ghostlovesbaguettes

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

I've been thinking about this idea of a no outbreak ex-boyfriend!joel miller and I wanted to shake the dust off, so I have some snapshots I wanted to share:

Warnings: pining/longing, smut, obsessive behavior, language, jealousy/possessiveness, alcohol consumption

He never could fully accept what you had is over, so he still casually talks about you from time to time like you're still his, then catches himself and his heart breaks all over again.

He replays fights the two of you had whenever he sees another couple out in public who reminds him of the two of you and he wonders what he could have said differently.

Begrudgingly, he goes on a blind date set up by one of his friends after they beg him to try and move on, but no matter how nice or pretty the girl is, she's not you.

Sometimes he goes the long way home from work and drives past your street, just to possibly catch a glimpse of your car or, if he's really lucky, you taking an afternoon stroll.

When he sees you out in public for the first time, it's at the grocery store. You don't notice him standing dumbstruck in the cereal aisle with his heart stuck in his goddamn throat. You get a text and you smile down at your phone while you move out of the way of others to answer. You look so beautiful, it makes his chest hurt.

He goes home that night and fucks his fist thinking about you — thinking about the way you used to whimper his name, the way your nails dug into his back, how perfect and warm your cunt felt wrapped around him. But the part he misses the most is how good it felt to have you curled up next to him, cheek pressed against his shoulder and arm slung over his stomach, when he woke up in the morning.

The second time he sees you out in public, you're with someone else. He's shooting pool with Tommy when you and some guy walk in and take a seat at the bar. He overhears you talking about some movie you had just seen together and he almost snaps the pool cue in half.

Tommy doesn't notice until it's too late. You've already locked eyes with him and you look like you may faint. Your date is tapping your shoulder, unaware that the two of you have been unable to so much as blink at each other from across the bar.

Before Joel can force his feet to move, to beg you to step outside with him so you could talk, you're grabbing your date's hand and dragging him towards the door.

To stop him from going after you, Tommy buys a few shots. Tells Joel he could do better, that he'll find someone someday. The more he drinks, the more unsteady he becomes on his feet. The louder he laughs. The more he spills on his black t-shirt. By the end of the night, he's convinced Tommy that he's fine. That he needed to see you with someone else to finally accept it's over.

He told Tommy everything he wanted to hear.

After Tommy drops him off at home, Joel waits about three minutes before ordering an Uber. He tries to fight the urge, but he can't. He's too weak and he needs to see you. And, yeah, maybe he needs to make sure you weren't fucking that guy from earlier.

The Uber drops him off a few doors down from your house. He walks the rest of the way and he's relieved when there isn't another car in the driveway. Only yours.

He paces anxiously for a few minutes in front of your door, his muddled brain trying desperately to think of the right words to say. What did you need to hear? What did he need to do or say for you to give him another chance? There had to be something.

When he rings the bell, he knocks at the same time. Overkill, probably, but he doesn't want to lose his nerve.

When you answer, you're pissed, but you're alone. You're in your ratty old pajamas, the ones with a hole at the collar and an ice cream stain on the leg. He feels something pull in his chest — fuck, he missed you so much. He missed how at ease you made him feel, how comfortable you were together, how happy you made him.

You argue with him in your doorway, arms crossed tightly over your chest. You tell him he needs to move on, that he's drunk, that it's not healthy to keep calling you and he has no right to show up at your door.

He begs, pleads with you to hear him out, to give him a second chance. You call him crazy, you remind him you gave him countless chances while you were together, that you spent years waiting for him to commit.

He says he's still in love with you. That he never stopped loving you, never will. He sees something flicker in your eyes and you stop breathing.

Then, somehow, he's stumbling into your house, whiskey soaked tongue pushing past your soft lips, your arms circling his neck, moaning into his mouth, pulling him deeper and deeper until the familiar scent of your perfume and detergent invade his senses and he knows you've led him into your bedroom.

Even with all the alcohol buzzing in his veins, he still manages to do everything he remembers that makes your back arch and your breath stutter. His mouth suctions around your breast, tip of his tongue teasing until your nipple hardens, then scrapes his teeth gently over your sensitive skin. Your hips buck and your head tips back into your pillow before he continues down. He slides his tongue through your pussy, soaked and aching for him. You taste just as good as he remembers and he's so hard it fucking hurts, but he keeps going. He eats at you like he's never going to have the chance again, lapping and moaning and nipping at your cunt until his lips pucker around your clit and he sucks, making you scream his name when you come all over his face.

His head swims from how intense it all is. He didn't expect you to answer your door, let alone be laying sprawled out in your bed, begging for his cock, coated in sweat.

When he first enters you, it's bliss. It's like heaven on earth, better than he ever remembered. You're warm and soft and wet — and he's too worked up, he can't go slow. He pounds into you hard, fists dipping into the mattress on either side of your head. His jaw is tight, his eyes a little glassy and wild. Your hands curl around his forearms, holding yourself in place so he doesn't fuck you into the headboard. You're whining and gasping and rolling your hips in rhythm with his, fucking each other like you're running out of time.

He grits out something along the lines of, you let that preppy dickhead fuck you like this? And you shake your head, wail out, no, just you, Joel. He growls and yanks up one of your legs, tosses it over his shoulder, and drives into you deeper, harder, faster, the loud slapping of skin on skin deafening in your otherwise quiet room. You're clawing at the sheets and gasping his name until your body goes rigid and you come with a broken sob, tears streaming down your cheeks.

It's all he needs — he comes a moment later, one rough hand grabbing at your hip, holding you still while he pumps you full of his cum. It feels like it lasts forever and he can't stop staring at your tired, beautiful face. Even when he's done, his hips occasionally jut forward, pushing every last drop of his release deep inside your cunt, claiming you as his until you shudder and tell him you can't take any more.

Afterwards, you lay together, staring blankly at the ceiling, catching your breath and coming to terms with what you just did. You eventually clear your throat and tell him he can stay the night, but this can't happen again. He agrees, but only because he knows. He knows you to your very core, knows what makes you tick, knows what you're thinking sometimes before you even do. But most of all, he knows when you're lying. What he saw in your eyes that night told him everything he needed to know — he was going to win you back.

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

epilogue sex on fire

once more for old time's sake, hm?

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: guess who's getting married - and you're all invited.

warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, a weird bus metaphor. idk where it came from. but it works. enjoy!

word count: 6.9k

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It passes in the blink of an eye.

Letting go of your mom’s hand at the school gates; forgetting when you next reached for it. Dancing around a laptop with an acceptance email from your first-choice college onscreen. Walking into a new job with a broken heart; walking out whole again.

All in the blink of an eye.

Joel says it too, as he scrolls through floorplans.

“…Used to be Tommy’s room, way back when,” he swipes to the next screenshot, “I thought it’d look good if we – we took down this wall, and – you see?”

You nod, twisting the hem of your T-shirt around your finger, and curl a little closer into his chest.

He still smells like the fresh coconut bodywash he stole from your bag. The sweet scent that he lathered up and let spill down your tummy, foamy bubbles slipping over your hips.

Under the rainfall shower, he massaged all the pain away. The sweet ache of three hours spent rolling around the bed of your bridal suite, letting him hold you and kiss you and fill you in ways only he has ever done.

You can still feel the heat of him between your legs. You miss him there.

“I see,” you whisper, tucking in beneath his chin.

Joel kisses your head. “You okay? You’re quiet, baby.”

“Just listening,” you reply, and he locks his phone.

“Maybe that’s enough Maple talk for the night, hm? We oughta be relaxing, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“No,” you turn in his grasp, “I wanna see what you’re doing with it. I think it’ll look good, Joel. Did you get the home report yet?”

He slides his phone onto the nightstand and wraps his arms around you. “Not yet. Soon as the work’s done.”

“It’ll look brand new. Totally different.”

“Mhm,” he smiles, “Sure will.”

You lay down on his chest, trimmed hair tickling your cheek. His heartbeat is familiar against your ear. It still skips a beat, even four years in. Still quickens anytime your hand falls over it.

“Are you ready to let go of the place?”

Joel takes a deep breath. “I guess I have to be,” he says, though the words tremble in his throat. It’s not often you catch him feeling uncertain. “Mom’s gone, Tommy said he don’t want it. Unless we pack up ‘n move outta the city, place would just sit there – empty.”

“Hm. Too many memories to let it go to waste.”

“Well, they ain’t all good ones,” he admits, drawing circles on your shoulder.

You thought, that afternoon in your bedroom, that he’d shown you his whole hand. Thought you knew every suit, every card he held. All the things that made Joel who he was – perfectly polished.

The cars, the property, the jet. The company – Jesus, there ain’t a thing he seemed more natural at, than running a multimillion-dollar business. He made it look so goddamn easy.

It used to drive you insane – how together he was. The cracks you could barely see, he’d glued them so perfectly. The ease with which he could hold himself in one hand, and hold you in the other. Just take it all on his shoulders like it weighed nothing.

For every card of yours that was turned, though, Joel revealed another of his.

Maple hadn’t always been the postcard it so looked. White walls, red mailbox. Flowerbeds and slamming doors; two boys’ bikes and one empty dining chair. He told you things with a flash in his eye – and you were never sure whether it was the fire of fury or the salt of sadness.

Joel isn’t so seamless after all. He’s a mosaic of everything that has ever happened to him. Joy and pain, everything in between. A shattered collection of shards, shimmering in the sunlight.

He’s beautiful. For all the brokenness, all the stitched skin – he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Well,” you say, “Maple raised you, so – I love it.”

He looks down at you like you’re brand new. Like it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on you.

Running his business looks natural, sure – but loving you comes as easily to Joel as breathing.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he says. “Bedtime.”

You groan into his chest, nose flat against the threads of silver. “Don’t wanna go to bed, Daddy,” you mumble.

He cups your head. “You’re nervous, huh?”

You nod between his pecs, and Joel laughs.

All this time, all the moments of doubt you’ve squashed with the toe of your shoe – and they still manage to creep back in. The corners of your vision still blur, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The scars have long closed, but the skin still remembers.

“You know I’m gonna be there, right?” he says. “The whole time. I’m kind of the one you’re marrying.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “So that’s who you are.”

He lifts his hands, mirrors your stupid smirk. “Pleased to meet you.”

“What if we don’t see each other? I mean – before…”

“We will,” he promises. “I’ll getcha at the bottom of the stairs.”

“’s gonna be a pretty hectic day, Joel. We might not have time –”

His chin lifts. His lips part, the way they do when he’s about to chew up your panicked gibbering. He takes a breath and, straight as the line of his brow, repeats himself.

“I will get you at the bottom of the stairs. Okay?”

Your frown melts. Okay, you mouth, and he pinches your nose.

“I love you. Now, sleep.”

He flicks the light off.

Four years. Four years passed in the blink of an eye.

Twelve hours after your leaving party, you were strolling through Lavender Oaks, hand in hand. Nothing to hide anymore, no one to convince – not even yourself. You loved him then, whether you really believed it or not. Whether you had the courage to look it straight in the face, or not.

You had loved him for a while, really. It was the last card you had to deal. And Joel knew, long before you’d admitted it to yourself. He’s always been the patient one, hasn’t he?

That night, then, deep in the belly of last summer. Some leafy, twinkling rooftop garden of a restaurant that you can’t even remember the name of, because all you remember is him. Loose collar, long day. Drinks menu in one hand, the other cradling yours.

He was tired, and you knew it. He’d hardly stopped since seven a.m., working all through lunch and straight to eight – but he’d promised you dinner that week. It was already Thursday, and he had a conference or a company retreat or whatever it was that weekend.

You can’t remember. All you remember is his face, the second you said –

When are you going to ask me to marry you?

Joel faltered for all of three seconds – though if he’d had a mouthful of wine, he’d probably have choked on it.

Tomorrow, he said. Yesterday. Now. Marry me.

You laughed. I’m serious. I want you to ask me.

Really? His smirk faded into something more earnest. He looked like a boy, the way his eyebrows lifted and his lip trembled. A boy who believed in magic. The candlelight flickered across his face, suddenly wide awake and glowing with life. Would you say yes?

Mhm. And I wouldn’t break it off two days later, neither.

Lucky me, he mused. He paused, then added, You know we don’t have to, right? I’m happy, baby. I’m happier than I ever thought… his voice wavered and he gulped, I’d be happy the rest of my life, the way we are.

Joel, you lifted his knuckles to your lips, I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. Just – just ask me. I’ll say yes.

He beamed back at you like some lovestruck fool. You suppose he was; suppose he had been since the moment he first saw you. A goner as soon as he opened that office door, as soon as he felt the way your hand fit so perfectly in his.

I love you, he said – for what felt like the millionth time. Somehow, he made it mean more each time.

I know, you replied, leaning over the table to kiss him. I love you, too.

In the blink of an eye, your life changed from lonely blue mornings to bright golden dawns. From two boxes of stuff and a Swiss cheese plant, to an entire office with your name on the door.

You collected stripe after stripe, took leap after stride; chased every promotion, every chance, every speck of something over the horizon. Life got busy, you worked your ass off – but for the first time ever, you felt like you were becoming something. Becoming someone.

Joel sat up through all your late nights at the kitchen table. He poured coffee after coffee, carried you to bed when you couldn’t stare at the laptop any longer. He carefully consoled and aptly controlled every stress-induced breakdown you ever had.

He bought you a peace lily to keep your monstera company. He held your hand at every work event you had. He promised you could do it, and slowly, surely, you realized he was right.

So when you told him you were ready – and only then – Joel traded that little gumball ring for a new one.

A real one.

It happened in Paris. He took you back to that same glitzy restaurant – the delicate wine and rich steak, the chandeliers and renaissance ceilings. He echoed every word of French you spoke in a little Austin accent; played footsie under the table and flirted like it was your first date.

He was nervous. Indestructible as he seems, he still has his tells. He played with your hands the whole night, asked if you were okay every second sip of his drink.

Yeah, you said, I’m good. You?

Yep. Yeah. Good.

Your hands are shaking.

He smirked. I’m on a date with a real pretty girl.

He could barely wait for the elevator to reach the suite. He kept closing in on you, pressing words into your neck and playing with the straps of your dress. I love you, I love you, I love you, he said, gripping your waist.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Everything sparkling – the champagne, the stars, the thousand and one candles he had lining the balcony. Everything golden – the tower, the ring, the feeling flooding through your chest. And in a shaking voice, on a shaking knee, with shaking hands you had to cup as he spoke, he asked you.

Easiest yes ever.

He’s already asleep. Head tipped back, snoring to the ceiling. He looks so cute that it makes you giggle.

“’night, baby,” you lull, and cuddle into his chest.

Joel’s alarm splits the morning at seven.

He reaches over to silence it, groans into his palm, and rubs his eyes open. “Mornin’, angel,” he sighs – same as always. The same two words that kick off damn near every single day since you got together.

“Morning,” you reply, and hug him tighter.

You watch as he comes to life. Stirring beneath you, heart fluttering against yours, skin still warm and sleepy. You’ve been awake for the last hour just watching him – fingers trailing the valleys of his collarbones, nose nuzzling into the rugged hinge of his jaw.

Sometimes you wonder if it’ll ever fade – the rush you feel when you see him. The way the world tinges pink, mutes for a moment or two – and Joel is the only thing in any of your senses.

He lifts his arms in a loud stretch, biceps popping. He sucks in a deep breath. “We should do something today.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

His lips turn. I dunno. “Make some lifelong vows, maybe.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff, pushing yourself up. You roll from his grasp and pad over to the bathroom. “Why don’t we grab lunch instead?”

“Boring?” Joel scoffs. He follows you to the sink and curves around you in a bear hug. “Spent over a hundred grand on this thing, Ms. Miller. You telling me we wasted our money?”

His hands sneak under the material of your tee, lifting it over your bare hips. There’s a weight building against the small of your back – another thing that kicks off nearly every single day. It sits heavy, twitching when you reach for your toothbrush and your ass ruts against him.

Joel hisses. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he grabs your hips and steadies you, “Easy on me, now.”

“I’m not the one groping.” You spin in his arms, toothbrush between your molars.

“Can’t help it –” he kisses your neck, “– when you look –” the other side, “– so sweet –” he lowers with a tiny groan, “– ‘n you taste –” he places a long, damp kiss to your tummy, “– even better.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Joel, we don’t have time for –”

“Sure we do,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue to your slit. “It’s us they’re waitin’ for.”

You drop your brush into the sink with a gasp. “Tommy’s gonna be here any second.

His eyes flash up to yours. “Who?”

He scoops your ass and pulls your thighs over his shoulder. Deft with it, a body he knows as well as his own by this point. A body he loves even more.

You open up for him like he never left. Still warm and wet from last night, still coming down from each high he took you to. Sometimes it feels like this is all you do. Sometimes, you wonder if there’s ever a time you feel more you, than when you’re wrapped around some part of him.

Joel’s voice reverberates through your body. He groans as he licks, nips and sucks between your legs, slowly easing you off the counter and onto his mouth.

You reach for his hair. The salt and pepper streaks, the bedhead only you ever get to see before he’s washed and groomed into that perfect shape of himself. A carefully carved shape, ruggedly handsome but intentional.

He’s more relaxed this way. Your way. Before the world seeps into him, before the suit and tie and hundred-dollar cologne. When only his sun has seen him, stirred him, swept her fingers across his broad chest and whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

Heat is pooling in your stomach, flooding through your veins. It’s cracking open your chest, drawing breath from your lungs. You grip the edge of the counter, back arching, hips rutting against Joel’s tongue – and you come.

He doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t miss a drop. He laps every second of it up, every pulse of your cunt, slowing only when you crumple against the mirror and sigh.

Your fingers swirl around his hair. Your body feels heavy with pleasure. The shock is still looping around your bones.

Joel kisses the inside of your thigh and stands, crossing his arms at your spine.

“I love you,” you hum, licking yourself from his lips.

He smiles. A dreamy, golden thing. Still just him and the sun. “Love you, too.”

This morning, of all mornings, might be cutting it fine. They’ve already started setting up downstairs. Twenty tables, one hundred and fifty chairs, one thousand roses, forty bottles of champagne, three grand behind the bar.

The last thing you need on the day of all days is for the bride and groom to be late.

Still. He’s rock solid and right there, throbbing against your tummy.

You slip your hand around him and squeeze, massaging his tip with your thumb.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He feigns offense. “Baby, we don’t have time,” he says, eyes on his cock as you guide him south.

“Shut up,” you breathe, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Ain’t saying no to that,” he replies, and his hips meet yours.

You groan in harmony, wrapping closer together. Joel finds a quick pace, body snapping into yours, holding you strong and steady in his arms.

“Jesus,” he pants, “Three times last night wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

“F-feels like it wasn’t enough for you, either.”

He laughs. “Forever wouldn’t be long enough in this little cunt, sweet girl. She’s too good to me. Loves her daddy, don’t she?”

You follow his gaze down, where his thick cock drags between your legs. Soaked with you, slick and shining with each thrust of his hips. Deeper and deeper, touching a part of you only he’s ever been able to reach. Pulling noises from your throat only he has ever been able to pull.

Joel rolls his forehead against yours and lifts your eyes to his, a messy kiss to your lips. “Like it when you watch,” he whispers. “You see how pretty she looks?”

“Mhm,” you hook an arm around his neck, “Feel so pretty, Daddy.”

“My beautiful girl.” His lips close around yours again, tongue hot and heady in your mouth. His pace stammers when you moan against him. He curses, hips jolting.

He’s close. All too close.

He won’t come before you. Not before he’s drawn another from your body, felt every pulse of your pussy around him. Not before he’s watched you fall apart; felt you collapse into his arms with it.

He slips out, kissing your temple to shush your petulant whine. “’s okay,” he folds your legs to your chest, “I gotcha. I’m here.”

Over his shoulder, the sun lights your reflection in the shower glass. His toned back, the swells of muscle across his shoulder. Hiding the shape of you from the morning – his moaning mess of a girl, gripping onto him and screaming into his chest.

She sobs his name and you taste it on your tongue. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Each one louder than the last, each one sorer.

The window is cracked open. Anyone might be walking under it.

And you like it, don’t you?

The chance that someone might hear. Might know exactly what Joel’s in here doing to you. Ruining you for anyone else, like he’s done a million times over.

It’s as though he lulls you into it. Like waves, starting in the pit of your belly and rolling outward. Heavier and deeper and sweeter, until your orgasm crashes over you in bursts of warmth.

Your arm tightens around Joel’s neck, brows knitting when you reach your peak. You keep your eyes locked on his, and he mirrors your expression.

“Oh, good girl, honey,” he rasps, pausing when his own high overcomes him. He twitches, little bursts of heat in your cunt before flooding the entire thing. He holds your hips flush against his until his cock stills and breath fills his lungs.

He pulls you against his chest and sits you back on the counter. If there’s one thing better than being fucked by him, it’s the comedown. The aftercare. The kissing, the fixing you back into shape.

Your pussy flutters around him. Your ear against his chest, you feel your heart beating in time with his.

Joel cups your head and dots kisses down to your shoulder. He makes to pull out, and you fuss.

“Stay,” you whimper, tugging on his arm.

He smiles. “Oh, baby, wish I could,” he squeezes your waist, “but I heard Tommy knockin’ on the door five minutes ago.”

He strolls back into the bedroom, massaging a knot out of his shoulder.

You sit, stunned, leaking all over the counter, before rushing through at his heels. “Asshole!” you hiss.

He chuckles as he pulls a hoodie over his head. “Couldn’t leave my lady unsatisfied, could I?”

You throw yourself into a pair of his pajama bottoms. “I think she’d have been fine with it, given your fucking brother is right outside.”

He swings the door wide open. You curl around one of his arms.

Tommy leans against the opposite wall, picking at his nails. He straightens, scratches his beard, and smacks his lips.

“Told you you’d sleep in, brother.”

Joel’s chin lifts. He nods, amused. “You did tell me that, yeah.”

You want to slap him for how cocky he definitely feels. His little brother is none the wiser.

The denim-donned Miller steps over the threshold and reaches for you, a bristly kiss to your cheek. “Mornin’, sweetheart. How you feelin’?”

“Good,” you lie.

“Nervous,” Joel corrects, cocking an eyebrow.

Tommy laughs. “Talk to Maria. She’ll calm you right down. She felt the exact same on our day.”

Their day. Almost ten years ago, back when you and Joel were strangers – and he and Tommy were as good as.

Credit to him, he put up with the pestering from both sides – that is, you and his mom – for six months, at the start of your relationship. Slowly – painfully slowly – he began to entertain the conversation. Never gonna happens turned into if it ever did happens.

He learned to unlock his jaw, to make eye contact with his mom when she talked about Tommy. He asked questions he hadn’t asked in years. He learned where he and his wife lived, what they named their son.

He learned that they’d had a spring wedding. He learned that Tommy’s best man was his drinking buddy. He fell quiet, and his mom knew to change the subject. On the drive home, he held your hand a little tighter than usual.

Six months which, in the end, felt less like convincing him – and more reassuring him. Yes, Tommy might ignore all of his calls. Maybe Maria might answer, and tell him in a hushed voice that now’s not really a great time, Joel.

Maybe his brother might pick up the phone himself, tell him to go straight to hell.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t hardly recognize his big brother’s voice, at first. There was a pause a few breaths too long right after Joel reintroduced himself – long enough that you thought you might’ve kicked him all the way back to square one. And then –

Well, shit, brother. How the hell have you been?

You spent your first anniversary in Jackson. You took Joel’s mom up there every year after. The brothers fit back together like they’d never been apart, like they’d never forgotten the shape of each other’s hug, the cut of the other’s good humor.

Tommy took you in like you’d been part of Joel even before either of them knew your name.

Your fiancé pulls you into a hug. He kisses your head and asks his brother to grab the elevator.

Tommy salutes as he turns down the hallway. “See you later, little sis.”

Joel holds your face and taps your nose. His lips twist in half a smile, half frown. “You gonna be okay?”

“Sure,” you sniffle. The sting of tears brims your waterline already and you blink them away. You’re hiding from him.

“I’m right downstairs if you need me,” he says, spotting you clear as day. “Just call.”

“Not supposed to see you before the ceremony.”

“Yeah,” Joel winces, “don’t think we’re supposed to have sex, either, but we broke that rule a long time ago, pretty girl.”

His hands are so big around yours. So steady, pulse loud only from your morning tryst – if at all. He plays with your fingers, straightens the ring on your third.

A sharp bell sounds. Tommy whistles for his brother. Your chest aches.

“Few more hours,” Joel says. “Few more hours and then we got the rest of forever, just you ‘n me.”

He wanders down to the elevator, turning inside. He leans against the back wall and crosses his arms. His eyes meet yours, lips curl in that trademark smirk of his, and the doors close.

The stairs are cold and breezy. The manor doors have been wide open all morning, guests filtering through, allowing the cool to cluster in each corner of the house.

It’s been a busy morning. Par for the course, so you hear. No bride gets through her wedding prep unscathed.

You’ve spent four ass-numbing hours dutifully planted in your chair, your nephew in your arms as something of a comfort blanket, eating fresh fruit and drinking cold champagne and promising not to touch your makeup after the artist is done with it.

Maria uses the light from the window opposite the top of the stairs to finish buttoning your dress. She balances on the second step, peering up at your trembling figure.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” she says.

“In the blink of an eye?” You scoff, but she nods.

“I’m serious. You won’t even feel it, and it’ll be over. You’ll be lying in bed tonight telling Joel, Maria was right.”

You clasp your fingers around your bouquet. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“He could stand to hear it more often.”

You giggle.

A pair of warm hands sweeps down your shoulders, turning you by the elbows. Her dress is a deep olive, spilling over her arms in waves of shining satin.

“Mom,” you breathe, leaning into her.

She smiles, pinching your cheek. “This is it,” she says simply, like it is as simple as tying your shoelaces. “Deep breaths.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of…” Your eyes scan the summery wallpaper behind her. It offers no answers. “…What if we’re not ready?”

She glowers. “Oh, yeah. Good point. I’m sure the man who flew you to Paris after two weeks is not ready to marry you. We should send everybody home.”

“It’s just a big deal,” you continue, “Lots of people downstairs.”

“No, there’s not. There’s not,” she cuts your protest, voice sharp, “There’s only one person in that room, and it’s him. And you’ve done scarier than this, right?”

Your head wobbles in weakened agreement.

She links her arm through yours. “I remember,” she leads you downstairs, “a little girl with shaking knees, boarding a bus to camp for the summer. I remember her teary face, her tiny hand waving goodbye from the back window. Ain’t this just the same?”

Your bridesmaids slip past, hoisting their silky dresses above their ankles as they tackle the winding staircase.

“Alright, well,” you sniff, “I was eleven when I went to camp, so. Significant difference.”

“I disagree,” she says. “It’s a scary thing to do when you’re eleven, and maybe getting married is a scary thing to do when you’re thirty. But you got on that bus because you wanted to, and you’re doing this because you want it, too. It’s simple, sweetheart.”

She pauses a step below. Her hands drop from yours. Her eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spoil her makeup.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “we mistake fear for excitement. Butterflies can feel an awful lot like nerves. Sometimes, something scary can take a similar shape to something wonderful. And you never know the difference until you step on that bus.”

She takes another step down and you reach for her hands – the same way you reached for them at the school gates, twenty years ago.

“Mom –” you squeak, twisting your fingers around hers.

She kisses your knuckles. “You are going to live the happiest life with him, I just know it. You’re going to take such good care of each other.”

She skips off around the bend in the stairs, shawl flurrying. At the bottom, she crosses paths with someone, squeezes their sleeve with affection.

He sways into view slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to spook. Hands in his pockets, suit sleek and smart. Beard trimmed as close as you’d allow, hair fixed as neat as he’d allow.

He cleans up good. He always has. If it weren’t for the handrail, you might faint into his arms.

When he speaks, his voice is light, warm, soft on your skin. Wraps around you and draws you in, safe and sound. Calls you home.

“There’s my girl.”

And you walk to him.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft, heels clicking.

Joel watches every step. His eyes loop up and down your figure, scanning from the swishing hem of your dress to the twinkle in your eyes. He’s somewhere between the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face, and shattering into tears.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighs as you twirl into his arms, “You are so beautiful.”

You straighten the flower in his pocket. “You’re pretty beautiful, too.”

You fall together, bodies magnetized. Joel’s chin lifts and your lips connect in a tender kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands travelling north along the figure-hugging material of your dress.

“Good choice,” he mumbles into your mouth.

“Mhm,” you reply, a joyful lilt to it. “Knew it was a winner.”

You stand for a moment, swaying together. Your arms crossed around his neck, his snug around your waist. Breathing one another in, steadying each other. Souls finding the other again.

Some last-minute guests scurry through the doors over his shoulder. Their footsteps echo through the hall as they find their seats. Joel holds you all the tighter.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. More than I’ve ever been, my whole life.”

“We can still call it off,” he smirks, “Take off on the honeymoon, never talk to any of these assholes again.”

He laughs when you do, relief blooming on his face.

“No, Joel,” you say. Your voice feels clearer, stronger with your body against his. “I love you. I love you so much, and I…I wanna get on the bus.”

His brows pinch. He tilts his head, scoops your jaw. “You…Wh–? What, baby?”

You nod to yourself, staring at his tie. “I wanna get on the bus,” you repeat, voice barely there.

He blinks down at you. His thumb strokes your cheek. He makes to reply – some dumbfounded quip, probably – when a voice splits you apart.

“Psst! You two!”

Your mom ducks her head out into the entrance hall. She clicks her fingers. “They need you up front, Miller.”

He nods and turns back to you, bending to look you in the eye. “Catch your breath,” he says. “Just a little while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you decide. “I’m ready.”

“Alright. Then let’s get on this goddamned bus, whatever the hell that means.”

The celebration is alive with a string melody, the tinkling of glasses, and bursts of sweet laughter.

Your cheeks ache from all the smiling. Your throat is dry from all the talking. And you don’t care. You could do this for the rest of your life, if Joel would let you.

Turns out getting married is pretty fun – once you’ve done it, that is. When all that’s left is to swing between tables, chat until you run out of breath, dance until your feet hurt. Eat until you feel sick, drink until your head dizzies, weep in the bathroom with your friends then reapply your makeup and repeat.

It’s a year-long effort with only a day’s payout – but as far as days go, it’s not half bad.

In the same grand hall you said I do in three hours ago – soaring windows with drapes strung to the heavens, pale flowers arranged on every table, chandeliers glistening overhead – you search for the one missing piece.

“Have you seen my husband?”

Drew scoffs as he approaches your spinning figure. Beer in one hand, his daughter in the other. He shakes his head, laughing.

“You ain’t used to saying that yet, are you?”

“Nope,” you pinch his daughter’s hands, “and I hope I never am.”

She squeals with laughter, kicking her legs under swirls of chiffon. She throws herself out of her father’s arms into yours and you catch her, perching her on your hip.

“Good for you, kid,” Drew says. “You deserve it. You both do.”

You smile and peer down at the toddler tugging on your diamond necklace. “Your uncle Joel bought me this,” you babble in her ear. “If it breaks, you’re one sorry individual.”

She giggles all the louder.

“Last I saw him,” Drew tilts his bottle towards the patio doors, “he was out on the terrace.”

Your eyes flit to the twinkling, dusky sky. “Alone?”

He shrugs. “Guess so.”

You pass his daughter back, fixing the bow on her dress. “I’ll find him. Thanks, Drew.”

The breeze breathes between the doors as you walk over. It’s a chilled night, but the fresh air is a welcome breather from the busy dancefloor.

Veiled by the sheer curtains, his figure relaxes against the balcony, staring out at the rolling lawn. He exhales a thick, scattered cloud of white to the sky. His head turns at the sound of your heels on the patio.

“Nice view, huh?”

Joel hums. His voice is clotted with tobacco. “Sure is, Mrs. Miller. Fine choice of venue.”

“Teamwork,” you reply, and pat your fingers against his palm in a weak high five. You cross your wrists over his shoulder and stare out at the mountains in the distance. “Out here all by yourself?”

“Just needed a moment. Take it all in.” He tilts the cigar in his hand. “Make use of my wedding gift from my best man.”

There’s a blanket of chill slowly settling over the valley. It hugs a little too tight around your bare arms. You shiver, nestling closer to Joel, and he straightens.

“Here, baby,” he says, shrugging his jacket off. He drapes it over your shoulders and rubs them warm. He plucks the cigar from its ashtray, offering it silently.

You scoff. “I’m not gonna like it.”

“I know,” Joel replies, “but we’re celebrating.”

The stick is heavier than you expected, dry and hard between your fingers. The cap is sliced, dampened by Joel’s lips.

He watches your mouth, smiling when you inhale. “Not too much,” he clasps your wrist lightly, “Only a little.”

It’s rancid, if you’re honest. Clogs your lungs with what feels like unbreathable heat, a sickly-sweet flavor that crinkles your nose. The smoke punches from your lungs in a broken cough. And once they’re clear – you lift the cigar for more.

“Alright,” Joel says, taking it back after a couple more puffs. “That’s enough, Kennedy. Like it?”

“Not bad,” you croak, stealing a swig of his champagne. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

“No, ma’am.”

You lean into him, elbows on the railing, following his outstretched hand as he points out each mountain peak.

He talks about the years he and Tommy spent camping, the long fishing trips with his dad. Regales in excruciating detail the time he pitched his tent right by a cluster of poison ivy, and woke up covered in bloody, blotchy blisters.

He talks about all of it easier than he has in years. As though the dust has settled over the memories, the good and the bad, and all that’s left is to look. No more shifting things around in his mind, trying to find where it all fits. Everything is exactly where it needs to be.

After a while, he kisses your head. “Hey,” he says. “Congratulations.”

You lift your head. “You, too…?”

“You got married today.”

“Did I? Shit, I didn’t mean to.”

He flicks his eyebrows. “That something you saw yourself doing, five years ago?”

No. Not at all. But then my boss held my waist to his in a dive bar, and – you know the rest.

“Hm,” you flatten your lips, “No, but then – you’re not something I saw myself doing, five years ago.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Stay classy, pretty girl.”

You giggle. “I’d do anything, long as it’s with you. Mess around on the first date, fly to Paris on the second. Meet your mom, like, three weeks in.”

“You are not countin’ that lunch with James from accounting as our first date,” he protests. “That shitshow was not our first date.”

“You paid for my meal and you fucked me in the bathroom. Date.”

“No,” he points a telling finger in your direction, “No. If we have kids one day, they’re going to ask. We gotta get our story straight. Our first date was Paris. I took you to Paris.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” You bunch your shoulders, snuggling deeper into his jacket. “Deep down, you know the truth.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

He searches the skyline, plucking up courage when the last of the setting sun catches his eye. “Well,” he sounds nervous, “I thought I could give you your gift.”

You fiddle with your necklace. “I thought you already did.”

Joel shakes his head. He takes your wrists and lifts your hands. “Close your eyes.”

“If you drop a living thing into my hands, Miller,” you screw your eyes shut, “Divorce.”

“Uhuh,” he mutters.

He holds your hands in one of his. There’s the ruffling of linen, a faint jingling, a roaring cheer from inside.

There’s the cold kiss of metal in the cushion of your palm – tiny, featherlight – followed by a coiling, and something jagged.

You hold in a laugh, breathing nervously. “I’m scared,” you whisper, and Joel kisses the hinge of your wrist.

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I trust you.”

“Then, open.”

Your eyes flutter, and there he is. Still standing before you, still smiling. Still holding your hands. He nods down, and you look.

In your palms lies a small brass key. On the end of the chain, a single silver maple leaf tag. It winks back at you, moonlight reflected in its grooves.

You lift the key. It’s worn by time, metal nicked and imperfect. Brass a little tarnished. The leaf sways in your clutch.

“Maple?” you ask, and Joel nods. Your eyes begin to well.

“I know we’re happy in the city,” he says, “and I know it’s just some little paint-chipped house. It’s probably still got school reports ‘n shitty comics up in the attic. I just – God, I can’t shake it, baby.”

You look up at him, a question in your teary gaze.

“A little birdie once taught me,” he steps closer, “that it’s okay to lose things. To let ‘em go. I didn’t believe her at the time. I was scared. Scared to lose her, scared she might find something better. I reckon she was pretty scared, too, but – even when I thought I lost her, she came back.

“She said this thing about making new memories. Better memories. And I just can’t shake it.”

The words catch on your tongue on their way out. You’re only just now realizing how different life was before. Before him, before this. How empty and cold it felt, how little you noticed before the sun peered through the clouds and said something in a drawl laced with love and humor.

How quickly you ran into its warm, open arms.

Joel goes on. “The guys are making a real good job of it. They said there’s plenty potential, and you know it has that huge yard. Now, if you don’t want it, say the word and it’s gone. Out of our hands. But,” his voice breaks, “if you do, then – it’s yours, darlin’. It’s been yours since the moment you walked through the door.”

And, well – hasn’t everything?

The job was yours the very second you tiptoed into his office. He told you so himself. The job, the desk, the free trip to Europe. You walked into his life and flipped everything on its head, without even knowing it.

You worked for him for three years before anything ever happened. Three whole years of elbow nudges and fleeting glances and one too many questions about whoever the other was dating. Joel figures he loved you all that time. You figure you loved him, too.

You changed everything for him. From that first glance, the first meeting of your hands, nothing was ever the same. All of it, from the spare cabinet in his bathroom to the third finger on his left hand – it was all just waiting for you to make it your own.

Hasn’t Joel’s heart belonged to you since you first laid eyes on each other?

You turn the key between your fingers. The answer rolls along the tip of your tongue. The longer you stay quiet, the more nervous you know he’s feeling.

Your eyes meet his – and you smile.

“I want a porch swing.”

Joel chuckles. “Done.”

“And we host Thanksgiving every year.”

“Every year?” He almost grimaces.

You’re staring each other down. It’s as much a game as it is a genuine request, like most of what you do. Just as much teasing as sincere.

You nod. “Every. Year.”

“Okay,” he relents. “Anything else?”

Your eyes drift off behind him. Inside one of the windows, Drew and Rachel twirl their little girl in time with a familiar guitar melody. She throws her head back in a fit of laughter and they pick her up, spinning her around.

Joel glances over his shoulder. He breathes a laugh. “I’ll give you that tonight if you really want it.”

You lean into his chest and kiss his jaw. “I just want you.”

“You got me,” he says. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

The rest of the band kicks in. The raspy lead singer, the perky drum beat. The dancefloor fills some, hands thrown to the ceiling, glasses spilling over.

You bite down on a smile, eyes flitting to Joel’s.

He twists his shoe into the patio, nudging into your side. He extends his arm and you link yours through, following his lead inside. “Good song,” he mutters.

“Hm,” you agree. “Little before my time.”

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

Ghostie I haven’t heard from ya in a while! I hope you’re well my love!!

OH MY GOLLY GOSH. ITS MY TUMBLR MOTHER!!! So I’ve been reading a fic on Ao3 so I haven’t been on tumblr the way I normally am 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 And obvi life is just like so busy😞 I loaded up my class schedule with the thought that I would be an academic weapon but I fear I am in fact an academic victim 😌🎀💕 ANYWAY THANK YOU FOR CHECKING IN BOOKIE

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

HE LOOKS SO GOOD 😭😭

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

OKAY BUT Joel slaps your cheek, hard. “Easy,” he scolds, “I didn’t raise you to speak to me like that.” Joel his nose against the side of your head and bites your ear, the way a dog does with a pup. A warning. “An’ I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he adds. “Adjust the fuckin’ attitude and try it again before you piss me off.”

FUUUUCK ME DUDE I CANNOT GO ANOTHER MINUTE WITHOUT HAVING HIM. I WANT HIM SO BAD. Also super duper really like this ver. of dark joel😏😏😏 I like to consider myself a woman with a very good relationship with my dad but the moment joel says kiddo that shit goes WHOOP out the door

Clean

Joel makes a mess on you, then keeps you in the bathtub until the water goes cold. (3k)

Tags - dark!joel, one shot, smut, fingering, come shot, manspreading, masturbation, overstimulation, forced orgasms, dubconnnnnn, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nickname 'kiddo'. Say the affirmation with me: The ickier it is, the harder I nut.#bushnation, MORE DEPECHE MODE REFERENCES. TRY AND STOP ME. Like car sex, I write bathtub sex uniquely in that I’m not bound by bullshit ass physics or logic so yes, both people fit in the tub and everything is fine. Reader is bathed by Joel, her hair is washed and finger-combed by him too, but length and texture are not described. This was a decroded fic for me to make i can't lie Fic help - @endlessthxxghts, thank you for always seeing my disgusting visions and giving me your eyeballs A/N - thank you for all the birthday wishes, dear friends in my phone! I celebrated with you all last year when I was writing Mall Rats and it’s special that a lot of you are still with me today, but some I have new friends too ❤️ I love you. Having readers like you in my corner all this time has been beyond special and so rewarding and I hope you know I mean it when I say that I love you.

You’re washing the dishes tonight, your least favorite of the chores Joel makes you do. You prefer doing laundry or plucking the weeds with him, because he lets you collect flowers and put them in vases. He even taught you how to press them between heavy books, and how to frame them nicely. 

Joel calls your name from upstairs. You quickly wash and dry your hands, then scurry up the steps. His door is closed almost all of the way, just a small sliver of light peeks from his room into the dark hallway. “Joel?”

“In here, sweetheart. Need ya for somethin’.” 

You push open the door the rest of the way, and Joel’s naked and sitting upright on the edge of his bed, cock in hand with his bare thighs spread wide. He’s grunting as he squeezes the base, the tip all flushed and swollen. “C’mere. Switch me spots.” 

You don’t yet obey his order. You’ve seen Joel’s cock before, seen him masturbate before, too. Despite that, it still makes you feel nervous to see him and be with him like this. It gives you that icky feeling in your gut and makes you breathe funny. 

“C’mon. You know it ain’t gonna bite ya, kiddo.” Joel stands up  and pats the spot on the bed. “Sit,” he says, his tone sharper than before. “Need somethin’ pretty to come on.”

 Joel doesn’t like repeating himself. You won’t make him ask a third time. 

You sit on the bed, the covers warmed and slightly damp by Joel’s body heat don’t comfort you. He stands in front of you, rock-hard cock bouncing in his loose grip. “Why don’t you give me a hand this time,” he says, reaching for your wrist. He pulls it up to waist level, then wraps your palm around his member, closing your fingers tightly. “Ohhh, fuck,” Joel groans from deep in his chest. Loudly, he breathes in and out through his nose as he twists your hand up and down his shaft. “Jus’ like this. That’s a good girl.” 

This is, however, the first time you’ve ever felt his cock. All of your firsts with Joel have never gone the way you thought they would. The first time he saw you naked, touched you, or that you saw him - it was all surreal and rather abrupt. Joel tells you things like this are always a little new and funny at first. 

His cock feels heavy in your palm. You think about the things you like about it - the warmth, all of his veins and ridges, how smooth and soft the head is. But it’s a little sticky, too, which is unexpected to you. 

“Alright, alright. S’enough,” Joel says, pulling your hand away. “Lift up your shirt.”

You lift your shirt, pushing it up your torso until it’s bunched just beneath your breasts. “Nuh-uh. Like this,” Joel murmurs, pushing the garment up above your chest, exposing yourself entirely to him. He rubs his thumb in circles over both of your nipples so that they pebble under his touch, then gropes and squeezes your flesh. “Lie back,” Joel says, pushing you down on the bed. “Attagirl.”

You watch as Joel pumps his cock above you, the end of his fist slapping against his softened belly repeatedly. He breathes heavily, and his dark eyes are wild like an animal as his gaze is fixed on your naked form. Joel breathes quicker as he approaches his release, grunting a slew of swears he doesn’t allow you to say. “Fuck, goddamn. Oh, goddamn,” he hisses as ropes of his hot come spurt onto your body. He covers you like a canvas; his favorite painting, and for his eyes only. 

Joel collects a bit of his spend up with his first two fingers. “Give it a taste,” he says. “Want you to try it.”

You open your mouth, and Joel pushes his calloused digits inside, painting your tongue with his come. “Suck,” he says, and you do. You furrow your brows at the salty, bitter flavor, how it tastes dissimilar from its scent. “Don’t like it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

Joel chuckles, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “S’okay. Y’don’t have to.” Joel yawns then, patting your cheek gently with his weathered hand. “C’mon, kiddo. Bath time. Daddy made a mess a’ ya, didn’t he?”

Joel walks you to the bathroom with him, holding your hand the whole time. He puts the little rubber stopper in the drain of the bathtub, then turns the water on. “Warmer, pl-”

“Don’t need a reminder, sweetheart. Know you like it hot. Daddy won’t let you freeze.”

“And bubbles.”

“I know, baby girl. I won’t forget your bubbles.”

As the bathtub fills, Joel opens the oak cabinet under the sink and pulls out the old bottle of bubble bath, the one he’s been refilling just for you. He pours a capful under the water, bubbles immediately building. It smells mostly of nothing, but a bit of that original bubblegum scent remains. Your image reflected in the mirror begins to blur as steam fills the bathroom, and when the tub is full, Joel shuts off the water. He helps you undress and then gets in the tub first, carefully lowering himself until he’s sat with his back against the wall. “Jesus, s’hot. Gonna turn us both into soup,” Joel laughs. You smile shyly. 

 He spreads his legs, then outstretches his arm to you. “C’mon. Hop in.” You take Joel’s hand, squeezing it while wobbling a little on your one foot as you step into the bath. “I gotcha, kiddo,” he says. 

The water is warm on your feet, nearly burning you but you enjoy the tingle. Joel helps you down, lowering you until you’re submerged in the water, your back against his warm chest, his thick package pressing against your ass. 

Joel fills an old, plastic measuring cup with the soapy bath water and brings a hand to your chin, tilting your head back so he can rinse your hair. The hot water feels soothing on your scalp, and Joel repeats the action until your hair is soaked all the way through and dripping down your back. 

You giggle at the noise the bottle of shampoo makes when Joel squirts a bit into his hand. He lathers it between his palms, then scrubs your scalp. “Eyes closed, kiddo. Don’t wanna hurt ya,” he whispers. 

Your eyes flutter shut as Joel works the soap into your hair, scrubbing your scalp all over. He alternates between scratching you gently with his dull nails, to massaging you with the tips of his fingers. He uses his thumbs to rub the base of your skull in circles, the other four fingers of each hand drawing lines up and down and all over. Once Joel’s built a thick lather, he uses the same plastic cup to rinse out the shampoo.  

He conditions your hair next, working the cream into the strands. He uses his fingers to loosely detangle, “Ow, daddy,” you complain as he tugs on a knot. 

“I know, I know. M’sorry, baby girl.” Joel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Was an’ accident. M’tryin’ to be gentle.” He rinses out the conditioner next, “Grab me that bar of soap, will ya?” he asks. 

“Mhm.” You lean forward and reach for the orangish, rectangular bar of soap in front of you on the shower niche, then grab it and hold it over your shoulder. 

Joel takes the soap, “Thank ya kindly, darlin’.”  He dips it in the soapy bathwater before lathering it between his palms that are already beginning to prune. Gently, he pushes you forward to scrub your back and your neck, then pulls you right back into himself. “Gimme an arm,” he says, a slight rasp in his voice. You raise your arm for him and he washes you with the lather, “An’ the other,” Joel adds, now washing your other arm, massaging you with his strong hands. “Here-” Joel taps your shoulder with the soap. “Your daddy’s gettin’ old,” he grumbles. “Can’t bend like he used to. Wash your legs f’me, sweetheart.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, taking the soap back from him. You lather the soap just like Joel did, then wash your legs one at a time, bending them at the knees. When done, Joel reaches over you to take the soap back. He pulls you back against his soft middle and puts his soapy hands on your torso, sliding them up and down your skin, washing off his now dried spend. He groans quietly as he washes your breasts, kneading the flesh there and circling your nipples with his slippery fingers. You feel his cock twitch against you. 

Joel washes down, down your stomach. “Spread ‘em,” he says, and you part your legs wider. Your stomach jumps when his hands rub past your pubic hair and he washes your folds, that soft, private place between your thighs. You whimper when his thumb catches your clit. 

“That feel nice, kiddo?”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you search for an answer. 

“I-”

“You can tell your old man. I know it does,” Joel coos, rubbing his thumb left and right over your clit. You lean your head back and turn your head to the side, burying yourself in his bicep as you whine. “You don’t take much at all, do ya, sweetheart?”

Joel’s made you come before. It’s one of the first things he did when he brought you home, actually. But you amaze him every time, how quickly and easily you fall apart on his fingertips. He thinks about tasting you for the first time, how sweet you’ll be on his tongue. Or his cock, down your throat or between your thighs and splitting you in two. God, you’ve so much to learn, and Joel gets to walk you through it all. His favorite innocence. 

Joel adjusts you both so that you’re sitting more upright and he can reach around you with both hands. “Rest on me,” he says, pressing the side of your head against his so that his scruff is tickling you, but not scratching you. It’s too long for that.

 Joel peers over your shoulder to watch what he’s doing, and to watch how you react. Your soft tummy rising and falling with big breaths, thighs twitching. Joel circles your clit with his middle and ring fingers, patiently working you up. “How’s that feelin’?” he asks, “Can you tell daddy?”

“Mm,” you hum, “Yeah…”

Joel chuckles, dragging the tip of his aquiline nose along the side of your face. “Use your words, baby girl,” he instructs. “Good girls use their words, hm?”

“Feels g- feels good,” you whimper, voice breaking as Joel works you. He rubs your clit faster now, and you’re rocking against his palm, splashing the water a little. 

Joel brings his other hand to your core and lines two fingers up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he massages your clit. You wince in pain, squeezing his bicep as he pushes them in further. 

Joel hums in sympathy. Being in the bath means you’re not a slick, slippery mess like usual. “Know it hurts, kiddo, but you gotta get used to it.” Joel’s fingers are all the way inside you now, and he pulls them back out. “You’ll get used to it,” he drawls, now pumping those fingers in and out of you, slowly. “You’re bein’ so brave for me, baby girl.” 

The ache of Joel’s fingers stretching you out dissipates eventually, and he changes the action - instead of drawing his fingers in and out of your cunt, he curls them repeatedly inside of you - Joel knows you love when he does this to you. 

You moan freely, relishing in the pleasure. Joel’s right, he’s always right. You’re used to him now, and he feels so good. Swirling his fingers around your clit, stroking that sweet spot inside you with the other hand - it takes no more than five minutes until your breathing turns ragged and you feel that hot, sticky feeling in your gut, the one that feels both bad and good all at the same time. 

“Ask for it,” Joel mumbles, reminding you of your manners as he senses how close you are. “Be polite.”

“Please,” you say, “Can I come?”

“‘Course you can, sweetheart. Of course.”

The orgasm washes over you quickly. You come with a symphony of breathy moans, saccharine in nature. Joel’s never heard anything like it, and he’s grateful he has enough of his hearing left to be able to. 

With his weathered, wrinkled fingers, Joel fucks you through your climax until the last of it courses through you. You come down, but Joel doesn’t stop touching you. 

Maybe he thinks it’s not yet over. Joel keeps doing those same tight circles on your clit, and you start to squirm. “Joel–” you wrap your hands around his forearm and attempt to move him, but his strength is far too great for your efforts to mean anything at all.  

“Sit still. You’re givin’ me another one.” 

Joel keeps your back pinned tightly against his hairy chest, your legs spread wide with his hand in between them, patiently swirling his middle and ring fingers around your swollen and over-sensitive clit. Your hips are starting to ache and the sensation of Joel pleasuring you has turned uncomfortable, downright painful. 

“I wanna be done, Joel. I can’t do another one,” you whimper, voice shaking as tears well up in your eyes. There’s nowhere to run, and you know you just have to take it. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he whispers soothingly, his ministrations on your pussy unfaltering. Joel’s holding you back. You’re not supposed to tell him no. “Know you can.”

His words serve more to frustrate you than encourage you. “I. Can’t,” you huff as you try to pull away from him and close your legs shut in the now lukewarm and soapy water, but Joel keeps you in position in his vice grip. 

“Knock it off,” he growls. Joel has to hide his amusement. You’re quick to anger, just like he is. Just like your daddy. “Jus’ relax.”

You’re close, and whether you realize it or not, Joel does. Your twitching legs, the way you’re breathing. Release is right around the corner if you’d just calm yourself down. Poor thing. You always did struggle with regulating yourself.

“Get - I told you-“ you interrupt yourself to groan, “You’re not listening to me, daddy. I said I c-can’t fucking—” you don’t finish the sentence and instead seethe in frustration, jerking and splashing bath water onto the floor. “F-”

Joel slaps your cheek, hard. “Easy,” he scolds, “I didn’t raise you to speak to me like that.” Joel his nose against the side of your head and bites your ear, the way a dog does with a pup. A warning. “An’ I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he adds. “Adjust the fuckin’ attitude and try it again before you piss me off.”

Your voice cracks as you whimper Joel’s name, a sob then escaping your chest. Your cheek stings and tingles, like you never stopped feeling the impact of Joel’s hand meeting your skin. 

“Don’t start cryin’, just breathe. Breathe. Go slow,” Joel instructs, pleased when you inhale steadily. On your exhale, Joel whispers, “You need me to talk you through it?”

You nod against him, sniffling. “Then I’ll talk you through it. Focus on my voice, focus right here, kiddo,” he tells you. “Relax, just a minute. Calm yourself.”

You rest against Joel, and he pauses his ministrations on your clit. “I can’t do it again, Joel,” you plead. “I don’t think I can.” 

“I know what you think. It don’t matter, ‘cause it ain’t up to you, sweetheart. We’re tryin’ it again.” 

Joel restarts, circling and massaging your clit with that same pressure from before. And just like before, it’s uncomfortable. It hurts, and you don’t like it. 

“Lean into it, sweetheart. Let it ride.” 

Frustrated, you shake your head. “Daddy–”

“You need to let it happen. Got all night, sweetheart. Water’s gettin’ cold.” 

“Joel.” Your voice cracks.

Joel ignores you. He pumps his fingers, focusing specifically on your g-spot as he knows how sensitive you are there. Your protests begin to quiet, replaced by soft noises of pleasure. “There it is,” Joel purrs. “Make those pretty noises for me. You’re doin’ good.” 

Pleasure begins to build, just like Joel said it would. It almost makes you mad, mad that he’s right. Always right. Mad that Joel knows your body like the back of his hand, better than you do. The stubborn part of you wants to stave off release, but a bigger part of you doesn’t wanna fight Joel on this. You don’t like to fight with him anyway. You always lose. So, you allow yourself to bask in the pleasure Joel knew you’d feel.

“You gonna come one more time? You gonna come on daddy’s fingers?”

“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes squeeze shut as the feeling builds, almost exponentially. Your gasps and moans halt and there it is - Joel’s pulled another orgasm from your body. More powerful than before, the feeling washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each movement of Joel’s fingers. “Yeah, attagirl,” he breathes. “Manners, sweetheart. What do you say?” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, out of breath. 

Joel rinses you with the water as you come down from your second orgasm of the evening. He taps you twice on the hip, “Up,” he says, and you stand up on shaky legs. 

Joel reaches for an old, floral-patterned towel and dries himself off first, then wraps it around his waist, thick belly bulging over the edge of the fabric. He grabs another towel for you next, drying your legs and arms one at a time before wrapping the towel snugly around your shoulders. 

“You finish those dishes?” Joel asks, pulling the drain stopper out of the tub. 

“Not all of them,” you answer. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t you worry ‘bout it. I’ll do the rest, hm?” 

You wear a small smile, “Okay.”

“An’ I was thinkin’ that I could make us popcorn, like you like. Put on a movie. One of those girly ones I picked out for you, huh?”

Your smile grows. “Yeah,” you answer. 

Joel smiles too. “Good. Let’s get you dressed, then.” 

thank you for reading! please consider engaging by reblogging, hopping in my inbox, and/or commenting. your words go so far in keeping me motivated to write ♡

More dark!joel

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

Halcyon - Ch. 18: I Fucking Heard You

You and Joel adjust to life apart. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 17, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

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

Length: 8.3k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter

January, 2008 

He was going to actually do it this time. 

Joel was sitting outside your apartment building, drumming against the steering wheel of his truck, desperate to work out some of the anxious energy that kept building and building inside of him. 

But he just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he was done trying to pretend like he didn’t love you. He was going to say it. 

Actually say it. 

For real this time. 

He’d ignored it as long as he could manage, shoved it down and tried to kill it by going out with practically every girl in school for even longer. He didn’t want to ruin things between the two of you, he was terrified of that more than he was of just about anything else. You mattered more to him than anyone, he couldn’t lose you, especially not to his own stupidity. But he couldn’t keep how he felt separate from your friendship, either. He loved you so much he felt like he was choking on it, like it had to go somewhere outside of himself or he was going to lose his damn mind with it. 

So he’d finally worked up the courage to tell you. Rip the bandaid off. Maybe it wouldn’t blow up in his face, maybe… maybe you’d tell him you felt the same way. Maybe you’d grab him and kiss him the way he pretended you would when he thought about you when he was alone. Maybe you’d tell him you changed your mind about going across the country, maybe you’d go to college here in Austin and you’d move in together and he’d get to be next to you all the time. 

This, he decided, was the perfect night for it. There was a meteor shower he’d heard about on the news and he talked you into going to the park to watch it. It seemed right, telling you this with the whole galaxy stretched out in front of you. Things were changing tonight. He could feel it. 

He watched as you more fell than climbed out of your window, landing in the bushes and clumsily pulling yourself free of them before dashing to his truck. 

“What are you wearin’ Goldie Girl?” He teased as you got in, the collar of a second sweatshirt visible below your hoodie, the sleeves unusually bulky. 

“What!” You asked, brows raised. “It’s January! It’s cold! And… I couldn’t risk waking up my mom by going to the coat closet for my jacket.” 

Joel snorted. 

“I’m counting on you to keep me warm out there, Miller,” you said, buckling up as Joel started driving, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribs. “This whole thing was your idea.” 

“I got blankets,” he said. “Not gonna let you freeze.” 

As he drove, the two of you caught up on everything that had happened in the few hours it had been since you’d last seen him - no time at all, really, but it always dragged for Joel. It seemed like he was always just marking time until he got to see you again. He was almost always with you until curfew. Then, awake for an hour, sleep for eight, wake up and then just an hour before he was at your door again, picking you up to take you to school. Then it was three and a half hours until lunch - which you always had with him - then just an hour until your single shared class - newspaper, which he’d joined to make you happy - and then two hours until school was done and he was with you again.

You told Joel about Anna’s issues in school and Joel told you about his mom’s frustrations with his own grades. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled a little as you scolded him and told him you’d help him study, he just had to actually do it and he smiled and nodded along because he knew that. You were always trying to bring out the best in him. You were the only one who could.

“Oh, and, there’s the one really big thing,” you said as Joel parked his truck. 

“I got a big thing, too,” he said. Your eyes lit up at that, always ready to be excited for him. “Yours first.” 

“OK. So, you know Steve?” You asked, brows raised.

“Steve,” Joel frowned, trying to picture someone the both of you knew named Steve. 

“Yeah, Steve,” you said. “You know, Steve…” 

“You can keep saying his name all you want, I still don’t know who you mean,” he laughed. 

“Steve,” you said again, incredulous. “The yearbook editor, Steve.” 

“Oh!” He said, picturing the guy now. “Yeah, OK, Steve. Right. What about him?” 

“Well,” you said sitting up a little straighter. “He asked me out.” 

Joel just stared at you for a moment, blinking in shock. His stomach sank. He had the strange feeling that he was falling from some great height, not unlike what he felt when riding a roller coaster with you except there was no safety harness to keep him from tumbling to the earth. 

“What?” He said eventually. 

“Steve asked me out,” you said, chin up like you were proud. “I actually have a date, I’m not just hanging out with you for a change!” 

“You said yes?” He asked, his mouth dry. 

“Yeah, of course I did! We’re going to go to the movies,” you said, beaming, before you realized that Joel apparently wasn’t reacting the way you expected. You cocked your head, frowning. “Why, should I not have? Is there something wrong with him?” 

“No,” he said quickly. “No, sure he’s fine, I just… didn’t know you liked ‘im is all.” 

“I mean,” you shrugged. “He’s not bad looking and he’s funny and he’s smart and he writes… We have a lot in common. What’s not to like?”

Of course. Of course you’d go for someone more like you, someone who was smart like you and didn’t fucking struggle in school like he did, someone who wrote like you instead of just fucked around with their entire life like he did. Why on Earth would you be interested in him? Why on Earth would you waste your fucking time on someone like him when you were so clearly meant for so much better? Not that Steve was fucking good enough for you. No one was, Joel included. 

“Right,” he said. He thought he might throw up. 

“What?” You said, laughing awkwardly. “Are you OK? You look weird…” 

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Just… You know. Be careful, guys can be assholes.” 

“Yeah, you’d know,” you teased. 

“No, I mean it,” Joel said. “Sure he seems like a decent guy but…” 

“But?” You asked, brows raised. 

“He don’t deserve you,” he said. 

You smiled then, gently, reaching out and putting your hand on his thigh and giving his leg a squeeze. 

“You’re sweet,” you said. “And you’re worried about nothing. It’s high school. It’s a date. It’s not like we’re getting married. Oh, maybe we could all go out together sometime! Once you pick the new flavor of the week, I mean. I’ll actually have someone to go with now.” 

“Yeah,” Joel said, forcing himself to smile. “Yeah, that’d be fun.” 

He gathered up the blankets and set them out in the bed of his truck and he helped pull you into it, settling in just as the meteor shower started overhead. You pressed yourself close to him and he could feel the heat of your breath on his skin and fuck he wished it could have been him you said yes to. 

“Oh, what was your thing?” You asked, looking up at him from where your head was nestled against his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to derail the conversation…” 

“Oh, uh,” Joel said, scrambling for something - anything - to say. “Tommy… decided to take after his big brother and go out for football next year.” 

“Nice!” You said, looking back at the sky again. “You’re going to put him through his paces before, right? Teach him how to take a hit?” 

Joel scoffed. 

“Course,” he said. “What kind of big brother would I be if I didn’t.” 

The two of you watched stars streak across the sky for hours. Joel set an alarm on his phone because he knew you’d sleep through one on yours and you snuggled close to him under the blankets. 

“You were right,” you said, voice sleepy. “This is really cool. Thanks for talking me into it.” 

“Course,” he said, resisting the urge to kiss you. “I’d do anything for you… Love you, Goldie.” 

You smiled against him. 

“Love you, too,” you said. 

He held you close and wondered what it would be like if you meant it the same way he did.  

***

September, 2023

“Aunt Goldie?” 

You looked up from painting Sarah’s toenails to see her watching you, her head cocked and a serious expression on her face, one that was partially obscured by the facial mask you’d applied before you’d started in on her nails during your at home spa day. 

“Niece Sarah?”

“Why are you and my dad still in a fight?” She asked. 

You just blinked for a moment, taking a moment to process her question. It caught you off guard - not that it should have. Things had been very different since her birthday party months earlier and Sarah was a smart kid. It made sense that she would notice. You just hadn’t prepared an answer - something that felt like a massive oversight now that it was in front of you. 

“What makes you think that we’re in a fight?” You said eventually, putting the brush back in the jar of polish before you dripped on the floor. 

“You never come over anymore,” she said. 

“Well, I live back at my own house now,” you said, starting in on her toes again. 

“Duh,” Sarah said and you could practically hear her eyes roll. “But even before you and Ellie lived with us you came over all the time and you don’t anymore. And my dad never comes here with me, he always just drops me off.” 

“We both have a lot going on,” you said, happy you had an excuse to not be looking her in the eye. “It’s not…” 

“I’m not stupid, you know,” she said and you looked up then, her gaze serious as she watched you closely. “I know something happened.” 

You finished her pinky toe and closed the nail polish with a sigh. 

“Sarah…” 

“My dad’s been acting different,” she cut you off, a little heated, and you frowned. 

“Different?” You asked. “Different how?” 

“He’s just…” she sighed. “I think he’s sad. He tries to pretend like he’s not and that everything’s normal but I know him and I can tell. I don’t know what happened but I think it’s stupid that you guys just aren’t talking or whatever right now. I wish you’d just figure it out.” 

You looked at Sarah, at her wide and hopeful eyes, and tried to figure out how to explain this to her.

How did you tell her that you weren’t sure how to move past how her father - the person you loved most in the world - apparently saw you? That you needed space from him because you couldn’t let yourself revolve around him anymore? That it wasn’t good for you to have your life so intertwined with someone who would, inevitably, go on to have a life outside of you?

It had been a strange two months, not seeing and even really speaking to Joel. 

The first day was strange. It was just you and Ellie and your cat in your house that had done nothing beyond collect dust in the months since your niece was born. 

Being there, alone, with Ellie made you nervous and you were sure she could sense it in you somehow, like she knew you were unworthy and letting her down by taking her away from the one fully competent person in her life because you were too selfish and couldn’t move past your own shit. 

To make matters worse, your mind kept going back to Joel and the strange life the two of you had made together in the months you’d lived with him. He’d become built into everything, the rhythm of your life out of sync without him and Sarah there, too. You missed both of them so much it hurt but it was especially painful with Joel. You missed the way the two of you would navigate around each other in the kitchen in the morning, his hand so often finding your hip or the small of your back when he needed to reach around you or move past you. The way you could hold your toothbrush out and he would put the right amount of toothpaste on it before going to bed at the end of the day. The way he would just open your beer for you when he got you one, because - while you didn’t need him to - he knew you didn’t like getting your nails under the pull tab of the can or twisting the cap on the bottles. 

Joel knew you. You’d been married a decade and you weren’t sure your husband had ever known you the way Joel did. He’d certainly never done things like that for you. Joel did. That was part of why that moment after Sarah’s party had caught you so off guard. You’d thought you meant more to him than that, that you were more than one of the women he’d pick up, have fun with for a night or a week or a month and then cast aside.

But then he shoved you against the wall in his kitchen and fucked you with his fingers like all you were to him was something physical, telling you how no one could fuck you like he did, as though that was the only thing that would matter. 

You tried to shove that keen loneliness that came with missing him down by focusing on Ellie and pouring your every thought onto the page. You just kept your niece as close as possible all the time, keeping her strapped to your chest as you sat at your desk to write until it felt like your brain was going numb or got your house cleaned up or made dinner or went for a walk just to get out of your own head for a bit. You hoped that all but smothering her with closeness would keep her from realizing the coldly obvious thing that was your desperation and it was a relief when you took her to the rehab facility to pick up Anna. 

This time, things with Anna and Ellie were smooth. Or as close to smooth as you could get with someone coming out of months of inpatient therapy and an infant. Anna seemed nervous with Ellie at first, hesitating and double checking everything, her eyes going from her daughter’s face to yours like she wanted your approval for how she was doing. 

“This is right?” She asked as she held the bottle while cradling Ellie in the way that Joel had shown you. 

“Yeah,” you smiled gently. “You’ve got it.” 

“Yeah,” Anna said, looking back down at Ellie and smiling a little, too. “I think I do.” 

You pulled back slowly then. 

The first two weeks, you were more hands on, doing at least 50% of the work of caring for Ellie, going with Anna daily to meetings and therapy, writing as much as you could and keeping Joel far from your mind. 

But, after a little while, Anna started to naturally take on more and more. The two of you went from splitting the overnight Ellie care to Anna handling everything. Slowly but surely, she took over everything and, by week five, all you were doing was watching as she cared for her daughter. 

“If you wanted to move back home, I think I’m ready,” she said one afternoon as she fed Ellie while you made some tweaks to the plot of your novel in your story notebook. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, setting your pen down, eyebrows drawn together. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Why, do you think I’m not?” 

“No!” You said quickly. “No, I think you’re doing great. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m abandoning you.” 

“It won’t be like it was before,” she smiled, a twinge of sadness in her expression as she did. “I know her now. I know me now. I’ve got this, I don’t need to hold you back anymore.” 

“You’re not…” you began, but she cut you off. 

“I am,” she said. “You have a life outside of me and her and you put it on hold because I couldn’t get my shit together…” 

“You just needed help…” you interjected, but she ignored you.

“…And I’m so sorry I put that on you,” she continued. “I’ll owe you forever for taking care of my daughter when I couldn’t. But we don’t need your help now, you can go back to your life. It’s OK. I promise.” 

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that, really, you didn’t have a life. Outside of your work, your book and your cat, you had nothing. You needed her more than she needed you. 

You’d tried to start getting a life of your own, getting out of the house and doing things on your own, well before this conversation. The first time you’d left Anna alone with Ellie for a few hours, you’d gone out with Tim, the man you’d met at Sarah’s party. 

It was a fine date. It would have been a great one had it been someone else but all you could think about when you looked at him was Joel forcing you to come on his fingers in his kitchen as he said over and over that no one else could make you feel like he did. 

Things fizzled out quickly when you realized it wasn’t something you could really get over. Since then, you hadn’t bothered with Tinder or trying to reach out to Alyssa or anyone else in town. The only person you’d really texted outside of Sarah and Anna was Gale. 

You hadn’t responded to anything your estranged husband had sent since you’d moved in with Joel but then, one day, he texted you something that made you respond. 

I didn’t want you to find this out on Facebook, that seemed wrong, but I wanted you to know that I became a father. 

You stared at the message, just a few days after Anna had said you could move back home, reading it as you held your sister’s infant daughter in your arms. You thought about ignoring it, shoving the strange, hollow feeling that was taking over the core of you down deep, but then he sent one more message, one you couldn’t just pretend he never sent at all. 

I’m sorry it wasn’t you. 

You held it together until Anna was done in the shower, giving Ellie to her and making up some excuse that you were sure she could tell was bullshit - something about a headache and feeling nauseated - so you could hide in the room that had become yours in the time you’d been at Anna’s. You buried your face in the pillow and screamed until your throat was raw and you were choking on your tears, barely able to breathe. 

It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you, not for anybody. He had been everything to you once but you hadn’t been anything to him, not really. It had never been you. 

This, you thought, you should have been used to by now. You’d always felt like you were on the fringes of your own life, the people at the center of your world putting you on the edges of theirs. Gale, when you’d first gotten together with him, was the first person since Joel who made you feel like you were a priority, like you actually mattered. That feeling had faded with time but that, you’d thought, was just a byproduct of what a whole life with someone meant. Of course he didn’t send you good morning texts with poetry anymore or get you flowers just because or go out of his way to get your favorite tea. You saw each other all the time, why would he?

But you’d been sure that, at least with your husband, you were the priority. Until he’d given you divorce papers, even through the months of distance and cold behavior, you’d thought that you were the priority.

Then you realized, you’d kept thinking that, even after he left, even now. The way the divorce had dragged on, the way he kept texting and calling and trying, some sad, sick part of yourself had latched onto that. That you were the important thing, that you were what mattered. Your marriage may have failed but you took some cold comfort in the fact that you’d at least left your mark on him.

But you hadn’t. You’d stopped sleeping together hardly more than a year ago and your husband already had a baby with another woman. Even in your marriage, you’d been on the fringes.

When you stopped crying enough that you could see clearly, you emailed your attorney.

Give him whatever he wants. I just need this to be done.

You knew what that meant. The last divorce agreement his lawyer had sent yours included shared rights to your own fucking book, him keeping the house without buying you out, him keeping the entirety of the 401k. He was asking for a lot but all you wanted then was to cut the tie as thoroughly as possible. As terrifying as it was to live in a world that made it seem like your marriage had never happened, it was better than this. 

Your lawyer called you to be sure, to try to talk you out of it, but you didn’t care. He could have whatever percentage of book rights he wanted, it's not like you could have created it without him. He could have the house, it’s not like you could ever live in it without him. He could have the entire state of Rhode Island for all you cared as long as you’d never be faced with the sharp reality of your marriage.

You wrote furiously when it was done, the words pouring out of you in a way they hadn’t since you’d written Halcyon. You barely slept or ate for days, canceling classes and writing until there wasn’t anything left inside you to say. You finished the manuscript, 33 chapters of your love and pain sitting in front of you. You stared at it for a moment, the cursor pulsing at the end of the final sentence. 

It was over. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now, but it was done. 

You were numb when you were on your couch a few days later, staring at the ceiling with nothing but your cat to keep you company, when your phone rang. You answered it without bothering to look at the screen, content to even talk to a telemarketer for a few minutes if it served as enough of a distraction.

“Hello?”

“What the hell is this, baby doll?”

You sat up fast enough that your head spun, pulling your phone away from your face to see Gale’s name on your screen. You put your ear to the phone again.

“What the hell is what?”

“This,” he said and you could hear the shuffle of papers on the other end.

“You realize we’re not on facetime, right?”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “This, the new divorce agreement your lawyer sent mine, what is this?”

You frowned, putting the call on speaker before going to your most recent email with your attorney and skimming the agreement. Your frown deepened.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” You asked. “I thought you’d be happy, I…”

“You think this is what I want?” He cut you off, sounding heated.

“Isn’t it what you asked for?” you asked. “I don’t think I missed anything, you should have everything you wanted, and…”

“What I asked for is outrageous,” he said. You heard him put something down with a little too much force on the other end – probably a mug, knowing him – the sound of the ceramic on wood sharp. “I knew that when I asked for it."

"OK," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose, taking the phone off speaker and holding it against your ear again. “What else do you want? Do you want me to say you won or something? Because…”

“I want you to reconsider,” he said.

You just sat there for a moment, blinking in shock.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “What is this. Why are you giving in to me like this.” 

It still took you a moment to process what he said before you could manage to answer. 

“I’m just trying to give you what you want,” you said, voice thick. 

“You’ve never done that before,” he said. “Hell, even when we were together you never did that, you never just gave into me unless you wanted it, too. Why now.” 

“You…” you sighed. “You’re a father now, you have… there’s someone else in your life now, you have another life now, Gale, and you should live it. I’m holding you back, I don’t want to hold you back, I…” 

“You’ve never held me back,” he said. “I’ve told you that.” 

“Well, clearly I wasn’t right for you in some way or we wouldn’t be where we’re at right now,” you snapped without meaning to. “I’m not the one who wanted to separate, that was you.” 

“Yeah, well, I fucked up,” he said and you had to bite your tongue. “I was… I’ve never been with anyone as long as I was with you…” 

“Yeah, me ether,” you said voice still sharp. “I was with you for more than a third of my life Gale.” 

“I know that,” he said, speaking more gently than you. “I should have known better, I should have understood how things would change and I should have embraced your success instead of letting it hurt me…” 

“My success hurt you?” You asked quietly. 

He sighed heavily. 

“It did,” he said. “You thrived commercially in ways I never could. I envied that, so much that I couldn’t stand being around you.” 

“That’s it?” You asked. “That’s what made you leave me, the fact that I sold more books than you did?” 

“No, of course not,” he said. “But it’s… it’s what started it.” 

You almost laughed to keep yourself from crying because of course it was the one success you’d found that broke your marriage. Why would it be anything else? 

“That’s not what I was trying to do,” you said. 

“I know,” he said. “I was wondering if…” 

“Does Carla know you’re talking to me?” You asked, cutting him off. 

“Does she need to?” He asked. “You’re my wife.” 

“And she’s the mother of your child,” you said. “I’m not going to be the other woman in my own marriage. You need to figure out what you want.” 

“And if I want you?” He asked. 

You sighed. 

“You have a family now,” you said. “Think before you blow it up.” 

But ever since, Gale had been a bigger presence in your life than Joel. He’d started acting like he had in the early days of your relationship, sending you romantic texts and having flowers delivered to your house. 

Part of you knew you should resist it, that this wouldn’t lead anywhere good. There was a reason things had fallen apart once before, you knew they would again. But going back to him would be so easy. He was comfortable, familiar. There was a life the two of you had together that you knew you could fit back into now, if you wanted. It might be complicated - he had a child now - but it was there, right in front of you. 

You just weren’t sure if you wanted it. 

So you started talking with him. Not a lot, not like it had been before, but you were texting daily. He wanted to know about your book, how your classes were going, about your life in Texas. Part of you was waiting for the other foot to drop, for him to decide that he didn’t want you again, but he was consistent and that, at least, was something. 

Meanwhile, your only contact with Joel was in a group chat with Sarah. 

You might have needed space from Joel but you couldn’t just cut things off with Sarah. It wasn’t fair to her, you knew she was attached to you. Plus, she had become like a niece or daughter to you in the year you’d known her. You knew the names of her friends and her favorite songs and the books she liked. You loved her. You’d had to keep in touch. She regularly came over to watch a movie or have dinner and she called you at least three times a week to ask for help with homework and tell you about her life.  

While you kept up with Sarah, you never really directly spoke to Joel. You only texted in the group chat to confirm that it was OK for you to pick up Sarah and what time she needed to be back, or when Joel would drop her off and pick her up at your place. 

But you’d opened up your texts to send him a message directly at least once a day and every time you just stared at the last thing he’d sent you: I’m sorry. It was sent just hours after you’d left his house with Ellie weeks before. 

You weren’t sure what the hell you were supposed to say to him, what you were supposed to do with that apology. Were you supposed to accept it and pretend it had never happened? Were you supposed to actually have him explain to you, on no uncertain terms, how he saw you and what he wanted from your relationship? Could you handle actually hearing him say it if you did? 

You didn’t know. So you left it alone, the message glaring at you, the date stamp going further and further into the past with every passing day. 

And that’s where your relationship with Joel sat, frozen in time, as his daughter watched you closely. 

“You should come over tonight,” Sarah said. You raised your eyebrows and she stared you down. “When you drop me off. Just come inside, say hi, have dinner. It’s think he said he was going to grill.” 

“I’m sure he already has everything planned out for tonight,” you said, returning to the work of painting her last nail and closing the polish. “I don’t think it’s a good idea…” 

“Please?” She said, her eyes wide. She had to know what she was doing, looking at you that way. She was too smart for her own good. “I miss you.” 

You sighed. 

“Alright…” 

“Yes!” She punched the air in victory. 

“But just to say hi,” you said and her face fell a little. “I don’t want to impose.” 

“Psh, family doesn’t impose,” she waved you off. You looked at her, incredulous. “What? That’s what Uncle Tommy says when he wants to stay for dinner.” 

You snorted. 

“Yeah, I bet he does,” you said. “Alright, once your toes dry, we’ll go to the bookstore and get you home.” 

“And you’ll come inside?” 

“And I’ll come inside,” you said, even though the thought made your stomach knot. “Promise.” 

You took her to the bookstore, just wandering through with her and picking out a few new things for her - because you weren’t above buying a kid’s love - and got in line, where you passed a table of best sellers. 

Halcyon was sitting there, out in paperback now, one copy sitting face down so your portrait was visible on the back. Sarah frowned and picked it up, examining it for a moment before her face lit up. 

“Aunt Goldie!” She said, thrusting the book at you. “That’s you! I didn’t know you were famous!” 

You shushed her, someone in line in front of you turning to look at you. 

“OK, well, I’m not famous,” you said, taking the book from her and setting it back where it belonged. “I just wrote a book that people liked, that’s all.” 

“My dad said you wrote a book, I didn’t know it was a famous book,” she said. “Can I read it?” 

“Absolutely not,” you said, nudging her forward as the line moved. 

“Why not?” She pouted. 

“Because, as much as I love you and know how good of a reader you are, I wrote the book for adults,” you said. “You can read it in 10 years. Maybe.” 

“Well, will you tell me what it’s about?” She asked. 

You sighed, not entirely sure how to answer that question. At least, not to Sarah. 

“It’s…” you paused. “It’s about love and figuring out who you are with it and without it.” 

“Oh,” she crinkled her nose a little. 

“What?” You asked, laughing a little. 

“Sounds kinda boring,” she said. “Sorry.” 

You snorted. 

“No, you’re right,” you said. “It probably is boring.” 

You paid for the books, the person in line behind you stopping you on your way out the door to sign a copy of your book they’d just bought, Sarah beaming as she watched, and drove to Joel’s. 

You took a moment to steel yourself as you sat in his driveway. You hadn’t been in Joel’s house since you’d left. Any time you picked up or dropped off Sarah, you just sat in the car and waited for her to come to you or watched her until she was safely inside. You didn’t dare actually go in the house. That, you knew, was a bridge too far.

But you’d overcome bigger obstacles. You could do this, too. 

You pulled yourself together and followed Sarah inside. 

Nothing had changed. The blanket that was made by Joel’s mother was still draped on the end of the couch, his work boots were in a heap near the door, a beach towel from the pool was drying on a chair outside that you could just see through the sliding glass door. In spite of the knot in your stomach, this place felt like home. There was comfort here because the people you loved were here. 

“That you baby girl?” Joel called from down the hall. 

Your heart stuttered.

“It’s just me,” she called back.

You heard the telltale sounds of his footsteps as he made his way to the stairs. 

“For dinner, did you…” he said before he froze, looking up from his phone to find you standing there, in his living room. 

You smiled tightly. 

“Hi Joel.” 

***

You were here. 

In his living room, you were here. You were here and you weren’t ignoring him and maybe he hadn’t fucking ruined everything. You were here and holy fuck you looked good, just in shorts and a tank top and fuck, he wanted to touch you again. 

Instead, he just swallowed that driving want and cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter as he did. 

“Hey, Goldie.” 

You smiled. Not in that usual way you had, one that was quieter and stiller but still there. 

“I told Aunt Goldie that she should come over and stay for dinner,” Sarah said. 

“Oh,” Joel said, looking between you and Sarah. “Well, baby girl, Aunt Goldie’s been real busy lately and…” 

“She already said she could stay for dinner,” Sarah said, almost smirking. “And I know you guys aren’t in a fight because you’ve both said you’re not in a fight and you’d never lie to me about that, right?” 

Joel looked at you, a little desperate, and you just gave him a small shrug. 

“Right,” she finished for him. “So that means she can stay for dinner because there’s no reason she can’t and oh, look! Vanessa is calling me so I’m just going to go into my room until dinner is ready and talk with her and not listen to whatever you two are going to talk about. Bye!” 

She ran upstairs, taking them two steps at a time, leaving you and Joel standing there awkwardly in his living room. 

“Sorry,” he said at the same time you did and you both laughed awkwardly.

“She’s conniving, that one,” you said. 

“Little trickster,” Joel agreed. 

He just watched you for a moment, happy that he could see you - actually see you, not just picture you like he usually did now.  

“I should have called,” you said after you were both quiet for a moment. “I shouldn’t have just… It doesn’t matter that she wanted me to come over like this, I should have called and…” 

“No, it’s fine,” Joel said quickly. “You’re always welcome here, Goldie, you don’t need to call.” 

You smiled, small again, but it was there. 

“Thanks,” you said. “I should have at least brought something, though, I know you weren’t planning on me being here… I can just go, I don’t…” 

“Think we can find enough food in this house to feed three people,” he said, stepping closer, smiling a little. “Stay, if you want. I’d… I’d really like it if you stayed.” 

“OK,” you said and you smiled like you then, small at first but then wide and bright and welcoming. “Then yeah, I’ll stay.” 

Falling into you again was so fast and so easy. You followed him to the kitchen and the two of you made awkward, stilted conversation for a minute or two but, before long, you were perched on the counter while he made burger patties from the ground beef in the fridge as you told him how Ellie was doing and he told you what he’d been up to since you’d left. 

Which, he had to admit, he was embellishing a little because, without you and Ellie, his life had been pretty gray. 

After you left, it took a few days before it felt like he could do anything but take care of Sarah and stare at his phone. He’d texted you an apology, something he immediately regretted. He should have figured out a better way to say it instead of just “I’m sorry” and kept his mouth shut until he did. He kept hoping that you’d reply, that you’d give him a chance to say something better than “I’m sorry.” 

Eventually, he gave up and tried to figure out how to live without you again. It was harder than he’d expected it to be. He’d done it before when you’d gone more than just a few miles down the road and he’d lived through that, this shouldn’t have been any worse. But it was. 

Your lives had become so entangled, so in step, you were missing in everything he did. There were reminders of you everywhere and in everything, so much so that he needed an outlet. 

So, he started playing guitar more.

It hurt at first because, for some masochistic fucking reason, he kept being drawn to songs about heartbreak and loss. But eventually, he got to the point that he wanted to do something besides wallow. It took him some time to figure out what the fuck that meant but, eventually, he settled on the perfect thing: his business plan. 

Part of him wanted to believe that he was doing it only for himself. That this was what he wanted, it was the next step he needed to take to make his life - and the life he was building for his daughter - what he wanted it to be. 

But that wasn’t true, you were in this, too. This was what he needed to do to be worthy of you. Maybe, if he could actually fucking make something of himself, you’d want him the way he wanted you. 

So he’d put together the damn business plan. He put together the business plan and thought up a name and made an appointment at the bank to apply for the loan he’d need to start the company to begin with. He did everything he had to to make something of himself. He did it because he’d been wanting to be something since he’d first held his daughter. He did it because you gave him the courage and the drive to do it. 

He didn’t tell you that part of it but he did tell you about the business stuff and he couldn’t help but be a little proud as he did. 

But it was strange being close to you again like this, in ways that weren’t as intimate as they’d been just a few months before. He couldn’t just touch you as he cooked, trailing his hand up your thigh or his fingers over the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist where he could feel the pulse of you. Even with that odd distance, it felt like you should be close to him all the time, like he shouldn’t need to catch up with you like this because he should just know. He should just be living all of this with you.

“I’m so glad you guys aren’t fighting anymore,” Sarah said cheerfully when she finally emerged from her room for dinner, the three of you gathered around Joel’s table with cheeseburgers standing tall on your plates. 

You looked at Joel, brows raised and nose scrunched and he sighed before looking back at Sarah. 

“We weren’t fighting, baby girl,” he said. 

“Oh, sure,” Sarah nodded sarcastically. 

“He’s right. As much as I would love to just hang out with you and your dad all day, I’m afraid I do have a job,” you said. “And that means I have to be somewhere else at least some of the time.” 

“I’ve just decided that I’m not going to let you guys not talk to each other for my whole life again,” she said. “So say whatever you want, I’m just glad Aunt Goldie is back.” 

She got up and gave you both a squeeze. 

“I’m going to go do homework,” she said. 

“Believe that when I see it,” Joel scoffed. 

“And you guys have fun,” she said, ignoring you both before heading to her room. 

You watched her go, an amused smile on your face until you heard her bedroom door closed. 

“She is too smart for her own good, for the record,” you said. 

“Tell me about it,” Joel laughed. “Fuck if I know where she gets it from, too. Sure as hell ain’t me.” 

“You always underestimate yourself,” you smiled a little, watching him now. Joel shrugged. “Is it weird to say I’m proud of you? For the business stuff I mean?” 

“Nah,” Joel waved you off. “Not weird. Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Yes you could,” you said. “But I’m glad I got to be a part of it.” 

“Want to be more of a part of it?” He asked. “Because no one but me has read this business plan and, I’m not gonna lie to you Goldie girl, that’s making me pretty damn nervous.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d be happy to.” 

Joel just watched as you went through the documents, a serious look on your face, and you made some notes on scratch paper as you went, weirdly anxious about what you would say. Because what you thought mattered even more than the damn bank. 

“This is good,” you said when you finished, nodding slowly. “I have some questions but I think this is really good, Joel.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, brows raised. 

You smiled, one of your smiles, the ones he loved so much. 

“Yeah,” you said. “You’re getting that loan, Miller. You’re about to be Joel Miller, proud founder of Miller Brothers Construction and Contracting, how’s it feel?” 

He laughed.

“Pretty damn good,” he said. “But I do want your notes, I really want to do something right for once in my damn life.” 

“Sure,” you laughed. “But I have had a beer and four glasses of iced tea since I’ve been here so I have to pee first. Think you can manage to wait for like… two minutes?” 

“I guess,” Joel groaned. “Cave to your basic human frailties, God you’re so lame.” 

You rolled your eyes at him but ran off to the bathroom and Joel watched you go, his eyes lingering on your ass and he tried to not picture you naked in his bed, remembering the way you looked when you slept naked and kicked the covers off in the night and he could see every inch of your skin beside him. 

Your phone vibrating on the table pulled him out of his own head and he was about to call your name when he frowned, seeing the name on screen. 

Gale was calling you. 

Fucking Gale. 

He watched it ring out, staring it down like it was a threat. 

What the fuck were you doing talking to fucking Gale? You weren’t speaking to the guy when you’d been staying at Joel’s. What was he doing calling you now? 

“Alright,” you said, clapping your hands together once before punching the air as you made your way back to the kitchen. “Let’s do this thing, Miller!” 

“Why is Gale calling you?” He asked. 

Your face fell. 

“What?” You asked quietly. 

“Gale,” he said, feeling himself get madder than he should. “The fucking asshole you’re supposed to be getting away from, Gale. Your ex-husband, Gale.”

“He’s not my ex-husband,” you said, shoving your hands in your back pockets and squaring your jaw. “We’re still married. And it’s not your business who I talk to…” 

“Not your ex-husband?” He asked. “And not my business? It’s not my business, right, great…” 

“Are we doing this again?” You asked, brows raised. “Really? You’re going to be pissed that I’m seeing someone…” 

“You’re fucking seeing him?” He asked, getting to his feet. “You’re getting back together with your ex-husband, the same one who treated you like shit? Jesus Christ, Goldie!” 

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” You snapped. “But I do know that he’s coming here tomorrow so we can talk and he’s going to help me with my book and…” 

“Why!” He cut you off. “Why the fuck are you going back to that… that… fucking asshole? Goldie, you’re so much BETTER than him! You don’t…” 

“He’s my husband, Joel!” You all but yelled. “He’s someone that I promised to be with for the rest of my life and that means something, I can’t just pretend it didn't happen! We’ve been talking and…” 

“And what?” Joel snapped. “What, he start manipulating you again?” 

“Again?” You asked, incredulous. “What do you mean again, you don’t know anything about our relationship, you don’t know what he was like then, what I was like then! You don’t know that part of my life, stop pretending like you do!” 

“And why don’t I know it, hm?” He asked, just pissed off now. “Tell me, why don’t I know that part of your life when I know all the others, why don’t I know that part?” 

“Don’t,” you said, sharp and cold. 

He didn’t listen. 

“Because you left! I don’t know because you left, you left me here like I was nothing, like I didn’t fucking matter to you and yeah, maybe I didn’t but…” 

“No, fuck you,” you spat. “You don’t get to pretend like you’re just some innocent in all this…” 

“Then what am I?” He demanded. “Tell me, I’m fucking dying to know how it’s my fuckin’ fault that you took off across the damn country, changed your damn number, blocked me on goddamn Facebook when I LOVED you…” 

“Don’t,” you said, tears at the edges of your eyes. “Don’t do that, don’t say that kind of shit to me…” 

“Say what?” He asked. “Tell you the truth? Because…” 

“Because I’m not just some girl you fuck and cast aside, Joel!” You got in his face, tears falling now. “So don’t feed me the same lines you feed them because it won’t work and it’s not fair to me or to our friendship and…” 

“What lines!” He asked. “I’m not feeding you any fucking lines, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

“I heard you!” You yelled, breathless, forceful enough that Joel stepped back from you. 

“What?” He whispered. 

“I heard you,” you said. “When you were talking with Ricky, under the bleachers after prom, I heard you. I heard how much you regretted that night, I heard what you thought of me, I fucking heard you, Joel. So don’t act like you didn’t do anything, don’t act like I meant something to you because I know I didn’t. I know what I was, I know I was just some stupid girl you regretted fucking, I heard you. I know what I am to you, deep down, so forgive me if I’m not exactly desperate to talk through this shit with you. I’m sorry the fact that someone out there wants me, actually wants me, is so inconvenient for you!” 

You snatched your phone from the table and stalked toward the door. 

“No,” he said, going after you. “No, Goldie, listen, I…”

“I’m really not interested in hearing more of your bullshit, Joel,” you snapped. “I can’t, I just don’t have it in me to hear you talk about how much you regret me anymore.” 

You paused in the doorway, looking back at him as he scrambled to find a way to say something - anything - that would make you stay. 

“Good luck at the bank,” you said. “I’m sure you’ll get what you’re asking for.” 

You were gone before he had a chance to respond. 

A/N: I'm so sorry this took a million years. Thank you for being patient as my job put me through the wringer and grad school just beat me over the head repeatedly.

This was a BIG moment for Goldie in particular! She FINALLY said it, the reason why she left and why she thinks he doesn't want her. She reopened the wound and now the ball is in Joel's court. We'll see what he does with it :)

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

I SWEAR TO FUCK I NEVER SAW THIS???? LIKE WHAT HOW. ANYWAY I IMMENSELY ENJOYED THIS SHIT. LIKE TWINKLE TOES KIND OF ENJOYMENT

In Your Room

Joel finds you asleep in his bed and has his way with you. 2.6k

Tags - dark!joel, virginity loss, dubcon/noncon, implied age gap, implied abuse, somno, oral (f!receiving), fingering, just the tip but not for long, because then comes unprotected piv, brief comeplay and come eating, pussy pronouns, creampie. Possessiveness. Some sprinkles of morality. Daddy kink sprinkles too. A hint of aftercare. Spot the Radiohead and Depeche Mode references I dare you, also spooky fall vibes 🍂 Fic help - my main squeezes @endlessthxxghts @beefrobeefcal thanks for your eyeballs!! A/N - so I lied 🤥 promised to have my new series out for you all but as it happens I do not have it ready :( So here’s a snack sized fic to satisfy until I have the other shit, hopefully next week but no promises 💜 it’s been a very busy time for me recently. I've been wanting to write a dark!joel/raider!joel for a while, here's a little bit of that. If I do end up doing an actual series/au I'll keep you posted, this one shot could end up part of that universe.

Joel’s breathing heavily as he walks, inhaling the thick, heady smell of decaying leaves and the damp soil. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink, kissed by the chill of the fall air. Toes and ears are beginning to feel numb. The cold weather takes its toll on Joel like this every year. His house is visible in the distance and it won’t be much further until he’s home with you. He’ll spend the evening cooking you something warm and filling and holding you in his arms, maybe he’ll read to you. 

When he finally reaches his front porch, Joel leaves the rabbits he’s killed hanging on a hook in the cold. At the door, he fumbles a bit with the keys he’s used to lock it, his joints all stiff and achy. He’s greeted by warm air and an empty living room, logs burning in an unattended fireplace. Joel grumbles to himself. You were supposed to be watching that while he was gone. 

He toes off his boots and sits in the recliner in front of the fire, warming his stiff and aching toes. “Mmm…fuck,” he hisses when he bends forward, clutching his hands over the cold fabric of his worn socks. He massages his feet, works out the soreness from his trek. After letting his feet warm, Joel gets up to find you. He hopes for your sake, that you didn’t run off again. You should know better by now. 

Joel puts out the fire by spreading ashes over the flames to snuff them out. He then walks up the creaky steps, calling out your name. Nothing. He turns left into your bedroom, his hand lingering on the knob that doesn’t match his own. He replaced that one and the bathroom door knobs to ones without locks. It wasn’t an easy find, but it was necessary. Joel finds your bed made, light pink sheets with little yellow stars folded neatly over the warm, worn, navy plaid comforter. The book you’ve been carrying around isn’t on your nightstand like it usually is. Joel moves throughout the room, touching your belongings. He wiggles the pane of the window, making sure he can’t open it - because that means you can’t, either. 

Bathroom across the hall is open and empty, lights off. Where the fuck are you? Joel’s heart is beginning to pound. He’s trying to keep calm, not get angry or panicked like he’s prone to do. You didn’t run off again, right? Joel felt a little sick to his stomach after he caught you trying to leave last time. What he did to you, the marks he left, the way you cried and looked so scared - fuck, it broke his fragile heart. But you had to learn somehow. 

Joel’s bedroom door is cracked open. Fuck. He’s sure he’d left it locked before he left. Maybe he forgot. There’s been a lot on his mind lately. He spends a lot of time worrying about you. He doesn’t keep his window bolted shut like he does yours, but you wouldn’t jump from the second floor, would you? Surely you’d break your leg and he would have heard you crying from a half mile away. This time, he’d let you sit with the broken leg for a day. Make the lesson stick. Joel’s a little afraid of what he’ll find in his bedroom. What weapons did he leave here? What if the window’s open, curtains blowing with the wind, and you’re nowhere to be found? Maybe you’re hidden behind the door, waiting for him to walk in. You’ll try to hurt him, get some good hits in probably. But he’ll subdue you with ease, just like he always does. Joel keeps his hand on his holster as he pushes the door open. 

A light snore, a quiet murmur of something incoherent. The curtains are drawn and you’re in Joel’s bed, wrapped in one of his flannel shirts, tucked under his blankets the way he tucks them in for you each night. He breathes a sigh of relief. What are you doing here?

Joel thinks about waking you, berating you for leaving the fire unattended. But he can’t bring himself to. You look so peaceful right here, lips plump and drooling onto his pillow, eyes gently shut as you sleep on your stomach. Joel pushes a bit of hair out of your face to admire how beautiful you look, you’re always so beautiful. Your skin is so soft under the rough calluses of his fingertips, a little cold to the touch. Poor thing. 

He strokes your back, warm palms gliding over his rough and scratchy flannel shirt you’re wearing. He chuckles. That warms his heart a little. He pulls the covers down your hips and exposes your ass, pulls the shirt back a little to get a better look. You’re wearing thin, lily-white panties that he can see your pubic hair through, a simple lace detail lining them. “Goddamn,” he murmurs. You don’t know what you do to him. 

Joel considers himself a patient person but Christ, he’s only a man. He’s been waiting to take you, make you his. When he’d asked if you’d ever been touched by a man before you had told him no. “You nervous?” he asked as his fingertips danced across the bare skin of your thigh. 

You nodded. “Yeah.” 

“S’normal,” he replied. “But you got nothin’ t’be afraid of. I’ll be right there with ya.” 

But that didn’t ease your anxiety much. “Will it hurt?” you asked.

“It might,” Joel said. You looked away and bit your inner cheek anxiously. Joel took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and made you look at him, his eyes dark and his brows raised. “But I’ll try an’ go easy on ya, hm?” 

You nodded, a small, tight smile on your lips. “I want it to be special,” you said.

“I’ll make it special,” Joel said. “Make it real special for ya, kiddo.” 

-

Joel’s been so patient it hurts. And you on display like this isn’t helping the cause. There’s something so special about you, you’re so submissive. Inviting. That dark desire flows through Joel like ichor, filling him with need, animalistic in nature. With the careful slipping of his finger Joel could be finally feeling your soft folds, the warm, slippery arousal at your entrance. 

He can’t help himself. Joel uses his thick finger to push your panties to the side, exposing your cunt. He drags his finger up and down, teasing your clit, watching how you become wet from his gentle touch. He sucks your slick off of his fingertip and groans, “Fuck, sweetheart.” Fuck, he needs more than just a quick taste. But he should wait until you’re awake, take what he wants from you while you’re lucid. Make it special, just like he promised. Joel watches your slick hole drip with that little bit of arousal and he wonders, if you’re not awake, would it really be happening?

No. Not really, at least. The way a tree falling in an empty forest doesn’t make a sound.

Joel quietly lifts off of the bed, careful to not let the springs creak too loudly. You stir a little in your sleep, mumble something incoherent. While you lie prone on his bed, Joel kneels behind you. He leans over you to grab a pillow you’re not hugging or resting your head on and wriggles his other arm under your tummy. He lifts you up just enough to slip the pillow beneath you, then sets you down on it. You tense up and stretch, your toes wiggle and spread out. Joel smiles to himself - you’re too precious.

He pushes the fabric of his flannel up and over your ass and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, down your legs, crumpling them into a ball before shoving them in his back pocket. 

Joel palms your ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh so that it billows beneath his fingertips. He sinks low behind you so that he’s lying on his stomach, then spreads your lips with both of his thumbs. He blows hot air on your cunt and watches you twitch. “Mm,” he hums, teasing your dripping hole with his finger before pushing it inside, all the way down to the knuckle. “What a mess you’re makin’. She fuckin’ needs me, baby.” 

He presses a couple of kisses against your inner thighs before touching his lips to your pussy, feeling your clit pulse against him. He dips his tongue inside you. Sweeter than honey, just like he expected. 

Joel drags his tongue up and down your folds, circling your clit every other time as he teases you, and feels you begin to soak his face, his nose still cold from the chilly air outside. He loves how warm your skin is against his. 

Joel doesn’t even have to make you come if he doesn’t want to. Could just get your pussy wet enough for him to fuck. Joel kisses you, sucks your clit, finds exactly what makes you tick. What makes you arch your back into him, what makes you stir and whimper softly in your sleep. He savors it all, the taste of your innocence and your pleasure. His tongue parts your sensitive flesh, the coarse and wiry hairs of his beard and mustache tickling you. “Mmm,” you mumble. 

“Shhhh,” Joel hushes. He pulls away from you for a moment and watches your body relax into his bed again before going back for more, swirling and flicking his tongue against you. When Joel sucks your clit, you squeeze his pillow and whine. “Oh, I know, I know, I know,” he coos. “I know.” 

It’s probably best if he stops here. He got his taste, anyway. He’ll smell you in his facial hair as he pumps his cock, he’ll come thinking about your soft folds under his tongue. Joel unbuckles his belt and shoves his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, palming his hard shaft. He squeezes himself and rubs his thumb over his slit, spreading that bead of precum over his thick head. What he wouldn’t give to be inside you right now. 

He leans over your body and drags the tip of his cock through the folds he just tasted, all wet and slippery. He moves it up and down, catching himself against your clit and then your hole, deciding if he wants to push himself inside you. 

Just the tip, he decides, notching himself inside you. He pushes in, then pulls out, then pushes in a bit further. Your cunt squeezes around him, welcomes him so kindly. If he wanted to, he could slide all the way in, bury himself in your wet, pulsing folds and you’d be none the wiser. Because you’re not here, and this isn’t happening.

That slow, gradual slide inside you has Joel sucking his breath between his teeth as he watches his cock disappear inside you, a deep groan spills from his lips when his hips meet your ass. His brows are knitted together in concentration, his eyes flutter shut as he breathes deeply. He pulls out all the way, then pushes in again. “Ohh, s’good,” he moans. “You’re takin’ it so good, kiddo.” 

Joel imagines how much better you’ll take him when you’re awake. Eyes tear stained and rolling back into your skull, your arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging for dear life. Your sweet moans, your face buried in his chest.

Joel sets a slow pace, slower than he likes. He feels the warmth and wetness of your walls, if you were awake right now you’d feel every vein and detail of his thick cock. He pumps himself in and out of you, rolling his hips achingly slowly. You throb and arch against him without any say in the matter. 

“Joel,” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. 

“Shh,” Joel whispers, slowing his body. He bends down to stroke your hair and press a kiss against your cheek. “S’just a bad dream. You’re alright. I gotcha.”

Once again, Joel waits for you to relax. When you do, he continues those slow strokes. Against his better judgment, Joel reaches under you to press his fingers against your clit. He moves them in steady circles against your swollen, sensitive bud, and wears a crooked smile when he feels you begin to twitch and jerk a little. Little breathless and desperate moans of Joel’s name catch in your throat as you tremble. Joel fucks you a little deeper and there it is, you’re coming for him. You whimper and moan, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Yeah, there it is, sweetheart,” he breathes. “What a good girl.” 

Miraculously, you stay asleep through it all. Joel fucks you steadily, chasing his own release. Sweat is dampening his hair, dripping down his forehead and down the tip of his aquiline nose. He pulls you flush against his body as he comes, your back warm against his thick middle. His muscles tense and relax and he groans as quietly as he can, mumbling your name. His cock throbs as pleasure surges through him and he paints your insides with his spend, rope after rope until he’s milked himself entirely. 

After catching his breath, Joel pulls out of you carefully and slowly, watching the mess drip from your swollen cunt. He pushes a little back inside you, then sucks his finger clean. He tucks himself back inside his jeans, buckles his belt back up and then folds his comforter back over your body. The loss of his weight on the bed is what finally wakes you. 

“Joel?” you murmur. 

Joel tenses a little. He turns around to see you, confusion painted over your face, all puffy with sleep. “M’sorry, kiddo. Didn’t mean to wake ya.” 

“Mm,” you grumble. Joel chuckles silently. You’re always grumpy when you wake.

 “Got a bone t’pick with you, y’know,” he says. “You shoulda’ been watchin’ that fire while I was out.”

“Sorry,” you say. “I was tired.” You’re so confused. You know it’s cold outside, but Joel’s face is flushed like he’s warm.

“I gotta be able to trust you,” he chastises. “S’what we talked about, hm?”

You nod and close your eyes as you shift in his bed, but you feel something wet and sticky between your thighs. You wonder if you started your period. You lift your sheets and find milky-white between your thighs, your underwear gone. You’re embarrassed when Joel sees the mess too, quickly covering your lap back up with the sheets. 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that,” Joel says. “S’just your system’s way of cleanin’ itself out. Nothin’ to be ashamed of. We could go take a bath, hm? Clean you up.” 

You nod again. “Yes, daddy.” 

Joel smiles. “What’re you doin’ in my bed anyway?”

“There was a spider in my room.”

“Spider, huh?” Joel presses his palm against your cheek.

“Mhm. All big and black and scary. I couldn’t sleep in there.” 

 Joel pouts mockingly. “I’ll find him later and put him outside,” he says. He pulls his covers and sheets all the way off your body, then sits you up. Joel takes your hand and helps you off the bed, then leads you to the bathroom. “Let’s go wash ya off, now.”  

Please please please reblog with your thoughts or send me an ask!!! Your kind words go so far in keeping me motivated to write 💜

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

Swept Away | Epilogue: Smooth Sailing

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your new job at The Parador allows for some exciting perks.

Chapter Warnings: language, angry!joel, oral (m!receiving), smut (18+ MDNI), office sex, unprotected piv sex (reader has implant now as previously mentioned, we're safe), spanking, praise kink, mentions of substance abuse (not Joel or reader)

WC: 6.1K

Series Masterlist

Ten Months Later

It was still surreal sometimes to walk into an office with your name and Creative Lead printed on a nameplate next to your door, but after a handful of months, you were beginning to feel like less of an imposter.

Admittedly, it wasn't the type of job you had been applying for. You tried to use your experience as a production assistant to get your foot in the door with a talent agency, but you weren't having any luck. When Joel offered you the job in his marketing department, you didn't think you were qualified for it, but after discussing the duties with Caroline Harris, the creative director, you discovered your background would be well suited for the job. He must have known you would have instantly taken a liking to her because after a few more days of soul searching, you accepted the offer.

It felt strange in the beginning, and sometimes you still felt paranoid other employees were looking at you like you didn't deserve your success, but you felt confident all the hard work you did in the past several months spoke for itself.

And as it turned out, you were actually really fucking good at your job.

You left your office door cracked and set your things down on top of the chest of drawers behind your desk. Smoothing down your simple, grey dress that fell just above the knee, you sat down with a sigh in your leather chair and booted up your computer. While you waited for it to turn on, you sipped your coffee and glanced at your phone.

Zoe: Remember to call me later, I have news! I'm dating someone new!

You grinned and tapped out a quick response, promising to call before it got too late on the East Coast. Zoe never found out the truth about you and Joel, but you figured by now it didn't matter much. As far as she knew, you were still planning the "wedding", but it was just delayed until the hotel was built in Fiji, meaning you had a decent chunk of time to come up with another cover.

You saw a flash on your computer screen, indicating the monitor was up and running, so you placed your phone down to type in your password, then gasped excitedly when you were reminded of a Zoom call you had scheduled with Ellie.

Even though hiring Ellie wasn't technically your idea, Joel told Caroline it was because as he had told you at the time, he wouldn't have given her a second thought had you not been so taken with her work. So Caroline put you in charge of overseeing her progress, as well as a few other things for the new hotel.

It had been almost a month since you last spoke to Ellie and you were thrilled to get an update. The little video popped up, briefly displaying her name before she turned her camera on. You grinned from ear to ear when you finally saw her, specks of paint adorning her face and hair.

"How are you still up? Isn't it, like, three in the morning?" you asked.

"Yeah, but you know I do all my best work at night," Ellie replied before flipping the camera around so you could see her studio. There were a few drop cloths down, splashed with all sorts of colors of paint, and about six easels, all of which held paintings in different stages.

"Don't look at those yet, they aren't done," she said, and you laughed.

"You're the one in control of the camera, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled. You could hear her converse sneakers scuffing along the canvas drop cloth while she took you across the room. She flicked on a light and you gasped at the shock of color.

"Oh, my god!" you exclaimed.

"Man, I was feeling so inspired last week, I just couldn't stop. We had a little tropical storm blow through and it just created all these beautiful scenes. Like, beauty amongst the wreckage, you know?" Ellie was saying as she slowly walked around the room, panning the camera to each painting so you could get a good look.

"Oh, wow. Ellie... these are stunning. You've made such incredible progress, I'm so impressed!"

She finished her lap around the room and there was a pause in the video before her face returned to the screen.

"Yeah, thanks. It's going really well. You know how nervous I was in the beginning, I didn't think I would be able to make the amount of paintings you were looking for, but at this rate I think I'll have them done ahead of schedule."

"Well, I always knew you could do it. You're so talented and you see things in such a different way than everyone else. I swear, your work is going to make the hotel really stand out," you gushed before taking a long sip of coffee.

"You gotta thank Joel again for me," Ellie said, flicking off the light and heading back into the main part of her studio. "The amount of money he's paying me is keeping my bills paid so I can focus entirely on this."

"I will. I'm sure I'll see him later this afternoon. He'll be so happy to hear about all your progress."

"I'll take a few pictures and text them to you before I go to bed. That way, he can see for himself," she promised.

"That sounds perfect. Is there anything else you need? How's Dina?"

You spent the rest of your thirty minutes catching up with her about her girlfriend, laughing as she told you how Dina finally wore her down and they adopted a cat. Just as she was telling you how the cat stepped in some paint and walked across one of her paintings, she yawned.

"Go get some sleep. We'll touch base again next month but in the meantime, if anything comes up, you know how to reach me."

She gave you a little wave before ending the call and you sat back in your chair, your office filled with silence once again.

The rest of your morning was spent reviewing potential candidates for a pianist position in the hotel lobby. On one screen you had a video of a candidate playing and on the other, their resume and list of references. All of them were natives from Fiji, just like Joel had promised Glenn.

By noon, you had whittled down the candidates to your top five. You were making a little pile with your notes written on bright pink post-it's when you heard a gentle knock on your door.

"Come in," you answered distractedly.

"Hey... busy?" Liam said. You looked up and smiled before shaking your head and offering him a seat.

"Just getting some resumes ready for the pianist job. I have to set up some interviews after lunch. What's up?"

Liam sighed dramatically and collapsed into a chair.

"Your boyfriend is on a tear today, I needed a break," he said, curling his fingers into a loose fist so he could examine his cuticles.

"Why? What's going on?" you asked, setting down your pen, curiosity piqued.

"Well... first, Jack kicked his ass during his boxing lesson, which he always fucking hates," Liam said with a roll of his eyes. "Then he found out there was a delay in shipping the marble flooring, but I told him that shit's coming from Italy and it's custom!"

"He really hates when there's any delays in construction," you said, wrinkling your nose. You had seen your fair share of his outbursts over the past few months as the hotel in Fiji slowly became a reality. Joel always said, Time is money, baby. The longer this takes, the less money I make.

"Then Tommy called to tell him some wood or... something... got damaged in a storm they had down there recently, so now he's waiting on another shipment from the states."

You buried your face in your hands at that point, knowing exactly the type of mood Joel was in just one floor above you. On one hand, you were always thrilled whenever Joel and Tommy spoke after they finally hashed things out and made amends six months ago. But on the other, you would have much preferred Tommy call with an update about his wife, Maria, or TJ, their son.

"And about ten minutes ago, Chrissy spilled his coffee," Liam finished, dropping his hand to his lap and crossing his legs. "Only saving grace was she spilled it on the floor and not on him."

You cringed when you imagined how stressed out poor Chrissy must have been in that moment. She was a trooper, you had to hand it to her. She had been Joel's secretary for almost three years and every time you saw her she looked more meek and frightened than the last time.

"So, what you're saying is I should surprise him and take him out to lunch."

Liam's face broke out with a huge grin and he lightly clapped his hands.

"Would you mind? I think it would really help. He's always so much easier to handle after he sees you." He was really laying it on thick now and you knew it.

"I already agreed, you can drop it," you laughed, locking your computer and grabbing your purse.

"It's not an act," Liam said, following you out the door towards the elevator. The floor was quiet, most employees likely out to eat already. "I mean, yeah, maybe sometimes I try to flatter you into helping us out, but I'm serious. It's like you're chamomile tea on legs."

You arched an eyebrow at him when the elevator doors slid open. "Chamomile tea?"

"Is a tranquilizer dart better? Or lion tamer?"

You pursed your lips, thinking it over when you pressed the button to his floor. "Yeah. I like lion tamer."

Liam laughed and pulled out his phone to check his texts.

"This is perfect timing. He's about to wrap up a meeting and he doesn't have another one until two." Liam slid his phone back into his pocket and gave you a pleading look. "Please feel free to take your time."

"Oh, come on! He can't be that bad," you said with a hand on your hip. The doors opened up and let you out onto the executive floor, on the opposite side of the building from Joel's office, which is why it was so impressive you could hear him shouting from where you stood.

"Is the door open?" you asked quietly.

"Nope," Liam replied, giving you a look that said I told you so.

You swallowed nervously then lifted your chin with confidence as you made your way past the conference room towards his office. When Chrissy spotted you, she practically jumped out of her chair.

"Oh, my god, thank you," she whispered, her curly brown hair bouncing across her forehead with every step she took. She clasped her hands together and held them tightly against her chest.

"Don't thank me yet, I haven't done anything," you replied, but gave her a reassuring smile anyway. "Why don't you guys go to lunch? I'll take it from here."

The speed in which they tore out of the office was Olympic level.

You perched on the edge of Chrissy's desk as you waited for Joel's meeting to be over. Through the door, you could hear some voices through his phone, as well, one of which you recognized as the project manager for the hotel in Fiji. You looked down at your hands, ignoring the raised voices in the next room, and stared down at the huge diamond ring on your right hand. Splaying your fingers wide, you admired the way the light caught the little facets of the diamond, smiling a little when you saw rainbow flecks dot the walls of the mostly empty floor.

Ages ago, Joel had asked you to keep the ring he got you to use in Fiji. You nearly had a heart attack until he realized how it looked and he nervously clarified he wasn't asking you to marry him, just that he felt the ring was always yours and he couldn't bring himself to return it, so he bought it.

You smiled to yourself when you thought back on that day. It was just after he finally said I love you for the first time. It was a little ridiculous to think he would be asking you to marry him when it took him months to say those three words, but your heart still skipped a beat in that half a second of confusion.

After your pulse slowed, you accepted it with an awkward laugh, putting it on your right hand where it had remained ever since. You knew there was no use arguing with him about gifts and money anymore. When he bought you something, he was relentless until you took it.

Actually, you've grown to kind of like it.

Or, maybe you just liked the idea of Joel thinking about you when you weren't around.

Through the door, you heard the phone call cut with a terse farewell and then, the tell-tale rustle of men's dress pants with the clearing of throats. One man was still talking, his voice forcibly calm as he assured Joel that he would get back to him by the end of the day with the correct numbers on some payroll report, and then the door swung open. Men poured out, some hurrying past you without even realizing you were there, their faces red and their jaws clenched. The ones that did notice you gave a quick nod of acknowledgement before hurrying away, as if they were afraid Joel would remember he had one or two more biting comments and call them back in.

When the last of the men filed out, you heard Joel bark, "Shut the door," and then the creak of his leather chair under his weight. A man you vaguely recognized pulled the door shut behind him before spotting you. He was frazzled and exhausted when he exhaled and loosened his tie.

"Good luck," he said, and you laughed softly. You watched as the last of the men filed towards the elevators, their padfolios and phones overflowing in their hands as they shuffled onto the car and disappeared behind the closed doors.

The floor was quiet now. Joel's office was the only one with a light on.

Biting back a smirk, you pushed off Chrissy's desk and straightened your dress before rapping your knuckles on his door.

"What the fuck now?" came Joel's sharp voice from the other side. You pushed the door open and crossed your arms, waiting until he dragged his gaze up from his desk. When he realized it was you, his expression instantly softened and he stood.

"Sorry," he grumbled.

"It's okay," you replied, stepping inside the room, shutting the door behind you. Joel rounded the desk and raked his fingers through his hair. You bit your lower lip, gaze quickly drifting down his broad frame. He was wearing a white dress shirt with his dark grey suit, the coat abandoned over the back of his chair. It was the first time you had seen him since you left him asleep in bed early that morning.

"What's goin' on, baby?" he asked as he crossed the room to pour himself a drink. You made a face at the amber liquid and he swiveled around, raising the glass of whiskey in your direction.

"Want one?"

"No, Joel. It's barely noon. I came to see if you wanted to get lunch, but I'm guessing today's not the best day," you said, closing the distance between you to smooth down the front of his shirt with your palms. He lifted the glass to his lips and tossed the drink back in one go before setting it down on the bar and wrapping his big hands around yours, pressing them firmly to his chest.

"'M sorry, not havin' a great day."

"I can tell."

"You hear all that?" he murmured, bringing one of your hands up to his mouth. His lips brushed over your knuckles as he gazed at you through tired, heavy eyes and you smiled. Moments ago, those eyes were firey and filled with rage.

But not when he looked at you.

"Some of it," you admitted. "What's wrong?"

Joel exhaled through his nose and dropped his hands to your hips, giving them a little squeeze and pulling you closer. "You weren't there when I woke up this mornin'."

You rolled your eyes playfully at him and he gently pinched your side.

"I told you I had to get up early so I could get ready for work-"

"'N I told you to bring your stuff over last night," he countered.

"Joel, I hadn't been home in days. I needed to make sure the place was still standing and water my plants."

Then, he said something that sent shockwaves through your whole body.

"Just move in with me, then it ain't a problem anymore."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you forgot to breathe for a moment.

"What?" you asked breathlessly. But Joel just shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Move in with me," he repeated. "Plants, too."

"Y-you... you want me to move in with you? Like, permanently?" you repeated in disbelief. Joel smirked down at you and nodded.

"Yeah, like, permanently. The hell you think I mean? Get rid of that place, you know I don't like that neighborhood," he said, then lifted his chin when he heard his email program chime somewhere behind you.

"Joel... are you sure? That's a big step for you," you replied, feeling completely knocked sideways by his blunt request. Sure, he had the room. His house was the closest you'd ever come to being inside a mansion. Hell, to you it was a mansion. Six bedrooms and four bathrooms with an in-ground pool, tennis court, steam room and gym was only ever something you'd seen on television. But living in Los Angeles told you there were plenty of houses three times the size of his.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I want you with me all the time," he said, kissing your cheek before leaving you by the bar so he could check his email.

"My stuff, too? I can't imagine my shitty television in your house," you joked. Joel just nodded, his eyes pinned to his computer screen.

"Your stuff, too. I want all a'you. Even your coffee pot."

Joel collapsed angrily into his high back chair to answer the email while you sneakily slid back to the door, quietly flicking the lock before slowly walking towards his desk. You knew most people were at lunch, but you still didn't want to risk it for what you had in mind.

"Okay," you said softly, hip pressing against the hard wood, fingers nervously digging into the complex design carved into the edge.

"Okay, what?" he murmured, focus still fixed on the email. You watched his scowl deepen the more he read and you knew he was slipping back into that mood you found him in earlier.

"Okay... I'll move in with you."

His eyes snapped up to yours and for a moment, the scowl smoothed out into a pleased grin.

"Good. Start packin' tonight. Don't wanna be wakin' up anymore without you," he said, then his eyes dropped back down to his email. "Messes up my whole day when I do."

You giggled and rounded the desk, intentionally slotting yourself between his eyes and the computer.

"Is that why you're up here screaming at everyone? 'Cause you woke up without your sugar baby?"

Joel leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes at you.

"Quit it. You ain't a sugar baby."

"Didn't answer my question."

Joel laced his fingers together and dropped them in his lap with a sigh. "Sure didn't help."

You gave him a fake pout and leaned forward, hands bracing yourself on each arm of his chair. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, mouth hovering over his as you spoke. You could see his muscles tighten under his shirt when he heard the seductive tone in your voice. "Want me to suck your dick and make it all better?"

The corner of his mouth tugged into a devilish half-smirk, email long forgotten.

"Feels like it's the least you could do," he replied, his voice deep and gravelly. It sent a shiver down your spine and you grinned.

"The least I could do? What else do you want?" you asked before allowing your lips to brush delicately over his. You could taste the whiskey there and you licked your lips.

"Wanna bend you over this desk and fuck you. Hard."

A soft moan slipped past your lips right before his mouth crashed into yours. His tongue opened your mouth, licking feverishly past your teeth, giving you a stronger taste of the whiskey and mint from the gum he was likely chewing in anger during the meeting.

"I think that can be arranged," you gasped when you pulled away from his kiss. His dark eyes lit up when you sunk to your knees, his legs spreading wider when you began to unbuckle his belt. Two fingers rubbed against his lips, hiding his smile while he watched you pop the button on his slacks and slowly work the zipper down.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest when you dipped your fingers past his waistband and felt the stiffness of his cock hiding just underneath a thin layer of fabric. Your eyes flickered up to meet his and with a sly smile, you said, "Hard already?"

Joel shrugged with a shit-eating grin.

"Been hard since you walked in the goddamn room, baby."

You bit back a smile, chest bursting with pride and, yeah, it turned you on to be the one who made this big, scary man all soft and weak. Rubbing your thighs together, you inched forward to gently pull his stiff cock over the top of his underwear.

You tutted under your breath and frowned, both of you watching your hand slowly slide up and down his shaft.

"Poor thing," you murmured, smiling when you heard his breath stutter after your thumb swiped over the bead of arousal pooling at the tip. "Look at you. All worked up and angry the whole morning when all you needed to do was call me. I would've come up to help you."

Joel gasped, fingernails digging into the padded leather armrests when he felt your fingers tighten around him.

"Then fuckin'... goddamnit - fuckin' help me now. C'mon, quit teasin' me and suck it," he commanded through clenched teeth.

You raised an eyebrow at him and your hand paused.

"Say please."

"Please," he whined without hesitation. The sound made you weak, eyelids fluttering for a second before you shook it off and met his gaze again.

"Good boy."

He smirked down at you, some snappy response on the tip of his tongue but it disappeared when your wet lips wrapped around him, tongue darting forward to flick teasingly at his slit, all while maintaining eye contact.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, allowing his eyes to close and his head to tip back when you took him deeper into your mouth. Before he reached the back of your throat, you swirled your tongue around his girth, moaning when you tasted a new drop of precum.

"Yeah, baby, just like that," he murmured when his hand found a new home on the back of your head. Carefully, he urged you down, hissing when you hollowed your cheeks and took him as deep as you could handle. Joel forced his eyes to open so he could admire the pretty little mess he made of you. Your lips were swollen and wet, stretched wide over his considerable length while you focused on keeping your breath steady and your gag reflex in check.

He could have came from the sight alone.

You pulled back with a gasp, saliva pooling around the corners of your mouth as you dragged in deep lungfuls of air. Your hand picked up where your mouth left off, twisting your wrist and spreading the wetness up and down his shaft as you caught your breath for a second.

"You taste so good, Joel," you whispered, locking eyes with him again. "Might just have you come down my throat, instead."

Before he could answer, your lips were wrapped around him again, sucking and moaning around his cock like it was the sweetest thing in the world.

"No," he rasped, fingers tightening their hold in your hair. "Wanna - fuck you," he added with a deep groan. Even though he knew he shouldn't, he let you keep going, his hips involuntarily bucking up towards your mouth as he spoke.

Right when you began to get carried away, your head bobbing faster and your wrist flicking quicker, he yanked you off with a shared gasp.

"Sorry," he apologized, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before reopening them. "Too close."

You stood up, thumb swiping your lower lip with a cocky grin. Then, Joel watched as you shimmied out of your panties, dropping them in his lap before hiking up the skirt of your dress to your mid-thigh.

"Whenever you're ready, sir."

He chuckled darkly and stood, thighs trembling for just a quick moment before he swiveled a finger in the air.

"Turn 'round."

You did as you were told, palms pressed flat against the top of his desk, tilting your hips back so your ass jutted out, just barely covered by your dress.

With one hand he pulled the material up, exposing you to the tinted windows behind him. His other hand came down with a sharp smack across your skin, the action so fast and unexpected that it took you a few seconds to register it.

"Again," you whispered over your shoulder, this time bracing for the hot sting of pain across your ass. When he gave it to you, you moaned, arousal pulling tight between your legs, then you dropped your head limply between your shoulders as the pain blossomed into pleasure.

"That's my girl," he growled in your ear. His knee pushed your legs open and you held your breath when he leaned back to slide his cock through your folds before lining himself up at your opening.

"Breathe, baby," he whispered, and you let out a shaky breath right as he pushed inside.

"Shit," you panted, arching your back and digging your fingers into the dark wood of his desk while he continued to ease inside of you, muscles only relaxing when he finally buried himself to the hilt and his lips returned to the shell of your ear.

It wasn't the first time he fucked you in his office. In fact, both of you were very eager to take advantage of the new situation only a week into the start of your job. But it didn't matter how many times you'd done it because it was still always a thrill. There was something incredibly hot about this powerful man fucking you on his desk. Or his couch. Or his chair.

Or one time on the conference room table long after close of business.

Joel set a quick pace right away, knowing full well your time was limited before people began to return from lunch and inevitably came looking for him. One hand remained firmly on your hip while the other drifted up to squeeze your breast through your dress, fingers giving your nipple a little pinch just so he could hear you whimper for him.

"Always ready for me, ain't you?" he groaned, teeth grazing over your earlobe. His breath was shallow, soft pants against your skin matching the rhythm of his hips. "Christ, baby. So fuckin' wet. You love takin' my cock like this, huh? Or was it me askin' you to move in that did it?"

"Both," you moaned, tossing your head back to rest on his shoulder, eyes gliding shut and mouth falling open as you focused on the intense pace he set. The tip of his cock brushed steadily against that spot inside you that had your knees going weak and you could feel that warmth in your stomach turning into fire the harder he fucked you.

Joel's eyes lifted to glance at his door when he heard the faint sound of voices filing off the elevator. Lunch hour was wrapping up, and so was your time. He clenched his jaw and pounded into you faster, the telltale sound of skin slapping against skin the only noise echoing in the room.

"I... locked it," you gasped, falling forward onto your elbows, hips sparking with pain against the hard wood of his desk. He grinned and straightened his spine, watching the way your ass rippled against him every time he slammed into you.

"Good. 'Cause no one gets to see you like this 'cept for me."

You nodded dumbly, unable to form words as your orgasm began to swell, threatening to destroy you. Your pussy started to pulse around him, stars littering your vision and you slapped your palm over your mouth to muffle the sound when you came.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he groaned, hips losing rhythm. Breath growing sharp. Fingers digging deep and eyes rolling to the back of his head. You whimpered when he pounded into you one last time, stilling as he pumped you full of his release, broken moans tumbling from his lips until he was spent.

Almost immediately, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up and pressing you protectively against his chest.

"You okay?"

"Mhm," you hummed, admittedly still in a bit of a daze but you were starting to snap out of it. His ragged breath in your ear was all you could hear, his pounding heart against your back all you could feel, and it was enough.

Without warning, he slipped out of you, but kept his arms circled around your front, pressing sweet kisses behind your ear and down your neck. You melted into him, knowing how much he enjoyed holding you after, at least until he caught his breath and came back down to earth.

"I love you."

Those three words still managed to send a tingle down your spine and brought a lazy smile to your face.

"I love you, too," you whispered, twisting your neck so your mouth could seek out his. His beard was untamed and prickly against your lips, tickling you and making you giggle.

"C'mon, get yourself decent," he teased with a playful grin and a smack against your thigh. He stepped backwards to fix his clothes while you swiveled back and forth, searching the ground for your panties.

"Lookin' for these?" he asked, holding them up between two fingers when you turned around. You reached out to grab them but he pulled them back, shoving them in his pocket before tucking in his shirt.

"You're gonna make me walk around the rest of the day without underwear? With your come dripping out of me?" you asked. You already resigned yourself to your fate and pulled down the skirt of your dress.

Joel pinched your chin and pressed a quick kiss against your lips.

"Yep. Just the way I like you."

"Dirty man."

"Just the way you like me," he laughed, dodging your hand when you reached out to smack him against the arm.

You opened your mouth to say something back when his desk phone chimed and the red light in the corner lit up. Joel finished buckling his belt and glanced up at you to make sure you had fixed yourself before pressing the intercom button.

"Yeah?"

Chrissy's nervous voice filtered through the speaker.

"Mr. Miller, just confirming your dinner reservation for tonight. Still expecting three people?"

"Yep," he replied, then thought about it for a quick second before pressing the button again. "Thanks, Chrissy. Why don't you take off early, after my two o'clock?"

You grinned, practically sensing her shock through the wall as you sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

"Uh... okay. T-thank you so much!"

"No problem," he said, then the red light turned off and he slumped down tiredly into his leather desk chair.

"Where are we going tonight?" you asked, crossing one leg over the other while you watched him shake his computer mouse back to life.

"Sarah picked this time. Some Mexican spot she wanted to try," he murmured, already fixating on an email in front of him. After some encouragement on your end, Joel had reached out to Sarah around the same time he called Tommy for the first time in years. While things had been rocky and awkward at first, it got easier over time. Eventually, they committed to dinners every other week, and after maybe the fourth one, Sarah had asked to meet you.

You were nervous leading up to it, but the moment you met you knew you'd get along. She was smart, beautiful, funny and had the same smile as her dad. She told you both a little bit about high school but preferred to talk about her soccer team or the play she was trying out for.

She didn't mention her mom much, and you didn't want to pry. From what Joel had mentioned, her mother ended up having some substance abuse issues in the past, which caused a strain on her relationship with Sarah. He felt horrible when he found out, told you that he felt like he should have been involved more to protect her, but you reminded him that he was there for her now and that you were proud of him for stepping up.

Despite it all, Sarah was a great kid. Every time you saw her, she opened up a bit more, smiled wider and laughed louder. After your dinners together, you could see the change in Joel: he was happier, too.

"Sounds good. I like Mexican," you said, fidgeting with your ring while Joel quietly replied to an email. The scowl was gone, his shoulders were looser and there were no more angry taps on the keyboard.

You opened your mouth to announce you should get back to work when he suddenly spoke.

"Why're you wearin' the ring on your right hand?"

Your eyes flickered up to his face but he looked like he was still absorbed in an email.

"This ring?" you asked, holding up your hand. It was the only ring you wore but you didn't know what else to say. You'd been wearing it on your right hand for months and he never said a word.

"Yeah. You wore it on your other hand in Fiji," he said, tearing his eyes away from the computer to look at you.

You stood up from your seat and gave him a curious look. "We were pretending to be engaged then, if you recall. We're not engaged now."

Joel smirked, the corners of his mouth dipping down when he shrugged, then stood to walk you to the door.

"Huh. Suppose you're right. Someone oughta do somethin' 'bout that."

You threw your head back and laughed before coming to a stop at his door and turning around.

"You just asked me to move in with you. What happened to the commitment-phobe I fell in love with?"

He grinned and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close so he could press a gentle kiss against your lips.

"You're right. I'll wait a week," he joked, then gave your ass a little tap before opening his door for you. "Thanks for lunch," he added as you walked past Chrissy, who was mid-whisper to Liam, no doubt telling him about Joel's sudden burst of generosity. You gave them both a little wave and tossed a wink over your shoulder at Joel leaning against his doorway, hands shoved in his pants pockets with a sly smirk on his face after his fingertips grazed the wet fabric shoved in there.

"See you tonight."

"Can't wait," he said, watching you disappear around the corner towards the elevator bank.

"So, you ate?" Liam confirmed, holding a leather bound journal and pen in his hand as he approached Joel. Even though the answer was no, he still nodded in response. "Good, because I have a couple things," he continued after clearing his throat. "Ellie's painting arrived yesterday, I'm having it gift wrapped right now. I got a call back from the guy who's renting you the yacht. He's good for Saturday. The captain and crew know the deal, too. Drop the anchor, make the food, pour the champagne, and disappear after dinner's cleared up. They have a little boat they can take back to land so the yacht's all yours til morning."

A slow smile stretched across his face and he looked down the hall again, towards the elevator bank.

"Reschedule it for next week. I made a promise."

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[ghostlovesbaguettes]

unfortunately (i’m jorkin’ it) you ate this the fuck up and BAAAAABE WHEN I TELL YOU I SAT HERE GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET. THE BANTER. THE JOELISMS. HIS CUTIE PATOOTIE ACCENT. UGH. IM DEAD I LOVE THIS ✊😋

Bedridden

If you had cough syrup, you’d use that to put his ass to sleep. But you don’t, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man. 🍆💦❤️‍🔥

Joel is sick and refuses to rest, so you knock him out the best way you know how. (5.4k)

Tags - smut, lotsa sexual tension, blow jobs, pussy pronouns, teasing, fingering, unprotected piv, riding the sick old man’s cock, creampie, non-graphic descriptions of being sick. JOEL DOES THE DAD SNEEZE. coughing, fevers. That’s all. Joel is stubborn and grumpy while you take care of his old as fuck ass. Arguing with the old man, forcing the old man to bathe, forcing the old man to eat and drink, forcing a thermometer in the old man’s mouth. Joel bitching you out the whole time. Joel is kind of exactly like Dennis in IASIP when the gang gets quarantined. Fic Help - My usuals! @beefrobeefcal, your unhinged comments on the doc were the best part. and @endlessthxxghts thank you for your help <3 A/N - Heyyyyyyy. I promised this fic yesterday and then didn’t deliver. Sorry. It just needed to marinate in the doc a little longer or something. It’s been a bullshit ass few days and I’m,,,,handling it. Anyway, I’ve been sick as balls so that’s how this fic came about. Everybody wash your hands 🧼

There’s a fine point late in the year, right after summer turns to fall. You can fall asleep with the window over your bed cracked open just an inch to let the crisp, cool air blow over your face as you cocoon yourself in blankets. In the mornings you wake to that same breeze and the birds chirping, though less and less as they fly south for the upcoming winter. 

Not this morning, though. This morning, you’re awoken by a chesty, hacking cough coming from outside your window. You sigh as you get out of bed and push the curtains away from the window to get a better look at what the hell is going on out there. 

And it’s just your neighbor, Joel. You should have guessed it’d be him, you heard his earth shattering, deafening sneeze the other day when you waved to him as you walked by his house. Joel waved back at you with the same hand he sneezed into. Ew. 

Everyone’s getting sick lately, it goes around quickly in Jackson. Always does - it starts with the kids and works its way through the community, and a good four to six weeks are filled with endless sneezing and coughing and mucus.

Joel’s coughing up his lungs as he rakes up the leaves in your yard, a job he’s seemingly assigned himself, because you sure as shit didn’t ask him to do this. He has a habit of taking on your chores and home maintenance out of his own frustration. 

You pull a robe over your pajamas and slide on a pair of slippers, then leave out of the front door to greet Joel. “Good morning, Joel.” 

Joel clears his throat. “S’actually noon, lazy ass. ‘Bout time ya woke up.”

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing?”

“Exactly what it looks like.” He sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Gross. “M’workin’.” 

“Yeah, I see that. But you sound sick.” 

Joel ignores the accusation, “Your yard looks like shit, by the way,” he says. “Wouldn’t kill ya to rake once in a while. ‘Stead of makin’ me do it.” 

“You choose to do this. I don’t make you do anything,” you argue, rolling your eyes. It’s funny, though. Joel’s turning into the caricature of the old man angrily shaking his fist at kids playing on his lawn. All crotchety and pissed off about nothing. You step closer to him and wrap your hand around the handle of the rake, pulling it towards yourself. “Besides, Mother Nature put those leaves there for a reason,” you add. 

“Sure, smartass. For you to ignore and for me to clean up. Now, give it,” Joel tugs the rake back. Whatever. You let him. Joel rakes more of your leaves into the pile he’s created, then doubles over in another coughing fit. You rub your palm on his back, patting him gently. He’s sweating through his flannel. “Oh, Christ. Fuck me.” 

“Joel, you look awful.”

You help him stand up, “You’re a terrible flirt, darlin’,” Joel replies dryly. But he knows you’re not wrong. He saw in the mirror how pale he looked this morning, the dark circles around his eyes. 

“Oh, shut up.” You press the back of your hand against Joel’s forehead, all sweaty and warm. “You’re burning up, Joel. You’re sick.” 

“I am not sick,” Joel protests through another cough. “I’m fine. How ‘bout you worry ‘bout yourself ‘stead of fussin’ over me.”

“You’re hacking up a lung in my yard. I’ll worry about you all I want, thank you.”

In response, Joel grumbles something you can’t quite make out. You roll your eyes and take the rake from him, dropping it on the grass. “My rake,” Joel murmurs, annoyed and defeated. With your work clearly cut out for you, you take his hand and lead him into your house. “Aw, hell. What’re you doin’ to me.” 

“Taking care of you,” you reply.

“Didn’t sign up for this bullshit,” Joel complains. “I don’t need takin’ care of.”

Oh, he’s a peach. Most men, when sick, are total babies - pathetically crying about their headaches and stomachaches to women who deal with the same symptoms on a monthly basis. It’s charming, truly. But not Joel, though. In his stubbornness, Joel refuses to ever admit when he’s sick, like he’s got something to prove. Can never let himself be taken care of, because that’s his job - to take care of others. Always has been. 

Once inside, you have Joel take off his boots, then usher him to the bathroom with a hand on his back, his flannel damp with sweat. “Sit.” You reach for Joel’s shoulders and push him down, forcing him onto the lidded toilet. You crouch down at the bathtub and plug the drain with the stopper, then turn the water on - not too hot, not too cold. “Yeah, this is good. This’ll make you feel so much better.” 

“Oh, c’mon. Turn off the damn water. I’m not takin’ a bath.” 

“You are, too.” 

“Am not.” 

“Joel,” you bite. Joel parrots your name back in the same threatening tone.

“We’re breaking that fever one way or another, Joel. So you bathe yourself, or I’ll do it.” 

Joel cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, will ya, now?”

You go quiet, no retort to his comment. Heat rises to your cheeks and you focus on the bathtub filling with water to avoid Joel’s taunting gaze. After a long enough silence passes, Joel changes the subject. “I don’t have any clean clothes, y’know.” 

“Then I’ll grab you some from your house,” you mumble.

“Mm,” Joel grunts. “Got an answer for everything, don’tcha?”

You glare. Joel glares too. You fold your arms across your chest and raise your eyebrows at him. You are not losing this battle. 

Joel sighs in defeat. “Alright, go on an’ get, then. I’ll take the fuckin’ bath if it’ll get me fifteen minutes away from you obsessin’ over me. There. Happy?” 

“Happy.”

You leave Joel in the bathroom to bathe himself, closing the door behind you. Still wearing nothing but pajamas and a robe, you change quickly into a hoodie and jeans, then leave through your front door for the second time.

Joel’s house is right next to yours, so it’s not a long walk. Mentally, you’re kicking yourself for your stupid threat to bathe Joel. The way he responded to it, ‘Oh, will ya?’ and how bashful that made you, the embarrassment written all over your face in big, black, permanent marker. Your crush on the older man is obvious, and Joel, never the gentleman, will jump at any opportunity to make you squirm. Like when he catches your eyes lingering on him for a little too long, he’ll tease you for it. “S’rude to stare, y’know,” he’ll taunt, always with that stupid fucking grin on his face. Smile lines framing his cheeks, crows feet handsomely peeking at the corners of his eyes. You really need to stop setting yourself up for these things. 

Once in Joel’s house, you head upstairs for his bedroom and rifle through his dresser drawers for some comfy clothes. You pick out a pair of plaid boxers, some gray sweatpants, and a navy waffle-knit henley. You bunch up his clothes and inhale, Joel’s natural smell still lingering in the clothes, even washed. 

In his kitchen, you notice some vegetables sitting out on his countertops. Carrots, potatoes, onions. You grab those too, then check the fridge for leftover chicken or turkey or something. He usually has some, and usually brings it to you after he’s had his fill. “This is for you, trouble. Cause y’don’t eat enough,” he’ll gruff. “Would you like me to heat it up for ya?” And whether you say yes or no, he always does. It seems to make him happy or fulfill him somehow, so you let him take care of you like that. If only he’d let you return the favor.

Bingo. There’s chicken in old Tupperware right on the top shelf, and yesterday’s date written in Joel’s terrible handwriting from an old, dried up Sharpie. You take that too, then go back home. 

You leave Joel’s food you stole on the kitchen table and stop at your linen closet for a fresh towel. You knock on the bathroom door, “Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’.”

“I have your clothes. And a towel.”

“Good. I need those,” Joel says. “C’mon in, then.” 

You open the door, averting your eyes from Joel’s naked body in the bathtub. “Relax. M’not gonna let you see somethin’ you ain’t ‘sposed to.” He’s got his hands covering his manhood, the rest of himself on display - toned biceps, veined forearms. His belly is pillowy and hairy and his legs look so long, all bare like this. His toes peeking out of the soapy bathwater. You set the towel and his clothes down on the toilet, stealing an even longer look at him when you think he doesn’t notice. “I see ya snoopin’, trouble. Wanna take a picture?”

You roll your eyes and ignore the offer, turning your attention to Joel but keeping your eyes focused on his face. His hair is slicked back, and his grays pop out against the rest of his dark hair, little ringlet curls at his neck. The asshole is criminally handsome. 

“Are you feeling better?”

“I feel fine. Like I’ve felt all day,” Joel lies. His body betrays him instantly when another cough wracks through him. 

“Right. Well, you smell better, at least.” 

Joel rolls his eyes, “Nice one, sweetheart. Thanks. Now scram, so I can get dressed.” 

You leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind yourself again. You can hear the sound of the bathtub draining and Joel getting out of the tub as you stop at the linen closet again, this time grabbing some queen sized sheets and pillowcases. 

In your living room, you pull some cushions off of your sofa and pull out the built-in bed, then dress it with the sheets and an old floral quilt. You cover your own pillows in the pillowcases, then fluff them nicely and set them up for Joel, who’s leaving the bathroom now, combing his hair back.

“Stole your comb,” he says, tossing it for you to catch. He stops in the living room and looks at the pull-out bed that you made up, the corners of the sheets tucked in and everything. “The hell’s all this?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” You mock his words from earlier. “Your bed.”

“You’re bein’ ridiculous. I ain’t even sick.”

You ignore Joel and point to the bed. “Get in.”

Joel rolls his eyes but gets in the bed anyway, springs squeaking under his weight. “M’not gettin’ in this bed ‘cause I’m sick or ‘cause you’re makin’ me. Just feel like sittin’.” 

“Sure, Joel,” you sigh. “How much water have you had today?”

“Plenty.”

“How much is plenty?”

“It’s enough,” he snaps impatiently. You leave him just for a second to fill a glass with some water, then bring it to him. Joel pushes the glass away, “I said I’ve had enough.” 

“I’ll decide what’s enough, now here–” you put the glass into his hand, “Drink.” 

Joel drinks the entirety of the glass, glaring at you the entire time. Good god, if looks could fucking kill. The cool water soothes his scratchy, sore throat, but Joel won’t tell you that. “You’re a tyrant, sweetheart,” he tells you, voice raspy and low. What he doesn’t tell you, however, is that if the shoe were on the other foot and you were the sick one right now, he'd be just as overbearing over your health. Probably worse. 

You pout mockingly at Joel as you take his glass. “Stay here. Don’t get up.” 

You get up from the bed to go into the kitchen and begin preparing a soup for Joel to soothe his aching throat. You start by dicing onions, then chopping some carrots. You toss them in a large pot with some butter, letting the vegetables soften. You’ve even got some leftover bread you made yesterday, so you turn on your oven to heat it up. You can hear Joel getting restless, tossing and turning in the less than comfortable bed. Probably should have turned on a movie for him, left him a book or something to occupy his restless mind. “You okay?”

“M’fine. Mind your business.” 

You open Joel’s Tupperware and chop up his chicken into little bits. When you look up, Joel’s out of bed. You scoff. He’s forcing open your window, grunting as it squeaks. “Joel, what did I tell you? Get your ass back in that bed.”

“Relax, would ya? M’tryin’ to get some air in here.” Joel successfully forces the window open, and cool air blows into your tediously warmed home. “House is a fuckin’ oven.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably your fever talking, dumbass. Put my window down.” 

“I really outta fix this window for ya. Ain’t good to leave it like this. I’ll get my tools an’ I–”

You march across the kitchen and into the living room, knife in hand and using it to point to the bed. “Joel.”

“You scare me,” Joel mumbles, raising his arms in surrender. He closes the sticky window for you, then you march him back to the pullout. Before Joel lays down, he glances in the kitchen at what you’ve been cooking. He heard the sounds of you chopping, but with his nose all congested he can’t smell enough to hazard a guess as to what you’ve been making. Joel narrows his eyes at the stolen Tupperware on your table, the carrots and onion peels to the side, and recognizes it all as his. “Is that my…?” 

“Just lay down, Joel.” 

“Did you take that from my fridge?” 

“I did.”

You’re completely shameless about this, there’s not even a half-assed attempt at lying your way out, and Joel’s beside himself. “You stole from me, you little–” You urge Joel into bed, fluffing the pillows behind him as you ignore his tantrum. “You are unbelievable. I could throttle you, you know that?”

“Go ahead, Joel,” you challenge. A slight breeze could knock this sick old man down to his knees. You tuck Joel into the sheets, then adjust the quilt over him again. And this time before leaving him, you grab an old book of word searches in a basket under an end table. “Here.” You toss it to him along with a dull pencil. That should keep him busy.

Back in the kitchen, you’re still working on Joel’s soup. It’s bubbling away on the stove, and you’ve just finished making egg noodles to make the dish a little heartier. Something to stick to his ribs. It hits you then, that you don’t hear sniffling or coughing. Joel’s gone quiet, suspiciously so. 

And lo and be-fucking-hold, Joel’s up again. This time, with tools. Tools that you don’t have, tools that he must have snuck out and grabbed from his home at some point. “Joel!” 

“There,” Joel says, moving your window up and down seamlessly. “Window’s fixed.” 

“How many times do I have to say it?” 

“How about you try a ‘thank you’, huh?” Joel shoots back.

You shoo him back to bed. You slice a bit of warm bread, then ladle some soup into a bowl and bring it to him with a spoon. “Eat,” you tell him. 

Joel eats a spoonful, and it’s written all over his face how much he enjoys it, the warm broth relieving his sore throat. “So what’d you poison it with, huh?”

“Oh, you’re such a dick.” 

Joel smiles, only teasing. “M’sorry. S’just that you shouldn’t be doin’ all this for me, s’all.” Joel squeezes your knee comfortingly. “Thank you. I mean it, darlin’.” He’ll let you feed him, but no more than that. You’re too sweet for your own good. “S’good soup.”

“I’m glad you like it, you asshole.” You smile too, and push some of Joel’s hair out of his face. He finishes his bowl of soup, even has a second one. You take his bowl away and wash it at the sink.

“Should let me do that,” Joel says, following you into the kitchen. “Ain’t that how it works? One cooks, the other cleans.” Joel bumps you to the side and takes the soapy dish from your hands.

“Maybe another time,” you offer, attempting to take back the bowl. “Don’t want your germs on my dinnerware.” But Joel holds on tight, so you let him wash the dish. Since he wants to die on this hill. So you dry your hands, then feel his forehead once again. You frown, displeased that the bath didn’t work at curbing his fever at all. He’s still burning up. “I’ll be right back.” 

You go to your bathroom and open the cabinet vanity, where you have an old Walgreens thermometer, the paint all smudged off. You wash it with soap and water in the sink, then return to Joel. Amazingly, you find him in the bed doing his word search puzzle, and you didn’t even have to tell him to go lay down this time. 

The bed creaks under you as you sit down next to him. You put his book down, “Open,” you tell him, thermometer in hand.

“Oh, c’mon now,” Joel complains. “Get that thermometer outta my face.”  

You shake your head no, and tug on Joel's chin so that he opens his mouth. You place the thermometer under his tongue and he closes his lips around it, staring daggers at you the entire time thermometer reads his temperature. 

He’s so handsome. Big, sparkling brown eyes underneath brows knit together in irritation. Pouting lips. Age looks good on him, perfectly both softens and enhances his rougher edges.

The thermometer beeps. You read the temperature, 102.3°F. Why Joel’s even upright with a fever like this is a mystery, but that’s men for you. Fucking idiots. “That’s a hell of a fever you’re running, Joel.”

“You’re full’a shit. Gimme that.” Joel sniffles and snatches the thermometer from you to read the number for himself. He shrugs. “S’old. Probably faulty. Can’t trust it.” Joel covers his mouth with his elbow and coughs loudly. 

“You’re old and faulty too, Joel. Look at you.” You offer him a handkerchief to wipe his nose. “You’re falling apart.” 

Joel scowls at you before blowing his nose. You leave him once more, this time to bring him a cool, damp rag. You press it against his forehead, and Joel closes his eyes. “Does that feel nice?”

“No. Quit that.” 

But Joel’s body betrays him. He’s sighing in relief, and his tensed muscles loosen. His breathing, while still shallow, has slowed as much as it can, soft belly rising and falling with steady breaths.

“Are you falling asleep?” 

“No, I’m not. M’not tired,” Joel argues. He tries adjusting the now lukewarm rag, warmed by his body heat.

“You should sleep.”

“Nah.”

 You take the damp rag off of Joel’s forehead and flip it so that the cooler side soothes his hot, feverish skin. “You know, Joel, I think this is why god made women. To take care of stupid, sick men like you.”

“Hm. Could be so. But I think he sent you to me as a punishment of sorts.” 

“Is that so? A punishment?”

“S’right. An’ some day, you’ll fool some poor man into marryin’ you and he’ll have to put up with this same shit the rest of his life. I don’t envy that sorry bastard one bit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you coo, wiping away a droplet of water that rolls down his temple. “You tell me all about it, Joel. Tell me how terrible it is.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Joel continues his tirade, bitching and moaning about how you're doing too much, that none of this is necessary. ‘Quit fussin’ over me’ and so on.

You know that after this, Joel will try to leave you, go home and fiddle with things in his home that aren’t broken - or worse yet, he’ll tinker with the things in yours that he deems in need of fixing. Squeaky door, creaky floor panels. You listen to his slight wheezing, his sniffling, his voice all raspy and broken. He really does need to rest, the poor man. 

If you had cough syrup, you’d use that to put his ass to sleep. But you don’t, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man. 

You remove the damp rag from Joel’s head and set it on the coffee table behind you. Joel’s eyes are shut as he takes shallow breaths, and you trace lazy patterns on his stomach, inching your way down, down, until you’re rubbing his warm bulge, feeling him stiffen beneath your touch. “Goddamnit, what the hell are you doin’ t’me, now?” Joel groans. He takes your wrist and squeezes it gently in his grip.

“Nothing, Joel,” you answer innocently.

 “Bullshit, it’s - you’re - oh, fuck.” Joel bucks into your palm. You slide your hand beneath his sweatpants to touch his bare cock, amused at how Joel decided against wearing boxers today. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart. You gotta, you can’t–”

“Shhh,” you hush him. You drag your nails through his patch of coarse hair, playing with those long and wiry hairs. You palm his cock again, half hard and growing harder by the second. Before this goes further, you tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Lift up for me, Joel.”

Joel lifts his hips and you tug his sweats down the rest of the way, then continue touching him. You spit into your hand and pump him from top to bottom, taking special care to gently massage his balls when you reach the base of his cock. “Ohh, darlin’. Oh lord.” 

Joel’s stiffened to full length now. You kiss the tip of his cock, all the way down his shaft before licking your way back up, one long, fat stripe. You swirl your tongue around the head and dip your head, teasing him with it as you bob your head up and down, taking more and more of him down your throat with each pass.

Joel moans, his sick voice breaking a little. He keeps a heavy hand on your bobbing hand and wonders what the hell he did to deserve this from you. He should have stopped fighting his sickness long ago if this is what was in the cards for him. 

Realization dawns on Joel. It all makes sense, why you’re sucking him off at this particular moment. You’re trying to put him to bed, you goddamn deviant. “You’re trouble,” he accuses. “I know exactly what you’re doin’.” 

“Hmm?” You turn your head to Joel, his cock still in your mouth. You bounce it against your inner cheek, and Joel groans at the lewd image of his cockhead bulging in your mouth.

“Yeah,” Joel says. “And let me - oh, fuck-” You drop your head low, taking all of him into your mouth. So deep that your nose is buried in his pubic hair. “Let me tell ya, darlin’, what you’re doin - it ain’t gonna work on me.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop. “It won’t?”

Joel shakes his head. “Mm-mm. You’re wastin’ your time.” 

“Oh. Well, I should stop, then.” 

You begin to pull off of his cock, but Joel forces you back down. “Nah, you don’t have t - you gotta give it your best shot, right?”

You smile with Joel’s cock in your mouth. What a fucking guy. You pull off of him only momentarily, garnering a protesting groan spilling from his lips. You take off your shirt and unbutton your pants. “Lemme help you with that, c’mere, darlin’,” Joel says, pulling your pants and panties down your legs. He unclasps your bra next, then sheds his own clothing. 

You take him right back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck his length. This time, though, you play with your pussy. As you move up and down Joel’s shaft, you slip through your folds, dipping down to your wet hole to gather your arousal on your fingertips. You circle your clit a couple of times, then push your fingers in and out of your pussy. 

“You fuckin’ yourself on your fingers, sweetheart?”

“Mm-hm,” you hum, mouth stuffed full of Joel’s cock.

Joel pulls your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own, much thicker and longer ones. “Let me,” he says. “S’my job. Shouldn’t have t’do that to yourself, ‘less you wanna. Or if I say so.” 

Joel spreads your thighs wider. He moves his pointer and middle fingers up and down, exploring your slick, velvety pussy. He sucks those two fingers and then his thumb and rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, all swollen and wet with your arousal. You moan at the action, the vibration of your voice traveling right down his shaft and to his balls. He bucks himself into your mouth.

Joel inserts his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping in and out slowly before curling them upward, stroking right where you need him to. “Got a nice fuckin’ pussy,” he purrs with his hoarse, gravelly voice. You pulse around his fingers, and Joel admires the way your tight hole hugs him as he moves in and out of you. “She’s makin’ such a mess, drippin’ all over me.” 

You twist your fist up and down Joel’s shaft as you suck him, working him closer and closer to the edge. Joel’s content with this, the prospect of coming down your throat and fucking you with his fingers. But you have a different idea, and when his balls are tightening and his shaft is twitching, his breathing quickening, you pull off of him. 

Joel groans in frustration, but his anger is quickly eased when you straddle his hips. You reach between your legs for his cock and stroke it, dragging the tip through your folds, up and down, up and down, dipping it in and out of yourself to tease him. “You’re fightin’ dirty.” 

 Joel’s exercised enough self control today and doesn’t let you tease him for long. He puts both of his large, weathered, and masculine hands on your waist and pulls you right down on his cock, the initial penetration causing a stretch so intense you see stars for a second. “Oh god, Joel,” you moan, clutching his shoulders. 

“I know, I know,” Joel whispers, rubbing your back. “You good, sweetheart? You need a minute?”

 “Just - just a second.”

 “Take your time. Know it’s a lot, you’ll get used to it.” 

Joel gives you a second, then inches you up and down on his cock to get you adjusted to the sensation of being so full of him. Soon enough, the ache dissipates and is replaced with pleasure, nothing but pure pleasure. You rest against his hot body, rocking your hips to grind against his pubic bone. 

You know that by the way he bucked his hips into your mouth, how he pulled you down on his cock, how even now he moves you, that he’ll tire himself out. Your plan was simply to make him come to knock him out, but this - this works too. Exhaust his body, get yourself off in the process. Killing two birds with one stone. 

Joel fucks you harder now, hands on your ass to move you up and down on his cock. He bends his legs at the knee for more leverage, bouncing you on his lap. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts. He moves you so that your chest is right above his face, and one at a time, sucks your nipples into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing them. 

You hold onto Joel’s broad shoulders to steady yourself, looking down at him as he fucks himself into you. He’s so handsome, cheeks and chest all flushed red, a sheen of sweat glittering at his hairline, his graying curls damp. Joel’s eyebrows are knit together as he fucks you, tracing your curves with his gaze. He pulls you against his chest as he ruts against you, his scruff scratching your skin so deliciously. “Takin’ me so good. Look so pretty on my cock like this.” 

You move at his will. Joel’s underneath you, rocking himself  in and out of your dripping, tight pussy. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips stuttering in a non-rhythm as he pushes himself inside you over and over. He must be getting close now. 

“Up, sweetheart. Lean back f’me.” 

You peel yourself off of Joel’s middle, all slick with his sweat. Joel spits into his hand and presses the calloused pads of his fingertips against your clit. You roll your hips against him, savoring that much-needed friction against your clit.

“Like that, darlin’. Jus’ like that. Fuck yourself on my cock,” Joel says, rubbing your sensitive bud with tight circles. “Gonna watch you come all over me.” 

“Yeah,” you moan, “Wanna come for you.” 

Joel loves you like this. Your face contorted in pleasure, mouth agape, body quivering and twitching on top of him. He steadily massages your wet, swollen clit and wears a crooked smile when he feels your cunt start to pulse around him. And you think you’re pulling one over on him, but look at you, all fucked out and delirious. You’ll probably crash after this, and Joel will go right back to fixing up your house. There’s a door hinge that’s been squeaking…

“Oh my - Joel, I’m - I’m gonna -” 

“Know you are, sweetheart. Let me have it,” he groans, voice all broken and hoarse. “Come all over my cock, darlin’. Let go f’me.” 

That hot, sticky pleasure in your gut begins to intensify rapidly. You go quiet just before it happens, then let out a long, whimpering moan when your orgasm takes over your body. You shudder and jerk as Joel fucks you through your release, and once you’ve ridden it out, Joel pulls you tight against his chest. 

While you come down from your high, Joel frantically fucks you, slamming his hips against yours as he chases his own climax, balls tightening and his belly filling with warmth. “Oh, goddamn. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Joel pants as he comes, painting your insides with his hot seed, the warmth of his release and the pulsing of his cock so satisfying. 

Coming down from his orgasm, a wave of exhaustion hits Joel. He finds himself unable to move, unable to open his heavy eyelids. He might’ve been wrong, because napping away the rest of the afternoon doesn’t sound quite so bad, now.

You pull your body off of Joel’s and he lets out a sighing grunt when his softening cock slides out of your body, the mess he created with you spilling all over his lap. You grab that washrag you held against his forehead and clean him up and then yourself, then get up to dispose of it. 

Joel grabs you by the arm, his grip weak. “Don’t you go anywhere, trouble,” he grumbles. 

“But I’ve gotta take care of this, Joel,” you protest. 

“Deal with it later. Just -” Joel yawns and pulls you down and holds you tight against his chest, as tight as he can, anyway. “Jus’ stay with me a minute.” 

Joel’s eyes are still shut, and his breathing becomes slow and rhythmic. It’s laughable how quickly sleep is taking over his sick, exhausted body, having used what little life he had in himself to fuck you stupid. Like that last burst of energy from a dying star. “I thought you weren’t tired,” you tease.

Joel sniffles. “M’not.” 

“Mhm. Sure.” 

“Just checkin’ my eyelids for holes.”

You push some curls out of Joel’s face and hold your palm against his cheek, still hot with his fever. He’s so peaceful looking like this, plump lips pouting as he breathes through his mouth. You bring your face close to his and close the gap by pressing a little kiss against his lips. 

“What’re you kissin’ me for, hm?” 

“I want to,” you reply, kissing him again.

“Gonna get yourself sick,” Joel murmurs groggily, eyes still closed. “Which means in a couple days, I get to do all this right back to you. S'payback, darlin’.”

You chuckle. And in just a few short seconds, Joel’s snoring lightly, dead to the world.

If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with thoughts or comment or hop in my inbox! Your kind words go farther than you know in keeping me motivated to write 💕

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 3: Parents

You and Joel try to figure each other out and you and Ellie navigate your new relationship while you get ready to go to LA. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 2 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Remembered negligence by a parent. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.5k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter

“Again.” 

You threw a punch at the sparring mitt on Joel’s hand. 

He shook his head once, tightening his jaw. You weren’t landing the blows well, something was holding you back. 

“C’mon, you got more in you than that,” he said, almost taunting you. “Again.” 

You yelled then and really pulled your fist back before swinging forward yet again. This time, though, it actually forced his arm to move some, making him recenter his weight as he tried to keep position. 

“There you go,” he said. “Keep doin’ that, let’s go.” 

“Seriously?” You panted, dripping sweat, your sports bra clinging somehow even tighter to your skin than it was before the workout started, something Joel was desperate to not pay attention to. “I feel like I’m about to die.” 

“Gotta build up that muscle,” he said. “Come on, Siren -” he said your code name like the taunt it was. “Hit me.” 

You really went after him then, wailing on the sparring mitts and coming for him hard and fast enough that it forced him to step back. 

“Better,” he said eventually and you lowered your hands, your chest heaving. “See? Knew you could do it.” 

“Yeah, turns out all it took was remembering what a dick you are,” you said, a teasing edge to your voice. “Way easier to want to punch you then.” 

“Ma’am?” Esmo’s voice appeared at the door to the pool house. “The car will be here in an hour.” 

“Thanks,” you panted, shucking your gloves and looking to Joel. “You all packed and ready?” 

“I’m ready,” he said. “Won’t have to worry about me.”

“You say that,” you said, putting the gloves away and grabbing your water bottle, chugging from it as you caught your breath. “But we’ll see how you do once we actually get to L.A.” 

“Don’t think it’s gonna be much of a challenge,” he said, even though he knew you were right. He just wasn’t about to say it. “Just don’t do anything stupid, we’ll be fine.” 

“Aw, now where’s the fun in that?” You asked, starting back toward the house. “You OK to get the kid?” 

“What if I said no?” He asked. “I’m not a damn chauffeur, you know.” 

“Sure about that?” You asked. “Because you beg to drive often enough…” 

“I got the kid,” he said. “Go do whatever air-headed shit you gotta do before you get on a plane.” 

You mouthed his words mockingly back at him as you made your way to your room and Joel made his way to the kitchen to get water for himself. 

Things with you had fallen into an almost surprising cadence in the week since his birthday and the conversation in your kitchen. 

It wasn’t that he liked you or anything as extreme as that. He’d just learned how to see you more as a person and less as the specter who haunted the wall of his daughter’s bedroom. You were still spoiled and overly opinionated and frustrating to no end but you were also oddly kind, sharply observant and a dedicated parent to a child who wasn’t yours to begin with. 

Even though your love and care for her was obvious, Ellie seemed to want to tiptoe around you for a few days after she got suspended. She avoided staying anywhere you were for too long, but Joel saw how you’d perk up when she came in and then visibly deflate when she left without saying much of anything at all to you. You tried to pretend like it didn’t bother you, even as you spent hours on the phone with the school trying to convince them to let Ellie come back early without saying why she’d picked a fight with that asshole boy to begin with. He didn’t buy it. 

Eventually, you wore the school down, and Ellie only missed two full days of classes. She just didn’t seem all that eager to return when she climbed in the car for Joel to drop her off the morning she went back. 

“You ready for school?” He asked eventually, glancing her way, trying not to think of navigating conversations like this with Sarah. There were points in time where he could tell something was bothering her but prying would just make it worse so he asked the innocuous questions in hopes she’d give him something - anything - to work with. 

“I guess,” she shrugged, staring determinedly out the window. 

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” He asked eventually when she didn’t give him anything else to work with. 

She sighed heavily. 

“I just…” she looked at Joel, her small hands twisting around themselves on her lap. “I know that stupid fucking boy is going to keep saying that shit. What do I do? I know, I know, I can’t hit him. Even though I should be able to fucking hit him.” 

Joel tried not to laugh at that. He didn’t entirely disagree. 

“He scare easy, you think?” He asked, glancing over to Ellie. 

“He seems like a little bitch,” she replied. “So yeah, probably. Why?” 

He shrugged, coming up with a plan. Or a semblance of one, anyway. 

When he got to the school, he didn’t go to the drop off line. Instead, he parked and got out, Ellie frowning as he did. 

“Show me this kid,” he said, nodding for her to lead the way. 

She scanned the crowed for a second before she found him, leaning against the side of the building, looking like he was vaping before the day started. 

“There he is,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “Fucking asshole.” 

“C’mon,” he said, walking up the hill toward the school, keeping an eye out for any teachers or parents who might cause any trouble. “We’ll handle it.” 

Ellie kept up, her much smaller legs needing to almost jog to keep pace with his longer, purposeful stride. Thankfully, the kid was trying to stay out of sight, making Joel’s plan a lot easier. 

The kid was, as it happened, also cocky as hell. 

“Well look who’s back,” he said, shoving back off the wall and not seeming to care that Joel was there. The fog from the vape reeked of pot. “What, your whore mom get them to let you out of your cage early?” 

“You motherfucker!” Ellie lunged for him but Joel held her back. She looked up at him, indignant, but he focused on the kid in front of him. He barely came up to Joel’s chin, maybe 16 years old and suddenly seemingly aware that he’d picked a fight with someone who wasn’t smaller than him. Joel stepped closer, squaring his shoulders, letting himself tower over the kid. He gulped, almost comically so, and stepped back until he was against the wall again. 

“We got a problem here,” Joel said. 

“I.. I don’t…” the kid stammered, but Joel cut him off. 

“Don’t remember askin’ you a damn thing, you little shit,” he said. “I said, we got a problem here. And that problem is you. Now, see, I don’t take too kindly for assholes like you causin’ problems for my people and Ellie here is one of my people. You may not know it but it’s my job to make sure she don’t have problems so you being one… well, that’s an issue, ain’t it?” 

The kid was silent. 

“That was a question,” Joel said, staring him down. “Answer it.” 

“Yes sir,” he said quickly. 

“Good boy,” Joel said using the same tone he would a dog who’d misbehaved. “The way I look at it, we got two ways to handle a problem. We can remove it or we can resolve it. I got all kinds of ways I can remove a problem but resolving it is easier. I like easier. Which would you rather I do?” 

The kid was silent, his eyes darting. 

“Answer. The. Question.” 

“Re…resolve it,” he said, shrinking lower on the wall. 

“Good,” Joel said. “That means, you stop talking shit. You don’t look at her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t talk to anyone else about her, you understand?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“You’re gonna treat her and her family with respect,” Joel considered. “And you’re gonna keep your thoughts - and hands - to yourself. I hear about any other shit like that comin’ out of this school? I’m going to assume it’s coming from you and I’m going to assume you’re a problem that can’t be resolved. That means you’re one that needs to be removed. Do you want me to remove you?” 

“No sir.” 

“What was that?” Joel asked, even though he’d heard him perfectly fine. 

“No sir,” he said, a little louder that time. 

“Good,” he said again. “Now apologize to Ellie.” 

His eyes darted to Ellie and back to Joel. 

“But…” 

“This ain’t a debate,” Joel growled. “Apologize. Now.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly to Ellie. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of it, I’m really sorry, I won’t say any of that shit again, I promise!” 

“Good,” Joel said. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll make sure they know about this little vaping habit of yours. Don’t think Texas takes too kindly to drug use, regardless of who your damn daddy is. Remember what I said about problems. Don’t become one and I won’t need to treat you like one. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Joel gave him one final up and down, almost surprised to not find piss staining the front of his pants when he did. He looked back at Ellie. 

“Should get you to class,” he said. “C’mon.” 

He guided Ellie away from the kid and toward the sidewalk and she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut until they were out of earshot. 

“That was so fucking cool,” she was damn near beaming up at Joel. 

“He bothers you again, tell me,” he said, stopping to face her before she made her way to the front door of the school. “I’ll handle it.” 

“Would you beat him up?” She asked, her eyes lighting up. 

He made a face. 

“He’s a fuckin’ kid,” he said. “I don’t hurt kids. But he don’t need to know that. So let me know and don’t go trying to handle shit yourself again, OK kid?” 

“OK,” she said, giving him a firm nod. “Thanks, Joel.” 

He just gave her a nod back and watched her go into the school, staring down the kid still cowering against the wall as he made his way back to the car. 

Ellie started spending more and more time with Joel after that. He took her to and from school almost every day and it only took a few days for her to start talking to him. 

He didn’t invite it, not really, it just kind of happened. It started with her throwing her book bag in the back seat with a little too much force and sighing heavily and Joel’s latent fatherly instinct kicked in before he realized what he was doing. 

“Everything OK?” He asked, raising her brows and glancing toward her as he made his way around other cars picking up kids as the school day ended. She just looked at him, incredulous, until he shrugged. “Don’t take a genius to see something’s goin’ on. That kid give you more trouble?” 

“No,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. He was quiet, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, giving her room to sit in the silence. And then she sighed. “It was another kid. Said some shitty stuff.” 

“Shitty stuff like what.”

“Just stuff,” she said, clenching her jaw before deflating. “I just… I don’t think I want to talk about it yet.” 

“Well,” Joel said. “Here when you do. Know your aunt is, too.” 

“Yeah, I know,” she said, watching Joel for a moment. “Want to kill some shit when we get home?” 

“Assuming you’re talkin’ about in one of those damn games…” 

“Duh,” she said. “Don’t think I’m allowed to do it in real life even though some people fucking deserve it.” 

Joel tried to keep from smiling at that. The kid had a mouth on her. He shouldn’t encourage it, he knew that. He shouldn’t encourage her spending time with him, either. But something in him liked that she sought him out, that she felt like he was someone who was safe, someone she could confide in. 

“Sure,” he said. “We can kill some shit.” 

“Fuck yeah.” 

“Hey,” he said. “Language.” 

And he watched as she rolled her eyes good naturedly, a small smile tugging at her mouth. Knowing he made her feel a little better tugged at him, too. He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to care. You and her were a job, nothing more. Caring about either of you was stupid at best, a liability at worst. It was best to keep his distance. 

He played the video games, anyway. 

Joel watched as things softened with you and Ellie in the week that followed and then, eventually, as he was having coffee before taking Ellie to school and you were sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, reading something on your iPad while eating avocado toast with a cup of coffee - because of course you ate fucking avocado toast - she sat next to you, plopping her backpack down on the open chair on the other side of her. 

You set the iPad down gently and gave yourself the excuse to do it by using both hands to pick up the toast, taking a small bite and chewing slowly before picking up your coffee with both hands next so the iPad wasn’t a distraction. 

“So,” Ellie said eventually. “You have that movie coming out soon, right?” 

“I do,” you said, looking over at her and smiling just a little. 

“Probably have to go do all that promotional shit soon, huh?” She asked, brows raised. 

You nodded. 

“Next week,” you said. “You’re going to go stay with your grandmother while I’m back in LA.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“Are you going to be doing the TV shows and shit?” She asked. 

“Some,” you said. “Doing a few days of interviews for different outlets and then I’ll be on Jimmy Kimmel the day before the premiere.” 

“Remember that time you were the voice of the cartoon duck when I was little?” She asked, smiling bigger. “You brought me and Mom to the premiere?” 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, you didn’t want to wear a skirt then either,” you said. “You were like seven and you insisted on wearing jeans on the red carpet.” 

Ellie laughed, too. 

“I liked that movie,” Ellie said. “It was good.” 

“I’m glad,” you smiled at her. “I made it for you.” 

She smiled tightly, the two of you watching each other for a moment. 

“Maybe we can watch it together when you get back?” She asked. “Haven’t seen it in a while.” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’d like to that.”

“Cool,” she said as Esmo set a breakfast sandwich in front of her.

Esmo gave Joel a look, a death glare that told him to keep his mouth shut lest he disturb the delicate dance happening at the breakfast bar as the two of you ate side by side in silence, neither of you looking at the other but also not at any phone or tablet. 

Eventually, when Joel knew he was going to have to get Ellie loaded into the car, she broke the silence. 

“Hey Sissy?” She said, looking at you hesitantly. 

“What’s up kiddo?” You asked, watching her with a gentle smile on your face. 

“I…” Ellie paused, looking to the side for a moment and taking a deep breath before facing you again. “It really fucking sucked when my mom died. Even though we knew it was coming it still really, really, really fucking sucked. But as bad as it was… I know it would have been a whole lot worse if you weren’t here. I’m really glad I’m not doing this shit on my own.” 

Even from his place near the coffee maker, Joel could see you starting to tear up as you reached out and cupped her cheek. 

“I’ll always be here for you,” you said, voice wet. “You’ll never be on your own.” 

“I know,” she said. “I just… wanted you to know. That I know.” 

You smiled. 

“Thanks, kiddo,” you said. “Have a good day at school, OK?” 

“Thanks,” she smiled. “Have a good day doing… whatever it is famous people do.” 

You snorted and Joel got Ellie to school, the uncomfortable tension that had been in the air in the house since the day of the fight fading. 

It was a relief for Joel, too. He tried not to think about why, instead deciding that he was happy that he didn’t need to try and tiptoe around you and Ellie anymore. He’d felt oddly uncomfortable, knowing that you were hurting. He found himself trying to avoid picking at you the way he usually did, any small, cruel pleasure he took from it nowhere to be found when he knew you were actually miserable. 

He wasn’t sure why he cared. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know why he cared. Now, things could go back to normal. 

And they did. Mostly. 

You still did the exact opposite of what he asked you to do whenever possible. You still went for coffee at the local coffee shop at least once a week, the one you’d gone to so much that Joel was certain the girl behind the counter knew who you were. You still went grocery shopping yourself. One day, when you apparently wanted to send him into a blind rage, you drove to a public park and got out of the car without saying a word. 

“Hey!” Joel yelled, jogging to catch up to you as you stretched a little, jogging in place as you did. 

“Yes, Big Miller?” You asked, brows raised, that stupid baseball cap that you pretended like protected you from everything under the sun pulled low over your face. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?” He asked, his hands on his hips, jaw squared. 

“Going for a run,” you said, as though this were the most typical thing in the world. 

Which, if you weren’t the most famous woman in the world, it would be. That just wasn't the case. Not with you. 

“Not out in public you ain’t,” he said. “Back in the car. Now.” 

“Back in the car. Now,” you said, puffing your cheeks out mockingly. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t feel like running on a treadmill today, it’s finally not 115 degrees outside, I’m going for a run in the park. Keep up if you want, sit in the car if you don’t, it’s really no skin off my back either way.” 

You started at a jog down the path before Joel had a chance to argue. He just growled, following along behind you, sweating through his t-shirt and jeans and wishing he was in his gym shoes instead of his fucking work boots. He glared as he passed other people on the trail, each of them looking at him like he was some kind of crazy person. 

“See, was that so bad?” You asked, panting for breath, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat as you made it back to the car. He snatched the keys from your hand and stalked to the driver’s door as you laughed. “God, you’re so sensitive! Such a baby…” 

So the next day - when you decided to go to fucking Target in the middle of the afternoon after going to the dentist - Joel had had just about enough. 

“No,” he said as you pulled into the parking lot. “Absolutely not.” 

“Well that’s unfortunate for you,” you said, ignoring him and getting out of the car, anyway. 

But Joel was ready for you this time, catching you as you came around the trunk of your SUV, making you jump. “What are you… Hey!” 

He ignored you, looping an arm around your waist and forcing you back as you beat uselessly at his chest. He wrestled the back door open and forced you unceremoniously into the back seat before he climbed in the driver’s seat and pushed the button to activate the child locks. 

“What the fuck!” You protested, pulling helplessly at the door handle. 

“Act like a fuckin’ child and I treat you like a fuckin’ child,” he said. “No reason for you to go to fucking Target. Already went to the store this week, don’t need any more of this shit from you.” 

“You realize that I pay you, right?” You snapped, leaning between the driver and passenger seats to scowl at him. “I’m literally your boss, you can’t just manhandle me into my own fucking car because you’re in a mood!” 

“Actually, pretty sure your manager signs the checks to my brother’s business,” Joel said, fighting the urge to smirk about it. “Studio, too. Think that makes them my boss, not you. Besides, I’m paid to worry about your safety which means I don’t gotta listen to you.

“You’ve been lucky that no one has really noticed that you live here yet but all it takes is one asshole with their goddamn cell phone camera out sharing your photo to one of those damn magazines and you’ll get swarmed everywhere you go,” he continued. “That what you want? These idiots following you everywhere? Following Ellie everywhere? You want your damn stalker showing up at your door?” 

You sat back in a huff, crossing your arms and glaring out the window. 

“Then maybe you should fucking listen to me,” he said. “Know what I’m talking about.” 

“Such an asshole,” you muttered and Joel smirked. 

This relationship with you he knew. This, he could handle. 

But he still found himself walking a strange line with you as the two of you worked on your fight skills together. Spending a few hours with you every day, showing you how to move your body, your body that was barely covered by those tight little gym outfits. He might loathe those as much as he loathed needing to be around you. 

Because, when all was said and done, he couldn’t ignore the fact that you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. It was disorienting, even after being around you as much as he was, to see you and recognize that you were real, that you really were just that beautiful. 

It wasn’t even that he was attracted to you, he told himself, the fact that you were beautiful was just a fact. Anyone could see it, even him in his deadened state. The fact that his heart beat faster when your hand brushed his skin was just biology. He was just a man, of course he’d have some sort of physical reaction around someone who looked like you. 

He tried not to think about needing to be in close quarters with you in new territory over the next few days, about what strange feeling he’d been sure was long dead would awaken in him then. 

At least he could still put you through your paces. 

Joel came home from picking up Ellie just as the car taking the two of you to the airport pulled up outside. Joel loaded his bags into the trunk of the car, waving off the pushy chauffeur as you herded Ellie to the car with all her bags. 

“And you have the charger for your Switch?” You asked, your arm around Ellie’s shoulders. 

“Yes,” Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“And your laptop for school?” You asked. “Because you can’t get out of homework just because you don’t have it…” 

“I have it,” she said. “And I have like 20 pairs of clean underwear and a toothbrush and…” 

“And your phone?” You asked. 

She looked at you, incredulous. 

“Duh.” 

You laughed and gave her a squeeze. 

“Alright,” you said. “Let’s get you dropped off so me and Big Miller can get out of here.” 

Ellie snorted. 

“Yeah, you and Big Miller need to go do movie star shit,” she said, getting in the back of the car with you, Esmo giving her bags to the chauffeur. “Don’t want to hold up such important things.” 

“Alright, Siren,” Joel said. “Let’s go.” 

The three of you went to Ellie’s grandmother’s house and she almost tackled her, you getting out and greeting her with a warm hug, too. 

“Hey Mom,” you smiled. “Thanks for taking our trouble maker here.” 

“Try and stop me from hanging out with my favorite granddaughter,” she smiled. 

“I’m your only granddaughter,” Ellie rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. 

“Have time to come in for a few?” She asked. “Introduce me to this tall, dark and handsome man you brought to my door? I’m Elise, by the way.” 

“Oh that’s just Big Miller,” Ellie said, smirking. 

“Big Miller?” She frowned down at her before looking at you. “What’s a Big Miller?” 

“He’s the security guard I mentioned before,” you said. “And I’m afraid we have a plane to catch.” 

“Don’t they wait for you these days?” She teased. 

“Not when you fly commercial,” you teased a little back. “But I’ll be back in a few days. Let me know if you need anything.” You turned your attention to Ellie. “Behave yourself, alright?” 

“She always behaves,” Elise said. “Which is why I get to load her up with sugar before she goes home.” 

“Hell yeah!” Ellie said before looking back to you. “I’ll be good, Sissy. Promise.” 

You seemed satisfied but were still slow to get back in the car, giving another final round of hugs before getting back in. 

“Directly to the airport, ma’am?” The chauffeur asked. 

“Please,” you said, watching out the window as Ellie and Elise headed into the house. 

Joel found himself checking on you in the rearview mirror as you made your way to Intercontinental in Houston, a recommendation of Joel’s you’d actually heeded. 

“It’s a bigger airport,” he’d said. “Less likely for people to notice you and, if they do, they got no reason to think you live in Austin. Extra layer of security.” 

You did your makeup - something he didn’t like noticing - and then kept mouthing words to yourself as you kept your nose buried in an iPad. 

“What are you doin’?” He asked eventually and you looked up, your eyes meeting his in the mirror and he tried to ignore how fucking pretty you were when your makeup was done. Didn’t seem possible that you could get any damn prettier but of course you found a way. 

“Trying to get off book for the chemistry reads I have tomorrow morning,” you said. 

Joel frowned and twisted around to face you. 

“The fuck does that mean.” 

You smiled a little and he felt a twinge in his chest, one he resented. 

“It means I want to have my lines memorized before I need to read them with some people who are kind of auditioning tomorrow,” you said. “It’s not required or expected but I like being able to really focus on the person I’m working with and be a good scene partner. There are a few up and comers, it can be intimidating being in a room and reading with someone like me. I want to make sure they’ve got everything I can give them to do well.” 

He just grunted, facing forward again as you got closer to the airport. He hated when you did shit like that, something that seemed kind and thoughtful. He didn’t want to think of you as that type of person, it made him uncomfortable and it was worse when he knew he was about to be closer than usual to you over the next few days. It was easier to keep his distance from you when you were a spoiled brat. When you were nice or observant or, heaven forbid, vulnerable, he was keenly aware of the effect you had on him, on the way he wanted to look at your too perfect face and feel your fingers on his skin. It was an effect he needed to get over. You were a job. Nothing more. 

There was a team of people waiting for you at the airport, half a dozen of them damn near swarming the car as the driver pulled up to the curb. 

“So it begins,” you said, an ominous note in your voice before you plastered a smile on your face as someone opened the door for you. 

The team ushered you through the process of getting you into the airport quickly, apparently desperate to avoid the disruption that would come with your presence if you were noticed. Your bags had been sent ahead earlier in the day and someone in a suit took your tote bag with your iPad and laptop and book and rushed it ahead to security as someone else finalized both you and Joel’s check in on the flight. 

“I got a firearm in that bag,” Joel said as someone took his luggage from him. He turned to someone in a suit next to him, one who was paying far more attention to you than to him. “Hey, that OK? They hear me about the gun? Really don’t want to get to fuckin’ California and not have my side arm…” 

“I’ll make sure there are no issues,” the man said, giving Joel a tight smile 

They moved both of you to the front of the TSA line, the check seeming more cursory than anything for you, at least. They still gave Joel a full pat down, one that strayed a little too close to his crotch than he was pleased with, giving the agent a death glare until they pulled their hand away. Then, in another flurry of people in suits, the two of you were ushered into one of the fancy fucking airport lounges Joel had always walked past but never even dreamed of going inside, tucking you away in a private corner with a reserved sign on the table, a server immediately rushing to take your order. The whole process took maybe 10 minutes, you with a glass of white wine as you folded yourself back into the corner of the couch, settling in with your iPad in your hand again. 

Joel scoffed derisively. This shit was almost heaven sent, a reminder of just how easy life was for someone like you. Exactly the thing he needed to remember that you weren’t just some pretty face, that it must be easy to be fucking nice when everyone was waiting on you hand and foot all the time. 

“Yes?” You asked, brows raised as you lowered the tablet. 

“It always that easy for you?” He asked. “Just everyone takin’ care of all the hard shit, no lines, no dealing with authorities, just stroll right on through?” 

You laughed a little, shaking your head. 

“It’s easy here because no one was looking for me,” you said. “Wait until we get to LAX, then we’ll talk.” 

“What makes you think it’ll bad?” He asked. 

“Well, someone on the flight is going to notice me,” you said. “They always do. They’ll tweet about it, probably with a picture they didn’t ask my permission to take, and then half the paparazzi in LA will show up, ready to catch me looking tired and cranky after a flight because I haven’t given them shit in months and, unfortunately, my picture sells.” 

“And it’s really gonna be that quick,” he said, skeptical, his brows raised. 

“Oh, definitely,” you said. “And it’ll be like that the whole time I’m in LA, there will always be a photographer right on my ass, all day every day. Quinn tipped them off to a few places I’ll be so they will hopefully calm down otherwise but yeah, it’ll get crazy. The good news is, the people in LA are used to it. They see movie stars every day. There will always be a few tourists or super fans who come up but it’s not too bad, just the photographers are rough.” 

He nodded slowly, processing. He’d worked closely with Tommy in the week leading up to this, coordinating with a security team in LA. You’d have a driver, other people besides him on hand in situations that might be dicey or where more people would know where you were but Joel was still going to be your body man. He just wasn’t sure exactly what to expect once he was on the ground. He’d never dealt with paparazzi, at least not in fucking Los Angeles. 

You finished working on your lines after a while, putting your iPad aside and just looking around the small parts of the lounge you could see from the corner where they’d put you. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked after a while, curiosity nagging at him. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, trying not to look taken aback. “What’s up?” 

“Ellie’s grandma,” he said slowly, trying to figure out how to word it. “Seems like you’re closer to her than your mother.” 

“That’s because I am,” you said. “And that wasn’t a question.” 

He gave you a look and you laughed once. 

“I guess I was just… I didn’t know why that was,” he said. “Was wondering.” 

You considered Joel for a moment. 

“This falls under your NDA,” you said. “Just so we’re clear.” 

“Course,” he said. 

“Do you know much about my career?” You asked, adjusting in your seat as you did. 

He shrugged. 

“A little. Know you’ve got an Oscar for some movie I never fuckin’ saw. Know that show you were on, Siren, of course.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Well, I was ‘discovered’ when I was five,” you said. Joel’s brows shot up. “I was in line at the grocery store with my mother and a modeling agent saw me there. According to her, he practically signed me on the spot and I started working right away. I don’t remember it well. The work was just catalogue at first, nothing crazy. Then I started doing commercials… by the time I was seven I was on my first TV show.” 

Joel frowned at that. 

“What show?” 

“That sitcom Family Tree?” You said it like it was a question. “It aired in the 90s and the early 2000s, I was the precocious baby of the family. Cute, smart ass, that sort of thing.” 

“Oh shit,” Joel laughed. “That was you? Jesus, I remember watching that show with my parents…” 

You smiled a little. 

“Yeah, that was me,” you said. “My first big job. I met Elise and Anna, Ellie’s mom, on that job. Elise was the tutor for the kids on the show, we basically had our own little school with the five of us. She brought Anna to set one day and we hit it off… Anyway, the point of this is, my mother was my manager. I was on that show for 10 years and I was doing movies, too. My mother was in charge of all of it. She handled my contracts, publicity, all the money… that was the real problem.

“She stopped seeing me as her daughter pretty early, I think,” you continued. “Probably hard to see the person making you rich as your child, not when all you want is to get more money. More, more, more, she was never happy with it. She would throw me at any job that was offered as long as it paid, no real direction to my career for years, not until I started to be old enough to have some of my own damn artistic vision. But… well, she handled the money, every cent I made and boy did she handle it, handled it right out the door.” 

“Jesus,” Joel blinked back his shock. 

You shrugged. 

“I figured out what was going on when I was about 14,” you said. “By then, I’d been working almost 10 years and I didn’t have a damn penny to show for it. In fact, I owed the IRS a shit ton of money because she hadn’t paid taxes, either. It was a disaster because I was suddenly without a manager, penniless, in a legal shit show and I needed to find someone else to be my guardian because lord knew I couldn’t stay with my mother after that. I tried to make a go of it on my own - I thought it would have been easier, it felt like I’d been taking care of myself for long enough anyway - but, when I was through the worst of the financial stuff, I went to live with Elise.” 

You laughed a little and Joel wasn’t sure why, none of this shit was funny. 

“She was so pissed at first,” you said. “She didn’t say it at the time, of course, she didn’t tell me any of this until I was in my 20s but she was furious I hadn’t come to her right away. She’d already been looking out for me more than my mother ever did, she seemed to know that my mother wasn’t doing anything to take care of me. She had me spend the night with Anna all the time, she was always checking to make sure that I was safe on set - more than I can say for a lot of other kids who have worked in this industry, let me tell you. She was always there for me. I just was afraid that, if she took me in when I had nothing at all, she’d somehow end up on the hook for all the money my mother and I owed everyone. I did an action movie with some stupid, bloated budget when they needed some smart alec teenager to play the kid of the hero and waited for that check to clear. It was enough to cover almost everything I needed to pay back and then I felt like it was OK to go to her and tell her everything. So, as far as I’m concerned? Elise is my mom. The woman who gave birth to me just happens to share my DNA and not much else. I’ll take care of her, check in on her, make sure she has everything she needs for a comfortable life, but that’s it. She is not my mom.” 

Joel watched you for a moment, just processing. Without meaning to, he pictured Sarah at 14 - just a year before she’d died - and she was still a kid, just a kid. He pictured her trying to navigate a world that was cold and cruel and cared nothing for her safety without anyone to help her and his blood got hot, his fingers clenching a little tighter, his jaw setting a little firmer. 

You frowned at him, cocking your head at him as though he were a curiosity. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’,” he said eventually, sitting back in his chair and looking back out at the room, watching for potential threats against the shockingly human thing that was you. “Just didn’t expect that is all.” 

Someone came and got the two of you for the flight, when boarding was winding down and you wouldn’t need to stand there and wait with all the other mere mortals and Joel was able to tuck that odd feeling down low inside him again. It didn’t matter that you’d once been a vulnerable kid hung out to dry, you’d clearly done just fine for yourself. He didn’t need to think about you that way. It wouldn’t make a difference now, anyway. 

The two of you were seated in the front row and, for the first 20 minutes or so of the flight, Joel started to think that you might have been wrong. You’d kept your head down and folded yourself into the window seat as quickly as possible, not giving anyone much of a chance to look at your face. Maybe no one would really notice you, maybe you would be able to make it out of the airport on the other side with no one the wiser. 

And then some asshole heading back to his seat from the bathroom froze, his jaw dropping when he saw you. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. 

You smiled a small, almost amused smile. 

“Hi,” you said. 

“You’re not…” he said, looking around the rest of first class like he might have been crazy. The man across the aisle for Joel leaned forward, peering around him as he frowned. 

“Afraid so,” you scrunched your nose in a way that Joel was sure was meant to cute and charming and probably was to everyone else but, to him, it was just enraging. 

“Holy shit,” he said again, stepping in front of Joel as if he wasn’t there at all. “I loved you in Fast Track! That one chase sequence where you were driving backwards was so cool, how did they do that? I read you did your own driving, is that true?” 

“I did some of my own driving,” you laughed lightly. “But I didn’t drive much there, we had a stunt driver that actually faced backwards in the car and drove when we were in reverse. I did drive the forward facing parts of that sequence, though. I’m glad you liked it.” 

“Can I get a selfie?” The guy asked, already pulling out his phone before you even had a chance to say no. “My best friend is in love with you, he’s going to freak out, he had your poster on the wall of our dorm freshman year.” 

Joel was about to tell him to fuck off but you were unbuckling your seat belt. 

“Sure,” you said, getting up and standing next to him so he could take the picture. You smiled and looked far more beautiful than anyone sitting on a plane had any right to be and Joel gritted his teeth. “What’s your name?” 

“Sean,” he said, still looking at you like he wasn’t sure you were real. 

“Lovely to meet you, Sean,” you said. “Tell your friend I said hi.” 

He went back to his seat and you sat back down and Joel couldn’t help but notice the way your fingers tightened on the end of the arm rest, as though you could dig your nails into the plastic if you just tried hard enough. It was the only indication that anything was wrong. If he hadn’t been around you so much over the last few weeks, he’d never have noticed but now, it seemed impossible not to. 

Sean, it seemed, opened the floodgates. People started cautiously approaching, all talking to you, all awed by you, all asking for selfies that you obliged with a smile. You answered questions patiently, signed napkins, took a video where you said hi to someone’s wife. All the while, Joel ground his teeth while people damn near sat on his lap while they waited to get a moment with you. 

Eventually, a flight attendant got fed up and made an announcement. 

“Everyone, we understand that we have a high profile passenger on board,” she said. “While I’m sure this is very exciting for some of you, we still need to maintain safe travel conditions while in route to Los Angeles. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened so flight attendants can do their jobs and you’re not hurt by unexpected turbulence. Thank you.” 

Joel could have kissed her as everyone reluctantly made their way back to their seats and you visibly relaxed, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, taking a deep breath as you did. 

“You alright?” Joel asked, keeping his voice low. 

You opened one eye, looking at him quizzically before closing it again. 

“Fine,” you said. “Just ready to get to LA.” 

Joel kept his eyes and ears open the rest of the flight, hearing your name come up in hushed whispers from all around them. He heard the snap of a cellphone camera shutter and looked around, glowering, for the culprit but never spotted them. Joel searched your name on Twitter. You were trending, pictures of you being rushed through airport security earlier and from the plane everywhere while everyone under the sun tried to figure out what the fuck you’d been doing in Houston, Texas, to begin with. 

When the plane landed, the flight attendant let you and Joel off first to avoid the threat of chaos as you made your way quickly toward arrivals. 

But you paused, just shy of the end of the secured area, staring it down the sliding doors as though they were an opponent. 

“We doin’ this or not?” Joel asked, probably gruffer than he should have. 

“We are,” you said, not looking at him. “I’m just… saying goodbye to the quiet life I’ve had the last few months. I’m going to miss it.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you just made for the security doors, greeted by a sea of cameras as the chaos of your existence in Los Angeles welcomed you home. 

A/N: Thank you for being patient with this series! I've started graduate school so everything I care about seems to get put on the back burner anymore. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway.

This LA arc I am SUPER excited for. Get ready to learn so so SO much more about Siren and Joel both as things ramp up in the City of Angels.

Also, sending some love to one of my besties (who does NOT read my fic but does know I write it) who answered the arbitrary questions I had about the Houston airports. She's the best.

Thank you for choosing to spend your time with my work! Love you!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler @lilyevanstan1325 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @wintersquirrel @missladym1981 @mellymbee @canthinkof1user

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

how so super funny is it that I read this last night because I knew it would hurt my heart so at least I could sleep it off 🫡 can confirm my heart still hurts though 😀👍

SO MUCH TO LOSE CHAPTER 19: UNDER THE LIGHTS

rating: 18+

words: 23k

a/n: I got this one out for my birthday month! I wasn't sure if I would be able to, so I'm real happy. Hope you enjoy it it and as always REBLOGS and COMMENTS are what keep me goin'! I LOVE hearing your analysis on characters, things you like or (more likely in this chapter) don't like! heh heh. Just keep in mind we're heading for a HEA eventually....

Thanks for all your support and being gracious about me updating a little slower going forward. It really takes the pressure off of me. And to the several anon asks about how to send me money to treat myself (because y'all are the sweetest) the only way as of right now is paypal (unfortunately) via strangeststories@gmail.com (you are NOT obligated in the least, this is just for those who asked.)

love, emma

story masterlist here

Chapter 19: Under the Lights

The entire walk back to your house you don’t think you blink once. Your eyes stare blindly ahead of you, feet moving mechanically on a trail you’d know blindfolded. Home. Safety away from potentially prying eyes and the memory of Joel’s cruelty.

The world feels tilted. Almost like those silly fun house carnival attractions you used to enjoy walking through with your sister. You used to love how everything moved in a colorful tunnel as you walked the straight plywood towards the exit, the swirling effect tricking your mind.

It always resulted in you and Charlotte teetering through the fun house hand in hand, shoulders bumping before you made it out the end of the tunnel, blinking at the sun outside the attraction and laughing, head fuzzy and feet wobbly. 

But nothing is funny about this. Nothing is funny about the way Joel looked at you as if you were nothing. 

Useless. 

That word keeps floating in your mind. That word that's followed you for what feels like forever. Your teeth gnash together, clenched tightly, jaw muscle feathering. You know that if you open your mouth even a fraction a low, mournful howl will escape you. 

You arrive and you go to your bed, not even bothering to get undressed. You close your eyes and you sleep. It’s the sleep of the exhausted, the sleep of the shocked. When you wake up hours later the sky is still dark, your eyes crusty and your mouth sour.

Strangely the first thought you have when you wake up isn’t Joel, its Chestnut. How he heard your scream and came thundering towards you. How he sacrificed everything for you, for someone who couldn’t even keep him safe. The thoughts you’ve been trying to avoid since it all happened.

You can still hear the sound of him munching on apple skin, of the gentle whinny he made when he saw you approach. The way he made you feel cared for and safe even in the darkest moments on patrols.

Chestnut. I’m so sorry.

You rise to shower, brush your teeth and then you crawl back into bed naked. You don't know how long you cry for because now you can't hold them back. You curl into the fetal position, eyes slammed shut and your body wracked with sobs. 

It goes on like this for two entire days.

Barely eating, barely getting out of bed, barely living. But oh so many tears. Tears of anger of longing of pain. They were brought on by memories of Chestnut’s nuzzle against your cheek, of the way Joel's eyes went dark, memories of the things he used to say, the sweet things he would croon in your ear. 

I wanna give you everythin'. 

Was it fear that made him do this? Had what happened with you out on patrols just terrified him into this? Or was it something worse? Was it a wake-up call for him that you weren't worth his time? That you were in fact useless? Had he just suddenly realized that caring for you was too big a burden?

That thought makes you sick. 

///

The knock on your door Saturday morning wakes you, face sticky with tears, leg sore under the bandage and back aching from laying in so much the last few days. You try to ignore the thrum against wood, hoping whomever is on the other side of the door just fucks off. 

But the banging persists and with great effort you pull yourself from bed. You throw on a robe and shuffle to the front door. 

Jennifer stands on the other side, smile dimming when she takes in your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Then she looks down to see your bandaged leg and she goes white as a sheet. 

"What the fuck happened?" 

You tell her quickly, glossing over some of the embarrassing details, not lingering on others. It's painful to recount it. You want to go back to bed and sleep. You want to keep crying over a love that will simply never work. You want to become invisible like before. 

Jennifer throws her arms around you pulling you into a bear hug that you stand stiffly in. News travels eventually around a small town like Jackson, even if those involved are tight-lipped.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she says emphatically.

"Yeah me too."

You say it without conviction. Right now you wish the bullet had gone right through your heart. Surely it couldn't hurt worse than it does right now? Jennifer releases you, eyes going down to your bound calf again. 

"Is it really painful?"

"Nah, it wasn't that deep. Looks worse than it actually is." You raise your leg and circle your ankle as you recall your discharge orders from Lily. "Lily said I should be able to start walking on it."

"Oh good, then you're still up for getting the tree tomorrow." 

Fuck. The tree. You'd forgotten all about it. You feel the blood drain from your face, trying in vain to come up with a reason you can't join them. 

"I'm sure Joel will do most of the work chopping it down," Jennifer adds. "You and I get to do the fun decorating stuff. Tommy says he's stringing up the lights next week and...." 

Jennifer's voice fades into the background as your breathing accelerates. You feel rooted to the spot, stricken at the thought of having to see Joel again. 

"I think I'm getting a cold," you suddenly tell her, cringing at how lame that sounds. You want to curl into yourself. You want to avoid Joel for the rest of your life. 

"We don't have to do that much," she says, softening her tone at your hesitation. "We can do a bit each day until you feel better." 

I'll never feel better again. 

You can tell Jennifer won't accept anything less than you compliance and you're too tired to fight her on it. So you force a smile and nod and Jennifer tells you she’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow mid-morning.

“If you need anything let me know,” she says giving you a tight hug in farewell.

A new heart, Jennifer. I’d love one of those.

///

By the third day you find the strength to pull yourself from bed, to shower, to tug on clean clothes, to brush your teeth. And it's because you're no longer fueled on heartbreak, but on the molten heat of fury. 

Joel Miller is no picnic himself. Recalcitrant, withdrawn, quick to anger He's no fucking prize, there's a reason he's been single ever since he got to the city, you tell yourself. Good looks couldn't hide his many shortcomings. 

You cringe at the way you used to think about him. The way you dreamt about waking up in his arms, the trust you put in a man you barely knew. You thought you knew him, but you couldn't have. He couldn't look at you like a stranger like he did that last day if you really knew him. The only thing consistent was Joel with his scraps of affection. Joel who you don't understand but still want despite knowing he potentially doesn't see you like that. 

How dare he think that he makes the rules for everything. 

You want to scream or punch something but do neither. Instead you go to the kitchen and begin to rummage through the cupboards. You take the red canister of Folgers coffee in your hands and you dump it into the trash. You don't even want to keep the can anymore.  

“Fuck your fucking coffee.”

You start scanning the kitchen shelves and surfaces and you spot the flowers on the table that he brought you, from the night that you thought was a date. Pathetic. How were you so pathetic over him? Mooning about a future with Joel fucking Miller?

He’s just a man. An old, bitter man who couldn’t truly care about anyone unless it was his daughters. No wonder he was a single dad, no wonder his wife or girlfriend or fiancée or whatever left him. He would have disappointed you too if you’d been stupid enough to stay with him.

You dodged a bullet, you avoided a fate you would have bemoaned. You’re happy he’s gone. Delighted you don’t have to put up with his mood swings and his miserable fucking puppy-dog eyes.

You brutally rip the flowers to shreds, spit flying as you growl out how much you can't stand him. You want every piece of Joel to be wiped from your home, torn, ripped, and ruined. You want it to be like he never existed. You want to savagely tear him from your life and scrub him from your mind.

Your chest is heaving by the time you’re done, the shredded paper at your feet and scattered along the table. Your eyes fly around the room, desperate to find some other evidence he was in your life, needing to destroy it.

You spot the red of your scarf and you stomp over towards it, fingers outstretched. That red fucking scarf. You'll take great joy in plucking it apart stitch by stitch and throwing it in the trash. You’re just about to pluck it from its spot on the hook when there's a knock at the door. 

Your strides stop and you glance to your right. Your entire body is vibrating, hoping its Joel. Your adrenaline is pumping, almost wanting the confrontation. You want to tell him to his face that he’s the useless piece of shit, not you!

Instead as you pull open the door you see that Ellie looking at you with wide eyes and an eager smile. She takes in your flushed face and tangled hair and you see her assess you quietly before she speaks.

"Hey wanna go for breakfast together?"

You feel a pang of hurt go through you just at the sight of her. She’s part Joel and yet not. She’s a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit into your anger. You deflate at the sight of her, all the anger flooding out of you.

"Hey Ellie," you offer with a weak smile. "Uh, I'm kinda tired."

"The snow will wake you up," she insists reaching for your hand. "C'mon! I haven't seen you in days!" 

Because I haven’t left my house in days. Because your dad broke my heart.

You feel detached from your body, looking down at her tiny fingers on your wrist, the eager look in her eyes. She's Joel's daughter, a piece of him. And while you don't want to think about Joel anymore there's no way to push Ellie out of your heart. She did nothing wrong. 

"Sure, let's go."

///

It's not so busy this time of the morning and you and Ellie have an entire table to yourselves. 

You sip your hot tea slowly, savoring the taste before you dig into your eggs and pancakes, eating with gusto. You're hungrier then you thought. You're on your third mouthful when you notice Ellie smirking at you. 

"See? I knew you needed to come for breakfast."

You swallow, grinning. "When you're right, you're right."

She is right. Some of the wild fury you’d been living off of has dimmed a fraction. You don’t feel happy, but you don’t feel as reckless as before. You even smile a few times when she tells you something funny about school.

"So where have you been hiding all week?" She asks sounding years older than her teenage self. 

"Been sick in bed," you lie, swirling the milk in your second cup of tea. "Haven't really left the house."

"You and Joel must've caught the same bug," Ellie reasons between bites of egg. "He's been in bed the last few days too."

You swallow your grimace. You don't care what Joel's been doing. You don't care if he's caught a cold. You hope it turns to pneumonia. You hope he puked for two days straight.

No, you’re not going to waste thoughts on Joel anymore. You want to push him from your life and your mind. Instead you turn all your focus to the sweet-faced teen across from you drinking her milk in gulps.

"So how did the date with Dina go?"

"Real good," Ellie grins, a dusting of pink under her freckles. "She loved the flowers."

"Yeah?"

"And she thought the apple tarts were the best fucking thing she's ever eaten. I told her we made them together. I think she was pretty impressed but I dunno, maybe she was just saying it."

"Dina doesn't seem the type to blow smoke."

"Yeah, she's honest," Ellie nods, looking at her pancakes with a soft pull of her mouth to one side. "She just says what she's thinking all the time." 

"You always said honesty was important to you," you remind her. 

"Yeah... I really like her," Ellie offers quietly, eyes unable to meet yours. "I think I want her to be my girlfriend."

Your heart swells just as acutely as it cracks. Love is possible for some. Love is not possible for you. Love was never in the cards for you, but for Ellie? There’s a lifetime of possibility with the person she cares for.  

"I think that's a great idea." 

"How do I do that?"

"You say Dina will you be my girlfriend."

"That's it?" Ellie leans back in her chair a little awe-struck. "That easy?"

Yeah, that easy. So easy that you and Joel never mentioned it in the weeks you were together. So easy that you just assumed you were together until he said those horrible things and cast you aside. Your face contorts into what you hope is a smile.

"For some people it is."

You spot Dina over Ellie's shoulders entering the dining hall and scanning it for Ellie. When she spots her you see the way the girl struggles to hide a goofy smile before approaching the table, swinging her long black braid over her shoulder. You've seen Dina plenty of times around town but this is the first time you've seen her look nervous. 

"Hi El."

Ellie jerks her eyes up to see the girl standing awkwardly beside the end of the table. You smile to yourself, trying to look at your tea to give them privacy.  

"Hey Dee.”

The two stare at each other with that puppy love look of flushed cheeks and quickened breathing. You can’t help but sneak a glance at the two of them before going back to your teacup, fingers wrapped tightly around it.

"Wanna walk to school together?"

"Sure." 

Ellie shoots you a concerned look, worried you'll be offended at her sudden departure. You give her a subtle wink, raising your teacup to your mouth. 

"Have a great day." 

Ellie smiles at you, pulling herself from the table and chatting animatedly with Diana. You don't miss how their shoulders touch as they walk, how they can't stop looking at each other and smiling. You should be jealous or hurt but you feel neither of those things. You just feel happy for her. 

Ellie has been through so much in her short life, knowing that she has this connection makes you feel good. It makes you feel like there's still hope left in the world for other people. 

You take a glance around the fairly sparse canteen, trying not to focus on the couples and the families that sit bunched up together. You feel so impossibly alone right now. With Ellie gone you decide it’s safe for you to leave.

You’re just sliding off of the bench seat when a voice calls out your name. For a split second it almost sounds like Joel, so much so that you actually whimper anxiously. But when you glance up it’s to see the friendly face of Tommy striding your way.

“Hey,” Tommy smiles as he takes the seat opposite you. His cheeks are pink tinged and his jacket thick, but there are dark circles under his eyes.

He looks like he’s been out all morning despite the early hour. You wonder if Maria is okay, but right now you know you can’t be any help to her. There’s too big a chance of seeing Joel at their house. And honestly, you’re so broken yourself you don’t think you can be around too many people. Still despite this, seeing Tommy look so tired across from you makes you feel guilty, like you should be checking up on your friend.

“How’s Maria?”

“She’s doin’ real good actually,” Tommy says and there’s a relief in his smile when he says this. Like the storm clouds have passed by. “She’s up and she’s spendin’ lots of time with Douglas. Things seem… good.”

Despite your own heartache a smile blooms across your features.

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says nodding. He gives you a brief smile, one that seems agitated and it sets off alarm bells.

“What’s up Tommy?”

“I was wonderin’ if you’d maybe you’d wanna start a little shop in town. A bakery. We don’t have one.”

That was not what you were expecting. The town of Jackson City is being built up every week. Last week there was the addition of a glazing studio and the glass was being steadily replaced in shop windows and homes. 

Still, his suggestion throws you.

“But the kitchen-?”

“You know better than anyone they’re overburdened as it is,” Tommy acknowledges, hand lifting. “Besides, we’re hoping to shut down the dining hall for lunch and dinners next year.”

“What?”

“A bunch of folks wanna do their own restaurants,” Tommy says with a twinkle to his dark eyes. “Alice wants to start up a BBQ joint, Lark wants to do a sandwich shop. Nancy and her husband are talkin’ about opening up a little café and an in Inn for folks traveling through. Could mean good trade. Plus folks can get their own groceries now we got a steady supply at the Twin Sisters Grocers. If you did some of the breads and desserts I think that would be amazin’.”

You stare at him, eyes wide as he gives you all this detail. It sounds so modern in a world that feels so left behind. You can almost imagine the bustling downtown filled with hand painted signs and bulb lights. How children will run through the streets in a world that isn’t as far away from the one you recall.

You’d never considered starting your own shop in town because you never thought you had that much to offer aside from your labor. But you can imagine it now – the scent of cinnamon buns in the air, soft dough rising in the ovens. The thought of it makes you feel anxious and excited all at once.

“We could find someone to assist you,” Tommy offers when he sees you hesitate. “There’s plenty of folks who would love it, I’m sure.”

“But what about patrols?”

Tommy licks his upper lip nervously, a trait he and Joel share in common. It makes you physically cringe, the pain of it sinking deep in your belly.

“Well, some new folks that just moved into Jackson last week that’re a great shot and a came with their own horses. When they heard about patrols they were real interested.”

Tommy goes quiet and only the sounds of scraping silverware and quiet conversation in the distance remains. Realization falls over you like a heavy blanket the longer you stare at one another.  

"You're taking me off patrols."

"I never thought you liked ‘em much," Tommy says with a furrowed brow. "I remember at the start how nervous you were and Joel mentioned how anxious you get and we figured this was for the best. Thought you'd be relieved."

So this was Joel's idea. Of course it was. 

You're off patrols. Your last tenuous connection to Joel, that thin string, is now severed.  And along with that is a bitterness that chokes you. It’s clear that the entire ruse was just to get you off of patrols. No need to pretend a bakery was ever actually something the town needed or wanted. You feel your eyes hardening, your jaw clenching.

“I don’t think a bakery is my thing. But I get if you want me off patrols, just stick me anywhere,” you tell him quietly. “I don’t really care where I work.”

Tommy looks troubled by your reaction, but he doesn’t make any move to change your mind. He seems to know you well enough to know you’re not in the mood for further discussion. Instead he blinks at the table, searching his mind for somewhere to slot you.

 “Gardening might be nice.”

“Sure.”

“Okay then,” Tommy says uneasily and sensing the growing tension in the air he rises, pulling his jacket collar up before he prepares to head back into the snow. “But if you change your mind about the bakery, just gimme the word.”

“Uh huh.”

You don’t want him exit the dining hall. You don’t even remember going home. All you know is that one moment you’re in the dining hall and the next you’re curled up in your bed, the tears so violent they wrack your body, the sobs silent.

///

There was a time in your life when you guarded everything about yourself. When people in Jackson City knew only your first name. When they thought of you as quiet and deeply withdrawn. 

You wish you could go back to that time. 

Because now as you make your way from your home to collect the tree with Jennifer and are greeted with a myriad of friendly faces. All you wish is for your previous anonymity. You're nursing a broken heart you can't tell anyone about. 

You wish you were once again invisible. 

Jennifer chatters on beside you, her Hands gesticulating wildly in front of her. But you barely pay attention. You're still cold despite being bundled up, but you think that might just be your sensitivity to everything; Loud noises, dark rooms.

You could have denied Jennifer if you really tried. You could have told her you didn’t want to go, that your leg was too sore. But there had been that pathetic part of you that was desperate to see him. That part that craved the sound of his voice, the sight of his face. The part you tried to time and time again smother, but it would  not die.

You also feel the need to show that you aren’t hurt, that you don’t care about him just like he doesn’t care about you.

So you and a bright and chirpy Jennifer had met Joel in the Town Square avoiding each other's eyes by looking studiously at the ground. Jennifer had been none the wiser chatting happily as the three of you made your way into the forest towards the marked tree with Joel carrying a large sled behind him.’

“This is just the best time of the year,” Jennifer said, nudging you gently. “Don’t you think?”

You had only been able to smile weakly and nod while your mind filled itself was filled with crowded thoughts, all of them centered on the tall man who won't meet your eyes or engage in conversation. 

When you pass the same farmhouse he fucked you weeks earlier, whispering that you were his, you actually feel a physical twist in your stomach.

I kinda like. S’homey. Place has good bones. Good size bedrooms too.

This was the place that you showed him, your secret spot.

You gonna take what's yours? That's my girl. You go on and take it.

Joel doesn’t even glance in the general direction of the house. You know because your eyes drift to his back, watching to see if he tenses at all. But he looks nonplussed from behind, just walking steadily, his legs long and outpacing you both.

Joel doesn't speak to either of you the entire time. Just grunts when Jennifer asks him something and orders you both to be careful when he starts to chop the tree down. You and Jennifer stand to the side as he brings the axe down into the trunk. 

Sweat gathers at his neck and he lets out deep grunts when the axe head connects with the tree trunk. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby log before rolling up the sleeves of his flannel to the elbow. Then he gets back to work. His shoulders are always broad, but under the flannel you can see the biceps that bulge out with every swing, see the ripples of back muscle and see the sheen to his temples. 

He's magnificent. 

Despite how angry he makes you, how hurt you feel, you can't deny he's a sexual powerhouse, especially in moments like this and judging by the way Jennifer stares she is similarly affected. Watching Joel chop a tree down is almost pornographic. 

Every grunt he makes takes you back to his bed, every curl of his bicep reminds you of how he held you against the wall as he entered you. Finally you have to look away because you're entire body is thrumming with desire. 

You’re disgusting for still wanting him after everything he’s done to you.  Shame suffuses your entire body, making you heat up all over in humiliation. You don’t want him load the sled, tying the tree to it. You just trudge behind Joel and Jennifer who are now in a minimal conversation. Jennifer does all the leg work, peppering him with questions as he tugs the sled behind him.

“You must have had to do a lot of chopping in your construction job.”

“Nope. Learned it in the QZ.”

“Oh, I didn’t know they needed lots of wood chopped.”

“Was chopping bodies for disposal.”

That ends the conversation quickly. Jennifer casts a wide-eyed look at you before she just stops talking altogether.

You reach the church shortly after, watching as Joel hefts the tree inside. He sets it up in the stand, wedging it between the screws before tightening. He stands, rubbing the sap from his hands on his jeans. Jennifer, hoping to restart the conversation smiles over at him.

“Did you want to help with the rest of-“

"You two are the decorators," Joel mutters, effectively cutting her off.

Then he's gone, leaving the two of you to hang the baubles and string the lights. You don't mind though, you felt sick with him being there. 

Once inside the church basement you feel like you can relax a bit. Joel is gone and it's just you and Jennifer. The place is cold but after working for a bit hauling out decorations from the storage and setting everything up you both begin to warm up. 

You chat back and forth about where to hang certain items, where to tell Tommy and Hank to string the lights, how to hide some of the more threadbare items artfully. 

"Are you coming by to get your dress finished?"

Jennifer asks you this as you restring some of the old ornaments. At her inquiry you tense up all over, leg throbbing, heart aching. 

"I don't think I'm gonna go to the dance," you say averting your eyes. 

"It's still a week away, your cold will be over by then," Jennifer reasons before she looks concerned. "Unless you think it's something serious? Is it your leg?"

You shake your head. "No, my leg is fine." 

"Then why?" Jennifer asks as you pass her the strung ornament. She hitches it over the window ledge, securing it with twine

"I don't have a date." 

I don't have a date because the guy I'm in love with broke my heart. I don't have a date because he doesn't want me anymore. I don't have a date because I'm a useless burden.

You feel your eyes start to burn, a lump in your throat.

Don't do it. Don't cry. Hold it together. 

But it's too late, you can feel your lower lip twitching, your chin starting to wobble and before you can swallow them back, two lonely tears roll down your cheeks. 

"Oh honey," Jennifer coos before wrapping her arms around your shoulder, hugging you loosely. 

"It doesn't matter," you say, stiffening and moving from her touch. "I don't even like big crowds." 

And Joel will be there. He'll be there so beautiful and broad and you know he'll smell good. He'll break your heart further just by existing and it won't matter how gorgeous you feel because all you'll be able to focus on is how he's not yours. How he was never truly yours. 

"Is it the guy you were seeing?"

Your eyes snap to her face. "What?"

"C'mon, you've been so secretive the last few weeks, way more smiley. I caught you that morning pretending to look for a bracelet." 

Jennifer lists off these with amusement in her eyes, no hint that she actually knows who your secret man is. 

"Luke never mentioned anything so I figured it wasn't him," she says. She dips her eyes to your twisting fingers. "Unless it was Luke and he's just being private?"

"There was no guy," you insist, eyes on the next ornament you now pull from the box. "I was just feeling weird because it was the holidays. It’s a hard time for me." 

Jennifer seems like she wants to tease you but she stops and looks at you with resolve, a hand taking yours gently between her own soft palms. 

"What do you think about being each other's date for the party?"

"Why?" 

"I don't have a date either," she continues before shooting you a sardonic look. "And we are both gonna look way too hot in our dresses not to be going. Fuck all the losers that didn't take advantage of asking us when they could have." 

You feel your face break out into a relieved look, tears blinked away. 

"I love that idea," you say gratefully. "I'd love to go with you."

She smiles widely, dancing in spot delightedly as she offers a little Yay! You feel slightly more relaxed about the event. 

"Perfect, I'm gonna have the most beautiful girl on my arm that night," she tells you with a little bob of her head as she begins to hang more ornaments on the tree. 

She's being generous of course. Jennifer is easily the most beautiful girl in Jackson City, but her comment still brings cheer to your face. 

"Okay, the candy canes look good there," Jennifer says with the serious appraisal of a decorating veteran. "Let's do the tree tomorrow. Tommy can string the lights first. We can just finish with the ornaments here.”

 Jennifer chats on a bit more as you pass her baubles, promising that you’ll help her with doing some popcorn and cranberry strings. And not for the first time in your friendship you wonder what you did to deserve a friend like Jennifer.

///

Despite your great time with Jennifer, you still feel dark most days. You need to get out, you need to clear your head and shooting with Luke seems like the perfect chance to do it when he suggests it one morning for breakfast. Despite you no longer being on patrols, the thought of focusing on something else appeals to you.

Jennifer is busy helping with textiles, but she offers to lend you her gun. So you agree, hauling the borrowed weapon from Jennifer, ammunition in your pockets. 

Luke is, as usual, a nearly perfect shot. He reloads, smiling briefly when you clap for him as he knocks down his fifth can in a row. 

"You're so good at this," you sigh wistfully. "You don't even need shooting practice. Why do you come out with us all the time?"

Pink creeps up Luke's neck. You see it peeking up above his scarf as he aims at the next target.

"Guess I like spending time with you guys."

In earlier months such a confession from Luke would have brought a thrilling little sweep to your stomach. But now? The sensation is a dull flicker.  You take the gun from him, smiling sweetly as you aim for the remaining can. It’s far away, father than you’ve ever shot. Despite this you focus intently, making the world disappear as you train your eyes on it.

You clear your mind of everything. No Joel, no Chestnut, no raider. There’s not even birdsong as you stare at the far away tin can. You can only hear your heartbeat.

You shoot.

"Amazing," Luke breathes behind you as the can bursts off the log, shot up into the air before falling into the snow. 

"Holy shit, I can't believe I got that one," you say in awe. 

"We need to get you some practice with a moving target," Luke muses as you secretly cringe. There's no way you'll hunt for practice, not a chance. 

"Your turn again," you tell him, handing off the gun. 

Luke takes it from you as you jog over to re-set them up. You trot back over to see Luke raise the gun to eye level, shooting you a playful wink.

“I’m really proud of you,” Luke says when you arrive back beside him. “I know how much you’ve been practicing.”

Proud of you.

The words hit you directly in the chest, momentarily winding you. It makes grateful tears spring to your waterline. Someone is proud of you.  And he isn’t saying it for anything other than he wants to build you up.

"Luke, you’re the most wonderful person," you say, hoping that it gives even a tinge of sincerity. "I'm shocked you haven't been snapped up."

It's a stupid thing to say, something to fill the awkward chunk of time between your first comment and the second. You regret it immediately but thankfully Luke doesn't seem upset, more thoughtful. 

"I was married actually," Luke says, his light eyes going flinty. He raises his gun to his eyes, shooting and knocking the smallest can over. "So I guess technically I was snapped up."

"Wait, what?" You bring a gentle hand to his forearm, willing him to put down the weapon. "You were married?!"

Marriage in a post-outbreak world is rarer, especially with people your age and younger. 

"Technically."

"Do you feel like talking about it? The whole marriage thing?"

"Sure."

You and Luke move to one of the benches set up, pushing the snow from the seats before plunking down. Luke brings out his Thermos, offering you some before you decline. 

"So ... Married," you prompt, still disbelieving. You cross your legs, facing him with your chin in your palm. 

Luke's neck bobs as he swallows his coffee, nodding. 

"Yeah, uh, where I grew up it was pretty normal to be married."

Luke looks a bit embarrassed to be telling you this but you are fascinated. Luke always seemed like such an easygoing person to you, you'd imagined him in one of these with a bunch of loving family members. 

"What was it called?"

"The Way of Eden."

You squint, trying to recall the name. You and Chiyo had traveled a lot but you'd never heard of anything like the way of Eden. You tell Luke as much. 

"Not many people know about it," Luke says, shrugging as if he's a bit embarrassed. "It was a religious settlement."

"Oh." 

"Yeah, they had kinda strict rules... Like no touching certain animals, no interacting with non-believers and you have to commit to community values," he explains patiently, realizing that you're not mocking him or judging, you're just curious. "The whole thing was about repopulation so they wanted people together as soon as possible." 

"Were you in love?" 

"Love isn't taken into account. You don't get to choose your spouse," Luke says laughing hollowly. "I got matched with a girl around my age. I'd never spoken two words to her." 

"Was she nice?"

"No." The word is short and clipped. "She was an excessively cruel person."

"But what did your parents say?"

"My dad was the... Pastor," Luke says tightly and you decide you don't want to know anymore. There's something about the way he clenches his jaw that tells you it's not a good topic. 

"We were together five years," he offers up, answering what you won't ask. "I did woodworking and she was on chapel duty. And I thank whatever entity above that we were never able to have kids." 

You lapse into silence for a moment, the weight of this confession falling over you. Luke was married. He had a wife.

"Are you still married?"

"If you ask them back in the settlement, yeah," Luke frowns, "but if you ask me I never was. I never wanted it." 

"So you ... How did ..." You struggle to formulate the sentence, hands palm up swaying. "How did you get here?"

Luke sighs, taking a deep sip from his Thermos. When he pulls it away his lips are pink and damp. 

"I left. Packed a bag, took one of the guns, horses and I left in the middle of the night."

"Left your whole history behind," you say softly to yourself. 

"Same as everyone else in Jackson City." 

You nod. It's not lost on you that this would be an opportune moment to tell him about. Charlotte, to tell him about your own life and your own experiences. But something holds you back. Instead, you shoot him a grateful smile reaching across the bench to grasp his hand in yours. 

"Thank you for telling me all of this," you say with sincerity. You mean it, there's something that's really humbling about him sharing this part of himself with you. 

"I've only told you and Jennifer about it," Luke confides, cheeks pink. "I'd appreciate if you didn't ..."

"I wouldn't say anything to anyone," you promise him. "This is just between you and me." 

Luke smiles at you crookedly, eyes going butter soft. 

"You're so nice," he says kindly, laughing softly when he sees your furrowed brow. "I don't mean that in a... What I mean is that you're gentle. You're so kind to people and you're so thoughtful and-"

"And useless."

It jumps out of your mouth, muttered to yourself more than anything. You only know that Luke heard you when he suddenly stops short and his voice rises. 

"Who the fuck told you that?"

Luke doesn't get angry very often, so his response takes you aback. You see the anger there in his light eyes, the clenching of his thick fingers. You swallow, forcing the voice that expels between your lips to be steady. 

"No one important." 

Luke seems satisfied with this response.

"Wanna keep shooting?"

"Yeah."  

You both stand and turn your attention to the remaining cans propped on the log. You peer at them, a hand shading your eyes. 

"Did you want me to set some more up?"

When no reply comes you drop your hand and glance over your shoulder. Luke is still holding the gun at his side and you're confused as he lowers it. 

"Is everything okay?"

Luke looks at you strangely, almost nervously.

"Can I kiss you?"

The question surprises you, causing your brow to arch. 

"You want to kiss me?"

"Yeah," Luke nods. "Is that okay?"

You think about it for a moment, feet shuffling in the snow. 

"I don't have a lot of experience," you admit, and now it's your turn to look shyly at the ground. You can feel your face burning in embarrassment. 

"Neither do I," Luke laughs, licking his lips nervously again. "First and last person I kissed was my wife." 

There's some comfort in that but you don't know how you feel about kissing Luke so soon after the whole Joel thing. But then you hear his voice in your ears, a dark rumble of cruelty.

I don't need some useless patrol partner who can't even shoot straight

"Yeah. Okay."

Luke flashes a brief grin your way before his fingers grip your chin, holding you in place. His eyes dart to your mouth and before you can do anything his lips are pushing against yours. Your hands go to his shoulders, fists gripping the collar of his jacket for purchase. 

Luke's lips feel rubbery, his mouth overly wet. You're unsure if this indictment is because you're indifferent to Luke or if he's just no match for Joel. Joel kisses you like you're oxygen, like he wants to breathe you in. You feel desperate for Joel in a way that doesn't make sense for you. 

Or at least you did. 

Luke’s large hands slide to settle over your hips, holding you. He kisses you gently, no force, no tongue, just a sweet and timid touching of mouths before he pulls back. There's a beat of silence as the two of you come to terms with what just happened. You blink at him curiously. 

"I thought we owed it to ourselves," Luke explains, his cheeks pink. "To uh, to try that." 

"Uh, yeah, totally," you nod. "Should we do it again?"

Luke smiles and nods, head tilting to capture your lips again. You shut your eyes languidly, leaning into the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

You wait for that same pleasurable sensation to overtake you, to make your insides burn like a raging inferno the way it did with Joel. But as Luke continues to kiss you, arms wrapping around your middle, in comparison it feels like the weak flame of a birthday candle behind your ribs.

Stop thinking about Joel. 

You wait for the world to get quiet, for your body to prickle all over. You anticipate the ache that is sure to start between your legs and the warmth in your belly. 

But nothing comes. 

Instead all you can focus on are the weird tactile sensations. His mouth feels wet, lips chapped from the cold, tongue acrid with stale coffee.  He sighs softly against your mouth, exhaling through his nose as the kiss deepens. 

You close your eyes, forcing yourself to find pleasure in this moment. The kind of pleasure Joel gave you-

Joel. 

Joel's eyes, his mouth, the way his curls felt weaving through your fingers, the way his body felt resting heavily between your thighs. Joel appears behind your eyes and your don't chase him away. In fact you feel a sudden pulse between your legs, making you arch against Luke. 

Luke responds in kind, arms holding you by the base of your spine. A small whine escapes him, a really high-pitched thing that makes you wince. 

No no no. Everything about this is wrong. Everything about this feels forced and insincere. It doesn't feel right. 

So what, the only way it feels right is with a guy who can't stand you anymore? That can't be your only opinion, right? Either way the moment is carrying on far too long for you and you step back, breaking the kiss. 

Luke's face is entirely pink, his eyes unfocused. He stares at you with a strange look on his face, something that you don't quite understand and you wonder if he’s mirroring your own expression. 

"Thank you." 

"I should get back," you croak, cheeks flushed and heart aching. Luke stares at you, swallowing. 

"I'll walk you," he offers stiltedly.

"No, thanks, I'm okay," you smile. "Besides you need to practice now that I’m getting so good you’ll have some real competition next time."

Luke laughs a little too long at that before he's nodding and turning back to the target with his rifle raised. 

///

Your first shift in the greenhouse is on Thursday and you arrive early, face still puffy from poor sleep and nightly cry sessions. 

An Asian woman named Petra wearing a bandana and heavy clothing waves at you as you advance. She’s wearing a dirty apron that holds a myriad of gardening implements.

"Hi," Petra greets you, pushing some stray stands of hair from her face. "You used to be on kitchen duty right?"

"Yeah."

"This is a way better gig," she says handing you a pair of thick gloves. "Short shifts, quiet space." 

She introduces you to the other worker inside, an older man who waves absently before going back to pruning. 

And Petra is right, the greenhouse works just fine for you. It's quiet and relaxing. No one really talks inside and the result is therapeutic. And since you have previous experience from the kitchen, you learn quickly how to harvest.

All you can smell is the fresh soil, the sound of ripping roots as you tug the fresh veggies from the earth. That's all the job is. Gardening, harvesting vegetables and fruit for meals in the canteen. Spraying water on new planting. It's meditative and calm.

It feels like a sanctuary for you after the most brutal severing of connections you've ever experienced.  

And it's fine, but it's not enough. 

Nothing will ever be enough.

///

"You never told me Joel was so funny."

This comment out of nowhere spears you. You have to fight valiantly to suppress your surprise. The two of you are in Jennifer’s house; a giant bowl of popcorn and a smaller bowl of cranberries sit in the center of her coffee table. The two of you have been stringing tons of it with a needle and thread, chatting about what will happen at the dance.  

"Funny?"

"Yeah," Jennifer smiles, stringing the cranberry after the popcorn, chasing both down the thread. "I was having breakfast the other morning and he asked if he could sit with me. Can you imagine? Anyway, obviously I said yes and I was shocked at how funny he was."

Joel is not funny. He's barely got a sense of humor. How on earth is he sitting there with Jennifer making her laugh? Why was he sitting with her at breakfast? You force your face and voice to remain neutral.

“I never noticed.”

"He's so different to what I thought," she continues on, oblivious to your internal pain. "He was so attentive when we were talking. I always thought he was kind of cold and stuff, but he was really sweet. He was asking all about decorating, seeing how we were getting on."

You're going to be sick. 

“I uh, gotta grab the cookies from the oven.”

You stagger to the kitchen, feeling the blood drain from your face. What the fuck is Jennifer talking about? Why is Joel acting so nice to her? He barely tolerated her before. And why the fuck do you care? It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, he made that abundantly clear.

You take the cranberry cookies from the small oven, pulling them out and sliding them onto the cooling racks on your counter before returning to see Jennifer humming to herself, perched on the couch.

“I forgot to ask,” she says when you reappear, “how did shooting with Luke go?”

Oh great. Another awkward topic. You shrug, eyes remaining on the bowl of cranberries as you pierce a particularly plump one.

“Uh, fine. I’m getting better.”

Jennifer is quiet and when you glance up she’s giving you a squinty little stare. She places the string of popcorn she’s been working onto the table, turning to give you her full attention. You pretend not to notice until she talks. 

“Spill.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re not telling me.”

“Uh… Well,” you swallow before clearing your throat. “We were just talking and we, uh, kissed.”

The room is so quiet a pin could drop and you look back to her face. She smiles with raised brows, making you flush. 

"You kissed Luke?" Jennifer asks breathlessly.

"Uh, he kissed me," you say, blinking as she jumps up from the couch.

"Oh my gosh," Jennifer is pacing back and forth, looking at you while wringing her hands. "This is so exciting. I didn't think you two were ever gonna... What was... What was the kiss like? Were there fireworks? Did he use tongue?"

She's talking a mile a minute, her face frozen in a smile as she no doubt silently congratulates herself on her matchmaking skills. 

"It was nice."

Jennifer looks at you from the corner of her eye, her pacing suddenly stalled. She throws herself back into the cushion opposite you holding your gaze with a disbelieving look. 

"It was nice?"

"Yeah."

Jennifer turns, folding her legs and staring you down. 

"Nice is not a term you use when the kiss is good." 

"I'm just... I don't think I'm in the right head space for romance right now."

"How come?"

And there it is; the perfect opening to tell Jennifer everything. To admit through sobs that a man broke your heart after you offered it up. That Joel took the candle in you and snuffed it out. 

You could break down and tell Jennifer everything that transpired between you and Joel, but you don't see what good it would do. It would drive a wedge between you two when she found out how you felt about Joel this whole time.

Thoughts of losing both Joel and Jennifer all at once makes you feel nauseated, your stomach flipping. 

"I guess I've just been preoccupied with Raider stuff," you lie. 

"But do you think you'll go for him when you’re feeling better?"

She has a distant look on her face, a strange one you can't pin down. You wonder if she suspects about anything.  

"He's really nice guy," you finally offer with a shrug. "There’s not many single men I'd trust in this town."

Jennifer nods, lips thinning. She doesn't believe you; that much is clear but she's also not pushing the issue. Maybe she can sense that you're too delicate for it today.You stand up, moving to your kitchen to retrieve the cooled cookies. You arrange them on a plate artfully before re-entering the living room. 

"Those look so good," Jennifer says with obvious delight, eyes wide. "The second I'm done stringing these. I'm taking that big one in the middle." 

The two of you exchange smiles, and you hope the one that you force upon your face seems genuine enough.

Something has been stuck in your brain since she mentioned she and Joel having breakfast. You don't want to bring it up, but you feel like you have to. 

"So has anyone asked you to the dance?"

"No," Jennifer says confused, pointer finger wagging between you and her. "I thought we were going together."

"We are," you insist. "It's just... I wondered if anyone asked you after we decided to go together."

It's a pathetic way to beat about the bush and you seem to have confused Jennifer who stops chewing to squint at you. 

"Did someone ask you to the dance?"

"No."

"Are you wanting to ask someone else?"

"No."

"Okay..." Jennifer trails off, giving you a bemused look before she resumes her task, raising the needle to her popcorn. "No, no one else has asked me. And even if they did I'd have to turn them down. I already have a hot date." 

Jennifer gives you a friendly wink before she moves her popcorn string to the side, hand reaching for the cookie plate. 

"I need another one."

Delighted you push the plate closer to her. 

"I'm glad."

"I wish I could eat your baking all the time," Jennifer sighs, popping the cookie into her mouth and humming appreciatively. "It's so fucking good."

At her words you think back to Tommy and his suggestion of opening a bakery. You wonder what advice she would have given you. But it doesn’t matter, that’s not the life for you. You’ll fade away in the greenhouse, forgotten and once again, invisible.

///

You don't sleep very well anymore. 

Your leg is healed, so you can't blame that and it's not just Joel that keeps you from slumbering; it's also the terrible memories of losing Charlotte and your father, of losing your mother. 

Charlotte telling you that you abandoned her. Your father's dying scream. Your mother's soft voice telling you to wake up. All combine to wake you up in a cold sweat, sobbing and gasping for air. 

And there's no warm, broad presence beside you in bed. No murmured soothing words against your temple. 

You can make it go quiet for yourself. 

It's the only gift he ever gave you that was worth anything. The reminder that you could do it yourself. Though on the really dark, scary nights it's hard to recall this.  

Like this evening when the moon is merely a sliver outside your window, casting ominous shadows in your bedroom. You sit up shakily, dropping your feet to the floor and making your way with a stumble to your kitchen. 

You're so thirsty, so drained of tears that you think your body is dehydrated because of it.

You grab a glass, clinking gently against the others. You drink the cool water down, gulping loudly. After your third glass you pour another and trudge up to your bedroom. The stairs creak underfoot, the inky blackness a strange comfort. You carry your glass in front of you, yawning gently. 

You go to the bedroom, pressing the warped door open, your eyes drifting to the window when you suddenly freeze as a figure outside slips nearby. 

There's someone out there. 

You are silent, eyes blowing wide as you scan outside for the figure that just caught your passing gaze. Your body goes cold in fear, of memories you try to suppress.

And then you realize who it is and feel the heat come back to your face.  

It's Joel, standing at the end of your street. If it weren't for the holiday lights strung on the nearby home you don't think you would have noticed him in the blue black darkness. 

He's tucked to the side of the house across from you, partially hidden by the shrubs. But there's no mistaking his wide shoulders and tapered waist, even in his thick leather jacket. 

And for a moment you think about screaming at him from your window. Of throwing it open and tossing out obscenities that would make your neighbors blush. 

But you don't. You remain standing in the shadow, hand clutched around your water glass. He can't see you in the darkness but you wonder if he senses you. 

What the fuck is he doing here? He never explained why he did this before, and you don't get it now. He doesn't want to see you anymore so why is he here? 

Is it possible he does want to see you? That he's checking up on you? The thought shouldn't make your heart leap and yet the traitorous organ does. 

Stop it. 

Even if Joel is here because he misses you, even if he is here because he regrets how he spoke to you, the damage is done. He broke you. Shattered you into minuscule pieces and then left you for the wind to dispose of. 

You do not forgive him. 

You place the glass on the table next to your bed before going back to the window. Joel's face is tilted towards it, but too far for you to see his expression. 

It doesn't matter. 

You close the curtains with a snap regardless.

///

"What's going on with you?"

"Huh?"

You're in the textile shop with Jennifer a few days later, the pit in your stomach growing.  She's done the finishing touches on your dress and she needs you here for the final fitting. She works hurriedly as you stand on the podium, facing away from the mirror. She glances up at you, thread clenched between her teeth.

"You seem... Different."

"I'm fine," you insist, forcing a weak smile on your face. "Just tired. Gardening has me up really early."

The hour is late and you are tired from your shifts. Gardening means short shifts more often through the week. It also means getting up early. But you don’t mind, you’ve barely been sleeping anyway

"I still don't get why you switched to that," Jennifer murmurs as she pulls the thread through the fabric, tightening it around your waist. 

Because Joel took me off patrols. Because a man I was falling for suddenly decided that he didn't want me anymore. 

"I was just too anxious on them." 

"Right," Jennifer nods, half distracted by her sewing. "Oh well, I heard Gregory from the market signed up to go with him. Wants to move away from stocking shelves."

You don’t say anything to this. And besides, Jenny is standing back, hands stemmed on her hips as she takes in the dress. 

“Okay. The front is nearly perfect. Turn around.”

You do, feeling your heart race excitedly as you take in your form. You can't get over how beautifully constructed this is. Even before the outbreak you don't think you ever owned anything so perfectly tailored. The skirt of the dress is full and moves beautifully as you shift from foot to foot. You only have a moment of self-doubt as you gaze at the neckline. 

"You don't think it's too low cut?"

Jennifer gives you a look of mock outrage before embracing you from behind, staring at you in the mirror. 

"Fuck no!" Jennifer insists, her chin hinged over your shoulder. "You need to show off your assets, girl. Luke's gonna have a heart attack when he sees you in this."

Luke. 

Right.

Because you're supposed to like Luke. 

Because Luke is a nice, normal man. He wouldn't string you along and then tell you he isn't your fuckin' boyfriend. He wouldn't get you pulled off patrols. 

"We just need to take it in a bit here," Jennifer says squinting in thought as she pinches the fabric at your shoulder. "Then it'll be perfect."

You still can't believe how gorgeous it looks and it's not even finished yet. You feel beautiful. You haven't felt beautiful in so long. Beautiful was reserved for a time before infected and fighting for one’s life. Beautiful was never an option until you met Jennifer. She's brought beauty back into your life. 

"I just can't wait to dance in this. I'm never taking it off!"

Jennifer takes your hand in hers and spins you around again in front of the mirror. You can't help but smile, giggling along with Jennifer when there's a tinkle of the front door opening. She glances over her shoulder. 

"Shit, forgot to lock the door."

She straightens and goes sailing off towards the front of the shop. In a moment of vanity you watch yourself in the mirror, shifting your hips back and forth to watch the fabric swish. 

You feel beautiful. You haven't felt beautiful in so long. Beautiful was reserved for a time before the infected and fighting for one's life. Beautiful was never an option until you met Jennifer. She's brought beauty back into your life. 

You hear footsteps and low voices. 

"Sorry we're-" Jennifer starts but her voice dies. 

You glance up in the mirror to see what caused this and you immediately go stiff as the vision of Joel and Ellie striding into the room reflects back at you. 

"Come on in," Jennifer breathes, stepping back so that Ellie and Joel can enter more fully into the room. You turn around, hands folded against your chest, feeling strangely naked despite being dressed. 

Ellie holds a few pairs of jeans in her grip, her face breaking into a wide smile as she sees it's you by the mirror.  

"I've never seen you dressed up before," Ellie observes with a broad grin as she walks over to you. She reaches a hand for the fabric of your full skirt, thumb rubbing the soft fabric. 

Joel's dark gaze is on you, you feel it in the periphery. You don't let yourself look up though. You keep your attention on the grinning Ellie. 

"Damn, you look really good!"

Your cheeks are on fire with the extreme praise and attention, unaccustomed to compliments regarding your appearance. You hide your face behind your hair the best you can. 

"Thanks. It was all Jennifer. I just asked for a dress, she's the one who made magic." 

Ellie gives a nod at this, still not Jennifer's biggest fan but giving her a chance because obviously you see something in her. She glances over at Jennifer who's standing uncomfortably close to Joel. 

"You did a good job."

"Thanks Ellie." 

Jennifer gives a shy smile and you don't miss how her eyes flit over to Joel standing inches away from her. You let your own attention move from her over to the tall man, cheeks heating further when you notice his eyes are still on you. 

And despite everything you're a little desperate to have him come closer to you, to tell you he never meant a word of what he said. A need for him that bypasses your own dignity. He scans your expression before blinking his eyes in the opposite direction towards Jennifer. 

"We just came by to drop off some stuff to get fixed," Joel tells her as Ellie moves back towards her, holding the jeans aloft. 

Jennifer takes the jeans from Ellie, looking through them asking a few questions about how they want them repaired.

"You do patrols and this?" Joel inquires, ignoring the desperate gaze you throw his way. You can't look away from the two of them, the way Jennifer is going all fluttery. 

"I don't really work here anymore," Jennifer says tagging the jeans. "I just like to make stuff for folks around town."

Ellie is looking around the shop in interest, but Joel and Jennifer are locked in on one another. 

"But don't worry," Jennifer promises. "I'll leave a note for the folks who come in tomorrow morning."

She places the jeans onto a nearby table and reaches for a pencil to scribble a note. Ellie takes her time to glance through the fabric that lines the shelves along the wall. 

Joel however has his attention on Jennifer. 

"That's mighty kind a' you, Jenny."

Joel's voice is low and syrupy. Your eyes go to his reflection in the mirror and you see him smiling softly at your friend. Your stomach twists. 

"S'no problem," Jennifer replies equally silky. "I like to help."

You don't miss the subtle way she tilts her hips, arching just enough to be enticing without being too obvious. 

You watch the way Joel's thumb moves to rest hooked on his belt buckle and the way Jennifer's eyes flit there, slowly scanning back up his body, matching the seductive smile Joel sends her. 

"You makin' a dress for yourself?" He asks.

"Yeah, mine's all finished up," Jennifer says blushing prettily under his gaze. Then she leans forward and drops her voice to a breathy purr. 

"It's red and a little scandalous at the back."

Joel openly scans her body from top to bottom before nodding in approval, his voice pure seduction.  

"I bet it looks real nice on ya." 

It's like you're not even there. It's like the two of you never existed. The mixture of pain and fury overtakes you, making you need to close your eyes to steady yourself. 

He's not yours. He was never yours. 

You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face. You want to rip this dress to pieces. But mostly you just want to get away from him. 

Thankfully Ellie is now bored of the shop and as you crack open your eyes you see she gives you a wave before looking at Joel. 

"Joel can we go? I wanna get good seats for the movie."

"Yeah s'a good one tonight," Joel tells her before giving Jennifer a slow wink. 

"Night ladies."

His eyes slide over you in passing but you don't offer him anything other than a wounded glare. This seems to satisfy him. 

Jennifer waits until the two of them are a good distance away from the shop before she comes skipping over to you, eyes bright. 

"He totally checked me out!"

"He did," you say evenly. 

Jennifer doesn't seem to notice your muted tone, she's already remarking that she's certain Joel will ask her to dance, that she'll finally get a chance to feel his muscles for herself. 

"I mean he was pretty obvious," she giggles. "I cannot wait for the dance." 

You smile weakly and you respond as supportively as you can. Jennifer is in a crush bubble and Joel is giving her all the attention she craves. 

There's a moment when you consider breaking down and telling her everything, but then your eyes catch your dress in the mirror. She's done so much for you. She's been a friend, a tailor, a cheerleader. Telling her seems impossible now.  You've left it too long.

What would you say to her? "Hey Jennifer I was really into Joel and despite him telling me he wants nothing to do with me I don't want you seeing him"? You'd look insane, or worse - pathetic. 

No, instead you'll do what you've always done; hide the feelings deep. Don't share them with anyone. You've seen what happens when one shares their heart. 

///

A late December dump of snow that week has most everyone miserable and hiding indoors. Patrols have been suspended this week - not that you would know for sure. You've been removed from them after all. 

You decide to go to the Tipsy Bison that evening because you can't stand being inside your home another day. You go because you want a drink. You go because working in the greenhouse is isolating in the winter months and you don't know anyone there. 

Everyone else in the greenhouse has their clique and you have... Well, no one. Jennifer is on patrols, so is Luke. Maria and you had tea yesterday and she did seem in good spirits, but she’s busy with the event this weekend. Ellie is in school so...  You keep to yourself.

You had considered playing hermit longer after the humiliation of Joel's rejection but some strange inner anger buoys you, forcing you to go about your days as if nothing has changed. 

You weren't in the wrong. You'd done nothing besides misplace your affections. You tell yourself it doesn't matter. As if you're not removed from patrols, as if the feeling of Joel's mouth on yours doesn't haunt you. 

So you trudge through the snow and push open the door to a loud group of ruddy faces and barked laughter. Someone is playing the jukebox, some old tune you don't recognize. 

The Tipsy Bison is warm with the bodies and loud with all the voices and gentle music when you finally push yourself into the center of the room. The bustling nature of it used to intimidate you, but now the sound is almost comforting in its fullness.  

Your eyes sweep the room for an empty seat, finding none before your eyes go to the bar and you feel yourself go still. 

Despite not seeing his face because it's tilted away from you, there's no mistaking who the broad shoulders belong to. Joel is seated there, shoulders hunched. He's got a tumbler of whiskey in his right hand on the bar. His hair looks like he's been running his hands through it and he's not alone.

Jennifer is there on the stool beside him twisting her own tumbler in her hand and tossing her hair over her shoulder as she laughs merrily. 

Jennifer who Joel claimed he didn't enjoy the company of. Jennifer your friend. Jennifer who you realize has no idea the depths of your feelings for Joel. Jennifer who is laughing coquettishly at something Joel is saying. 

And then you see it, her delicate hand sliding over his, her beautiful, sparkling eyes on his handsome face. You can't see it from where you stand, but you just know he's smiling at her. The nice kind of smile he rarely threw your way. 

You feel everything in you go cold at the intimacy of the action. You thought Joel rejecting you was nothing you couldn't handle and now you see how wrong you were. 

A cold hand is at your elbow, dragging you back into the world. It's Penny, already at least two pints in sitting in the chair behind you.  

"I snagged a table, sweet pea, come join me," Arthur's wife says in that charming twangy way of hers, like some gap-toothed lifeline. You feel your heart swell with gratitude as she motions to the vacated seat across from her.

"Thanks."

You collapse into the chair and watch as she takes a long sip from her glass. You can see the tattoos poking out the edge of her sweater on her wrist. 

"Arthur didn't really have a taste for the stuff," she explains pointing at the beer. "But I sure missed it."

As Penny chats about she and Arthur you nod along, offering hums instead of replies at first. You smile at the right times, answer briefly, but your attention is on Jennifer seated at the bar next to Joel. 

You watch them covertly over Penny’s shoulder, noting that Jennifer has been deep in conversation with Joel for at least ten minutes. Her hand is no longer on his, but their knees touch under the bar twice. Each time is like a hot dagger between your ribs. 

"You and your fella are on the outs, huh?"

Your attention is immediately back on Penny surveying you with more shrewdness then you'd thought her capable of at her current level of sobriety. 

"Huh?"

"Well I see you sneakin' glances over there and I see him chattin' up your pretty friend so I just put two and two together."

"He's not my... We're not together. We're just- we used to be patrol partners," you offer lamely. "But not anymore. I got moved to the greenhouse." 

"Ah, I see."

Through her bleary eyes you can see she doesn't believe you. But it doesn't matter because your eyes have risen back over her shoulder to see Jennifer and Joel snuggled up at the bar. When she makes him chuckle quietly you think you might actually be sick.

They look perfect together. You can just imagine them parading through town arm in arm knowing all the while that he kept you his dirty secret. You wonder how it'll feel when Jennifer's stomach swells with life and Joel gives her a ring to show the world she's his.

Bile rises in your throat.

Immediately you fix your eyes to Penny's drained glass. You manually force your breathing to slow; to calm yourself but the world is growing so loud. The kind of buzzing loud that has you gripping the sides of your chair for stability. 

You can't just sit here and watch them fall in love. You can't watch them grow closer and know that you were so casually tossed aside. And yet like some glutton for punishment you raise your vision back to them at the bar. 

There's a smile from Jennifer, that same flashing sweet grin she uses on every man she likes and you have to force your eyes back to the redhead across from you. 

"How did you manage to stay in a relationship with Arthur all these years?" You ask Penny abruptly.

Her bony fingers swirl around the damp lip of her glass before she puffs up her top lip in thought. 

"He's always been there when I really need him. Never given me any reason to doubt 'im." She tilts back in her chair. "But I think love is different for different folks. Some are scared of it, reminds ‘em of what they stand to lose. Other folks run headlong into it with arms wide open."

She leans forward on her elbows. 

"What kind are you?"

"Wouldn't know," you say with a painted on smile. "Never been in love." 

Penny's thin lips curl into a small smirk.

"You sure about that, sweetheart?"

You hum a non-committal response, your face growing hot the longer she stares at you.

Your vision travels back over to where Jennifer now places her empty whiskey tumbler (since when does she drink whiskey?) onto the bar top. You can't help but swallow harshly when Jennifer places a hand on Joel's broad shoulder before leaning in for a kiss to his cheek. 

You don’t watch her lips connecting to his bronzed cheek. It would be too much to bear. You raise your hand to your forehead to shield your face, waiting for Jennifer to leave. When the doors swing shut you lift your gaze to see the Bison is still bustling but Jennifer has indeed left. 

"Alright, I got us the seats you get us the drinks," Penny says with a soft slap to the glossy table top. "I'm parched."

Panic overtakes you. She wants you to up to the bar where Joel still sits, shoulders slumped? You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You can't explain to Penny why going up to the bar is impossible, it's too humiliating especially after what she implied. 

You scan the still busy bar and decide that Joel won't even see you're there if you're quick. 

Stay on the far end of the bar, grab the drinks, head back to the table. Easy. 

You give a brief nod, licking your dry lips and tell yourself that Joel is on the far end of the bar. That in this crowd he won't notice you. That this can go off without a hitch. 

You shuffle nervously towards the busy bar. The place is packed, music is going loudly and several folks give you a hello in passing that you reply to with a short wave and nod. You get to the bar, trying to shield yourself from Joel by standing beside Stan the burly mechanic who often works in the dam. 

You catch Gary the bar tender’s attention with a quick wave of him over. He gives you a polite smile. Reba is off for the night, so instead it’s the dough-faced Gary with his thinning gray mop combed over to the side.

"What can I get ya?"

"Two beers please."

Gary glances over your head at Penny who bobs her head along with the music playing on the jukebox and his smile promptly drops. 

"I already told your friend she's cut off."

Gary's voice is loud due to the music, but it still feels like it draws everyone's attention your way when he says it. Just then Stan sees a friend across the bar and calls out their name, crossing the pub to join them and leaving you exposed. 

You immediately feel as Joel's eyes snap to the side of your face but you don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement.Nevertheless your cheeks prickle with embarrassment. 

"I didn't know," you mumble. 

"There's a limit you know?" Gary continues on as if you're the one over imbibing. "Can't have one person taking more than their fair share." 

"Just one then. She can have my glass," you say tightly, eyes stuck on Gary. "I'm not that thirsty anyway."

You're convinced that Joel is still staring at you with what you assume is disgust. Fuck, what if he thinks you followed him in here? New shame envelops you. You want nothing more than for this interaction to be over with. 

"You know that's not how it works darlin’," Gary says as he wipes down the bar. More heads are turning your way and you feel your heart hammering. 

Someone knocks into your shoulder but you're stuck in place, convinced that through the throng of bodies you can smell Joel now, that heady cedar and almond soap smell that has your knees knocking.  Warmth seeps into your back as a voice is offered out behind you, low and rumbling. 

"Just give her the damn drink, Gary."

You turn to look over your shoulder and see Joel is there, jaw tight. At first all you can fixate on is the vein in his neck, then the patch where his beard doesn't quite grow. Your traitorous eyes move up to the soft plump of his lips. 

Fuck you miss those lips. 

Even after everything your body still yearns for his. To feel that all encompassing safety and protection. And was there kindness? Care? You thought there was, but perhaps that was mislaid along with your affections. 

When you finally summon the courage to dart your gaze to Joel's face you see his big, dark eyes are trained on you. It has you breathless and confused. And suddenly it's too much. Gary's complaining, the noise of the bar, the bodies milling around you, and Joel's confusing eyes. 

You stumble away, muttering "just forget it" and then you're out the door of The Bison, your face flaming and your heart in your ears. 

You struggle in the snow for a moment, slipping over a slick patch of ice with heart in your throat when a strong hand grips you by the elbow, keeping you from falling. You glance over your shoulder but you already knew who it was the second he touched you.

“Careful.”

You attempt to jerk your arm back from him, wanting to give a snide reply but unable to find your voice. Instead you’re about to take off again when he pulls you after him into the dark space between the Bison and the Grocers where the snow hasn’t accumulated.

Its pitch black in the alley, casting you both in shadow. He backs you up against the wood siding of the Bison, the chill felt through your jacket as you gape at him. He’s still as a statue, just holding your arm against your chest, pinning you against the wall with his touch and stare.

“What do you want?” you finally ask, wishing your voice didn’t sound so wobbly.   

“You seemed upset.”

His voice is soft, his warm breath whiskey-tinged. He’s clearly had more than one. This infuriates you – that he can only talk to you when he’s inebriated. You wrestle a bit with his grip, trying to tug your elbow from his strong hand. But not surprisingly he doesn’t relent.

“Stop doin’ that,” he commands gently.

And despite everything that’s happened you listen to him. You stop wriggling and just stand there, breathing inches from his pouty mouth. His hips slowly curve, coming to pin you against the wall. His hands take your wrists, and instead of pinning them to the wall as well he urges them around his neck as his face descends.

“What are you-“ 

"Wanna give it to you," Joel murmurs behind your ear, pressing a damp kiss there. "Let me."

And despite everything Joel has put you through your knees still buckle at the sound of his husky words. If he hadn't been pinning you against the building with his hips you would have fallen to the ground. 

Joel wants you. He still wants you. And your pathetic, needy body still wants him.

Your fingers lace around his neck, holding him. You feel his hard length between your legs, despite the jeans you both wear. He's not trying to be subtle; his hips grind into yours, his cock hard and seeking. His mouth drops lower, his hand coming to cup your breasts over your jacket and squeezing. You shudder a moan, your body coming alive everywhere he touches you.

He shifts and slots his thigh between your legs, mouth moving along your throat as you keen, hands gripping his jacket so tightly they’ve gone bloodless.

"You wet?" Joel murmurs against your jaw as your pelvis rasps against the denim of his thigh. When you don’t reply he practically growls. “Answer me.”

"Yes," you groan.

And you are. You can feel it, warm and simmering low in your belly, making each roll and rut of your hips feel like heaven. Joel can sense it; he must because he smiles against your skin, licking a small patch before he groans against your throat, pushing sloppy kisses up the column. You sigh, head tilting back to give him better access. He drags those soft lips along your skin, breathing against it, inhaling you.

His hands slide to cup either side of your face, thumbs hooking onto your lower teeth and tugging, urging your mouth to open to him so that he can search your tongue with his. He licks into your mouth desperately, frenzied.  

His hands begin to fumble at your jean button, his mouth still dizzying you as he moves from your lips to your jaw. His mouth is so soft and full. He's at your neck before you shake yourself from your stupor. 

"Joel what the-"

He's attempting to tug your jeans down but you grip them by the belt loops, wrenching them out of his grip.

"Joel we're in public."

"No one'll see," he promises, his pelvis still grinding against yours. 

"I'm not fucking you," you shoot back at him, hating how turned on you are despite the circumstance. Hating that even after everything your body still craves his touch. Joel's body is curved over yours, his frame broad and his eyes searching your face. 

"Just lemme make you come," Joel breathes warm air over your cheeks. "Just wanna see it... Need to hear it." 

His hand slides down the front of your jeans, under the waistband. You make a little groaning sound of disapproval, but Joel's lips graze your earlobe. 

"I'll make you feel so fuckin' good. I always do."

You shudder when his cold hands meet your warm pussy. He groans against your neck, a sinful sound that has goosebumps rising everywhere on your body like a ripple in water. 

"Already wet f'me," he rasps against your ear in approval. "Always so fucking wet."

Long fingers slide on either side of your clit, rubbing forcefully and you want to protest but...Fuck it feels so good

"Seein' you in that dress," Joel murmurs, mouth latching behind your ear and kissing in a way that sends tingles through your entire body. "You got no idea how much I fucked my hand this week thinking about you in that goddamn dress." 

Your forehead drops to his shoulder and you can feel the relief in his voice as he feels you start to succumb.  

"That's right, just relax."

His voice is so low and rumbled you can feel it everywhere. Your hips widen as he steps between them, fingers working tirelessly against your clit. You whimper into his neck and you feel him swallow when your hips start to rut against his fingers. 

"Yeah, just like that. Keep makin' those pretty noises. Who’s got your pretty pussy dripping?” Joel croons, his hot breath buffeting your cheek as his fingers flick open the top button of your jeans.

"You, Joel."

"Fuck," he grunts, breathing heavy and hot against your skin. "Say my name again. Tell me who makes you this wet."

"Mmm," you keen, hips rolling. "You, Joel.”

Joel is eager, his breathing elevated and his eyes unfocused. You feel his fingers dance over your slit through your soaked panties.

“Yeah, this is all for me,” he murmurs almost proudly. You gasp when his fingers curl around the fabric, slowly sliding between the lips of your glossy cunt until he’s knuckle deep. He begins groaning as he watches your brows saddle at the full feeling of those two thick digits sinking into you.

 “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Joel nods, smiling dazedly as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping slot, his body pressing yours into the wood, shielding you. He kisses the corner of your mouth, groaning appreciatively when you start to whimper. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, fingers curling within you. "Who you gonna come for?"

"Y-you." 

"That's right," Joel smiles against your collar, sucking there. "Me." 

And you want to sink into his touch and let go, to surrender into this pleasured dance you know so well with him. You want him to fuck you right here, not caring that anyone could pass by and see you.

But then you hear laughter from inside and it reminds you of Jennifer laughing with Joel previously. All at once your mind can't stop replaying the moments of he and Jennifer. Jenny. Jennifer touching him. Joel's smiling. I'm not your fuckin' boyfriend. Jennifer’s hand over his. I don't need some useless-

Despite your body screaming for release you pull back from him, tugging him by the wrist out from under your pants. You push back from him violently, watching as he stumbles backwards in the snow, looking agitated. His middle and forefinger glisten against the outdoor Christmas lights along the bars eaves. You button up your jeans with shaking hands, glaring at him.

"I don't know what's going on with you but you need to sober up," you tell him sharply. 

"You were close," Joel says with mouth in a firm line of displeasure. "You were soaking my fuckin' fingers." 

"Sleep it off, Joel." 

"I need to see it," he says almost desperately. His glassy eyes blink slowly. "Just need to make you come one more time and I can..."

He stops himself and you feel your confusion growing. Something frosty enters into his gaze and he pushes himself back from you, looking down his nose at you. 

"Forget it," he says taking another step back from you. "Just fuckin' forget it."  

Oh no. He doesn't get to play mind games and then walk away like you're the one who did something wrong. 

"Your horny and wanna make a girl come, is that it?" You scowl. "Well I’m sure if you follow Jennifer home she'd love to make that fantasy come true for you."

You shoulder past him before he can give you any reply. You don't want to hear it. You hate that you cared for Joel in any way. That you made yourself vulnerable with the worst possible man you could have chosen. You feel Joel's hand wrap around your wrist. 

"Don’t fucking touch me, Joel." 

He drops your wrist and takes a physical step back at the vitriol in your voice. 

"And how dare you get me taken off patrols."

Joel's face is contorted into confusion. "But you don't like-"

"You don't know what I like," you tell him flatly. “You don’t know me at all.”

It’s a shameful lie. Joel might know you better than most any other person alive on this planet. But you can’t admit that to yourself, you don’t want to acknowledge that the one person who knows you best is the one person who hurt you most.

"I know what's best for you," Joel states as he stares at you. 

"No Joel, you know what's best for you,” you bite back, teeth bared. “And I don’t need you looking out for me. Wanna know why? Because you’re not my fucking boyfriend.”

You don't bother to stick around and see if your comment landed. You need to get away from him before he sees the wet sheen to your eyes. 

///

“That dress is so elegant, Jenny. You look like you could be a politician’s wife.”

“Is that a good thing?”

"Totally."

The two of you are at Jennifer’s house, dressed in your beautiful gowns and doing your last minute primping. Jennifer’s dress is an elegant crimson number with a plunging back that reaches just above the dimple of her bottom. When she moves she looks like something out of a magazine and the moment you saw it this evening you could only utter: “Holy shit.”

“Trust me,” you say in awe. “You’re going to turn heads.”

Probably Joel’s.

No. We’re not thinking about him. Enough.

She fluffs your hair once more, pinching your cheeks - "for blush"- and tells you to bite your lips to redden them. 

“You look so great," Jennifer squeals when she’s finished. "Okay, now you can look." 

She gently spins you to face the mirror in her bedroom. You see her grinning face over your shoulder and then you take a moment to sweep your gaze over yourself. Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in the reflection before you. If you ever felt beautiful before this moment, it's been so long you can't remember. 

"Jennifer..."

The words won't come. They don't exist. 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, not quite believing what you're seeing reflected back at you. The woman in the mirror that stares back at you is stunning, with a dress that hugs all her curves, soft looking hair, and a graceful air you never thought you could possess.

Disbelieving tears actually come to your eyes as you look into Jennifer's reflection. She's smiling as well, and her eyes look shiny. 

"You look so beautiful."

"So do you."

Sisterly affection flows through you as you flash grins at one another in the mirror's reflection. You'll never have Charlotte back, you'll never have that sister bond but in this moment Jennifer feels like a sister to you, a beloved part of you that you cherish. 

You spin, taking her into your arms and hugging her fiercely around the middle. She gives a little oof for the tightness of your embrace. 

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Jennifer," you whisper, mouth against her shoulder. "You're the best friend I've ever had." 

Her arms wrap around you and you hear her sniffling, squeezing you before releasing. Her face is pink and she's wiping at her eyes, laughing. 

"Damn it, don’t say anything else sweet. I don't wanna be all splotchy." 

///

Entering arm in arm to the event with Jennifer makes you feel brave, like you can face anything as long as she's there. But you're quickly distracted by the way the place looks at night. Along with the decorations you and Jennifer spent days on, Tommy and some of the other folks have strung Christmas lights up, pale gold circles that line the space and make it look like something out of a story. 

It's something like before the outbreak, faint memories of decorated malls you and Charlotte used to walk through; marking off items you'd excitedly bought for parents. 

"Holy shit."

Jennifer glances over at you in confusion at your quiet utterance before her face relaxes into a smile. 

"Oh that's right, this is your first one. Well, take it in, honey. This is what it's like every Christmas and .. " she stops, smile dropping. "Wait, are you okay?"

She's looking at you concerned and when her thumb brushes your cheek you realize tears have escaped your eyes. 

"I just..." You swallow, wiping your damp face, laughing at your emotional response. "I don't think I ever imagined life could be this wonderful again." 

Jennifer looks around at the space again, as if seeing it through your eyes and she nods, smiling gently. 

"Yeah. I know what you mean." 

"Hello, you two!"

You and Jennifer glance over to see Maria approaching. She looks beautiful, wearing a pale blue dress, her coiled hair twisted on top of her head, her dark skin glowing in the soft gold lighting.  

"No Douglas tonight?"

"Grace is looking after him," Maria smiles. "She knew Tom and I would be run off our feet trying to organize everything tonight.”

She explains that Grace is one of the sweetest, older women in town. She isn't much for parties anymore, so she happily volunteered to take care of baby Douglas this evening. 

"I have to say, you look amazing Maria," Jennifer says, mouth agape.  

"Me? I've got nothing on these dresses," Maria says, mouth agape as she takes you both in. "They're stunning."

"Jennifer made them from scratch," you tell her, motioning to Jennifer who stands shyly there at your shoulder. "She's the best seamstress here in town."

"Why the fuck do we have you on patrols then?" Maria laughs, looking at the beautiful girl smiling embarrassed behind you. 

"Because she's a great shot too," you insist and you feel like a proud older sister once more.  

"Damn," Maria whistles lowly. "Jennifer you're a dream woman." 

Jennifer laughs out loud at this, thanking Maria.

The two of them begin chatting and you take this time to gaze around the room once more. 

The tables are positioned so that they're circling the empty dance floor. Friends are sitting at some of the tables drinking punch. Others are milling around the long wooden table laden with the food everyone in attendance brought. 

"I'm gonna put the food on the table," you tell the women, hefting the tarts and brownies in your arms.  Ellie is there when you approach, swiping a cookie and looking guiltily at you as you approach, smirking.

She's dressed in black trousers and a pale blue sweater dotted with embroidered white stars. Her hair is brushed, half up half down. 

"You look great.”

“Not as great as you.”

“I disagree,” you say with a laugh. Ellie shrugs, a little embarrassed, a little delighted at your praise.

“It's only missing one thing," you say, tugging the blue ribbon from your hair. 

"But I gave that to you," Ellie frowns as she watches this. 

"And I want you to wear it," you finish for her. "My gift my choice. Now turn around."

She does slightly reluctantly allowing you to tie it into a sweet bow. When she turns around she's smiling. 

"Do I look nice?"

"No. You look beautiful."

You're not expecting her wiry arms to go around you, hugging you tightly. Instinctively you curl around her, bending slightly to hug her back. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go find Dina," she says with a wave as she pulls back. "See you later!" 

Then she's gone, disappearing through the crowd. You gaze after her, smiling gently before eyes on the opposite side of the room catch yours. 

Joel stands at the edge of the crowd, hands in his pockets and an inscrutable look on his face. Your heart jumps into your throat, jolted. 

You don't miss the soft inhale he makes or the way his eyes flick over your body before he turns abruptly to walk the other way. Your skin prickles in delight at his reaction. 

You got no idea how many times I fucked my hand thinkin' about you in that dress. 

Good. He can eat his heart out tonight for all you care. You hope he goes home and jerks it, crying about how he fucked everything up. You hope he comes sobbing into his clenched fist as he mourns the loss of you in his life. 

You turn quickly, like you've just seen a horrible accident on the road in front of you. You march back to Jennifer and Maria who seem to be wrapping up their conversation. 

"Looks like everyone is here," Maria acknowledges as She glances over your head and looks at the milling people. "Better get this show on the road." 

///

Dinner is delicious. 

Turkey, potatoes, thick bread, gravy, roasted vegetables, cookies, cakes, you lose track of everything. Wine and beer is littered through the long table. 

You're wedged between Maria and one of the kitchen staff you haven't seen in a while. Luke is across the table having arrived late with a burnt bean casserole he attempted just as everyone was moving to take a chair. 

Maria and Tommy are at the other end along with Ellie, Dina and you assume Joel. You wouldn't know because you don't let yourself look down in that direction until Tommy stands to make a speech. 

The children scream with laughter, talking over one another as they eat, some of the few toddlers crying in their parent’s arms. And instead of frustration all you can feel is gratitude. Life now is messy and loud and chaotic. But there’s something about the vibrant exuberance of the children feels hopeful. 

You eat slowly, taking your time to look around the table. Your eyes land on Oliver and his girlfriend laughing several times. When they do you glance at Jennifer sitting across from you, but she doesn’t seem upset. She’s deep in conversation with Luke and some of the women next to her.

You glance around to see Cherry slapping the table and laughing at something Grant is saying. Luke chuckles next to you, his arm swinging behind the chair at your back, casually landing on it. He's warm and he smells like the outdoors. 

"I'm kinda nervous," Luke tells you both quietly, drawing your attention back to the conversation. "I haven't played and sung for this many people before."

Luke and the rest of the gang from the coffee house event are putting on the music tonight. He's been practicing like crazy and despite his talent he still seems a little anxious to be performing. 

"You're going to do great," Jennifer insists with e comforting pat of his hand. "Even if you do sound terrible, we'll be out here cheering for you anyway." 

"Totally," you add with a small grin. 

The three of you laugh and continue to eat. And soon enough dessert is announced by Tommy telling everyone who's interested to bring their plates to one of the side tables where the desserts are artfully arranged.

People quickly scramble to take their turns to go through the bounty of items and you're very proud to see your brownies are already gone and the apple tarts close behind when you eventually wander up to the table with Jennifer. 

"There's so much stuff," she says in awe. "I can't wait to try one of my tarts."

The two of you grin at each other at that. When you eventually arrive to that side of the table you can see only one tart remaining on your plate. You're just reaching for it to give to Jennifer when your fingers bump into anothers going for the same target.

You glance up to see Joel, eyes widening as he realizes it's you. The both of you start, like you’ve seen a car crash, snatching your hands back abruptly.

"You made 'em,” Joel tells you robotically with a motion towards the plate. “You should get to enjoy 'em." 

You don’t reply, feeling uncomfortable as he continues to stare at you. His eyes are flinty and don’t linger on yours when you gaze up. 

“Oh there’s one left,” Jennifer announces from behind you delightedly. She swipes it from the plate, oblivious to what’s happening. She talks to Selena behind her, the two of them chatting about tonight’s dance.

You remain staring at Joel, and when memories of the other night bombard you all you can do is stride from the table, your cheeks heating. 

A sick part of you wonders if he’s watching you leave, if he’s turned on by you in the dress. Another part wants to dissolve into sobs because he doesn’t feel like the same Joel. He’s recalcitrant and withdrawn and he’s nothing like the warm, sweet man you were starting to uncover.

You stride away from the crowd and hide out near the coats, internally berating yourself. You cannot fall to pieces every single time you see Joel. You both live in this town and you need to get over him. 

“Alright everyone, we’re gonna start with a requested tune,” comes Luke’s voice from one side of the large basement, distracting you. He and the rest of the group from the last event stand with instruments in hand, starting with a jazzy rendition of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.

You see Jennifer and some of her friends move onto the dance floor, shrieking with laughter. They spin each other, hair flying wildly as Luke smiles on. You scan the bustling space, thankful you can no longer see Joel’s dark presence looming over the festivities. 

"Why are you hiding in the corner, honey child?"

You spin around to see Penny standing there, amused. Arthur is nowhere to be found, you can only assume he's off getting punch. She wears a nice pair of pants and a thick sweater. Her hair has been braided and looped over the crown of her head.  She smiles broadly at you, coming closer.

"I'm hot," you lie with surprising ease. "Just needed a little air" 

"Of course," she says with disbelief dripping off of every syllable before she scans your dress "Well ain't you just a vision."

"That's very kind of you to say," You offer with a shy little motion towards the skirt of your dress. "Jennifer is the one who did all of this."

When she doesn’t reply you glance up to see her surveying you with a concerned look.

"You doin' okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Penny stares at you for a moment, analyzing your expression with a furrowed brow before shrugging. 

"No reason. Anyway, I'm off to find my man, I'll see you out on the dance floor, honey." 

"Sounds great." 

You watch her fading presence as Luke croons out something sweet from the stage, an up tempo song you're not familiar with. Jennifer is on the dance floor with some of her friends, she waves you over smiling big. You shake your head with a smile and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly before going back into a spin with her friend Jason. You go towards the floor to watch, stopped when Tommy spots you.

"Well, don't you look beautiful," he says pulling you into a half hug. "Maria's gonna go crazy when she sees you in that. She keeps talking about how she wanted to see you in something other than jeans."

“I saw her already,” you say politely, feeling your face grow hot with the attention. “She said she liked it.”

Tommy motions to the bustling dance floor.

“How come you’re not out there cuttin’ a rug with your friend?”

 “I’m not an experience dancer.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Tommy insists with a smirking scoff. “You think any of these folks are pros?”

Most of the people moving over the wooden plank flooring have no rhythm. Some spin each other laughing, others focus on their footwork. Most however just jump and swing their arms to the best of their abilities.

“I guess not,” you say with a giggle.

The tune slowly fades, replaced by something smoother, something slower, a mournful tune to your ears, but maybe it’s just because of how you’re feeling. Your eyes drift to the dance floor. Luke’s eyes are closed, his voice deep and soulful.

“Tonight, I wanna give it all to you…In the darkness, there's so much I wanna do…”

You recognize the tune from before the outbreak, a song your dad loved listening to by a band called KISS. But this tune is slowed down, bittersweet and full of longing as Luke sings, his brows saddling with emotion.

“…And tonight, I wanna lay it at your feet….'Cause, girl, I was made for you and, girl, you were made for me…”

Jennifer has found a partner, a spotty-faced boy from the grocers. Much too young for Jennifer, but she’s likely just indulging him to be kind. His face is pink and he keeps nodding as she chats casually with him.

“That’s no reason-“ Tommy stops himself mid-sentence, his eyes drifting over your shoulder. “Oh hey, Joel, c’mhere.”

You stomach drops. You refuse to look behind you, but you know that Joel is approaching. You force your eyes to move back to the dance floor, not even acknowledging when Joel comes to stand next to Tommy. You know that if you rush off now it’ll look suspicious, so you pretend not to notice him.

“What do you want?” Joel mutters, voice low and cutting through the saccharine tune.

“You gotta get out and dance, brother.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance. This music is shit.”

"Don't be a grouch," Tommy says nudging his shoulder against his brother’s. "Take the pretty lady for a dance."

Your head snaps back in their direction, eyes blown wide. Joel is looking at you, and this close you can smell that sweet, spicy cologne he wears. He watches you raise your hand, head shaking in protest.

"No that's-"

Joel just steps forward, fingers circling your wrist and he practically drags you onto the dance floor behind him. You try to tug out of it, hearing as Tommy tells you both to try your best not to step on each other’s feet.

"Joel we don't have -"

But it’s too late; you’ve been brought into the throng of warm bodies on the dance floor. Joel takes you into his arms stiffly, his right elbow tucked beneath your armpit, his hand on the small of your back.  His other hand clasps yours lightly, holding it aloft as your free arm rests on his bicep, hand loosely at his shoulder.  You’re close together, but not quite touching bodies.

You can’t help but glance around at the crowd, watching to see most couples with their bodies pressed tightly together, fingers laced behind necks, broad arms wrapped around waists as Luke continues to sing.

“Tonight, I wanna see it in your eyes….Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild…”

A group of zealous dancers enter the dance floor and knock against you, shoving you against Joel’s front. You give a grunt of surprise, relieved that Joel doesn't pull back as if disgusted. If anything his fingers dig into your waist, holding you there. 

“…'Cause, girl, you were made for me and, girl, I was made for you…”

Joel is so warm and the dance floor is heating up. You know your face is flushed, your hair dishevelled. It makes you feel vulnerable in a way, your walls slightly cracked. The briefly discordant tune wraps its way around you, pulling you into an emotionally anguished place.  

You miss how you could talk with Joel about anything. You miss how he held you. You miss his mouth on yours, his skin pressed to your lips, his deep growled groans as he filled you. You miss how it felt to have him smile just for you, or the way you could make him laugh.You miss how it felt to be cared for by him.

“…I was made for lovin' you, baby, you were made for lovin' me…”

You let your eyes move from his mouth to his eyes, surprised to see them trained on your face. It's a confusing look of both irritation and deep openness as you sway back and forth. It emboldens you to ask the question that's been in your mind for weeks, murmured only loud enough for him to hear. 

"Why do you hate me?"

His thumb is rubbing gently along your knuckles in his hand, his other hand splayed against your lower back, holding you tightly against him.

"I've never hated you." 

Outside it looks like two people dancing to a slow song, but at this closeness you can see the way a sheen covers his dark eyes, making them glossy. It takes your breath from your lungs in one sweep. 

"I miss you."

The words come out gently, huffed between your bodies, escaping past your teeth and tongue before you can stop them. And to your horror your chin begins to wobble, your eyes growing damp. You close them quickly, stopping the tears from falling.  

"Baby."

He whispers it and it's so soft you're not sure you actually heard it. But when you open your eyes his irises have gone soft at the edges.  The longer you stare into each other's eyes the surer you are that this feeling you've been carrying isn't one sided. 

Joel doesn’t hate you. Maybe even the opposite if his wet gaze is anything to go by. But it doesn’t help does it? It somehow makes it worse if he loves you and still pushed you away. Makes it worse that he must know how much you ache and yet still continued to distance himself.

But that fire in your belly has sizzled to coals, replaced by the heavy feeling of longing as you gaze into his limpid stare. And then you feel them; the words that have been there on your tongue for weeks. The ones that haunt you. 

"Joel, I lo-"

A loud cry goes up, startling the both of you into snapping your heads in the direction of the door. Wayne has appeared with the wine barrel over his shoulder and everyone is cheering, glasses raised. 

And then just as he took you into his arms moments earlier, Joel drops you. His hands slide from your waist and he steps back as if he's been burnt.

“Joel,” you begin, confused at his reaction.

His eyes search your face for something that you can't understand and then he's striding away from you on the face floor, his long legs carrying him out of your sight. You watch him shoulder through the crowd of the dancing couples whose eyes move from his receding figure back over to you standing on the dance floor alone as the music continues, Luke’s voice a velvet croon. 

“…I was made for lovin' you, baby, you were made for lovin' me…And I can't get enough of you, baby, can you get enough of me?”

Blind panic consumes you, humiliation soon joining it when you see the couples begin to whisper, some eyeing you. You feel an ugly flush starting to go up your neck, your eyes growing wet as you try to spy a good escape route. 

"I must have this dance."

You swallow the tears when you turn to see Arthur behind you extending his hand in your direction.

“This song is simply too good to sit through,” he prompts, hand moving closer to you. He's wearing a sweater with a Santa face stitched onto it. You didn’t really notice it until just now and something about the absurd sight makes you want to laugh to yourself.

Your face breaks into a watery grin as you accept his pudgy hand, allowing him to gently pull you towards him. He sees the sheen to your eyes as you nod, allowing him to sweep you into a turn.

"Penny insisted I take you for a spin before all the other bachelors see you're available," he tells you with a charming grin on his ruddy cheeks.

The two of you look over to see Penny at a table on the edge of the dance floor holding a beer while waving at you both enthusiastically. You almost cry in relief at not being completely abandoned in front of everyone. 

"Please tell her thank you," you tell him, relieved that your humiliation is somewhat over. 

“Of course,” he assures you. The two of you dance to the ebbing slow tune, your shattered heart making it impossible to focus. Your eyes stare out into the distance, unable to register what’s just happened.

“You deserve a better man than that,” Arthur says quietly out of nowhere. You glance up to see his disappointed expression before giving a weak shrug.

“He was never mine to begin with.”

Arthur hums a reply, hand tightening around yours. It’s a protective movement, one that reminds you of a father-figure. That alone has your chin wobbling precariously, but you’re able to stuff down those ugly feelings when a fast tune starts up.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

He presses an air kiss next to your cheek and you suck in a deep breath; ready to exit the dance floor and face pitying glances when the familiar friendly face of Cherry is there, coming to stand in front of you in a way you can only think of as menacing.  She’s wearing a sweater and tights, her severe expression offset by pale lipstick.

"Lemme get a dance in," she insists with a dramatic bow to you, extending her hand. You take it with a surprised laugh, letting her spin you around the dance floor to a light-hearted tune.  You didn’t know she was such a good dancer.

Jennifer is close behind, swinging you around the dance floor to an upbeat version of “Take On Me”, the two of you mouthing the words at one another.

Then it's Hank from the gates at your elbow, insisting he get a dance with one of his favorite Jackson residents. He’s a terrible dancer, but his bad moves and his quiet swearing under his breath as he counts his steps makes you laugh.

Then it’s both Arthur and Penny, the three of you in a circle dancing to Footloose with a bunch of the lyrics messed up. You don’t care, the beat is good and you feel beautiful in your dress as you spin, swishing dramatically.

You finally get off the dance floor flushed and smiling to yourself. Joel’s horrible expression is fading from your mind because you can't remember the last time you had so much fun. Jennifer is at your side, clapping for Luke who is ending his set. 

"Alright everyone, I'm gonna take a break. But the rest of the band has some tunes for you to enjoy so get off your asses and dance!" 

The crowd laughs, some going back to their tables to join their friends, others hitting up the dessert table or grabbing another drink.

“He’s so good!” Jennifer tells you, her face warm and flushed from the crowd. Her breath is alcohol tinged and warm on your temple. “I’m shocked at how good a singer he is!”

“I know!”

“Have you seen Ollie and his fucking girlfriend?” Jennifer says against your hear over the music that rises in volume. She scoffs when you shake your head. “Apparently they’re getting married in the spring. Married.”

You pull back prepared to see the devastation on her pretty face. She shakes her head disgusted, eyes on you. She isn’t crying, nowhere near. But you can tell that she’s upset. It’s a dash to her ego, a strong rejection. And then all at once you both speak at the same time.

“He’s an idiot to turn you down, Jenny.” “I’m really happy for you and Luke.”

“Oh uh,” you both laugh at this, belatedly hearing what she said to you. “Yeah, Luke’s a great guy…”

You want to confess to her that no matter how much you try, you can’t muster up enough romantic enthusiasm for him. That Luke is an amazingly patient, funny, kind, good friend but that's all he'll be to you.

“Yeah, you’re really lucky to have him,” she tells you with a deep exhale as the two of you make your way off the dance floor.  “Anyway, I need a breather. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Before you can reply she surges ahead and threads through the throngs of jovial revelers, her crimson dress disappearing in the crowd.

You’re on your way to the punch table when you pass Maria and Tommy chatting with a group of folks who work at the dam. Maria shoots you a smile, about to greet you when Barry lurches over, his voice booming.  Barry is a tall, barrel-chested man that tends to take over most conversations, even when he’s not tipsy.

“Great party you two. Even better than last year.”

“Thanks man,” Tommy says clinking his beer bottle against Barry’s. “Glad you could join.”

The group chats on about the dance, how next year they’ll have to move it to the barn due to the high volume of attendees.

“Jackson keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger,” Tommy says with a proud look at Maria. “Soon we’ll have to build a whole dance hall.”

The crowd laughs and you can’t help but smile at the thought. Who knew what Jackson would be like in ten years? Would you still be in your same home? Would you still be in the greenhouse? Or would you consider the bakery idea?

“You two work so hard to make this community thrive,” Barry adds, swaying a bit while Maria smiles beatifically at him.  “And you do a damn fine job.”

“Thanks, Barry.”

"But what about them Raiders, Tom?" Barry asks, blinking back the bleary drunkenness from his eyes. "What are we doin' about them? I’m getting’ nervous and I ain’t the only one."

The mood suddenly drops to a thick tension you feel. Some of the crowd nods, murmuring in agreement. Tommy, who has been so pleasant suddenly darkens in a way that is pure Joel. The sight of it makes your stomach flip unpleasantly.

"We got the traps, we got patrols going out four at a time now," Tommy says, mouth in a thin line of displeasure. “And we’re doin’ two shifts a day.”

"What about the last-"

"Barry," Tommy warns, his jaw ticking. "Maybe it's time to hit the dance floor, yeah?"

You've never really seen Tommy upset before, he usually so calm and laid back. It makes you uneasy to see. But Barry is oblivious to the social cue; he just shakes his head and keeps blathering on.

"I'm serious, Tommy," Barry says, tipsy but not drunk. "Pete from last patrol said there was rumor about a whole camp of 'em." 

You watch as Maria's eyes drop to the floor, eyes distant. Her shoulders sag and you feel yourself exhale on her behalf.

"A camp?" Maria repeats, brow furrowed. She shoots a quick look at Tommy and then back at Barry. "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, I-"

"I said we're on it," Tommy assures, casting a worried look at Maria and then back at the burly man in front of him. Barry seems to get the message now, bleary eyes blinking. 

"Uh, right. Yeah, sounds good, Tom. Talk later."

He raises his beer, nodding and lumbering away to rejoin his table of friends. The crowd tapers off, whispering to one another about what just went on. You have to admit that even you feel a bit anxious about it.

"Someone should check on Douglas," Maria says worriedly, her eyes scanning Tommy's. 

"Honey, Grace has it handled."

"Tommy, I wanna go check on him," Maria insists.

Tommy wraps his arms around her. 

"Okay, baby, if it'll make you more comfortable, you go ahead,” Tommy murmurs into her hair. Maria exhales, relieved.

She takes Tommy's face between her hands and gazes up at him, eyes glittering. And then she kisses him so tenderly you feel slightly embarrassed and have to look away. The moment feels private and so you leave them and draw over to the punch bowl. 

You scoop some of the lemonade into a chipped mug, your mind racing about what Barry brought up. Shit, what if there are more Raiders? What if they’re waiting in the wings, preparing to get revenge for what happened to their friend Joel killed?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance up from the punch bowl to see Luke smiling at you. 

“Too bad currency is a thing of the past,” you muse. “What’re you up to?”

"Taking a little break," he explains, taking a sip of his pale drink. "Thought I'd see if you wanted a dance."

"Sure."

A very vindictive part of you is hoping that Joel is watching you right now. That he sees how Luke smiles at you and places his hand at the small of your back, guiding you to the dance floor. You hope that he watches as Luke sweeps you gently into his arms, smiling down at you.

You stare up at Luke and feel your heart swell with gratitude. Luke would never treat you like Joel has. Luke is kind and sweet and you were an idiot to ever overlook him. 

The dance floor continues to pack and you're pressed tightly against Luke who holds you delicately. Your eyes dart across the dance floor to see if Joel lingers, but you can’t see him. For all you know he already left for home.

"Have you seen Jenny tonight?"

You glance up at Luke’s words, trying not to fixate on how different his body feels compared to Joel’s.

"Yeah, we came here together." Your eyes scan the large space but you can't see her trademark blonde locks. "Can't see her right now. Maybe she's in the bathroom. She was upset earlier."

Luke looks concerned.  "She okay?"

"Ollie went back to his girlfriend and now they’re engaged," you say with a wince. “I think she’s having a tough time with it.”

"Poor Jenny," Luke sighs. "She never gets an easy break."

"No, she doesn't," you agree, thinking of her past. Luke looks distantly into the crowd of people. 

"She deserves someone who treats her like a princess,” Luke says in a rush, mouth pursed. "A girl like her is.... Well... She's special."

His voice has gone strange and you take a moment to survey his red cheeks and the way he’s stammering when he speaks. And then like a dam bursting to flood your mind, snatches of moments past flash in your mind. Luke asking Jennifer if she wanted to ride with him to do repairs. Asking if she wanted coffee. The excitement in his expression when she invited him to go shooting. The way he was always sure to sit next to Jennifer at every opportunity. And even the flush to his cheeks when you asked why he bothered going shooting with you in the first place. “I guess I like spending time with you guys.” How did you never see it before?

 “You like Jennifer.”

It spills out of you, hushed between your bodies as Luke’s face goes a deeper shade of red, confirming your suspicions. He continues to hold you, his eyes skittering away from your own as he nods.

A girl like her is special.

A girl like Jenny is perfect. A girl like Jennifer is what men like Luke and Joel want. Shame and pride are a potent cocktail stirring in your belly as you stare him down.

"If you liked Jennifer all this time then why did you kiss me?"

Luke at least has the good grace to look embarrassed. He leads you to the side of the dance floor, still holding you, but trying to give the two of you some privacy. He looks around, sure that you both won’t be heard before diving in.

"From the minute she introduced you and me, Jenny just kept saying you and I would be this great couple. She said that we had so much in common and were well suited and I figured she was probably right.” He sees the flinch in your expression and goes on. “I mean, I love spending time with you, I don’t ever regret it. You’re funny and pretty and, anyway, I thought that I should give us a chance.”

“But you don’t feel that way for me.”

Luke grimaces and you feel a hot throb of rejection settle behind your sternum. It’s not like you want Luke, but it doesn’t exactly feel great to be rejected no matter what the situation.  

“I’m sorry. I've liked Jennifer for a long time and the feeling isn't going away. I can't stop thinking about her," Luke continues softly swaying you from side to side and you see the pain that lingers there in his voice and tone and for a wild moment you think it reflects your own.

“Why didn’t you just ask her out if you liked her?”

“Jennifer would never go for a guy like me and now I feel like I’ve fucked everything up,” Luke moans, eyes slamming shut in embarrassment. “There’s no way we can all be friends again.”

“Sure we can.”

Luke’s eyes crack open. “Really? You’re not. . . I mean, the two of you are best friends and-“

“Luke, it’s cool, I promise.” You try to say the next part gently. “I really, really wanted to like you the same way you like Jennifer. And honestly, at first I think I maybe did but. . . we’re not a good fit. When we kissed I just felt like there was no chemistry that way.”

“You seemed to like it,” Luke hedges, his own pride obvious.

“I was thinking about…” you feel your cheeks heat, “…someone else.”

You see Luke physically relax, the two of you still dancing slowly, eyes on one another. And it’s like you both realize at the same time that the whole thing was so ridiculous because you both burst out in small chuckles.

There’s something so freeing about getting this all out in the open. Knowing that Luke doesn’t want you like how he wants Jennifer is strangely liberating. There are no signals to give off, no concern of leading him on. You can just exist as friends.

“You know, I don’t get why she wanted us together so bad,” Luke says with an uncertain chuckle, spinning you as you nod. 

“I think she just likes playing Cupid,” you say with a laugh. “She sees two people who should be together and she just wants them to-“

And suddenly you stop mid-sentence as you think back to all the times spent together with Luke and Jenny.

You think of when Luke touched you in front of Jenny, how she would go quiet in the more recent times. How she wanted to know how you and Luke were getting on. All the times she asked about Luke. The strange way she reacted when you told her that you’d kissed him. The way she told you that you were lucky to have a guy like Luke. A

And then like a thunderbolt to your brain it hits you: all this time you were so preoccupied with Joel you didn't even realize the signs. Jennifer likes Luke but thinks you like him. All the anger you were holding falls from you like an unwelcome jacket, a smile breaking over your features as you realize.

“Luke, Jennifer likes you.”

“No,” Luke scoffs, eyes rolling. “No, she likes guys like Ollie. Big, handsome manly-men.”

You bubble forth a delighted laugh, head shaking.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get it until just now. Luke, she totally likes you. You have to go find her," you say over the music, dropping his hands. "Go and tell her how you feel right now, tell her everything. Trust me, Luke."

Luke stands awkwardly, brows furrowed.

"But you and I have kissed," he reminds you. "And the two of you are best friends. I know how she talks about you."

“I’m happy to confirm there are no hard feelings on my side,” you say, almost laughing at the concern in his expression. “I swear. I feel the exact same way about you, Luke. You’re an amazing guy and you deserve an amazing girl. A girl like Jenny. She can come and check with me if she’s not sure. But trust me, Luke. She likes you.”

“Really?”

It’s like you just told him a cure for the Outbreak was found. He’s beaming so brightly he may just block out the lights Tommy strung around the room. A grin is spreading across your features and a flutter begins in your chest.  

"I'm serious Luke. Go tell her." 

“Okay uh… okay, yeah,” Luke says, smoothing his hair awkwardly and glancing around the busy space. “I’m just gonna go and find her.”

“I’ll look too,” you say, almost giddy. “I’ll tell her to look for you on the dance floor.”

“Good, Great, okay.”

And then he’s gone, dashing from the dance floor in pursuit of Jennifer. You want to laugh, your heart beating just as excitedly as if he was professing his adoration to you. You think of your friends together and there’s a profound joy that settles over you.

You exit the dance floor just in time to be stopped by a solid figure holding a handful of wine glasses in his long digits.

“Here,” Barry says, thrusting a wine glass into your hand. “Gonna do a cheers pretty soon. Bad luck to have an empty glass.”

“Thanks Barry,” you say taking it from him, distracted.

You begin to scan the crowds looking for Jennifer’s telltale blonde hair and listen for her tinkling laugh but you find neither. You go to where the crowd is lessening, some of the families with younger kids preparing to leave.

You go towards the doors, your beaming face twisting to see if you can spot her when a flash of crimson catches your eyes. You turn your eyes to the right and Jennifer’s familiar frame comes into view.  

Only she’s not alone.

The two of them are half-hidden by the coats hung on the hooks. But not hidden enough. 

Joel is leaning against the wall; his head tilted back, eyes closed languidly. One palm is pressed flat against the wall; the other is at the small of Jennifer's back, holding her against him.  Jennifer has her hands on Joel's shoulders, standing on tiptoe, their hips grinding against one another slowly as she kisses his neck. The sight is sensual and intimate and it makes you physically recoil. 

The entire world starts to get loud and garbled. The kind of feeling you used to get when swimming and your ears got clogged with water. Then echoes of tonight's comments.

Jennifer you're a dream woman. A girl like her is special. Dream woman. Special. Special.

Jennifer is a dream woman; Joel's dream woman. 

Jennifer continues to kiss Joel's jaw languidly, going to suck delicately at his neck, not noticing that you’re watching them. Now all that you can really hear over the din of the celebration is a sharp high pitched buzzing noise in your ears.

Her hand slides over his belt, nails catching on the gleaming buckle and that's when the wineglass you've been holding falls to the ground, shattering. Wine spills like blood over the floor, splashing onto the bottom of your dress.

At the sound of its crash, Joel's eyes jolt open, piercing you. He doesn't change his expression or his movements. His cool appraisal has you swallowing anxiously as Jennifer whips her head around, her eyes glazed and mouth puffy. She looks dishevelled, like Joel has fucked her once already. Has he fucked her before? Surely she would have mentioned. The thought brings bile to the back of your throat. 

But it's not Jennifer that you're upset with. It's Joel standing there with his hand still on her back and his dark eyes fixed on you. The world feels tilted, your feet having trouble finding their footing. And then a strong feeling goes through you, but not the one you expect. It's not fury or betrayal or even embarrassment. 

It's pity. 

"Really, Joel?" You say with a scoff. 

Joel looks struck by your response before his eyes dart to your feet where the broken glass rests. The red wine begins to seep between the floorboards.  His tone is low and growled when his gaze darts back to yours. 

"Clean it up." 

You give a disgusted sound in your throat before shaking your head ruefully at him. 

"You don't give me orders anymore."

Jennifer seems completely bewildered, looking between you and Joel for a beat. She's about to say something when Ellie appears at your elbow, calling your name cheerfully. You try to school your features into something resembling a pleasant smile.

"Hey, Ellie."

You try to sound upbeat, but you're emotionally spent. Ellie quickly sobers as she takes in your expression. She's about to ask what has you looking so out of sorts when she catches sight of Joel and Jennifer partially hidden in the corner. 

She takes one look at Jennifer's fingers limply resting on Joel's belt and looks at him disgusted. 

"What the fuck is going on?"

Ellie gestures towards Joel and Jennifer, the latter of which seems stunned into not moving. All the bravado in Joel's expression flees at the first sight of Ellie. His eyes go owlish in his face, blinking rapidly. 

"Ellie? I thought you were just here for the dinner,” Joel croaks. "Since when do you go to dances?"

"Since Dina asked me," Ellie replies pointing over her shoulder to where Dina stands grabbing punch.

"Oh I... I didn't know you were stayin’," Joel stammers. 

"Guess not," Ellie shoots back before she's facing over to you, seeing the gloss to your eyes, the position of Jennifer and Joel, the spilled tray at your feet. Ellie is a teenager but she understands heartbreak just fine. 

The music continues on in the background, a low thump of the bass guitar. Jennifer is still thrown by everything, stepping back from Joel to cast a flummoxed look around at everyone.

"You wanna come hang out with me and Dina?"

You shoot Ellie a weak smile. You want to embrace her for her kindness. For her understanding despite her young age. 

"I don't understand," Jennifer murmurs as she peers at you, her face contorted in confusion.

Her eyes go from your blotchy face over to Joel, taking in the red of his cheeks and the way his eyes can't meet yours. Something like understanding passes over her features. 

"I have to go," you say shooting Ellie a tight smile. "Starting to feel a headache coming on. Enjoy the party."

You can't even look at Joel as you glide away, your feet hitting the wood floor harshly as you start to jog out the door. The sound and lights of the party are behind you, your eyes wet and your body shaking by the time you get home. 

You're not there when Joel's eyes move back up, looking to Ellie with shame clearly written in his expression. You're not there up see the repulsed look she gives him. 

"I'm gonna stay at Tommy's tonight," she tells Joel with a disappointed shake of her head.  Before he can say anything she's gone, leaving him alone with Jennifer.

The music flows around them, the distant sound of dancing and laughter mingling with the notes which seems so discordant with how things are going right now. Jennifer backs up a fraction, her hands at her side as she stares at Joel. He's looking in the direction that you left, his mind replaying your face moments prior. 

Joel had been expecting the hurt in your eyes. Had readied himself for your tears, braced himself for your anger, but he hadn't been expecting the obvious pity you held there in your hurt gaze. 

Joel also isn't expecting the sharp slap across his face, jerking his head to the left with a grunt as the crack of it sounds out. Isn't expecting Jennifer to turn from some sweet, country girl into a furious woman before his eyes, her mouth curled into a snarl. 

"You fucking asshole." 

And then she's gone, striding from him and through the group of people milling near the front door of the church. 

And when he's left all alone, his cheek red and his heart aching, Joel tells himself that he did what was needed.  

This is all for the best.

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

What if I made Joel swallow his own load. How would that go.

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

now a certified Lydia hater. always and forever a Marcella hater. fuck you Lydia. ✋😟

STICK BUDDIES CHAPTER 6: FUBAR

Words: 10k

rated: 18+

series masterlist here

a/n: I know I said I was posting Friday but then my tippy tappy fingers finished it early and I thought fuck it. Frankie would want me to post it early.

Chapter 6: F.U.B.A.R.

Fucked Up Beyond All Reason. Refers to something being perhaps irreparably, damaged

Frankie is awake before you. 

You realize this when you roll over in bed, hand waiting to connect to his warm body, finding nothing but a half-made bed.  

You throw yourself into the shower, trying to ignore the thrum between your legs. You soap up your breasts, nipples hard and body aching. 

You're still reeling from last night, your body flushing as you recall it. The gruff way he spoke to you, the insisting you come on his thigh. You're face flames as you recall the sounds of your dual moans in this room. 

And you also recall the sweet way that he touched you. That he took your shoes off and tucked you into bed next to him wearing the Nirvana shirt. That you drifted off serene in his hold. 

You brush your teeth, staring at your reflection shaking your head as the truth dawns on you. 

Fuck, you really like Frankie.

He returns just as you exit the bathroom in your swimsuit, sunglasses perched on your face. He's dressed in his board shorts and t-shirt, his hat placed snugly back on his head. 

"Good, you're already up. C'mon, I have something planned for us."

You stare at him a moment before grabbing your purse and padding after him, confused. 

He's just going to act like nothing happened last night? Like he didn't rock your world without even taking his cock out of his shorts? Maybe he's doing it for your benefit, trying to pretend everything is cool? 

Or worse, what if he regrets everything? That scenario makes your stomach churn. 

He grabs your hand as you both exit the hotel room and instead of enjoying the sensation of his fingers lacing with yours, your mind is going a million miles an hour.

Is this part of The Act? Or is Frankie really wanting to hold your hand? He's smiling into one cheek, his aviators hiding his eyes. You feel very confused by all of this. 

You enter the elevator and you both swallow, remembering what happened not even ten hours ago inside this very space. Your ass still tingles from it.

"Uh, about last night," Frankie hedges, feeling awkward as he pressed the button for the lobby. You hold your breath, waiting for the uncomfortable admission that he regrets everything, that it was a huge mistake.

"Sorry I called you a slut. That was shitty of me."

You almost laugh in relief.

"Yeah, it was," you agree. "Guess I shouldn't have called you a piece of shit." 

"Nah, I was being one." 

He smiles at you from behind his aviators and you can't help but wish you could see his eyes. You move towards him, reaching out and allowing your forefinger to drag his sunglasses down his nose. His warm chocolate eyes are revealed, fixed on your face.

"There he is." 

He blushes at your gentle attention, basking in the warmth of your gaze. You see it there, the realization that Frankie isn't immune to all of this. That perhaps he feels just the same as you when his eyes drop to your lips. Your mouths begin drifting to one another when the elevator suddenly stops on the third floor. 

You break apart as Marcella and Richard enter the elevator, looking uncomfortably to one another before getting on. Frankie shoves his glasses up his nose. 

"Good morning," Richard says politely nodding before noticing that you're all heading to the same place. He heads to the side of the elevator away from you and Frankie. 

"Morning," you both reply in unison. Frankie grips your hand more tightly and you press against his side. I'm here, the touch says, you’re not alone. 

"Good to see you both," Marcella offers somewhat tentatively glancing between you, her eyes taking in your clasped hands. "Was the salsa club fun?"

What the fuck is going on? Is Marcella actually trying to be nice right now? After you verbally lambasted her last night?

"Uh yeah, it was okay," you nod politely. “Everyone but us drank too much, but aside from that it was a good time.”

She nods and you watch her eyes drift over to Frankie, giving him a thin smile. 

"How about you, Francisco? Good bachelor party?"

You sneak a glance to see Frankie removing his aviators completely, looking at Marcella in surprise..  

"Uh, yeah, it was fine, thanks 'Cella."

You inwardly cringe at the nickname you haven't heard in years. You never liked it back then either. Cisco. Cella. It sounds like baking ingredients and a salad dressing.

"Hopefully it was better than your first one," she says with a shy giggle.

Frankie can't help but let out a small chuckle of his own at their private joke. His first bachelor party was he and the guys in Wills basement shooting pool and drinking cheap beer until Benny overdid it and threw up everywhere.

Something in you twists when you watch them locked in a lingering smile of nostalgia. Richard doesn't notice, just looks at his phone, typing. You wish you could do the same. 

The elevator dings to a stop and the four of you exit. The two couples break off with Frankie guiding you to the front of the hotel, Marcella hand in hand with Richard heading to the breakfast buffet. 

You're surprised when Frankie stops you both in front of a Jeep rental just outside the front doors. 

"What's this?" 

"A surprise isn't a surprise if I tell you," he teases, urging you to take a seat in the front, pulling your seatbelt on as he pulls himself into the driver’s seat. 

"Ready?"

"Ready." 

It's only moments before you're taking off in the balmy sunshine. The radio plays something upbeat and the wind ruffles Frankie's hair. You try not to stare.

"You need breakfast?"

You force a smile and shake your head. You're feeling confused about what just happened in the elevator. There's something like jealousy, twisted and ugly starting in your belly. You stare out at the passing palm trees, the glittering ocean. This is paradise, so why are you so glum?

"You’re too quiet. You want a coffee or something”" Frankie teases after a few minutes, one arm crooked on the ledge of the Jeep’s window, the other palming the wheel. 

"Nope, I'm good." 

Your voice is clipped, unfortunately stuck back in that moment with Marcella. What the hell was that? Maybe what you said to her really hit home and she feels guilty, but then why is Frankie acting all nice to her? She humiliated him. 

Frankie tries not to read too much into your silence but he can't help but be concerned that it's in response to last night. It's why he organized this today. He wants to make sure you know it wasn't just a release for him. He likes your company; this isn't a hit it and quit it. 

He doesn't know exactly what he wants moving forward, but he knows for the rest of this trip he wants to spend more time with you. Away from prying eyes and away from expectations. He wants you alone to himself, he wants the real you. The one he hasn't truly gotten to be with since before the BBQ. 

The Jeep eventually pulls into the ocean side strip of buildings. You look up to the looming building and murmur the name to yourself. 

"Marigold Rentals?" 

Frankie watches your eyes sail over to the side of the building. He sees you take in the sputtering engines and buzzing of them already on the water. 

"No way!" The irritation is gone from you, replaced by a beaming smile you shoot his way. 

"You kept saying how much you wanted to do jet skis," Frankie says with a grin. "C'mon." 

Your heart jumps when you follow him to the shop, wet eyes hidden behind your sunglasses. He wouldn't plan this for you if he didn't want to make you happy. He wouldn't reach out and take your hand in his as you enter the shop. 

He cares. 

///

"I was not nervous!"

"Oh c'mon. You looked terrified every time you revved the engine."

"Easy for you to say, you pilot helicopters for a living!" 

The two of you are heading back to the Jeep, slightly damp from the jet skis, breathless with delight. 

After a quick lesson from the handsome blonde you and Frankie raced for the better part of forty five minutes, splashing and laughing in the ocean. 

"Although I guess it didn't really help you that much," you giggle. Your cheeks hurt from the laughter of remembering Frankie leaning too far forward toppling off of his jet ski into the water below. "At least I didn't fall off mine."

You laugh again loudly when he gives you a pointed look, your head thrown back as he smiles goofily at you.And for a moment it feels like old times. The times when you all went swimming in the lake during camping. Laughing over bad movies at his place, getting ice cream at the pier with the guys. It feels good, it feels natural.  

"I still can't believe I actually got to ride a jet ski on this trip," your sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. You really thought you were going to return home disappointed.

Frankie grins widely at the animation in your face. You're so easy to make happy and he's stuck by the fact that he wants to continue making you happy. He tries to be casual when he swings the hand at his side a little wider, coming to grab yours. When you don't pull back in disgust he laces his fingers with yours. 

You pass a colorful stand by the ocean boasting the best Chimichangas in Mexico and he glances at you. 

"Wanna stop here for a bite?"

"They serve the best chimichangas in Mexico, Frankie,” you say with false solemnity. “I think we have to stop."

Within ten minutes the two of you sit on the sand gazing at the ocean each with a chimichanga and a coke in each hand. 

"Only a few hours until Benny's a married man," Frankie muses between bites before smirking. "Poor bastard."

"Hey!" You say playfully shoving him with your shoulder. "Marriage isn't all that bad. Lots of people I know stay married."

"Like who?"

"Like my parents." 

"Different generation," Frankie concedes. ‘They had nothing better to do than play cards and stay married.”

The two of you chuckle quietly, your eyes trained on the water as you watch families swimming, some snorkeling and a very athletic couple kayaking. You dart a look at Frankie from the corner of your eyes. 

"Do you ever think you'd get married again?"

Frankie contemplates this, trying to ignore the pounding in his ribs. Why are you asking? 

"Dunno. Would have to be a pretty spectacular woman."

You give a non-committal hum in reply before taking another crispy bite. Frankie, desperate to change a subject, latches onto the first thing he can think of 

"That's cool about you going back to school. I mean, you've always been such a good artist." 

"Really?"

You didn't know Frankie really noticed. He'd always been perfectly polite about your art. When you gave him a sketch of a catfish for his birthday he'd been kind and said he loved it but he'd never mentioned it since then. 

"I still have that sketch you made me."

It's like he's reading your mind. You look at him, brows raised. 

"Really?"

He smiles over at you, nodding. You look shy but pleased. But then you think of Marcella and her little sketches comment and you feel insecurity bleed into you. 

"Sometimes I wonder if it's a stupid idea," you sober. "Maybe I should pick something more lucrative like business or something." 

You watch his profile, noticing the dark cloud slowly drawing over his eyes. 

"Money isn't everything," Frankie says slowly and his tone is detached. "Trust me, there's a reason they say it's the root of all evil."

"Only poor people say that."

Frankie takes a sip of coke before huffing a weak chuckle at your joke. He seems upset but you won’t press him on it. One thing about Frankie you’ve learned over the years is that he doesn’t share unless he wants to and forcing him to talk before he’s ready usually results in an argument.

Instead you look back at the ocean, finishing up your lunch as you get hypnotized by the gently lapping water along the shoreline. The shallow waters are dreamy, calming and Frankie watches as you stare out at it, your face serene.

He raises a hand between you, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. You give him a sweet smile before looking back at the ocean. 

Frankie looks at your profile, his eyes trailing over you, soaking you in. He thinks of how happy you look and how long is been since he saw you looking this free. Then he remembers your ex fiancé Jack and all he can think is how stupid that fucker was to let you go.

And then belatedly, how happy Frankie is that he did. 

"Do you remember that night you told me about butterflies?" 

It comes out of him before He can stop them. He wants to snap his teeth at the air, to bite back the question, but it's too late. You push the food to one cheek to reply. 

"No. What did I say?"

"It was about your ex," Frankie reminds you, swallowing the last of his coke. "You told me that he never gave you butterflies." 

"It was true, he never did," you admit, voice tight. You don't want to think about him. Jack is a distant part of your life that you don't dwell on anymore. And you’re happy here with Frankie, enjoying the scenery and the day.

"You ever felt butterflies with anyone?"

Your eyes can't meet his when he asks this. You look uncomfortable, eyes squinting into the horizon.

“Have you?”

Both of you avoid it and to change the tension you wipe the crumbs off your shorts, standing. 

"We better go. Wedding is soon and I've got sand everywhere." 

Frankie stands and he's surprised when you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. 

"Thank you for the jet skis, Frankie. I had the best time." 

Frankie hugs you back, surprising himself with the emotion he feels in the moment. Making you happy makes him feel so good. Not in the way like before where he wants to fuck you into the mattress. This is a good that starts in his chest, sitting behind his ribs making him feel warm. 

He struck further with the thought that he wants to find new things to make you even happier. 

You break apart and make your way back to the hotel in comfortable company, singing along to the Jeep's radio and intermittently making guesses on what awaits at the wedding. 

"Five bucks says they do the Love is Patient quote," you say grinning wickedly at Frankie. 

"Ten says that at one point they're going to call one another their best friend." 

"Twenty says someone will give a really bad speech."

"And fifty says someone is gonna drunkenly make out with someone they shouldn't."

You offer a shaky laugh and feel your breathing quicken at the thought. You look out at the passing landscape, heart ticking as you recall his mouth on yours. 

When he places a gentle palm over your bare knee and starts humming along to the radio you don't stop him. 

When you pull into the parking lot of the hotel you feel deflated as his hand withdraws. You wish it wasn't the wedding today. You wish you could have driven for hours with him. Just talking and basking in the Mexican sun. 

"Gotta go meet with the girls," you tell him with a sigh. "Lydia insisted we all get ready together."

"Women." 

"Oh shuddap." 

You both grin before you slide your sunglasses to the top of your head. You want to make sure he sees the sincerity in your eyes when you speak.

"I really had a nice time, Frankie." 

"Me too." 

You feel your cheeks burning and not from the sunshine as he gazes at you. You want to linger here with him, fingertips aching to trace along his palm if only to continue the connection of his skin against yours. You look at him through you eyelashes.

"Gonna save me a dance tonight, Flyboy?" 

Frankie sees you're doing that shy thing where you can't look at him head on. It makes his heart throb. He can't stop himself from twisting in his seat, leaning over and cupping your face in his hands. Your cheeks are warm to the touch, eyes glittering. 

"I'm saving all my dances for you," he murmurs, dark eyes on your lips. 

Your eyes flutter shut when he presses his mouth to yours, chapped and warm from the sun, perfectly slotted between yours. 

It's a sweet kiss, too brief but perfect. When he pulls back he's struck at the gooey look in your eyes. He can't help but kiss you once more before he drops his hands. 

"I'll see you there, pretty girl." 

///

Hours later you sit in Lydia's hotel room giggling over champagne as you watch the bride-to-be get her hair and makeup done. Everyone else is dressed, you in a flirty floral number you found at the mall.

"Should we have kept in the bouquet and garter toss?" Lydia asks, looking stunning in her silk robe emblazoned on the back with the word bride. "I mean, me and Benny thought it was too cheesy but now I’m wondering if it was a mistake?"

The hair stylist puts a finishing spray over Lydia's up do before heading out.

"No way," Jean insists with a shake of her head, tipsy from the drink and amused at the normally unflappable Lydia's consternation over such a trivial matter.

"You must do what makes you happy,” Yovanna offers, typing away on her phone to Santi.

"Benny makes me happy," Lydia swoons, relaxing back as the makeup artist sweeps pale pink over her cheekbones. "I'd get married to him at a Burger King of I needed to."

"Thankfully you're a step up from that," Marcella says laughing with the group and refilling her cousin's wineglass. 

She wears a blush colored dress and her hair is in soft waves down her back. She's the only bridesmaid, Will the only groomsman. She looks stunning in a way that makes you press your lips together, a little self conscious.  

She's been studiously ignoring you since you arrived and you've been doing the same. The conversation from last night is still fresh in both your minds and she doesn't seem to be sharing the same goodwill she had this morning in the elevator with you. 

"So what did you all get up to today?" Lydia asks, ever the host as she pays the makeup artist and closes the hotel door after her. 

"Sleep and sex," Jean announces with a dramatic sigh and swoon onto the bed, accepting a refill on her drink from Yovanna. "My favorite kind of day." 

"Santi and I went tequila tasting," Yovanna answers, topping off her own champagne glass. "I think he just wanted an excuse to bring back a bunch of bottles." 

The group chuckles and eyes are drawn to Marcella. She darts a gaze at you before looking back and smiling at Lydia. 

"We just sat at the beach, swam, drank," she shrugs. "Typical vacation stuff." 

Lydia slips into her wedding dress. It's a simple, satin thing that hugs her curves beautifully. The girls whistle, clapping and telling her how stunning she looks. She blushes and if you didn't adore her you might just hate her for being as kind as she is beautiful. 

"What about you?" Jean prompts, curiously. "You and Frankie do anything fun today?" 

The rest of the girls sip their champagne and look over at you with eager interest. It makes you flush, feeling like an exhibition. You suddenly feel shy when you feel Marcella’s attention draw over to you.

"Oh, uh, Frankie knew how much I wanted to go on jet skis and so he took me somewhere off the resort so we could ride them. Then we had lunch and, yeah, it was nice." 

Despite still holding a lot of animosity for Marcella you're still uncomfortable talking about her ex-husband like this. She doesn't look uncomfortable, however. She looks intrigued and you think a little bit wistful. 

"That's so sweet," Jean awwws. "Who knew Frankie was such a romantic?"

"Yeah, who knew," Marcella scoffs into her drink. Everyone hears it, but you all pretend you didn't. 

"Only twenty more minutes ladies," Lydia squeals, breaking the silence. "Then I'll officially be Mrs. Miller!"

///

On the opposite side of the hotel Frankie sits with the rest of the guys, smoking cigars and drinking sparkling water while everyone else drinks tequila. Benny has flung the doors to his room's terrace, holding his arms out to the world at large. 

"I'm marrying the most perfect woman in the world!" Benny booms, scaring some couples who were relaxing by the pool, others clapping animatedly as they sip drinks on their loungers. 

"Okay, no more booze for you until after the ceremony," Will announces.

Benny chuckles, flushed and excited. He's dressed in a light suit, something that makes his boyish features look more mature. 

Despite being surrounded by his oldest friends, Frankie’s thoughts have continuously been drawn back to you. You damp on the jet ski, the way you throw your head back when you laugh, the sound you make when you come. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, willing his cock to obey him.

The other guys start chatting animatedly about the buffet and if there's a DJ when Santi plops down next to a distracted Frankie on the couch. 

"So? How were jet skis?"

"How did you know about that?" 

Santi holds up his phone open to his WhatsApp. 

"Yovanna. Apparently your girl is bragging about it to everyone right now."

Frankie cannot contain the grin that spreads over his features, so he tries to hide it behind his water glass. Okay, so you're thinking about him too. Good.

"Shit, Fish," Santi smirks, shaking His head is if he can't quite believe what's happening. "You fucking like it. This whole fake dating her thing."

Frankie doesn't answer, but the red tips of his ears seem to give everything away. Santi tilts back, voice lowered. 

"You really like her." 

What's the point in pretending? Frankie licks his lower lip nervously before fixing his friend with a steady gaze. 

"Yeah. I do." 

He waits for the same criticism he received from Will, he waits for the roll of the eyes or the disdainful look but he receives none. Instead, his friend is smiling with a sort of warmth. 

"Fucking finally."

Frankie's brows raise to his hairline in surprise. 

"Huh?"

"You know how long I've been watching you two dance around each other? Both of you acting like you're not perfect for each other?” He takes a swig from his beer bottle. “It’s been so obvious since the day you met."

Frankie grimaces at this. "I was married, Pope. Happily until the end."

"I know that," Santi says rolling his eyes. "But you guys always got along so well. So similar. When you and Marcella split up I was just waiting for you two to see it and get together."

Frankie gives a dry laugh. 

"We hated each other, you know that. Ever since that BBQ."

Santi is shaking his head, taking a pull from his tequila bottle. Frankie watches him, confused. 

"Nah, you never hated her. Hated yourself maybe, but never her." 

Frankie feels the air leave him at his friends' words. 

"Have you ever apologized to her for the BBQ, by the way?" Santi asks, eyes glancing at the group to see Benny and Will in an arm wrestle.  

Frankie's good mood sours and he slumps into his seat at the memory of that day. Just when he's accepting that he really likes you, he remembers that horrible day and he's back to being uncertain. You two have been so acrimonious since that day. And yes, there are sweet moments here. But this is a vacation. A trip you're being paid for. It’s not reality, despite how much he wants it to be.

"Why should I apologize" Frankie bites off, "she's never apologized to me."

And now the look of disappointment is there in Popes eyes, a dark, solemn piteous gaze.  

"Then nothing's really gonna change," Santi explains. "You're not ready." 

Frankie sits up a little straighter, mouth twisted in a curl of frustration. He doesn't like how his friend is speaking to him, sanctimonious and arrogant. 

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Santi's bedroom eyes meet Frankie's. 

"Meaning if you really care about her, you gotta move past that shit at the BBQ. You need to care more about each other than hate what happened, Fish. Both of you do."

Frankie is flabbergasted; his mouth gaping like his call sign's namesake, but nothing is coming out. Pope's not wrong, even though it kills Frankie to admit it. 

He just doesn't know if he can take his advice.

///

The wedding takes place on the beach at sunset. 

The two of you sit tightly next to one another on the folding chairs. Your legs crossed and his hand on your knee. It's been there since you both sat down and you have no desire to move it. Your arm is hooked in his, crooked at the elbow as you tilt against him. 

Lydia is stunning in her simple white silk dress as is Benny in his suit, glassy eyed when he sees her walking down the aisle to him. 

Marcella stands beside Lydia, holding her flowers, Will beside Benny. The officiant is dressed in a colorful blue suit and he speaks energetically. 

"And I need you two to remember that Love is patient, love is kind," he begins sagely as you tilt over in your chair, mouth coming to Frankie's ear. 

"You owe me five bucks, Franny."

Frankie is unable to conceal his grin. He sneaks a glance at your gleeful face. Your hair is soft looking, your mouth so glossy and kissable. You look stunning tonight. A simple dress with flowers on it but he can't stop sneaking looks at you in it. But then again Frankie's favorite is you in panties and his Nirvana t-shirt. He can't think about that too long though, not in public. 

You both turn your attention back to the officiant at the floral arch that frames he and the couple clasping hands and shooting each other moony looks. 

"Marriage is a bond built on the strongest faith. Faith in another person and their love for us..."

You don't miss the way that Marcella glances in your direction as the officiant speaks. You can only assume Richard is seated in one of the chairs behind you. She looks strangely somber, her eyes wet before she turns her attention back to the proceedings.

The rings and vows are exchanged and you smile the whole way through at the way Benny and Lydia gaze at each other, the love so evident. 

"Let your marriage be a continuous gift. Give freely your laughter and companionship," the officiant continues. 

You see Marcella dart a look in you and Frankie's direction again. Frankie doesn't notice, he's fixated on what the officiant is saying as his thumb rubs back and forth along your kneecap. 

"Share equally your challenges and your struggles. Find adventure and peace in each other's company and the abundance of your love."

Frankie feels his throat grow dry at those words. Not because he finds them saccharine and cringe-worthy. But because with every line spoken all he can think about is you. 

///

The reception is held in the one of the small ballrooms within the resort. Flowers are on every ornately set table and the large glass doors afford everyone a stunning view of the ocean as the sun finally sets. 

You're seated at one of the round tables with Jean, Will, Santi and Yovanna. You're all laughing and recalling memories of how Benny and Lydia met. 

Benny and Lydia have a sweethearts table at the far end of the room, giggling and kissing every time someone taps their wineglass with their fork. 

Frankie has had his arm on the back of your chair the entire night. Even as you both eat, he keeps it there, fingers absently grazing your shoulder every so often.

Family speeches are made and Will groans when he has to do his best man speech. It's predictably teasing with just the right amount of sweetness. 

Marcella is next and you're surprised to see the normally confident woman look anxiously around the room as she comes to the microphone. 

"Hi everyone, she says giving a shaky smile. "Sorry if I sound nervous. I'm not great at public speaking."

She licks her lips, pulling up a crumpled piece of paper and reading from it. 

"I've known Lydia my entire life. We've been through so much together and I love her so much. She's the sister I always wanted and never had."

They are the predictable awwws that go around the room when Lydia starts talking about their childhood, Lydia's first crush on the boy next door, and laughter when Benny pretends to be jealous. 

"I guess if I have any advice for you. Lydia, it's to never give up on your love," Marcella finishes. "Not even when you think everything is hopeless."

Frankie can't understand why Marcella keeps sneaking glances at him when she says this. He scans the room for Richard but he’s nowhere to be seen. Frankie can’t remember seeing him at the ceremony either.

"There are going to be tough times. There are going to be hard times when you want to give up," she says, voice catching. "But don't do it. Keep pushing through because that's how true love is formed." 

You sneak a glance to see Frankie is staring at Marcella with a strange look on his face. You push it down with a swallow of your water. 

"Like diamonds under pressure, so is your love," Marcella continues dramatically.

"For fucks sake, wrap it up," Jean murmurs from next to you, causing you to splutter a shocked laugh that draws everyone's attention to your table. 

Marcella goes pink, growing flustered as she loses her place. She swallows as she scans her paper. Frankie recognizes the telltale signs that she's embarrassed and feels a thread of compassion go through him. He remembers how terrified she got when she had to give presentations at work.

"So uh, anyway, yeah just be good to each other and let's raise a glass to Mr and Mrs Miller."

Everyone claps, some tapping their wine glasses so the couple will kiss again. Frankie looks over at you, disappointment all over his handsome face.  

"That was pretty rude.”

You feel your neck flame hot, embarrassed.

"Jean said something funny and I wasn't expecting it."

Frankie gives you a disapproving look, like an unimpressed parent. It makes you feel sullen as you listen to Benny and Lydia give a toast, thanking everyone for coming. He feels conflicted, upset for coming down on you but sad for his ex being embarrassed. Frankie isn’t an asshole, he doesn’t like to see people uncomfortable.

When the speeches are finally done Benny and Lydia begin their first dance. All the tables watch, snapping photos and holding hands over their hearts whispering about how beautiful the couple is. 

"Come on everybody!" Lydia says motioning for everyone to join them. “Don’t make us dance alone!”

The couples in the room go to the floor, giggling and smiling. Santi spins Yovanna slowly, the two of them looking effortlessly cool. Jean and Will dance slowly, murmuring back to one another. Their bodies are pressed against each other so tightly there's no question of what they'll be getting up to the minute they get back to the hotel room.  

Your eyes drift over to see Benny's mom and dad dancing sweetly with her head on his shoulder. They've been married almost forty years and they look like they've never had a bad day between them. You watch them sway back and forth to the music, your heart growing in size. 

"Dance with me?"

Frankie's voice is a quiet rasp at your ear. You turn to see him smiling down at you, all previous irritation gone. You want to be upset with him about earlier but you don't have it in you. You don't want to fight with Frankie. 

"Let's do it, Flyboy."

Frankie gives you a cheeky grin and leads you to the dance floor with his hand wrapped around yours. He smells so good, his body so warm. He stops near the edge of the dance floor, hand sliding around your waist to curve at your lower back. He holds you against him, the two of you slowly swaying in time with the slow music. 

"This was such a beautiful wedding," you murmur.

"Mhm. Yeah it was."

His palm is at the small of your back, holding you to him. The other is wrapped around your free hand, holding it against his chest. It feels intimate and romantic in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. It makes you sparkle from the inside out.

"You look stunning tonight," Frankie murmurs, eyes soft. 

"So do you," you tell him honestly. 

You thought so the moment he met you at the beach for the ceremony. Tan slacks, a white button down with short sleeves, his hair brushed back. He's also wearing cologne, a sweet, sultry scent that has you inhaling deeply. 

The two of you dance like this for a bit, smiling at one another, moving from foot to foot as you sway in time with the music. You couldn't tell anyone what the song was if they asked, all of your senses are attuned to the man that's holding you against him.

Frankie is similarly affected, his entire body on fire every time he pulls you closer. He sees the way the pupils have overtaken the most of your eye, feels the softness of your skin, and is overtaken by the moment. Something in the air changes and you’re not immune to the fire starting in Frankie's gaze. 

Frankie leans forward, pressing his full mouth to yours gently as you run your hands up his shoulders, lacing behind his neck. He sighs when he feels your immediate response, head tilting and lips parting so that your tongues can graze. 

You pull apart as you hear the song starting to wind down. Both of you are flushed, pulses racing. 

"I wanna take you back to the room," Frankie whispers, still rocking you both gently to the music. You gaze up at him, concerned. 

"We can't."

"Oh, shit," Frankie says, thinning his lips in disappointment and embarrassment at misreading the situation. "Sorry."

You furrow your brow at him before realization crystallizes in your eyes. They grow into half moon crescents as you smile. 

"No, I mean we can't leave before they cut the cake. It's rude." 

Frankie's face splits into a wide, relieved grin and he chuckles along with you. You move your mouth to his ear and his eyelids flutter shut as you speak. 

"As soon as the cake is cut I want you to take me back to the room and fuck me so hard I can't walk." 

Frankie has to will his cock to stop twitching. Just inhaling your perfume is enough to get him going, but what you just said? And the sultry way your smiling up at him, bright eyed and flushed? Fuck. 

The song ends, quickly leading into a fast paced tune. His eyes stay stuck in your face, taking your hand and guiding you off the dance floor. You know that if you don’t do something you’re going to end up kissing again. And if you do that there’s a very good chance you won’t see the cake being cut.

"You wanna drink while we wait?" You ask him, eyes going to the thinned line at the open bar. "The lines not too long and I could go for a virgin daiquiri."

"Make it two?"

"You got it"

You go to leave but before Frankie can stop himself he gently tugs your wrist and spins you into his arms, giving you a soft peck. He watches as you bloom for him at the attention, the delight so clear in your features.

"Meet you at the table, pretty girl."

He walks away from you, heading through the growing throngs of people back to your table. You watch his dress shirt straining over his shoulders, a thin line of sweat over his spine. His ass is taut, legs strong as he moves. You catch yourself, mouth slightly dropped. 

You are so fucked. 

You practically float up to the bar, beaming as you order two virgin daiquiris from the chipper bartender. You're feeling bubbly from the inside and crazy thoughts start to rise in your mind. 

Could you and Frankie make a real go of in? Could you actually be a real couple after this?  You've always gotten along, always enjoyed being with him. You can envision nights at the movies or in bed, waking up and laughing over cereal in matching bowls, drying yourself from the shower with towels he bought. Its sweet and it surprises you. You’ve never imagined that before, not those simple, domestic moments.

Not even with Jack.

You feel a soft pat to your shoulder and you turn to see a flushed face. Lydia. She's breathless from dancing and orders a water from the smiling woman behind the bar. 

"Hey Mrs Miller," you say with a grin as she downs the water in one gulp, pushing the sweaty hair from her temples. “How’s it feel to be a married lady?”

"I still can't believe it," she grins. She looks at her wedding ring that is now joined the engagement ring on her fourth finger.

"You two are the most beautiful couple," you insist, watching as she takes another cup of water. 

"Thank you," she says bashfully. 

"You and Benny almost make me think true love might be real," you quip. "Like maybe it’s not all a scam." 

You wait for Lydia to smile at you but instead she looks serious. She lowers the empty water glass to the bar top. Your smile drops slightly when you see the intensity of her gaze.

She takes your wrist and the two of you walk a few paces away from the bar, near an empty table where it's not as loud. 

"What’s up with you and Frankie?" Lydia says quietly as couples dance and chat around you.

You know that Benny told her everything about the set up (except the money part), so you're confused by her question.

"What do you mean?"

"This is not a fake relationship," she tells you with a pointed look. "What just happened on the dance floor? That's not a friend helping a friend." 

Her tone makes you feel chastised, shamed but then your eyes drift over to see Frankie sitting at the table, chatting with one of Lydia's cousins and you feel a shy smile spill over your features. Lydia notices your distractions and her voice is more urgent.

"I know Benny wants you two together, hell, I'm pretty sure every single one of our friends do."

You scan her eyes, seeing the wary look she wears and realization hits you.  

"But you don't."

She lowers her voice so that only you can hear. 

"I'm worried about you getting hurt," she confesses. "I've known you a long while, and you're more sensitive than people realize.”

She’s correct, your hard shell does hide a very soft inner body. But what does that have to do with anything?

“Don't forget about why you agreed to all of this in the first place,” she reminds you.

You raise your brow in confusion, prompting her. She glances around her to still make sure that no one else is listening. 

"Frankie wanted to save face in front of Marcella, right? This whole scheme was concocted so that he didn't look bad in front of her. Why do you think that is?"

"Because she's engaged to Richard." 

Lydia sighs, the music growing louder. It makes you feel uneasy, like the world is too overwhelming when you need quiet to focus on this conversation. She tilts towards you, face pinched. 

"Or because Frankie is still in love with Marcella." 

You blink rapidly, heart in your stomach. You think of Frankie and Marcella on the elevator earlier. 'Sisco... 'Cella. A shared history. A foundation on love. 

"But... What does...." You keep tripping over your words, panic rising in your chest. "She's engaged."

"Engagements end all the time," Lydia sighs. "Especially since she never stopped loving Frankie." 

"But she cheated on him. And she's so happy with Richard," you insist, needing it all to make sense. "Why do you  think that she's still in love with Frankie?"

Lydia exhales, looking somber. 

"She's my cousin. We talk." 

A sickening lurch begins in your stomach, sending you stepping back against the bar. You think of her sneaking glances at Frankie during the ceremony, of the way she looks wistful when you talk about him. You think of the way he came to her defense when you laughed during her speech.

Lydia is about to say something else when Benny arrives out of nowhere to scoop her into his arms. She gives a giggling shriek as he lifts her. 

"If you don't mind, I wanna take my wife for a spin on the dance floor," he announces before shooting you a wink and carrying her off. 

She shoots you a sorry look over his shoulder and you wave her off dejectedly. You know that she's not trying to be cruel with this information, if anything, she thinks she's helping. 

Maybe she is. 

Because when you glance over to the table where Frankie sits you do so just in time to see Marcella approach him. 

///

Frankie glances at Marcella, surprised to see her looking at him with a clear smile as she comes to stand next to his table. 

"Hey 'Sisco."

"Hey 'Cella." 

She looks awkwardly around the room before her eyes land back on him. She motions to the chair between them. 

"Mind if I take a seat?"

"Go ahead."

She hands Frankie the sweating can of Coke in her hand before taking the seat next to him, pulling it so close their knees graze. 

"Thought you might be thirsty."

"Uh, thanks," Frankie says taking it from her to be polite but placing it on the table. "But my girl is getting me something from the bar." 

"Of course," Marcella says with a tight smile. 

Frankie feels wary, confused at this sudden kindness coming from his ex wife but he still shoots her a restrained smile. 

The music throbs in the background as chattering friends and family dance and celebrate. Lydia and Benny are spinning around the dance floor as Will and Santi whoop and cheer. Yovana and Jean are laughing with some of the other cousins.

"You two make a cute couple," Marcella offers suddenly. She darts her eyes to Frankie who seems to be scanning the room for you. "I had a feeling the two of you would end up together."

This draws Frankie's gaze back to her, surprised. 

"What?"

"I mean, after we were divorced I figured it was only natural the two of you would get together," she explains with a simper. "You two always seemed to have this... thing. A kinship I guess." 

Frankie stares at Marcella, unsure of what to say in response. Instead he changes topics to something safer. 

"Where's Richard?"

"He got sunstroke so he's passed out in the hotel room," she replies, a small giggle escaping her. "One hour by the pool and he was toast. White people and the sun, man." 

Frankie shares a long laugh at that, amused.

“He had sunglass lines and everything,” Marcella giggles, eyes disappearing as she speaks. “And he was so red he was glowing.”

Frankie imagines a lobster-red Richard and this makes him laugh harder.  He doesn't see you standing at the bar, doesn't see the way your face drops as Marcella places a hand on his forearm, the both of them snorting with laughter. 

They look so natural like that, so happy and perfect. Something ugly ignites at the sight of Frankie laughing with Marcella along with a devastation that takes your breath away. 

Lydia was right. 

You did agree to all of this so that Frankie wouldn't be humiliated. Yes it was for money, but the whole point was so that he wouldn't feel stupid seeing her. And of course it would matter only if he still was hung up on her. Why else would he care so much? 

He's been using you as a distraction. Someone to fuck and flirt with, someone to make him look desirable to Marcella. Someone to bolster him when he can't be with the one woman he wants to be with. 

How did you miss it?

Frankie remains focused on Marcella, trying to be patient and wait for you to return from the bar as their laughter ebbs. He wipes away amused tears from the corner of his eyes.   

"It's nice to laugh again with you," Marcella acknowledges giving his forearm a squeeze. "I've missed it."

Frankie gently pulls his arm back, feeling strange about her touching him. Almost guilty. 

"Yeah, it's nice." Frankie feels strangely emotional. "Especially since you've been treating me like shit this whole week." 

Marcela drops her dark eyes to the ground looking properly admonished. 

"I just," Marcella trails off, her voice thick. "You've been making me so furious, Francisco."

"Furious?" Frankie blinks slowly. "What?"

"You're like a new person," Marcella whispers, eyes up and filled with tears. "Your life is on track, you're sober, and you’re attentive. It feels like you did it to spite me."

Frankie deflates slightly at this, some of the animosity he’s been carrying with him this weak fading in the face of his ex wife’s vulnerability.

"I didn't do it to spite you," Frankie says honestly. "I did it for myself. I wanted to get clean for myself. I was tired of fucking up my life-"

"Our life."

A flash of irritation goes through him at the way she's frowning, as if it's all his fault the marriage ended. 

"It wasn't our life when you started sleeping with the therapist was it, Marcella?"

"Those weeks you were away? The times you came home and wouldn't tell me anything?" Marcella says, chin wobbling, "Richard was there. He cared about me. He listened to me."

"It was his job," Frankie spits. "He was paid to do it, by me coincidentally." 

"I don't want to fight," Marcella insists, pressing her hand to Frankie's forearm again. "I just..."

She stops, shaking her head and removing her fingers when she feels Frankie tensing under her touch. 

"I'm gonna go check up on Richard. Maybe we'll talk later." 

"Sure."

Frankie pushes his chair back, politely nodding his head at Marcella as he searches the crowd for you. He’s irritable and frustrated and he just wants to be near you. You manage to chase all the bad feelings away. He spots you, noting that you’re still there at the bar looking strained. Immediately he's concerned, quickening his pace to reach you faster.

“Hey, all good?” he asks, hand skating down your spine. You flinch away from him.

“Yep.”

He notices your arms crossed, hands free of drinks. 

"No daiquiris?"

You shake your head slowly, eyes on his chin. You won't meet his gaze. You feel so fucked up inside, a whirlwind of angst and hurt. Regret and humiliation consumes you. 

"That's okay," Frankie shrugs. "The cake cutting is soon anyway so..."

He trails off when he sees you looking distractedly around him. You feel so wrung out over what's happened. Defeated that you got this so wrong. But your inner walls won't allow this weakness. Instead you go to the emotion always so easily accessible when you're in Frankie's company. Anger. 

He steps forward, voice raspy. 

"You okay?"

"Tired."

"Oh," Frankie feels uneasy. "Did you want to go back to the room-"

"Why? So you can fuck me?"

The coldness of your tone as well as the words surprise him into taking a step backwards. 

"Uh, what?"

He can't understand why your eyes have gone from that sweet soft gaze to this dark thunderous glare. 

"Fuck me in an elevator. A bed. Whatever works, right? Maybe the hammock tonight?" You give a dark laugh. "I mean, hey, get your money's worth right? Or I guess I should say Benny's money's worth." 

Frankie is silent, feeling himself shut down with every word you say. He doesn't like how you're speaking to him and he really can't understand where all of this is coming from. It wasn't even fifteen minutes ago that you were in his arms kissing. 

"That's not what I was saying," Frankie finally whispers. "I just thought you'd want to lie down if you were feeling tired."

He's embarrassed to feel tears pricking along his waterline at your cold stare. He blinks then back. Where did you go? Who is this serious woman who’s looking at him with such contempt? 

"Well it doesn't really matter anyway, it's not like any of this was real.”

Frankie feels his stomach plummet to his feet. Of all the things you said, this is by far the most devastating. Frankie feels his heart ache at this, his worst fears confirmed. You really weren't into him like he was you. All this romantic yearning, all this burgeoning desire is sucked clean from his body. 

You wait for him to deny it, to tell you that you have it all wrong. That he feels for you what you feel for him.  

Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you feel it too. Tell me I’m not alone in this.

He looks so shattered, so broken. He looks how you feel. And you want to fold, to collapse into his arms and beg him to tell you what you want to hear. But all you can think about is how he and Marcella were laughing, how they were touching, how they look at one another.  

Frankie can't let you see the heartbreak he fears he written all over his face so he schools his features into something resembling passivity and he falls back on his training. Guarding his heart, turning off emotions to get through this. 

“Of course not,” he replies smoothly. “We played our parts well. And hey, now you have two grand, right?.”

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You inhale slowly, your body trembling internally.

“Yep. But uh, I think the heat’s getting to me so I’m gonna go to bed. Have a great night.”

He doesn’t watch as you stride away from him and the bar. Doesn't let himself view as you slip away back to the room with a determined look on your face because his eyes are stuck on the ground. He's trying to stop the race of his heart and the sharpness of the ache. 

He feels a voice call his name, watching as Will strides up beside him to grab a drink from the bar.  His shirt is half undone, the tie hanging around his head like a bandana.

"You okay, Fish?"

Frankie is still standing there stunned, his aching heart morphing into the only emotion left to protect himself.

"Yep."

"You sure?" Wills face tightens, mouth thinning. "You look upset. I saw the two of you dancing and you know, I-"

Frankie slams a fist down onto the bar top shocking every that is in the vicinity and causing Will to immediately snap his mouth shut. 

"Will, could you just shut the fuck up for once?"

It comes out of Frankie spiteful and acidic. It makes Will's eyes widen a fraction, too shocked to speak. He just watches his friend stride out into the night, his fists clenched. 

///

Fuck him fuck him fuck him. 

This is the refrain that goes through your mind as you throw yourself into the hotel room, body shaky with barely suppressed sobs.

"Fucking asshole!"

The edge of your pinky toe bumps the book you dropped earlier. Furious you reach down and throw it aggressively at the wall. 

Why did you ever think Frankie could change? He's still the same bastard he's always been. He tricked you for a bit, let you believe that he wasn't a wolf in sheep's clothing. How could he be anything but? Letting you believe something so delusional, that after everything you two could move past it and connect. 

You think of this morning, the sweet way he held you when you were dancing. The way he looked at you was so convincing! You actually fucking believed it for a second. How long had he been pining for Marcella? How much have she and Lydia talked about this? Have they been laughing at you behind your back? Have they seen how you fell for a man still so in love with his ex?

You decide that you have to leave tonight. You need to put as much distance between you and Frankie as possible. You don't even care about the money anymore; you just want to get out of here. 

You start in the bathroom digging around for your toothbrush and razor, tossing them into your bag. You swipe at the tears that fall from your eyes to the tile floor below, furious but most of all, heartbroken.  

///

Frankie feels the cold waves lap at his bare feet. He's got his pants rolled up above the ankles, his sandals hanging from the crook of his fingers as he walks down the shoreline. 

He's trying to clear his head, to understand where it all went wrong. Weren't the two of you having a good time? Hadn't you spent the morning together happy and joyful? Didn't you melt it to his arms on the dance floor? How could he have gotten it so wrong?

"What are you doing out here?" 

Frankie turns when he hears Marcella's voice cut through the night air. She's got her shoes off as well, making her way down the sand to him. 

"Wanted to go for a walk," he replies.

"By yourself? Where's your girl?"

"Room. She's got a headache."

He's speaking but there's no energy, no life behind it. His eyes are glazed and distant looking.

"It's too bad," Marcella remarks as she gazes up at the stars strung in the Velvet night sky. "This is the perfect romantic setting."

Frankie doesn't reply. What is there to say? That you don't actually like him? That you were only dancing like that and kissing him because you knew that there was a paycheck at the end? He feels equally humiliated and heartbroken.

"You know, you were never that affectionate in public," she continues, coming to walk shoulder to shoulder with him.

Frankie shrugs, his mind still stuck on you. He's in his thoughts and his feelings until he hears a sniffle and then soft crying. He glances over at her, stopping his pace immediately. Tears streaming down her cheeks and he feels his already bruised heart crack further. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Why couldn't you be like that when we were together?" Marcella asks, sniffling. "Why can you be all those things for her when you never could be for me? Did you just never love me enough?"

Frankie winces seeing the hurt on his ex-wife's face. For so many years he cast her as the villain in his life story. The woman who cheated on him, who cast him aside. 

Rarely did he remember her as the woman who begged him to get clean, the woman who put up with his sporadic employment. The women who packed him work lunches with sweet notes, who ran through the rain with him to a small chapel in Vegas to get married spur of the moment. 

And yeah, Marcella fucked up. She slept with Richard and broke his heart but Frankie has just come to realize that maybe he broke hers long before that. 

"Of course I loved you," he whispers, hand coming to cup her cheek. It's a motion he always employed with her in moments of sincerity. "I loved you as much as I could and I'm sorry I hurt you, I really am. You were the last person on earth I ever wanted to hurt, 'Cella." 

Marcella doesn't pull back from his touch; instead her hand comes to hold his palm there against her skin. 

"I'm sorry too, Francisco," she whispers up at him, her light eyes glossy. "I loved you so much. I wanted us to work out but I was so hurt.”

"I know, honey," Frankie nods sympathetically. "Me too." 

"And when you shut me out I just felt like... I felt so alone. Especially after the baby." 

Frankie swallows that bitter pill. The weeks he thought he was going to be a father. The joy they'd felt. 

But it was a band aid on their marital problems. Because while Marcella was wonderful in many ways, along with the good there was the bad. For every wedding Chapel in Vegas there was a high credit card bill she hid from him. 

There were her critical comments about his career aspirations, the way in later years that she would pinch his belly and comment that he was getting soft, the way she rolled her eyes every time Frankie invited her to throw darts with the gang or join them for poker. How she never tried to invite him to things with her friends.  

And so right now for the first time he looks at Marcella and he doesn't see a villain or an angel, just a woman he was married to. A woman who he shared a life with once.  A woman he once promised to love forever.

"That's all I wanted to say," she says sniffling. 

"Thank you Marcella," Frankie breathes, shocked at how cleansing this conversation feels. He didn't realize the need for closure still hung around. He wants to laugh in strange relief. 

Marcella still looks unsettled, worrying her bottom lip. 

"Frankie is... Is there any chance we could give it another shot?" 

Frankie is struck dumb by her question. He doesn't understand how a woman who he thought had written him off for life is suddenly looking at him with eyes so limpid. How she offers her heart to him so brazenly.

"Marcella-"

"I've seen how you've changed. You're someone I could build a life with now."

His palm goes to drop from her cheek but she still holds it there, her tone imploring. 

"We could have a fresh start. We could have the marriage we always should have had. "

Frankie casts his gaze to her finger where Richards ring sits. He doesn't have to say anything, her eyes trail to where his do. 

"I'd leave him today if you told me you wanted this," she tells Frankie breathlessly, taking a step towards him. "I'd never look back. I’d be the wife you always wanted." 

Frankie feels his heart softening at her admission. The words he can admit he's wanted to hear since she left him. The confession that she was wrong, that she wants him. That he’s wanted. And he remembers the woman who held his hand and exchanged vows of eternal fidelity. He remembers the love he held for her. 

She moves her face to his, capturing his mouth in a sudden kiss. Instinctively his arms wrap around her middle the way they always used to do when they were married. Her hands slide up his shoulders, holding him tightly as she traces her tongue along the seam of his lips. 

And Frankie thinks, maybe this is what was always meant to happen. That he was meant in some cosmic way to end up here, his mouth against Marcella's. 

Like maybe its fate.

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

NO WAIT I HAVE A PASCALANKET

MY SISTER GOT IT FOR ME LAST CHRISTMAS AND BITCH I SLEEP W THUS SHIT EVERY NIGHT

Bug’s room 🐛

Ty for the tag @tightjeansjavi 💜

Npt - @beefrobeefcal @sp00kymulderr @galarian-weezing-on-prep @verstappensrealwife @dark-scape @ozarkthedog @thereaperisabitch

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

now what in tar-fucking-nation. read this all on Ao3 and what the fuck. bomb as fuck but what the fuck ✊😪

SMTL Chapter 18 PART 1

I couldn't wait to post...

PLEASE READ: This is PART 1 of 2 for this chapter because apparently Tumblr wants to make my life a nightmare and won't let me post the whole thing in one. So please don't panic, PART TWO IS HERE.

Also important: TAGS AND WARNINGS FOR THE WHOLE CHAPTER ARE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER UNDER THE JOEL GIF. SCROLL THERE TO SEE ANY WARNINGS OR TAGS.

And lastly... please review. This chapter is over 30K. It was re-written after laptopgate 2024. It is blood, sweat and tears. Please review, reblog, and COMMENT. Even if you're mad at me.

Daylight bleeds into the bedroom, waking you with a gentle stir. Delight rests heavily in your belly making the world tinge a pink and yellow glow. Joel asking you to the dance. Holding your hand until the two of you made it back to town. But then just as quickly as you glow from the inside regret creeps in, darkening the moment.

Jennifer.

You have to tell Jennifer.

You’re desperate to get this ugliness out of the way. You want the party to be fun. You want the two of you to dance with your men without having to hide it. You want to giggle with her about Joel, to confess to her how you feel about him like girlfriends do. 

So an hour later you head over to her place with a coffee for her, surprised to see her still in her pajamas when she opens the door, her eyes red -rimmed.  She always looks beautiful, but today she appears to have been crying.

"Hey," you chirp happily extending the coffee to her. "Up for a visit and some shooting?" 

"Visit yes, shooting no." 

Your smile drops as she gives a sniffle. She takes the coffee from you before indicating that you should enter. You follow her to her couch, noticing that even up close she looks a bit drawn. You feel a twinge of panic.

"Jenny, what's going on?" 

Jennifer sighs, scrubbing her hand down her face.  

"It's Oliver," she says quietly. "He uh, he and his girlfriend got back together last night. He just came by this morning to tell me face to face. Said he felt like he owed it to me." 

Fuck.  

"I'm so sorry," you say, your hand going to her shoulder. 

"It's not your fault," she says taking a sip of coffee. 

Isn't it? 

You pushed her into Oliver's arms without knowing anything about him. You encouraged the romance for your own selfish gain. And now look at what happened, Jennifer, the sweetest woman alive feels like shit. 

"The worst part is I thought I really liked him," she says scoffing to herself. "But I don't know if I liked him or I just liked not being alone."

Jennifer was always one of those women that you saw surrounded by men and women. People clamored to be around her, to exist in her orbit. They still do, but something has changed. You see it when she's in a crowd, her smile not as bright. 

"I used to like the flirting and the sex and all that distraction," she explains. "But now, I dunno." 

She's quiet and you don’t like the downcast expression in her face. Guilt consumes you when you see how devastated she looks. And you know it’s because of your own selfishness that she’s like this.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She gives you a weak smile.

"Can we take a break from talking about men?" She laughs, rolling her eyes. "I'm sick of ‘em."

You swallow. So much for sharing about Joel. Bringing that up right now would only hurt her further. You force a smile to your face. 

"Yeah, of course."

///

"Let's go for a walk.”

“I dunno…”

You’re at Maria’s house on her front porch, your mind whirring about Jennifer. You thought that a visit to Maria might help. She’s answered the door dressed, but her hair is askew. Stains litter the front of her shirt. Tommy comes up behind her, gazing at the back of her head. He holds a grunting Douglas in his arms, smiling at you.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Trying to convince your wife to go for a walk with me,” you chirp merrily waving a bag in the air. “I even brought a carrot to feet Chestnut if you want.”

Maria still looks tentative; it's if she wants to turn down this idea. But you know how much she loves the animals. You know she’s been hiding herself indoors and you just know some fresh air would do her good.

“Go on, honey,” Tommy encourages gently. “Me and Douglas are just goin’ for breakfast anyway.”

“Make sure he-“

“Has his thick socks,” Tommy finishes for her with a gentle nod. “I know, Maria.”

Maria relents with a small smile in his direction. She presses a small kiss to Douglas’ forehead and Tommy’s cheek. You watch her pull on her boots and her thick winter jacket and the two of you make your way towards the stables. 

Maria has that distant look you associate with folks you've run across in your years since the outbreak. Eyes that have the life sucked out of them, cold and blurry like they're somewhere else. 

She walks next to you in silence, her hands shoved deep in her heavy coat pockets. For once it's you who needs to chatter away, still uneasy about how to speak with her when she's so withdrawn. You don't want to push her further into herself, but you also don't want to trudge beside her in silence. 

You smile at this. Maria looks up ahead to the stable and barn where several sections of the livestock are held. 

"When I first got here I used to come here all the time," you explain as you walk beside her. "I liked watching the chickens. When I first got here there were tons of chicks. So cute and fuzzy." 

Maria hums a response and any further comments you might have made fall into the snow, forgotten. 

Eventually the two of you come to the entrance of the barn. You unlatch it, tugging it open with a creak. Maria enters first, kicking the snow from her boots on the cement floor. You follow after her, closing the door with a thump. 

The barn inside is quiet, peaceful even in the early hour of the morning. The chickens are in this section, clucking madly as you pass. 

"Sorry folks, not breakfast for you yet." 

Maria smiles and you feel relief that her mood already rising. Goats bleet quietly on the other side of the barn, some of the kids kicking up hay. You and Maria take your time here, walking and watching the animals play. Some nuzzle your hand when you reach into the pen. 

You spot a light grey nanny goat at the far corner of the pen, lying in the straw. Two little ones with similar coloring nestle against her plump belly sleeping soundly. 

Maria runs her hand along the wood fencing that keeps them penned in. She sighs heavily. The Nanny goat raises her head sleepily at Maria, watching her with marble eyes before going back to resting. 

You feel rather than see Maria shake her head. 

"You know what's funny? I helped make this barn. I helped fix up the old houses and man the dam and build these very pens." She clicks her tongue, as if amazed. "And until Douglas I never really slowed down enough to really see it, you know?"

You don't say anything; you just stand next to her, shoulders almost touching as you stare at the goat. Maria needs to talk and you need to listen, it's as simple as that. 

"When you move fast it's real easy to overlook stuff. Like, that my baby is gonna grow up in this place, probably gonna run things if he's anything like me or Tommy... Or me." She smiles. "But that's a real uncertain future. What if the dam stops working? What if things get worse?" 

She looks at you now and you turn to face her, your arm resting on the fence. 

"We were so damn selfish bringing a baby into this shit."

Her eyes are filled with tears, fresh ones and you watch her chin tremble. She looks away from you, back at the goat and her kids. One of the kids has woken up, stretching. Maria folds her arms on the fence before lowering her head to bury her face in them. She's so broken that it actually hurts you to watch it. 

Your hand goes between her shoulder blades, rubbing gentle circles. She allows this, not tensing under your touch. 

The kid makes its way over to you both across the straw, giving soft little bleets. You cast a smile, watching as it attempts to nibble at the bottom of Maria's pants. 

"It's nature, Maria," you offer softly. "It's natural for some people to have the desire to create new life with someone they love." 

"You wouldn't," Maria says sharply. She's prickly now, exposed and hurt. She waits for your response with the look of someone waiting for a slip up. Or maybe hope that she's wrong. She deserves more than a lie.

"No," you admit truthfully with a slow shake of your head. "I probably wouldn't." 

Maria looks at the goat by her feet. 

"But you're so good with Douglas and you get along so well with Ellie."

You grin. 

"Well Douglas is an angel and Ellie, yeah, she's a cool kid. I probably like them so much because I don't have any of my own. Love surplus."

Maria seems to find this amusing because she looks at you with a small smile. 

"A love surplus. I like that." 

The two of you go back to looking at the animals, watching the Nanny goat who has just now realized that one of her babies is missing. She rises shakily before moving over to the quietly bleeting kid by you. 

"She doesn't know about tomorrow," you tell Maria, pointing at the mother goat. "She just knows she has a kid that she brought into this world and needs to protect it. That's all she can do. That's all she can control." 

Maria is quiet for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. 

"Are you really comparing me to a fucking goat?'

You hear the levity in Maria's voice and it brings a smile to your face. 

"Yeah, I guess I am." 

She gives you a playful shove with her shoulder. You grin before urging her to follow you to the closed barn door leading to the stables. You open the adjoining door to the stalls and feel your chest tighten when a familiar broad shouldered figure is seen standing by the pens. 

He's murmuring something to Chestnut, patting his nuzzle. But when the door creaks open he glances over quickly in the direction of the sound. When he sees you and Maria his brows rise in surprise. Maria walks towards him with a wave. 

"What are you doing here, Miller?"  

"Needed a break from Ellie. She’s found a new CD and she won’t stop fucking playin’ it. Givin’ me a headache."

He shakes his head good naturedly, as if to say some people’s kids.  But there’s no anger in it, no resentment, just gentle amusement.

“How about you two?”

"This one insisted I get out of the house," she says with a thumb pointed over her shoulder at you. 

Joel's eyes slide over to you, the depths of the dark brown color warm and sweet.

"Good." 

You feel your cheeks heating as he gazes at you before he drags his eyes back to a whinnying Chestnut.  

"I know, I know, your favorite girl's here," he murmurs to the horse. Something about the way he says it makes your heart flutter.  

"I thought we could come give Chestnut a snack," you explain holding up the carrots in front of you.  

"Only if you brought enough for the rest of the class," Joel teases. 

"We have enough." 

You hand Maria a few of the carrots from the bundle. You step towards Chestnut in his paddock walking back and forth eagerly as you approach. 

"I'll feed these guys," Maria says leaning over the opposite paddock to run her hand over Glimmers muzzle. Midnight stands in the corner, looking with uncertainty between you and Maria. 

Joel moves a little closer to you at the fence of the paddock, his eyes scanning the horses before you feel them coming back to land on your face. 

You can't look at him though; you know you'll give everything away if you do. It's getting impossible not to gaze at Joel these days, your eyes heavy with longing. Instead you keep your attention on the horse, your face warm. 

"Hello handsome boy," you croon at Chestnut. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Chestnut comes trotting over to see you, his downy muzzle coming to rub your cheek. You giggle at the sensation before raising the carrot in his direction.

"Okay charmer, relax. You're getting one." 

Maria feeds Glimmer and a few of the other horses as Chestnut chomps away on his treat, the chewing noises loud and pleasant. You place a kiss to the center of his forehead before rubbing his flicking ears. 

You hear Maria's entreating voice. 

"C'mon boy. Just a nibble." 

Maria holds out a carrot to Midnight who still stands off to the side looking petulant as the rest of the horses enjoy their morning treat.  

"He's a toughie," Maria says in amusement, holding the remaining carrot outstretched towards you. "You try." 

"I think Joel'll have better luck," you tell her, unable to look at the man as you say it. "Midnight likes him best." 

You feel Joel shuffle a little closer beside you, his forearms resting on the wood fence. He scratches his beard absently while he looks to the Midnight staring balefully at everyone. 

"You should do it," Joel says to the back of your head. "He's gotta learn to be less stubborn if he wants somethin'." 

You smirk at that before giving a shrug. "Sure, I'll try." 

You take the carrot from Maria, going to stand closer to Midnight's section of the pen. You hear Joel following you close behind. 

"He's picky," Joel informs you. "He only eats from the palm 'a your hand. Small pieces." 

You nod, cracking the carrot into several bite sized pieces before cupping them in your palm. You tilt over the paddock, clicking your tongue. 

Joel waves off the other horses who linger, waiting for a chance to get extra. 

Midnight watches Joel standing behind you before taking a wary step forward. You flinch when Joel's hand goes to your waist, holding you against him. His mouth is at your ear. 

"Stay real still or you'll spook him."

His hand squeezes your waist gently and your body trembles in response at being so close to him in front of someone else. 

You sneak a glance to see Maria's eyes fixed on Chestnut. She kisses the horse between the eyes, gently murmuring to him. You look back to see Midnight keeping his eyes on Joel as he ambles over, his nose twitching, catching the scent of the carrots. 

"Palm flat," Joel says huskily in your ear. You suppress a shiver at the sensation of his warm breath huffing against your earlobe. 

You know how to feed a horse from your hand safely. You're about to tell him as much when you feel his wide hand going to yours. He stands behind you, cupping the back of your hand in his and rising it towards the waiting horse.

You watch his arm under yours, lifting your hand and flattening. Your palm goes flat, the carrot pieces bunched together. Your breathing is unsteady, and you should be looking at Midnight but all you can focus on is how Joel's thumb strokes the side of your wrist. 

"Just let him take it."

You swallow at this, trying not to observe how silky Joel's voice has gotten. How it's dripping, sinfully sweet in your ear like honey. 

One hand stays on your hip, squeezing slightly. The other still holds your own hand under Midnight's mouth. Midnight still waits, looking at you with large, shiny eyes. 

"Go on," you say softly. 

You watch the distrustful animal bend forward, huffs of warm air falling over your palm. Then with gentle precision you feel him take the first piece of carrot into his mouth, crunching quickly. 

Joel's warm mouth is at your ear, his voice dropping an octave. 

"Good girl." 

It's murmured quietly. Your face feels like it has a heartbeat, throbbing in time with your pulse. You don't even mean to, but you let out a shudder exhale.  You hear Joel's breathing hitch before he steps back from you, clearing his throat. 

"Tommy up with the baby?"

Maria nods, staring at Glimmer.

"Yeah, when we left they were heading for breakfast."

"Might join him. I'll see ya later." 

You watch as Joel gives you both a short wave before ducking out the side door of the barn, closing it behind him. 

You cling to the fencing, feeling like you're going to pass out. There's something about Joel that gets you so wound up. You wanted nothing more than go home with him right now, to force him into bed and to ride him until his eyes roll back in his head. 

"We should head back too," Maria announces before shooting you a smile. "This was a good idea. Thanks." 

You grin; delight blooming behind your ribs. Maria already looks much more at ease, her countenance relaxed as the two of you walk back to her house. You can see the fresh tracks left by Joel in the snow, a trail leading you both home. 

"I like the two of you together."

Maria says this suddenly, breaking you from your thoughts. You fight to keep your face and voice neutral. 

"Who?"

"You and Joel."

Your head jerks back to face her, your eyes wide. You physically come to a stop, sliding in the icy patch of wet snow. 

"Excuse me?" 

Maria's eyes bounce between yours, trying to read your expression. 

"We're not …. That's not..." You stammer further when Maria stares at you, a playful smirk crossing her lips. 

"I’m not blind," she states sagely and you can see in her eyes that there's a relief in her knowing this part of you. Like she isn't the only one being vulnerable in this friendship. You feel the walls start to come down.

"It's new. I don't exactly know what it is." 

"But you're happy?"

A flush crawls up your neck as you suppress a small smile.  "Yeah." 

"I always thought there might be something there," Maria says tilting her head after the direction he left in. "You're a good match. Always thought so."

"Yeah, well, like I said it's still new. Nothing's official." 

Maria opens her mouth to say something but then thinks better of it. She settles for walking quietly with you towards her place. 

"I don't want people knowing," you say quietly. "Not until I've figured some stuff out. I'm pretty sure Joel feels the same." 

"Your secret's safe with me," she assures you with a pat on the back of your arm. "I won't say a word to anyone, not even Tommy. Not until you're both ready."

You don't speak anymore on it, but there's a lightness in you at having shared this. A strange relief that bubbles up in your chest at the realization that someone else knows about you and Joel. And that there was no recrimination or judgment involved. 

When you approach her house you see one of Maria's neighbors, Bethany, there with a pie, waving at you both. 

"I was hoping to have a visit," she tells Maria as the two of you approach. Your friend holds in a grimace, forcing a weak looking smile 

"That's so kind, Beth but I'm a little tired."

"Well that's fine by me. I'll just come read by the fire while you nap."

The woman's face is sweet and you can see the anxiety there in her eyes. Maria sighs before nodding, realization hitting you both. Tommy set this up in case he wasn't home yet. A babysitter. 

You and Maria bid each other a goodbye with a quick hug and then your feet are hurriedly making their way towards the dining hall. 

You're hoping to catch up with Joel. 

You feel like you're turning into a bloodhound because you're certain you can smell the leather of his jacket in the air. You round the corner of Magnolia Street and see his broad figure walking slowly down the sidewalk. 

Some folks wave a hello to him as they pass and you fight the urge to call out his name. Instead you walk quicker, watching his long legs carrying him to the dining hall. 

You watch as he comes to a stop in front of one of the shops, peering in and glancing around in the display window. 

You walk casually towards him, your boots crunching snow underfoot. Joel must hear you approaching because his dark eyes dart up to catch yours in the windows' reflection. Something about the sight makes your stomach flip. 

You walk up to him casually, aware that there could be eyes on you. You keep your eyes on his reflection, your heart loud in your ears. 

"You wanna come over for coffee?" 

Joel’s brow furrows.

"Thought you didn't drink coffee."

"Wasn't really talking about coffee."

You can't help the little smirk that crosses your mouth when you say this, surprised at even yourself. You don't miss the grin Joel hides behind his palm. 

"Yeah, okay."

He follows you home and then upstairs to your bedroom and fucks you so hard that your headboard chips some of the plaster off your wall. You laugh about it after when he remarks that he's "too strong for my own good” after coming so hard your body twitches well into the afterglow. You feel drowsy, facing Joel, his hand over yours. Your eyes are closed but you feel him staring at you.

“What was Tommy talkin’ about that night in the Bison?”

“Huh?”

“You were with your friends talkin’ about repairs he said somethin’ about  rememberin’ you and the stables.”

You cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory. The day Joel sat next to you in the pub while Tommy brought up your embarrassing lack of carpentry skills and you go to pull the sheet further up your body.

“When I got here I volunteered to help with rebuilding the stables. Only I’m just as shit at repairs as I am with patrols.”

“You’re not shit with patrols.”

“Oh no?” you roll onto your side, grinning at him. “I feel like you may only be saying that considering what we’ve done on them.”

“Nah,” Joel says softly. “You got good eyes and good ears, and I’m a good shot. We make a good team.”

You snuggle closer to him in the bed, head resting on his chest and the two of you fall into a drowsy mid-day nap. You can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat underneath, lulling you into a comfortable half-slumber and before long you wake still in his arms. A moment of concern hits you when you see the sky is starting to darken and you glance up to see Joel is already awake, looking at you.  

“Will Ellie be waiting for you?”

“Nah, she’s visitin’ her friend.”

“So you can stay a little longer?”

You feel Joel’s smile on the top of your head. “Yeah.”

Thoughts of Ellie bubble up in your mind, her sweet smile and the way she talks about Joel like he’s the most wonderful man she knows. There’s a familial feeling despite their lack of blood relation.

“Ellie doesn’t really talk about how you two know each other,” you tell him, gazing up his shoulder. “She’s private like you.”

Joel exhales gently, his dark eyes unfocussed as he stares off into middle distance.

“I was takin’ her to the Fireflies. Tess and I were, actually.”

Tess, his not-quite-girlfriend if you recall correctly. The Fireflies that radical group your dad told you about.

“I didn’t wanna do it, but Tess had that way of persuadin’ me.” Joel rubs at the back of his neck. He speaks slowly, deliberately. “Tess got infected pretty early on, but she made me promise to take Ellie all the way to the Fireflies. It was the least I could do for her.”

Joel takes a deep breath, thinking back.

“S’funny, I couldn’t stand the kid when I first met her. Thought she was annoyin’ and reckless. But, you know Ellie, she has a way of makin’ you come around to her.”

You smile. Yes, she certainly does.

“Anyway, took us a while to get there and when we got there to the hospital, they. . . “ Joel blinks rapidly, his chest rising. “They wanted to operate on her. Cut open her brain and see if they could find the cure that way.”

“What the fuck?” It comes out of you in a rush, your eyes widening in disgust. You push up in the bed, clutching the blanket over your bare chest. “She was okay with it?”

“She didn’t know.”

Anger flashes in your eyes, unmistakable.

“How…Was it guaranteed? This cure?”

Joel shakes his head slowly. Your mind races, trying to understand how Ellie went from being with the Fireflies in the hospital, her life at stake, to living with Joel in blissful youth. It doesn’t add up.

“But, how did she get out?”

Joel sweeps his eyes to you, seeing your hand raised to your mouth and you almost wish he hadn’t. His big, dark eyes are so fucking broken that it literally takes your breath away. It’s like you can see the hurt living in him.

“I couldn’t save Sarah, but I could save Ellie.”

It feels like a gut punch and you go still, your eyes searching his.

“You got her out?”

“Yes.”

He stares you down, almost daring you to force him to justify his actions. It’s like he wants your ire or your disgust. You give him neither, instead you take his hand, nodding. You understand. You picture sweet, childish Ellie in a hospital gown; knocked out and unknowing her short life was at an end.

You can’t say you wouldn’t have done the same if you had the same tactical skill set.

“I’m done having the people I love taken from me,” Joel murmurs.

“Same here.”

There’s a heavy emotion in the air, something sweet that lingers. But it makes you feel strange, almost anxious. Despite this you take his face in yours and press a kiss to his pouty lips. You don’t miss the sheen to his eyes as he kisses you back, lowering you onto the mattress and making love to you slow and deep.

Help me forget, his body whispers, each groan and thrust a silent beg for you to take him away from that darkness. To repay him for all the times he’s made it go quiet for you. And you do, body drawing him closer, soft exhalations of his name again his neck.

You both continue to lay in the bed afterwards, sex warmed and intimate. You hear Joel begin to hum under his breath, a twangy tune you half remember. You let it twist lazily through the air, the deep notes spinning slowly in your mind. You prop your cheek up with one hand so you can grin at him. 

"Have you always been musical?"

"Since I could afford an instrument," Joel says with a far-off in his eyes. "Wanted to be a famous singer when I was a kid." 

"Yeah? Johnny Cash?"

"The man in black himself." Joel chuckles softly at your amused grin. "But I'm not a suit guy."

You watch his chest rise and fall in the following quiet. Your free hand twitches before it goes to rest gently over his sternum. You feel the smooth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat thumping steadily under your touch. He covers your hand there with his own heavy palm, keeping it there, keeping you close. 

"Sarah always got embarrassed when I sang in the car with her," Joel grins, eyes unfocused. "I'd be drivin' her to soccer practice and Elvis or somethin' would come on. I'd start singing and she'd cover her ears moaning that I was embarrassin' her." 

You grin at the remembrance of being a teenager girl with an embarrassing dad. Before everything went to shit you were a teenage girl who loved riding horses, going to the mall, reading, flirting with the guy that worked at the movie theatre. Anything to be considered cool. 

When your own father threatened to take you to school in his pyjamas and walk you to class if you skipped out of math again it had felt like the end of the world. 

How strange that the end of the world would happen not long after. 

"Did you ever want to be anything else?"

"Oh sure," Joel shrugs. "When my dad was teachin' me n' Tommy how to shoot I was convinced I was gonna be a hunter and that I'd live off the land, have my own farm. Then when I played highschool football I figured I'd do that professionally until Sarah came along."

You watch him speak, your mouth slightly agape as you take in every word he says. Every time he takes a breath you're worried that he's finished, that no more stories will be told. 

Suddenly you understand why Ellie sits and stares at you when you talk about the past, why she urges you to tell her more and more. 

This is an insight into a world you don't know, a world where Joel played guitar and dreamt about being a singer. A world where he went to Sarah's soccer matches. You want to learn more, to hear more. 

"What was Sarah like?"

It slips out of you before you can help yourself. It spills over your lips before you can realize how personal a question it is. Joel's dark eyes grow glossy in the moonlight and you mentally kick yourself.

"She was funny," Joel says, surprising you. He inhales slowly, eyes distant. "She was so damn funny without even tryin' to be. And she loved goin' to museums. I think I took her to every single one in Texas by the time she was twelve. She loved watching bad movies with me. I remember our favorites were the Curtis and Viper ones. You know those?"

"Action movie?"

"Yeah."

"Then no. I was strictly a rom-com girl back then," you smile as you jiggle your hand against his sternum, prompting him. "What else?"

Joel gives a grin. 

"She was beautiful, had the most beautiful smile and she was so loving. To animals, to other people. That was my girl, all heart."

You close your eyes, imagining this girl with a bright smile and gentle disposition. You wish you could have seen more than the one photo of her you got from Maria.  

"She was smart as hell too, smarter than I ever was." He sniffs softly. "N' so responsible... Too responsible, maybe. I think she felt like she had to take care of me sometimes." 

"Take care of you?" You hope the shock isn't too evident in your features. The thought The Joel Miller would need someone taking care of him of all people surprises you. 

"Yeah, I think because..." Joel looks puzzled, as if explaining is impossible. "I think she saw me single, workin' all the time at a job I didn't really love, takin' care of Tommy, no social life, and she felt like I needed to be taken care of too. Was just in her nature to think of other people." 

You both fall silent as the words settle in your mind. 

"She sounds like an amazing kid," you finally whisper. "You were lucky to have her."

Joel's head slowly tilts until he's facing you, his gaze fixed and gentle. 

"Yeah. I was." 

You nod, lowering your cheek back to your pillow now. Your palm is still flat on Joel's sternum, his big hand over yours. You watch them rise and fall as he breathes, slow and steady. You chance a look up at his expression even though tears are prickling the back of your eyes. He's got a wet look to his gaze, the kind that turns his dark eyes into glassy marbles. 

You shuffle up the bed slightly, sliding your hand to his neck before kissing him slowly. His hand finds itself cupping your jaw as your lips move against one another. Joel sees you about to nod off, wrapping his arms around you and settling against you in the bed. You shift until he's curled around you, his mouth at your shoulder. 

"Sleep." 

Immediately you feel yourself dropping off. You think he says something but you can't be sure and you can't reply. You're asleep, nestled in the safe harbor of Joel Miller's arms. 

///

"What are you signing up to bring?"

It's later that week and you and Jennifer are crowded around the notice board in town. You've both been reading the potluck list for the winter party. You can't help but feel your stomach do a little jump when a familiar name pops up on the list in familiar sharp script.

Joel Miller - drinks

You hide your smirk. How Joel Miller. 

A pencil tied to string is pinned into the cork next to the brightly colored paper. You take it in your hand, hunching over. 

"I think I'll bring brownies," you say as you write your name and the dessert onto the potluck list. "I've got a good recipe for it at home." 

"Oh that's a good idea," Jennifer nods, looking at the list with scrutiny. Many names are already on the list along with items. Soup, bread, fruit preserves, casserole, vegetables. 

"I think I'll bring... Apples."

You turn around and laugh sharply at your friend. 

"Everyone loves apples," Jennifer laughs back. "They keep the doctor away."

"Jenny, you can't be serious," you say giggling still. 

"I can't bake very well! You know that!"

Jennifer is laughing but you can sense a bit of insecurity there as well. She's good at so much in the world, but not this. You give her a half smile, shaking your head in amusement. You go back to the list and add Jennifer's name before writing "apple tarts" next to it. 

"Hey I -"

"I'll be making them for you," you tell her, holding a hand up before she can deny this. "You're making me a whole dress, Jenny. Let me make you some fucking tarts." 

Arm in arm the two of you laugh all the way to the dining hall, breaking apart when you see an anxious-looking Ellie waving you over. Jennifer sees a few of her friends at the far side and mentions she’s going to catch up with them.

You sit across from Ellie, taking in the girl’s frantic features.

“I need your advice.”

You nod, attempting to listen but all you can think about is how you’re going to tell both she and Jennifer about you and Joel. You’ve both been so busy you haven’t seen much of each other to talk. It seems whenever the two of you do find time, most of it is spent with him between your legs and you falling asleep in his arms. Part of you doesn’t want to bring up the potential awkwardness of what’s to come. You don’t want to think of Jennifer hating you or Ellie being disgusted.

“….on Thursday?”

You're completely distracted, your eyes glazed as Ellie sits across from you. She repeats the question twice before snapping and calling your name. You blink, coming to attention. 

"Huh? What?"

The sounds of the dining hall come flooding back, reminding you where you are.

"I said Dina is coming over for dinner Thursday night," Ellie explains patiently. "And I wanna make it special. So could you help me make something good for dessert?"

"Sure, of course." You pause as you think about it. "I could actually use some practice baking apple tarts. How about I come over Wednesday after your school is done?"

"Great," Ellie says, satisfied.  

"So," you offer gently, not wanting to come off as annoying. "Is it like a date?"

"Don't know how much of a date it can be if Joel is sitting there scowling at the other end of the table," Ellie says with a frown. 

"I don't think he'd do that," you offer. "He'd give you privacy." 

"You don't know Joel," Ellie laughs into her porridge.

Her reply eases your mind. She clearly doesn't even suspect about you and Joel. You both need to talk about how you're going to explain it to Ellie. Something tells you it's got to be handled delicately and it should come from Joel. You don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

///

"Damn, you're getting really good!"

You flush at the praise from Luke at the side of the target, giggling when Jennifer claps wildly for you. 

"It's just a lucky shot."

"One is lucky," Jennifer assures you, taking the gun from your hand. "Four is a talent."

You feel delight at this. Jennifer is a really good shot so to have her praising your skills makes it feel like you might sincerely be improving. 

You're glad to see her out here pink-cheeked and looking happy. She's even wearing a new jacket she made with embroidered roses along the collar. 

You went to her this morning and after a bit of gentle prodding she decided she was tired of being miserable and that she needed to get out and forget all about Oliver. 

So with Jennifer's gun slung over your shoulder you both knocked on Luke's door and the three of you make your way to the target practice site. 

You've all been taking turns with Jenny's gun, practicing your shots. It's at the range and no one is around. Tin cans and targets are set up far away. 

You watch as Luke sets up the tin cans you knocked over along the log before jogging back, his air huffing in front of him in the chilly air. 

Jennifer focuses her light eyes, lips thinning as she hones in on the targets. Her lean finger wraps around the trigger and then a crack sounds out and you see the first can shoot up into the sky. 

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... All of them go up into the air, knocked perfectly out of the way of the others. 

She readjusts her stance.

... 6,7,8,9,10. 

And on the tenth when the can flies up she shoots again, spearing it out of midair. Your jaw drops as it slams into the snow with finality. 

Just when you were feeling good about your four shots she goes and pulls off a perfect ten. Luke bounces up and down whistling

"Damn, Jenny!" 

You can't help but cheer loudly because that's some remarkably impressive shooting. You feel a tiny stab of jealousy at how easy she makes it look, watching her hand the gun to Luke. 

You take your turn setting up and jog over to the log, uprighting the cans along it for Luke before making your way back through the snow coming to stand next to Jennifer. 

Luke shakes out his arms before raising the weapon and aiming with intense focus. You and Jennifer watch, cheering when he hits most. 

You take a sip of hot chocolate from your Thermos, watching Luke's stance. You make a mental note to square your shoulders more. 

"Hey, come by the shop next week," Jennifer tells you as you both clap at Luke's next shot. "Gotta do the final touches on your dress."

"Sounds great."

Your pulse and heart flutter as you think about yourself in that dress. The graceful way you'll move into the dance, floating between the couples until Joel greets you by bringing you into his arms. You imagine him dipping you, kissing you with gusto, making you swoon inwardly. 

"Your turn."

Luke breaks you from this daydream by handing you the gun with an encouraging smile. You blink before thanking him and taking his spot. 

You raise the gun to your shoulder, bracing it there as Your eyes lower to the scope. The old empty bean can sits there just asking to be knocked over. 

Focus. Go quiet. 

Sometimes it comes to you, that ability to make things go a little quieter. You try to shut out all the noise surrounding you right now but you can't help but catch Luke's low murmur to Jennifer just as you pull the trigger. 

"Have you noticed Joel Miller lately?"

Your gun falters and the shot goes wild, burying itself into the log the cans perch on. You fight to keep your breath even. 

They don't notice your wild shot, both are chatting back and forth, focused on the topic at hand. 

"What do you mean?'

"He's different." Luke's voice is amused as you raise the gun back to your shoulder. "Not as miserable."

"I hadn't really noticed." 

"Bastard must be getting laid."

He and Jennifer share a laugh and you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to spill across your features as you pull the trigger.

///

"We start with the crust because that needs to be refrigerated for thirty minutes.”

It's Wednesday afternoon and you've arrived with all the components needed for apple tarts.

Joel answered the door the second before you knocked, his dark eyes dancing as you smiled at him. You hadn't seen him since Sunday and even though only three days had elapsed you felt yourself hold in a sigh at the sight of him. 

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Ellie was in the kitchen before sliding a forefinger through the empty belt loop of your jeans. With a gentle tug he pulled you into the house, capturing your lips with his as he closed the door. Then as if everything was normal he gave your ass a pat, nudging you in the direction of the kitchen.

Now you're in the kitchen next to Ellie, vibrating with your desire for him as you pull on your apron, trying very hard to concentrate on the recipe you found in one of the old library books you keep at your house. 

"Will you stay until they're out of the oven?" 

"Sure," you say, trying really hard not to think about Joel in the next room. The two of you begin working on the crust, mixing bowls in hand, butter softening and the sound of faint guitar playing in the background. Joel is playing his guitar and right now you’re dying to listen to him. But you’re here for Ellie and she deserves your undivided attention.

“So, this is all for Dina?”

Ellie flushes to her roots before shrugging; giving a half-smile that is so Joel-coded it makes your chest tighten.

“She uh, she’s good. She gave me a book for me to use when I sketch.”

She awkwardly brushes some of the hair from her face and you’re amused when she leaves behind a swipe of batter along her cheek. You grab a cloth and gently take her chin between your fingers.

“You’re a messy baker,” you tell her with affection, “just like Charlie.”

“Who’s Charlie?”

“My sister.”

Ellie goes quiet at that, allowing you to rub the batter from her face. You work quietly, allowing the dough to rise before starting on the next step, peeling apples. As you do this Ellie brings a chair to sit at next to you at the sink.

“Tell me about Dina and the book.”

"We went for a walk to see the horses and uh, yeah, well she knows I like to draw and stuff so she got me this drawing book. So I can get the proportions right and stuff." 

"Ah, hence the dinner,” you say with a sly wink. “A little payback.”

"Yeah, I wanted to do something nice back and I found some of these old magazines at the library," Ellie tells you. "There was a lot of stupid shit in there and ugly clothes but there was this thing where people write questions to someone?"

"An advice column?"

"Sure. Anyway, it was this girl asking what counted as a date because she wasn't sure if this guy she liked was dating her or just being her friend."

"Oh yeah?" You try to hide the amusement from your face, especially when Ellie looks so serious about the topic. She raises her fingers, counting off what facts she's learned.

"Yeah so the other person says that a romantic date has just the two people on it, and the people dress up nice and they eat together and do an activity. So I'm getting dinner and then we're gonna have dessert and then I dunno, I'll think of an activity." 

Your mouth twitches as you fight back a grin at the innocence of Ellie. Despite everything she must have seen, there is a sweetness and naivety that charms you. 

 "You're really going all out, huh?"

"I want it to be special," Ellie explains, brows furrowed as she looks over the recipe you've written. 

"Trust me Ellie, this is special." 

Ellie doesn't look at you, but you see the blush under her dusting of freckles. The two of you begin adding the dry ingredients to the wet, swirling the mixture until it's ready to be formed. 

"Do you remember your first real date?" 

You take a moment from kneading, trying to recall and then you breathe out a small chuckle, nodding. 

"I do. I was twelve, it was Michael Ramos. He had tons of freckles and his hair was really curly. He asked me to the movies and when he showed up to my house he had these beautiful flowers for me." You smile fondly at the memory. "The movie was terrible and Michael was obnoxious, but I'd never gotten flowers before. I kept them until well after they died in the vase." 

Ellie laughs, imagining such a time. It’s hard for her; she’ll never know what it is to go to the movie theatres, waiting anxiously outside for your date in a new outfit as cars drive by. She’ll never experience the plush seats and dimming lights and the scent of popcorn in the air. She’ll  never see trailers for new movies or sing along to the dancing hot dog telling her to go to the lobby for snacks.

All Ellie will know is a crowded old building with a makeshift screen. She’ll know crowded bench seats and popcorn with no butter. She’ll be happy and content with this, but your heart aches for the traditions she’ll never experience like you did.

"Hey, I got paper," Ellie tells you after a beat. "We could make some of those paper flowers! Then I could give them to Dina!"

“Great idea.”

She scampers off, returning almost immediately with the supplies. The two of you take a seat around the kitchen table and she watches you intently as you fold. The two of you chat about the upcoming dance and target practice. Things are going swimmingly until a creak of wood sounds behind you and you force yourself not to tense.

Ellie glances up from her folded abomination, scowling at Joel as he enters the space.

"Just getting a water," Joel says holding up his hands in mock surrender before retrieving a glass from the cupboard. "Don't lemme ruin girl’s day."

He pours the water into the glass as Ellie wrinkles her nose. 

"Ew, don't call it that," Ellie says as she struggles to fold one of the stems. You smirk, murmuring to Ellie how to double fold the leaf. 

“It’s tricky but the folds need to be really precise,” you explain. “The sharp creases make it possible to fold back.”

You glance up to see Joel watching the two of you, his eyes stuck on the rose you're folding to show Ellie. He must feel your gaze because his eyes drift up to meet yours. He winks at you and you look away, flushing.

“Can you show me that part again?” Ellie asks, frustration lacing her tone. She’s intent on watching your fingers. You fight to keep them from trembling when Joel moves to stand behind your chair. 

You feel the warmth of him there behind you and you're shocked at how turned on you are just having him in the same room. You know you can't look at him too long, can't touch him as he passes. The inability somehow makes it arousing. 

"Those look nice," Joel murmurs in that deep, sexy voice of his. 

"They're fuckin’ hard to fold," Ellie grunts. She's completely consumed with the task at hand, her nose inches from the paper. 

You hold in a giggle when you feel Joel's fingers go to the bottom of your hair, winding a piece around his finger and tugging it gently, playfully. 

"I give up," Ellie sighs and you feel Joel's hand drop from you. He leaves the room and you feel your heartbeat slow a fraction. 

"Don't give up," you say, bringing her a new sheet of paper. "We'll go slow. Step by step." 

When Joel is gone from the room Ellie leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper meant only for you.

"See what I mean? He's gonna hang around me and Dina and make it weird."

You hold in a laugh. 

"Why don't you just send him over to Tommy's? Tell him you want him out of your hair for the evening. I bet Tommy'll keep him busy doing dishes or changing Douglas's diaper or something."

Ellie laughs at that. "That's a good idea." 

///

You begin the following day by wandering into town to get some groceries, just small staples like fruit and jerky for the days you sleep too late for breakfast or just feel like keeping to yourself.

You clean your house from top to bottom and strangely invested in having your space more colorful, you begin to hang more things on the walls. Paintings given to you during your move here, knick knacks you’ve gathered are put onto the coffee table. Books that rested in boxes are brought out and shoved onto bookshelves.

You stare at your belongings, lingering on the mantle before your feet carry you to Maria’s, your mind fixated on something. Tommy answers the door and encourages you to come in, citing that he’ll take Douglas for a walk while you two visit. The fire roars pleasantly and Maria looks more upbeat than when you saw her last. This encourages you. 

“You look different,” she says as she walks back into the room with two steaming cups of tea. She hands you one before settling on the opposite side of the couch, surveying you.

“Oh?”

“Lighter,” she says, scanning your eyes. “I can’t explain it.”

You give a soft giggle and not want to say much about that you change the subject.

"The party sure looks fun," you say through a sip of your tea.  "I'm making brownies and apple tarts for it."

"Oh yeah?" Maria gives a little half smile at this. "I haven't had apple tarts in years."

"Hopefully mine are decent."

"All your baking is good," she assures you with another sip from her teacup. "Ellie still brags about the pop tarts."  

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Maria smiles. “As for me, I think the turkey is gonna be a nightmare this year.”

"You want help?"

"Nah, apple tarts are more than enough as long as everyone remembers to bring their share. Last year Monica over on Trestle Ave said she was bringing cookies and she showed up empty handed, saying she forgot." Maria rolls her eyes and you giggle. “Except the year before she forgot mashed potatoes too.”

You both giggle over this, talking companionably about decorations (Yes, you and Jennifer have been planning on what to do) and the tree (Joel and you found a great one) and setting up (All three of you are planning to cut it down next week, closer to the event).

And not once does she mention the romance of you and Joel. Not once does she wink and nudge you with an elbow and pry for details and for that you are so grateful. You’re not at a place where you feel really comfortable talking about that yet. You think it’s because you still haven’t told Jennifer.

“Oh, I almost forgot, come with me,” Maria says out of nowhere, gripping your wrist and dragging you to her bedroom.

She pulls you beside the dresser and begins digging around in the top drawer. As she does this you notice the real photograph next to the bed, one you’d never noticed before. It’s of a young Tommy from his army days dressed in fatigues, a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth.

“He and Joel look so alike and yet so different,” you mumble, looking at the photo.

“I wish I had more photos,” she frowns glancing at it. “I have a few of my family, but I’m greedy, I want more.”

You smile.

"Hey can I borrow that photo of Sarah for a day?" You ask. "I'll bring it back tomorrow."

"Of course," Maria shrugs. "It's not going anywhere."

She moves to one side of the room, plucking the photo of Sarah from where it sits and hands it to you. You thank her before shoving it into your pocket. Maria digs in the desk under the window before giving a crow of delight.

“There it is!”

She turns back with a delicate gold chain holding a sweet dark blue sapphire. Or it could be a fancy blue rock; you’d never know the difference.

“That’s beautiful Maria,” you said admiring it. “Are you wearing it to the party?”

“No, you are.”

You look at her confused. She’s smiling broadly.

“I wanted to give you this,” Maria says, slipping the necklace into your palm. “I’ve had it for years and I think you’ll look beautiful in it.”

“Maria I can’t-“

“You can and you will. I want to give it to you. You said the dress Jennifer made you is blue. This’ll go perfect with it.”

You take it, your heart bursting. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever owned. You take it and gingerly place it in your pocket. You can’t wait to put it away in the drawer back home. You might just hang somewhere in the house so you can look at it all day.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

Maria smiles, pulling you into a crushing hug before releasing you. The front door creaks open and you hear Tommy call out.

“Hey honey, Dougie and I are back. Brought you a coffee!”

Maria smiles indulgently before rolling her eyes.

“You know since the… you know,” she drops her voice and winces, “Tommy hasn’t left me alone for more than three minutes. Either its him or one of his babysitters.”

“He’s just worried, I guess.”

“I know,” she says with a small sigh. “I just feel like such a burden at times.”

You grow serious, hand on her shoulder. “Maria, no. Please don’t say that. I don’t know how I would have survived in this place without you.”

Maria isn’t close to crying, instead she has a strangely eerie calm about her. A resilience you don’t remember seeing before. She hugs you again, thanking you and citing that she’ll come to your place for coffee next time.

You bound home with a spring in your step, breathing deeply as the crisp air of the day invigorates you. You make a small detour to see Arthur and Penny before heading home with your groceries from earlier, thoughts on what to make for dinner. Perhaps you’ll have Jennifer over for dinner and talk to her then.

///

You’re in your kitchen later that evening thinking of how you’ll admit everything to Jennifer. Perhaps over dinner tonight you could soften her up? Remind her of how wonderful and understanding she is. Then the two of you could take a walk tomorrow and chat about it further, you could tell her then? Then it might be more palatable.

You’re still mulling this over when a knock sounds. You’re confused, walking over and pulling open the door.

Joel stands there, looking as handsome as ever. He smells different, like he’s wearing cologne or something. It’s heady and masculine and it makes you blink rapidly as you open the door wider.

"Joel. Hi. C’mon in."

You step back, allowing him to enter despite your confusion at his presence.  

"Told Ellie I was goin' out to give her privacy for her date," Joel says, stepping into your house. "You mind if I stay here for a bit?"

You close the door behind him. 

"Of course, c'mon in. I was just about to start dinner," you tell him, pleased.

"No need."

From behind his back he produces the bag in his left hand, the scent of chicken and potatoes emitting from it. He gives you a shy smile. 

"Stopped by the dining hall on my way here." 

"Amazing," you say grinning widely. "Follow me and I'll grab you a drink and we can dig into this."  

"Sure, thanks," he says clearing his throat. 

Before you can move he's brought his hand out from behind his back, thrusting a bouquet of wilted red paper roses towards you. Many have been folded over and re-creased. 

"I made some after you left the other day," he explains. "Ellie was right. They're hard to do." 

You feel a smile breaking out over your features. You take the bouquet from him, holding them as dearly as if they were real. 

"At least these ones won't die on ya." 

He quickly turns pink as you smile dreamily at him. 

"But only if you wanna keep em, I mean." Joel looks flustered. "You don't have to. I know they're kinda ugly but I remember you said red was your favorite color so-"

You wrap your arms around his middle before standing on tiptoes to kiss him. He melts into it and you feel him relax in your arms. You can’t believe that big tough Joel Miller spent time hunched over his table, folding and re-folding paper just so he’d have flowers to give to you.

"I love them, Joel."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," he replies, ducking to kiss you again. 

You quickly place them into the vase along with your yellow flowers from weeks ago. You blink back the tears that are sitting there, just waiting to fall. To distract yourself you bring out a few apple tarts from your ice box, placing them in the oven. You set it to warm, wanting them to brown slowly. You don't want to rush this dinner. You want to take your time having Joel in your home.

"Can I help?" 

"Nah, just relax." 

Joel nods, fingers drumming anxiously on the table. 

"I like baking but I don't really enjoy cooking," you admit as you slice up the chicken and plate it, quickly followed by the potatoes and green beans. 

"I don't mind it," Joel says, taking a sip of his sweet tea. "Can't say it's my favorite thing to do."

You nod, passing him his plate and sitting next to him. The two of you begin to eat and you catch Joel glancing at the flowers in the center of the table. 

It's strange sitting across from Joel in your own home, digging into a dinner that smells delicious. It feels strangely domestic to have this man sitting across from you, eyes raising to yours between bites. 

"This is nice," you say without thinking. Embarrassment creeps up your neck the second the comment hits the air. But Joel surprises you by smiling and nodding. 

"Yeah," Joel says warmly. "It is." 

You go back to your dinner, taking slow bites and trying not to stare at Joel. 

Is this a date?

You can't ask that out loud, that would be humiliating. But it sure feels like a date. Flowers, dinner, being together one on one. All that's missing is an activity, according to the article Ellie read. 

If he suggests an activity this is definitely a date, you tell yourself. You can't help but observe that you really want this to be a date. 

"So Ellie and Dina," Joel says between bites. "Who saw that one coming?"

"Me."

 Joel raises his brows at you, amused. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She was always complaining about Dina," you offer with a smile around your fork. "But I saw the looks she shot her."

"Really?"

You nod. Joel looks stumped. "I thought she hated her."

"That's how I knew she liked her," you say. "How does the saying go? It's a thin line between love and hate? Passion is passion."

Joel blinks, letting your words register. 

"It reminded me of Charlotte and this guy in her algebra class. He teased her all the time, for months. She hated him and I mean hated him," you push your peas around your plate as you reminisce. "Then Valentine's Day rolls around and who do you think got her chocolates and a card confessing he had a huge crush on her?"

Joel's fork is beside his empty plate, his focus rapt on this story.  "Really?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

You giggle. 

"She smashed the chocolates and told him that next time he liked a girl he should try being nice to her."

Joel laughs loudly, the rich sound ringing through the air as you grin. You like that sound, it fills your small home and makes it feel cozy. 

"Damn, she and Ellie would have gotten along."

"You know, they actually would have," you acknowledge with a laugh. "Charlie didn't take shit."

"You called her Charlie?"

"Ever since we were kids."

And then out of nowhere it's there on the tip of your tongue. Desire to tell Joel everything. About Rock River, about the scar you wear. But the moment is so peaceful, this evening so beautiful and you want it to stay that way. You have so few truly happy memories, you want to cherish it. You want to file it away, a movie you can return to and watch over and over if things get grim. 

Joel must notice something in your face that betrays your mixed emotions because he glances over your shoulder, breaking the tension. 

"Damn, those tarts smell good."

Then he stands, taking his empty plate and yours over to the sink. You watch him, belatedly springing into action. 

"You don't have to-"

"S'okay," Joel insists gently, kissing the top of your head as he walks by. “You did enough.”

You feel your heart swelling as you watch Joel carry the plates and cutlery to the sink, pouring in soap. Joel's rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, humming gently to himself as the sink fills up, bubbles dotting the water. 

You launch yourself off the chair and go to your cupboard. You crouch down to pull out the red coffee tin from your low cupboard before straightening. You set the kettle on the stove, already half full from this morning's tea. 

Joel glances over, intrigued at what you're doing. 

"Thought you might want coffee with dessert,” you explain. “Interested?”

"Yeah, I'd love some."

You smile, pleased with yourself before scooping the coffee out of the tin. The smell is divine, rich and calming. You pour it into the paper filter, shoved in a homemade drip system you made out of an old sugar lid. 

Joel is drying the dishes by the time the kettle squeals. He turns, wiping his hands on the towel as he finishes, watching you pour the water over the coffee system. 

"Clever."

"Necessity is the mother of invention," you quote as you pour the remaining water over your teabag in the mug placed next to his. Joel puts the plates and cutlery away as you set the kettle back onto the stove and seal the plastic lid over the coffee canister. 

"You can take it with you if you want," you offer to Joel, holding the tin in his direction. 

Joel shakes his head, coming to take the coffee mug instead. 

"Nah, keep it. That way I'll have it to drink when I'm here." 

Something about the casual way he says it makes your heart flutter. Like he's planning on being here at your place often enough to need it.  The thought pleases you immensely as you watch him come back to the table. 

You bring out the apple tarts, inhaling the rich aroma of cinnamon. It takes you right back to fall nights with your family. Joel is wandering around your living room with his coffee mug, sipping slowly as he takes in the portrait over the hearth. 

"You got it framed," he observes. His voice sounds strangely unimpressed. 

"Yeah, the woodshop guys whipped it up for me," you say over your shoulder as you plate the warm tarts. 

Joel hums, but you think you can hear judgment in it. You have no idea why. You hear his footfalls as he moves around your space. You watch him peer at the bookshelf and table before he turns to you.

"You got playing cards?" 

"Uh, yeah I think so," you say absently motioning towards the cupboard by the door. "Top drawer." 

You watch Joel dig around inside the drawer before finding them next to a few old pencils and a collection of dust. He brings them back, his eyes on you as you place the plate of tarts in the center of the table before you sit back down with your tea. 

"You wanna play Texas hold ‘em?" Joel asks as he takes his seat. 

"How cliché, Texas," you muse, taking one of the tarts off the plate. "How about crazy eights instead?"

"Damn haven't played that one in a while," Joel says shuffling the cards. You watch how smoothly he does it, fingers snapping the cards together, loosely shuffling. He deals you both eight cards and as you lift them to read you realize something. 

Playing cards together is an activity.

This is a date. You're on a real date with Joel Miller. Your cheeks heat as you glance at your cards, smiling widely. 

"So what are we playing for?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"Whenever I played cards with friends or my sister the winner got something as a prize." 

Joel's brow raises, a smirk crossing his plush lips. He tilts back in his chair slightly, pressing his lips together in thought. 

"What were you hopin' for?"

"I dunno," you shrug, distracted as you parse through the cards in your hands. "Winner picks I guess. Anyway, I think I go first."

Forty minutes later, six tarts, two drained mugs and the two of you are both on three. You watch as Joel lays down the remainder of his cards. 

"Two."

"You're cheating," you huff, knowing he's not. Joel breaks out into a soft chuckle, amused at your poor sportsmanship. 

"Don't need to cheat when I'm this good." 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly and the game continues. You crow when you pick up a six of spades on your following turn, matching the remaining six of hearts in your hand. You slap it onto the discard pile in the center of the table. 

"I'm on two!"

Joel just smiles patiently at you, holding his growing collection. You can tell he thought he'd be out by now. You pick up the two cards at the top of the deck, your heart leaping. It's the two of clubs and the two of hearts. 

Joel scowls, looking at his hand before picking up another card from the deck. You slap down your pair, eyes bright with delight. 

"One!" 

You reach for the top of the deck, sliding the top card face down towards you. Joel watches this, his dark eyes tracking your card. Joel and you look across the table from one another, cards in your hands. You're playing for something, you just don't know what. 

He places down a jack of hearts, quickly followed by the five of hearts and the five of clubs. He still has two cards in his wide fingers. Tension is now palpable in the room. It wasn't there for the majority of the game, but you feel it pounding between you now, so strong you can almost taste it. 

Joel's eyes dip to your chest and then your mouth and then finally back up to your eyes. It's clear what Joel is going to demand if he wins this game and it makes you swallow nervously. It wasn't where your head was at previously but now that's all you can think about. Demanding a prize from Joel Miller, anything you want. Now your eyes drop to roam his body, your thighs pressing together. 

"Go on," Joel encourages softly. "Let's see what you've got." 

You glance down at your card, licking your lips nervously. You feel a broad grin stretch across your face as you slap the card down on the pair of fives.

An ace of hearts. 

"I win!" You pump your hands in the air dramatically. "And the crowd goes wild!"

You raise your hands to cup around your mouth as you make fake group cheering noises. Joel watches all of this with a soft little smile on his face. You lower your hands, unsure of what to make of his expression. 

"What?" 

"Nothin'," Joel says with eyes butter soft and a voice to match. "Just like seein’ you happy is all." 

He must realize how sincere and sweet that sounds because he clears his throat and tosses his remaining cards onto the table. 

"Guess I should let you win all the time."

"Yeah right," you laugh, taking the cards and shuffling them together before placing them into the card sleeve. "You just can't accept that I'm finally better than you at something."

Joel looks like he wants to say something but decides better. He just watches you, dark eyes scanning your features as you place the cards to the side. The undercurrent of tension is still there, a gentle thrumming that tightens your nipples under your sweater. 

You rise from your chair slowly, noting that its only Joel's eyes follow sharply as you approach him, the rest of him remains still. You come to stand next to him seated in the chair, your pulse ticking. 

"I won," you murmur.

Joel remains sitting, but he swivels around to face you. You watch him reach around your legs and you feel his wide hands come to land on the back of your thighs. Your stomach jumps when you feel his palms slowly sliding up. 

"Yeah, you did."

His big hands are warm through your jeans, fingers tightening as they curve around your ass.

"So I think it's time for my prize," you whisper, almost embarrassed to say it out loud. 

His cock lengthens in his jeans, straining against the zipper and Joel tugs you to come stand between his parted legs. Your pelvis tilts towards him when he begins to knead your ass, lust clear in his expression, but his eyes never leave your face. 

"Whatever you want it's yours," Joel murmurs eyes like bright coals as he waits for you to decide. 

"Anything?"

Joel tilts his head, amused. "Within reason."

You smile back, eyes disappearing into crescent moons before you nod. His smile fades slowly when you begin to kneel between his legs, your jeans hitting the floor gently as you grip his thighs on the descent. 

His breathing is elevated as he watches you smile up at him from your position. He tenses, flinching away when your fingers go to his belt. 

"Hey," be rasps, hands coming to cover yours. "What're you-"

"I'm collecting my prize," you remind him firmly, pushing away his hands. "Anything I wanted, yeah?"

Joel hesitates, dark eyes bouncing between your mouth and your gaze. He's throbbing under his jeans; you can feel it through the denim. Finally he relents, leaning back in his seat with a creak of the old wood at his back. 

"Yeah." 

You nod satisfied before tugging down the zipper through the teeth of his fly. He watches you smiling, nibbling your lower lip in anticipation as you pull him from his boxers. 

He's hard of course, the weeping tip a rosy blush that has you aching between your own legs. You are momentarily snapped from your trance when you feel Joel's palm curving around your cheek. 

"You don't have to do this," he murmurs down at you, concern marking his features. 

"I know," you answer back honestly. "If I thought I had to I'd never do it."

Joel chuckles at your honesty. Then he watches as you lower your mouth to his waiting cock. You keep your eyes on him as your tongue gives a gentle drag around the tip. Joel swallows, grunting at the sight.

You swallow him shortly after, finding yourself desperate to have him in your mouth again. When all you can taste and breathe and feel is him in your mouth you sigh happily, eyes glazed as you stare up at him.

"You sure you like doin' this?' Joel murmurs, the indecision clear in his eyes. "Still?"

"Mhm," you offer, your mouth stuffed full of him. You don't just like it, you love it. 

And unlike all the times before, Joel is so gentle. He barely moves his hips and his eyes are on you the entire time. When in your eagerness you take too much of him and gag, he presses his bottom into the chair, trying to inch out of your mouth. 

"Hey, hey, you really don't have to do this." 

His hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb slowly rubbing as he pulls you off of him. It's tender and sweet. 

"I want to," you whisper. "Please, Joel."

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes flitting between yours and then finally, he nods.

Your mouth circles the head, tongue flicking the underside of the mushroom shape until you feel his legs start to twitch. Then you take all of him, tonguing him as you go. 

"Fuck, you look so good like that," he rumbles, his mouth parted. You preen under the compliment, smiling around his cock.   

You and Joel never look away from one another and you revel in the rumbled helpless sounds he makes as he watches. You continue like this, taking your time, enjoying the intimacy of the act in a completely new way. 

"You take what's yours," Joel murmurs, echoing his words of days earlier. 

He comes hard, but instead of it being done with cruelty it feels intimate, like he's letting you see a private part of him as he gasps, his eyes never leaving yours as he floods your mouth. You swallow him down, savoring the taste of him. Joel's cheeks are blotchy pink and he's breathing heavily. You smile up at him, blinking slowly like a satisfied cat. 

You squeal when he launches forward, gripping you around the middle and bringing you into his lap. He grips your jaw, kissing you fiercely as you squirm along his softening length. You feel heady and powerful making a man like Joel come apart like that. His taste still lingers in your mouth as your tongue dabs his. 

Your arms circle his neck, holding onto him as he grips your thighs tightly. You roll your hips against his, unable to stop the whimpering that escapes you at the pleasure it brings. 

"Those sounds," Joel groans against your mouth. "Those fuckin' sounds you make." 

His hands are curving around your ass, holding tightly, urging your core against his pelvis. You rut against him, sitting on his lap, kissing him lazily. You can't get over how natural it feels to hold him to you, to have him in your home like he belongs there. 

"You're so fuckin' sexy," Joel murmurs between kisses, nudging your nose with his, urging you to tilt your head. You move your head back, his mouth nibbling down your jaw as you moan at the sensation. No one has ever called you sexy, you don’t even think the word fits you. But Joel is rutting against you and you believe he believes it.

"Joel," you breathe when his teeth scrape your pulse point gently. Joel groans into your neck at the sound of his name on your lips. 

You feel him twitch to life between your thighs and you can barely hold in your pout when he urges you off his lap. But it's replaced by a grin when he herds you in the direction of your bedroom, swatting your bottom playfully, citing:

"Now it's time for the runner up prize." 

You can only laugh at that until his mouth meets your core and then all you can do is moan. He works quickly and it's only a matter of time before your hips are rolling against his mouth as his wide palms pin you in place. 

Your hands are fisted in the sheets as he pulls pleasured noises from you. He holds your thighs in position over his shoulder as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking with his tongue. You let out a sharp cry.

"Joel, I'm so close!" 

You watch his eyes slowly crack open, pussy drunk as he looks up the length of your undulating body. The sight causes you to arch your spine, and when you release you can only hear the sound of Joel's delirious pleasure as he feasts between your legs. Then just as you feel you’re going to pass out from the bliss he tugs on a condom and lines himself up with your core.

"Gonna take me now," he tells you, hips gently rutting against yours. "Gonna take it all, yeah?" 

You nod, already feeling so loose limbed and relaxed. He smiles down at you, his cock circling your entrance before with aching slowness, he sinks into you. The sensation causes both of you to groan in unison, eyes locked. 

"Look at that," Joel whispers, groaning as your cunt starts to milk him, eyes trained on where you join. He feeds his cock into you until your clit rasps against the curls at the base of his cock. "Look at you takin' me so well." 

He moves slowly against you, his body curling over yours; protector, leader. Your mouth is open in a silent scream, body jerking under his as the pleasure floods you. 

“That's my good fuckin' girl," he grunts before his mouth comes crashing against yours again.

Then it's frantic, his hips rutting against yours, his arms holding you to him and you feel him release deep within you through the condom before you're tumbling quickly into a second pleasured release. Sweaty and smiling in the afterglow you snuggle together.

“I liked your prize.”

“Me too.”

///

A short while later you exit the shower in your sleep clothes to find Joel still lying in the bed, under the sheets. He looks like he's contemplating something. You turn off the bedside light. 

"Can you stay the night?" you whisper, climbing under the covers and snuggling up to him. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah." You feel Joel smile at the crown of your head. "I can stay."

The room is dark, the moon low in the sky this evening. Everything feels quiet and calm. Joel’s arms are around your, holding you to his side. Your fingertips trail along his sternum, feeling the warm flesh there. Joel’s finger begins tracing the scar under your ribs. The one you know he’s curious about.

“It was an old woman that did it,” you whisper in the darkness. “She attacked me when we broke into her house. She wasn't evil or anything. Just a scared woman who thought I was there to hurt her."

You don’t miss the way Joel’s arms tighten around you. You lapse into silence, the soft tick of your alarm clock the only sound aside from your breathing.

“You never said what happened to your sister.”

His voice is soft, softer than the way he holds you, softer than the way his breath feels huffing against your neck. You don’t answer him. He feels your hesitation and so he changes tracks.

"What's your favorite memory with her?”

The question floods your eyes and brings a shaky smile to your face. Your favorite memory? How can you pick just one? In all the years of sisterhood there were so many to choose from. And yet as you lay here in the quiet of night one comes to mind immediately.

"Easter, I was in the fourth grade, she was in the third. We always had to wear these stupid matching dresses and frilly socks and bows in our hair for the family pictures and then this big family dinner my mom would host. We looked fucking ridiculous. I wish I had the photos to show you.”

You hear Joel’s soft chuckle.  

“Anyway, the dress that year was really itchy. I mean I don't know what the fabric was, but it was awful. The tag drove me nuts and all I wanted was to be rid of it. I was almost in tears with how much I hated it and I told Charlotte as much.” You shift in the bed, your memory carrying you away. “ So we're starting the hunt for eggs, mom's got the camcorder following us around while dad is giving hints where to look. And all of a sudden I feel these hands come up from behind me and shove hard. I go flying, the eggs go flying out of my basket, I slide into the biggest mud puddle, I'm drenched, the skirt part of the dress is torn, and it’s done for.”

“Oh shit,” Joel chuckles again.

“Yeah, and I turn around and there's Charlotte with a strange little smile on her face. And you have to understand that Charlotte was the good daughter. Never did anything wrong. And I'm crying because it hurt and my knees sting and my eggs are gone. But Charlotte is just smiling down at me until my mom marches over all furious, she saw everything. Charlotte is immediately sent inside after a swat on her butt and I have to inside and change into some old dress from Christmas. A lot more comfortable.”

“Less ruffles?”

“Ruffle-free,” you tell him giggling. “Charlotte and I shared a room and I remember going to change and she was on the bed, all teary from being grounded. I remember asking her why she did it because she was never a violent kid. And she looks at me all serious and goes, ‘Now you don’t have to wear the itchy dress.’”

Joel makes a sound halfway between a chuckle and an ‘awww’.

“So I brought her my chocolate basket and thanked her. And The thing is I remember confessing to my mom that Charlotte and I hated the dresses and my mom telling me "Charlotte doesn't mind." And I told her "Sure she does. She hates it just as much as me." My mom had this little smile on her face. "You know why Charlotte never complains that I get you the same matching dresses every year? Because she thinks the two of you look like twins. You're her hero." I've never forgotten that. Her hero."

The smile dies along with the warmth in your eyes as the last sentence is uttered.

And then the fire is extinguished, the flame snuffed out. 

///

Jennifer and you walk quietly through the snow, darkness encroaching. Your feet feel heavy, your body hollow. You look at her, heart sinking when you see she’s not even attempting to make eye contact with you.

"Please say something, Jenny." 

She looks upset, her beautiful face crumpled. She winces away from you as the two of you come to a stop. Snow whirls around you, the world around you both grey. This is not going how you wanted it to. Jennifer looks devastated.

"You knew I liked him."

Tears run down her face. You wish you could hug her but your arms won't move from where they hang at your sides. 

"You lied to me." 

"I didn't mean to, Jennifer." 

Your eyes go to the ground, watching the flakes circle your ankles.

"He's going to break your heart." 

You look up from the snow in just enough time to see the knife raised above Jennifer's head in her shaking hand. The blade is brought down brutally, stabbed into the center of your chest with a wet thunk. Red blooms under the wound and your eyes fly from the injury to Jennifer. 

But it's not Jennifer anymore, it's Charlotte. Red runs from the deep sockets where her eyes once were, her nails black and broken. When she bares her teeth they're rotted, many missing. She leans forward and her stringy hair clings to her sagging flesh. She bares her teeth again. 

"Where were you?"

"I'm sorry!" You cry out, the injury forgotten. You reach for Charlotte, trying to grip her but she's floating back from you, her hands outstretched. 

"Don't leave me!" 

You scream out, running after your little sister but your feet won't move fast enough. She's being pulled by an unseen force, disappearing into the ether. You scream again, ragged and desperate. 

"Wake up!" 

Someone is shaking your shoulders and you jerk awake mid-sob, your entire body trembling. Your legs are tangled in the sheets and your hair is soaked with anxious sweat. You blink in the darkness, taking a moment to register where you are. All you know is that you're crying and you're terrified. 

You feel strong arms envelop you, pulling up into a strong, firm body that begins rocking you gently.

"Hey, you're safe, you're safe." 

Joel’s voice is thick with sleep and it rumbles against your ear. 

"Shhh, shhh, you're okay," Joel soothes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're okay."

You cling to his sleep-warmed body as tears wet the front of his t-shirt. Your fingers are claws, digging into him like you'll never let go. His mouth is at the curve of your ear. 

"What happened?" 

His softness, his strength, his gentle way of sitting there and holding you gives you the ability to find words. 

"N-nightmare," you hiccup. 

You blink away the damp to see Joel peering at you in the darkness. He brushes the hair from your eyes. 

"Wanna tell me about it?"

You shake your head, feeling your face fall again as you think of the pain and the hurt in dream Jennifer's eyes. Of Charlotte’s screams. You sniffle, bowing your head into the crook of his neck and continuing to cry softly. 

Joel holds you, waiting for you to catch your breath. The tears and whimpering cries soon ebb, leaving you sagging against him. Your face is hot, the tears brushed away by the back of your arm. 

"You wanna glass of water or somethin'?"

His fingers skate up and down your spine, his voice a rumble against your ear. If you hold your breath you can hear his heartbeat slow and steady. 

"No. I'm okay."

You gently extricate yourself from him, lowering yourself back onto your pillow. Joel does the same, rolled onto his side, gazing at you. 

Joel is a man that's often hard to read and you think it's the wall he presents to the world, a way of guarding the softness in him. But half asleep and with you there's nothing flinty in the way he looks at you. 

Your palm rests between your bodies on the mattress. His hand covers it, thumb brushing your knuckles. You welcome his touch, eyes locked on his. His even breathing and his touch are comforting to you as the dream fades in its terror.  

"It was my sister," you say quietly. "Charlotte."

Joel nods, his beard rasping against the covers. He doesn't push you for any further information; he just lays there with quiet calm radiating from him.  There's something about the way he holds your silence and your pain that makes you feel safe. You know that you could pretend to go back to sleep, that you could just ignore what happened. But something compels you to tell him. Something no one else in the entire world knows.

"Joel, I want to tell you about Rock River."

WARNINGS/TAGS/DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT SHIT TO BE POTENTIALLY SPOILED.

tags/warnings: romance, love, soft!Joel, ANGST, gore, blood, Animal death. Human death, mentions of guns, P in V (protected), dirty talk, trauma, clickers. I think that's it.

--------------------------------

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[ghostlovesbaguettes]

When y/n does something so cringe that i have to look at the invisible camera for a sec.

[ghostlovesbaguettes]

Swept Away | Chapter 7: Making Waves

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel receives some exciting news, meanwhile you're having one of the worst nights of your life.

Chapter Warnings: language, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, alcohol and food consumption, jealousy, sexual tension, flirting, physical violence against reader (not Joel), verbal abuse towards reader, blood/bruising related to an injury, feral Joel came to play, anxiety, insecurities, possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex

WC: 10K (yikes)

Series Masterlist

Everything was the same it always was, but somehow also different.

Admittedly, the morning following the art gallery you awoke terrified Joel would ice you out again. You stayed in bed as long as you could, texting Celine just to avoid the inevitable heartbreak, but much to your surprise you heard a knock on your door around ten in the morning.

"Hey," Joel peeked his head into your room and you dropped your phone to your mattress. "You okay? You don't usually sleep this late."

"Yeah," you replied, voice still thick with sleep so you cleared your throat. "Just, uh, taking it easy and..." you trailed off and dropped your gaze to the floor.

"Avoidin' me?"

Your eyes snapped up just to find him leaning against your doorframe with his arms crossed and a teasing smirk on his face.

"Maybe," you whispered, plucking nervously at your comforter. He pushed off the wall and walked over to your side of the bed, then reached out to tame some of the hair around your ear.

"Gonna give me a taste and take it away, that it?"

Your cheeks felt hot and the butterflies in your stomach stirred to life, but you managed to shake your head and hold his gaze. "N-no. I just thought you might've regretted it again."

He sighed and he stopped playing with your hair so he could cup your cheek. "I never regretted it," he told you softly, then leaned down to press a tender kiss against your lips. "Not then and not now," he added before pulling away, leaving you breathless. "Now c'mon, your breakfast is gettin' cold," he said when he turned to walk out of your room.

And that was all that was ever said on the subject.

Now, a handful of days later, everything was business as usual. You still slept in your separate rooms and you went to restaurants together but the air around you was different. It felt charged whenever you were together. A lingering glance here, a gentle touch there reminded you something had definitely changed. Something that went unlabeled and unspoken and you didn't dare try. As much as you wished to take things further and try to get Joel to open up more, you refrained because you could sense he was growing impatient with Glenn and you didn't want to sour his mood even more.

He was running out of time and Joel told you he needed to step things up. So far, Glenn had avoided talking much business and spent most of the time just getting to know everyone better. Joel never pushed him. He saw how Glenn reacted when Zachary or Harry tried to bring up business and it wasn't good, so he bided his time and waited. But now he was feeling the pressure.

"Can't just spend an entire fuckin' month here for nothin'," he grumbled one afternoon as he paced around the hotel. You watched him from your spot on the sofa, still clad in your bikini from spending time by the pool that morning.

You chewed your lip nervously, his anxious energy transferring to you. "How important is it that you win?"

His eyes flickered over to yours and scoffed. "Real fuckin' important. If I get this spot, The Parador would become a household name. The revenue stream from this spot alone would be higher than all my other hotels combined. It would open up a whole new world of opportunities for my business."

Joel rolled his shoulder like he was trying to work out a tight muscle and you pursed your lips. Maybe you just hadn't given it much thought, but it sounded like a much bigger deal than you originally imagined.

"It's about exclusivity," Joel continued, "there's only so much space on this island. Only the best of the best build here, and the world fuckin' knows it. It's why they want to travel to this particular island - they want to experience a level of comfort and luxury they've never known before in the most beautiful place in the world."

"Well, did he say when he was going to make a decision?"

"Said by the end of the trip but no one's even had a chance to give 'em their sales pitch yet," he said, raking his fingers through his hair.

"Maybe he doesn't need the sales pitch," you said, picking up your phone. He stopped pacing and eyed you up.

"What'dya mean?"

You let your phone hang limply in your hand and you looked back up at him.

"Well, he knows what you're all about. He knows what kind of hotels all of you run and how successful you are. He doesn't care what your vision is or what will make your hotel different. But what he does care about is this island."

Joel frowned and slowly sunk into the couch opposite you.

"What else?"

Your lips turned downward and shrugged. "He cares about this island and its people. He wants to make sure the person he picks for this land will respect it and the people who live here. I mean, think about it. Guy could live anywhere but he built a huge mansion right here. His kids live here. His daughter is dedicating her career to helping local artists find success. He loves it here, Joel. He just wants someone who will love it back."

He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable until he abruptly stood and in two long strides, closed the distance between you. He grabbed the sides of your head and pulled you up for a deep kiss, the suddenness of it stopping you from responding right away. Just when your brain caught up and your lips began to massage his, he pulled away with a huge smile.

"You're so fuckin' smart, y'know that? Jesus Christ, why didn't I see that?"

You grinned, trying to hide the pleased look on your face by shaking your head and turning away.

"What can I say? I have my moments," you shrugged when you sat back down on the couch. "Guess you got more than you bargained for with me," you added with a laugh.

"Oh, I knew that already," Joel said with a wink. Your cheeks warmed and you looked down at your phone with a stupid smile stretched across your face. It was moments like those when you heard the voice inside your head scream at you to ask the obvious question: what did you mean to him?

He kissed you like you were his girlfriend, but he never invited you into his bedroom. He had said he wanted more, but had yet to try. Was he waiting for you to make a move? You had been practically throwing yourself at him for the past week, there was no way you were going to do that again.

Joel had dialed someone who worked for him, completely oblivious to the confusion swirling around in your head. Instead, he was excitedly conveying the breakthrough you had about Glenn to the man on the other end and began to talk strategy. Already feeling bored, you decided to get up and go take a shower so you were ready for dinner, but as you were walking back towards your bedroom, you heard Joel say quietly into his phone, "No, I didn't even think of it. My girl did."

My girl.

Oh, you could get used to that.

"Aren't you bored as hell when Joel runs off to hang with the guys?" Zoe asked over dinner. Ironically, you had picked the same restaurant as Lynne and Tammy, who also invited Ian, for dinner. You didn't know Ian very well but from the look of it, he seemed to be caught in the middle. He tossed a few glances your way and gave you each friendly smiles, but Lynne and Tammy ignored you completely. However, based on their body language, you had a strong feeling they were most definitely talking about the two of you.

"Sometimes," you admitted. You shot the waiter a smile when he placed two drinks on the table. You each quickly grabbed them, clinking your glasses together before taking a long sip.

"Well, only one more week and then you'll have him all to yourself again, lucky girl," she said with a flirty wink. You thought you responded but you couldn't be sure because she had unexpectedly knocked you sideways. One more week? Christ, where did the time go? And what would happen between you and Joel when you got back home? Would he really just pay you and disappear from your life forever? The thought made you sick to your stomach and you had to put your drink down.

"You okay?" Zoe asked, furrowing her brows. "You look a little queasy."

"No, I'm fine," you said quickly, waving her off. "Just hungry."

"Sure you're not pregnant?" she teased. You laughed and pointed to your drink.

"Would be a little irresponsible of me, wouldn't it?"

You were so grateful for Zoe. She was a safe place when you were feeling lonely or insecure and it made you sad you wouldn't be able to keep in touch once the trip was over. How could you? If you did, she would eventually figure out you were hired, just like she was, to accompany Joel to the island.

Maybe it was the two devastating reality checks in a row but you had a hard time snapping out of your funk. You tried, you really did, but you couldn't stop thinking about losing Joel and Zoe so soon. It didn't help matters when she got a text from Zachary telling her the night with Glenn on his boat was going long and not to bother staying up.

She sighed with relief and flicked her hair over her shoulder before glancing around the dining room, murmuring to you about how she could use a night off while you just stared down at your phone, waiting for a similar text from Joel.

Nothing.

My girl.

You took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the insecurity, but it was hard. It was so fucking hard. Why was it always so difficult with Joel? Why did it always feel like whenever you took one step forward, you take two steps back? Did he even like you? You thought he did, but maybe you were wrong. Maybe he was just treating you like a sugar baby this whole time and you stupidly thought -

Your phone buzzed on the table and when you saw Joel's name pop up, relief instantly swept through you and all your nagging self-doubt faded away.

Going to be late, sweetheart. I'm sorry but I got a good feeling - finally getting somewhere with Glenn

You smiled, despite not being able to see him the rest of the night, he thought enough to text you and he called you sweetheart.

Right when you were about to reply, he texted you again.

I'll make it up to you ;)

You must have looked flustered because Zoe cleared her throat and quirked an eyebrow at you when you finally tore your eyes away from your phone.

"Do you have something to share with the class?"

You shook your head and tried to hide your smile behind your hand but failed. Still, Zoe peered curiously across the table and read Joel's last text upside down. She gave you a jealous pout and sat back in her chair.

"Not fair. You're so lucky," she sighed. "I think once Zachary and I are done, I'm going to quit."

"What?!" you quietly exclaimed. She nodded and shrugged.

"I'm done with it. It was fun, I got to travel a lot, have nice things and meet cool people but I need to think about my future, you know? And there's, like, a zero percent fucking chance I'll meet the love of my life being a sugar baby."

You nodded, struggling to figure out what to do with a sharp pang in your chest. Was it so impossible to think anything serious could come from a relationship with a sugar daddy? Luckily, Zoe continued.

"I look at you guys and I'm just reminded of what I could have, y'know? All I want is a guy who looks at me the way Joel looks at you."

Jesus Christ, Zoe was shaking you up and she didn't even know it.

"H-how does he look at me?"

Zoe rolled her eyes at you before saying, "C'mon, you know. He can't keep his eyes off you. He's so fucking into you, it's sick."

You laughed at that, a sharp little bark of disbelief, but then quickly corrected yourself. You had to change the subject, your emotions were splintering and you were desperate to talk about something lighter, but before you did, you sent Joel a text.

Can't wait ;)

Shoving your phone back into your purse, you turned your attention back to Zoe, frowning when you saw the sour look on her face as she finished her drink.

"What?"

She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "Don't turn around but Trevor and Brooks are at the bar."

Your stomach twisted into knots and you took another drink, grateful to see your food arriving if just for the distraction alone.

"Wonder why they aren't on the boat with everyone else," you mumbled before stabbing a piece of pasta with your fork.

"I heard Brooks didn't want to go and Glenn sent Trevor to keep an eye on him," Zoe told you mischievously.

"How the hell do you hear all this gossip?" you asked after you wiped the shocked look off your face. Zoe giggled and swallowed a bite of her salmon.

"I get bored, I eavesdrop."

"Damn, either Joel doesn't hear this stuff or he doesn't care because the only phone calls I hear from him are work calls," you said before offering her a bite of your dish. She eagerly accepted and gave you some salmon in return. "Wonder why Glenn thought Brooks needed a babysitter," you said after another moment.

Zoe put her fork down and gave you a look that told you she knew way more than she should, so you mimicked her and set your fork down as well to give her your full attention.

"I don't think Glenn and Mary trust Brooks to carry on the business once he retires," Zoe said, glancing once over your shoulder at the bar. "I don't know why but that night at Glenn's house, I went to the bathroom and overheard Mary telling Brooks this is your last chance, or something like that."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and slowly leaned back in your seat. So it wasn't just you who thought something was off about him. Then Joel's comment about drug use slipped back into your brain and you were about to tell her but you decided to bite your tongue at the last minute. You trusted Zoe, but you didn't want to betray Joel. So instead, you kept your mouth shut and played dumb.

"That's... crazy," you said, fumbling for words. It didn't seem to bother Zoe because she just nodded and picked up her fork.

"I know, right? Kind of humbling to know Glenn and Mary don't have the perfect little family we all thought."

When the waiter approached, you assumed he was coming to check on your food, but instead he held in his hand a bottle of champagne. "From Mr. Miller with his sincerest apologies," the waiter had said, making you blush when Zoe gave you an incredulous look. As sweet as it was, you really hoped that's not what he meant by 'making it up to you'. After the champagne was poured and the waiter left, placing the bottle on ice first, she pretended to stab your arm with her fork.

"What the hell, girl? Maybe I need to get a front desk job for some billionaire so I can find my own Joel."

You giggled and took a sip from your glass, the bubbles popping on your tongue. It could have been a three hundred dollar bottle of champagne or a ten dollar bottle, it didn't matter to you. The mere fact Joel figured out where you went for dinner and sent something over was astounding to you and you prayed you were reading the signals right.

"I should thank him," you said, pulling your phone back out to send him a quick text.

You didn't need to do that, but thank you :)

In less than a minute, you got your reply.

No need to thank me, baby - enjoy and I'll see you tomorrow

"Looks like your man's little gift caught someone's eye," Zoe said with a grin. You followed her gaze to Tammy and Lynne's table, catching the nasty look they were sending your way before they turned around and you giggled into your palm.

"She's still pissed with me because I almost pulled all her hair out at the art gallery the other night."

Zoe's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!"

You laughed and stood up from the table, dropping your napkin on your chair before grabbing your purse. "I'll tell you all about it after I use the restroom."

She made a pained squeak, disgruntled you were leaving her hanging, but you just grinned and stepped away.

"You better be quick!" she shouted after you. Fuck, you were really going to miss hanging out with her.

Despite the looming conclusion to your trip, you were feeling pretty good. At least, in that moment, things felt like they were going well with Joel and you were having a nice time at dinner, even though Tammy had just been staring daggers at you.

The one thing you somehow managed to forget about was Brooks, who unfortunately exited the men's bathroom just as you were searching for the women's room.

"Well, look who it is," Brooks said when he spotted you. You tried to give him a polite smile but you weren't sure you succeeded.

"Oh, hi," was all you said when you tried to squeeze past him. Right as you passed, his hand shot out to grab your arm and you swiveled around.

"You ladies having a nice time?" he asked with a toothy smile. His dark eyes bored into you and if you looked close enough, you could see his pupils were like pinpricks. Then his hand casually swiped against his nostrils and you figured out what he had just been doing in the bathroom.

"Yeah, thanks. This place is nice," you said, taking a subtle step backwards before hooking your thumb over your shoulder. "Excuse me," you added, and before he could say anything else you turned on your heel and headed for the women's room a few feet away, relaxing once you heard the door swing closed behind you.

After you used the bathroom and washed your hands, you were fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror, your thoughts back on Joel, mind wandering to what exactly he meant by I'll make it up to you later when the door flung open. You hardly had a chance to process what was happening until Brooks locked the door and turned on you, sending a hot jolt of fear through your entire body.

"Listen, I'm gonna be straight up with you," he said, pinching the tip of his nose. His eyes looked a little red in the bright lighting of the bathroom and you could see beads of sweat collecting at his temples. You tried to create more room but your back was already pressed against the sink: you had nowhere to go.

"I know what your deal is," he told you, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "I know you're only into that old fuck for his money but I can promise you, I'm about to have double what he's got."

You blinked slowly, struggling to keep your breathing even. Your entire body was rigid, muscles tense and straining under your skin, and your heart was pounding so loudly, you could feel it in your ears. How could he possibly know?

"W-what?" you stammered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Brooks's arm darted up from his side to grip the back of your hair too roughly, making you cry out in surprise and grab onto his forearm.

"C'mon, don't play games with me. I know a gold digger when I see one. And that's perfectly fucking fine. I don't care! Mad respect. What I'm trying to tell you is I could give you so much more than him," Brooks told you, taking a step closer so his hips pinned you against the sink. You whimpered and tugged at his wrist but he wouldn't budge. "I got more money and live in fucking paradise, baby," he said, trying to sound seductive as he leaned forward and tugged your earlobe between his teeth, making you recoil in disgust.

"Get off me!" you shouted, shoving him backwards as hard as you could. It worked. He let go of the back of your head when he stumbled away, but unfortunately it only served to piss him off.

"Are you fucking serious?" he seethed, expression turning stormy as he closed the distance between you and grabbed the back of your neck so suddenly, you were too stunned to react. "Do you even realize what I'm offering you, here?"

"I don't care," you said, scratching frantically at the back of his hand, body writhing as you tried to escape. Your engagement ring caught on his skin, tearing it and making him hiss. "I don't want anything to do with you! Get the fuck away from me!" You tried to push him again but he was ready for it that time. He grabbed your wrists with one big hand and yanked your head backwards so your back was arched over the sink. Your eyes filled with tears as you squirmed and tried to wiggle out of his grasp to no avail.

"Dumb bitch," he snarled. "You could have someone younger with more money. Thousands of women would jump at this chance but you're too fucking stupid, huh?"

Amidst the tears, anger ripped through you and without even thinking twice, you twisted around in his grasp to sink your teeth into his hand. Brooks inhaled sharply and cursed under his breath, dropping your wrists but keeping a firm hold on the back of your neck. You shoved at him again, over and over, trying your hardest to loosen his grip so you could make a run for it, but you just weren't strong enough. And maybe it was the drugs coursing through his veins or his ego took too big of a hit, but you didn't anticipate what happened next:

He let you go.

At first, you thought someone had stepped in, but when your panicked eyes darted around the room, you found you were still alone. The sudden freedom made you hesitate and it probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway, but later you would wonder if maybe you had reacted faster, it would have saved you alot of hurt and pain.

"Stop fucking shoving me, I'm trying to change your miserable little life," he growled, lunging forward to push your chest with all his might. His strength sent you flying backwards but you managed to catch yourself before you hit the back of your head on the porcelain of the sink. As a result, you twisted around and smacked your mouth on the edge of the vanity. Pain instantly bloomed under your lips and you feebly cupped your mouth, whimpering in agony as blood began to trickle through your fingers.

"Look what you did!" Brooks roared, and by now you could hear Trevor's voice in the hallway. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing with the blood and dripping onto the white tile floor. You sobbed into your hands and tried to hide under the sink because at that point, you had no idea what he was capable of doing.

You had squeezed your eyes shut and braced for the impact of a fist or a foot but thankfully, none came. Had you the courage to open your eyes, you would have seen him come to the sobering realization of what he just did when he saw your blood on the floor. He swiped his hand anxiously over his mouth, eyes darting around the room while you cowered in fear, and slowly backed away towards the door.

"Brooks! Open the goddamn door!" Trevor's voice came from the hallway, his tone quiet to avoid any attention but still laced with anger. He did as his brother asked, shakily undoing the lock and brushing past him, and Trevor glanced into the room before the door shut. His eyes widened and his jaw fell open when he saw the state you were in and rushed inside.

"Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry," he murmured, crouching down next to you. "What can I do? T-tell me what to do!"

"Get ... Zoe," you choked out between sobs. He nodded and backed away slowly, still unable to believe what he was seeing before he rushed down the hallway.

Zoe sprung into action the moment she saw you in the bathroom and you had never felt so grateful for anyone in your life. She got you out of there before anyone could see and ushered you quickly into the waiting car by the curb. It wouldn't be until later that you discovered it was Trevor who ordered the car on standby while Zoe was doing her best to clean you up before getting you out of there. She must have been rattled because her hands were shaking but you never would have known it by the way she spoke and took control.

By the time you got back to the hotel, the sun had set and the lobby was relatively empty. You kept your tear soaked face tilted towards the floor with a napkin pressed against your mouth to stem the bleeding as Zoe led you to the elevators. Once you were in the safety and privacy of your room, you released a haggard sob that was a mix of relief and frustration.

"Let's get you to the bathroom," she said, taking you by the shoulders after kicking both your shoes off in the foyer.

While you were having a decidedly terrible fucking evening, Joel had been having the exact opposite experience on Glenn's boat. Somewhere tucked inside your purse, which was abandoned on the dining room table next to a handful of bloody tissues, your phone lit up with a text from Joel:

Heading back now - hope you're still up bc Glenn pulled me aside 10 min ago and told me he's giving me the fucking land! We gotta celebrate baby

It was late. You never answered his text so he assumed you were in bed, but fuck... maybe he should wake you up.

He got the fucking land.

Glenn didn't announce it yet, but he planned to soon. Joel finally felt like he could relax and maybe enjoy what little time you had left together. He tried not to think too hard about that last part and just focused on the present, like following through with his promise to you.

As he swiped his card through the reader, he smirked to himself, thinking of all the ways he could make things up to you, then froze when he walked into the foyer and saw an unfamiliar pair of high heels by the door. His gaze traveled up and saw all the lights were still on.

That was unusual.

He took a few tentative steps inside, expecting to maybe see you and Zoe by the pool or in the living room, but he was wrong. And it was way too quiet.

He called out your name as he ventured further into the room and then two things happened at once: right as Zoe emerged from the bathroom with a shaken look on her face, Joel saw the pile of bloody tissues next to your purse on the table.

Something was wrong.

His eyes darted up to Zoe's and she held up her hands, palms out, before shakily saying, "There was an accident-"

"Where is she?" he asked. He could feel his throat closing up and his chest beginning to squeeze tight. Fuck, it was hard to breathe.

"She's okay, but she's got a busted lip and -"

Joel tore past Zoe in the blink of an eye, noticing the light on underneath your closed bathroom door. He knocked urgently, saying, "It's me, open up," but you didn't answer. He could feel the anxiety taking hold and flooding his veins with adrenaline. His hands trembled when he knocked again.

"She's a little shook up," Zoe explained from behind him. He dragged his palms nervously over his face and turned to her.

"What happened?"

Zoe opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to answer. "I only got a little bit out of her, but she was attacked in the women's room at the restaurant."

"Attacked?" Joel repeated incredulously. It was so much worse than he thought.

Zoe nodded right when the bathroom door clicked unlocked. You opened it a crack and went back to curl up in the empty spa bath with the pillow and blanket Zoe had brought for you from the living room.

"I can't get her to go lay down in your bedroom," Zoe explained before Joel nodded and pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was the counter filled with bloodied white washcloths and tissues, the sight more than a little horrifying but when he saw your reflection in the mirror, he swiveled around with a jolt.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, then rushed to the edge of the tub and fell to his knees. He reached out to cup your face; your puffy, swollen, bruised up face.

His eyes never stopped moving. They darted everywhere, taking in every single detail, but mostly lingering on your split lower lip and the bright purple bruise blooming below your eye. His thumb traced gently over your cheek and he felt a sharp twist in his chest when you winced.

"What happened?" he asked you softly.

You sniffled and shook your head but he pinched your chin and made you look him directly in the eye.

"Baby, what happened?" he asked again, "Someone attacked you? Did you call the cops?"

Again, you shook your head then glanced at Zoe over his shoulder.

"Just tell him, babe," she said encouragingly. You sighed and pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"Promise me you won't get mad," you began, voice thick and gravelly from crying. Joel pinched his eyebrows together and dropped his hand from your chin.

"I ain't gonna be mad at you, sweetheart," he whispered. You watched him swallow and you took a deep breath.

"Brooks cornered me," you finally admitted, tears stinging your tired eyes. "He followed me into the bathroom and locked the door. He - he said some nasty fucking shit and got mad when I told him to leave."

Joel's nostrils flared, his eyes scorching with rage.

"But I pushed him, Joel. I pushed him and so he pushed me back and then I fell into the sink and -"

"Why'd you push him, honey?" he asked, trying to sound calm but you could hear the anger simmering below the surface.

"Because... he kept grabbing me and wouldn't let go. Like, around my neck and hair. He wanted-"

"I know what he wanted," Joel said darkly, pushing himself up to stand then turned to acknowledge Zoe. "Can you stay with her for an hour?"

Zoe nodded and your eyes went wide.

"Joel-"

"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of it."

He stormed out of the bathroom, fists clenched at his sides, trying desperately to contain his anger but his face felt hot and his jaw already ached from how hard he was grinding his teeth.

You scrambled out of the tub, knocking your knee painfully against the porcelain, and raced after him. "Joel! You can't!"

"I'll be back in an hour," was all he said before snatching his wallet from the table and disappearing out into the hall.

"It'll be okay," Zoe said, appearing at your side to rub your back. "Why don't we try to put ice on your lip again?"

You wiped at your nose with the back of your hand and nodded, allowing her to refresh the washcloth with ice and getting you settled on the couch before stepping away to call Zachary to let him know where she was. She had clicked the button on the fireplace remote before she stepped outside to make her call so you stared blankly into the flames while praying Joel didn't do something incredibly stupid.

Joel was gone more than an hour. Zoe sat with you underneath a shared blanket while you watched some mindless television show and iced your face. The bleeding stopped long ago but the pain was beginning to set in, so she got you some ibuprofen and forced you to drink extra water, assuring you it would help.

By the time Joel finally returned, your eyes were beginning to droop but when you heard the door click open, you got a sudden burst of energy.

Sitting up straight and tugging the blanket around your knees, you craned your neck around, waiting for him to appear. He stepped in from the foyer a little disheveled but otherwise seemed fine, but when he locked eyes with you, you knew something happened.

"Thanks, Zoe. I'm sure Zach's worried 'bout you."

His voice was deep and commanding, eyes never leaving yours. She immediately stood, giving you one more hug and whispering in your ear to call if you needed anything, then gathered her things to leave.

You remained planted on the couch, unable to tear your eyes away from the look on Joel's face. When the front door clicked shut, signifying you were finally alone, his shoulders visibly sagged then he marched over to the couch.

Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, blanket and all, and took you down the hall towards your bedroom. Now that you were closer, you could see some red marks on his cheek and neck, but you didn't have much time to dwell on it because to your surprise, Joel turned left instead of right, taking you into his room.

You hardly were ever in his room. The door was always closed when you walked by and your memory was hazy but you remembered it was bigger and he had his own bathroom attached. He carefully set you down on his bed, the side that remained untouched, before disappearing into his bathroom. You took a second to look around the now well lived in room. All around you were pieces of Joel: reading glasses, crumpled pieces of paper and a chapstick on his nightstand, a phone charger dangling from the wall next to his bed, a few articles of clothing were scattered around along with discarded shoes. If it didn't hurt to smile, you would have because you finally learned something new about Joel Miller: he was messy.

"Did you disinfect it?" Joel asked when he stepped back into the room with a wet towel. You slowly shook your head. You and Zoe had been more concerned about stopping the bleeding and then worried about damage to your teeth to really think about disinfectant.

He nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed, then beckoned you to come forward. You scooted closer and stretched out your neck, giving him better access to your face. He dabbed carefully at your lip, his eyes stormy while he still fought with the remnants of his adrenaline. When your eyes met, his gaze softened and he slowly dropped his hand to his lap.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, the emotion in his voice bewildering you.

"It's not your fault," you countered, but he shook his head and dropped his chin to his chest.

"Shoulda been there. Been leavin' you alone too much -"

"That's okay, Joel. That's why we're here, right? You need to do whatever it takes to get that land."

His heart sank and he closed his eyes. You obviously still hadn't checked your phone but he didn't bother telling you the news, anyway, because after what he just did to Brooks, he was certain that land was no longer his.

"You oughta get some rest, darlin'," he said softly while standing to head back into his bathroom. He dropped the washcloth into the tub, glancing briefly at his knuckles now that he had stepped out of the darkness of his bedroom. He did a piss poor job cleaning them up but he didn't care. He was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed.

When he came back into the bedroom, he frowned when he saw you with your hand on the doorknob.

"What're you doin'?"

You turned back to him and when he saw your face again, it felt like all the air got knocked out of him.

It's a miracle Joel didn't kill him.

"I'm... going back to my room," you replied, your voice so small and weak that it broke his heart. He shook his head and pointed back to the bed, right where you were sitting.

"Stay," he said, then softened his voice and added, "please."

Your hand dropped to your side immediately and you looked around. "My pajamas-"

"I'll get 'em," he said, pointing to the bed again. "Rest," he told you when he walked across the room, taking you gently by the shoulders and guiding you towards his bed. You did as you were told while he hurried across the hall for your clothes, then stopped at your bathroom for your toothbrush before returning and shutting the door.

You thanked him softly and disappeared into his bathroom to wash up. Joel nervously paced around his room, tossing his dirty clothes into an ever growing pile near the closet before tugging on a white tshirt and slipping into bed.

Shyly, you stepped out of the bathroom wearing a loose fitting cotton tank top and matching shorts. You looked at him and he ushered you forward in the darkness, so you flicked off the bathroom light and scurried into bed.

He couldn't stop himself. He immediately rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you close, breathing in deep the scent of your shampoo and mint from his toothpaste.

You hummed happily and turned onto your side so his chest pressed against your back. The warmth of his arms surrounding you made you finally feel safe and at peace. But then your hand fell to rest on top of his and you froze, your eyes flying open in the pitch black room.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

Your thumb gently brushed over the broken skin on his knuckles, then you sought out his other hand to do the same and your heart stopped.

"What did you do?" you whispered with a tremor to your voice.

He swallowed thickly and buried his face in the back of your neck before responding.

"What I had to."

You had a fitful night's sleep. If you weren't dreaming about a dark pair of eyes screaming horrible things at you in a bathroom, then you were dreaming about the aftermath of whatever Joel did to Brooks. Best case scenario, Glenn doesn't choose Joel to purchase the land. Worst case scenario, he gets arrested in the morning.

Both options fucking sucked.

If you were lucky, you got three hours of sleep. You laid in Joel's arms, listening to him softly snore behind you while the sky turned from pitch black to a deep, angry blue through the glass French doors that lead out to the pool.

Everything hurt, but the thing that hurt the most was your heart. You tried, you really did, but Brooks's words got to you. They festered under your skin, burrowed deep down and gnawed away at you until they found a permeant spot in your chest.

Nothing helped. A day ago you would have been thrilled to find yourself in Joel's bed, but as you laid there, all you could hear was gold digger, dumb bitch, look what you did!

Your mind had a vice grip on those words and it made you sick.

You wiggled in Joel's grasp, deciding there was no use in lying there if all you were going to do was work yourself up, but his grip tightened around you protectively and pulled you into his chest. You sighed and shifted around a bit more when his sleep filled voice startled you.

"Quit squirmin'."

You stilled and lifted your chin up. "I can't sleep, I was trying to get up without waking you."

"You ain't goin' anywhere," he grumbled, and for the first time since dinner, you felt the corner of your mouth tug into a careful smile. "Why can't you sleep? You hurtin'?"

You swallowed and dropped your gaze to his hands, which were pressed firm against your stomach. Now that the room was lighter, you could see the extent of the damage and it made you cringe.

"No," you whispered, only partially lying before closing your eyes so you wouldn't look at his knuckles any longer. "Can't stop thinking about -"

You cut yourself off but Joel knew what you were going to say. He sighed and pressed a kiss against your shoulder, surprising you despite the intimate position you had found yourself in all night.

He could feel how tense your muscles were so he gave your shoulder another kiss, but that time he let his lips linger a bit longer than was necessary. He smirked a little when he saw goosebumps flare across your skin, so he did it again.

"My poor girl," he whispered, his voice dropping to sound more seductive. "I'm so sorry you went through all this, baby. You don't deserve it," he added sweetly before brushing his lips over your shoulder and up the back of your neck. His exhale tickled you behind the ear and you felt yourself melt into his hold.

You boldly took one of his hands and dragged it up from where it rested against your stomach to lay flat between your breasts, letting him feel the way your heart raced, all for him.

His breath hitched in his throat, unable to resist brushing his palm experimentally over your hardening nipple, your thin top not providing much of a barrier. Instinctively, your back arched ever so slightly. Your ass pressed into his hips, causing him to groan, so you did it again.

"Christ," he murmured, tightening his grip, fingertips dimpling the soft flesh above your breast. "What're you doin', sweetheart?"

You only whimpered a little when you rolled your hips into him again to feel his erection pressing firmly against your ass. His responding growl sent a shiver down your spine and had your head tilting back so his mouth could suck on a spot behind your ear.

"Joel, please," you breathed. He made a little noise of disapproval in the back of his throat but that didn't stop him from biting gently at your neck.

"Don't think it's a good idea," he murmured into your hair, but the throb of his cock pressed against you said otherwise. "You've been through so much, you need your rest. You gotta heal, honey."

You whined impatiently and twisted around in his arms so you could finally see him. His hair was a mess but his eyes were bright and his skin had a pink tint, giving away his aroused state, as if you didn't already know.

"Please," you begged softly, brushing your lips carefully against his. Your hand slid up to rake through the matted hair on the back of his head while you nipped eagerly at his lower lip. "Please make it feel better, Joel."

His eyelids fluttered for a moment as he felt himself losing the battle. With a deep groan, he rolled over to pin you underneath him. He made a mistake when his instincts took over and he pressed his lips firmly against yours and you whimpered painfully. He immediately drew back and inspected your wounded lip for further injury, guilt flashing in his eyes.

"It's okay, I'm okay," you whispered, pulling him back down but tilting your chin up so he could kiss your neck, instead. You felt his muscles relax, his movements slowing and growing more tender, but kept his hips pressed against your core as a reminder of how hard you made him. "I'm okay," you whispered again, sliding your eyes closed with a soft moan while his mouth dragged up and down the column of your throat and his hand roamed freely underneath the hem of your shirt.

With hardly any effort at all, he lifted your tank above your head and tossed it onto the floor. His mouth immediately latched onto one breast while his hand played with the other. Between his tongue and fingers working steadily over your nipples, it took no time at all before you were a puddle underneath him.

"So beautiful," he murmured into your skin. His hand trailed down your side to play with the drawstring of your shorts, giving you another chance to ask him to stop, but instead you followed his lead and dipped your fingers past the waistband of his boxers. He inhaled sharply against your chest when you wrapped your fist around his cock for the first time and had to remind himself to be gentle when he heard you gasp at his size.

"Y'sure, baby?" he rasped, unable to stop his hips from thrusting lightly into your hand while you stroked him up and down.

"Mhmm," you mumbled, voice getting lost somewhere in your throat. You had never wanted someone as badly as you wanted him. It felt like he was everywhere. His scent, his hands, the pressure of his weight on top of you... you had never been more sure about anything in your life.

You hoped he didn't notice the nervous tremble in your hands when you pushed his boxers down his legs but after he tore off his shirt, he shakily fumbled with your own shorts and you had to hold back the smile that threatened to stretch across your broken lip. Was he nervous, too?

He sat back to drink you all in when you were finally bare before him, his eyes hungrily roaming over your soft curves, making you forget about every little imperfection you ever obsessed over. You only had a moment to admire his broad, tanned chest and thick biceps before he fell back onto his elbows to cage you in.

Your pulse thrummed fast under his gaze, the skin at your jugular twitching with each nervous beat of your heart.

"Wish I could kiss you," he admitted, eyes darting down to your lip.

"Me, too," you murmured before reaching down between your bodies. Your fingers wrapped around his thick length and you spread your legs wider to accommodate him. You guided him to your center, eyes never leaving his, before releasing his cock to wrap your arms around his ribs instead.

"Keep your eyes on me, okay?" he asked, voice a little broken at the request. You nodded and held your breath when you felt his tip breach your entrance. Of course, when his hips shifted to slide halfway inside, your eyes fluttered closed and your arms fell to grab at the sheets, the stretch taking your breath away.

"Baby, c'mon," he begged, nipping at your jaw. With a gasp, your eyes flew open to find his and nodded, wordlessly telling him to continue. One of his hands reached for your wrist and pinned it into the bedding next to your head. His fingers spread wide and found yours, lacing your hands together when he pushed in the rest of the way with a soft grunt.

"O-oh, fuck," you panted, struggling for air as you wiggled your hips, your cunt feeling like it was stretched to the limit. Joel watched you squirm underneath him and he couldn't help the way his chest swelled with pride.

"Yeah, you like that, baby? That feel good?" he muttered, cock throbbing inside you. You nodded, lips parted and eyes glassy, fingers flexing around his. Your fingertips brushed over his now scabbed over knuckles and a wave of your slick soaked his cock, turned on by the physical evidence of what he did to defend you.

And he noticed.

He noticed the way your eyelids drooped and your jaw went slack when you felt his knuckles again. Joel drew his hips back before slowly pushing his way back in, giving you his cock nice and slow.

"Could've killed him," he told you. Your eyes snapped open wide, looking up at him all soft and doe eyed. "Could've killed him for touching you, y'know that?"

You whimpered and wrapped your legs around his waist. Then your bruised, swollen lower lip trembled and his gaze darted down. Very carefully, he grazed his lips over your wound, both of you breathing in deeply as his hips pulled back and rocked into you once again. The stretch was intense, the feeling of him filling you up so perfectly overwhelming your senses.

You murmured his name and nuzzled your nose against his face, growing frustrated you couldn't kiss him. Once he set a slow, yet steady, rhythm, he pulled your hand up above your head, pushing it deep into the pillows, fingers tightening around yours as he plunged inside of you over and over. You could sense his frustration, too, by the way your jaws hung open, hovering over the other, breathing sharp gasps and pants into each other's mouths each time his hips snapped into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

"Wish I could taste you," you whispered against his open mouth. His brows pinched together, your confession rattling him for a second. "Want to know how your cock feels on my tongue. Wonder how much I can take," you continued, enjoying the way he was reacting way too much. Unconsciously, his hips picked up the pace, fucking into you a little harder and pushing you up into the pillows. His face contorted as if he were in pain and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can't say shit like that," he groaned, letting his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. "Gonna make me come. You feel too good, fuck," he whimpered. "Shoulda been fuckin' you since we got here."

You smirked, as much as your lips would allow, anyway, before replying.

"Better make up for lost time, then."

His teeth sunk into the skin stretching across your collarbone and you moaned, slipping your fingers through his curls with your free hand. You held him there against your neck and shoulder, sighing at the trail of licks and kisses he left on your skin while his cock continued to mold a path inside you, your cunt squeezing around him with every sharp thrust.

"Shit, that's my girl," he rasped, tongue flicking out lazily to lick at your sweaty skin. "Takin' everythin' I give you. This pretty pussy just needed my cock, hm? Needed me to make it all better?"

My girl.

Stars exploded behind your eyes when you squeezed them shut, his filth hitting you like a goddamn freight train.

"Yes!" you cried out, tipping your head back into the pillow and tightening your hold on his hand. "Yes, Joel, fuck - feels so good. S-so deep. It's so much," you whined while he sucked another mark into the soft flesh above your left breast.

He soothed you with a reassuring hum before unlocking one of your legs from his waist and hooking it over his shoulder. You gasped, the sharp angle making it feel far more intense than before, dragging you closer and closer to your climax.

"Oh, my god!" you cried out when the tip of his cock nudged against a spot inside you that had your legs shaking and your vision blurring. Joel reared back, your hand falling limply from his hair, so he could fuck you harder. He huffed and panted for air, staring down at you with his jaw clenched tight and sweat trailing down the sides of his face.

The noises you were making should have embarrassed you but you didn't care, especially since Joel appeared to enjoy them so much. You gazed up at him, gasping for air every time his hips slammed into yours. You probably looked like a mess but he didn't seem to mind at all.

"Good?" was all he managed to grunt, entirely fixated on making you come.

"Yes," you whined, "please don't stop. Christ, Joel, I -"

You cut yourself off with a low moan, the relentless pace he set bringing you to the brink of an orgasm so intense, tears were already filling your eyes. He felt your muscles tensing when your breath started to come in jagged little gasps and he quickly cupped your face to tilt it up towards him, eager to watch you fall apart again, but this time promised to be much more satisfying.

With a deep growl, he ground his hips into you, rubbing the coarse hairs that curled at the base of his cock against your clit, soaking up your arousal with each pass.

Your mouth fell open and your face crumpled when you came, a litany of curses spilling from your lips while Joel continued to drag against your clit, drawing out your orgasm as long as possible while he actively fought back his own.

"Fuck, that's pretty," he grunted, still holding your face in his massive hand while the last waves washed over you. You nuzzled blindly into his palm, his other hand still holding yours so tightly, his knuckles began to slowly trickle fresh blood. "So goddamn pretty f'me, baby," he added, voice growing strained. His gaze dropped to where you were connected, watching how your slick had spread all over his cock and stomach, then flicked his eyes back up to you.

"I'm gonna come," he whimpered, cheeks puffing, sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead, and brown eyes fixed on the now relaxed expression on your face. "Are you - can I -"

"Yes," you said quickly, "yes, Joel. God, yes, please come inside me, please," you pleaded. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when he came, your begging being the last push he needed to fall over the edge with a loud groan.

You watched in a trance, memorizing the look of ecstasy on his face, the little ungh followed by a low hiss each time he thrusted forward, shooting his spend deep inside your used cunt until his arms shook and he finally let go of your hand, leg falling from his shoulder.

"Fuck," he gasped, each of you fighting for air while you waited for your hearts to stop racing. His hands gently braced your hips before he slipped out of your wet clutch, his cock still half hard and covered with your combined release. You made a little noise at the loss, at the sudden feeling of emptiness, but he quickly fell to your side and pulled your back against his chest, soothing you with soft strokes against your hip as you worked through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"Think you can go to sleep now?" he asked, his voice hoarse and muffled from his face burrowing into your back.

"Yeah," you sighed, wiggling in his hold until you were comfortable. His seed was still dripping out of you but the last thing you wanted to do was clean it up. You wanted to feel him there for as long as possible, even though you knew the ache in your hips would serve as a constant reminder for the next day or two, at least.

"Good," he grumbled as if he were annoyed, but you could feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep were the little bright red dots that stained his knuckles on the hand that was connected to the arm wedged underneath you, holding you safe and sound.

"French fries for breakfast?" you asked him, shooting Joel a look of surprise. He shrugged and popped another one in his mouth before patting the bed next to him.

"They're my weakness."

You giggled and practically jumped back into bed, your hair dripping from your shower and the soft, white robe caressing your still highly sensitive skin.

"Do you share?" you asked him with a suggestive tone in your voice. He quirked an eyebrow at you before feeding you a fry.

"Food? Yes."

You chewed and hummed as you leaned into his shoulder, eyes drifting to the television. You furrowed your brow as you tried to figure out the movie, but his hand around your shoulder distracted you when he tugged on the soft cotton.

"Women? No," he added before dipping his other hand past the collar, cupping your breast still concealed by the robe. You inhaled sharply, your spine automatically twisting to cater to him, to give him easier access to your body like it was its only function. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck as he pushed you down into the mattress, movie long forgotten. When he began to suck on your neck, your lips still off limits, you groaned and gave his shoulder a playful shove.

"Look at how many marks you already left on me," you pouted, tugging open your robe with one hand so he could see.

He pulled back so he could admire his handiwork before giving you a sly grin.

"Good," he said before resuming his work on your throat. And if you didn't fucking love it so much, you might have protested a bit more but instead, you craned your neck to give him better access. You sighed and felt your body relax under him, cunt already softening and preparing to take him again when your gaze fell on the clock beside his bed.

"Oh, shit! Joel! It's almost ten!" you exclaimed, tapping on his shoulder to snap him out of his lust filled haze.

"So?"

"So?" you repeated incredulously. "What about work?"

"What 'bout it?" he mumbled, hips digging into the apex of your thighs.

"Don't you have a company to run?"

Joel scoffed against your neck and finally pulled away. He pressed his weight into his forearms, which bracketed your head, and kissed the tip of your nose.

"I'm the boss. Think I can do what I want."

He was skipping work for you? Your heart practically leapt out of your chest and into the palm of his hand. You had to fight back the huge smile that pulled at your face for fear of reopening the cut on your lip, but the way your face went hot and your eyes shyly dropped from his was enough to show how happy you were.

He grinned and leaned back down to graze his teeth along your jaw. As far as either of you were concerned, nothing could touch you in the safety of his room. In your minds, the repercussions of the day before were a problem for another time.

"Well, what do you want to do, then?" you teased, gasping when you felt his already hard cock nudge against the inside of your thigh.

"You," he answered gruffly, then as fast as lightening, his hand flicked open your robe to expose yourself to him.

"Christ, you're perfect," he groaned before descending on your nipple, his teeth pinching at the sensitive bud ever so slightly while you whimpered and writhed under him.

His phone vibrated in the sheets next to you, but he ignored it.

"Joel," you breathed, blinking fast to clear your hazy vision. "Joel, your phone."

He groaned and begrudgingly released your breast but remained on top of you as he fished around for his phone.

"Gotta tell Jeff to fuck off, then -"

He paused as he stared at the screen, the blood draining from his face.

Fear shot through you and you scrambled to sit up.

"What is it?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he reread whatever popped up on his screen before dragging his eyes away to look at you.

"It's Glenn. He's in the lobby."

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