Halloween Special
Summary: You dress up as Joel for Halloween, and Tommy helps you enhance your costume. Joel fucking hates your costume. God, you're annoying.
Warnings: smut, arguing, oral (f receiving) male masturbation, joel jerks himself off while eating u out, southern phrases, unprotected piv, rough sex, Joel stuffs your mouth with part of his costume to shut you up, creampie, secret Ron Swanson (Joel dresses up like a pirate the way Ron Swanson does), yee haw mothafuckas
A/N: This story absolutely can be read as a standalone, but if you like these two and would like to see more of their antics, they the Mall Rats and you can read more about them in my masterlist ! thank you @papipascalispunk for editing â€ïžâ€ïž btw it is my birthdayđđđ„łi'm 21 today! And if you were feeling so inclined i wouldn't say no to some birthday wishes <3
âWhy do all of these womenâs costumes look like theyâre from Victoriaâs Secret?â, you ask as you and Joel rifle through the pile of twenty year old Halloween costumes. Youâve just gotten back from an old Spirit Halloween store with Joel, and now youâre sorting through costumes for the people of Jackson at his house. Some are salvageable and in good condition, some are old and moldy.Â
Halloween doesnât make much sense post-apocalypse. If thereâs any candy left, itâs all rotten. Itâs not practical for kids to trick-or-treat for baked goods and apples, the few sweets Jackson has to offer. So instead, Maria and Tommy are hosting a Halloween potluck at their home. All are invited and encouraged to dress up, bring food. The partyâs tonight.
âWho knows,â Joel mumbles, âJust how it was.â
âDid you dress all slutty too?â
ââCourse I did. Turned all kinds of tricks back in my prime.â
âThen hereââ, you toss Joel a nurse costume, âBe a slutty nurse for the party.â
âYeah, no thanks.â
You snicker to yourself as you sort the piles. Youâve got girlsâ and boysâ costumes sorted by size, and along with mensâ and womenâs. âWhat are you gonna dress up as, then?â
âI dunno. Do I have to?â, Joel asks, âI donât even wanna go.â
âToo bad, you have to. And you have to dress up, too. Itâs mandatory.â
Joel rolls his eyes. âWhat are you going as, then?â you shrug in response. Joel tosses you a costume, the guy in the picture seemingly wearing a sort of hat shaped like a thumb. âKnuckleheadâ, it reads. So fucking stupid. âGet it?â
âHa-ha,â you throw the costume back in his direction. The costumes are all sorted now, so Joel bags up each pile to take to Maria. âDo you want any help with those bags?â you ask.Â
âNah, I got it. Thanks, though.âÂ
âWill I see you tonight?â
âDepends. How slutty you dressinâ?â Joel opens the door and grabs the bags of costumes.
âYou know, the usual. Lingerie and cat ears.â
âMmm. Definitely stayinâ home, then. Get the door for me?â Joel asks as heâs standing in the doorway with the bags in his hands.Â
âSure,â you nod. And as Joel leaves and you shut his door, his flannel draped over a chair catches your eye. You have the best costume idea.Â
â
You get to Maria and Tommyâs around six. Tommy greets you at the door, hair slicked back and wearing a cape, his usual toothy grin enhanced by plastic fangs. Thereâs red makeup resembling dripping blood from the corners of his mouth. âHey you,â he says. âWhat do we have here?â
You clear your throat and speak in a lower affectation, âShut up and quit smilinâ,â before breaking into a fit of giggles.Â
Tommy laughs too. âJoel?â
âBingo,â you reply. Youâre wearing Joelâs flannel and a simple pair of jeans, with an exaggerated scowl.Â
âCostume is spot on, âcept for one thing,â you raise your eyebrows and Tommy continues, âYouâre much easier on the eyes than he is.â
âOh, stop it,â you blush and smack his arm. âSpeaking of, Joel here yet?â
âOh, yeah. Off in the kitchen or something. Heâs gonna hate your costume, darlinâ. Absolutely fuckinâ hate it.âÂ
âGood, that was the plan,â you smile mischievously.Â
âI like how you roll, sister,â Tommy drawls. âAnâ in factâŠâ Tommy looks around himself before moving a hand to your waist and stealthily guiding you to a nearby bedroom, his babyâs nursery.Â
âWhat are we doing, Tommy?â
âShh, be cool, be cool,â Tommy tells you. He loves your costume, but heâs got an idea. A great idea, a way to improve it. He picks up a bottle of baby powder from the changing table and sits you down, then sprinkles some in your hair and combs it through with his fingers. âNow weâre cookinâ,â he says. âGotta get you that silver fox look, like Joel.âÂ
 âAhh,â you hum in agreement. Should have thought of that one. Thatâs good.
âAndââ Tommy continues, âYou gotta talk like him too. You know how to do that?âÂ
âSure,â you clear your throat and speak in a low tone again, mocking Joel. âFuck this, fuck that, fuck youââ
âOh, very close,â Tommy laughs, âNah, you gotta get southern on his ass, sweetheart. You know what Iâm sayinâ?â you shake your head no. âThatâs okay. Mâgonna teach ya.â
Tommy spends the next ten minutes running through a list of southern words and phrases, teaching you how to speak in a southern accent. At the end, youâre both in a fit of giggles. âGod, sweetheart, I love ya. Joelâs gonna shit a brick.âÂ
You come out of the nursery with Tommy and make your way into the kitchen where Joelâs sitting. Heâs at the counter, alone, snacking on some carrot cake. Youâre still trying to compose yourself, biting your lip to hide your smile. âHowdy, pardner.â
âUh, hi,â Joel eyes you and Tommy suspiciously. He does not like the way youâre both smiling, definitely causing trouble. âThe hell are you two so happy about?â
âNothinâ.â you say, looking at Tommy. He subtly nods in approval. Donât pronounce the âingâ at the end of those words. Itâs âInâ. Nothing, nothinâ. Fucking, fuckinâ. Something, somethinâ. âUh, Joel, whatâs your costume?â
âWhatâs it look like? Iâm a pirate,â he grumbles. Heâs got anâŠinteresting take on a pirate costume. Heâs wearing a plain button down shirt, striped pajama bottoms, and a long red tie tied around his tummy. Youâre pretty sure there was a menâs pirate costume in the pile that you had sorted from earlier.Â
Tommy brushes your hair from your ear and whispers something. You smile, then speak to Joel. âWell, donât you look cuter than a dimple on a bugâs ass.âÂ
âDid you just have a stroke?â Joel squints at you, âWait a fuckinâ secondâthatâs my shirt.â
You look down at your shirt in mock surprise, âWell slap butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! I guess it is your shirt, Joel!â
Joelâs blushing, redder than a tomato. His flannel is ill fitting, but to Joel, it looks perfect on you. He swallows thickly. Youâve got one less button closed than what he wears, and heâs fighting the urge to let his eyes fall lower. âWhere did you evenânever mind. You - I told you - God dammit, this ainâtââ
âThis ainât funny,â you interrupt, matching his tone perfectly.Â
Tommyâs giggling like an idiot next to you, then faces his palm up by his hip for a high five. You slap his palm and this enrages Joel, who glares at Tommy. âDonât encourage this. The fuck is the matter with you?â Goddamn little brothers.Â
âWhat, donât yâall like my costume? Iâm you.âÂ
ââCourse you are,â Joel grumbles. âThough a witch would be more fitting,â He looks at you closer, âWhat the hell is wrong with your hair?â
âIâm a silver fox just like you, Joel.â
Joel rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. âDo not call me that. I canât even look at you right now. Jesus Christ.â He eats the last of his cake, then stomps off, away from you and Tommy.Â
âYou,â a voice interrupts. Itâs Maria, dressed as a black cat. Sheâs so cute. âYou two are playing with fire. Tommy, leave this girl alone. Joelâs gonna wring her neck.â
Tommy shrugs. âIt was her idea.âÂ
Maria doesnât care. She smacks Tommy upside the head and ushers him towards the living room leaving you all by yourself. Tommy turns back to you, busted, he mouths. So you look for Joel.Â
You make your way through the living room, check the porch. Itâs only when youâre in a hallway that you feel a strong hand grip your forearm and drag you to the guest bedroom that you realize where Joel stormed off to. âWhat in tarnation?â you exclaim, and Joel locks the door. âThis bedroom ainât big enough for the two of us.âÂ
Joel rolls his eyes. âShut up and take off your pants. Do it now,â he grunts. You smirk and begin unbuttoning your - Joelâs - shirt. âPants,â he scolds you, annoyed. âYou keep my shirt on for this.âÂ
You quit unbuttoning the shirt, âThought you donât like my costume?â
âI donât,â Joel replies. You can see the tent in his pants, how achingly hard he is. You smirk. Heâs all pissed off and worked up, a brutal combination. Your favorite combination. All because youâre wearing his shirt. Not really, though. You know the gray hair and the southern accent are whatâs really pissing him off. You wearing his shirt is just fine.Â
In a fit of giggles, you can barely get the words out, âYouâre hard as a matchâwait,â you pause, unable to control your laughter. You catch your breath before continuing, âShit fire and save matches, youâre hard as a rââ
âDonât have time for this,â Joel grumbles. In one fell swoop, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them and your panties down your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He shoves you on the bed before kneeling at the edge, pulling you by your hips. The cold air has your skin erupting in goosebumps that are then soothed by his hot breath on your thighs, as he presses sloppy kisses into your skin. âYou have noââ he kisses your other thigh, âFuckinâ idea,â then drags his tongue up your soft flesh, âWhat youâre doinâ to me, wearinâ my shirt like that. Mâgonna devour you, sweetheart.â
Joel startles you by licking a long, fat stripe right up your hot and slick core, groaning as he tastes you, âFuck,â you moan, fingers carding through Joelâs hair. You know this is getting tired. Seriously. Time and place. But even with his head between your thighs, you canât stop. You struck gold. âHeaven to Betsy, it seems I have a visitor!âÂ
Joel sighs as he pulls away from your core and stares at you, unimpressed. âYou done yet?â
âDarn tootinâ,â You get no reaction from Joel. âYes...Iâm done.âÂ
âSo fuckinâ sick of you. Sânot funny. I donât talk like that.â
And heâs right back where he was. First heâs inhaling you, your sweet scent, he licks another long stripe up your pussy, his tongue soft and firm against your core. He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning into your skin and savoring the way you taste. He keeps one arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is pulling down his striped pajama bottoms just over his cock, the waistband resting beneath his balls. Joel spits on your pussy, then drags his thumb up and down your core, collecting the mixture on his fingertips before spreading it on his cock. He grips himself tight, stroking himself up and down as his tongue teases your entrance, exploring your sex.
You can feel his shoulder jerk with every movement of his hand on his cock. You wish you could see it, his shaft shiny with your slick and the head red and swollen.
âGood lord,â Joel whispers against you. He eats you like heâs starved, eyes closed and lips wrapped around your clit. His fingertips dig into your thighs at a bruising pressure, his nose is buried in the coarse hair that covers your mound. âFuckinâ goodâŠso fuckinâ good,â Your skin, your musk, your arousal. Heâs addicted to it, addicted to the taste of your pleasure. And Christ, the way his flannel drapes over your stomach, peeking over the tops of your thighs. He could die a happy man right here, between your thighs.Â
âJoel,â you cry, rocking your hips against his face. Youâre moving too much. He bites your thigh and holds you firmer, his bicep flexing against you under the soft fabric of his shirt.
He alternates between lapping at your dripping core, sucking your sensitive clit, and fucking you on his tongue. Whatever he wants to do to you, because this is his treat. His.
âYeah Joel, right there,â you whimper. You can feel it in your thighs, your gut, that familiar closeness is back. Under Joelâs tongue, youâre unraveling, coming undone for him. âMâso close.â
âThis ainât about you,â he growls. âYâgot yer kicks already, didnât you? Teasinâ me in your little getup. Pokinâ fun and beinâ mean tâme.âÂ
âNo, Joel, I wasnâtââ
âI donât care, sweetheart,â Joel says softly as he works himself. You hear the slick sounds of his fist slapping against his skin. âI donât care. This ainât about you. Mâdoinâ this fâme. Donât you dare come.âÂ
But you do. Not out of defiance, not to piss him off further. You just canât help yourself. The way he purrs and growls into your skin, the way his arm holds you in place so firm. And his tongue, working pure fucking magic against you. Your orgasm ripples through you violently, taking you by storm. It feels hot and electric, intense and overpowering. Generously, he works you through it, licking and lapping at you, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body that he can get. Static rings in your ears and youâre limp, pliant on the bed, eyes closed in pure bliss.
When you finally open your eyes, you realize Joel is standing above you, breathing heavily. Cock still achingly hard in his fist. âYou werenât supposed to do that,â he breathes.
âIt was an accident,â you reply.
âAccident, my ass.â You bite your lip to hide your smirk. Joel knows that look on your face. Mischief. He reads you like a book, knows that youâre not done with your little act as you pull him onto the bed, flip him on his back and mount him. He knows exactly what youâre planning. Something about saving a horse, riding a cowboy. Of course you are. God, youâre exhausting.
You reach between your bodies and line his head up with your entrance, then sink down on him. Slowly, savoring the way he stretches you out. It hurts. He didnât use his fingers on you. But youâre committed to what you have planned.
âJoel,â you breathe, rocking your hips slowly against him. âI have something to tell you.â
âWhat could you possibly need to tell me now, motormouth?â That devious smirk on your faceâŠhe knows what youâre about to say, answering his own question. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, âFor the love of godâŠGo on, then. Get it out of your system, numb nuts.â
âYEEEE HAWWW!â you squeal, and Joel lunges forward to wrap a hand over your mouth. He did not think you were gonna be that loud. The partyâs loud, but not that loud. âJesus Christ,â he hisses. âThe fuck is the matter with you? You cannot scream like thatâŠChrist almighty.â
He flips you over, pulls out of you and rips the tie off of his belly. âMy fuckinâ turn, now. Drivinâ me to drink,â He stuffs it into in your mouth, âCan you breathe?â
âMhm.â
âThatâs unfortunate,â he retaliates. He wraps your legs around his waist and lines up with your entrance once more, burying himself to the hilt in a quick shove with his hips. You gasp, your voice muffled by his tie.
He finds his pace quickly, pistoning into you at a devastating pace. Hard and fast and deep, like you love. âFuckinâ ridiculous,â he pants. âYouâre impossible. You know that? Impossible.â
You canât smile, canât speak. With your mouth stuffed full you can do is look at him with wide eyes, and all Joel can think is god, you have no business being so pretty and so fucking irritating at the same time. Joelâs shirt is buttoned halfway up your body and he watches your tits bounce under the fabric with every thrust of his hips. Your nipples taut and hard, the shirt falling away from your torso and framing your body just so, like youâre a painting, just for him.
âGod,â Joel grunts. You wrap your legs tighter around him, hold his forearms that cage your head. You look into his eyes as he fucks you, his usual sparkling brown eyes nearly black with lust. And it might get you into trouble, but you need more. Need to feel him, taste him. Pulling the tie out of your mouth, you lift your head, kissing and sucking up his neck and all the way to his jaw and his cheek still slick with your own arousal. You taste yourself on his skin as you kiss his face, lips just centimeters away from meeting his own.
Joel makes all sorts of strangled noises as he pounds into you. His muscles tense and you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen inside you, and with his last few strong and deep thrusts, he spills into you. He comes hard, painting your walls with rope after rope of his hot seed.
He catches his breath on top of you as you trace lazy patterns into his back and his scalp, his head resting against the mattress. Completely drained of his energy. You can feel him going soft. âJoel, I need a rag or something before I make a mess on this bed.â
âOh, yeah,â He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees his tie in his peripheral vision. He takes it,Â
âYou werenât sâposed to take this out of your mouth,â he says, âLeast you stayed quiet for once. Maybe you could be quiet the rest of the night, hm?â he mumbles as he pulls out of you, wiping you down gently with the tie. He folds it up to keep the mess of his spend contained. âYou do that for me?â
You smile. If only you werenât all out of the sayings that Tommy taught you anyway. Joel helps dress you in your pants and underwear again, straightens out the buttons on your flannel. He tells you that you donât have to give it back to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, taming it. âJoel?â
âYeah, hon.â
âYou really didnât like my costume?â
âOh, sweetheart,â Joel smiles for the first time tonight, and exaggerates his own southern accent. âBless your heart.â
You tilt your head, confused, âWhatâs that one?â
 âWhat, Tommy didnât teach you that one?â You mumble a no and Joel hums. âSâa classic.â
âWhatâs it mean?â
âWell, Iâd tell you to ask Tommy but youâre not allowed to hang out with him anymore,â Joel says. âFuckinâ corrupted you. Anâ itâs a shame, âcause I was startinâ to like you. God, heâs an asshole,â he complains, âAnd you are too, for that matter.â
You smile to yourself, then kiss Joelâs cheek before getting up to leave. Before you open the door, you turn to Joel, âYour costume sucks, by the way. Not even close to a pirate.â
âYeah, whatever,â he replies. âNow get lost, you.â
When you leave, Joel adjusts his clothes. He clutches his tie in his hand, then leaves the bedroom, crashing into someone. Itâs Tommy, wearing a shit-eating grin. Joel sighs, âWhatâd you teach her now?â
Tommy smirks. âNothinâ,â then slaps Joel on the ass, and Joel turns beet red. âYee-haw, cowboy.â
Please please please reblog, send me asks, comment, let me know what you thought! Love your thoughts. It keeps me going and motivated to write for you all.
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jet
đ thank u guys so much for 1k followers đ i donât know how we got here but i love you all endlessly and canât thank you enough for all the love n support. hereâs some smutty joel to celebrate đ€© this might become something, it might not. i dunno. wanted to try it out tho. lmk your thoughts âš
pairing: joel miller x fem!reader
summary: you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?
warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) post-outbreak!joel, pining i guess?? when don't i pine for this man, praise kink, light bondage, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don't u dare), creampie, dom!joel, soft!joel, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), cursing, cute horsies
word count: 6.9k
main masterlist
Somewhere between Missouri and Illinois, last time you checked. Joel has the map, and you donât bother asking him to see it much. Youâve been following the Mississippi north, on his orders, looking to hit St. Louis sometime tomorrow. Provided you donât run into any trouble, that is.
Itâs been three days with no safe refuge. Camping out in deserted houses with wood for windowpanes, stores infested with rats, office buildings with infected roaming. Joel figures the outskirts of the city are a good spot to stop for a couple nights, regain your strength, find supplies.
Youâre a few paces ahead of him, only turning your head slightly when you notice an offramp, and looking back ahead when he doesnât give any direction. You weave in and out of abandoned cars, hips swaying with the clipping of your horseâs hooves on broken asphalt, Joelâs horse in time at your heels.
Youâd untethered the pair of them on a farm back in Nebraska. Joel had told you to stay put while he cleared the house, but youâd wandered over to the field when you spotted them. Timid, skittish, starving.
Five minutes hooked over the fence and they were both eating grass youâd pulled from the earth, right out of your hand. Joelâs heavy footsteps approaching had spooked them back a few steps, but youâd petted their muzzles and when he did the same, they soon warmed to him, too.
Heâd jerked his head in a nod and muttered, âGood job,â before finding two saddles, strapping them on, and helping you onto the chestnut brown one â who youâd named Jet.
Joel had found tins of food in the farmhouse, and a switchblade for you to carry. He had a new stain on his shirt.
âInfected?â you asked.
He grunted in reply. Then rolled the tins into his backpack and hoisted himself onto his own horse, giving her reins a tug.
You knew that meant that yeah, thereâd been infected inside. And recent, too, going by how well-kept the horses looked. It canât have been longer than a week.
Joelâs silence as you both wandered down the farm track probably meant that there werenât just adults in the house, either.
Youâd glanced over to him, giving him a small smile. Bent over and reached for his horseâs ears, scratching where her soft black coat met her mane. The reins lay loose around Joelâs knuckles.
Protecting and providing for you was more important than some infected kids in a farmhouse. Joel had made that more than clear over the time youâd been with him. But somewhere, buried deep underneath years of fighting and killing, tucked away under a dusty flannel shirt, you knew his heart was hurting.
That was two weeks ago. Joel hasnât talked about it, and youâre not interested in bringing it back up. Yâall got to the farm, took everything it had to offer, and you left.
Jet clicks her way along the highway somewhere south of the city. Itâs still bright out; Joel reckons probably a few more hours of sunlight, so you know heâll be scouting for places to camp out soon.
You lean back to stretch your spine, hand steadying yourself on Jetâs rump, her tail swishing as she walks. Her head bobs, looking from left to right, from the trucks with smashed windows sprouting moss, over to the trees losing leaves in the fall breeze.
Itâs peaceful. Not much is, these days.
Itâs quiet enough that Joel can listen for any sound of oncoming threat, and quiet enough that you can shut your eyes and pretend like youâre on some trail in the Texas country, on a warm summer evening; not exhausted, covered in dirt, weeks since you washed, days since you slept.
Youâre humming gently to yourself, imagination taking you down by a creek where Joel pulls you by hand off the horse and you sit down to a picnic or something. Heâd bring a basket. Maybe a bottle of wine, or a cheese board. Maybe he lays you back and kisses you on the blanket. Maybe his hand starts to wander up your thigh, skirt ruffling as he goesâŠ
âNot much out here, is there?â
His voice startles you, bursting the seams of your daydream. He isnât much of a talker, not unless you start it. You sit up straight and give your head a shake, as if dislodging the fantasy from your mind.
You twist around to look at his face; squinting under the bright white sky. Tired, same as you, lined, flecked with years and sun and survival.
âHm?â he asks when you still donât reply.
âNot a lot,â you finally say, clearing your throat and turning back to the road.
Finding the horses isnât the only thing thatâd happened two weeks ago.
Joel hadnât wanted to camp in the farmhouse, hadnât wanted to have to shift the bodies. Too much effort, or too much for you to see, maybe. Youâd protested, heart set on a nightâs sleep in an actual bed, but he hadnât budged.
And you knew not to push him.
The sun was setting, though, so Joel led you down a dirt track toward a barn and burst the padlock. He tied the horses up just inside the door, used bundled up hay as a makeshift mattress upon which he laid out a blanket for you.
He barricaded the door as you lay back, did a walkaround of the place just in case any infected â or worse â were waiting to surprise yâall, and then sat down next to you.
Your head by his thigh, you put a hand on his knee.
âYou can lie down, too, yâknow.â
He grunted in response, breathing deep and steady.
âJoel.â
You took his shoulder and tried to pull him down to you, but the man is stronger than anyone youâve ever met, even in his late forties, and you were convinced heâd only pretended to be yanked toward you so as not to hurt your feelings too much.
He remained upright. âJust want to keep watch for a while.â
Joelâs like this when youâre on the road. Heâs cautious. On high alert. Always watching ahead, always listening out for whatever he thinks he might hear in the distance. Sometimes you can say something to him and have to give his leg a kick for him to answer you.
Youâd sighed and pushed yourself up to lean your bicep against his. He furrowed his brows and scanned you from your jeans to your jaw.
âIf youâre up, Iâm up,â you told him.
âYou need sleep,â he replied flatly.
You shrugged. âSo do you.â
âWhat good is both of us tired?â
You sighed again and shook your head. You werenât gonna argue with him.
Good thing he didnât feel much like arguing, either. Ten minutes later he was on top of you, jeans loose on his thighs, head buried in your shoulder, fucking you senseless. Grunting and groaning into your skin.
Youâd scored marks into his shoulder blades with your nails that youâre sure, if you peeled back his shirt right now, would still be there.
Itâd tired you both out enough that Joel settled with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, eyes trained on the barn doors. You donât know if he slept a wink. You never know if he sleeps these days.
Joel hears the hoarseness of your voice and knows that youâre tired, âcause he clicks to his horse and she trots up alongside you and Jet. He pulls the map from his backpack. You tilt your head to take a look.
âKeep ridinâ for another hour,â he mumbles. ââm sure weâll find somewhere soon. Looks like weâre still a little way out of St. Louis.â
You nod, rolling your head back. The cloudy sky burns your corneas as you watch a bird fly overhead. Joel slips the map back into his bag and you feel his hand on your thigh.
âYou okay?â
âMhm. Tired,â you whisper.
âOnly a little while longer.â He gives your leg a small squeeze and his hand returns to the reins. He doesnât fall back, instead, stays ambling along by your side. It feels like company. Feels nice. FeelsâŠnormal.
Two weeks is a long fucking time. Especially when your adrenaline peaks on the regular, sometimes multiple times in one day, and youâre alone with Joel all day and all night. Trusting each other, relying on each other. Saving each other time and time again. It was only natural that you began to rely on each other forâŠmore than just survival.
You canât remember when you found him. It was in the QZ, back when you believed in stability and structure. When you believed in people. Now, the only thing you believed in was Joel. Broken, hurt, shut-off Joel, whoâd grumbled an apology when his shoulder brushed yours in the hallway and changed everything.
You like to think you were something new to him, something different. A challenge, maybe. Something worth holding onto, anyway, for reasons he was yet to let you in on.
He had an apartment of his own, with a bed of his own, which was something you werenât used to. You shared a cramped apartment with Luce, a single mom with a two-year-old. Joelâs was where you went when the tantrums, the screaming in the middle of the night, the ration cards being destroyed either by ripping, by eating, or else by other means, became too suffocating.
Joel didnât believe in anything or anyone, either. Thatâs what kept you coming back.
Heâd just open his door and step aside to let you in. Barely a word. Heâd ask if youâd eaten, and share his plate with you either way. Wordlessly picking away at the same food, making sure you got the last spoonful of soup, the last strip of jerky.
Most nights heâd fuck you until your mind went blank, nothing but the smell of him, feel of him, sound of him. No talking, no kissing, no touching. Just the sound of the bed springs, Joelâs soft groans as he bottomed out inside you. The feel of his hot skin, hips rubbing against the inside of your thighs. The bare, cracked brick walls of his apartment would fade away with each thrust, and then slowly seep back in when your orgasm began to wash away.
You knew it was time-wasting, for both of you. Scratching an itch. But some nights, it felt like more. The nights when heâd be so caught up in what he was doing, so caught up in you, that heâd forget to pull out. The nights his hips would snap messily and suddenly he was spilling inside of you, a deep groan humming against your skin between his teeth.
He wouldnât care to ask, and you wouldnât offer the information for free, but you remember every fucking time he did it. Where itâd happened, the position he had you in, how long it took for him to finally peel his body off of yours.
And afterwards, heâd let you sleep with your head on his chest. Let you play with his fingers. Let you talk to him; let you ask questions.
Didnât mean he answered all of them. Didnât even mean he answered much. Some, heâd give away more openly than others, but you soon got used to clocking when he was keeping a secret. Make a mental note of it, remember to chip away at it.
He trusted you, though; you knew that. Knew it by the way his fingers knotted safely in your hair, the way heâd lie naked with you until the sun came up. The way his breathing would slow, the way heâd mumble in his sleep.
You never talked to him about the incoherent words heâd breathe â but you could piece them together well enough to understand him better than his waken self would ever reveal.
When you brought up leaving, one rainy night weeks ago, he thought about it maybe twice over. Asked how he was supposed to keep you safe.
You do that already, you told him.
âs different outside. You donât understand.
It canât be any worse than in here.
Youâd taken a step forward, and heâd flinched, but allowed you to take his strong jaw in your hands. You tried to form a sentence, and when your throat closed up, eyes flitting between his, he took your wrists and lowered them. The shadow of a rain-spattered window doused in a sickly amber glow across his face.
Youâd wanted to kiss him. And had he left your hands where they were just a few seconds longer, you think you mightâve. Joel saw it in your eyes, and stopped it.
Whatever. It had still convinced him. He packed his bag and you snuck down the fire escape the following night. Joelâs fingers were hooked around your belt loop the entire time, keeping your hip in stride with his all the way until you were at least a hundred feet away from the QZ wall.
His other concern was his age. Why someone like you would want to run away with someone like him. Forty-something, graying, past his peak. He has, like, twenty years on you. Once he made some reference about Bruce Springsteen and, when your face blanked, he sighed and took the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
I know who Bruce Springsteen is, asshole, youâd said, just didnât get that reference.
Heâd shaken his head and given you a sly, twisted smirk, then pushed you out the door of the apartment block you guys were searching.
Still, despite the years between you, you have one major thing in common.
Youâre both good at getting each otherâŠthere.
Joel knows exactly what to do to make you tick. You know exactly how to push him until he does it. Itâs in the way you look at him, the way you touch him. Things you say that make his stony eyes flit once down your body, and then you know youâre in.
Itâs a little harder to do while on horseback, you gotta admit. The best you can do is look at him, say a sentence or two laced with want and need. Hope that he reads through the lines.
Itâs worked a few times, when Joelâs suddenly found a shed or basement you can camp out in and then made it difficult for you to walk for the next couple days.
Right now, you feel too tired to even bat your eyelashes at him, never mind coming up with lines to turn him on. Youâve been on the highway for a few hours by this point, little sign of shelter anywhere nearby. Joel holds his hand out and you bring your horses to a stop in view of a hospital a couple miles ahead.
âThatâs gotta be teeminâ with them,â you say, looking over to study his expression.
âHm,â Joel agrees, and glances to the right.
âWhat you thinkinâ? Sunâs getting lower.â
He takes a deep breath, pulls on the reins. âKnow somewhere nearby.â
He heads off the highway with a click of his teeth, and you follow. You shut your eyes, chin burying beneath the collar of your shirt. Youâd kinda hoped that heâd offer to clear even a small part of the hospital for you to rest up, maybe more, but you trust him enough to lead you somewhere safer, somewhere quieter.
That trust begins to wear thin, though, when the sun disappears behind the trees, drowning you guys in a low dusk, and the temperature begins to fall. Joelâs using whatâs left of the gray light to guide him, slowing down to take a hold of Jetâs reins and line her up with his own horse.
âI thought you said an hour,â you mumble, grip becoming slack on the leather.
âChanged my mind,â he replies. âAlmost there.â
Your eyes start to roll with exhaustion, hips aching from the position youâve been sat in for hours now. Itâs not until you notice the silhouette of a tall sign in the clearing, black against the fading purple sky, that you blink yourself awake.
Joel pulls you and Jet off the road to a deserted parking lot, shadowed by a motel. He slows the horses down, listening for any signs of life, leading them to the side of the building.
âEasy,â he whispers, pulling on the reins. Both animals come to a halt.
He slides off the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud. He takes your hands, pulling you down to him, and you glance around.
âStay here,â he tells you, and you donât have the energy to argue back.
He makes off, pulling his gun from his holster. You stand with a hand on each horseâs muzzle, gently petting. Joelâs gone for a decent amount of time, his silhouette slowly sneaking in and out of every room, spending a couple minutes in each before he clears it.
He returns with a box of pills, some gauze, and a bottle of water, which he hands to you. You take a long swig and pass it back, and he does the same.
âWhat will we do with Jet ânâŠ?â
âHuh?â he asks, replacing the cap on the half-empty bottle.
âWhatâs your horse called?â
âShe ainât got a name.â
You tsk. âBad owner.â
âWe ainât their owners.â
âMineâs is Jet. Pick a name.â
Joel sighs and shakes his head, but you know heâs gonna spend all night thinking up some name to go with yours. âWeâll tie âem up out here.â
âWhat if something happens to them?â
âWell,â he says, leading them toward the shelter, âif somethinâ happens to them, it only means itâs about thirty seconds away from happeninâ to us.â
He jerks his head toward the first room as he ties them up, and you know the conversation is over.
You wander into the small, dingy room, pulling your jacket from your shoulders. It smells of damp, the wallpaperâs peeling off the wall above the bed. The sheets are in disarray, a little dusty, but they look clean enough. The bathroom walls are covered in grime. Drawers empty, closet doors missing, entire place ransacked.
Itâs as good as you get, these days. At least it has a solid roof.
Joel settles the horses and closes the door gently behind himself. Youâre already tugging your boots off, sat at the foot of the bed.
He rests his gun on the nightstand and straightens up, stretching his back with a quiet groan.
ââs cozy,â you offer, and he nods.
âBetter ân risking that hospital.â
The bedsprings creak when you shimmy up the mattress, resting your back against the hardwood headboard. It ainât the most comfortable, but then itâs not meant to be, is it? Itâs only meant to be safe, which Joelâs made sure of.
He stands at the bottom of the bed, watching you as you bounce up and down a couple times, laughing quietly at the sound of the springs beneath you. His expression clouds over under low brows.
âYâokay?â you ask, tilting your head.
He nods again. Eyes flitting up and down, from your face to your neck, back up, and then lower still. Your chest. Your stomach. Your legs. You feel your heartbeat quicken when he takes a step forward.
âJust had to find somewhere better.â
âBetter?â You smile. âHave you seen the world, Miller?â
He leans his knee against the foot of the bed. His brown eyes darken even more, and his jaw tenses.
âHad to find somewhere better,â he mutters, âso I could fuck you in peace.â
Your breath catches. You stare from his lips back up to his eyes. His fists are balled tight. His chest heaves with steady panting. Thereâs something flickering in the depths of those warm eyes; an ember, drawing you in. Tantalizing you.
You sit forward, pushing onto all fours, and crawl down the groaning bed to him, rising onto your knees when your hands meet his shirt. Your chest against his stomach, you look up into his eyes.
His rough hands knot in your hair and he pulls down, yanking your head back and your chin up to him. He studies your face, outlined in the moonlight seeping through the window. Then he lowers his jaw and lines his lips against yours.
âThat what you want?â he hums against your mouth. You swallow his words â they claw at your throat as they go.
âUhuh,â you breathe back, trying to connect your lips. He doesnât allow you; steadily dodges your jaw like youâre a pair of negative magnets, repelling off one another. You moan.
âNeedy girl,â Joel whispers. âTwo weeks too long for you?â
âMhm.â
Youâre not tired anymore. Youâre fucking desperate. You feel your cunt dripping, seeping through your underwear, worsened when Joelâs hand reaches down between your legs and cups you through your jeans.
You gasp and grab his arms to steady yourself.
âTell me what you want,â he says, hand tensing around your core.
Your lip trembles as you watch the way his mouth moves, how he shapes the words. His teeth locked between soft lips, dappled with brown hair, ends singed gray. The way he almost spits the words.
Your chest meets his torso when you breathe in, a deep, shaky breath. Joel notices; the corners of his mouth twitch, holding back a smile.
âWant you toâŠwant youâŠâ
He doesnât wait for you to finish your sentence. He pushes you back and falls on top of you, strong body pinning you against the mattress, hand still clamped to your crotch.
His head dips to your neck where he bites, scratches and sucks, mumbling against your hot skin, âTell me, baby. Use your words.â
Your head begins to swim, body starts pulsing with electricity. Baby. Joelâs pet names are limited to one thing. One activity.
âWant you to fâ fuck, Joel â fuck me.â Fuck me fuck me fuck me.
His hand begins wrestling with the button of your jeans. Thick fingers fumbling with your zipper, taking your waistband with both hands and hauling it down. The force of it pulls you down the mattress too, squealing as Joel rips the denim from your legs. You lower your hands to help him, but once theyâre tossed to the floor, he bats you away.
Heâs shaking his head, tsking, then takes both your wrists in one of his huge hands. Fingers twisted around your delicate skin, pinning them above your head. The bed sighs around you when he pushes your hands into the mattress. Your back arches, your chest rising to meet his.
Your legs part, knees settling either side of his waist. Of course they do. Itâs what you know now. Itâs basic fucking instinct at this point.
His free hand returns to cup your sex, feeling how wet you are through your now soaked underwear.
âBaby,â he coos, âthis all for me?â
You nod a little too eagerly, not that youâre present enough to care. But it beckons a smug smile from Joel, who begins sliding your panties down your thighs.
Your hips lift to let him drag the fabric down, biting your lip, not willing to wait another fucking second for him. Lace meets denim on the torn-up floor, and you sigh, settling back against the rusty bedsprings and mottled sheets.
Joelâs free hand ghosts from your wrist down to your elbow, teetering along the sleeve of your t-shirt over to the collar, where he pulls it so far down into the valley between your breasts that a small noise passes your lips.
âHm?â he asks, fingers pausing against your breastbone.
ââs my only shirt. DonâtâŠâ
He kisses his teeth. His gaze never lifts from your heaving chest, skin damp with sweat right underneath his fingers. You can see him tossing it over in his head. What he wants to do, versus what he probably shouldnât.
He blinks. Decision made.
âGive you one of mine,â he growls, and hooks his fingers, dragging the fabric of your shirt lower and lower until the collar tears open and itâs another scrap lost to the motel room floor.
And then there you are, naked and writhing underneath him. Heâs still in his dusty flannel. Thereâs sweat lining his forehead. He holds himself over you, hovering, taking every inch of you in and storing it behind his eyes.
You jerk your hands, trying to break free just to touch him, feel him, but he pulls away again, tutting.
âNo, pretty girl,â Joel coos, âgonna take my time with ya.â
You moan in protest, still wriggling under his body. His grip on your wrists doesnât loosen, not even when his free hand dips to undo his belt. The cold metal kisses your naked thighs when he pulls it through his jeans; the leather drags up your torso and across your face as he lifts it.
He takes your hands individually, careful and yet rough, urgent, and slots them between the slats of the headboard. Your head turns up to watch what heâs doing. The silver of his belt buckle knocks against the wood as he slips it under your wrists, feeding it between your skin and the mattress, wrapping it around the slat between your hands.
Then he slips the belt through the buckle, and pulls. Tight. Your hands come together, wrists kissing, the leather burning your skin the tighter he pulls. You whine, head rolling back to meet his gaze, fixed on yours.
âSince you donât wanna listen.â
The drip in his voice, sweet like honey, smooth as whiskey, forces your legs open wider. Joel smirks, pushing himself down the mattress and out of your view.
Staring up at the gray ceiling, youâre left just to feel him. Feel him as his palms splay out on your knees, pushing them into the bed. Feel his stubble graze the inside of your thigh as he drags his tongue up, leaving a trail of wet behind.
Feel when he breathes a whisper across your aching cunt, something you canât hear over the ruffling of sheets around your head as you toss around. And feel when his fingers part your lips, opening you up wide for him to really fucking see.
âFuck, baby,â he says, and you find the strength to lift your head to watch. Heâs leant over you, one arm hooked around your left thigh, holding it open, the other fuckingâŠplaying with you. Like youâre some fancy gadget. Like youâre brand new to him.
âSo,â he runs two fingers from your clit through your folds, âfuckinâ,â lines them up at your entrance, âpretty â for me.â
He pushes up into you, and your head hits the pillow with a stifled groan. Youâre panting through your teeth, back arching the deeper he goes, stretching you out and rocking waves of sparkling heat through you. Waves that hit the other end of your stomach and come rippling back, throbbing around his thick fingers.
His arm bears down on your thigh, forcing your legs wide open for him. His hand cups your clit and you buck your hips, rutting against the base of his palm. Joel laughs softly.
âPatience, darlinâ. Donât want it to be over âfore itâs even started.â
Your head rocks back and forth, eyes tight shut. Itâs all you can fucking do, tied tight to the bed. Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you, adding a third when youâre wet enough, thumb never leaving your clit.
You can feel your orgasm brewing in your stomach. Feel the tension between your hips. Youâre chasing it, eyes shut, focusing only on Joelâs hand fucking in and out, in and out. Youâre coming close, body pushing into the mattress, legs widening even more to let him slip a fourth finger inside you.
âFeel good?â he asks, almost with a laugh. Thereâs a smirk painted across his lips, you know it, even though you canât find the energy to open your eyes.
You whimper in response, some small, muffled sound roughly shaped like yeah.
âYeah,â Joel agrees, and his wrist flicks harder.
You moan every time his fingertips kiss the edge of your cunt, pushing against the soft walls. You moan when he drags them out, leaving you empty. Again, when he pushes them back in, rough and fast. And then when he lowers his lips to your ear and tells you how good youâre being, how pretty you look, how hard heâs gonnaâŠ
Itâs like he changes his mind in an instant.
Withdraws his hand, slick-covered and still hooked. Pulls it away as quickly as he pulls your orgasm from your body. It drains from you; reduces back to an ache you canât reach.
Joel slips his fingers between his lips as he readjusts himself, repositioning on the squealing mattress. Sucks them clean as casually as he would at a cookout or something, then takes your hips in both hands and straightens you up.
His jeans are tugged down barely past his ass. Heâs not prepared to waste any time ripping his own clothes off like he did yours. Just leans forward, pulls his solid cock from his boxershorts, and spits into his hand.
You watch through eyes glazed with lust as he strokes himself a couple times, eyes always on your swollen cunt, groaning as his spit coats his shaft. Then he lowers himself to you and does the same, only running his length through your folds.
You whine, feeling that familiar thickness separate you so close to where you need him, and yet so fucking far.
âJoelâŠâ you whisper, but heâs not listening.
Transfixed on the sight of his cock moving against your soaked cunt. Listening to the sweet, wet sounds the pair of you make. His tip catches on your entrance a couple times and you gasp. Just fucking do it already.
âFuck,â Joel growls under his breath, and thenâŠ
Itâs been months. Might even be years. But the feeling of him pushing inside you for the first time is still the same. Every. Fucking. Time. Heâs bigger, thicker than anyone youâve ever slept with before. And he knows it, because every single time, he glides into you without hesitation. No time for you to adjust. Just fills you up straight away, lets you deal with it later.
Heâs cocky like that. Too careful when youâre on the road, and too careless when youâre between the sheets. Not that youâre fuckinâ complaining.
Your mouth falls open in a choked moan. Your lungs are gasping for air. Joelâs all you can feel.
Your elbows lift into the air, arms desperate to break free just to grab onto him, ground yourself, feel him close against you. Your wrists lock against the hardwood, leather digging into your skin as punishment for trying to break free. Youâre stuck; nothing but the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs, filling you up and leaving you empty over and over again.
âGood girl,â heâs panting, still watching where his cock lines up with your cunt, and then disappears inside.
He leans down and his lips find home on your shoulder, sucking sweet marks into the skin like he always does. His tip bumps against your cervix, jolts of sensitivity pushing through you each time he bottoms out causing you to whine into his flannel.
âFuck, Joel.â
âI know, I know. I got you. Iâll get you there again, baby.â
You had a routine. Follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. Deviate slightly from that routine, even for a minute, and you threw the whole agreement into jeopardy. One misstep on a crowded street dotted with cars once had a sniper open firing at you both for nearly two hours until Joel found him and put a bullet between his eyes. That time your curiosity got the better of you and Joel almost lost a hand stopping you from walking down an alleyway and straight into a wire trap.
Repeat it, Joel had said that night. Crouched by his apartment window, rain battering off the glass. Hands on the frame, ready to hoist it up and let you slip out any second. Repeat. It.
Do as you say, you whispered back. And only then did he pull the sash.
This is not the fucking routine. This is not the agreement. You fucked, of course you did. But thatâs all it ever was. Hungry, touch-starved, desperate sex. Bored sex. We-almost-died-today sex. Not this.
Not: clear an entire motel just so nothing within a two-mile radius gets to hear you fuck me senseless. Strip me down, tie me up, push me to the edge with your hands, but donât let me go without you. Curl your lips around my ear while youâre buried inside me and whisper praises. Whisper baby. WhisperâŠanything you like. Anything you wouldnât say when the sunâs up.
This feels like it means something. To both of you. Feels like Joelâs looking for something in you, asking something of you. And you want to give it to him, whatever it is.
And maybe thatâs the point.
Heâs proving that he could make you do fucking anything. Let him tie you to a bedframe, push you close enough to the edge that you can feel the pressure of release beckoning you forward like the wind circling your ankles.
And youâre proving that youâll do it. Youâll do what he says. Follow him to the edge, refuse to jump. Pull his body into yours, make it feel like home for a night.
Heâs proving that heâll take care of you, and youâre proving that youâll let him.
Your wrists are burning. Leather digging marks, searing skin, then rubbing over it again and again to cut it deeper. Itâs starting to hurt, if youâre honest with yourself. Your face probably gives it away.
Probably, possibly. Definitely.
Joel notices you quieten and lifts his head from the crook of your neck. Studies your face for a fraction of a second and knows.
âHey,â he says, reaching up. He loosens the belt with one hand whilst still deep inside you, hips thrusting slowly just as a place marker.
When your hands slip free, Joelâs clasp gently around your wrist, fingers delicate over the sensitive, reddened skin. His eyes almost glisten at the sight.
âBabyâŠâ he whispers.
ââs okay,â you reassure him, loosening his grasp on you and settling your shaky hands on his jaw. âIâm okay. Liked it.â
Joel lowers his forehead against yours and picks his pace up again, and you moan into the space between your lips. Your legs lift higher, knees bumping against his shoulders. His hips snap into yours, his jeans rutting against the inside of your thighs, the bed creaking with each messy thrust.
âClose, baby,â his voice vibrates against your lips.
âYeah,â you whine, chest pushing against his. âFuck. Right there. Fuck.â
Your arm drapes over his shoulder blades, nails dig into the rough cotton of his shirt. Your left hand is still at his jaw, fingers caressing his cheek. Joined together at your hips and your brows, gaze never really meeting for longer than a second, but still. Youâre right there. Joel â heâs right there.
Itâs new, itâs intimate. Itâs almostâŠsweet.
âGonna cum with me?â he asks, sincerely. Heâs not trying to coax it out of you. Heâs checking that you want to fall over the edge. Not for him, not because of him, but with him.
You nod and he returns it, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead.
With his eyes on you, flitting between your parted lips and your batting eyelashes, too scared to settle on either place for too long, he lifts your hips and fucks into you fast. Deep. Fucking â hard. Skin slapping against yours, breath hot and tangling with yours between your lips.
The pressure between your hips begins to build again, rapidly, Joel adding to it with every movement. Every push of his thick cock against your walls only draws them in tighter, closing around him, holding him closer to you with each moan escaping both your lips.
âDarlinââŠâ he murmurs in a broken voice, and you know. Heâs starting to falter. Thrusts weakening.
ââm there too,â you reply, gasping for breath.
âLet me â feel you,â he says, âpretty girl.â
Maybe itâs the fact you donât normally talk. Maybe the fact he never touches you the way he has tonight. Maybe itâs him wanting you to cum first, before he will.
Or maybe itâs pretty girl, that finally sends you over.
You look so good to him. Youâre being so good for him. ân he canât help it, has to let you know. Has to let every thought that passes through his head slip out past his tongue.
Pulling his chest flat against yours, you throw your head back to the pillow with a moan so filthy, so guttural that youâd be surprised if you donât have company in five minutes.
Joelâs at your heels, face buried between your breasts, groaning into your chest as his cock twitches deep inside you and you feel him fill you up.
Your orgasmâs still knocking you senseless, every nerve in your body electrified. Youâre holding Joel tight to your body, his ear flat to your chest, and you know he can hear your heartbeat. Know heâs listening to it throwing punches from behind your ribcage.
Heâs still groaning through his breaths, heavy and thick with his release. Cock still deep inside you, still, softening. You lay like that forâŠwell, youâve no idea how long. But after a bit, Joel pulls himself up off of you and wanders into the bathroom.
You sit up on your elbows, taking deep, steady breaths, and let the stars in your vision dissipate. Joel emerges a couple minutes later and finally tugs his jeans down. He lifts both his shirt and the tee underneath off in one motion, tossing them onto the sideboard, then slips back under the covers, wordlessly hooking a hand around your upper arm and pulling you down onto his chest.
Your legs intertwine with his. Thereâs cum seeping out of you onto his thigh. Both of you, mixed up as one. His fingers sift through your hair, doing little to untangle it but trying all the same. His breathing in time with yours, his lips pressed safely to the crown of your head.
Before you know it, youâre sleeping.
Dawn breaks early. Too early. Youâre still tangled up in Joel, feeling his chest rise and fall. Listening to his heartbeat â slow, calm. The drapes â not that thereâs much left of them â are too thin to stop any light from flooding in. Itâs only a matter of time before he wakes up.
The rough sheets sting against your wrists â red marks scoring them where Joelâs belt had been. You wince, running light fingers over the grazes, hissing at your fingertips as they go.
It hurts way less than it thrills you. This little reminder of what you did last night. What Joel did. The pain subsides the longer you touch the scars, knitted brows melting into a smile.
You slowly lift your head, propping yourself up on your elbow. Just watching him. The dust in the room frames him in a sea of white glitter, the slow-emerging sun lights across his face and dips where the scar on his nose sits.
His arms are still around your waist, cradling you. Holding you to him. You know heâs stirring when they tighten, and then fall loose. Façade back up. Walls slowly rebuilding.
You dress yourselves in silence. Run out of words to say. There ainât nothing to say â nothing that wasnât said last night. Joel sinks into the mattress beside you to tie his laces, and your arms brush against one another a couple times. Itâs like fire on ice.
Heâs first to leave the room. Just pulls his jeans over his boots and stands, unlocks the door and lets the light flood in. You check once over for anything left behind, and slip out. The air is cool, twilight still slowly washing away. You sling your jacket over Jetâs back and pull yourself up.
Joelâs t-shirt is loose over your shoulders. He gave you a fresh one from his bag. It smells like him, but you donât let him see when you bury your nose into it to breathe him in. The hem bunches up over the top of your thighs once youâre sat on the horse.
His eyes scan down you once, surveying you in hisshirt. Then he swerves off back toward the road, silhouette cutting between the rays of sun streaming between the pine trees.
âGhost,â he tosses over his shoulder.
âHuh?â You click to Jet to follow.
âHorseâs name. Ghost.â
âHow come?â you ask when youâre side by side with him.
He shrugs, upper lip turning. âWhen itâs dark, you canât hardly see her. Sheâs like a ghost.â
Joelâs hand surfs gently across Ghostâs mane, fingers scratching her shining coat. Your bodies rock in time with the sway of the horsesâ walking. The echo of their hooves on the asphalt masks the silence for a few moments.
âAlright,â you eventually accept, turning away to watch the sun lift above the prickly treetops.
And to hide the smile tugging on your lips.
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The Dancer [FA14 smau]
Fernando Alonoso x dancer!reader
Masterlist
Summary: Few months after, everybody laughs when they remember the rumors about Fernando Alonso and Taylor Swift dating. Would they laugh though if they new it maybe wasn't so far from truth as it may seem? Well, one thing's for sure - Y/N and Fernando will laugh very much while soft launching their relationship... and confusing everyone with swiftie content thanks to her job.
Warnings: Maybe wrong dates and timeline of The Eras Tour, but whatever XD.
messages between Y/N and Fernando
fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram
liked by alex_albon, zhouguanyu24, pierregasly and 562,109 others
fernandoalo_oficial I was taken by the view like we were in Paris... romance is not dead.
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user1 i dont think my brain can comprehend so many things all at onceđš
user2 right? I'M IN SHOCK
user3 fr fernando wants to give us a heart attackđ
lilymhe I see what you did here...
alex_albon I indeed see what he did here too...đ
user4 guys tell us what he did pls I'm begging youuuu
user5 Alonso soft launching was not on my 2024 bingo card
user6 him soft launching with TAYLOR SWIFT wasn't on MY bingo card đ
user7 How he's suddenly so hot in the first pic? Like damn sir okayđ«ą
user8 girlfriend effect is real y'all
georgerussell63 Mate you can't do that to me, I just woke up đ§
user8 lmfao princess georgie is as confused as we are xd
fernandoalo_oficial sorry mate, don't get wrinklesđ€
gerogerussell63 What even is that choice of emoji?
fernandoalo_oficial well, someone is original with an emoji and someone is original with a pose... choice is yours đ
georgerussell63 Stop it's been almost a year đ
user9 not them bullying each otherđ
user10 Yeah the duo we didn't know we needed
user11 I saw the first picture and almost spat out my drink in shock of such a hot photo of Nando. Then I swiped and literally choked on it because the last think I'd ever expect from his photo dump is a soft lunch of some baddie girlđ«Ł
user12 I am delusional for thinking Taylonso could still have a chance, aren't I?
user13 well i mean you basically answered it yourself so... yeah XD
user14 OMG WHAAAAAATđ±
user15 oh no Fernando is not single anymoređ
user16 I think I accidentally teleported into some alternative universe... what is thiiiis?
user17 REAL
user18 fuck me this man seriously used lyrics from paris by tsđ
user19 Idk why but I kinda like this new side of Fernandođ»
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yourusername posted on instagram
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tagged: taylorswift and 9 others
yourusername crazy performance, even crazier night out and the most crazy training the day after... I call that the life of a dancerđ»đ also my head and heart did go vroom vroom after the second pic
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taylorswift I call that the eras tour life!đ
yourusername yes ma'am!
user1 damn she got our queen Taylor replying to her posts... how does it feel to live my dream?!đ
yourusername amazing! đ„°
user2 such a shame my mum didn't force me to try dancing when I was little... I could have been at podium next to Taylor Swift right now đ
liked by the author
user3 You are such a good dancer, the shows wouldn't be the same without you Y/N!
yourusername omg thank u sm I really appreciate that!!đ„č
user4 sooo... are we gonna just ignore Fernando in the likes or what???
user5 THAT'S WHAT I CAME HERE TO SAY
user6 fr I need some crazy detective from twitter to figure this outđ«
carmenmmundt Hey, could you give me and lilymhe vip tickets...?
yourusername I mean... everything can be done đ I'll just need to ask mother Taylor bc I just used my plus one at the last concertđ«Ą
lilymhe OH MY GOD WE LOVE YOU Y/N
yourusername I love you girls as well, we have to finally meet sometimes!!!
carmenmmundt Yeah, I think we'll have chance at the end of February at the latestđ
user7 WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE
user8 Omg are they hinting Y/N at the Bahrain GP?? F1 season starts at the end of February right?!
goergerussell63 Well hello there, nice to meet you Y/N... given the fact my dear girlfriend doesn't care about me, could you give me and alex_albon vip tickets as well?đ
alex_albon Yeah Y/N we are very big fansđ
yourusername everything for the guys that go vroom vroomđ«Ą
alex_albon Like your heart
yourusername exactly!
user9 I AM FREAKING OUT
user9 MY BRAIN HURTS FROM HOW MUCH IS GOING ON
user9 WAIT FUCK I THINK I GOT IT
user9 AAAHHH I FEEL LIKE SHERLOCK MF HOLMES
twitter & messages between Y/N and Fernando
yourusername posted on instagram
liked by selenagomez, fernandoalo_oficial, francisca.cgomes, astonmartinf1 and 8,234 others
yourusername preparing for the next seasonđ€
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user1 y/n is literally living my dream life rn
georgerussell63 Oh no... he infected you with that emoji, didn't he?
yourusername we'll never know... maybe I infected HIM with it
gourgerussell63 I think higher of you and your taste in emojis
yourusername aww thanks princess georgie how sweetđ„°
georgerussell63 I take it back
user2 HELLO?! what is happeningđ
dancer1 excuse me little miss y/n... is that a man i'm seeing?đ€š
yourusername well... maybe
dancer2 Be fr she's trying to soft launch him for like a month nowđ
dancer1 okay i'm calling you rn STAY WHERE YOU ARE
user3 Guys why's nobody talking about the paddock pass in the 5th picture!!!!
user4 omg that's a PADDOCK PASS?đ±
user5 yeah it is I noticed it thanks to this comment
user6 Wait... does that mean her and Fernando have been together longer? Because she already went to a race before the winter break??
user5 idk girl we don't even know for sure she's really dating himđ
user6 idgaf about who's dating her bc even without bf y/n's sooo hot like damn... mommyđ„”
user7 I'm so confused... is this Alonso's girl or not?
user8 trust me user7 - we'd all like to know thatđ
user9 đ
yourusername and fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram stories
yourusername story has been seen by taylorswift, lance_stroll and 13,634 others
fernandoalo_oficial story has been seen by charles_leclerc, astonmartinf1 and 308,003 others
user1 replied to yourusername story: is that an f1 driver there y/n
dancer1 replied to yourusername story: Hope he'll not disappoint me in person when you talked about him sm đ
yourusername ohhh trust me you'll love him just as I dođ„°
dancer1 omg bleeeeh I hope not đ«Ł
user2 replied to yourusername story: your friends are so prettyđ©
taylorswift replied to yourusername story: When you'll take him to get my approval??
yourusername soon taylor, soon... I'm just afraid it'll break the internet lol
taylorswift I think we're used to that already with Travis at this pointđ
yourusername trueđ
fernandoalo_official replied to yourusername story: đ„
yourusername it's going to be okay, they'll love you đ«¶
fernandoalo_oficial how did you know I was nervous amor?
yourusername I saw you literally shaking when you left to the bathroom love...đč
yourusername oh they're back come quickly!!đ
fernandoalo_oficial onmw
user3 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: IS THIS THE CONFIRMATION WE NEEDED?!
user4 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I see what you're doing here old man đ
user5 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: soft launch slowly turning into a hard launch and I'm here for it!!!!
dancer1 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I guess you aren't that bad in person...
fernandoalo_oficial đ
user6 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: screaming crying throwing up
taylorswift replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: You better treat my best dancer right Alonso!đ€
fernandoalo_oficial of course ma'am! đ«Ą
user7 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: So cute!!đ
messages between Y/N and Fernando
fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram
liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, f1, yourusername and 601,239 others
tagged: yourusername
fernandoalo_oficial All these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret... #swiftie
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yourusername I'd just like to make it clear to everybody that it's me who made him be swiftie... you're welcomeđ
liked by the author
user1 OMG THE LYRICS FROM PEACE BY TAYLOR
carmenmmundt Y/N is so pretty!đ
yourusername ohh carmen ilysm you're even prettierđ„č
user2 No way Fernando just really har launched his gfđ
f1 We smell a new wag!
user4 LOL you're kinda late for that admin xd
user5 Congrats and wish you well world champ!đȘ
user6 can we talk about how gorgeous she is???
lilymhe double date when honey?
yourusername anytime babeee!!!
fernandoalo_oficial why do I have a feeling me and alex_albon will be third-wheeling on you two?đ€š
alex_albon you'll eventually get used to third-wheeling your own girlfriend and her friends, trust me fernando...đ€
user7 This girl is like a goddess, I can't even blame him â€ïžđ„
user8 mommy & daddy
georgerussell63 Finally! Congratulation on the hard launch mateđ
fernandoalo_oficial and look who's original with emojis now...đ
user9 from now on this is my fav couple
user10 mine to
user11 SHUT UP THE DELULU GIRLIES ON TWITTER WERE RIGHT
lance_stroll đđ
user12 nah I don't know what he see in herđ
user13 Go away we don't want the jealous haters here đ„±
kellypiquet Welcome to the F1 family yourusername!đ€
yourusername thx!đ
user14 i call this couple goals
user15 I'M SO READY FOR BOYFRIEND MATERIAL ALONSO
user16 I can already feel he'll be so hot in his new era đ©
user17 lmao nando in his swiftie and stlutty era as someone on twitter saidđč
yourusername swiftie and slutty era? i like the sound of itđ
user16 not y/n reading all the comments sipping over her bf đ
liked by yourusername
THE END
Author's Note: Hello everyone, hope you liked it! I'm not sure you should get used to me posting so often, but let's say that after Lance's social media au and the great feedback I had so much motivation... plus I'm sick, so I actually have the time to write and create XD. Anyway, I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblog and every other way of showing support! Have a great day and let me know how you liked Nando and swiftie dancer together!
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