#gentle teacher joel

[kiwisbell]

let it snow [joel miller]

It's cold on the trail. Joel keeps you warm.

12 days of pedro masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: an early winter smattering of daddy kink, feel free to picture game!joel or show!joel here, post-outbreak, jackson!joel, christmastime fuzzies, soft old man!joel, self-indulgent age gap (20s/50s), protective!joel, christmas tree hunting, hiking, sex in an apocalypse, snowball play(?), fingering, frostbite does not exist in this universe, thigh fucking, dirty talk, ellie loving dinosaurs, snowball fights, a joel who enjoys what little peace life brings him

word count: ~ 5.3k

read on ao3!

a/n: hi, lovelies - this fic is my contribution to @hellishjoel's 12 days of pedro celebration! everyone please check out the masterlist linked above to check out the other works from all of these amazing authors!! thank you endlessly to my parents @northernbluess and @tieronecrush for beta'ing this fic and reassuring me every step of the way - i love you both to the moon and back. i hope you enjoy and as usual, please mind the tags and please tell me what you think!! ❄️

super cute dividers by @saradika-graphics!!

Fall comes on slow. The leaves begin to bleed orange from the arteries. The air crackles with bright, cold wind that bites and pokes. Debris crunches underfoot and the trees shed their lustrous coats. It’s nothing like the onset of winter in Jackson—the downward crash of an overnight snowstorm that crests too quickly for the residents to prepare. 

It's a crystallised, overrefined flurry of soft flakes that gather on thatched rooftops and bury the barren, browning garden beds in the western corner of the village. It’s a nighttime assault of gnashing wind carrying fractals of ice and snow, and before most are awake, Jackson is snowed in.

The children are thrilled. All of them too small to have known anything but the walls of the town, they burst from their homes, half-zipped coats and bright-and-early tummy-rumblings and wondrous impatience, to stick out their tongue and catch the still-falling snowflakes. Parents and caretakers and teachers straggle, still pulling on their own boots and coats, in the effort to stay close to their charges. Snowballs are packed together and hurled from behind fortified walls of snow; passers-by are pulled unwittingly into the two-sided, relentless barrage; and the shrieks and cries crackling into the dead white air are born from the watery womb of promise, not terror.

There’s some joy yet to be found in this world. 

He isn’t participating in the frozen-water war, but he’s watching from the margins, leaning against the wall of the schoolhouse with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes hawklike as he observes your every move.

A group of young girls has inducted you into the battle and now you’re hiding with one of them behind a wall, packing a tight ball of snow in your hands, barely protected by your threadbare gloves. He can see the grip of the cold on your body, the way your breath circles above your head, a silvery halo. He can see the slight shivers that start in your lower spine and tremble their way up to the back of your neck, and he can see the phantom imprint of his hand resting there, warming your nape, curling his callused fingers around your brain stem and guiding you the way he liked. He can see your gentle touch not only in your hands but in your smile, in the soft application of snow to the top of the wall as it begins to melt, in the sweet curl of your mouth as you help a child who has fallen to their feet. 

Swiping an accumulation of snow from the child’s nose with your thumb, you mouth some words he cannot see. The child sniffs happily and wraps their arms around their mother’s leg. 

You sneak away from the barrage of snowballs and blow some warm air into your cupped hands. He shifts off the wall and begins to prowl toward you. 

When he’s close enough, when no one is around nor awake enough to notice, pulls you into the alley between the schoolhouse and the theatre.

His mouth captures your surprised exhale, stealing the visible puff of warm air for himself, swallowing it down as he pries you open for him. His hand rediscovers the slow, warm pleasure of its resting place on the back of your neck, gently steering you, unkindly pinning your body to the wall. 

He feels the itch of your gloves as you cup his face, and his other hand lifts to circle around both of your wrists, idly pressing them beneath his heavy coat, against his heart. It thuds strongly, pouring its rhythm into the grooves of your palms. 

He crowds you, making you small, his desire for this closeness prodding your inner thigh. You go oh-so easily, the gruff sounds he spills into your mouth tapping, chiselling, knocking down each vertebrae. Carefully, with the slide of his warm, wet tongue along yours and the greedy assault of his mouth, he shapes you for himself and turns you into the pliant little thing he needs you to be. 

You moan softly into his mouth, and his answering groan is something rabid. Your spine curves to him, gravitational pull, wooden slats of the building at your back tugging the fabric of your coat. He will kiss you until you’re breathless and preening under his touch because it’s what he always does. He will inculcate you with the knowledge that you’re for his eyes only. 

When he pulls away, he watches you chase his mouth with lidded eyes and kiss-bruised lips, and he smirks. His hand moves to your head, gently smoothing down your crown to your jaw, the way one tenderly pets a kitten. 

“Got you somethin’.”

You raise your brows. “You did?”

“Mhm.” He nudges his nose against yours and relishes the smile you give him—eyes crinkling at the corners, irises reflecting glistening sky. “Open your mouth for me first. Go on, now.”

You obey, letting your tongue loll out, more from habit than anything. Still, he’s pleased, unfurling the hastily-wrapped paper package in his pocket and placing the small square of chocolate on your tongue. 

You close your mouth with the help of his hand on your jaw, and the gentle snap of the chocolate bleeds the melting centre down your throat, disseminating the oaky flavour on your tastebuds. 

“Y’like it?”

His voice is a carving knife. You're split down the middle by his simple show of affection, spilling out into his arms, wrists still clasped in one of his big hands. 

“It’s good,” you tell him. “I’ve never…”

His smile digs a thumb into your open wound. “I know. Took it from the kitchen.”

You lick your lips and swallow the rest of the melted chocolate. Joel watches the action from the moment your tongue darts out to the moment it retreats. “Maria will have your ass.”

“Hmm, Maria can tell me off much as she wants. Wanted to give you somethin' sweet.” He presses in closer, hands dropping to your hips, kneading the pad of his thumbs over your hips. You're wearing old jeans whose waistband is fraying. “What do you say?”

This is the fun part of the game you play. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, teasing, begging entrance even though he knows there isn't a world in which you would deny him. You part your lips and take his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue and cleaning off the taste of leather that still lingers on his skin. 

“Thank you.”

He strokes your jaw with his thumb. “You wanna know what else?”

You're already leaning into his palm as he cradles your cheek, and he’s so proud of the volcanic thaw in your eyes. “What else?”

Joel reaches back into his coat pocket and places something small in your palms. It’s a smooth wooden figurine that smells faintly of sawdust and is carved in the perfect likeness of your home, which sits across the street from his. 

“‘s almost Christmas,” he says, suddenly so unsure of himself as he watches you turn the little shack over in your hands. “Thought you might like—”

But you're leaping onto him like a little monkey, your mouth crashing against his. It’s all lips and teeth and tongue and he can taste the chocolate he placed there just moments ago. The chimney of your miniature home prods his chest as you hold the figure close, tucking it safely between your bodies. 

“Easy, baby girl,” he says with a low laugh, not-quite pulling away, letting you lick into his mouth like a cat after milk. The scratch of his beard will leave patches on your chin and everyone will see them. He grins, tilting your head up and soothing the worried skin with soft kisses. 

“I love it,” you tell him, sighing into his body, “so much. I love it, Joel.”

“Good.” He nudges his nose against your temple. “Take good care of it, now.”

You nod, scratching at the too-long hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. “How do you know that it's almost Christmas?” you ask him after a moment. 

“Took a guess,” he says, nipping your earlobe. “Y’know, the big tree they put up in the middle of town helps.”

You playfully tug his hair. “Asshole.”

“So goddamn mouthy. Gettin’ spoiled.”

“You're the one spoiling me,” you purr, mouthing wetly along his jaw. 

Joel chuckles. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

“You know”—your voice takes on a musical lilt—“I don't have my Christmas tree yet.”

Joel lifts his brows. “You want a Christmas tree?”

You lift one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t really remember the holidays.”

The watery shimmer under your irises reminds Joel just how much more life he's lived. You were young when the outbreak started, both parents lost to the virus before the first week was out. You’d hid under your bed for three days straight before FEDRA found you. 

They’d taken you, underfed and dehydrated, to the Colorado QZ, where you spend most of your adolescence until it was bombed by Fireflies. You'd managed to sneak away before they could round you up like FEDRA had. You’d travelled with one group to the next before Jackson welcomed you. 

There's a scar on your throat, just below your jaw on the right side, and another at the nape of your neck. You've been held at knifepoint, you told him in the early days of knowing one another, by the very same people who'd taken you in as one of their own. They’d offered you up as trade for some deer meat. Joel traces the mark and feels his throat constrict. 

The kind of life you’d led before Jackson… He’ll make sure you never have to run again. 

“Let’s get you one,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

You pull away from him to meet his eye. “Joel…”

“Tommy’s got a saw behind the bar. I can take down a tree. We’ll bring it back ‘n’ put it up in your place.”

The grin creeps up at the corner of your mouth. “You're going soft, Miller.”

Joel just crowds you back against the wall and slants his mouth over yours. He has no problem going soft when he can feel the wooden edges of his gift to you prodding the flesh of his chest. Let it pierce him. 

Joel has few rules he's willing to push back on. At his age, he's lost some of his jagged edges, compromising on more. When he's got you like this, tucked into his side, wearing only his shirt, he remembers exactly why he enforces these few rules. 

The light is soft in the winter; it doesn't quite penetrate his eastern-facing window the way the summer sun does. He blinks awake, feeling you shift next to him, your nose buried in his throat. Your arms are wrapped tight around his middle, one leg hoisted over his torso. 

“C’mon, baby,” he grunts, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Gotta get up.”

He can feel your sleepy pout against his neck. “Mph.”

“Yeah, I know.” Joel chuckles, slumping back into the mattress. You shift so you're on top of him, your thighs bracketing his hips. Sitting up, you explore his bare chest with your soft hands, migrating down the length of his torso and his softening belly. He grabs your hips and soothes himself awake by rubbing his hands up and down your sides. The fabric of his shirt draped over your body shifts under his palms. 

“I’m patrolling with Tad,” you tell him, “so we’ll have to put up the tree when I get back.”

“No, you're not.”

You cock your head. “Tommy told me—”

“Tommy doesn't know what the hell he's talkin’ about,” says Joel. “You and I get the day off. And I”—he pulls you down toward him and secures his hand at the back of your neck—“know a spot.”

Your answering hum is playful. “You know a spot. I had a couple boyfriends back in the QZ who knew a spot, too, Miller.”

“I ain't your old boyfriends,” he says with a faint growl, landing a light smack on your ass. “There’s a good trail west of here. Some trees what would look nice all done up.”

You beam down at him. Your hair is somewhat tousled from sleep and the fuzzy light haloes your head. “You aren't worried about raiders?”

“Don't think I can keep you safe?” He caresses your bare thighs, his cock interested in the warmth of you on his lap. 

Your mouth fits over his, fingers threading through his hair, and Joel settles into the steady rhythm of your heartbeat fluttering against his own chest. 

“I think,” you whisper, “that we're already late. Let's go get a Christmas tree.”

Half an hour later, he’s still yawning on his way to the stables and wishing he was in the warmth of his bed instead of out here in the biting cold. Joel runs his gloved palms together and fixes his rifle over his shoulder. 

You, of course, are fresh-faced and early, securing the saddle over your chestnut mare Princess. Joel pats her snout and inspects your pack where it hangs on the hook nearby. 

“Forgot your bandages again.”

You hum and it's music. “You always have extra. Ready to go?”

“Sure you’re not waiting for Tad?”

You gently pat your horse’s back. “Tad is terrified of you, so he's terrified of me. You're ruining my reputation, Miller.”

“That so?” Joel sidles up next to you, pushing your pack into your arms. “You got a complaint you wanna file?”

“None so far,” you say, biting down on your grin, “but there's always time. Better be careful with me.”

“I’m always careful,” Joel says into your ear. “Now go on. We got ground to cover.”

There is a method to Joel Miller’s madness. Tommy knows damn well he needs to pick his battles. But Joel will always win when it comes to you. That is where he simply does not compromise. 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Tommy.”

His brother’s hands fly up, palms out, already pleading his case. “Joel, listen to me—”

Joel slaps the book against Tommy’s chest. “I don't need to hear your goddamn excuses. She doesn't go with anyone but me.”

“Listen,” says Tommy, tossing the worn leather agenda aside. “We've got people out sick, and they ain't about to go out in this cold. And you need to be with Flynn, ‘cause Christ knows he ain't trained up enough to handle anything up in those woods.”

Joel scoffs. “And Tad’s trained up enough to go with her? Don't give me that shit, Tommy. She goes with me.”

“Joel—”

“We clear?” He squares up to his brother, folding his arms over his chest. 

Tommy rolls his eyes at Joel’s posturing but concedes nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll take Flynn.”

“Good.” Joel turns to leave for the stables. He’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

“She’s a strong girl,” says Tommy, “and you can't play guard dog forever.”

The snow has settled a bit in the week since the first fall. It's crystallised and hardened underfoot, packed tightly. Icicles dangle from the naked trees on the outskirts of the woods, and your breath mists. The cold penetrates your jeans and the slivers of exposed wrists where your gloves don't quite meet your coat sleeves. Hugging Joel around the middle, your body heat shudders through him. 

“Snow like this is always a goddamn problem,” he mutters. 

“Covers tracks,” you say. 

“That's right. You do listen.”

“Well, when you give me chocolate…”

Joel veers Princess north and brings your gloved palms to his mouth so he can breathe warm air into them. You sigh your thanks, bumping your forehead into his back before returning to your vigilance as lookout. Once you're well out of the way of the city walls, it's easier to get wrapped up in the blistering wind. You bring your bandanna up over your nose and watch Joel do the same as you pass the river. It’s frozen over, not blue but a sheet of miserable white. You mourn the loss of colour as the wind nips at your skin. 

“We’ll have more cover when we break through the trees,” says Joel. “Shuffle closer to me.”

You do, sliding your hips forward. Princess’s reins around one fist, he covers your hands with his other, squeezing you intermittently. His body heat helps you settle comfortably into him. 

“What was your first Christmas like with Sarah?”

Joel chuckles. “She was one hell of a rowdy kid. Had to fish her out of the tree one time—only turned my back for a goddamn second.”

You smile fondly. “Thought you were gonna have to drag Ellie kicking and screaming out of that snowball fight the other day. She was a minute away from nailing your brother in the face.”

“Hmph. Asshole probably deserved it,” says Joel. “Sarah’d never hurt a fly. She saved spiders; threw ‘em outside instead of killin’ ‘em. But she’d get along with Ellie. Sometimes I look at her and see Sarah.” Joel’s quiet for a moment, guiding Princess past the tree line where the wind begins to penetrate in bursts rather than a constant stream of cold. “Do you think that's wrong?”

You frown. “No. I don't think so. Sometimes, I talk to kids in town that remind me of you. They’ll have a nose or eyes that make me think of you, and I’ll think it’s so nice that we’re all still here, still kicking. You know? There are parts of Sarah in Ellie and there are parts of that tree over there in me. When we love someone, we see them everywhere.”

Joel brings Princess to a halt about a half-mile into the woods; a trail veers off to the east next to you. He loops her reins around the branch of a tree and helps you off the horse. “Y’know,” he says, “you're too damn smart for your own good.”

“You’ll do well to remember that, Miller.” You shove your bandanna back down so it lies limp around your neck. “Now show me this spot.”

Joel failed to warn you that it involved a hike. An honest-to-fuck hike. You and your boots are used to traversing long distances, but you hadn't particularly prepared to trek through the frozen woods in December on a few hours’ sleep, a couple hours’ orgasm, and a hastily-chugged cup of coffee. Not had you prepared for an uphill hike in the brutal cold just to find a fucking Christmas tree.

If you didn't like him so damn much, you know for a fact you'd happily throttle your Joel. 

Your Joel, who can't seem to find a tree that's good enough for you. Too tall, he'll say about one, won't fit inside your place. Too skinny, he’ll say about another, you could barely string lights on that. 

Your lungs are burning cold. Every breath you inhale feels like swallowing needles. Your chest heaves and your cheeks are numb and you’re drawing up what's left of your resolve to give him a piece of your mind. 

“Nah, not this one,” he’s saying, knocking his fist against the trunk of another tree. “It’s practically hollow. Would crumble the second we—”

“Joel, if you could find a tree you do like so we can head back and I can stop freezing to death, that would be so, so appreciated.”

Your teeth chatter the whole time, but you get your message across. Joel stops, his hand splayed against another tree, a smaller one with a decent-sized middle, and turns to face you. 

“You cold, baby?”

It's not an innocent question. Around you, the wind whips at the branches of the tallest trees and crackles through the air. But Joel’s voice, slow and gravel-thick, permeates the breeze. It bites deeper, to the gums, latched in your skin. It’s warm. 

No—it's hot. 

Joel’s hand drops from the tree. His foot crunches the snow under his boot as he takes a step toward you. 

Wordlessly, you nod. 

“You had lots to say before, baby girl. Thought you wanted your Christmas tree.”

You do. Fuck, you want to go home. You want to curl up in his bed with another cup of coffee and warm yourself up with his body. But Joel is staring at you, eyes hard, rubbing his gloved hand over his mouth, and the alternative now feels much more tempting. “Uh-huh.” 

“I think you should see for yourself,” he says, “whether or not you want this one. Go on.”

He's playing some game. He’s ringed with silvery light, a soft and hazy glow backlighting his longer hair, threaded with grey, his body so broad, solid, strong—

There’s none of your Joel in the way he stands. This is the Joel who’s used to following orders. This is the Joel he never lets you truly see: the man who has seen so many more years, seen so much more of the world.

You pass him, hiking farther up the trail, to inspect the tree. It is decent; just taller than you, but thick enough to stay upright, plush with needles. A gentle tug at your scalp, a puff of warm air on your cheek, the dizzying weight of him at your back. He’s twirling a lock of your hair between two gloved fingers. 

“You like it?” he says gruffly, his mouth mere inches from your ear. The telltale tingling begins in your core and you swallow hard. 

“Joel, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shhh. None of that. I wasn’t thinkin’, sweetheart.” He nips at your earlobe, hands trailing down your body, underneath your heavy coat, sitting warmly on your hips. “Gotta keep my girl nice ‘n’ warm. Got all caught up in my own head, thinkin’ like a carpenter. Let me make it up?”

He loves so selflessly that it can feel bizarrely like greed. 

Sometimes, you forget that he’s so much older. That he lived his own way of living for a long time before you came along, that he knows this planet like that back of his hand, that you can’t even begin to name a country or a food or a song that FEDRA didn’t teach you. That you’ve only just begun to experience the terror and the pain that’s engulfed this world for so long. 

Joel Miller’s lived a long life. He’s choosing to spend these moments with you, in the cold, dead woods, picking out a Christmas tree. For as long as he’s been waking up with you, his girl, he’s wanted you longer. He’s tired. He’s old. But he’s finally getting to choose. 

He’d like to think he deserves a bit of choice after all this time. So, again, he comes back to you, like the last time and the last, spreading his fingers over your body and cupping you, molten gold, in his hands. 

Settle down, his brother told him a few years back. You deserve this, Joel. To just… settle down, if you can ever find a way.

You’re his way. He intends to make it clear. 

“Need to hear you say yes, baby,” he says, shifting your hair aside, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck where it’s warm and quiet and smells of the coffee he always makes you.

“Yes,” you whisper, reaching back to fix your hand at the nape of his neck and glue him to you. “Please. Please, Joel.”

He grins, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw. He steals every one of your heartbeats for himself. 

“All right,” he says. “We’ll get this one.”

Eyes lidded, you watch over your shoulder as Joel fiddles with the button of your jeans and yanks down your panties with them, now hanging limply off your knees. 

“Joel!” you gasp. The cold air bites your thighs, your ass, your poor, slick pussy, as he unwraps his present. Playfully squeezing your ass, he grinds his clothed front against you. 

“Yeah, baby?” he mumbles, the smug bastard, pinning you to the tree by his strong hips, your fingers splayed on the trunk. Above you, pine needles flutter down to the ground around you, but the trunk doesn't budge. 

It is a good tree. 

“‘m cold,” you manage, putty in his hands, under the sweet, slow kisses he's pressing to your jaw. 

Your petulant whine rivals the pitch of the wind off the mountain trail. The whistling air shrieks. The hard weight at your back absconds with the warmth it brought you, and he's bending to one knee, packing a not-quite spherical ball of snow in his gloves. 

“You’re cold?” It doesn't sound like a question and you're nodding anyway, your cheek scraping the bark of the fir tree. It smells of terpenes and the shingles of bark bleed resin.

“I’m so cold, Daddy.”

He stands, and a huge glove is caging your ribs, a bearded cheek nuzzling your temple. “Let’s see, baby girl. Open wide.” 

He brings his other hand between your exposed thighs and, lips prying at the corner of your mouth, cups the feebly-formed snowball against your pussy. 

“Daddy,” you gasp, writhing away and grinding into his hand all the same, your mouth open in a long, pitiful cry. Your silvery breath ascends in a long-limbed dance with his own. 

The snow melts in moments, rubbed firm into the scorching heat of your body, but you feel the biting cold against your clit as if it were pulled between a set of pearly teeth. 

“See?” There’s a cruel tone of mocking in it and you preen like it’s a sweet lullaby. “Nice ‘n’ warm.” 

He mouths at the crook of your neck, hot and wet, tongue dipping into the junction between your ear and your jaw, where it’s soft and does not hurt when he bites down. 

The once-packed snow, now tepid and formless, drips down your thighs, and the air is so cold it begins to freeze again. Joel hears your helpless moan and takes pity, unbuckling his own jeans just enough to pull out his cock. 

But he doesn't slot himself at your needy hole and push slowly inside you the way he did last night. No—he guides the leaking head between your thighs and closes your legs around him, the length of him flush to your cunt. 

“Ohhhh, fuck.” You shiver, dropping your forehead against the tree, as Joel lubricates his cock with the melted water of the snowball and begins to fuck himself between the cushions of your thighs. “Joel… oh my God, Daddy—”

He grunts, taking it slow, the wet slide of his cock electrifying, cold and warm all at once, his body caging yours against the tree. With every thrust, the head of his cock catches on your clit, and he gasps in your ear, nibbling your exposed skin. You grasp at his hair, the hand that presses down on your belly, fixing him to you. 

“That's it, baby. Goddamn, you feel so good. So fuckin’ soft, just for me, all for Daddy, right, baby girl?”

“Yes, yes! I’m yours, all yours, please…” Your thighs twitch when his cock drags along your clit once more, and it's so good—but it's not enough. 

“I know,” groans Joel, lowering your joined hands to your clit and rubbing slow, aching circles over your slick pearl. A strained moan rumbles in your chest and your head grows heavy, falling back on his shoulder. The pleasure, white-hot and insistent, makes you forget all about the cold air savagely biting off chunks of your skin. It's all Joel. “I know, baby girl. That feel good?”

“Mmmm,” you manage, breathless and panting, your exhales swirling up into the air and disappearing in the trees. He keeps your hands joined, working in tandem to pleasure your needy clit. “Mhm, so good. Just like that.”

Joel nods into the crook of your neck, keeping the pressure steady on your clit as he continues to get himself off between your legs. “My pretty girl, so cold,” he rasps, “so needy. Y’know I’d get you anything you wanted.”

You nod vigorously, wetting his cock with your arousal, gloved fingers slick on your pussy. The rough grind of the leather closes an electrical circuit up and down your body. Joel Miller has always known how to make you feel safe, cared-for—sensations you'd never known before Jackson. With him, you're glutted, satiated. With you, he’s begun his long winter’s task of settling down. 

“Let go for me, baby,” he says, taking your jaw between his teeth as he feels his stomach tighten, his balls pulling up. “C’mon, baby girl, let me feel it. Get yourself all warm with me.”

He rubs your clit faster until you're seizing, core tensing, your mouth open in a long, low cry that echoes down the trail. Joel talks you through it, good girl, that’s it, I know it’s a lot, honey, just let go, and your fingers flex, trapped in his, as you come until your legs are trembling. 

Joel hums like he's satisfied, his hips pummeling into your backside in stuttering thrusts that indicate he's coming, too. “You gonna let me come, baby girl?” he says, baring his teeth against your cheek. “Gonna forgive me?”

“Yesyesyes! Fuck, you’re so good. Please come for me, Daddy, please!”

“Fuck, baby, I will. I will.” And he does—stuffing his cock between your thighs, it begins to pulse beneath your cunt, spilling hot cum all over your legs, your pussy, the tree he’s pinned you against. All the while, he holds you tight, his mouth greedy on you, words coaxed into your ears that aren't meant for another soul. 

“You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine.” He's rambling as he comes down, spurts of cum still dribbling from his cock down your thighs. “Goddamn perfect.”

You shiver as the cold begins to seep back in through your skin, even as Joel helps pull your jeans back up over your ass. It's a bit uncomfortable, feeling the slide of his cum on your legs underneath the denim, but you smile anyway, letting him guide you to face him, your foreheads pressing together. 

“I like this one,” you tell him. Joel laughs, bringing your mouth to his for another kiss. 

“Dude, where the fuck did you get this?” 

You look over your shoulder at Ellie, who inspects your miniature figurine, now with a home just inside your foyer. 

“Joel gave it to me,” you tell her. 

“Whooooa. You think he could make me a dinosaur?”

You turn to Joel, who's nursing some bourbon and hiding a smile in the rim of the glass. “That's a great question, Ellie. What do you think, Joel?”

“C’mon, man, when do I ever ask you for anything?”

Joel chokes into his glass. “Every goddamn day of your life, Ellie.”

“Okay, well, just think about how cool it would be to have a dinosaur. It’s basically the real thing.”

Joel shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. Maybe next year.”

“Ugh. Fine. But don't think I’m not gonna remember.”

Idly rubbing his back, you lean into him and turn your head toward the tree. It sits tall and proud in the corner, strung with a couple coloured lights Maria had found for you, hung with baubles that some of the schoolchildren had been thrilled to make. It's a bit bare in spots, haphazardly decorated, prickly to the touch.

“You like it?” asks Joel, nudging his nose against your temple. 

“It's perfect.”

He grins into your cheek. “You think she’ll like the dinosaur?”

Your eyes fall to the smattering of gifts under the tree, tossed into spare crates and bags.  

“Ellie, why don't you open first?”

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[studioghibelli]

moonlight sonata- a joel miller x reader

summary: entranced by your enigmatic history professor, you can't help but feel like he's hiding something from you. is it really that crazy to think that joel miller might actually be.... a vampire?

warnings: no use of y/n, teacher x student relationship, vampire!joel, professor!joel, student!reader, no outbreak!au, hefty age gap, a self-indulgent vampire fic i'm not even gonna lie, and of course smut (biting, desk fucking, pussy eating, period sex, fingering, finger sucking, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, etc.)

The rocky shore line raged alongside the whistling storm, brazen waves slapping and slamming against the rocky coast with each crack of lightning. The stone covered castle far off the outskirts of the small, hidden university was mostly shrouded in the darkness of night, except the flickering of a candle light at the highest window.

With each tick tock of the clock, the rain continued its journey on through the evening, painting the green grass with its wet dew. You cursed yourself for making an appointment with your history professor on this day of all days, annoyed that the weather decided to act up on this particular Wednesday, as if the storm hadn't been brewing for days on end.

As you walked along the cobblestone path, the moon slowly clawing up the canvas of the sky, your mind wandered to thoughts of him.

Joel Miller. Dr. Joel Miller. Professor Joel Miller. He didn't mind what he was called, as long as they got the "Joel" part right.

He was an enigmatic as he was handsome: charming, intuitive, mysterious, quiet. Every time you thought you were getting over him, he did something to draw you right back in. The flash of a smile sent directly to you during a test, a gentle brush of his fingers across your shoulder, a comment made on a well-written paper of yours- he knew just what to do to keep you tight on the line of his fishing hook. Whether he knew what he was doing, well... that was another question entirely.

You had asked to meet him after his office hours because of a particularly jarring comment he left on one of your papers.

Your research on Medieval Romanian folklore demonstrates commendable dedication and insight into the complexities of nocturnal life and the myths associated with it. However, I urge you to exercise caution in your interpretations, as some observations may lead you down paths best left unexplored. Remember, curiosity can be both a blessing and a curse.

Since you read what he wrote, you haven't been able to get it out of your head.

Weeks of research on Romanian folklore, specifically that of vampires, had left you questioning and guessing a multitude of previously learned lessons. You felt crazy, waking up in the dead of night because you felt eyes on you, the lingering kiss of a pair of sharp teeth ghosting against the soft skin of your neck. And, even more crazy -admittedly- you found yourself studying Professor Miller even more closely after his comment.

He only held his classes in the evening, his office hours were far later than any other professor, and you could always see his office light flickering on throughout the night, a beacon of hope you could look out to from your dormitory, when you were jerked awake by nightmares of monsters sucking your blood dry, their sharp fangs biting in to your supple flesh as though you were their first meal in centuries.

And yet, despite the pieces of evidence you had collected over the past few semesters, you still felt like you were on the brink of insanity for even thinking about believing such a preposterous myth. Especially one that involved Joel Miller, your favorite professor.

Despite this, you longed to talk to him about that cryptic message he wrote, so you swallowed your doubts and fears and garnered up enough courage to meet up with him.

By the time you reached the thick wooden door of his office, you could barely breathe, soaked to the bone as your clothes clung to your skin, droplets of rain clinging to your skin like smears of oil paint on a canvas.

You didn't have to knock for the iron hinges of the door to swing open with a loud creak.

"Professor!" Your surprise rocked through you, eyes widening as he caught you right on time.

"Hello. I knew you were on your way up." He looked down at you, his burly build towering over your own, and beckoned you inside.

Dr. Miller's office was cold, so cold that your skin raised with goosebumps as you slowly made your way inside. The wallpaper was old and floral, ripping at the edges of the corners of the walls, and the gothic architecture of the ceiling was tall and made of stone, providing even more of a chill in the already frigid room.

His desk was dark and made of solid mahogany, an absinthe lamp standing proud in the corner, as various candles flickered throughout. Rows of books lined the shelves, all of them old and leather bound, filling the office with the musky and comforting smell of aged paper.

It felt homely, yet it was freezing. The dichotomy of those two feelings left you rather stumped.

Joel made his way to his chair, his tight black pants and loose, long sleeved white shirt bellowing beneath the cranked A/C.

Perhaps you were just wet with rain, but you couldn't stop shivering.

"D-Do you run hot, or something?" You finally managed to stutter out, your arms hugging tight around your body as you sat across from him.

The Professor grinned ever so slightly, grabbing a black coat that hung on his tall coat rack, moving to hand it to you. When he got close, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. You watched his knuckles turn white against the collar of the jacket, and you heard him slowly take in a deep breath.

Slowly you looked up, his pupils blown wide with some archaic sort of desire, darkening with every breath he took in. It was as though he was breathing you in. Your thighs clenched tightly as his hand dropped to your shoulder.

Joel looked down at you, blinking slowly, as though he were coming back down to reality from an existential crisis or nerve racking nightmare. A shudder ran down the teachers spine, before he quickly dropped the material in your lap and rushed back to his chair, quickly becoming composed and poised as though nothing else had happened.

What was that about?

Dr. Miller peered at you from across the desk, smoothing out a paper that lay before him. The air was thick with an awkward sort of palpability, and you were scared if you tried to speak, nothing would come out of your mouth, your tongue dry like cotton.

"You said you wanted to meet with me?" He finally asked, his words slow and deep, that familiar Southern drawl clinging to each syllable in a smooth, honeyed sort of way.

"Y-.... yes." Clearing your throat, you somehow managed to sit up straighter, bringing the fleece coat tight upon your shoulders. "My paper."

"The one about vampiric Romanian myths, I assume. What about it?"

"I..." You paused once more, your mouth hanging open at the sheer insanity of what you wished to say next. "I think we should stop calling them myths, Professor."

Your professor chuckled a lovely, warming chuckle, a hand gently running down his stubble covered cheek. "Is that so?" His voice dropped an octave, and you saw his pupils grow dark once more.

With furrowed eyebrows, you began to speak once more. "I researched this extensively, you see. These... these sources, from the 15th century, they're accompanied by various art pieces, debates... I-I even read papal court cases involving humanoid creatures that only hunt at night. All of that-all of it is just a myth? Something doesn't add up to me."

"When studying history, it's important to note that not everything is.... as it seems." He flashed you a smile, and you caught glimpse of an incisor that looked longer than usual, sharper that normal, more imposing than most.

A wave of courage rushed over you at the sight. "Just with history?" Your voice was a whisper, but for the first time that night, it did not waver.

He stood, slowly making his way towards you. Your spine straightened as he pressed against you from behind the chair, his hands slowly falling to your shoulders. His palms were warm, heating the skin of your shoulders, your mind soon forgetting the cold memory of the rain.

"What are you implying?" You looked over to him, your eyes tracing over the golden skin of his hands, rough and calloused by the hand of time. This is the skin of a killer bella.

"Are you..." You took in a defeated sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. "Are you a vampire?" You couldn't believe how stupid you felt, how stupid all of this seemed once you spoke it out loud.

He laughed, and you felt him shifting to match your height, one knee resting on the wooden planks of the floor. "What do you think?" Joel whispered, his nose gently brushing against the skin of your neck.

You took in a sharp breath of air, leaning back against him, slowly turning to face him. "Dr. Miller...."

"What?"

"You're... you're very close to me."

"Do you want me to move? I can."

You shook your head slowly. "No. Don't." And you meant it.

A mischievous smirk fell over his plush lips, and you felt a finger gently tracing down your arm. "That's what I thought. I can see you, you know. The way you act around me, how you beam when I praise you, how you deflate when I walk away from you. I'm not stupid, darlin'. I know what you want, and I can give it to you."

"And what do I want, Professor?"

You could feel the arrogance radiating off of him. "Me." That one word was so infuriatingly attractive, his confidence only making him more desirable, more tempting.

You took in a sharp breath of air, your head falling into his shoulder. You felt his eyes searing in to your jugular, the smooth, taut skin of your neck on display for his chocolate hued eyes.

"How do you know that?"

"I can smell it. Your arousal. Your desire. Your need. All for me. I can make you feel pleasure like no one else can." His words were hot against your skin, and you felt his lips brushing against it with each word he spoke.

If you wanted to lie, you knew you would be unable to, now caught in his words like an animal in a trap. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yes." Was all you could say, your tongue dry once more. "But not tonight. I'm-"

"Bleeding?" Joel finished for you, and you were shook by the realization that if anyone in the world would care about that, it certainly wouldn't be him.

"How did you know?"

"I can smell it." You could practically hear the watering of his mouth, the desire which clung to the surface of his syllables. "Surely that wouldn't deter me, if what you've discovered is true. No?"

"No."

"Then let me taste you, let me have you."

"I'm yours." You whispered quietly, eyelids shutting as his mouth attached to your neck, deep kisses pressing in to your exposed flesh, searing hot with the promise of arousal.

"Oh, you always have been, haven't you?" Joel's fingers gently tangled around your tresses of hair, his tongue licking a thick strip across your throat.

"You never answered my question." You whispered out your thoughts as you felt his the sharpness of his teeth.

"I know. But you never answered mine."

"What-.... what question?"

"What do you think I am?"

"You know what I think."

"Do you have proof to back that up?" Dr. Miller's voice was getting cocky now, each word laced with more arrogance than the last.

"I've never seen you in the daylight. Never... never seen you eat or drink anything. You lurk in your office, in the shadows of the classroom. You're not like the other professor's, who are always out and about in the mornings, chattering and drinking coffee." You shut your eyes tightly, your tongue sweeping across your lower lip.

"Say it." He pleaded, words dark and cloudy with desire. "Say what I am."

"You're a vampire."

"You're right."

A shaky breath escaped you, and you slowly opened your eyes to see his mouth slightly open, the sharpness of his fangs exposed to your vision. You turned to face him head on, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering golden flame of the surrounding candles.

He looked so handsome in this light, the shadows that danced across his face only making him more imposing, more alluring. The Professors umber eyes were glued to your features, and you felt a calloused finger trace along the line of your soft jaw, his touch warm and gentle. You shivered at the feeling.

"Will you bite me?"

"Bite... you?"

"Please."

Joel ran his middle finger across your lower lip, a stray strand of hair pushed behind your ear by his slow movements. A sad sort of smile fell over his face. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

He stared at you long and hard, as though he were weighing infinite possibilities within his mind. "If I start, I won't ever want to stop. I'll just keep coming back to you for more and more, it will be an infinite loop. Not to mention what.... well, what will happen to you."

"To me?"

"Eternity is a very long time." His voice turned solemn for a moment, and you nodded in silent understanding.

"How old are you?"

"Very old."

A soft giggle escaped you, and your hands moved to cup his scruffy cheeks. "I always thought vampires were Romanian. Or, Byron-like and British. Like Keanu Reeves."

He chuckled smoothly, shaking his head slowly at your guess. "Not this one. I'm a cowboy, through and through. Always have been, always will be."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you leaned towards him. "Can this cowboy kiss me?"

"This cowboy'll do whatever you want him to do."

Your eyes fluttered shut as Joel pressed his mouth to yours, a searing kiss burning through your body like an pyre ignited with flames. You moaned at the pleasure that filled your chest, his hands slowly moving to the hem of your damp shirt, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your belly as your kiss deepened. You hooked your leg around the professors waist, pulling him closer until his chest was flush against yours.

"I want more." You moaned out breathlessly, arms hooking around his neck as you pulled away.

"Then I'll give you more."

In one fell swoop he picked you up and placed you on his desk, his sheer strength causing you to yelp in surprise. Joel kissed you as though he would never kissed another, hungrily and passionately, working the buttons of his shirt. When he was done, he stripped you of your own, only pulling away to look upon your naked form.

"You're beautiful. Perfect. Look at you." His eyes drunk in every inch of your exposed chest, and he slowly grabbed the waistline of your jeans, tugging them off of you in one brief movement of his arms.

"You're beautiful." You mumbled, planting your hands on his thick biceps, feeling the strain of his muscles against your touch.

He smirked slightly, yet you caught a glimpse of it, and before you knew it he was down on his knees, his face buried between your thighs. You felt his teeth gently bite into your thighs, not hard enough to break any skin, but enough for you to feel it. You shivered at the pleasure, your fingers tangling into his hair.

You laid back across the desk, legs hooked over his shoulders, as his lips wrapped around your swelling clit, tongue tracing circles over your sensitive button.

You groaned out at the contact, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him even closer to the slick heat of your pussy.

"You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

All you could do was moan out at his comment, allowing him to drink you all in with every lap of his tongue, every movement of his soft lips.

"I could stay down here for eternity." Joel grumbled, sucking in your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you begging for me.

"Do what you must." You responded through a breathless laugh, shocks of pleasure jolting through your core.

His tongue swept through your folds, collecting your arousal and your blood, the metallic taste of your tang filling his senses with pleasure he never thought was possible. Joel ate your pussy like a starved man. Which, in truth, he really was.

His fingers slowly moved to the entrance of your contracting pussy, and he eased his digits in to the knuckle, hitting against that spot that made you coo with relief. As he slowly began a rhythm with his movements, Joel returned to your clit, making sure it wasn't feeling left out. He sucked and licked, lapped and groaned, your cunt the only thing in the world that he cared about in that moment.

Before you could even think of what was going on, you felt your orgasm brewing within you, and that coil was only growing tighter by the minute. Dr. Miller continued fingering you, adding in a second finger as his tongue traced shapes into your bud, your blood dripping on his chin as he took you all in.

"I'm going to- I'm... Oh, fuck. Professor!" Your orgasm rocked you like a hurricane, waves and waves of tepid bliss filling your mind until his tongue on your skin and his fingers deep inside you were the only thing you could ever remember.

He only pulled away once he licked every drop of your cum and blood up, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand. Joel looked at you darkly, eyes meeting yours, and you noticed the bulge pressing into his trousers.

"Fill me." You whispered, opening your arms to welcome him back to your embrace.

"Oh, I will."

Joel moved to your arms, his hands working at his zipper until he was completely naked in front of you. You traced your palm down the softness of his belly until you had wrapped your own hand around his cock, stiff and aching with the thought of being buried deep inside of you. You guided his leaking mushroom tip to the entrance of your cunt, slowly looking up at him.

"Take me."

"As you wish." He whispered, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he pushed in to you, hands moving to your waist.

He stretched you perfectly, each ridge and vein introducing you to new pleasures you had never felt before. Joel knew how to make you shiver, how to make you moan, and he had never heard anything as beautiful as the sound of his name falling off your pretty lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' tight for me, so wet." His teeth grazed against the flesh of your collarbone, and you felt his kisses pressing up and in to your neck. He bit down on your skin, much harder than the last time, his incisors tracing perfect lines on the suppleness of your throat.

Your fingers moved to his hair as you cried out his name, cheek falling into the side of his head as he pumped deep in to you. "Fuck me." You begged out breathlessly, his hips against yours growing harder and meaner with each movement.

"You're mine." His words were a growl, his words calming and deep in your ear, his heavy pants with each thrust causing you to whimper.

"I'm yours."

"Good fuckin' girl. Takin' me in." He raised his fingers to your mouth, gently pushing past your lips. "Suck."

You sucked your own orgasm off his flesh, moaning at the taste as he pulled away to watch, his pelvis hitting against yours as he fucked your pussy. A smirk flitted at the corners of his mouth.

"Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed."

You moaned out at the praise, pulling away with a gentle pop.

Joel reached down, easily finding your clit. "Gonna make you cum on my cock. One more time for me. Okay?"

"Okay." You complied happily, laying back on the desk once more as he towered over you, chest coming in to contact with your own as he rubbed and fucked, skilled beyond any sort of measure you had ever experienced before.

"That's my girl. My pretty girl. My strong, smart, clever girl." His words were hot against your throat as he bit you again, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make himself known.

He had so much power like that, with his teeth right against your flesh. He had your life in his hands, and yet he had no desire to take it. No desire you suck you down to the bone, no desire to curse you with the eternal fate he himself had been left with. Oh, yes. Eternity does sound so romantic to those who have no concept of it, doesn't it? But Joel Miller knew. He knew what forever could do to a man. He knew how lonely it could be.

You were right under his grasp, right there. He could take everything away from you in one bite, with one movement of his teeth. And yet he didn't.

Somehow, knowing this, knowing what he could do to you, only made you want him more. The trust that was there, the respect that lingered with each feeling of his fangs against you, only made you fall harder, deeper, longer.

Your stomach tightened with another climax as you fell back down to reality, and Joel pulled away to look at you, his nose pressing in to your own as your eyes met.

"I'm going to cum again." You whispered, throwing your hands around his shoulders.

"Cum for me then, darlin'. Cum on this dick."

Hearing his voice, deep and smooth and sexy and raw, caused you to come undone, your voice giving out as you cried out silently, pleasure flooding you as your pussy tightened around his cock. Joel followed suit, burying his face in your shoulder as his own orgasm shot through, his seed spilling deep within you, painting your walls white.

His weight pressed down against you as he pulled you closer, allowing your climaxes to calm down before kissed you, his lips rough and cracked against your own.

"Perhaps I should start leaving more comments on your papers." He joked as he pulled away, gently moving to help you dress, your shirt almost dry from the rains previous assault.

"Or I could just keep coming back. Over and over again."

"I would like that." Joel said earnestly, pulling his pants on over his legs.

"I would, too." You smiled up at him, slowly getting off the edge of his desk. "Do you, uh, have any plans tonight?"

"Besides lurking in the shadows and hunting pale virgins? No, not really." Dr. Miller's voice was dry and sarcastic, yet a hint of charming care was evident.

You laughed softly at his joke, looking up at him. "Would you want to do something with me?"

"Like what? I can't exactly take you out to dinner."

Joel relished in the bright smile that stretched across your face. "We could always go for a walk? The rain has stopped."

He peered out the window, the silver light of the moon flooding in through the sheer curtains. "Then it's a date."

"Yes. A date."

And as you two walked, hand in hand through the dense forest of autumn, and as the distant waves of the ocean crashed in and out of ear shot, you wondered what could possibly be so bad about eternity if it were spent with him. Perhaps you could get used to these late night walks. Perhaps you would yearn for them for the rest of your life, however long that may be.

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 4: Lost In Moonlight

Chp. 4 Summary: You couldn't deny Joel any longer. You needed him. Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI Word Count: 7.8k Warnings: SMUT (finally), unprotected piv sex, nipple play, cock riding, cum eating, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names (baby, good girl), aftercare, heavy kissing, mentions of past emotional abuse, soft!joel, so much FLUFF!!! A/N: I know this is what y'all have been waiting for, so I hope I did this moment justice :') I'm putting together a lil playlist for this fic, so please lmk if you're interested in seeing it! xoxo <3

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Flower petals were strewn across the entryway as you and Joel staggered through the dark house. You couldn’t find the time—or care—to flick on the lights, too busy finding Joel’s mouth in the darkness. His hands caressed every curve of your body, fingers reaching under the seam of your sweatshirt to press against your warm skin. You tried blindly guiding him toward your room, only to awkwardly bump into corners and walls in the search, leaving you giggling and Joel cursing. You were nearly at the door when he stopped short, pinning you to the wall of the hallway so that he could devour your mouth once more. Helpless moans left your lips as he coaxed your mouth open wider, his hands roaming down your lower back. You pressed yourself closer to his chest, the outline of his hardened cock rubbing against your upper thigh. Joel pulled away from your mouth, his breath ragged as he palmed your ass with his large hands.

“I don’t want you regrettin’ this in the mornin’ if it’s not what you want,” he panted. 

“Don’t try and tell me what I want, Joel,” you whispered, kissing down the base of his neck.

He let out a shaky breath, his hands squeezing you harder. By the night's end, not a single inch of you would be left untouched. You raised your mouth to his ear, grazing over the shell of it with the tip of your tongue.

“I’m sick of pretending like I don’t want you.”

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he groaned. 

You searched for his hand through the blanket of darkness around you, guiding him to your bedroom. You counted the steps in your head until the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you were falling back. Joel tumbled over you, one knee propped up beside your waist while his other leg was wedged between your thighs. His hands pulled at the hem of your sweatshirt, tugging it up your body until you took control and stripped it off in one fluid motion. It barely hit the ground before his hands were all over you, the touch of his skin on yours electrifying you beyond words. Every touch was soft…so fucking soft. It was dizzying to be handled so gently and with such determined intensity. Where you struggled for words, Joel responded with another caress, another kiss, another praise of adoration. 

The pads of his fingers began tracing down your sternum, working at the material of your bra. 

“Can I?” he asked, reaching behind your back.

“Yes,” you exhaled.

His fingers made easy work of the clasp, freeing you of your bra in record time. Even if you were drenched in shadows, you knew Joel’s eyes were washing over your body with rapt attention. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered as he leaned back over you.

His mouth was hot against your collarbone as he worked his way down your chest. Peppered kisses trailed over the swell of your breasts, and you arched into his gentle touch as he swirled his tongue around your hardened nipples. His tongue flicked at the sensitive skin, forcing a breathy whine to escape your lips. Joel’s teeth grazed over the soft skin of your breast before dipping his head lower and scattering your navel with soft kisses. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, carding your hands through his hair.

A thin sheen of sweat hung on the curls, forcing them to stick against his temples and forehead. You raked your nails over his scalp, earning a deep groan that rumbled through his chest. He pulled himself up so that he stood over you, and as your vision adjusted to the darkness, you watched as his hands worked at tugging his shirt over his neck and shoulders. Fuck, you wished the lights were on so you could catalog every part of his body. You sat up on the bed, craning your neck back as you traced your fingers over the soft skin of his stomach and up his chest. The hair spattering his chest tickled your fingertips as you crept higher, your hands caressing the thick muscles on his shoulders. Joel’s hands reached to cover yours, halting your blind exploration of his body.

“We should stop,” he said, strained.

You cringed as he said those three words, letting your hands drop and wrap around your bare chest. You knew it was too good to be true; he didn’t want you. Even if every atom of his being called out to yours, like some prayer for divinity, he wanted to stop. 

“I—I understand,” you hesitated.

You didn’t know where to go, with him still looming over you, so you shuffled your body up the bed, trying to find the edge of your comforter so you could bury yourself in the deepest part of your mattress and disappear entirely. Joel’s hand shot out to grab your ankle, tugging you back to the edge of the bed, and you raised yourself on your forearms, staring at him confused. 

“We should stop,” he started. “Because I don’t have a condom.”

“I haven’t been with anyone in two years,” you confessed, adding, “I’m on birth control, too.”

“Are y’sure?”

You hooked a leg around his waist, tugging him closer until he was falling forward and caging you between his arms. You craned your head to capture his lips in a hungry kiss, holding him firm against you.

“I want this, Joel. I’m sure.”

That was all Joel needed to hear before he lost all semblance of control. His restraint was replaced with this frantic urgency as his fingers worked at the button and zipper of your jeans, yanking them down your thighs and leaving you exposed to the cool air circling your room. His pants were shed less than a minute later, and now you were both only separated by thin pieces of fabric that covered your lower halves. The press of Joel’s hardened cock against your thigh ignited a fire within your stomach, and your underwear dampened through at the thought of what he could do with it. Having sex with Bennett always felt like an obligation—a chore. But with Joel, you craved it beyond understanding. You needed to put emotions into action and feel how he thought about you. Every ounce of your resolve and control were far gone now, left somewhere between the front door and the bed beneath you. The second Joel had kissed you, you knew you’d never say ‘no’ to him again. He was a weakness you couldn’t control, and you were so tired of trying to keep him at a distance.

Joel’s hands worked at your underwear, and you let out a giggle when he tossed them carelessly across the room along with his own. Your heart pounded in your chest as he lifted your leg by the back of your knee, propping it over his broad shoulder. He angled the head of his cock against your slick entrance, coating it in your wetness before pushing in slowly. Your head fell back against the bed as he broke you open inch by inch. The agonizing stretch to adjust to him faded away, and you both moaned in unison as he bottomed out, filling you completely. 

“S’fuckin’ tight, baby,” Joel cursed. “Feels fuckin’ amazing.”

He started moving, his hips rocking against you at a tender pace as you squirmed under his body. Each thrust amplified the coiling warmth, creating an unbearable furnace inside you. You needed more; you needed to feel everything and forget every lingering emotion crawling through your mind.

“Harder,” you begged.

“Yeah?” Joel panted, driving into you with such force your body shoved up the bed. “Like that, baby?”

Your only response was a vigorous nod of your head and an outward cry as he plunged deeper with each snap of his hips. Sounds of your bodies slapping together, your endless cries of pleasure, and his ragged breath became a cacophony floating through the air around you. 

A car drove past your house, the headlights streaming through the blinds, drenching Joel’s silhouette for a fleeting moment. At that moment, you could see the flex of his arms, the pinch of his brows, and the slight tug of his lips upwards as he continued wrecking into you. Rewashed in darkness, you ached to see how his pupils blew wide as he gazed down on you. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Joel muttered, squeezing your hips to anchor you against his body. Perfect. There was that word again, sounding so simple when he said it like it wasn’t a lie. Like he meant it. And every action he showed you proved he not only meant it but believed it. 

You chased the warmth that unfurled through your muscles, the pleasure building higher and higher until you could barely contain it. Joel must have felt it, too, because as your eyes scrunched tight, Joel’s fingers found the sensitive bud at the apex of your sex and drew long, tantalizing circles. That touch was all you needed to come undone completely; your body was paralyzed as the orgasm wracked through you with such intensity you lost all breath inside your lungs. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Joel hummed. “Let go, baby. Gimmie more.”

Bennett had never spoken to you this way, nor did he praise you when you came—which was rare with him. He barely did anything but grunt once in a while, but this? Hearing Joel talk you through every thrust, every ripple of your orgasm, only spurred you on more. You clung onto every word he spoke, like a moth to the flame, and his mouth was a forest fire. 

Joel bent forward, wrapping a strong arm around your back and hauling you over until you were perched on top of him. From this angle, his cock felt so much bigger, stretching you wider until your thighs ached. He sprawled back against the comforter; his hands splayed against your hips to guide you in fluid motions above him.

“Joel…” you exhaled, grinding your hips down against him. 

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you need,” he urged.

You lifted your hips, sinking back down onto him, finding the perfect rhythm that rendered you speechless. You couldn’t form words or think of anything else but his name.

“C’mon, baby. I know y’can use your words. I wanna hear you.”

“It’s just—.” You heaved in a breath as he rocked up into you. “You feel so fucking good, Joel. Your cock…”

“Keep talkin’,” he moaned.

Shuffling his knees up, Joel started pistoning into you hard, making it impossible to form coherent sentences. How were you to speak when his cock was driving into you so hard your vision was blurring? Joel gritted out your name, coaxing you from your chaotic thoughts. 

“Never.” You gasped. “Been fucked this good.” Another gasp. “Need this all the time. Need—you. Fuck… Joel…”

“I got you, baby. Ain’t gonna let you go.”

You whispered his name like a cantation, each syllable a broken prayer leaving your lips. Another orgasm throbbed inside your core, and you snaked your hand to rub circles against your swollen clit, trying to alleviate that growing ache throbbing in your veins. Joel’s pace was unrelenting as you toppled closer to the edge, a cry escaping your mouth as you felt your body seize up. The clench of your sex around his cock was enough to force him to the edge, too, and as you hit your climax, his release exploded inside you, with your name falling off his tongue.

Joel lifted himself, molding your bodies together in his firm grip, your lips crushing together as he swallowed the tiny sounds still finding their way up your throat. Your hands clasped around the sides of his neck, keeping his mouth locked with yours until you felt his cock soften inside you. With a roll of his hips, Joel had you pinned to the mattress once more, his cock slipping free as he worked his mouth down your body. You tensed as his mouth grew closer to your navel, embarrassment forcing your spine to stiffen.

“Joel,” you cautioned. “You—you don’t have to do that.”

His nose brushed over your stomach, his hands working in tandem to pry your legs apart. With a dip of his head, he placed a gentle kiss on each thigh, humming in satisfaction.

“Y’want me to stop, baby?” He asked, his warm mouth hovering over your sensitive clit.

“I just—.” You were flustered. “I’ve never had someone…”

His fingers flexed and tightened around the supple skin of your hips, and you could see his dark eyes peering up at you with confusion as his brows knit together. 

“Don’t you dare tell me you ain’t ever had a man eat your pussy,” he warned. 

You bit your lip and gave him a single nod of your head. Bennett never went down on you, always making some sort of excuse. “You wouldn’t like it.” “I’m too tired, honey.” “Maybe next time.” He never offered, and eventually, you gave up asking. You could hardly count any guy before him since most had been careless hookups and one-night stands—most of them leaving you to chase your orgasm after they left. You couldn’t even count on two hands the times Bennett actually made you cum, and now Joel was setting himself up to do it again…for the third time.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, covering your face to hide the shame that burned under your cheeks.

“Baby, don’t do that,” Joel pleaded. “S’nothin’ to be sorry for, okay?”

“But you just…” You could feel his cum leaking out of you, still. Was he seriously considering this right now?

“I don’t care. I wanna taste us together, baby. Let me show you how good it can feel.”

You inhaled sharply, only responding with another tilt of your head. Joel’s mouth hovered over your slick entrance, his eyes still trained on you.

“Gimmie words, baby,” he said. “I need to hear you say ‘yes’.”

“Yes, Joel,” you whispered.

“Y’want my tongue?”

When you didn’t respond, he teased you with a sharp flick of his tongue against your clit, forcing a cry to erupt from your mouth. Joel groaned at your responsiveness to his touch, awarding you with a thick swipe of his tongue over your slick entrance. He worked at you like he was a dying man, and you were the last drop of water in an empty desert, lapping at every drop of cum dripping down your sex. You glanced at him, meeting his piercing stare between your legs. Rough fingers massaged your sore thighs while his tongue dove into you with such desperation you couldn’t tell if he was pleasuring you or if you were pleasuring him. Euphoria sparked in your veins, overwhelming you to the point of tears. Snaking a hand under your thigh, Joel worked two thick fingers inside you, prying you open and coaxing a sob from your throat. 

“Right there, oh my god. Joel, don’t stop,” you choked, gasping for air. 

His fingers and tongue worked at you in tandem, the orgasm surging inside you becoming all-consuming. It thrashed inside your veins and tore through you forcefully and without warning. You slumped against the comforter as your soul floated above your body. Was delirium a real thing? Because if it was, this was the precipice of madness. Joel swept a soft kiss over your aching clit before crawling on top of you again. Tangling his hand in the hair at the base of your neck, he brought his wet lips to yours until your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside. 

“Taste yourself, baby,” Joel moaned into your open mouth. “Don’t we taste so fuckin’ good?”

“Mhmm,” you whimpered.

Joel kissed you fervently; each stroke of his tongue against yours was purposeful and searing, a blistering admission of devotion and admiration. You still felt undeserving of it all: his patience, tenderness, and kindness… but maybe this was a start. Maybe he was worth letting it. 

As the kisses slowed and your bodies begged to be unstuck from one another, you found a stream of tears rolling down your cheeks. Fuck. The euphoria you had been sucked into was fading into the distance, and you were overly aware of the emotions crashing at the surface. Your voice was hoarse as you mumbled his name, breaking away from his embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, turning your head into the pillows. 

Joel hushed your cries, dragging his thumb over your cheek to collect your tears. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No, no,” you said, voice muffled. “I’m okay. Everything was great.”

“Then why’re you cryin’?”

You turned your head back to face him, catching the furrow of his brows through bleary eyes. 

“It’s stupid,” you muttered.

“Talk to me, please.”

You curled into his arms, burrowing your head into the crook of his neck. The smell of sex and sweat wafted off of him, mixing with the lingering warm cologne wafting off his skin. You never wanted to leave this moment. You never wanted to be untangled from his limbs. It was a terrifying realization; this was something you wanted. 

“You’re just—not what I expected.” It came out as a mixture of a laugh and cry, leaving you gasping for breath. “I haven’t been the easiest person to get to know, and I haven’t been the kindest, but you… you haven’t left. I don’t understand why you haven’t left.”

“Hey, hey… oh, baby,” Joel crooned. “Look at me.”

Joel’s fingers slid under your chin, fighting against your reluctance as you met his shadowed gaze. In the sunlight, you could see the unmistakable flecks of amber and gold swirling in his eyes, but in the darkness, they were nearly black—but just as soft and ardent. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? There ain’t a single thing that’s gonna change my mind about you. I know you’re worried about all this stuff happenin’ between us, but we can take things as slow as you want, baby. You call the shots from now on, and whatever you wanna do, I’ll be here,” he said. 

“I’m not worth—.”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “You are worth it. I’ll spend every day provin’ it if that’s what it takes.”

You didn’t know what to say when all you could cling to were the lingering memories of Bennett and the words he had once said. Yes, you loved him at one point, but there were so many reasons to hate him. The constant fights, the constant feeling of never being enough, the constant silence. The silence. Bennett’s silence was a weapon he used to pacify you. You learned over time that speaking up and communicating your feelings was unimportant to Bennett; if anything, it was an opportunity to minimize your voice and keep you docile. You became the smallest version of yourself in his shadow, clawing for scraps of his attention to try and keep the relationship afloat. You tried so hard to keep him happy until it came at the cost of losing yourself entirely. You didn’t recognize yourself anymore. 

“What can I do right now?” Joel asked, his voice swimming upstream against the thoughts that drowned you. “D’you wanna take a shower and sleep? Sarah’s at a sleepover tonight, so I ain’t got nowhere to be but here with you.”

You exhaled a heavy sigh, nodding your head at his offer. Joel unwound his limbs from yours, pulling you to your aching legs and letting you take the lead toward your ensuite. With a shaky hand, you flicked on the lights, your eyes squinting to adjust to the harshness of color that washed over the room. A quick look in the mirror told you everything you needed to know; you were thoroughly fucked and completely strung out. Your hair was a tangled mess hanging over your shoulders, your lips fuller and swollen from kissing, yet your eyes were hollow and glossy. Joel’s tall frame came into view behind you, his tanned arms snaking around your middle and tugging you back against his chest. Through the mirrored reflection, he held your gaze with an unwavering kindness that tore through every self-deprecating voice in your head. With his hand splayed over the expanse of your stomach, Joel dipped his head lower, his mouth hot against your ear. 

“Look how beautiful y’are, baby,” he praised. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your thighs together to quell the slow ache pulsating inside you again. 

You wanted so badly to see what he saw, but all you saw was the lingering handprints of the past plastered over your skin. The places Bennett had touched and kissed before, the echoed arguments that deafened your ears, every inch of you was left tainted. They say it takes the body seven years to replace its cells—seven years to be a new person from the inside out. You were hardly on the cusp of three years since Bennett last touched you, but you desperately wanted to be shed of every fiber that still clung to his memory. You couldn’t speed up the process; it was out of your control, but Joel touched you like he sought to do it himself. Inch by inch, your body would forget Bennett’s touch. It was your heart that needed to follow the same path. 

Joel’s deep voice whispering your name roused you from your thoughts, and your eyes snapped up to meet his through the mirrored reflection. Everything fell away, and you lost yourself again in the simplicity of being in the moment with him. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he urged, his hand coming down to palm your ass before delivering a light slap. 

You let out a startled laugh, forcing your legs to move and start up a warm shower. The second you both stepped under the blazing warmth of the spray, Joel had you pinned to the wall. You yelped at the startling cold of the tiles that pressed into your spine, but Joel’s hungry mouth swallowed every noise you made. Droplets of water fell off his damp curls, settling on your open mouth as he intertwined his tongue with yours. 

“C’mere,” he whispered, tugging you back under the pelting rain of the showerhead. 

You leaned your head back under the water, letting the water rush over your skin and drench your hair. Joel’s fingers twisted their way up the wet tendrils, gingerly massaging your scalp until a satisfied moan escaped your lips. He worked at lathering shampoo into your hair, scraping his nails across your scalp with each drag of his fingers. 

“This feels nice,” you muttered, your voice lost in the downpour of water above you. 

The resounding hum from Joel’s chest was all you heard as he washed your hair, his hands never leaving your body, even after the suds began to float down the drain. You lifted yourself on your toes to bring your mouth to his, not trusting yourself with words. For once in your life, you were speechless.

Time slipped away, and it wasn’t until you noticed your fingertips had pruned and the water ran cold that Joel finally tugged you out of the shower. You searched for two towels in your cabinets, watching as his hands worked the fabric over the low taper of his hips. Water droplets clung to the dark hair covering his chest, the muscles of his torso rising and falling with each breath. Your eyes wandered up to his face and settled on the natural upturn of his lips. You tried to fight the smile forming on your lips, but denying the emotions spreading through your body was practically impossible. 

You were happy. 

“I don’t like when you’re this quiet,” Joel chuckled softly. “I’m so used to you talkin’ or arguin’ with me.”

You blinked up at him, watching the crease form between his brows. It was the first time someone had an issue with you being quiet. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. It was your default response to everything. You were sorry for talking too much; you were sorry for not talking enough… you were just sorry. 

Joel’s hands came up to cup your face, leaving you with no choice but to look into his tired eyes. 

“I hate that you always say that,” he confessed. “I’m gonna make sure y’learn not to always say 'sorry'.”

“You’re gonna teach the teacher?” You lifted a brow. 

He chuckled and lifted his lips to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. 

“There she is,” he muttered against your skin. “Now, c’mon. You tired me out, and I can’t sleep without hearin’ your voice.”

“Oh, really?” You teased, peering up at him.

“Yeah, really,” he smiled. “So, let’s get our asses in bed, and y’can talk my ear off ‘til we fall asleep.”

And that’s exactly what you did. Hidden under the sanctuary of your comforter and pulled tight against Joel’s chest, you talked until the hours grew late. You told him about your childhood and how you failed math in sixth grade. You told him about your rebellious teen years, divulging the horrendous stories of how you and Beth would sneak out to parties together. He asked about college, and you told him what you could without including Bennett in the story. Occasionally, he would chime in to ask another question, and the conversation would keep rolling, suspending you both in time as you remained wrapped up in one another's embrace. Every doubt had faded, but as your eyes drifted shut, you hoped your guard would start fading, too. 

Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds that fluttered against your bedroom window, drenching the room in the warm colors of sunrise. You burrowed deeper into Joel’s body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat matching yours as he kept your back flush to his chest. His fingers flexed against your hips, tugging you closer—if that was even possible. 

“Mornin’, baby,” Joel said, his voice gravelly from sleep. 

“Good morning, Mr. Miller,” you yawned, shimming your body back against his, awarded with the hard press of his cock at the seam of your ass. 

“Oh, don’t start with that shit again,” he groaned, rolling you onto your back.

A laugh bubbled out of you as he framed you between two large arms. Craning your neck, you met his tired eyes and saw the laugh lines creasing the corners. This was how Joel looked in the morning, happy. With his curls untamed and that lopsided grin, he looked happy…with you. 

“I’m only teasing,” you laughed as his mouth worked its way down your neck.

“Fuckin’ better be,” he muttered in between each kiss. “I just got you sayin’ my name, so y’ better not take it back.”

“Oh, does me calling you Mr. Miller not turn you on?” You quipped.

“Trust me, baby, everything you do turns me on,” Joel growled.

“I don’t believe you.”

Joel’s mouth traveled down your chest, sucking marks into the skin of your breasts. You careened into his touch, moaning as his teeth grazed over a peaked nipple.

“When I saw you for that first time,” he started, his mouth still hot against your skin. “That fuckin’ dress you wore at the dance…I knew I was a goner. Looked so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Your voice was ragged as he continued moving lower. 

“I still think about how you teased me at the bar,” he said. “It drove me crazy, I swear.”

He had your legs spread open now, his nose pressed into your inner thigh. Arousal pooled between your legs, and you stole a glance at Joel’s eyes, connecting your slick entrance. Even though he fucked you sore last night, your body was addicted, so devastatingly responsive to every word he said. 

“And when you yelled at me? Fuck, somethin’ about seeing you all riled up. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought ‘bout you with my hand around my cock. I can’t get enough of you, baby,” Joel whispered. 

“You’ve thought about me like that?” You exhaled. 

“Ain’t nothin’ professional ‘bout the way I think about you.”

“Keep talking, Joel,” you begged. You were drunk on his words, completely and utterly wasted on every admission he made.

“Thought ‘bout you spread out like this for me.” He flattened his tongue against your entrance, lapping at the juices leaking out of you. “Dreamt ‘bout how sweet you’d taste and how you’d look when you cum.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours, holding your focus as he repeated the motion with his tongue. “Y’taste better than I ever expected.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back.

Joel’s lips suctioned around your clit, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud in a steady rhythm. You bucked against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that snaked its way through your stomach. He released you with a loud pop, his tongue tracing over your folds and dragging out the pleasure that swelled inside your core. He was teasing you, controlling your pleasure until it became tortuous. You cried out in frustration, bucking against his mouth, trying to find release. 

“Be patient for me, baby,” Joel whispered, ghosting his tongue over your clit again.

“Please, Joel,” you begged. Your fingers twisted into the bedsheets, your nails digging into the fabric to keep you grounded. 

Joel’s tongue teased your entrance, barely dipping into you—enough to make you curse under your breath. The longer he teased you, the stronger the need for release became. All you wanted was to fall apart, to feel the orgasm vibrate your nerves and relieve your heart from its erratic beating. You could hardly contain it any longer.

“I—I need…” You were blubbering nonsense, your thighs shaking around his head. 

“I know what ya’ need, baby. Just a lil’ bit more.”

Then he was assaulting you with his tongue, drawing circles over your throbbing clit until every muscle in your body tensed and trembled. Your vision blurred as everything rushed to the surface, your thighs squeezing around Joel’s head as the pleasure liquified inside you. You screamed out his name as your orgasm crescendoed and crashed hard. You clawed at the bed, your body seizing up with the final aftershocks rocking through you.

“I could do this for hours,” Joel hummed, nudging your throbbing clit with the tip of his nose.

You squirmed under him, trying to shove yourself up the bed and away from him. You were overstimulated and exhausted, your body still recovering from last night… and this. 

“What? Torture me?” You grumbled. 

Joel chuckled, smirking at you. He rolled onto his back, keeping his arm wrapped around your thigh. His finger massaged circles into the sore muscles, another groan leaving your lips. 

“Make you cum, baby,” Joel said. “Anythin’ you want, I’d do it.”

“How about you make me a coffee, Mr. Miller,” you sighed. “You’ve exhausted me.”

“And how do you like your coffee, Miss Smith?” He tossed back.

“Guess.”

Joel tilted his head back to look at you, his brown eyes glowing in the morning sun. He pursed his lips, studying you as he thought up an answer. 

“I’m guessin’ you like it strong,” he mused. “Maybe a lil’ dash of cream, but definitely no sugar.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp that turned into a fit of laughter. Joel raised an eyebrow at your response, rolling onto his stomach to watch you as you continued laughing. How did he read you so well? Even if it was just something as simple as coffee. 

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“It’s just crazy how well you know me, that’s all,” you giggled. 

“Wait, I guessed right?” He gaped. 

“Mhmm, right on the nose.”

“Well, c’mon, baby. Let’s get you that strong cup of coffee.” 

Joel tapped your leg before offering a hand to lift you from the bed. You scoured the floor for your underwear, finding them hidden under your nightstand alongside Joel’s boxers. With half your bodies clothed, you led Joel to the kitchen, the natural light reflecting off the marble countertops. It felt strange having someone in the house; you hadn’t brought anyone over since before Bennett left. You had grown so accustomed to your daily routine that including Joel in it felt unnatural…but also so normal. 

“Make yourself comfy,” Joel urged, motioning to the barstools at the end of the counter. 

You shimmed yourself onto the seat and watched him navigate around your kitchen. Your small pour-over sat in the corner beside the stove, which Joel quickly figured out. 

“Mugs?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Top right cabinet,” you said, pointing toward it.

Joel’s back muscles flexed as he reached to grab two mismatched mugs, and you leaned forward to watch him so relaxed in your home. His presence filled all the empty spaces you had hidden within the last two years. 

“I made coffee,” Bennett called from the kitchen.

You dragged yourself out of bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you shuffled down the hallway. The house smelt of coffee and pancakes, and the morning was off to a good start. After a late night of arguing, you hoped a shared breakfast together would at least minimize the hostility between the both of you. 

Bennett slid a mug across the counter, your hands wrapping around the hot ceramic and inhaling the steam that floated above the liquid. You muttered a soft ‘thank you’ before taking a sip, instantly scrunching your nose in disgust. 

“Did you put sugar in this?” You asked, setting the mug down.

Bennett shrugged, sipping from his mug, unphased by your complaint. His hair was messy from sleep, the blonde strands sticking up at odd angles. He had slept on the couch for the night, which clearly didn’t do him well. 

“You always have sugar in your coffee,” he glared at you. 

“Bennett, when have you ever seen me put sugar in my coffee?” 

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “Figured you liked it. Don’t all girls like sugar in their coffee?”

You scoffed at his words, shoving away from the counter and slipping off the barstool. Gripping the blanket tighter around your shoulders, you sulked into the living room, dropping yourself on the couch cushions.

“Here we go again,” Bennett grumbled, loud enough for you to hear.

Whipping your head back toward the kitchen, you jabbed a finger at him, a scowl twisting your lips upwards. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned. 

“For fucks sake, it’s just coffee!” He yelled. 

“It’s not just coffee,” you argued. “It’s you not knowing anything about me. It’s you not paying attention to me!”

Bennett slammed his mug onto the counter, rattling the ceramic. You jolted at the sound, shrinking further into the couch. 

“I’m so sick and tired of hearing you bitch all the fucking time,” he snapped. “You always have something to complain about. Who cares if there’s sugar in it? I was trying to do something nice, but now you’re turning it into an argument. Like you always do. I can never do anything right, huh? It’s always my fault.”

His words were like a slap in the face, a knife to the open wound still bleeding from last night. You and Bennett had gone to dinner together, and he spent half the night complaining about work, never once letting you speak. When you tried explaining that you wanted to enjoy a nice dinner without discussing work, he unleashed a speech about how you were never happy with anything. The argument followed you home until you were both in a screaming match and eventually retiring separately for sleep—you in an empty bed and him on the couch. All you had wanted was a nice date night together, and it ended as it always did: you alone. 

“I just wish you’d pay attention to me,” you muttered. 

“Because everything is always about you, right? You’ve got to make everything about you. You can’t just say ‘thank you’ and move on.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to keep your anger at bay. Arguing with him was a losing battle; he would never admit his faults, even if it were something as simple as this. You were too exhausted to fight, so you only nodded and rewarded him with a tightlipped smile. 

“Thank you for making coffee. I’m sorry for getting upset.”

Bennett rolled his eyes, dumping his coffee in the sink. 

“Whatever. I gotta get ready for work.”

Then he was disappearing down the hall, slamming the door shut hard enough to knock a picture frame off the walls. You jumped at the sound and let the tears quietly fall as you sat in heavy silence. 

“You alright?” Joel’s voice echoed around you. 

You blinked rapidly, shoving down the memories and returning to the present. Joel had a hand extended to you, the mug piping hot and billowing with steam. You took it carefully, blowing on it before you took a cautious sip. Perfect. It was perfect, and it twisted something unpleasant inside you. 

“I’m fine,” you lied, setting the mug down. You mindlessly traced circles around the brim, watching the bubbles around the edges pop against the heat. 

“Am I that bad at makin’ coffee?” He frowned, leaning against your fridge. 

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re thinkin’ about somethin’, huh?”

“Stop doing that,” you whispered, adverting your gaze toward the sliding doors leading to your backyard. 

“Doin’ what?”

“Seeing right through me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Joel moving through the kitchen, rounding the counter to stand in front of you. With a gentle hand under your chin, he drew your attention his way, a deep furrow between his brows. 

“You wear your emotions on your face,” he said. “I can tell when you’re upset ‘bout something.”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” you sighed. 

You didn’t like seeing Joel’s lips downturned; you missed the grin typically plastered on his face. You felt guilty for being the reason he looked so upset, and your knee-jerk apology was on the tip of your tongue. Joel bent down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering an extra moment before he pulled away. 

“What if I wanna talk about it?” He asked.

“I don’t think you do,” you laughed bitterly. 

Joel crowded you, stepping into the space between your legs. You were at eye level with his chest, counting the constellations of freckles hidden under the hair covering his torso. You’d rather marvel over his broad frame than discuss the painful memories of your past. You didn’t want to ruin this moment together. 

“It’s okay,” you insisted. 

“Don’t shy away from me, baby. Y’can talk to me ‘bout anything.”

You hesitated a moment. Joel had you spread open on your bed only minutes ago, and now the topic of your past was about to be the morning discussion. You didn’t want to talk about Bennett after an amazing night together, but if you knew anything about Joel, he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily. He always wanted to know more.

“You’re just different from what I’m used to,” you started. “Bennett, my ex, wasn’t like you. He didn’t pay attention to me the way you do.”

Something flashed over Joel’s eyes, a sudden flicker of anger as you spoke about Bennett. He gave you a moment to collect yourself before you continued. 

“We were together for five years, and he didn’t even know how I liked my coffee,” you scoffed. “And you guessed it in two seconds. Two seconds, Joel. I don’t understand how you do that.”

“Do what, baby?”

“Pay attention. You notice all these stupid, little things about me and make it seem so easy.”

Joel cupped your face in his large hands, his thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones. You leaned into him, letting his touch ground you while your eyes fluttered shut. 

“I pay attention ‘cause I wanna know everything about you. Every single lil’ thing. That’s what it’s supposed to be like in a relationship, baby. Y’learn everything about the other person, and you remember it. From what you’ve hinted ‘bout before, I take it this Bennett guy was a real piece of shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone has told me.”

“Am I wrong, though?” Joel pressed.

“No,” you confessed. “He did treat me like shit. I wasn’t allowed to speak up for myself, or he got mad. He liked it when I was submissive and quiet, so that’s what I became.”

Joel’s fingers flexed against your face, his jaw clenching at every new admission. You had never admitted those things aloud, that Bennett forced you into this tiny box, making you become the perfect, obedient girlfriend. With an engagement ring on your finger, you were even more inclined to be whatever he wanted, just to know he wanted to marry you. Looking back, maybe the ring was less of a testament to his love and more of a muzzle on your outspokenness. Someone wanted to marry you, so that should make you quiet, right? 

“I don’t want you quiet,” Joel whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want you to be yourself in every way.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Joel. I haven’t been that girl in years.” 

Tears were spilling over your cheeks, soaking Joel’s fingers that still gripped your face. Why did you cry so much around him? You hated how emotional you were; you hated feeling weak and small. You couldn’t get through one fucking interaction with Joel without ending up a mess. Did Bennett ruin you entirely? 

“I’m sorry,” you cried quietly. “You probably need to leave soon, huh? You said Sarah’s at a sleepover, so I’m sure you gotta go get her and—.”

Joel tugged you forward, fusing his lips with yours. The taste of coffee and sleep lingered on his tongue as he coaxed your mouth open, and you welcomed him without hesitation. He kissed you slowly, with deliberate determination. You responded the same, letting yourself grow limp in his arms.

Breaking away, Joel leveled you with a stern stare that didn’t quite reach his lips since they twitched into a smile.

“I’m gonna kiss you every time you apologize just to shut ya’ up,” he said.

“That doesn’t sound like a threat, Joel,” you smirked. “I’ll just apologize more.”

“Then I’ll figure out some other punishment.”

Your thighs clenched at his words, and your mind wandered to all the possibilities of what he could do. You hadn’t lied to him when you said you didn’t always like things ‘vanilla,’ but you hadn’t really dipped your toes into that area yet. You’d willingly explore it with him because if last night proved anything, it was that you trusted him more than anyone. He could do anything to you, and you knew you’d be safe.

“Got a dirty lil’ mind, huh?” Joel’s voice dropped lower.

“Oh, shut up.” You playfully shoved at his chest, shimming yourself off the barstool. 

Joel wrapped a hand around your wrist, pulling you back into his arms. 

“I’m serious, though, baby. It fuckin’ kills me to see you cry. I’m gonna fix that.”

“You don’t have to, Joel. I’ll be okay. I’ll work on it.”

“We are gonna work on it,” he corrected.

You swallowed thickly and nodded. You were in uncharted territory with him, afraid of the future but willing to see where it would go. You had fought against it for almost two months now, and you were tired of fighting. You’d take things slow and test the waters with him… and hope you wouldn’t come out the other side with a shattered heart.

After cleaning up the flower petals left in the entryway and redressing, you finally urged Joel to go home. It was mid-afternoon, and you knew Sarah would want time with her dad. You couldn’t selfishly keep him to yourself, but he made it very known how badly he wanted to stay. With his flannel in his hand and his hair slightly tamed, Joel lingered by the door, reluctant to leave. You had shrugged on a robe while he had dressed, already dreaming about the long bath you’d take when he left. Your muscles were screaming for release after last night and this morning.

“Y’sure I can’t stay a bit longer?” Joel pouted, his lips pushed out as he glanced at you.

You laughed at his demeanor, enjoying the playfulness he always exuded. You wanted to learn how to be like that, to shed the walls built up around you.

“Sarah’s going to want to spend the day with you,” you said. “We can plan another date soon.”

“Or…” Joel wagged his brows. “I could come back tonight.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Go home, Mr. Miller, before I kick you out.”

Joel tugged the belt wrapped around your waist, hauling you closer until you were bumping into his chest. Dipping his head, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips. You could feel the smile forming on his lips as you nipped at his bottom lip.

“Have a good day, baby,” he grinned. “I’ll call ya’ tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting,” you exhaled.

You watched Joel until he got to his truck, his grin shining bright under the afternoon's clear skies. You waved at him as he drove off and closed your door with a heavy sigh. You needed to find your phone and make a very important phone call.

“You had sex with him, huh?” Beth asked, the phone barely reaching the second ring before she picked up.

You flopped onto the couch, your head hitting the cushions with a soft thud. 

“I did,” you groaned.

“And?” She pressed.

“It was fucking amazing, Beth. I’m so screwed.”

“Why? Isn’t this a good thing? You finally hooked up!”

You grabbed a pillow to slap over your face, muffling a frustrated scream so that Beth wouldn’t hear.

“I’m scared, Beth.”

“Scared of falling in love?” Beth asked.

“Scared of getting hurt,” you sighed. 

Beth was quiet for a moment, exhaling before gathering her thoughts and speaking her mind. 

“You can’t let your past get in the way of this, sis,” she started. “Joel sounds like an amazing man, and he’s night and day different from Bennett. I get you’re scared of getting hurt, but I seriously doubt he would do anything to hurt you. Let him in, sis. Let him love you the way you deserve.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to reel in the tears… again. Beth was right, like always, but it didn’t make these feelings easier to battle. There was so much to lose.

“It’s obvious he likes me already, but I’m such a fucking mess. I—I feel so broken, still. What if he gets tired of me? What if he never feels anything more than this?”

“I think he’s already falling in love with you, sis.”

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Five: My Whole World Came Alive

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, and finally some progress. Tommy keeps it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you all for reading! Comments and reblogs make me weep with gratefulness.

Some of the tags aren't working in the taglist - if you're not getting the notifications, please check your settings to make sure you are taggable. Thx!

Chapter Four | Main Masterlist

Sitting in Phil’s Icehouse with juicy burgers and drinks – you insisted Joel try a mimosa – conversation flowed between the two of you. Joel found his lips twitching into a smile at nearly every word that came out of your mouth. He was fascinated with the stories you shared of your college years, and he listened, completely enraptured, to your plans for the future. Every bit of your lunch together felt like a date. He wondered if you felt the same, yet he couldn’t find the courage to ask outright.

“Yeah, so, I have a meeting at Sarah’s school this week for a possible position. Remember that interview I mentioned a few weeks back? It went really well and now they want me to meet with the teacher who’s retiring and the principal,” you explained, sipping at your mimosa. “I’m pretty excited.”

Joel’s eyes lit up. He’d forgotten that you were looking at a position at Sarah’s school. “Wow, that’s great, darlin’. This would be for a science teacher position, right?”

“Yep. Middle grade science.” The beaming smile you flashed him nearly blinded Joel. “Wanna know the best part? If I get this job, I’ll have the same hours as Sarah, give or take a bit, so I can continue with the school drop-off and pickup for you. She might have to stay later with me somedays, but it’ll still work.”

Nodding, Joel’s mind was flashing lightyears forward, picturing you calling his house home and taking Sarah to school with you, coming home to have dinner together, watching TV in the evenings. Heart thudding in his chest at just the thought of you living together, Joel shook himself. He had to slow his mind down, put the brakes on those kinds of thoughts until after you were actually dating him, at least.

“You could be Sarah’s science teacher in a few years, huh?” Joel asked, focusing once again on listening to you instead of drifting off into daydreams.

“Could be, yeah,” you laughed. “I imagine she’d be my favorite student.”

He beamed at that. Conversation shifted to other things and soon your meals were finished.

“We should do this again,” you said, glassy eyes meeting his across the table, lips curved in a gentle smile. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, Joel.”

Fighting the urge to grab your hand and entangle your fingers, Joel smiled back. “Yeah, me too.” He wanted to kick himself for not saying more, for not asking you out for a real date. He just couldn’t find his words.

How was it that you made him so nervous?

Joel spent the next week in some kind of weird liminal space between a dream and reality, between agonizing confusion and utter happiness. Lunch with you on Sunday felt like a date – he asked you with the intention of it being a date, even if you didn’t know that yet. He spent the week thinking about that lunch, how you teased each other, laughed, shared stories of your past. How your gazes locked for longer than necessary, touches lingered, the smiles never fell from your faces.

It was wonderful, yet nothing was said of what it all meant – which was his fault, probably. Hence the roller coaster of feelings throughout the week.

He could tell you felt it, too. Doing as Tommy suggested, he started paying close attention to how you acted around him, how you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was all starting to come together. He could finally see what Tommy was talking about.

You liked him. You really liked him, Joel Miller, overworked single father.

It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone liked him. It’d been way too long since he felt that way, that spark of hope for something more.

For the first time in a long time, he slept well the night before and woke early, eager to face the day and see you before heading off to work. He was already out front, filling a birdfeeder Sarah asked for, when you arrived.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted, pulling the car door open for you once you parked in the driveway. His heart skipped a beat at the way you smiled up at him, taking his hand to help you out of the car. Your touch electric on his roughened palm.

“Hiya, Joel.” Your voice washed over him, warm as honey and twice as sweet. “Whatcha doing out here?’

Gesturing to the red barn-style feeder Sarah picked, he finished filling it with the wild bird seed the clerk insisted birds loved. “Just fillin’ our new birdfeeder.”

“Oh, what a cute feeder!” You admired the intricate features as it hung from the post Joel installed. “Sarah has been talking nonstop about birds this week. Hopefully we’ll see some good ones.”

“Hope so,” Joel hummed in return. “Don’t know much about birds personally, but I’m sure Sarah’ll teach me.” Your smile brightened at his sheepish grin.

“I have a bird guide I could give her to help identify all the different types that visit the feeder.” Your face lit up with excitement. “I even have binoculars from when I took an ornithology class in undergrad. I’ll bring them when I pick up Sarah this afternoon.”

“Orna what now?” Joel questioned. He had no idea what kind of class you were talking about, but he loved how smart you were.

“Ornithology,” you repeated, drawing out each syllable with a soft giggle. “It’s the study of birds. It was a really cool class. We had field trips around campus once a week to go bird watching. I got pretty good at naming the different species that we saw, but it’s been a while.”

In awe of you, Joel’s eyes crinkled with the strength of his grin. “Would you, uh, maybe want to go on an adventure with us tomorrow?” he asked, stumbling a bit over his words, a nervous energy welling up in his gut as he once again sort of asked you out. “We could go for a hike in the county park, and you could teach us about birds.”

You gazed at him, lips pursed in thought, for long enough that Joel began to fidget, brimming with recurring doubt. Did he misinterpret the signs after all? He wouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t any good at this stuff anymore. You responded before he could spiral back into the land of self-doubt. “That sounds great, Joel. I’d love to.”

A visceral relief washed through him. “It’s a date then,” he said, his voice deep and rough while his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as your eyebrows rose in surprise. Too quickly, doubt clouded your pretty eyes, and you laughed it off like he was teasing you. Joel sighed. He would be more direct next time. He’d get the hang of asking a woman on a date again someday. Hopefully.

“We’ll have to go early, is that okay? Birds are more active in the early morning hours,” you explained, heading for the door to find Sarah.

“That’s fine. We’ll make a day of it, grab lunch somewhere when we’re done.” Joel followed you into the house, already plotting out conversations in his head on how to properly ask you on a date.

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Joel and before he knew it, the job was finished, and it was only mid-afternoon when he arrived home. You pulled into the driveway with Sarah shortly after him and he came down from taking a shower to find the pair of you on the living room floor playing a racing video game.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah exclaimed as he kissed the top of her head and took a seat on the couch. It didn’t take long before Sarah asked him to play as well and the three of you were taking turns racing against each other, laughing when one of you crashed.

There were moments, when your gaze would connect with Joel’s and he’d swear you shared the same thought – this was how it could be if you were together, a family.

“Do you want to stay for pizza? Tommy and your dad are coming over,” Joel asked when Sarah’s attention focused elsewhere.

“We have an early morning ahead of us, Miller. Don’t be up late partying with the guys,” you replied with a smile that reached your twinkling eyes. “I’ll stay for a bit, but then I need to go dig out the old binoculars and get my beauty sleep.”

“You’re already beautiful,” he murmured, watching your eyes widen as you smile demurely.

“You say the sweetest things, Joel.” Your voice held a teasing tone that drove Joel nuts. How was he ever going to convince you that he was serious?

Shortly thereafter, Tommy arrived, pizza and beer in hand. “Come on, Millers! I come bearing gifts. JB here yet?”

“I’m right here, ya troglodyte,” your dad called from the front yard, stepping up the porch steps as Tommy whirled around.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“A troglodyte. Learned it from Spud and thought it fitting since you don’t close doors behind you.” He winked at you as he teased the younger Miller brother. Placing a kiss on your cheek, he added, “Hey Spud, haven’t seen you in a bit. Must be working too hard. Miller! You workin’ my daughter too hard?”

Joel spluttered. He was too busy gazing at you to pay much attention to JB and feared he got busted. “I hardly think so,” he grumbled, fighting the blush he knew rose to his cheeks.

“Ah, in the same ol’ grumpy mood, I see. Maybe this’ll help.” Your dad placed a 12-pack of Joel’s favorite beer on the coffee table before taking a seat in the recliner he always chose at Joel’s place.

The five of you sat around the living room, eating pizza with beer for the men and sodas for you and Sarah. The conversation revolved mainly around construction work, and you ended up taking your leave before the sun dipped below the horizon. Your dad followed not long after, eager to relax in his own well-worn recliner.

“Alright, nugget. It’s time for bed. We have an early morning tomorrow,” Joel said, swinging the young girl over his shoulder much to her delight. “Say goodnight to Uncle Tommy.”

“G’night Uncle Tommy,” Sarah squealed as Joel tickled her sides.

“G’night nugget.”

Always a good kid, Sarah went right to bed after brushing her teeth, but not before pestering Joel about why they had to get up early on a Saturday. Pressing a loving kiss to her forehead, Joel tucked her in. “We’re going on a surprise adventure. Now, to sleep with you.”

Returning to the living room, Tommy handed him another beer as the brothers watched Sportscenter. “Have you made any progress yet?” Tommy asked.

Matching dark eyes met as Joel shrugged. He knew his brother was talking about you. “Some, I guess. Told ya I took her to lunch on Sunday and that felt a lot like a date. I asked her to go on a hike with me and Sarah tomorrow. I told her it was a date after she agreed, but she thought I was jokin’.” He paused, taking a long pull from the bottle of beer. “Then, this afternoon, I told her she was beautiful and again she thought I was teasing.”

Swirling the bottle of beer in his hand, Tommy shook his head and chuckled. “She’s givin’ you a run for your money, brother. Good on her.”

“Good on her,” Joel mocked, but his tone quickly turned to pleading. “I need more advice. Surely you got something up your sleeve for women like her.”

“Nah, brother. The only way to get someone like her is to be yourself and keep chipping away. It’s clear she has as much self-doubt as you do, so it’ll take her time to believe you’re for real.” Tommy eyed his brother a moment as he mulled over the situation. “Though, I will say this. You need to start bein’ direct – come right out and ask her on a date, for fuck’s sake. Enough hinting at shit. It’s clearly gettin’ you nowhere.”

You arrived on the Millers’ doorstep bright and early the next morning, two travel mugs of coffee and a container of chocolate milk in hand. A pair of binoculars and Sibley’s Guide to Birds were tucked away in the bag you wore over your shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, Millers! The early bird gets the worm!”

Joel and Sarah were perched at the breakfast bar when you let yourself in, both looking half awake and less than enthusiastic about being up so early on a Saturday.

“Too damn cheerful for this early,” Joel grumbled half-heartedly. His pitiful smile looked more like a grimace, yet you found it adorable. It made you ache to run your fingers through his hair until you drew a real smile from his lips.

“Don’t gimme that. This was your idea, Joel Miller!” you sassed in return, patting his broad shoulders. “Let’s go!”

Herding cats, that was the perfect analogy to describe the next fifteen minutes as you tried to get the Millers moving and into Joel’s truck. Just when you’d get one heading for the door, the other would disappear. Finally, you managed to wrangle them both into the truck and you were well on your way to the preserve. The ride didn’t take long, Sarah peppering you with questions about birds she found in your guidebook as Joel drove. By the time Joel pulled into a parking spot at the entrance to the trails, everyone was wide awake and ready to hike.

The morning was crisp and refreshing as you zipped up your jacket and looked around. You’d never been to this preserve before and wanted to find a trail map, but the mini-Miller was too anxious to wait for that.

“I can hear the birds chirping already, Daddy! Come on!” Sarah exclaimed, charging toward the first trail excitedly.

Joel beamed as Sarah took off, turning to you before following her. “Ready?” He reached out a hand, palm up and fingers splayed, inviting you to grasp it.

Your eyes trailed from his outstretched hand to his heavy gaze, uncertain of what to make of the signals Joel gave off. The feelings you harbored for the man grew stronger each day, yet you couldn’t quite get a read on whether he shared even a fraction of those feelings. Somedays, you thought he did. Yet others, you figured he thought you had a crush on him and found amusing. Your heart sunk on those days, causing the doubt to linger every time he did something to make you think otherwise.

The moment carried on too long, you realized, as Joel’s warm eyes began to shutter, the tender smile starting to slip. Bolstering your nerves, you plunged ahead and grasped his large hand in yours, tangling your fingers with his thicker ones. His hand was warm, skin roughened from years of working with his hands, and it felt wonderful against your smoother skin.

Heat flashed up your chest and neck as Joel led you down the trail to catch up with Sarah. A broad smile never left your lips as you walked.

“I meant it, you know,” Joel’s deep, gruff voice rumbled from deep in his chest and you glanced up to meet his gaze. “What I said yesterday, about this being a date. If that’s something you’re interested in.”

Heart thumping wildly, your mouth opened and closed a few times before you found your words. “Are you sure? I mean, yes. Yes, I’m interested.” You winced at how flustered you sounded, tripping over your words. And, worse yet, why was your voice so squeaky?

“Never been surer in my life,” Joel confirmed, his gaze searing your skin as he watched you, taking in every minute change in expression. His hand squeezed yours gently, steadying the butterflies in your stomach.

“I would really like that,” you replied breathlessly, relieved to finally have confirmation that the moments between you and Joel weren’t all in your head. You were on Cloud 9 until reality smacked you in the face. “But what about my dad?”

Sarah popped around a copse of live oaks, startling you both from. “Come on, you slow pokes! The birdies aren’t gonna wait all day for us to find them!” Not trusting you both to follow her on your own, the little girl latched on to your hand and pulled you along the trail. “You need to help me find the birds,” Sarah reminded you.

Joel’s hand still clasped in yours, you dragged him behind you, grinning over your shoulder at him. “I’m liking this date already, Joel.”

He beamed back at you. The three of you walked in silence for a bit, listening to the sounds of nature around you. When you spotted a bird blind, you handed Sarah the binoculars and the guidebook, challenging her to identify as many birds as she could from that spot. Joel stood next to you, watching Sarah enjoy the activity.

“Let’s see where this goes first before we worry about your dad,” he murmured. “I’d like to take you on a few dates first, okay?”

It made sense and you nodded, pleased at the way things were working out. Your hand remained in Joel’s throughout the birding adventure and though Sarah never mentioned it, her smile grew wide at the sight.

tbc

p.s. we should start building up to the good stuff in the next chapter.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx

[talaok]

Hunting lesson

Pairing: Joel miller x reader

summary: You try to teach Ellie to hunt, and Joel comes to help. ( Inspired by that 1x06 scene)

warnings: just fluff

"take a deep breath" you instructed

"no, Ellie, a deep breath, like this" you showered her, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

"fine" she grumbled, imitating what you'd just done.

"Good, now firmly grab the trigger " you helped her hand around it "aim, and you're ready"

"ok" she breathed, concentrating as she closed one eye.

Pow

You couldn't hold back a laugh

"shit" she hissed

"This rifle sucks"

You chuckled "you sure the rifle's the problem?"

"It's a piece of shit, it doesn't aim right" she whined

"yeah sure" you mocked "c'mon try again, you're getting better"

She glared at you "you don't have to lie"

that only made you snort "I'm not lying, at least you didn't close both your eyes this time"

"Wha-I never did that!"

"yes you did" you laughed

"c'mon grip the trigger and breathe before pulling it"

She sighed, doing just that

Pow

"oh c'mon!" she moaned, as the target remained untouched, or ungrazed really.

"you're really shit at this kid" you couldn't help but laugh

"oh thanks, such kind words of encouragement"

"I'm sorry, but you really are"

"maybe you're just a shit teacher"

You gasped, feigning offense "I'm most certainly not"

"or, as I've said before, this rifle is trash"

you looked amusedly at her "it's a poor carpenter who blames his tools"

"well maybe the carpenter's right" she cocked an eyebrow "maybe the tools just suck"

"sure thing" you joked " wanna try again?"

"I guess" she shrugged, positioning herself again

pow

"fuck"

"what are you doing?"

you both turned

"I'm teaching her to hunt"

"What? the snow?" Joel asked, making you both scowl at him

"the rifle sucks" Ellie explained

"didn't seem like it sucked to me" he walked closer, crouching between you and Ellie "show me" he nodded, and Ellie complied, taking another shot.

Joel turned to you, his brows raised as to say -really?-

"she's improved" you defended

"If this is improved I'm scared of how she was before"

"I'm right here" Ellie commented, making you smile.

"ok" he turned to her "try again"

She did, once again, only the ground beneath the target being hit.

"wide right, you're flinching"

She sighed "the target's too small"

"I made it bigger than I should have" you intervened

"eject the cartridge"

"I am not flinching," Ellie said defensively, only making Joel hum condescendingly.

"the rifle just sucks" she complained, clearly frustrated

"ok, give it" Joel gestured, giving up, and taking her place.

"It doesn't aim right" she continued blabbing, moving to Joe'ls right, while you were on his left "You'll see"

He sighed "a deep breath in, a slow breath out" he explained

"I told her already" you tilted your head, and he just bit down a smile

"you squeeze the trigger like you love it" He continued, and Ellie hummed in understanding

"gentle, steady, nice, and slow" he turned to you with a smug smirk and you had to bite down a grin, as your eyebrow shot up.

That was definitely his style

"ew," Ellie said, noticing the two of you "you're gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?"

You laughed "c'mon show us how it's done, Miller" you nodded to the rifle

"yeah" Ellie agreed "let's see if you're all talk"

"alright," he accepted the challenge, steadying himself before shooting.

Pow

"You... dick" Ellie breathed, and you smiled knowingly, of course he wasn't gonna miss.

"show off" you joined her, teasing Joel as he looked smugly between you two.

He got up and you both followed.

"He just got lucky" Ellie continued bitterly, talking to you

"of course" you agreed just to piss him off

"I doubt he can even see that far, considering his age" she said, making you laugh.

He turned at that, scowling at you both, and you could only grin as Ellie's eyes widened like she didn't definitely mean for him to hear that.

"whoops"

[thelastofhyde]

spring break.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller knows how to take advantage of being tommy's brother- aka he skips out on patrol to fuck you.

warnings. no use of y/n, pwp, established relationship, jackson!joel, teacher!reader, smut ( softdom!joel, unprotected piv, creampie, hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, ig a little bit of breath play/suffocation??, implied cum eating/cumplay/cunnilingus )

word count. 841

hyde’s input. have this porn with plot as an apology for the fact i've still not posted chapter three of psecds.

read on ao3.

joel miller is late for patrol.

as a matter of fact, he has no intention of showing up at all. because why on earth would he bother himself with mounting his horse, when he's got his girl spread on all fours?

"see, told ya he'd take a hint eventually."

all of him is warm- his skin on your skin, his breath on your neck. somewhere between your second and fourth orgasm, you've melted into the worn mattress of his bed, face burrowed in the earthy scents of his sweated-out sheets. he's followed you down, the heavy weight of his body the perfect blanket to comfort you from the world beyond joel's bedroom.

"tommy, he's uh- fuckin' christ darling, he's smart like that," he's barely thrusting at this point, hips as aching as the slow pace his pulsing cock ruts into you, each roll forcing your swollen clit to grind down onto the soaked sheets. "'s probably tellin' em all i'm sick or sumn."

and he is sick.

sick in the head, not even flinching as he went from pounding into your sopping cunt- one hand on your hip and the other tangled in your hair, pulling your back into the perfect arch- to shoving your face down and muffling your protests the second tommy's knocking began to ring through the house, too blinded by a hunger-filled lust to see the sense in your encouraging words to go with tommy, do your part for the community.

he'd not meant for things to go so off the rails, honestly. all he'd wanted was a peaceful moment to indulge in the privilege of waking up to you for once. no early patrols stealing him away, none of your teaching duties forcing him to wake up cold and alone. he pulled you closer, tightened his hold around your waist and nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

"straight out of heaven, that's what you are," the squelching of your soaking pussy fills the cosy room, remnants of previous orgasms painting a mess between your sweaty, sticky bodies. "my guardian angel, my girl."

but moments like this are so rare as of late. the pair of you hardly get days to yourselves. hell, you barely get any hours to yourselves. between jackson and it's people's incessant need to hold community activities, and ellie running rampant around the house whilst joel's working on making a living space out of the garage for her, and the countless hours of working you both find yourselves caught up in, joel's lucky to get a few desperate moments of "bumpin' uglies" before passing out for the night.

so how could he not seize this opportunity- an ellie-free house for once, a later than usual patrol shift, the school closed for spring break- and get himself tangled up in you, pretty and pliant in your freshly awakened state?

"c'mon, pretty baby," he's a cruel torturer, his gentle coo in your ear contrasting the returning vigour to his thrusts. it's a wonder the windows have yet to fog up. "show me how grateful you are to take this cock and give me one more, yeah? just one, s'all i'm askin'."

just one, a part of you feels like he's lying.

every part of him knows he's lying.

but you do as he asks, always. your toes curl, your breathing stops, your walls flutter and squeeze and cream around his cock for a fifth time. joel fucks you through it, always, soft hands soothing your burning skin. a few deep, brutish thrusts later and he follows suit, warmth filling you as he spills his cum inside you.

searching for air, you twist your neck to the right and free yourself from the mattress below. joel takes this as an invite to plant a wet, sloppy kiss against your cheek, the untrimmed ends of his greying beard scratching your skin just right.

it's blissful, and worth it, even if it means joel's left the team down one pair of hands on the patrol.

joel peels himself off you with a pleasured sigh, your limbs stretching out the aches in your muscles, freed at last from joel's lustful attack.

"make me lunch," you don't bother posing it as a question. he'll do whatever your will is, no questions asked. that's just the kind of man he's become, has always been. "since you're playing hooky at your real job."

he grumbles something behind you, hands soothing over the back of your thighs. his curiousity must get the best of him, trailing those big capable hands of his up to the globes of your ass and stretching them apart. cold air meets your pussy as his cum seeps out your seam, a pearly white slipping down your folds. you wince in discomfort. joel groans in frustration.

"gimme a second, angel," a kiss lands on your spine. a couple more follow right after, traveling lower each time. "gotta get my own fill first."

his tongue is warm as he licks a stripe up your cunt.

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Two: Delusions of Fantasy

Chapter Summary: Settling into the semester, you find yourself in an unsuspecting position with your professor, meetings that shouldn't feel so secret but do and an assignment that may change the course of things for the better...or much worse. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, more dream smut that translates into writing, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality, joel is conspicuously toeing the line of lusting after a student while reader is very obvious, some unspoken sexual tension

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You weren’t sure when days would begin to blur, pulling all-nighters to finish assignments that you kept putting off until the absolute last minute. But, the small coffee shop on the edge of campus has become your pseudo-home, early mornings and occasional nights when you need the extra energy boost or focus. 

There was a perfect little nook in the corner of the coffee shop that was hidden behind a wall. A small alcove that was usually empty—at least, it was when you tried to use it. And you find yourself there on a lonely night, crisp autumn air biting at your skin as you slip into the coffee shop. It’s mostly empty at this hour and you order your usual drink of choice before you’re slipping around the corner with your coffee in hand, startled by the sight before you.

“Oh, shit—Mr. Miller—” You stammer, stepping back awkwardly as you almost run into his arm that is flipping a pen between his fingers, his gaze flicking up to you curiously.

He’s just as surprised to see you here, but ultimately, it makes more sense in retrospect.

He had a house, an office (both here on campus and at home), but he preferred a place like this, surrounded by the smell of coffee and the gentle ambience. He could’ve gone home to Tess and gave up grading and preparing assignments, but that didn’t sound appealing either. He finds the more he’s in Tess’s presence, the worse his thoughts wonder.

That maybe escaping to the coffee shop would push you from his mind, but here you were, in the flesh, and Joel couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

He offers a curt nod, polite. Part of him expects you to just…go away. But, he has the idea that he’s probably taking up your usual study spot. Before he entertains the idea of leaving, you take a seat silently in the chair across from him, holding up your hand.

“No, it’s fine—you don’t have to leave or anything.” You tell him assuredly, opening up your laptop as you settle into your spot, eyes connecting with his over the edges of your screen, his expression looking a little more jaded than your own.

You were exhausted, but he was exhausted and upset. You couldn’t be sure at what, but there was the glaring fact that he was here, nearing midnight, when he could easily be at home. You didn’t question it though, finding that if you wanted to, you could wear him down enough to talk.

“So,” After a long stretch of silence and his silent typing away at his keyboard and you still staring at a mostly blank screen, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get much work done with him around, thoughts and eyes wondering curiously, “I read those books you suggested.”

Ah, right. The email he’d sent on a whim. A lapse of judgment after the fact, seeing how it could be misconstrued, knowing it could be viewed as inappropriate.

The thoughts he was having were inappropriate, but even then, he knew he would never entertain it. And shit, you’re still looking at him, expecting some type of answer.

“Did you enjoy them?” He asks simply, no elaboration or asking for much.

 Just a simple yes or no.

There’s an angst that settles in your gut over his acknowledgment of the email, nodding quietly.

You had, truthfully. It was a few poem books he said were his favorites, and you could see where your interests intertwined, finding that the tone in the poems he enjoys reading is what you also enjoy reading.

Angst, dread, intense feeling that was hard to ignore.

And truthfully, Mr. Miller was impossible to ignore.

“I read them the other night,” You add, pulling up a half-finished assignment from your English course, “you’ve got…good taste.”

Joel chuckles quietly at that, easing slightly in his seat. Part of him was worried, even if his intentions were in the right place, that things may be misconstrued. He breaths out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“I figured you’d enjoy them.” He smirks slightly.

You feel your cunt clenching at the subtlety, crossing one leg over the other as you find a hauty comparison to his words, thought flashing through your mind.

You’d gone to bed with the words of the poems on your mind that night, but the voice wasn’t lacking in tone or voiceless—in fact, it was his voice. His words as he pumped one, two, and then three fingers into you over his desk, hands clenched into his shirt as you held onto him like a lifeline, only surfacing back to reality just as you were about to come.

But, he didn’t need to know that.

And you didn’t need to know how desperate he fucked himself into a lonely fist when he was pent up from work (which was more often than not, lately) with the image of you on his mind.

He’s never had thoughts like this and he can’t comprehend why—part of him wants to blame Tess and her choices and the stress it has put on his marriage. But, Joel has been checked out for a while and this, even though only in the confines of his mind, feels like an even worse betrayal.

“You should send me more.” A soft sip on your coffee as you stare flirtatiously over the rim of your cup—cool it, you tell yourself. But, it doesn’t work.

There’s a small twitch in his face, the deepest hint of a smile saying—yeah, I’ll challenge that—but it quickly fades. 

“Just…if you want to,” You add, playing things subtly, carefully, “if that’s okay?”

Joel knows he shouldn’t entertain the idea, but he sees the genuineness in your expression, beyond his attraction toward you. You had a desire to write and share and feel—he could respect that. He nods slightly, pressing his laptop closed and gathering his things slowly.

“Alright—give me a couple days,” Joel bargains, “Anything you prefer?”

You shake your head innocently, wishing he would recommend his own literature. You wanted to see how deep his ego ran, if he had the nerve to be so bold. “Anything you like, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it too.”

It was an understatement.

And the accidental coffee shop mishap doesn’t end there. In fact, it quickly grows out of control, beyond your own intention—this was natural, no coaxing needed.

–

Joel hated how much he craved your presence outside of work, in this stupid fucking coffee shop—but like his dependency to schedule and caffeine, he finds you become a normal occurrence and it throws him out of wack when you’re not around.

Luckily, you never strayed. You were there every night, even early mornings when he had to take a retirement for the night—you didn’t need to pry, you knew. He’d twist a nervous hand around his wrist that slowly trailed to his ring finger, fingers flexing anxiously. He had to be home, he didn’t want more problems. Even if this was somehow helping him work through his inhibitions, he still had a responsibility.

And Joel knows the time he’s spending with you could be misconstrued, but he does it out of a genuineness to further your interest and desire into literature if anything. He’s met with many students after hours—though, not to this extent. And always within the grounds of school, either in the classroom or his assigned office, nothing beyond the border of allowing a personal connection.

He was bending rules for you and he couldn’t help it.

There’s so much you learn in the short month or so that this drags on—Joel likes black coffee, no add-ins or sweet touches. He fidgets a lot, fingers constantly twisting at the watch on his wrist or scratching at his slowly regrowing stubble when he had just shaven a day or two prior—you start to notice the small blank patches in his beard because of it.

He seems so unsuspecting and normal—maybe that was what drew you in. You couldn’t really pinpoint it anymore. There was a point where the secret admiring morphed into open admiration and maybe Joel should’ve stopped it there. But, it made him feel good.

It made him feel wanted. And that was his first real mistake he made with you.

Allowing it.

It never breached anything inappropriate, but he’d notice when you would track the movement of his hands, rubbing over his face or neck in exhaustion, arms stretching over the back of his head after a long period of sitting down, hunched over in the small sanctuary you two had constantly found yourself in.

Mr. Miller was fair in that he never helped you with his assignments. He wasn’t there to give you a leg up or help you out in that regard, he knew you were capable. Competent. But, he fed your desire for him and literature by asking about your own interests and melding them his own, curating your time together in the small cafe with topics you could both find yourself getting lost in.

It was easy to lose track of time with him. And very irresponsible.

Joel does notice your longing glances and subtle twitches in your face when he does certaIn things, moving his body in a way that accentuates his strong form—he wasn’t toned necessarily, but he was broad, large, and he wasn’t amiss to how his own shirt clung to his body or how well-tailored his slacks were. He liked things to fit well. And you appreciated that so much.

But, beyond your own disappointment, things never cross that line.

He never makes a comment or threads the line of touching you, his hands always aware of their placement around you—and maybe he was just being respectful and was terrified to lose his job, but you can see the flex of his fingers when you remove your sweater or lean in to close to him, his eyes dragging along the slope of your neck, nostrils flaring in response at how comfortable enough you feel to just lean in.

He’s foolish to think this wouldn’t mean anything to you, but he allows that thought to stray from his mind and continues, too attached to these meet-ups like they were his own form of free therapy, beyond the dreadful marriage counseling he was going through.

It wasn’t working, but this was.

And he thinks that it is partly because it’s you and not Tess.

In fact, he knows it’s you.

The emails continue for weeks, days upon days of trading back responses and links—and really, everything is telling him to stop. Everything.

The guilt. The fear. The anger.

Yet, he never tries.

-

Joel can feel you breaking out of your shell little by little, more engaged in the group setting of the classroom the more time he’s spent with you one on one. He doesn’t want to initiate a responsibility in it, but he can since the familiarity and comfort when you speak–even if it's mostly directed at him.

Truthfully, you didn’t have a problem speaking in front of the class, but if it filled Mr. Miller with a sort of pride, you weren’t going to deny that.

You try to ignore the way he speaks your name, calls on you and beckons you to speak with a raise of his eyebrows, arms crossed firmly over his chest–and your eyes draw to his stomach, following along the soft slope and over his groin and you see his thighs tense as he crosses his legs too, one gently over the other as he leaned against his desk.

You smirk slightly, feigning a look of innocence as your eyes drag to his face, answering his question mindlessly—something about how to capture dialogue properly and even Joel can see that you’re not fully there, mind elsewhere.

It wasn’t hard to surmise where, but he ignored it. For now.

But, it wasn’t until the day was nearing the end of your class, head buried in your laptop as you copied your handwritten notes down into a document for later, knowing absently that he was perusing around the room but trying to ignore his lingering presence every time he glanced over at you.

His hands surround your chair before he announces himself, flimsy plastic creaking underneath his grip.

“Mr. Miller.” You address pleasantly, typing idly away at your keyboard.

He speaks your name gently, a reverence in his tone that allures fondness, a smile creeping on his lips. 

“Any questions?” He asks curiously, brow furrowing in confusion, “On the assignment—“

He points blindly to the board, eyes still locked on you as your head turns toward the board, down at your notes, then back at him.

“I mean—not really?” You sound unsure, “Write something fantasy, make it interesting—“

He can feel your interest waning, seeming rather nonchalant about the topic, like it would be an absolute breeze and wasn’t worth the wasted energy. But, he’s challenging you.

To what, you weren’t sure.

Joel clears his throat, grip tightening on the back of your chair as he leaned over subtly, chest crowding around the back of your head, examine the notes you did have type out before his eyes dragging back toward you, and you can’t ignore his gaze, chin turning up toward him and your eyes soften as they connect with his.

“But, specifically—dreams.” He clarifies, “Sometimes your best ideas can come to you in a dream—so think of it as journaling them but, expanding…bringing it to life.”

Dreams…

You’ve had enough of them in preceding weeks to last you a lifetime, all including him.

“Bringing it to life…” You echo his words, mincing the words on your tongue as the idea flusters your mind, a small nod from Joel in response.

Of course, he had no idea the extent of how deep your mind wandered, but his words were edging too close for comfort, like he had the faintest idea.

There’s a brief moment of self awareness as his eyes drag to your lips, tongue dampening them as you soothe the chapped skin, nodding absently.

“I think—I think I understand what you’re saying.”

Mr. Miller smiles then, whether fake or not you couldn’t tell, “Good—feel free to, uh—“

Email him.

You see him hesitate to force the words out, chuckle awkwardly as he leans away, breaking the built up tension between you both.

“Yeah, yep.” You laugh softly, infectiously as you turn your attention back toward your laptop, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He pats your shoulder softly and squeezes, the only point of contact he ever allows himself, never letting his touch linger or stray because he knows—if he broke that point of contact and wandered elsewhere, he wasn’t sure he could stop.

-

You tap mindlessly at the edge of your keyboard, laptop resting wobbly in your propped up legs, start to type a word before quick erasing. Mind flicking through baseless and boring ideas, wondering how easily you could muster up a fake dream and amaze Mr. Miller with your lackluster writing skills—just lie, it wasn’t that hard.

You feel your mind wandering then, head hung back against your pillow as you stare at your ceiling, his expression etched into the back of your mind, eyes wandering along the dip in your cupid’s bow and the less than subtle lick of your lips that you offered in return. 

This couldn’t all be in your head.

You sigh, heavy and thick, but the soft ding of a notification on your laptop pulls your attention.

On the other end, Joel sits anxiously at his desk, foot tapping insistently against the hardwood floor, still fully dressed from work sans his tie that laid slack on his desk.

It wasn’t even a fully drafted email, rather a precursor to beginnings of an improper, but casual conversation. He tried to keep an open line of communication with all of his students, but when you don’t show up at the coffee shop that night, too burdened with the idea of just what you were going to write—he worries. 

‘Are things coming along? Didn’t catch you at the cafe tonight.’

You stare blankly, unsure how to respond.

It felt…odd, starting a conversation over email.

Of course, you didn’t have any other means of communication, so this is what Joel was forced to devolve too, tapping nervously as he awaited your response.

‘Having trouble actually—any suggestions?’

Part of you craves to hear his voice—and selfishly, he does too. And Joel knows the moment he offers the information up, he’s going to regret it. But, he does.

The house was empty, thankfully. Tess was working later than usual and Joel couldn’t be bothered with the semantics, finding himself straying further and further from this bed every night. His office was his new sanctuary, bad back be damned—he would choose the couch over a bed with her, knowing she still judged him for the choices she made.

A phone number is attached to the email that follows, ‘I’m free, if you want to talk through it.’

Your heart desynced from its usual rhythm for a brief moment, nearly fleeing your body if you hadn’t felt it so deeply in your chest. You couldn’t—this…it couldn’t be all in your head.

You quickly type the number into your contacts, hovering for far too many minutes over the call button, wondering if it mattered how you looked—if he would judge. You didn’t appear much different, but you were in your own comforts, vulnerable. And as much as he appeared here in your dreams, the reality of him being this close was startling.

You bite thoughtfully at your bottom lip as you prop your phone against the screen of your laptop, a blank document open behind the calling screen as you went through with your hesitation and attempt to connect the call, chin resting against your fist as you waited, eyes wandering aimlessly around the room.

When the familiar tone blares of the call going through and Joel is suddenly appearing on screen, you’re not sure why you followed through with this in the first place—even if he was the one who insisted it by offering up the information.

He looks slightly more disheveled across the screen, still dressed in the outfit you saw him in earlier, his tie gone, a button or two undone, and he’s definitely allowed his fingers to run through his usually quaffed hair, a curl falling freely over his forehead, his phone seemingly propped up in a similar manner as you can see most his upper body that wasn’t hidden by his desk.

“So, what’s the issue?”

He jumps right in, which isn’t surprising.

You feel the sense of familiarity in your usual conversations, like you were almost there in the room with him—you couldn’t imagine how exhausted you looked or seem currently, but you push the thought from your mind and hoped it didn’t cross his, that he wasn’t harping on your similarly disheveled appearance in his mind.

He seemed as if he genuinely wanted to help.

You hated it, wishing he wouldn’t drag things out.

If he wanted you, he could have you.

Instead, it felt like he wanted to—or rather needed to keep you at a distance, just out of reach for his own good rather than yours.

“Just…wondering, I guess.” You look down briefly, feeling his curiosity through the screen as you pick at a frayed thread in your blanket. “How—how detailed are you asking?”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be so loud that it feels like…too much?” Joel feels like he may not be making complete sense, but he tries. “Do you have a few dreams you remember well that you feel the need to jot down, that you can morph it into something tangible?”

The way he speaks so eloquently, even beyond the guise of his profession, never gets old. Maybe it is a habit he’s formed, speaking and teaching for so many years that he can’t force himself out of that mode—but maybe he was also allowing it to be a barrier, that if he let his guard down too much that you might sneak in and find a way to pick at him and allow yourself to get comfortable.

He couldn’t do…comfortable. But, this—this he could manage. It allowed for a clear divide between student and teacher. Professional and casual, even if he didn’t hand out his phone number to people so willingly. 

“Um…yeah,” You nod slightly, mind filtering through the filthy thoughts of him over you, breathing a deep satiating desire for relief into your body, lips on your body, fingers buried deep inside of you, bringing you right near the precipice before you’re being ripped away from the glorious fantasy, “there’s a few, I guess.”

“Do you wanna share?” His eyebrows raise inquisitively, his hand disappearing off screen to bring a clear glass to his lips, half-filled with a dark brown liquid.

Tequila, maybe? Whiskey? 

His lips curl around the edge of the and he sips, ice clanking inside of the glass as he awaits your response.

You shake your head hesitantly, smiling slightly, “I think the whole point is to surprise you, right?”

He chuckles softly, “I suppose.”

“Maybe…some vague advice, if you have any?”

Joel sets the glass against the desk a few inches off screen, thinking quietly. Eyebrows furrowing deep as he contemplates. Hard.

“Don’t hold back,” He starts, staring mindlessly off into the distance as he speaks, “be—be authentic and try not to limit yourself.”

“So, no sparing any details?” You ask teasingly and he smirks at your playful tone.

“Why would you do that?” He asks unknowingly of the thoughts on your mind, “You’re a beautiful writer, don’t discredit yourself.”

It tugs at something deep inside of you, a subtle frown forming on your face as you nod in response. “Thank you…”

“Hey,” There’s a gentle utterance of your name that has your eyes connecting fiercely across the screen, “I mean that.”

You’re silent, at a loss for words. It wasn’t for lack of knowing what to say, but how to say something—how to extend your appreciation. But, you figure that may translate better through writing, brewing over the idea in your head.

“Mr. Miller—“ Your mind lingers on unspoken words and thoughts, begging to be spoken, but the faint creak of a door in the background on his end has you both shooting to attention, a shared understanding as he scrambles slightly.

“If you run into any road blocks, just send me a message, okay?”

You nod, cut off by his sudden eagerness to end the call—feeling you just got caught doing something horrible, a shunning on the horizon.

You sleep that night with a fresh revelation on your mind, smothered by the feeling of special treatment that Mr. Miller was offering, wholly committed to your own delusion and it fuels and stokes that fire effortlessly. And the vivid scenes of your dream flow onto the page the following morning in perfect detail:

It starts off innocent, a bland tale of forbidden love or…something thereof, playing at the idea that this wasn’t supposed to be. Two parrying forces that yearn for the other but can’t find the courage to jump or take that leap—full of dread and hesitance and intensifying that idea. 

Until, there’s a major implode of tension.

A sudden snap on the male character that resembles Joel so much it is unsettling, down to the subtle mannerisms as he takes in the characters appearance and words throughout, slowly describing yourself in a way that isn’t…obvious. But, it is heavily implied. 

There’s a sudden confession of desire, not love, but a definite yearning that is mostly mutual, leading into a fantasy of filth. Debauchery personified in a way that feels inappropriate to write for a college assignment but is therapeutic for your mind.

His hands wander with a restrain that reads as worried—unsure of what the other character expects, but the moment your lips connect all bets are off, clothes rapidly disappearing amongst the confines of the male’s vaguely described quarters, laid over a flat surface. His bed or his desk, the detail is omitted, but he crowds dream you in and devours, capturing your mouth in another heated kiss, hands wasting no time as they slip over your cunt, beyond the sacred barrier of your underwear and inside of you like he’s done this a million times before.

In your mind, he had. But, that was beyond the point.

His fingers work you over expertly, your own hands wandering over his strong frame, biceps flexing underneath your touch as you describe a distinct feeling of stubble as he decends and you feel the texture against the inside of your thighs, underwear disappearing at some point you can’t remember before his mouth is latching into your cunt without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his mouth so vividly it almost startled you awake at the time, the distinctness of his voice echoing in your mind, biting your lip to stifle your desperate moans.

“Don’t hold back.” He echoes, a distinct line of dialogue that sticks out in your mind as you type it into the document, feeling your inside twist and clench at the fleeting memory of his voice.

You come against his mouth with a shout, fingers twisting into his horrible disheveled hair, just long enough that you can secure a good grip before you’re pulling him upright, tasting the slick of yourself on your tongue as you kiss him.

It’s all a dream, after all. 

You take your own liberties, playing up the descriptions in a way that feels sinful, but you do it anyway. You finished the assignment in a few hours despite the ability to extend it over a few days, not bothering to wait as the idea was still fresh in your mind as you typed it out.

You don’t even hesitate to send the assignment once it is finished, fully confident in your abilities and Joel’s echoing encouragement.

It may have been the best thing you’ve ever written.

-

Joel is blissfully unaware of the debauchery awaiting him in his inbox, busying himself with the endless list of divorce attorneys in the state, wondering if he should really go through with this—ending his marriage, starting anew and cutting ties with Tess. He isn’t sure, really.

He isn’t positive about anything in his life anymore. 

He sips gingerly at the steaming cup of coffee, his second of the night as he switches between his browser and a separate page of assignments he was concocting for the rest of the semester, specifically tailoring some around your own interests. He couldn’t explain why he was putting the effort in, why there was genuine concern—but he wanted you to succeed, if anything.

You don’t see him at first, he wasn’t hidden away in your usual spot, but he’s tucked away in a quiet corner near the back of the cafe, and you almost decide to ignore him and give him the space he seems like he craved, wondering if he had already read through your essay, but he nods at you subtly when he catches your gaze, a quick look up from his computer as you grabbed your coffee order from the barista.

Come here, he beckons silently.

You cross a single arm over your chest and press the lid of the cup to your lips and sip, gentle are careful steps progressing his way as you stop, hip pressing against the edge of the table. He looks at you, friendly and innocent, like he hadn’t offered up his phone number without precautions or asking, handing out the final line of connection that sealed the deal for you. This wasn’t just…help. It had to be more.

“J–Mr. Miller,” You catch yourself, finding his first name almost slipping from your lips, too close for comfort but he doesn’t seem to catch it, “reading through the assignments?”

You’re curious, but silently hoping he hasn’t crossed yours yet. Or, if he had, wondering if he was calling you over for that very reason—he wouldn’t express his thoughts in the coffee shop though, he couldn’t. If he lies, you can’t see through it.

“Uh, not yet, giving that a couple days,” He shakes his head, closing out of the browsers and shutting his laptop, “sit?”

He’s extending the invitation, hand gesturing toward the empty seat.

You bite back the smile that creeps on your face and take a seat, pulling at the sweater that covers your body, the cold chill creeping into the cafe as the bells to the entrance ring.

“Did you ever figure out what you were struggling with?” Joel asks curiously, still painfully in teacher mode, much to your dismay, “I didn’t hear from you, so…”

“Oh, um,” There’s an excited fluttering in your tummy, hesitant to debrief him on the details, but you nod, “yeah—just took a little bit of thought and the words started flowing.”

“Well, that’s good,” He offers politely, “I’m glad I could help—if…if I did.”

“Of course,” You smile more confidently, “You always do.”

If he only knew.

His eyebrows furrowing subconsciously, staring at his watch as the numbers creeped closer to midnight, his mind heavy with thought he wouldn’t speak out loud. So, you ask.

“Are you okay?” You utter softly, knowing it was the instance either of you have ever made the effort to ask—through countless meet-ups and secret conversation, feeling a need to keep it all hushed—it never occurred to you until you’re saying the words out loud. “You seem…irritated.”

Joel laughs bitterly, a soft chuckle that radiates in his chest. “Who isn’t?” He challenges, seeing the familiar look cross your own face, “Sorry—that’s—”

Joel looks away briefly, feeling that confiding you was a line he couldn’t cross, even though he’s blurred just about every other one in existence. 

“I don’t mean to pry,” You shrug, “but I figure—it doesn’t hurt to ask?”

He’s withholding and you can see it, clock it in the way he checks his phone screen—a few missed calls and a text but you can’t read out anything other than the name. Tess.

Tess Miller. Got it.

“Did you get your assignment turned in then?” He asks curiously.

You nod shyly, twirling the cup slowly on the table, eyes drawn away from him despite how starkly he glared at you, hands cupped in his lap underneath the table. If you scooted closer your knees would knock together and you fight the urge to do so.

Joel notices the way you curl inward, a subconscious act that always denotes something simmering beneath the surface with you. He was used to your forwardness, your inability to respect personal space to a degree that…didn’t necessarily bother him in the way that it should. And he hates how his cock twitches at the sight of you glancing away, intimidated by his eye contact for once in the few months he’s gotten to know you.

There’s a creeping thought edging its way into his mind, an urge to force your wandering gaze on him, coax you into trusting him, wondering just how easy it would be for you to comply with his will, if it would take any fight on your part at all.

“Good, I’m excited to read it.” Joel replies honestly, a genuine smile finding its way onto his face, “I’m always lookin’ forward to what your mind thinks up.”

He may be asking for more than he bargains for with that.

“Well, I’ll see you on Monday then?” You confirm, feeling the need for a quick escape, things getting entirely too close for comfort, “Hopefully with a perfect score?”

Joel smirks knowingly, “Don’t get ahead of yourself now.” He teases.

Unfortunately, you were yards if not miles ahead. 

Beyond saving.

And Joel had no idea.

[actual-changeling]

"Joel?"

Ellie shifts slightly so she can look up at him, cheek squished against his biceps. The movie is long over, but the best part of the night is dozing off pressed against Joel while he reads or whittles away at something. Sometimes he even reads out-loud, voice rhythmic and soft, lulling her to sleep. He glances down at her and lowers his book, arm coming up to wrap around her.

"Yeah, baby?"

She chews on her lip, trying to find the words in her tired mind, and Joel's thumb gently rubbing her shoulder is the opposite of helpful, her eyelids fluttering shut.

"What's Tommy, like, to me? He's your brother but I don't. I don't know where I fit."

Joel stays silent for a litlte bit, seemingly properly thinking about her question, and she curls up tighter against his chest, pressing her face into his shirt somewhere below his neck. She's tired enough to fall asleep like this even with the lights on, and she chose this moment exactly because of that, knowing that the fatigue will prevent her from freaking out too much; so far, it's doing its job.

"Tommy is whatever you want him to be, babygirl, there's no pressure."

"I know", she sighs, answer kind in his typical Joel-fashion, but useless.

"I just don't know what to call him, to other people, I mean."

Explaining her relationship with Joel to the other children and teachers at school was already a task, and while the latter didn't question her answers, she's given up on trying to convince her classmates that Joel isn't her actual dad. The spark for this conversation had been an encounter with one of the newer arrivals, whom Tommy had introduced her to as 'my brother's kid', which, sure, probably the easiest way of putting it. But-

"Someone called him my uncle, and he didn't correct them. I don't know if-"

"If he's okay with everyone calling him that?"

Ellie nods, glad that he understands what she is getting at, and he holds her a little tighter as he pulls her further into his lap. Joel presses a kiss to her temple, her forehead, then her hair before settling with his chin resting on the top of her head, his hands rubbing soft circles into her back.

"You're my kid," he says plainly, "which makes you a part of his family, and since he's my brother, yeah, I guess uncle is accurate. I don't think he minds."

"You sure?"

The last thing she wants to do is upset either of them, and she and Tommy have actually been getting along quite well, bullying Joel and doing all the things he doesn't want either of them to do - in short, making him go grey twice as fast as before.

"Very sure."

(He doesn't want to tell her just yet that Tommy has been calling himself her uncle since day one, introducing Ellie as his niece in turn.)

"Alright."

Ellie wraps her arms around his waist when Joel lowers them onto the couch, safely trapped between him and the backrest, and she holds on tight even while she drifts off, sleep coming easily and gently, closing their eyes with a gentle touch. He will carry her to bed later, enjoying the opportunity to simply feel her breathing and alive against him for now.

"G'night, Joel." (Saying it doesn't sound right, but she doesn't have to, they can both sense it. Her friends calling him that no longer sounds quite as wrong.)

"Sleep tight, baby." (They all know, and Tommy is intentionally driving the point home, but he doesn't need to tell her; she knows. They both do.)

That's my niece, Ellie.

Oh, she's my brother's daughter.

Joel is her dad, idiot.

Must run in the Miller family.

Family, they all know, is way more than just shared DNA. It's the people you trust, who will keep you safe.

It's everyone you come home to at the end of a long, long day.

[auteurdelabre]

Code Broken (Chapter 2) Mean!Joel x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze. 

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: Extremely dubious consent, oral sex [f receiving], Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk  

word count:  5.1k

a/n: Y'all, this whole series is pretty depraved (from my perspective) and much darker than my normal stuff. I wanted it as a challenge and I had a lot of fun doing the series, there's 5 parts so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and the like really make my day. xx

masterlist

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Chapter 2: House of the Rising Sun

Its months later, the beginning of fall in Jackson city. The homes are decorated with paper cut outs of black cats and witches. Streamers of orange and black curve around the poles of the canteen. Pumpkins are carved and placed on doorsteps in preparation for next week. 

It's your favorite time of year here. The time after the oppressive heat of the summer yet before the blankets of snow that overstay their welcome a little longer each year. It's the time when you pull out your favorite knitted scarf and go for long walks within the expanse of the community. 

Trish is getting married to one of the butchers in town. He's shy but quick to smile with white blonde hair that falls into his eyes. 

As with most celebrations the entire community is invited and involved in some way. You're making the dress. The girls from work are joyfully putting together decorations, citing that these will be even nicer than the ones done for Tommy and Maria's wedding party. The event is still months away but you want it to be perfect. Trish means so much to you.

You have a basket overflowing with multicoloured foliage to decorate your home but when you notice a pale yellow groundsel amongst the sleeping earth you stop. You bend down and pluck the flower, marvelling at the softness of its plush petals. Under your fingertips they feel like the gentle lips of a lover. 

The sudden, intrusive thought that comes with that unbidden thought causes you to scowl, crumpling the delicate flower in your fist. You drop its crushed body to the ground as you continue on your walk. 

You know with the encroaching cold weather you'll have a lot to mend at the office tomorrow. Pants, jackets, curtains, blankets. You're never in need of something to do, that's for certain and you like that. You like a purpose, you like seeing people walk by in your knitted scarves or patched jeans. It gives you a satisfaction that just surviving from place to place for years never could. 

You like the people you work with, they always invite you for a drink at the end of the week as if the job you all do is such a strain. As if you don't all work half a day, mending and darning around the circular table over coffee and laughter, taking turns using the sewing machine for the bigger projects. 

It's at your job where you'd first met Trish who was bringing in a stack of fabric she hoped could be turned into curtains. She was one of the teachers of the younger kids, desperate to bring some color into the drab classroom she'd been given. You'd been new, shy and Trish had taken you under her wing. She had always looked out for you, always supported you.

It's why you want her wedding to be as perfect as possible. You know she would just borrow some nice dress a neighbor owns instead of getting one made by you. You know she wouldn't ask for the work you’re putting into her dress, but you do it anyway. Those extra touches mean something to you and to her. 

The dress is far and above the hardest thing you've ever made. Designed it, sewn it, and cried in frustration over it. 

When a pile of old lace had been brought in to the sewing room you'd squealed with delight and claimed a bit for yourself. It would be the perfect accent to the dress, only the lace is yellowed with age. You've tried a few home remedies but nothing gives it that snow white color you need. You'll need a bit of bleach. 

It's that thought in mind that sets you off early the next day, your scarf wrapped loosely around your neck, your cheeks pink from the wind. You're heading for the general store before going to work, hoping you can find what you need. 

The slanted wood roof comes readily into view just off the main square. You come at the start of every week to the general shop with its tall ceilings and solid shelves to see what can be salvaged for clothing or other textile needs. 

Everything non perishable that gets salvaged in travels comes through the main building and sorted. Fabric, paper, soap, shoelaces just to name a few. Some of the older folks spend a few days but divvying up where each item goes - kitchen, stables, general shop. 

You push the green door open, the familiar tinkle of the bell ringing overhead to announce your arrival. 

"Here for fabric if any came in last week," you say with a smile to Ralph, one of the folks who mind the shop day to day. He's sitting on a stool near the side of the space reading an old paperback.  He gives you a warm smile, showing off the whitest teeth you've ever seen. 

"Just got a box yesterday."

He pops off his stool, the recent page of the paperback dog-eared for later reading. Looking at the yellowed pages you think back to the lace soaking in your sink at home.

"Oh and bleach if you have any extra. Just a little."

Bleach is a hot commodity here, used for everything from cleaning to drinking water if there's a need for it. But Ralph knows you wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. 

"Might have a small container of it in the back. Gimme a second."

Your eyes drift to the back of the shop as he says this. "I'll browse for a bit, then."

"New ones in the lower right," he laughs while he heads to the storage in the back room, calling out to you from the space. "Lucky you came today, had a few people asking for extra fabric for the kids costumes last week."

"Really?" you ask, but you're not really listening to his reply. Your eyes are already going to the back of the shop that leads into the little lending library. 

It's modest, barely bigger than an elevator but its shelves go to the ceiling and are weighted down with books. You've read almost all of them. This space is where books come to live, be read, returned, traded. It's one of your favorite places in your small world. 

You step into this sanctum, greeted by the scent of aged pages and feel your heart skip a beat. It always feels so good to be here, to be surrounded by so many topics and worlds. These are world's you'll only see in the written word, a world with no outbreak, a world bigger than Jackson City. 

Ralph asks you about your plans for today as you browse and you answer distractedly, dropping to a knee when you see a book you've never seen before in the lower right, just like Ralph said. 

Jane Eyre. 

You skim the back and read the summary: haunted mansions, an orphaned heroine, a brooding romantic lead? You decide this will be a good read for tonight in front of the fire.

You right yourself as the tinkle of the shop door sounds behind you. Something in the air changes, an electricity that you can't explain. It's like the world expands and contracts all at once and then suddenly you just know. 

It's him.

"Morning Joel," Ralph says cheerfully.

"Mornin'."

The rumble of his voice is unmistakable. You'd know it even if you hadn't heard his name. That low rasp of Texas twang in the richness of his timbre. Your pulse skyrockets, the world growing quiet under the sound of your heartbeat. 

Immediately you're moving to the far shelves, ducking your head and trying to regulate your breathing. Boxes are stacked at one end, meaning the odds of him sneaking up on you are minimal. 

"Need help finding anything?" Ralph asks helpfully. 

"Nah," Joel replies in that quiet, even way of his. "I know where the shampoo is."

His boots shuffle over the grainy floor, slow and deliberate. You haven't seen him yet which means he hasn't seen you. There's a chance you can just slip out unnoticed. You place the book on the shelf next to you beside the canned peaches. You'll come back for it tomorrow. Right now you need to get out as quickly and quietly as possible. 

Despite living next door to him, in the past few months you've managed to stay off Joel's radar. After that horrible experience in his house you've gone to great lengths to avoid him. You go early to work during the week, you don't go to the movie nights anymore, you'd never been a big rider but now you don't even go near the stables. 

Sometimes you might see him in the crowd during a meal but you're always able to avoid him, to duck away before his cold eyes land on you. 

But here now? There are three of you in the shop. It's still early, most folks aren't even at their jobs yet. 

You see the top of Joel's head over the shelving, his dark waves gliding until he finds what he's looking for in the hair care section. You catch yourself thinking of his hands massaging the shampoo into his scalp, his head tilted back under the water of the shower, rivulets of ---

Stop it.

"Here ya go," Ralph calls your name from the front of the shop. "All packed and ready to go." 

You see Joel's head snap in your direction as your called and you press your forehead against the cool shelf in frustration. So much for getting out unseen. You take a beat, gathering your courage and your focus. 

It's simple. Joel's on the other side of the shop. You'll just dart over to Ralph, grab the bag and go back to work. It's simple. You'll be fine. You won't look back. 

Then you see it out of your peripherals.

Two dark brown boots stopping at the end of your aisle with a gentle scrape. You can't go backwards, the boxes behind you form a cardboard wall. The only way out is through, past the man with the wide shoulders and strong hands. Past the man who gave you so much only to immediately take it away. 

He hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. You don't dare make eye contact with him. Your face flushes red, your head ducking as you shoulder past him. He makes no attempt to stand or shift back so it's easier for you. He just takes up space at the end of that aisle and you can feel him watching you maneuver past him, desperate not to touch him.

He lets you pass without issue. You think you're safe until you feel the back of his hand brushing your knuckles as you pass by. It's gentle, a ghost of a touch. You're not even sure it happened; a part of you is convinced you imagined it. But you don't slow, you don't look back, don't want to see if he's watching you. 

You don't care even if he is.

Fuck him. 

You mumble a thanks to Ralph, taking the heavy bag swiftly and rushing out of the shop. You're only steps away when you hear the door to the shop tinkle open and Joel's voice calling you by name. 

You instinctively pause in the street, your eyes blown wide at the gravelled sound. But you don't turn to face him; you don't even tilt your head to show you've heard. But he knows you have all the same, his distinctive footfalls coming in your direction until he's standing front of you. Your eyes remain on the ground, on his boots. 

He says your name again, this time softly. You didn't even realize he knew it. You refuse to look him in the eyes and decide his chin will do. He's so close you can see the spot he missed shaving just under his jaw. 

He extends his full hand. "You forgot this."

You look down to see Jane Eyre, the book you'd been about to purchase, the one next to the peaches in his grip. How had he known it was yours? Your eyes swim over the cover before glancing back to his chin. 

You have so much you want to say to him and none of it is kind. You want to scream at him for treating you so poorly. Want to punch him across the jaw for calling you pretty eyes and making you believe it. You want to shove and berate him until he confesses why he did it, why he went warm and then turned so cold. But you know you won't because there's a large chance you don't want to hear the answer. 

He hates you. He was using you. He was fucking with you after you fucked with him.

Your hair stirs in the wind, twisting and knotting in it. You say nothing when Joel's right hand comes to touch a wayward strand, smoothing it between his fingers and if testing it. The shock of his nearness is broken by this gentle action and you take a large step backwards, your hair jerking out from between his fingers.

"That's not mine," you mumble motioning to the book. 

Before he can say anything else you've turned and jogged off in the direction of your job, your heart smacking harshly against your ribs with each step. 

///

In your house that evening with lace soaking in the bleach solution you pull on a sweater and pour yourself a cup of tea. When the tea is prepared you go to the fire with your teacup and a distant look on your face. You wish you had that new book but grab something else from your shelf instead. 

It's the photo album, the one non necessity your mother brought with you from place to place. The only sentimental item that shows there was a time when the world wasn't on fire. 

When you first got to Jackson city you looked at it every night. You spoke aloud to your favorite photograph of your mother, the one where she's laughing at the beach while the two of you build a sandcastle. 

Now that it's been a few years since you arrived here you only look at it once in a while. It used to make you happy and bring you comfort when you first got here. Now when you look at the photos of your childhood all you can feel is robbed. 

No prom. No college. No career as a graphic designer. No sweet sixteen party like the one you'd been planning when the world went to shit. 

The day you'd come home from school to see your neighbor writhing in her front yard, tendrils peeking out of her mouth and straining for sunlight. That had been the day your mom had packed you up and . . .

You don't like to think about it. You thumb through the photos until you get to the second to last grainy image. The photograph that brings tears to your eyes and a pounding of your heart. 

You close the album. 

You drain your teacup; shuffle to put it in the sink. You peek at the partially submerged lace and smile. The bleach solution worked perfectly. The lace, once yellowed with age is now a beautiful white. It'll look perfect on what you've done so far with the dress.

You rinse the lace before placing it into a bowl of lukewarm water to sit in overnight and then head upstairs feeling warm but not contented. 

You get to the bedroom and change into your nightdress, yawning. You feel strange, keyed up. Today has you feeling off kilter and you know it's because of your interaction with Joel Miller this morning. 

You glance at the window that faces his house. It's propped open slightly to let the breeze in. You like the crisp air of Jackson city at this time of year.  There is music playing faintly, The House of the Rising Sun. You draw slowly over to the window, bathed in the blue of the light. A cursory glanced tells you all the lights are off in Joel's home. He’s either asleep without turning off his record player or he’s out and left it on by accident. You’d bet money on the former.

You go to close the window when your eyes fall to something placed on the ledge of the windowsill. Your heart hammers when you realize what it is. 

Jane Eyre.

The book you'd left with Joel Miller.

You frown, gripping the book and righting yourself. Still frowning you crawl under the sheets, your eyes scanning the book’s cover but not really paying attention. Joel obviously did this. Was it a message? A warning that he could enter your home at any time? Was it an apology for how he treated you?

You turn off the light, falling into a restless sleep.

Its hours later when you sense something isn't right.

There is a creak behind you and a hand is over your mouth, stilling and silencing you. Immediately you panic, flailing under the bed sheets.

"Don't scream."

Its him.

You know that if his hand wasn't over your mouth you would be. You'd be screaming shrilly in his face trying to wrench free of his grip. As it is, now that you know it's him you feel the panic subside, but only minutely. 

"Don’t scream,” he repeats.

You nod, staring up at him in the darkness. He removes his large hand then he steps back, still staring down at you. You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before speaking.

"What are you doing here? In my room?"

"Fair is fair," Joel counters placidly. "You broke into my place, I break into yours." 

You don't know what to say to that. This whole situation is so surreal. Joel is in your bedroom, standing at the side of your bed staring down at you with that familiar, heavy gaze. His frown deepens but his irises remain unreadable in the shadows.

“Why’d you run from me this mornin’?”

You sigh, rising to a seated position in the bed, bringing the blanket up with you. You never take your eyes off Joel as you do this, and he doesn't hide the way his eyes are sliding along your body. 

You motion for him to take a seat on the edge of your bed, near your feet. Instead he comes closer, sitting inches away from your hip with his right leg crooked in your direction. The bed creaks under him and you glance down at his knee, so close to you. The coverlet of your bed, a delicate pale blue, is a stark contrast against the dark stonewash of his jeans. Your eyes move from his knee back to his face. 

He's waiting for you to explain with his brows raised. You swallow finding your mouth impossibly dry. After a beat you manage a shaky reply, a half shrug.  

“I dunno.”

There is a cleave between you, as wide a chasm if it physically existed. You hold tight to the blankets, not releasing them. You stare at your fingers gripping the fabric tightly. 

“You do so.”

He leaves the words hanging there in the semi darkness.

You make a gentle sound of surprise when his hand tugs the blanket down out of your hands. His eyes drink you in, shivering in your nightdress. Is it from the chill or from Joel's gaze? You're not sure. 

"The way . . . Last time," you utter quietly. The shame of that last interlude is still a stain on your mind, a humiliation you've replayed a thousand times. "Why?"

"I couldn't control myself," Joel explains without hesitation, his gaze dipping to the collar of your nightgown. "Just like I don't think I can control myself now."

You absolutely loathe the thrill that goes through you at those words. You despise that the low rasp of his voice and the soulful eyes combine to make your entire body throb.  You wonder if Joel can tell, if he can sense the way your pulse has started tripping into a gallop. 

But you need to say it. Need to explain that it wasn't okay how things ended last time. You keep your eyes on the blanket between you.

"You made me feel," you search for the words, glancing from him so you can think clearly. "Used."

There is a pause, a clearing of his throat. His voice drops a bit.

"I'm not a good man."

If you thought he was looking for sympathy that belief is erased when you look to see his challenging gaze fixed on you. 

You search his face, looking for doubt or for pain or for something he's trying to hide and you see it all there barely hidden in his eyes. You muse that one day you'll learn more of his secrets, but for now you're content to wait. 

You'll wait for his secrets, but not for his touch. You move up onto your palms and with a short crawl you close the gap between you. He sits still, watching you approach in measured breaths. 

You press your lips to the side of his neck, knowing that kissing his mouth would ruin you. It would make it so much harder if Joel turns cold again. Instead you'll enjoy the quiet groan it elicits from him vibrating against your lips. 

You move back, looking at him from under your hair in a way you hope communicates that he has permission to continue. There is a moment where he looks unsure, as if he’s fighting an inner battle. But then with a low growl he pushes forward, crawling over you and pressing you back until you're lying under him, your knees pressing into his sides. His body is heavy on yours but you don't want it any other way. 

He's kissing your throat, wild open mouthed things that make you keen. His hips grind against yours as he kisses and nibbles. You feel the bulge grow in his jeans and this makes you groanw wantonly. When one large hand goes to cup your breast through your flimsy nightgown you whimper. 

Then he's stopped, holding himself above you and breathing raggedly. 

"I'm not a good man," Joel repeats. And now you see the hesitation in his eyes, in the way he looks at you.

You take his hand, still wrapped around your breast and slide it downward. He lets you do this silently, allowing you to move his wide palm down over your tummy, your pelvis and then finally . . .  Over the soaking gusset of your panties. 

"I don't need you to be good," you sigh. 

This is all the encouragement he needs. His hand jerks your panties to the side, so desperate to continue touching you his finger begins sliding along your damp slit. It’s a short tease. You hiss as one of his fingers curls inside your cunt abruptly, the slick allowing him to slide in with ease. You jolt at the intrusion, your fingers flexing into his shoulders. 

He stares down at you, your eyes creaking open to watch him. His face is neutral save for the way his dark eyes stay on your mouth. His fingers curl, coax, pleasure. His thumb taps your swollen bud and you give a strangled whimper. It feels so fucking good. 

Your hand is at his belt buckle, preparing to undo it when his free hand bats yours away. 

"We've done enough for me," Joel murmurs as his hands go to the waist of your panties, dragging them down slowly. They glide over your legs, the fabric leaving goosebumps in its wake as it trails down your body and is then tossed onto the floor. 

You're lying back on your elbows watching this when he pushes you back into the bed. He follows you, kissing your collar with a dizzying softness. You arch as his mouth moves down your body, his hands teasing and grazing you everywhere until you feel about to unravel.

You give a ragged breath as he kisses you, just below your navel. Your skin twitches at the sensation of his facial hair rasping against the smooth flesh of your abdomen before he pulls back. Your eyes crack open to see he’s still fully dressed, not even palming himself through his jeans.

Instead he’s gripping your ankles and with a soft pull he brings you to the edge of the bed before he moves between the vee off your thighs. His eyes linger along your lower half, a tongue coming to trail the seam of his lips. His intent is clear. He's not going to stop at kissing your belly.

You draw your knees together, anxious. You're nervous. You know what he wants but you've never had a man do this before. You don't know what to expect and Joel seems to sense your hesitation. Much like your first time he's serious, all business. Warm calloused hands are on both your knees.

"Open for me."

It seems he feels most comfortable when he's in control giving orders. You can imagine that's how he survived outside the walls of Jackson City. 

The blunted tips of his fingers dig into your flesh, a silent way to prompt you. You'll feel so exposed like that though, in front of Joel Miller of all people. He's so serious, so intimidating. And he's looking down at you as if he wants to consume you whole. 

"Open."

His voice is a low purr, and his fingertips start to move in slow circles over your kneecap, gentle and stirring. You know you're absolutely soaked, probably dripping onto the blanket under you. 

You swallow before you allow your thighs to fall open for him. His eyes dart down to your slick cunt, the trembling of your body, the way you're looking up at him with a look of fear and deep need. 

You aren't expecting the almost pained look that crosses his serious features, the slack of his mouth as he hits his knees on the wood floor beside the bed. 

"Fuck," Joel moans, his hands coming to grip the blanket on either side of you. "I need a taste." 

Without ceremony he's gripping your thighs and moved his mouth between your legs, a flat tongue slipping between your slit. Immediately you arch back, the sensation fucking divine. Your head hits the pillow so quickly you see stars.

He holds fast to you, even when you begin to wriggle. He’s making soft groaning noises, kissing you, licking you there. You feel helpless to stop from opening your eyes and looking down the length of your body. The sight of Joel Miller between your thighs makes you moan,

You aren’t expecting Joel’s eyes to be open, fixed on your face as he tastes you. You expect him to look away, caught, but he doesn’t. If anything his gaze pierces you and he begins fucking you with his tongue. You had no idea it was possible.

You wish you could say you held out, that you were in control. But soon, too soon, you feel the warmth in your lower belly start to spread. As if he can sense it, Joel's mouth drags from your cunt to begin pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs.

You give a sound that is both pleading and desperate. Joel lets out of soft rumbling chuckle that you can feel grazing against your cunt. 

"So impatient," he rumbles, huffing warm air against your exposed clit. 

You let out a shuddering exhale. He's holding you with one arm over your abdomen; the second snaking is way between your thighs. His fingers comes to circle your clit as his lips move back between your legs, working together to bring you to the edge. Your head falls back sharply and you try to hold yourself back from bucking into Joel's greedy mouth. 

"Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body as he tastes you. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze. 

"That's she is" he croons, his lips pressing sweet open mouthed kisses to your cunt. His fingers are removed and now it’s just him, his talented mouth pulling you deeper into the pleasure you can’t hide from. But it’s almost too much, the pleasure frightening you and you move to inch back from him.

His grip is steel and instead of his arm banding across your waist, he moves to your hips, holding you in place. His tongue is flicking now, causing choked noises to emit from you. Your entire body is trembling, and now Joel’s tongue laves your swollen clit.

"Give it to me," Joel groans. "I need it."

You arch up off the bed, your hands groping the blanket for purchase. You can feel yourself rocking into his mouth, your fists holding tight to the blanket on either side of you as you begin to give short, rasping cries as you stare at him.

"Give into it," Joel demands. "Come on my fucking tongue, pretty eyes."

Pretty eyes.

There it is.

You feel a cascading pleasure move through your limbs like water. Subtle at first, but then it spreads so quickly, so different than orgasms you’ve ever experienced. More potent, flooding the length of your body. The sensation is so overwhelming that you jerk at the waist, a loud wail of release echoing within your bedroom as you tremor against Joel’s waiting mouth.

You fall back, your eyes on the ceiling as you come down from your high breathing raggedly. You feel Joel’s warm hands slide down your waist, dragging along your legs until they reach your ankles. That's where they lift off, the warmth of his touch gone. Normally you would raise up, you would make some attempt at conversation. But this is Joel Miller and something tells you he doesn't care for it.

You know he won’t say goodbye. He won’t even acknowledge that he’s made you come so spectacularly you’re ruined for any future encounter. But when you finally raise your head and see your empty room you don’t feel as alone.  

The book, Jane Eyre, sits on your side table.

[exquisiteserotonin]

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: After an altercation Ellie has at school, Joel visits you to have a talk

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ only (MDNI, PLEASE), angst, some violence, coarse language, brief talk of losing children and spouse (if this triggers you), Oral sex (Fem receiving), Squirting, PiV sex, Hurt-Comfort sex, Creampie, no use of y/n

A/N: Not-beta'd. I wrote this very, very quickly a few days ago when I was in some kind of incredibly weepy, hormonal mood or perhaps it was the full moon. Either way, that is why there is so much angst. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to share it today, but here we are. Real tears were shed during the writing of this fic. I'm a wife and a mom, hence why there is talk of reader once having a husband and children (Sorry, if that's not your thing or if you cannot relate). This generally follows canon except that Ellie and Joel are more fully integrated right away to the Jackson community.

Read on AO3

Take My Love, Take it Down

Screams, cries, and murmurs filled the freezing Wyoming air. A sharp pain took hold of your chest, creeping up your neck, and over your back as the sounds reached your ears. It sent you in a wave of memory and panic and was followed by the constant crunching of snow under a few shuffling feet. Clutching your chest, you took a few deep breaths as your charges came running towards you calling out your name. Well, your last name anyway. As their teacher, they didn’t get the privilege of knowing your first name. 

“She punched me!” One of your older students cried out as a few of his peers pushed him forward presenting him to you. 

You winced as you saw blood streaming down his nose, mixed with cold tears that were falling down his face. Other children watched with intrigue as you pulled a few tissues from your coat pocket, bringing them gingerly to his face, gesturing for him to hold pressure to his nose. 

“Who punched you, Carter?” You asked as holding gentle hands to his pale freckled face. 

He and several other students pointed in the same direction, fingers towards your new student, Ellie. You saw her standing a few yards away, her coat disheveled, the knees of her jeans scattered with dirt, and her face red from the cold, but also, mostly, from her anger. A sigh escaped you as you put your hands on your hips. Gently, you gestured for your other students to return to recess while asking your assisting teacher to bring Carter inside to clean up. 

“Ellie, could you come here please?” You requested, beckoning her over with what you hoped was a welcoming gesture.

“It wasn’t my fault, he started coming at me telling me what I should do and how I should be and I--,” her voice was fast and full of rage and pleading. 

“Ellie, stop,” you stated, a natural calm imbued in the tone of your voice, “let me see your hand.” 

The last words that fell from your lips must have been the perfect disarmament, since her response was to hold her hand out to you immediately. You pulled another tissue from your pocket and began to wipe away remnants of blood on her knuckles. Upon closer examination, any injuries she may have sustained were minor especially compared to what she had inflicted on Carter. 

“Carter can be a little much, can’t he?” you added, keeping your gaze on her. “I’m sure whatever he said or did, you've every right to feel the way you did.”

Her eyes lit up in relief at your words. It was a familiar look that you had seen before from your students. The look that lit up when they thought they were about to get away with something. You stilled yourself, holding back emotions that began to well up within you. It was a familiar look you had seen from your own children. 

“But just because someone wronged you doesn’t mean that your automatic reaction should be to hit them.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ellie shouted at you. “This place sucks, with all your peace, love, and harmony shit.”

“Ok, you know what? You need to go inside, Ellie,” you stated, somehow retaining your calm. “In fact, everyone we all need to go inside; recess is over, time to get back to work.”

You waved for your students to line up, while pointing at a space directly in front of you with the expectation that Ellie would take the lead. Begrudgingly, she did, the remainder of the students falling in line behind her. 

As you trudged through the snow back to the school house, you turned to Ellie, “I think I’ll have to talk to Tommy or Maria about this.”

“Why?!” She snapped and then added, “Just because they got me in here doesn’t mean they’re family.”

“Well then, I guess I have to talk to Tommy’s brother,” you countered, “Joel, right?”

“Go ahead and do it then,” she retorted, “but he’s not my dad either.” 

You shrugged but nodded, listening carefully to her words. You never mentioned anything about him being her dad. You just knew that they’d shown up at the gate and were now the newest residents of your quiet community. 

Your one-room classroom buzzed with the chaotically happy energy so often found in a classroom. Thankfully, the rest of the day went without incident. Having students from a very young age to teenagers was not something you were used to. It brought a different kind of chaotic energy that was, at the very least, interesting to observe. The mix of pretend play from your youngest students and the giggling gossip from your oldest students represented life in a world that felt like nothing but death. That’s what everyone told you, anyway.

They didn’t even need to tell you, really. You saw it in their eyes; the way that children and their parents greeted you on the street with their eyes crinkled at the corners with joy and gratitude. It should have made you happy. It made you happy in your life before this. Sometimes you wondered to yourself why you were teaching again. No, most of the time you wondered why you were teaching. 

You replayed the memory of how it happened as you walked home. 

First Maria asked you. 

“No, I don’t think so.”  

Then Tommy asked you.

“No, I really don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”

Then Maria and Tommy asked you. 

The exhaustion that overcame you from their consistent requests eroded what little resistance you had. Their arguments and evidence were hard to defend against especially since you’d been a teacher and that the children in the community loved you. Out of some strange sense of obligation, you refrained from telling them that each day you were just going through the motions. You were like a robot completing an assigned task. Because doing, thinking, or feeling anything else was just too painful. 

You reached your home, a cozy little cottage that was more than enough for you. As you closed the door behind, you felt a tight pain in your chest similar to what you felt this morning. You strangely thought of Ellie, then thought of your boys, then your husband. It rose to your throat and it was suddenly hard to breathe. You rushed to the kitchen, filling a glass with much needed water. 

A loud knock on your door had you startled. Grabbing a pistol from a kitchen drawer you made your way to the door. The knock came again. 

Looking through the peephole allowed you some relief when you saw a familiar, rugged-faced man, with salt and pepper hair standing at your door. It was Joel Miller, Tommy’s older brother and Ellie’s apparent caretaker. You opened the door, pistol still in your hand. 

“Hello, I don’t think you’ll be needin’ that,” he gestured towards your gun, “though I won’t hold it against you if keep it nearby.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry” you nodded, “force of habit—please come in.”

You gestured for him to have a seat at a small round dining room table. You placed your gun away in a nearby drawer, observing Joel as he looked around your house. You winced as his eyes settled on a photo of you, your husband, and two children. Reluctantly, after his brief overview of your home, he moved towards your dining room table. 

“You’re probably wonderin’ why I’m here,” he said, taking a seat and spreading his legs in a way that you could only describe as hyper-masculine. 

You clenched your teeth beneath tightened lips as it spurred inexplicable feelings discomfort and disgust. They prodded at you simply because you had noticed. 

“Surprised, yes,” you said, trying to hide the trembling in your voice,“but I think I know why.”

“Ellie gave that boy a bloody nose.”

There was something in his voice, in that Texas drawl that sounded almost like…pride. 

“Yes, I know, I was there,” you acknowledged in exasperation, “I’m sure she had her reasons but I don’t think it warranted violence, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel,” he corrected, “I agree, but you have to understand where she’s comin’ from, ma’am.”

“Alright, Joel, can I get you some water?” you offered. “Please don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old.” 

You gave him your first name along with a glass of water. 

“Ellie’s been through a lot,” his voice was hushed and gravel-like as he gave his excuse, “you can’t hold it against her for tryin’ to stand up for herself.” 

“Joel,” you said calmly, tapping into the part of your brain where you held the voice you used when talking to parents at conferences, “we’ve all been through a lot here, doesn’t give us the right to start punching people in the face.” 

“You don’t know how good you’ve got it, though,” he continued, incredulously, “sittin’ pretty in your perfect little town, with your perfect little job, in your perfect little house---you don’t really know what’s out there right now.” 

“What?” 

Your hands began to tremble at the words, traveling up your arms, to your neck. It was as though someone lit a burner inside you and your blood was the fuel. Red and hot, like living lava from the volcano of you, it threatened to erupt. 

“You haven’t seen the things that I’ve seen,” he grumbled, standing up to pace around your home, his right hand trembling, “or done the things I’ve done.”

“What do you want a medal ‘cuz you’ve smuggled shit and killed some people in the process?” you scoffed and advanced on him. “You know, you roll up in here, saying you’re here for family and you come in to my house, Ellie’s teacher’s house, making excuses for her to bash another child’s face in and you expect me to give you sympathy because you’ve got people’s blood on your hands that you chose to spill?”

“I did what I had to survive,” his voice grew in volume as you stepped closer to him, “and I’m teaching Ellie to do the same.” 

“And I am doing exactly the same thing,” you growled at him. 

The way his left eye twitched and the way he moved his jaw told you that he wasn’t expecting that answer. Beyond your control, you felt tears start to sting the corner of your eyes. A sudden feeling of helplessness and shame overcame you as felt the sudden urge to explain yourself to a man you had only known in passing for a few days. 

“I’m not stupid, Joel; Maria and Tommy are my friends, my good friends,” you spoke, not moving from where you stood. “I know what you lost and I know you know…”

The hatred you felt for yourself amplified as the tears fell freely from your eyes. Your view of Joel was blurry from your tears as you tried to find your words again. 

“I know you’re not stupid, I saw you looking at my photos, so you know what I’ve lost,” your lips trembled and stumbled at every word. “I have nightmares all the time and I see them--and how I had to l-leave my, my boys.” 

A broken shell of you was all that was left. Maybe Joel was right, maybe you were just a broken shell in a perfect town, with a perfect job, in a perfect house. All of it perfect from the outside, but none of it real. You drew your hands to your face trying to stop the tears from falling from your eyes as Joel stared back at you. You spotted a flinch here and there as he tried to gather the knowledge to comfort you. 

“I’m sorry, I--,” he said as he reached a tentative hand towards you, but you shook your head and finally took a step away from him. 

“This is how I’m trying to survive, Joel, to try to make things better, but I’m just---just  fucking it all up,” you said through tears. “Everyday, I’m doing this job that your brother begged me to do and everyday I wake up and it’s never real. And these kids, they’re depending on me and asking me to help them with the simplest things and I can’t; my chest hurts and I can’t breathe, and I fuck up, and I fail, and I lose everything.”

The tears were falling so freely now that you can’t even see Joel. All you heard is how loud the silence is, louder than the tears and labored breaths that are escaping from you. You tried to mumble something unintelligibly to Joel. An apology. An explanation. But you’re certain it just comes out in even messier sobs. The next sound that floats to your ears is the creaking of your floor beneath Joel’s booted footsteps as he moves towards you and unexpectedly grabs you by the arm to wrap you in the tightest embrace that you’ve felt in the longest time. 

Tears stained his leather jacket and shirt as you cry into his chest. He spoke nothing. His comfort came in the rise and fall of his chest as he breaths, in the way that he somehow manages to understand to caress the back of your head and your hair, and in the way that his hands rub your shoulders as he squeezes you tighter as if doing so might somehow expel some of your pain. And somehow it did, if only just a little bit. It was enough to allow you to wrap your arms around his waist in return. Your hands explored his back, rubbing up and down to give him back some of the comfort he had given you. 

Everything is still dark behind your closed eyes that are still buried in his shirt. With one quivering exhale, you managed to look up to find him looking back at you. His eyes that were tight with stoicism and anger when he stepped through the threshold of your door had changed. Round, soft, deep brown, and glossy with the onset of tears. You knew them like an old friend because they were just like yours, because they’d seen the same horror and felt the same pain. You took your hands from his waist and cautiously brought them towards his face, learning more with your eyes before he gave you the slightest nod as a form of permission. With your fingers, you gently caressed the wrinkles on his forehead tracing down to his temples until you wiped away the tears that had managed to escape from the corners of his eyes. You held your hands at his cheeks, keeping hold of his gaze with your own. He brought his hands to grip yours, rubbing his thumbs on your wrists before his fingers met your forearms with a touch that was beginning to awaken something inside you. 

“I reckon we’re more alike than we are different,” his words were a cathartic confession. 

You nodded, uncertainty still circling around you as you caressed his face and began to lace your fingers in his dusty-colored hair. It seemed to be all the permission he needed to dive forward to kiss you as he held your face gently in his hands. But you needed more, as quickly as he had moved in to kiss you, you began to peel his jacket off his broad shoulders, throwing it on a chair at your dinner table. A determined, almost dangerous stare filled his eyes as he discarded the flannel shirt beneath his jacket. You pulled off your sweater and blouse in one skillful move, tossing it without a worry as to where it landed. You were left standing before him only in your jeans and bra.  

An obvious hunger had taken over you both, as he lunged at you grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss less chaste than the last. Your lips held onto each other, tongues exploring and tasting each other through the remnants of salty tears. You hooked your hands into his belt loops, grabbing him by his ass to push his hips towards yours, feeling his cock beginning to twitch and harden with need. 

“Bedroom,” you commanded breathlessly. 

He nodded and then lifted you as you leveraged yourself against his chest and shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his waist while he kept his mouth on yours. He threw you on the bed, eliciting a quiet yelp as you bounced on the firm mattress. You shifted yourself further up the bed as he crawled towards you. Pushing yourself up to your knees you moved towards him pulling him to you by his shirt with desperation. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you sighed, gently pulling it over his head. 

He smiled and let out a breathy chuckle. It was the first time you’d seen him smile since the moment he reunited with Tommy when he and Ellie first arrived in town. This was different, of course: a little playful and a little dirty and something you hoped, at least in the moment, was just for you. 

“Sorry, y’know it’s winter,” he chuckled again as his lips were back on you. 

His hand cupped your breast and then his mouth traveled to your shoulder. You lowered your back to the bed, allowing him to come down with you, his arms pushing himself up on either side of you to get a better view for him to admire your body with his eyes. With a gentle touch of your finger nails, you caressed his forearms and triceps. Your eyes studied the broadness of him and how his chest looked especially strong as he propped himself over you. 

“I’m gonna apologize, ya know, before we---,” he warned quietly, “it’s been a little while.” 

“I reckon we’re more alike than we are different,” you whispered, repeating the words he spoke moments before he kissed you. 

Faster than you could think, he was on you again, somehow expertly unclasping your bra as he rolled with you in your bed sheets. You helped him unbuckle, unzip, and pull off his jeans, laughing as he clumsily kicked them off with his boxers somewhere on your carpeted bedroom floor. With an involuntary bite of your lip, you admired his large, uncut cock as he moved towards you, this time helping you unbutton and unzip your jeans. You lifted your hips as he slid your jeans from them, taking your underwear with them tossing them on the floor to join his. 

You stared at each other for a few moments, drinking in the view of each other’s bodies, maybe even holding a picture of it in your head to keep as a memory to hold on to forever. 

“You sure ‘bout this?” He asked, giving you one more chance to make a smarter, level-headed decision. 

“Joel, please,” you implored, your fingers dancing in his hair, “I need this, need you.”

He brought his face close to yours, first pressing his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss before giving you an equally gentle kiss on your lips. Everything else he did with his mouth however, was anything but sweet and gentle. He led with his tongue, first at your neck and then between the valley of your breasts until he tasted each one, swirling his tongue around the pebbled surface, lightly biting at them with his teeth. The anticipation of where his tongue was leading left you panting. The softness of his lips paired with the coarseness of his mustache and facial hair was the perfect contradiction. Your breath hitched as he kissed your mound, stopping there long enough for you to panic about what he would do next. 

“Joel, is everything ok? Is there…is there something wrong?” You propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he murmured his voice full of marvel like he’d seen a dream, “just admirin’ the view.”

You smiled and before you could say anything else, his mouth was on you. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, as he worked on you first with a broad lap of his tongue through your folds. He works through them at a torturous pace, pitiful moans echoing through your quiet bedroom. And then he moved faster as he savored you, finding your clit poking at it first with a pointed tip of his tongue until he took it between a tight purse of his lips, sucking on it  furiously until you cried out for him to give you more. He swiped a few more heavy stripes down your folds until his lips are on your clit again, sucking and humming, the vibrations making your already sensitive center weepingly wet. 

“Oh god, god, Joel,” you moaned, your hands grasping at his hair, “I haven’t felt this good in so long.”

You cried out incoherently as he chuckled and returned his attention to your clit, maneuvering two fingers in and out of you as his lips continue to suck and vibrate on the most sensitive part of you. He continued to move his fingers in and out of your folds at an agonizingly fast pace. You whimpered helplessly, crying out his name over and over as he worshipped your cunt like his own personal idol. The pressure from his mouth intensified on your clit as his fingers pulsed in and out, in and out until you cried out seeing stars. A hot gush of liquid came out of you covering his face and hand, dripping onto your ass and onto the sheets beneath you. 

“Shit…fuck, Joel, Joel!” You wail, clutching at the sheets from your orgasm. 

He let go of your clit with a gentle kiss that makes your body jolt from overstimulation. Your body was still writhing from your climax, your breaths were still fast as you tried to bring yourself down. Opening your eyes, you lay in a misty daze as Joel crawls towards you, wiping his face and facial hair with the tips of his fingers and the pad of his thumb, taking one last lick of your essence. You hadn’t seen anything so erotic in years and you pulled him close, your chests pressed together as you took him in a long and sensual kiss. 

“Oh sweetheart, we made a little mess,” he growled as he positioned himself over you. 

“I--I forgot I could do that,” you said, still coasting on the high of your last orgasm. 

Joel breathed out with a low and sexy, but at the same time sheepish. You looked at him, seeing his cheeks slightly pink with a mixture of pride and humility. 

“Glad I could help you remember,” he replied with a smirk,that quickly changed into a heavy groan as you pumped his girthy cock. “Fuck sweetheart.”

“Need to feel you inside me, Joel,” you pleaded, bucking your hips up to his. 

“Yes, baby,” he grunts as you wrap your leg around his thigh. 

With a sudden urge you sat up and held him close, kissing him fervently and rolling over him so that his back was on the bed. Your fingernails gently scratched his expansive chest as you straddle him. His eyes gleamed with anticipation that evolved into pure pleasure as you lowered yourself down onto his cock, unable to keep from moaning with the feeling of him stretching you. You bounced on his cock and grind on him with the tightest of circles. 

“Oh, fuck, Joel you feel so good,” you cried, your pussy fluttering with each bounce. 

“Come on, baby,” he groaned as he started to buck his hips up into you with the same rhythm of your bounce. “Keep ridin’ me, you feel so good.”

Moans and slaps of your skin are all that fills the air in your room. You grabbed at his thighs, feeling ecstasy with each bounce. To your surprise he sat up and grabbed you by the waist, thrusting into you and rolling you over so he’s back on top. For a brief moment, his cock left you and you felt suddenly empty. He settled over, pushing your bent legs up towards your chest. The pad of his thumb easily found your clit again and with a few slaps of his cock at your folds, he was pushing into you again. His hips rocked into you in a new found depth and pace as his thumb continued to circle your bundle of nerves. In this position he felt even wider than he had before and your heart and mind raced with each desperate thrust Joel made. That magic feeling began to will within you again as Joel’s pace became faster and faster. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I don’t think I can hold on much longer,” he growled through thrusts, grabbing your hips tightly and angling them upward. 

“Oh god, Joel, please, baby,” you cried, knowing you were right there with him. “Take what you need, baby, please take what you need.”

Neither of you could speak anymore. You’d evolved into an orchestral union of bodies, reaching out for each other and crying out each other's names with each grind, push, and thrust. And like dying stars, you exploded together in your orgasms, crying out praise and gratitude for it all and each other. The way his cock pounded in and out of you so easily and how it mingled with your sticky sweetness took you away for a moment. You began to shake uncontrollably and pulled his face close to yours. 

“Oh fuck---I, sweetheart---” was the last thing he moaned before looking to you for a final answer to a question unspoken. 

“Come inside me, Joel, it’s OK,” you assured, shaking as he gave one, two, three more thrusts to fill you up with him before he whimpered into the crook of your neck. 

You collapsed together on your bed, a tangle of heavy breaths and intertwined limbs. For the longest time, you bathed together in your naked silence, pulling up your quilted comforter over your bodies that were starting to get a little cold from the tiniest bit of winter air that you could feel through the walls. 

Through closed eyes you listened to Joel’s heartbeat through his chest where you had rested your head. He had taken your hand and rested it there, gently caressing it with his. More little comforts came to you in the form of him nuzzling your hair with his cheek and kissing your forehead. You could fall asleep like this, but being awake was more fulfilling in every possible way. 

“Hey,” you heard his voice whisper as he caressed your hair and then your shoulder, “you asleep?”

“No,” you murmured, waiting and wondering about his next words. 

“I’m sorry about Ellie,” he apologized. 

“Mmm, it’s okay,” you replied and then added, “just give her time, she’ll find her way.” 

Heart beats and deep breaths and caresses between words. 

“I think so,” Joel’s voice was rough but more resolved than how he had spoken when he came to your door, “I think with your help, she will.” 

You smiled, feeling tears again slip from the corners of your eyes, a cleansing exhale leaving from your lungs. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” 

He shifted, squeezed your shoulder, and brushed your hair out of your face until you were looking up at him. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly and then kissed you, his fingers caressing your skin, “you take what you need.”

[galaxysgal]

𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧' || 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Summary: Joel never lets you take a shift on watch. You're determined to stay up with him

Notes: spoiler free !! very fluffy <33 i love joel sm raahhhh

Wordcount: 950

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx

You were fighting sleep as you played some unnamed card game against Joel. The official title had long slipped his mind, as had a few of the rules, but you made do with what you knew. You examined your hand, eyes beginning to fall closed as you squinted in the dim light. But you wouldn’t let yourself sleep. Not yet.

You wanted to stay up with Joel as long as possible, you knew once you were out he wouldn’t wake you for your shift on watch. In the morning he’d bury his ever-present tiredness with a cup of coffee and shrug you off, saying he’d wake you up next time. He would butter you up, telling you that you were too pretty to wake. In reality, you knew he felt responsible for protecting you and Ellie. You didn’t know how he did it.

You played your cards, drawing a new hand and looking over at Joel. He cocked his head a bit, analyzing your choices. He looked back at you, noticing how your shoulders are slumped and your eyelids were drooping. He reached out, taking your cards from your hand and combining them with his own.

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “I was gonna win this time.”

Joel chuckled, “sure you were.” He collected the rest of the cards and shuffled them quickly before tying a small piece of string back around them. Now that your brain wasn’t focused on the game you begin to realize just how tired you are. Your body aches for sleep, and your muscles feel weak and worn out. Joel noticed, easily. He always saw right through you. “Sweetheart, go get some sleep,” he told you, nodding over to where Ellie was curled in her sleeping bag.

You shook your head and moved over to sit beside him. You can't feel the tree's rough bark through Joel’s jacket wrapped around you. You had been shivering earlier, and he slipped it off to give to you. You knew he had to be cold. His skin is chilled as you take his arm, leaning into his shoulder. “Not gonna let you stay up all night alone,” you told him.

“You need to sleep. I’ll wake you up for watch in a couple of hours,” Joel said. You knew he was lying.

You shake your head again, his protests lapsing into silence.

These woods were peaceful. You listened to the sound of the gentle wind and the bullfrogs croaking in a nearby pond. The air out here smelled fresh, not like the stench of the QZ. The air there smelled like death, like sewage and smoke and grief. It was constantly choking your lungs, suffocating you. The air here was different, fresh. You loved to breathe it in deep, smelling the earth that surrounded you.

“You know,” you started, leaning closer to Joel. “When I was little I loved to go out camping with my folks.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “We would go up into the mountains, there was this little cabin on my Grandfather’s land.”

“Now that ain’t campin’ if you’re staying in a house,” Joel protested.

You brushed it off. “We would go on hikes, swim in the river, run around barefoot in the grass. Summer was always my favorite time of year, ‘cause spend the whole season there. My parents were teachers. We didn’t have much, but we had our time together.”

“That’s nice,” Joel said.

“The best part though was when the sun would go down.” You smiled, your eyes slipping closed as you remembered. The memory was hazy, you were very young when the virus broke out, but you could still remember those warm summer nights. “Me and my sister would wait for it to get dark, eating smores and catching fireflies. And then when it was dark we would walk up to the clearing at the top of the mountain, and we would lay out on the grass looking at the stars. We were so high up, it was like we could see the whole night sky.”

It was quiet after that. Your eyes were closed and you were tuned in on Joel’s breathing. You wondered for a brief moment if he had fallen asleep himself, but then you felt his head tilt up. You knew he was looking at the stars, or at least what he could see of them through the trees. 

“Me an’ my little brother used to do the same thing,” he said. Then, quiet again.

You opened your own eyes, peering up through the canopy to catch a glimpse of Orion. You smiled softly, using your knowledge of the night sky to try and locate any other constellations you could find.

“That kid was obsessed with the night sky. He had a book of all the constellations and we would take it out into the backyard and point ‘em out. Orion was his favorite. For me, it was the big dipper. Classic…” His voice was smooth on your ears, and you felt the familiar tired ache beginning to overtake you. “There was a space station in Houston. Sometimes our dad would take us down there to see the rocket launch…”

You woke up with a start, feeling like you were falling. You felt Joel’s strong arms around your shoulders, lowering you gently. Your back touched the cold ground and your head came to rest in his lap.

“Joel-” you protested, fighting to wake yourself up. You propped yourself up on your elbows and tried to blink the sleep from your eyes.

“Shh, go back to sleep.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, pressing gently on your shoulders until you laid back down. 

“Let me take watch tomorrow. Please.”

Joel chuckled, “alright. I will.”

End.

[ilikereadingthisiswhatilike]

Joel Miller 

A collection of Joel x reader stories. None of the stories are mine.

No Smut 

Brain Scramblies @strang3lov3 Summary: Bubbly and sweet Reader slips and falls at Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party, hitting her head hard on the floor. Tommy tasks Joel, her grumpy patrol partner, with getting her home safe. In her dazed state, she spills to Joel how she really feels about him! Basically two idiots dancing around their feelings for each other. Warnings: Alcohol Special Tags: Fluff

You Don't Belong @toxic-seduction Summary: You really like Joel, more than you’ve ever liked someone before. But the most important person in his life absolutely hates your guts and you have no idea what to do. Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Lanugage Special Tags: Fluff

Old Soul @softlyspector Summary:  You’re never quite sure of your place in Joel’s life. Everyone else seems to know exactly what it is. Warnings: Angst, Mental health, PTSD Special Tags: Fluff

Seams @fuckyeahdindjarin Summary: Joel has to visit the local seamstress. Warnings: Language, Sexual Tension Special Tags: Multichapter

Your My Sunshine! @littlelou22 Summary: You and Joel are polar opposites. you are sunshine while he is cloudy. but you’re his sunshine and he doesn’t quite know how to handle that. Warnings: Angst Special Tags: Fluff

Pretend @littlelou22 Summary: Joel ends things with you, leaving you in the dark as to why. Will the two of you get back together or stay apart? Warnings: Angst Special Tags: Fluff

Lovers and Love. @peterparkersnose Summary: Y/N tries to hide that she is pregnant and Joel finds out. Warnings: Angst, Pregnancy Special Tags: Fluff

Your Gentle Comfort @mentallyunstablegoldfish Summary: Your interest in boys didn’t really exist in your life. It wasn’t until you met your new teacher and had a relationship growing with him that you realized, you wanted a man. Warnings: Emotional neglect, Kidnaping, Sexual Tenson Special Tags: Teacher AU, Multichapter

Smut

Hostage @ATTICRISSFINCH Summary: When you get lost in the woods, a stranger offers to help you get back to your camping site. When your gut tells you to run, you run–until he catches you. Warnings: Rape, Kidnaping, Angst, Weponds, Blood, Violnace, Degradation Special Tags: Serial Killer AU

Bail @Toxicanonymity Summary: Joel gets a call from Tommy in the middle of the night. When he gets home all he wants to do is spend time with the reader. Warnings: None Special Tags: Free Use

Talk Me Down @hellishjoel Summary: You’re finally ready to sit down and discuss your obvious daddy issues. Your therapist, Joel, has his methods. Warnings: Mental Health Special Tags: Age Gap, Therapist Au

Carnal   @pascalsbby Summary: You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth. Warnings: Language, Dubious Consent, Voyeurism, Stalking Special Tags: Dark, Age Gap

Choke On It @djarin-dreams Summary: They’re both members of the Jackson community, often put on patrols together. Reader has a penchant for destruction and rage, especially in the face of self-preservation. Sometimes, they just want to be able to let go. Warnings: Language, Dubious Consent, Violence, Degradation Special Tags: Dark, BDSM

The Special One @toxicanonymity Summary: Joel like the taste of your blood. Warning: Blood, Kidnaping Special Tags: Vampire AU

Hot Single Dilfs In Your Area Want To Chat! @walkintotheriveranddisappear Summary: Hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply. Warning: Language, Voyeurism, Age Gap Special Tags: Multichapter, Dirty

Sleep Bliss @creedslove Summary: You and Joel used to share a sleeping bag when you were on the road. Once you got to Jackson, he made sure to put an end to this habit, but now his nightmares are back to haunt him again and he needs your help Warnings: None Special Tags: Fluff, Masturbation

Burn For Me @psychedelic-ink Summary: Joel looks after you, provides for you, fucks you until the sun comes up; his only ask is that you never leave his apartment, not willing to face another loss. One day when you find the door unlocked, you decide to take stroll, promising yourself that you’ll be back before he returns home. Warnings:  Dubious Consent, Special Tags: Stockholm Syndrome

Pay Girl @the-comorbidity Summary: Sex was a commodity in the QZ, and Joel Miller would do (and pay) damn near anything to have you Warnings: Prostitution, Language Special Tags: None

Kept Woman @slow-motionlovepotion Summary:  Pleasure has a price and Joel is willing to pay whatever it takes to have you Warnings: Language Special Tags: Possessive, Multichapter

Winter Coat @dev1lm4n Summary:  You gave a blowjob to trade for a winter coat back in the dark days, little do you know, that same guy is now your neighbor. Warnings: Language, Prostitution Special Tags: Multichapter

Prostar @dev1lm4n Summary: There's one thing you've been obsessed with and it comes in the form of a man trapped inside your 13-inch laptop. who would've guessed that wicked fantasies would be a part of your host family and a teacher to all your risky endeavors? Warnings: Language, Special Tags: Multichapter, Pornstar AU, Age Gap, Dirty

Fatherless @weirdfangirl Summary: You offer yourself to a complete stranger in order to survive. Warnings: Language, Dubious Consent Special Tags: Age Gap, Possessive, BDSM

Virgin Patrol @toxicanonymity Summary: Joel just wants you. Warnings: Language, Dubious Consent Special Tags: Age Gap, Virgin Reader

Snack Brake @joelscruff Summary:  You’re just can't keep quite. Warnings: Language, Cheating Special Tags: Age Gap, Praise Kink, Dad Joel

My Boyfriends Dad @jksprincess10 Summary:  When you meet your boyfriend at his family house, you find out he’s at a party and cheating on you. Your boyfriend’s dad offers to take care of you and show you what a real man is like. Warnings: Language, Cheating Special Tags: Age Gap, Praise Kink, Dad Joel, Dirty

Quicky @joelscruff Summary: Joel is your boyfriend’s dad and you’re fucking him in secret. that’s it. reader is of legal age. Warnings: Language, Cheating Special Tags: Age Gap, Praise Kink, Dad Joel

Jealous @eufezco Summary: You're a little jealous of Tess. Warnings: Angst Special Tags: None

Daddy Issues @alien-magnolia Summary: Reader has new Daddy Warnings: None Special Tags: Daddy Kink, Hyperfem, Dom/Sub, Dirty

What you’re missing @toxicanonymity Summary: Joel use reader in her sleep. Warnings: Rape Special Tags: Somnophlia, Dark

Making Diner @toxicanonymity Summary: Joel uses reader while she cooks. Warnings: None Special Tags: Free Use

House Arrest @shadeysprings Summary: Your mom goes to attend a work conference for a couple of days, leaving you home alone with her husband. Warnings: Rape Special Tags: Step-Incest

Pillow Princess @ninebluehearts Summary: Reader is a Pillow Princess Warnings: None Special Tags: Hyperfem, Dom/Sub, Dirty

i wanna be your lover @shellshocklove  Paring: Joel Miller X Reader Summary: Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred? Warning: None Special Tag: Dirty, Porn Star AU

give in @cupofjoel Summary: Joel shows you how to love yourself the way you deserve. Warnings: None Special Tag: Soft

Red Light @kiwisbell Summary: The men you keep bringing home are no good for you. It's up to your landlord Joel to protect you from heartbreak.  Warnings: Murder Special Tag: Landlord AU

Truth or Dare @joelscruff Summary: harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. Warnings: Age gap Specials Tags: Bondage, Dirty

Crave @allfoolsinluv Summary: You've been babysitting for Joel and Tess for quite some time now. It's a good gig to have while you're working towards your degree. You like them a bit more than you probably should. Warnings: None Specials Tags: Muilty chapter.

Copycat Killer @beskarandblasters Summary: Joel is a famous singer and Copycat Killer is an obsessed fan. She’s willing to do anything and go anywhere to learn more about Joel. Warnings: Drinking, Drugs, Dub con, Specials Tags: Rock star Au, Stalker Au

Ft. Tess Servopoulos (No Smut)

Gone Soft @blathannabeaga Summary: They are soft only for you. Warnings: None Special Tags: Fluff, Poly

Misunderstanding @pettyprocrastination Summary: You misunderstood Tess and Joel relationship Warnings: None Special Tags: Fluff, Poly

My ex boyfriend’s parents @jksprincess10  Summary: After discovering Chad was cheating on you, Joel offered you to  show you what a real man felt like. Now, his wife was taking part of it as well. Warnings: Mentions of Cheating Special Tag: Poly

Smut

Strangle Love @ozarkthedog Summary:  Joel & Tess find you beaten and bloody on the streets in the q zone. they bring you to their place to nurse you back to health but when you try to leave they aren’t so quick to let you go. Warnings: Rape, Abuse, Violence, Drug Use Special Tags: Poly, Dark

Mare Nostrum Mediterranean Grill @punkassfrance Summary: Your first job would have been stressful enough if you didn't have to deal with mind games from Joel and Tess. But god, you couldn't bring yourself to complain. Warnings: None Specials Tags: Poly, Voyeurism

Ft. Tommy Miller (Smut)

Sharing is Caring @inlovewithquestionablecharacters Summary: The brothers decide to share you. Warnings: Possible Incest, Dirty Special Tags: Poly,

Close Your Eyes, Pay the Price for Your Paradise @ozarkthedog Summary: Hitchhikingis especially dangerous during the outbreak. Warnings: Rape, Abuse, Violence, Kidnaping Special Tags: Poly, Dark, Multichapter

[integra1127grimmreaper]

Could Sure Use Your Company (Joel Miller)

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: As Joel attempts to settle into Jackson something completely unexpected happens; he meets you. Inspired by Pam Tillis' - In Between Dances.

"See ya finally decided to come out an socialize" Tommy greets Joel at the entrance to the Tipsy Bison with a hard pat on the back.

"Well, ya been buggin' me for the past two weeks, not like I had much a choice" Joel mutters under his breath as they make their way to the bar.

"Ya needed this, so stop complainin'..." Tommy scowls, standing behind the bar as he poured them both a drink.

"After what Ellie and ya went through... it's time to destress."

"We'll be fine" Joel grumbles against the rim of the whisky glass.

"Ellie's beginnin' to fall in with the lifestyle, but ya still about; 'waiting on the other shoe to drop'..." Tommy responds.

"Ya need to relax, Joel. Sit back, have a few rounds an enjoy the nice Friday evenin'."

Stepping away; Tommy left Joel to his own device, to tend to the other patrons at the bar. The bar was surprisingly busy; couples slow dancing in the centre of the room to the sounds of a fiddle being flawlessly played by an older gentle sat on a small stage against the sidewall.

Silently savoring his drink whilst watching Tommy work behind the bar, Joel's eyes flutter shut as the fiddler begins to play a familiar song. The sense of tranquility soon vanishes when a feminine voice begins singing the words that accompany it.

*

There's room at my table, why don't you pull up a seat? The music's inviting but I'm staying off of my feet The floor's getting crowded, but I don't wanna take part I bet you can guess it's got something to do with my heart

Turning around as if hypnotized by the voice, Joel finds himself staring at what could only be described as a pure vision. The woman was beautiful, almost angel like. The entire scene felt like from a movie as Joel watched her through the crowd of dancing couples; eyes shut tightly as she poured her soul into the song.

*

I could sure use your company now But don't be mistaking my smile I'm only in between dances Sitting it out for a while

The partners are chosen, look at them waltzing away The tempo gets slower, closer and closer they sway

I've had my moments when I could get lost in the sound But when the song ended the one in my arms let me down

Joel was entranced as he continued to watch her, he hadn't heard a voice as beautiful and soulful as hers in a long time. It made his fingers ich in yearning for his old guitar, for the opportunity to string the chords in synchronize with that perfect voice. Not only that, but to be able to get to know the person attached to the voice as well.

Joel's breath catches in his throat suddenly when the most magically moment happens then; her eyes gently flutter open and make direct contact with his own, a soft smile crossing her lips as she continues. *

Have you been in my shoes? I search your eyes for signs Will you remain, remember my name After closing time

I'm only in between dances Sitting it out for a while...

The song ends as everyone stops to give cheer as she giggles while bowing.

"See ya taken a liking to our residential songstress..." Tommy remarks, snapping Joel from his daze.

"Huh? What?"

"Y/N..." Tommy answers with a head tilt.

"She's the music teacher. Likes to entertain 'em once every weekend, when she's not working behind the bar that is."

"Uh... got a nice voice" Joel mutters after clearing his voice.

"That she does" Tommy responds with a knowing smirk.

"Sure that ain't all ya noticed."

"Don't know what ya mean" Joel frowns, throwing back the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"Ya forget I'm ya brother. I know that look..."

"What look?" Joel scoffs, his facial expression turning anxious when you suddenly appear next to Tommy behind the bar.

"Great work as always, Songbird..." Tommy remarks, pulling you into his side for a hug.

"Thanks" you lightly slap his chest with a soft chuckle and that's when you notice the older man seated in front of you.

 "Hi..." you smile at the man that looked similar to Tommy.

Joel, at lost for words; stared open-mouthed at you until Tommy saves him.

"This is my brother, Joel. Joel, this is Y/N..."

"Pleased to meet you" you reach out a hand in greeting.

Snapping himself out of his stupider; Joel hastily grips your hand, making an even stupider move.

"Please to me you too... Names, Joels."

"I know..." you smirk in response as Tommy softly snickers beside you.

Joel shuts his eyes, letting out a pained groan, "he said that already."

"Yup" you place the other hand over one the one that was holding yours, gently patting it.

"Don't worry about it. Ya good."

Slowly cracking his eyes open, Joel was met with most genuine smile he had received in ages.

"Say, Joel was just busy complimenting ya singing before this..." Tommy interrupts the moment then.

"Thank you" you blush in response.

"Ol' Charlie's good on the fiddle but it could really have used the backup of a base guitar."

"Joel plays base!" Tommy eagerly volunteers.

"Seriously...?!" you stare at Joel in fascination.

"Ahem... used to play, ya mean" Joel splutters out, silently staring daggers at Tommy.

"That's too bad..." your shoulders sadly drop.

"Would've been a great if you could demonstrate a bit for the kids. Charlie's already shown 'em how the fiddle works, and I teach them on the piano, just never been good with the guitar."

Feeling like an asshole for making your smile disappear, Joel attempts to soothe you.

"Ain't got my guitar no more, that why."

Your eyes suddenly spark up then, "so, you're saying; if you had one you would?"

Joel breaks out in a nervous sweat as he looked deep into your hopeful eyes. Not wanting to see the sad look of disappointment in them again; he caves.

"I might."

"Great! I'll see if I can get one!" you perk up in excitement.

"Let me get ya another drink" you offer, spinning around to grab the whisky.

What you didn't see during that moment; was Tommy bouncing his eyebrows suggestively at his brother, while Joel silently flipped him the bird in response.

"Great..." Joel mutters out, rubbing at his brow with a heavy sigh.

"Here ya go..." you place the drink in front of Joel with a broad smile.

"Thanks" he flashes you a shy dimpled smile in response. Lifting the glass to his lips, Joel's eyes fall onto your ass when you walk away to tend to someone else.

"Lord... help me..." he mutters into the glass, knocking it back in one go.

Part 2

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous chapter

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*chapter warnings* - noncon digital penetration, degradation, possessive Joel

Your home was one of the smaller houses in Jackson. A two bedroom weatherboard cottage that, despite desperately needing a new coat of paint, was quaint and perfectly suited to you. It's cosiness was comfortable and the unpretentious simplicity of its appearance felt safe. You had the comforts of a couch in your living room along with a small bookshelf full of books, a bed in your room complete with a dresser and mirror, and hot running water. Although you didn't have many furnishings and your most cherish possessions were sparse, you were proud to call the cottage your home, your sanctuary.

The morning daylight streamed through the lace curtains of your bedroom window, its warm touch rousing you from your slumber. You managed to find sleep sometime after midnight, after replaying the scene of the break up in your mind over and over, crying into your pillow until you were too exhausted to stay awake. This morning your head was aching and your eyes felt swollen. The memory of the previous night came flooding back to you and you groaned. You threw the blanket over your head and buried your face into your pillow, wishing you didn't have to work today.

Three days a week you worked as a teacher at the school and the other two days you were scheduled to cleaning work in the mess hall. You realised you had to talk to Maria about the possibility of switching jobs; if you remained working in the mess hall then you were bound to run into Joel, something you now wanted to avoid. Thankfully, today was a teaching shift and one you had been looking forward to - your class today was with the younger children and you had planned to teach them about the difference between insects with exoskeletons and endoskeletons.

Suddenly you remembered the library book you forgot to pick up last week, a children's science book with illustrations that you needed for today's lesson. Shit. Looking at your clock you saw that you had enough time to shower, have breakfast and quickly pop into the library before the start of your lesson.

Begrudgingly you hauled yourself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, stepping over the dress you wore last night that you had left discarded on the floor. You didn't want to see it. In the bathroom you turned on the shower then stood before the bathroom mirror and stripped off your sleep shorts and tank top. You sighed at the puffiness of your eyes and hoped the warm water of the shower would lessen the pink swelling. Your eyes wandered over your naked form and you spied the fading hickey Joel had given you on one of your hips last week.

He often marked you with bites and hickies as a way of claiming ownership of your body, hidden underneath your clothes for only you and him to see, your own personal reminder it was Joel that you belonged to. You had never denied him this liberty, only protesting when the drag of his teeth or his sucks became too painful. A memory flashed in your mind then to a night when Joel had been especially rough with you and had bitten the flesh of your ass too hard, causing you to squeal in pain. The bruise had lasted more than a week. You remembered the way he had massaged and kissed the area with a kind of gentle reverence, the touch of his large hands and the plush of his lips both soothing and arousing you at the same time.

The realisation that he would never mark you like this again made your heart sink, however, any sadness you felt disappeared when you saw the bruise on your upper arm from where he held you last night, the purple marks outlining the way his fingers wrapped around you. The sight conjured a different memory now; the way Joel's lips had curled into a cruel snarl as his words cut through you, the savage grip of his hand, the sheer contempt that had shone in his eyes. It sent a shiver down your spine and made you quickly turn away from your reflection and step into the shower.

******

You shut the front door of your cottage and began the walk to the town library a few streets away. The shower had refreshed you and after getting dressed and groomed, you were pleased at your reflection in the mirror; you had managed to look quite good. The morning sunshine warmed your skin as you strolled and you took a deep breath of fresh air. Today would be a new beginning. A fresh start. No more arranging your schedule around Joel's demands, no more sneaking around the backstreets of Jackson, no more being at his beck and call whenever he wanted you.

You had your day planned out. After your teaching shift you would spend some time preparing for tomorrow's lesson, then you would find Maria and talk to her about changing jobs. You knew you would still have to see Joel around town occasionally, but you wanted to limit the possibility of running into him or having any potential chance encounters. You needed the distance in order to heal and forget everything you had shared.

The town was already bustling with community members going about their daily business, children playing games in the street, men and women on their way to their jobs, shopkeepers opening their stores. As you walked through the town, people greeted you with friendly smiles and some of the children called out to you and waved. You felt grateful for their affection and the sense of community around you, and deep down you hoped that this comraderie and the sense of purpose your job gave you was enough to soothe the ache of your broken heart.

The library was a small building tucked away in a nook on the main street. It was a relatively small space comprised of several rows of neatly arranged shelves, two couches, and a very worn arm chair. Over the years the patrols had managed to collect an impressive catalogue of books from their raiding missions. Maude, the elderly librarian, managed the library three days a week and took her role quite seriously.

You had always loved to read, the appreciation for literature having been instilled in you at a young age by your parents. The library was a peaceful niche of Jackson that you enjoyed delving into, often curling up on one of the couches to read a novel in your spare time, Maude's quiet nature being the perfect company for your visits.

You entered the library and smiled at the little jingle of the bell that sits above the entrance. You expect to see Maude standing at her usual spot at the counter, writing something down while muttering to herself. But this morning she isn't there. Instead, there is a man.

The unexpected presence makes you freeze still by the door. At the sound of the chime he looks up from the book laid out infront of him on the counter. You recognised his face as someone you've seen around Jackson before, but have never spoken to. He is of average height and has short curly black hair. His short facial hair is thick, unlike Joel's patchy beard, you randomly think. His skin is very lightly tanned olive. The small round glasses he wears give him a studious quality, and his large dark brown eyes seem kind and welcoming. He is older than you but not as old as Joel. He wears a dark knitted sweater and his overall appearance is bookish, academic. He is gorgeous.

"Good morning," he greeted you, smiling softly.

"Good morning," you replied, a little stiff. You cautiously stepped up to the counter, uncertain if you should be suspicious of Maude's absence. He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"How can I help you?"

"Oh," you frowned and shook your head slightly, as if trying to shake off the awkwardness you felt. "Uhm, there was a book that I was supposed to borrow the other day. Maude put it aside for me."

"Oh, yes," he clicked his fingers and nodded eagerly. "You're the teacher, right? Maude told me you'd be in. She put it under the counter. Something about bugs."

"Yes, that's right." You eyed him cautiously. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

The man bent down behind the counter and retrieved a hardcover book with the title Kids Bug Science Volume II in large letters on the front, the one Maude had told you about last week. He put it on the counter and gave a small chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I should've introduced myself by now. I'm Oscar," he held out his hand to you. You accepted it in your own and gave it a light shake, giving him your own name. His hand was warm and soft but strong, masculine. You hadn't had another man touch you, even formally like this, since before you gave yourself to Joel. The contact made you blush and you averted your eyes to look down at the book instead of his gaze.

"Maude hasn't been feeling well, so Maria assigned me to help out in the library," Oscar explained as he braced himself against the counter, his tanned hands splaying on-top of the wood. "One of the patrols brought a load of books in just the other day, so there's some work to do."

"Oh," your eyes flickered back up to look at him, your interest piqued. "What do you usually do?"

"I work in the stables and sometimes on patrol," Oscar replied. "But I injured my ankle and I'm not really of any use at either job at the moment." He smiled ruefully. There is a benevolent air about him, a gentle humility that shines through as he speaks. You begin to relax, no longer wary of him.

"I'm sorry to hear about your injury," you said shyly, "but this job must be great. It's quiet, you don't have to talk to many people, you can read as much as you like..."

Oscar grinned at you and pushed himself away from the counter to stand up straight. "Yes, it's a nice change of pace," he agreed with a nod, "I like the peace, and reading, too. Do you like to read?"

"Yes, I do," you replied. You looked down and shifted on your feet awkwardly, inwardly hating the curse of your shyness.

"What do you like to read?" Oscar asked. "I can keep an eye out while I sort through the new books we got. So, if I find something I think you might like, I could keep it behind the counter for you."

His voice was gentle with sincerity but there was an edge of eagerness in his tone, as if he yearned for conversation, as if he needed to prove his usefulness. You realised that no one had shown interest in you like this for a very long time, if ever, and it made you feel nervous. You picked up the science book and hugged it to your chest, comforted by its weight against you.

"That would be really nice," you responded quietly. You gathered the courage to look up at Oscar and found his cheeks blushed pink, the corners of his mouth curled into a tender smile. You smiled back at him before your eye caught sight of the clock hanging on the wall behind him, making you gasp - your class was due to start in 5 minutes.

"It was really nice to meet you Oscar, but I've gotta go, my class is about to start." You smiled apologetically at him. "Thank you for the book."

"Oh, no problem," Oscar waved his hand. "How about you write down a list of any books you might be after?" He suggested, holding his hand out palm up. "I mean, whenever you're free, or if you even want to. No pressure." He stumbled over his words as if he were nervous and it made you giggle.

"That's a good idea, I'll do that. Thanks Oscar." You nodded toward him one last time before turning to walk out of the door.

"It was nice to meet you, too!" he called out to you as you passed through the threshold. You stepped back into the sunshine and smiled to yourself as you walked to the school. I can do this, you thought, there are other people in Jackson besides Joel, more friends to make. Life can be exciting without him, I can be happy without him.

You hoped that if you repeated these things inside your mind enough times that you would eventually believe it.

******

The next three days pass by uneventfully. You teach your class, make notes for the next lesson, have dinner in the cafeteria with your friends and spend some time hanging out with them, then go home for the evening. You know Joel's patrolling schedule like the back of your hand, so you're able to avoid the main street and the cafeteria hall and the local bar, The Tipsy Bison, when he's likely to be around.

You talked to Maria about switching jobs and she said she needed to check the rosters to see what was available, but ultimately she granted you the relief of no longer working in the mess hall. When Maria questioned your decision to quit, you gave a mumbled, noncommittal response about needing a change. She didn't need to know your real reason, although the answer you offered wasn't necessarily a lie; you truly were determined to rebuild yourself, to start living your life how you wanted, and you really did need a change.

Tonight you sat with three of your friends at a table in the hall to eat dinner. You ate dinner together most evenings, catching up on gossip and discussing the events of the day, the plans for the next town event, what men your friends had their eye on. You were fortunate enough to have some friends the same age as you in Jackson and over the years your small circle of girlfriends had proved to be one of the main sources of happiness and comfort in life.

Kate, your closest friend, sat beside you at the table, scraping her spoon around her tray as she listened to the conversation happening infront of you. Your friends Jess and Rhi sat opposite you, engaged in a debate about some subject you weren't paying attention to. You were deep in thought about your lesson plan and what research you needed to finish before next week's class.

"Are we going to the Bison tonight?" Kate interjected.

"Yes!" Jess cheered, immediately abandoning the argument. "After the week I had, I need a drink."

"Ugh, same," Rhi groaned. "Let's get drunk and dance "

They all looked at you expectantly for confirmation but you were quiet, lost in your thoughts. Kate nudged you out of your trance.

"Hmm?" You hummed, head snapping up to look around the table."What?"

"The Bison tonight, you coming?" Jess asked eagerly.

It was the last place you wanted to be tonight. You had always enjoyed the occasional nights spent at the bar dancing and drinking with your friends. You would laugh with them as you danced and drank beer and tried to play darts, all the while secretly being watched by Joel across the bar, both of you pretending to ignore each other until the end of the night when you would rendezvous somewhere and Joel would fuck you senseless. It had always been so fun and exciting. But now, the thought of the mere probability of seeing Joel at his favourite hang out caused a knot of dread in your stomach.

"I'm pretty tired." You mumbled. ""Just going to have a quiet night at home."

"Boring!" Rhi declared. "Come on, we haven't been out in forever!"

"The barn dance was just a few nights ago," Kate laughed.

"But we didn't get drunk," Rhi corrected her. "And I didn't go home with the blonde ranger, either. So that doesn't count."

Your group continued talking about the plans for the night and what everyone was going to wear when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Maria standing beside you.

"Hey Maria." You greeted her.

"Hey. Just letting you know that I took a look at the job rosters and all I've really got are patrol shifts."

"Oh," you mumbled, deflated. "Sorry Maria, I don't think I'd be very good at patrolling. I can't even shoot a tin can to save my life."

Maria laughed a little, nodding in agreement. "I know. Well, the only other option is the library. Maude isn't sure she will be up to working anytime soon, and Oscar might need some help. He was talking about doing some painting in the interior. Is that something you'd be willing to do?"

You couldn't help the broad smile of relief that broke out on your face. "That would be perfect, actually. Yes please, Maria."

"All sorted then," she nodded. "You can start tomorrow."

"Whose Oscar?" Jess asked in a whisper as Maria left the table. The girls look at you with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, he's looking after the library while Maude is sick," you picked up the bread roll on your tray. "He used to do patrolling and some other stuff, but he got hurt."

"Ooooh, I know him," Kate chirped. "He sometimes patrolled with Matt." Matt was Kate's older brother. "Kinda nerdy but cute, right?"

You pursed your lips together bashfully, unsure what to say in response. Oscar certainly was cute, infact he was quite attractive, but you didn't want to admit that to anyone. To your relief, Rhi suddenly squealed and leaned against the table to hiss excitedly about the blonde ranger who just strolled into the hall. Kate rolled her eyes.

"Could you be any more obvious?" Jess chuckled.

"By the way, I have a great idea for Cassie's wedding gift," Kate leaned against you affectionately. "You're gonna love it."

"Fantastic," you smiled. "I'll walk with you when we're done, and you can tell me all about it."

******

After dinner Rhi and Jess went back to the house they shared to get ready for drinks at the bar. You walked Kate across town to the house she lived in with her brother and his wife, chatting along the way. The sun had already set and the sky had faded into twilight. The streetlights would alight soon. Not many people lingered on the streets of Jackson at this time; they were either eating a late dinner in the mess hall, or already settled into their homes for the night, or at the bar. A few teenagers stalked around the streets in small groups, presumably on the hunt for mischief.

"Are you sure you won't come out tonight?" Kate asked you gently as you both approached her house. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you flashed her a small smile. "I'm fine. Just tired. You guys go have a good time."

"Okay, well, get some rest." She embraced you and you hugged her back. "Let's do some more gift planning tomorrow, yeah?"

You agreed to meet Kate after your first shift at the library, then said goodnight and turned to walk in the direction of your own home. You leisurely strolled through one of the residential streets with your hands in your jeans pockets, marvelling at the first twinkle of stars appearing in the black night sky above you. You turned a corner into another quiet street and continued walking, occupied by your thoughts as you sifted through the events of the day in your mind. You were enthusiastic at the prospect of starting work at the library, although you felt bad that Maude was so unwell; you made a mental note to visit her sometime in the next few days to check in on her health. You decided you would try your best to gather a small arrangement of flowers to give her, thinking that it may help to cheer her up a bit.

Halfway down the street you diverted from the sidewalk to cut through a bunch of shrubs inbetween two houses, taking a short cut to lead into your own street. You were only a few houses away from your home when suddenly a hand clamped down over your mouth and nose, stifling your shocked squeal. An arm snaked around your waist and hauled you into the dark shadows between the neighbouring houses. The air left your lungs as you were shoved hard against the side of one of the buildings. You recognised the scent of Joel's skin and the callous palm of his hand straight away but the rush of fear continued to course through your whole body.

He had your back against the wall, his hand still covering your mouth and his arm around your waist, his body pressed flush against yours. Your eyes widened at how close he was, his warm breath fanning against your cheeks, his belly and hips digging against your lower half. The clear discrepancy between your height and size made you feel like trapped prey, helpless and weak in his grasp with no hope of escape. You felt suffocated and frightened.

"Where you been, kitten?" Joel murmured. He nuzzled his nose against your cheek and inhaled your smell. "Waited for you to come 'round last night."

He removed his hand from your mouth and you immediately sucked in a deep breath of air that made you cough. Joel's hand then wrapped around your throat lightly, causing you to whimper in fear.

"Well, where were you?" Joel growled impatiently. The disorientating fog of shock had momentarily slowed your thought process but you were still able to register the feeling of his erection pressing into your thigh. In that instant you knew that Joel wasn't going to be gentle with you.

"W-w-we aren't together, Joel." You gasped. Your hands reached up in a pathetic attempt to prise his grip off of your neck. "I'm not...I won't be doing that with you anymore."

"Don't be fuckin' stupid," he muttered scornfully.

"I-I'm not," you stammered. You tried to remain composed and assertive but the unsteady tone of your voice betrayed you. Your heart pounded in your chest and your mouth felt dry. "We...we're over."

Joel tilted his head back and barked a sardonic laugh. "Is that so?"

His broad hand squeezed your throat hard, choking you. Your eyes widened in panic and you tried desperately to claw at his hand. Joel studied your face intently as you struggled, unfazed by your movements. A wicked smirk formed on his lips. "That ain't your choice to make, sugar. You are mine. We ain't over til I fuckin' say we are."

He kept you pinned against the wall as his other arm uncoiled itself from your waist. You felt his hand roam over your stomach and down to your jeans. Humiliation washed over you as he began to unbutton your jeans, his breathing now becoming ragged. Joel's hold on your neck had robbed you of the ability to protest and tears pooled in your eyes and threatened to spill any moment.

"Little bitch," Joel snarled.

His hand dipped into your underwear and he pushed two of his thick fingers directly onto your clit. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. He began to rub light circles over your clit, forcing your eyes to roll back in pleasure. You felt the strength drain from your body as the lightheaded sensation consumed you. Your hands dropped down to your sides while your shoulders slumped, your legs close to buckling underneath you. Your vision was rapidly becoming dark and fuzzy.

"Your pussy belongs to me." Joel whispered huskily. "Feel that, baby? Yeah, you fuckin' love it. 'Soon as I touch ya, you turn into a whore."

Joel lessened his hold on the column of your neck just enough for you to breathe again. A strangled cough burned your throat as you inhaled. Your glassy eyes recentered on Joel's face and the tears began to stream down your cheeks. He continued massaging the pads of his fingers on your clit and leaned in to press a soft kiss against your lips. You sobbed helplessly, hating yourself for the wetness that was gathering in your panties despite the depravity of what was happening to you, despising the fact that Joel knew your body so intimately and was so adept at making you come undone. His fingers inched further to brush over the entrance of your pussy and instantly became coated in your slick.

"See?" He purred, his Southern accent rich with his own desire.

He pulled his head back to look into your eyes and you saw there was now a kind of solemn tenderness in his dark brown orbs.

"No one knows you better than I do, babydoll." Joel slowly pushed his two fingers inside you, your wetness allowing his thick digits to stretch you open in a way that was exhilarating.

"Fuck," you moaned, your mouth falling open and your eyebrows knitting together from the pleasure. Joel began to fuck you with his fingers, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Without thinking, you instinctively parted your legs and grabbed onto his shoulders to steady yourself. He relinquished his hold on your neck and moved his hand up to loosely cup your chin, and stroked his thumb along your jaw. You shut your eyes and allowed yourself to be consumed by his touch.

"That's it, babydoll," Joel drawled. His fingers sheathed all the way inside you and expertly curled against your g-spot. You bit your lip in an effort to suppress your moans and dug your fingers into the rounded muscles of his shoulders. Your legs trembled and your head began to swim as the familiar intoxicating swirl of ecstasy coiled in your belly.

"Joel," you whimpered.

With his fingers deep inside you stimulating the spongy ridge of your sweet spot, Joel started to rub your clit with his thumb. The intense pleasure he was giving you was starting to break your resolve, tempting you to forgive him and succumb once more to his control. His eyes were focused on your features, darting over your mouth and eyes, drinking in every mirco expression that passed over your face.

"My little slut," he groaned.

Your eyes flickered open to see the warmth had left his eyes. It had been replaced with a fiery glare that you knew well, a dangerous look that made you anxious with the apprehension of what he would do next. The recognition of the shift in his demeanour snapped you out of the haze of euphoria and engulfed you with panic.

"Stop," you whined. You pushed your palms flat against his chest and tried to shove him back, even though you knew it was pointless. "I said stop, Joel."

"Ain't goin' anywhere," Joel grunted. "Needa reminder of who owns you, girl."

His thumb continued circling your clit as his fingers resumed pushing in and out of your wetness. You randomly contemplated screaming for help, to slap him, kick him, to fight back somehow, but realistically you knew it would only enrage Joel and make things a whole lot worse for you.

Without warning, the loud sounds of glass shattering and nearby teenage voices laughing rang through the quiet street. Both your heads whipped around towards the direction the noise had come from. He clapped his palm over your mouth and stopped fucking you with his fingers, poised to see if anyone was approaching. The voices grew louder and you guessed there were atleast three teenagers close by. When Ellie's distinct voice sang out to tease one of her friends, Joel quickly slid his hand out from your underwear and stepped back from you to adjust his hard cock in his pants. You hurriedly buttoned up your jeans and glanced at Joel. He was already staring at you, scowling, his eyes dark with warning.

"I meant what I said. Ain't over til I say it is." He said bitterly.

The voices were closer now, Ellie's lilt loud and unmistakable in the chorus. You knew the possibility of Ellie discovering you and Joel in such a compromising situation would force him to abandon his pursuit of you. Without saying another word, Joel turned his back on you and stalked away, the leaves and gravel crunching underneath his heavy work boots.

You stayed in the shadows as you raced home to your cottage. You were in desperate need of the quiet haven of solitude that your cottage was. Once inside the cottage you curled up under your blanket on your bed and cried. You wept at the overwhelming mixture of disgust and sadness that twisted in your gut. However, perhaps the most painful thing of all was the self hatred you felt at the way your body still ached for Joel.

next chapter

[cowgurrrl]

Please, Let Me Go

Summary: “In all these years, you never believed I loved you. And I did. I did so much. I did love you. I even loved your hate and your hardness.” - Tennessee Williams [1.1k]

Author’s note: This one goes out to @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel who loves Adam as much as I do 🫶

Warnings: Pre-Joel, probably incorrect wound care, PTSD symptoms, mentions of nightmares, “maybe in another life, we’d be happy”

2006

“You gotta be more careful,” Adam says as he wraps your forearm in gauze.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Did I say it was?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at you, and you sigh. You cut yourself on barbed wire coming back into the QZ after a run, and Adam caught the blood on your jacket before you could hide it. He sat you down at the kitchen table with the first aid kit and gentle hands. The yellow kitchen light shines against his messy brown hair and the square, taped-together glasses on his nose. “FEDRA’s getting antsy. That’s why the barbed wire went up. I just want you to know what’s up.”

“I know.” You say, and a ghost of a smile floats over his lips.

“Then, don’t shoot the messenger.” He teases. You roll your eyes, and he kisses the clean bandage covering your stitches to make it up to you. You grab his hand and run your thumb over the unset fracture in his metacarpal bones that only you can still identify. He smiles and scoots his chair closer to you to fully relish the sudden attention.

“Jane asleep?” You whisper, and he nods.

“Told her you’d tuck her in before we went to bed.”

“Good.” You say, copying his smile, as you lean in to kiss him. It’s lazy and the most unromantic of situations, blood-stained towels lingering on the table, but neither of you cares. You squeeze his hand and pull away to kiss his cheek. “What story d’you guys read tonight?”

“Cinderella,” he says, and you hum. There aren’t a ton of perks to smuggling, but sometimes you do get cool things like the battered old copy of fairy tales. Jane loves hearing them as much as Adam loves reading them. He says it reminds him of when he did story time with his kindergarteners. “She asked if that’s how we met.”

“At a ball?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s convinced I found your glass slipper, and that’s why I wait up for you when you go out without me,” he says. “To make sure you’ve got all your shoes or something.”

“God, I love her so much.” You groan from the cuteness, and he chuckles.

“She’s a good one.” He says.

“I guess, one day, we’re gonna have to tell her how we actually came to be.”

“Tell her all about how you rejected me after our first date.”

“I didn’t reject you. I said it could be confusing for her.”

“And I said kids understand more than we give them credit for.”

“You’re such a teacher.”

“You love it.” He says, and you take a deep breath. Your hand slips in his momentarily, but he doesn’t let you get far. “What?” He asks quietly, like he’s scared of you getting too distant.

“Do you remember your first impression of me?” You ask, and he smiles.

“Of course I do. I remember thinking you were beautiful and strong and smart. ‘S why I asked you out in the first place.”

“And after the Outbreak? What’d you think of me then?” You ask, a little hesitant, and he nods.

“You really wanna know my first thought when I saw you and Jane walk into the shelter that day?” He asks, and you nod. “I thought there might still be some good left in the world if you two were in it. And you don’t have to believe that. I know you probably won’t, but it’s true.” You try to take his words at face value, but you can’t. You think it might always be like this. You don’t know if there is a way to change it. “Do I get to know what you thought of me? Before and after?”

“I thought you were sweet and charming. And I remember thinking you were someone I wanted in my life just because of how you carried yourself. I was really disappointed when you were Jane’s teacher and not because I thought you were a bad teacher.” You say.

“And after?”

“I think… I remember how shocked I was that you were even alive. And I wanted to ask if you were okay and how you’d made it to the QZ, but I was so focused on Jane. I still am,” you say. “I’m sorry. I should’ve checked on you.”

“I probably wouldn’t have even told you what happened. I wasn’t ready.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

“You don’t have to be,” he squeezes your hand. “I just want you to know you’re not alone. We all had to do bad things to stay alive.” You shake your head and look down at your feet to avoid his eyes. He doesn’t flinch. He’s gotten good at dealing with your emotions and weathering them with you. You just wish you could find the words to talk about them. “You’re not alone. We can talk whenever you’re ready, and if you’re not, that’s okay.” He says again.

“I’m trying. I just-“

“I know, I know. I know you’re trying. I’m not asking for anything else, okay?” He asks, and you nod. “I just need you to try with me.”

“Okay.” You whisper, and he kisses you again.

“I do wish we would’ve gotten to go on more dates before everything. Real dates. Not just drops or stitching you up when something happens.” He changes the subject, and you’re thankful he doesn’t push any further. He can see you’re not ready. He can see how grateful you are.

“What would we have done?” You ask.

“Everything. Fancy dinners, dancing, trips.” His smile is so genuine you can’t stop yours from forming.

“Trips?” You ask, raising your eyebrows, and he nods.

“Somewhere with a beach and not the shitty beaches near here. I would’ve taken you to a nice beach where Jane could dig in the sand, and you could read whatever book you wanted, and I’d make us a picnic and pack mule all our shit in from the car.” He says in a dreamy voice. He knew you had a kid when you went on your first date, but you never would’ve thought he imagined a life with the three of you.

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Maybe in the next life.”

“We still have this one. We can make those things happen,” you say without thinking, and he stares at you. “I can make them happen. I know my way around. All we’d have to do is go west. Can’t be that hard, right?” You feel him slipping for a moment and hold his hand harder to keep him close. He smiles a little sadly and squeezes you back.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” he says. “We’ll have dreams about the ocean and sunshine and sand castles. No nightmares tonight, okay?” You nod and let him lead you to bed, leaving everything unspoken between you at the table.

The nightmares come as usual, but there’s a promise of a day when they don’t invade your psyche like they do now. A promise of a day with sunshine and water and sandcastles. A promise of more time.

[mentallyunstablegoldfish]

[Your Gentle Comfort] 18+

Story Summary: Your interest in boys didn’t really exist in your life. It wasn’t because you were against romance, but mainly for the fact that all the boys in your school were— well, boys. It wasn’t until you met your new teacher and had a relationship growing with him that you realized, you wanted a man.

Sense of Belonging - Chap 2

Joel Miller x F!reader - Teacher x F!Student

Warning: AGE GAP: After all it is a highschool student x teacher. Light swearing. Slow burn story. Being neglected by your parents. Emotional confrontation. Mentions of kidnapping [More will be added as the story progresses.]

Word Count: 3.6k (let me know if u want shorter or longer!!)

Chapter 1 —-> Click here!

Chapter Summary: Rainy day hits your home town, it gets you feeling glum whilst reflecting on your relationships. Your gloomy attitude also has someone turning their head to show you it’s ok.

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The next morning arises. You felt your tired eyes and your brain starting up for the day. You’re then completely woken up with memories of yesterday flooding through your head. Mr.Miller was the main character in each memory or thought, they featured his voice and the unexpected softness that came from his lips while he spoke to you. The way he dressed was picture perfect.

He made you feel something, but you weren’t quite sure what and whatever you were feeling. Though you were sure of one thing. You liked it and it was the first feeling you were sure of. As wrong as it seemed, you were pretty sure you had caught feelings for him.

At first you were thinking you had daddy issues, which isn’t completely off course. Your relationship with your father wasn’t as perfect as most father daughter relationships. You never thought much of it though, I mean it was what you were used to. A closed off father who was too busy with work to talk to his own daughter. So when Mr.Miller approached you saying you had your shit together, you felt like you were noticed.

You pulled yourself out of bed, and left the warm comfort of your blankets. You made your way to the kitchen where you prepared a quick breakfast. Your father had already left for work and that’s how it usually was. Your mother? She was usually gone too.

The house was gloomy and quite. You look out the window of your kitchen and it was grey and rainy. Shit. You were going to have to walk in the rain. Before you were looking forward to walking to school. Now you wish you could stay home and curl back in bed, be nice and dry and let yourself drift off. However, any absences seen by your parents would leave them angry at you and you didn’t want that. It was the reason your friend group didn’t like you. They said you didn’t have a sense of thrill in you. But they didn’t know about your everyday lifestyle, so you didn’t push a reasoning to them when confronted about your “boringness.”

You’d rub your eyes and walk back to your room to put on some clothes for the day. You decided right then and there that it would be a 0 percent effort day. Sweats and sweater is what you wore, comfy and practical. You put your phone in your sweater pocket, wired ear buds placed in your ears and you were ready. You finished your hot look off with a jacket and your back pack and found yourself in the doorway ready to leave. Looking for your umbrella, you were unfortunate and it had already been taken. Great.

You did a swift jog to school, this was another reason why you were grateful living only 5 minutes away. Thankfully it wasn’t a hard down pour and just frequent drips of water. It must have been raining all night due to the sides of streets being completely flooded. If only you had checked the weather before bed last night.

You made it to the school. Looking at the path that lead to the entrance, you remember seeing Mr.Miller for the first time. The thought of him struck your gut with a punch, he was going to use you as a class example for something. You sure weren’t dressed as an example today, knowing it was raining maybe it would slide. Either way, you felt bad and nervous for your future embarrassment.

You entered the class, looking at his desk. There he was. He sat reading a leather covered book, glasses placed on the bridge of his nose. You continue to walk to your desk. He looks up at you to see you drenched in water and removing your jacket before sitting down. His lips parted, did he feel bad?

“What happened to you?” Your friend asked you with worry painted on his face. This was unusual. He never started a conversation with him being worried about you, let alone start one.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just got splashed by a car on my way here I guess. Not too big of a deal.” A lie, it purely was just the rain, but oh was it such a big deal. If your parents cared about you for at least 5 minutes you may have been fortunate enough to get a ride, and had the opportunity to wear something a little nicer. They could have done the bare minimum too and leave you an umbrella which you would’ve been fine with. But nope.

It wasn’t until you sat down that you realized just how soaked you were. Your pants stuck to your legs and the temperature of it brought shock to your eyes. Cold. You were in for a long unpleasant day. You had crossed your arms and placed your head snug inside, just to lift your head again at the sound of your name.

“Come with me.” Mr.Miller had said, his eyes looked down at you. No sense of any emotion. You couldn’t read him. You lift your body up and followed him outside the classroom, hall empty.

“Let’s get you dry.” Though the hall was deserted, it was filled with him. Just those words alone made you feel something, it felt so wrong. He was just doing his job. But knowing someone was looking after you felt nice. Were you this desperate for attention from an older figure?

You didn’t reply to him. You only looked up at him a couple of times on the walk to who knows where. You only went on to admire him. He wore a different shirt this time, it was a blue dress shirt. The colour fit him well. You thought it was crazy just how easily his figure took your mind off of things. You thought he was hot and it drove you nuts. What would it be like to touch him?

“This school is very generous.” he said with a smirk. “I get my own office outside of the classroom.” Seeing the goofy smile on his face just from the knowledge that he had an extra space made you wanna laugh. But you held it back, because maybe that would be weird. Plus you didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.

He guides you into the room that you swore you’ve never seen before and shuts the door behind him. You glanced around, It was a small room, not much bigger than a walk in closet. The far wall housed a desk that faced towards the window leading outside. There was a heavy downpour outside, thank god you left early or you would have been stuck in that. There was a ton of shelves that filled the blank spaces of the walls too, mostly empty except for a few. They housed a bunch of different papers, folders and books. One even had another sheep figurine.

“You like sheep?” you said to break the scilence besides his rustling in a box. You hear a chuckle from the man inside the box.

“Yeah I do.” he replies

“Why? Aren’t they really noisy?”

“I’suppose, don’t laugh. But I’ve wanted to own a farm and raise sheep.”

That would explain the reoccurring figurines. It was a cute dream from a man like him.

“Here they are.” He hands you a pair of joggers and a long sleeved shirt that had a symbol of a horse on it.

“Oh, thanks.” Your face smeared with confusion. How does he just have clothes that would fit me

“Ah— I have a niece. My brother left‘em. Somehow ended up in here n I remembered about ‘em. She doesn’t wear ‘em anymore anyways.” He responds as if he read your mind.

“Convenient.” Convenient that he just knew what you were thinking.

He reaches for the door, but hesitates to open it after glancing back at you. “Mind I ask something?” he says calmly.

You knew what was coming. I mean who wouldn’t ask, it was kind of weird for someone to just show up completely drenched in water. This was the part you hated most about any sort of interaction with somebody. Questioning.

You stand still, gazing up at him. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to ask or not. Because once he did, you didn’t know what was going to happen to you next. Any sort of emotion could lash out. It was best that he didn’t have to go through that, especially on his second day.

You were basically shaking. Maybe signs of tears starting to develop in your eyes as well.

“its’okay. Maybe next time.”

It was clear he didn’t wanna push you into a more uncomfortable situation. You were unbelieved by the fact he just let it go. It would come back around to hit you in the face I imagined, but you’d be ready at least.

Once more you’re walking down the hallway. You both split ways as you were going to the women’s washroom to change. Nothing like having wet clothing in your bag.

You get back to class. Seemed everything was back in order as Mr.Miller was reading his book again, and glasses resting on his nose. A literal librarian.

Your friend notices your arrival but doesn’t pay you any attention. Thank god. You didn’t think you could handle anymore questions.

And just like that, students began to fill their desks and the bell had rung. Class was to start again.

Mr.Miller stood up from his corner and walked his way into the middle of everyone’s view.

“Alright, as we discussed yesterday you will have a prompt to write about, grab your materials.” Students begin to shuffle in their bags trying to grab what they needed, you joined in too. The tapping of the chalk began. He was writing the prompt.

“What angers you?” is what was written.

“I’ll give you all 10 minutes to write whatever comes to mind.” You make eye contact with Mr.Miller. “—and yes, after you’ve written, I’ll be reviewing if you’ve filled the page.”

Goddamn. You knew you were gonna be asked about it, but this way was never an option for you. You were always expected to use your voice when expressing your emotions, but never written. You liked this. This was do-able. But it only made you wonder, was this the actual prompt he wanted to use? Or was it for your sake to express your unsaid emotions comfortably?

Often in the 10 minutes you’d look up from your writing to see Mr.Millers eyes on you. You were pouring out all the details of how this morning sucked, and somehow even more from the day to day routines you faced. It bothered you a smidge that Mr.Miller was going to read it eventually, but you felt he deserved to know after taking the time to help you out. You felt appreciated… and again. Noticed. Noticed that you weren’t alone in the pain you felt, and that someone was there. Mr.Miller was there.

You continued to press on through the jungle of thoughts to clear the path on paper. You eyes flooded a few times and you felt your pulse grow stronger. But you had a sense of relief after the time was up. It felt nice to free those emotions. However the real test would be how you’d feel after someone’s read what you’ve wrote.

“That being time, if you could place your paper on my desk that would be great.” he taps a spot on his desk. Students then got up to place their papers on the spot. You nervously made your way over to, placing it on the pile. You catch his gaze again, he then lets out a soft smile that only you could see. Then journey your way back to your desk.

Upon sitting down you laid your head down in your arms again. Thoughts piled in your head about the fact he smiled at you, how he kept a watchful gaze on you and how his calm voice sounded earlier in his office. You trailed off into the ‘what if’s’ … what if he hugged me? what if I hugged him? I want to tell him I’m thankful.

While you dug around your thoughts on Mr.Miller. He continued the class onto an assignment he’d be moving you guys into in the next few days. With that, a handout was being distributed that discussed ways you can enhance your writing. He walked from desk to desk making sure everyone got one and once arriving at yours he tapped your head to get your attention on the paper. Reading it was fun, you’ve always liked writing and being descriptive when talking about your own fantasy world. This class was going to be a breeze.

When reading over the handout, you notice Mr.Miller flipping through the papers on his desk. Eventually he pulled one out. He glanced at you but you tried to look away as fast as you could to pretend you didn’t notice him taking it out. You had a feeling that paper may had been yours. You slowly look back in his direction. His eyes were wider than they were before. Either a very interesting piece of work, or it had to be yours. I mean, he seemed to be the type to show very little emotion with his eyes, even when he smiled his eyes didn’t move with it. You look back down at the paper in front of you to avoid being caught looking at his expression. But it was hard not to look away. You wanted to know what he was thinking and you were best doing that by watching someone’s face change.

But just like that the bell had rung. It was already time to be moving on to your next class.

Mr.Miller clears his throat, looks at you then towards the main area of the class. “See you all tomorrow—“ He paused. He then called your name and asked you to stay.

What now?

The class had left and just like that the door had shut. It was now only you and Mr.Miller in this classroom. He walks over to you and places a chair next to your desk and has a seat.

“Normally I don’t read over the work. I only check it to see if people gave effort.” He says. His eyes were a deep brown, it was the first time you noticed.

“You’re going through sometin’ for the fact you filled both sides and what your lil story was about.” For the first time you heard some concern in his voice. You knew you put a lot on that page. Somethings you don’t even remember so it could be anything of what you’ve been experiencing at home.

He placed his hand on your lap. Your eyes widened. A large pause commenced as you just stared into his eyes. He then finally opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m here for you.”

Without another word, or thought hitting your brain. Your eyes filled with tears and you were left to crumble on the spot. Eventually you felt his embrace. His arms were solid and they felt like hard brick walls to protect what ever entered. It was the first time you felt safe. You only continued to sob into his shoulder. No one’s ever told me that…

“I— I don’t” you stutter with your words. “I don’t under stand why they treat me like they do.” You choke on your tears. You felt his hug grow a little tighter before releasing you. He looked into your eyes, the eyes which burned from the tears. He rubbed your cheek to clear the rivers that flowed down.

For the first time, you let everything release and finally not by yourself. You reassessed your darkness to someone you’ve only known for a day, but someone who seemed to get you in all of 5 minutes. It all felt like an eternity. It felt so easy to just release everything around him. It was odd. But you weren’t going to complain about it. You felt free for the first time in awhile. It was nice feeling the comfort from another human.

“T-thank you. I’m sorry.”

The crying had come to a stop.

“You shouldn’t thank me, nor apologize.” He said it with comfort. It felt real.

He still kept his gaze on you in worry. You both sat in silence for a little longer, until he spoke.

“Do you need a ride home?”

It was weird. But you really didn’t want to walk in the rain. The wet cold feeling of your clothing wasn’t so pleasant. Plus, what was the worst that could happen? He kidnaps you? He doesn’t seem like the type… Even if so, would it be so bad?

“I- I’d appreciate that, thanks.” you gave him a smile whilst rubbing your sleeve onto your cheeks. You took a few deep breaths before getting up to leave.

“Remember, if you have anything you need to say. I’ll be here.” It was reassuring to hear his voice say that. You glanced at him one last time, he remained in the seat beside your desk and gave you that signature nod once more.

You journeyed off down the hall and down some stairs making a right turn into the library. You decided it was probably the more calmer place to cool off from the recent events. Maybe even peaceful enough to think about how he touched you and took you into his arms without hesitation…your heart was fluttering.

You pulled out a book from the shelf and found a place to sit. This was a better idea than completely covering your thoughts with Mr.Miller and have you drooling in public again. Problem is, this book was about romance. It only created more scenarios you could imagine with Mr.Miller. You didn’t think they’d roam this far… God am I disgusting?

You glance up from your book eyeing the printer by the librarians desk. Mr.Miller was there collecting papers. He was everywhere. Even though you told yourself to stop and how he was only being a teacher trying to help out you couldn’t help it. Why’d he have to be so damn attractive?!?

The bell had rung and you scurried off to your next class. Keeping the book you had taken out for…later use.

Again same routine as before, dozing off in your thoughts but still managing to grip on to reality so you could catch your name being called at any moment. You couldn’t get over the fact that soon you’d be in his car. Completely immersed into a part of his life. The smell of his car, wether it was dirty or clean. It would tell a story of who he was and it only made him that much more intriguing.

———————————————————————————

The school day ended. Leaving your last class with your heart thumping loudly. You swore anyone who walked by would hear it. You made your way to the front doors, just to see that it was still pouring rain. Mr.Miller stood there waiting with a book bag in hand and an umbrella. It seemed he was waiting for you. He looked up to see you, standing more straight then he was before and gave a nod. You both left out the door while he opened the umbrella.

A short journey to the car later and you were in his car. You slightly looked around, the car was decent, but it wasn’t clean to perfection. It felt right. The smell is what hit you the hardest. It smelt exactly like his cologne which stuffed butterflies in your stomach. You liked the smell of him mixed with it. It was a drug.

Now came the awkward part, the part where he’d ask you for your address to which you didn’t think about beforehand. He’d now know where you lived when he’d drive you. But you slid it off your shoulder.

You told him where about he had to go, and soon the 2 of you were off. The sound of the wheels in the puddles was satisfying. You were so lucky in this moment to experience comfort during a time like this. If only your own parents cared as much.

For the most part the ride was silent, every now and then he’d ask you a random question like what your favourite colour was or what day of the week you preferred. It was a nice distraction.

The car comes to a stop on your empty driveway. As expected no one was home.

“Thanks again.” You give him a smile and move your hand towards the handle of the door. But before you could leave he grabs your hand.

“You’re crying again.” He says comfortably.

He was right, your eyes were flooded over. So strange. So unexpected.

“It just feels nice to be cared about.” you reply. Maybe not the full reason you were crying but it had to be one.

You then left the car and made your way to your door, giving a wave as he nodded back to you.

He never moved the car until you had stepped a foot into the doorway. Then just like that he vanished down your street as if nothing had happened.

He’s just a teacher, he’s just a teacher. Teachers wouldn’t drive you home though would they?

You enter your bedroom, taking off then laying the clothes he gave you on the bed. For whatever reason you grabbed them and smelt them. Upon that reaction they smelt just like him. He must’ve had them for awhile for how densely they smelt like him. Either way it was nice. It gave you a sense of comfort in your gloomy house and that was never going to bother you.

But just like that, you came to the conclusion on this day. You did in fact have a crush on Mr.Miller. Now to find ways to spend more time with him.

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How’re we feeling? 😭 This was a crazy chapter with the information dump but hopefully it was ok. Overall hope it was good :) Not sure what else to say :) Have a goodnight/day :)

NOTE: If you’re wondering where the next chapters at, check out my master list, It will be constantly updated on its progress! Also, I’m totally open to any suggestions or questions you have about this fic! Let me know in comments, anonymously, dms…. whatever floats your boat! <3

Taglist: @wrathofcats @welovedilfs333 (tag not working rip)