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capuccinodoll · 7 days ago

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First chapter of HLDE is back <3

— HONEY LOVE, DARK EYES, chapter one: "The birthday night" ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆‧₊˚ (pre outbreak!joel, bff!joel)

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— Chapter summary: It’s Joel’s birthday. As usual, you and Sarah are getting everything ready to celebrate, just like you have for years. However, while preparing dinner before Joel gets home from work, Sarah tells you that her dad has been seeing a mysterious woman for the past couple of weeks. This wouldn’t be an issue, except he’s been deliberately hiding it from you, even going out of his way to lie about it. WC: 9.4k

A/N: Re-edited chapter (14/08/25). Minor changes (grammar, a few details, nothing else).

You met him on the night of your twenty-second birthday, at the small party Cassie had put together for you in her dimly lit apartment. You hadn’t wanted much of a celebration, nothing bigger than a few close friends, and certainly not a group of strangers. But when Brianna swept in, holding hands with a man you didn’t know, and introduced him as her boyfriend, you felt a vague flicker of annoyance. Unmet expectations, that was it.

"I thought it was just going to be us," you mumbled to Cassie, catching her in the kitchen as she poured herself another glass of wine.

She looked at you, her cheeks already flushed, eyes bright. "They're a few of my friends, too; they’re nice, you’ll like them if you give it a chance." She smiled, urging you to relax, as though she could tease you out of your mood. "It’s your birthday; don’t be so sullen."

"I didn’t know Brianna was bringing her boyfriend," you said, the word boyfriend a little bitter. Cassie was already going back to the living room.

She paused, giving you a half-smile over her shoulder.

"Neither did I, actually," she admitted, lowering her voice. "Apparently, they've been together for about a month. She’s really into him."

And she was. Brianna clung to him all night, her laughter spilling out freely, unrestrained and buoyant from the wine. It wasn’t long before someone suggested karaoke, and as voices rang out in the next room, you slipped quietly back into the kitchen, craving a moment of solitude. Also, you didn't feel in the mood for karaoke. Usually, you loved it.

Not tonight.

You were surprised to find Brianna’s boyfriend there, leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone with a glass of just water in hand.

He looked up, straightened, and offered you a tentative smile.

“Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice soft, reserved, almost shy. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier…”

“No worries,” you replied. “Thanks.”

He hesitated, as though weighing what to say next. “Are you havin' a good time?”

You gave a slight shrug. “It’s…” but before you could finish, he cut in with a knowing smile.

“It’s okay. I don’t like my birthday either.” His eyes glinted in the soft kitchen light, and you felt a small smile tugging at your own lips.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, allowing yourself the indulgence.

“I didn’t want to admit it,” you said, feeling the faintest hint of heat rising to your cheeks. “What was your name again?”

“Joel,” he answered, his gaze drifting briefly back to his phone. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge tonight. Left my daughter with a new babysitter. I think she’s having a rough time.”

Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; you hadn’t pegged him as a dad. You moved closer, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and asked, “How old is she?”

“Four. Her name’s Sarah.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you could tell he was tense. “It’s only the second time she’s been with this sitter, and apparently, she’s been crying all evening.”

“Oh, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically. “She’s little. Changes like that must be hard on her.”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the side as he typed something quickly on his phone.

“I should probably get going. Brianna won’t love that idea; we’d planned to stay out…” He paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, worry etched across his face. “You think she’ll be too mad?”

“No,” you assured him, though you knew Brianna wouldn’t be pleased. “Go. She’s little; she needs you. Brianna will understand.”

A grateful smile spread across Joel’s face, and for the first time, you noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. For a fleeting second, you wanted to reach out, trace it with your thumb.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt unintentional. “I hope your night gets better once karaoke is over,” he added with a laugh. "Wish me luck."

You chuckled, meeting his eyes. “Good luck, Joel.”

He left with that same soft smile, and you watched him go, his warm brown eyes leaving an odd impression. And, as expected, Brianna didn’t understand. She spent the rest of the night sulking, casting sharp words at Joel through her bitterness.

“You knew he had a daughter when you got with him, this was bound to happen at some point,” Cassie told her, fed up with the other's complaints.

You didn't hear the answer, as you were distracted by watching the colorful stuff someone had put on the television. An episode of one of those grown-up cartoons. You can’t remember if it was Family Guy, King of the Hill, American Dad or something like that.

You heard nothing more from Joel for a couple of weeks, until Cassie blurted out the gossip one morning while you were having lunch at her house.

“He broke up with her,” she began to tell you. “Told her she wasn't being empathetic and that he couldn't drop everything to party with her as if they had no responsibilities.”

It was no surprise. Brianna was a woman who lived at night; she was twenty-three years old and enjoyed it with the freedom that was rightfully hers. You couldn't blame her for wanting to have fun with her boyfriend. No one could. But Joel lived a very different reality than she did; at twenty-eight, he had a daughter to take care of, routines to follow, and a lot of work to do.

Although you thought it would take her longer to get over him, it wasn't long before she met a guy at her gym and got into it with him, outgrowing Joel in a matter of days. But for some reason, Joel’s warm, dark eyes stayed with you, not fully faded.

Years passed quietly, slipping through your fingers like sand until, suddenly, it was your twenty-sixth birthday. This time, the scene was different: you’d moved into your own place just two days earlier, and there was little thought of celebrating. Instead, the weekend found you alone, arranging your things and attempting to bring order to the chaos of a new home.

It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you stood in your front yard with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand, humming along to some eighties tune drifting in from the living room. Just like heaven, The Cure. You loved that song, it usually lifted your spirits, and you moved rhythmically as you pushed plastic flowers into the dirt along the front path, sending little puffs of air to make the petals flutter.

You were lost in your task when you heard soft footsteps behind you, instinctively making you turn.

“Oh, hello,” you said, quickly masking the slight surprise the girl’s sudden appearance had given you.

She looked at you with wide, curious eyes, seemingly unfazed by her solo adventure.

“Hi. What’s your name? Do you live here?” she asked, her gaze shifting from your face to the flowers in your hands.

Glancing around for any sign of her parents, you noted her relaxed stance, like she’d been coming here all her life.

Smiling, you nodded and gave her your name. “Yep, I just moved in. You live around here too?”

She looked unimpressed. “This house was empty for a while. I didn’t like the kid who lived here before. He was a pain in the ass—”

“Sarah!” came a sharp voice from behind, making you jump slightly.

Heavy footsteps approached, and you squinted against the sun to see a figure striding toward you, his features obscured by the bright morning light.

When he stepped closer, his face came into focus, and your breath caught.

You knew him.

“Sarah, you can’t just leave the house like that,” he said sternly, a furrow in his brow, his tone more parental than reproachful.

He turned to you, and the scowl softened as recognition dawned.

“Joel,” you murmured, the name slipping out before you even meant to say it aloud.

His expression shifted into a surprised smile, and that was all it took to break the ice between you. You explained that you’d just moved in and were still settling. Joel offered to help with anything you needed, including taking a look around the house to ensure everything was in order. He formally introduced you to Sarah, now eight years old, who had nearly scared him to death by sneaking out. She had his same lively spark in her eyes.

That evening, Sarah invited you to dinner with them, leaving Joel with little choice but to agree. And one dinner became many, as evenings blurred into weekends, and you found Joel’s presence in your life weaving into something inseparable from your routine. He started popping by to help with small projects, fixing kitchen cabinets or adjusting the wobbly front steps, visits stretching into movie marathons or lazy conversations with cold beer in hand.

Days flowed into evenings of chatting over the meals you cooked to share with Sarah, and sometimes her uncle Tommy. Though Joel claimed he was no cook, his barbecues were legendary, and you couldn’t deny you looked forward to them most of all. And soon enough, he was there for everything: from driving you to doctor’s appointments to accompanying you on those grocery runs he pretended to hate. He even started showing up early on days he knew you’d need a ride.

Over time, he became the best friend you’d ever had, a safe place, someone who felt like family. With everyone else away (Cassie overseas, old friends moved away), Joel became your rock.

It wasn’t something you dared to admit to yourself often, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And maybe that’s why you never allowed yourself to voice those little fleeting thoughts, the ones that flitted through your mind every now and then: how safe you felt whenever he threw his arm around your shoulders, or how good he looked reclining on his couch after a long day. Or how perfect it felt when the three of you (Sarah dozing on his lap, you leaning into his shoulder) sat together in the warm silence of a Sunday afternoon.

There was an ache, too, a quiet pang whenever he mentioned another woman. Thankfully, that was rare; Joel once told you, with a shrug, that he “wasn’t really looking for that sort of thing.”

Sometimes, you watched him carefully as you talked about your own dates, hoping to catch a glimmer of jealousy in his eyes, some subtle cue that maybe he felt the same way. But there was never anything you wanted to see, and you always felt silly for looking. So, you buried it all. The risk of ruining things with Joel wasn’t worth the confession.

One afternoon, however, your emotions almost escaped your eyes when, while preparing Joel's birthday cake, Sarah dropped a piece of news that caught you off guard.

She told you, with her usual nonchalance, that Joel had gone out the night before with someone new.

“Yeah, it’s like… the third time they’ve gone out,” Sarah mentioned while spreading cream on the sponge cake. “I don’t know her name or anything, just that he met her in line at the bank,” a laugh choked in her throat, amused at imagining her father flirting with some woman in a public space.

You forced a smile, laughing along like it was funny.

"And who stayed with you last night?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Not that Sarah was necessarily a baby; she was already twelve and extremely independent. But Joel never left her alone if he went out for the night, he knew how much she loved spending time with you watching movies and eating junk food. Then, when he arrived, you would pester him with gossipy questions and he would pretend to get angry and then answer every one of them.

“Uncle Tommy," she said, eyeing her work with satisfaction. “We had fun, but I kinda wished you’d come too. Hey, what do you think?” she fingered the cream neatly arranged with the angled knife.

“It's perfect,” you smiled at her, not waiting too long to ask the question you wanted so badly. “Why didn't you call me then?”

Sarah started sprinkling colorful sprinkles on top of the cream and looked at you for a second when she noticed the tone in your voice at the last word. She didn't seem to think much of it.

“You were busy, weren't you? Dad said you had something to do.”

Her answer hit you like a small weight to the chest. Joel had purposefully left you out. He’d even made an excuse for Sarah’s benefit.

So, there had been three dates; three times he’d kept this woman a secret.

A small knot formed in your stomach as you forced yourself to smile, still watching Sarah as she concentrated on the last of the sprinkles.

In the kitchen, you were running your hand through the steam from the beef stew on the stove (Joel’s favorite) when the door opened. His footsteps grew louder, approaching, and you nervously adjusted the dress you’d chosen, one you knew he liked, though he’d never said it. It was your favorite too, a cream-colored sundress with delicate shoulder ties.

Sarah sprang forward, covering his eyes. “Don’t look, the table’s not ready.”

You hurried to set the glasses in their places, your hands a little shaky as you moved, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up your cheeks.

“I don’t need to see it—I can smell it, and it smells incredible,” Joel grinned beneath Sarah’s tiny hands, which she’d plastered over his eyes, half to keep him from sneaking a glance, half just because she could.

“Too bad you don’t smell incredible,” Sarah retorted with a smirk, wrinkling her nose. "Go take a shower!"

You laughed, catching Joel’s raised brow at her.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you said, placing the lid on the simmering pot.

Joel snorted, brushing Sarah’s hands away from his face.

“That’s the smell of a hardworking man,” he replied, feigning offense as he turned for the stairs. “Y’all oughtta know.”

Later, the three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Sweet glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”

He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his eyes slipping downward.

“I’m not exaggerating, I love y—everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”

The clarification was like a line drawn in the sand, a boundary etched by his voice alone.

You smiled weakly and inwardly thankful when Sarah spoke, telling you about something that had happened at her school that week and distracting you from the question that was spellbinding your tongue.

You were dying to ask it, to look him in the eye and ask: who did you go out with last night? Why didn't you tell me? Is it someone I know? Is that it?... But you didn't, you stayed quiet and participated in the pleasant conversation, celebrating his birthday as he deserved. After all, no matter how much it angered you that he kept things from you, it was still his special day.

After dinner, Sarah forced Joel to sit in front of his cake, two lit number candles glowing in front of him. You turned out the lights, watching as the light from the flames reflected beautifully in your best friend's dark pupils.

Joel was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair was still barely damp from the shower he'd taken before, and his sun-kissed tan face looked smooth, decorated by the beard and mustache you loved so much. Behind him, his shadow vibrated and spread across the wall with shaking grandeur.

“Make a wish!” Sarah cheered, bouncing with excitement as she placed her small hands on his shoulders.

Joel smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. In the dimness, you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you whispered, your hand resting gently on his neck.

He reached for your hand, pressing a warm kiss into your palm.

“I’m not that old,” he muttered with a mock frown.

Sarah giggled, holding a knife to cut the cake and licking a dab of frosting from her thumb.

“You’ll be forty in four years,” she teased, catching your amused expression.

Joel scoffed, scratching his stomach as he stood back up, turning to you with a smile that made you forget, just for a moment, all the questions you were holding back. There was only Joel, his rumbling laugh, Sarah’s giggles. It felt like home.

Sarah gave him his gift first: a copy of Curtis and Viper 2 with the deleted scenes and a mystery box. When he opened it, a smile formed on his lips.

He pulled out a weathered wristwatch, broken for months, now polished and repaired.

“I took it in to be fixed. Do you like it?” Sarah asked, eyes wide.

Joel nodded, eyes softening as he extended his wrist for her to put it on. “It’s perfect, baby.”

“Let's watch the movie later,” Sarah said. “You can't fall asleep. None of us.”

“Let's see which one of us falls asleep first,” you joked, and you were right. Joel had been working all afternoon and Sarah had been yawning for hours.

You turned and picked up the box resting beside your feet, handing it to him. When he opened it, Joel pulled out a black cloth garment and a paper envelope. He tugged at the cloth, revealing a thick, soft jacket. He read the label and a smile appeared on his lips.

“I saw it and thought of you,” you said, mimicking his gesture.

“How much did you pay for this?”

“Jesus, don't worry about it, it had to be yours,” you stood up and took it from his hand. “Here, stand up. Let's see how it fits you.”

“And what if it doesn't fit? Do we have to travel all the way to Rome to exchange it?”

You laughed, then helped him slide it over his shoulders.

“I know you by heart, I couldn't be wrong.”

“So?” he asked, smiling coquettishly. Your stomach tingled and you decided to ignore it.

“Lookin’ good, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her innocent smile lighting up the moment. “Bet someone special will love it, too.”

Joel smiled weakly, as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, and for a second you hated the thought of your gift being enjoyed by someone else. You imagined him getting ready to go out with her (whoever she was), running his hand through his hair and perfuming his neck as he did from time to time whenever he went out with someone. You knew that perfume perfectly, you'd recognize it anywhere, though you were sure it wouldn't smell the same on anyone else. Joel added his own scent to it.

“Okay, now, open the envelope,” you urged, your voice unintentionally sharper than you meant.

Joel sat back down and opened the blue paper envelope. He read the note carefully and when he looked up, you and Sarah were looking at him excitedly.

“Sunshine, did you pay for this?” he asked you, a soft disbelief in his tone.

Inside were three plane tickets. Sarah had helped you pick the destination, somewhere none of you had been but would love. Maui.

When you nodded, he let out a soft sigh. “Let me cover part of it.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “It’s my birthday gift to you, Joel. It’s all settled. You need a vacation, and we certainly do too, don't we?”

“That's right,” Sarah confirmed, smiling complicitly.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re too good to me.”

But he smiled, tucking the tickets back into the envelope.

Time with Joel and Sarah was easy. When you were with them, hours slipped away, and the heaviness of everything else seemed to dissolve. You felt at home, and sometimes it left you wondering about Sarah’s mother, about how anyone could have left them. Didn’t she see how extraordinary they were? Didn’t she realize what she’d lost?

You thought about this as you relaxed on the couch beside Joel, Sarah curled up with her head on your shoulder. Her breathing had slowed, and you smiled, realizing she’d fallen asleep. Three glasses sat on the coffee table: the wine Joel had opened just before dinner (a bottle you’d brought back from your last trip to Italy) and Sarah’s lemon soda.

Joel snorted softly, glancing at his daughter with a smirk, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Fallen soldier,” he whispered, smiling.

You laughed, brushing a hand over Sarah’s hair. “She’s tired. She was up all afternoon making your cake, you know? Tried the cream three times before she got it right.”

Joel sighed. “I know, sorry I was late. I know she wanted me here sooner.”

Curtis and Viper 2 was halfway through on the TV, forgotten in the background. Joel straightened, signaling he’d take Sarah to bed, and you shifted to make room as he lifted her, carrying her toward the stairs. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the house fell into a quiet lull, that familiar disappointment stirred in your chest.

Now, without Sarah’s chatter, you’d have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.

You took a long sip of your wine, finishing off the glass just as Joel returned. He sat down heavily beside you, causing the cushions to sink as he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes before giving you a grateful look.

“Thanks for today, I had a great time. Sarah was very happy,” he said quietly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.

“I'm glad, hun. Although the credit goes to her, I just made dinner.”

“Doesn’t matter. You helped her, and I’m grateful. I mean that. For today, and for… all these years.” His voice softened.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered, feeling your pulse pick up as he leaned closer, his brown eyes unreadable but soft. He was close. So damn close. “You’re my family, both of you. Really, I’m the one who owes you thanks.”

He shook his head and then, leaned back, taking another sip of his wine.

“Not at all,” he replied.

You watched him for a moment, turning the weight of your question over in your mind. If you said something, he’d make an excuse. If you kept silent, the doubt would eat at you. You tried to fix your gaze on the TV, on anything other than his profile in the dim room. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“So, what did you do last night?”

He tensed beside you, so subtly that only you could’ve noticed. “What?”

You tried to keep your tone even, hoping you didn’t sound like you’d spent all day thinking about it.

“I just… didn’t see your truck out there, thought maybe you were gone or something.” It was a lie; you had fallen asleep on your couch last night, you hadn't even noticed Joel was gone.

Joel seemed to measure his words carefully. “Oh. Yeah… I just went out for a beer with Tommy.”

Heat crept up your face, disbelief taking root. He really was holding out on you for some reason, wasn't he? The man was lying to you, and not very cleverly. Tommy had been with Sarah, what if you had seen him, hadn't he thought of that? Apparently not.

It took a moment before you could bring yourself to say anything, watching as he glanced at you with an uneasy smile, waiting for you to believe him.

“Joel,” you murmured, not quite able to keep the accusation out of your voice. “You’re lying to me.”

He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but you didn’t let him off so easily. Before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Tommy was with Sarah last night, here,” you pointed out, your voice firmer this time.

His silence told you everything, his face drawn and uncertain as he realized you’d caught him.

After a long pause, he looked down, his voice unusually flat. “Alright, yeah. I know.”

The admission was so casual it took you by surprise, but you shook your head, feeling the ache of frustration and betrayal creep in.

“Why would you lie to me?” you pressed. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone?”

Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze, his eyes instead locked somewhere in the distance.

“It’s… it’s nothin' serious,” he mumbled. “Just gettin' to know her. Don't make such a fuss out of it.”

“What? Make sense. You’ve kept it hidden, avoided every chance to be honest about it. Why?” you asked, trying not to let the hurt seep into your voice.

“It’s not like that.” He sounded unsure.

“So if I call Tommy right now, he’ll tell me the truth? Or did you ask him to keep this from me too?”

Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes scanning your face, reading the frustration and hurt you’d tried to keep buried. You could see it in his eyes, that familiar tug of defiance, a flash of something deeper than guilt or secrecy.

“And what if I did?” His voice was almost philosophical. “This is my private life. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, not even you. Do I?”

You drew in a sharp breath. His words struck like a slap, but you steadied yourself.

“Yeah, you’re right. You don’t owe me explanations. But you don’t have to lie to me, either.” You looked down, feeling your voice start to waver. “You’ve never hidden your relationships from me before.”

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and slumping back against the couch.

After a few seconds, he finally looked at you, a look of exasperation crossing his face.

“Because of this.” He gestured between you. “This reaction, right here, is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

What Joel was saying didn’t make sense. Your frustration wasn’t over him seeing someone else; it was something else entirely, something more fundamental.

He lied to you. He was being unfair, right now.

“Oh, just stop,” you snapped. “I’m not mad because you’re dating someone, Joel. I’m mad that you lied to me. They’re two completely different things.”

He took a breath, settling back on the couch, and turned to face you, a guarded expression crossing his face.

“No, it’s always the same thing. Remember the last time I was seein' someone?”

And you did, briefly. A year ago, one of his friends had introduced him to his cousin, a woman who had just moved to town. She was polite enough, but her smiles had a brittle quality to them, and when she met Sarah, her warmth never extended beyond a single, dismissive greeting. The indifference was obvious, at least to you, and maybe you’d let that show a little too openly. Joel had caught on quickly, and after that, things with her fizzled out.

“That was different,” you argued, exasperated. “She wasn’t nice, Joel. She had zero interest in Sarah.”

He gave a bitter, half-smile. “Maybe, but it wasn’t your job to manage that. I can handle my own relationships. But you always—” he paused, thumping his chest with a finger, “you always step in. Always get defensive.”

“That’s not true!” Your voice rose as anger crept in, heating your face. “You’re just making excuses. Date whoever you want, Joel, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me, don’t insult me with these dumb excuses. Or if you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”

He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening, something fierce sparking in his eyes.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, like a dare.

“Sure about what?” Your brow creased in confusion, the pulse in your chest picking up, a flurry of anger and… something else you couldn’t place, mingling with the haze of the wine.

His eyes narrowed, holding yours, unflinching. “That you don’t care. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Because I know you, i know you to well enough to know you’re just jealous.”

Jealous. He thought you were jealous.

He had missed the point completely. Your feelings for him were complex, that much was true. But you had learned, or thought you had learned, to carry them quietly. Your friendship with him had come to feel like a sturdy house you could live inside without having to ask too much of it. Having him in your life was enough.

But now, you felt that house shift, cracks spreading through the walls. His inability to trust you hurt more deeply than you’d expected. The openness you’d once trusted was fracturing.

You felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes, the words he’d thrown out so casually cutting to the quick.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you muttered, standing abruptly, storming to the door and slamming it shut behind you. You barely heard him call your name as you left, fury driving you down the front steps, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.

Honestly, he could go fuck himself.

Just as your hand reached your front door, his footsteps closed in behind you, his strides fast enough to catch up. You tried to close the door before he could reach you, but his hand caught it just in time.

“Just go away,” you said, barely glancing at him. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice was calm, almost pleading.

You stepped back, reluctantly letting him into the foyer. He’d have come in anyway.

“I mean it, God. Go home.”

He shook his head, taking a few steps closer, his jaw tight. “Can we just talk? Talk about this?”

“Talk?” you repeated incredulously. “Talk about what? About how wrong you are?”

He didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened.

“Don’t act like what I said was crazy,” he said, a little sharper now.

You scoffed, throwing your hands up. “Oh, so now I’m jealous, is that it? Then, by your logic, you must’ve been jealous too, right? Like last month, when Travis asked me out. Because if that’s the case, then we’re having the same conversation, aren’t we?”

Joel clicked his tongue, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. “No, Travis is just a jerk. And I don’t like him, plain and simple.”

Travis Dunn, your neighbor, had moved in a few months after you did. Handsome, tall, and friendly, everyone on the street adored him; everyone except Joel. He couldn’t seem to stand him, though Travis was always polite to him.

Last month, when Travis had asked you out, Joel had practically laughed in your face when you told him about it, muttering something dismissive as if the very idea was absurd. You’d told Travis you were busy, though deep down you knew the real reason you hadn’t accepted was because of Joel’s disapproval.

You shook your head. “Travis isn’t a jerk, Joel, you just don’t like him. He’s nice, honestly, much nicer than some people, if we’re being honest here. Everyone loves him; you’re the only one who has a problem with him.”

“Then everyone’s as much of an idiot as he is, sunshine.”

“Oh, really? Or maybe… you’re jealous of him?” Your tone was teasing, but you felt the shift as soon as you said it.

Joel’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head slowly, twice.

“Don’t turn this on me,” he said. “This isn’t about Travis or me.”

“No?” you shot back, voice edged with challenge. “So if I go tomorrow and say yes to him, that wouldn’t bother you at all, right?”

He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with something you’d never seen in him before. The air seemed to thicken, his presence so intense it felt as though it wrapped around you.

He leaned in, his face close enough that his words brushed your skin.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. It’s your fuckin' life.”

“And you can do whatever you want too, Joel. That’s the fucking point,” you nearly shouted, hands pushing against his shoulders, shoving him away. “I don’t care what you do. It’s already clear you don’t get it, you don’t get anything, ANYTHING!”

Joel staggered back for a split second, but it wasn’t long before he closed the distance again, though he didn’t get as close this time.

His voice was lower now. “If you’re so insulted by the idea of bein' jealous, maybe that’s somethin' for you to think about. Ever thought of doing a little introspection?”

“Are you drunk, Joel?” you asked, eyes narrowed, softening your voice a fraction. The argument was exhausting you, and the anger left you feeling hollow.

He laughed, an odd, choked sound. “Oh, c'mon, you know one bottle of wine ain't enough to get me drunk.”

“Yeah, but you’re tired, and you’re not exactly young, Joel,” you said, brushing past him, his gaze glued to you the entire time. “Alcohol hits you differently now. Just go home, leave me alone.”

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.

“What the hell did you just say?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”

Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.

But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.

Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest.

“I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”

His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you.

A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.

“What, did you ever care?” you asked.

But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”

You watched as his gaze flickered between your eyes, uncertainty warring with something darker.

Suddenly, with an unexpected strength, Joel tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed you back hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your back hit the unforgiving surface.

His expression had transformed, those deep, dark eyes piercing you like arrows. His breath quickened, crashing against your face, and you could feel your lower lip tremble as he pressed even closer, pinning you against the wall.

“You don’t know how to lie,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your cheek.

The sensation was unbearable; his body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him and melting you inside. You could feel the edge of something primal, something that could tip either way. But suddenly, clarity surged through you.

With a burst of strength, you pushed him away, breaking free from his grasp, forcing him to pull back just enough for you to gasp for air.

But the distance felt worse. In his eyes, you recognized something you’d never seen before; desire, raw and unfiltered. It clawed at you, igniting an inexplicable need.

A sigh escaped your lips, and like a match struck in a dark room, it was enough to set off an explosion. In an instant, Joel lunged at you, and you found yourself wrapped around him, mouths colliding in a desperate kiss filled with moans and the urgency of your racing hearts.

With a loud thud, Joel kicked the front door shut, his hands moving feverishly down your body, fingers skimming your thighs, slipping beneath your dress. He caressed your skin before squeezing your ass hard, drawing a moan from your lips that echoed in the small space between you. You clung to him tighter, his hands fitting around you as if they were made for this very moment.

He pulled back for a breath, the sound wet and chaotic against the walls of your home, and then his lips descended down your neck, unraveling what little sanity you had left. A moan rumbled in his throat as your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back, giving him better access to the tender spot just below your ear, your blood pulsing beneath his hungry mouth.

Joel seemed to want to devour you whole; his hands roamed erratically, trembling as his mouth kissed and bit your jaw, pressing your bodies together in a way that felt impossibly intimate. When you lifted your right leg and wrapped it around his side, he was quick to respond, hands securing your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his hips, burying his face against your chest.

Another moan escaped you, and he pulled you down just enough to find your lips again.

“Joel,” you whispered, breathless as you parted from him, pressing your forehead against his, eyes searching his.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said, low, almost broken, each word laced with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “You want me to stop?”

“No,” you replied in a small, desperate cry, feeling the heat radiating from him, the thin fabric of your underwear igniting a fire deep within you.

You were dying of thirst, and he had just asked you if you would refuse a sip of water. Was he mad? You wanted to drink it all.

No sooner had you answered than Joel pulled you off the wall, striding toward the stairs with a confident grace. You lowered your legs cautiously, meeting his lips again in a frantic, wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with urgency.

You walked to your room with the agility of one who knows where to step, and once inside, you grabbed the shirt you had angrily grabbed earlier and lifted it up his body in a desperate attempt to rip it off. Joel raised his arms, letting the fabric pass over both of you and then fall to the floor, and as quickly as your hands returned to his chest, he kissed your neck again, desperate, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh of your waist, seeking a physically impossible closeness.

His hands found your thighs once more, fingers gripping and kneading with a measured intensity that sent electric shivers through you. As he moved lower, his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your underwear, inching closer to where you ached for him, squeezing you tighter as if to draw you in.

In a single, decisive motion, he grasped the hem of your dress and pulled it upward, the fabric sliding along your skin as he lifted it away, tossing it aside with a casual disregard that only heightened the tension in the air. He took a step back, his gaze roaming over you, from the soft curve of your face down to the tips of your toes, a look of hunger that felt almost consuming.

You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts fell beautifully in front of him, hard nipples and soft skin. Your chest flushed with warmth, a rosy hue creeping into your cheeks as you swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated when he stepped closer.

“I’ve always loved that dress,” he said, his voice trembling with an emotion that was both reverent and raw.

“I know,” you replied, a smile curling at the corners of your lips.

His eyes swept down your body again, glittering with an unmistakable lust, and when he closed the distance, standing right before you, your breath caught in your throat.

His hands slid around your waist, firm yet tender, pulling you into him with a deftness that sent a thrill coursing through you. In one seamless motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet barely grazing the floor as you instinctively stood on your tiptoes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

Joel’s eyes darkened with a hunger that left you breathless, and he leaned in, his lips finding one of your breasts with a soft kiss that felt both electrifying and reverent. The warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body, and before you could gather your thoughts, he nipped your nipple gently, a teasing bite that sent chills racing across your skin.

His teeth grazed you just enough to elicit a gasp, a shuddering reaction. But he didn’t linger on the sharpness of that moment; he quickly replaced the sensation with the soothing warmth of his lips, enveloping you entirely.

He sank to one knee, lowering himself until his lips brushed your stomach, the warm sensation sending ripples of desire coursing through you. His face lingered dangerously close to where you needed him most.

Joel placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping the elastic of your underwear, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment that stretched into eternity before he slowly began to lower it, the fabric sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You felt his breath hitch at the sight of your now bare center, the anticipation thickening the air between you as he inched closer, finally brushing his lips against your mons pubis.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, and the warmth of his breath washed over you like a caress, drawing a small, needy moan from your lips. His hands parted your legs slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

You cupped his face gently, as if afraid you might break him, and then, without warning, Joel licked his lips and plunged forward, his mouth connecting with you in a surprise that made your eyes flutter shut. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as he devoured you, his tongue working its magic as he sucked and kissed you whole, with an urgency that left you breathless.

He growled into you, the sound reverberating through your body, and you felt weakness seep into your legs, trembling under the weight of his relentless attention. Joel was eating you like a hungry man, tasting you and soaking in your juices with a fervor that felt primal, kissing you as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck,” you gasped, feeling every muscle in your body tighten as a building pressure coiled inside you.

He pulled away for just a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, a playful smile creeping onto his lips before he returned to you, closing his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking with a skill that made your head spin.

“Ah—Joel, I’m going to—I’m going to—” You struggled to articulate the intensity of what was building within you, your words stumbling over the tide of pleasure washing over you.

His voice vibrated through you, trailing off into a soft, “Mhm.”

You pulled at his hair, tugging harder as a wrenching moan escaped your throat. The world around you faded as his movements grew more frantic, his tongue flicking at you with a desperate fervor. One of his hands released your thigh, and a low groan escaped his lips as his finger found your entrance, sliding inside with an ease that made you gasp.

“Fuck me, you’re so wet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of you; your cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with lust. A satisfied smile broke across his face, and you thought he had never looked so gorgeous.

From your point of view, he looked beautiful. His bright eyes worshipped you intently, his mouth and mustache glistened bathed in you, his hair tossed by your hands mingled in all directions. Joel Miller had never looked so good.

Another finger joined the first, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air. You gripped his hair again, pulling him closer, and he let out a throaty laugh, clearly reveling in the sight of you completely undone.

You felt his mouth on you again, the warmth of his lips kissing and sucking with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The sound of it was utterly obscene, echoing around the room like a carnal symphony, and it drove you to the brink of madness, your mind spinning in a dizzying haze of pleasure.

His movements grew more intense, a rhythm building that sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your hips moving in desperate undulations, surrendering to the climax that Joel savored with unrelenting focus. Your fingers clenched around him, digging in perhaps a bit too hard, but he welcomed it, desperate to drink in every last drop of what you were offering, to savor you whole.

With a low grunt, he squeezed your hips before pulling away, the wet sound of his departure from you hanging heavy in the air. You barely registered his rise from the floor, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, your eyes still closed as the vibrations coursed through you.

It wasn’t until his hands gripped your waist that you finally blinked awake, lifting your eyelids to find him gazing down at you, his face mere inches from yours.

He leaned in, capturing your mouth again, a kiss that was both desperate and tender, igniting a fire deep within you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. As the intensity built, you let your fingers drift down his chest, trailing lightly until they found the leather of his belt, the sensation sending shivers through you as you tugged him closer.

Joel vibrated against you, a low growl escaping as he nipped at your lower lip while you fumbled with his steel buckle, the sound of it being released becoming your new favorite melody. You unzipped his pants, your heart racing as you slipped your hand inside, finally touching him for the first time.

Your pulse quickened as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from his velvet soft skin; big, hot and throbbing in your palm. A rush of desire flooded you, and you pulled away from his lips, dropping to your knees before him, your eyes wide as you took in his form.

There he stood, beautiful and swollen with need, and your mouth watered at the sight. You cupped him gently, drawing him closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the tip. Joel closed his eyes at the sensation, surrendering to the moment completely, and you traced your tongue over him, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre cum that made your insides tighten with longing.

With a hint of effort, you attempted to take him fully into your mouth, but he was too large, stretching you in ways you hadn’t expected. Joel lowered his gaze to you, his fingers caressing your jaw as you struggled to adjust.

“Slow, baby,” he urged, his voice silky yet strained, and it sent another rush of need through you. "I know you can do it."

You matched your hand to your mouth, stroking him where you couldn’t quite reach, while your other hand gently caressed his balls, moving in a synchronized rhythm. Joel tensed beneath your touch, his fingers shifting from your face to tangle in your hair, guiding you as he reveled in the pleasure you were giving him.

The sounds in the room became a symphony of pleasure, every moan and gasp echoing off the walls, and you watched as Joel's pleasure climbed. The image was enough to drive him over the edge; your pink, swollen lips covered him and his cock glistened with your saliva, dripping from your chin with every move you made. Your teary eyes looked up at him desirously, and he could take no more; his gaze was filled with a primal hunger that threatened to unravel him.

He finally withdrew from your mouth with great reluctance when he felt his stomach tighten, a low complaint escaping your throat in protest.

His breathing was heavy, and a flush colored his cheeks as he lifted you effortlessly, holding you at the waist, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss.

In one swift motion, he laid you back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved closer; Joel kneeling and settling between your legs which you instinctively opened for him.

You needed him, you needed him to fill you whole. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him at that moment. And as if he was reading your thoughts (or maybe he needed you as much as you needed him) he leaned in, taking your mouth with his once more, his moans blending with yours as he lost himself in you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of him igniting a fire in your veins. You felt him positioning himself at your entrance, his heat pulsing against you, and an intense sigh shot through your chest as Joel entered you in one thrust, burning and stretching you around him.

“Oh God,” he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

His right hand traveled to your left leg, lifting it and resting it high on his shoulder, while without hesitation, his other hand mirrored the movement with your right leg, bringing you into a position that felt vulnerable. You were completely folded under him.

A cry escaped your lips as Joel began to move on top of you, his face hovering just inches above yours, the heat between you palpable. No one had ever fucked you so deeply; it felt as though he was everywhere, filling you completely, every inch of you alive with sensation.

Joel's right hand gently squeezed your neck, seeking your mouth for a kiss as his movements took on a more urgent pace. The rhythmic collision of his hips against your ass created a beautiful sound that echoed off the walls, each thrust punctuated by the soft, desperate gasps that slipped from his mouth. Your own cries mingled with his as your body tightened again, your hands moving frantically up and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving little marks that he would surely wear like badges of pleasure.

A broken sound escaped from Joel, raw and primal, as he sank his face into the crook of your neck once more, increasing his thrusts with a fervor that felt animalistic, as if the world outside had fallen away and this moment was all that mattered. He fucked you into the mattress with an intensity that left you breathless, as though he were trying to ground you both in this fleeting reality, where nothing else existed except for the two of you entwined together.

You melted around him, your juices mixing with his as you enveloped him completely, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he lifted his head, your forehead resting against his, his wide eyes locking into yours. You had never seen them so dark, so filled with intensity and strength.

And then it hit you: It was Joel, your Joel, the one who had been your best friend for years, and here he was, fucking the life out of you like no one ever had before. What could possibly come after an experience like this?

“I thought you didn't like me,” he said, his voice choppy, strained with effort. A smirk played at the corners of his swollen lips. “Such a bad liar, baby, look at you.”

You growled in response, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him towards you with a mix of force and anger. Your lips found his in a kiss that was anything but patient, igniting a spark between you. You felt him tense above you, one of his hands quickly moving to your center, exerting immense pressure as he leaned his weight on his other arm, holding you captive beneath him.

His fingers found your clit, tracing gentle circles that made your back arch involuntarily, another wave of pleasure building inside you. Your mouth was still on his, consuming him completely, when your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You felt your insides tighten around him, squeezing him with a ferocity that pulled him closer to his own climax.

Joel gasped into your mouth, and the intensity of it sent your vision spiraling into darkness for a brief moment, the sensation so strong it felt as if the world had collapsed around you.

When your breathing finally steadied, you found his hot body pressed against yours, moving in tiny tremors, quickened breaths brushing against your jaw.

He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the closeness, your hands continuing to caress his back, each touch a silent promise. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty, his cum trickling from your entrance.

He fell limply beside you, his body slick with sweat, and pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His breaths, still heaving, crashed against your damp skin, wrapping you in warmth.

Unable to muster the energy to move, you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to a deep, exhausted sleep that you would not remember when you woke up...

No, you didn't remember any dream, Because when you opened your eyes the next morning, you stirred in place and your muscles ached pleasantly, reminding you of the night before. And as you stretched your arms across the bed, your fingers grazed the sheets, feeling an emptiness beside you.

When you looked to your sides, the realization hit you hard.

Joel was gone.

taglist: @orcasoul

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capuccinodoll · 7 days ago

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To my Honey Love, Dark Eyes readers:

Just wanted to let you know that for now, HLDE is in my private posts, since I’m re-editing the chapters (nothing major, just fixing some grammar, tweaking a few dialogues, that kind of thing). I’ll be making them public one by one as I edit them, until I finally finish it with the last two chapters.

I know a lot of readers have reached out to me about this fic, and I want you to know I really appreciate your messages and that I haven’t forgotten about HLDE 🤍 the first chapter should be ready in a couple of hours.

That's all, thank you for reading🤍

#capuccinodoll #honey love dark eyes

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capuccinodoll · 8 days ago

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A haunted playlist, for A haunted body ❄️

Jackson’s office, warm coffee, cold noses in the snow, spring, heart-shaped reliquaries and carved boxes, lavender oils and Joel Miller 🤍 I hope you enjoy it.

#capuccinodoll #a haunted body #a haunted body playlist #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #Spotify

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capuccinodoll · 9 days ago

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The day you make a playlist for ahb is the day I shall asend to a different lifeform.

But also, keep up the good work, and take care of yourself. You feed us TOO good, but you PLEASEEEE protect your peace. Take your time 💗💗🫂🫂

And what if I told you I already made a playlist for ahb? It’s private for now because I’m still adding songs and all that (I’ve been adding songs for weeks lol) mostly because I like the lyrics to have a direct connection to the story. I’ll probably post it in the next few days.

Thank you so much for your message 🤍 thank u, these past few days have been better 🫶🏻

#capuccinodoll #answered 💌#a haunted body

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capuccinodoll · 9 days ago

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hey gorgeous:)

I’ve been listening to frankie’s playlist that you made and I think “cool cat” by queen would be a perfect match to it.. AND you made me a fan of “this must be the place” by talking heads, I listen to it ALL THE TIME and can’t get sick of it!!! So thank you for that, love youuuu bye 💞🫶

Hi Ray 🤍

Ohhh thanks for the suggestion! I'll add it to the playlist <3 mentally I've been adding a lot of songs but I haven't updated it yet.

YES. I love talking heads. David Byrne is a complete genious and that song makes me soooo happy 🤍 so happy u like it!!

Love u ❤️❤️

#capuccinodoll #answered 💌

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capuccinodoll · 9 days ago

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i swear ahb is my most favorite fic EVER. the angst hurts so good yk?😭😭😭

🥹 thank u anon this means a lot to me I'm serious

#capuccinodoll #answered 💌#a haunted body

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capuccinodoll · 9 days ago

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Hi Augustine!!!

I hope you’re doing well🤍

I love all of your writing but TBA is my current obsession! This latest chapter was absolutely everything, I felt like I was watching a movie. I was giggling, squealing, kicking my feet and everything LMAO. I will say, I am so nervous about the inevitable Santi confrontation.

Hi baby 🤍 hope you're doing well too

Thank you so much hehe <3 I was giggling and kicking my feet while writing it toooooo like aaaaaa

Yeah? What do you think he’s going to say? Will he be mad or something like that?👀

#capuccinodoll #answered 💌#a haunted body

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capuccinodoll · 9 days ago

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How Snow can act normal (not her mind) after ***SPOILER***

Joel miller aka the grumpiest and hottest man ever gave her an orgasm using only his fingers? ok ok i know he was VERYvery cruel 😤🙄but oh i could never

I know 😭 If I were her, I’d be blushing all the time or probably avoiding him at all costs. I know her reaction to him is heavily influenced by the way he treated her, but I still wouldn’t be able to stop questioning myself, like… what are we?😔👉🏻👈🏻

#capuccinodoll #answered 💌#a haunted body

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capuccinodoll · 9 days ago

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hi, i hope u are doing well ♡ after reading tba for the first time almost two months ago i Had to send u an ask and praise your wonderful work and right now, after rereading tba, i feel the Need to send u another message and praise u again.

you are so talented. i love this story so much, it's genuinely beautiful and amazing and so well crafted that i cannot stop thinking about it ..... i would be at work thinking about your story .... i feel the need to write a fic about your fic which is insane. i love your work in general but tba will always have a special place in my heart because it is what introduced me to your writing.

once again thank you for putting this story on the internet for free ....it feels illegal that i get to read this beautiful work lol

Write a fic about my fic... that's literally one of the BEST compliments EVER 😭😭😭🫶🏻 THANK YOU SO MUCH

WOw thank you, you're so sweet. I love writing it and I absolutely love that u enjoy it so much. The fact that something I wrote and was just in my mind makes you feel this way is everything to me.

Thank you for your support 🫶🏻🤍

#capuccinodoll #answered 💌#the boyfriend act

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capuccinodoll · 10 days ago

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— A haunted body, part seven: "Vanish with the morning's bloom, still follows you the faithful moon" ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆‧₊˚ (jackson!joel x f!reader)

fic masterlist | ao3 | capuccinodollupdates | previous chapter | next chapter

— Chapter summary: As your plan starts to take shape, some things don’t go quite as expected. And meanwhile, Joel is everywhere. No, seriously, everywhere, and wearing a fucking cowboy hat. wc: 14.1k

A/N: Joel and a cowboy hat. That's it. <3 Thank you so much for reading, I absolutely love reading your comments, so don't forget to let me know your opinion, it means a lot to me <3 (TAG LIST OPEN)

Jackson’s barns. Mid-morning.

“So… what exactly did Tommy and Maria tell you?”

It was the second time Zach had asked. The first was back in the dining hall, when you’d whispered a perfectly audible “nothing” that apparently only you had heard. Now he said it again, a little accusatory, while he poured water into the cows’ trough. Tina, Babette, and Beth waited off to the side, tails swishing impatiently.

“I haven’t told them anything yet,” you said, leaning against the wooden fence. “But I’m sure they’ll agree.”

“And if they don’t?” Zach looked at you sideways, suspicious enough to make you shift your weight.

“I’ll go anyway.”

“You’re not worried about what might happen if you leave like that?”

“Like what? In secret?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m not worried,” you said, far too casually, dragging your fingers along the wood.

It was a good morning. Cool air, bright sun. You were in a faded Billy Idol tee, jeans, and cowboy boots. It worked for you.

Zach had been at it here for an hour. Sometimes he worked the barns, sometimes the kitchen unless the greenhouse (his priority) claimed him first. And between cooking and shoveling manure, he preferred the barns. The smells were… varied, but at least the work didn’t talk back.

“Well, anyway, I don’t think they’ll have a problem, but... what about the others?”

You sighed. “Zach, I’m going either way. I don’t care.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, grumpy. Just askin’, you know? Besides,” he stood, letting out a small groan, “you’re forgettin’ about me, aren’t you?”

“What about you?”

Zach’s eyebrows shot up, full of outrage.

“I’m comin’ with you,” he said. “Whether you like it or not. Ain’t up for debate.”

You clicked your tongue. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you, you know?”

“And if somethin’ happens to you? What’m I supposed to do then?”

“You go on with your life in the secluded safety of Jackson.” You flicked your hand toward the air. “Pretend I don’t exist and dodge the melancholy.”

He huffed. “You’re a ray of sunshine when you wanna be, you know that?” He leaned on the fence beside you, arms crossed. “Too bad for you, a lot of folks here like you. I’m pretty sure if Flo or the Rowells caught wind of your plan, they’d either try to stop you or tag along.”

“And that’s exactly why you’re not going to say a word.” You crossed your arms too, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “That’s the only condition under which I’ll let you come with me. Deal?”

Zach smiled, his upper lip thinning with the gesture, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It was like his whole face lit up when he did it.

“Got my word,” he said, bumping his hip into yours. “What’re you doin’ tonight? Wanna watch the movie they’re playin’—”

He stopped mid-sentence when a sound behind you made both of you jolt. You turned, and your heart stuttered at the sight of Joel pushing himself up from the ground, one hand braced on his thigh.

How long had he been there? He was holding a bucket, like he’d been in the middle of something. You and Zach had been in the barn for an hour, how had you not seen him?

“Jesus, Joel, you’re quiet,” you blurted out faster than you meant to, one hand pressed to your chest.

Joel raised his eyebrows and started toward you, his steps a bit slow, that particular way of walking he always had.

“Ain’t quiet,” he said, setting the bucket down. When he straightened, his gaze slid up your body, and you couldn’t exactly not notice. “You’re just loud.”

“When’d you get here?” you asked, ignoring the comment completely.

Only then did you realize your jaw was tight. The last thing you needed was Tommy’s brother overhearing that you were leaving town, with or without his blessing. And you had a feeling Joel could be a damn snitch if he wanted to be.

“Zach,” Joel said, ignoring you entirely, giving him a little nod.

“Joel, how’s it goin’?” Zach asked, polite but (maybe) a little uneasy.

“Shouldn’t you be in the office? Or over at the houses on Hall Ave?” you asked, tilting your head. “Erin told me you’d be busy with that for a couple days.”

Joel looked at you (really looked, which meant he’d been listening, right?) but didn’t answer. Just gave a slow nod, like Ah, yeah. Hall Ave. That. Then he lifted his chin a fraction.

But nothing. Not a word.

“See you later,” he said after a few seconds, looking at Zach.

Without another word, he left the barn. You wanted to throw the bucket at his head. Or at least lob something in his direction so he’d realize what an idiot he was being.

Seriously? You were getting tired of this whiplash, this decision of his to be all worried and insistent one minute, then the exact opposite the next. Pretending you weren’t there. Ignoring every word out of your mouth. And then suddenly? Coming on heavy with questions and some fake brand of interest. What was his deal?

You’d been clear with him, hadn’t you? You wanted him to leave you alone just like you’d left him alone. You didn’t talk to him. Didn’t look at him. Hadn’t even thought about him this week. And you were asking for the same courtesy. But lately, the man had been unbearable, like you’d handed him exactly what he wanted, and now he’d decided it didn’t actually suit him.

The box. Just an example. Why did he even want to return it? It shouldn’t matter to him. Sure, he’d made it, but it was a colossal waste of time and energy for nothing. You still appreciated what he’d done with your necklace, but that was it. And Joel sure as hell shouldn’t care what you did with the box. If he wanted to keep it, great. If he wanted to gift it or smash it to pieces, fine by you.

The truth was, you didn’t talk; but you ran into each other more often now. Joel had apparently decided to visit Ares more frequently, and somehow it usually lined up with your visits to River.

On top of that, you’d spent the past few days trying to warm up to Chestnut, and you were absolutely sure you’d made progress. But the sweetness of that little victory was always dulled the moment you walked in and saw Joel brushing Ares or leading him outside. Usually, he’d take Ares for a walk, then linger afterward, keeping watch over him and murmuring things under his breath.

He was doing it on purpose. Had to be. You’d found something you were good at, something that felt peaceful, and he just had to wedge himself in, drop a little bitter seasoning into your moments of calm.

He usually went in the afternoons. Which was terrible for you, because afternoons were your stables time. You knew he spent his mornings patrolling or in the office, so three days ago you’d started going to the stables in the mornings instead.

Today, though, you were tagging along with Zach in the barn, which meant the stables would have to wait until later. And you were hoping (praying) you wouldn’t find Joel there again.

“What’s his problem?” you asked, trailing after Zach through the barn. “Did you see the way he acted?”

“You think he heard somethin’?”

“He heard everything, probably.”

“And that should worry us?”

“I guess,” you said, tipping your head back. “But if there’s one thing in this life I couldn’t give less of a damn about, it’s what Joel Miller thinks.”

Jackson’s office, late morning.

You had to get ahead of it, speak before Joel could. Which was why you were now sitting across from Tommy and Maria, your entire proposal laid out on the table between you.

You’d talked it over with Zach after the barn. Should I go talk to them now?

Zach had said yes. So had every single cell in your body. Which was why you’d all but speed-walked here, terrified Joel would get to them first after overhearing your private conversation.

“And when d’you wanna do this?” Maria asked, tilting her head.

Neither of them was giving much away physically. As much as you wanted to study their faces for clues, all you got was simple, measured attention.

Yes, they were listening, that was clear. Whether they agreed with you was another matter entirely.

“Before spring’s over,” you answered, willing your voice not to shake. “Summer gets heavy.”

“It’s a short trip,” Tommy said, running a hand over his cheek. “But it can be long if you don't plan it righ. Y’know that, right?”

“I’ve done it before. Longer, even.” You straightened in your chair. “Look, I know it might seem reckless or a little incoherent, but it’s nothing compared to other things that have been done, or that you’ve done or that I’ve done.”

“A week, tops,” Maria added. “Assuming nothing happens in between.”

“I know, but… I’ve already walked that road. I’ve gone even farther. After running from home, I headed south and spent months wandering around. Came back two years later, alone, completely alone, and made my way to Jackson by myself. And there were people after me, looking for me. I kept myself safe. I can do this, I know it.”

Tommy leaned back. “Snow, I think everybody’s got the right to chase their memories, to take a trip for any personal reason. I’ve been back home in Austin myself, and I don’t see nothin’ illogical about what you wanna do. But I don’t think goin’ solo is the best call.”

“Zach offered to come with me,” you said quick as a whip. “He’s been stubborn about it, said he won’t let me go alone.”

“That's smart. And he’s a good man,” Maria smiled. “I agree with him. You shouldn’t go alone.”

You sighed. “I know maybe I’m asking a lot, and I don’t expect more than what you’ve already given me. I just want you to know that.”

Tommy grinned. “You expect us to let you go without weapons or ammo?”

“You don’t plan on defending yourself with your bare hands, do you?” Maria teased.

You smiled back. “Well, those are supplies I know you don’t just hand out for free. I know they’re luxuries.”

Maria laughed, soft. “They’re defense. And you, as a member of Jackson, have contributed plenty to the community these last few months. I think you deserve what you need to leave here safe, don’t you think?”

You leaned forward, elbows on the desk.

“Seems clear you know how to use a gun and fight,” Tommy added, tilting his head.

You’d spent the last thirty minutes telling them everything. Everything. Chez, his men, the house, the years running, coming back, fighting every step of the way. Though you’d skipped the oldest details, like Sophie being born surrounded by killers in that cabin that night. No need for that.

Now you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, you planned to leave whether they gave you their blessing or not, but having their support was a comfort you hadn’t expected.

“Get everything ready ahead of time, and keep us posted,” Maria said. “Once you pick a date, we’ll have everything set for you and Zach, alright?”

“Yes, of course,” you said, standing up. “I’ll make it all tidy. Promise.”

“You better,” Maria said, “and you better come back too.”

Jackson dining hall. A week later. Morning.

A week had passed since you’d talked to Tommy and Maria, and the trip kept inching closer until it felt real enough to trip over. You’d made the list and were in the middle of stuffing your pack, probably open on your bed right now, half-filled. You didn’t have a lot yet, just enough to know what mattered and what you could leave behind.

It was wild how much good underwear mattered in times like these. Years ago you’d spent whole stretches of travel hunting it down; underwear had quietly become the new currency. And Sophie... don’t get you started. When she was growing, your wardrobe efforts had turned into a full-time, low-budget reconstruction project. The kid grew at the speed of light and you were always on the move. You’d lost count of the times you’d packed bags of kids’ clothes only to abandon them weeks later because nothing fit anymore.

But that hadn’t been a bad thing. In fact, it was a sign that Sophie was healthy and growing well. The most important thing for you had always been to keep her well-fed and nourished, to keep her defenses up when so many other things were lacking. Of course, when you’d arrived at the first QZ and settled there, you had taken advantage of every bit of medical care available. A little more attention and you might have turned into a hypochondriac. Sophie had grown up just fine.

Now you stood in line for your breakfast bag, biting your nails and glancing out the window. Outside, the sun was high and fierce, striking the ground and draining it of any trace of moisture.

There weren’t many people in the dining hall, at least not inside. Most just came by to pick up their rations and headed off to spend the morning somewhere open, probably the park or the football field. Flo had told you recently they’d started organizing games, and they were apparently pretty entertaining to watch. There were plenty of places to pass the time.

But today, you were choosing the stables.

The stables in the morning, because Joel didn’t show up at that hour. He was probably in the office, out on patrol, or bothering someone else. Not your problem. But ever since you’d switched your visits from the afternoon to the morning...magic. Wow. No more Joel.

Also, apparently he hadn’t said a word to anyone about your trip, which you appreciated. It was the bare minimum, but still, you appreciated it. And, in any case, you’d already planned everything down to the last detail. There was nothing he could ruin.

“Ellie, hi,” you said, smiling as you stepped forward. Your turn now.

Across the counter, in the kitchen, Ellie looked up. “Hey, how ya doin’?”

Your smile widened. “I’m great. You?”

“’Bout as good as I can be, I guess.” She glanced sideways, and a laugh slipped out before she could stop it. Beside her, Dina appeared, giving you a quick wave.

You’d always noticed Ellie in small groups, never in the noisy center, but orbiting with the same handful of people. You’d studied her enough to map the similarities. She reminded you of someone, though when you saw her, the only person you could think of was Joel. Something in her eyes matched his exactly, like they were always measuring the person in front of them, plotting each move as if on an invisible chessboard. And then, her laugh… it was different, brighter, but it still snagged something in you. Something that belonged to Sophie.

“Chicken or beef?” Ellie asked suddenly, clearly trying not to laugh at something happening behind her.

“Either one’s fine.”

She grinned, nodded, and five minutes later handed you a brown paper bag with a sandwich inside. You took it, offered a polite smile and a friendly goodbye, then went to make yourself some tea, which you poured into your tumbler. And with everything in hand, you started toward the exit, ready to have breakfast with the boys, aka the horses.

You reached the door, leaned your hip against it, and pushed it open. Halfway through, someone finished opening it for you.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling as you looked down at the bag in your hands. It was heavy.

“You’re welcome.”

You lifted your gaze.

Of course it was Joel, did you think it would be someone else? Of course not.

The man was watching you from the corner of his eye, lids a little puffy like he’d only just woken up. And on his lips there was something that looked almost like a smile. Almost. But you knew him well enough to recognize it for what it was: a smirk, and not the friendly kind. He was probably thinking something about the way you held things, opened doors, walked, or god knows what else.

Without another word, you turned around immediately and walked away; from the door, from the dining hall, and from Joel, hoping he’d be on his way to anywhere that wasn’t the stables.

Jackson stables. Fifteen minutes later.

What a beautiful morning it was when you were alone and no one was around to bother you, right?

Breakfast in hand, tea at the perfect temperature, and the company of beings who almost certainly agreed with everything you said. You could see it in their eyes, you were sure of it.

The sandwich was delicious. The tea, too. You ate in peace, sitting in the shade in front of the stable, watching the horses in the riding arena.

Erin had shown up earlier, brushed them, and taken them out, which saved you a lot of time and freed you up for other things. Not that you minded doing it yourself, but according to Erin, she’d been less busy lately and had free time to take care of it.

She’d stayed to chat for the first five minutes, then left saying she was starving and would swing by Hall Ave to look at the houses for a while.

Alright, you thought, they’d probably all be there. All of them. Joel included.

Here, everything was calm, and the air felt so good against your skin. The sun wasn’t as strong as it had been the last few days, and the sky was perfectly clear. You were in a good mood; you could stop by the Rowells’, it had been a while since you’d visited. And while you were at it, you could ask Isabella if she might fix the zipper on your jacket, or maybe even teach you how to do it yourself.

Also, according to her, Mr. Rowell had been asking about you, so you’d also like to spend some time with him, tell him about your trip, and see if they needed you to try to bring them anything back.

So many, many things. But you were feeling optimistic.

“I’m gonna take Ares out for a bit.”

You jumped in your seat, nearly choking on your bite at the sound of that voice.

You looked back.

Joel was leaning against the wood wall, arms crossed, staring out at the horses like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What are you doing here? When’d you get here? How?” you asked, not even trying to hide the irritation creeping into your voice.

“A little while ago,” he shrugged real subtle-like.

“Ah,” you turned back around, took a bite, and (mouth full) said, “Nobody ever told you you’re way too quiet when you walk? It’s weird, considering how hard you stomp sometimes, and those boots of yours.”

“What’s wrong with my boots?”

“Loud,” you said without looking.

“You’re wearin' cowboy boots yourself right now,” Joel said.

“They must be different ones.”

You heard a tongue click behind you, but there was no response.

You waited a few seconds, finishing your sandwich, but nothing moved.

Honestly? You were starting to get a little nervous.

You turned your head. “Are you going to take Ares out or what?”

Joel frowned and pushed off the stable with his back, arms still crossed.

Without saying a word, he went inside, and when he came back out, he had the halter and lead rope in one hand.

“I see you are bringing the whole outfit,” you said, unable to help yourself, still sitting with your tumbler in hand.

Joel stopped just before the arena, turned halfway, and gave you a scowl.

“What?”

You lifted your chin. “That. The boots and cowboy hat. You are bringing the whole gear, aren’t you? You were not wearing that in the dining hall a little while ago. By the way, should you not be somewhere else right now?”

He glanced away for a moment without moving his head, then looked back at you.

Full gear, seriously. Joel was wearing a black cowboy hat, a white t-shirt under a dark green shirt, worn jeans, and, of course, cowboy boots on his feet.

“It's hot. Didn’t you see the sun?” he asked then.

“Ah, I see.”

“And I don’t gotta be anywhere else. Doesn’t concern you, though.”

“The office?” you tilted your head.

“What’s that got to do with the office?” His voice got a little sharper on the last word.

“Well, when I was there you never missed a day. In fact, you were punctual, very punctual. Remember? Or was it just a whim for your coffee?” you asked, feigning innocent curiosity. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be there right now?”

The expression on his face shifted. He looked irritated.

“Tommy’s over there,” Joel said.

“Ah. Erin told me she’d be going to Hall Ave.”

“Is that so?”

“And you’re not?”

Joel looked at you silently for a moment, and you could swear you saw the gears turning in his head in real time. Whatever he was thinking, he was thinking hard.

“So, your trip... When are you leavin’, anyway?” he asked, switching to a topic less pleasant to discuss with him.

But it was only a matter of time before he brought something up, wasn’t it? It was better when he didn’t talk to you.

“Soon,” you said. “And if you’re lucky, you won’t see me for a good few days.”

“How long? Four or five? It’s only a couple hours out there,” Joel said.

“Almost twenty, forty in total. Who told you where I was going? Tommy?”

“He did.”

“Oh, why?”

“I asked.”

You straightened up. “Why?”

“‘Cause I had to make sure he knew about it, and you weren’t gonna sneak off alone in the middle of the night,” he said, frowning.

You raised an eyebrow. “I knew you were eavesdropping.”

He shook his head. “Wasn’t eavesdroppin’, you just didn’t see me.”

“Neither did Zach, interestingly.”

Joel looked to his right for a second, then back at you with a sigh.

“So, Zach’s gonna go with you,” he said, and you couldn’t tell if that was a statement or a question; it sounded vague.

“He will.”

Joel looked at you silently for a few seconds. The sun hit his back, lighting his hair in a curious way, at least the strands that peeked out from under his hat. They looked lighter, soaking up the light, some even almost white. The silver in his hair shone brighter.

The light fell on him while you stayed in the shadow, safe.

He said nothing, and neither did you; you just kept watching him. It was curious how much you could look at someone and never run out of curiosity in your eyes. Whether you hated or repelled the fact that Joel was the man you couldn’t stop watching, it was curious.

He moved first. Pressed his lips together and nodded, taking a step back.

“I’m gonna take Ares out.”

On a whim, you didn’t even nod, and Joel gave you a look (just for a second) like he was waiting for some kind of response that never materialized. Your gaze was already drifting back to the horses and the sky stretching out behind them.

Out of the corner of your eye, though, you caught him moving; passing close enough that you could smell him before he disappeared into the stables. His footsteps echoed inside, then stilled, and after a beat, he reemerged with a halter and lead rope dangling from one hand.

He walked past you again, and this time you looked straight at him, only because he had his back to you.

Joel stepped into the arena and slipped the halter onto Ares, adjusting the straps with precision and care. He clipped the chain, led the horse out, and passed by you once more. That was when you dropped your eyes again, like you were studying the dirt.

A few minutes later, he rode out from the stable. Saddle cinched, posture easy, pace brisk.

You watched him ride away, his body moving in sync with Ares’s gallop, shirt flaring at the sides with each stride, sunlight still draped over his shoulders.

You took another sip of your tea. It was cold now.

Stables. One hour later.

“Zach, I’m serious, be careful. Chestnut can be unpredictable sometimes.” Your voice carried across the riding arena as you leaned against the wooden rail, both forearms resting on top. You were balanced on a tree trunk you’d rolled over purely for the purpose of giving yourself a better view.

Zach waved a hand like you were being overly dramatic.

“He and I get along just fine. He’s got patience for me, don’t ya, buddy?” he said from the saddle, running a hand along the horse’s neck. “Back when I used to visit Erin, this big boy would grumble at me. We go way back.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a little too confident.”

“Why don’t you come ride with us?”

“With Chestnut?” You frowned.

He nodded, all bright-eyed mischief. “We could ride off into the sunset like one’a those old cowboy romantic movies.”

You smiled. “I saw one of those once, with Tom Selleck.”

“The guy from Friends?”

“Mhm. And that movie with the baby.”

“Y’know, I wonder if he’s still alive. You think the Friends people are still alive?”

You huffed, resting your chin on your arm. “I have no idea.”

“Can you imagine one of ‘em showin’ up in Jackson?” he said, leaning back a little in Chestnut’s saddle. “If I had to pick, I’d rather Rachel show up.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” you said, grinning. “I never saw much of it, but I’d definitely like to meet Tom Selleck.”

Zach tilted his head, smiling. “That’s your type, huh? Tall, broad, plenty’a facial hair. Kinda cowboy, rough, southern, if I had to guess. I see the pattern.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’re fantasizing.”

Zach chuckled, shaking his head.

This was between you and him and, well, Tommy and Maria: You were leaving in two days. Everything was nearly packed, and you’d be heading out at first light. Tommy would meet you at the gate, see you off after handing over everything you’d need, and (against your very vocal protests) had also arranged for a couple of men to come looking if you didn’t return within a week.

This wasn’t exactly how you’d wanted things to go. Which is to say: going with Zach. Not that you didn’t appreciate the company, quite the opposite, actually. But now you knew you’d spend the whole trip making sure nothing happened to him, and if even the smallest thing did, you’d have no idea what to do with the guilt of putting your friend in danger.

Zach, on the other hand, was thrilled about it. And he could take care of himself. He was big; tall, broad, strong. You were sure he could knock down just about anyone who tried to get in his way, and you trusted his fists. Still, it was a change from what you’d originally had in mind.

A distant gallop pulled your attention left, away from Zach and toward the horizon.

“Well, would ya look at that,” Zach said. You didn’t glance at him when he spoke. “If you don’t wanna ride off into the sunset with me, you could always do it with him.”

You turned to him fast. “Shut up.”

Then you looked back.

Joel was closing in, Ares charging hard against the wind, the space between you shrinking fast. Like, too damn fast. You shifted your boots on the tree trunk and gripped the rail. And then (suddenly) you wanted to duck into the stable and lock the door behind you.

Joel didn’t slow until the last possible moment. Ares came in fast, hooves pounding, and when he finally stopped, it was close enough to rattle you. Not close enough to be dangerous, but close enough to make your feet slip off the trunk.

“Shit!” you hissed, catching yourself on the ground, forearms scraping along the rail, the skin snagging on a nail head that jutted from the top.

Joel swung down from the saddle in a careful jump just as you looked up, your hand still pressed to the sting on your arm. He looked restless, a little sweaty, face flushed, eyes bright with leftover energy.

“You alright?” he asked, stepping toward you while keeping a hand on Ares’s halter.

“Jesus, Snow, you okay?” Zach called from across the way, still on Chestnut, who was cutting a quick path around the arena.

“Yeah,” you called back, glancing at him for half a second. “All good.”

You sounded convincing (or at least you thought you did) but you turned on your heel and headed inside without looking back.

The cut wasn’t bad, just annoying enough to make you wince and keep your palm hovering over it. You’d been through worse, obviously. The universe was well aware.

So you didn’t make a big production out of it. You stepped into the stable and veered right, into the little side room with a table, a sink, and the ever-reliable first-aid kit. You’d seen Erin duck in here a hundred times and come back out with bits of cotton soaked in alcohol, pressing them to the kind of tiny scrapes you get when you’re wrestling with a stubborn stall door or fixing something sharp and rusted. Nothing major, but in the end of the world, an infected cut was just asking for trouble.

You opened the kit and pulled out a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and a neat square of gauze.

The cut on your arm stretched maybe four inches (more of an angry scratch than anything) but it was bleeding and the skin around it was already starting to puff up.

You poured alcohol onto the gauze and tapped it against the wound, slow. The sting shot up your arm, and you bit down on the sound you wanted to make.

“I just checked—the nail ain’t rusty,” Joel said, out of fucking nowhere again, materializing behind you like it was his personal magic trick.

You didn’t turn around. He didn’t come closer. But you knew he was still there, planted in place, not leaving.

“It’s fine. Just a cut,” you said quietly.

“Lemme see.”

Before you could turn and tell him no, that it was fine, he was already next to you.

He bent a little, turned on the faucet, and washed his hands for a few seconds. Then he shook them off at his sides, wiped them on his shirt, and brought them toward you.

It wasn’t like you’d been paying attention to his every move. You’d just noticed them. That was all.

He took your arm in one hand and leaned in to look. You had the instinct to pull away, but you didn’t.

“Ain’t bad,” he said.

“I know. I just told you it’s just a cut,” you said, easing your arm out of his grip without yanking it away.

His hand lingered there anyway, sliding down your arm as you lowered it. For a few seconds, at least. And then you looked up at him.

He was too close. You realized it all at once. Close enough to see how flushed he was. It showed more in here, without the sun washing him out.

The cowboy hat was still on, a thin sheen of sweat shining at his hairline and trailing down his neck. He smelled faintly of wind, and his eyes still had that bright look.

You took a small step back, just enough to breathe again, and went back to dabbing alcohol on the cut.

“I’m fine,” you said, glancing up just in time to catch him stepping back, one hand resting on his hip.

I’m fine. You can go.

Go.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sure.”

“I mean, Ares—”

“It’s fine. I know.”

“Good.” He nodded, eyes fixed on yours.

He took off his hat and set it down on the little table next to him.

You looked back at your arm, hoping he’d take the silence as a hint that the conversation was over and make himself scarce.

He didn’t.

Joel stepped forward instead, moving toward the window behind you. Through it, you could see the riding arena and Zach looking smug on top of Chestnut.

“Zach oughta be careful,” Joel said suddenly, all low and thoughtful.

“He and Chestnut get along,” you said, glancing up to catch his profile. “They’ve been together for, what, an hour? He seems to like him.”

Joel stood still, gaze locked ahead.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Well, Zach’s pretty likable. Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Mhm.”

You sighed, unable to help it, and dropped your eyes back to your arm.

“Who you takin’ on your trip?” Joel asked, and you felt his gaze settle on your profile. “River?”

You nodded.

“And Zach? ’Cause Chestnut—”

“He’s not taking Chestnut,” you said, meeting his eyes. “I don’t know what he’s doing yet. We’ve still got two days before we leave.”

“So you’re leavin’ in two days, then.”

Another nod. No urge to elaborate.

You glanced at your arm, gave it one last swipe, and when you saw it had stopped bleeding, you walked over to the trash bin by the sink and tossed the gauze inside.

You turned on the faucet and rinsed your hands. Cool water slid over your fingers, and for a second, it was the best thing that had happened in the last hour.

Behind you, you heard Joel shift and lean against the window frame.

Fine. You’d be the one to leave.

“What route you plannin’ to take?” he asked, just as you were about to turn.

When you looked over, he was standing there with his arms crossed, wearing that face, the one that said, You sure you know what you’re doing?

You smiled, barely, more of a sigh than an actual curve of your mouth.

“For now, the shortest route.”

“And you got any idea—”

“It’s a short trip, you know?” you cut in, folding your arms, already fed up. “A week. Maybe less. Way less, even. It’s not a big deal. The weather’s nice this time of year.”

“Which means more chances for trouble.”

“It’s just a week.”

“I know.” He shifted where he stood, tightening his crossed arms. “Ain’t tryin’ to talk you outta it. You’re gonna do it anyway, and you’ve got every right to.”

“I know,” you said, flat. “And even if it were longer, I’d still go.”

“Well, I'm sure you know how to take care of yourself,” he said, and for a second, it sounded like he was being sarcastic. But in the end, he wasn’t.

You smiled without humor.

You thought about explaining yourself, about telling him you’d traveled alone for months, handled yourself just fine against people and things that didn’t wish you well. You had scars to prove it. But really, why bother? Did Joel Miller deserve an explanation?

No.

“You gonna come here every morning?” you asked, tilting your head.

He frowned. “Why?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think it’d be better if we stuck to the original plan of not crossing paths. So, if you’re coming in the mornings or afternoons, let me know so I can come at a different time.”

Joel looked at you for a fraction of a second, still, and then nodded slowly.

“Well, I like the mornings.”

“Don’t you patrol in the morning?”

“Most of the time, yeah.”

You nodded. “Besides, you’ve got the office.”

“Ain’t really got a schedule for goin’ there,” he said with a smirk. “Isn't like we’re punchin’ timecards or nothin’.”

“Hm.” You nodded, your gaze dropping to his boots. Then you traced your way up; denim, shirt, jaw, until you landed on his face. “You seem pretty relaxed for someone who was all about rules and orders a couple weeks ago. If I remember right, you once showed up at seven in the morning just to have coffee.”

“Well, you were there god-awful early. Had to keep an eye on you.”

“Yeah? And then you didn’t come around for days after dinner at Tommy and Maria’s.”

After that night when he’d unzipped your jeans and slid his hand inside.

But of course, you weren’t going to say that part out loud.

He pressed his lips together. “Well, there were things that needed doin’ in oth—”

“Keep your distance, Joel,” you cut in. “I asked you once, this is the second time. You wanted space and I gave it to you, so why can’t you give me the same thing?”

He glanced to the side, a sigh slipping out as he dropped his arms and rested his hands on his thighs.

“When do you like comin’ here?” he asked, looking at you. “Mornin’ or afternoon? What’s your pick?”

“Afternoon.”

“Okay.” He pushed off the wall, suddenly taller, bigger, somehow taking up more space. “I’ll come in the mornings.”

You nodded, a little relieved, clinging to the hope he’d actually keep his word.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping back. “I just hope—”

You stopped mid-sentence, cut off by a loud thud and a squeal that made you look past Joel, through the window behind him.

“Zach!” you gasped, feet pounding as you burst out of the room and sprinted toward the arena alongside Joel.

Chestnut had thrown Zach hard onto the ground. The thud had been brutal, heavy. And now, as you pushed open the gate and ran to him, Zach lay on his side, breathing shallow and stiff.

“Oh my god, you okay?” you asked, kneeling beside him and barely touching, afraid to make it worse.

He didn’t answer. He looked winded, pain twisting his face.

Panic squeezed your chest. You didn’t know what had happened, only that your friend was on the ground hurting, and you had no clue what to do.

Zach gasped for air a few seconds, then opened his eyes with a soft groan.

“Think I broke my arm,” he muttered, grimacing. “He got spooked...Chestnut got spooked. Something moved at his feet. It ain’t his fault.”

“Oh god, Zach,” you closed your eyes, shaking your head. “I’m gonna get help, okay? Joel—”

“I got this. Don’t worry. You go,” Joel said, next to you now, nodding toward the exit.

“What you gonna do? We need to get him outta here.”

“I’ll handle it. Go.”

You scrambled to your feet and rushed out of the arena, glancing back at Zach lying there, your stomach twisting with nerves.

Jackson hospital. Two hours later.

You leaned against the hospital bed, arms crossed, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

“I’m sorry. Really, I'm sorry. I messed up, didn’t I?” Zach muttered beside you.

He lay there, arm in a cast, carefully still.

When you’d gone for help and come back to the stables with Dr. Hale, Zach had been slumped on a bench. Joel had brought him water, and after a quick check, the doctor ordered him straight to get checked.

Joel practically carried him, though you’d helped plenty. Now, after all the poking and prodding, you were alone with your friend in the room.

He’d broken his arm. His shoulder was busted, too. Jesus, even his ribs were bruised, but somehow, no breaks there.

“No, it’s okay. It was an accident,” you said, but the disappointment in your voice was clear.

“Dr. Hale said it’ll take months to fully heal. Ever broken a bone?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I was a kid. Broke my arm too, jumping on a trampoline. Worst summer ever. Couldn’t swim or hang out with friends.”

“Damn.”

You fell silent, arms crossed, staring at the floor. That heavy, sinking feeling in your chest was hard to shake.

After a few seconds, Zach spoke again:

“Sorry. I screwed up the trip. I.... Jesus, please don’t go alone.”

“I won’t,” you said too fast, spinning to look at him.

He widened his eyes a little. “Promise me.”

You held his gaze for a moment.

“Zach—”

“Snow, please—”

“You know I gotta go. Please don’t try to change my mind ‘cause I don’t wanna argue.” You turned away. “You’re hurt, and I don’t wanna get mad at you right now.”

“Just—just wait a little, okay?”

You looked back at him. “You said it yourself, it’s gonna take months for you to heal. I can’t wait months. I… just can’t.”

“So what? Are you really goin' to leave? Alone?”

You scoffed, pushing off the bed and dropping your hands to your thighs before crossing your arms.

“What the hell is it with everyone acting like I’m some idiot? I’m not stupid, not helpless. I know how to take care of myself, and I can do it.”

“No, is not that. I don’t think that about you. It’s just better to have company for lots of reasons—”

“I’ve never needed anyone,” you snapped, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been alone most of my life, traveled the world alone with a baby, and nothing ever happened to us. I can handle my own safety, and I know exactly what to do in tough situations, Zach. I don’t need you to run through every danger out there.”

“I’m just worried about you. Don’t wanna see nothin’ happen to you—”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” you snapped, anger bubbling up tight in your chest as you headed for the door. “Would be nice if, just once, you people trusted me to take care of myself. Because honestly? It’s getting pretty fucking annoying.”

Behind you, you heard Zach shift on the bed.

“Snow, stop. Don’t leave like this.”

You ignored him, swinging the door open and stepping out without looking back.

Just as you turned left, you slammed right into something.

Joel.

You stared at him for a second. He had one shoulder pressed against the wall, brow furrowed, watching you like he was trying to read your mind.

You said nothing, too pissed to even come up with a smart retort.

Truth was, you didn’t have anything to say. Not to him. Not to Zach. Not to anyone trying to tell you what to do.

You brushed past Joel, walking as fast as you could until you were out of that place.

Rowell House. Two days later. Night.

You’d missed this place; the smells, the dinners, the way Isabella and Hugh’s dining room table always looked like it had been stolen from a spring wedding catalog. The pink-and-red floral tablecloth. The lavender-and-rose incense Phillip had started making lately. It all felt dangerously close to home.

You’d healed here, in bits and pieces, over weeks. Mornings, afternoons, and evenings with the Rowells had made them the closest thing to parental figures you’d had in years. Since Robert and Pia. Since your own parents.

Isabella had made caramel flan and poured three steaming cups of tea for dessert. She gave you a slice so good you almost resented every other dessert you’d ever eaten, and then, when you asked for seconds, she brought you a big slab with another round of tea.

Hugh, naturally, was already on his third portion.

“And what are you going to do now, sweetheart? No one else can come with you?” Isabella asked.

You hadn’t brought it up. In fact, you hadn’t planned on mentioning it at all. But Hugh had gone to see Zach that afternoon, and apparently Zach was feeling guilty enough about your little hospital spat to bring it up himself. According to Hugh, he’d said he wasn’t ready to reach out yet, wanted to give you space, knew you probably didn’t want to see him.

And, well… he wasn’t wrong.

Sort of.

You were mad at Zach, sure, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to see him. You worried about his health, his arm, his body; he was probably still in a lot of pain, and his ribs had to be more bruised than they were two days ago. But there were still scraps of anger and resentment hanging around inside you, and you weren’t about to show up knowing that the tiniest spark could set you off all over again.

You knew yourself well enough to understand that your anger came with its own expiration date, and it wasn’t something you could rush.

“I really couldn’t ask anyone,” you said, setting your teacup down on the floral tablecloth. “It’s a huge favor, and I wouldn’t want to risk any of my friends.”

“If I could do it, I’d go with you myself,” Mr. Rowell declared, giving the table an indignant thump. “But my bones aren’t what they used to be. I’d probably be more trouble than help.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Hugh. I could never ask you to, anyway. And besides, I wouldn’t want to take you away from Isabella.” You smiled.

“Which is exactly why we’d both have to come,” Isabella said, lifting an eyebrow. “If you want, we can make it happen. We’ll go together, and if Hugh needs a rest, we’ll drag him along or stick him in a cart.”

You laughed under your breath and took another bite of flan.

“Florence and Jesse seemed interested in helping you,” Isabella said, her tone turning serious now. “I don’t mean to gossip, but word’s gotten around in Jackson, and I’m sure more than a few people would be willing to help.”

You frowned. “Oh, really?”

“Of course,” she said, lifting her shoulders in a light shrug. “Plenty of people are grateful for your help these past few months. Everyone loves the Millers, but Joel can be… well, let’s just say ‘stoic’ is the polite term. I absolutely adore him, but the man barely talks. You can imagine the difference it made having someone like you by his side. Sometimes asking for help feels intimidating with people like him.”

“I still don’t understand why they pulled you out of there,” Hugh said, his eyes fixed on his dessert as he tried to spear a piece of it. “You didn’t have a run-in with someone, did you? Because my bones might be old, but my fists still work.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“No, I can assure you. I left by choice. I liked the place, but I just didn’t see eye to eye with certain people.”

“Joel,” Isabella said. “I knew it.”

“No, no,” you rushed to say. “Other people.”

Hugh narrowed his eyes, like he’d just decided to pay you extra attention. “Tommy? Doubt it. Maria? No. Erin?”

“I like Erin a lot,” you said, lifting your teacup.

The two of them exchanged a look, and when they turned back to you, Hugh’s mouth was pressed into a line as he shook his head.

“I like Joel,” he said, “but he can be… a little difficult. I’ve met people like him. He’s hurt. That boy needs to heal.”

“Darling, she said it wasn’t Joel,” Isabella said, side-eyeing him.

Hugh waved a hand. “And we can pretend we don’t know it’s him, but all three of us here know it’s him, don’t we? There are no secrets at this table.”

You smiled faintly and looked down at your dessert.

No secrets. That was true. The Rowells knew absolutely everything about you. And everything meant everything. The only thing you hadn’t told them was… well, what had happened with Joel. But that was entirely unnecessary. And private.

You sighed, suddenly unsure whether opening your mouth was a good idea. Then Isabella asked if anyone wanted more dessert, and you said no. She offered you the rest anyway, a generous amount, and said you could have it, and if you wanted, she’d make you more tomorrow. And tomorrow... well...

“Actually, there’s something I want to tell you,” you said suddenly, with abrupt energy that felt like someone had shoved you forward.

They both looked at you closely and, if you were being honest, with a flicker of fear in their eyes, like they weren’t sure what was coming but suspected it might be bad.

“I… I’ve been thinking about it,” you lied. You hadn’t been thinking about it. You’d decided a while ago. “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I’ve decided to make the trip... alone. And nobody knows. You’re the first and only ones I plan to tell.” You looked at Hugh, then at Isabella. “Because I trust you. And I trust that this won’t leave this table.”

“Oh, dear… are you sure?” Isabella asked, her face creased with worry.

You nodded. “I am. I trust myself. I know what I’m capable of. And I can assure you my body is healthy and ready for anything.”

They both looked at you in silence.

Hugh ran one hand over the other, thoughtful. “We trust you, you know that. It takes a lot of strength to have survived as much as you have. But… do you have everything you need to go? Do the Millers know?”

You shook your head slowly. “No one knows. And I’m not sure any of them would approve if I asked. Tommy and Maria already made it clear they didn’t think going alone was smart. But honestly? I’d feel lighter, more prepared, doing it solo.”

Your gaze drifted to the wall behind Isabella for a moment before you looked back at them. “I don’t have much in the way of weapons. Just a knife and an old pistol. A couple of bullets I had on me when I first got here.” You lifted a shoulder. “Not much else. I can pick up supplies along the way.”

Hugh sighed. “The area’s been cleared almost completely. Jackson’s sent people out there more times than I can count. I’m not sure you’ll find much.” He leaned closer to the table, resting both arms on it. “And while what you have is useful, you’re going to need more than that.”

Hugh finished speaking and turned to Isabella. After a few seconds, she seemed to read his mind, because she said:

“Yes. Go.”

Hugh stood then, leaving without much more. You followed him with your eyes as he left the dining room, listening to his slower steps climbing the stairs.

You looked at Isabella. “You’re really okay with this?”

She nodded. “I think you’re capable of making your own decisions and being reasonable and responsible about them. We know you well enough to trust you’ll come back alive and in one piece. And you’d better, because if you don’t, I’ll come drag you back myself.”

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest at the thought that there were people here who believed in you.

“I know. I promise I will.”

“And listen to me, how are you getting out of here?” she asked, leaning in. “Because as far as I know, those gates aren’t easy to slip through without permission.”

You sighed. “I did someone a favor a couple weeks ago, let’s just say we’re even now.” You nodded. “Lucas. He came to tell me something about the east exit, and then a few days later asked if I could help him with something. I told Tommy, and he sped things along. After that, Lucas said I could ask him for anything I wanted, because his baby was little and, thanks to the help he got… I don’t know. I talked to him yesterday, and he told me to just let him know. He’s usually up early. He'll be waiting.”

“When do you plan on leaving?”

“Tomorrow. Before everyone wakes up.”

Isabella leaned back with a sigh, folding her arms, worry flickering in her eyes.

“God, girl, you’d better take care of yourself. You’re giving me heart palpitations, I can feel it.” She pressed a hand to her chest and looked at the ceiling like she might start bargaining with the universe.

You smiled. “I will. Promise.”

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and seconds later Hugh appeared, a bag in hand. Isabella cleared the table with delicate precision to make space, and after a moment, he set the bag down in front of you.

Standing across from you, he opened it.

He picked one up.

“This is a Beretta 92; double action on the first shot, single action after that. Used all over by the military, it’s reliable. Keep it close.” He set it on the table, then pulled out another, smaller one. “Sig Sauer P226. Compact. Takes .40, .22, and 9x19mm Parabellum. These—” he pulled a cardboard box from the bag and flipped it open—“are the rounds. Box is full. Easy to use, very reliable. Keep it on you.”

“That one’s my favorite,” Isabella said. “Comes in handy when you’re in danger and you’ve got no time to think. Saved my life more than once.”

“I’ve got a rifle, if you want it,” Hugh said, ducking his head to look at you. “Never hurts. You need something for distance, you understand? If trouble’s far off, you hit it before it gets close.” He reached back into the bag and pulled out the rifle. “You know how to use it?”

You nodded. “I can handle pretty much anything.”

He smiled. “Good.” With patient hands, he began packing everything back inside, neat and deliberate. There were three more boxes in there he didn’t bother to open, but you assumed they were more ammo. “Take the whole bag.”

You opened your mouth. “Are you serious? No… I don’t need that much.”

“If I were you, I’d take the rifle and the Sig Sauer,” Isabella said. “You cover long and short range, and you don’t have to lug around as much. Both use the same ammo.”

“Brilliant,” Hugh said, sitting down. “I agree.”

You looked at the bag in front of you and nodded. “Thank you. Really. Thank you so much.”

Isabella reached out and rested her hand over yours.

“You don’t have to thank us, darling,” she smiled. “D'you have a little first aid kit with you? Alcohol, meds, maybe some expired anti-inflammatory that might still work?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got all that.”

“Perfect.” She nodded. “Before you leave, swing by the house. We want to say goodbye and walk you to the gate.”

“Of course. I’d love that.”

Jackson streets. Half an hour later. Night.

There you were, walking with a smile on your face.

You felt surprisingly optimistic, all things considered; after dinner with the Rowells, after their kind words and the faith they’d put in you.

You’d said goodbye with a hug and promised to stop by before you left. Tomorrow you’d also visit Zach; he lived nearby, and it was on your way. Well, even if he didn’t live nearby, you’d still go. You weren’t leaving without saying goodbye, especially not after everything that happened.

Now you were passing the stables, your feet almost moving on their own. You wanted to see River before the trip, say hi to the others, run your fingers over them. And if you let yourself be even the tiniest bit pessimistic, maybe say goodbye just in case, just in case it was the last time you ever got to see them.

You weren’t stupid. You trusted yourself, sure, but you knew life was unpredictable and blind trust was for fools. There were hundreds of dangers out there, any of them ready to spring out of nowhere at a moment’s notice.

So you stepped closer and closer, and the soft light was on.

You felt a little glad, you’d get to say goodbye to Erin. Lately, she’d told you she came in some nights to get ahead on tasks if she was bored enough and the Tipsy Bison wasn’t calling her name. In her words, she was cutting back on drinking.

Of course, you couldn’t tell her you were saying goodbye. But at least you’d know.

When you stepped through the threshold, you knocked three times on the wooden wall, then walked straight toward the row of stalls, reaching out to stroke the head of Ares, who barely peeked through his door.

You heard footsteps to your left, and the door to the room by the stalls swung open.

You turned with a smile, but to your surprise, it wasn’t Erin. Your smile vanished, and your hand froze on the horse’s coat.

You opened your mouth to say something but shut it quickly, and he looked like he was waiting for you to speak. He seemed confused too.

Joel.

Were you losing your mind, or was he just showing up everywhere lately? Was this going to become a regular thing? Even when you had your days planned out like you were dividing horse custody like a divorced couple, you still couldn’t avoid running into each other.

Was he doing it on purpose?

“You said you’d come in the mornin’,” he said, sounding defensive. “It’s nighttime.” He was holding a rag, wearing a dark blue shirt, jeans, and boots.

“I know,” you said, keeping a polite smile. “I just came to check on River real quick, that’s all. I’ll be gone in a minute.”

Act natural. Act natural.

You shifted to the side, walking carefully, trying to keep the bag full of guns and ammo on your right shoulder from drawing too much attention.

When you got to River’s stall, you looked at Joel. He was watching you, brow furrowed, doubt written all over his face.

“All good?” he asked, dry.

“Yeah,” you nodded, stroking River.

“Heard Zach was doin’ better. Shame about your trip.”

“I know.”

“Bet you’ll be able to make it soon enough.”

“Me too.” You glanced at him for a second, smiled, then looked away.

You waited. And waited.

And waited.

Oh god, this was unbearable. You’d never been good at lying, and Joel was just standing there like an idiot, staring at you without saying another word.

When you turned to look at him again, his brow was so furrowed it was like he was reading your mind.

“Well, I’m gonna head out,” you said, trying to sound as natural as humanly possible.

You tried to turn away, keeping the bag as close to your back as possible, and started walking toward the exit. But Joel’s eyes stayed locked on you, and you couldn’t tell if he was just the usual awkward, silent Joel or if there was something else behind those looks now. Something more like... a deep intense analysis of how you were acting right at that moment.

“Bye, Joel,” you said, slipping past him and heading for the door as fast as you could without making it obvious.

Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk. Don’t run. That’d be too obvious.

And when you finally got far enough to glance back, there he was, watching you from the entrance; his silhouette a shadow against the soft warm light inside looking like fucking Michael Myers.

Your house, that same night. An hour later.

You took a shower. Didn’t know when the next one would come. Probably not for days. Showers were a luxury you’d quickly learned to appreciate: being clean. Not exactly a common thing these days.

Not that everyone in Jackson was obsessively clean or anything. Plenty of folks didn’t use the locally made products, but there were plenty to choose from.

Since you got to town, you’d fallen for every single one of them. People made soaps out of all kinds of stuff that smelled amazing. You even made your own oils in the greenhouse, and Zach used mint leaves to whip up all kinds of ointments and salves.

People brushed their teeth with paintbrushes, which, honestly, had blown your mind. Big ones, small ones, soft bristles, hard bristles, didn’t matter. Anything worked. Shampoos, creams, all-natural, plant-based, made from whatever was around or nearby.

So in your shower, you made sure to soak up every last second of lavender scent your soap could give you. Such a romantic, right?

Showers had to be quick for the sake of reduced water supply. But when you stepped out, you brushed your teeth, rubbed a little lavender oil on your wrists, and slipped into pajamas, ready to pack for tomorrow.

Guns, ammo, food, water bottle, flashlight, bla, bla, bla. You double-checked everything more than once. You’d wear light clothes and a light jacket when you left, with a change of clothes in your backpack.

You glanced over the setup on your coffee table: the closed backpack, the clothes you’d wear, and the old knife you needed to stash just beside your boot. The same one someone gave you years and years ago at the cabin. It was almost poetic.

God, you were kind of nervous.

Was it normal to be nervous? Was that it?

Probably.

Knock, knock, knock. Three sharp nocks on your door.

You froze, thinking it’d be best to pretend you were asleep. But then you noticed the light was on, so it was probably obvious you weren’t.

You stayed still for a moment. Maybe they’d think you were upstairs and just hadn’t heard, and then they’d leave.

One second. Two. Five…

Knock, knock, knock.

What if it was Zach?

You stood up, determined, and walked fast to the door, grabbing the handle and opening it without thinking.

No, it wasn't Zach.

“Joel,” you said, his name tasting like a curse on your tongue.

Had you actually said it three times at some point?

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice. Something like that. Joel, Joel, Joel.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, irritated.

He shook his head, casual. “Askin’ a favor, actually. Reckon you got some coffee? I know Tommy gave you some when that new group showed up, and well, you know.”

Was he having some kind of attack? Why was he talking so smoothly and fast?

You furrowed your brow. “You want coffee?”

He nodded, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah.”

You stared at him, confused for a second, then clicked your tongue.

“You’re telling me you came to my house, at this hour, just ‘cause you want some coffee?”

He nodded again. “Seems right.”

“Joel,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “Doesn’t anything I say mean anything to you? I asked you to keep–”

“That’s just a little coffee. That’s it. Then I’ll be gone,” he said, leaning in a bit. You instinctively stepped back. “So?”

“What?”

“You got coffee or not?”

Your eyes widened, flicking past him to the street behind, not really looking, just confused and more than a little incredulous about the whole thing.

You looked back at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Yeah, I got some. Wait here,” you said, lifting a finger.

You turned and hurried to the kitchen. Your hands, usually so steady, got clumsy hunting for the last bit of coffee you had. Which, by the way, you’d been saving like it was gold, meant to savor it properly. Giving it to Joel was a sacrifice you hadn’t planned on, and honestly, it was bugging you more than you expected.

Got it. You grabbed the can and hurried toward the door. But when you hit the hallway, you saw the door was wide open... and Joel was nowhere in sight.

You spun right.

Frozen.

There he stood by the coffee table, holding your knife, staring at it, still, fingers tracing the cold metal and carefully touching the blunt side.

“Joel,” you warned, stepping quickly into the living room and pressing the coffee can against his chest harder than necessary. “Go.”

He looked at you, one hand taking the can almost without noticing, the other lifting the knife.

“I knew it,” he said, stepping back. He crouched, put the knife back where it belonged, the can beside it, then straightened. He pointed at the stuff on the table and the backpack by the side. “You’re too damn stubborn to just sit still and do nothin’. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek hard and took a step back.

“You don’t know shit.”

“Don’t I?” he spat, voice sharp. “I knew you’d try to leave anyway, with or without company. Been waitin’ for the right moment to get suspicious enough. Back at the stable a while ago,” he nodded behind him. “You just confirmed it all.”

“Oh yeah? And what the hell are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You crossed your arms and stepped forward. “Run to Tommy like a fucking snitch? Stop me from leaving?”

He laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “You better believe I will. Don’t you doubt it for a second.”

Heat rose in your face and a sharp ache settled in your chest.

“Why?” you asked, voice thick with anger. “Why would you do something like that? I’m not hurting anyone, not putting anyone at risk but myself. This doesn’t have to mess anything up here—”

“You’re safe here,” he spat, waving a hand, cheeks flushed. “Why the hell would you wanna leave all this just to go see some ruins out there? You know how many people would kill to have a roof like this over their heads?”

“You don’t get it!” you shouted, feeling your eyes sting. “You never will! You’re the most insensitive, thoughtless, proud, arrogant man I’ve ever met. And believe me, I’ve met a hell of a lot of assholes, Joel. A whole bunch!”

He pointed at you. “I can swear every damn one of those things you see in me is just a reaction to you bein’ here, ‘cause you’re the most unbearable, incoherent, delusional, reckless woman I’ve ever met in my damn life—”

“That’s not true at all, Joel,” you shot back, mimicking him and pointing at yourself. Your body burned with anger. “And honestly, if that’s the case, then you’ve got your definitions all mixed up in your head, and you’ve probably really deeply known very few women in your whole life.”

“You don't say!” he exclaimed, hands on hips, leaning toward you. He pointed again. “You got no idea how peaceful my life was before you showed up here. Since you got here—”

“I'm glad!”

“—since you got here all you do is mess with my fuckin' nerves!”

You stared at him for a beat, breathing heavy, matching his anger. Then, you gave a humorless smile.

“If that’s the case, Joel, I don’t see much choice but to leave,” you said, stepping forward. “If there’s one thing I wouldn’t dare do, it’s mess with your nerves more than necessary.”

He stared at you, silent, dark eyes steady and unblinking. His jaw clenched, and his breathing slowly eased with each passing second.

He swallowed and shook his head. “Can you please consider what I’m tellin’ you?”

A sarcastic laugh caught in your throat as you crossed your arms. “Have you ever considered anything I’ve said?”

Joel blinked slowly, dropped his gaze to your feet, and sighed. “Guess I’ll be talkin’ to Tommy then.”

Your breath hitched for a moment, a swirl of emotions churning in your chest; anger, frustration, despair, helplessness.

You looked at Joel, but he didn’t meet your eyes, staring at the floor instead. He stayed that way as he turned and started walking down the hall.

“No,” you said, barely more than a whisper, following him. “Joel, please.”

You reached out, and just before he crossed the threshold from the living room to the hallway, you grabbed his arm firmly, forcing him to turn with a sharp tug.

“Please, you don't understand.”

He turned and looked at you silently, but he stayed put. Didn’t try to walk away.

“Even if you say something, you really think Tommy or María would try to stop me?” Your hand tightened on his arm. “Think they’d try to convince me to stay here?”

Joel didn’t answer, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, and something unreadable flickered across his face.

“No, they wouldn’t,” you went on. “I talked to them. They were on board from the start. Said I should have company more as a suggestion than a rule. It's just a week. You’re the only one who’s got a problem with this, and I don’t care if you try to wreck it. I’m going to leave anyway, whether you like it or not, and there isn’t a damn thing in this world you can do to stop me.”

He shook his head, barely noticeable.

“What’s so important out there that makes all this worth it?” Joel said. “It’s just a week, but you and me both know what that means for a woman travelin’ alone.”

“You don’t get it,” you said low, almost defeated.

“Even if you told me—”

“Joel, you don’t get it—”

“...that there ain’t nothin’ out there—”

“Sophie’s there!” you shouted, pushing him back against the doorway.

That shut him up.

Joel looked at you, confused, while you felt your eyes blur with tears.

“That was our home,” you said, your chest sinking. “It was the last place we were together. And when she died, I buried her right there under a tree, in the yard.” You motioned with your hand.

Joel stayed still.

“I cried for days, stuck in that fucking bed, unable to go to her grave just a few feet away. And before I could even get up on my own, I had to run, leave it all behind, Joel, all of it,” you said, feeling the hot tears burn down your cheeks. “All our memories, her things, photos, journals, books, her. I left it all. I left her. And then, after years, before I could even step inside the house, they hunted me again, for days, trying to kill me. That’s why you found me nearly dead out there,” you pointed to the side, your voice breaking. “I was trying to go back home and I couldn’t. Never could. And she’s alone—alone out there, she's alone in the middle of nowhere and she’s my baby.”

You covered your face, the pain ripping through your body as the tears poured harder down your cheeks. Swallowing made your throat burn, tight and raw from crying.

Joel’s breath trembled, you could hear it. And when you pulled your hands away and looked at him, his eyes were glassy, staring at you like he was scared to be near you, scared of what you were saying.

“I…,” he started, “I don’t… I—”

“No, you don’t get it, you don't understad, ’cause you get to see Ellie every day,” you said, swallowing hard and glancing at his chest. “You have no idea how damn lucky you are. This pain…” You paused, not sure where to put it. “…I don’t know what to do with it.”

You stepped back and ran your hands over your cheeks, wiping away the tears. You looked up at Joel’s face; still frozen there, mouth slightly open, eyes glassy and barely blinking, fixed on you.

“You’re wrong,” he said then, low, a whisper. “You don’t have any idea how much I wish I didn’t understand you.”

A heavy sigh rose in your chest and escaped through your nose, your eyebrows knitting in confusion.

Joel sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. You watched him stand there, silent, a shadow crossing his face.

His gaze lifted back up to meet yours. “I’ll take you there.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I’ll go with you,” he said, looking at you steady, nodding slow. “Give me a day to sort a few things out and get everything ready, and we’ll head out first thing in the morin', just like you planned.”

“Joel, you don’t have to—”

He stepped forward.

“I’m more stubborn than you, so don’t even try to talk me out of it,” he said softly. “I’ll take you. We’ll go to your house, stay as long as you need, and then head back to Jackson.”

Another tear slipped down your cheek. “Why would you do that for me?”

Joel pursed his lips a little, looking off to the side. His eyes were almost impossibly dark just then.

“Just promise me you won’t sneak out tomorrow, alone,” he said, meeting your eyes again.

You thought about it. Thought about it hard, really hard. Your mind was trying not to drown in its own despair after this unplanned conversation, maybe even a fight.

Joel’s eyes darkened, sharp enough to burn your skin. But they didn’t, mostly because your eyes were glued to his, too focused to notice.

He stepped forward, cornering you against the other side of the doorway.

“Say it. Say you won’t go alone. That you’ll wait a day, and we’ll go together.”

“I will.”

“What?”

“I’ll wait a day.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. Joel, I’ll wait a day.”

“All right,” he said, stepping back slowly, still watching you like he was hunting for a lie in your words. “I trust your word.”

You nodded, still trying to process what just happened. Joel stared at you a few more seconds before turning and walking to the door.

He opened it, then paused and looked back at you.

“Get some rest,” he said, and closed it.

Your house. The next day.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t, for a few fleeting moments, consider slipping out without telling a soul. Finding Lucas, asking him to open the gate, and just… leaving.

But you didn’t. Because, for some reason, the promise you’d made to Joel weighed heavier than your backpack.

You won't sneak out tomorrow.

So you didn’t.

You’d spent the whole night tossing and turning, unable to shut your brain off, marveling at how ridiculous this entire situation was and how, somehow, it still felt plausible.

You knew Joel was someone you could trust to watch your back and travel as part of a team. You wouldn’t have to worry about him. Zach was strong too, sure, but there was something about dragging him into this that felt… wrong. Like guilt. With Joel, it wasn’t like that. For whatever reason.

Maria had once mentioned, in the vaguest possible way over coffee at her place, that Joel had crossed the country with Ellie a few years back. Said he’d protected her well. Obstacles, plenty of them, all handled. She didn’t offer more than that, and you didn’t ask. You weren’t the type to pry. You knew she was his daughter, and that was enough.

You’d gotten out of bed after a night of not-quite-sleep, jittery enough to spend the entire morning re-packing things you’d already packed. Twice.

After noon, there was a knock at your door.

Tommy. You let him in, mumbling apologies for the state of your living room, which he waved off immediately. Said it looked pretty tidy, actually. You almost laughed. Either he was lying, or his bar for “tidy” was in the basement.

You offered him tea, and he sank into the couch across from you. He started with the easy stuff: Was everything ready? Did you need anything? Food, maybe? before his voice dipped lower, like he was about to confess something.

Take care of Joel.

“I know he’s strong,” he said, ducking his head a little, “but… I’m askin’ you, as a friend. Sometimes he needs lookin’ after. He’ll never ask for it himself.”

“I will,” you said, meaning it. “I promise.”

Before leaving, he pulled you into a hug and tossed out a casual see ya tomorrow that somehow made your stomach twist.

The day slipped by like that; Florence showed up with the Rowells in tow, and they spent most of the afternoon drinking tea and distracting you with travel and ridiculous stories.

You didn’t see Joel once. Not that you panicked; Tommy had mentioned he was sorting a few things over on Hall Ave with Erin and had spent the morning at the office. Still, you couldn’t help feeling like you might be… in the way. Tommy insisted you weren’t.

By nightfall, there was a knock at your door, and Zach stood there with a foood bag balanced in his good hand.

“Couldn’t let you leave without talkin’ to you first,” he said after a while, after you’d eaten and spent dinner laughing, pretending nothing had happened. But he was the one who brought it up.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t supportive,” he said. “But I need you to know everythin' I said came from a place of caring, not mistrust. I know you can do this. I just hate the thought of not seein’ you again, or somethin’ happenin’ to you. Even somethin’ small.”

You swallowed hard, the words hitting deeper than you expected.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you said, reaching out to brush your fingers along his cheek. “I just hope you understand my frustration. Everyone I talked to about this seemed not to trust me. I felt… kind of stupid.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” you said, shaking your head. “And I felt like crap leaving you hurt like that.”

“Oh, don’t,” Zach said with a soft laugh. “If it makes you feel any better, Joel stuck around with me.”

“Really?” You didn’t sound surprised, more… confused.

Zach nodded. “Helped me get home,” he said flatly. “Asked if I really thought you were gonna go off on your own.”

“And what did you say?”

“The truth.”

“And that is?”

“That I wouldn’t blame you if you did, and that it’d make sense. That, yeah, you might.”

You dropped your gaze to his plate, not really looking at it.

“I’m sure you two will be fine. He’s good at that kind of thing. Used to be a smuggler, you know?”

You looked up at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Still does favors now and then. Got Erin a couple things recently. Don’t exactly know from where, to be honest. He must have connections.”

“I had no idea.”

Zach said something else, but you didn’t quite catch it. And not long after (anyway) he changed the subject, rambling about how his arm made it impossible to bathe properly last night, but he’d rather struggle through it alone than deal with the embarrassment of asking for help.

When Zach left, you set everything out in the living room, ready to do nothing but stand up tomorrow and walk out the door.

You were halfway through zipping your backpack when there was a quick knock at the door.

You stood, brushing your palms against your legs, and wandered over without hurry. Opened it.

“Hey, Snow.” She glanced past you into the house. “Can I talk to you for a minute? I’ll be quick.”

“Ellie,” you said, nodding. “Of course. Come in.”

You stepped aside, and she walked in, her eyes sweeping the place like she was collecting evidence. So you led her to the kitchen, offering tea. But she shook her head, saying she had to see Dina soon.

Ellie sat exactly where Zach had been not long ago. You took the seat across from her.

“It’s nice to see you,”

She smiled and nodded, though there was something else in her expression. “Never been to this house. It’s nice. Smells good.”

“You think so? Thanks.”

“Sure. I don’t like smelly people, y’know?”

You laughed. “Me neither. But there comes a point where your nose gets used to certain smells, don’t you think?”

“Don’t even get me started,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But we do what we can.”

“I think so. That's right.”

Ellie looked at you in silence, like she was working something out.

“I talked to Joel today,” she said quietly. “Asked him to let me come with you.”

Your brows lifted. “Really?”

“Obviously he said no.” She dragged her hands down her thighs. “Didn’t matter how much I pushed.”

“That’s understandable.”

“You don’t want me to go, do you?”

You smiled softly. “I think Joel tagging along is already enough. I couldn’t drag you into it, too.”

“But we’re good at this. Both of us. We make a good team.”

“I’m sure you do.”

She stared at you for a few beats, then sighed.

“Obviously I’m not going. He forbade me,” she said, rolling the word around like it tasted bad. Then she looked up at you. “I just need you to promise... promise me you’ll look after him.”

You met her eyes. There was something hard in them, serious, like a warning.

“I will,” you said. “I promise.”

“Have you ever killed someone?”

You nodded, slow.

“Why?” she asked.

“Self-defense.”

Ellie nodded back. “I know Joel looks all big and scary and whatever, but still, watch his back. He’ll never ask for help. If he’s hurt, he’ll probably tell you to leave. Snow... promise me you wouldn’t. That you wouldn’t walk away.”

“I wouldn’t,” you said, honestly. “I swear.”

She studied you for a long beat, her eyes digging in like she was looking for cracks in your expression, for lies or weak words.

“His knees ache sometimes. Same with his back. He’ll never say it out loud.” She leaned in a little over the table. “And he’s deaf in his right ear, so always cover his right side. He might not hear some things.”

You didn’t know that.

You nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Ellie went quiet, and you waited for her to add something, but she didn’t. Instead, she sighed, pushed up from her chair.

“You take care of yourself, too,” she said with a smile. “You still owe me all your stories.”

You smiled back. “When I get back, how’s that?”

She nodded, already turning away. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Your house. The next morning. Way, way too early.

When you opened the door, Joel was standing there with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a sleep-puffed face. He gave you a slow once-over, shifted his weight onto his right leg.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding, turning toward the coat rack beside you.

You pulled on your jacket, a lightweight brown one that was still warm enough to pass for responsible packing.

“Be right back,” you said, spinning on your heel.

In the kitchen, you grabbed the two thermoses sitting on the counter, shoved one into your backpack, then swung the bag over your shoulders.

Everything in place, you headed back to the door. Joel was still exactly where you’d left him.

“All set,” you said, locking up. You turned toward him and held out the other thermos.

He frowned. “What’s this?”

“Coffee. I told you I had some left. You didn't take it the other night.”

He looked at it like it might bite, then at you.

“I know you weren’t here for coffee the other night,” you said. “It was an excuse to snoop. But either way, take it.” You nudged it closer to him. “It’s my way of saying thanks for doing this with me.”

Joel finally took the thermos, gave a short nod. Didn’t say anything, just turned and started walking beside you, which you appreciated. Normally he walked ahead, like some kind of human pace-setter. Well, normally… back when you’d been stuck with him at the office weeks ago. This morning, he seemed more deliberate with his steps.

The walk to the stables was quiet, but you didn’t mind. The day looked beautiful, even if the sun hadn’t quite made its grand entrance yet. The night still lingered at the edges of the light, keeping her company.

Erin was already there, getting the horses ready. Ares and River stood calm and waiting, like they knew exactly what was coming.

When you reached them, you stroked Ares’s cheek, then River’s. He seemed to know he was headed for a long ride. You'll take good care of him. You'll take care of all of them.

“All set,” Joel murmured, and that was all it took for your heart to pick up an extra beat or two.

Erin walked you to the gates, where Tommy, Maria, Ellie, and the Rowells were waiting.

Seeing them all together made your stomach twist, like maybe you were inconveniencing the entire town. But all you got were words of encouragement, a few light pats on the back, a couple of hugs, and a kiss on the cheek from Isabella.

“Take care, girl,” she said as you swung up onto River. “The two of you, take care. Joel, we expect you back.”

Joel nodded, pulling away from Ellie’s hug and settling onto Ares.

“We’ll be fine,” he said. “Y’all be careful too.”

Words. More words. You hated goodbyes.

The gates swung open.

Suddenly, you weren’t in Jackson anymore.

divider by: omi-resources

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capuccinodoll · 10 days ago

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capuccinodoll's masterlist | ao3 | capuccinodollupdates

— Story summary: You should have died that day. Instead, Joel Miller found you. After the Millers saved your life, you became something of a miracle. Now you’ve been given a second chance, and the sweetness of your new home is overshadowed by the coldness of one of them: Joel. Unfortunately for him, Tommy assigns you to work by his side, as the assistant he claims he doesn’t need. This basically translates to: Joel is a leading patrol man and he has to see you every day. <3 (Jackson!Joel x F!reader)

— Warnings: 18+ / MDNI / Big age gap (Joel is 60, reader is mid 30s — pick your age) / No Y/N use / story based on TLOU Part I and II, but with creative liberties taken ofc it's a fic let's have fun.

Part one: "When I close my eyes, it feels like home"

Part two: "In a lifeless memory, there you belong"

Part three: "You and me for evermore"

Part four: "I, the one who dimmed the Sun"

Part five: "And here lies the blade of my tongue"

Part six: "To bite this wayward tongue of mine"

Part seven: "Vanish in the morning's bloom, still follows you the faithful moon"

Next parts soon soon soon!

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capuccinodoll · 11 days ago

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Hiiii 🤍 tonight I’ll be posting a new chapter of A Haunted Body <3 hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

#capuccinodoll #a haunted body

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capuccinodoll · 13 days ago

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🤭thank you baby, always a pleasure to write this for you <3 sending u a big kiss 💋

—LUCKY — (one shot) ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆‧₊˚ (firefighter!joel x f!reader) MDNI!!

my masterlist | read on ao3 | capuccinodollupdates

summary: After a long, stressful week at the station, firefighter Joel Miller turns to the most natural form of stress relief: hitting a bar in search of a one-night stand. And as luck would have it, he finds you. WC: 8.3K

A/N: Quick backstory: a couple weeks ago I met this super hot forty-something firefighter, and that same week I started writing this one-shot. It had to be Joel. It sat in my drafts for weeks until last night, when I finally finished it in a random burst of inspiration, when I definitely should’ve been sleeping (but like, who even sleeps more than three hours these days anyway?) let me know what you think <3

Joel’s first act of rebellion that night was to light a damn cigarette.

He hadn’t smoked in years. Not since... well, it didn’t matter. Long day, his back hurt, and his temper had been riding the edge of dangerous for hours. Also, he was fucking horny.

He was still wearing what he’d had on at the station: black work pants, belt digging uncomfortably into his hips, a navy cotton T-shirt and boots that tracked half the parking lot’s mud into the bar. He hadn’t even stopped at home. Knew if he did, he’d lie down, blink, and it’d be morning.

He needed a drink, a break. Stress was eating him alive.

Joel coped with his daily life as best he could. Like the kid who set his bathroom on fire. A twenty-year-old with a tragic case of romantic impulse. Joel and the guys found him curled on the kitchen floor with a burnt towel, melted candles, and a charred tray of pizza slices. The guy wanted ambiance. Candlelight and bathtub acoustics. Maybe a little poetry. He got third-degree burns instead.

Also, Joel was sure he saw a burnt book in the hallway. That was poetic.

Curtains had gone up next. Then came the wine glass, shattered. The kid lived on the third floor. Nearly took out the neighbors. Almost. Well, Joel was probably dramatizing. He did that when he was irritated.

So yeah. Tonight, he ordered a whiskey and lit up, fully aware that the smoke would cling to his fingers for the rest of the night. And he didn't care.

The bar was crowded. Not packed, but full enough to feel like enough. It smelled like beer and cig smoke and wet dirt, thanks to all the muddy boots dragging rain in from the street. His included. The music was too loud to hear the storm tapping on the roof, but he could feel it anyway.

He scanned the room. Nothing caught. Then again, he wasn’t exactly a flame to be drawn to these days.

A blonde in a low-cut top leaned over the bar. A brunette at the pool table bent just the right way in tight jeans. He took a sip of his drink. Watched. Let his eyes rest on her for a couple of seconds.

He was worn the fuck out. And he knew it.

Twenty years ago, this same night would’ve started differently. He’d already be in someone’s backseat, or someone else’s bed, or maybe the goddamn bathroom stall if it came to that. He used to have a good mouth on him. A silver tongue. Knew how to talk, how to touch. And he’d been a lucky bastard once, golden even, for longer than he probably deserved.

Now? Forty-five. Body stiff in some places. Still carrying around a full tank of sex and no place to unload it.

He could’ve stayed home. Could’ve jerked off, taken a hot shower, gone to bed. But the tension in his back said no thanks to that routine. He needed something else. Something more.

He wasn’t even sure he remembered how to flirt anymore. The last time he’d fucked a stranger was years ago, after a night out with the guys from the station — tall redhead, forties, dirty mouth, smelled like vanilla. Her scent had stayed on his shirt, and for a full day after, he kept catching it on his own damn arms.

The last time he’d slept with anyone was eight months ago. Nothing dramatic. Two nights, zero chemistry, and then radio silence.

Now he had nothing. Not even decent porn. He’d spent the past week jerking off in half-hearted silence, scrolling through a sea of videos that didn’t make him feel a goddamn thing.

No. He didn’t want a screen, bad acting and cringey dialogue.

He needed skin. Sweat. Something to sink his teeth into.

So he didn’t overthink it. He got in the truck straight after his long shift and drove to the bar with a plan so simple it felt almost clinical: show up, drink, find someone, fuck, go home.

His eyes drifted back to the blonde. She was watching him now, of course she was. He recognized that look from miles away. She was already imagining how he’d taste.

Joel stubbed out his cigarette and shifted to stand. And that’s when the bell above the door rang.

You walked in.

Looking slightly lost, you looked like you hadn’t meant to end up here. Hair a little damp from the rain, short black dress clinging to your thighs. You didn’t belong in this place, and that made it worse somehow. Or better.

Joel’s gaze moved down, then back up. He exhaled. Sat back down.

Lifted his whiskey and drank.

“Um, whiskey, please. On the rocks.”

Your voice surprised him. Softer than expected. Especially for someone like you. And by that, he meant you looked like you’d rip a man open.

You sat down on the stool to his left. He turned slightly, watching you.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and sighed as you checked your phone, and Joel noticed your eye makeup was just a little smudged.

You bit your lower lip, distracted.

You looked young. Early thirties, maybe.

Joel wondered —for half a second— if it would be too much, too pathetic, to try anything. But the thought lasted barely a second before he shifted and felt the thick fabric of his pants pressing right in his crotch.

Fuck it.

So, yeah, he was about to say something. Nothing clever, really, just something, when you turned your head and looked straight at him.

“What?”

Joel’s fingers tightened around his glass.

So that’s the tone. That’s who you were. You looked at him with big eyes, long eyelashes. What the hell do you want?

“Tough day?” he asked, smirking before he could stop himself. He lifted his chin toward the drink the bartender had just slid in front of you.

You looked down at it, then back up at him.

“What makes you think that?”

“Intuition,” he said.

You faced forward again, hands wrapped around the glass. Your nails were painted crimson red. He liked that.

You took a slow sip. Nodded.

“Tough week.”

He nodded too. Fair enough.

“Did you walk here?”

You turned to him again. “Let me guess; intuition?”

He tried not to smile but failed halfway. Nodded.

“Your hair’s damp.”

You stared at him then, properly, eyes holding on his face before trailing down, and suddenly he didn’t need any other confirmation. He already knew how the night was going to end.

Not to brag or anything, you know?

You looked away. Sipped again. Looked back.

“Yeah, I walked. Just a few blocks.” A pause. “There was no way I was going back home like this.”

He tilted his head. “Wet?”

You almost laughed, not quite. It was just one of those soft, breathy sounds that didn’t make it out of your mouth, and Joel wanted to catch it with his.

He hadn’t meant for it to sound like that. But his horny brain was already too hot to care.

You crossed your legs, he didn’t look.

“And what’s a firefighter doing just sitting here drinking?” you asked, eyes flicking to the ashtray. “Smoking, too. Doesn’t that mess with your ability to climb stairs or something?”

He raised his glass. “Hell of a week, I’ll tell you that much.” He took a sip. Set it down again with a thunk. “And I ain’t the kinda man who unwinds with bubble baths and scented candles.”

“Oh, no?” You turned a little toward him, smile all gloss, shiny teeth and mischief. “Scented candles not strong enough for you?”

Joel slid one boot onto the footrest of your stool, settling it between your heels. Your eyes dropped, tracking the motion, but snapped back up to his way too fast.

“I got other preferences,” he said.

“Cigs and whiskey,” you teased, chin tilted up.

“Among other things.”

He sank deep into your eyes, feeling yours pull him under just as hard. A tight, invisible thread. That tickle-in-your-gut kind of feeling. And if he didn’t leave this bar with you tonight, he already knew he’d be thinking about it for a long fucking time.

“Well, that’s a shame,” you said, tracing the rim of his glass with one fingertip. “Something tells me you’ve never actually tried a proper candlelit bath. But cigs and whiskey get the job done, I guess.”

“I’d like to say they do,” he said, voice a little rough now. “But lately they ain’t workin’ much either.”

“No?”

“Not like I want ’em to,” he said, picking up the glass, fingers brushing yours on the way. “And anyway, you’re sittin’ here too, drink in hand. Candles let you down tonight?”

You laughed, soft cheeks rising, eyes going warm.

“And dressed like that, too,” he added, his fingertip grazing yours again, slower.

You tilted your head and bit your lip.

Could’ve looked intentional. Maybe to anyone else it could be, but he knew better. Something about it felt too natural. Like a habit you didn’t notice.

“Got stood up,” you said.

Joel grimaced. “Get the fuck outta here.”

“And you know what’s funny?”

He smiled, already knowing it probably wasn’t going to be funny at all.

“It was our third date,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“That’s the big one,” Joel said, nodding. “You reach number three, there’s expectations. You call him?”

You nodded, eyes dropping to the drink in your hand.

“You wanna know what he said?”

You looked up again, and Joel gave you a look that said hit me.

“‘Something came up,’” you said. Then, deadpan: “Which really sucks, ‘cause I was kinda hoping to get laid tonight.”

A surprised, breathy laugh caught in Joel’s chest. The luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

He didn’t usually buy into fate —sounded too cheesy —but right then, with his brain running hot and you in that dress, it felt like the universe had sent you just for him.

“Well,” he said, dipping his voice, “if it makes you feel any better, I’d bet money he’s an idiot.”

His hand shifted a little closer, finger brushing against yours.

“No man with half a brain stands you up,” he said. “I sure as hell wouldn’t. Not even if the whole damn city was on fire.”

You laughed, and it lit you up.

You closed your ankles gently around his boot.

“Such a flirt,” you said. “That line usually work for you?”

“Ain’t heard any complaints.”

You hummed.

“And tell me,” you said, stretching out your other hand, letting your fingers rest on his chest, right over the red and yellow badge stitched into his shirt. “Is the uniform part of the appeal?”

Joel felt it hit him like a goddamn freight train, his eyes locking onto yours like magnets.

Yeah, it had been a long time. No doubt about it.

Because just the light touch of your fingers on his chest had his heart thudding harder, blood pumping faster through his veins, brain getting fuzzier by the second—

and it was only a matter of time before he was half-hard beneath his pants.

And his belt, suddenly, felt like the only thing holding him together.

His fingers gently tightened around your wrist, your hand still resting on his chest, and your breath hitched.

There it was. The sign he’d been waiting for.

Your eyes went brighter, pupils blown wide like deep, dark pools he wanted to drown in.

All. Fucking. Night.

He slipped his thumb under your palm, pressing gently, tracing slow circles against your skin, and your mouth parted, just slightly.

Joel wondered what it’d feel like to slide his fingers between your lips, feel your tongue on his fingertips. And if he let himself drift further, let the thought get a little dirty, a little vulgar, he wondered how it’d feel to have your mouth wrapped tight around his cock, eyes still locked on his like this, all glossy and wide.

Too many thoughts.

But a quick glance around told him no one was watching. Obviously.

The blonde he’d been eyeing earlier was long gone from the bar, and the brunette was still at the pool table, glued to someone else. Everyone else looked too drunk or too damn tired to notice anything at all. And when he looked back at you, your hand—still tangled with his—had drifted down his chest, settling on his thigh.

Joel tightened his grip around yours, thumb still stroking lazy circles on your skin.

He licked his lips. “Tell me, why this bar outta all the others?”

You exhaled through your nose. “I don’t know. It was close.”

“Must be my lucky night, then.”

You smiled, and your hand squeezed his thigh, thumb pressing into the inside, right where it made his brain short-circuit.

Too close.

Too fucking close.

You leaned back just slightly, dragging your hand down the length of his thigh, slow as sin, until you reached his knee.

You squeezed again.

“I’m pretty sure I could use a little of that luck too,” you said.

“Well, I’m sure of that, sweetheart. Lucky for you, I like to share.”

“You like to share?”

“You know what they say about good manners.”

“I know what they say about firefighters,” you murmured, leaning in just a bit, your ankles brushing his foot softly. “But I ain’t never seen it up close.”

Joel smiled sideways, feeling a little dizzy.

“Guess that makes it your lucky night too, then.”

A sweet smile spread across your lips.

“Restrooms?”

For a moment, he said nothing.

But then he caught himself.

Come on, dumbass, get your shit together.

Joel didn’t speak. Just nodded once and jerked his chin over his shoulder.

You let go of his glass to grab your own. Knocked the rest of your whiskey back like a shot, no hesitation, and set the empty glass down.

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just watched you as you turned. Eyes locked, blood hot.

You saw him the second you walked in. A surprise, considering your sour mood.

Didn’t mean to. Weren’t even looking, really. But there he was; tall, broad shoulders, whiskey in hand, salt just starting to thread through his pepper hair.

And just like that, your shitty night cracked open.

Two fucking hours. You’d waited for Ashton at that overpriced restaurant bar, drinking water like a loser, checking your phone every ten minutes only to get stood up, and then a reply only after you texted him first.

Which, in hindsight, made sense. It was the final nail in the coffin of a situation you’d already outgrown.

You’d prepared for tonight. You’d been looking forward to it.

Months had passed since you’d been with anyone, and Ashton boasted he was gentleman enough to wait for the “right moment.”

Fuck the right moment. You just wanted to fuck. And he was a goddamn liar.

Full of shit. “Something came up,” he’d said. And then, on your way out, there he was; smiling like a jackass in someone’s Instagram story. At a party. Holding a beer. Definitely not waiting for anything.

You’d been ready. Perfumed, waxed, exfoliated, moisturized within an inch of your life.

And all for nothing.

All of it, apparently, for yourself.

Until you saw the man at the bar.

And ordered the same drink he was having.

Now, standing beside him, your hand still resting on his knee, you looked at him one last time and let go. Slipped off your stool and walked toward the restrooms. You didn’t look back right away.

You waited until you were almost there. Then, you turned. And he was watching you. Of course he was. Head tilted, eyes tracking you. And just before you pushed the door open, you saw him move, slow, rising from his seat.

Your heart pounded once, then again, faster.

You’d never done this before. You saved your courage for more reasonable things, like doctor’s appointments, awkward phone calls, breaking up with somebody or declining invitations.

The restroom had two stalls. One sink. A worn mirror. A half-full soap dispenser that looked like it’d seen things.

You didn’t care.

You wanted this.

Right now.

You closed the door and caught your reflection: you looked good, really good, actually, considering you’d walked a couple of blocks in the rain. Your hair still a little damp, eye makeup just barely smudged. Your lips still glossy. It was sexy, to be honest.

Three knocks on the door.

Your heart stopped.

You fixed your hair in the mirror, and then walked to the door, cracked it open, just enough to see him standing there. He looked taller standing up.

He stepped inside in a second, closing the door behind him. You heard the lock click, but all you could see were his eyes fixed on yours.

“Tell me your name,” he said, moving forward until your thighs pressed against the cold sink. He rested his palms on either side, not touching you.

From this new angle he was even closer, and you felt wrapped up in him, in his scent: deep, sexy cologne, whiskey with a hint of smoke. Something you’d never noticed before, or particularly liked, but now couldn’t get enough of.

You said your name with a smile. “And yours?” you asked a second after, sliding your hands up his chest until your fingertips brushed the hot skin at his neck beneath his shirt.

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated, your lips barely brushing his.

You smiled, or tried to, but didn’t get far—his mouth crashed onto yours, stealing your breath and pulling you tight against him.

Joel’s hands squeezed your hips, fingers digging into your ass as he hauled you closer, his belt biting into your stomach. He made low, guttural sounds in his throat as your hands slid down his chest, one pressing against his stomach, the other slipping even lower, past his belt.

You adjusted your palm and gave the bulge in his pants a gentle squeeze. Just to see. Just out of curiosity.

Joel broke the kiss with a moan, breath hot and shaky against your wet lips.

“Jesus, sweetheart, gettin’ luckier by the second.”

“You’re desperate for this, aren’t you?” you whispered against his mouth, squeezing a little harder. “Knew it the second I saw you, undressing me with your eyes. I could feel your heart pounding under my hand.”

Joel smiled, then leaned in to steal a kiss. Quick, soft, gone too fast.

“And now?” he murmured, thrusting his hips forward, deepening the pressure of your hand against his crotch. “You feel it beatin' now, too?”

You squeezed again, a moan rumbling in your chest as you leaned in and dragged your tongue across his lips.

Softer than you expected.

Joel let one hand slip from your hip and cupped your jaw, pulling you in, kissing you just as you were about to taste him again.

His tongue met yours, and his mouth claimed yours in a deep, hungry kiss, full of controlled desperation.

Because yes, he was desperate. So were you. But he kissed you like he didn’t want to devour you too fast.

God knew Joel Miller appreciated a proper meal, and he took his damn time savoring it.

You slid both hands up to his neck and pulled him closer, closer, until his whole body was pressed up against yours. Your legs parted around him, and he lifted you onto the sink with both hands, setting you right at the edge.

Your body was melted into his, so close you could feel the rise and fall of his breath against your stomach. Legs wrapped around his hips, hands tangled in the back of his neck and his hair, mouth full of him; you were coming apart right on top of him.

Your dress had ridden up past your hips, and the porcelain beneath you was cold against your ass. But Joel’s hands were warm, dragging heat over every inch of skin they touched. Gripping, kneading, getting you warm as they went.

You pulled away from his lips, leaning back, your head tipping until your neck was fully exposed to him. And Joel wasted no time; his mouth found your skin, teeth and tongue at your throat like some goddamn vampire, biting gently at your pulse point. And then—

A sudden chill kissed your chest, your nipples tightening instantly.

You looked down.

He’d tugged down the top of your dress, one strap slipping off your arm without grace.

One breast bare, the other still half-covered.

Joel cupped it with his hand, fingers rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, both of you watching it happen, breath catching, uneven.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he murmured against your jaw, rough, a little shaky as he kept touching you. “Soft… beautiful… almost feels like a shame to eat you up.”

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head back, your hand stroking the warm skin at the back of his neck.

“You’re not gonna back out, are you?”

Joel lifted his gaze, locking eyes with you. A crooked smile pulled at his lips.

“Baby,” he said, smug, “I never leave a plate unfinished.”

Saying that, he slid his hand down your stomach and rested it on your thigh, easing your legs open just a little more.

He pressed his palm, fingers angled down, against your underwear, dragging them slowly up and down with the lightest pressure. Just enough to make your whole body tremble.

“Look at this,” he muttered, grinning. “Already soaked.”

You rocked your hips forward, chasing the contact, and he pushed his hand in closer, fingers circling your clit through the damp fabric, drawing moans straight from your chest.

Your head fell back with a gasp.

“Fuck, Joel, yes,” you whispered, eyes shut, fingers stroking the back of his neck. “Right there, right there.”

He kissed your neck, his tongue leaving a wet trail up along your jaw until he reached your ear—then, he softly bit your earlobe.

A gasp slipped from your lips. He let out a breathy laugh.

“You like that?” he whispered, almost surprised, voice barely there—meant only for you.

He bit again. You shivered, your hips grinding harder against his fingers.

“Goddamn, look at you,” he murmured, hot breath spilling over your skin. “So fuckin’ pretty, so desperate, so wet.” His voice dipped lower. “Dragged me into the restroom just to get what you wanted, didn’t you?”

You nodded, eyes shut, breath catching.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, his hand moving rougher. “ Tell me. Say it.”

You opened your eyes, lids heavy, and looked at him, hoping the hunger in your stare would swallow him whole.

You exhaled, shaky. “Your—your tongue.”

Joel stilled. His hand stopped.

His mouth found your neck again, and his grip tightened on your hips, pulling you hard against him as your mind spun like a goddamn carousel.

“Your mouth,” you murmured, clutching at him. “Joel—oh my God.”

He laughed against your skin, satisfied, then pulled back. His hands slid down to the inside of your thighs, and without looking away, he started to open you up, inch by inch.

His eyes were shining, dark as midnight, pupils blown wide; lips flushed, cheeks hot and glowing.

Then, the doorknob rattled.

Someone tried to get in.

Three knocks hit the door.

“Occupied,” Joel called, eyes never leaving yours, his hands still gripping your thighs as he dropped to a crouch.

Whoever was outside said something, but you didn’t hear it. Couldn’t. Your focus was locked on the man between your legs.

Joel hooked his fingers into your panties and dragged them to the side.

A breath caught on his lips.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered under his breath, eyes glued to you.

And instinctively, you rolled your hips forward, offering more, opening for him.

Joel started kissing the insides of your thighs, inching higher with every breath. But the tension was killing you, you needed him over you, right now. Right this second.

Your hand found his hair, fingers tangling in it just tight enough to make a low laugh rumble from his chest.

And then he moved closer, and closer, and—

“Oh my… God,” you gasped, head thrown back, mouth open.

Joel was gentle, tender. His mouth felt soft against you; tongue licking slow, lips wrapping around your bud, sucking softly, releasing with a wet, needy sound: music to your ears.

He moaned against you, sending vibrations through every nerve ending, and you gripped his hair tighter. That seemed to ignite something, because he plunged deeper, faster, sucking harder, with desperate intensity.

You knew you were soaked, felt it slick between your thighs. And when you glanced down, Joel’s mouth and nose were glistening too.

He pulled back for a moment, fingers spreading you open, tracing circles over your clit.

“Look at you, so goddamn beautiful and sweet,” he murmured, then kissed the inside of your thigh quickly, his stubble tickling you.

Without warning, his mouth closed over you again, hungry and relentless.

Holy fuck, you could come just from the sight of it.

Joel had your clit wrapped in his lips, sucking hard while his tongue flicked inside his mouth and over your wet heat.

You couldn’t hold back any longer.

Fisting his hair, head thrown back, a breathy sigh tore through you, and a moan escaped—too loud, too raw—from deep in your throat.

Your hips moved on their own, riding the waves as Joel kept the pace, dragging you over the edge nonstop.

You were trembling, jaw clenched, when his mouth finally pulled away with a soft, satisfied plop.

He touched you one last time, just to kiss your clit like he was sealing a job well done.

No, no... Perfectly done. You had just come harder than you ever had in your life.

The man was talented. You almost climbed off the sink to give him a round of applause, but a dozen other ways to thank him were already lining up in your head.

God bless firefighters. Always reliable service.

When he kissed you, you were still half-dizzy, but you wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

His mouth tasted like you. His tongue was soft in yours, even though now you knew exactly what it was capable of.

You pulled away, trailing your mouth down his jaw with soft kisses until you reached his neck.

“That was fucking incredible,” you murmured, a smile audible in your voice.

He laughed deep and low, vibrating right under your lips.

“My pleasure,” he said, smug as hell.

You leaned back, grinning, eyes locked on his as your hand slid down to his belt. Fingers trembling but quick, undoing the black leather buckle.

Once undone, you pulled down the zipper of his pants and without breaking eye contact, your hand slipped under his boxers.

Your eyes fluttered as your hand brushed against bare skin, wrapping around his thick, pulsing length.

You swallowed hard.

Your hand stroked him gently, heart pounding at how swollen and hard he was. And when you looked down, just in time to see him slide free from his boxers, a breath caught in your throat.

His dick was big. Long and wide, the soft hair above framing it like a crown. The mushroom-shaped head was round and swollen, pink and leaking. Veins stood out, thick, pulsing, and suddenly, your mouth watered.

Joel seemed composed, at least from a distance. And you say this because up close, you could see how hard he was breathing, his chest rising and falling in ragged bursts.

You didn’t want to make him wait any longer—you didn’t want to wait any longer either— so you pressed your hand gently against him, urging him to step back. And with a quick leap, you slid off the sink and dropped to your knees.

Looking up, you caught how his hand immediately tangled in your hair, fingers gripping your scalp.

You placed one hand on his thigh, the other at his base, thumb gently pressing and caressing his balls. You knew he liked it, because a soft sigh slipped past his lips the moment you did.

Without a word, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue over the head, slow, until your lips wrapped around him.

Joel gasped, tightening his grip on your hair. You smiled up at him.

He smirked back, that crooked grin lighting up his face.

“Enjoyin’ yourself, darlin’?”

Suddenly, you decided to wipe that smug smile right off his face.

Your tongue traced the length of him, sliding all the way down to the base, while your hand started pumping him steady and your mouth wrapped around his scrotum, lips sucking and tasting that perfect, salty flavor.

Joel groaned, leaning forward, one hand braced on the sink, eyes squeezed shut and, for once, no damn smile.

You licked back up to the head again, hand sliding down to the base to stroke as your mouth took as much as it could, lips tight and wet, tongue working every inch it could reach.

“Oh, shit, fuck,” Joel gasped, eyes wide as he looked down at you, fingers gently massaging your cheek.

Wet sounds slipped from your mouth and throat as you took him deeper, and deeper, and deeper, until your nose nearly touched his base, completely filled, no room left in your mouth.

Joel moaned, a broken, fragile sound, then tugged your hair softly, pulling you back slowly.

You took a breath as he released you, fingers brushing over your damp chin. You were drooling, thick drops slipping from your lips.

You leaned forward and flicked your tongue out, but before you could take him back into your mouth, Joel grabbed your shoulders, impatience clear in his grip.

“Joel,” you whined, hands resting on his arms, eyes glazed and cock-drunk.

“Sweetheart, don’t get me wrong,” he said, fingers brushing your cheek, needy. “But if you stay on your knees any longer, this’s gonna end way different than how I wanna end it.”

You nodded, understanding. Pff, you were so kind.

You wiped the back of your hand over your mouth, then cupped his face with both hands, pulling him in for a fierce, hungry kiss.

Suddenly, there were knocks on the door.

“Occupied!” Joel shouted again, leaving your mouth.

You chuckled low and clenched his shirt in your fists while his hands slid to your hips, kneading and gripping the skin there.

He bent down and planted a kiss between your neck and shoulder. Then, in one smooth move, he lifted you back onto the sink.

You leaned back, palms pressed against the cold porcelain behind you, while he slipped a black package with tiny white letters from his back pocket.

He popped it open with a quick tear at the corner and popped it in his mouth.

So that’s how it was... this man carried a bareskin raw in his pocket. Look at him.

You smiled to yourself and brought your hand to your mouth, quickly licking your fingers as you watched him roll on the condom, the thin latex hugging him perfectly.

Your hand slipped down between your legs, fingers teasing impatiently while he positioned himself at your entrance. But you stopped touching yourself the moment you felt him start to slide in, your hand immediately gripping his tanned, strong arm; a vein traced along his bicep, disappearing under his shirt.

You shifted your hips just slightly, and Joel eased himself in, slow and steady.

Inch by inch, his face stayed controlled, but his eyes gave him away. You were completely mesmerized, watching him—watching his reaction as he slid inside you, feeling yourself stretch around him with every second. A slow, delicious burn spreading through your whole body.

With just one hip push, Joel pressed deep, fully inside you.

A gasp escaped your lips, your body overwhelmed by the perfect fullness, the delicious weight of him.

“Fuck,” you threw your head back, breathing calm but heavy.

“Look at it,” Joel managed to say, rough.

You obeyed, eyes dropping right to where your bodies met.

“Look at it; fittin’ like a glove,” he added.

His hands slid up to your waist, gripping tight to keep you steady while you adjusted to him. Joel took the moment to lean forward and bury his mouth in your chest. His tongue flicked lively and wet, and damn, it was almost too much.

Your hand traveled up his arm to his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Joel—Joel, move,” you whispered, voice ragged. “Move.”

He let go of your nipple with a wet, filthy sound and tightened his grip on your waist. His eyes locked on yours while he pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in one smooth thrust. Then again. And again. And again.

He started moving against you, his hard, heavy cock sliding between your legs, and the heat inside you flared instantly.

And if before you were melting, now you were straight-up dissolving. Joel was fucking you with that fucked-and-broken look in his eyes, and your heart was pounding like a drum. Your body was burning, nearly feverish, and your hands clung to him however they could; gripping his clothes, his neck, his hair, anything within reach.

And he let you hold on, pressing his body against yours, gasping as he gave it all; his mouth trailing kisses down your neck, your shoulders, biting here and there, leaving wet marks on your hot skin, making your head spin.

His thrusts were rougher now, faster too, and so were the sounds spilling from his chest. You were probably making all sorts of noises yourself, but you couldn’t focus on anything except his, because they were fucking delicious.

Joel pulled out of you slowly, eyes glued to where your bodies parted.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice thick. “Look at the mess you made.” He looked up at you, a drunk smile tugging at his lips. “You always this messy?”

You looked down, your mouth falling open.

A mess. A fucking mess. His length was coated with your slick, completely drenched and shining.

The image was so obscene it dragged a moan straight from your throat, just in time for Joel to slam back into you with one deep, hard thrust.

He picked up the rhythm again, hot skin against yours, his breath coming out in short, frantic bursts.

Then... more knocks.

“Dude, c’mon!” someone shouted from the other side. “Get the fuck out already!”

Joel stilled.

“Fuckin’ perverts,” the guy muttered, still banging on the door.

You both let out soft, breathless laughs, and just as quickly, Joel began pulling out.

“No,” you whispered in protest, hands pressing flat against his chest. “Joel…”

“My truck’s out front,” he said, tucking himself back into his pants, belt clinking as he fastened it. His voice was low and final.

You nodded fast, obeying without question. He helped you down from the sink, and your shaky legs hit the ground.

You adjusted your dress as best you could, tugging it down while checking your reflection. You washed your hands, smoothed down a damp strand of hair, and made sure your gloss was still sort of intact.

Joel did the same — no rush, no panic. He washed his hands, ran a quick hand through his hair, and that was it. His face gave nothing away, except maybe the heat still lingering in his eyes, or the huge hard-on he was carrying but, right... anyway.

He took your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Walked toward the door, and right after opening it, he murmured a polite “excuse us” you barely heard, mostly because all your focus was trapped in the sticky, warm feeling between your thighs.

You stepped out of the restroom in silence, passing through a few nosy stares. Joel didn’t flinch. Or maybe he just didn’t care. And your legs were still a little shaky, your thighs damp.

You squeezed his hand tightly.

Joel pushed the door open.

And outside… it was still raining.

In a hurry, he led you by the hand across the lot, and you got a little wet on the way. No pun intended.

His truck was parked near the back; black, relatively new...

Wait, like, seriously? Who gave a shit about the make and model right now? Your legs were shaking, and all you could focus on was the weight of Joel’s hand wrapped around yours.

He clicked the alarm off, opened the door, and helped you up, gripping your thigh as you climbed in.

You watched him walk around the front, rain catching in the shine of his hair, his broad chest rising as he pulled open the driver’s side door and got in.

The second it shut behind him, he looked at you.

Silent.

A smile crept across your lips and his, too. And then you both laughed, because Jesus, it was all so fucking ridiculous.

Joel reached over and squeezed your thigh, right near where you were aching for him. He leaned in, and you cupped his face with both hands, kissing him like two teenagers sneaking around behind someone’s back.

His hand moved higher, then around, grabbing a handful of your ass while yours slid down to palm the bulge in his jeans again.

He groaned, broke the kiss, and leaned back with a breath.

“Not here,” he muttered, eyes flicking forward as he shoved the key in the ignition. “Too many people. And traffic.”

You didn’t complain. Didn’t even say a word. You just watched him start the engine, eyes focused on the road ahead, trying to see past the streaks of rain while the wipers swung wildly back and forth.

“Where are we going?” you asked, already sliding down into his lap.

Joel shifted his hips upward, maybe instinct or need, and you had his belt undone and fly open before he could even answer.

“Someplace quieter,” he said, voice tight, breath catching in his throat.

You freed his cock from his jeans and took him into your mouth without hesitation. Still thick. Still hard. Still yours—if only for tonight.

Your mouth was wet within seconds, and so was he, your lips gliding up and down while soft moans hummed in your chest. You could hear his breathing shift, get heavier, rougher.

You looked up at him, hand stroking him as your mouth worked. He looked laser-focused on the road, the red and white lights of traffic bouncing in his eyes, fractured through the rain on the windshield.

“Keep doin’ that,” he muttered, glancing down at you for just a second like it might fucking kill him to look away for more.

You obeyed without question, hand stroking him before your lips wrapped around the tip again, sucking with just enough pressure to pull a groan out of him; one he clearly tried to bite back, for whatever stubborn reason.

Joel drove a little longer, tension coiled tight in his body, until the truck rolled to a stop. The engine cut out, and he let his head fall back against the seat.

His hands tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, baby, such a good fuckin’ mouth,” he breathed, finally giving into it, hips twitching as he bumped the back of your throat a couple of times. “Keep doin’ that.”

But then he pulled you off him, hand firm under your jaw.

“Backseat,” he said, rough and urgent.

You didn’t hesitate. You slipped between the front seats, catching a quick smack from him on your ass as you did. It made you grin.

Joel followed, slower with the limited space, but the second he was back there with you, he dropped onto the seat and grabbed your hips like it was instinct, pulling you right into his lap.

His hands fisted the hem of your dress and dragged it up your body, stripping it off without ceremony and tossing it carelessly into the front seat.

Suddenly, you were bare; completely exposed, save for your panties, which Joel had no intention of letting stay on. He slipped them down and off you in one swift, practiced motion that probably deserved some kind of medal.

Straddling him, you glanced around the truck. You were parked in an empty lot, and even if someone was out there, it didn’t matter. The rain was coming down hard, drumming over the roof and windows, cloaking you both in sound and shadow.

Nature’s way of saying go ahead.

The cool air inside the truck kissed your skin and raised goosebumps along every inch of you. Your nipples tightened as you settled over Joel, heat clashing deliciously with the chill.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, barely above a breath.

You smiled, cheeks somehow blushing even more than they already were.

“Thanks. You too.”

Joel grinned, his thumb pressing into your hip.

“Thanks, sweetheart. You gettin’ shy on me now?”

You stifled a laugh, shook your head.

His hands gripped your waist while your arms draped over his shoulders. Glancing down, you saw his cock, thick and ready lying hard against his stomach, and you rocked forward, back, again, your slick dragging over him and pulling a sharp gasp from his throat.

Still grinding, your fingers toyed with the hem of his T-shirt. Joel, always sharp, always tuned in, pulled it off in one swift motion and tossed it forward, somewhere near where your dress had landed.

You sighed as you looked at him, your hands roaming his bare chest, caressing and kneading the golden skin while your hips kept moving and his hands squeezed you tighter.

He threw his head back, and wasting no time you kissed the curve of his neck, making him moan while his hands slid up your bare back, squeezing and stroking as he pulled you closer against him.

The feel of his bare chest pressed to yours and his hard length rubbing against you was too much, too fast. Your clit brushed his tip, and a gasp escaped your lips as your hips quickened, the friction intensifying.

Joel’s hands dropped hard and fast onto your ass—two sharp slaps echoing inside the truck. And then, he stopped you immediately, his grip firm, holding you still.

Your mouth left his neck as you pulled back slightly, hands still resting on his shoulders. You looked into his eyes just as he lowered his gaze and his hand to grip his cock, positioning it beneath you.

You held your breath for a moment, feeling him settle at your entrance, and then Joel placed his hands firmly on your hips.

Slowly, you began to lower yourself. Inch by inch, until he was fully inside, and a soft sigh escaped your lips.

You pressed your forehead to his while Joel’s hands roamed everywhere; your ass, your thighs, your back, caressing every inch of exposed skin he could.

Your hand gripped his jaw, tilting his face up, and you kissed him as you started to move.

Up, down. Up, down.

You could feel him stretching you just right with every thrust, and soft, broken little sounds slipped from your lips, only to die against his.

Joel was panting, making those low, rough noises like he was trying not to, but couldn’t help it; and God, it drove you wild.

His hands clutched at your ass, guiding you faster, and you leaned back, grabbing onto the frontseat headrest next to you for balance.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, his voice wrecked, thicker now. One hand slid down to your clit as his hips pushed up into you. “You feel so fuckin' good, I can’t—shit—”

You threw your head back, and Joel lost it.

His movements turned rougher, faster; his cock driving in and out, burying deep with every thrust. Your legs were trembling from the tension coiled tight inside you.

Then his hands clamped down on your waist, and with a sudden, forceful motion, he grabbed you and dropped you flat on the seat, on your back.

He moved fast, adjusting his position, hiking your legs up until your knees were pressed on either side of your head, and then he was inside you again, all at once.

Joel leaned forward, his full weight pressing down on the backs of your thighs, keeping you pinned right there as he fucked into you hard.

Your chest rose and fell in time with each thrust, every breath and sound synced with the rhythm of him. Your hands were reaching for anything; his hair, his face, his neck, desperate to touch whatever you could. So he brought his face down to yours and kissed you, his wet lips trembling, parted and hungry.

Your moans were falling apart now—shattered, messy sounds— as Joel hit every soft angle, brushing every nerve inside you. You were helpless, bent in half beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“Joel,” you whispered, over and over, barely a sound between cries. “Joel…”

And something in him broke. His thrusts turned rougher, deeper. His groans dropped lower, turned primal. The truck rocked beneath you both, creaking wildly with the force, but he didn’t care.

He wasn’t gonna stop—not even if the entire city was burning.

The look on your face was undoing him. You were wrecked; utterly open for him, given over, gone. Eyes glassy, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

And you felt just like he’d imagined.

No, fuck, better.

Clenching around him, slick and tight and pulling him in like you were made for him. Perfect. Every damn angle.

You were close. And so was he.

He’d spent the last ten minutes trying to think about anything else... the weather, maybe? No, the scented candle kid. No. Fuck, wathever. He was squeezing his eyes shut, desperate to hold on just a little longer—to be good for you.

Then he brought his hand down, fingers trembling as they found your swollen clit.

You stopped breathing. No sound, no breath, just stillness.

He had you right where he wanted you.

Joel kept working his fingers, fucking into you like there was no tomorrow until suddenly, your whole body trembled. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, your eyes squeezing shut tight as the orgasm hit you hard.

He didn’t stop.

“Oh my—fucking—Joel—Joel—don’t stop—oh my—baby—” The words tumbled out of you in a rush, frantic and breathless, as your climax tore through you.

Joel buried his face beside yours, cheek pressed to your knee, still moving, still inside.

“Oh, shit,” he managed, the words raw, cracking in his throat—

And then it hit him.

The orgasm slammed into him like a wave, dragging him under. He groaned deep, broken, guttural sounds spilling from him as he came, undone and breathless, lost in you completely.

On the way home, your legs were still shaking.

Never in your life—never in all your fucking years alive—had you felt anything like that.

And you didn’t know if it was just Joel, or if it was the rush of fucking a stranger you’d only just met. You had no idea. But your body was still riding the aftershocks, even an hour later, as he drove toward your neighborhood.

An hour later because… well, after it was over, the two of you had just collapsed in the backseat.

You didn’t know how long you laid there, staring at the ceiling, breathing. Not talking. Just existing.

And then Joel turned his head and asked if you were hungry. So he drove to a fast food place, ordered burgers and fries at the drive-thru, and you ate in the parking lot while he told you about the fire he’d worked earlier that day.

Which, now, made his hatred of scented candles make a lot more sense.

To be fair, Joel seemed like a good man. More than good, actually.

And it wasn’t just because of how well he’d fucked you or the way he’d helped you clean up afterward, or how sweetly he’d asked “What d’you want to eat, sweetheart? Burgers? Fries? Tenders? Sprite or Coke?”

No, it was something else. Inherent. Built in.

But it was too late in the night for that kind of analysis. And something inside you twisted at the thought of even trying, anyway.

Food finished and truck parked just outside the park, Joel turned to look at you.

“I can drop you closer, y’know. For real.”

“No need, seriously.” You waved him off, already reaching for the door handle.

“Wait,” he said, his hand landing gently on your thigh. “It’s late. I mean it.”

“I live in that building,” you pointed out through the open window, but there were several behind you, and Joel had no clue which one you meant. “It’s not far. What, you wanna move a couple more feet?” You smiled.

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

“All right,” he said, pulling his hand back and watching as you pushed the door open.

Something in him told him to stop you. To say something else. Ask you a question. Anything.

But he didn’t.

He just watched as you stepped out and shut the door behind you.

You leaned in through the open window.

“Thanks for the ride, stranger,” you said, smiling. “And take that however you want.”

Joel let out a breathy laugh, and you turned away, still smiling.

He watched you walk a few steps, and then—

“Wait,” he called, leaning across to the passenger-side window.

You turned around.

“Give me your number.”

You smiled again, like you were actually thinking about it for a second.

“I already have yours, remember?”

Joel frowned, confused.

“3-1-1. Fire department.” You recited it with a little shrug.

Before he could respond, you turned around again and walked away.

For a few seconds, you were still close enough. He could’ve said something. Anything. Stopped you. Called your name.

But he didn’t.

He just watched as you crossed the street and disappeared between the buildings.

And that night, Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The nights that followed, he didn’t either.

divider by @/enchanthings

tags: @stylesispunk @vanishintoyoubby @onlythehobi

#fic: lucky #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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capuccinodoll · 13 days ago

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Ohhhhh noooo thank you baby 🥹🫶🤭 Happy to deliver! always a pleasure 🤫