner wear to clash against each other. I jumped and my body tensed. “I told you it’s none of your goddamn business. I don’t want your ‘sorries.’” His tone was deep in his throat, coated in anger. I sat there, still frozen, trying to calm my pounding heart. The anxiety sobered me up quickly, and I realized how stupid I was. How I’d crossed a boundary with him. “I’m sorry. I was just curious.” I said quietly. He puffed air through his nostrils and stared at me for a few seconds before continuing to shovel food into his mouth.

After another stretch of silence, Joel spoke again, “We keep our pasts to ourselves. No personal shit. I’m doing Abe a favor, that’s it. We’re not friends. That’s not the goal here. The goal is to get you to Wyoming, and then go our separate ways. Got it?” I nodded. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks once again. “Yeah.” I choked as I stood up from the table and walked calmly upstairs to my room. I sat down on the creaky bed and finally allowed the tears to come. I was once again wondering what the hell I was doing on the road to find my brother who, let’s not forget, left me behind, with a miserable man who obviously hated me. I didn’t care about being friends with him. I was well aware that that wasn’t the goal, but if we were going to be travelling across the country with each other, it might make sense to build some sort of trust. I wiped my wet cheek and laid down, trying to steady my breaths. The last thing I wanted to do was have a panic attack in front of this man. I reminded myself that I just had to make it through the next few weeks, and I would hopefully be in Wyoming with my brother.

I laid there staring at the wall in front of me, and I was close to sleep when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The clatter of a plate sounded outside of my door, and then the footsteps retreated. I peeled myself off of the mattress and went to open the door. My half-eaten plate from dinner was planted on the floor in front of my feet. I looked to see Joel standing outside of his own room. “Figured you’d want the rest.” He said before disappearing through the doorway. I knelt down and grabbed the plate. “Thank you.” I said quietly. I was slowly figuring Joel out. It was sort of a pattern where he’d act like an asshole, and then instead of apologizing, he would do something to try and make up for it. Typical emotionally unavailable man behavior. I was grateful for the food anyway, and ate it before going to bed.

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I hope you enjoyed this one! Sorry ab making Joel into such an ass (not.)

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#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #the last of us #the mandolarian #romance #slow burn #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #forced #forced proximity trope

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callmelittlebuttercup · 16 days

Text

Peace Offerings Pt. 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

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Part Two:

I decided not to go to sleep because of my impromptu nap earlier. I couldn’t risk Joel leaving without me. I stayed up going over the route on the map and preparing myself for a journey with a man who I didn’t get a great first impression from. Though I did realize, after learning that his name was Joel, that I’d heard about him before. He was a talented smuggler, had a lot of connections but not many friends, and had no problem killing at the first twitch of trouble. This information made me even less excited to be on the road alone with him. At least I knew he could fight.

The time was getting close to an hour before sunrise, and I was beginning to get nervous that Joel had left without me. I re-checked my bag to make sure I had everything, and then sat on the couch, tapping my fingers on my knee. I began to zone out, but was quickly snapped back to reality at a knock at my door. I stood up, hoisted my heavy backpack onto my shoulder, and took one last look at my apartment. The tattered couch, the chipped table and chairs in the kitchen, and the broken tv in the corner by the window. Wasn’t much, but it was mine. I walked to the door and opened it. Joel was standing there with a backpack hanging off of his shoulder. He greeted me with a “Let’s go.” I nodded and closed the door behind me before following him down the dark hallway.

We stayed silent as we hurried through the deserted streets of the QZ. No noise could be heard except the sound of our light steps on the pavement. We reached the fence. Joel opened up a hole that had been cut in the chain link, and gestured for me to go first. I hurried through, being careful not to get caught on the sharp edges. He climbed through after me and returned to his place in front of me. We scrambled over bricks and ruins of old buildings that had been knocked down. I almost fell when I stepped on a loose rock but I caught myself, and received a disapproving look from Joel. I rolled my eyes as I continued to follow his lead through the rubble.

I froze when I heard a voice call out, “Hey!” My head whirled to see a QZ guard hiding behind a wall and pointing a gun at us. Joel spotted him too and approached slowly. “Turn around and I’ll let you go alive.” The guard said. “Just let us through. We don’t want any trouble.” Joel said calmly. He must’ve known him, because if he hadn’t we would have been shot. Joel leaned in to whisper something to the guard, and pressed a small plastic bag into the palm of his hand. Pills. I watched the exchange, not moving from my place. Joel suddenly seemed angry. His eyes became dark and his eyebrows furrowed. I saw his hand ball into a fist before he slammed the guard into the wall. The guard tried to fight back, but Joel was too strong. He threw him to the ground and began throwing punch after punch, obliterating the guard’s face. He stopped, panting and grunting heavily. My jaw had fallen open and my eyes were glued to him. I was both terrified and intrigued. He stood up off of the ground and began walking ahead of me again as if nothing had happened.“What was that about?” I asked. He kept his head forward and answered, “Nothin’ you need to worry about.” I looked back at the unmoving guard one last time before jogging to catch up with Joel.

I kept my questions to a minimum, seeing as they clearly agitated him. I distracted myself from the tugging thoughts by focusing on the scenery. I hadn’t been outside of the QZ since I was 14, and things had changed drastically. The highways were lined with abandoned and picked over cars, buildings were crumbling, vines covering everything they could. I was pulled from my own little world when I slammed into the back of Joel. “Dammit! Watch where you’re goin’.” He grumbled. “Sorry.” I said as I caught my footing.

I, too, was not making a good impression on Joel. I already seemed clumsy and unfocused. My cheeks burned from embarrassment as I shook out my arms, hoping it would get rid of the funk I was in. I needed to focus, to let him know I could keep up with him on this journey.

I was assuming Joel wanted to get as far away from the QZ as possible before we found a place to rest for the night. So, I kept on despite my back aching from the heavy pack I was wearing and the blisters already forming on my feet.

When we came upon a large building with an abandoned truck outside, Joel paused before pressing against the truck to hide. Once we were sure the coast was clear, we neared the door. “What is this place?” I asked quietly, unable to contain my curiosity. “Museum. Couple guys left a package for me here for the journey.” He muttered back before eyeing the door that had been splattered with fungus spores and vines. My skin crawled, able to guess what was inside. “I’m not going in there.” I blurted. Joel’s eyes snapped to me, “You will if you want to eat or drink for the next few months. Get your gun out.” He demanded before placing his hand on the door and pushing. It made a loud and echoey creaking sound as it slowly opened, revealing a grand lobby that had been retaken by dust, vines, and fungus, just like everything else. There were paintings on the walls and statues that had probably been priceless in the past.

Joel stepped inside and I followed behind him, gun raised in the same position. We swept the large area and found it empty. We continued down a corridor, actively avoiding vines and globs of fungus sprawled before our feet. We came across a number of tables scattered in another large room. They were littered with boxes and cartons. “Firefly campsite.” I said after observing a symbol painted on a canister of oil. Joel nodded. He opened an oil canister and slammed the lid back down. “Dammit.” He cursed loudly. My eyes shot to him. “Fuckin’ package is gone.” I stood, not knowing what to do or how to help.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I heard a faint, but familiar sound. My eyes locked onto Joel’s and he whispered, “Shit. Stay behind me.” I obeyed and tiptoed behind him as we neared a stairwell. We cautiously neared the top of the stairs. Joel pressed his back against a glass display case, and I did the same. My eyes were trained on him, waiting for my next command. His chest was heaving and his eyes were shut tight, focusing on the nearing sound of the creature. Soon the clicking noise began to echo itself. There were two. I let out an anxious breath before looking over my shoulder. I jumped when I saw the head which had been torn apart by fungus erupting through. I stumbled backwards into Joel’s chest. I felt his arm wrap around my shoulders as he swung me behind him. My arms connected with the glass case as Joel struggled with the monster. I turned and watched him stab the creature in the head. Breathing heavily, I pushed myself off of the case and lifted my gun back up in front of me.

The noise had brought more clickers our way. As soon as I caught sight of another one, I unloaded a bullet into its head, causing it to fall backwards onto the other clicker following it. I shot that one too, and looked back to Joel who was pinned against a case across the room, fighting another one. He looked as if he had that one under control, so I decided to clear the other room. As I rounded the doorway, I was ambushed by a woman who’s eyes were replaced with the foamy looking fungus. Panic gripped my chest as she threw me to the ground with a shriek. I aimed my gun at her and pulled the trigger. Click. I pulled again, thinking the chamber was jammed. Click. “Shit!” I screamed as she threw her body onto mine. Her fingers dug into my shoulders and her mouth chomped at my face. The spindrils of cordiceps inches from my skin. I pushed as hard as I could, adrenaline in full control of my body. I thought I was done for, but suddenly the woman was ripped off of me and thrown to the side. Joel’s boot landed hard on her head, and the chilling shrieks turned to silence. He turned to me and watched as I rolled to the side and spewed vomit onto the floor.

Once my coughing and heaving stopped, I rolled over and let my head fall backwards. Joel came and crouched next to me, his hand held out to help me sit up. “Thank you,” I breathed as I used him for leverage, “sorry.” I breathed, swallowing my bile. He shook his head, “Don’t be.You’re not bit right?” he asked, a bit of concern peaking through. “Don’t think so.” I answered, still trying to regain my composure. His eyes scanned my body to be sure. When he saw no sign of injury, he grabbed me by the armpit and grunted, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He hoisted me off the ground and hurried down the steps and back out of the door we came in.

After we got far enough away from the building, Joel told me to sit down and have some water. I tried to argue but he, of course, said that it wasn’t up for debate. “Not carryin’ you if you pass out.” He grumbled as he sat down on a wide rock next to a stream. I sat on another rock across from him and took small sips from my canteen, sighing in relief as the water washed away the taste of vomit. “I don’t usually have such a weak stomach, I swear.” I said as I closed the bottle and shoved it back in my pack. Joel swallowed a sip of his own water, then spoke, “You never get used to those things. Even after 20 years…” I nodded, keeping my eyes on the running water of the stream. I wanted to strip my clothes and just walk in. I could imagine how good the cool water would feel on my grimy skin. But Joel’s impatience kept me planted on the rock. “You good?” He asked. I nodded. “M’kay, let’s move.”

When the sun was almost disappearing behind the tree line, Joel suddenly veered off of the path and into the thick woods. I followed him, choosing not to question his decisions so early in the trip. We walked further and further into the woods until we’d come to a small clearing. Joel dropped his pack on the ground and began to pull things out of it. A sleeping bag, tinfoil of jerky, his canteen. My stomach dropped. I left my fucking sleeping bag in my apartment.

I huffed as I sat down. “Better eat. Was a long day on your feet.” Joel said before shoving a piece of jerky into his mouth. I nodded and opened my backpack. Searching for something to use as a pillow or blanket. Anything. I pulled out my brother’s sweatshirt, and folded it up before setting it beside me. Then I took out a ration of Jerky and started eating. “Harvard?” He asked, eyeing the sweatshirt while still chewing his food. “Not me. My brother.” I said quietly. He nodded and focused back on methodically pulling the strips of jerky apart.

Joel lit the small lantern he had in his pack and began to unroll his sleeping bag. I sat there awkwardly fiddling with the strings of the sweatshirt I’d planned on using as a pillow. “Where’s yours?” He asked with a grunt as he sat down on top of the nylon fabric. I pressed my lips together, “Never got one.” I lied. He sighed and laid down. I was glad at the fact that he didn't seem to care. I placed the sweatshirt on the ground behind me, fluffing it up as best I could, and laid my head back. I frowned at the hardness of both the ground and the sweatshirt, but knew I had to face the consequences of my own forgetfulness.

Sleep didn’t come as easily as I needed it to. I laid awake, staring at the stars and trying to convince myself that this trip was worth it. Traveling with a stranger, a frankly terrifying stranger, on foot for thousands of miles just to see if my brother who, get this, left me alone in the QZ to go with the fireflies, was alive. I became angry at myself for making such a rash decision. Part of me was so angry at Matt for leaving me alone in the QZ to fend for myself, but the other, more rational part knew that he wanted me to go with him and I refused. I told him to go without me, but he still left, knowing that his younger sister would have to do whatever she could to survive in that cold, unforgiving city. And here I was, walking thousands of miles, risking my life to find him. I considered packing up and turning back, but life in the QZ wasn’t anything worth turning back for. Maybe, just maybe, I’d find my place somewhere else. If there was somewhere else.

I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. I’d obviously woken up Joel because he groaned and unzipped his sleeping bag. I laid still, not wanting to disturb him any further. I jumped when I saw his body looming over mine, his sleeping bag in his hand. He dropped it on the ground next to me and turned and went to sit on a log not far away. “Uh- Joel.. I.” I stuttered, shocked by his quiet kindness. “Just take it. Don’t argue.” I heard him say sternly. I cautiously straightened out the sleeping bag and slid inside. It was still warm from his body heat. I shuddered at the feeling of comfort washing over me. I felt bad that he’d given me his sleeping bag. He shouldn’t have had to. I was the one who forgot mine. I then realized, he didn’t have to. Maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all.

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Author's note:

Hi! This is my first fanfic I've ever posted on here so be nice pls :') I just write for fun but any constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks for reading!! <3

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#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #tlou #joel tlou #joel the last of us #the mandolarian #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #f #forced proximity #force #forced proximity trope

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callmelittlebuttercup · 16 days

Text

Peace Offerings

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel makes a bad impression on the reader when he cuts in front of her at the radio station in the QZ. Abe, a father figure to her and an informant of Joel’s, informs her that the two have something in common: A brother in Wyoming. Joel reluctantly follows Abe’s wishes when he asks him to take the reader along to help find her brother too. As the journey goes on, she finds that despite his best efforts to make her think so, Joel isn’t a complete asshole, and maybe even a little… attractive?

Series Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Violence, Grumpy!Joel, Sexual Themes, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

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Part One:

I rose early, eager to get to the radio station before the hoard of people lined up. I slipped on a pair of jeans and my brother’s old sweatshirt, and rubbed the soft fabric between my fingers. It had been three weeks since I’d last heard from him. I’d been checking to see if he’d contacted me every day, and today wasn’t any different.

I made it to the building and walked up the stairs, my body sore from yesterday’s body burning shift. I was relieved to see that there were only a few people lined up outside the room. I stood behind an older woman. She had her hands clasped in front of her face and she was muttering something. It didn’t take me long to realize that the woman was praying. My heart ached a little. I was unable to imagine what the woman was going through, but if she was desperate enough to pray, to still believe in a god, it had to be bad.

The line was slowly getting shorter and I was biting my nails nervously. I heard the man call out “Next!” and I jumped slightly before turning to walk in. As I entered the doorway, I felt something brush against me, almost pushing me to the side. I looked to see who had the nerve to cut in front of me, and I saw a tall, broad shouldered man with dark hair standing over Abe’s desk. I walked quickly to the man standing at the desk as he slid a small folded up piece of tinfoil towards Abe. “Excuse me, but I was next.” I said sternly. The man looked at me, his eyes traveled up and down my frame, and then he looked back to Abe, blatantly ignoring me. I looked at Abe with disbelief and the timid, older man stood there stuttering. I looked back to the man and stepped closer, holding my ground, “I said I was next.” This time he turned his body to face me, and stared down at me with cold, dark eyes. There weren’t many things that scared me these days, but the coldness and lack of empathy in the man’s eyes made my stomach twist. “I had an appointment. Wait your turn.” He said, his voice soft, deep, and lacking emotion. I scoffed and pushed past him to get closer to Abe’s desk. “Anything from Matt?” I asked as I leaned over and gripped the edge of the wooden desk. Abe continued to stare at me, his eyes shifting nervously to the man occasionally. “Abe, you seriously can’t seriously be thinking of letting him go before me.” I said, gazing back at the angry looking man behind me. “Joel hasn’t heard from his brother either. Same amount of time.” Abe stuttered. “Okay, and?” I pushed, folding my arms over my chest. “Both of the calls were from the same place,” he said quietly. The man behind me was clearly annoyed that Abe was sharing his information. “Wyoming?” The man, Joel, and I asked in unison. Abe nodded.

I stood there, eyes shifting between the two men. The man named Joel had his arms folded across his chest and his eyes trained on the floor. “So you two can do what you will with that information.” Abe said as he sat in his chair and opened the tin foil pouch to reveal cigarettes. “So nothing new?” Joel asked. Abe shook his head side to side. “And for me?” I chimed in. “Nada.” Abe sighed as he lit the cigarette and took a few puffs. I sighed in frustration and turned to walk out the door. “Thanks, Abe.” I said before glaring at Joel and saying pettily, “Good luck with your brother.”

I began to walk down the hall but paused outside the door. I couldn’t help myself from eavesdropping the rest of their conversation. I didn’t hear much since they were speaking quietly, but every now and then I would hear the man, Joel, get louder out of frustration. “I’m not taking her, Abe. I can barely keep myself alive, much less another person. Does she even know how to use a gun? Camp in the woods? I mean look at her.” His words caused me to clench my jaw in frustration. Yes, I knew how to use a gun. Yes I knew how to camp in the woods. “What a fucking prick.” I said under my breath. The conversation ended and I heard the man’s footsteps nearing the door. I stood up straight, preparing myself for confrontation once again. “You’re not taking me where?” I blurted as soon as I caught sight of him. He stopped in his tracks and looked at me before rolling his eyes and continuing on his path. I followed after him, having to jog to keep up with his rushed pace. “Hey! You cut in front of me so the least you could do is tell me what the fuck you were talking about on your ‘appointment.’” I pressed as I jogged down the stairs, almost tripping. He stopped and turned around at the door, his hand gripping the doorknob, “It was a private conversation that I paid for and is none of your damn business.” He turned the doorknob and walked out, not bothering to hold it open for me.

I walked back to my dingy apartment and plopped down onto the dusty couch. I was still angry from the past confrontations and the rude, selfish man at the radio station. If he weren’t such an ass, I’d probably be planning out a route to find our brothers, but at this point, going alone seemed like it was the best option. I grabbed my map from in between the couch cushions and opened it. My eyes gazed over the intersecting lines and boundaries of the country. I traced a route from the Boston QZ to Wyoming with my finger. I did some mental math and figured out that I could make it there one foot in about 2 months. “Better start packing.” I whispered to myself before grabbing my backpack from beside the door and walking to my bedroom. I shoved a few changes of clothes, as much jerky as I could fit, a full canteen, my knife, ammo, and my handgun into the backpack. With a lot of difficulty, I finally got it closed and I flopped onto my bed.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and was jolted awake by a loud knock at my door. I sat up and blinked the sleepiness from my eyes before walking to the door. I peered through the dust filled peephole and could only make out the figure of a man standing in front of the door. He went to knock again, but I pulled the door open. It was Joel. I stared at him, unable to hide the confused and fearful expression on my face. He looked annoyed, “I knocked three times. Almost left.” He mumbled. “I was sleeping.” I said coldly, “What do you want- more importantly, how did you find me?” I questioned. “Abe.” He said as he pushed past me and walked into my apartment. “Make yourself at home.” I said snidely. He looked around, taking in the sadly decorated apartment. Pottery barn wasn’t easy to come by in the QZ.

He walked to the kitchen counter and leaned backwards before crossing his arms over his chest once again. “So?” I asked, copying his position from across the room. He drew in a breath before saying “I’m going to Wyoming to find my brother. Abe asked me to take you with me. He’s done me a lot of favors, so I owe it to him.” I smiled at Abe’s concern for me. He had been like a father to me since I’d arrived in the Boston QZ. He’d done a lot of favors for me too. “You have a gun?” He asked, pulling me from my thoughts. I nodded. “You know how to use it?” I rolled my eyes and nodded again, “Yes, I do. My dad was a cop and would take me- anyway, yes I know how to use a gun. I also know how to camp in the woods, if you’re worried about that too.” I enjoyed the feeling of throwing his own words back in his face. He pressed his lips together and nodded, “We’ll leave this morning, before the sun comes up. If you’re a minute late I’m leaving without you.” He grunted as he pushed himself off of the counter and walked towards the door. “Wait,” I blurted, he stopped and looked back at me, his hand never leaving the doorknob, “Thank you.” He shook his head, “Don’t thank me. Thank Abe.” The door closed loudly behind him.

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callmelittlebuttercup · 22 days

Text

Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

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