#maria makes stuff for joel too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedgito · 5 months

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𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | BFD!Joel x Fem!Reader

summary | the rich father of your bestfriend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. [12k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking

author’s note | anyways, here’s this. big age gap, some power dynamic stuff but not really. if you don’t like, don’t read & all that jazz. love you babies. xo.

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There was no hiding who Joel Miller was to the town of Austin—a pioneer in the community for rebuilding and building upon the surrounding shopping areas and neighborhoods to save the town from complete gentrification. He owned three companies at this point—one manned by his brother Tommy who dealt with larger businesses, handled the biggest amount of workload when it came to dealing with customers. The other was handled by his wife Maria, more often communicating with smaller businesses in the area. Mom and Pop shops, family owned and locally sourced shops. And Joel dealt with the community directly, building houses at an affordable rate that kept his business booming and well above the surrounding competition.

He was so sought after that the idea of him felt like an enigma.

But, to you—he was just Sarah’s dad. For years you never had the pleasure of meeting him, with his constantly busy schedule he was often away when you came to visit Sarah on their massive—almost too comically large piece of land on the outskirts of Austin, Texas.

A large two-story farmhouse that seemed like something right out of a storybook—pristine and in perfect condition, surrounded by what felt like miles of grassy land and fencing. Horses, chickens, goats, growing piglets that were taken care of by Sarah and Joel themselves.

You’ve known Sarah since you were fourteen, aware of her upbringing and the type of family she came from, but it never deterred her from being the kindest friend you’ve had. And your shared, similar interest led to an easy friendship that lasted well into college. Sarah was also aware of your…less than ideal family situation, living under the roof of a single parent household, given you were an only child it wasn’t horrible—but your father was a drunk and didn’t manage his money well and that often meant going without. It didn’t matter what, but there was always something lacking that you wish you didn’t have to make up for with your already overwhelming amount of college work and lingering debt.

You didn’t have anywhere to go, unfortunately.

But, Sarah was always there.

And it isn’t until your final year of college that you find yourself finally meeting the once mysterious Joel Miller, remembering that Sarah told you something about how he was trying to take a step back, allowing more responsibility on his trusting employees to head the company while he took a step back and managed everything as a whole from a distance—less involved, more time at home around Sarah, it was a win win situation.

With both of you working toward similar degrees, it was helpful and convenient to share notes and study as often as you could, especially as your final term papers were nearing and looming like a dark cloud.

It’s an unsuspecting Thursday night when you and Sarah are pausing the heavy studying to cook a quick dinner when Joel walks into the kitchen, approaching the island and nearly tilting your entire existence on this earth on an axis. Your breath catches briefly, eyes dragging over his figure. You’ve seen pictures—family vacations that Sarah has shown you when they were flying across the country over summer breaks and you were stuck at home.

But, nothing compared to the real thing.

His hair is grown out, curling around his ears. A warm, soft brown that is styled and shaped so perfectly it seems unreal—but the loose curl that falls over his forehead gives it away. There’s a deep cut in his silk-pressed shirt that hangs loosely on his frame, some abstract pattern that shouldn’t work as well as it does on him, but his tan skin compliments the deep tones and varying designs. The faint dusting of chest hair is obscured by the chains that hang in the space the silk-button up creates where he lacks the ability to fasten them, or rather chooses not to.

And you try not to let your gaze linger on the cut of his jeans as they cling snug to his legs, cuffed at the ankles and showcasing a pair of—what you can only suspect are new loafers. A dark chocolate brown accented with a gold metal piece along the center to complement his jewelry around his neck and the few rings placed meticulously on his fingers.

It’s no secret his ring finger sits untouched, lacking the heavy weight of a significant other's mark. Sarah mentioned her mom dying young, much like your own—maybe that’s why you two bonded so easily.

“Got enough for your old man?” Joel questions curiously, tapping away at his phone meticulously before pocketing it, eyebrows raised in question.

“You hate boxed mac and cheese,” Sarah argues flippantly, flicking the empty box at her father across the counter, “so no, I don’t.”

“No, babygirl—I just hate the powder kind.” He flicks it back just as easily and you note how easy their relationship feels, like this is how things should be.

Sarah laughs, scrunching her nose up in amusement. “Charming, isn’t he?”

Oh—she’s talking to you? You look at her for half a second, confused, before you’re quickly nodding in agreement without fully listening to what she had asked.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to lie.” She assures, stirring the noodles in the pot over the stove.

Your gaze lingers selfishly, catching the faint twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he catches you looking. It’s nothing more than a friendly smile, comforting rather than disarming.

“You know—Sarah never brings her friends around.” Joel starts begrudgingly, eyeing Sarah down before switching to you, “Seein’ as I’ve been hearing all about you for years now and I’m just now meetin’ you in the flesh.”

“Dad, stop scaring her.” Sarah gripes, searching around haphazardly for a couple of bowls, “seriously—just ignore him. He doesn’t know how to act now that he’s home more.”

Joel rolls his eyes dismissively, extending his hand in a kind gesture. You grab it hesitantly and he senses it, pointer finger dragging along the underside of your palm as he holds it delicately and bows his head.

“She’s just mad she can’t get rid of me now,” Joel tells you softly, nodding toward Sarah over your shoulder, “how’s the studying goin’?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately and you don’t try to escape either, allowing the brief moment of lingering contact before you slip it away, shoving your hands into your back pockets.

“Fine.” Sarah’s response is clipped.

It’s stressful, if you’re being honest. But, you could see that Sarah didn’t want to relay that to her father, side-eyeing you wearily.

It’s the first of many interactions that led to the tiny crush you began to have for Joel Miller. Your once a week studies eventually turn into two or three times a week, desperate to spend as much time away from your own home situation as possible.

Eventually, it’s nearly an everyday thing. You and Sarah would finish your day of classes and drive the short distance to her house and spend most of the night studying. Gradually, you were introduced into their own routine. At first, Joel would offer to buy dinner and leave things be, allowing you the space you needed. But, it eventually delves into weekly dinners and sitting down as if you were a part of this pseudo-family situation you’ve interjected yourself into.

Sarah knew you didn’t like it at home, so it was never a problem. Joel caught on after a few weeks—noticing how you avoided any questions about yourself, your family, anything that would allow him any glimpse into who you were outside what Sarah had told him, which wasn’t much at all. He’s trying to make you feel welcomed and you can appreciate that.

You’ve offered to help pay for meals on multiple occasions, but it never works. Quickly thwarted off by Joel’s extended hand as he shoves your cash away, assuring you that it wasn’t your responsibility. This was his house, his gesture, and he didn’t want you to think you owed him anything.

Yet, something in you yearned to do so.

You wanted him to know just how grateful you were.

His curiosity about you comes to a head on a night after a few beers with friends, poker table trashed and the kitchen a mess. You were bringing down the trash from Sarah’s room, the shared dinner you two had had as a treat for your first day without studying—it was relaxing, mostly because your day had been spent here rather than home.

Joel gathers a few bottles in his large palm, slipping the lips of the bottle through spread fingers. “You two enjoyin’ yourselves?” He asks, looking at you casually. It was a question you’ve heard often, a simple conversation starter. And talking to Joel was much easier now.

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“C’mon now,” Joel jests, dropping the bottles into the trash, “none of that—it’s Joel. Shit makes me feel old, darlin’.”

The nickname wasn’t new either. He often called Sarah by her name or babygirl.

Darlin’ though, it was all you.

He takes the dirty plates from your hands and places them in the sink, palm extended against the ledge of the counter while he rests his other hand against his hip.

“How are you doin’?” He asks, voice softer but still gruff. “Not that you have to tell me, I just want to make sure you’re feelin’ comfortable here.”

“I’m okay,” You say through an unsure smile that Joel notes but doesn’t press on, “it’s just easier to study here—I’m sorry if I spend too much time around here. Feels like you should be charging me rent by now.”

“Not a chance in hell, darlin’.” Joel grins, shiny white teeth showing behind his smile. The small bit of his shirt that was tucked in came loose by the rub of his fingers at his hip and drawing your eyes to the skin briefly, “you’re always welcome here.”

And you hate the way you crave even an inkling of physical contact from him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug, a fucking kiss on the forehead. You weren’t his daughter, you didn’t want to be. But, there was something about Joel that you couldn’t pull away from, trying your best to keep it at bay.

“You know what,” Joel says suddenly, pulling your lingering gaze back on his face, feeling guilty as you chewed on your bottom lip, “why don’t you come on vacation with Sarah and I next month?’

“Mr—Joel, that’s—” You’re quickly silenced by his hand actually pressing against your shoulder now—and fuck, when had he gotten so close?

“Sarah was thinkin’ about asking you anyways. We’re gonna take a trip to the Keys,” He rubs gently at the junction in your shoulder, the thick expanse of his thumb pressed against bare skin, “—just consider it, alright? Lord knows you both need a break as much as I do.”

The thing about Joel is that he was such a good father, something you haven’t been privy to in the couple decades and some few years you’ve been alive. You want to feel jealous and angry, spiteful that this was something you couldn’t have naturally. But, it feels nothing like that.

The crush you had on Joel was dangerous. But, that was all it was. A craving to be around Joel, to seek his approval and gain his trust. And bask in the care he provides. A simple case of daddy issues that you couldn’t admit to yourself was actually happening.

You shouldn’t entertain the idea.

You shouldn’t even consider it.

“Oh—okay. Yeah, as long as Sarah is alright with that.” You nod, a genuine, soft smile stretching across your face. Joel squeezes your shoulder tighter and you swear you feel it moving in closer, like he wants to hold you closer, cradle you in his hands. But, then the touch is gone and his fingers are running through his hair, curls separating through his fingertips.

“Alright then.” Joel says triumphantly, “You gonna be okay gettin’ home tonight?”

Sarah was driving you home soon, like usual. You nod.

“Good,” Joel nods, “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say sweetly, patting your hand against the countertop softly, unable to spare a look his way as you walk in the opposite direction.

But, he can’t help his own fleeting and inappropriate thoughts, eyes dragging along your figure as you walk away, hands gripping the countertop like a vice, internally kicking himself how indecent he was allowing himself to think about you. Still, it didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in and if he found himself spread out on his sheets that night, cock held tight in his hands as he fucked himself into his fist—well, he could repent for it some other time.

You touch down in the early morning on a Sunday, still riddled with anxiety from the plane ride. Joel had tried his best to accommodate, even buying first class tickets despite his usual tendency to go business. He didn’t care much for amenities but he wanted to treat Sarah and you, making you feel guilty with how quickly your face lit up at the sight. Spacious seats stocked with gifts and snacks, a tiny television molded into the area, it felt like too much.

It was. But, Joel assured you it wasn’t.

There was little planned for the week you had to spend there and you had tried to scrounge up a little cash within the month you had to save, picking up a few extra shifts at your job and stowing it away for this—hoping you could treat yourself to something, anything. Even if it was just a stupid tourist shirt that cost an egregious amount of money.

Joel quickly snuffs out that idea, putting his foot down as he assured you that this trip was a treat. Not just for himself, but for all of you. You never asked how much money the Miller’s had, but it was clearly more than you could ever fathom to be imaginable. He yanks the black Amex from his wallet and hands it off to every waiting server and store owner you three come across.

It’s abundantly clear that they don’t worry about money in the sense that you do—it wasn’t unwelcomed, but it was an adjustment that took a couple days to get over, feeling shame for enjoying it. He’d paid for the plane fare, booked the hotels and the activities you had planned, made sure meals were paid for and then some, even allowing you and Sarah some spending money to go shopping for clothes or whatever you needed.

He didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you to feel welcomed. Like family…or something.

The trip is fairly harmless fun, a few swimming activities that tire you all out and lend to an early turn in on a couple nights, dinners that lended you to learn a lot more about Joel. Still, as much as Joel tried, you weren’t as open. Vague answers, sidewaying the conversation. He didn’t try to pry, though. And you were thankful for that.

But, with fairly harmless came a few instances that didn’t feel so.

The first comes in the deep end of the ocean, floating on a shared longboard in the midst of the calm waves, humid heat sticking to your skin. Fingers fiddling with the loosening tie around the back of your neck as Sarah wades off to the shore for a brief minute to reapply sunscreen. And maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but you see the lingering look Joel gives you, fingers curling subtly against the edge of the board.

“Can you help me?” You ask, slowly edging around the board until you’re beside him, turning before he has the opportunity to answer. “It’s hard to get it tight on my own.”

Joel clears his throat and offers a smile, “‘Course, chin down for me?” And you follow his lead, feeling his fingers brush against your neck and guide your head down, untying the loose not completely and feeling your swim top go slack, covered by the safety of the water and your back turned to him, but it doesn’t stop the touch of his fingertips against your skin as he ties the knot and tugs slightly, assuring that it was secure to his liking. You lift your head slowly when you feel his palm press flat against your back, fingers curling around the point where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Thanks, Joel.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him, earning a small nod as his touch lingers, only loosening when you rescue your grip on the longboard in front of you.

“Enjoyin’ yourself so far?” He asks, always able to ease into steady conversation without missing a beat. “Any complaints?”

“Definitely,” You smile wide, huffing soft laugh through your nose as you shake your head, “I guess I do have one complaint, actually.” You tell him honestly, a subtle nervousness to your voice.

“Well, I’m all ears, darlin’.” He responds, leaning his elbow onto the board as it bobbed slightly.

“I just…you don’t have to pay for everything, Joel.” You find yourself rushing out the words, hoping that it wouldn’t cause an adverse reaction, but instead, Joel smiles wider.

“Look, I invited you on this trip,” Joel explains, “and that means you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Alright?”

You nod meekly, quieting down as Sarah waded back into the ocean toward you both.

With Joel, it was something you would have to learn to accept.

You try to ignore the lingering touch of his fingertips on your neck, but now it feels like a burn in your skin that would only get worse as time went on.

The second instance isn’t as much of a thing, rather than a moment.

Eyeing a sundress that resembled some of the similar outrageous patterning that Joel wore, shapes and blobs morphed around the material yet somehow managing to look chicer than anything you’ve ever come across, strappy and long and deep cut down the center. It wasn’t for modesty, you could assume that much. You run your fingers along the creases and stitching in the fabric, admiring it as you flipped the tag in your hand, immediately gawking at the price.

Joel had been lingering by, browsing the various knick knacks and souvenirs lining the shelves off the small store—all hand-made pieces that he could appreciate, but didn’t find any use for himself. And he’s watching you, has been for a while, noticing the way your eyes kept flicking back toward the dress despite your path around the store.

Joel casually follows the same path, taking a subtle peek at the tag. It was a few hundred dollars, but given the silkiness of the material and him being very familiar with the tone of pricing around the area, it wasn’t an outrageous ask. He slips the dress off the rack, careful as he removes it off the hanger and finds you separated from Sarah as you peruse down a wall of jewelry—some cheap and some not, looking around with no real want, just admiring.

He slips the dress into your hands, rough, overworked palms cupping your own as he makes you physically wrap your fingers around and claim the garment, chest to your back as he speaks, lips a hair's breadth away from your ear.

“It’s a pretty dress,” Joel says calmly, much calmer than your rapidly beating heart and the sudden uptick in your breathing, silk material spread out over your fingertips, “shame for it to go to waste, darlin’.”

“It’s expensive.” You argue, voice soft as he locks eyes with you in the mirror nestled in the nearest corner, “It’s nice to want things Joel, but I don’t need it.”

“I dunno,” He responds, unconvinced, “and—maybe I’m speaking out of turn but I think it’d look great on you.”

And you’ve never been more thankful of Sarah’s obliviousness to certain things, so wrapped up in her own shopping across the store that you two remained unsuspecting, eyes still locked on one another through the shared mirror.

He can see the way your body twitches at the comment, responds, but what he doesn’t understand is how it makes your cunt throb, solid body pressed against your back as he squeezes the backside of your hands with his palm. The willingness of contact was still fresh and new but it never made you feel unsafe—in fact, it had the opposite effect entirely.

Joel speaks again, directly to you in the mirror.

“I might just have to buy it for you, darlin’.” He says quietly, “You alright with that?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod shakily. “Thank you, Joel.”

“Don’t need to keep thankin’ me.” Joel assures, “I know it’s implied.”

But, the instance that had you reeling for days after, still replaying it vividly in your mind, was a night near the end of your trip. Sarah had long gone to bed and you, riddled by insomnia, find yourself at the hallway vending machine, looking for a snack to cure your growing hunger.

Though, it seemed that Joel had the same idea—fork halfway into his mouth as he turned the corner, a sizable piece of chocolate cake inside of a small to-go tray, looking even guiltier as he caught sight of you, feeling like he really didn’t want to get caught like this. It makes you laugh into the palm of your hand. Joel is acting like the kid that got sneaking cookies in the middle of the night, still not hesitating to lick the fork clean as he tucked it away in the styrofoam box.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” He swears you to secrecy, “she’s already on my ass enough about my sugar intake.”

“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” You shrug, “nothing wrong with that.”

“What about you, huh?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, watching as you peruse the various snacks but not finding anything particularly appetizing. “Late night snack?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You chew at your bottom lip, feeling that this was useless.

“Wanna share it?” Joel asks suddenly, pulling your attention to him immediately. “That way I feel a little less guilty about it.”

“Oh—and then bring me down with you?” You tease lightly, “Of course.”

It’s how you end up in Joel’s room that night, no other intentions than to share that stupid piece of cake, lacking a fork so you trade off for a few bites until it slowly delves into you both feeding each other as you talk, one of you hogging the fork more than the other. You curled up in one chair and Joel relaxed out in the other, styrofoam box held to his chest and forcing you to lean closer to assure you didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.

Maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t.

“You know—if there’s anything you do need—” Joel begins after a while, meaningless conversation having died out.

“I know—Sarah tells me all the time. I just have to ask.” It feels pointless, rehashing things again. But, Joel feels the need to reassure and comfort. It didn’t help that he was finding himself, at his age, attracted to you in such a depraved way. “I will—if I do, I mean.”

It’s forbidden territory he couldn’t cross. But realistically, that only made him want you more.

Joel feeds you a slow bite, lips catching over the fork but smearing a copious amount of chocolate frosting on your chin. Before you have the thought process to wipe it away Joel is already there, leaning forward in his chair as he uses his pointer finger to clean you up, eyes following his movements carefully after the first initiation of touch.

Your breath catches in your throat, expecting him to use his own mouth to disallow wasting the frosting, but instead he raises it to your mouth in a split decision, his eyes dilating slightly under your shy gaze. Your lips press against the side of his finger in a gentle kiss that quickly spreads, taking the full length of his finger into your mouth as you lick away the excess frosting, feeling the pulse of desire in your belly as it grew, knowing that if Joel wanted to keep you there he could, locked under his gaze with his fingers stuffed into your mouth and you’d let him.

It was despicable. Inappropriate and wrong. But, you couldn’t help how badly your body wanted him, despite your brain telling all of this was a horrible decision.

You pull your mouth away with a soft pop, watching as Joel curl’s his hands into tight fists as he pulls them back to his side lazily, seeming more tense now.

“I should go.” You say softly, terrified to disturb this moment and the tension that blanketed it.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Joel says reluctantly.

Things only get worse from then on—and maybe worse is a strong word. But, it soon turns into a game that neither of you can stop, waiting until one of you finally makes the wrong move.

A few weeks later and your laptop takes the shit on a random Tuesday, head buried in your hands as Sarah tries to console you, but it isn’t much use. You knew it was a stretch to think the laptop could last you through the entire semester, and with just a few short months left, it couldn’t be worse timing.

Joel walks in at your inconvenience, keys jingling in his hands as he slips off his leather peacoat, glancing at Sarah who didn’t give him much to go off of. He folds the jacket over the back of an empty dining chair and rests his hands against the top of it, eyes scanning over the both of you at the table, one looking a little more distraught than the other.

“Everything alright?” He asks curiously, earning a subtle head shake from Sarah. He clears his throat, “Or—uh, well, how is the studying going? Feel like that’s all you two do.”

You rub a frustrated hand over your face and sigh, “I’m gonna see if I can get a ride home or something,” You tell Sarah, sliding your phone off of the table, “I’ll deal with this later.”

Joel and Sarah share a quick look of communication, her hand waving toward you sharply, forcing Joel to speak up before you make another rash decision and spend money on a long ride home when had the perfect opportunity standing right in front of you.

“I can give you a ride home.” Joel offers, much to your surprise.

You’ve been alone with Joel a lot now, though inadvertently.

Sarah would sneak away in her room for longer stretches of time just to call her boyfriend—which wasn’t a bad thing, but it felt odd when Joel would come home and there was no one to greet him but you. Still, you stretched your lips into a smile and welcomed him sweetly.

Even if this was his home.

Or times when you just happened to cross each other's path, even in such a large space. Sometimes the front porch when you were taking a break to stretch your legs, his watchful gaze dragging along your figure as he sipped on a hot cup of coffee in the evening, foot stabilized on the deck as he rocked in the wooden swing he sat on, crickets chirping loudly as the sun set.

Or just a simple trip to the bathroom, his bedroom across the hall and a couple doors down, often shut, but there were moments when you opened the doors, nearly face to face, and neither of you could look away. Joel would clear his throat, excuse himself, and kindly gesture for you to walk first. It happened often, too often—but neither of you addressed it. Instead, the tension grew. And grew. Until it felt like poking a sleeping bear. So it hibernated in both of you quietly.

Part of you expected things to change, that the small moment shared in his hotel room would make things hard to navigate, but if anything—it’s easier.

“Okay.” You agree easily, not having the proper energy to fight him over it.

The ride is quiet for the most part and Joel doesn’t need the step by step directions as he knows this town like the back of his hand, but he makes a wrong turn somewhere between his house and yours and you don’t feel like something is wrong, but it definitely feels off.

“Joel, you missed the last left.” You speak up as he continues down the road, glancing around leisurely as you soon delve onto a main street, lined with several shops. “Joel—”

“I’m gonna make a quick stop,” Joel attempts to ease your worries, fingers tapping against the gear shift positioned in the center console, “if you don’t mind.”

The moment he pulls into the parking lot of the electronic store, you know. You can see it in his eyes as he squints, checking that the store is still open and pulls into a parking spot near the front of the store.

“Joel, no—” You grab his wrist suddenly, his free hand reaching for the door handle and he looks down, eyes connecting where your skin touched before slowly flicking up to you, “look—just, I don’t need you to buy me a new fuckin’ laptop. I can handle it.”

Joel’s shoulders shrug in his obnoxiously patterned shirt, like he’s working out a kink in his neck as he repositions himself in the seat but doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, his hand gradually pulls toward your knee, fingers squeezing around your kneecap comfortingly.

“Considering it a loan then?” Joel tries to bargain, “Let me help you out now so you won’t have to worry about it and you can pay me back as you get the money? I see how often Sarah uses her laptop, it doesn't make sense for you to go without when I can help.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, staring intensely back at him. You could put your foot down and deny his offer, but the idea of suffering through the rest of the semster without your sole life line to surviving through college—well, that was actually torture.

“I’m paying back every single penny.” You tell him forthright, waiting until he nods in agreement.

“Sounds like a deal to me.” Joel responds.

Joel spares no expense, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He buys you the highest, top notch laptop they have to offer—and even as you stare daggers into the side of his face, there’s an inkling in your mind that tells you he isn’t going to allow you to hold up your end of the deal.

Joel liked to party too—not giant parties that felt overwhelming and unwelcoming. But, he did have a close group of older male friends that he liked to play poker with on the back deck of the Miller household.

Sarah learned to block it out early on, knowing that at some point things would get just a little too loud and not as easy to ignore. But, Joel never made you feel out of place within any of these instances. You were welcome here all the time and Joel was clear about that.

He’s showered you with gifts and accommodation and you hate the way it makes you feel special, wanted—beyond the night in his hotel room it was only innocent glances. It felt like you were misreading things, making something out of nothing.

Things aren’t great at home and you like it here—love it, even. And you feel your mind nagging away to make a stupid, spur of the moment decision. You could ignore it, but then your eyes catch Joel’s through the slight crack in the door, trapping you in his gaze like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

He squints slightly, lips curling around his beet bottle as he takes a long swig, fist uncurling against his jeans as he rubs out his palm and smiles—he has you hooked in so fucking easy it feels pathetic.

This is wrong. You inhale a shaky breath and turn away, busying yourself with literally anything else—a scuff on the table, the chipped nail polish on your fingernails, something.

Eventually his friends filter out—and Sarah had invited you to stay over the night barring that it was the weekend and she enjoyed your presence just as much as you did hers—if only she could understand the now huge, harboring crush you had on her father. It was harmless, but it felt like a betrayal.

And the feeling only increased as the night creeped along, your burdening insomnia keeping you awake, shifting and turning in the sheets beside her as you tried and failed miserably to fall asleep.

It was quiet out here, less commotion from the city. It was eerie, in a way.

You slip out of the bed quietly, walking barefoot on the hardwood as you tiptoed until you were outside of her room, closing the door behind you. You weren’t hungry, so you didn’t bother with the kitchen, rather heading toward the front door that was already halfway open.

Part of you expected Joel to be sitting on the porch, no real rhyme or reason. But, even he is out of sight. The soft, well-kept grass welcomes the press of your feet as you wander outside slowly, the hug of the warm spring air on your skin even this late at night. You catch one of the Miller’s horses hanging out around the edge of their enclosure, wondering if they managed to nudge their way out of their stable. You approach slowly, still not as accustomed to them as you’d like to be.

But, they were friendly. So, you raised a careful hand and rubbed gently at the horse’s mane, smiling at the soft huff it offered in return, leaning its snout over the fence more.

“Sunshine is always friendly,” Joel says from somewhere you don’t see, startling you out of your body as you jump, whipping your head around to look for him, eventually landing on his approaching form as he left the barn that held the stables, “—sneaky little gal, though.”

You laugh softly, finding it hard to believe that such a sweet horse was capable of escaping.

Joel whistles softly, beckoning her toward him. “Come on.” He nods, silently asking you to join him. You follow eagerly, watching as he unlocks the entrance to the fence for you to slip through, locking it behind you as you pass the threshold, catching up with Joel in a few steps.

“Don’t sleep well, do you?” He asks, heading turned over his shoulder briefly to look at you. You nod quietly, leisurely approaching Sunshine’s stable and watching as Joel locks her back up, rattling the gate for safety this time, ensuring it was secure. “Seems we have a few things in common.”

Joel stays quiet for a moment—in his own head, a deep moment of contemplation, carrying and safeguarding these thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, wondering how your skin would feel against his palm, how the pulse of your heart would feel as he pressed his hand to the center of your chest and kissed you, full tongue and consumed your essence, this unignorable aura you had around you.

He feels sick, distraught. But, he can’t force himself to avoid you either.

“There’s somethin’ that usually helps me,” Joel tells you, hand pressed wordlessly against the center of your back as he guides you out of the barn and locks it up as well, “just goin’ somewhere quiet—lot of the time it’s just my thoughts keepin’ me awake.”

God, if only he knew.

He did, but that wasn’t the point.

Joel quiets for a moment, stuffing the ring of keys into his pocket as he glances over at the house briefly.

“You wanna go for a quick drive?” Joel asks suddenly, forcing it out before he can find a reason to stop himself.

“As long as it doesn’t end with you buying me another laptop, sure.” You chide deviously, watching the smirk grown on Joel’s face, knowing he still hasn’t taken a dollar from you.

And vehemently refuses every time you offer.

Joel drives you the path further into the land of property he owns, most of it still unexplored by you, eventually finding a clearing near the east edge, right on the edge of a body of water and a dock nestled near the shore. There’s a small boat tied to a post, big enough for a few people.

Under this light, as you exit the truck, Joel looks different.

He’s free of the weight of jewelry he wore, comfortable in his worn shirt and soft cotton shorts. For a while, Joel had been such an enigma that you weren’t sure what to make of him. Sure, he was just Sarah’s dad—but he was also Joel Miller, backbone of the town. His face was plastered everywhere. There wasn’t a single street you could traverse down that didn’t have him nestled away somewhere.

He spots a small mud puddle under your feet as he rounds the truck and quickly catches you before your feet get stuck, hands locked in yours as you jump over the small patch of wet dirt.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him, silently thanking him with your eyes.

“Can you swim?” He asks casually.

“Yeah…” You respond hesitantly, eyes locked onto the boat several feet away.

Joel releases your hands, but it doesn't matter. His touch still lingered painfully and you want nothing more than to pull him back in. But, now Joel is asking to go on a midnight boat ride with you and—really, how could you turn that down?

Joel rows you toward the center of the lake, your eyes locked onto the mesmerizing sight of the stars in the sky, so much clearer out here and away from the city.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Joel asks, not bothering to look his way.

You smile slightly, leaning back onto the palms of your hands.

“Yeah, it really is.” You miss the way Joel’s gaze lingers, admiring you.

“Now—sometimes I just come out here and talk to nothin’,” Joel explains when the boat comes to a full stop and he rests the oars inside the boat, knees spread as he resting his elbows on them, “then other times I just sit and enjoy the quiet.”

Your choice—that’s what he’s implying.

You clear your throat softly, finally changing a glance his way.

“I just—I don’t wanna say I’m jealous of what you have here,” You say quietly, “but, it really is a bitter reminder of without Sarah or you, I’d have next to nothing.”

Joel stays quiet, allowing you to marinate in thought and figure out how to convey how you were feeling.

“And—I don’t know. Selfishly, I like it.” Liked him. “But, I don’t want to rely on it and you make that a little impossible. I do have money, Joel. I can pay for things. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do any of this out of necessity.”

“I’m not,” Joel admits, “Now—what makes you think that, darlin’?”

“I just—I don’t want anyone thinking I need to be fixed, I don’t.” You tell him, “I don’t need charity, either.”

Joel waves his fingers in a come closer motion, taking your slowly extending hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over soft skin tenderly, boring his eyes into your own.

“I’m gonna tell you this once and I need you to listen,” Joel says softly, but his voice feels so loud in the silence of the night, breeze hitting your skin and sending a sharp chill up your spine—but, you’re not how much of mother nature is responsible for that, “really listen, alright?”

You nod slowly, blinking a few times as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“What I give you isn’t charity,” Joel tells you seriously, “and—maybe this is crossing a boundary I shouldn’t but, you’re somethin’ close to family. I take care of people I care about.”

Not family—he couldn’t conitate that with the feelings and thoughts he was having toward you.

“Close to family?” He was praying you wouldn’t harp on it, but you needed to confirm the underlying layer of tension that lingered between you two all the time. It was driving you insane, keeping you late into the night—he was the reason for your insomnia.

Joel smirks slightly, covering it with a quiet chuckle. His hand gradually cradles your face, rubbing along your cheek with a delicate touch, “I think you know, darlin’.”

God, he hoped you did. His thumb dragging along your plush bottom lip, eyes lingering for a brief moment before he pulls away, immediately missing his touch as he reigns himself to the idea that he may have crossed a line, quietly rowing the way back toward the dock.

Neither of you get much sleep that night anyways.

More time passes, lingering touches grow, and Joel is terrible at hiding his affinity for you now. Finding that those few words burned all regards he had toward keeping himself restrained around you. He had enough of a mind to keep it private—but there were comments, sweet little words that he’d whisper as you walked by or he caught you alone.

Nothing scandalizing, but just enough that it had your heart fluttering in your chest.

Until there is a small slip up, helping the Miller’s with dinner one night as Sarah escapes to the bathroom for a brief moment, your arms outstretched into the cabinet to grab for something just out of reach.

“Use the stool, darlin’,” Joel sees your struggle, “safer that way.”

You look around observantly before you find a folded up stool tucked into the only open corner in the kitchen, taking it back to your spot and unfolding it.

“Good girl.” Joel comments quietly, catching the startled look on your face as your head snaps back toward him. And he has the nerve to smile, noticing the hitch in your breath.

And it only grows in intensity until you can’t stand it anymore, cornering him in the kitchen on a night where Sarah is already upstairs gathering herself for bed, thinking you had come down for a couple bottles of water.

Joel is nursing a small glass of whiskey and he’s silent, but his gaze tracks your movement. You move toward him.

There is a belief in you, fully realized, that something is up here.

"Joel," You lick your lips hesitantly, squaring yourself up against the counter, standing straight, trying not to seem like you were teetering near a dangerous edge of delirium, wondering if you were imagining all of this, "can I ask you something?"

There's a severe lack of distance between you two, knees knocking against each other gently from where you both stand, eyes searching out cautiously even though you know there's nothing to worry about. You were alone, something that has happened far too many times over the past few months. Lingering moments of wandering gazes, eyes connecting from across the room even if Joel was surrounded by people, partying with friends while you're tucked away in the corner while Sarah talks to you about the boys at school that you can't be bothered to give the time of day.

Because of Joel. Because your mind is so tainted by the idea of him.

His palm is flattened out against the counter, adorned with a couple golden rings that clack against the marble, gold chains to match that sat perfectly against his chest, framing the small patch of hair that peeked out over his unbuttoned shirt, silk-pressed and adorned in a silly design that somehow always managed to work perfectly with whatever Joel paired it with.

"Course," He assures you, "You need somethin'? 'Cause you know if things aren't alright at home you're welcome to stay with us."

He’s not amiss to notice just how much time you spend here and no one bothers to come around and check on you. Given you were an adult, it was still glaringly obvious you escaped here for a reason.

Joel reaches out to touch your cheek, the warmth of his skin melding with your own as your breath catches in your throat.

Touch wasn't new, but it never got old. Like a brand against your skin that screamed out for more. You look down briefly, mouth opening slightly to say something, but quickly resigns back to its previous position, lips pursed under a soft scowl.

"I can take care of you," Joel reminds, like you could ever fucking forget it, written all over your features and the outfits you wore now, the dainty gold chain that he'd leant to you as a gift when you pointed out how much you liked it—he'd bought it for himself but there was no resistance in offering over it over to you, bright smile stretching across your face in the moment that Joel felt a sickening addiction to, "—if that's what you need, sweetheart."

You nod instinctively, though you’re not sure what you’re answering too.

“We’ve got a spare room,” Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, the huskiness to his voice shouldn’t feel intimate speaking such meaningless words, “plenty of room for you, alright?”

“Mhm,” You answer weakly, feeling the distance start to close as Joel tries—really fucking tries to fight it, but he can’t help the way his eyes track the way your body responds to his teach, lip trembling when you release it from it’s hold between your teeth, “thank you, Joel.”

“For?” Your heart is racing, terrified of being caught but also enticed by how openly Joel is admiring you, eyes wide with adoration and curiousness, something undiscovered and new to him.

“Taking care of me.” You echo his words, but you’re both quickly retching away at the sound of a door creaking upstairs, separating in an instant.

This was all you had—fleeting moments that would never be.

The logistics are complicated to figure out at first, but finishing up the last few weeks of schooling away from the stress of being at home and somewhere where you could actually focus outside of school made the most sense. You pack a big enough bag to last you through the month, clothes and personal belongings you care about, and make the small guest room your new home.

At least, as much as you could.

Luckily, your final classes are a breeze—thankful that most of your discipline with studying had paid off, you and Sarah would graduate in another couple weeks and allow yourself a real break over the summer before deciding how you both wanted to continue. More schooling or not, you would handle that later—for now, you let your mind rest.

And Sarah, well, she escapes the first chance she gets—the first official day free of responsibilities she’s running off for a weekend vacation with her boyfriend, assuring she didn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted to come, but you could see it on her face—she wanted privacy.

So, you had no problem staying back.

A weekend alone—with Joel? Who could barely keep his eyes off of you know that you were around constantly, even in the early mornings when he’d walk through the kitchen shirtless and fumbling with the old coffee pot he refused to get rid of. It was a side to him you hadn’t seen much of and it was slowly etching itself into your memory.

Everything implodes the first night that Sarah is gone, unknowingly yet not unwelcome. But, it’s a turning point neither of you can come back from.

It’s undeniable the amount of boiling sexual tension that has stirred between you both between Joel’s heated gaze and scandalizing comments, stuff that he tries to hold in but fails when he sees how easily of an effect it has on you.

So, as luck would have it, your restless minds meet again.

Joel stops between his open bedroom door and the wall, watching as you approach quietly, smiling kindly as you reach for the door to the guest room, bidding him a soft goodnight.

He could spend his night writhing in bed, hand around his cock as he jerked himself to the thought of you a few feet over, nestled under your sheets—unbeknownst to him, relieving yourself in a similar way and yearning for the stretch of him rather than your measly fingers. It used to relieve the ache and help you sleep, but now it made things impossibly worse.

His fingers encircle your wrist quick, but carefully, silence your ultimate downfall as you stare over at him curiously, his eyes pleading something so desperate it roots itself into your own mind. Like an invisible string tethered to your bodies, it pulls you both together instinctively.

He doesn’t hesitate with touch now, slowly barricading his hands against the side of your neck, gradually working to cradle your head, tipping your head back as he leaned in, not willing himself to cross that line unless you allowed it. He knew the second you stepped over he was done for, similarly, you knew that to be true for yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” Joel begs, “—tell me and I’ll give this up.”

You double down, pressing your face against his own, nose pressing against each other, speaking against his lips in a venomous tone that seeps into his bloodstream.

“No,” You tell him, steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t think I will.”

Joel breathes in sharply before his reverence is breaking, pressing you up against the solidness of the guest room door and crashing his lips against your own, his grip bruising as he palms at your thighs, hooking a leg around his hip as he grinds into you, the feeling dulled out by layers of fabric but you can still feel him. He’s hard and straining against the soft fabric and making no attempt to hide how much you affected him.

“We’re makin’ a big mistake,” Joel says into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to prove his point, pulling a sharp moan from your chest at the slight sting, “you realize that?”

You find your courage and part from him briefly, open palm rubbing against the line of his cock, slowly trailing up and under his shirt, blunt nails clawing into the stomach, the muscle tensing under your skin, “I’m well aware—are you gonna stand here and have a moral dilemma about it or are you going to fuck me, Mr. Miller?”

It ignites a fury behind his eyes, ravenous and wild. He grips your face tightly, tilting your head up at a slightly uncomfortable angle, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing from the show of dominance, the grin spreading across your face all Joel needed to confirm his suspicions about you.

You enjoyed this—him, the little game you’ve allowed him to play over the past few weeks. And just as he’d said before, he wanted to take care of you—in as many ways possible.

“Say it again,” He warns, squeezing your cheeks together between his tight grip on your face, “—fuckin’ say it.”

“Mr. Miller,” You drone sweetly, best you can through his sturdy grip, “—hm, is that what you want to hear? Is that what gets off at night?”

Joel’s eyes squint slightly, attempting to read your expression. How would you know?

“Always want me to call you Joel because Mr. Miller is just too much, right?” You tease, “I guess you could lie to me, but the look on your face says otherwise.”

The back of your head drops softly against the door, nowhere to go as Joel has you crowded, hand tight on the doorknob and unmoving. You’re trapped and you can’t be bothered to care.

His hand trails to your neck gradually and squeezes, eyes rolling into the back of your head briefly as his jaw clenches, teeth gritting together as he bares them and speaks, “Should’ve guessed you’d like it like this, huh?”

You feign cluelessness, eyes half-lidded and staring back defiantly, swallowing against the solid hand he held against your neck.

“Tell me you want it,” Joel presses, feeling how mutely you attempt to press against hold and fail, “need to hear you say it first.”

“What? That I want you cock, Joel?” You say vivaciously, grinning at how his mouth twitches at your words, cooing out a soft, “Because I do.”

And that’s all the confession Joel needs before he’s breaking the barrier and shoving you inside the guest room, slamming the door closed behind him with a foot as he tracks and approaches you, hauling you from the back of your thighs as your ass hits the bed, scooting back slightly and spreading your legs to allow him to slot perfectly between them.

The fabric of your shirt bunches in his hands as pushes it up and away, lips pressing hotly against your stomach, mouthing at the skin greedily, quickly forcing the shirt up your shoulders until you get the idea and rip the shirt over your head, bare breasts bouncing against the jostling of your body. Joel has half the mind to gawk before he’s latching his mouth around your nipple, biting gently at the flesh despite his choice to be more aggressive than you expected. It’s the right amount of too soft and too much, your fingers curling into his hair at the root and pulling, earning a soft groan in response.

His curls fall freely over his eyes from where he’s looking up at you, lips lingering against your breast tantalizingly, “Let me taste you.” He tells you, his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms, his body descending as you find yourself nodding absently, helping him in the impatient push and pull until he has you naked and bare before him, his cock straining prominently against the thin material of his pants, rubbing himself through the fabric as he uses his free hand to spread you wide, marveling at the sight of your slick over the lips of your cunt.

Joel settles against the sheets, broad shoulders supporting your thighs as he adjusts them over him and hovers closely of your cunt, waiting for your eyes to connect in a brief moment of confirmation

You wanted this. And so did he.

He remains wide-eyed as his lips connecting with your cunt, straight for your aching clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot with a precision that has you falling slack against the sheets, mouth open in a blissful agony as Joel works away at your pussy like he’s had a million years to study it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you continue to pull and twist at his hair, selfishly grinding yourself against his face.

He never breaks his gaze on your face, even when you find yourself with your head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly, admiring the hurried rise and fall of your chest as you moan out something intelligible, slowly beginning to make sense in his hazy mind, “Oh—right—right there, Joel. Fuck, please—” You beg sweetly, feeling weightless as he lowers his mouth to your neglected hole and licks inside, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

“C’mon, baby,” He murmurs against your pussy, “keep talkin’, let me hear you.”

You sigh in exasperation, feeling the burgeoning ache of your impending climax, “Faster—” Joel is an astute listener, never missing a beat as he picks up his pace and adds more pressure, “–shit, I’m gonna—”

Joel silences you with his eagerness to make you come, words falling flat as he assales your clit with a determination to have you coming against his mouth, feeling the muscles spasm as you crying out his name in desperation, orgasming over his greedy tongue as he laps you up synonymously, forcing your body into overstimulation until you have to physically force him away.

Joel doesn’t have half the mind to speak, eyes darkened to near black as he rises to remove his shirt, pants and underwear following quickly after, undressing under your hazy gaze as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart before he’s fisting himself tightly, tip of his cock rubbing against the line of your pussy and catching your entrance, using the last bit of restraint he had left.

He should be courteous and ask about protection—but there’s a heat behind your eyes when you see his thoughts wandering, quickly snuffing out any worries. You reach gently for the hand not fisting his cock, cradling your knee gently, “We’re safe.” You assure him, the first moment of deep, unsettling reality as he realizes the weight of his choices before him—he’s already committed a few atrocities he knows he can’t come back from, so, what was a few more?

And he couldn’t say no to you, not with you staring up at him so wantonly, eyes pleading something desperate and meek, curious if this was all just a heat of the moment thing. Partly, it was—but this was months upon months of built up tension finally spilling into reality.

Joel isn’t sweet either, as he presses inside you. It shouldn’t surprise you, his impatient nature as he pulls you in close, hands gripping under your thighs and manhandling you until your folded nearly in half, hips pistoning sharp and rough, his gaze locked on the sight of himself disappearing inside of you, the sheen of your slick over his cock as you suck him in greedily.

“Come on, baby,” He grunts roughly, “keep showin’ me how good I make you feel. Show me how grateful you are.”

As if it wasn’t already obvious, obscene noises, feeling the quiet air as you sob out, feeling the angle change as he shifts his knee by your ass, angling your hips up slightly.

“Thank—thank you,” You say softly, broken as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting something sensitive inside of you, the coiling heat in your stomach rebuilding quickly, “thankyouthankyouthankyou,” You ramble mindlessly.

Mesmerized, you watch his curls bounce freely over his forehead, overgrown hair sticking to his skin from the soft sheen of sweat, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining as he holds your legs prisoner in his grips, hips aching dully from the unusual angle but you ignore it. He’s locked onto your pussy for a long stretch of time, entranced until he hears your soft moans, realizing you’ve been admiring him this whole time, eyes locking on you in a moment of vulnerability as he speaks directly to you, hips slowing to a manageable, but still slightly overwhelming pace.

“Always—know how to appreciate things, isn’t that right?” Joel asks, the redundancy not lost on you, “Take everything I give you and never ask. Never greedy—just lettin’ me spoil you.”

“Joel—” You whine, his hand slowly trailing the path to your joined bodies, thumb circling slowly over your clit briefly, “—harder, fuck me—harder.”

“But, look at you now—so fuckin’ greedy for my cock,” He’s speaking through a slight groan, releasing the straining hold on your thighs as he falls, spreading his legs out and using his arms for support as he holds himself over you, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You find yourself desperate for touch now, wrapping your arms around his neck until he’s nearly chest to chest, forehead resting against your own as you whimper into his open mouth, “I want it.”

Joel makes a small noise of question, “Want what, baby?”

“Your cum,” You reply softly, watching the way his pupils dilate at your words, “—please?”

Joel groans involuntarily, feeling the dignified squeeze of your walls around his cock.

“Where?” He asks slightly breathless, panting into your mouth.

You reach blindly for his hand, using his pointer and middle finger to breach your lips, pressing flat against your tongue, “Right here.” You mumble around the thick digits.

It’s the first thing you’ve ever explicitly asked for and who was Joel to deny that.

Joel pulls out quickly, rising on his knees as you push up to rest on your palms, his head hung back as he fucks himself into his hand harshly, a few short pumps and he’s pressing the aching tip of his cock over your tongue, spilling into your mouth with a deep growl, forced through clenched teeth, working himself through the aftershock as he squeezes out the last bit of cum he has to offer into your waiting mouth, forcing your mouth closed with his opposite hand and watching as you tilted your neck up and swallowed, tongue peeking out playfully as you show him your empty mouth.

You have half the mind to think he’s finished, but instead he’s swatting your thigh as he maneuvers your hips until you realize he’s silently asking you to turn over, quickly situating your ass in the air with his strong, domineering grip—burying his face into your cunt without a moment of hesitation, a gasp ripping from your throat. Your hips pull away instinctively out of shock, earning a sharp slap by Joel’s hand against your oversensitive cunt.

“Stay still.” Joel demands.

You answer softly, a pathetic acknowledgement and nod, obeying his order.

“Good girl,” He coos, muffled against your cunt, “Come for me, baby—you’re right there, I can feel it.”

There’s little resistance as his tongue swipes over your clit, sending you into a shorter but immensely more consuming second orgasm, feeling yourself lose consciousness for a brief moment as you sob into the sheets.

“Fuck.” Joel sighs as he rests back on his calves, cock softening between his thighs as you roll onto your back gingerly, thighs shaking from strain, feeling Joel’s comforting touch on the aching muscles as you close your eyes, letting the reality of the situation set in.

You laugh giddily, “Yeah, fuck.”

Neither of you address the glaring issue of what just took place and somehow, that feels like the biggest atrocity to be committed.

Secrets weren’t something you used to harbor, but it seemed like that was all you had now.

Sneaking off with Joel, lying to Sarah—it was the last thing you wanted to do. But, you and Joel had each other in an equally debilitating grip that neither of you could loosen up on.

And with secrets came gifts, more and more outrageous as time went on—big ticket items that had you fearing that, at some point, Joel would drop something like a new car on you—and that, for what it was worth, would help you. But, it was nothing you wanted.

Sex started to feel transactional after a few more weeks, graduation creeping on you.

Joel never lacked in care and attentiveness, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, like you were this unattainable prize he was paying for and you were eating right out of the palm of his hand.

But, then graduation day approaches and Joel is acting odd.

So odd that it unsettles you. He’s there, along with his brother and his small family, cheering as loud for you as he does for Sarah, the obvious absence from your own family never lost on you or him. Then, night approaches.

He’d decided that throwing a party for the both of you in celebration was a good idea, just a small party with very few friends and he swore—swore that there was nothing else up his sleeve until he’s pulling you and Sarah off together, away from the party and there is a pair of matching, new cars parked in the driveway.

Sarah, given she already has everything she wants, is still thankful. It’s the one thing she had been trying to save up for herself, without the help of her dad. So, while she could be upset, she isn’t. She knows Joel’s intentions are good and that he’s just trying to be a good father—which is all he’s ever been for her.

But, for you, it stings.

You linger, settled a few feet away against his beater of a truck, staring at the car like it was an eyesore.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it, Joel thinks.

You thanked him regardless, but refused the keys. Joel had stuffed them into his pocket and allowed you the space you wanted, eyes pleading quietly. Sarah had hugged you gently, kind words left in your ear before she departed back inside.

“You’re like family,” She says with genuine love, “and he has more money than he knows what to do with—so honestly, just take it. You deserve it more than anyone.”

And that hurts worse, knowing that you’ve been lying to her for months.

You weren’t family. Not to Joel. You were something much more convoluted and dangerous.

A drug. A trap. Something he couldn’t rid himself of, not that he desired to. But, he knew—once you were embedded into his life, it would be nearly impossible to get you out.

–

Joel finds you a while later, away from the party and beyond eyesight from the house, curled up against the front end of the truck and picking away at some of the ripped denim of your jeans, counting the frayed pieces. He takes a similar position, sitting next to you silently.

“You don’t have to take it,” He tells you, “but, it is paid for—”

“Joel, please—”

“What?” Joel asks suddenly, his own annoyance getting the better of him, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Joel—we have sex, you buy me something ridiculous. Or, you buy me something ridiculous without my knowledge and then we end up having sex, how does that look to you?”

“Now, I’m not doing that because of sex—”

“But, you see how it looks? How it makes me feel?” You argue with him, “Joel, I can’t help how I feel about you, like—it feels physically impossible, but the constant gifts makes this seem transactional. I don’t want that. I’m already a secret, I don’t need to be bought either.”

Joel shakes his head in silent disbelief, “You really think that’s how I view you? That’s it?”

“You haven’t tried very hard to make me think otherwise, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “I don’t need you showering me with cars and clothes and shit that I don’t need—and if that’s what you feel like you need to do, I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore.”

Fucking him, sneaking around in secret. You weren’t dating, but it sure fucking felt like it. One intimate moment from a love confession that would seal the deal on your perception of him.

Joel kicks at the gravel as he rises to his feet, pulling you up by your forearm, an immediate look of both confusion and frustration crossing your features as he turns you and presses your chest against the front of his truck, shadowed by the cover of night. His belt clanks together loudly as he undoes his jeans behind you, tucking them far down enough he can pull his cock from the confines of his underwear, lifting up the hem of your dress and yanking your own underwear down your legs and off, and you should stop him—but you don’t want to.

This was the problem. You couldn’t get enough of Joel.

He slips inside of you with ease, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest that he stifles with his hand, clasped over your mouth, fucking into you with a reverance that was new.

“Joel—we’refuck—we can’t here,” You try to say, yanking his hand away from your mouth, “we’ll get caught.”

Joel grips the base of your neck roughly, fingers curling around the sides as he tilts your head back and looks into your eyes, other hand coming around the bottom of your chin until you’re forced to look up and back at him, not a single speck of warm brown in sight. He looked angry.

But, it didn’t feel like it was directed toward you. Regardless, he fucked you like he was.

“I’ll return the fuckin’ car,” He starts to ramble, “I’ll return everything if that makes you think differently. God—” He snaps his hips harshly, earning a broken sob from you as you reach behind you blindly for something to anchor yourself on, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, “—never want you to think this is transactional, baby. It never—never was.”

Never would be, you want him to say.

“Whaddya want me to say?” Joel asks before you can speak, “That I care about you—baby, I fuckin’ do. I thought that was obvious. Know—know I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but I knew—”

You gasp raggedly, his hand leaving your chin to find your clit, just the right amount of pressure to have your hands clawing at his skin, head resting back against his shoulder as he fucked into you.

“And I’ll keep this a secret if—if it means I can have you but this isn’t transactional,” He continues to speak, despite your inability, tipping over the edge of your orgasm as his hips stutter slightly, “it never will be.”

That—that was what you needed to hear. Pulling him taut against you as he buried his mouth into the junction of your neck and nipped, biting at the skin roughly but not enough to break skin.

“Come inside me,” You gasp, chest rising and falling quickly, “please—Joel, please?”

“You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” Joel teases, “Never ask for anything but my cum—greedy girl,” You moan at his words, spurring him even further, “tell me baby, tell me how much you want it.”

“So bad,” You whine, “Joel, please give it to me—fuck—all of it, please?”

Joel snaps his hips a few more times before his hand is releasing your neck, crossing over your chest and squeezing tightly at your breast as he pulses inside of you, pumping his hips and filling you full of his spend.

Joel kisses at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling out with a soft grunt, the slow jingle of metal sounding behind you as you reached for the underwear he offered you, slipping it back up your legs and into place, despite how Joel’s cum dripped out of you, something he makes point of as his fingers drag along the material, causing you gasp softy at his touch, swatting his hand away. He chuckles lowly at the annoyed glare you shoot his way.

Joel shifts your hips until you turn in his grip, back pressing against cool metal. He crowds you in again, leaving you feeling breathless as he grips your face, but his touch is surprisingly tender.

“What do we say?” He says softly, lips pressing against your own.

“Thank you,” You retort sarcastically, capturing his lips in a quick, bruising kiss as you card your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently, “this doesn’t change anything—I don’t want the car.”

“You don’t have to take it,” Joel settles, “but it’ll be here if you need it.”

You pull away further, looking at him endearingly, watching as his eyes flick briefly toward the house.

“What do we do–about this?” You ask quietly, afraid someone might be listening in despite being alone, “About…whatever this is.”

“Hey,” Joel assures gently, “don’t worry about that—not tonight.”

“Joel—” You plead, eyes searching desperately into his own.

“I care about you, that’s all you need to worry about.” Joel speaks truthfully, his thumb rubbing along the line of your jaw as you swallow, muscles tense under his touch.

And you’re wondering if he’s just saying what you want to her—that maybe this was still a game to him and he was letting you feed into it, nodding to his confession. Joel is all in, offering you his metaphorical hand.

You sigh shakily, “Okay—I trust you.” So please, don’t let me down.

And you know things will eventually implode, but you intend to hold on the brief moment of hope you have now, safe under his gaze as he leads you back to the house, everyone blissfully unaware of the moments you’ve shared, leaving you resigned to appreciate the greedy looks his shares with you across the room.

It was a dangerous game, but you were willing to take the risks.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #bfd!joel #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #my writing

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familyvideostevie · 4 months

Text

you have me, you have me only

joel miller x reader you get (minorly) injured on patrol. joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a jesse cameo, joel being joel, all that good stuff. | 4.2k a/n: part of the just and just as verse. not too soft but not too angsty, either. just another day after the end of the world, you know? thank you @mrsmando for your eyes on this! <3

___

"Almost there," you mutter. "Fuck."

The icy winter wind dulls the stinging in your palms to a numbness. The leather gloves you've had for half a decade stay tucked in your pockets. You don't want to ruin their lining with dirt and blood.

"How's the head?"

Jesse pulls up alongside you in a trot. The adrenaline from your patrol-gone-wrong pulses heavy at the top of your spine, your vision sharp and the whole world a little too loud around you as Jackson comes into view at the bottom of the hill. Your head, like the rest of you, throbs.

"I'll live."

He scoffs and his horse snorts as if agreeing with him. In truth, you're more pissed than injured, though it certainly looks like you lost a fight. Jesse's cheekbone will no doubt bloom purple tomorrow and his lip is still bleeding sluggishly. His jeans are splattered with gore, same as yours.

"Thanks for back there," he says.

You shrug and wince when it pulls at the skin of your side where you fell.

"You, too," you tell him with a grimace. "That was quick thinking with the brick."

You like him -- he's good at his job and he's a good friend to Ellie. You know Tommy and Maria are not-so-subtly training him to run this place someday if he wants to. As a patrol partner, you can't ask for much better. He knows all the routes and he's a good shot and his mom knows everything there is to know about everyone in town and sometimes he passes tidbits on to you.

But knowing your shit doesn't mean a damn thing in this world, sometimes. You can still get ambushed by infected on patrol and it can still fuck up your day.

He waves you off. "I just can't believe an elk chose our station to fucking die in."

"Tommy is going to shit himself when you tell him," you laugh. It pulls at your ribs. God, is there any part of you that didn't take a beating?

"He'll just be pissed he wasn't here."

Your horses reach the bottom of the hill and Jesse hesitates, the green scrap of cloth in his hand. The red one indicating an injured party peeks out from his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the clinic?"

"I'm fine," you say firmly. "I can patch up at home."

He eyes the cut on your forehead and your scraped palms but caves under your glare and waves the green flag.

"Joel makes the same face," he mutters. "Ellie does, too. Freaky."

The gates open and you grunt when you get off your horse, palms back to stinging.

"Joel's two expressions are pissed and annoyed," you say. “Not hard to pick one up.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead and it comes back tacky with blood. "Fuck."

"I don't think you'll need a stitch." Jesse holds his hand out for your patrol rifle and pats the neck of your horse. "I'll debrief and get these guys settled. You go home."

Normally, you'd protest. But you really just want to take a hot shower and sleep for twelve hours, so you nod and shoulder your pack carefully.

"Make sure you tell Tommy about beating a stalker to death with a brick," you call over your shoulder. "He'll be impressed."

Jesse laughs.

Snow crunches under your boots on the way home. Fuck, you're exhausted. The adrenaline fades with each step and the aches become sharp pains. There aren't too many people out today on account of the cold but you nod and wave, ignoring the double takes at the blood on your clothes.

It'll be a pain in the ass if you can't patch the ruined knees of your jeans. Maybe you can convince Joel to carve something for the woman down the street who can sew better than anyone in town. Finding new pants is damn near impossible.

You’re practically dragging your feet by the time you reach your house. The mailbox labeled Miller, the wind chimes gently swaying on the porch, all of it puts you at ease. You made it home.

The porch steps groan as you climb them and the front door opens from the inside as you reach the top. Joel steps out, hand still on the knob when he looks up and sees you. His eyes widen.

He was on patrol today, too. You left at the same time but he had a shorter route and must have gotten back a while ago.

"Are you coming to meet me?" you say with a grin that's genuine despite the way your body pulses with pain. He does this sometimes -- milling around the gate, chatting with people on the wall as he waits for you to return. You never really feel like you're home until you see his face.

Joel does not smile back. His eyes rake over you the same way he surveys a room, cataloging all of the important things. The gash on your temple, the rips in your jeans, the way you're favoring your left side. The blood, too -- it's everywhere, you're sure. Palms, knees, collar. Jesse helped you wipe your face before you rode back so that you could see without blood in your eyes, but you must look pretty fucking rough.

"Jesus," he says. His hand twitches like he's going to reach for you. "You okay?"

"I'll be better when I'm not standing out in the cold."

His nostrils flare and he heads back into the house, you on his heels. You dump your pack and sit down heavily on the bench to take off your boots. Joel beats you to it, lowering to one knee with a slight groan, fingers working at your laces.

Normally he'd ask how patrol was, how Jesse did, if you saw anything interesting. Instead, his cheek twitches like he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He unties your double knots with practiced ease and his silence fills the entryway of your house.

In another life, the sight of him on one knee would set your heart aflutter. As it is, you want to run a hand through his hair and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. You know him and this is how he handles it -- he chews on blame that doesn't belong on his shoulders until he can fix it.

"I'm fine," you say softly. You open and close your hands, resting them on your knees. You got most of the gravel out but there's dirt and god knows what else embedded in the tender flesh. Joel pulls off one boot with a firm hand on your calf and then the other before finally looking up at you.

"You wanna explain...this, then?"

His hand waves up in your general direction. There's no tremble in his palm but his brows are furrowed, his shoulders set in that way of his, like he's bracing for bad news. You have a rule about not lying to each other. So if you say you're fine, you're fine. Achey, bloody, and gross, sure. But you made it home in one piece and now you'll let him take care of you and he has to be okay with that.

But you don't mind reassuring him. He worries, and you know the feeling.

You shrug and fail to hide your wince. Joel wraps a hand around your ankle and squeezes lightly.

"I've had worse," you say. "I'll tell you about it if you patch me up."

He softens a little and sighs. It won't do anything to remind him that he can't go back in time and stop you from getting hurt. Joel knows he can't fix everything, can't keep everyone he loves away from harm, can't save the world. Won't, if it comes at the expense of the people in his heart.

But you can give him something to do -- a way to make it better. You could probably bandage your hands and your forehead and the rest on your own but it'll help him just as much as you if he does it.

Life in this world is a constant give and take. You have to be okay with some things, with cuts and bruises and ruined clothes if it means you survived. There's no safety, not anymore.

"Alright, c'mon," he says, standing with a groan. "Upstairs, 'fore you bleed on the furniture."

He holds out a hand for you to stand but you show him your mangled palm. Joel clicks his tongue and grips your forearm gently instead as you rise.

"Gotta clean that," he says.

"That's the plan." You leave your coat and pack behind in a heap and head for the stairs. "A hot shower sounds so fucking good right now."

Joel stops you with a hand on your elbow and you turn on the bottom step. He traces the cut on your forehead with light fingers and you try not to wince.

"Shower," he says. "I'll patch you up after." His tone leaves no room for argument.

You ghost your fingertips along his jaw and smile at him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Miller, sir."

More tension melts from his shoulders and he rolls his eyes at you. You laugh all the way to the bathroom, even though it hurts a little.

It's been a while since one of you returned from patrol with any sort of injury. Winter means the hoards are sluggish and easy to track and tends to keep groups of people from coming to the valley and making trouble. Today was bad luck and could have been much worse.

You both know how quickly all of the good in your lives can be snatched away. Everyone does.

But you just can't dwell on it. Joel knows it, too, and letting him fuss over you in that way of his will remind him. You're home. You're okay.

You leave the bathroom door cracked as you shower under the gentle spray. Your various injuries sting but you manage to clean the scrapes on your knees and hands and wash the blood from your skin and hair, the water rusty brown as it swirls around the drain.

Joel knocks when you're almost done and the hinges groan when he steps into the bathroom.

"Leavin' you clothes," he says, voice raised so you hear over the spray. "You okay?"

"Still alive," you call back. "Almost done."

The water starts to turn lukewarm so you switch off the stream and drag back the curtain. Joel is nowhere to be found but he's left you loose shorts so your knees are exposed and a big, faded graphic t-shirt that you brought home for him as a joke last year as well as fresh underwear and warm socks. You gently pat your skin dry with an old and scratchy towel and do your best with your hair before sliding them on.

Joel knocks again and this time he has the bag with all of your first aid stuff in his hands. The steam from your shower rushes out into your bedroom and you shiver.

He jerks his chin at the counter. "Wanna get up there?"

You haul yourself up with a groan and he stands between your knees, arms crossed and head cocked.

"What're we dealin' with, here?"

You look down at your messy palms and rattle off what hurts.

"Cut on my forehead, bruised rib, probably, fucked up hands and knees, and..." You look up and find Joel running a hand down his face. "That's it."

"You sure?"

You glare at him. He glares back. His eyes drift to your forehead gash.

"Cut could use a stitch."

He's still tense, you can tell, probably will be until he wakes up tomorrow and you're still next to him in bed. Until the wounds turn to scabs turn to scars. Maybe not even then.

"I think I've had enough cuts over the years to know what needs a stitch."

His eyebrows rise just a little bit, turning his expression from interrogative to exasperated, but he knows better than to tell you to do something when you’ve set your mind against it.

"They're offerin' medical degrees on the Creek Trails, now?"

"Joel."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Let me feel your ribs."

You raise your arms a little and he slides his palms under your shirt and up your torso, pressing gently as he goes. Braless as you are, he brushes the underside of your breast, and your breath hitches. His eyes are soft with quiet amusement but he doesn't tease you.

"Your hands are warm," you murmur. He reaches the place on your side that took the brunt of the impact and you hiss.

"Sorry," he says. "Doin' real good. Deep breath for me." You obey and he withdraws, satisfied.

"Nothin' broken," he says.

"Told you."

He hums and pulls out the precious few disinfectant wipes from your first aid kid. You can get Joel to do a lot of things just by asking, but arguing with him about wasting supplies on you never works. He washes his hands in the sink and glares are you like he knows what you’re thinking.

"Forehead first, then hands, then knees," he says. "Okay?'

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. He grips your face with gentle fingertips to keep you still.

"How was your patrol?" you ask him.

He makes a noise low in his throat that's halfway to being a laugh.

"C'mon," he says. "You don't want to hear about mine. I know you're dyin' to tell me what happened."

The alcohol wipe stings as he swabs at your forehead and you tense. Joel's thumb rubs slow circles at the corner of your mouth and you press your knees into his hips.

Funny how you've had broken bones, been stabbed, shot, pretty much everything over the last twenty years but it's the small stuff that hurts the most. Stubbed toes, sliced fingers, alcohol wipes on shallow wounds. Some things just don't change.

"Okay," you say. "Well, you'll never believe it, but a damn elk decided to die in the station where the logbook is."

You tell him how you and Jesse rode up and saw the blood trail immediately and heard the moans and groans. You kept the horses on the other side of the fence and checked the first floor and the overlook, but the elk had weaseled its way under the collapsed staircase.

It smelled like death, rust and decay heavy in the air. The animal must have died just after the last patrol.

But it wasn't the problem. It was the group of Infected it attracted -- two runners and four stalkers. You have no idea where they came from but, since you were on patrol, the priority was eliminating them. The runners were easier, although one of them was responsible for the gash on your forehead when it managed to push you into the wall. You and Jesse cleared them quickly, one bullet each.

You thought you got all of the stalkers. One of them was munching on the carcass and went down fairly easily with your good aim. Jesse helped you clean your forehead so you both could clear the passage to get to the upper level and sign the logbook. The corpses went over the side of the station into the forest below. The Infected had eaten so much of the elk that it wasn't too heavy, though you both were sweating and dirty by the time you finished.

"Lemme guess," Joel says. You open your eyes as he carefully pulls the wound closed with two butterfly bandages before he gestures for your hand. He holds your wrist gently and tilts your palm side to side, looking for dirt. "There were infected inside the station, too."

"Look at you," you tease. His eyes flick to yours for just a second, intense as always. "It's like you were there."

"Smartass," he grumbles. The disinfectant stings on your palm, too, but you keep talking and keep your gaze on his face.

"Jesse climbed the rope up to the control room first but had to fend off a stalker at the top so he didn't see when another one grabbed my ankle and pulled me down mid-climb, which fucked my hands. The fall is how my rib got bruised and I tore up my knees fending it off."

Joel's cheek twitches. He wraps one of your palms in gauze and turns his attention to the other.

"Fuckin' hate those things."

"Me, too. When I got to the top, finally, Jesse was tugging a pipe from the head of a corpse. There was one more -- it jumped out of that supply room on the side, the one where Ellie found a bong, once, I think. I dodged it but my gun jammed and my hands were bleeding."

"Should've been wearing gloves."

You tap his leg with your foot and ignore him. Not taking your bait about the bong means he’s still pissed. "And then Jesse killed it with a brick."

"I taught him that," Joel grumbles.

He ties off your other palm and as soon as he's done you frame his face. Joel allows it, allows you to stare at him for a few seconds like you're memorizing him. You're telling the story like it was a fun adventure -- and it was. You're plenty capable and he knows it, too.

But you were scared. You don't tell him that right now, instead grounding yourself in the man in front of you. His hands are rough and dangerous to most, but tender and careful to you. The broad, firm line of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit.

The gash on the bridge of his nose, the lines at the corners of his eyes. His beard, greyer every year. You swipe your thumbs along his cheekbones and he sighs.

"Lucky me," you say softly.

You lean in to kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. His wide palms rest on your bare thighs and he kisses back with a kind of desperate firmness, as if he's proving to himself that you're real. That you're here in front of him, under his hands, in his care.

Joel drags his lips along your cheek.

"Knees," he says.

He steps back and releases your thighs with a squeeze. He treats more of your torn skin, a frown back on his face.

"I do want to hear about your patrol, by the way."

He shrugs. "Not much to tell," he says. "Didn't even get to shoot anythin’.”

You swing your foot back and forth, tapping the side of his thigh with every pass.

"But you had the nice route," you whine. "Tell me what the lake looked like."

"Quit distracting me," he grumbles.

"Like you don't have the steadiest hands in all of Jackson," you say softly.

He snorts. "Are you flirtin' with me?"

"I'm always flirting with you, Joel Miller."

You lied to Jesse earlier -- Joel has hundreds of expressions. He just keeps most of them for you. For Ellie, and Tommy, too. You know every one of them by now.

The look on his face now says he's thinking about kissing you again, maybe just to shut you up.

You grin at him. "Tell me about your patrol, now, seriously. Unless talking and using your hands at the same time is too much for you."

He smirks back. "Think we both know that ain't true."

"Now who's flirting?"

Lazy heat curls in your belly but fatigue stops it from turning into anything. Joel must see that in your eyes because he simply taps your chin with a knuckle and starts talking.

You start to slump as his Texas drawl wraps around you. He tells you how the lake was still, how he and Astrid saw bear tracks but no bear. How he found a tape for Ellie that he's going to give her tomorrow, how he wore his gloves today like you've been telling him to.

Some people might say that Joel is a man of few words. You thought he was the quiet type when you first met him, another stoic survivor in a world that demands hardness of everyone. But not shy, never shy. Just...waiting. Watching.

He and Ellie can shoot the shit for hours -- a dynamic they've fallen back into easily enough since they started spending time together again. He's funny, he's clever, he's annoying as shit when he wants to be.

And Joel is quite the storyteller. If you had to guess you'd say it comes from having to entertain Tommy when they were kids, from getting Sarah into bed on his own over and over. Keeping Ellie occupied, keeping her talking when things were scary and hard and fucking awful.

It's just another way he takes care of people.

"Still with me?" he says. You realize your eyes have closed. When you open them you find Joel looking at you with tenderness and a spark of amusement. The tense line of his shoulders is nowhere to be seen. "All done. Tired?"

"And hungry."

He washes his hands and throws away the various wrappers and blood-stained wipes.

"Sure you're awake enough to eat?" he teases.

You roll your eyes at him. He laughs.

"Joel," you say, catching his elbow. "Thank you."

"C'mon, now."

He looks like he wants to argue with you for saying it but reaches for you instead. He traces the cut on your forehead just like he did at the bottom of the stairs, brow drawn again. You can't tell what he's thinking as he drags his thumb down and around your eye, cupping your cheek fully for just a breath before releasing you and stepping towards the door.

"I'll heat some soup."

Dinner is quick and quiet, your energy sapped from you to the point of exhaustion. Everything aches, despite Joel's thorough care. When he suggests turning in early you don't protest.

He takes longer than you to get ready for bed. You slide under the worn duvet and wait, trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your bruised ribs throb in time with your heartbeat and when Joel finally turns off the light and gets in bed next to you in his threadbare sleep pants he practically hauls you into his embrace.

You go willingly, tangling your legs and laying your head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You press your palm to his chest, fingers threading in the coarse hair. His heart thuds and it grounds you.

"I didn't get any good gossip off Jesse," you whisper. "On account of the whole surprise-infected thing."

He yawns. "S'pose it's a good excuse."

"Can I tell you something else?" you whisper. "A secret?"

Joel hums, lips brushing your temple as his hand snakes up your sleep shirt to press against your lower back.

Even though you know each other down to the bones, some things remain inexplicable. Parts of your pasts that linger in the darkest parts of you, the parts that stay shrouded until the moments like this. You don't have to be brave in the quiet hours of the night, entwined with him as you are. It's the safest place you'll ever be. Safe enough that you can crack open and let Joel in, let those steady and worn hands keep you together.

"I was scared today," you say into his neck. "When the stalker dragged me off the rope. I panicked, I --"

You don't tell him how your initial thought when you hit the ground was of him, how you closed your eyes tight and thought of your name from his mouth, of his smile when you come through the door. The stalker had its bony fingers digging into your ankle and you wondered if you'd ever feel Joel's hands on you again.

Death will come for you sooner or later and when it does it'll be Joel's face that you hold in your mind before it all ends.

But today, you kicked death until its stupid fucking mushroom skull caved in.

Joel presses his lips to your temple. You can feel his heart beating faster, as fast as yours. It's the only thing that betrays his own fear.

Wounds in this life often go deeper than the skin. When Joel comes home with bloody knuckles and shuttered eyes it's one thing to stop the bleeding, to bandage him and get him to eat something. It's another to hold him, to coax out the story, the fear. To follow him downstairs when he has a nightmare, to look for him in every room. It's all part of what you do as partners, as lovers, as people in this world. You take care of each other.

Neither of you can fix a lot of things. But you can ensure the scars heal into something light, something you can barely see.

You can hold each other in the dark.

"Scared me, too," he rasps. A secret for a secret. "Lotta damn blood."

You kiss the underside of his jaw. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Joel pulls you closer, somehow, mindful of your side.

"Rest, now," he says. "You ain’t goin' anywhere."

It's a command, a promise. You hum your agreement and let sleep drag you under.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #just and just as

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strang3lov3 · 7 months

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Halloween Special

Summary: You dress up as Joel for Halloween, and Tommy helps you enhance your costume. Joel fucking hates your costume. God, you're annoying.

Warnings: smut, arguing, oral (f receiving) male masturbation, joel jerks himself off while eating u out, southern phrases, unprotected piv, rough sex, Joel stuffs your mouth with part of his costume to shut you up, creampie, secret Ron Swanson (Joel dresses up like a pirate the way Ron Swanson does), yee haw mothafuckas

A/N: This story absolutely can be read as a standalone, but if you like these two and would like to see more of their antics, they the Mall Rats and you can read more about them in my masterlist ! thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️❤️ btw it is my birthday🎂🎉🥳i'm 21 today! And if you were feeling so inclined i wouldn't say no to some birthday wishes <3

“Why do all of these women’s costumes look like they’re from Victoria’s Secret?”, you ask as you and Joel rifle through the pile of twenty year old Halloween costumes. You’ve just gotten back from an old Spirit Halloween store with Joel, and now you’re sorting through costumes for the people of Jackson at his house. Some are salvageable and in good condition, some are old and moldy.

Halloween doesn’t make much sense post-apocalypse. If there’s any candy left, it’s all rotten. It’s not practical for kids to trick-or-treat for baked goods and apples, the few sweets Jackson has to offer. So instead, Maria and Tommy are hosting a Halloween potluck at their home. All are invited and encouraged to dress up, bring food. The party’s tonight.

“Who knows,” Joel mumbles, “Just how it was.”

“Did you dress all slutty too?”

“‘Course I did. Turned all kinds of tricks back in my prime.”

“Then here–”, you toss Joel a nurse costume, “Be a slutty nurse for the party.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

You snicker to yourself as you sort the piles. You’ve got girls’ and boys’ costumes sorted by size, and along with mens’ and women’s. “What are you gonna dress up as, then?”

“I dunno. Do I have to?”, Joel asks, “I don’t even wanna go.”

“Too bad, you have to. And you have to dress up, too. It’s mandatory.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What are you going as, then?” you shrug in response. Joel tosses you a costume, the guy in the picture seemingly wearing a sort of hat shaped like a thumb. “Knucklehead’, it reads. So fucking stupid. “Get it?”

“Ha-ha,” you throw the costume back in his direction. The costumes are all sorted now, so Joel bags up each pile to take to Maria. “Do you want any help with those bags?” you ask.

“Nah, I got it. Thanks, though.”

“Will I see you tonight?”

“Depends. How slutty you dressin’?” Joel opens the door and grabs the bags of costumes.

“You know, the usual. Lingerie and cat ears.”

“Mmm. Definitely stayin’ home, then. Get the door for me?” Joel asks as he’s standing in the doorway with the bags in his hands.

“Sure,” you nod. And as Joel leaves and you shut his door, his flannel draped over a chair catches your eye. You have the best costume idea.

–

You get to Maria and Tommy’s around six. Tommy greets you at the door, hair slicked back and wearing a cape, his usual toothy grin enhanced by plastic fangs. There’s red makeup resembling dripping blood from the corners of his mouth. “Hey you,” he says. “What do we have here?”

You clear your throat and speak in a lower affectation, “Shut up and quit smilin’,” before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Tommy laughs too. “Joel?”

“Bingo,” you reply. You’re wearing Joel’s flannel and a simple pair of jeans, with an exaggerated scowl.

“Costume is spot on, ‘cept for one thing,” you raise your eyebrows and Tommy continues, “You’re much easier on the eyes than he is.”

“Oh, stop it,” you blush and smack his arm. “Speaking of, Joel here yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Off in the kitchen or something. He’s gonna hate your costume, darlin’. Absolutely fuckin’ hate it.”

“Good, that was the plan,” you smile mischievously.

“I like how you roll, sister,” Tommy drawls. “An’ in fact…” Tommy looks around himself before moving a hand to your waist and stealthily guiding you to a nearby bedroom, his baby’s nursery.

“What are we doing, Tommy?”

“Shh, be cool, be cool,” Tommy tells you. He loves your costume, but he’s got an idea. A great idea, a way to improve it. He picks up a bottle of baby powder from the changing table and sits you down, then sprinkles some in your hair and combs it through with his fingers. “Now we’re cookin’,” he says. “Gotta get you that silver fox look, like Joel.”

“Ahh,” you hum in agreement. Should have thought of that one. That’s good.

“And–” Tommy continues, “You gotta talk like him too. You know how to do that?”

“Sure,” you clear your throat and speak in a low tone again, mocking Joel. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you–”

“Oh, very close,” Tommy laughs, “Nah, you gotta get southern on his ass, sweetheart. You know what I’m sayin’?” you shake your head no. “That’s okay. M’gonna teach ya.”

Tommy spends the next ten minutes running through a list of southern words and phrases, teaching you how to speak in a southern accent. At the end, you’re both in a fit of giggles. “God, sweetheart, I love ya. Joel’s gonna shit a brick.”

You come out of the nursery with Tommy and make your way into the kitchen where Joel’s sitting. He’s at the counter, alone, snacking on some carrot cake. You’re still trying to compose yourself, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Howdy, pardner.”

“Uh, hi,” Joel eyes you and Tommy suspiciously. He does not like the way you’re both smiling, definitely causing trouble. “The hell are you two so happy about?”

“Nothin’.” you say, looking at Tommy. He subtly nods in approval. Don’t pronounce the ‘ing’ at the end of those words. It’s ‘In’. Nothing, nothin’. Fucking, fuckin’. Something, somethin’. “Uh, Joel, what’s your costume?”

“What’s it look like? I’m a pirate,” he grumbles. He’s got an…interesting take on a pirate costume. He’s wearing a plain button down shirt, striped pajama bottoms, and a long red tie tied around his tummy. You’re pretty sure there was a men’s pirate costume in the pile that you had sorted from earlier.

Tommy brushes your hair from your ear and whispers something. You smile, then speak to Joel. “Well, don’t you look cuter than a dimple on a bug’s ass.”

“Did you just have a stroke?” Joel squints at you, “Wait a fuckin’ second–that’s my shirt.”

You look down at your shirt in mock surprise, “Well slap butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! I guess it is your shirt, Joel!”

Joel’s blushing, redder than a tomato. His flannel is ill fitting, but to Joel, it looks perfect on you. He swallows thickly. You’ve got one less button closed than what he wears, and he’s fighting the urge to let his eyes fall lower. “Where did you even–never mind. You - I told you - God dammit, this ain’t–”

“This ain’t funny,” you interrupt, matching his tone perfectly.

Tommy’s giggling like an idiot next to you, then faces his palm up by his hip for a high five. You slap his palm and this enrages Joel, who glares at Tommy. “Don’t encourage this. The fuck is the matter with you?” Goddamn little brothers.

“What, don’t y’all like my costume? I’m you.”

“‘Course you are,” Joel grumbles. “Though a witch would be more fitting,” He looks at you closer, “What the hell is wrong with your hair?”

“I’m a silver fox just like you, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not call me that. I can’t even look at you right now. Jesus Christ.” He eats the last of his cake, then stomps off, away from you and Tommy.

“You,” a voice interrupts. It’s Maria, dressed as a black cat. She’s so cute. “You two are playing with fire. Tommy, leave this girl alone. Joel’s gonna wring her neck.”

Tommy shrugs. “It was her idea.”

Maria doesn’t care. She smacks Tommy upside the head and ushers him towards the living room leaving you all by yourself. Tommy turns back to you, busted, he mouths. So you look for Joel.

You make your way through the living room, check the porch. It’s only when you’re in a hallway that you feel a strong hand grip your forearm and drag you to the guest bedroom that you realize where Joel stormed off to. “What in tarnation?” you exclaim, and Joel locks the door. “This bedroom ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take off your pants. Do it now,” he grunts. You smirk and begin unbuttoning your - Joel’s - shirt. “Pants,” he scolds you, annoyed. “You keep my shirt on for this.”

You quit unbuttoning the shirt, “Thought you don’t like my costume?”

“I don’t,” Joel replies. You can see the tent in his pants, how achingly hard he is. You smirk. He’s all pissed off and worked up, a brutal combination. Your favorite combination. All because you’re wearing his shirt. Not really, though. You know the gray hair and the southern accent are what’s really pissing him off. You wearing his shirt is just fine.

In a fit of giggles, you can barely get the words out, “You’re hard as a match–wait,” you pause, unable to control your laughter. You catch your breath before continuing, “Shit fire and save matches, you’re hard as a r–”

“Don’t have time for this,” Joel grumbles. In one fell swoop, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them and your panties down your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He shoves you on the bed before kneeling at the edge, pulling you by your hips. The cold air has your skin erupting in goosebumps that are then soothed by his hot breath on your thighs, as he presses sloppy kisses into your skin. “You have no–” he kisses your other thigh, “Fuckin’ idea,” then drags his tongue up your soft flesh, “What you’re doin’ to me, wearin’ my shirt like that. M’gonna devour you, sweetheart.”

Joel startles you by licking a long, fat stripe right up your hot and slick core, groaning as he tastes you, “Fuck,” you moan, fingers carding through Joel’s hair. You know this is getting tired. Seriously. Time and place. But even with his head between your thighs, you can’t stop. You struck gold. “Heaven to Betsy, it seems I have a visitor!”

Joel sighs as he pulls away from your core and stares at you, unimpressed. “You done yet?”

“Darn tootin’,” You get no reaction from Joel. “Yes...I’m done.”

“So fuckin’ sick of you. S’not funny. I don’t talk like that.”

And he’s right back where he was. First he’s inhaling you, your sweet scent, he licks another long stripe up your pussy, his tongue soft and firm against your core. He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning into your skin and savoring the way you taste. He keeps one arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is pulling down his striped pajama bottoms just over his cock, the waistband resting beneath his balls. Joel spits on your pussy, then drags his thumb up and down your core, collecting the mixture on his fingertips before spreading it on his cock. He grips himself tight, stroking himself up and down as his tongue teases your entrance, exploring your sex.

You can feel his shoulder jerk with every movement of his hand on his cock. You wish you could see it, his shaft shiny with your slick and the head red and swollen.

“Good lord,” Joel whispers against you. He eats you like he’s starved, eyes closed and lips wrapped around your clit. His fingertips dig into your thighs at a bruising pressure, his nose is buried in the coarse hair that covers your mound. “Fuckin’ good…so fuckin’ good,” Your skin, your musk, your arousal. He’s addicted to it, addicted to the taste of your pleasure. And Christ, the way his flannel drapes over your stomach, peeking over the tops of your thighs. He could die a happy man right here, between your thighs.

“Joel,” you cry, rocking your hips against his face. You’re moving too much. He bites your thigh and holds you firmer, his bicep flexing against you under the soft fabric of his shirt.

He alternates between lapping at your dripping core, sucking your sensitive clit, and fucking you on his tongue. Whatever he wants to do to you, because this is his treat. His.

“Yeah Joel, right there,” you whimper. You can feel it in your thighs, your gut, that familiar closeness is back. Under Joel’s tongue, you’re unraveling, coming undone for him. “M’so close.”

“This ain’t about you,” he growls. “Y’got yer kicks already, didn’t you? Teasin’ me in your little getup. Pokin’ fun and bein’ mean t’me.”

“No, Joel, I wasn’t–”

“I don’t care, sweetheart,” Joel says softly as he works himself. You hear the slick sounds of his fist slapping against his skin. “I don’t care. This ain’t about you. M’doin’ this f’me. Don’t you dare come.”

But you do. Not out of defiance, not to piss him off further. You just can’t help yourself. The way he purrs and growls into your skin, the way his arm holds you in place so firm. And his tongue, working pure fucking magic against you. Your orgasm ripples through you violently, taking you by storm. It feels hot and electric, intense and overpowering. Generously, he works you through it, licking and lapping at you, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body that he can get. Static rings in your ears and you’re limp, pliant on the bed, eyes closed in pure bliss.

When you finally open your eyes, you realize Joel is standing above you, breathing heavily. Cock still achingly hard in his fist. “You weren’t supposed to do that,” he breathes.

“It was an accident,” you reply.

“Accident, my ass.” You bite your lip to hide your smirk. Joel knows that look on your face. Mischief. He reads you like a book, knows that you’re not done with your little act as you pull him onto the bed, flip him on his back and mount him. He knows exactly what you’re planning. Something about saving a horse, riding a cowboy. Of course you are. God, you’re exhausting.

You reach between your bodies and line his head up with your entrance, then sink down on him. Slowly, savoring the way he stretches you out. It hurts. He didn’t use his fingers on you. But you’re committed to what you have planned.

“Joel,” you breathe, rocking your hips slowly against him. “I have something to tell you.”

“What could you possibly need to tell me now, motormouth?” That devious smirk on your face…he knows what you’re about to say, answering his own question. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, “For the love of god…Go on, then. Get it out of your system, numb nuts.”

“YEEEE HAWWW!” you squeal, and Joel lunges forward to wrap a hand over your mouth. He did not think you were gonna be that loud. The party’s loud, but not that loud. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “The fuck is the matter with you? You cannot scream like that…Christ almighty.”

He flips you over, pulls out of you and rips the tie off of his belly. “My fuckin’ turn, now. Drivin’ me to drink,” He stuffs it into in your mouth, “Can you breathe?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he retaliates. He wraps your legs around his waist and lines up with your entrance once more, burying himself to the hilt in a quick shove with his hips. You gasp, your voice muffled by his tie.

He finds his pace quickly, pistoning into you at a devastating pace. Hard and fast and deep, like you love. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he pants. “You’re impossible. You know that? Impossible.”

You can’t smile, can’t speak. With your mouth stuffed full you can do is look at him with wide eyes, and all Joel can think is god, you have no business being so pretty and so fucking irritating at the same time. Joel’s shirt is buttoned halfway up your body and he watches your tits bounce under the fabric with every thrust of his hips. Your nipples taut and hard, the shirt falling away from your torso and framing your body just so, like you’re a painting, just for him.

“God,” Joel grunts. You wrap your legs tighter around him, hold his forearms that cage your head. You look into his eyes as he fucks you, his usual sparkling brown eyes nearly black with lust. And it might get you into trouble, but you need more. Need to feel him, taste him. Pulling the tie out of your mouth, you lift your head, kissing and sucking up his neck and all the way to his jaw and his cheek still slick with your own arousal. You taste yourself on his skin as you kiss his face, lips just centimeters away from meeting his own.

Joel makes all sorts of strangled noises as he pounds into you. His muscles tense and you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen inside you, and with his last few strong and deep thrusts, he spills into you. He comes hard, painting your walls with rope after rope of his hot seed.

He catches his breath on top of you as you trace lazy patterns into his back and his scalp, his head resting against the mattress. Completely drained of his energy. You can feel him going soft. “Joel, I need a rag or something before I make a mess on this bed.”

“Oh, yeah,” He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees his tie in his peripheral vision. He takes it,

“You weren’t s’posed to take this out of your mouth,” he says, “Least you stayed quiet for once. Maybe you could be quiet the rest of the night, hm?” he mumbles as he pulls out of you, wiping you down gently with the tie. He folds it up to keep the mess of his spend contained. “You do that for me?”

You smile. If only you weren’t all out of the sayings that Tommy taught you anyway. Joel helps dress you in your pants and underwear again, straightens out the buttons on your flannel. He tells you that you don’t have to give it back to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, taming it. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“You really didn’t like my costume?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiles for the first time tonight, and exaggerates his own southern accent. “Bless your heart.”

You tilt your head, confused, “What’s that one?”

“What, Tommy didn’t teach you that one?” You mumble a no and Joel hums. “S’a classic.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Well, I’d tell you to ask Tommy but you’re not allowed to hang out with him anymore,” Joel says. “Fuckin’ corrupted you. An’ it’s a shame, ‘cause I was startin’ to like you. God, he’s an asshole,” he complains, “And you are too, for that matter.”

You smile to yourself, then kiss Joel’s cheek before getting up to leave. Before you open the door, you turn to Joel, “Your costume sucks, by the way. Not even close to a pirate.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he replies. “Now get lost, you.”

When you leave, Joel adjusts his clothes. He clutches his tie in his hand, then leaves the bedroom, crashing into someone. It’s Tommy, wearing a shit-eating grin. Joel sighs, “What’d you teach her now?”

Tommy smirks. “Nothin’,” then slaps Joel on the ass, and Joel turns beet red. “Yee-haw, cowboy.”

Please please please reblog, send me asks, comment, let me know what you thought! Love your thoughts. It keeps me going and motivated to write for you all.

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #mall rats #mall rats!joel #mall rats joel #halloween special #joel miller fic #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

III ║ Edgestitch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part II: Threads | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: You wear those jeans for Joel when you see him again at the baby shower at Tommy and Maria's - like he asked you to.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, flirting, mention of food and drink, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7k

Notes: It's here! This one was a long and winding road as I mentioned in Behind the Seams, I'm so relieved and excited when it all finally clicked and fell into place! I'm absolutely blown away by the love you guys have shown Joel and Pin so far, thank you, there's no greater motivation for a writer ❤️ I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

‘Damnit, Lucy,’ you mutter under your breath, this close to stamping your foot and pouting at the door that refuses to lock up.

Lucy may be your best friend, but you’re not blind to the fact that she literally cannot be trusted to get anything done around the shop. It’s been two weeks since she promised to get the locksmith to come in, but here you are on Friday evening, wrestling with the key that refuses to turn the last quarter of an inch in the faulty lock.

‘Hey, Pin!’

Glancing over your shoulder, you force a wane smile at Tommy, who has his hands full with a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need some help?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply sheepishly.

You nod at the bottles of wine that clink delicately against one another as he sets them down. ‘Getting ready for the party on Sunday?’

Tommy steps up to the door and wriggles the key left and right experimentally. ‘Yeah, you comin’, right?’

‘Yes, with Lucy.’

‘Good, the more the merrier!’ He makes a face at the door lock, which is not cooperating with him either. ‘You should get someone to look at it. Probably time for a new one.’

‘Lucy was supposed to get Andrew to fix it, but you know Luce.’

Tommy yanks the door knob backwards hard as he twists the key. There’s a grunt of metal, and a triumphant aha! when it finally turns, the internal mechanisms of the lock sliding into place with a satisfying click.

You nearly fall onto your knees in relief. ‘Thank you so much, Tommy. You’re a lifesaver.’

He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

His brother, who was so solid and broad under you on the studio floor, just a few days ago. His brother, who you can still feel pressed between your thighs, in your bed in the dead of night. His brother, who has taken up residence in your mind, waking or otherwise, since he sauntered out of your shop with that infuriatingly attractive confidence when he asked you to to wear those jeans for him again on Sunday.

Joel has existed solely and safely in the parameters of your workspace for the past fortnight and a half, with only Lucy bearing witness to whatever it is between the two of you. Having to suddenly deal with any mention of him outside of it, especially with that knowing arch of Tommy’s eyebrow, has you completely flustered. It doesn’t help that his eyes are uncannily like Joel’s, a gorgeous deep brown, expressive and sharp, though the mischief sits a lot closer to the surface in the former’s.

Mercifully, your brain unscrambles long enough for you to reach the conclusion that of course, Joel must have told Tommy that he invited you and Lucy. It’s their party, after all. Surely, he doesn’t know anything else -

Or does he?

You’ve been quiet for too long to say anything about it now, so you clumsily change the subject, stumbling over your words. ‘I, uh - I was just wondering what I could bring on Sunday?’

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

You latch on to that gratefully. ‘I do - what kind of cake were you thinking?’

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

You perk up. ‘It’s my favourite!’

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

With a wink, Tommy bends down to pick up the wine. ‘See you in a couple of days, Pin!’

At least you have the decency to wait until he turns the corner - once he does, you sprint across the road to the Jackson Grocer’s and clear out their stock of carrots for the day.

There are many things about Jackson that throw Joel.

The plentitude after years of rations. The safety, which comes off more jarring than comforting.

But most of all, it’s the sounds. The kettle on the boil and the pop of the toaster in the morning when Ellie gets ready for school. Friendly chatter on the high street. Laughter. It still makes him jump when he hears playful shrieks in the neighbourhood playground, blood rushing in his ears and sending him halfway across the house for his rifle before he remembers where he is.

Where he is not.

It was always loud in the QZ. Loudspeakers blaring, alarms wailing, the indistinct hum of conversation and radio through paper thin walls in the slums at all hours of the day. And he was always listening - for danger, for trouble, and everything in between.

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

Joel finds it hard to remember those first few days after leaving Boston behind. Mostly the raw cuts on his knuckles that wouldn’t heal and the ring in his right ear from the explosion, lingering like a pesky fly.

But he knows it was Ellie who broke that silence first. And once that door was kicked down -

‘Fuck no, dude!’

His face snaps up and he scowls across the lawn, the stern reprimand rolling off his tongue like second nature. ‘Ellie!’

She’s sitting with her friends, crowded around her most prized possession of the moment, a boombox she found in the thrift shop a couple of months ago and begged him to buy and fix up for her.

Not that she needed to do much begging, he caved far too easily. It plays a bit wonky - the bass too heavy - still, it does the trick.

The teenagers around her cower immediately, but she defiantly stands her ground. ‘What?’

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

She rolls her eyes so hard her head falls back, and he has to press his lips together to not smile.

It helps him sleep better at night seeing Ellie fit right in - at least one of them has. She doesn’t hate going to school half as much as she pretends to, the routine of homework and chores anchoring her to small town life. She’s even volunteered to help out at the farm, spending most afternoons in the stables with the horses.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

And while Joel still hasn’t made up his mind about Jackson, its townsfolk seem to have unilaterally made theirs up about him. The wary whispers and watchful stares have given way to cautious gestures of acknowledgement, some even bold enough to throw a good morning in his general direction as he walks down the street.

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

The expectant parents have gone all out for the occasion. Several tables are lined up end to end in the middle of the garden, filling up with potluck dishes as guests arrive. Tommy lords over the barbeque, the brisket having been smoking since dawn, with chicken, bacon and homemade sausages sizzling on the grill. Maria is in her element, flitting from well wisher to well wisher with a protective hand over her rounded belly, making sure everyone has a drink and a loaded plate in hand.

Joel hovers in no man’s land, dodging the crowds and sipping on beer that has long gone flat, trying to remember the last time he celebrated anything.

Well, he supposes dinner parties at Bill and Frank’s count, as far and few in between as they were. Not that they ever celebrated anything specific, per se - they didn’t need a reason beyond the fact that they were all still alive and kicking. Bill, bless his soul, did make a mean roast, and Frank used to host with enough flair for forty instead of four. Tess had a black dress she stowed away at the back of her closet for these parties, and a red one that she saved for the really special occasions -

A strong hand on his back jolts him forward and out of his thoughts, spilling lukewarm beer over his fingers.

‘Havin’ a good time, brother?’ asks Tommy jovially, cheeks stretched with joy.

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

Tommy grins. ‘Lighten up, man. Get drunk, be merry! You’re gonna be an uncle.’

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Thumping his chest in mock hurt, he asks, ‘What about all those times I babysat Sarah, man?’

Joel gives him a long-suffering side stare. ‘Please. You used to hire that college chick ‘cross the street to babysit whenever you were supposed to. Then you’d hit on her all night long.’

Tommy chuckles. ‘Damn, your mind’s in better shape than I give you credit for, old man.’

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

He goes quiet for a beat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes softening. ‘I think about that girl every single day, y’know.’

Joel nods, staring into his own beer, and it suddenly strikes him that he’s missed the shape of her name on his lips. ‘I know.’

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

Tommy chortles just as the backdoor to the porch swings open with a loud creak.

Joel spots you easily, trailing one step behind Lucy. You’re holding onto a cake on a round wooden board like a security blanket, shoulders tense and eyes wide at the noise of the festivities. Spotting Maria, Lucy bounds down the stairs, leaving you hesitating at the landing, and -

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Tommy shouts, ‘Pin! Over here!’

Joel shifts on his feet, swallowing thickly as you approach. If your shy smile is anything to go by, he’s not the only one feeling the nerves.

His brother gives you a careful hug around the cake and plants a kiss on your cheek. When he steps aside, Joel hesitates, uneasy with having an audience, his palms suddenly clammy with indecision.

Does he… hug you? He can count on three fingers who he’s hugged for the past twenty years, and he’s sorely out of practice. A kiss is an option, but the way his eyes dart to your mouth, it’s dangerous even entertaining that thought -

Tommy elbows him in the ribs and puts him out of his misery. ‘Why don’t you kids catch up, I think the brisket’s burnin’. Have fun tonight!’

Joel can feel the tip of his ears turning red as he stands there with his drink, one hand shoved in his back pocket, not knowing how to do this. How to entertain. Clearing his throat, he stammers, ‘Uh - can I get you a drink or somethin’?’

You give him a small smile, lips moving in an answer too quiet to reach him over the music. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he admits, ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m uh - a bit deaf in my right ear.’

You look apologetic, speaking up, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

You pinch your lips, and he recoginses that face - he knows that you want to disagree with him. But you hold your tongue, skirting around him to his good ear, and he stoops to close the distance, even though he doesn’t need to.

Your breath brushes his ear. ‘I’d love a drink, but I want to put this cake away first.’

‘Yes, of course - sorry, don’t know where my manners went.’ He puts his unfinished beer away and takes the cake from you despite your protests. The potluck table is packed to the brim, so he gestures towards the house. ‘It might have to go into the kitchen for now.’

You follow him, side by side with one polite body width between you, past bands of neighbours and friends catching up, the fairy lights catching your eyes and the well-kept lawn crunching beneath your soles. Unsurprisingly, you feel the weight of curious stares on your back as you go - Joel is still very much a novelty around town. Neither of you speak until he holds open the backdoor for you to slip inside.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the muted conversation outside a low hum through the double-glazed windows. The free-standing island is already chock full of all kinds of baked goods and pudding, and Joel has to move an actual jelly castle (which wriggles precariously) to free up space for your contribution.

Dusting his hands, Joel turns to you. ‘That carrot cake?’

You nod, keeping mum.

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘I know - Tommy told me,’ you confess with a bashful half-shrug.

His warm eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Talkin’ about me behind my back, sweetheart?’

Your breath quickens at the sweetheart, and you wonder if the thrill of the nickname will ever wear thin. Emboldened, you tilt your head to one side and tease, ‘Why? You like the attention?’

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

And there you are again - with nothing more than a dozen words exchanged and even more unsaid - on the brink of something, right where you left off on the workshop floor.

‘Wanna grab a bite to eat?’

Tucked away in an intimate corner of the back porch in a wicker chair, Joel surveys the party with a seriousness that is borderline comical.

The strategist in him clearly favours the higher ground the porch affords him so he can keep an eye on everyone and spot whoever approaches from a distance. His seat is an easy three steps to the door, an escape plan in his back pocket. For all his stillness, the intensity is unmistakable, if slightly out of place in a baby shower.

Two dirty plates licked clean are stacked on the coffee table between you, piled high with bones and leftover gravy, the delicious food sitting warm in your stomach.

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

Your shoulders quake with a chuckle. ‘I think you’re too much of a gentleman to do that, Joel Miller.’

You’re taken aback by the flash of heat in his answering glance, as if there’s something he wants to say. But then, he changes his mind and leans back in his chair, one palm resting on his spread thighs, and he nods towards a couple standing close to the barbeque.

‘Who’s that over there? He lives on my street.’

‘That’s Andrew. He owns the only hot tub in Jackson.’

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

‘To be fair, it came with his house, but he managed to connect it to the water a few months ago.’

He snorts. ‘Not very communist of him to divert public resources for a private hot tub.’

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

He arches an eyebrow at you. ‘A cynic, sweetheart?’

You reply matter-of-factly, ‘We all know how communism ended.’

Fuck. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. A woman after his own heart.

‘You want to keep him on your good side though. He’s really handy with electrics and the like.’

He shrugs. ‘So am I.’

You turn to him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

He notices your attention flicker to his hands, before you catch yourself and look away bashfully. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘You need things fixed?’ he asks, and promptly wants to kick himself for sounding so hopeful to be of service.

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You have to work on asking for things, but it’s ok - he doesn’t push you. He files that away for later.

Glancing across the yard, he catches Ellie’s eye, who’s arching an inquisitive eyebrow and pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick. He knows he should probably introduce you at some point, but he’s not ready to share your attention with someone else just yet, let alone the nosy teenage loudmouth.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

Ignoring her for now - and knowing that he’ll pay for it later - he asks you, ‘And who’s that in the red dress?’

You crane your neck until you spot her. ‘Ah, that’s Patricia. She’s the dance teacher down at the school.’

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

You shoot him an amused grin. ‘Why, it looks like you’ve caught the fancy of our local femme fatale.’

He scoffs. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Well, she’s been married and divorced three times since she arrived,’ you answer with a straight face. ‘The last one just disappeared. Never found his body.’

Joel stares at you in stunned silence, until you let out a poorly contained giggle. He grumbles, ‘Havin’ fun pullin’ my leg, sweetheart?’

‘Just a bit,’ you tease.

‘I liked you better when you were shy,’ he ribs.

You shrug. ‘Too late. You don’t scare me anymore.’

Glancing the other way, Joel sits up in alarm at the flutter of crimson fabric. ‘Shit, I think she’s comin’ this way.’

‘Time for carrot cake?’ you prompt.

He’s out of his chair quicker than you’d expect his knees would allow him to. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

The state of the kitchen island stops you in your tracks, while Joel lets out a low whistle behind you. ‘Jackson really turned out for this party, huh?’

‘Well, your brother and sister-in-law are pretty popular around town,’ you quip.

You didn’t think it was possible, but every square inch of the kitchen island is now jam-packed with sugary confections, stacked on top of one another.

‘I can’t even find the bloody cake,’ you laugh, literally searching high and low as you skirt the parameter.

On the other side of the island, Joel tosses a dry good luck in your direction and puts the dirty plates and cutlery that he brought in into the sink with a clatter, turning on the hot water. You stutter to a stop opposite him, gawking at how his broad shoulders fill the frame of the window that sits in front of the sink, before your gaze inadvertently trails south - over the nip of his waist and the hem of his shirt skirting the back pockets of his jeans. You find yourself wishing he’d tucked the tails in.

Rooted to the spot, you watch him unbutton the cuffs on his flannel shirt and push up the sleeves to the crease of his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Your mouth goes dry despite the wine you’ve been sipping on all evening, peering at the sinewy muscles flexing and straining as he lathers the plates with an offhand familiarity, his thick fingers dwarfing the sponge in as he works the grease stains.

Making quick but thorough work of the washing up, Joel dries the plates and then runs the tea towel over his big hands and wrists, catching you staring as he turns around. If he knows you’ve been watching all along, he lets it slide. Tossing the towel to one side, heat prickles under your cheeks when he sidles up to you with the clean plates.

The sight of this man doing something as mundane as dishes really shouldn’t get you this hot and bothered.

‘Is that cream cheese?’ he asks conversationally with a nod at your cake, which you have found sitting on top of a tall plastic caddy, a chocolate cake inside.

Having to consciously unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you’re surprised your voice doesn’t shake. ‘It’s not carrot cake without it.’

‘Where did you get the cream cheese? Never seen any ‘round town.’

Almost bashful, you admit, ‘I made it.’

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

‘And the walnuts?’ he asks.

‘Someone I know grows it,’ you say vaguely.

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Biting your bottom lip, you can pinpoint the exact moment he figures it out, brows drawing together in a frown. ‘The only ones I’ve seen are outside the walls, ‘round the north side of the gates.’

Knowing for a fact that you’re a terrible liar, you don’t even try. You choose to ignore him, idly smoothing the frosting on top with a clean knife, trying not to flinch at the weight of his gaze on you.

‘Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t go outside just to get walnuts for me.’

‘Not for you,’ you shoot back unconvincingly, flustered. ‘I made the cake for Tommy and Maria.’

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

His shoulders stiffen, the fabric of his shirt bunching with the movement. ‘You can’t just go outside like that, y’know, there could be infected ‘round -’

‘Joel, I’ve been living here for years, I know what I’m doing,’ you argue huffily, not expecting a lecture, of all things. ‘I’m not stupid.’

He shakes his head. ‘Ain’t what I’m sayin’, Pin -’

‘Just leave it, ok?’ you reply sharply and, signalling an end to the conversation, you slice into the cake with an aggressive stab - not noticing that it is hanging over the edge of the caddy below.

You squeak when it flips unceremoniously, and on pure impulse, you pitch forward to stop its upward trajectory, meeting it mid-air with an ominous splat.

‘Fuck!’

To his credit, Joel barely skips a beat, quickly but calmly grabbing hold of the cake board and pulling it off you, setting it down on the counter, while you gape in dismay at the damage done.

The side of the cake that made contact with you is smushed in, most of the thick frosting now painted all over your front, from your neck down to the lovely, thin cashmere top that Lucy picked out for you for the party.

You really hope there’s a big guy up there watching, because someone might as well enjoy this mortifying brand of comedy you keep dishing out around this man.

Two seconds more, and you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst into tears for lack of knowing what else to do - but without another word, Joel takes the lead, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen.

You gratefully let him.

It’s none of your business really, but it comforts you that Joel’s obviously here often enough to know his way around the house.

You glance around the dimly lit room where he deposited you on the edge of a neatly made bed, water trickling in the adjoining ensuite. When he returns, he has a small, wet towel in his hands. Towering over you, the low lights don’t quite reach his face, but you can see the way his gaze slips downwards, carefully, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

But he doesn’t - not even when he slides the crook of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up and opening up your throat.

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Must something always go wrong whenever we’re in the same room?’

The corner of his mouth teases a smile. ‘Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

You smile back, but it falters when his eyes burn in a quiet but unmistakable smoulder.

‘May I?’

You’re not even sure what he’s asking. But he can ask you anything in that raspy, low baritone, and there will always only be one answer.

At your nod, Joel drags the tip of his index finger down the column of your neck, and your lips part when it glides over your windpipe - pressing just hard enough for you to feel the pressure - collecting the velvety frosting as it goes.

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

You’re sitting down, but somehow, you still feel your knees give way at how he smacks his lips at the sugary aftertaste.

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean.

At the prospect of those plush lips and the burn of his silvered, patchy beard on your skin, your head tilts further back invitingly. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, like he’s picking up on what you’re thinking, and his eyes dip to your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t even have time to be disappointed before Joel carefully gets down on one knee in front of you, one palm landing on the mattress next to your hip for balance. Knowing the state of his joints, you want to ask if he needs a pillow, but instead of your mouth, it’s your thighs that part to make room for him. His chest keeps them splayed open, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his ribcage with each breath through the denim.

You try to focus on your own breathing as Joel presses the wet towel to your skin and mops up the sticky mess, his face set seriously as he cleans you up inch by inch. But all you can think about is how you can feel the imprint of his fingers through the thin fabric, and how the span of his hand can easily fit over the column of your throat -

You don’t realise you’re leaning into him until he draws back when he’s done, and you tip forward, chasing his touch. His knee groans as he stands up to his full height, and he nods towards the bathroom with a wait here in his eyes.

The water is scalding as Joel washes out the frosting from the towel, but he keeps his hands under the tap, longer than he needs to. Wringing it dry, he takes a moment, wet palms gripping the cold porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched over as he tells himself to calm the fuck down.

Except, he is calm. He’s held back, even when you looked at him with such straightforward, honest want that has him grinding his teeth.

Thing is, he knows you would’ve let him nudge you backwards into the mattress and crowd you between his arms, switching places the two of you were in under your sewing desk in the workshop.

He knows you would’ve let him wrap your legs around his hips, sliding his palms up the back of your thighs in those skin tight jeans - the sight of which is enough to make his head spin - and he knows you would’ve let him nip, suck, lick the tangy buttercream off your very neck.

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

That last realisation awakens something he’s not so sure he has a handle on. But he knows for a fact that with the whole of Jackson milling about downstairs, in the middle of his brother’s baby shower, is neither the place nor the time.

You’re where he left you when he steps back into the bedroom, your palms planted on the bed, your shoulders relaxed. The neckline of your blouse gapes loosely, teasing the soft skin of your cleavage.

Joel breaks the loaded silence with a bit of common sense. ‘You best get that top off and soak it in the bath before the stains really set in, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

You sit up, attention piqued, when his hands move to the top of his flannel, thick fingers sliding each button out of the holes one by one. You know he’s just taking off his shirt, but you can’t help the way your jaw goes slack, watching shamelessly, the comforter twisting in your grip as you scrabble for something to hold onto.

Joel doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, but it’s so flattering to watch you watch him, eyes hooded and your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, like he’s giving you a fucking strip tease or something.

Goddamn if it doesn’t go straight to his head.

A white undervest comes into view, inch by inch, as the shirt falls open, the thin fabric pulled taut at the seams over the broad stretch of his chest. When the last button is undone, he shrugs the shirt off with a smooth roll of his arms, and your jaw drops.

The undervest barely contains the bulk of him, and you’ll be damned if you know where to look first - the lean, solid line of his arms, or the effortless ripple of muscle in his shoulders - but it’s lower where your attention makes landing, and it takes you a second to realise why.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

The swell of his abdomen sits above the top of his jeans, where the vest is neatly tucked in. You remember too well the brush of that soft strip of skin against the back of your hands when you were on your knees, cutting him out of his jeans; and then beneath you, straddling him under the sewing table.

While there’s an undercurrent of self-consciousness in the way he holds himself, conspicuously missing is the self-deprecation that drew your ire the day he walked into your shop with a broken zipper. A tentative confidence has taken its place, which is at the same time so endearingly vulnerable, as if your reaction to the little show he gave you just now isn’t enough to assure him of what you’re thinking.

Your fingers twitch, yearning to reach out and tug him in by the front of his jeans, to untuck that vest and push it up and off. You want to snake your hands around his waist, hold him to you by the small of his back, and starting with his tummy, kiss your way across the soft belly - maybe with a cheeky scrape of teeth - up to his firm chest, his strong neck and to his lips.

Or maybe, the calling southwards will win out. You’ll push him back to make room for yourself at his feet, nudging your way down his front with your nose, breathe him in, your hands finding his belt buckle and tugging it out of the loops instead. Never mind you've lost count of how many years it's been since you've wanted to do that, or if you remember how at all -

‘Pin.’

Your whole body jolts backwards when his voice pierces through your addled haze, low and raspy, snapping out of your sordid stupor almost grumpily - how rude of him to interrupt? - only to find him peering down at you with a lopsided smile.

‘Get changed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’

Leaving your top to soak in the sink, you pad back into the bedroom in just your bra, and you stare down at his shirt laid out neatly on top of the bed.

You press your palm over where his heart would be, the flannel still warm. For one indulgent moment, you pick up the shirt and hug it to you. It smells like him - the outdoors, a crisp spring day, with a whiff of the barbeque smoke from downstairs. You bury your nose into the soft fabric, eyes closed, imagining the weight and shape of him in it.

Even as you put your arms through the sleeves to button it up, you already know it will be hard giving it back. You leave the last three buttons undone and you’ve just tied up the too-long ends in a double knot when there’s a polite but firm knock on the door.

‘You decent?’

‘Yes.’

You hope your face doesn’t fall too obviously at the sight of Joel wearing a shirt again, probably one borrowed from Tommy. He leaves it unbuttoned though, which is small consolation. The air hums between you with stolen glances and words unsaid.

‘You wore those jeans for me,’ he says suddenly.

The for me rolls off his tongue coated in his delectable Southern drawl and a heady satisfaction.

You decide to be brave and shrug one shoulder in a show of attitude. ‘It was the only thing I didn’t have in the wash.’

His grin makes your heart swell. Stepping out of the open doorway, his eyes trailing heat where they linger over you, he says, ‘You look good in my shirt, sweetheart. Real good.’

You bite your lower lip at the compliment, replying shyly, ‘I like this look on you too.’

‘Used to be Tommy’s uniform during our contractor days,’ he reminiscences. ‘I’m just missing the utility belt.’

Oh. You actually find it offensive that the fleeting mention of something as banal as a utility belt should get you going like this. You try to palm off a non-committal hum, but your body betrays you with a strangled choking sound that gives you away.

Joel arches an eyebrow and closes the gap between you with three long, deliberate steps, one finger skimming where his shirt meets the waistband of your jeans. He teases with a smirk, ‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

Your cheeks grow hot as both his palms latch boldly onto your hips, and you swear you can feel the burn of his fingertips through the denim, a moan gargling in your throat as your ability to form words abandons you.

‘That a yes?’ he prompts, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops in your jeans and tugging your body flush against his, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive crook of your neck as he speaks into your ear.

‘Joel,’ you whine, which is the best you can do right now, grabbing onto the open flaps of his shirt just to stay upright.

You feel the rumble that goes through his chest under your palms when he purrs, smiling down at you, head cocked to one side with a playful condescension that’s going to be the end of you. ‘Yes, Pin?’

Your mouth opens, but you’ll never get to find out what you intended to say, because you hear it first - his right ear is to the door - the thunder of rubber soles on the stairs, and you're lucky you manage to stumble two steps back before a deafening (no pun intended), drawn-out call of his name follows.

‘JOOOOOOELLLL!’

Ellie crashes into the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, slightly out of breath like she’s been running all over the place searching for him, already in the middle of a sentence, as usual.

‘- also Maria says they’re doing a speech now and you’re not getting out of -’ she breaks off abruptly when she spots you, eyes wide and brows - all one and a half of them - reaching for her hairline. ‘Oh shiiiiiit.’

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh at the resignation in his tone as the teenager wrinkles her nose. ‘Pin? That’s a weird name.’

‘Ellie!’

You smile. ‘It’s ok. Pin's just my nickname. I’m a seamstress at the Main Street Outfitters.’

Her face lights up excitedly, an open book if you’ve ever seen one. ‘No shit! I’ve been bugging Joel for a leather jacket for ages. Can I get one?’

‘Please,’ he interjects.

Ellie tucks in her chin and juts out her bottom lip at you. ‘Please?’

You demur. ‘Well, it depends on what you can trade in for it.’

‘My boombox!’ she volunteers without skipping a beat.

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

‘Sorry, man, but I can’t wear a boombox can I?’ she argues.

Giving Joel an amused look, you come to his rescue. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but we only take clothes in exchange.’ At the way she deflates, you counteroffer, ‘Or, you can come work at the shop on Saturdays for the next couple of months. Lucy always needs help out front, and you get a staff discount.’

He turns to you, protesting, ‘That’s very kind, but it ain’t necessary -’

Ellie cuts in, rushing up to you to shake your hand before you can take it back. ‘Deal! When can I start?’

‘There’s no rush,’ you reply with a chuckle. ‘I’ll get back to you next week.’

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

Joel groans at the terrible pun. ‘Get outta here!’

She cackles, firing triumphant finger guns at you as she retreats. ‘What? Pin liked it, she laughed! You’re no fun old man!’

She then pauses by the door, her eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on something smeared on your jeans. ‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’

‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

‘ELLIE!’

She throws her hands up. ‘Alright, I’m gone, I’m gone! See ya Pin!’

Joel is the very picture of an embarrassed dad, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. ‘Sorry, she’s a handful.’

You grin, ‘She’s just a teenager.’

‘You can say that again.’

The quiet seems louder after Ellie, and you restlessly pick at the sleeves. Lifting your eyes shyly, it seems the moment has passed - but Joel has other ideas.

‘C’mere,’ he hums, drawing you close again with one hand on your waist, peering down at you through his lashes. ‘This ok?’

At your nod, he brushes his thumb on your bottom lip, catching the soft plump skin, and your tongue darts out to taste him, his eyes darkening.

‘Can I kiss you, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice hoarse.

It’s been years. Years since anyone has cared enough to kiss you, let alone cared enough to ask if they could. And it’s as if he knows - you don’t know if you’ve somehow given it away, or maybe it’s just him.

‘Yes, Joel.’

He coaxes you closer so that you’re pressed along the whole length of him. His big palms are warm and solid on the small of your back, holding you to him like he intends for you to have trouble standing after he’s done with you.

The tip of his nose bumps into your cheek, nudging its way across and down, and your eyes slide shut when his shaky exhale grazes your gently parted mouth. Your breath hitches at the sweet burn of his beard on your jaw, fingers grabbing onto the scruff of his neck when he finally, finally brushes his lips against yours.

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft. He steals a whimper straight from your throat with nothing more than the clever angling of his lips, the slow drag of tongue on tongue, and a growl deep in his windpipe that you answer with your own moan.

You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed when your shins knock into his, breaking the kiss with a laugh as Joel hauls you up into his chest, looking very much pleased that he’s literally made your knees buckle.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, beaming despite yourself.

‘You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart,’ he answers, his voice warming you like a smokey campfire, steadying by his hands on your hips.

‘We should probably go before Ellie comes back for us,’ you say reluctantly.

Joel huffs, ‘Ain’t gonna hear the end of it if she does.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be hearing the end of it tonight anyway,’ you tease.

He chucks you gently under the chin, his eyes soft. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely.

‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

Right on cue, Joel strides across the lawn with three plates to join you. ‘Thought you might want some of Pin’s carrot cake.’

‘Such a gentleman, Joel Miller,’ chirps Lucy, making what can only be described as a 'thirst face' at you when his back is turned to her.

‘Thanks, Joel,’ you smile at him, letting your fingers graze his deliberately when you take the plate from him.

Saluting you with a forkful of cake, he says, ‘Thank you for bakin’, sweetheart.’

You watch as his lips close around the fork, dragging the cake clean off the slots, cream cheese smearing the corner of his mouth. He frowns, as if in deep pain as he chews, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

‘Okay?’ you ask nervously, your slice still untouched.

‘Perfect,’ he declares, already having a second, bigger bite. Knowing he doesn’t have a superfluous bone in his body, your chest warms at his words.

‘Wait a second,’ Lucy interrupts, bringing up her plate to inspect it closely. ‘Why does the cake look all wonky?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce,’ you answer coolly, taking a bite yourself.

Humming around a mouthful of moist crumb, the sweet carrot balanced out by the tangy frosting, you meet Joel’s eyes in the soft glow of fairy lights, and he flashes you a conspiratorial smile that makes you grin.

More notes: On Ellie - I was so so nervous about writing our resident teenage badass. I hope I've done her justice, I certainly had a lot of fun writing her introduction to Pin! If you're interested in a detailed deep dive into my process writing this chapter, I do recommend you read the Behind the Seams for this part ❤️

I also went back and forth on the tone and style of this chapter a lot. I wasn’t happy with the way it read, probably still not 100% happy. I like the way Seams and Threads were written better, but the fact is that this chapter is a very different setting and narrative compared to the first two, so I’m trying to be too hard on myself.

So, I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but nothing concrete. As I've mentioned, I see this fic as more of a loose-fit series, so there's no overarching plot per se, but there's definitely a lot of room for future episodes of these two - I mean, they haven't even done the deed yet 😉

Comments, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so excited to hear what you guys thought of this chapter 😘

#fuckyeahseams #seams iii #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic

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gutsby · 29 days

Text

Wingman

Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.

Word count: 1.7k

You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.

Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.

“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”

Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.

Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.

Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.

“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”

“Pads!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”

The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.

“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.

“Boneless or traditional?”

And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.

Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.

“Sorry.”

Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,

“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”

And he was off.

Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.

There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.

That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:

“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”

And you’d looked back in abject horror.

Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.

Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.

You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.

6:29

“Dude, where are you?!”

It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.

“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.

“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”

“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”

“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”

In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.

You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.

“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”

Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.

His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.

Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.

“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”

You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.

Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.

You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.

Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.

“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”

You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.

Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.

Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.

Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.

Wait.

“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.

But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…

“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.

“What?” you shot back, instantly.

A frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”

Not…exactly, no.

More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.

You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:

“Wings!”

An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.

You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.

You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.

The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.

But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.

Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.

The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.

You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—

Whistling.

Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.

You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.

It didn’t matter.

Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.

Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.

“I got three boxes to be safe…”

Joel was really too sweet.

“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”

Always so considerate.

“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”

This motherfucker.

#THINKING ABOUT……..….....….BIG DUMB IDIOT MEN AND OPEN-MOUTHED KISSING 💔💔#AND A LITTLE BIT OF CHICKEN FRIED #COLD BEER ON A FRIDAY NIGHT #A PAIR OF JEANS THAT FIT JUST RIGHT #AND THE RADIO UUUUUUUUP 😫#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic

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jksprincess10 · 5 months

Text

Playing Santa || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Joel dresses up as Santa for the kids of Jackson. It shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

A/N: Thank you to Jett @morallyinept who inspired me with her Santa!dieter. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate.

Divider by @saradika

CWs: Inappropriate uses of a Santa costume, some fluff, some references to Sarah's death, established relationship, riding, half-clothed sex, fingering, bj, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected p in v because this is a fantasy world and no one can get pregnant, some usage of "Santa" in a dirty situation, the usual. (1500 words)

Joel Miller masterlist

Notification blog

It did take some convincing for Joel to play Santa this year for the Jackson kids. It was truly a group effort – with some coercion and some puppy eyes. Tommy even used his young daughter as the perfect bait – imagine how much it would make her happy to see Santa. Traditions lived on in Jackson, even though nothing made sense anymore, they wanted some kind of normalcy for the children.

You help your boyfriend dress up in his large obnoxious red velvet pants, a matching jacket, a big belt, and shiny black shoes. You tie the fake beard on his face and put the fuzzy Christmas hat on his head.

“How do I look?” he asks as he turns around to let you see all of him. You bite down a smile.

“Like the sexiest Santa I’ve ever seen.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can see redness matching the color of his costume on his face. You pull on his jacket to bring him to your level and kiss him sweetly. Joel’s hands are on your ass, pulling you dangerously close. You put your hands against his chest and push him away slightly.

“Come on Santa, you’ll have this gift later, but you have to do your part first.”

He groans in response, but lets you drag him out of the house you share with him and Ellie.

You help to make sure all the kids get a chance to sit on Santa’s lap and receive a gift – mostly handmade stuff by the community – knitted plushies, wooden trains, etc. You also make sure Ellie doesn’t laugh too much at Joel’s misery, but she mostly spends time with her friend. Joel genuinely looks happy – you catch him smiling and taking his role seriously, with a deep voice and exaggerated laughs. It makes your heart swell up with love for your man, and you hope this experience is somewhat healing for him.

You help Tommy and Maria clean up the community center, and they leave you the key to finish up cleaning so they can put their daughter to sleep. You assure them you’ll take care of it – after of course, taking care of your personal Santa.

The beard and the hat came off a long time ago, and his jacket is open, exposing the tight black t-shirt he wears underneath. Joel is sitting on Santa’s chair to take a break, his big thighs spread wide. You try not to devour him with your eyes as you approach him to sit on his lap. His hand rests against your lower back as he presses a sweet kiss to your warm cheek.

“The kids seemed very happy. You did good, Joel.”

There’s a sadness behind those big brown eyes that you can feel. You know he thinks about Sarah, and every holiday without her doesn’t get easier.

“I know she’s proud of you.” You add as you press a kiss against his nose.

He hums in response and decides to change the subject to something less uncomfortable. “Was promised a gift, earlier, I reckon.” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and grab his chin to kiss him deeply, before sliding off his body slowly, until you’re on your knees in front of him. You work open the comically large belt.

“You don’t have to-”

You shush him and slap his hand away. “I want to.”

He helps you pull down his velvet pants and his boxers. You circle his half-hard cock, pumping him slowly until it gets bigger in your grasp. You drag the tip of your tongue on the tip, collecting the salty pre-cum. He hisses at your attention and rests his palm in your hair, not pulling nor pressing. You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking softly, taking him deeper until you stop at your hand holding the base.

“So good fo’ me…” Joel slurs, his head thrown back against the big chair. You moan at his words, letting your voice vibrate around him.

You pump him excruciatingly slowly, hollowing your cheeks to accentuate the sensation of your warm mouth. He groans appreciatively and you take that as a sign to pump him a bit faster in your mouth. He groans, frustrated, as he grabs your hair to pull you off. You sit back on his lap with a sly smile.

“What?”

“Don’t make me come so fast like a goddamn teenager.”

“I’m sorry.” You lie with a smile.

He brings you closer, so you straddle his lap, your arms around his neck. You lean down to kiss him deeply, sucking his tongue between your lips, swallowing his moans.

“Lemme touch ya baby.”

“Will you fuck me too, Santa?” You smirk.

He groans in discouragement. “Dirty girl. Yes, I will.”

Joel’s hand sneaks under your black velvet skirt until he finds your soaked panties. “All this fo’ me, hm?”

Your forehead rests against his shoulder as you feel your cheeks heating up. “Yes.”

“M’so lucky.” His fingers trace your clothed center, before he slips your panties aside. Two of his digits caress your seam, collecting the wetness there, before circling your clit in the way that he learned you loved. You muffle your moans against his coat. Your hands grab him tighter, as if you’re scared of falling with the intensity of your pleasure. “I got ya, baby.” he whispers against your ear, before pressing a kiss below your lobe.

He sneaks one of his free fingers between your walls as he keeps teasing your clit with vigor. It’s ridiculous how fast he can get you where he wants. You feel your body tense, before going limp in his arms. He leads you through your orgasm like one would lead an orchestra, touching you with precision and purpose. You shake in Joel’s grasp and let out a silent moan.

“Good girl.” He rewards you in a soft, honeyed voice.

“Fuck me, please.”

“Please, who?” He teases.

“Please, Santa.” You grimace and you don’t wait for his approval before you grab his cock and lead it between your folds until it notches at your hole. You take him in inch by inch, slowly, until you’re completely sat on his lap. He looks at you with adoration, his hand resting on your cheek as he steals a kiss from your lips.

“You take me so well, baby.” He praises in the shell of your ear, making you shiver. Sometimes, you wonder if you could come undone only with the sound of Joel’s voice. You lay your hands against his broad shoulders for leverage as you start moving up and down his length slowly, each one of your moves letting you feel him completely. His head rests against the chair, his eyes half closed, and mouth slightly opened. He looks so good like this; just letting you take what you want from him.

One of his big hands rest against your lower back to help you move, respecting your rhythm. You feel Joel’s tip hitting the inside of you just right, and you let your moans come out freely of your parted lips. He thrusts up, joining you in the languid thrusts of your hips, making you let out a silent scream, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“God, Joel…” You let out breathlessly.

He thrusts a few times, before grabbing you from your waist and pulling you off him. You watch as he gets up, big figure towering over you.

“Hold on to the chair.” He says as he leaves a playful slap on your butt under your skirt. You do as he says, your hands grabbing on to the chair’s arms, putting your ass up for Joel to take. He grabs on to the skin there, kneading your flesh, as he uses his other hand to guide his cock back in, between your wet and accommodating folds. You grab on to the chair harder, knuckles going white as he fucks you fast and hard. You chew on your lip to keep yourself from screaming, as you’re still in the middle of the community center in a well-visited street of Jackson.

“Will you come on my cock, baby?” His body bent over your back; he bites playfully at your earlobe after whispering those dirty words.

“Y-Yes Joel, please, please don’t stop.”

After a few more harsh thrusts, you feel yourself spasming around his cock as a new wave of slick wets him. You almost go limp as you ride out your orgasm, Joel holding you up with his strong arms as he chases his own high.

“Want me to fill ya up, uh? Want Santa’s little gifts?”

You almost laugh at his words, but you agree with a small “yes”. You feel him burst inside of you and register him putting your underwear back in place, one of his arms still holding you.

“Best Christmas gift.” He chuckles.

“Let’s go home, Santa.” You help him pull his pants up. “We don’t want to ruin Christmas’s magic for any kids.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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punkshort · 8 months

Text

All Yours

Summary: Tommy and Maria want to meet a group from another community to establish a trading relationship. One man comes onto you a little too strong, sparking a reaction from Joel.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe but can be read stand alone, no use of Y/N.

Warnings: jealousy/possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected sex, fingering, language, mild violence/blood, vague allusions to SA (nothing graphic)

Word count: 6.8K

March 2006

"So, what exactly do we need to bring with us?" Carrie asked, leaning over your shoulder as you spread out your notes in front of you on the desk.

"Maria said she wanted to have an idea of our production numbers for each season, so we know what we can spare for trades."

A couple months ago on patrol, Tommy and Joel came across a smaller community deep in the mountains. After watching them carefully for a few weeks, and a very lively discussion during a town hall meeting, it was agreed that they would approach the community in an attempt to strike up a trading relationship.

Satisfied that you had all the documentation you needed, you stuffed the notebooks into your pack, along with a few samples of medicinal herbs as a good faith gift.

You both slid on your coats, hats, and gloves as you made your way to the stables, the early spring morning still very brisk. The sun was just beginning to peek over the trees as you approached the small group waiting outside the barn. You scanned the group of five quickly before your eyes settled on Joel, who had been talking to Eugene about something that made him appear tense until he saw you approach, and his face relaxed.

"All set?" Joel asked you, taking your rolled up sleeping bag and attaching it to the back of the saddle, next to his own.

"I think so," you replied while giving Eugene a smile and wave in greeting.

"Shouldn't be too long of a trip, dear. We'll be back tomorrow, late afternoon," Eugene told you as he mounted his horse.

Tommy had chosen a neutral place in between both settlements to discuss trades: an abandoned ski lodge. When you heard of the location, you were grateful you wouldn't have to sleep on the muddy forest floor.

Joel hopped up on the back of the horse and reached his arm down to help you climb up behind him. You wrapped your arms around his stomach and gave him a small squeeze with your arms.

"You didn't have to come, you know," Joel murmured over his shoulder as he followed behind Jake and Carrie's horse, exiting through the gate.

"Yeah, but what would I do while you were gone? Probably just waste away," you joked, making yourself chuckle.

"I'm serious," he said. "Could be dangerous. We don't know these people yet."

"It'll be fine, Joel," you tried to assure him. "I'll just explain my production numbers, Carrie will discuss the medicinal stuff, and we will just hang back while you guys figure out the rest."

Joel huffed and rolled his shoulders.

"Just don't like you outside Jackson too much. Like knowin' that you're safe," he said, directing your horse around a fallen tree.

"I know. But I want to help. Maria is excited. She said this could be really good for the town, and I want to do my part."

He grunted, effectively ending the conversation.

Joel had always felt this intense need to protect you. Since outbreak day, his one and only goal was to keep you safe. There had been a few close calls in your journey before Jackson, ones that affected him deeply and stirred up frequent panic attacks from shouldering the guilt and blame. When you found Jackson, he was finally able to relax, seeing you safe and happy. He still struggled with his own trauma from past events, some days worse than others. And taking you outside the walls of Jackson was steadily careening him towards having one of those bad days.

You reached the ski lodge before the other group, much to Joel's relief. It was the first time you've seen him look pleased all day. The place was enormous. You noticed it appeared to be able to host weddings or conferences in the off-season as you walked by three huge ballrooms and a kitchen before you finally reached the main lounge. Couches, sofa chairs, and tables with chairs were scattered around the two-story room. The walls were mostly windows, allowing visitors to admire the beautiful mountains surrounding the building.

The room was built around a big fireplace in the center, which Tommy and Jake immediately began to inspect.

"Maybe we should get some wood. We're early, we got time to kill," Tommy mused aloud. Joel's head swiveled around the two-story lounge while he gripped his rifle, looking up at the balconies above to make sure you were truly alone.

Tommy slid his backpack off and rummaged around until he found a hatchet in its leather carrying case.

"C'mon, Joel. Before we lose daylight," Tommy said, giving Joel pause. His eyes flicked over to you sitting at a table talking to Carrie while you unloaded the food, no doubt planning what to make for the group for dinner.

"Can you take Eugene?" Joel asked him quietly, so the rest of the group wouldn't overhear. Tommy raised an eyebrow at his brother before answering.

"Joel. I'm not gonna ask an old man to trek into the forest and help me haul wood up all those steps."

"Jake, then," Joel tried, his eyes traveling back to you. Tommy sighed and put a hand on Joel's shoulder.

"It'll be 30 minutes, at most," Tommy assured him. "She's a big girl, she'll be alright. Y'know she can defend herself, probably better than most."

"Yeah, but what if the other group comes when we're gone?" Joel asked, furrowing his brow and shifting his weight.

"We've met them before, Joel. You've met them before. What's the problem?" Tommy asked, growing impatient. Joel sighed and reluctantly slung his rifle over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's be quick," Joel huffed.

Joel made his way over to you as Tommy let the group know his plan to collect some firewood. Joel gave you a quick kiss and squeezed your bicep gently.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart," he murmured.

"Be careful," you told him with a small smile. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing anxiously, unsure how to vocalize his concerns.

"Joel! Let's get a move on," Tommy called out as he made his way back down the hallway that led to the entrance.

"Sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back," you told him, giving his chest a small shove. He nodded and turned on his heel to follow Tommy down the hall.

You and Carrie were opening some canned goods and rifling through the kitchen when you heard the front doors of the lodge swing open. At first, you thought Joel and Tommy had managed to cut up firewood in less than fifteen minutes, but then you heard strange voices, and you knew it must have been the new community arriving. You dusted your palms on the sides of your jeans and glanced at Carrie.

"Guess we should join the others," you told her, trying to keep your voice steady. You didn't want to worry Joel, but the prospect of meeting new people in a strange place did make you a little nervous. You didn't have the best track record with people since the outbreak.

As the two of you made your way back into the lounge, you subconsciously rested your hand on the butt of your handgun. You entered the room just as the group was entering from the other end. You examined them carefully as you made your way over to Maria. They had brought five men with them. Two of which were older and had grey beards, one was bald while the other had messy curls. The other three were younger. One seemed particularly young, younger than you. He was skinny and his eyes darted around nervously. You got the impression he was asked to join as an extra body and a last resort.

The last two men were likely in their thirties and seemed to be the muscle of the group. One of the men had darker hair that was shaved close to his head and a rigid jaw. You vaguely wondered if he had past military or police training.

Your eyes finally landed on the last man, only to discover he had already clocked you from across the room. He had dirty blonde, slicked back hair with piercing blue eyes and was surprisingly clean shaven. You noticed most of the men in Jackson didn't bother to shave their beards unless it was particularly hot out, so it struck you as strange. Maybe you had been staring because when you met in the middle of the room, the blonde man's eyes never left your face.

"Neil, Dean, great to see you again," Maria greeted the two older men with a handshake. You could tell immediately they were kind by the way they smiled and spoke, which helped ease your nerves a bit. However, the blonde man had yet to stop staring at you, and it was becoming unnerving. You felt Carrie shift next to you and you wondered if she noticed it, too.

Maria introduced you and Carrie to Neil and Dean, since Jake and Eugene were already acquainted with them. When you shook their hands and looked into their eyes, your nerves settled a little more.

"And I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met," Maria said to the other three with a smile.

"Oh, where are my manners," Neil, the balding one, said. "This is Lucas, Sam, and Carter." Neil pointed to each of them respectively. Sam was the young, skinny boy, Lucas was the military type, and Carter the blonde.

You looked each of them in the eye and gave them a tight smile. Carter gave you a sly smirk and you instantly looked away, focusing your attention on Maria. She invited the group to sit at a larger table in the lounge, and you all traipsed over to find a seat. You didn't think it was a coincidence that Carter sat directly across from you, and when you exchanged quick looks with Carrie, you could tell she noticed, too.

"So," Maria said, folding her hands on top of the table. "Tommy and Joel are just out getting firewood, but they should be back soon. We can get started, I don't want to keep you unnecessarily."

"Sure thing," Dean said, reaching into his bag to pull out some notebooks.

"Why don't we start with the girls? They can go over our medicine and vegetable harvest numbers, and then Eugene can discuss livestock," Maria said, looking at you expectantly. You took a breath and reached across the table to grab your worn notebook.

You began by showing the men your production numbers from the past year for vegetables, all of them nodding along and taking notes except for Carter, who was blatantly trying to get a look down your shirt when you leaned over. You had enough and shot him a frown in the hopes of embarrassing him, but a wide grin just spread across this face instead.

You were wrapping up and about to pass your notebook along to Carrie to review the medicinal herbs when Carter finally spoke for the first time.

"That's all?" he said, the deepness of his voice surprising you. You looked at him and blinked.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your fingers still pressed onto the open pages of your notebook.

"Vegetables and fruit? I'm sure you got something else you can trade, sugar," he said, his eyes quickly scanning your body up and down.

You paused for a moment, wondering if you were just paranoid or if he was really suggesting what you thought he was suggesting. Your gaze flicked back to Maria, who seemed to pick up on the same thought you had, and she stiffened in her chair.

"Carter," Neil said lowly, his tone a warning. Your left hand remained on the notebook, but your right hand fell to your side, fingers tapping the butt of your gun.

After a heavy silence that seemed to last an eternity, Carter's face split into a toothy smile as he laughed heartily.

"Come on now, I'm just kidding. Relax, girly," he said to you, but you did anything but relax. In an attempt to not ruin the potential trading relationship with this community, you pushed the notebook to Carrie and leaned back in your chair, choosing to let his comments go.

Carrie nervously and quickly went through the numbers on the herbs while you kept your eyes trained on her, ignoring the heat of Carter's gaze.

Carrie was just finishing up when you heard the front doors swing open once again, and relief flooded through you when you heard Tommy and Joel walking up the hallway.

They entered the room with armfuls of wood, which they deposited next to the fireplace in order to shake hands with Dean and Neil. They were then introduced to the rest of the group with firm nods of their heads before pulling up chairs of their own. Maria was catching Tommy up on what he missed when Joel sat down next to you. You turned in your chair and put your hand on top of his with a squeeze. He gave you a quick smile and leaned forward to listen to Maria, oblivious to the way Carter was studying you two. Carrie met your gaze, and her eyes widened a fraction, trying to silently convey the thought you were also having: what the fuck?

Before Eugene could begin talking about the livestock numbers, you stood up and tugged on Carrie's arm in the process, also making her stand.

"We're gonna go back to the kitchen, get some food ready," you announced, and Maria nodded, her eyes briefly looking at Joel before falling back on you. Joel was looking up and watching you curiously. You gave him a tight smile before hurrying back to the kitchen with Carrie. It was then that he finally noticed Carter's gaze, which was firmly fixed on your retreating form, not even trying to hide the way he stared at your ass as you left the room. Joel cleared his throat roughly, drawing Carter's attention off you and onto him. He gave Joel a light huff and turned his attention back to Maria.

"That was fucking awkward," Carrie said with a disbelieving laugh once you were safe inside the kitchen.

"Okay, so it wasn't just me?" you asked, your hands on your hips. She shook her head.

"Oh, hell no. Even Jake noticed it. Joel's gonna fucking kill him if he pulls that shit again," Carrie said, and you groaned, getting back to prepping various dishes for dinner.

Dinner went smoother. Carter mostly kept his eyes to himself, the tension from the room had dissipated, and the group had begun laughing and trading stories. It appeared while you and Carrie were making dinner that a trading agreement had taken place. Tommy had brought a bottle of whiskey along and was passing it around to celebrate while you and Carrie helped clean up. You were picking up a stack of plates at the end of the table when you heard a voice behind you.

"How 'bout dessert, sugar?" Carter whispered in your ear, making you nearly drop the stack of plates in your hands. You whipped around but he had already taken a few quick steps back, creating a healthy distance from you so as not to draw the attention of others.

"Excuse me?" you said, your heart hammering in your chest. He held up his hands in mock surrender with a smirk.

You so badly wanted to tell him off, stand your ground and make it known you weren't just brought along to feed people and clean up after them, that you were doing it to help your friends, your community. But you recalled how excited Maria was about this relationship, and looking at her now, you could see she was relieved that she could provide more goods to the town with this new prospect. So, you gave Carter the benefit of the doubt.

"There might be canned fruit or something," you muttered, trying to find Carrie so you could walk back to the kitchen together, but Carter reached out and snatched your elbow, this time drawing a scowl to your face.

"I was thinkin' 'bout somethin' else," he said, and you could now tell he had been drinking by the slur in his words and the heaviness in his eyes. You swallowed roughly and glanced around the room, scanning for Joel. He was talking with Dean and Tommy near the fire, his back to you.

"Don't gotta be nervous. It's a compliment," Carter told you, picking up on your anxious body language.

"I'm with him," you said curtly, nodding your chin in Joel's direction. "Even if I wasn't, I'm not interested."

His eyes slowly dragged across the room and landed on Joel before swinging his head back to you, giving you a shrug.

"Huh," was all he said in response, still looking at you hungrily. Over Carter's shoulder, you saw Joel shift, his eyes instantly landing on you. In your periphery, you saw his body tense and he began to make his way across the room. Your eyes flicked to his and he stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to direct him. You gave him a subtle but firm shake of your head. His jaw clenched but he stayed where he was, his eyes jumping from you to Carter.

You turned and marched towards the kitchen, your pulse racing so fast you felt lightheaded.

You all settled in for the night, rolling out sleeping bags and claiming couches. The new group ended up having too much to drink and decided to leave in the morning. You were fixing up your sleeping bag next to Joel's while he stared at Carter flopping down on a couch from across the vast room. You weren't thrilled with the idea of having to stay the night in the same place, but you were comforted by the fact that you were next to Joel and your friends.

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Joel said bluntly as you unzipped your sleeping bag.

"I don't either," you told him, and his eyes finally dragged from Carter to look at you, the surprise evident on his face. He had fully expected you to insist he was overreacting, but the fact you agreed with him put him on edge even more.

"Let's just get through the night and get back home," you said, tucking yourself into your sleeping bag.

"You ain't leavin' my sight til then," he said gruffly, then followed your lead, zipping his bag up partially so he could still press his upper body against yours while you slept.

And although you agreed, not wanting to leave his sight, you found your bladder was too full shortly after everyone had fallen asleep. You looked over your shoulder at Joel. He was sound asleep and snoring softly against the back of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist loosely. You thought about waking him up but decided against it. He looked so peaceful, and you knew you would be quick.

Before standing up, you glanced around the room. The rest of the group seemed fast asleep, and the bathrooms were only a few feet away from where you slept. You sighed and slowly unraveled yourself from Joel's grasp. He grunted and readjusted, moving to sleep on his back, but remained out cold.

The ladies restroom had three stalls and two sinks. You went as fast as you could, eager to get back to the warmth of the lounge and Joel's embrace. It was dark, but it was a full moon, so you didn't bother to bring a flashlight with you.

You swung the bathroom door open to exit into the short hallway when you smacked into a wall of muscle, causing you to stumble backwards in alarm.

"Wha-" you began to say, but a strong hand clamped over your mouth, stifling your words and pushing you backwards into the room, your back slamming hard against the wall.

You couldn't see who it was, but you knew it wasn't Joel based on touch and scent alone. And when you heard his voice, it just confirmed your suspicions.

"Finally gotcha alone, sweetness," Carter muttered into your ear, pinning you against the wall. You struggled against him, but he was too strong, and you were having a hard time seeing in the dark. Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood rushing in your ears as the panic set in. Not again, please, not again.

He brought his face in front of yours and you could smell his sour breath, stale whiskey invading your nostrils as you mumbled against his palm.

"Really happy we met today," he said quietly. "Your town's got some real pretty women. Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. I can get you things, for a price..." he trailed off as his other hand skirted down your side. You squeezed your eyes shut and brought your knee up as hard as you could, praying in the dark that you could hit your target. A loud groan that bubbled up from his throat let you know you were successful. His hand slipped from your mouth slightly as he doubled over, clutching his crotch with the hand that was just on your body moments ago.

"Joel-!" you began to shout, but his hand quickly covered your mouth again, this time with more pressure, bringing tears to your eyes.

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered angrily, bringing his other hand up to your neck. "Quit bein' such a tease, you been starin' at me all night."

You shook your head as much as you could with your mouth still held prisoner by his palm. You brought your hands up to claw at his hand pressing on your throat, your vision going spotty.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, allowing air to flow freely again. You gasped and coughed, leaning forward as your fingers gently touched the sore skin on your neck. You quickly stood back up, swinging your head around in the darkness, trying to see where he went.

"Get your fuckin' hands off her," you heard Joel growl, along with the unmistakable sound of knuckles thudding wetly against soft, damaged flesh. You could hear their boots squeaking on the tile as the scuffle continued and you blinked rapidly, trying to make your eyes adjust so you could reach the door and go get help.

The fight must have been louder than you realized because the bathroom door swung open, flooding the room in light from Maria's lantern, with Neil, Dean and Tommy right behind her. You pressed yourself flat against the wall as you tried to not get caught in the fight between the two men, who you could now see were swinging on each other wildly, spinning around the small room, slamming each other into the stalls, and grabbing at each other's shirts, trying to get the upper hand and pull the other down. Joel's fist came in contact with Carter's nose so loudly, you heard the crack of bone and winced. Carter stumbled backwards with a pained cry, crashing into you and causing you to fall to the floor.

You felt a burning in your wrist when you landed as you frantically scrambled between him and the floor, desperately trying to get out of the way. Joel saw his opportunity when Carter fell, clutching his nose. He snatched him up and off you by his collar and hauled him across the room with a grunt. Joel grabbed Carter by the hair and yanked him back, so his face was angled up to the ceiling. Carter looked at Joel manically, desperately squirming on his knees and clawing at Joel's wrists to try to loosen his grip when he realized Joel was about to slam his face into the porcelain sink.

Tommy pushed his way into the room and broke up the two men before Joel had a chance to crush his skull. Carter sat crumpled on the floor, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. He attempted to stand but slipped on his own blood, making him fall back to the floor.

"Alright, Joel, enough," Tommy muttered, his hands pressed firmly on Joel's shoulders, pushing him back against the wall. Joel panted for breath through clenched teeth, his eyes wild as his gaze jumped from Carter to Tommy. As if he suddenly came to his senses and remembered you were still in the room, he pushed Tommy off him and made a beeline towards you, hunched over in the corner of the room.

"You alright, sweetheart? Lemme look at you, c'mon," he said gently as he crouched down, hooking a finger under your chin and pulling it up. You let out a shaky breath as your eyes roamed his face. He had a few cuts under his eye and a bruise forming on his jaw, but apart from his knuckles, he appeared unscathed. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the fear in your eyes, then his gaze dropped to your throat where dark, circular bruises were forming from where Carter pressed his fingertips into your delicate skin. You could see the shift behind his eyes turn from concern to rage, and you reached out to grip his arm tightly before he could start another fight.

"Stay," you whispered, your lip trembling. He sighed and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. You inhaled his scent, a mix of sweat, blood and tree sap, and you felt your pulse slow down a fraction.

"Get him the fuck outta here," Joel growled over his shoulder. At some point, Lucas must have joined the crowd because he entered the room to help Carter up from the floor, allowing him to lean on his shoulder as he ushered him out of the room and down the hall.

"I'll go get Carrie, she can look you both over, patch you up," Maria said, but you stopped her.

"Can I just have a minute?" you whimpered softly, your voice not quite right. Maria nodded and waved Tommy out of the room, closing the door behind them, leaving you and Joel in the quiet, moonlit bathroom.

He leaned back to look at you again, his thumb tracing gently over your cheek. You didn't realize you were crying silent tears until he leaned forward to kiss them away, then let his forehead rest against your own.

"What happened?" he finally asked, his eyes closed with his forehead still pressed against you.

"I had to pee, he cornered me in here, it was dark," you squeaked out. Your head was pounding, and you felt exhausted but there was no way you would be able to fall asleep now.

"Did he touch you?" Joel asked nervously, afraid of the answer. You shook your head quickly, and a sigh of relief slipped past his lips.

"Not like that. Just my throat and he covered my mouth," you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to get closer. He leaned back against the tile wall and pulled you onto his lap, your face pressed against the side of his neck.

"Shoulda woke me up," he murmured into your hair.

"I know, I'm sorry," you whispered, letting your hands fall from behind his neck to rest gently on his chest.

"Don't be sorry," he replied, his body tense. "Shouldn't have to be this way in the first place."

You pulled your head back and cupped his cheek with your good hand, gently stroking the bruise forming on his jaw. Overcome with a swell of affection, you leaned in and pressed your mouth against his, tugging his lower lip between yours. He moaned softly and opened his mouth, his tongue dipping past your lips until it found its mate, licking into your mouth until he pulled a small whine from your throat.

He broke the kiss and leaned his head back against the wall, his fingers carefully wiping away the last of your tears.

"Thank you," you whispered, and he shook his head.

"Don't gotta thank me," he replied, then sighed as he pushed himself into a standing position. He reached an arm down to help you up off the floor, and that's when you remembered your wrist. You whimpered and yanked it out of his grasp, standing up on your own and rolling your wrist around to test it for damage.

Joel tenderly took your hand in his and turned it around, inspecting it for swelling.

"It's too dark in here, let's go find Carrie, she can take a look at it," he told you, leading you out of the bathroom and back into the lounge.

Carrie sat you both down on a loveseat with her med kit. She tested your wrist and determined it was just a sprain, so she wrapped it up tightly for you before moving to Joel. She was sanitizing the cuts on his knuckles as you both watched Tommy and Maria having a quiet conversation with Dean and Neil across the room. You were trying to tell by their body language what was being said, but it was impossible. Finally, the group broke up and headed back to their respective people.

Joel stood up defensively when Tommy and Maria approached, giving Carrie a quick 'thanks' under his breath. She sat down next to you, eyes wide as she rubbed your back, asking gently if you were okay and if you needed anything. You shook your head and gave her a small smile, then turned so you could listen to what Maria had to say.

"Relax, Joel, it's alright," Maria said, putting a hand out to him. "You don't need to explain. Dean said there's been an incident or two like this back in their town. It was all 'he said, she said', so they couldn't do anything about it."

"So they brought that fucker here?" Joel seethed, clenching his fist.

"They're gonna take care of it when they get back," Tommy assured him. "Won't be a problem in the future. Trades are still on. Kept him around 'cause he's a good shot."

"Christ," Joel mumbled, rubbing his hand over his beard and turning away. Maria kneeled down in front of you and took your hand in hers.

"You okay?" she asked softly, and you nodded. She examined your face closely until she was satisfied that you were being honest, and stood back up.

"They're leaving, obviously," Maria said, gesturing behind her to the group packing up. Carter laid on a couch with his arm draped over his face, clearly in pain.

"Why don't we try to get some sleep so we can get the hell outta here early?" Eugene said from a sofa chair next to you. You all mumbled in agreement, but waited until the other group left, Neil and Dean giving Tommy and Maria a quick handshake before venturing out into the darkness.

Tommy threw a couple more logs on the fire before he settled back into his sleeping bag next to Maria. Silence descended upon the room, but you still struggled to fall back asleep. Adrenaline was still coursing through your veins from the encounter as you tossed and turned in your sleeping bag.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" Joel murmured next to you, clearly on the verge of sleep. You sighed and shook your head, even though his eyes were closed.

"No," you whispered, letting out a quiet groan as you repositioned yourself yet again. Joel's eyes popped open at the sound and turned his head to look at you curiously.

"Can't sleep, too wound up," you whispered again. Joel chuckled and you scowled at him.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin', just thought of somethin', made me laugh," he said, his eyes sliding back closed but the smile still on his face. You poked him in the ribs, and he jumped, eyes snapping back open.

"Tell me," you said, and he sighed.

"I was gonna make a joke, tell you 'I know what'll tire you out', but it seemed like the wrong time," he explained, closing his eyes once again and turning his head back.

You considered it for a moment before responding.

"Okay."

His breathing stopped and his eyes snapped open. He turned his face to the side again, raising his eyebrows at you.

"What?" he asked quietly. You shrugged and smirked.

"I said, 'okay'," you replied just as quietly. His eyes darkened as they flicked down to your lips, then back up again.

"Kitchen," was all he said, his tone deep and voice strained. You slithered out of your sleeping bag and jumped to your feet, trying your best to be quiet and not sprint into the kitchen. You pushed the door open and entered the nearly pitch-black room, noting the only window was a small circle at the top of the door, allowing an orange light from the fire to be the only light in the room. You chewed your nail nervously as you waited for him to join you, pacing around in a small circle, trying to relieve the ache that was growing between your legs.

The door swung open, and you whipped around right as Joel wrapped his arms around you, his mouth latching onto your neck. His beard tickled your skin as he made a trail of kisses all across your throat. It wasn't until he made it to the other side that you realized he had been kissing the bruises left there. You let out a soft moan and tipped your head back, your fingers digging into his arms.

"If we do this, gotta be fast and quiet," he whispered against your mouth before his tongue dove past your lips to tangle with your own.

"Mhmm," you hummed as you reached down to unbutton your jeans. He walked you backwards until you felt the cold stainless steel of the counter behind you. You hopped up to sit on top and bent your head so you could suck on his Adam's apple before you made your way down to his collarbone, which was just peeking out from the top of his shirt.

Joel pulled your jeans the rest of the way off and slid his hands up both your legs before stopping on your hips, squeezing before giving them a quick tug forward. You almost yelped but you covered your mouth at the last minute. Joel gave you a look of warning before he lined you up with the edge of the counter, his fingers sliding underneath the edge of your panties and yanking them off.

He ran his knuckle up and down your slit before his eyes shot up to lock on yours.

"Shit," he whispered, leaning forward to whisper filth into your ear while he inserted a thick finger inside you, followed closely by a second.

"What a good girl, all ready for me," he told you quietly. "How long you been like this, hm?"

"Since you broke his nose," you whispered heavily, spreading your legs wider for him. He paused a moment, clearly not expecting that answer. You squirmed a bit when his fingers stayed still for too long, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah? That turn you on?" he asked you, and you felt his breath quicken against your neck.

"Yeah," you said quietly, sighing when his fingers expertly found that spot inside you.

"Fuck. Dirty girl," he muttered, earning a gasp from you when he quickly removed his fingers in favor of undoing his belt and shoving his jeans down his thighs. "You liked when I beat that fucker for putting his hands on what's mine?"

You didn't have a chance to answer him because he quickly slid his cock inside you, making you gasp again and slap a hand over your mouth, but you nodded enthusiastically, squeezing your eyes shut.

"So warm," Joel muttered to himself, tipping his head back as he rolled his hips into you slowly, your legs squeezing around his waist. His hands hooked under your knees at his side, his head rolling forward lazily as he watched his cock disappearing inside of you, each time emerging slicker than before.

You began rocking your hips up to meet his in a desperate attempt to increase the pace. He noticed, and given the location and lack of time, chose to give you what you wanted. He snapped his hips harder, grunting quietly each time he bottomed out inside you. You bit down on the fleshy part of your hand, trying to stifle your whines as he pushed you higher and higher towards your orgasm.

He slid his hand from your knee and down your thigh to rest flat on your lower stomach, his thumb brushing against your clit and pulling an audible moan from your mouth. Joel stopped his movements to give you a stern look. He leaned down so his chest was nearly flush with yours, his mouth hovering over your ear.

"Gotta stay quiet, sweetheart. You know I love those sounds but we gotta be careful," he whispered. "Can you do that for me?" You nodded and covered your mouth with your palm again.

He hummed his approval and began rocking his hips into you, his thumb finding your clit and pressing small, firm circles. Your eyes rolled as the pressure built in your lower abdomen. Joel leaned back up so he was standing once again, watching your body jostle up and down underneath him as he fucked into you harder. He felt your walls clench around him and watched as your head tipped back against the stainless steel, your hand still firmly planted over your mouth.

"Tell me you're mine," he said lowly. Your head tilted back down so you could meet his gaze. You removed your hand from your mouth, little gasps escaping from your mouth with each thrust.

"I'm yours, Joel," you said as quietly as you could.

"Again," he said, teeth clenched. Heat creeped up his neck as his orgasm steadily approached, but he held it back until he could hear you respond.

"Y-yours. I'm yours, Joel. Fuck. No one else, only you. Only ever y-you. Shit, I'm close," you whined, clamping your hand over your mouth again to muffle your orgasm.

And then it hit you like a freight train. Your eyes squeezed shut and your body tensed, your cunt fluttered around his cock as the waves washed over you, soft whimpers and moans getting lost in your palm.

"That's my girl," Joel mumbled, pounding into you harder now, desperate to join you. "All mine, huh? This mine?" he asked you, grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a shake. You nodded and whispered a yes, your hand falling to your side.

"That's right. How 'bout this sweet little pussy? This mine, too?"

"Yes," you whined a little louder than you intended. You opened your eyes and watched him as his gaze traveled up your body, locking eyes with you. You saw a bead of sweat trickle down from his temple as his hips stuttered against you. His hand that was once placed over your stomach slowly traveled up your body, resting over your sternum, right over your pounding heart.

"And this?" he asked, softer now, eyes wide and pleading. You nodded and covered his hand with yours.

"Yes, Joel. All yours." You told him firmly, and with that, he pulled his hips back, groaning quietly as he came all over your stomach, his hot spend dripping down your sides and leaving small, pearly white dots on the countertop.

His eyes lingered on your stomach a moment before he reached down to pull his pants back up. He cleaned you up with a rag he had grabbed before following you into the kitchen, and helped you sit up, being mindful of your sore wrist.

You slid down from the counter and felt around with your foot until you found your discarded clothes. After dressing yourself, you turned around to pull Joel down into a messy, lazy kiss. He leaned back to look at you in the semi-darkness, his hands resting on your waist.

"I'm yours, too, y'know," he said softly. You smiled up at him and ran a finger gently over the bruise blooming on his cheek.

"I know," you whispered, planting a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He pushed the door open a crack to make sure no one was awake before opening it all the way and leading you back to your sleeping bags.

"That did the trick, thank you," you murmured to him, yawning as your eyes closed, burying your face in your sleeping bag. His arms wrapped around you from behind and he kissed the back of your neck.

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said, his voice muffled by your hair as he held you tightly against his chest.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina

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mariposa-drowned · 8 months

Text

Hear me out, Ellie x pregnant reader doing the trend where you lift up your s/o belly to relieve the weight and then having a lil heart to heart bc you just feel so useless due to said pregnancy

Ellie was currently scrolling tiktok as you sat on the couch together, your attention being taken up by whatever show you had thrown on TV, not even noticing the sound coming from Ellie's phone, you were so used to her needing multiple different forms of entertainment at the same time that it barley even phased you anymore.

You were eight months pregnant and ready for this baby to be out. You're tired all the time and can't stand for too long without discomfort, which made you feel useless. No matter how much Ellie assured you she was completely fine with taking over daily tasks, even having Joel over sometimes to entertain you while she worked on stuff, or the other way around. Tommy had even been over a few times with Maria as she tried to offer you tips and tricks on how to deal with the discomfort.

Ellie felt terrible that she couldn't do more for you. Besides massages and the occasional sex that you swore helped; Ellie was always looking for ways to help. Which is why when a video popped up of a man getting behind his wife to lift her pregnant belly for a few seconds, Ellie was immediately ushering you up, hoping that you would get the same relief that the girl in the video seemed to get.

"Ellie what the hell are you doing"

"just trust me babe this is gonna feel great"

"don't kill me please. Or the baby"

Ellie rolled her eyes, positioning herself behind you, her long arms coming to intertwine right below your bump.

"kay take a deep breath"

You huffed but did as told. Then a sudden rush of incredible relief filling you as Ellie lifted your bump up you groaned, your hand reaching behind you to entangle itself in Ellie's hair.

"hooolyyy fuck Ellie"

"yeah? That feel good mama?"

"ohmygod can we just stay here for a minute please"

"as long as you need babe"

You were practically on the verge of tears from the relief you were currently feeling, you hand gripping a bit harder where it was entangled in Ellie's hair. She noticed your teary eyes, quickly becoming concerned.

"hey what's wrong am I hurting you?" She worried as she slowly started to drop your belly.

"don't you dare drop your hands Ellie Williams"

You immediately gripped her hand with a force she didn't even know you possessed.

Ellie immediately reassumed her position "christ babe sorry, was just a bit worried when my wife starts crying"

"just feels really fuckin good els" you stated with watery eyes

"hey hey don't cry mama, it's alright I'll do this whenever you need until they're here babe. It's alright"

"m'sorry just feels s'nice, I just feel so useless because I'm so uncomfortable all the time n I can't do anything"

Ellies heart broke a little at your confession "don't be sorry at all, you hear me?" C'mon let's go sit for a minute, I promise I'll do this again later, jus' wanna talk to you"

You leaned your head back to try and meet her eyes, your vision still a bit blurred

"pinky swear?"

"cross my heart babe. C'mon I'm gonna start lowerin my hands now"

You tried to keep her there as long as you could, but inevitably Ellie's hands left their place under your stomach. You sighed as she started to lead you to the couch. She plopped down, spreading her legs and ushering you in-between them to which you promptly did, getting as comfortable as you could in-between her legs.

Ellie grabbed one of your hands, the other resting on your bulging stomach tracing small shapes.

"I need you to listen to me for a minute babe"

You tilted you head back to lean on your shoulder semi-looking at her while humming a small mhm

"I love you. So much. But you need to understand that you are actively making a living being in you right now. You are allowed to be sick and tired and uncomfortable, it's expected. But you need to understand that we are in this together. I will always be here, I want to be here for you, which means that if you can't do something, I pull my weight here. That's my job mama, I gotta take care of you and little bean" Ellie smiled through her last sentence, looking down to meet your smiling face aswell

"I love you els. Thank you, for everything"

"always and forever babe"

"always and forever" you smiled back at her, leaning up to give a peck on Ellie's lips.

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lu-vin-it · 1 year

Note

Ellie with a gf who has baby fever? she likes to visit Dina and Jesse to see JJ and maybe one day r finds a baby outside of Jackson and r is like “it’s fate were keeping her”????

Baby Momma

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Pairings: Ellie Williams x Reader, Jesse x Dina

Pronouns used: None mentioned but reader is female!!!

Word Count: 1,487

Warnings: Joel never went to play golf in this!! Jesse is also alive :)

A/N: No one proofread this so if it’s completely shit please don’t blame me 🙏

Part 2 | Rest of series here

“Oh you’re just the cutest, aren’t you?” You coo at JJ, bouncing him on your knee.

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s the antichrist.” Dina says with a groan. You shake your head.

“How could someone so cute be the antichrist? Doesn’t work like that.” You make a face at JJ causing him to giggle.

“It definitely works like that.” Jesse argues as he struts into his living room. He places a kiss on top of Dina’s head. “Look who’s here!” You pry your eyes off of the baby to see your girlfriend, Ellie, walking in. You grin. She was visiting Maria and Tommy.

“Hi babe!”

“Hey sweetheart, Dina.” Ellie walks over to you and sits down besides you. JJ immediately reaches his arms out for Ellie. “Hey little man!” She takes him from your arms and you frown, already missing the baby.

“How was seeing Maria?” Dina wonders. Jesse sits down besides Dina.

“It was fine, she tried to convince us to come back, all the usual. We have to head out in a few, it’s movie night at Joel’s and we already have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” You nod sadly.

“I’m gonna miss you guys.”

“We miss you too! Hey next time we’ll come visit you, about time we see this farmhouse.” You nod.

“There's an extra room so you guys are welcome any time.” You reach over and grab JJ. “Only if you bring this one though.” You smile at the baby and bounce him up and down causing him to giggle. You sigh and stand up, gently handing JJ over to Dina. “We’ll see you guys soon I guess.” Ellie stands up too and says her goodbyes, soon you and her are walking hand in hand to Joel’s house.

“How was your day with Dina?” Ellie asks as she raises your hand to her mouth and presses a kiss on it.

“It was great, I really enjoyed seeing her and JJ.” Ellie laughs.

“Yeah it looked like you did.” You furrow your brows and glance at her.

“What do you mean?” She shrugs.

“Just that you seemed more happy to see JJ than Dina.” You sigh.

“Cut me some slack, I’ve always loved babies.”

“I know, never said it was a bad thing. It’s kinda hot.” You give her a pointed look. “What? I’m just saying, you’d make a great mom.” You smile.

“I always wanted to be one.” You mumble.

“Maybe we could take in one of the parentless children here one day.” You raise your eyebrows and look at your girlfriend.

“Els, that’s a big responsibility, I don’t want for us to adopt some child just because I want to. I want you to want it as well.” She stops walking and grabs your other hand.

“I want everything with you.” Your heart swarms and you avert your eyes, suddenly feeling nervous.

“I want everything with you too.” She places her hand on your cheek and kisses your forehead.

“Then we can work on childproofing the house when we get home and maybe next time we visit Jackson, we can talk to Maria.” You beam at her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You peck her lips.

You and Ellie left the following morning, although your house wasn’t far from Jackson, it was still a few hours drive. You had made the drive many times before without a problem, but for whatever reason, your truck decided to break down halfway to the house.

“Dammit.” Ellie groans as she pulls away from the smoking engine. “It’s out of coolant, no way it’ll make it two hours in this heat.” You put your head in your hands as you try to think of a solution.

“There’s that gas station off of the highway, maybe we could stop there to see if there’s any coolant? Shouldn’t be too far.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea. Grab your stuff, don’t leave anything valuable.” She instructs. God she was hot when she took charge. You grab your things and then take the time to admire her as she shut the hood and brushed off her hands. “What?” She asks when she catches you staring. You shrug.

“You’re hot.” She walks over to you and places her hands on your hips.

“You’re hotter.” She dips down and kisses you passionately before abruptly pulling away. “We have to get going.”

“You’re finishing that when we get home.” You say, pointing at her.

“Promise.”

You were on high alert as soon as you were near the gas station. It was evident that the reason you had never gotten out of the truck around here was because of the sheer amount of clickers around. You and Ellie had at least killed five each already, and you could still hear the sound of some coming, along with a cry coming from the gas station that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Stay close.” Ellie whispers before walking into the gas station. As you follow her inside, you can hear the cry louder, you quickly realize it was a baby. Ellie seemed to come to this conclusion too and she followed the sound to the backroom.

“S-Stay back!” A woman yells as you open the door to the backroom. She’s disheveled, and her side is bleeding. She’s bouncing the baby in her arms trying to get it to stop crying.

“Woah hey, we aren’t gonna hurt you.” You say, putting your gun down. “Watch out for clickers.” You tell Ellie she nods and leaves the room. “How were you hurt?” You take off your backpack and fish through it for your first aid kit.

“It’s no use. I was bit.” She murmurs. You frown and put it back in your bag. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N.” You sit down in front of her. “Are you alone? Is there anyone I could find for you?” She shakes her head.

“Everyone’s dead.” She looks down at the baby who stopped crying. “I’m Alice. This is Sarah.” You smile.

“Nice to meet you. I wish we would have found you before, we could have taken you to a safe spot.” A tear slips down Alice’s face.

“Will you take Sarah?” She asks abruptly. You furrow your brows. “Get her to that safe spot?”

“Of course.” You reach out and put your hand on her arm.

“I have a journal in my bag. It’s over there. Give it to Sarah when she’s older, please?” You nod. “There’s some pictures of me and her Dad, Cole. Give those to her. Please.”

“Of course.” Tears well up in your eyes as you agree to the requests the weeping lady gives you.

“Y/N, I have the coolant, you ready?” Ellie says, waving the coolant at you. Alice hands you the baby. You stand up.

“Yeah, we have an extra passenger.” She nods after a second. “Where’s your bag?” Alice points at a tattered bag in the corner. Ellie goes and grabs it.

“Go wait in the other room, I’ll take care of.. her.” Your girlfriend whispers to you. You frown more but nod. As much as you wished the woman could live, it wasn’t possible. She was already infected. You cooed at the baby in your arms. She couldn’t be that old, maybe a couple months.

“Hey sweetheart.” You stroke the baby’s face. You hear a gasp from the other room and after a moment, Ellie walks out with blood covering her shirt.

“What’s the baby’s name?”

“Sarah.” Ellie’s eyes snap to yours and she nods.

“That was Joel’s daughter’s name.” Your eyes widen. Ellie walks over to you and smiles at her. “She’s cute.”

“Adorable.”

You and Ellie— and Sarah— make your way to the truck and make it there just a little after noon. Ellie adds the coolant and turns on the truck, thankfully, it turns on.

When you get back to the farmhouse, you hand Sarah off to Ellie, your arms aching from carrying her the entire walk and drive.

“So.. should we bring her to Jackson?” You ask Ellie quietly as you sit down on the couch beside her. She was making faces at the baby who was smiling. You feared her answer, you were already so attached to the baby, and her mom had entrusted her with you.

“We could.. or.. we could keep her here.” You glance at the girl. She’s smiling softly at you. “We’d have to go get some supplies for her first thing tomorrow, but.. we could make it work.” You lean over and kiss her softly.

“We will make it work.” You move the hair out of her face. “I love you.”

“I love you too, momma.” You grin and kiss her again before leaning your head on her shoulder and staring at the baby.

“She’s so damn cute.” You and Ellie giggle.

“She really is.”

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

PART 2

If you liked this please leave a comment/reblog!! It helps motivate me and it gives me more reach <3

#the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you

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justagalwhowrites · 3 months

Text

TikTok Trend

Beautiful decides to take part in a TikTok Trend with Joel. A New in Town drabble.

^We're borrowing Mr. Ben for a late-40s Joel, OK? I desperately need more gifs of Pedro's Joel from that era, I'm too reliant on other characters and actual Pedro gifs for these fics GIVE ME SOMETHING PLEASE

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from New in Town

Warnings: Not much! Age gap but not the focus of the fic (reader is 36, Joel is 48). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 1.4k

A/N: I got stuck thinking earlier how Joel would react to the "call your boyfriend your husband" trend and this is how I think it'd go. This is set about 3 months before the last chapter of New in Town. This can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's best friend and Joel and Reader have an established relationship of about a year.

“So what’s this for again?” Joel asked as he sat down at the picnic table in the park.

“It’s a TikTok challenge,” you said, settling in beside him. Joel opened the paper bag the two of you had just gotten from a food truck and started taking out the tacos, putting some in front of you and him.

“Right,” he said. “And… I’m sorry, baby, but what’s the point?”

You laughed as you set your phone against your water bottle so it was propped up and ready to film.

“There isn’t really one, I guess,” you said. “It’s just a fun little video you make and then share. Those interns I have until May are all about it, they were showing me some of theirs the other day. Figure if I work in marketing, I gotta keep up with the trends!”

Joel smiled a little.

“So this is the kind of shit Sarah does, huh?”

“Yeah, she does,” you laughed again. “Her and the interns made one for the company social page the other day, actually.”

“Can I see?” He asked, interest suddenly piqued.

“Sure,” you picked your phone back up and found your company’s TikTok, scrolling to the video and handing it off to Joel.

“We work in marketing, of course we over analyze every ad we see,” Sarah said through your phone, a small smile on Joel’s face as he watched.

It made you smile, too. One of the fun parts about being in the strange middle ground between your boyfriend’s and best friend’s ages was serving as a bit of a translator between them. Joel still didn’t quite get TikTok. Sarah didn’t understand why her dad refused to go all in on streaming and still had cable. You, at least, could see both sides.

But this TikTok effort had nothing to do with Sarah. You did try to keep up with the trends on social media to better craft campaigns and content - capitalizing on trends meant that you had to move quick and you couldn’t afford to be out of touch - but your personal TikTok account was mostly empty. It was pretty private, anyway, shared with only a few close friends like Sarah and Maria. All it had were a few reposts of things you liked, some montages of video snippets from you and Joel’s first vacation together, that sort of thing.

“You should do some of the trends!” Jason, one of your interns, said earlier that day.

“Just being in the loop on trends is plenty for me,” you waved him off but smiled. “I don’t need to participate.”

“But it’s fun!” Kenzie, your other intern said. “They’re not all dances and stuff, you know…”

“I know,” you said. “But it’s just not what I want to spend a lot of time doing is all.”

“Some don’t take much time,” she said, opening her phone and scrolling for a second. “Here, this one’s easy. You said you have a boyfriend, right?”

“I do…”

“Cool,” she said. “So all you do is record yourself making a video where you call your boyfriend your husband, just to see how he reacts. No crazy edits or anything, it’s super easy.”

You caved after some light convincing and came up with a plan to get Joel in front of the camera. You told him it was a spicy food challenge, just to see which of you handled the heat better and, while you knew he wouldn’t really get the point, you knew he’d be supportive. He always was.

But there was something about this trend in particular that made you a little nervous. It’s not like the two of you hadn’t discussed marriage. You’d been together a year now, you’d just moved into his house. It had definitely come up. But it had come up in the way that far off things do, something that might happen some day if things fell into place in just the right way. You didn’t want to push it, didn’t want him to feel rushed or obligated, especially since you’d only been cohabitating about a month. Bringing up marriage - even like this - made you nervous.

“OK I think I get it,” Joel handed you your phone back after watching Sarah’s video twice. “But we’re not doin’ that same thing, right?”

“Nope,” you said. “We’re going to see who handles the spice better.”

“Think we both know which one of us is gonna win that one, Beautiful,” he teased, nuzzling his nose against your temple before kissing your cheek. “Us southern men are made of sterner stuff…”

“Yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes but smiled, leaning close to him. “We’ll just see about that.”

You set your phone up to record again, propping it against your water bottle.

“Here, you gotta get in close because the TikTok format is vertical,” you said and Joel adjusted so you were half beside and half in front of him, his arm going around your waist, hand finding your hip, thumb slipping up below your shirt to find your bare flesh above the band of your pants and brushing you slowly, sensually there. You gave him a look.

“What?” He asked, brows raised, smile barely contained.

“Don’t act all innocent,” you shook your head. “You know exactly what you’re doing…”

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s make your little TikTik video…”

“TikTok,” you rolled your eyes but adjusted yourself, your heart pounding.

“Whatever the kids are using now,” he said. “Because the sooner we’re done the sooner I can get you home…”

“Alright, I’m going to record,” you cut him off. “Behave yourself!”

“Always do, Beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes again but took a deep breath, leaned forward and pressed record.

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, watching the recording of you and Joel as it was made on the screen. “I’m here with my husband and we’re going to do the spicy food challenge…”

“Your what?” He cut you off and you turned so you could see him a little better.

“What?”

“Did…” he paused, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if you were losing it or he was. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. “Did you just call me your husband?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, turning back to the camera. “Anyway, my husband and I both really love spicy food and…”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. Joel grabbed your chin almost roughly, pulling you around to face him and all but crushed his lips against yours, clutching you close, kissing you deep and hard, like he couldn’t get enough of you. When he finally let you go, you looked at him and laughed a little, watching him.

“What was that for?” You asked.

“You wanna call me your husband?” He asked, a serious look on his face. “Beautiful, we will go to the courthouse right this damn second, don’t tempt me…”

“Joel, it’s 7 p.m.,” you laughed. “The courthouse is closed.”

“Don’t care,” he said, giving you a quicker kiss this time. “C’mon, we’ll grab Sarah on the way, see if Tommy wants to meet us…”

“That’s all it takes, hm?” You teased, heart pounding but for a good reason now. “Just me slipping up and calling you my husband and you’re ready to run down the aisle?”

“Baby, I’ve been ready to run down the aisle for about a year,” he pressed his forehead to yours. “Just been waitin’ on you to catch up.”

“Well,” you kissed him softly. “I’m more than caught up. But think I’m still gonna make you ask.”

“Good luck stopping me,” he said, kissing you again, longer this time, needier, until you pulled away with a groan. “Forget this food challenge, I gotta get you home and devour you. Let’s go, wife.”

You laughed and stopped the recording on your phone, saving the video to drafts as Joel gathered up the food. You made the mental note to edit out that last part before posting, no need for the interns or Sarah to know quite that much about your sex life.

“Sorry for ruining your little video,” he said as you started back toward the car. “We can try again later, promise to actually behave myself then…”

“That’s alright,” you smiled, lacing your fingers with his. “I already got everything I need.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #new in town

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Note

Can you do manhandling Joel, like him throwing her around and also keeping her from trying to escape bc he's too horny to wait and either Tommy or someone is in like the next room or the garage or just outside the door and she's super worried that they're gonna be seen but he has his way with her anyway even though she's trying to fight him off😅🥵

Picnic Table

750 | horny!Joel x reader

SUMMARY: Free Use -> manhandling. Tommy and Maria are on their way over, but Joel is determined to get it in.

A/N: the Joel & Reader from Free Use but can read standalone).

WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon/noncon (read ask) manhandling, PIV sex in public, light degradation/humiliation. unedited

You’re having Tommy & his wife over for a Barbecue and wearing a long flowy sun dress. You’ve finished getting ready for them to come over and take a moment to relax in a lounge chair in the backyard. Joel creeps up behind you and kisses you on the head, slides one of his hands into your dress to cup a breast. “Mmm,” he says, and squats down next to you.

Joel says, “Know what we forgot to do? Put out the tablecloth and stuff.” When you’re both finished at the picnic table, he sits down and says, “Alright, now we can relax” and pats his lap.

You sit on his lap side-saddle and the edge of your thigh can feel he’s hard. He forcefully pulls your ass further into his lap, grinding you against his manhood like you’re a toy.

“Joel, they’ll be here any minute. . .”

“Tommy’s always late,” he says. “Only take a minute.”

This always feels like gray area in your free use agreement. You don’t mind and even enjoy when he uses your body, but you’re not comfortable with sex in public and he really pushes your boundaries sometimes. It turns you on, but if you ever got caught, you’d never be able to go in public again. You’d be too embarrassed. Joel, on the other hand, doesn’t care. He’d probably be proud. Still, his desperate horniness has you tingling between the legs.

Only take a minute, he says . . .hmm . . . “Promise?”

“C’mere.” He manhandles you into straddling him. You’ll probably have bruises. It’s no use, you stop resisting. Hopefully it really does only take a minute. He unbuckles his belt, takes out his hard cock.

“Fix your dress for me like a good girl,” he says. You make it so you aren’t sitting on your dress, it falls in front of his knees and on top of his lap and covers both of you where it counts. He fingers your dripping pussy and rubs his hard cock along it.

Then you hear a car park in front of the house.

“That’s them.” You try to get up, but he forces you down. His hands are huge and he’s so much stronger than you are. He lets you stand up only enough to get enough clearance for him to find your entrance with his cock, which he does. Then he forces you down on it almost all the way. You gasp as he impales you and you hear Tommy’s car door open.

“Joel, I’m sorry,” you try really hard to stand up. You’re squirming against his strength. He wraps his arms tight around you and pulls you down full-force on his cock and sighs in relief as he does it. It feels amazing, you feel so full, you love how tight his arms are around you, but you’re uncomfortable and afraid.

“Not done,” he growls. He rocks you on top of him and God, it feels good, but no, no, this is bad, Tommy is walking up the driveway and will surely come around the house.

“Joel please,” you squirm again. “Whatever you want later, I promise.”

“No shit,” he says. “And whatever I want right now.”

“He’s right there! Let me up!”

“Not ‘til I’m tricklin’ down your thigh, baby. Stop fightin’ and it’ll be over soon.”

Tommy comes around the side yard, sure enough, and Joel stops rocking you the way he was, but can’t let you out of his lap. Tommy comes right up to the picnic table. You rest your head in the crook of Joel’s neck and say “We were just resting.”

Tommy doen’t seem to buy it, he smirks but lets it go.

“Yeah,” Joel says. “After settin’ the table. Mind grabbin’ the beers from the garage? There’s a cooler of ice in the kitchen for ‘em.”

“Sure bro,” Tommy says knowingly. As soon as he turns around, Joel starts manhandling you on his cock, thrusting up into you as he moves you with one arm tight around you and a big hand on your hip. You twitch and tighten around him, but don't quite come. Then, finally he erupts inside you with a barely audible grunt and breathes a sigh of relief through his nose.

“Alright, baby. Now you can go.”

You hover over his lap for him to put his dick away, then stand up fully and feel the warmth trickle down your thigh. A few drops of cum have dribbled onto Joel’s shorts from where you hovered, but he doesn’t care at all. He’ll wear it proudly.

#free use!joel☠️#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pervy!joel #perv!joel #horny!joel #horny!joel miller #free use!joel miller #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #toxicanonymity ☠️#dark!joel miller #dark!joel #free use!joel

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pedgito · 6 months

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter.

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different.

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows.

You care.

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.”

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you.

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol.

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around.

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles.

You’ll take it.

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart.

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart.

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same.

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood.

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away.

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse.

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible.

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation.

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it.

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat.

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part.

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave.

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air.

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You.

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea.

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do.

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul.

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know.

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #my writing #posting this and hiding for another six months #pedrostories

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months

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18 Seasons

A Joel Miller baseball player AU.

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel Miller has only ever known playing baseball for his hometown team, and they’ve just announced they’re not resigning him. He heads to a fancy hotel bar to drink alone and wallow. He doesn’t except to find you, the team owner’s daughter, there. Warnings: smut, baseball talk, drinking, banter (reader has a smart mouth and Joel’s got that asshole voice), unprotected p in v (but a discussion on testing and reader has an IUD), F receiving oral, Joel’s 42, reader’s in her late 30’s. Words: 4,900 A/N: Happy 2024 Baseball Season! I’ve always thought Joel Miller would make a good baseball player, though I’m not sure if I just want to see him in tight baseball pants and that’s why I think that. 🤔 Anyways, this might be a bit of an adventure in me coping with the fact that my current favorite ballplayer is over 40 and only signed a minor league contract to play this season. Also, shout out to said favorite baseball player’s arm for being part of the cover of this, feels very Joel Miller to me. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist Playlist

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"The Austin Capitals thank first baseman Joel Miller for his time and dedication to the team for the past 18 seasons. Miller is a six time All-Star, two time batting champion, and two time Gold Glove winner. He signed with his hometown team in the second round of the draft twenty three years ago and has been a great contribution both on and off the field. The organization will not be able to provide Miller with the proper playing time, with the current roster and plans for the upcoming season. We thank him for his years of service and he will forever be a part of the Capitals family."

Joel knew it was coming, it was inevitable. He had been warned of it multiple times, his agent straight and to the point about his chances, his brother and Maria more analytical and sympathetic, and his sweet Sarah so chipper and hopeful for him.

For twenty three years he’s only known the Capitals. The only thing he’s ever been good at, baseball… he’s never been so good at anything else really, save maybe for wood working or fishing, but those were hobbies. Baseball was his job, he knows he’s a lucky son of a bitch who got to do this full time, and now it’s all over, he’s unemployed.

Joel needs a drink. The stronger, the better.

DING. DING.

DING. DING. DING.

DING. DING.

He also needs to turn off his phone.

“What can I get you?”

“Gin martini, dirty please.”

“Should I charge it to your room?”

“Ye–“

“No, you can put it on my tab." You turn towards the deep voice, you’re used to the southern accent, you grew up around it, but this timbre is different and yet so familiar.

“Joel?” What the hell?

He lifts his glass towards you, his dark brown eyes shining at you from across the bar.

You haven’t seen him in quite a few years, ever since you got the hell out of Texas, moving to New York and betraying your home state for packed subway cars and better politics.

He stands and walks towards you, he looks just as good as you remembered. Broad, strong, and too damn handsome to be alone on what you know might be the worst night of his life.

“Figured you wouldn’t waste your time on any of that fruity drink stuff,” he nods towards your drink as it’s placed in front of you.

“Too much sugar gives me a headache.”

“Mm,” Joel gulps down the rest of his drink and signals the bartender for another.

“…How are you holding up? I’m really sor—“

“M’fine. Was expected.”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Understood.

Joel Miller was never one for talking, or the media. He’d give them a nod and a quick answer before moving on to the next nuisance. Talking was never his job, you know this. Your dad would sometimes complain about how his star player couldn’t play nice with the reporters. You always admired Joel’s candidness, it’s one of the things that you found most attractive about him. He was always honest, whether it was a good thing or a bad thing depended on how high the team was in the standings. You’re going to miss him on your team, but you can’t let him know that.

“So, why exactly are you back here in Texas?”

“It’s my Mom’s birthday, she’s tired of visiting me in New York, was guilted back here as part of her present.”

“Mm. New York, hate playing in New York.”

“Likely thing to hear you say. Guess I should ask you what you’re doing in a fancy hotel bar in the city you live in?”

“S’quiet here, it’s the fanciest hotel ‘round here, nobody who stays here cares about baseball. Not a lot of people recognize me without the hat on.”

“Ouch. I care about baseball.”

“Yeah, and you don’t belong in a place like this,” Joel pivots to look at you, his arm resting on the bar top.

“Where do I belong, Joel?” You angle your body to look at him and swallow down the last bit of your drink.

“Some place cozier, not as cold and… corporate as this place. Some place… hip.”

Your head tips back in laughter. “Hip?! I have a phone case with ducks on it, I cried at the same part I always cry at during Paddington 2 last night. I’m far from hip, what a funny word.”

“Dunno, always got the idea you’re cooler than me.”

“Okay pro baseball player.”

“Not so pro now,” Joel scours.

“Hey, sorry,” you place your hand on his forearm, a perfunctory touch. You had zero decision on the matter, and yet you feel so much guilt over it. You know what this game meant to him and you know he made it known he wanted to return.

“S’alright. Just weird to know I’m done for.” He looks down and focuses on his hand rubbing back and forth on the rim of the glass. A nervous tell. Your hand remains on his arm, Joel makes no attempt to move away.

“You’re not done for, I’m sure another team would like you.”

“Don’t want another team. My daughter grew up here. Hell, I grew up here. My brother’s here. Sarah just started college here. I couldn’t move away.”

His daughter. The big story of Joel’s first year was how the star rookie, was also a father to a newborn baby girl. Juggling a .300 average and fatherhood.

“Wow, she’s in college, huh? I remember seeing her at the stadium all of the time, reminded me of how I grew up there too.”

“Time flies,” a wistful smile on his face as Joel signals the bartender for another round of drinks for the two of you.

Goodness he’s gorgeous. You’ve always found him attractive, ever since he was signed right out of high school. All tall, golden skinned and muscular, now his form is a little more filled out, his muscles less defined but still fully there. His arms and thighs thicker now, a small gut protruding, but still solid and muscular. His speed to round the bases is a lot slower these days but his power and batting eye are stronger from years of playing. He was a school girl crush for you, a stadium give away bobble head of his still sits in your office under the ruse that he was your team’s biggest player. Now you don’t know what to call it, you’re long past school girl crushes. All you know is now, over twenty years later, he’s still one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. Time sure does fly.

“Are you staying here tonight?” You cut the silence between the two of you, both of you facing the bar and quietly sipping your drinks. Joel’s eyes looking a little heavier, the alcohol taking its effect on him. You feel good, a lot lighter, but happy to sit and allow Joel to ponder.

“Planned on it. Booked a room. Figured I’d get drunk and go pass out, take care of everything I have to tomorrow. Just don’t want to deal with it tonight.”

“I understand that, just didn’t know if you needed car service home, I could have ordered you one.”

“Dad’s money, right?” Joel bites out condescendingly.

“Or, my money, you asshole,” you bark back. You know he’s pissed off at the world but there’s no need for his tone to be so mean towards you.

“Sorry, still kinda pissed off at your family.”

“My family? You mean my dad? I had nothing to do with it, my mother had nothing to do with it. You can be pissed off at him, but you’re also not getting any younger and believe it or not our farm system and minors are stacked with talent waiting to play.” You try to calm your voice as you gulp a drink down from your newly made martini. You don’t want to be pissed off and drunk but goodness the cold gin cools your heated body. “You’re old Joel, and you know it.”

“Of course I know it sweetheart, but I know I’m still better than most of those kids.”

“Yeah, well, stop getting injured and batting .220 and prove it.”

“Damn, you got a smart mouth,” Joel leers at you.

“Not to mention all the time and effort spent on keeping your body in playing shape. I’m sorry, you’re ancient in sports standards.”

“Real fuckin’ smart mouth, huh?” Joel leans in and whispers, “I like it.”

You fight the urge to moan, to give an audible to the feeling that’s now coursing through your body from those three words snarled into your ear.

You feel the same feelings you felt those few years ago, while out with the team celebrating their playoff series win. Drinks flowing, cigars puffing plumes of smoke into the air, conversations shouted above music, bodies sweating and glowing different hues under the lights on the dance floor. The Capitals were heading to the World Series for the first time in twenty years, thanks to Joel Miller’s walk-off home run. Teary hugs shared with your family and friends as you watched him round the bases, it may have been the happiest you’d ever seen your dad. Hell, it may have been the happiest you’d ever been. You didn’t think the night could get any better, until Joel backed you into a corner of the club and stuck his tongue in your mouth and his hand up your dress. You don’t know if you’ve still forgiven him for pulling his fingers out of you and wiping the wet of your orgasm on his jeans before slurring out, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that,” as he backed away and left, leaving you all weak kneed and blissed out panting for air.

You did agree though, he really shouldn’t have, the scandal that could’ve been brought on if the owner’s daughter was spotted in that position with the team’s star baseball player. He’s one of the reasons why you moved away, he was off limits and it drove you crazy. You casually dated, you slept with strangers, you spent three years with your ex who you thought you’d settle for and marry, but that night never escaped you. Sometimes you’d reach your hand between your legs and touch yourself while you remembered the look in his eyes as he nodded his head to signal you to follow him into that desolate space. Like he always wanted you as much as you always wanted him and he was seizing the opportunity.

“I’m just letting you know what we’re all seeing. Trust me, I don’t want to see you in any other colors than the Capitals color. Red suits you.” If you’re being honest, you really prefer him in the olive green button up shirt he’s wearing tonight. The top few buttons of it unbuttoned to relieve the stretched seams around his large shoulders giving you a peek of the gold chain he always wears resting against the bronzed skin of his neck and chest.

“Mm, whatever the color you want to call this is,” Joel grabs the shoulder of your shirt and rubs the fabric between his fingers, “suits you.”

“I call it aquamarine, most would just call it light blue.”

“S’pretty, s’soft.” You wonder if he can see how rapid your heart is beating or the swallow of air you gulp down as his eyes linger on your chest and neck. “Fits real well.”

“Thanks, bought it at one those real fancy stores they have in New York,” you lift your shoulder causing Joel to pull his hand back.

“Do the boys in New York like you in this color?” Joel’s words drip with the sarcastic tone he’s famous for.

“Worked a couple of weeks ago with a guy. HUGE New York fan,” you emphasize huge, two can play that game. “Like, big, real big.”

“Mm,” Joel’s nostrils flare. “He your last? This… New York fan?”

“Yep,” you smile through your glass taking a drink and licking your lips.

“Mm,” Joel’s eyes don’t leave your mouth. “And why’s that?”

“Been busy, haven’t found anybody that’s piqued my interest, I guess.”

“And what was so special about him?”

“Not sure,” you shrug, “he was good looking and paid for my martinis. I wanted him, he wanted me, the classic hook up.”

“Talk to him since?”

“Here and there, he seems nice enough." “Mm,” Joel licks his lips as he leans forward placing his arm on the back of your chair and turning it to swivel towards him, his other arm rests on the bar, caging you in between. “You want nice?” You can feel the heat radiating off his body, see the freckles on his skin from years of playing ball in the sun, smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with the soap on his skin. You’re so close you can almost count the gray hairs just beginning to tint his dark hair lighter. You want him.

“Not really. Plus, he was younger than me, I’m pretty sure I like older men.” You challenge him. You can compete with the best of them, and Joel’s one of the best, he’s made millions of dollars over the years just from being competitive.

“Mm,” Joel moves the hand from the back of your chair to your shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth, his touch igniting your core.

“How long has it been for… you?” Your words come out a little too nervous than you’d like them to be.

“Few months, not sure. Don’t like that type of distraction during the season.”

“A celibate?”

“No, not that, just don’t have the time with deal with all that, between Sarah’s senior year ‘n me having to focus more on my regimen, ya’ know since I’m ancient.”

“Mm,” you copy Joel’s sound. He smirks.

“Never been my scene to meet someone, fuck them, and leave the next morning.” Your body tenses at his words. “I prefer to know someone before I touch ‘em. Too many people out there just want to say they slept with a ballplayer and move on. Not for me.”

The hushed tone of Joel’s voice and his proximity to you begins to take its toll on you, you feel so hot and quite flustered. “I understand that.”

“You ever been with a ballplayer? Ya’ know since you’re involved in the business.”

“I haven’t… just what we did in that club after the playoff win,” you blink at him, willing him to tell you he wants more.

“You want to do more than just that with a ballplayer?” Joel’s accent dropping an octave as he whispers the question out.

“I do,” you just as quietly confess.

“You want to do more than just that with me?” he leans in closer.

“I do.”

“Alright sweetheart, your room or mine?”

“I have the suite, so mine.”

“Should’ve charged the drinks to your room then.” Joel turns and gets the bartender’s attention.

It’s becoming real. You calm your nerves as Joel signs the check and moves off the stool, you following him through the bar and lobby before reaching the elevator.

All you expected to do tonight was have a couple of drinks while reading a book in a quiet corner of the bar before ordering room service and watching whatever movie you can find on hotel TV. You’re now headed up to your room with Joel Miller.

The elevator doors ding open, empty with nobody following behind you. It’s just you and him in the mirrored oasis of the lift. You go in first and stand with your back against the wall.

“What number?”

“The P at the top, I have to scan my card,” you lift your key out of your pocket and hand it to him.

“Of course. You got the suite.”

“I did, wanted to treat myself on my return home.”

“Mm,” Joel scans the card and tucks it in the back pocket of his jeans. The doors close and your stomach anxiously drops as the lift speeds upward.

The vision of Joel surrounds you, his reflection repeated in every panel, you could stay right in this small room forever, seeing every angle of his handsome face. Aquiline nose, creased eyebrows, dimple tucked between a dark mustache and beard, plush lips, deep brown eyes, wavy hair.

“You’re staring.” You’re shocked out of your concentration by Joel’s whisper. “This whole elevator’s mirrors, I can see you as much as you see me.”

A blush creeps across your face.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Joel turns around and steps towards you, standing in front of you. “You look beautiful.” His hand rests against your cheek, his head angles down, his lips resting right in front of yours. “It’s hard to look away from you.”

You close the gap between the two of you, your lips meeting his. It’s a soft kiss, both of your tongues gently licking into each other’s mouths. You’re both savoring the first taste of each other in years, it feels like he also would think about your last kiss as much as you did. Joel pulls away first, turning his head to look in the mirror, you follow his gaze. His hand on your cheek, your hand resting on his bicep, far too big for you to be able to wrap your hand around it. This reality you’re in right now feels like something out of one of your wildest dreams. The alarm goes off, the elevator dinging your arrival to your floor. Joel turns away and you follow behind him as he unlocks your room door.

“Nice room, pretty big for just you, don’t you think?”

“It is. Maybe I figured I’d be sharing it with someone else. Maybe someone older who needed more space to get around on account of his old knees and hurt shoulder.”

“That mouth is going to get you in trouble one day, sweetheart.”

“I welcome it,” you look up at him as you bend over to untie your shoes.

“Where’s the bedroom?” Again, you like Joel’s bluntness. You appreciate how he doesn’t mince words, he knows what he wants and he tells you what he thinks.

You point, he nods, and turns towards it as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

“What? You got somewhere to go?” You shout still standing in the middle of the living room.

“No,” Joel peeks his head out of the doorframe, shirt half open, his hands paused on a button. “I just really want to see you naked on your bed.”

Your knees feel weak, your pussy clenches, your body breaks out in goosebumps. You love his mouth and the way he always sounds like an asshole, even if he’s telling you he wants to see you naked.

You hurry to the bedroom, taking your shirt off and tossing it behind you.

Joel stands with his shirt unbuttoned next to the bedside table, the only light source of the room is the lamp he’s turned on next to him. His skin might be your favorite color, sun bronzed with a patina of dark freckles across his chest and neck. His body standing in front of the dark wood paneled wall glowing in the aureate glow of the lamp takes your breath away. Maybe you should come home more often.

“Take your pants off,” Joel turns to you, his eyes lighting when he sees you without your shirt.

He sheds his shirt before unbuckling his belt and removing his jeans. Your own clothing removal pauses as you stare at the trail from his belly to the black boxer briefs bulging with his erection. This man could never survive without spandex, his thick thighs strain the tight fabric. “Like I said, take your pants off darlin’,” he chuckles. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him chuckle.

“Oh, sorry, yes,” stammers out as you remove your jeans.

You can’t help but not look away from him. You’ll never get over just how handsome and large he is. Other men with his features on their bodies would look ridiculous but Joel is perfectly put together. You can’t get over the fact that he wants you as much as you want him.

“How’d you know navy blue was my favorite color?” Joel asks as he stares at your panties. You wonder if he can see how soaked they are.

“Didn’t. Lucky you.” You’re not sure who’s luckier at this point, maybe you’re both ready to share each other’s luck.

“Very. Get on the bed for me.”

You lay down on the soft sheets, the bed and cover are so plush you sink into it. Your hands by your sides pet the silky sheet and your legs rub against the fabric, it feels so divine and smooth.

“God, you look good like that,” Joel reaches down to palm himself through his briefs. “Might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Your body lights on fire at his praise, your pulse quickening, your almost naked body feeling overheated. “Spread your legs for me.”

You follow his instruction, bending your knees and spreading. Joel climbs on the bed to kneel in between, his palms rest atop of your knees, you can feel the calluses on his hands from years of gloves and bats on your smooth skin.

He runs his hands down your legs before stopping right at the edge of your panties. You moan as he takes a hand and runs it back and forth along your drenched panties. “This all for me?” His cocky smile making his dimple even more apparent.

“Yes, fuck… yes,” you struggle out. You’re so turned on right now, aching all over. Joel’s barely even touched you and you feel like he’s already devastated your whole body. You’ve never felt this way with anybody else before.

“Want to see all of you, take your bra off ’n I’ll take these off,” Joel says as he cups your cloth covered pussy.

You lean up to unsnap your bra, quickly getting naked as Joel takes off your panties. He sits back on his heels, his eyes mapping your body. “Jesus baby, you’re so fucking pretty ’n soft looking.”

His voice, his accent, his praise, it causes a whimper out of you.

“I know baby,” Joel leans down, his hands grab your ass cheeks and pulls your whole body towards him, easily lifting your ass up. Your pussy rests now right in front of his face, you can feel the heat of his breath against your sensitive folds. He’s supporting your whole lower half in his hands until you lift your legs to rest atop his wide shoulders. He licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit and back again.

“Taste so fucking good, so fucking sweet, knew you’d be this good. Can’t believe I didn’t taste you before.” Joel’s words of devotion are spoken straight to your cunt.

He devours your pussy like it’s never been ate before, fucking into you with his tongue, sucking on your clit, rubbing the bristle of his thin beard against your sensitive folds. Your thighs and legs beginning to shake against Joel as your whole body burns with pleasure. His hands are gripping your ass so tight, his strength and support the only reason why your whole body hasn’t collapsed as your orgasm quickly ripples through you.

Joel moans against you as you spill into him. He doesn’t come up for air as your hips writhe against him. He flicks his tongue against your pulsing clit, a scream escaping your mouth as he begins to press his tongue down on your too sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Holy fuck,” you struggle out. “Fuck. Joel, Joel. Fuck.”

“Mm,” Joel lifts his head up out of in between your legs, your wet glistening on the lower half of his face, his eyes resting under his furrowed brows staring right at you. You unwrap your legs from around his head as Joel gently helps your legs drop to the bed.

Joel rubs your legs and thighs as he stares down at you longingly. His actions are so sweet, actions you never thought you’d see. You don’t think a lot of people get to see this side of him, his features relaxed, mouth slacked open a bit, eyes softened, this isn’t competitive Joel, this is bedroom Joel.

“Let me fuck you baby, don’t think I’m going to last long, wanted to prove to you I can fuck you all night but I’ve waited a long time for this.”

Your core clenches at his words, you wanted to challenge him tonight too, but you can’t fathom the idea of waiting any longer for Joel’s cock inside you. He gets up off the bed, removing his briefs, his cock springing free. Fuck, he’s big and beautiful, the perfect size and shape to match his broad and athletic body.

Joel climbs back on the bed, his body resting in between your spread legs again, this time he leans forward, putting his weight on his two arms as he looms above you. You feel his cock resting against your wet cunt.

“You got a condom or should I have grabbed mine from my wallet?”

“No— can I ask you something?”

“Now?” Joel huffs. "I guess."

“Yes, yeah,” you gather your nerves before you confess. “I want to feel you, all of you. I have an IUD and I always use protection with… others, I just, I want to feel your cum inside of me.”

Joel's jaw drops at the shock of your blunt words. “Fuck, yes. Of course. Jesus Christ.” His dick twitches against you as he answers. “I’m tested and clean.”

“I’m clean too.”

“Fuck baby, I’m so glad you asked.” Joel plants a kiss to the top of your head as he pushes himself into you.

“Holy fuck,” you rasp out at the feel of Joel’s cock stretching you. He’s slow to enter, mindful of how tight your cunt is squeezing around him. It stings so good, you’ve never been this stretched before.

You shut your eyes and focus on taking his length, anchoring yourself in this moment.

“I can feel you clutching me, fuck you feel so good,” you open your eyes at Joel’s words. The glimmer of Joel’s gold chain catches your eye as he moves inside you. You’re mesmerized by how it moves between the two of you, the pendant swinging back and forth like a metronome of Joel’s cock entering and exiting you. “Look at me baby.”

You move your gaze from Joel’s necklace to his eyes, all big and brown and blown out with lust. He begins to increase his pace, your whole core beginning to build another orgasm. Joel cranes his neck down to kiss you, the way his mouth languidly moves against your mouth contrasts the brutal speed of the way he’s now fucking you. You move your hands up to cradle his head, gripping his messy curled hair, left longer during the offseason.

Years and years of pining over Joel culminating in this one night, a surprise encounter at the bar turning into the shared moans and groans you and Joel trade back and forth as your bodies move together.

He’s simply too beautiful, your eyes watching his heavy eyes disappear behind the crinkles on the side of them as he half smiles at you. Like he also can’t believe the two of you are doing this.

You move your hips to meet his thrusts, the softness of the bed cradling you as Joel fucks you harder.

“M’close baby,” respires out against your mouth. Your cunt tightening even more around him as you both begin to reach the apex of your orgasms. “You gonna cum with me?”

You can only nod and blink hoping that your whimpers and moans let him know you’re right there with him.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty and tight, can’t believe how fast you’re gonna make me cum. Fuck baby, just talking about it— gonna fucking cum.”

You feel Joel’s cock throb as his spend fills you, your orgasm following, pumping Joel’s cock as you pulse around him.

He drops down to rest on his forearms, his body landing on top of you. You welcome the feeling of his burning hot body smothering yours. He kisses you as he languidly still fucks into your cunt with his softening cock. Your pussy drips a mixture of your intermingled cum out as Joel pulls out and lays next to you on his back.

You turn and rest your head against his chest, his breaths slow and relaxed. Your hands run up his chest, stopping at the gold chain around his neck.

“Never took you for a necklace man, why do you wear it?”

“My daughter got it for me, when I won that playoff game.”

“Like THAT playoff game you hit the walk-off?” Your question implying it’s the same game you celebrated together in the back of the club.

“Yeah, that one,” Joel wraps his hand around yours. “Sometimes I still think of you and I that night when I see it. Thank you for tonight. You made a bad day into the best night.”

A/N: I adore these two. This stands as a one shot right now, since I'm currently working on my multi-chapter story Elks, but I might revisit them later. Go sports!

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou au #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller au #baseball fan fic #baseball au #basebal #batter up #baseball

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wardenparker · 6 months

Text

Next to Normal, part 2

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9k Warnings: Reader's age isn't pinpointed but you/she are old enough to remember the way the world worked before the Outbreak. Swearing, food. References to reader's past, trauma responses, Joel being the absolute softest and most gentle partner. Emotional vulnerability. Mutual nudity. Fingering. Hand job. Summary: In the months since you started your relationship with Joel, he has never pushed you for more. But Ellie thinks it's time to take the next step. Notes: As usual, I apologize for any typos that I might have missed. Ya girl is sleepy and there's a lot going on in life these days. This story was only going to be a one shot. And then it was juuuust going to be a two-parter. Well...this is part two of three. Stay tuned next week for the conclusion!

Read part 1 here!

Ellie fidgets at the table, frowning at the plate of breakfast that Joel put in front of her. Not because she doesn’t want it, but because she’s thinking hard about how to approach her question. It seems straightforward to her, but she’s learned in the last several months that he is touchy when you are the subject of conversation. He’s always in protection mode when it comes to you. She picks up a piece of unevenly toasted bread and frowns at it like it’s offended her until her eyes track back to Joel. “Are you gonna ask her to live with us?” She asks finally, knowing she doesn’t have to clarify who she means.

Joel stops with his fork halfway to his mouth, his own eggs nearly falling off as he stares at Ellie. “Why? What do you— has she—” he stops and drops the fork. “Why?” He wonders if you’ve dropped hint or if this is just the girl’s curiosity.

“That’s…what you’re supposed to do right? Like…old people style courtship?” She doesn’t really know what adult dating entails except that Joel seems to be spending every second of free time with you, and she likes you. You’re fun to have around and a lot easier to talk to than Joel or Tommy about some of the shit that she’s dealing with. “She hasn’t said anything. I just wondered.”

“Sometimes.” Joel admits, picking up his fork again and looking back down at his plate. “What do you think about that?” He tries to keep it casual, in untested waters dealing with this. He had never really dated while Sarah was young, too busy trying to keep everything together.

“She’s nice.” Ellie says, as though it was the easiest thing in the world. “And…we can trust her. That’s a hell of a lot better than some other people in this town.” In general she likes Jackson, but people are people and not everyone is trustworthy. Ellie knows that better than most. “Would you, like…marry her? Like Tommy and Maria?”

“I don’t know if she would ever want to get married.” Joel hasn’t discussed any of your past with Ellie, so she might not be aware of some of your hangups. He’s not ever even mentioned marriage just in case it might have been one of them. Not like he was a wedding vows kind of man himself. “I would. If she wanted to.”

“But you’re not gonna ask.” Ellie nods vaguely, not quite understanding why anybody bothers to get married anymore anyway. It seems like one of those things that doesn’t make sense in this world. A relic. “So…” The only part of it that still matters is safety, and the emotion behind all of it. “She could be here with us all the time, and I’d pretend like I don’t hear you doing stuff and that’s it? Like…” Her eyes tick up to Joel’s with rivers of curiosity in them. “Like a family?”

Joel snorts, amused at that comment because beyond kissing, doing stuff hadn’t happened. “Kind of like that. If she did, she would have say over what happens here.” He cautions. “Another adult to ‘ruin your life’.” He had rolled his eyes and laughed the first time she had come out with that statement. A true measure of a teenager, even in the shithole state the world was in, Joel could ruin her life.

“She’s better at it than you,” Ellie announces immediately, tongue stuck out as far as it will go. She doesn’t want to admit that you’re the one she goes to for advice most often now. Not him, not Maria, and definitely not Tommy. She goes to you, and you always answer her honestly.

“Ruining your life?” He lifts a brow and hums. “Maybe I need to ask her for tips then.” He’s joking, but it’s nice to see that she has found a mother-like figure in you.

“She’s better at advice.” The teen clarifies, not wanting Joel to think you’ve done anything wrong. “I mean…I’m not gonna ask you about girl stuff.”

Joel snorts and shoots her a grin. “Why not? I love everything about women.”

“But you aren’t one.” The exaggerated roll of her eyes calls him an idiot and she huffs. “Whatever. You should ask your girlfriend to live with us. That’s all I was saying.”

“Yeah?” He hums and shrugs. “I’ll see what she thinks. She can sew here, she does often enough.”

“‘Kay.” She mumbles simply, as if she didn’t just suggest an enormous change to both of their lives as casually as commenting on the color of the sky. Ellie finishes her breakfast in three bites and pushes back from the table abruptly. “School,” she adds, before grabbing her supplies from the counter nearby.

Joel watches as she bolts out the door. Since it’s not a FEDRA school, Ellie has actually been enjoying going each day. Picking up his coffee, he shakes his head. It’s Chicory but it’s better than nothing. Expecting you in a few minutes, he finishes his breakfast in peace with your own plate still warm on the stove.

The soft knock at the door comes just minutes later, and you crack the door open to slip inside without letting any heat out. The typical place for your sewing is in a large canvas bag unless it's a delicate project, so you can move it between your house or Joel's without effort. All those years of making costumes by hand for plays and parties has truly paid off. "Joel?" The smell of breakfast is welcome and comforting, and you peak around the corner to find him sitting at the table. "I just passed Ellie on her way to school. Seemed like she was in a good mood."

He chuckles and stands up, ready to pour you a cup of the coffee that is still simmering in the percolator. “She should be.” He snorts. “Christmas is coming early, apparently.”

"Or very late, depending on how you view it." Now that spring is here and the winter is solidly behind you, Jackson is flourishing again. It seems to be affecting everyone, including Ellie. A soft murmur of thanks comes with accepting the cup of coffee he has made – Joel's is far better tasting than your attempts ever were – but you set it down on the table to step closer to him with a smile. "Good morning kiss?"

“Of course.” When you ask him for a kiss, or to hold you, he’s never turned you down. Nearly in disbelief that you are so affectionate despite the past years. He steps towards you slowly and bites his lip. “Can I hold onto your hips, beautiful girl?” Sometimes you want him to and other times you would rather he not, so he still asks where you want his hands.

"Yes, please." You're feeling brave today, maybe reinvigorated by the spring just like Ellie is, and you nod as you step closer to him so he can hold you close. Maybe it's the spring, or maybe it's months of Joel always calling you his beautiful girl finally starting to sink in. You never thought anyone could think of you that way ever again, but it seems so easy with him.

He hums softly, licking his lips and shuffling closer. You are the one who moves quickly when you feel like it, but he still treats you delicately. Not because he is afraid you will shatter, but because you deserve it.

His short hair is always the perfect place for your fingers, and your arms come up around his shoulders so you can play with the hairs on the back of his neck when he leans in. These morning moments are your favourite, if you're honest. The bright sunlight and birdsong make it seem like a romantic little cottage scene, and it makes you wish that you had had the courage in the colder months to suggest that he sleep over. Or that you sleep over his place. Even just to sleep side by side would be wonderful, but you try to be cognizant of not changing things too much on Ellie all at once.

His lips are much softer since he’s been kissing you. Not as dry. Tommy rags on him, making him roll his eyes, but he would never admit that he does put a little oil on them at night to keep them from chapping and cracking when it’s his turn to stand watch at the gates.

The domesticity of the whole thing is appealing in ways that harken back to the feeling of near normalcy that Joel gives you, and you’re smiling when you finally force yourself to lean back from kissing him. “Busy day? Or do I have you to myself until Ellie gets home?”

“Nahh.” He shakes his head. “Mud’s too thick to try to set more posts, so we are waiting for it to dry in the southern area of the community garden.” He tells you. “Since I had to pull watch last night, I’m off for the next day or so.”

“It wasn’t too bad, I hope?” Overnights are tough just for the sake of a sleep schedule, but you know Joel’s shift ended at dawn and it’s a fair few hours past that now. “Did you get a nap in?”

“Not yet.” He hadn’t wanted to sleep while you were over. Not when he could spend time with you. “I will when I get tired.” He promises.

“I would have waited until after lunch to come over.” You pout at him, rather viciously, but aren’t really upset. You just don’t want Joel tiring himself out for you.

“And I wouldn’t have slept then, either.” He grumbles at you and motions towards the stove. “Eaten yet? I made you a plate.”

“Thank you.” Though you couldn’t put a finger on when it became tradition to eat breakfast together, it has certainly become a mainstay. “I brought over a few things that I’m mending for Maria, so I have plenty of work to keep me busy.” Or not is the unspoken follow up. There are definitely days that you spend entirely wrapped up in Joel.

“That’s good.” Joel nods as he motions you towards the table and brings the still warm plate over with a small hiss when it burns one of his fingers. “It’s hot.”

“Careful!” Though how he can feel anything through those callouses on his hand, you just don’t know. “Don’t need you burning your fingers off over a plate of eggs.”

He rolls his eyes and sits down beside you with a groan. “Eat.” He tells you, pointing to the food. “Pretty sure you skipped dinner last night.”

“Not intentionally.” There had been a call for anyone available to come help out with chasing some escaped animals up on the pasture north of town last night and you had gone out to help without hesitation. “But thank you for looking out for me.”

“Of course I’m going to look after you.” He huffs off your thanks and sits back down with you, his own refreshed coffee in hand. “Ellie wanted me to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” That has you stopping with your fork halfway to your mouth. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…everything’s good.” He quickly reassures you, frowning because he hadn’t meant to worry you. He doesn’t like the scared look in your eyes, like you’re about to be punished for some imaginary wrong. “All good, I think.”

“Okay.” Dropping the tension from your shoulders is automatic — you didn’t even realize you had seized up until you were relaxing again. “What’s going on?”

“Not sayin’ we’re doin’ this, or that we gotta—” Joel reassures you to start with, knowing that you might not think that it’s a question. “But Ellie was asking me about the future, me and you.”

“We haven’t really talked about it.” For the simple reason that in this world, the future can never be determined. There’s usually no point in betting on a horse if you don’t know it will even finish the race, so a lot of people — you and Joel included — have chosen to remain undefined. Other people, people like Tommy and Maria, have held onto the old relationship conventions as a comfort in an ever changing world.

“No, we haven’t.” Joel admits. “But maybe we should. She – and me too – we were wonderin’ if maybe it’s not a bit silly that we’re trackin’ back and forth between your place and ours.”

“It’s not too much trouble, is it?” The ice cold fear in your heart is instant, and even though he had said that nothing was wrong, you can’t help the feeling of doomed certainty that the inevitable end has been reached in this otherwise happy arrangement. It was bound to come, sooner or later. Or, at least, you’ve feared that it would.

“No,” he can see that you’re still worried and he offers you his hand. Silently asking permission to hold yours and he squeezes yours gently when you slip onto into his. “We were thinkin’ that maybe you could just— live with us?” He ventures softly. “I wouldn’t— you don’t have to worry about me expectin’ anything more—” he promises quickly. “Maybe we could just, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed? If you don’t want that, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Joel…” It isn’t a great commendation of strength on your part that you start to tear up immediately, but it’s an honest reaction if there ever was one. You squeeze his hand tightly in yours for the half-second it takes you to move out of your chair and to his side. “Can I hug you? Please?”

“Of course you can.” The fact that you ask him is probably due to him asking you. Or needing to make sure you won’t get in trouble on some subconscious level, but he easily stands and holds his arms open.

The crush of how hard you push into his arms to hug him exactly as tightly as you can gets a small oof out of him, but his arms come around you just as securely. “I’ve been trying to think of how to bring it up for weeks,” you admit quietly, feeling silly about that now that he’s broken the topic himself. “About… sleeping together, I mean…”

“Oh.” He’s not sure if you mean sleeping together or sleeping together, but he doesn’t ask. “You should have said something, beautiful girl.” He murmurs quietly into your neck, enjoying the way that you curl into him.

“I wasn’t sure how.” Joel is the only person you’ve been able to be completely candid with about your fears and anxieties, and if anything it has only made him more protective. But really? You don’t mind that. “But I’m feeling braver.”

“Do you like the idea?” He asks softly. “I know you have your own space and are used to it, but we can share ours. Ellie loves the idea, so no teenage pushback.”

“I had considered asking you to move in to mine,” you admit, overwhelmed tears turning to happy in an instant. “But I didn’t want to displace Ellie.”

“If you want that, we can see what she thinks.” Joel immediately offers. “But I think our place is a little bigger. And yours is closer to everything.”

“Bigger is better.” You can agree to that right away. The room you could give Ellie in your own house is too small to be comfortable. “I don’t mind being a little further away from town if I get to be with you.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles slightly at the comment and nods. “Okay. Well, we’ll get you moved over here as soon as you want.” He knows you will bring your supplies so he nods towards the little nook off the living room. “Thinkin’ that could be your little shop, unless you need more room?”

“I think it should work.” The little reading nook off of the living room has space for a chair and a desk, and even a small closet built into the wall of the house that has shelves for your supplies. “If you don’t mind sacrificing the space, I think it might actually be perfect.”

“Was thinkin’ I could make you some organizers for your cloth and threads and such.” He tells you, leaning into the idea. “The bookshelves would be good for that.”

“You’ll spoil me if you do that.” It sounds wonderful, and you prop your chin on his chest to look up at him. “But I’ll spoil you with cooking if you let me.”

“I’ll get working on them today.” He promises with a grin. His cooking is okay, but yours is amazing.

“And I’ll make us a celebratory supper.” It’s the least you can do, really, but the smile on your face is bright and wide.

“Yeah?” He grins at the idea and nods. “Do you wanna start moving stuff over? I can get Tommy to help.”

“That would be a heck of a surprise for Ellie.” And you laugh a little at the idea, enjoying the ease of it. “Leave for school just having posed the question, and come home from school to find me moved in.”

“Up to you.” Joel chuckles. “She likes the idea of a family.” He wants you to know that, that the girl wants you here with them.

"I know she isn't technically either of ours." You shrug slightly, not wanting to specifically bring up the children that both you and Joel have lost. "But sometimes it feels like it."

“We worry enough about her. Annoy her enough.” He frowns slightly. “Sometimes family isn’t always blood, but the people you wish were blood.”

"Family can be the people that you adopt along the way. Or the people who adopt you. It works both ways." The two of you sit back down again, hands twined together at the table as you slowly work your way through the modest breakfast that Joel made you. "After this I'll go back to my house and pack some things up while you go see if Tommy is able to help?"

“Sounds good.” He clears his throat and bites his lip. “I don’t expect you to do any more than we’ve established you’re good with.” He reminds you quietly. “I’m gonna knock before coming into the bedroom. In case you’re, uh, changing or something.”

"I can change in the bathroom," you assure him, putting down your fork to concentrate on the far more important conversation at hand. "Or...maybe it's time we crossed that bridge. Maybe not all the way to the other side, but...we could put off a little of the moving to have...private time? Before Ellie comes home from school?" Reminding yourself that you have been feeling braver lately is the key. Joel has proven endlessly that you are safe with him, and never once given you reason to doubt it.

“Is that what you want?” Joel asks seriously. He doesn’t want you to think you have to push yourself into something you aren’t ready for because of where you will sleep at night.

"I want it, and I want to be ready for that step." Wanting is the key. Or at least you hope it is. "And I hope I know you well enough to think that you won't be upset if we reach a point that I'm not comfortable with."

“You just say the word and I’ll stop, beautiful girl.” Joel can easily promise you that. “If that’s what you’re wanting, then I guess you better finish your breakfast.”

As nerve wracking as taking that next step is, you do want to. Letting fear rule your life helps no one, and reclaiming your own strength through large and small steps is something that Joel has really helped you with. Nothing says that today has to be the day that you throw off every worry, but as you finish your breakfast you do feel absolutely certain that the decision to put one proverbial foot in front of the other and move toward intimacy with the man you’ve genuinely fallen in love with.

He lets you think about it quietly, taking his own plate and coffee cup over to the sink to start on the dishes. Knowing that despite what you might say, you could change your mind before you even finish your meal. That's okay with him. He's never pushed you, even when he's straining under his jeans and has to take himself in hand when he gets home after leaving you. He would still never push, not with something like this.

He doesn’t let you do your own dishes when you’re done eating, but he never does. Joel has deeply ingrained caretaking tendencies even if he doesn’t like to admit it. “We should…go upstairs,” you murmur, leaning against the kitchen counter beside him. “It’s more comfortable than the couch.”

Joel watches you for a moment and then nodes carefully. “We can. Do you— uh, want me to give you a minute?” He asks, unsure of what you want and how far you want this to go. “Let you…get ready?”

“I’d rather have you next to me.” His presence is, after all, what makes you feel safest. For this next step you’ll need that more than ever.

“Okay.” Reaching out, he offers you his hand with a reassuring nod. “You are in charge here.” He reminds you.

“I don’t really have any expectations for this except that we’ll lay in bed together and have some privacy.” But you can now fully admit that you hope to have the courage for more. “Let’s just…start there and see what happens?”

“That sounds good to me.” He guides you towards the stairs and lets go of your hand so he can let you go up in front of him. “We’ll take it nice and slow.”

The last time you were this nervous about being in a bad with a boyfriend was probably losing your virginity in high school, but there is a hell of a lot more emotional weight involved this morning than there was then. Joel means more to you than any of the others ever did, and that just makes you want this to go well even more. At the top of the stairs he’s beside you again and you slip your hand into his.

The walk to the bedroom doesn’t take long, the door open and his bed still rumpled. He’s never been a make the bed kind of guy and he bites his lip a little sheepishly. “Didn’t think you’d be up here.” He admits with a rueful grin. “Would have at least tossed the comforter over everything.”

“I like it better knowing the real you.” Your hand in his slips around his waist to keep him close.

Joel hums and walks towards it and then pauses a few feet from it. “Do you want to lay down with me, beautiful girl?”

“I feel like I should at least take my sweater off first.” The t-shirt you have on underneath it is typically worn but comfortable, and you find that today stripping off your warm sweater feels like taking off a lot more clothes than it really is.

Joel takes off his boots, but he leaves everything else on. It’s just a t-shirt and a flannel with his jeans. “Make sure you’re comfortable. What side of the bed do you like?” He’s a middle of the bed sleeper, so wherever you want is fine with him. He’ll adjust.

“The left, usually.” Being boxed in doesn’t feel particularly good to you, for obvious reasons. That doesn’t matter right now though, and you take off your own boots to leave to the side with Joel’s, socks stuffed neatly inside. “Is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He nods and motions to the bed. “Test it out. See if you like yours better.” If you do, he will drag that damn thing down here.

You won’t, you know that, but getting into Joel’s bed with him is a surprisingly emotional moment. Without any extra preamble — only because you’re restraining yourself from babbling out of nerves — you slide under the rumpled covers and inhale a breath of the scent that is purely his. It’s infinitely relaxing, and you close your eyes for a second to revel in how right it feels. Fear has made you think it might be awkward, but no. You’re supposed to be next to Joel. This is where you belong.

Joel is slightly tense beside you. Not wanting to jostle you too much, but he clears his throat. “I’m going to put my arm behind your head. Is that okay?”

“Let’s…” looking between you, you know that Joel asks about every single action to be courteous. To be cautious, even. And while you don’t mind being delicate to him, this might be a chance to start moving past some of that hesitance. For you, too. “Let’s just say we’re going to get comfortable?” You suggest. “Asking about every single movement…it’s going to make this harder than it needs to be. So…it’s okay with me that you touch wherever you need to while we figure this out. This…how to be comfortable together.”

He huffs out a small laugh at himself and nods. “If you don’t like something, you tell me, you got me?” He tells you, raising his brows seriously. “This bed, it’s gonna be your refuge, not your prison.”

“Okay.” Nodding, you slide closer to him under the blanket and move your arm so he can slide his under your pillow if he wants to. “I’m sorry if this is awkward…”

“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about.” Joel chides softly, used to hearing that when you want to pull back. “We’re just getting comfortable, that’s all.” His hand settles on your arm and he strokes his fingers over your skin lightly. “We got all the time in the world.”

Shifting even closer, you tuck yourself into his side and sigh at the bulk of him. It really is something primal in the way it relaxes you, having that broad frame of his nearby but never threatening. Sliding your arm around his waist is easy like this, and you press yourself into him comfortably. “Kinda wish I’d gotten brave enough for this ages ago,” you admit quietly.

“It’s okay, beautiful girl.” He promises, slowly sliding his hand up and down your back as you start to slowly cover half his body with your own. He pauses for just a moment before his hand ventures very sedately past the small of your back and over the swell of your butt. Giving you time to tell him no if you wanted.

Instead of hesitating it actually makes you grin, the slow and careful way that he reaches forward. Feeling admittedly cheeky, you shift your hips to wiggle your ass under his tentative fingers and end up smiling again. "It's okay, handsome," you assure him, giving him the permission that he's silently seeking. "Go ahead."

Joel groans and cups your ass firmly. “You have a great ass.” He growls softly. “Thought so from the beginning.”

"The beginning, huh?" It's something of a relief to find out that Joel was just as interested in you as you were in him early on. The first time he'd admitted it, you had literally sighed. There was a breath then, like there is now, that you didn't realize you had been holding. "I'm glad you like it."

He smirks slightly and moves to caress your ass like he had your back. “When you’re feelin’ up to it, my lips are lonely.” He teases, puckering them slightly.

It's small, and it's teasing, but it lifts so much of the tension in the room that you actually laugh and move in a little more with eagerness. If there's one undeniable truth about Joel Miller it's that he's a fantastic kisser, and you're not one to give that up when it's being offered. Especially not right now. Not when your time alone with him is both assured and indulgent.

Your lips aren’t hesitant this time. They are sure and still curved into a smile when you press them to his. Making his own laugh into your mouth that much sweeter. He wanted this to light, there’s so much heaviness in your lives, this should be as light as it can. Especially with your past. Taking the moment for the simplicity that it is.

There's something different about the taste of him this morning, like kissing Joel is somehow sweeter for the pure and simple reason that you're in bed together and nothing else. Your hand creeps up his arm and around his shoulder so your fingers can find their way into his hair, and the bubbly, joyous feeling in your chest bubbles over when you summon the courage to be the one to run your tongue along his lower lip in an open mouthed kiss. It's probably bolder than you've ever done before but the rightness of this feeling just can't be overstated.

Humming in surprise, Joel settles back slightly and lets you take charge of your kiss. Waiting to see if you would slide your tongue into his mouth or if you will leave it at just opened mouth to breath into each other. His hand squeezes your ass gently, encouraging you to do whatever you want and immediately goes back to caressing like it had before.

His hand feels huge like this, but not in an overwhelming way. In a way that makes you feel precious and...unexpectedly...a little worshipped. Up here in this bedroom nothing can hurt you, and that is another step forward in this sort of emboldening feeling that is brewing inside you. It's that burst of boldness that has you pushing into his side just a little bit more, tongue sliding into his mouth to relearn that part of him that you have explored only a handful of times before.

Joel grunts, his cock twitching and starting to harden in his pants, but he ignores it. Focusing on you as he continues to kiss you and caress you. Enjoying how you are unfurling for him.

The heat that rolls off of him in waves is intoxicating, making your head swim like it does whenever the two of you let the urge take over. It isn’t often, but it’s always good, and this morning feels even better.

The kisses are slow, languid. Pretending that time doesn't exist and every breath shared between you is suspended. He feels the way you are slowly starting to grinding on him, his thigh between yours.

Shallow, short, panting breaths are all the two of you can manage. Some gulps of air and soft, muffled moans. The floods your mind and your instincts and for the first time in over a year pleasure is what overtakes every thought, not fear.

He watches you, your eyes closed and your finger tight in his hair. Not because you are afraid, but because you are wanting more. He groans into your mouth and his hands settle on your hips, encouraging you to move if you want to with a small nudge.

It's like your mind has gone blank of everything except him, and the bliss of it is that you finally can let it go blank. The only thing you even need to know about in the world is Joel, and he is right here beside you. Half underneath you, technically. He not only wants you here with him but is actively devouring you at the same rate you are devouring him, and the freedom is nearly electric. Rocking hips have a mind of their own, and it really does take longer than you're proud of to realize that you're evening doing it. Catching yourself, you barely manage to pull back and force yourself to look Joel in the eyes through hazy vision. "Is...I didn't ask...if it's okay?"

“It’s always okay, beautiful girl.” Joel’s voice is rough, lust filled. “Whatever you want, you just do it to me.”

“I—I don’t really know what I want,” you admit, trying to catch your breathe and keep your entire body from setting on fire in his arms, but not succeeding very well. “Except…more.”

“You could let me— unbutton you jeans?” He asks as he nudges his nose against your pulse. “Use my fingers to make you feel good?”

It would be a lie to claim you hadn’t imagined what it would feel like. That you hadn’t actually dreamt about how pleasurable time with Joel would play out. While this isn’t quite like any of the scenarios you had dreamt up, it is real and it is happening right now, and you nod fiercely before pushing in again to kiss him with every ounce of courage built up inside you.

He knows this is a big step for you and he doesn’t rush it. Kissing you back while he slowly pulls his hand around your back to the front of your jeans. Pausing for a second to wait for any protest before he flicks the button open and leisurely pulls down your zipper.

He gets no protests at all, but a deep sigh bordering a moan that comes out of you with that deceptively small act of opening your pants. Your free hand slides just under the hem of his shirt, hot skin burning your fingers at first contact but only in the very best way.

“Tell me if you don’t like something,” he reminds you softly when his fingers first dip below the threadbare elastic band of your panties. “Only want you to feel good.”

Any flash of discomfort, even a small one, is too much and you lean back to find Joel’s dark eyes watching you. “Let me just take them off?” You ask quietly, not wanting to verbalize the fact that the fight pull of fabric against your skin hits a memory you don’t want to relive. As exposing as it is, naked is better.

“Whatever you want.” His hand eases out of your panties and he lays back, showing you that he’s not going to keep on.

“I want you.” The clarification is important, even as you slip off your jeans and underwear, letting them fall off the side of the bed in irrelevance. Shirt and bra are next, and even the act of shedding your own clothing — making your own choice to do this — frees another layer of fear from your shoulders. “I don’t want fear to be in the way of I can help it.”

“Do you want me to strip down?” Joel asks, wondering if you won’t like him being clothed and you naked. “How do you want me, beautiful girl?”

“How ever you’re comfortable.” Just because you stripped down does not mean that he has to. The state of your relation as always been respect and not reciprocity.

He decides that he wants to strip down too. He knows he’s not going to do anything that will make him cum, but if you’re going to live here, you should be comfortable with him.

It definitely more than you ever expected to happen today, but as Joel sheds his clothes beside you, there’s also a sense of peace in it. Reclaiming intimacy — not even sex, just intimacy and closeness — is like relieving an enormous burden that you aren’t ever sure could be lifted.

When he reaches the tired, worn out boxer briefs he is wearing, the outline of his hard cock clearly showing, he hesitates. “Would you like me to leave these on?”

A fair question, and though you hesitate for a moment, you decide firmly on, “No.” This decision to move forward together is too important to you, and it’s not as if you aren’t attracted to him. You have eyes, after all. “If you’re okay with it, I…I want to see you. Maybe…touch you?”

He groans quietly, nodding as he hooks his fingers into the band. “You can touch me wherever you want.” He promises.

He has never protested once about waiting for you to be ready. Never pressed and never pushed. Now you only hope that you won’t disappoint him when you’re actually ready to take the next step. “You can touch me, too.”

“My daddy was never good for much.” Joel starts as he slides his hands down, bringing the boxers with him. Grunting as he bends over to steps out of them. “But he taught me something that’s stuck with me.” Standing up, he looks you in your eyes. “It was about holdin’ a gun, but I guess it’s the same with holdin’ a woman.” He tells you. “Hold her like you love her. Slow and gentle, steady. That’s what I aim to do with you.”

“I—I do love you.” He wasn’t trying to get you to say it, or even saying it himself, but sitting up in his bed with a blanket around you instead of clothes…if you can’t say it now, then when can you? “You don’t have to…to say it back or anything. I just—it felt like the right time to say.”

You are sitting down, but he steps closer to you and kneels down, not wanting to tower over you to intimidate. “Baby, you should know that I— I love you.” He murmurs quietly, reaching for your hand. “Everything about you.”

"Get back in bed, Joel." Even with one of his big hands holding on to both of yours, you tug at him slightly to urge him to join you. "I...I really want to be close to you right now."

“Okay.” He groans again as he gets to his feet. “Fuckin’ knees.” He complains quietly. “Too fuckin’ old.”

“No more grand romantic gestures that involve kneeling,” you tease, pulling back the blanket so he can climb in beside you.

“Don’t worry about that.” He chuckles as he slides into the bed. “Probably the cold, but it’s been actin’ up.”

“Still.” Your arms are open to him this time, reminding yourself that there’s no need to hide. “I like you in one piece.”

This time, he is the one that is curling up to you, making sure he doesn’t seem to hover over you just in case. His cock is against your hip and he leans in to kiss you again. “You have me.”

To have it put for you so easily — that he’s yours are much as you are his — makes so much difference. It’s freeing instead of entrapping. Love rather than possession. It makes you melt into his kiss, hands grasping for him rather than being tentative about their touch. Not exactly greedy, but definitely no longer afraid.

It’s almost too easy, the way you eagerly fall into his kiss again. Your determination shining through and his hand lands on your hip again, warm and seeking. “Spread your legs, beautiful girl.” He murmurs against your lips.

It isn’t an order, but an urging that you happily agree to. Laying back on his pillows and letting him come that much closer to you, urging him to lean over your body. It isn’t looming, like he’s afraid it could be. Instead it feels like protection.

He starts at your shoulder, hands deciding they want to touch every inch of skin you will allow him. Lips kissing your chin, your jaw, just behind your ear. “So beautiful for me.” He rasps out. “So soft.”

Joel is full of endless praises, and you’ve caught yourself sometimes wondering if that’s something he does just for you or if it’s an old habit of his that goes back to the time before. It doesn’t truly make a difference, but you’ve wondered. The feeling of his hands everywhere on you could get overwhelming — or you fear that it could — but it’s just Joel. It’s the man who only makes you feel safe and protected and appreciated, and you sink down into the mattress with a sigh when his hand moves down from your shoulder. “Only for you,” you gasp out, his lips pressing the sensitive spot on your next just below your ear.

When his hand cups your breast, he doesn’t squeeze. It’s more of a massage, a gentle caress and he rubs your nipple with his thumb. “That’s my good girl.” He hums. There’s been plenty of times that you’ve gone over phrases or nicknames that might trigger you, so he’s confident that you won’t react negatively.

“Joel.” Things that seemed silly years ago aren’t so silly to you now, and the cooing softness of Joel’s usually deep, rough voice is so soothing as his work-calloused hands slide over your skin. Your far hand is tangled in the blanket as he leans over you, but the other anchors you to him instead. It explores the parts of his body you haven’t touched before — trim waist and strong thighs instead of the soft stomach and broad shoulders that you know so well. “Joel. Joel.” His name is a chant on your lips, growing shallower and lighter each time.

“That’s it.” He encourages, continuing to play with your breast until he feels your thighs press together and shift, wanting friction. “Gonna take care of you.”

It’s a promise, one you want to drown yourself in as much as you want to drown in kissing him. Deciding that you can only really do one of those things, you surge upward to press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, inviting him to devour you, too.

His hand has to nudge your thighs open again after his palm skims over your belly. Caressing it softly and he would say something, but reminding you of your past wouldn’t be right for this moment. Instead, his fingers comb through the soft curls covering you, gently working through them to slick skin underneath.

The deep sigh that emanates from you is almost revolutionary, and for the first time in longer than you care to remember, your eyes slip shut in pleasure to focus solely on the feeling of Joel’s hands on your body. Forgetting where you end and he begins was a seemingly impossible task not so long ago, but now you moan softly and shift your legs open for him even wider like a flower opening up for the sun.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good for me.” He moans, cock twitching at your surrender to the pleasure and he loves that you aren’t tensing up. His fingers slide through your folds, gathering the wetness and he starts a slow figure eight around your sex. Curling your entrance and coming back up to slide around your clit through your lips. “Feel good, beautiful girl?”

“So good.” It’s unbelievable just how good but this is part of Joel’s magic. He can just make everything else fade away. Your hips tilt up and you sigh again, sinking further into the mattress. “More, honey? Please?”

“You want my fingers inside you, beautiful girl?” He asks as he kisses down your throat. His mouth waters at the thought of suckling at your tits and he looks up at you to make sure you’re still on the same page. ‘More’ could mean just more of his rubbing your clit.

“Yes. God, please.” Nodding almost frantically, the hand that you had had tangled in his blanket comes up to grasp his shoulder and hold him close so you can kiss him endlessly.

He wants to chuckle at how desperate you sound but he just hums softly. Aware that you are actually starting to enjoy yourself. His fingers make another trip around your clit and this time, he doesn’t circle your entrance, just slowly starts to press, feeling you start to yield.

The soft moan he gets from you almost immediately makes him shiver, but you’re lost to it. Every sensation in your body has narrowed down to Joel’s touch and pushed every other thought out of your mind. Maybe he is that good with his hands or maybe it’s just how much you love him, or maybe it’s both. No matter what it is, it’s floating away with you on a cloud.

Your body doesn’t resist, you aren’t pushing him away. If anything, your hips are rolling down to meet his touch. He groans your name and nuzzles your breast with his cheek, his nose, before he finally wraps his lips around the stiff peak.

That extra burst of sensation makes you moan out loud, back arching off the bed and fingers digging into Joel’s arm to keep him from reeling back or second guessing himself. Close Is where you want him and you’re going to keep him there.

He hisses in pleasure against your breast, drunk on the sight of your eyes closed and lips parted so perfectly as you moan again. He doesn’t stop, just slowly curling his fingers up inside you to search for that pleasure spot.

Each time you moan for him is like a revelation all your own. Your body is doing all of its own talking now, rolling like waves in the ocean and pulled toward Joel’s own body like a magnet. The pull between you is so strong that when he finds your g-spot you keen and moan out his name loud enough that anyone in the house could have easily heard, but you’re too wrapped up in him to care or notice.

“That’s it, beautiful girl? That’s your spot?” He pulls off your breast long enough to crow about finding that place before he is suckling again, his fingers concentrating on that small spot just to hear you keen again.

“I—fuck—yes!” If he had asked if you even have a spot you would have said no, but he’s found it with seemingly no effort whatsoever. Like his intuitive ability to read your body language for emotions, he can read it for your pleasure as well. There’s no doubt in your mind that he could probably pluck you like an instrument of he wanted to but right now all he wants is to hear your pleasure so you do not hold back. The shock of being so vocal is one thing, but for Joel? For Joel you would repeat your yeses and moans and chants of his name for the whole world to hear.

He listens to you, feels you. Wanting to make sure that no old ghosts come between you and your goal. He moans, cock twitching and throbbing against your thigh as he continues to focus on you, ignoring his body’s demands for your own.

It might surprise him even more than it does you, when you reach for him. Your other hand had settled on his hip and was surely squeezing imprints into his flesh, but pleasure has so much taken over your mind that the slide of your hand from his hip to wrapping your fingers experimentally around the thickness of his cock makes both of you gasp.

His eyes close and he can’t help the experimental rock of his hips before he pulls himself back. Reminding himself that he needs to focus on his task.

“It’s okay.” Murmured just as soon as you turn your head, you open your eyes and place lingering kisses on Joel’s jaw. “I want to. Please?”

“Whatever you want.” Joel promises you, his dark eyes on you and alight with passion. “Just let me know what you want.”

“I want to make you feel good, too.” It is the shared aspect of the experience that makes all the difference. That one of you isn’t taking everything from the other, but that you’re sharing the moment together. That’s what makes it an act of passion and love rather than just a sexual encounter. And for you? That makes all the difference.

“You are, beautiful girl.” He promises, his fingers slick and making the most beautiful sounds as they move in and out of you.

As the pair of you devolve back into moans and sighs of each other’s names, the coil of pleasure that tightens in your belly is unmistakable. The experimental strokes of your hand wrapped around his length become surer, pace quickening, your whole body rocketing toward your own end and wanting to take him with you despite knowing that it probably isn’t going to happen that fast. It’s the haze of actual, beautiful, loving pleasure that’s settled over you like a blanket, and it’s what you want more than anything.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Joel is moaning his encouragement and huffing against your breast. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you’re on the edge. You gonna cum for me?”

It’s possible you’ve entirely forgotten how to speak with how close you are, and your eyes slip closed again when you nod almost frantically. The moan from your lips is half his name and half incoherent begging, asking for the release that is so literally right at his fingertips. That only he can give you and that you hope past hoping that you can give to him too with each stroke of your fist.

He smirks, “yeah, you are.” He coos, his voice heavy with lust. “You’re gonna cum all in my hand for me.” He can feel the way your body is tensing under him, ready for the perfect moment to break apart in bliss. “My beautiful girl’s gonna cum.”

It is as much permission as you could look for, and your body seems to know it. The bow and bend in your back sharpen as the sound is strangled from your throat, cutting off his name with a desperate cry as you fall apart for his hand.

There’s something breathtaking about the way you cry out. Body quaking and trembling, not in fear, but in rapture.

The world stands still for those few moments. There is nothing at all except bliss, and the bulk of Joel's broad body above you, and the way he twitches in your hand seeming to run in perfect sync with the spasms of your own body as you come down from the clouds.

Joel doesn’t rush you, drawing it out with the slower curl of his fingers than before, kissing up your body before capturing your moans for him greedily with his mouth. Wanting to keep them for himself as he enjoys your orgasm with you.

“Joel.” It’s more of a whisper than a cry this time, when you finally open your eyes to look at him. “Tell me what you want?”

“Touch me.” He begs. “However you want. I want you to just touch me.”

Your hand had fallen away from him to make sure you didn’t squeeze too hard and accidentally hurt him at the peak or your own orgasm. Now you touch your fingers between your thighs to wet them with your own slick and wrap your hand around his cock again, feeling it twitch with the pressure and friction. Every stroke builds on the last, wanting him to feel every bit as good as you do right now.

Your touch, this time so much more sure of itself, makes his eyes fall close and his body rolls onto his back. Your own follows him so you are draped over him like a perfectly warm blanket. “Fuck, fuck, you are so— so fucking perfect.” He moans quietly. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

Praise is absolutely not lost on you, and every murmur and moan makes you work that much harder. Learning what works for him and what doesn’t isn’t difficult when Joel is so vocal, and before too long his hips are stuttering as he tries to chase the rhythm of your hand.

A shudder runs through his body, unsure if he would ever have you touch him like this. Panting as he curls his toes and his stomach tightens. “Gonna cum.” He warns you roughly.

“Show me.” You keep the pace of your movements and the same pressure with your hand and watch every movement in his body. “Let me see you, honey.”

He grunts, nodding seriously and his eyes flutter open again to focus on you. “Love you.” He knows you adoring hearing the words and he’s worked on being more vocal with you. It hadn’t helped him with Tess, he regretted not vocalizing his feelings before she died and he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“I love you too, Joel.” And what a hell of a morning for it to be said for the first few times. You’ll never forget a single thing about any of it. Especially not the blissful relaxation on his face just half a second after every muscle in his body tenses, that moment of explosive pleasure washing over him in an enormous wave.

In the last year, orgasms had been necessary. Functional. Something to be dealt with quickly when the need came over him. Often hurried and moved on from, but from the way you keep stroking his cock and cooing after he starts to cum, he knows you have every intention of drawing this out for him. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

The splatter over his stomach and down your hand is a beautiful sight, one that you take in greedily before laying back beside him in bed. “I love you,” you murmur again, letting yourself sigh and bask in the moment.

Joel pants, nodding as he tries to catch his breath. “Hope to hell you do.” He chuckles. “Holy shit.”

“I do.” And it rests gently in your chest like a bird happily resting from its flight. “So much.”

He reaches for you, wrapping his arm around your back and he starts to stroke it idly. “How was that, beautiful girl? Was it worth the risk?” He knows it’s cost you to expose yourself again, mentally and physically. So he doesn’t want you to regret it.

“I’ve never been safer than I am with you.” Of that, you are completely certain. And you’ve never been more certain than you are in this moment.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

N2N: @missladym1981

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #The Last of US #TLoU #TLoU HBO #reader with trauma

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR VINGETTE #2 dad!Joelxf!Reader

Rating: 18+ (explicit, mdni)

Words: 4.7k

Summary: When you send Joel a dirty picture during work one day you don't forsee it changing your entire future for the better.

Tags: established relationship (married), dirty talk, public sex, masturbation (m), office sex, breeding kink if ya squint, wife/husband talk, pregnancy talk, caught, fluff and smut.

a/n: While this is from the STFF universe, it could read as a stand alone with you and Joel in an established relationship!

=========================================

Done as a request from two amazing readers who requested STFF vignettes of:

Also maybe some joel x mc stuff bc girlll 👀🥵

The “fuck me pregnant” smut. 👀

You know who you are ;-p

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Joel doesn't text.

He hates the too small screen and how his big thumbs hit all the wrong buttons. He dislikes that he has to use his glasses to read the ones you send. He hates that at eight years old Sarah is already more adept to technology than him.

So when the first few texts come through to your phone you're genuinely confused.

Joel [11:12am]

Wish you w uhere hhere with me

[11:12am]

Did someone steal this phone?

Joel [11:13am]

what?

[11:13am]

My husband doesn't text. :-p

Joel [11:14 am]

What ttyhe fuck is :-p

[11:14 am]

Tilt your phone.

A pause. Then.

Joel [11:19am]

Jesus waas trying to be romantic and your sticking yourr tongue outt at me

You panic.

[11:19am]

No, I liked it! I was just being funny!

[11:19am]

I love that you're texting me!

[11:20am]

I was just kidding!

A longer pause, one in which you can imagine Joel sitting in his work truck, smirking down at his phone, fingers going over the buttons hitting wrong ones along the way.

Joel [11:19am]

I knoww hoynhey I was ttoo

It's sweet actually, the way he tries so hard. You know texting isn't his thing, technology in general really isn't. But he's trying because he knows you*** like it. When you show him something funny Maria sent you via text or when you're pensive, hunched over your phone on the sofa, typing something over to Alex about work.

It makes you feel soft for him, your body warm.

[11:20am]

I miss you too baby.

Joel [11:21am]

Wish I could seedh you right now

His words are simple but they pack a punch. You wish you could see him right now too. In fact you wish every day was just like the weekend. The three of you in this perfect, happy bubble of comfort and laughter and love. It feels so good.

You've been really busy at work lately, long hours. You wonder if this is what Joel is picking up on. This distance. The thought breaks your heart.

You've also been talking about having a baby. A big step. Joel is so eager, so excited to create life with you. But you? You're terrified. You had a horrible fucking childhood. You're scared of what that could mean for your parenting.

You look at your wedding ring set, twisting it and smiling softly.

The thing is, even if you were the worst parent Joel would be there to help. Joel is the most wonderful parent in the world. He patiently helps Sarah with her homework, he's impossibly kind to her even when she's defiant, he lets her put all manner of bow and glitter and product in his hair as she practices the latest hairstyles she's seen. He's a wonderful father. He's a wonderful husband. He's just... So fucking wonderful.

You take a moment to consider Joel's message, then turn your phone to take a selfie to send to Joel. You're smiling at your desk and on impulse give a peace sign. The door to your office opens and Alex walks through with paperwork just as you snap the photo.

"Tell me you're not sending that to Joel," Alex says and you lower your hand frowning at her.

"Why? Last time I checked he liked my face."

Alex rolls her eyes dramatically, heaving the file of rescue records onto your desk.

"I'm gay and even I know a guy doesn't want a cheesy smiling photo from his wife." She gives you a knowing look.

"Huh?"

"He wants something. . . Special."

When you continue to look confused she raises her eyebrows. "A photo you wouldn't send to anyone else if you catch my drift ..."

Oh.

You laugh breathily, your face going red at the insinuation. You mumble something about getting back to the funders and Alex stops at the doorway.

"I'm heading for lunch with Tosin," she tells you, suddenly all business. "I don't know if you remembered."

"I did," you nod motioning out the door. "I left the speaking points by the front door."

"Amazing, I'll debrief when I get back."

Alex leaves, closing the door behind her, leaving you to stare down at your phone to see the grainy photo of you smiling flashing a peace sign and you wince. Is Alex right? It does look kinda immature.

You delete it.

You glance up to see your door closed and take a moment to consider. You take the phone in your hand again, thrusting it under your blouse and pulling back the cups of your bra.

"Can't believe I'm doing this," you murmur to yourself, even though there's a part of you that finds this all a bit exciting. You press the button and feel a thrill go through you.

You pull the camera out of your shirt, peering into the phones display. You frown when it comes out blurry with what you think is your nipple in the corner.

Fuck.

No it's too... In your face. No mystery. You'll go a different route. You tug open your first few buttons at the collar of your shirt, until the lace of your bra is seen. You bend forward, allowing the camera to capture your winking face and generous show of cleavage.

You hook your finger into the lace of your bra, suggesting more but showing just the skin. You tilt your head so your neck looks long and delicate.

You snap a few photos until you find one you that you like; the one where you look playful and sexy and you attach it to the message.

[11:33am]

Hopefully this tides you over. Xoxo

The photo is sent and you feel your body tingle as you imagine Joel innocently checking his phone for a text only to find that image waiting for him. You put your phone back down on your desk, eyes drifting to your computer.

Suddenly you freeze.

Wait what if he answers his phone while he's at the job site with a bunch of others? What if someone else sees? Oh fuck, what if Tommy sees?! You'll never be able to look him in the face again!

Before you can throw yourself into a full blown fit of pique the alert comes through on your phone that you have another message.

You flip the phone open to his message of just one word.

Joel [11:34am]

More.

A thrill goes through you at the thought of Joel in his truck or at the job site turned on because of that photo. It makes your thighs clamp together as you imagine him looking at the photo, his eyes wide, his pouty mouth parted.

You stand and lock the door to your office. You glance at your watch, thankful that Alex should be gone for a while.

You don't reply right away because your trembling fingers unbutton the rest of your blouse. You'll send him a little striptease you think.

You receive another text from him as you reach the bottom button.

Joel [11:35am]

You laugh out loud at his impatience, typing hurriedly back.

[11:35am]

Be patient.

Your shirt is unbuttoned to your bellybutton and your bra is pulled down to show a peek of your nipple. Your finger grazes the bra cup, tugging. You snap this picture and send it off. The reply is immediate.

Joel [11:36am]

Youu look so good bby

You can imagine how Joel says it, voice all low and syrupy. Fuck you're turned on.

You fumble with the hem of your skirt tugging it down until the band of your panties is showing. You slip a hand underneath and raise the camera again.

Your neck is tilted back and you let the camera capture your lower lip full as you bite it. You send it off, pulse pounding.

Joel [11:38am]

Fuckd oplease morrhee.

Joel can barely function. All the blood has gone to his cock. When he receives another image seconds later, this one of your hands between your legs, head tilted back and your eyes heavy lidded in pleasure he can't take any more. He fumbles the numbers on his phone, holding the cell to his ear.

"Hello?"

"You know what you're doin' to me?"

His voice is low and husky and you're loving that twang of his that comes out sometimes.

"No idea," you smile. "I'm just here working away."

"Makin' me hard, baby," Joel groans. "Had to go to my truck so no one would see."

The smile dies from your face, replaced with a mask of surprise as Joel's words register with you. This is followed quickly by desire.

"You touching yourself, Miller?"

Joel gives a shaky laugh. "No."

You swallow, your face burning with shame and lust. "Would you?"

Joel takes a quick glance around his work site. He's pretty far away from everything having parked in the back lot. But there's always a chance of someone walking by.

"Here in my truck? Right now?"

"Yeah," you offer swallowing. "I.. if you want I'd... Yeah."

Joel can hear it, the breathless catch in your voice. That little hitch that happens when you're turned on. You know he hears it because you can practically hear him smile over the phone.

"I gotta go park somewhere more quiet."

"No," you breathe heavily. "Do it there."

"One of the guys might see."

You don't speak but he hears the way your breathing increases in speed. He feels his pants grow uncomfortably tight now, desperate for you to be there in the truck with him right now. Desperate to see that unfocused look you get when you're turned on.

"Exhibitionist are we?" Joel teases. "You like that I might be caught?"

"I... I guess so," you say surprising yourself. "Yeah."

"How're they gonna look me in the eye if they catch me jerking off in my truck?"

You laugh at this, but only to break the tension. It's a breathless thing.

"Don't get caught."

You wonder if Joel thinks you're depraved for this. In all honesty you'd never thought something like this could be hot. But right now you're turned on out of your mind. Imagining Joel hard for just a photo of you, hearing his breathing grow unsteady.

Joel as always though, knows you so well.

"Making you wet knowing you got me here in my truck all desperate?" Joel asks, and his voice is pitched low.

You let out a soft whine, your hand tightening around the phone receiver.

"Squirming there at your desk knowing I'm palming myself through my jeans right now?" You hear Joel give a soft shudder. "You like knowing that you do this to me, honey?"

"Jesus ... Yeah."

He lets out a dark, smooth chuckle. The kind he presses against the hollow of your throat when you're in bed together.

"And what are you gonna do for me?"

"Anything you want," you say earnestly. "The second I see you. Anything you want."

"S' that a promise?"

"Of course."

"Alright then," Joel says, leaning back a bit on the bench seat of his truck, his eyes scanning to make sure he's still alone. "You tell me what you want."

You pause. It's one thing to say things when you're together in bed, sweaty bodies writhing against one another. It's quite another midday over the phone.

"Gotta hear you ask for it," Joel teases huskily. "Then I'm happy to give it to you."

You can hear his belt buckle and zipper over the phone and desire pools in your belly. He's really doing this.

"Want you to make yourself come," you say just above a whisper, blushing all the way to your roots, "while you're thinking about me."

"I'm always thinkin' about you," Joel assures you with a groan. And you can hear the unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh as he begins to stroke himself.

"Yeah?" You say, swallowing. "What do you think about?"

"How you look at me when I'm between your legs."

Joel is blunt. He always has been. It's what you love about him and in this moment it turns you on so much your mouth goes dry.

"Remember our honeymoon?" He groans, hand moving jerkily over his cock. "That night in Santorini?"

Fuck yeah you do.

You listen through the phone, eyes shut as Joel groans huskily into the receiver. His breathing is heavy, and you can tell he's got his teeth clenched. You hold yourself still, not wanting to miss a single fucking sound.

"You still there?" Joel's voice is thick and rasping. The tone makes your thighs press together under the desk.

"Uh huh," you pant. "Please don't stop."

"You really like this," Joel says and you can almost hear the curl in his smile. "I'll have to remember that."

You can hear the movements of his hand increasing; can picture him in his truck jerking himself off with one hand, the other holding his cell to his ear. Why is that the sexiest thing you can imagine?

What was he wearing this morning again? Oh fuck, that's right. That green plaid flannel, the one that he rolls up so it shows off his thick forearms. This inserts itself into your fantasy and you physically feel your panties dampen.

"You got me so fuckin' hard, baby," Joel grunts out, his voice hitching with each swipe of his palm over the head of his member. "Love knowing you're sitting there turned on outta your mind."

"I am," you whimper. "Fuck, I really am, Joel."

Your legs cross under the table and you squeeze them. Pleasure shoots up your core. You let out a trembling whine at the sensation.

"Love those ... Mmmph....sounds," Joel grunts into the receiver, imagining you there with your mouth parted. "Gettin' close-"

You've started rocking in your seat as you imagine it.

"Want you here, your mouth-"

And then abruptly you hear Joel's breath catch, hear the rustling of his body on his truck.

"I gotta go baby."

Before you can deny this interruption the line goes dead. Your legs cross, squeezing, desperate.

Fuck.

Your phone alerts you to a text coming in.

Joel

[11:48am]

Sorry bby. Tommy was commhing over.

Disappointment doesn't touch on how you're feeling right now.

You go back to your paperwork, deciding that you'll pick up things later when something occurs to you.

You bunch your skirt up to your waist and with a smirk you raise the camera to snap a photo of your legs spread with your damp panties on display. You giggle and send it off with: You owe me. Xo

You smooth down your skirt and re-button your shirt, looking presentable. You stand on shaking legs and unlock your office door, opening it.

You go back to the funding report you have to fill in, your mind turning back to the sanctuary and the animal adoption reports.

An hour or so later the main door to the office opens and you go to ask Alex how the meeting went when two familiar brown eyes come into view and your husband streaks towards your office.

"Joel?"

His eyes are blazing. He comes into your office, closing the door behind him. You stand at his approach, coming to rest your hip against your desk, pulling him into your arms.

He's wearing that green flannel and he smells like the outdoors, fresh and clean. You bury your nose in his neck inhaling.

"Didn't get to finish our conversation," Joel murmurs against the top of your head. “Got your text and saw you needed me."

"Needed you?" You tease, cocking your head to the side, looking up at his face. "Whatever for?"

He gives a wry grin before sliding his wide palm between your legs, pressing over pressing over your clothed sex and rubbing gently.

"This."

He smirks down at you, dark eyes on your lips. You kiss him fiercely, hands digging into the flesh of his neck, urging his mouth tighter against yours. His tongue slips between your lips and you moan against that deft muscle.

"Couldn't leave you wet and waitin'," Joel murmurs as he plants kisses along your jaw.

"Joel we can't do this here," you say amused and turned on. "Alex could be back any second."

"You promised me," Joel says, hands on your hips. "Anythin’ I want the second I see you, remember?"

You give him a crooked grin because really, you can't deny him. You don't want to.

He urges your bottom back onto the desk as your hands reach for his belt. You both move quickly, aware that time is of the essence.

His wide hands tug your panties off without hesitation and within seconds he's inside you, bracing the two of you against the desk. Your arms are around his neck for purchase, his hands on your hips as he thrusts into you.

"So wet for me," Joel groans in your ear as you bounce against him. The desk creaks with every thrust.

"Always," you groan honestly.

"Could barely drive here straight. All I could think about was..." Joel lets out a shuddering groan. "Fucking you right here on your desk. Watching you come for me."

You can barely form words. All you can do is hold tightly around his neck as he fucks into you, groaning and grunting beautiful, filthy things. His thumb finds your clit and begins circling as he slows the movements of his hips.

Joel never lets himself come before you do. Not unless you expressly insist on it. He's working you slowly, his eyes heavy and fixed on your expressive face. You allow him to unbutton and strip your shirt from you, leaving you in just your skirt and bra, body tilted against his as you groan.

"Lean back baby," he urges. "Lemme see you."

You comply without hesitation, shoving your papers to the ground as you rest your spine along the desk. You don't care about funding proposals right now. All you care about is Joel and the beautifully slow way he's touching you.

Joel watches you laying there for him, cheeks flushed and eyelids heavy. He's never seen anything so fucking sexy. And you’re his.

Waking up to you, going to sleep with your arm around his waist, seeing you with Sarah, talking about your day, watching movies as a family, going to the zoo. Every day since you've moved in has been bliss (aside from the odd argument because well, you're both human). He's so ridiculously in love with you. He wants to give you everything.

And the fact that you want him as much as he wants you sometimes seems like a dream. One he never wants to wake from. You tell him every day you love him. That you love Sarah. You want to hear about their days, you want to be around them all the time. The way that unlike with Paul, you showed off your engagement ring every chance you could the second it was placed on your finger.

He thinks about your wedding day, the way you'd looked coming down the aisle to him, how your lips felt when he kissed you for the first time as your husband. The way you call yourself his wife with pride to anyone who will listen.

And now you're here, his wife, laying against the desk as he thrusts into you, begging him for more looking so fucking gorgeous. He'll give you more. He'll give you anything, everything.* He wants to make life with you. Wants your belly swollen and everyone knowing that you're his. Wants to pick out baby names and do lamaze classes and watch you carry something you both created inside you.

He knows you're not certain, knows that you're hesitant and he'd never force you. Knows that despite being off birth control you're still wanting him to use condoms. And he does without fuss. He will as long as you need him to.

If you never want to get pregnant he doesn't mind. He got you and Sarah and that's all he needs. Another baby would be a joyful addition, but not necessary for his happiness.

You're breathing quickly, chest heaving. You don't object when Joel begins tugging down your bra until your breasts are exposed to him. Joel makes a soft strangled noise in the back of his throat as they jolt and ripple under his thrusts.

"How're you so goddam perfect?"

You grin up at him, your voice breathless. "Was gonna a-ask you the same thing, Miller."

You moan when his full mouth finds an exposed nipple, sucking and licking while he worries the other between his fingers. When he gently nibbles there you let out a sharp cry of pleasure.

Joel thrusts between your legs slowly, filling you and with his mouth around your nipple he watches with saddled brows as your eyes roll back in your head.

"So fucking gorgeous."

You're only able to whimper for him, thighs spreading further as he moves himself deeper between your legs. Your ankles cross behind him and he pulls back, his thumb once more against your clit. He can feel that you're close, your hips rutting more aggressively.

"So good," you whimper up at him as the pleasure reaches that apex of pleasure. "You feel so f-fucking good, Joel."

He's curves over you, one hand on your hip, the other between your legs as his thumb works against you. He's looking at you with a look of such love that it takes your breath away. And he's all yours. This is your man. Your husband. Tears prick the corners of your eyes before pleasure between your thighs overtakes you. Your head tilts back.

"Gonna come for me, honey?"

You nod, overcome emotionally and now physically as your orgasm rushes through you. You arch back against the desk and Joel watches as your naked breasts tilt to the ceiling as you tighten around him.

"There she goes," Joel says approvingly, his thumb not ceasing its movements as you crest for him. He feels you flutter around him and he groans as he throbs within you.

"So good, baby."

You preen under the praise and you begin to come down, your eyes so heavy lidded Joel muses that you look asleep.

"Joel," you whine, hands reaching for him. "Please."

He gives you an indulgent grin, leaning over to kiss you. He gives a little grunt when you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. You pull back when his hips stay stationary.

"I didn't bring a condom," he confesses. "Thought I had one in the truck. Guess we'll have to finish this up at home tonight."

"But-" you're leaning up on your elbows, watching as Joel smiles lovingly down at you. "But you came here?"

"'Course," Joel says with a small smile, starting to pull back from between your thighs. "Needed to make sure my wife wasn't aching for me all day."

You feel everything in your body attuned to him. Seeing no guile, no resentment there in his deep brown eyes. He really just came to make you feel good with no expectation of his own pleasure. And that's what seals it, though you'd known it all along. You tugg off your bra and shirt completely, your eyes trained on his.

"Want you to come," you say, your eyes trained on his. "Don't care about a condom."

You stand shakily, pressing him to sit in the chair behind your desk. Joel assumes that you're talking about a blow job, so he's confused when you throw a leg over his lap, perching there.

"Honey do you know what you're saying," Joel says when you begin to lower yourself over his hips. "We've talked and-"

"I know what I'm saying and doing," you tell him, pulling him back out of his jeans hurriedly. "And I'm asking you to fuck me bare."

Joel's dark eyes blow wide and you can see the pupil rapidly expand. Desire courses through him and you watch as his cock still glossy and semi hard stiffens sharply to full attention.

"If you want to," you add, hand gently stroking him, feeling him throb under your palm.

He doesn't let you finish. His hands cup your face in his large palms as he kisses you gently, licking into your mouth as you begin to lower yourself onto his thick length.

"Are you sure?"

You whimper, body jerking as you take all of him from this angle, stretching and watching as Joel's head tips back, eyes still peering out at you.

"Very," you promise him as his wide hands skate down your spine. "I love you so much, Joel."

"I love you too, baby," Joel says earnestly. "But if you think you need to do this for me-"

"I don't," you explain, and you let yourself surrender to the building pleasure. "I want this Joel. Wanna carry your baby."

Joel moans, brows saddling and you feel him start to thrust up into you, not holding back.

"Does that turn you on?" You ask, amused that you've both discovered something new about each other today.

"Yeah," Joel admits with a shy grin up at you.

"I'll have to remember that," you tease before you feel him thrust up into you and a stripe of white hot pleasure goes up your core.

Joel's arms hold you tightly to his chest, pinning you around the waist as your head falls to his shoulder.

You two thrust against one another in the silence of your office, the only sound the traffic outside, your combined groans and the wet sounds of flesh as Joel drives himself up into you.

Your body is naked save for the skirt you wear, like some daydream of his come to life.

He slips his hand beneath your skirt and builds the pleasure there, fingers on the pearl of your clit as you ride him. His head is tilted back so he can watch your face, the way your head lolls back when he hits a really good spot, the way you whine a little when you're getting close.

"Gonna come," you slur out, already on the precipice of another orgasm.

"Fuck yeah you are," Joel says through grunts, watching your body jerk against his deepening thrusts.

You let out little whines as you chase your pleasure, your hands on his shoulders for purchase as you slide yourself along him. He feels so fucking good.

"Doing so good baby," Joel says gently, stroking your hair back from your face as he bucks under you. He looks to where your bodies join, seeing the glossy curve of your inner thighs. "Keep going, keep going."

You do, you slide along his length as Joel's arms wrap around you, rocking into you groaning about how much he needs you, how much he loves you and you melt against him.

You come with a shiver, body arching against his as he watches you, marveling at how gorgeous you look like that.

Then your mouth finds his and you take him deeper, feeling his cock nudge your cervix. You hear your husband groaning, his damp mouth warm on your neck.

"Come on, Joel," You whisper breathlessly against the shell of his ear, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. "Fuck me pregnant."

"Fuck yeah, honey, I will," Joel begins to babble against your neck, his hips setting a brutal pace as you cling to him. "Gonna fill you up. Gonna give you a baby, everyone's gonna know you're mine and-"

Joel lets out a strangled cry as he releases, you feel him pulsing inside you, holding you tightly to him as he empties himself into you. Your entire body quivers as Joel comes, his body tightening and then slowly loosening, going boneless against you.

You both breath heavily, foreheads pressed tightly against one another before Joel plants a soft kiss on your neck, your jaw and finally your waiting lips. The two of you gaze at one another before giggling gently.

"I'm texting more often."

Still panting and giggling in the afterglow neither of you hear when Alex returns to the office.

"Hey so lunch-"

Joel wraps his arms around you, shielding your bared chest from your co-worker as she opens the door and walks into your office.

Alex takes in the scene, you shirtless on Joel's lap as he sits behind the desk. Both of you red-faced and looking guiltily at her.

With her hand still on the doorknob Alex backs out of the room, closing the door, but not before adding a very smug:

"Glad my advice worked."

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