roosterthefae

[roosterthefae]

[roosterthefae]

Again (Tell Me That You Love Me Again)

Mobster!Joel Miller x Reader

Chapter 1 - You're No Good (word count - 4194)

Read On Ao3

(check ao3 for content warnings. i will be posting one on here tomorrow once i'm done school and my shift. so sorry for the inconvenience!)

- - -

Your fingers raced across the keyboard, furiously adding the final touches to your design layout. You’d lost track of time, but based on the twinkling stars just outside your apartment window, you knew you had been working on this for hours now.  

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were exhausted. From down the hall, you swear you heard your bed calling your name, and the urge to follow it was there.  

Alas, this project needed to be finished, and you weren’t about to waste all your years of education just to become lazy now that you were in the working world. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you groaned, begrudgingly returning to your work.  

In the background, the local news station was playing on your TV. You put on the channel randomly, opting for some background noise over the dreadful silence of your empty apartment. The sensation felt relatively unfamiliar to you. For the past six months, your apartment had been filled with the agitating sounds of the worst man on the planet. Your ex-boyfriend. 

Perhaps the silence wasn’t that bad. 

Still, you had watched enough horror movies to be cautiously aware of the dangers that came with being a single woman living alone in a big city. Maybe this fear was slightly irrational and did more harm than good, or perhaps you were reasonably on edge.  

Regardless, you didn’t love the feeling of jumping at every single sound, whether it was a car driving by or the rattle of your building from the wind. So, it was decided that late-night news was the best solution.  

It wasn’t the most entertaining—plus, a lot of the darker topics sometimes discussed, such as missing women in your area, just made your new living situation seem even more dreadful–but it kept you focused on your work. 

After your break-up, you choose to drown yourself in copious amounts of overtime. Your only other idea had been to binge-watch every early 2000s rom-com you could think of while inhaling an unhealthy amount of salted caramel ice cream; the latter did not seem as productive.  

The entire experience felt rather dehumanizing. You were a self-proclaimed independent who always could handle issues on your own. This didn’t mean you isolated yourself or anything. You were like anyone else with a tight-knit group of friends; maybe your parents weren’t exactly in the picture anymore, but that was fine. You built a life for yourself here in the city.  

You worked a waitress gig for four years while getting your bachelor's degree, found a job at a great company with amazing benefits, and then that company paid for you to get your master's in computer engineering. Not to brag or anything, but you had a pretty successful life that you made for yourself.  

Until you made the foolish mistake of dating again. You should’ve known it was never a good idea, but your best friend insisted on giving this guy a try. You did, reluctantly, just to please her. He was a detective, so you had high hopes. However, you were wrong. 

The first half of your relationship was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. It was months of occasional dates that you put most of the effort into planning and mediocre sex. You two moved in together, as it naturally was the next step, and everything was pretty decent. 

Until you found him in bed with another woman. 

In your bed. In your apartment. That you paid for on your own. 

The landlord hadn’t added his name to the lease yet, which you found hilarious. This guy was such a bum, he couldn’t even screw his whores in a place that he legally owned. You threw him out immediately. Apparently, he spent the next week crashing on his buddy's couch. You’re not sure what he is doing with his life now, and frankly, you don’t care.  

Nothing good came of that relationship except for a life lesson: you could handle yourself. You knew he wasn’t the man for you, but you clung to the idea that there was someone there for you.  

But maybe it would be nice for once to be taken care of. You don’t want to be coddled or anything. You’re a grown woman, for Christ’s sake, but the thought of having a person who truly cares about you was nice. Someone who wouldn’t get in the way, yet whose presence soothed you. 

You’re disrupted from your thoughts by the sound of sirens on the TV screen. 

It’s a clip of police cars all parked outside an abandoned warehouse by the docks. You watch as officers talk among themselves, some taking notes while others pace the scene. Behind them, an array of crime scene investigators and detectives can be seen. 

The screen changes to a young reporter. She taps the stack of papers against her desk, straightening them. Finally, she clears her throat and speaks, “Breaking news out of New York. Earlier tonight, local authorities attempted to intercept a drug shipment at the docks.” 

By now, your gaze is fully turned to the screen. “Using intel from an inside source, authorities sent a group of undercover police officers to stop a shipment of 500 kilograms of cocaine. However, the mission was a failure.” 

“The police encountered gunfire upon arrival. The assailants were prepared for officers to be there,” she continues, “It is unclear yet who led this attack, but many details point to the New York mafia, who–until recently–we have not heard from in quite some time.” 

Oh delightful, now the mafia was back. Just the cherry on top you needed for this already delightful month. 

Thankfully, no one died, but several police officers are currently hospitalized due to their injuries. However, police did not apprehend any of the assailants. After this turn of events, one can only wonder what will happen next. Will we be hearing more tales about the mafia, or will this be the start of another criminal down period?” 

You turn back to your work as the reporter transitions into another story. You’ve been living in the city for over a decade now, but gangs, mobsters, the mafia–whatever you want to call it–you’re still not used to. These were topics you never thought of while living suburban life–except for movies, of course.  

There’s already too much on your plate right now, so you brush it off, returning to your screen. It's not like these mobs will ever affect you, so there's no point in stressing about it. 

You feel yourself nod off and log out of your laptop, making your way to your bedroom down the hall. You don’t bother to pack up the mess of papers thrown across your coffee table, preferring sleep over organization.  

You cannot describe with words how nice it feels to submerge yourself deep within the mountain of blankets that covers your bed. 

- - - 

“It’s done,” Tess stated from the other line. “The targets have been dealt with.” 

Joel nodded along with her words. He was currently standing in the corner of the warehouse. A warehouse on the opposite end of the coast from where the police officers were. He felt a sense of pride, knowing that he had orchestrated this entire plan. “Thank you, Tess. I knew I could count on you.” 

Tess let out a sharp laugh through the phone. “You owe me for saving your ass again.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you at Frank’s tonight. Your drinks are on me.” 

“That’s more like it, Miller.” Joel has been working with Tess for years now, ever since he left Boston–he prefers to word it like that rather than say he was chased out. She was one of the few people Joel would trust with his life. 

There was a pause; Tess continued. “So, what are you guys planning to do with that kid, anyway?” 

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Tommy is with the fucker right now,” Joel turned around to face the centre of the room, and sure enough, Tommy had the crook tied up in a chair; a group of their men standing behind him. Between sharp punches, Tommy’s making plenty of crude comments, but they’re all buried beneath the sound of shrieking. 

“No shit, really? I couldn’t tell,” Tess remarks, “Surprised you weren’t itching to get your hands on him first.” 

Joel scoffs, “Oh, trust me, I’ll be having my turn at him soon enough.” 

Tess seems pleased by this, letting out a soft chuckle. “Why am I not surprised? I’m expecting one hell of a story once I see you in person.” 

Joel watches as Tommy lands one last blow to the guy's jaw. There’s a sickening crack, and he even notices some guys behind Tommy wince. For a moment, Tommy just stands there, catching his breath, admiring his handiwork.  

The boy is now covered in a mural of blood and bruising, but it's still not enough. There needs to be consequences for these sorts of things. 

Finally, Tommy turns to face Joel, cracking the knuckles he had just been using. “Mind finishing the job?” He nods toward the product of his doing. 

“Gotta go, Tess,” Joel says flatly. 

“Finally!” Tess cheers, “Don’t disappoint me, Miller.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye, sauntering to the centre of the warehouse. An eerie silence comes with him, slowly filling the room. Even in his most violent moments, Tommy carries himself as a charming, upbeat guy. His demeanor makes these dark moments almost feel like they’re entertainment. 

The feeling fades away as Joel walks across the room. There’s a shift in the air; a sharp contrast to the more laid-back environment. No one dares to even glimpse at this scene in amusement, because it's not funny. 

What Joel Miller is about to do here is far from amusing. 

The boy—the rat—hesitantly lifts his gaze from the floor to Joel. His breath is shaky as his own snot runs down his face, onto his now-tattered clothes. 

“Please,” he sobs, “please don’t do this.” 

There’s a beat, but it's not of hesitation, no. Joel stands there, pondering what the best course of action will be. How does he wish to kill this man in order to get his message across? He’s not Tommy. He won’t make a show of this. God, no. 

Without breaking eye contact with the beaten boy, Joel says, “Everyone out.” 

There's a flurry of feet across the concrete floor. Joel listens as he hears the sliding of the warehouse-doors, opened then closed. For once, the room is barren, except for Tommy, who still notably stands by Joel’s side. 

“Figured you might need a hand,” Tommy smirked. 

Joel stares at him, face void of any expression. 

“Okay, fine,” Tommy takes a step back and sighs, “I just want to watch you do your thing.” 

Ah, yes, his ‘thing’, cold-hearted murder. You know, when you’re forced to spend your teenage years helping mobsters smuggle drugs and launder money, you learn a thing or two about the many ways to kill a man. After joining the Boston mob together, Joel tried to shield his brother from as much as possible.  

The four-year age difference might not seem like much now, but it's a pretty big deal when you’re 15 years old trying to stop your 11-year-old brother from being deeply traumatized before even going through puberty. Unfortunately, there's only so much defending that can be done when you’re working with the mob.  

Yet, here they are now. Not-so-little-anymore Tommy awaits eagerly for his brother to slaughter a man. 

How time flies. 

Joel thinks about it for a second. He believes he does his best work on his own, allowing the vulgarity to fully consume him within his isolation, but Tommy is here, and there's no point in sending him out now. 

Joel points toward some boxes in the corner of the room. “Grab me that lead pipe, would ya?” 

A grin spreads across Tommy’s face as he hurries across the room. “On it.” 

Joel doesn’t bother to view the terror that's found itself plastered across his victim's face. No, it's unnecessary. He will hear the terror just fine once he’s swinging that pipe into the boy’s already beaten body. 

- - - 

The next morning, Joel finds himself in the office of the deadliest man on the East Coast. 

He gives Joel a suffocating hug. 

“You’ve done it again, my boy!” Russell Wesley squeezes Joel tighter, as if that's even possible. He’s a decent bit taller than Joel is, though he’s stopped putting so much effort into his appearance as he’s gotten older. Beneath the brim of his hat, Joel sees a few stray grey hairs peeking out.  

Back when Joel first met Wesley, the man’s hair was as black as coal. Though Joel can’t judge too hard; he’s sporting his own salt-and-pepper look at the moment. 

Joel shimmies himself out of Wesley’s grasp. “It’s just another job.” 

Wesley wastes no time in cutting Joel off. “Ah-ah, but there’s no one who could’ve been as efficient as you.” 

Even Joel’s humbleness does not stop him from agreeing. Joel may not be the most charming or admirable man, but he makes up for it with his talent. The ability to kill a man well is one that Joel finds pride in. 

“I mean, c’mon,” Wesley continues, “you found our perp, knew how to feed him the right false information, and planned an attack that’ll leave the police department in shambles for a decent few weeks. Y’know, there’s not a lot of men out there capable of such.” 

Joel rolls his eyes, “Nothing you haven’t handled before.” 

A soft chuckle comes from Wesley. He pulls open a drawer from his desk, rummaging through its contents. “I suppose you’re right,” Finally, Wesley pulls out a cigar. “I got into a lotta trouble back in the day.” 

“You still do.” 

“Old habits die hard,” he reaches into one of his blazer pockets and pulls out an old flip-top lighter. The thing is insanely vintage; Joel’s never seen Wesley without it, but the man cares for it like it's his own child. 

Once the cigar’s in his mouth, Wesley flicks on his lighter. Joel watches as the flame strikes the foot of the cigar. He takes a deep inhale before generously handing the cigar over to Joel. 

Joel takes it with ease, placing the head between his lips. He inhales, letting the smoke fill his lungs. The sharp taste of tobacco eases his mind. 

“Miller, did I ever tell you about my time down in Philly?” 

“Once or twice,” Joel responds. 

“Yeah, well, with a story like that, it's hard not to tell it,” Wesley says, “a man only becomes the boss once in his life.” 

“Am I just here to listen to you tell stories?” 

Wesley eyes him from across the desk, “Are you opposed to that?” 

Joel hands the cigar back to Wesley after a beat, “Go ahead. No one’s stopping you.” 

Wesley grins, “This is why I love ya Miller.” 

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes. 

“You see, my dear friend Earl and I had been sent out. Now, Earl, God, this kid was a nutcase. I mean, for Christ’s sake, he’s practically bouncing off the wall, must’ve had a few screws loose in his head, but he was a damn good talker. Coulda got us outta any trouble that came our way, yet this fucker hardly ever tried.” 

Wesley continues, “So we’re down in Philly–still not even old enough to legally drink–and we're supposed to be picking up a drop-off for our boss. The guys come, and they’re clearly shorting us; I’m talking half of the product they promised us wasn’t there. So, I’m talking to these fellas, and they couldn't care less about what I had to say; I was a goddamn nobody.” 

“And a guy with the name Earl wasn’t?” Joel adds. 

“Fuck no,” Wesley ignores Joel’s comment, “Hard not to be known when you’re starting fights everywhere you go. Now Earl’s riling these guys up. I’m telling him to smarten the fuck up and get us out of there, and you know what the fucker does?” 

There's a beat before Joel realizes Wesley is waiting for a response. “What did he do?” he asks flatly. 

“Motherfucker pulls out a gun and blows a hole straight into one of the guy's skulls. So, now we're in a standoff. Earl’s shooting at these guys, adding more snarky comments here and there, just to keep them pissed off. Not me. I hunker myself behind a crate like the coward I am, then I see it.” 

Wesley’s eyes light up, “Through a cracked-open back door, I see a truck full of the rest of what we were promised. I realize at this moment that no one's expecting quiet little Russ to be getting himself into any extra trouble. So, I sneak out the back, hot-wire the truck, and start yelling for Earl to get his ass outside.” 

“One hell of a story.” 

“Yeah, and it gets better,” Wesley grins, practically bouncing off his seat, “We get back home and our boss is rightfully pissed. He starts cussing out Earl for his behaviour. I straight up think my buddy's gonna die until Earl breaks the news that we got the product. The best part, Earl gives me full credit for it. It's at that moment I watch as my boss looks at me–and I mean, finally looks at me. This guy has seen me before, but I don’t think he's ever actually given two shits about me until that moment. Later that night, he calls me down and tells me he's gonna start training me to take over once he's gone.” 

“And now, here we are,” Joel adds. 

“Exactly.” 

“Look, can I be frankly honest with you?” Joel asks. He waits until Wesley nods. “That story is a bunch of horseshit.” 

“Yeah, but it's fucking more interesting than me just saying my boss sat me across his desk, gave me a cigar, and told me the job was mine. Is that what you plan on telling people, Joel?” 

There is a shift in the air. Joel stares from across the desk at the old bastard, shocked into silence. “Now, what are you implying here?” 

“I ain’t implying anything, Miller,” Wesley shrugs casually, as if he didn’t just shake Joel’s world. “I’m just curious what story you’re going to come up with to tell people how you became boss.” 

With the life Joel leads, there are very few moments where he is at a loss for words. Yet, here he is, mouth sealed shut. Wesley looks at him with no expression. He’s thrown this onto Joel like it’s small talk; nothing extraordinary. 

Wesley continues, “I wouldn’t have picked you if I thought you weren’t up to the job.” 

“It's not that it's just,” Joel rubs his hands across his face. “Jesus, Russ, you can’t just throw this onto a guy.” 

“Miller, I’m fucking old. I don’t take care of myself enough; I won’t live as long as the average fella. There’s no one I believe in as much as you to trust that this whole ordeal runs smoothly.” Wesley explains. He takes a hit before passing the cigar back to Joel. 

Joel takes the fattest drag he has had in a while. “What about Maria, or Bill, or Tess? Fuck, even Tommy.” 

“You and I both know Bill is off the table. Love the bugger, but he’d burn this place to the ground. Be fucking realistic, Miller.” 

“Okay, well, what about the others,” Joel says, with a venom laced in his voice that he didn’t intend to be there. He is becoming significantly more riled up than he expected, but in his defense, he feels that this was unfairly thrown on him with no notice. 

Wesley sighs, “Tess is bright. One of the smartest bitches we have. But she doesn’t have that leadership in her. Look, independence is a marvelous skill to have. It's why I send her out on solo missions. But for this position, I need someone who's gonna lead.” 

“What about Maria and Tommy?” Joel sharply states, “You don’t want your daughter and her husband running the family business?” 

“So, you’re saying you don’t count as family, Miller?” Wesley barks. 

“You know I didn’t-” Joel tries to respond, but he is quickly interrupted. 

Wesley is done with Joel’s pandering. He gives Joel a cruel look that's borderline a glare. “It can’t be Maria. She’s off getting her doctorate, trying to live a normal life–earn herself some clean money. I don’t want to stop my baby girl from trying to achieve her dreams. Then there’s Tommy.” Wesley sighs, “Look, if you weren’t an option, I’d pick Tommy, but-” 

“Pick Tommy then.” 

“Shut your mouth and listen to me, Miller! There is no one better than you.” Wesley slams his hand on the desk. 

The smack silences the room. Neither speak for a moment until Wesley clears his throat. 

“You have this atmosphere about you, Joel. It’s dizzying. You instill a fear in people that no other man can. You have this internal drive that pushes you harder than anyone I’ve ever seen before. There’s just something about you, Miller, that will never be replicated. Whatever that is, I don’t want it to be wasted. It’d be the biggest mistake I ever made if I didn’t choose you.” 

Joel stares ahead, trying to mask all expressions on his face. This cannot be happening—Wesley must be insane. 

He never expected this to be how his life would go. After leaving Texas with only his brother, a rust bucket for a car, and the grand that they had saved up, Joel expected them to be screwed.  

They made it to Boston, where Joel found work with the wrong group of people. It wasn’t the best situation, but it kept them fed. Few years later, things turned sour. Joel and Tommy were given an option: leave Boston themselves, or leave in a casket. 

Now here he was, being asked to be a mob boss. 

Wesley sighed, “Look, Joel, I want you to think about it-” 

“I’m not doing it,” Joel cut him off. 

Wesley muttered under his breath. The conversation was no longer the friendly, reminiscent chat it had started as. The two men were now in a stand-off. Joel had never seen Wesley this angry with him. There was a beat before Wesley spoke again. “You’re a fool, Joel.” 

“That’s fine by me. I’d rather be a fool than take this job.” 

“I have so many men who would die to be in your position, yet you’re here just throwing it away.” 

Joel rolled his eyes, “Then give it to one of those men.” 

“Jesus, fuck, Joel,” Wesley abruptly stood up, pushing his desk as he did so. Papers, previously nicely piled on the desk, were flung onto the floor along with pens and other stationery. “I cannot believe this.” 

“I’m not doing it,” Joel stood his ground. “Find someone else.” 

“Oh, I ain’t finding someone else,” Wesley stormed across the room to his liquor cabinet in the back. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a drink. “If you’re not doing this, Miller, then you’re getting my dirty work until you change your mind.” 

“Nothing I haven’t done before,” Joel continued, “You know I’ve worked my way from bottom to top in two different mobs now.” 

Wesley let out a sharp laugh, still turned away from Joel. “Trust me, Joel; I have plenty of options. I could send you on an undercover mission that’ll take years. You’ll do errands with the newbies–collect debts and shit. Fuck, you’ll be my own human shield if that’s what it takes.” 

“Try me,” Joel taunted. “I’ve done it all. There is absolutely nothing you could throw at me I wouldn’t be able to handle.” 

Wesley took a swig of his drink—brandy, neat. He turned around and looked Joel straight in the eye. “Are you sure about this, Joel?” 

“I would rather take whatever job you give me than become the boss,” Joel stated matter-of-factly. “No matter what, I refuse.” 

Silence. Wesley rubbed his face and groaned. “I’m awfully upset with ya, Miller. I expected more from you.” 

“We’re far past the point of guilt, Russell,” Joel stated. “Tell me. What’s my punishment?” 

Wesley didn’t speak for a second, still with his hands in his head. Joel watched as the gears turned, creating the worst punishment. Suddenly, Wesley’s head perked up. He darted across the room toward the papers that had been strewn across the floor in the older man’s anger. Once Wesley grabbed the paper he was looking for, he turned to Joel with a wide smirk on his face. 

“You sure you don’t want to change your mind?” 

“Never.” 

Wesley just nodded and smiled. He sat down in his chair as if he were the happiest man on Earth. Finally, Wesley asked, “Joel, have you ever been a babysitter?” 

- - -

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much for reading the very first chapter of my very first fic!!! I've been planning this for a while now, and I think you guys will enjoy the upcoming story.

Let me know your thoughts and if there is anything you'd like me to include in the future.

I don't have a posting schedule yet, but my goal is about 1-2 chapters a week. I'm still in school so we will see how that works out. I actually wrote majority of this first chapter while I was home after getting my wisdom teeth removed, so, I haven't even tried balancing writing and schoolwork yet.

Anyways, this is going to be an exciting journey for all of us and I look forward to whatever comes next.

xoxo, Rooster <3

[roosterthefae]

You guys should totally check out my new Mobster!Joel Miller x Reader fic I am writing.

The first chapter is up on ao3 right now and I will be posting on here as well!

Stay tuned for updates and let me know your thoughts on the story.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65724463/chapters/169258441