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miller-n-morgan · 10 hours

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And I Feel Fine (.i)

Joel Miller x Jackson!Reader

18+, mdni

Summary: Random selection on weekly patrol is a completely normal occurrence. A coincidental raid on the Jackson dam generator by Tommy’s older brother (and a little stranger) is absolutely not.

Warnings: there's a lot to unpack here, bear with me; mentions of death, violence, gore, blood, mentions of sex abuse and trafficking. Mentions of teenage pregnancy. Mention of drugs and substances. This one literally has ✨️the works.✨️

Word Count: 5.7k

Hi everyone! Thank you guys for the likes and shares and encouragement of my work before I even posted it! I appreciate you guys so much and I hope you enjoy (if that's even possible yet this is so messy for a first chapter)

The man is tall, his face looks worn and tried by the tests of time. It’s not a bad face, you reason. It’s just older, seen more things. You recognized him, though he doesn’t look the same now as the source material from which you know him. He used to wear a smile, you’re pretty sure. “Have we… met?” He seemed confused, trying to meet your wandering stare. Tommy stepped in, thinking he’d better introduce you both. “This is my brother, J-” “Joel,” you nodded, turning back to Tommy for only a second. “I remember from those pictures you brought back.”

Fall leaves are on the ground, on your front porch, and practically everywhere you look this morning. Other houses wear the orange and red upon their rooftops and over their outdoor furniture. It’s your favorite season while it’s in motion, while the leaves are still falling. It’s romantic somehow, after waking up from the nightmares. The rainbow after the rain, or something like that.

In a few weeks, you know the best of it will be over, and the wind will carry the leaves to the middle of the street, into the town area, and it will be impossible to see anything else but the dead color bursts. That is when you hate fall, when its leaves need to be raked up and out of the way. By then they are crisp and dry beneath your feet, a reminiscent sound of something else that isn’t as pleasing. You will be loathing when that time rolls around, but for now you are at peace, and savoring the momentary beauty. Nothing is permanent, including your ability to sit in the warmth of your house, sipping the hot coffee you’d brewed before patrol.

You’ve only rotated twice in two weeks, which doesn’t make a damn lick of sense considering you are one of only three people that knows the western route.

Tommy’s put you on for this morning, he and Maria are to accompany you and a few others around the power plant by the dam. There’s been some noise going on the past few weeks, and with the livelihood of the commune on the line, it’s best to sort these things out, nip them in the bud.

You take your mug to the kitchen sink and give it a quick rinse, grabbing the two lonely carrots in your fridge on the way out, stuffing them in the pocket of your jacket.

By the time you’ve actually laced up your boots, and tripped on your doorway’s crooked ridge - a morning tradition, no matter how many years you’ve lived here - the sun is cresting over the mountains, the light barely shining over the homes and their leafy crowns of orange and red and yellow and brown.

It’s still only seven-thirty by the time you reach the stables. You know Maria’s probably got something to eat packed away for later, you never got too hungry in the morning anyways. Tommy un-hatches the gate for you, walking up with half a smile on his face.

“Provoker is living up to his name just now, kicked my ass right out of his stall,” he shook his head, throwing an annoyed hand behind him to spite the horse. “And here I was tryna do somethin’ nice for ya.”

You huffed a laugh, trying to seem apologetic for your stallion’s bad behavior. He always teased you, ‘your old horse wasn’t like this,’ and ‘maybe I’ll shoot him and claim self defense.’ But of course, Maria wouldn’t stand for that. Casper, or as Tommy so lovingly has taken to calling him, ‘Provoker’ was found several miles south of the commune, just a scared and hungry horse. He was strong and sturdy and learned the routes quickly. Tommy was just an ass because the horse didn’t seem to like men.

“What did you do this time?”

“Ain’t done nothing, swear it. Keith saw me, was just passin’ through,” he defended, his hands in the air.

“With you, that can be enough,” you shouldered passed him into the stables, hearing him follow on your trail.

“You callin’ me fat?”

“Absolutely.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing his bridal from the wall and handing you yours. The horses are usually saddled early in the morning, all except for Casper. Maria does good with him, and when you get to his stall you can see she’s already prepared the tall stallion for the ride.

“Good mornin’, handsome…” you pulled a carrot from your pocket and fed it up to the horse, his grateful blow of air a signal that he was in a better mood now.

“Can’t believe you’re rewardin’ his bad behavior.”

Tommy’s voice is not upset, but vaguely annoyed over your shoulder.

“Maybe I’m rewarding his good behavior,” you say it smugly, giving him a narrowed gaze as you turn your head. “You’re higher in rank than me, if I dispose of you I get all the power.”

Maria heard you from the next stall down, snickering under her breath.

“Oh, so that was an assassination attempt, then?”

“No, you have to be someone of high importance for it to be considered an assassination,” Maria replied, leading her bronze mare from the stalls. Elsie, the horse’s name was.

You were still fixing the bit for Casper before adjusting the bridal.

“She just admitted I was higher in rank,” he argued, pulling his own horse forward now, leaving only you to catch up behind them.

“Still lower in rank to me, bud,” she teased, nudging his shoulder and smiling in his direction. He smiled back, and by witnessing it alone, you mirrored both expressions.

You’d been here since before they were even together. Almost ten years since you’d met Tommy, and eight since you’d met Maria. You saw them meet each other, saw them interact before this was ever the norm. You swore back then they hated each other’s guts, hated whatever one had to say to them. With time the hatred melted to a dull dislike, and by the time the Jackson commune was established, they seemed to have forgotten any ill feelings they ever had. It was like watching a movie over the span of four years, the personal threats and arguments turned into strange and somehow meaningful compliments or encouragements. They were married three years ago, and it was the first wedding you’d ever attended. You remember it so well because you imagined that maybe someday you’d get a shot. You would have a chance at loving someone the way Tommy adored Maria, heart and soul.

“There’s a few boys still stationed out at the generator. I reckon they kept clear any danger during the night, but we should still be vigilant.”

Tommy’s warning brought you back, allowing you to pick up time from where you left it. The three of you lined up in front of the commune’s entrance point, mounting your horses and waiting for the go ahead from the men guarding the gates. It’s been a rough season, dealing with raiders, hunters, and even on the odd occasion, children in need of shelter.

Casper took off before you even had to tell him, because he’s gone out enough times to know the drill. Maria follows closely behind, with Tommy lagging slightly. His horse, Dakota, was an old girl… probably one of the oldest in town. But she was smart, reliable, and got where she needed to be… eventually.

The ride was quiet this morning, no animals in the trail or clickers wandering the premises. It was actually nice and serene, matching the beautiful scenery of the fall ambers.

It wasn’t long before your horse’s legs slowed, trotting to the checkpoint and coming to a halt when the watchers spotted you.

You recognized one of the guys in the tower, Billy. He was a little younger than you, but closer in age than most of the company you keep. Nice guy, but not a thought behind those eyes.

“Top of the mornin to ya,” he called out, leaning over the edge of the rail with a cheesy grin.

“Morning,” you called up, dismounting Casper and leading him around the wall now. “Heard you boys had some trouble last night.”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle. How about you, princess, you sleep okay?”

You snorted, looking up to him with a bright expression.

“Like a baby.”

You tied the reins by the makeshift trough that had been half assed and reconstructed over the years, looking out over the dam where the checkpoint sat upon. Everything was running smoothly, so either they actually did dispose of last night’s threats, or they were keeping them hidden extremely well. The water flowed, the power ran.

You weren’t really paying attention to what Tommy said when he came around the corner, just hummed along to his words and hoped he didn’t notice.

You liked this checkpoint more than the rest. The water was beautiful, the nature around it even prettier of a sight. You wished you could have seen it under better circumstances, without a gun on your hip and a knife in your pocket.

You wish that in another life you could come here, lay a picnic blanket down, and just sit by the water and the trees behind it in the distance, the mountains over and above framing them like a painting. What a shame for something to lose its beauty on the technicality of implication. The men stationed at every point on the river implies it isn’t safe. The weapons in their arms imply that the dangers are not few, and the way they look to each other implies they would rather not be here, with Jackson’s commune being the only place they can really feel at home anymore.

“Hey,” Tommy’s direct call to the back of your head made it turn. “You listenin’?”

“Huh?”

He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as he repeated his words.

“Can you go check the bridge and see about damages?”

You nodded, a small ‘yeah’ rolling off your lips when you started into that direction.

You passed by Billy going up the stairs, giving him a small smile and a nod before turning the corner. You liked him, really, you did… but you were too tired and too hungry to interact with a guy who thought a great point of conversation was mentioning the different soups of the week in the dining hall.

“Come to inspect my handy work?” Terry, an older man with a strange wit about him, had been waiting for you on the bridge when you got there.

“Yep, Tommy just wants to make sure all the bases are covered.”

You peeked around one of the smaller generators, seeing the body of a dead raider that had been dragged aside from the walkway. He was already starting to smell, the rotten odor making you scrunch your nose in disgust.

“You just left him here all night?” You asked, kicking the boot of the stiff, cold man. He had a bullet hole in his neck, and you figured, Terry was awfully proud of putting it there. The man had a good aim, one of the better shots in town.

“Didn’t know exactly where to put ‘im until the shift was over. Guess that’s your job, now,” he grinned devilishly, jabbing you in the ribs with his elbow. You tried to get him back but he just caught your arm and left it loose. “Easy now, don’t hurt your arm… gonna need it to carry him.”

You sighed, walking around to where you could get a good grip on his boots, picking them up one by one before dragging him from that corner.

“Was he the only one?”

“As far as we know, we called it in as soon as we shot him. There haven’t been any other surprises since then.”

“Good to know,” you let out, getting him around the corner and to the stairs. Billy didn’t seem to be as chatty now that you were accompanied by a dead body, but he stared the entire time you got him positioned at the staircase.

“Need some help?” he finally offered, but at this point, you had it covered.

“I’m good.”

You kicked hard enough to roll him over, letting his body topple over the stairs until he reached the bottom. Years ago, doing this may have bothered you. Disrespecting the body of someone who died in this cruel world would have turned your stomach. But again, that was years ago. Now, this body was just some jackass who tried to ambush your family of survivors, and you had to dispose of him.

“Well that looks… fun.”

His dry attempt at humor made you huff a single laugh through your nose, following down the stairs a moment later. You got back to the work of pulling the guy’s tattered boots, dragging him through the dirt and leaving a muddy trail of blood from where it seeped out his neck.

Tommy was coming around the corner with some tools, probably on his way to fix something important, but he stopped a moment to watch you and your unfortunate task.

“Gonna lend a hand?” You asked him, the pace of your backwards steps slowing when you passed him.

“No, I think you got it,” he joked, moving on with a smile the next moment. What an ass. He was like a big brother that you never had. You knew that man would kill for you, and has before, but still found every opportunity to mess with or tease you. What an ass.

Just wait till Maria hears about this, you think. Then he’ll be in for it.

You roll the body into the river once you get far enough away from the dam, making sure he won’t cause any harm to the flow or energy. Once you’re sure he’s completely out of the way and taken care of, you turn back to the checkpoint, walking over to Maria as she finished speaking with the main watchguard from last night. You figure you should blame him for your task, since he could have done it… but that’s petty, and you only have room to be petty when you know it’ll get you somewhere.

“Guess what I just did?” you asked in a mocking tone, a fake smile plastered on your face as you crossed your arms.

“Probably something to earn the sandwich I brought you,” she returned, knowing you well enough by now to recognize your sarcastic behavior.

“I dragged a body from the bridge to the river, it better be a fucking good sandw-”

“Turkey and cheese.”

“God bless you,” you folded, following her to her backpack inside.

As soon as the food was in your hands, you gave her a genuine smile, sitting down at an old abandoned desk almost immediately. The woman chuckles under her breath. She remembered too many times you’d skipped breakfast before a patrol… it was by now a part of the routine to make you something to eat when she got scheduled alongside you.

“Save some for later, we might be here a while.” She pat your shoulder, leaving without a response from your end. You were far too occupied to give her one, anyways.

The town’s butcher was a nasty man, but everyone loved him dearly, and this was why. You imagine that before the outbreak he was probably some big time deli owner, one of the best around. It’s just a fucking sandwich, you think… but it’s so damn good.

You saved about half, knowing that now you were fed, you could tie yourself over until the next meal in the hall this evening. It was Wednesday, so the menu would probably consist of soups and salads.

You get a bit caught up in wrapping your leftover food until you hear a bit of confused banter from outside. It sounds like Maria, but you can’t be sure. Whoever she’s just finished yelling at isn’t an imminent threat, you can tell that much, but you still worry. You take enough time to put the sandwich away and start to leave the warehouse, pulling the gun from its place at your hip. You don’t raise it, but having it close is better, you’ve learned. The noise outside has ceased but after a moment, the door opens.

“Maria?” You don’t even make it out of the hallway when you bump into Tommy, side by side with a stranger. He catches your eye in a familiar way. “Hey, I know you.”

“Have we… met?” He seemed confused, trying to meet your wandering stare. Tommy stepped in, thinking he’d better introduce you both.

“This is my brother, J-”

“Joel,” you nodded, turning back to Tommy for only a second. “I remember from those pictures you brought back.”

“Right,” Tommy mumbled, stepping closer to you. “He’s brought a girl with him. Maria took her to get some of those rations in the back section, but I think you still have the keys on your chain. You might wanna head over there.”

“Alright,” you started in the direction of the exit, walking backward to give Tommy a warning. “I left half a sandwich in there, don’t touch it.”

You stood outside of the Boston QZ, fourteen years old and scared as hell. It was hard enough to get in without being caught, but once you were inside, you’d have to remain invisible for the next month, or at least, until you could settle your predicament.

“This way,” echoed a voice in your head, the young man that accompanied you, trying to sneak you under the city tunnels. You followed him until you were in a sewer, having trouble making your way through given that your body specifications had changed over the last eight and a half months.

The man ahead of you didn’t bother to help or to make the path easier, but kept yelling for you to keep up.

“I’m trying,” you trudged on, your swollen feet making you stumble along the sludgy water. “It’s really hard.”

He huffed, his face invisible to you as you blocked it out of your mind. “You have to move faster, we can’t get caught down here.”

Your eyes formed tears at his flippant tone, impatient and completely ridiculous about how fast you were moving when you clearly could only strain yourself so much. You let a hand fall subconsciously to your swollen stomach as you climbed out of the sewer, following the man ahead at an impressive speed given your condition.

You hated him, wanted to leave him… but you knew you would die without his direction.

“Alright, coast looks clear. If we linger around here a while we can blend with the crowd as we move down.”

He didn’t pay any mind to your state, the tears streaming down your face or the pain in your back and hips. The way you waddled just to meet him around the corner, watching for people passing by.

“Once we find the contact, you know what to do.” Flat tone, flat words, unfeeling. You still couldn’t see his face, but his voice is strong. It plagues you.

“Yes…” and you turn to the dirty window beside you. Your appearance is appalling at best, scruffy and unbrushed hair pulled back in a ponytail, tear stained cheeks. Your torn jacket and ripped pants barely cling to you, now wet and sagging around you from the water in the sewer. The only thing left to stare at is your too thin body, struggling to hold the weight of what grew inside you. The face that looks you back in the eye… it’s young, too young for this. It has a dark history, and doubts about the future. It wants more than anything to be at peace, to relax and be settled… but it looks to you as is, not as it should be.

“Are you okay?” Maria asks, taking the key you were about to give her, your hand now frozen in mid air as you stare down the kid before you.

“Yeah, I’m good I just-” You can’t seem to move, breathing out shakily. You manage to lift a finger in her direction. “Who is-?”

“Ellie. She’s with Joel, they’ve been traveling together.” She finishes unlocking the storage base, shouldering the door open. When she turns back you haven’t barely moved. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No…”

And finally you beg your muscles to move, to turn your head away. Your eyes moving from the girl’s face causes a chain reaction, and you regain full motion again. You wait for Ellie to follow Maria, make sure there’s a good chunk of distance between you, then walk into the building, your head to the ground in deep thought. That face, it’s you… no. It’s her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Ellie whispers to Maria, turning back to watch the way you struggle forward, trying everything in your power to avert your eyes from her, but she’s still there.

“I don’t know,” Maria puts her hands on her hips, genuine concern arising. “What's wrong with you?”

Give an answer. Give a realistic answer that doesn’t raise more questions. Not the truth, though.

“She just reminds me of someone, that’s all.”

The girl seems angsty given your state and how shaken you seemed. Like you saw a ghost. You still aren’t sure she isn’t one.

“A dead someone?” She asks, louder than her last words.

“No,” You shake your head. Not a lie. You’re not dead yet, and you don’t think she is. Can’t be a ghost, especially not mine. Maria wouldn’t see her. “Sorry if I’m bein’ weird, you just… how old are you?”

“Fourteen... And a half.”

Fourteen was bad enough, but the little witty ‘and a half’ gave you a very good estimate of her birthday, or at least, birth month. You gasped lightly, whatever air you could take in was coming in small doses. You suddenly can’t take a deep breath, your head running in circles and repeating dates, times, names, places. Faces, even.

“Maria, I think I’m gonna sit down a while.”

You fell against the closest table, scooting back on it until your back hit the pole it was against.

“Take your time,” She muttered, nodding and pulling Ellie along to the lockers.

She pried one open, pulling a few cans of food from the containment and giving them to her. Peaches, baked beans, chicken soup, all were pretty good options in comparison to the hunted and gathered rations she and Joel had been surviving on. She would have been far more excited had she not been focused on the woman sitting down, her eyes closed and hands raised to her head from the other side of the room.

“Does this happen to her a lot?” She couldn’t stop staring either, the fear about the woman lingering as something familiar.

“Never.”

Maria wasn’t sure what had gotten into you. She had to look through the files of her mind to try and come up with an answer to your madness. The most stoic and brave faced person she’d come across, now sitting in shambles of thought.

“Do you know who I remind her of?”

Maria shakes her head, handing Ellie a can opener and a spoon. “No.”

For a moment she thinks that maybe it could be your sister, deceased… but you said the specific someone wasn’t dead.

“Her whole family died a while ago, and I don’t know anyone back home that looks like you.”

“She’s on her own?” Ellie dug into the chicken soup can first, her hunger now distracting from the conversation.

“She’s got us, but yeah I guess so.”

All alone. No family left, all gone to cordyceps and raiders. Mother, Father, young brother, baby sister. No one made it.

“That’s sad. I hope I don’t make her upset or anything.”

Maria shook her head, sitting next to the girl. This poor kid has probably been through a lot. Knowing what she does of Joel, she thinks he can’t be a pleasant traveling companion. Ellie doesn’t need anything else to worry about, least of all a total stranger.

“No, that’s not it. I think she might just be remembering someone she forgot about. Life’s been tough on her.”

The girl nodded, spooning into the can of soup now that it had finally been opened.

The woman was tall, dark hair cropped higher than her shoulders, her face was stiff and unexpressive, like most people in this QZ.

“You got the pills?” She asked, her voice low as she looked around to make sure no one watched on. No Fedra officers or anything of the like.

“Yeah,” the faceless voice spoke, a hand reaching out with the pill bag. It was half full, probably more than one bottle. “Vicodin, hospital standard. You can try 'em, they’re still good.”

“Alright,” she took them, inspecting the sides of the bag. She’s done this enough times, she can tell they’re real. “I found a family that’s willing to take another baby. Had to pull some strings, but they’re open to it.”

“Where are they?” he asked, and you turned to him, the forceful tone he had made you jump a little. The woman before you noticed, and didn’t seem thrilled about it. She turned to you, slightly more compassionate than when she was scowling at the man by your side.

“How old are you, kid?”

You looked to him first, and he looked apprehensive. You needed an out, this is it. “Fourteen.”

She took a sharp inhale, turning to the man, her arms crossed. Her face was again ruthless, the glare she sent him was unrelenting.

“And how old are you?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, feeling cornered. “That’s not really your business. You got the pills, just tell us where to go.”

The woman shook her head, dropping it as a chuckle escaped her.

“I’ll take her,” she answered, eyes flitting back and forth between you. Your body language when she spoke told her you were relieved.”Without you.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

And before you knew it, she pulled a gun from the back of her pants. You gasped, standing back, and the man grabbed at your arm, but you shrugged it away. This is where you get off the train, away from the way it’s been carrying you along the long and winding tracks, only making stops in the most complicated of stations.

“The deal is I find a safe place for her to have a kid, and someone to hand it off to. Those are the terms, and I intend to keep my end.”

You stepped closer to her, watching as she placed her finger on the trigger. “I didn’t agree to what I didn’t know.”

“Look, I know where to find more pills, just take us where you’re supposed to and I can get you more,” he raised his hands, trying to beg, trying to argue, but the woman didn’t budge. She knew that you’d either been forced into this companionship, or trafficked into it. She wasn’t a good person by any means, but she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to something she wouldn’t condone herself.

“I’m about to ask her a question, and if the answer isn’t no… you’re gettin’ your head blown off, ya hear?” She turned to you, looking you up and down. She wants to be wrong, wants to find out this guy is just a nice companion that happened to be helping you out of the kindness of his heart. But she’s doubtful, call it an apocalyptic mindset. “Is that his kid?”

You chanced a look at the faceless man, feeling his eyes on you though you could not place them. He was expectant, waiting for you to lie so that he could go back to being your keeper, telling you what to do.

“Yes,” you nodded, the tears from earlier returning to your eyes and making the stains on your cheeks even darker than before.

“Just stop, I can get you more!”

The woman raised her gun more steady, her finger beginning to pull back on the trigger before you stopped her, a hand at her arm.

“Wait,” you breathed, the rapid inhales were evening out as you asked her: “Can I do it?”

“Honey, you don’t know what you’re doing, don’t do this,” he begged, the reverberation of his words like a whirring siren in your head. You remember sirens, from before the outbreak. Cops cars, ambulances, fire trucks. You remember them. They always signaled help was on the way, and that’s what this felt like.

The woman was shocked, but didn’t hesitate to hand you her gun. You’d been through hell with this asshole, and you couldn’t let someone else have the satisfaction of dealing with him. She understood your mindset well, as others in her past brought about the same feelings.

You raised the gun to him, and heard one more cry of your name pass from his lips before pulling the trigger. The tears stopped flooding your cheeks almost instantly, and you breathed out in relief. The woman didn’t wait for you to hand it back, she took the gun from you and placed it back in her pants.

“You okay?” She asked.

“I’m better…”

And then she nudged you out of the alleyway, beginning to lead you in the direction of your next steps. You weren’t out of the woods, yet.

You don’t even know what happened during the attack, just that you went into autopilot and started shooting from the first sign of intruders. It was more of those fuckin hunters. The ones who killed whole groups of people at a time in order to steal the most trivial items off their bodies. Too bad not one of them survived.

You tossed up a look and your eyes met the familiar stranger. Joel, Tommy’s long lost brother. Your head was foggy, but you’re pretty sure he just saved your ass from getting shot. Not like it was your fault, you weren’t at your best, and you probably wouldn’t be until you figured shit out.

“Are you alright?” Tommy came up beside you, his arm on your shoulder, sleeve torn where the bullet just missed.

“Physically.” You turned to see Ellie run up to Joel.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

You froze again, watching how she interacted with the older man, the way she was so expressive. Tommy hadn't ever seen you like this. So… affected.

“Means I’m all over the place. Not really sure what’s real right now.” You turned back to him, following him around, trying to find Maria.

“Well, maybe you should ride back with Billy, he’s about to head out. You can go home, rest.”

“No, I don’t-” You cut yourself short, trying to recouperate your words. “I don’t need rest, I need some clarity.”

“On what?” His exasperation was not due to annoyance, but rather the fact that he knew… it had something to do with his brother and Ellie.

“Where did Joel find that girl?” You crossed your arms, trying to broach the subject without just telling him yet.

“Probably back in Boston, why?”

You’ve known Tommy for ten years, since right after he left his brother. Since he’d gone off on the trail of the fireflies, a trail you’d gone down a while, too. He knew practically everything about you. Knew about your family, about the hunters you used to run with as a kid, the guy who basically kidnapped you… and yeah, he knew about the baby you gave up.

“You remember that one story I told you? From when I was younger?”

He stopped in his tracks, not turning around fully, but tossing a look over his shoulder at you. It was unsettled and confused, but not upset. He knew you had good reason to believe what you did… but still. It was a one in a million chance, right?

“C’mon… you can’t possibly think that’s her.”

“Tommy…” you knew he was trying to keep your hopes down, that he didn’t want you to over excite yourself on a whim… but what if? You’d prayed for this day, to find her again. You went back for her once and she wasn’t there, neither was the family you left her with. You hoped she was alive, but until now you were never sure… you’re still not sure but you hope, you hope.

“There could be a hundred other kids out there that look a bit like you, you know that.” The chances are a million to one… but he can’t stand to look at you, your eyes so full of something he hasn’t seen there before. Not just hope, but something else, something full of a happiness that is only at its most basic potential, unknowing. “Did you ask her anything? Check for the birthmark?”

You shook your head, arms tightening as you looked back to Ellie in the distance.

“No, I was terrified. Kept thinking I was gettin’ haunted by the ghost of my past self.”

It was meant as a joke, but it was partially serious.

He sighed, following your line of sight and tilting his head. Yeah, he saw the resemblance. He’d met you at age eighteen, but he pictured you younger. Cheeks still a little puffy from the unlost baby fat, eyes still bright and twinkling despite the things you’d seen. Probably quite a bit shorter, too. He figured that she’s the spitting image of you from that age.

“You really think it’s her?”

You threw your hands up in the air. How many times did you have to say it? Try to convince him? No, you weren’t sure… but you had every reason to believe it.

“Same age, same face, same QZ-”

“Look… talk to her. Ask her some questions. See if anything matches up.” He ran a hand over his face. He’d made up his mind about something only a minute ago, and it was plaguing him even more now that you came to him. “Now, I gotta go talk to Maria, and after that I’m gonna take her off of Joel’s hands. She’s gonna go to the fireflies. You’re more than welcome to join me, I’ll need the help.”

You used to make runs with Tommy all the time. No problem… but this also meant more time with Ellie, possibly your Ellie. You could ask her more, find out the answers you’ve been longing for since you left her.

Tags: open

“Okay…”

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #Joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #reader insert #the last of us

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tieronecrush · 4 months

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secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage.

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.”

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl.

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss.

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

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