#tommy voice ARE YOU TWO KISSING?????

[arieava]

how does this keep happening

[tojisun]

the apple that rolled over to the tree

!! fluff; f!reader; parenthood!!; simon-centric hehe >:3 // divider by @/plutism!

there is a… kid attached to your hip when simon returns home from a mission, his exhausted body stumbling into the kitchen where he finds you and it.

“what—”

he can’t even fathom the emotion coursing through him at the moment, what with shock triumphing over everything. still, you’d probably need to give him credit for not losing his goddamn mind at seeing a whole child — he couldn’t have been more than two years old with how he’s only three apples tall — clinging to you like a baby koala.

“oh my god, you’re back!” you squeal, unfazed at how dumbfounded your fiance has become, before shuffling close to embrace him.

simon reciprocates the hug anyway.

you step back, your lips still wobbling in your tears as you stare up at him, all awed like you couldn’t believe that he was back and simon wishes he can press his promises to your lips because he will always find a way to come back, he swears on his life, but also—

the child.

“sweetheart?” he begins, soft as to not spook you or the kid. “who’s, uh, who’s that?”

the child shifts, turning his little face from where it was burrowed onto your neck at the sound of simon’s voice. he rests his head on your clavicle, smooshing his already chubby cheek, before the biggest brown eyes that simon’s ever seen stare up at him, all doe-eyed and jarringly innocent, and simon, he—

well, not even babysitting tommy’s kids prepared him for this.

“this is yasha,” you murmur, pulling simon’s attention back to you. “or yakov, or james if he would want an english name.”

the boy reacts to you calling his name, and simon watches as those curious eyes tip up at you in question. you swipe your finger over his nose, the little thing scrunching up at the ticklish feeling, and simon becomes breathless at seeing the unadulterated joy in your face.

it is all parts soft and tender, but also anxious and worried, and simon begins to puzzle out the pieces.

“he’s my foster child. or ours, i guess, now that you’re here.” your voice is so fragile as you reply to him, your hand now beginning to rub soothing nothings on the boy’s back. simon wonders if it’s more to calm yourself down than it is to comfort the boy.

your lips purse, hesitating, and simon waits because while he he’s pieced out what you want to ask, he knows that this is something you would want to truly talk to him about. it is something he knows you have mustered up the courage to bring up so he gives it to you, open and ready, and he hopes that his face and his gait show that whatever it is you would want to say, simon will always support you no matter what.

“si?” you begin, looking heart-wrenchingly small in your worry. “i think i wanna adopt him.”

simon hums, stepping close but also being careful not to crowd yasha, before he curls his arms around you two — his family — and nuzzles his face on your other shoulder. “i’d love that.”

he offers you a smile, and squeezes your arm in comfort, then he watches as the tears come, easily springing up from your eyes. yasha startles, whirling to look up at his mother in worry. simon’s throat constricts at the thought of you being a mother and him, a father; how, now, there is someone else for simon to come home to. someone to fight for.

jesus. he’d need to tell the lads and maybe get wasted as a celebration.

“owies?” yasha asks, chubby fist balling your shirt.

“they’re happy tears, sweetie pie,” you reply, crooning. “i’m just so, so happy.”

yasha hums, nodding, probably already distracted, and simon takes that time to straighten back up. he pushes your hair away from your face, before he pitches forward to press a kiss on your forehead.

yeah, he’s happy too.

.

yasha gets spoiled, not that simon’s complaining given that he’s been the one doing all the spoiling.

“really, si? a new toly?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest in your exasperation.

toly or anatoly, or tory because yasha still can’t speak properly, is the name that yasha gave to all of his new stuffed toys. it all started with a dog plush that simon bought from the supermarket on a whim and gave to the boy. it was laughably quick how yasha had abandoned his blocks to make grabby hands to the toy, before squealing out that name.

the next stuffed toy that yasha received, which was just the softest and roundest penguin plush toy that simon’s ever seen, was also named toly. so was that teddy bear you bought for him. or that reindeer he got for christmas. somehow, every single one had been named toly.

the only thing you and simon can find about toly was that anatoly means sunrise. simon was so sure it was the russian word for animal, because why else would yasha repeat it, but who would have thought that their little fish is so imaginative?

like, of course he’s going to name all of his toys toly because they are as warm as sunrises. see? smart kid.

but this one, this new toly, set off world records. it was a camel plush that simon saw at the airport when he was out, pretending to be a civilian.

(garrick had been assigned with him for that mission, and was quick to spot and mention simon’s on-duty purchase.

“it’s for my boy,” he grunted in reply, forgetting the fact that he’s yet to truly break the news to his squad. garrick had never looked as surprised, and next thing simon knew, the news made its way to their group chat.

price was amiable about the whole thing. mactavish? not so much.

he just about begged to see a picture of yasha — “and yer girl again, if you wouldn’t mind.” — or even visit him. then he invited garrick to come and price invited himself too, so now the guys are going to swing by some time soon.)

when simon gave it to yasha, their boy had stared at it for a solid minute — simon counted — before screaming and then running to snatch the toy from simon’s hold. he hugged the camel close to his person, his little head nuzzling against the plush face of the camel, all the while absolutely vibrating in unabashed excitement.

he picked up thundering footsteps and turned around just enough to see you literally slide into the room. yasha continued to hug the camel, ignorant of the distress he caused, while you looked on in your panic, buzzing with worry because you just heard your boy scream, damn it!

“he’s fine, bub,” simon said before you could ask, and he watched as you came down from your frenzy, your breathing slowing down at the rationalization that if simon was not panicked, then everything’s alright.

then, your eyes landed on the new stuff toy.

“really?” you asked.

in his defence, yasha adores camel-toly.

in your defence, yasha’s room is running out of space for his tolys.

…well, simon does have all that military money. gonna have to spend it on something else, right?

.

[charlie foxtrot]

sriley: link

john2: ????

sriley: new address.

garry: oh? congratulations.

sriley: thanks.

johnp: 👍

.

yasha was shy when saying hi to price, then outright cried when he saw mactavish, which made simon bark out loud in laughter. yasha only stopped sniffling when he saw kyle. in no time, yasha absolutely adored garrick to the point that he would not even let him go.

dinner was prepared and while you called them all to eat, simon ambled out of the kitchen, where he had been helping you, and walked towards kyle and yasha to pick up his son and seat him on his high chair. but yasha had only looked at him, his head tilted in question, before ignoring simon and clinging onto kyle.

hell, he had even let go of camel-toly so that he could use two chubby fists to hold onto kyle. surprised, simon didn’t even know how to react and watched as his sergeant offered him an apologetic smile before carrying his son to the dining room. kyle rounded the table and sat yasha on his high chair, only, yasha made a scene when kyle did so, and he released a lungful of screams and cries, breaking everyone’s eardrums and their hearts.

kyle stood there, worried and confused, and hovered because he did not know what to do. hell, none of them did, and then you walked out of the kitchen, rushing to yasha, and hummed songs to comfort your son.

you crooned when he made grabby hands to be picked up and you did so with no hesitation, your touch soothing the boy into quiet sniffles. but even then, yasha wouldn’t settle down as he wriggled in your arms, short limbs reaching for—

simon glowered.

yasha was reaching for kyle. you were quick to giggle, asking kyle if it was alright that yasha would eat with him, and simon had glared at his sergeant, daring him to deny their son of anything, before reluctantly nodding his approval at kyle’s happy trill of, “of course, ma’am!”

yasha had finally calmed down when you sat him on kyle’s lap, and his boy was even polite enough to actually eat his soft veggies every time kyle beckoned him to open his mouth for a new spoonful.

simon did not startle, but it was close, when your hand landed on his thigh.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, eyes furrowed in your worry.

“yeah,” he remembers replying with, his throat all choked-up because he knows yasha must be excited to have new people to play with, but still, there was something that stung when his boy chose garrick over him.

not that it was kyle’s fault because he is a dear for even doing all that he did for yasha, but simon had hoped that he would always be yasha’s favourite.

too lost in his thoughts, simon had almost missed yasha’s call.

“-ddy? daddy?” yasha asked, startling simon.

it was not the first time yasha called him that, but every time he did, it never fails to make simon melt.

“yeah? what’s up, buddy?”

simon pretended that no one was watching the interaction.

yasha giggled, hiding his food-smeared lips behind his little palms, before turning to use garrick’s front to hide from simon. you snorted, murmuring to kyle how you swear you would wash his shirt before they go, but it’s all buzz to simon because his son — his darling boy — wanted to play with him during dinner.

yasha peeked at him again, before giggling once more when he caught simon’s eyes. this continued on until dinner ended, with simon occasionally miming growling monsters to induce more hearty giggles from his son, and being rewarded with the happiest laughter ever.

simon turned to you, with his heart on his throat, and beamed.

“aww,” mactavish sang from somewhere beside him. “ain’t that adorable— argh!”

simon had swung his arm out and thumped his fist on johnny’s stomach. thank god, yasha had chosen that time to hide his face again on kyle’s stomach.

.

“unca’ john?” yasha asks in a stage-whisper because everyone within earshot just heard him even with his attempt to be quiet. it’s only their training that stopped simon from acting like he’s noticed.

“yeah, bubsy?” john replies, sounding so utterly soft that this version of him is so foreign to simon.

“this tory,” yasha says and simon discreetly peeks to see which toly is being introduced to uncle john — it’s the elephant one.

price gasps theatrically like he hadn’t seen yasha drool all over this elephant toy before, and puffs out, “how cute!”

“mhmm,” yasha says, nodding, then smacks the face of the toy on john’s face. the trunk smooshes against john’s nose, and thank god that elephant-tory is soft because that aim would have been lethal if it wasn’t.

“jesus—” price gasps out.

“language!” simon hisses, and ducks his head back down just before yasha could catch him peeking.

.

yasha is now four and he still gets teary eyed when he sees johnny. simon placates his friend and says it’ll pass soon. maybe.

basically, i wanted to write a fic wherein simon’s reaction to being presented with a child is “what— oh okay, sure why not” and (literally in 20 minutes) “i will kill everything for this child” and so here we are

a simon spinoff - it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

[aurorawritestoescape]

I KNOW BETTER THAN TO CALL YOU MINE

Pre outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader || 7k

Summary: Joel lets himself have a treat. You.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, slight age gap (reader’s in her early 20s, Joel is 30), sex work, idiots in love, soft Joel, praise kink, size kink, f/m oral, cum eating, alcohol consumption, m!masturbation, sex toy usage, bondage, protected/unprotected piv, creampie, light pussy spanking, somno, aftercare, mention of degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey). Reader has hair, wears dresses. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: this is for @janaispunk ‘s 1500 kisses challenge. My prompt was ‘first kiss’ with Joel Miller. Congrats again, Jana, and thank you for the fun challenge!😘 The pic in the m/b is from this post by @liminaltourist. Hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘🫂 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 The title is from the lyrics of ‘Let’s fall in love for the night’ by FINNEAS. Hope you will enjoy this story! Love you all!💖

MASTERLIST

Joel met you at Tommy’s birthday party and was instantly attracted to you. You were beautiful, sweet, funny, a little shy which he found charming. You told him that you worked as a waitress, meanwhile looking for a steady job after graduating college. He spent the whole night talking to you. The whole night being a couple of hours when he had a sitter for Sarah. Joel noticed a trace of sadness in your gorgeous eyes while you two were saying your goodbyes and for a second he regretted the way his life turned out. A single father at the age of thirty, working tirelessly to give his daughter the best life he could. But all the regrets vanished into thin air the moment he returned home and saw Sarah, sleeping peacefully in her bed. He planted a gentle kiss on her temple and quietly went to his empty bedroom. She was his life and he was ok with it.

Next time when Joel went out with Tommy for a drink, he asked about you in passing. He tried to make it seem like a simple curiosity but his younger brother still gave him a knowing smirk. Joel really liked you but his life was hectic enough. Work and being a single parent took all his time and he couldn’t squeeze in a relationship. He wouldn’t be a good boyfriend, he thought, and you deserved only the best. But your image— your eyes, your smile, your body, was flashing behind his eyes again and again, reminding him that he had needs and desires.

After a few beers and tequila shots, their conversation circled back to you and Tommy blabbed out that you worked as an escort. Joel was astonished. You seemed shy and sweet. He had never been against sex work but he always imagined a different type of people in that business. He didn’t know what to make of it but he felt his cock twitch, thinking of how sexually liberated you were.

He thought about asking for your number, but Tommy would tease him to death and he decided not to.

The next time you met Joel was at another Tommy’s party. Joel agreed to come, wanting to see you again. You talked and laughed like before but the air was almost electric between you two. The glances were darker, your hand brushing his skin here and there made him want more— touch you, feel you close against his body. He could save up and do all that if you agreed. So he made a decision and offered to drive you home when the party was over.

As soon as Joel parked his car at your driveway, he cleared his throat and asked if he could see you sometime.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Your voice was soft and a shy smile tugged at your lips.

“Ehm… fuck, I —I know what you do,” Joel admitted, turning to you slightly in the driver’s seat, “Tommy told me when he was drunk. Forgive him and me, please, ok? And— I don’t know what you call that, but— can I meet you for an appointment?”

Your face fell and you were blinking at him with a mouth agape. Joel’s heart froze- what if Tommy had been fucking with him and you didn’t sleep with people for money.

After a few longest seconds of his life, you took a deep breath and gave him a little nod. Joel asked you about the details and you explained to him what he needed to do to book a session with you and though you were talking about sex, it sounded cold and dry. You gave him a little smile before getting out of the car and he drove off with the thought that he had made a mistake.

He really didn’t plan to call you, thinking he had killed whatever spark and connection you two had, but his thoughts returned to you again and again. He was hearing your laugh everywhere and your face was behind his eyelids every time he went to sleep.

One night after a few beers he imagined you in his bed and his hand flew to his already stiffening cock. He shut his eyes and saw you next to him, naked and ready for him. Pleasuring himself, Joel imagined your hand wrapped around his length, sliding up and down, then your mouth sucking on his tip and soon he was spurting his load all over his stomach and fist. He could have you, you already agreed to it, and he deserved to feel good, to treat himself once in a while. With those thoughts on his mind he texted you and booked a session.

Joel tried to be on time for your first meeting, but everything seemed to go wrong that day and when he arrived at a hotel, you were already waiting for him at the bar. He showered you with apologies for being late but you assured him that it was ok. He felt the flames of desire, when he took you all in. Your black dress was hugging your body perfectly and he couldn’t wait to take it off you.

You had already got a room for them so Joel followed you to the elevator. He had never been that nervous in his life. You must have noticed it, so you took his hand and gave him a warm smile.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this, Joel.”

“Never done this before,” he admitted when the elevator doors opened and you walked to the room.

“It’s ok, Joel. I’m sure we’re going to have a great time,” you said, smiling to him, and opened the door.

When Joel stepped inside, he saw a typical hotel room with one big bed. You turned to him and asked,

“Before we start, do you have any questions or suggestions about what you want us to do?”

Joel swallowed loudly.

“I want —, he scratched the back of his neck and continued, “just the usual, I guess.”

“The usual?” you repeated with a little smirk.

“Yeah, just sex.”

You pouted your lips in thought, then smiled with mischief in your gaze and slowly came up to him.

His breath hitched when your behavior changed in front of his eyes, like a little kitten turned into a panther in a matter of seconds. You looked the same but there was an allure in your every move, each glance was magnetic, as if you were calling for him to touch you, fuck you. You were irresistible. Your body was inches away from him, your perfume subtle but enticing, enveloping him, and you purred,

“I don’t think we want it to be ‘just’ sex, Joel. How about we make it special.”

Your tongue caressed your lower lip and he slowly leaned down. You swiftly swerved him and instead of tasting your lips, he nuzzled your cheek.

“I’m sorry, Joel— I don’t kiss on the lips during sessions.”

“Oh fuck, sorry.” Joel felt really bad and explained, “I got carried away... I’ve read the rules you sent me… I remember no kissing part, like in “Pretty Woman”,” Joel chuckled, rubbing his scruffy cheek in a nervous gesture.

You giggled, too, probably trying to make him feel more comfortable, “Yes, just like in “Pretty Woman.”

Without noticing it, he tried to memorize the sound of your laugh, how pretty it was. You slightly pulled away from him and tilted your head.

“How about I take the lead at first and then we’ll see how it goes?”

Joel nodded. He wanted to take your dress off, carry you to the bed and fuck you till you screamed his name. But he was afraid to do something wrong, he’d never been in that type of situation. You took his hand and gently caressed it, your fingers dancing over his hardened skin. Then he watched you bring it to your red lips and kiss his palm. You glanced up at him with your big beautiful eyes, not taking his hand away and his whole body reacted to your gentle touch. He was getting hard.

You led Joel to the bed, your fingers intertwined with his, and gently pushed on his shoulders to make him sit down. You slowly took your dress off and he tried not to start drooling like a cartoon wolf, seeing you in front of him in a black lacy set.

You stood between his spread thighs and bent over to tug at the hem of his dark tee. He helped you to take it off and when you kneeled in front of him, he almost moaned. Your beautiful face was so close, he wanted to kiss you so much but he couldn’t and he’d never do anything you didn’t want.

You unbuckled his belt and softly asked him to take his jeans off.

Soon Joel was sitting there in his boxer briefs with you on your knees between his spread thighs.

"You're so hot, Joel," you whispered, as your dark gaze slid over the expense of his broad shoulders and chest, and your nails slightly scratched his muscular thighs.

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head. He wanted to tell you how gorgeous you look, wearing your lingerie and your high heel shoes, how much he'd been thinking about you since the day you'd met but his mouth was dry and he felt himself like a teenage boy who was trying to compliment a hot girl.

You weren't aware of his inner torment. As always calm and confident, you leaned closer to his torso and kissed a spot on his chest, right over his heart. Joel took a sharp breath and shut his eyes for a second, trying to calm down. He couldn't believe what just a gentle chest kiss from you was doing to him, but he was already painfully hard.

Your lips glided lower and you started leaving open mouth kisses, tracing a path down to the bulge in his boxers, and he opened his thighs wider to give you more space. When your face was close to his clothed cock, you rested your head on his left thigh and looked up at him.

“Fuck,” Joel cursed and growled at the sight of you so close to his already throbbing manhood. You were so pretty, so obedient but even on your knees he felt that you controlled the situation.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?”

You smiled hearing the pet name and asked,

“Can I take you in my mouth?”

His cock visibly twitched when he heard your soft voice and the words you uttered.

“If you want.”

You bit your lower lip and asked, rubbing your cheek on his hairy thigh.

“I do but would you like me to?”

Joel nodded eagerly, maybe too eagerly but he didn’t care. He wanted you so much.

With a content smile, you sat up straight and shifted on your knees, getting comfortable. Then you pulled at the waistband of his boxers and in a second they were on the floor and his cock was bobbing in front of your face. Your breath visibly hitched and you glanced up at him.

“You have a gorgeous cock, Joel Miller,” you whispered and he wanted to kiss you again, hearing the praise. But instead he brought his hand to your face and cupped your cheek. You purred into his touch but parted from his palm in a second when you lowered your face and kitten-licked the fat tip of his cock. Joel sighed and bucked his hips already impatient for more. You didn’t make him wait long.

Your lips soon welcomed his cock between them as you started taking him deeper, covering his length with your warm saliva as your hand was firmly wrapped around his girthy base.

Joel moaned loudly at the sensation, he didn’t care what sounds he was making, completely lost in the pleasure your soft lips and skilful tongue were giving him.

Your mouth was slowly caressing his cock as your curved up lips were sliding over his sensitive skin and your tongue danced around the fat head, now and then stroking the leaking slit. There was so much precum, he saw you swallow it again and again. Your hand was gently massaging his balls and his big palm was lying on your head, not pushing, just showing you how much he needed you at that moment. Joel was in heaven.

Soon you took all of him and your throat contracting around his length was the last straw. He was dangerously close to coming and painting your mouth creamy white. But he had other plans for you.

“Shit, baby,” he cupped your cheek and gently pulled you off his ready-to-explode cock, “you’re too fucking good at it. I won’t last. And I wanna..”

He lost his words as you were looking at him with sparkling eyes, full of understanding and warmth.

“Of course, Joel.” You slowly got up on your feet and took off your high heels. Then you padded to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Joel saw a few toys lying there and his heart started to beat faster when he imagined using them on you. Maybe he could suggest it, he mused inwardly, but when you started sliding your panties and bra off your body, he lost his train of thought.

Now completely naked you came up to him and placed your hands on his broad shoulders. Then you planted your knees on each side of him and got on his lap.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel said in a low voice as his hands found your hips and he rubbed your skin with his calloused thumbs.

You thanked him, smiling, and opened the package with your teeth. You brought the condom to his hard cock, slid it on and then got up on your knees, your pussy hovering over Joel’s tip.

You searched for his eyes and as soon as your eyes locked, you started sinking on his thick length.

Joel watched pleasure twisting your face while his cock was slowly parting your insides. He moaned at the sensation of your wet warm pussy welcoming him, grasped your hips tightly and when you took all of him, your ass was flush with his balls, you both loudly sighed.

“You feel so good, baby. So warm and tight.”

“Thank you, Joel. Your cock is so fucking big.”

He took a sharp breath, hearing you curse, and at the back of his mind he wondered if you said it to every client but he drove the thought away. He needed you too much.

Your breasts were right in front of his face and he asked, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess he was praying to.

“Is it ok if I kiss your body?”

“Yes, Joel, please. You can do anything to me.”

“Just not kiss your beautiful lips?”

“Joel,” you whined and he felt you clench around his hard cock.

He scolded himself for those words as soon as they left his stupid mouth. It was the thing you kept for yourself, he understood and accepted it but his desire drove him insatiable.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know it’s a rule. I understand it. It’s jus’ my brain doesn’t work properly, all the blood is down there.”

“Oh, right,” you softly giggled, “Let me shut you up then.”

You lifted your hips, making his cock almost leave the heaven of your cunt, but when the tip was close to slipping out, you sank back down on his manhood inch by inch, gliding your hands over his broad chest.

Joel’s mouth got slack and you both moaned at the ecstatic sensation of him, filling you up again.

With a groan Joel swiftly put his mouth on your breast and you whimpered when he swirled his tongue around your perky nipple. While he was gently sucking and licking your tits, you were languidly riding him, as soft whimpers were leaving your half parted mouth. At one point you nuzzled his forehead and your hot breath on his lips let him imagine you kiss him. His fingers dug into your hips but just for a second. Afraid to hurt you he glided them over your back and arms. He raised his lips to your neck and kissed your skin there.

Joel knew that he was getting close. His hand slithered to your pussy and he slipped his thumb between your folds. He found your clit hardened and throbbing for attention. He began stroking it slowly and you reacted immediately with the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Joel,” you breathed out and he clenched his jaw, trying not to explode right then and there.

“Want you to come on my cock, baby.”

You stopped bouncing on his member and he saw you furrow your brows in concentration.

He made his thumb dance faster over your bud and soon your pussy was pulsating around his cock. Your contracting walls sent him over the edge and he started coming, filling up the condom inside you. Oh, how he wished to paint your walls with his creamy load but rules are rules.

As you both started descending from your highs, panting heavily, Joel held you in his big arms and you rested on his broad chest. You were breathing into the crease between his neck and shoulder and at one point he thought you’d fallen asleep.

But the next second you sat up straight on his lap with a satisfied smile. You gently kissed his scruffy cheek and he tried not to purr like a happy cat.

You cuddled a little bit more but soon his time was over.

“Can I see you again?” He asked when you got out of the bed.

“I’d love to, Joel,” you replied, putting on your underwear, “Text me when you have a day in mind.”

You looked like you wanted to say something but stopped yourself. You put on your clothes, kissed his cheek again and left.

After the first time with you Joel knew immediately it wasn’t the last. The need to have you, to be with you again squeezed his heart as soon as that hotel door closed behind you. But he wasn’t rich. He couldn’t spend all his money on you. So he started saving up here and there, anything he could, without damaging the level of life of his daughter.

He texted you as soon as he had enough to pay you and you told him that your regulars got a discount which was a nice surprise for him.

Joel invited you to his place. Sarah was at a sleepover and he had the house for himself for a night. He needed just a couple of hours, no way he could afford a whole night with you.

When you arrived at his place, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a tank top, his mouth immediately started watering. He tried to be a gentleman and a good host and gave you a tour of the house, but when you stepped into his bedroom, all his decency came crashing down. Soon your jeans were discarded on the floor while his head was between your trembling thighs. Joel was licking up your juices straight from the source, grunting into your wet cunt and fucking his tongue into your clenching hole. He was fully clothed, grinding his hard cock against the bed and staining his gray sweatpants.

You were singing for him so beautifully when he began plunging his thick fingers in and out of your heat while his mouth was gently sucking on your throbbing clit. Your back was arched and your hands were clutching his dark curls. He curled his fingers, pushing on that soft spot inside your creaming pussy once, twice and you came, crying out his name, while your walls were fluttering around his digits.

When he parted from your puffy glistening cunt, he saw tears in your hazy eyes. Joel was happy he still got it but what filled his chest with pride was that he made you cry and writhe with ecstasy.

"I'm here, baby. You did so good for me," Joel praised you, climbing up the bed and taking you in his arms. You were trying to catch your breath and he gave you a respite, manhandling you so your head would be resting on his broad shoulder.

"Thank you, Joel, you didn't have to," you mumbled.

"Have to? Sweetheart, it was my pleasure."

He heard your giggle, followed by a content sigh. His hard cock was tenting his gray sweatpants but he didn't care. He was happy to hold you, breathe in the fruity scent of your hair, and when a few minutes later he saw you peacefully sleeping in his embrace, his heart almost burst with affection. He closed his eyes for a second and drifted off too.

Joel woke up in the middle of the night when he felt you move in your sleep. He must have woken you up as you started to shuffle next to him and then sat up straight.

“Fuck! I fell asleep?” You asked, eyes widened, covering your naked thighs with a bedspread.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel. It’s never happened before. Oh my god, it’s so unprofessional.”

He hastily sat up next to you, taking your hands in his.

“Hey, no. It’s ok. I loved sleeping with you— next to you.”

He smiled, leaning closer to you and rubbing your hands with his thumbs, trying to reassure you and it seemed to work because you gave him an apologetic smile but he felt you relax a little.

“I won’t take any money from you today.”

“No, you spent so much time with me. I owe you even more.”

“Joel, you ate me out, made me come, and then I fell asleep. I definitely don’t deserve to get paid,” you giggled. “The way I see it I owe you now.”

“I’ll think about the career change,” Joel chuckled and at the same time he felt his cock get harder when you talked about the oral. The arousal he had felt before falling asleep came back with a renewed force and swept him away.

He wasn’t smiling anymore, his gaze slid up and down your body and the air in the room got heavier.

“What did you like the most?” he asked as his eyes darkened.

Your breath hitched and even in the dim light of the room he saw your pupils dilate. You dropped your gaze for a second and when you raised your eyes, they were filled with need and desire.

“I loved how much you enjoyed it. How good you were. It felt amazing when your mouth was on my clit. When you were sucking it,” you bit your lip almost shyly and your words went straight to his cock.

You whispered, “Should I go or…?”

“I wanna fuck you,” Joel interrupted you, palming his stiffening bulge, and you quickly nodded before throwing away the bedspread and taking off your top. Your tits bounced as you straddled him and he wrapped his big arms around your naked body.

Joel let you take off his shirt and when your lips latched onto his neck he held you closer and flipped you on the bed, covering you with his body.

You gasped at the fast shift but then moaned when Joel pulled his cock out of his sweatpants.

It was already hard as a rock and wet with precum under his fingers. He gave it a few pumps to spread it over his heated skin.

“Shit, condoms.”

He hastily reached to grab a pack from the nightstand. He opened one, while your fingers were caressing him, dancing over his torso and arms. As soon as the protection was on, you pulled him closer and he pushed his length into you without any warning. He had already stretched you with his tongue and fingers so his tip easily slipped into your crying hole.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” Joel breathed out and started rolling his hips. His lips were caressing every spot he could reach and you were kissing his shoulders and neck.

Without pausing he braced his hands on the bed, hovering over you, his dark gaze locked with yours. He wanted to memorize every lip bite, every twitch of your brows when his cock was sliding in and out your needy cunt. You were so wet for him, he felt your juices on his balls and inner thighs and he closed his eyes trying not to come too soon.

“Look at me, Joel,” you purred and he immediately did what you asked. Your gaze slid from his dark eyes to his lips and it took everything from him not to kiss you right now.

He leaned down and instead gently kissed your heated cheek, leaving a wet spot on your soft skin. With a whimper you wrapped your legs around his waist and started grinding your hips, chasing your orgasm by rubbing your little clit against his pubic bone.

“Do ya wanna come, sweetheart?

“Only if you want me to, Joel,” you breathed out and he furrowed his brows, reminded of the nature of your relationship.

“ ‘course I do.”

With that he pulled away from you and sat up on his knees between your sweaty thighs. “Let me…,” he pulled out and you whined.

“Oh, baby, so impatient.”

You bit your lip with a sly smile but Joel quickly wiped it off your face when he took the condom off and asked,

“Can I slap your pretty pussy with my cock, sweetheart?” He gripped his cock at the base, squeezing it a little to postpone his climax and when you whispered a sultry ‘yes’ he slapped your clit with the tip of his throbbing length.

“Oh my god, Joel!” you cried out with a jerk, looking up at him with your brows pulled together and eyes rolling back.

“You like it?” He asked and when you nodded he started slapping your pulsating bud with his cock again and again until he saw some slick, seeping out of your clenching hole. He rubbed his red tip against it, coating his manhood with your juices, and began grinding it between your folds. His tip was bumping into your clit rhythmically and your taut muscles told him that you were close to your climax.

“Come for me, baby, please,” he asked softly and slapped your clit one more time. A jolt of pleasure made you shut your eyes and a loud moan escaped your lips. Wanting to prolong your orgasm and chasing his, Joel pressed his tip to your clit with his hand and started thrusting his cock, rubbing your twitching clit and at the same time massaging his whole length against your soft pussy and his own palm.

The overwhelming sensation, your sweet sounds and the sight of you coming in his bed made him explode and he began spurting creamy ropes of cum on your belly and sternum. He growled when a few drops landed on your bouncing breasts.

When you both stilled and the ecstasy started dissipating he sat down on his heels and watched you for a few seconds.

Joel wanted to remember that image- you, beautiful and satisfied, eyes shut, chest and belly heaving, was splayed on his bed, body glistening with sweat and cum. The happiness soon mixed with regret and the feeling of longing for more, wishing you were really truly his tightened his chest. But the reality was cruel. You didn’t need a single father in your life, you were free and your whole life was ahead of you.

Your curious gaze interrupted his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about, Joel?” You asked with a warm smile.

“I'm thinking my bed has never looked better than now.”

Your smile turned into a grin and you started to sit up but Joel stopped you with a raised hand.

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart.”

He went to the bathroom to get a wet towel and then gently wiped away his cum off your skin.

Before you left, he hugged you, breathing in the scent of your hair one more time and you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

You kept seeing each other for another month. Joel preferred his place to hotels and whenever he had the house for himself and got enough spare money, he would text you. In his own home it was easier to imagine you as his girlfriend, or even wife. He knew that it wasn’t healthy and he was getting a little delusional but it made him happy to think that you were his. If only in his dreams.

Sometimes Joel would literally dream about you. He’d wake up hard, yearning for your touch, your lips on his body, your gentle fingers running through his hair. It was easy to imagine you there with him. His hand would pump his needy cock and the image of you behind his eyelids was enough to make him come, groaning into his pillow.

As time passed Joel got more confident in expressing his desires. The possibilities were endless and you always looked excited whenever he suggested trying something new.

Like the time your eyes glinted with mischief when he asked if he could edge you the next time. Just the idea of making you beg for a climax made him rock hard. So during your next session he had you tied to his bed, as you were whimpering and pleading for a release, a vibrator in his hand pressed to your puffy clit. Though he caved in quite fast and finished you off with his thick fingers massaging your core, his teasing made you squirt and Joel lapped it all up with the wildest eyes and an aching cock. You returned the favor by drinking him till the last drop after he shoved his cock down your throat keeping you in place with his hands clutching your hair.

He loved experimenting with you, loved being rougher. But more often he craved making love to you, wanted you softly purring under his big body, as his cock was buried deep inside your heat, your pussy fluttering around him. He still couldn’t kiss you but your neck, your breasts, your cheeks were enough for him. Yet he couldn’t deny it— he was down bad for you.

“What is it, baby?” Joel asked you, pulling away from your neck that he was peppering with open mouth kisses a moment ago.

You were sitting on his lap, wearing a pretty summer dress and his only thought was to tear it off you but when his hands started roaming your body, you jerked and sniffed.

“Nothing. Everything’s ok, Joel,” you replied softly and nuzzled his neck. He knew something was wrong and you were hiding your pretty face. During the time he had known you, he learnt to read your body language and even feel your mood. So Joel stopped his ministrations immediately and kissed the top of your head.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. If you want.”

For a few minutes, he was holding you in his arms, rubbing your forearm with his thumb. Finally you took a deep breath, not raising your head off his shoulder, and opened up.

“I had a session with a new client yesterday. It was horrible.”

As soon as he heard your soft voice, saying that, his insides burned.

“Who? What did he do to you?”

He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up to face him.

When he saw tears in your eyes, he immediately wanted to rip that asshole apart. But your expression told him that you needed him to be gentle, to be there with you and he wanted to give you that.

“He was really degrading. Clients want it sometimes but it hadn’t been discussed and the things he said— made me feel like a cheap hooker. He didn’t hurt me though,” you added hastily but Joel saw that he had. Not physically but that fucker had made you really upset.

“I should talk some sense into the asshole. Can you give me his name?”

“No, no,” you were shaking your head, “I can’t. It’s all confidential. I’ll get over it and won’t see him again of course.”

You took a deep breath before mumbling,

“I’m sorry for ruining the mood.”

Then you reached for his belt buckle but Joel’s hand stopped you and he placed your hands between his big palms.

“No, you’re not in the mood. It’s ok. Can we just cuddle?

“But— I will be in a second. I’m professional, Joel.” You shot him almost a fiery glance and pouted your lips.

“Hey, baby, your client here—,” Joel pointed a thumb at himself with raised eyebrows and a sly smile, “wants to role play a big spoon tonight. Can we do that?”

“You’re so kinky”, you said with a giggle and lay down on the bed. In a second he was holding you, his chest pressed to your back, his strong arms embracing you, giving you comfort.

He was semi hard and surely you noticed it. He felt the warmth of your skin through the thin material of your dress and it drove him insane but the way you flinched at his touch, your tears, your shaky voice told him you wanted him to just hold you. For the second time you fell asleep in his arms and he woke you up with a kiss on your soft cheek the next morning.

Another month passed. As weird as it might have sounded, you became a huge part of his life. He knew every crevice, every curve of your body, knew every hope and dream. He kissed every spot on you, except for your beautiful lips. He tasted them a million times in his imagination but with time it stopped being enough. So he decided to invite you to celebrate his birthday with his family and the closest friends and finally ask you out on a real date.

Joel was nervous when you stepped into his house that day. Tommy raised his eyebrows, surprised to see you there, but fortunately didn’t ask or say anything. You seemed anxious as well at first, but after introducing you to everyone, Joel was happy to notice you chatting with the other guests, giggling with Sarah about something and when his daughter pulled you upstairs to show you her drawings, warmth spread in his chest. He was glad and relieved that you two got along. He wasn’t looking for a mother for his child, he would never ask you to take such a responsibility, but it was important to him that you two could be friends.

Just before dessert you asked him if you could talk privately. Tommy gave Joel a wink, lips twisted in a smirk, when you two headed upstairs, and the older brother just rolled his eyes.

When you stepped into Joel’s bedroom, his cock twitched in his jeans. It was a Pavlovian reflex at this point. He was used to seeing you there naked, your gorgeous body wriggling in his bed, whimpers and moans escaping your mouth.

But Joel told himself to calm down when you came up to him with a serious expression on your pretty face.

“Joel…,” you started and dropped your eyes, fumbling with your fingers.

“Yes, baby?” His heart started pounding in his chest. Always calm and self assured you seemed really nervous and the change scared him. What if you decided to break off whatever weird relationship you two had, what if…

You interrupted his thoughts when you raised your face to him and a little shy smile tugged at your lips.

“I want to give you your birthday present.”

He opened his mouth to say that you hadn’t have to do it, seeing you there was enough but he paused when you inched closer, your big sparkling eyes staring right into his soul. Then your gaze slid down to his lips and Joel seemed to stop breathing. He felt your palms on his forearms and then you slightly pressed your lips to his. They were barely there at first, hesitant, waiting for him to react.

He had been imagining that moment, dreaming of it for so long, so his hands immediately flew to your waist and he pressed his body closer to yours, welcoming your kiss with his whole being.

Joel’s lips started moving against yours, gently and slowly as if he was afraid to scare you away, to ruin the moment. But when he heard you sigh happily against him and your body relaxed into his, Joel wrapped his arms tightly around your torso. He wished that moment to last forever, wanted to never have to let you go.

His tongue brushed your lower lip, asking for permission to breach the last divide between you two, and you graced him by opening your mouth and letting him taste you fully. His tongue was caressing yours while his hands were gliding over your back. Then Joel gently cupped your cheek and tilted his head to give you the best kiss he could. You were so sweet and soft, so warm and lovely on his tongue and he didn’t care that you could probably feel his cock swell against your belly. Your ability to make him hard in seconds was not a secret to the both of you and he bucked his hips against your body with a soft groan.

Joel felt your smile on his lips and playfully squeezed your ass cheeks.

You giggled, your mouth parting from his.

“Happy birthday, Joel,” you whispered, putting your head on his shoulder and nuzzling his neck.

“Thank you for the best birthday present, baby.”

Joel kissed your forehead and you fluttered your eyes shut with a happy smile.

“Sweetheart?” he called.

“Yes.”

“Will you have dinner with me?”

You lifted your head and your eyes locked.

“Like— on a date?”

“Yes.”

Your lips twisted into the widest grin he’d seen on you and you nodded.

“Really?” he asked, making sure that he was really that lucky, “Fuck, I know I’m not a catch. My life is chaotic and I’m a single dad and…”

“Shh,” you placed your finger on his lips and said softly, “I’d love to date you, Joel Miller.”

Joel beamed at you and embraced you in a tight hug.

“I quit escort,” you murmured against his chest and Joel furrowed his brows.

“Is it because of me? Sweetheart, I’d never ask you to quit your job. If you like it I won’t …”

“I don’t. I don’t like it anymore. After that guy I realized I wanna do something else.”

“Ok. Whatever you decide, baby,” he said and then added with a little smile, “I can still pay you though.”

You laughed at him and playfully punched his shoulder. “Shut up, Joel.”

He took your face between his big palms, marveling at your beautiful face, and whispered, “You know how to shut me up, baby.”

You smiled and pressed your lips to his.

Joel opened his eyes to see the early morning sun peeking through the blinds and your face twisted in pleasure just before his. He soon realized that your wet warm pussy was wrapped around his hard cock and you were slowly grinding against him, lying on your side, face to face, your leg thrown over his waist.

He moaned at the sudden pleasure and you noticed that he was up.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, honey. I just— I wanted you so much I couldn’t stop myself.”

You were breathing heavily and he wrapped his arms around your naked body and began rolling his hips, helping you to reach your high and chasing his.

“Never apologize for this, baby. I woke up in heaven thanks to you.”

You smiled and kissed him while his hand slithered between your slightly sweaty bodies and he slid his thumb between your folds to stroke your hardened clit. He was swallowing your moans and tried to get his own ecstatic growling under control, not wishing to wake up Sarah.

Soon you both exploded in each other’s arms and Joel flooded your pussy with his warm cum while you were writhing and trembling with euphoria against him.

When your climax subsided, you rested your head on his shoulder. He was drawing patterns on your back until you lifted your head to give him one more kiss.

“Sarah wanted pancakes for breakfast. I’m gonna go make some batter,” you said, getting out of bed and putting on your robe.

“I’ll help you. Be up in a minute.”

You smiled at him and bent over to give him a peck on the cheek but he swiftly pulled you back into his embrace, searching for your lips. You giggled and soon melted into his arms, while he was kissing you, passion and love in every stroke of his lips and tongue.

You were his, fully and completely, and all the fears evaporated when he realized that you were the final puzzle piece, missing from his life. He would do anything to make you happy.

“I love you,” Joel whispered against your lips.

“I love you too,” you murmured back.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic, it motivates me to write more stories for you, lovelies!❤️

Masterlist

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[joelscruff]

a kindness you can't afford (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

kofi | a/n this is a sequel to my fic 'to freeze or to thaw', it's mainly just a lot of filth cause that's all my brain can handle at the moment lmao. pls be sure to check the warnings before reading & i hope you enjoy 💕 also shoutout to the incredible @toxicanonymity whose joel/reader/tommy fics inspired me to get tommy involved here. would highly recommend her fics stuffing & sweet little mess for a similar vibe. summary: there are no limits to how or when joel plays with his special girl. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dark!joel, ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, big unspecified age gap (reader is of legal age), unprotected p in v sex, creampies, free use, somnophilia, cockwarming, squirting, light pussy slapping, size kink (joel's dick is huge), tummy bulge, oral (m receiving), praise kink, dirty talk, pet names (use of 'little one'), finger sucking, exhibitionism, mentions of pregnancy (but no risk), lil bit of tommy x reader teasing 👀(if you don't like tommy x reader then you prob won't like this) word count: 4.1k

He's so kind.

You've never known kindness like this before; never known the soothing whispers and gentle praises, the calming touches, the satisfying taste of homemade soup on your tongue, the comfort of a roaring fire, made just for you. You've never known the warm embrace of a much older man, the strong arms and solid chest, greying hair and sharp scruff, soft belly and thick cock. You'd spent most of your life in a frightening QZ, the past few years in a cold and unforgiving forest, and now - the warm safety of a cabin.

Woken by the gentle caress of two fingers against your forehead, pushing your hair back gently, a kiss to your bare shoulder, the heat of his solid form behind you, and the press of his hot tip to your soft opening. He doesn't ask, but he doesn't need to.

He pushes inside and you hum sleepily, drifting in and out a little as he feeds you the rest of his cock in one slow movement. Your eyes flutter but you keep them closed, nuzzling against the fluff of your pillow as he pulls you in and presses his body to yours, the hair along his torso tickling the sensitive skin of your back as the throbbing tip of his cock kisses that special spot in your tummy. He's so big inside you, taking up so much space in your body that it's mind numbing.

"Go back to sleep," he murmurs, pulling more hair away from your face and trailing his fingers along your cheek soothingly. His big cock twitches inside you, but he doesn't move, stays still as he waits for you to drift back into unconsciousness.

And you do. But not for long.

You're woken what you're sure must only be a few moments later to the feeling of his cock throbbing within the furthest parts of you, pulsing thick spurts of cum deep inside your body as he holds you tight and groans raggedly in your ear. His fingers are suddenly working furiously against your clit, circling and rubbing and pressing and making you cry out sleepily into the dark cabin. With barely any awareness, you feel the hot coil in your lower belly snap - and you're gushing. You feel him tug his cock out of you at just the right moment, just as a steady stream of liquid makes it's way past your freshly fucked hole, and you squeal.

"Shhh, baby," he soothes, but you can hear the smile in his voice as he watches your juices stain the dark wooden floorboards, watches it drip down into the blankets and soak the cotton, "Shh, I know, I know."

You whimper and squeeze your fists together, releasing another stream of liquid as your eyes roll back. An unintelligible string of words slip past your lips, slurred and broken, almost like you're speaking another language. He pulls you in and hushes you again, presses a finger to your lips as you convulse beside him in the bed.

"That's enough now," he murmurs softly, kissing your cheek and still rubbing your clit, pushing for more, "That's enough, little one. Go back to sleep."

He says this to you as if you can even control your sounds, your movements, as if your pussy continuing to gush isn't a result of his own actions, but he already knows this. He enjoys it, likes watching you fight to regain proper consciousness again after you squirt, likes watching you try to stop it from happening. And god, does he love to make it happen.

"Can't, daddy," you mumble, voice thick with sleep and pleasure, brows furrowed as you open your eyes to look down and see where he's still circling, "Can't stop wh-when you rub it like that."

You feel him press a kiss to your ear, watch him pull his fingers back from your pussy and slap them down lightly, then again, then twice more in succession. Another small gush of liquid spurts from your hole after the fourth slap, and he chuckles.

"Sleep," he whispers, slowing his movements, "I'll stop now, promise."

So you do, and he does - not before slipping his wet fingers past your lips for you to gently suck as you drift. You vaguely hear him murmur Daddy's perfect girl before you're lost to the world again.

You dream of him, as you always do.

--

He learned very early on that you could squirt. It wasn't even something you were aware of yourself - how could you be? It's not like you'd had many sexual encounters before this, none of them ever worthwhile anyway, and you'd never had it happen to you on your own either. But it's somehow easy for Joel to make it happen, once he knows he can, so easy that now it's one of his favorite things to do when he plays with you.

The first time, you'd been more than surprised - and very confused. You'd been spread out naked between Joel's clothed legs, back against his chest while four of his thick fingers pumped deep inside of you, thumb tapping your clit. He'd crooked them, curved his fingertips in the slightest way - and suddenly there had been a gush of heat, a heavy stream of release. You'd thought you'd done something else, something that had your cheeks warming and embarrassment flooding through your body as you twitched and cried in his arms. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it was an accident.

He'd hushed you softly, kissed your lips tenderly and explained to you what it actually was.

"You're such a good girl," he'd praised, carefully easing your head into his lap and threading his fingers through your hair, eyes peering down at where your legs lay open, pussy still dripping, "Such a good girl with the sweetest little pussy, baby. Squirtin' just for me, just for her daddy, huh?"

You'd closed your eyes and let him hold you, soothe you, relax you. I know, little one. Did such a good job. M'so prouda you. Then he'd unzipped his jeans and fed his heavy cock into your mouth, let you suck on his leaking tip quietly for a few moments before he came down your throat with a long sigh, still stroking your hair. After you'd swallowed every drop, opened your mouth wide and showed him your clean tongue, he'd bundled you up and disappeared from the tent to make you dinner, off to fulfill that never-ending kindness and care he'd promised from the beginning. It had only been about a week since that first night where he'd first come into your tent, and you were already settling into the role of his special girl and doing it quite happily.

He'd made you squirt again later that night, had you shaking in his arms and gushing around his cock and close to tears, not because you were afraid or in pain but because it just felt so good. A relief, a release, a moment of bliss, all because of him. Your pussy had pushed his cock out of you with the pressure of your release, and you'd fallen back against him, sleepy and sated.

"Daddy," you'd whined, overstimulated and exhausted as he'd slipped his dick back inside your dripping heat, "Daddy, m'gonna fall asleep."

"That's okay, baby," he'd whispered, fucking into you slow with no plans of stopping, cock bulging in your trembling belly, "You can go to sleep."

You'd woken again a little later, warm in his arms, globs of cum drooling from your opening. You'd whimpered softly, reached down and touched where you were leaking, and - without even really thinking about it - gathered what he'd left there and pushed it back inside yourself before drifting back to sleep, safe against his chest.

--

The cabin you reside in is only temporary, though you wish you could stay longer. The group came across it in the early hours of yesterday morning, and you've spent most of that time naked in one of its four beds, sleepy and content among the warm sheets. It's been so long since you felt the comfort of a real bed, a soft mattress and thick blankets, and from the moment you passed the threshold Joel was adamant that you spend as much time in it as possible.

He's so kind.

He's been planning something with the others, an upcoming raid, a plan of attack, but you don't pay much attention to those things. When it all goes down, Joel has assured you that you won't be anywhere near the carnage, still safe and warm in the cabin until his return.

"Need you safe, little one," he'd told you softly last night, fingers scratching soothingly across your bare back, "Can't have anythin' happenin' to you." He'd kissed you tenderly, whiskers tickling your lips and making you giggle. "You'll stay here with Tommy, he'll take care o' you."

"Tommy?" you'd asked curiously, unsure which member of the group he was referring to.

"My number two." He'd brushed his nose against yours, touching his index finger to your bottom lip and tugging gently, "Don't worry, baby. I trust him."

"Okay, Daddy."

You can hear his muffled voice now through the door of your room, though you can't make out what he's saying. He's addressing the group, going over plans, but you're sleepy and have been in and out of consciousness for most of the afternoon, lost in the comfort of your warm bed. It's only when you hear someone say the girl, that your ears prick up, brows furrowing as soon as you realize they're talking about you.

Only seconds later there's a light tap on your door and you sit up in bed, gathering the sheets around yourself as it opens. You peer wide eyed at one of the other men of the group, standing there with a hand on his hip and his head tilted charmingly to the side. He's very handsome, dark haired and mustached and from what you've seen, always pretty well put together. You think this one is Tommy, the number two, but you're still not entirely sure.

"Your daddy needs you, sweetheart," he says calmly, though his eyes tell a different story - he looks at you hungrily, like they all do, gaze going glassy and dark. "He asked me to help you get dressed."

"Oh," you whisper, nodding slowly, "Okay." Knowing it's what Joel wants, you let the sheets drop, and now the man you think is Tommy can see that you're completely naked on the bed, exposed and soft. It's nothing new or alarming - Joel has not been discreet when it comes to your relationship, and you're no stranger to the men taking peeks at you, peering inside your tent when Joel's not there, watching the rise and fall of your breasts as you pretend to be asleep.

You watch as this man's eyes fall to your pussy, and you can't explain why it throbs beneath his gaze.

"He just wants you in a dress," he murmurs, leaning down and assessing the few garments folded near the bed that make up your incredibly simple wardrobe; two dresses, two shirts, one pair of jeans. He picks the warmer dress, the blue one with long sleeves, which you greatly appreciate; the cabin may be warm, but it's still the middle of winter.

He approaches the bed with a smile, unfolding the dress.

"Arms up, sweetheart," he says softly, and you obey. You wait for him to help guide your arms and head through but he doesn't, instead opting to stand there for a moment just looking at you. His eyes are glued to your breasts, smile still curving his lips as he reaches out and very gently strokes the side of one with his knuckle. You shiver.

"You're so pretty, honey," he murmurs, trailing his finger up and down slowly, just shy of your nipple, "You know that?"

You nod slowly, eyes hooded and arms still extended, "I- I think so."

His thumb finds your nipple and rubs it gently, bringing it to life under his fingertips. "Your daddy's been takin' real good care of ya, hasn't he?" he asks quietly, circling the hardening nub, "In a lotta ways."

You nod again, aware of a slow trickle of warmth beginning to pool between your legs, and unsure whether what's happening right now is something Joel would want. "Y-yeah."

"Heard him fuckin' you to sleep last night," he breathes, and the words send another throb to your pussy, "He was all up in your guts, wasn't he?" His hand suddenly moves from your breast to your bare tummy, and he palms the soft skin there delicately, "Right here?" You nod again and he smiles.

"You make the prettiest little sounds when you're gettin' fucked like that, babygirl."

His praises send tingles up and down your spine like Joel's do, as well as a blooming warmth to your cheeks. "Thank you," you whisper, unsure what else to say to such a statement.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." As he says it, the fingers on your stomach trail downward a little bit to rest on your mound. He strokes the skin there gently, thumb dipping low to brush against your outer lips. "Soft little pussy," he murmurs, smiling kindly at you again, "You like havin' this all filled up, honey?"

You nod again, still unsure the point of his questioning, of his touches, but also not really wanting him to stop. A quiet whimper slips past your lips when you feel the tip of his thumb lightly brush past your clit and prod very gently against your hole. There's no way he doesn't feel the sudden wetness there, the slow drip of stickiness and the warmth of your arousal, as well the faint remnants of Joel's cum still leaking from where he'd fucked you a few hours ago - he hums quietly, unsurprised.

"Yeah, you like bein' full," he breathes, that dark glint returning to his gaze as his thumb just barely pushes inside, "Y'like bein' used."

It's not a question, but you nod anyway.

He suddenly removes his hand from your pussy and finally helps you with your dress, pulling it down over your arms and shoulders and helping you stand on wobbly legs. With another kind smile, he brings his hand up and gently brushes your cheek.

"So pretty, babygirl" he repeats quietly, "Like a little angel, ain't ya?" He suddenly presses his thumb gently against your mouth, lightly prodding for entrance, and without much thought you allow him to slip it inside; it tastes like your arousal. Eyes sleepy and pussy throbbing, you suck on his thumb obediently, as if it's just second nature to do so.

"Christ," he mutters, watching your lips as you suckle around his thick thumb, "Now that's a good girl."

"Tommy!" Joel's voice from the other room suddenly shouts, and the man who you now know for sure to be Tommy - the man who Joel is planning on leaving you with during the raid - quickly pulls his thumb from your wet mouth.

"Come on, sweetheart," he says, smiling crookedly, "Let's go see what your daddy wants."

--

There are five other men in Joel's group, from what you've gathered, including Tommy. Four of whom currently stand in a half circle in the front room of the cabin, arms crossed, boots tapping, attention directed at Joel who sits in a dusty armchair in the corner of the room. They all turn to look at you when the bedroom door opens, and watch with those familiar glazed expressions as Tommy brings you to their leader.

Joel's serious expression grows soft when he sees you, a small smile gracing his lined face. He peers at you, crooks his fingers. Without needing to be asked, Tommy carefully hoists you up into Joel's lap. His thumbs linger for a moment on your waist, a small stroke so quick you're not sure Joel notices - you're not sure you want him to - and then he's pulling away to stand beside the chair, asserting the role of number two.

It only takes a few seconds for you to realize that Joel's cock is out, hidden beneath the thick cotton of his jacket, out of sight. With no hesitation you wrap your arms around his neck and open your legs, laying your face against his shoulder and sighing contentedly when you feel his tip notch at your wet entrance. Not fully hard yet, he pushes inside carefully, subtly, and you ease yourself down just as quietly to sheathe him inside of you. You close your eyes and nuzzle into the warmth of his coat, already feeling the soft weight of him begin to stiffen.

You've done this before. Sometimes when he's overwhelmed, in over his head, needing to be grounded, he likes to have you sit on it. The first time it happened you weren't sure how to feel, self conscious with the other members of the group staring and knowing that you were full of him, soft whimpers escaping your mouth with every small movement or jostle. It's okay, little one, Joel had whispered, barely audible, you just focus on me.

Now, it's second nature. You can feel their eyes on your back and you know they can tell what's happening beneath Joel's coat. But now you find that you don't really care.

He starts talking then, continues whatever it was he was discussing before you left the bedroom. It becomes white noise almost immediately, your eyelashes fluttering as you bury your face further into his shoulder and focus on the feeling of his thick cock growing large inside of you. You love the way it stretches you, pushes, begins to prod up and against your cervix. It pulses and twitches within your walls and you squeeze down on him tighter, mewling a little without really meaning to.

At your noise you suddenly hear a soft chuckle from directly beside the armchair. You open your eyes halfway, looking up sleepily at Tommy who's still standing to your left. He smiles at you like he did before, a twinkle in his eye, and then winks. He obviously knows what's going on - standing so close, there's no way he didn't see you settle onto Joel's cock.

You peer back at him, blinking your eyes slowly and tightening your arms around Joel's neck. He tilts his head, and you suddenly let a smile turn up the corners of your lips. Look Tommy, you almost want to whisper, he's all up in my guts, like you said. You're not sure why you feel so unbothered under Tommy's gaze, why you don't yearn for him to look away like the others and for him to pretend it's not happening. There's a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can't explain, that you don't want to explain.

You stay settled like that on Joel's cock for about fifteen minutes, letting the deep voices of the men around you fade into the background. You close your eyes again but you can still feel Tommy's eyes on you, watching, assessing. Every now and then Joel carefully adjusts you, driving himself a little deeper each time, sending tiny bursts of pleasure throughout your body as your pussy leaks around the intrusion. If Tommy were to lift you up again you know there'd be a dark spot at the front of your dress, a trail of slick on Joel's coat.

One particular adjustment moves the edge of the lining of Joel's coat between your folds, coming to rub against your clit, and without any warning you feel yourself start to come. Your soft cry interrupts the voices of the group, a hush of silence suddenly blanketing the room as you tighten around Joel's cock and gush around him, shaking in his embrace. His arms come up to hold you close, rubbing your back soothingly.

You look up at Tommy again and find that his eyes are hooded as he watches you, lips parted and brow furrowed with what can only be arousal as he watches you fall apart on another man's cock.

"Christ," you hear one of the men murmur, and you feel heat flush your cheeks and ears, the self consciousness returning in full swing as you come down from your orgasm, burying your face in Joel's coat once again.

"Not a fuckin' word, Perry" Joel states, voice firm.

The conversation continues like nothing happened, and you try to let the sudden embarrassment you feel dissipate as much as possible despite still being impaled on Joel's length. You nuzzle against the warmth of his neck, sighing and trying to get your breathing back to normal. Your cunt continues to spasm around him in small twitches, aftershocks, soft whimpers still falling from your lips unconsciously. It doesn't take long for the sounds and sensations to set him off, and there's another lull in the discussion as Joel tenses underneath you and starts to come.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you hear the same voice from before mutter, but his commentary is suddenly lost beneath a soft groan from Joel as his cock twitches inside you. It pulses warmly, thick bursts of cum painting your insides. You gasp softly and squeeze your thighs against his, letting him fill you up in slow and steady spurts, claiming you. Daddy's special girl.

There's a moment of silence, a deep sigh from Joel, and you wait with the rest of the group for him to speak.

"You wanna say that again?" he finally says, voice gruffer this time but stern and serious, as if he didn't just come inside you in front of a room full of his men, "Huh, Perry? You wanna fuckin' say that again?"

Another beat of silence. Then-

"I'm just sayin'," the man named Perry grumbles somewhere behind you, "Aren't you worried you're gonna get her pregnant? I mean, Jesus Christ, Joel, we don't need another fuckin' mouth to feed."

The words send a shockwave through your body, eyes widening.

"And where the fuck do you get off tellin' me what I can and can't do?" Joel asks angrily. His body has gone stiff beneath you but you think you've gone equally as stiff against him, Perry's words suddenly circling over and over again throughout your mind.

Pregnant? Could you be pregnant?

"I don't know if y'all remember," Joel says coldly, "but back in my day there was a little thing called a fuckin' vasectomy. Need me to explain it?"

"Oh, fuck off, Miller."

You suddenly find yourself peering upwards again at Tommy, eyes still wide as Joel and Perry start to have a go at each other. He looks at you once, brows scrunching together when he sees the sudden look of shock in your expression, the confusion, the fear.

"We've all been thinkin' it," Perry is saying, voice slightly shaky in his anger, "It's a valid fuckin' concern."

"Well now it ain't a concern at all," Tommy suddenly jumps in, hands clenching into fists at his sides, "She ain't gettin' pregnant, he's shootin' blanks."

His protectiveness sends another confusing feeling of warmth to that pit in your stomach. Your heart is pounding as you continue to peer up at him, eyes still wide, and he shoots you a soft look of reassurance before turning his attention back to Joel.

"Don't know why you had to have her in the fuckin' first place," Perry spits, "She's just some fuckin' girl. And now we gotta stand around and watch you fuck her all the time? It's fuckin' sick."

Joel stands suddenly, almost like he's forgotten you're sitting in his lap, jostling you to the side as his cock slips out of you. You take a step backwards, finding yourself bumping into Tommy's solid form as Joel zips up his jeans and tilts his head from side to side, bones cracking loudly in the tense room. You can finally see this Perry now, a much younger man with dark hair, standing a few feet away. He's thin, almost gaunt looking.

Joel could kill him so easily if he wanted to.

But he doesn't. Instead, he reaches down and takes your hand, pulls you away from the group and back toward the cabin bedroom. He mutters something under his breath to Tommy in passing, something you can't make out, and as he ushers you inside the room you hear the heavy shuffling of boots as the men are lead back out into the snow.

--

He explains to you what a vasectomy is.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Wrapped up in warm bedsheets again, you close your eyes and nuzzle against his chest, letting his large form crowd and comfort you, his arms firm around your waist. You can feel his cum starting to drip from you under your dress, making a mess of your thighs.

"I don't like the way he talked to you, daddy," you whisper like it's a secret, voice hushed and muffled against his coat, "I didn't like it at all."

He sighs, pulls you in closer and presses a kiss to the top of your head. "I'll take care of it, little one," he murmurs softly, a sense of finality in his quiet words, "Don't you worry your pretty little head."

He's so kind.

[rhosgobelbun]

steve's been knocking on doors trying to find eddie. he would be annoyed that all he's found are couples and groups in states of undress but this is some random house party, so it's what steve expects.

plus he's too relieved that he hasn't walked in on eddie being a part of any of it.

steve knows it's gross to feel this way. he trusts eddie 100%. it's not right to let past relationship problems cloud his judgement when it comes to what he has with eddie - who hasn't given him any reason to doubt.

but eddie is so new. been together for only 2 months now new.

and tommy was so old. childhood friend/fucked up situationship for 10 long years old. just ended for good a year and a half ago old.

so even though he knows, hopes, prays, that it's ridiculous to compare the two together, steve still checks the bathroom and makes sure the man on his knees in front of some blonde cheerleader isn't his boyfriend.

and then promptly ducks down to avoid a brush the blonde cheerleader throws at him.

'sorry!' steve apologizes. he hurries to slam the door closed and makes his way to the very last room at the end of the hallway.

maybe he left? eddie didn't want to serve here anyway, rich druggie clientele be damned. so even though they came together, maybe eddie had an emergency and-

steve cuts that thought off because well. he found eddie.

'baby!!' his boyfriend exclaims, alone, sitting on the floor in the middle of some random strangers room with a jar of peanut butter. he's got a spoon full of it half way up to his mouth and his eyes are red.

at least 4 brownies deep red.

the wave of relief he feels is actually pretty concerning, but steve will think about that some other time since he's too busy trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the long haird idiot looks.

'eddie, what are you doing?'

eddie looks guilty and for a split second steve thinks maybe he did walk in on eddie with someone else. (maybe he's waiting on them? maybe they already left?)

then eddie holds up the jar of peanut butter and says in the saddest voice, 'i needed it stevie, i don't remember how long it's been since i've had peanut butter. but i didn't think you'd find me! stay back! don't you come any closer!'

so this whole time while steve's been worried that eddie was off doing what tommy used to do to make him jealous, eddie just snuck off and hid away to eat peanut butter because steves' allergic.

starting to snicker, steve goes to sit across from him. 'i can be around it babe, im not gonna die.'

eddie rushes to close the jar, spoon shoved inside and all. he gives steve the stink eye. 'i know what peanut allergies can do to some people. i refuse to watch you blow up like a tomato.'

steve rolls his eyes and reaches out, acting like he's gonna touch the jar.

eddie yells. jumping to his feet, he scurries out of the closet like an over grown rat, 'steve harrington this is exactly why I was trying to eat this away from you!'

steves laughing now, giggling like a hyena. he can't believe he ever doubted this man.

later that night - after eddie has showered and brushed his teeth at least three times - when they're tucked away in eddies room under the covers, steve talks to him about his freak out. eddie apologizes for leaving him alone at a strangers party like that. he holds him close, gives steve a ton of kisses and promises to create a DND character that represents tommy.

'i'll turn him into a toad and kill him off in the most gruesome way imaginable. he'll be murdered to death, the kids will be traumatized. it'll be great. just you wait and see, my love.'

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: discussion of past abuse, Simon’s trauma Request: take your baby to work day

You're wide eyed at the front door.

"You sure you guys will be alright?" Your voice is clear, but your hand trembles on the door handle, bottom lip tugged across your teeth.

"We'll be okay sweetheart. But if you're uncomfortable, or it's too much, you should take him-"

"No, no. I'm fine. You're not supposed to bring the baby to OB appointments anyway. It's frowned upon." You roll your eyes, tipping up to kiss Ry on the cheek. "Just... don't let anyone breathe on him, or kiss him, okay? His immune system is still fragile compared to ours. I packed you like, three bottles so hopefully he'll take them if he gets hungry. Text me if-"

"Mama." He holds Orion in one arm, and grabs your hand with the other. You're frightened, and stressed, and he's driven to comfort you, the need to soothe you throbbing across his skull. "I've got this. We'll be just fine. Text me when you're done. Get yourself a tea or something afterwards, alright? Everything is going to be okay." You nod.

"Right, of course. You're... you're right. And you're going to a military base, I doubt there's a safer place around."

"C'mere." He tugs you into his side, and you wrap your arms around his stomach, nestling in opposite Orion. "I need you to do something f'me."

"What?"

"I need you to swear to me you'll tell your doctor about the dizzy spells." There's been a reminder card about your twelve week postpartum appointment on the fridge for two weeks now, and after you finally confessed you have been getting dizzy since Orion was born, and one time had even fallen, he decided to skip several steps by making the appointment for you. You were... not pleased, but he made it very clear, he's not playing a game with your health. He's planning his battles strategically now, putting pieces in play slowly, working towards his larger goal, but this was something he refused to compromise on.

"Okay." You whisper, burying your face in his chest. "I will." He lands a kiss to the top of your head.

"We'll see you soon. It'll be over before you know it, and maybe we can get a takeaway for dinner?" Your lips crack into a toothy smile.

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright, lad. Let's go see daddy's team." Orion stares at him, brown eyes curious, and watchful. He’s still not used to it, this feeling. This life, with you and his baby. Everyday, he has to stop to ground himself, anchor himself. Break from the cycle of a downward spiral, obsessive thoughts playing with his mind, counting down the million and one ways he could lose you, or fail you, or both. He’s careful, he’s diligent, he’s in control. He’d never make a mistake like he did before, the error of judgement that cost him his mother, his brother and his family-

But the incessant fear never ceases.

Fortunately, his anchor now is you. You, when you let him carry you to bed, when you watch him rock Orion to sleep as you stand in the doorway, you who curls up next to him on the couch now, fingers curled into his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear. Your touch heals. Your words comfort. He can't fathom a future without you, or Ry, now.

If he thinks back on it, he wonders if he knew all along. If all the things he felt the night he met really meant forever, just like he had wished. A fantasy turned reality-

to have and to hold.

His stomach turns, wondering if his father ever felt this, if he ever loved, or if he was always just a monster, the ouroboros of victim turned abuser, the man who terrorized his mother, his brother and himself, long past the time Simon finally tore him to pieces, cracked his ribs, beat him into the ground.

Tommy broke the cycle, and from the moment he laid eyes on his son he knew.... he would too.

Price's secretary looks like she's seen an actual ghost. "Hey, Lindsey. Is he in?" She's staring, flicking back and forth to Orion and then up to his face, mouth slightly agape.

"Y-yeah he's..." she points over her shoulder at his closed door. "Lieutenant, did you... is that... is that your baby?" He nods, mouth curving into a proud smile, stepping close enough so she can get a good look at him. She almost jerks back, clearly not used to being so close to him. He's been here and there, off and on base all week catching up on a backlog of reports, but hasn't said a word to anyone, and he keeps everyone on base at arm's length except the 141.

"It is." Her shocked expression melts, hesitantly reaching her pointer finger towards Ry, allowing him to wrap it up in his chubby little fist. "This is Orion." She smiles at him, and then the baby, kindly.

"He's beautiful." She excuses herself when the phone rings, and he settles the tension burning between his shoulder blades. He didn't mentally prepare for this moment, didn't believe he had to. The expectation of Price's acceptance was assumed but now, his trepidation is a surprise.

He told his captain he needed to take leave for something really important, but never said for what. All he told him is that he'd loop him in soon, and that he was sorry he wouldn't be available for the next op. If John was curious, he didn't let him know, didn't push him for more info, didn't pester him. He just sent the forms to Simon's email to be filled out with a postscript:

Looking forward to hearing what this is all about.

And when Simon crosses the threshold of his office, baby in one arm, backpack stuffed with nappies and bottles in the other-

John Price laughs.

It's not the huff of a chuckle that Kate usually gets out of him, or the rolling guffaw that he gives the guys sometimes when he's particularly amused.

No, this is different. It starts in his belly and then rolls upwards, all the way until his shoulders are shaking and he's wiping his eyes.

Simon scowls, and John holds both his hands up, palms out. Surrender. "This is a good enough reason as any to take a chunk of all that leave saved up." He stands, stepping around to get a closer look. "What's his name then?"

"Orion." John nods thoughtfully. The backs of his fingers brush along the baby's arm, gently, slowly, a flicker of longing, of sadness, arcing across his face before it dissipates.

"The giant hunter Zeus banished to the skies." Organized stacks of paper sit in neat little piles on top of John's desk, authorizations he'd know anywhere. They're moving out. "Where's his mum?"

"At a doctor's appointment." Orion gurgles, and Simon pats his back, bouncing him slowly from side to side.

"You with her?" The answer is immediate.

"Gonna marry her." John's eyes fill with mirth.

"But she doesn't know that yet, does she."

"No," Simon sighs, "but she will. 'ts why I needed the leave. Besides," he motions to the infant tucked in his arm, "this, helping take care of him, taking care of her, I need to get them moved to a secure location. She's in a second level flat right now, with street facing windows. It's makin' my skin itch." Price will get it, Simon knows he will understand. He has his own secret at home, tucked away in a house only Simon and Laswell know about, just in case.

"Take it slow, don't want to spook her. Although I can't imagine she's too skittish if she took you to bed." He smirks. "You've got the time you requested. Had to call in a substitute for this one, but we'll need you on the next."

"How long?"

"Five weeks, maybe more. I'll ring when we're back on base." Five weeks. The clock is ticking, a bomb waiting to detonate, a guillotine waiting to sever his time with his family, his duty dragging him away.

"Alright." He concedes. Cross that bridge when he comes to it.

If Price sees his reluctance, he doesn't comment on it. "Bird'll be here in six hours. Boys are in the rec room, if you want to see 'em." Simon nods, shifting the baby in his arms as he heads towards the door. "And Simon," he turns, locking eyes with his captain, raw emotion plain on both their faces. Price gives him a genuine smile. "Congratulations. You're going to be a great father."

There's a lump in his throat as he crosses the campus to the rec room, his nose dipping across Ry's head, breathing him in as deep as he can behind the black cloth mask. "He's gonna be your godfather, little man. We just have to get Mama to agree, don't we?" He tugs the building's door open, ignoring the streams of chatter suddenly grinding to a halt in the hallway. Once he makes it to the rec room and sees that no one else is inside, just Johnny and Gaz battling it out in an intense game of pool, he slips the mask off his face and locks the door.

Soap is the first one to see him. "Steeeamin' jesus, LT is that a bairn!?" Kyle chokes on his water.

"Is that your baby, Riley?" They both scramble forward, Johnny whistling in disbelief.

"Aye, he's got to be. Look at the size of 'im."

"Johnny." Simon gives him the 'settle down' look, but the Sergeant only grins impishly.

"He's hers, innit he?" Gaz reaches, and Orion watches him with interest. "The girl from the bar. The one who lives close to me." Johnny's eyes go wider than globes.

"Ach Ghost, ye been busy wit' that boa-"

"Johnny." He hisses, and Kyle barks a laugh, reaching. Simon doesn't balk about handing Orion over, even though you were cautious about letting other people be around him. This is his team. He trusts them implicitly.

"He's a heavy lad, isn't he?" Kyle bounces him back and forth, all the while Ry stares at him with his head tipped back, mesmerized. "Looks jus' like you."

"Maybe a wee bit more handsome." Johnny's leaning around Kyle, his hand on Ry's back. They're mooning over him, two decorated, strategically brilliant sergeants, cooing at a baby like a bunch of sooks, as Johnny would say.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, a text from you letting him know you're finished, and heading home.

>Has he eaten?

>No, hasn't seem interested.

>Thank god.

Knowing you're probably in pain makes him antsy to get back, and he glances at the guys. "You movin' out in a few hours?"

"Aye, lookin' for some sort of stolen intelligence. Shouldnae be too long. Got a rent-a-Lieutenant and everythin'. Ye'll be back for the next?"

"I will. Stay frosty out there. I expect you all back in one piece."

He triple checks the carseat, testing the straps and the strength of the seatbelt before finally deciding it's secure enough, for the hundredth time today. He takes one last look, and presses a kiss to Orion's head. "Ready, bub? Let's go home and see mama."

[apassingbird]

"Hey, baby," Tommy's voice carries through the apartment, "have you seen my shirt?"

Buck's standing in Tommy's bedroom, pulling said shirt over his head and ready to reply that yes, he has in fact seen his shirt and no, Tommy can't have it because Buck's already wearing it, when he pauses. Baby. That's- that's new.

It's just a word. It shouldn't make Buck's heart speed up or fill his belly with far too many butterflies for it to count as healthy.

Baby.

He closes his eyes and lets the word, that tiny little four letter word, echoe in his head. The memory of Tommy's voice repeating it over and over again, until it eventually ends up in Buck's own mouth before falling out as nothing more than a soft whisper.

"Are you okay?"

Buck blinks his eyes open, mouth still open around the word, and when he is met with a half-naked Tommy who is looking at him with a bemused expression, he all but melts.

"You, uh, you called me baby." Buck offers, as if that's an answer to Tommy's question. Maybe it is. "You've never- you haven't called me that before."

Tommy's face softens at that, his eyes dropping down to Buck's chest before finding his eyes again, eyes sparkling. He steps closer, until he can reach out and grip Buck's waist, the warmth of his hands noticeable even through two layers of fabric. Buck's own hands find their way to Tommy's arms, slowly sliding up until they rest at the soft curve of his neck, thumbs barely brushing the underside of his jaw.

"Well, you are my baby," Tommy says then, matter of factly, gently pulling Buck closer. "Aren't you?"

"Y-yeah?" Buck swallows, eyes dropping down to Tommy's lips for a moment. "I- yeah, I-I am?"

"You are."

Tommy just... looks at him, eyes so incredibly fond that Buck can barely breathe with it, before leaning in to press a soft kiss onto Buck's lips. He doesn't protest too much or at all, actually, when Buck immediately deepens it. Eventually, though, Tommy pulls away, panting just enough for Buck to feel a bit proud in a I did that to him kind of way.

"I'm really your baby, huh."

"Very much so," Tommy hums, one hand leaving Buck's waist to over his belly, up his chest, and then down again. Buck wonders, for a moment, if they're going to be late for work, which- he wouldn't be opposed to that. But Tommy simply pinches the loose fabric of the sweater, pulls at it a little, and says, "you're a thief, too."

Buck opens his mouth to protest, but Tommy just gives him a look then, as if to say try me. A smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth, though, and his free hand gives Buck's waist a small squeeze.

"I mean," Buck starts, heart pounding in his chest. "What's yours is mine, right, babe?"

"Babe, huh?"

"Darling?" Buck tries, knows he probably looks like a fool from how big he's grinning. "Sugarbuns? Pookie? Hot stuff?"

Tommy kisses him then, and Buck lets himself get lost in it again. When one of his hands slips down from Tommy's neck, Tommy's quick to reach up and take hold of it, pressing it against his own chest. He presses another kiss onto Buck's lips, hot and searing, as if he's pouring his entire being into it. When he breaks away, he doesn't go far, his forehead resting against Buck's. They stand like that for a moment, breathing each other in.

"You're still a thief, though," Tommy says eventually, voice low and rough, as he taps his fingertip against the back of Buck's hand where it rests just above his heart, and Buck wonders if Tommy's still talking about the shirt when he whispers, "you can keep it."

[wildgirllz]

I'm not sure if you are familiar with the "mating press" position, but the little horny voice inside my head says that Tommy would absolutely love it. Just imagine reader having her legs on his shoulders while he pins her down to the bed because he needed to let off steam. Of course, this is completely consensual! Reader is willingly helping her husband out like the sweet housewife she is <3 Would you be up to write something like that? Sorry for being so disgustingly horny about him... (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Omg i love this request!! HAPPY 1K MY BEAUTIES!!!

Mating press with Tommy <3

Warnings: unprotected sex, SIZE KINK OML (I'm sorry I couldn't help myself) pnv, afab reader, he cums inside because he's a loving husband, overall just porn with a little plot

It was a sunny day, the warm Texan breeze on your shoulders as you washed dishes from breakfast. A hefty pile of dishes, Tommy was not a small man to feed. As the warm water eroded the bacon grease from your castiron, you heard some stomping from the yard. You smile, you can imagine how he was looking at that very moment; his mask covering half of his sweaty face, hair stuck to his forehead, shoulders wide and casting a big shadow over whatever he was blocking. His tall frame was delicious, his arms, his hands that held the majority of your torso already made you hot on the back of your neck.

Lost in a trance of your thoughts, you feel the warm water over your hands' sudden absence. You don't need to turn your head to identify the reason. You can already hear his little huffs behind his mask and his big meaty hands pawing at your hips.

“I missed you, Tommy.” You turn and raise your arms to place your hands on his broad chest. His fingers fidget with the red trim of your sundress, one of his favorites. “You like my dress honey? I like this one too, I wear it to ensure you stay grateful for this pretty little wife you got.” You giggle and cover his hands with your own, but only manage to shade a finger or two. 

“I made you pie again Tommy, peach crumble! It's right on the counter. Lemme cut you a slice.” You smile warmly before turning to walk to the countertop to your right, but you don't manage. Tommys' hands are glued to your hips, keeping you grounded like a statue on the floor. “You don't want pie, baby?” You ask, sweetly of course. You knew Tommy wasn’t focused on your pie right now, you knew from the second you heard his feet shuffling outside that he had some steam he needed to release, and you’d be damned before you said you didn't want him to take it out on you.

You look up at his lust-filled eyes and reach to untie his sweaty mask. You didn't like that he always felt he had to cover himself up, but you understood it brought more comfort to his everyday life. As the mask fell, you could hear his shaky breaths practically calling for you. You got up on your tiptoes and pursed your lips, so he reciprocated, bending his head downward and capturing you in a warm, desperate kiss.

His hands on your hips lifted your body off of the ground, unconsciously, making your face line up with his. You wrap your legs around his waist, not making it all the way, but you were stable as his hands moved down to cup your ass. You whimper into his mouth, grinding your little hips against his big tummy, and running your fingers through his messy hair.

He lets out a single huff before turning on his heels and taking you to the bedroom. After storming through the doorway, he tosses your body onto your’ neatly made bed and begins to undress. You take his cue and do the same, unzipping your flowy dress and slipping off your white panties. Leaning back in your bed, you take in Tommys' body, how the veins in his hands bulge as he unbuttons his shirt, and how tight his pants look on his thick thighs.

Once he's fully bare, he slowly stalks around the bed, looking you up and down like a piece of meat he’s longing to devour. Suddenly, he yanks you down by the ankles, making you lay flat on the bed. He pushes himself to his knees at the end of the bed, settled between your now parted legs. He shuffles forward a bit, then pulls you by the knees until your legs wrap around his hips. 

He bends forward, towering over your frame. He takes your legs and pulls your feet over each one of his shoulders. Your thighs are pressed to your stomach as he settles an arm on both sides of your head. His hair falls around your face, and you reach up to kiss his pretty pink lips. You feel his girth slipping over your slit, and you reach your hand down to press his throbbing cock to your little bud. He groans at the touch of your hand and you begin to rock your hips back and forth, covering his length with your slick.

Not long after, he begins to rock his hips against yours in tandem. His forehead touches yours and you can feel his warm breaths covering your face. On one of his slower thrusts, the tip of his cock caught on the rim of your hole, making you take a sharp breath in. Tommy looks at you to make sure you’re okay, then slowly slides his fat member into you without warning.

“Tommy! Jesus, baby slow down.” You whimper out. The intrusion makes your lips quiver and hands grip the sheets, so he takes your arms in one of his hands and moves them to wrap around his neck, immediately latching onto his hair. As he settles his hefty body on top of yours, his tummy pressing down tightly on yours, he pushes even further forward, trying to get as deep as possible.

Your moans turn into choked-out groans as he slowly pounds into you. Your toes curling and heels digging into his damp back. He lets out deep groans and uses his hand to wipe hair from your face. He cups your cheek and kisses you, a distraction from the ache of your stretched hole, struggling to accept his large cock. 

His thrusts pick up in pace, and he buries his face into your neck. His hands slide down to grip your hips, and he maneuvers your body to slam down on his cock in time with his thrusts. In a state of complete cock-drunk bliss, you struggle to let out a whine as you feel your peak approaching. Rolling your eyes back, you grip his hair between your fingers and give it a little tug, before feeling the warmth of your orgasm explode through your body in ripples of pleasure.

Your back arches and your legs shake, the feeling of your pussy clenching over his length makes him whimper, and his thrusts become fast and shallow. You whine at the feeling of him abusing your overstimulated warmth, and Tommy leans down to bury his face in your breasts and grips your hips almost bruisingly in his hands, quickly reaching his orgasm himself. 

He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you as close to him as possible before letting out one more deep thrust and filling you to the brim with his seed. He groans and flips over on his back, taking you with him. You lay over his body, feeling his cock softening inside you as his spend drips out. You both catch your breath and relax, his hands rubbing gently over your back. 

You close your eyes and let the cool air of night take you both to sleep.

feel free to leave requests! (get FILTHY.) <3

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, no defined reader age or physical appearance besides outfits, alcohol use, joel getting slapped, tommy is a little shit, first date anxiety, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, girl on top, couch sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, deep throating, more men whimpering and begging 2k23. let me know if any warnings are missing!

author’s note: look, i know i’m in the middle of my spooky specials but i saw two very specific tik toks that left me with the need to write this 😵‍💫 also this post layout is inspired by @bits-and-babs, whose works and aesthetic are chef’s kiss.

“Why did you pick this place?” Joel grumbles, hand wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer. People keep jostling him as they squeeze past, forcing him to keep his elbow tight to his side to avoid having his beer be collateral damage.

“You’ll see,” Tommy says with a cryptic wink. Joel rolls his eyes.

Tommy has dragged him out to a saloon style bar, complete with swinging wooden doors and longhorn skulls decorating the walls. Everything is shiny dark wood and western motif, down to the saddle style barstools. Most of the patrons have leaned into the theme, too — tassels, leather, cowboys hats, and ostentatious belt buckles.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen!” A man’s voice calls out over the speakers. “The show is about to begin!”

“Show?” Joel asks dubiously. Tommy only grins at him, dragging him by the arm towards the back of the bar.

He weaves through the crowd until they’re only behind a few rows of people that have gathered around a mechanical bull riding ring, of all things. The floor of the ring is inflatable and in the middle sits the brown bull figure. Joel catches his first glimpse of you, a gorgeous woman in denim cut offs standing beside the bull. Your black leather halter top plunges low to expose your cleavage and stops short of the waist of your shorts, a tantalizing strip of your stomach on display. The black leather of the top matches your black leather boots and the cuffs snapped around your wrists.

“One of Salty Saloon’s very own has stepped up to take the bull by the horns tonight!”

You lift a hand to wave, bright smile on your face as you take in the crowd. Your eyes land on Joel and for a brief moment he swears he stops breathing. He can’t hear anything the emcee is saying, all the noise around him just a dull buzz as he watches you swing yourself up onto the back of the bull.

“Alright, alright, alright! Our rider’s goal is to stay on for one minute using only one hand! If she falls before the buzzer, y’all get nothin’. But if she makes it, shots are half off for the rest of the night!”

A cacophony of cheers erupts around Joel and you straighten your spine, holding your hand out with a thumbs up. The music starts, some pop song he’s heard on the radio in the morning when he’s taking Sarah to school, and the mechanical bull turns in a slow circle. You have one hand twisted in a leather strap, the other raised above your head as the bull bucks and swings, your hips moving smoothly with the machine.

“Goddamn,” someone says from behind Joel. “I ain’t ever wanted to be a bull so bad in my life.”

Me, too, he thinks.

Your thighs press tight against the sides of the bull as it swings around, turning you to face the section of crowd Joel stands in. You release the hand grip, both hands in the air now as you rely solely on your legs and core to keep you up on the machine. When the machine turns again, you manage to lift your body and swing your legs around to reverse your position, now seated facing the back of the bull.

“Alright, ten more seconds!” The emcee calls out. The crowd starts to cheer your name and Joel can’t help but join in, eyes glued to you as you continue to swing and sway like all the movements are nothing but second nature to you.

“Three! Two! One!”

A cowbell goes off, signaling the end of your ride. The bull slows to a stop and you sit there for a moment to catch your breath, waving at the crowd. The bar owner, Johnny, comes out onto the crash pad with a huge grin on his face.

“Great job up there, kid. Now go sell some half priced shots,” he says with a good natured pat on your shoulder.

You return to the bar, where the other two bartenders scheduled tonight field the after-show rush, lining up shot glasses and filling them in quick succession with the requested liquor. When you get behind the bar, a familiar head of curly hair catches your eye.

“Tommy!” You call, excited to see one of you favorite regulars. He shouts your name as you stop in front of him.

“This is my brother, Joel!” He says, slapping the back of the man beside him. You’d seen him in the crowd, a handsome guy with broad shoulders stretching a dark blue t-shirt, warm tan skin, and messy curls that speak to the family resemblance between him and Tommy. You reach a hand across the bar, Joel’s calloused fingers dragging against your palm as you greet the man.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joel. Can I get y’all anything?” You ask. Tommy grins.

“Let me get this man a slap shot!” He yells.

You glance at Joel. “That okay with you?” You ask.

His eyes are comically wide as he nods. You step back to ring the bell behind the bar, your fellow bartenders whooping and cheering, a chant of “SLAP SHOT! SLAP SHOT!” echoing around you.

Haley sets a glass of water on the bar for you and you grab a pint glass, filling it with ice and two ounces of Jim Beam and amaretto. You smack the steel shaker on top, grabbing both glasses and shaking them vigorously over your shoulder.

You strain the contents of the shaker into a shot glass, amber liquid flowing to the brim. When you’ve got everything ready, you leave the back of the bar and squeeze your way through the crowd until you’re in front of the two brothers and can hoist yourself up onto the bar.

“Alright, Joel, are you ready?” You shout. He looks a little confused, brows pinched tight over kind brown eyes, but he nods anyway, holding his hand out for the shot glass. Tommy watches with a shit eating grin. “Three! Two! One!”

Joel takes the shot and you follow it with a glass of water to his face and a slap across his jaw in quick succession. Tommy is howling with laughter and Joel’s face is one of pure shock, red blooming across the skin of his cheek. He turns to his brother.

“Tommy, what the fuck!” Joel shouts. His hand wraps into the neck of Tommy’s shirt. “You little fuckin’ shit!”

You have the sinking realization that Joel wasn’t prepared for what a slap shot entails. You had just assumed this was something Tommy had told him about, having been to the bar so much the last few months.

Joel looks mad as hell, his shoulders tense and you worry he may actually throw a punch at Tommy. You hop from the bar and get between the two men, pressing a hand to their chests and pushing them apart.

"You, come with me," you say, pointing to Joel. "And you," -- you jab a finger into Tommy's chest -- "are on my shit list."

You take Joel by the hand and guide him to the back office, shutting the door and muffling the noises of the bar beyond it. His face is still dripping wet and the water dripping from his chin has gathered into a sizeable spot on the collar of his shirt.

"I am so, so sorry," you start, rifling through the storage cabinet for a bar towel. You hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. "Tommy comes here so much that I just thought he'd told you about what a slap shot was. I should have told you, oh my god."

"Hey, it's okay. I ain't mad at you," Joel says, running the towel over his damp face. "Tommy, though. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass later."

"Still," you mumble, twisting your hands together nervously. "I'm sorry. Is your cheek okay?"

He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a bit, the action leaving him adorable mussed, curly strands sticking up in every direction. You're staring at him, maybe a little too much, but who can blame you? The man is hot.

"Yeah, trust me. I've had worse," Joel replies with a laugh.

"You get slapped by women often?" You tease.

"The number of times ain't just one."

"Oh, a bad boy. Mama warned me about guys like you."

He laughs again, long and low, running a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for the towel."

"Right. And your next drink is on me. As an apology," you tell him.

"I'd rather get your number," he says. "You know, as an apology."

You raise your eyebrows at him before turning to the manager's desk, grabbing a marker and tugging the cap off with your teeth. You slide a hand down his arm, lifting his forearm up so that you can write down your number across the smooth, tan skin.

"I'm off next weekend," you comment when you've recapped the marker.

"I'll keep that in mind," Joel replies with a grin.

Joel's nervous as he waits outside of your apartment building in his truck, fingers tapping a nameless tune against the steering wheel. It's Saturday night and he's here to pick you up for dinner at a restaurant in downtown Austin, one that required he dig out the old black button down he keeps shoved in the back of his closet for parent-teacher conferences and funerals.

The front door to your building opens and you emerge, dressed in a pretty red wrap dress and black heels. Joel gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for you and he's surprised when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey," you say in greeting, climbing into the truck and settling into the passenger seat, your purse on your lap. Joel can't help the dopey grin that's surely stretched across his face.

“Hey, yourself. You look nice,” he replies. He shuts the door and jogs around the the driver’s side.

“You don’t look so bad either,” you tell him as he starts the truck up. He can feel his cheeks get warm and he hopes that you can’t see him the proof of his nerves in the dark cab.

At the restaurant, the host leads you both to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, pristine white tablecloth topped with a small vase of flowers and a flickering votive candle. A waiter in a white button down comes by to take your drink orders before disappearing the the kitchen, leaving the two of you regarding each other in silence.

“Look, I gotta be honest about somethin’,” Joel says, leg bouncing beneath the table. “I’ve got a kid. Sarah, she’s thirteen. Light of my life, you know?” He takes a deep breath before finishing with, “And I don’t think I’ve even been on a date since she’s been born, so this is just…a little new to me.”

“You have a kid?” You ask. For a moment Joel worries that he may have ended this before it could even get a chance to begin, but then your face lights up with a sweet smile and you ask, “Will you tell me about her?”

Joel does. In between ordering and eating your delicious meals, you and Joel discuss anything and everything. He tells you about Sarah and his contracting work, while you tell him about your full time job as a pharmacy technician, the gig at the bar a part time thing on some weekends. He nearly makes you snort your water out of your nose with a story about rescuing Tommy from the bathroom of the girl he’d been seeing when her long distance boyfriend, who Tommy didn’t know existed, showed up at her apartment.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim breathlessly. “And he just jumped out of the bathroom window?”

“To be fair, she had a first floor unit,” Joel confirms. “His royal pain in the ass still made me take him to urgent care because he thought he broke his ankle.”

“You’re a good brother,” you say with a smile. Joel feels the warmth of it in his veins.

After dinner, the ride back to your place is quiet, the comfortable silence filled with the low music from the radio. In a moment of bravery, Joel reaches over and lays a hand on your low thigh, just above your knee as he drives. He refuses to look over at you, but from the corner of his eye he sees you look down at his hand before looking back out the window.

He counts that as a win.

He pulls up the curb outside your apartment and kills the engine. You speak before he has a chance to agonize over what to say.

“Will you walk me to my door?” You ask.

He feels relief and anxiety in one fell swoop. He agonizes internally over whether to kiss you goodnight as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, the buzzing in his brain momentarily silenced while he watches your hips sway as you climb the steps.

You stop on the second floor, guiding him down a long hallway to a door marked with a black metal number three. You turn to face him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“This is me,” you murmur. Joel swallows nervously.

“Right. I, uh…I had a really great time tonight,” he says.

“Would you…want to come inside?”

Joel’s brain short circuits. “Would I—? Yeah.”

You turn to unlock the door, pushing into your apartment and Joel follows you inside. The apartment is dark but you quickly turn on the lights as you move further inside, illuminating an open living room with a dining nook. There’s a door off to the right that he assumes is your bedroom and an open kitchen to the left. It’s small, but it’s cozy, bursting with colors and fabrics and mismatched furniture.

“Well, this is home,” you say with a shrug. You set your purse down on the small circular dining table. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got beer, some liquor on the bar cart over there if you want to have a look.”

“Beer is fine,” Joel says, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch. You return with a bottle of beer, passing it to him before settling in beside him, kicking off your heels and drawing your legs up beneath you.

He takes a sip, fortifying his nerves. He wasn’t lying when he said it’s been a long time since he’s been on a date, but even sex has been a distant thought for the last year or so. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

“So,” you start, your elbow pressed into the back couch cushion while you lean your face into the palm of your hand. “You wanna know what I think?”

“‘Bout what?” Joel asks.

“You.”

“You got a report card ready for me already?”

“I think” — you take the beer bottle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table — “you’ve spent a long time being a caretaker. Right? You’ve got Tommy, who was already a handful. Your daughter, who’s obviously priority number one. You’ve got a business to worry about, workers to care for.” You shuffle closer on your knees, swinging a leg over his and settling yourself onto his lap. “This okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he replies, probably a bit too enthusiastically. His fingers curl into the couch cushions and he wants to reach up to wrap his hands around your waist but he’s not sure if he should.

You play with the collar of his shirt. “What do you think about having someone take care of you for a change?”

Joel’s stomach flips, cock jumping in interest as the blood in his brain rushes south and leaves him only capable of responding with a mumbled, “Oh?”

“I just think you deserve someone treating you real nice,” you say with a shrug. Deft fingers work at undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when I was so mean when we met, slapping you across the face like I did.”

“Told you not to worry ‘bout that,” he replies, head dropping against the back cushions. “S’not like I didn’t like it.”

“You like to be roughed up a little, Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe.”

Your grin is wicked as you drag your nails down the now exposed skin of his chest. He hisses at the sting of it.

“Interesting,” you murmur. You lean close, chest pressed against his, hands coming up to frame his face. Your nails scratch through his beard now and he groans his appreciation.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. “Please?”

You respond by pressing your lips to his, chaste as first. Your mouths move together slowly, feeling each other out. It’s you that takes it deeper, tracing your tongue over his bottom lip and dipping it inside to tangle with his. He wraps his arms around your low back, holding you tightly in his lap as he consumes you, drunk on the feeling of your breath in his lungs.

You drags yours lips away from his with a slick sound, trailing them along his jaw and towards his ear. You nip at his earlobe, teeth gentle and breath hot before whispering, “Can I suck your cock, Joel?”

A whimper claws it’s way up Joel’s throat as he nods, already unable to form words. He’s no stranger to turning into a puddle for a pretty woman but he’s certain this must be a new record.

You slip from his lap and kneel on the floor, pushing his legs apart so that you can settle in between them. Your hands reach for his belt, tugging on the buckle and pulling it loose so that you can pop the button of his jeans and tug the zipper down, the metallic sound loud in the quiet room.

Your fingers curl into the waist of his jeans and Joel lifts his hips a bit to aid you in tugging them halfway down his thighs. His cock tents his boxers in an obscene way, a wet spot already staining the fabric. You run your palms up his thighs before bracketing his member between your hands, lightly running your thumbs up his length.

“Christ,” Joel says, teeth digging into his lip.

“That feel good?” You ask.

“Uh huh.”

You smile beatifically before leaning forward, warm breath on his covered cock as you press gentle kisses through the fabric. Joel’s hips twitch and he lets out a deep groan.

You tug the elastic of his boxers over his length, tucking it beneath his balls. He’s practically vibrating with need but you continue to take your sweet time, pressing more kisses along his shaft, tracing the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein.

“You have a pretty cock, Joel,” you say, wrapping your hand around the base of him to hold him steady. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your tongue lapping at the bead of precum gathered on his flushed tip, or the way your own eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of appreciation.

You wrap your lips around his cock, taking him inch by agonizing inch into your warm mouth and Joel feels any semblance of sanity disappear from his lust clouded brain. Your eyes stay fixed on him as take him in as far as you can, throat fluttering around the sensitive head when you swallow before pulling up, twirling your tongue around the tip, and plunging back down.

“Christ,” Joel groans, reaching out to cup your cheek. “You look so goddamn good like that.”

You lift off his cock and take it in your hand, moving it across your lips as you ask, “Like what?”

“Chokin’ on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls.

“That was nothing.”

Joel’s about to ask what you mean when you lower your mouth over his length once more. He can feel you flatten your tongue, your throat and jaw relaxing enough to take him to the very base, your nose tickling the wiry curls on his pelvis. He moans as you swallow around him, breathing through your nose and holding yourself there for a moment before coming up with a gasp, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and spit making your chin shiny in the low light.

“So…I could keep doing this,” you tell him, “or…”

“Or?” He asks.

“Or…you could let me make us both feel good.”

You stand up, your hands untying the knot that holds your dress together so you can push it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. You push your panties down your legs and unhook your bra, leaving you gloriously naked in front him, every inch of you like a piece of art meant to be admired. Joel’s hands, greedy and unfulfilled up until now, reach up to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your pussy hot and wet against his cock. He lets his hands wander over every inch of exposed skin, relishing the way your ass fits in his palms and the way you hiss when his thumb caresses a tight nipple.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moans, his lips against your rapid pulse, teeth ghosting the thin skin of your neck. “Need you so bad, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, reaching between your bodies to hold his throbbing cock steady, notching it at your soaked entrance and beginning a slow slide down.

Joel is panting against your sweat slick chest, mumbling desperate words into your skin as you take him inside of you as slowly as you can, thighs burning with the effort. When you’ve finally seated yourself on his lap, his head drops back to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut tightly and fingers nearly bruising on your thighs.

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he begs. “Oh, fuck, feels so good.”

Where he’s desperate for you to stay still, you’re already desperate to move. His cock is perfect, thick and long with a slight upward curve, pressing up against your g-spot with stunning accuracy. You’re certain this won’t last long for either of you.

You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Joel lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.

You start to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.

“So fuckin’ good,” he moans, “you’re gonna make me come, baby, goddamn.”

You speed up, bouncing on his lap now. Your couch creaks the slightest bit, protesting your movements, but you don’t care — all you care about is the man beneath you and the desperate little noises spilling from his lips as you make good on your promise to take care of him.

“Touch me,” you command. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”

He’s a good listener, your Joel, his thumb immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Joel’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.

It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.

“That was…,” Joel says with a breathless laugh that shakes his chest. His fingers play up and down your back, soothing and gentle. “Goddamn, that was amazin’.”

“Yeah?” You ask, lifting your head. You smooth his messy hair back from his forehead. “You weren’t so bad either.”

He nips at your neck in retaliation, making you laugh and squirm away from him.

“Do you have to get going?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Tommy’s watchin’ Sarah for me tonight. He owes me one. Besides, I’m ain’t done with you yet.”

“No?”

“Not even close, darlin’.”

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[talaok]

Enjoy the view

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You surprise your husband with a new cooking attire, and he's more than happy to show you how much he appreciates it- even if he has an audience… especially when he knows how much you like it.

Warnings: smut| exhibitionism, voyeurism, cooking practically naked, a lil tiny bit of free use, oral sex (f receiving), butt-play, and unprotected p in v sex.

"I'm home!" 

His greeting echoed through the house, and while usually it would be followed by your two little demons running down the stairs to attack their daddy, today, the only response was yours.

"Hi baby, I'm in the kitchen!" 

You heard some shuffling as he made himself comfortable before his footsteps started in your direction- only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

"Babydoll, where are the k-"

You turned around just a little bit, your neck twisting so your gaze could see his face as it settled on your ass.

On your bare ass and bare legs and bare torso and- oh god- on the small apron only covering the lower front of you.

What the actual fuck was his life

And how the actual fuck did he ever get so lucky

He was on you in a split second, his mouth as ravenous as his hands.

You let a soft giggle past your lips as he left hot, wet kisses down your neck, his hands kneading the soft skin of your ass as he pressed his hard cock against it.

"the kids are at my mom's" you murmured, as if the man behind you wasn't worshipping your body

"yeah?" he groaned, his hands on your boobs now

"I'm making us dinner" you explained, resuming cutting the fruit on the cutting board while sticking your ass out even more for him.

"such a good girl, thank you darlin'" he murmured against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Can I have my appetizer while you finish up?"

You pretend to ponder the idea, biting your lip 

"Tommy's still outside trying to fix the grill, baby"

Of course

Lucky didn't even begin to cover it.

He could just close the curtains facing your backyard, he knew it, just as you did.

But that's not what you wanted

Oh no

His girl liked to be watched

"then we'll just have to hope he doesn't fix it in time, won't we?"

He watched your eyes flutter shut as the words sunk in, and you could only offer a soft "yes" as you presented him the slightest nod

"attagirl" he murmured, kissing you right below your ear "Now don't mind me, keep on cookin'"

You nodded again, humming softly, and he kissed every inch of skin he encountered as he dropped to his knees.

Cold air hit your core as he grabbed each of your asscheeks in his hands and spread them apart like the animal that he was.

You let out a little whine as he admired the work of art before him, but just when you started cutting the fruit before you once again, he'd dived in.

His whole face was deep into your core, his tongue not wasting a second before tasting your sweet juices, wishing he could drink them every day instead of water.

His hands were gripping your waist, holding you in place, even as your body begged to grind against him.

"fuck" you moaned, biting your lips as your left hand gripped the counter.

"tastes like heaven babydoll" Joel groaned, the vibrations of his voice sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

You could only continue emanating needy little whimpers as he feasted on your cunt, and then, finding more strength in you than you even knew to even possess, you resumed cutting the strawberry before you.

"Joel" you moaned louder now, his tongue plunging into your pussy and lapping at your walls as your head fell to your chest "baby-god"

And just when you were breathing heavily, feeling your core flutter at the pleasure, his mouth trailed up, his focus shifting to your other hole.

The knife fell to the cutting board and your body slumped forward at the feeling, but while your moans were only getting louder, he was only getting hungrier.

And as much as he loved eating your ass, he needed to hear those pretty sounds you made while coming on his face, so of course...

Your whole body felt a shock of electricity as Joel finally, finally, started sucking on your clit.

"Fuck-fuck- baby- just like tha-oh!"

You came so hard you thought you were gonna pass out, but luckily, he was there to hold you through it, not wasting a drop of what you gave him.

"my perfect fukin' girl" he murmured lovingly, kissing your cunt one last, overstimulating time before he was once again standing pressed against your back.

"enjoyed yourself?" he asked, biting your earlobe as you tried to will your breathing to get back to normal

"yes" you smiled, forgetting all about your task as you turned around towards him, clatching his lips into a deep, searing kiss.

"yeah?" he asked again, a smug, sexy grin on him as he let you taste yourself on his tongue once again 

"mh-mh"

"I think someone else did too" 

And when his gaze shifted to his left, you knew.

You didn't need to look to know what he was looking at, but you did nonetheless.

Tommy was standing on the other side of the glass door, his eyes set onto you like a starving predator, and you could only gasp.

"Joel-"

"shh" he hummed, kissing the side of your lips "It's ok," he said, while your eyes remained on his brother "You wanna give Tommy a show babydoll?"

But of course, he knew the answer already,

you've done this before,

hell, before Tommy had gotten himself a wife too, you'd even let him join once or twice.

"I mean..." you whimpered, as Joel undid his zipper while kissing your neck "He's fixed the grill for us after all"

He chuckled, finishing your thought for you

"he deserves a reward, doesn't he?"

"I think he does" You nodded, looking up at him with pleading eyes, as if there was a chance he'd ever not do something you wanted.

"You're so kind" he murmured, picking you up just to set you on a free spot on the counter "Such a perfect selfless wife that I've got, mh?"

You could only grin, giggling softly as he kissed you again.

"let's show Tommy how beautiful you look while coming on my cock then shall we?"

"yes please"

Your answer was breathless, desperate, just as the moan you let out once he finally guided his length inside of you, taking his time to let you adjust...and so he could enjoy the faces you made all for him... and his brother.

"good girl" he groaned, easing himself out of you almost completely just to thrust back in at full force, making you cry out and throw your head back.

"Oh f-fuck"

"I know" he cooed, only going faster, deeper, as you arched your back, your nails clawing at his back "I know baby, you take me so well" he murmured, against your mouth "So deep inside this perfect fucking pussy"

"Joel!" you gasped, his dick hitting your sweet spot over and over together with his dirty words.

And when you glanced to your right, when you saw Joel's brother, the sibling to the man who was currently railing you on your kitchen counter palming his hard cock from the confines of his jeans, his eyes glued on you... it was like a volcano of pleasure exploded,

a dirty, twisted, dark kind of pleasure

"yeah look at Tommy" Joel groaned "Poor guy's probably so jealous he's not the one balls deep into ya baby" One of his hands moved from your waist to pinch your nipple, making you cry out just to prove a point "he's probably wishin' he could come here and fuck you himself baby" he continued, his thrusts getting harsher, faster "but he's not gonna" he growled "and ya know why?" he asked,

"'cause I'm yours" you moaned, looking him into his lusty eyes

He moaned too this time, he never could help himself when you said those three magic words

'cause fuck him, but he still sometimes struggled to believe you were his himself

"goodamn right you are" he smirked, crashing your lips with his, as the room filled with the filthy sound of your wet heat accommodating his movements.

"Show him sugar" he urged "Show Tommy who you belong to" he murmured, watching as you turned your head to his brother again

"show him who's the only man who's ever gonna touch you baby girl," he said "and how fuckin' good you look creamin' my cock"

And so you did what he said, you looked his brother right in the eyes as you screamed Joel's name at the top of your lungs, wave after wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you as you came hard around Joel's cock.

"Fuckin' perfect-" Joel purred, kissing your chin as his orgasm approached "fuckin' mine"

[apartmentsmoke]

Evan tells Tommy that he's babysitting Jee, but he still really wants to spend time with Tommy, if Tommy doesn't mind - and Tommy accepts. Jee's part of Evan's family, and Howie's family, and how bad can hanging out with a three-year-old - almost four, he is told by her in the car - be anyway? What he's expecting is a night on the couch watching Frozen. (Kids still like that, right?) Maybe tea parties. What he does not expect is that Evan already has an outing planned to Chuck-E-Cheese. Surprise - Chuck-E-Cheese still exists. He would've sworn they went bankrupt back in 2020.

He's not sure what Jee is going to think of him, but she remembers him from the hospital as "Uncle Buck's dirty friend" and accepts his presence easily enough. She keeps her hand in Evan's as they walk into Chuck-E-Cheese. It's one of the cutest things Tommy's ever seen. There's a thousand kids around, laughing and crying and shouting. He only has to focus on one, he tells himself, and lets Jee lead him and Evan through the maze of games. She stops at a claw machine and demands that her Uncle Buck win her a rabbit toy. After ten minutes, fifteen dollars, and Tommy tagging in, they finally succeed. The next two hours are filled with more exploitative games, the greasiest fucking pizza Tommy's ever had, and Jee spending five minutes deliberating between two similarly-colored bouncy balls to exchange for her tickets. Throughout it all, Evan's patience never wavers, even when they lose Jee for five minutes in the crowd and have to search for her. She's hiding under the air hockey table.

Tommy's doing his best to keep up. He's led all over the place, recruited to help with games, and tries to make sense of Jee's non-sequiturs. While they're standing in line for the bouncy ball, Evan nudges him. There's a big smile on his face. "I know this isn't an ideal date. Thanks for being here." "Of course," Tommy says, and he nudges Evan back. "I like getting to know your family, Evan." It's not what he expected, but seeing first-hand how full of love Evan's family is, how much love he has for them - he wouldn't trade it. Not even for the bluest bouncy ball. Evan's smile grows even wider. They're almost out the door when Jee spots a photo booth and hones in. "I wanna photo," she says, tugging at Evan's hand, and Tommy dutifully follows along. He'll - wait out here, he guesses, while Evan and Jee take their photo. They wouldn't all fit, anyway. It's a little awkward, hanging around the photo booth, but it's fine. They disappear behind the curtain for a moment and Tommy can hear Jee's high, insistent voice and Evan chuckling and responding, though he can't make out the words. Jee and Evan poke their heads out a second later. "You too!" Jee says, and Evan echoes her with a grin. "Yeah, you too. Get in here." They quickly learn there is no way the photo booth is going to fit them all. Tommy fits maybe a third of his body in. Evan frowns, then lights up again. "Hey, Jee, why don't we get out for a second? Then Tommy can sit down and I can sit on his lap and you can sit on my lap. Okay?" "Okay," she says, so Tommy squeezes in, and a second later Evan plops all two hundred pounds of himself and thirty pounds of Jee onto his lap.

"Evan," he hisses, and Evan grins at him, unrepentant. "Smile for the camera, Tommy," he says, and Tommy finds that his smile comes easily, especially when Evan turns to kiss his cheek on the last photo. After they scrabble out of the photo booth, Evan looks down at the strip of photos and their wide, grinning faces. "Oh, yeah. That's going on the fridge for sure." "For sure," Jee repeats for emphasis, and looks up at Tommy expectantly. "For sure," he says, and he's met with twin smiles.

[this fic has matching art by @aringofsalt! it's adorable and you should definitely go take a look]

[deunmiu-dessie]

price, after seeing you with kids, vows to himself that he'll get you pregnant.

  "i'm so happy you guys could make it!"

    john watches fondly as you smile. it's wide and genuine, the action making your nose scrunch up; your head tilting to the side to mimic the woman's excitement─ and john can hardly take his gaze off of you. your eyes glimmer at the sight of your heavily pregnant best friend and the woman watches with a soft smile as the two of you make your way up their driveway. 

 your body is tucked away underneath john's arm, the usual warmth of your perfume; a sweet and spicy blend of saffron and sugared vanilla, has him unable to keep his hands off of you and he makes it obvious with the way his thumb rubs back and forth over your bare shoulder. and you're just as guilty as he is, with the way your hand is nestled snuggly in the back pocket of his jeans, the other stationed right atop his hand that rests affectionately on your shoulder. 

when the two of you can make it to gatherings in your neighborhood, there's bound to be talk and swooning about you and john the next day. most women were envious that even after being together for years, it seemed like the two of you were still in your honeymoon phase.

 "jas! babe, what are you doing up?" your voice is a teasing lilt as you shimmy your way out from under john's arm, looking back at him briefly to flash him a pleased smile. however, it's different from the one you sent jasmine earlier, it's softer, intimate, and familiar and it warms his belly better than bourbon ever could; his eyes soften and he smiles back, the crow's feet around his eyes deepening. 

despite john only having a few days off until his next mission, which he had wanted to spend with you, cuddled up next to the fireplace and watching movies, or perhaps cooking and baking with each other, all lovey-dovey and tête-à-tête─ you had instead asked if he could spare a day and go to a cookout hosted by a mutual friend. 

of course, he couldn't say no to you. not when you looked so reluctant to ask in the first place, with your eyebrows furrowed and a small frown marring your lips─ the same lips he had languidly kissed until it flipped right side up, with gentle murmurs of reassurance. besides, john didn't mind jasmine's husband. tom was a retired colonel of the army and they had hit it off quite quickly, especially given john's position. 

  reluctantly, john's eyes drift away from where you stand hugging jasmine, immediately spotting tom who is situated with a few other men at the grill. sucking in a breath, john made his way over to them, a smile splitting his cheeks when tom notices him, his tongs clanging against the metal. "well i'll be damned, if it isn't john, fucking, price." 

 the two men join hands briefly, "tommy, i've been gone a few months and she's already pregnant again." john chuckles softly at tom's sheepish look, the man's cheeks pinkening. "m'surprised y'r balls haven' shriveled up yet." john finishes, dropping into a squat to pluck a lone water nestled amongst the beers. “well, what can i say? she’s all over me!” tom, through his boisterous laughter at his own joke, notices the bottle and sends john a smirk, "you gone in a few days?"

 john grunts, hoping to save himself from the conversation, talk of work right now would only annoy him. tom clasps him on the shoulder firmly and sends him a mocking grin, perhaps this is why john liked tom, banter flowed naturally between the two of them. john was reminded of gaz time and time again when holding a conversation with the retired colonel. "it's as i said before. maybe it's time for you to settle down, you're not getting any younger."

  john grunts at that one too, eyes scanning the bustling cook-out to look for your comforting presence. he immediately finds you amongst your group of friends, a newborn babe nestled in the crook of your arms delicately and other children playing a simple version of tag around your legs. you're gazing down at the baby with envious adoration, eyes sparkling with awe and something akin to being maternal and it knocks the breath from his throat, his heart swelling within his chest at the sight of you. 

   and for a moment, he pictures that you're holding his child in your arms and that those are his kids circling your legs. and it's when your eyes somehow find his, your smile shy and your eyes almost pleading, that he swears to himself that he'll get you pregnant. and an ache to see your belly swollen with his child starts in his chest before traveling straight to his cock. tom chuckles, it's a knowing and judgment-free look. "i guess your mind is made up, huh captain?"

connected with this post!

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.���

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

[punkshort]

saturday

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: Your sister, Cassie, gives birth, and Joel has a question for your father.

Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, soft!joel, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat - reader is on BC) unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), size kink?, alcohol use, reader's sister (obviously) gives birth but there's no description of the event

WC: 6.6K

Series Masterlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics

2:38am

You blinked a few times, making certain you were reading the time correctly. Sleep still weighed you down and you were having a hard time comprehending what woke you up in the first place. Then you heard it again and your heart jumped into your throat.

Someone was at your apartment door, you were sure of it. You could hear quiet scratching on the other side and when you sat up in bed to look across your apartment, you could see the unmistakable shadows of two legs under the crack in the door.

"Oh, my god," you mumbled, throwing the sheets off and grabbing your phone. Where was the baseball bat Joel gave you? What the hell did you do with it?

"Closet," you whispered to yourself, taking a few steps towards the coat closet when the door cracked open and you froze. You were in the middle of your apartment in just a tank top and underwear, clutching your stupid phone. This is how women are always killed in horror movies, you thought.

A familiar man's broad fame tripped over his own feet as he entered, and when you heard him curse quietly under his breath, relief flooded your veins which was quickly followed by annoyance. Reaching over to the floor lamp next to your couch, you flicked the switch, making him yelp and wince.

"What the hell are you doing, Joel?!"

He blinked rapidly and looked around the room before his eyes landed on you and a lazy grin spread across his lips. His hair was a mess and you could smell the alcohol and cigarettes from ten feet away. You wrinkled your nose but you couldn't help the goofy smile you always got whenever you saw him.

"You stink."

"Hey, baby," he croaked, his voice raspy from having far too much fun that evening. He stumbled towards you and you noticed dark spots staining his navy T-shirt that you hoped was just spilled beer.

"You scared the shit outta me. I almost called the cops!" you said, holding up your phone. "What are you doing?"

"Came t'see you," he slurred, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. Now that he was standing in the light, you could see the pink dusting his cheeks underneath his heavy lidded eyes.

"You're very drunk," you told him, and he just hummed in response before burying his face in your neck. "Had fun with Tommy and the guys I take it?"

"Mhm," he mumbled, his lips sucking messily at your shoulder. "Wanted t'see you. Missed you. Fuck, you smell so good."

You giggled when his facial hair ticked your neck. "You came to see me because you can't drive home and my apartment is within walking distance of all the bars."

He pulled away and gave you a feigned look of hurt. "No. Thought 'bout you all night. Talked 'bout you all night," he said, leaning into the crook of your neck. His hands slid down from your waist to cup your ass and he groaned. "I like these," he murmured into your skin, his fingertips tugging playfully at the edge of your underwear.

And even though your body was responding to his touch, warmth blooming between your legs, your curiosity won. "What did you talk about?" you asked, biting on your lower lip when he pulled you closer, pressing you against his erection through his jeans.

"How fuckin' happy you make me. How I wanna spend my life with you. How sexy you are," he said lowly, gripping your jaw and giving you a sloppy kiss.

"Oh, wow, spend your life with me? You really are drunk," you giggled after you pulled away. "Let me make you something to eat."

You managed to wiggle out of his grasp and walk towards the kitchen area, flicking on lights as you went and opening the fridge. "Leftover pizza okay?" you asked, pulling out the cardboard box and flipping the top open before grabbing some foil to lay down in your toaster oven.

"What'dya mean? I ain't that drunk. 'Course I wanna spend my life with you," he said, leaning up against your counter, watching you work.

You turned the dial on the toaster oven and popped in two slices of leftover takeout pizza before turning around to face him. "We met four months ago and you want to spend your life with me?"

His eyes suddenly appeared clearer when he looked at you. "Yeah. 'Course I do."

You gave him a look before pulling a plate down from your cupboard.

"What? You don't believe me?"

You put the plate down and shook your head.

"It doesn't matter," you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him down for a kiss, but he pulled back before you could make contact.

"I mean it," he told you, sounding serious. "Already got the ring."

Your eyes bugged out of your head and your eyebrows shot straight up. "What?!"

"I'm just kiddin'," he said immediately when he saw your reaction, something flickering across his face for a split second before the toaster oven beeped and distracted you. You pulled your arms away, turning around to check his food when you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind.

"I'm only hungry for one thing," he whispered in your ear, the ring comment suddenly long forgotten. You leaned back into his chest, pulling his pizza out of the oven while he nipped at your earlobe.

"Why don't you eat some actual food," you offered, turning around in his arms with a playful smirk. "And then you can have me for dessert?"

A wide smile stretched across his face and he nodded. "Deal."

"Fuck, Joel," you whined, his face buried between your legs, your fingers tangled in his curls as he dragged another orgasm to the surface. You were confident at this point you've never wanted anybody the way you wanted him. You kept waiting for that honeymoon period to end, but somehow each time with him was just more intense than the last.

Your head fell back against your cupboard while you cried out his name, your thighs clutching his head as a rush of white hot heat flooded your body, little whimpers slipping past your lips until he finally pulled away. Your legs dropped shakily onto the counter as you struggled to catch your breath. He watched you try to recover with a pleased smirk on his face, wiping away your slick with the back of his hand. You gazed at him, your mouth open and panting for air, your eyes half closed and filled with need.

"Fuck me, Joel," you gasped, slipping down from the counter, your underwear lost somewhere on the floor. He groaned and crashed his mouth over yours, giving you a taste of yourself while his hands greedily reached down to lift you up, carrying you towards your bed.

"Shit," he muttered when he stumbled a bit, and you weren't sure if it was his excitement or the alcohol to blame but you giggled nonetheless.

He dropped you unceremoniously onto your bed before he got to work stripping himself of his clothes. He seemed to be struggling with his belt but when you kneeled on the mattress and pulled your tank top off, his fingers magically began to work faster at the leather. He hopped on one foot, kicking his jeans off in a hurry and making you laugh before he stood up straight against the edge of your bed and cupped your face with both his hands, pulling you in for a kiss and stealing all the air from your lungs.

He broke away but kept his nose pressed against yours, your face still held delicately in his large hands as he whispered, "need y'so bad, baby."

Your eyes drifted down between your bodies and you raised an eyebrow at his painful looking erection pressed up against your stomach. "You don't say," you teased, and he smirked before giving you one more soft kiss on the lips. He dropped his hands to your shoulders and gave you a gentle shove, indicating he wanted you to lay down, but you bit your lip and shook your head before twisting around, propping yourself up on all fours and looking back at him over your shoulder. "Like this," you told him, and a low groan rumbled deep within his chest as he stared down at you.

"You tryin' to kill me?" he asked, bringing his palms up to glide smoothly over your ass, giving one cheek a little squeeze. "I ain't gonna last long like this."

"You weren't gonna last long, anyway. Not with all the beer you drank tonight," you replied with a grin.

He chuckled and spread his legs a little wider before bending his knees and lining himself up with your entrance. When you felt the familiar fat tip of his cock notched against you, you sucked in a deep breath. Joel was normally a lot to take, but from this angle, you knew it would be even more intense.

He pushed inside with a grunt, giving you time to adjust when he heard your sharp gasp before sliding all the way inside and bottoming out with a low groan. Looking down at your ass flush with his hips, he knew he was a goner. The muscles in his stomach were already twitching and tensing and he barely even moved yet.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you pressed your mouth into your shoulder, stifling your whimpers while your body slowly relaxed around his girth.

"Y'okay, baby?" he murmured, his fingers flexing around your hips the only movement he allowed himself to make, patiently waiting for you to get comfortable.

"Mhm," you whined, then rolled your head to the side and arched your back a little, stretching yourself around him. "Just so big. So fucking big, fuck," you gasped when you felt him pulse inside you from the compliment.

"Don't talk like that, c'mon," he groaned, closing his eyes. Baseball. Tommy. Hanging drywall. Do not fucking come.

You looked at him over your shoulder, a lazy smile twitching at your lips when you saw his closed eyes and the pained expression on his face. Something about being able to pull him apart like this made you feel powerful, so you decided to have a little fun. You began to slowly move your hips, keeping your eyes on him as you rocked back and forth. His fingertips dug into your waist and his eyes flew open.

"W-wait-"

You sunk your teeth into your lower lip and moved a little faster, watching as his eyebrows pinched together and his breathing became erratic. "Why?" you asked innocently, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

"Stop, baby. Fuck, I'm-" he hissed and tried to pull out but you pushed yourself back on him further before he could move. "I'm gonna come, it's too soon," he whined, his face contorted in embarrassment.

"Joel, look at me," you commanded, slowing to a stop so he could focus. His chest was heaving and his fingertips were most definitely leaving bruises in your skin as he tried to fight off his climax. "You already made me come twice in the past thirty minutes. Now I want you to fuck me exactly like you want to and I don't care if you come in ten seconds or ten minutes. Can you do that for me?"

His eyes darkened a bit and the corner of his mouth turned up into half a smirk.

"Yes," he murmured, finally allowing his gaze to drop to your ass and you saw him swallow before taking a deep breath. In an instant his hips started snapping into you, almost making you fall forward but you quickly braced yourself. Your mouth hung open, hardly able to make a sound when your entire focus was on the way he managed to reach the furthest depths of you with each devastating stroke. One of his hands gripped your shoulder, the other still planted firmly on your waist as he slammed you back against his hips with each thrust, your skin smacking together so loudly you barely heard him grunting each time he knocked the wind out of you.

The hand he had placed on your hip slid to your lower back and he gently pressed his palm down, his pace still merciless when he whispered "can'ya arch your back a little more, baby?"

You could hardly form a coherent thought let alone sentence, so you did as you were asked without answering. Based on the loud groan you heard, he was pleased.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he chanted, breathing heavily behind you as you did your best to hold yourself up against his ruthless pace, but you could feel your legs getting weak. He suddenly fell forward and wrapped his arms around your ribs, yanking you up with a yelp so your back was flush against his chest and his mouth was pressed against the shell of your ear.

Your hands tried to grab his weakly, looking for some part of him to hold onto when he moaned into your hair and his body stilled momentarily, his hips stuttering as he flooded you with his release. Neither of you moved as you each fought to catch your breath, your head falling back against his shoulder. His heavy breathing was loud against your ear, then his chest eventually slowed down and his heartbeat returned to normal. Your legs began to tremble so he tightened his hold around you, holding you even tighter against him.

"I got you," he whispered, leaning forward so you could relax tiredly into your mattress. He pulled out with a soft grunt before collapsing next to you, stretching his arms wide. You crawled into his embrace and buried your face against his chest with a contented sigh.

"Too much?" he asked, his voice sounding a little hoarse as he drew invisible circles on your shoulder with his thumb. You shook your head and closed your eyes. "You're so fuckin' perfect, y'know that? How'd I get so lucky?" he asked softly, and you smiled. "You feed me 'n then you fuck me. What else could a man want?" he joked, and you giggled in his arms.

"Don't forget you went down on me in between those two things. You're pretty damn perfect, too."

He hummed and pulled your comforter over you both, making sure you were all tucked in and warm.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you, too," you whispered sleepily.

9:13am

Your phone rang shrilly on your nightstand, startling you both out of your deep sleep in surprise.

"Oh, Jesus, fuck," Joel mumbled, his hands immediately coming up to clutch his head. You sat up, holding the comforter against your chest as you groggily reached for your phone, knocking over a framed picture of you and Joel in the process. When it clattered loudly to the floor, he groaned.

"What?" you snapped angrily when you answered your phone, not even looking to see who was calling.

"Buck! It's happening!"

Your heart skipped a beat and you gasped, making Joel drop his hands from his face to look at you curiously.

"Now?!"

"Yes, now!" your sister, Cassie, replied on the other end. "We're on our way to St. Dave's. Mom and Dad are already on the way."

"Oh my god!" you yelled, throwing the comforter off yourself and running to your closet completely naked. Joel sat up and gawked as you used one hand to pull out fresh clothes, tossing them on the bed frantically and although he could tell it was an emergency, he couldn't stop staring at your perfect fucking body.

"W-where do I go? The emergency room or labor and delivery?"

Joel threw his legs over the side of the bed and tried to shake away his massive hangover before standing up slowly and hunting down his clothes.

"Okay, okay. I'll be there in like," you looked at your clock quickly, "twenty minutes."

You hung up and threw your phone on your bed before grabbing your underwear and pulling them on, much to Joel's dismay.

"Cassie's in labor!" you said, rushing past him in just your bra and underwear.

"I gathered," he said with a yawn. "You got any Motrin? The hospital's got a coffee spot, right? Starbucks or somethin'?"

You popped your head out of the bathroom and handed him the bottle of medicine. "You're coming with me?"

"Yeah, 'course I am," he said, popping two pills and swallowing them dry. "Unless you don't -"

"No!" you said hurriedly, disappearing back in the bathroom. "I want you to! I just thought you'd have to go home to Sarah."

"She's at a friend's house the whole weekend. It's why Tommy dragged me out in the first place. Said I never spend time with him when we work together all damn day," he muttered under his breath before sniffing his shirt from the night before and making a face. "This smells like the floor of a bar."

"You have some spare clothes here, remember? In the third drawer," you told him as you dried your face and started to brush your hair into a ponytail. He went to your closet and opened the dresser, smiling when he saw the entire drawer was devoted to just his things before picking out a fresh outfit and a stick of deodorant, hoping it would be enough because there was no way he would have time for a shower.

"Do I still stink?" he asked worriedly when you walked by, shrugging on a shirt. You stopped and sniffed him, then grinned.

"You smell like sex."

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Well, in that case, I'm ready to go."

"At least brush your teeth, you animal," you teased, shoving him towards the bathroom with a laugh. He stumbled into your small bathroom and found the spare toothbrush you bought for him. As he quickly brushed his teeth, he ran his fingers through his messy hair, trying to tame the bedhead to no avail. After he rinsed, he wet both his hands and ran his fingers through his hair a few times, slicking his curls back to make himself look more presentable.

When he was satisfied, he met you out in your kitchen, your face buried in your phone as you furiously texted your family. You glanced up at him and did a double take when you saw his hair.

"Oh, I like that look," you said lowly, reaching out a small hand to gently touch his wet hair, and he grinned. "It's not fair. If I were hungover as shit, I would look like road kill, and here you are looking more handsome than ever," you told him, pecking a kiss to his lips before grabbing your bag and heading to the door.

"You must've seen some real pretty roadkill if you think that," he told you, following you out the door and draping an arm around your shoulders as you headed to the elevator. "Want me to drive?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," you said, handing him your car keys before tapping away on your phone again. "My mom's telling me where we should park."

Joel courteously dropped you off at the hospital entrance while he parked your car, giving you the opportunity to find your parents quicker. You saw your dad waiting for you by the front desk, his head tilted down towards his phone.

"Dad!" you called out, and he looked up at you with a smile. Slipping his phone in his pocket, he bent down and enveloped you in a big bear hug. Your dad, Paul, was a big guy and might come off intimidating to most who didn't know him, but at the heart of it all he was a huge softie.

"How's she doing?" you asked, pulling away while he stabbed the button for the elevator.

"She's doin' alright. Little nervous but she's ready."

When you noticed the elevator about to reach the lobby, you glanced behind you. "Wait! Joel's parking the car," you said, and his eyebrows rose a bit in surprise.

"Oh, didn't realize Joel's here," he replied, glancing at his watch, and you immediately felt the heat creeping up your neck.

"He was out with his friends and brother last night. He had too much to drink and couldn't drive so he walked to my place," you told him, which wasn't exactly a lie. When you saw Joel walking through the lobby, his hands shoved in his pockets and his hair slicked back, you felt the same flutter in your stomach you felt every time you saw him and you prayed it would never go away.

Joel's gaze landed on you first and then your dad's, giving you both warm smiles as he approached.

"Hey Paul, early congratulations are in order," he said, shaking your dad's hand just as the elevator dinged behind you.

"Thanks, Joel," he replied, clapping him on the back and following you into the elevator. "Heard you had a fun night last night."

Joel's eyes went wide and the blood drained from his face as his gaze darted back and forth between you both.

"The bar. With Tommy and them," you reminded him, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

"Oh, yeah. Too much fun. Feelin' it today," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Tommy met a girl, though. Got her number, if I recall, so maybe that'll get him off my back. Can't drink the way I used to."

"A girl? That's great. Maybe y'all can double date or somethin'," your dad said, stepping through the open elevator doors when you reached labor and delivery. "Now she's only allowed two visitors plus Josh, so why don't you go back and we'll swap out after a while. It's room 663."

"Okay," you said, turning to Joel. "I'll be back soon, I just want to check on her-"

"Take your time," he told you, kissing the top of your head. "I'll get us some coffee and somethin' to eat."

You smiled in relief and hurried past the swinging doors, eager to see your sister.

12:26pm

The strong, over-caffeinated coffee Joel drank managed to quell his nasty hangover. You had swapped out with your dad once already, gratefully accepting the breakfast he bought while you updated him on your sister's status. From what he gathered, her water broke but she wasn't dilated enough yet. It had been quite a few years, but Joel remembered when Sarah was born and how long it took. When his ex went into labor, they both thought they had to rush to get to the hospital, assuming the baby would arrive quickly but it ended up taking a day and a half before Sarah was actually born.

"You don't have to stay, you know," you told him after a few hours. "I know this is boring and there's nothing to do. I'm sure you have things to do at home-"

"I wanna be with you," he said, cutting you off. "If I went home I'd just be sittin' around wonderin' what you're doin', so I think I'll stay if that's alright by you."

You gave him a shy smile and looked away, and goddamnit you looked so beautiful every time he made you blush.

The double doors swung open and your dad emerged, holding out his arms to his sides with a smile.

"Still the same," he announced, and both your faces fell. "Tag, you're it," he teased, tapping you on the shoulder before you stood up.

"I'll be back in a while," you told Joel, stretching your arms a bit. "But seriously, if you want to go home it's totally fine. You can take my car and my parents can take me back."

"I told you, I ain't goin' anywhere," he said firmly, "now go be with you sister, she needs you."

You smiled and blew him a quick kiss before pushing past the doors. He looked over at Paul, who was scrolling on his phone, and took a deep breath.

It was now or never, and he might as well do it while your dad was in a good mood.

"Hey, Paul, can I talk to you 'bout somethin'?"

Paul looked up and clicked the button on the side of his phone, the screen going dark.

"Sure. What's on your mind, Joel?"

Joel knew Paul long before he even knew you. He met your parents when he was hired to build their house, which took a very long time and was a lot of hard work, but he loved being able to bring to life what someone could only dream about. He always got along well with your parents, so much so that they invited him to their Christmas party, which was when he met you and his life changed forever.

And even though he knew your father well and he had no reason to be nervous, he still felt butterflies in his stomach as he thought about what he wanted to say.

"Well, it's 'bout your daughter," he began, his fingers fidgeting anxiously in his lap as he struggled to maintain eye contact.

"Bucky? Everythin' okay?" Paul asked, suddenly looking concerned. Joel quickly shook his head.

"She's great. Nothin' bad. We're... great," he stammered, taking another deep breath. "I love her very much. I'd do anythin' for her, I hope y'know that," he said, hoping his voice didn't tremble like he thought it did. "We're plannin' on movin' in together when her lease is up in a few months, I think she told you," Joel said, looking up at Paul questioningly. He nodded slowly, his brow beginning to furrow a bit.

"Yeah, she told us. We think that's great, Joel. You know we love havin' you part of the family," he told him, and Joel felt a bit of relief when he saw his opening.

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk 'bout, actually," he said, and Paul tilted his head to the side, confused. "'Bout bein' part of the family, that is. I-I'd like to ask her to marry me - with your blessing, of course," Joel said hurriedly, "and not straight away. I was thinkin' when she moved in I might ask her then. I know it's soon, I know we've only been datin' a few months, but Paul, I gotta be honest with you, she's the one for me," Joel said, the words tumbling out now as he watched Paul's eyes go soft. "I've never been more sure 'bout anythin' in my life. And I promise I'll take care of her, I'll love her and give her whatever she needs. I'll never do wrong by her, you got my word-"

"Joel," Paul chuckled, waving his hands in the air. "Joel, that's enough. You don't gotta sell yourself to me. I know you're a good man, I see how happy you make my daughter, I ain't blind. 'Course you have our blessing. Christ, nothin' would make us happier."

"Really?" he breathed as a smile stretched across his face, his hands trembling now in his lap.

"Yes, really. The hell you so nervous for?"

"Well, figured you'd be upset 'bout her last engagement and how we haven't known each other long," Joel admitted, running a shaky hand through his hair.

Paul shook his head and made a face. "That last guy never even had the guts to ask me. I had a feelin' it wouldn't last, but I had hoped my little girl would be the one to end it on her terms. But it all worked out, anyway. She met you," he said, grabbing Joel's shoulder and giving it a firm shake. "You might've only known her for a few months but I've known you years and I know the type of man you are. I see the way you look at each other. Reminds me of when I met Martha," Paul said, his eyes growing misty. "When you know, you know."

Joel smiled and blinked back tears of his own. "Yeah, you're right. When you know, you know."

Paul leaned forward and pulled Joel into a tight hug, squeezing the air from his lungs in the process but he didn't care. He had your father's blessing, that was the first hurdle. Now all he had to do was find enough courage to ask you to marry him one day.

5:48pm

"You havin' fun, babygirl?" Joel asked into his phone as he paced the halls of the hospital.

"So much fun, Dad. It's supposed to be warm out tonight so we're all gonna sleep outside in tents and have a campfire."

"Now why are you excited to sleep outside with your friends but when I wanna go camping you always say no?" he said, smirking when he heard her groan.

"Because I'm still within walking distance of indoor plumbing," she shot back, making him chuckle softly.

"Yeah, well, y'got me there," he conceded, his eyes flicking up when he noticed you walk through the doors, scanning the lobby looking for him. He held up his hand and when you saw him, your mouth stretched out into a tired smile.

"How's Cassie?"

"Nothin' new but I think I might be gettin' an update here in a second," he said, eyeing you as you hurried up to him. "You call me if you need anythin' at all, alright?"

"I will."

"Okay, love you," he said right as you caught up to him.

"Love you too, Dad."

He dropped the phone from his ear and slid it back into his pocket. "How's she doin'?"

"She's getting ready to push!" you said excitedly, grabbing his arm as you bounced on the balls of your feet. "I was just giving them a few minutes of privacy but she said she wants me to hold one of her hands. The doctors said you and Dad can wait outside the room if you want," you told him, pulling him back down the hall towards your father, who was already waiting with a nervous look on his face.

"How're you holdin' up?" Joel asked Paul, who looked paler the closer he got. You let go of his arm and he followed you down the hospital corridor, making sure to stay out of the way of the passing medical staff.

"I'm 'bout to be a grandpa, Joel. I'm feelin' every emotion there is right now," Paul said with a nervous laugh.

Even though his hangover was still a very fresh memory, he still said, "why don't we get a drink later on and celebrate? Help take the edge of a bit."

Paul clapped Joel's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze and making him wince, but Paul didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on a door at the end of the hall. "That sounds like a plan, son."

Joel choked up for a moment at the term of endearment but quickly swallowed it down. This was about Cassie and Josh, not him. But still, the fact Paul felt comfortable calling him son during such a pivotal moment in his life touched him.

"Okay, I'll come out and let you know how it goes," you said, turning around to face the two of them. It melted Joel's heart, the way you were so happy and excited for your sister.

"Alright Bucky, you take care of our girl," your dad said, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You turned to Joel and he shot you a wink.

"Go on, now," he told you with a smile, and you gave him a quick kiss on his cheek before disappearing inside the room.

It took nearly one more hour, but after hearing a lot of screaming and crying from your sister, there was a brief silence before the telltale sound of a newborn's cries filtered through the door. Joel's eyes widened when he looked at Paul, who immediately began to tear up. Joel grinned and patted him on the back but he was quickly yanked into a bear hug so tight he wondered how he didn't fracture a rib.

"Congrats," Joel said, his voice a little pained, but Paul didn't notice. He was far too excited as tears of joy spilled down his cheeks.

Josh stumbled through the door wearing a disposable apron and cap, looking shellshocked as he yanked off a blue mask. Paul grabbed him and pulled him into a fierce hug, making his eyes bug out of his head even more and Joel had to stifle a chuckle.

"It's a girl," Josh said, a smile stretching across his face now. Paul laughed and wiped away his tears while Joel shook Josh's hand and congratulated him. "They're both doing great. Cassie's great. The baby's great. Perfect. Oh my god, I'm a dad," he said, suddenly bending over, his hands gripping his knees as he breathed deeply.

Paul laughed and rushed into the room, leaving just Joel and Josh in the hallway.

"You alright?" he asked Josh, putting a hand on his shoulder to help steady him.

"Yeah. It just kinda hit me all at once, y'know?" he said weakly, falling limply into a chair. "How'd you do it, man? Weren't you freaking out?"

"Oh, yeah. I still freak out," Joel admitted, sitting down next to Josh. "Havin' a girl is hard. They are unpredictable and independent but also so amazing and strong."

"You got any advice for being a girl-dad?" he asked, half joking.

Joel grinned and leaned his head against the wall as he scratched his chin and thought about it.

"Encourage her. Let her be herself. Let her paint your nails and make mistakes. Play tea parties with her and listen to her. Don't lie to her. Do your best. Show her love. Make sure she sees how you and Cassie love each other. Treat her with respect, but don't assume anythin'. Wear the tiara. Wear the boa. Just... be there. Because a father's love for his daughter is special. Look at Paul," Joel said, stretching his arm out towards the closed door. "He hasn't left this building all day. He raised two beautiful, smart, well rounded women who he would go to war for but also lets them be themselves. Lets them make their own choices and doesn't hold 'em back. Just... love her, man," Joel said, tilting his head in Josh's direction. He had been quietly listening to everything he said, absorbing every word before taking a deep breath.

"Thanks, Joel," Josh said with tears in his eyes. "I mean it. Thanks."

Joel slapped him on the back with a wide smile.

"No problem. Now get in there and help your wife."

Josh stood up and looked down at Joel. "Aren't you coming?"

Joel stood and followed Josh inside the crowded room, which was currently being vacated by the hospital staff so everyone could bond with the new family member.

But what Joel wasn't expecting to see was you holding the newborn in your arms, seated in a chair next to Cassie's bed as you gazed down lovingly at your niece.

Something tugged inside Joel's chest when he saw you. Something foolish and primal and earth-shattering. You looked up at him and smiled.

"Look, Joel. Meet Anna," you said, your gaze finding hers once again, and Joel looked at you, praying his face didn't give away what he was feeling in that moment.

"She's gorgeous," he whispered to Cassie, then went to stand behind your chair so he could admire Anna's sleeping face.

Paul was snapping pictures while Martha was on her phone talking to extended family, letting them know the good news. Josh pressed a kiss against Cassie's lips and murmured what a great job she did, but all Joel could see was you and Anna. You looked so at ease as you cradled her in your arms, like you were made for it and he felt his throat close up.

You finally handed her back to her mother but made sure to press a quick kiss against her forehead first.

"We should probably let you guys get to know each other," you said, giving Cassie a half hug.

"Thank you so much, Bucket," Cassie said softly, looking down at her baby. "I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for being here, Joel," she added, and he smiled.

"'Course I'd be here. You're like family to me," he said sincerely, and she gave him a tired smile.

You blew Cassie a kiss and gave your parents a hug before grabbing his hand and leading him out the door.

"Well that was an unexpected way to spend a Saturday," you said, wrapping your arm around his bicep as he lead you to the elevator.

A flurry of thoughts swam through his head as he walked you through the parking garage to your car, but he kept them all to himself. It was an eventful day, you were right. You just had no idea how much.

"Did you want to stay the night?" you asked him when he parked your car, and he felt the butterflies swirl in his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to spend every second with you, but he made a promise.

"Yeah, but I mighta made plans," he confessed, and you gave him a look as you stepped out of the passenger side of your car. "Told your dad I'd take him for a drink to celebrate," he told you, and you rolled your eyes.

"After last night? You're willing to drink again so soon?" you teased as he walked you into the lobby of your building.

"Just one drink. Then I'll be back, and this time I won't sneak up on you," he murmured, pressing a slow kiss against your soft lips.

"Better not, or else I might not be so nice this time," you whispered against his lips, making him groan.

"You were real nice," he said lowly, his cock already twitching in his jeans. "Give me a couple hours and I'll return the favor."

"Is that a promise, Mr. Miller?" you asked playfully just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

And maybe it was because he was so tired, or maybe all of the emotions from the day were building up inside him like a dam ready to burst, but the urge to ask you right then and there was overwhelming. He had never felt so strongly about anything in his whole life. But he had to be careful, especially after your reaction to his comment about the ring. He had to be patient, he had to think about the timing. He had to do it right.

"Yes, ma'am," he finally replied, his tone so serious it made you grin.

You stepped backwards onto the empty elevator, holding his gaze and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you winked.

"I'll be waiting."

Then the doors slid shut, leaving him paralyzed. He had to fight the urge to race up the stairwell and meet you at your door, all breathless and needy, but he forced himself to exit your building. As he strolled down the street, heading towards where he parked his truck the night before and silently praying he didn't get a ticket, he thought about the hold you had over him. It was powerful and intense. Alluring and confounding. Debilitating and staggering.

And he absolutely loved it.

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[firewasabeast]

gimme buck and tommy meeting during a call and getting the chance to squeeze in a lil bantering and a goodbye smooch. i need it like i need air

“Well, fancy seeing you here.”

Buck turned around at the familiar voice, eyebrows furrowed in confusion even as the smile grew on his face. “Wha- I thought you were in the chopper?”

Tommy shook his head. “Parker's up there today. I may have asked if I could work ground ops when I heard the 118 was responding to the call too.”

It was a pretty intense fire that started on the roof of an apartment complex. With the wind, and the closeness of nearby buildings, there was worry it would spread fast if not quickly contained.

Thankfully, everything went smoothly. The building had been cleared and the fire was out. The crews from each department were now working on getting all their gear back in order so they could leave.

A blush rose on Buck's cheeks. “And why would you do that?”

“Oh, you know,” Tommy took a step closer to Buck, “I haven't seen Howie in a few weeks so I thought I'd catch u-”

Buck reached out and gave Tommy a playful push before he could finish the sentence. “Asshole,” he muttered.

Tommy laughed, face scrunching up tight. God, Buck loved that face.

“I wanted to see you, Evan,” he admitted. “It's been almost two weeks of opposite schedules. I'm about to file a report accusing the LAFD of being homophobic for keeping us apart.”

“I'd sign my name to it,” Buck agreed.

“So, not an overreaction?”

Buck moved even closer to Tommy. “If anything we should be doing more.”

Tommy's eyes moved to Buck's lips. “Anything specific in mind?”

“Guys, I'm seriously so close to throwing up,” Chimney interrupted, carrying the ax back to the truck. “Get a room.”

“In fifteen hours we will be in a room!” Buck yelled out to him, then quietly added for only Tommy to hear, “And we will not be leaving the room for forty-eight hours.”

Tommy smirked. “What if we get hungry?”

“Our lube is edible.”

“You know, Athena and I have made out between a firetruck or two,” Bobby mentioned as he passed by, patting Buck on the shoulder. “We leave in five.”

Years ago, Bobby would have been trying to steer Buck away from inappropriate workplace behavior, and maybe he still should be, but Buck had spent his last couple shifts becoming increasingly pouty. Plus, Tommy wasn't a one night- or, better yet, a one shift- stand. They were coming up on eight months together and apparently still couldn't get enough of each other.

Tommy would have laughed at the shocked look on Evan's face, but the go ahead from Bobby was all that he needed to be grabbing Evan's hand and leading him to a space between a fire truck and an ambulance. Tommy pushed him against the ambulance, brought his hands to Buck's waist, and practically smashed their lips together. Buck moaned, happily surprised as Tommy's tongue licked into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around Tommy's shoulders, bringing him closer.

“Where were you?” Buck asked when they pulled apart for air.

“West stairwell. You?” Tommy kissed him again before he could give an answer.

“East, mmm, east stairwell,” he gasped, Tommy working his way down Buck's jaw to his neck. “God, Tommy. We just m- missed each other.”

“Hmm,” Tommy hummed against the top of his collarbone, the vibrations giving Buck chills. He had never even felt Tommy undo his turnout jacket for better access. “Seems like we did that for quite a few years.”

Tommy knew how Buck felt about all their missed connections. He'd spent so much time going over all the events throughout the years where they could have or should have met, or almost did meet. While Buck did get bummed that they didn't know each other all those years ago, the fact that they finally did meet at what seemed to be the perfect time for them both was one of his biggest turn ons.

He reached up and got ahold of Tommy's face, bringing him back to his lips. “I love you... so much,” he mumbled out between kisses.

“I love... you more.”

“Amazing what you can see when you've got a bird's eye view,” a voice rang out over the radio. Tommy pulled back from their kiss, and they both looked up at the chopper hovering above them, giving a wave. “Parker will never let me hear the end of this,” Tommy laughed out.

Buck rolled his eyes playfully, then pressed the button on his radio. “I'm sure it's beautiful. I hope you took pictures.”

A few seconds passed before Parker got back on the radio. “Oh, don't you worry about that,” he said, laughter evident in his voice. The helicopter began to move away from above them. “Pilot Parker heading back to Harbor Station.”

Buck was starting to lean back in when the radio came to life again.

“Captain Nash to Buckley, we're heading out in one minute. I repeat, heading out in one minute.”

“Got it, Cap,” Buck answered. “On my way.”

Tommy sighed, gazing deeply into Evan's eyes. “I'll see you soon, okay? Be safe.”

“Fifteen hours?”

Tommy ran his hands up and down Evan's waist, pressing a final kiss to his lips before they had to part ways. “Fifteen hours.”

[princessofmarvel]

Business and dates

summary | when grace leaves, it leaves the shelbys with a heartbroken thomas. polly takes this as an opportunity to get him with the girl she's always wanted him with

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 2.30k

genre | fluff! with just a tad of angst! 

requested? | yes! thank you so much for your request! i had so much writing it, and i am kind of proud of this one, lol.

warnings! | mentions of bullying, and the reader not eating from being worried! and, i have not proof read this yet!

author’s note! | Hi! Thank you all for being so patient as I worked on this! Requests are open for drabbles, and headcanons only at the moment for these characters! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

No one knew what had happened that day. All anyone knew was that Grace was suddenly gone, and that she had left the Shelby family with a heartbroken Thomas. And the person left to pick up the pieces was his lifelong best friend, who has been in love with Thomas since the day they met back when they were just small kids. 

Thomas was having a decent day, school had just let out and he was walking back home (alone because his older brother Aurther thought that it would be funny to run off before Thomas got out of class) when he saw a young girl getting picked on. 

“Stop it! This is my favorite skirt!” Thomas heard her yell to the kids that had her on the ground, kicking dirt onto her clothes while laughing and taunting her. Thomas knew that these kids were practically afraid of him, so he knew he could get them to leave the girl alone.  He also knew that his mother would scold him if she found out that he didn’t do anything to help her. 

“Oi! Leave her alone, or I'll put a curse on you!” Thomas called out as he made his way up to the group, and pulled a razor blade out of his pocket. The kids practically scattered the moment they heard Thomas’ voice. Leaving just him, and the girl with dirt on her clothes. 

“Thank you” He heard the girl say in a quiet voice as he put his hand out to help her back up. 

“What caused that?” He asked, curious as to what the girl could have done to anger the other kids so much. 

“I-I told them that I wouldn’t do their homework.” She said back to him, as she tried to get the dirt off of her skirt.  Thomas told himself that he should have known it was something like that. There wasn’t anything serious that this girl could have done to upset them so much. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, you live on Watery lane, right?” He said as he started walking, with the girl running a bit to catch up with him. He knew her name, he recognized her from school. She lived right across from him, but they never said anything to each other. She had been over to play with Ada sometimes, but they never spoke. 

Neither one of them said anything as they walked, it wasn’t until they got to her home that Thomas spoke up. 

“They shouldn’t bother you again, no one should.” He said as he stood outside her doorstep, seeming almost sorry since he knew his reputation, and how kids would stay away from him in fear of getting cursed. 

“It’s alright, I don’t really have any friends anyways.” The small girl said, while rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Why don’t you come play at my house? I know my family won’t mind.” He said to her with a small smile. Truth be told, Thomas didn’t really have many friends either, and he saw an opportunity to make one. 

Ever since then, the two were inseparable. They did everything together, they were even each other's first kiss. Her family was weary at first, but soon saw how protective the Shelby boys (and the rest of the Shelby family) were over her, and grew to like them. The two were like this up until Thomas was called to war

“Tommy, this has to be a mistake.” The girl cried into Thomas’ shoulder as he held her. “All three of you at the same time? What kind of cruel joke is this” 

“The universe has a funny way of doing things.” He mumbled into her hair, his hand resting on the back of her head. “I’ll come back, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t know that, Tommy” The girl said as she pulled her head out of his shoulder, and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. 

“You really think I'm leaving you yet? You think I'm going to leave you before you get married? Please, your future husband doesn’t get off that easily.” He said with a small laugh while trying to lighten the mood as he held her face with his hand. “Nothings taking me from you, not yet.” 

“You better come back, Shelby.” She said as she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Or, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.” 

Thomas laughed and kissed her head, as the air in the room changed. He didn’t know why, but he leaned down and kissed her lips softly, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave without giving her a kiss, even just a light one. “You’ve got nothing to worry about” He said as he pulled away. 

She believed him, she tried not to worry. She didn’t worry until his letters stopped coming. After a month of not hearing from him she worried so much she got sick. She wrote him everyday, sent him a letter at least once a week, if not twice. No word of his death ever came. 

The day Thomas arrived home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly. His heart broke when he saw her, she was paler, and her face was skinny, all signs to her not eating properly. Neither one of them said a word to each other for a week. It wasn’t until (Y/n) decided that she had enough, and stormed into his room. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shouted, growing red in the face. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not meeting her eyes, already knowing what she was talking about,

“You! You come back, and are completely different! You’re cold, and mean to everyone, which maybe you were that way to some people before, but never to me! Never to your family!” As she yelled at him, she started to sway as if she was about to faint. Before she could hit the floor, Thomas grabbed her and set her down on the bed beside him. 

“You need to eat something.” He mumbled, not looking at her which infuriated her more. 

“I thought you were dead.” This caught his attention as he heard her start to cry. He finally turned to her. “You stopped writing.” 

“I didn’t know how to write to you, you would ask me how I was, and I couldn’t find it in myself to tell you about how I had just watched a man die. I thought it better to not write.” He said, pulling her into his chest. “Why are you not eating?” 

“You worried me, anything I ate just came back up.” She mumbled into his chest. 

“I told you not to worry.” He said with a small laugh coming from his chest, the first in a long time. 

“Tough shit, Shelby.” She mumbled back, while pulling her head out of his chest. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the other, until Thomas finally spoke up. “I’m trying to get back to normal.” He mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear, she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been so close. 

“I know, it will just take some time.” She said while she caressed his cheek. “And, I’ll be here to help you heal.” 

After that day, nothing ever really went back to how it was before the war. But it was like that for everyone. Thomas had gone back to normal as much as he could. He had his moments, but everyone did. And, (Y/n) didn’t lie, she was there every step of the way, even in the bad times she never left. 

The two never fought again until the day Grace left. She had tried telling Thomas before that something was up with her, but he just wouldn’t listen. The only other person that seemed to notice it was Polly. 

“He’ll never go for it.” John pipped into the conversation. Polly was currently trying to figure out a way to cheer Thomas up, and the idea she had was to put Thomas with (Y/n). She already considered the girl a daughter, and she always wanted her with Thomas. To her, it was the perfect plan. 

“That's why we don’t tell him! All we tell him is that he has a business meeting at the new restaurant, he’ll show up, expecting some business man to be there, but instead (Y/n) will come in wearing the most beautiful thing I can find, that he’ll just have to stay.” Polly explained to the boys and Ada. 

“Alright, but how are you going to get (Y/n) there, dressed up, without suspecting anything?” Ada chimed in. 

“We’ll tell her a boy stopped by and asked to take her out.” Polly said, as if it was obvious. 

“Please, she’s not going to just agree to go out with someone, especially if she doesn’t even know who it is.” Arthur muttered. 

"Actually she might.” John announced to everyone. “Just to make Thomas jealous, she mentioned it back when Grace was around.” 

The Shelby’s set everything into motion that night. Polly told Thomas he had a meeting, then she told (Y/n) about the secret man that wanted to take her out. 

So Thomas sat in his suit, waiting for this man to show, when he saw (Y/n) walk through the door, dressed like a vision in her red, drop waist, beaded dress, with an old pearl necklace to match. She looked around the room, until her eyes landed on Thomas. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, as she walked up to his table.

“Business meeting, what are you doing here?” He asked, suddenly growing jealous at the thought of her being here for another man. 

“A date, and what business meeting? I know your schedule, there wasn’t one planned, did you make one?” She asked, wondering who on earth Thomas could be meeting for business at this hour. 

“No, Polly told me I had one, who’s the date?” He asked, his jealousy rising. 

“Not sure, Polly told me-” A look of realization crossed both their faces “Polly” The two said in unison. 

She decided to sit down, now laughing to herself. “You’re the date.”

“You’re the business.” Thomas responded, a small smile growing to his face. 

The two sat there for a minute, before Thomas spoke up. “You do look stunning.” 

“Polly picked it.” She said, with a small laugh.

“I bet she did.” Thomas said with a laugh, and a sigh. “She’s wanted us together for ages.” He mumbled. 

“And what do you want?” The girl asked. Thomas had always had a feeling that (Y/n) liked him, he was just never sure how much, until he looked up and met her eyes that were filled with nothing but love and want.

“You in my life.” He said, keeping his eyes on her. “I thought a relationship between us would mess everything up. I couldn’t risk losing you.” 

“Thomas.” The girl said, grabbing his hand across the table. “You could never lose me, even if we did have a relationship and it failed, I would still love you. But, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.” 

“I have distracted myself from you for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t let myself fall for you.” Thomas said, standing up from the table, (Y/n) following. 

“It’s okay to fall, Thomas, who knows, maybe it won’t hurt.” She said, as she placed a hand to his face. Without thinking, Thomas leaned in and kissed her with everything in him, causing her to hit the table, his hands on the side of her face being the only thing to keep them from falling. The pair kissed until they needed air. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers. 

“Let’s give this a try.” He whispered, looking into her eyes. 

The girl smiled and gave Thomas a quick peck, before they left the restaurant, her holding his arm. The walk back to the Shelby home was mostly quiet, until she spoke up. “Thank god for Polly.”