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zeisly · 21 days ago

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Oh heavens me was this cute! Time and time again Arthur Morgan just proves he's a big cute softie

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned. Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for, not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg.

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten.

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied.

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.”

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine. Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?��

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple.

You felt completely stuck.

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out. You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this.

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.”

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.”

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.”

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again.

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

#arthur morgan

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zeisly · 21 days ago

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Unrequited (Arthur Morganxf! Reader) - RDR2

A/N: Whoever decided that there could be a button where Arthur Morgan says "good girl" how ever many times you want, I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.

Synopsis: Arthur loved Mary, didn't he? So, why was it he was spouting all this nonesense about loving you?

Warning/ Tags: Angst. But like SO MUCH FLUFF. Allusions to Sex. Mentions of violence. Coarse language. Kissing. Hurt/ Comfort. Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 6.1K

Masterlist

Even now, Arthur Morgan was a lovesick fool for Mary Linton.

You shouldn’t have been surprised; you weren’t really. Arthur doesn’t talk about her much anymore, but you’d known him long enough to see he’d never really let that part of himself go. The part of him that loves. That dreams of something better for himself even if he thinks he’s the big, bad, scary man that he is.

And maybe in some aspect, he is that man.

Threatening, bartering, killing. Sometimes you look into his eyes and see nothing but a hard, desolate exterior that wouldn’t think twice about shooting anybody up so long as Dutch told him to do it. But the reality Arthur Morgan doesn’t want to accept is that there’s goodness hiding within the moulding of a gunslinger enforcer.

You can glimpse that goodness when he helps a woman on the road or gives medicine to a man dying from snake poison, and you can especially see it when he’s hauling his ass on his horse to help Mary even when he’s being pulled left and right to finish errands for the camp.

So no, you shouldn’t have been surprised that Arthur would ride out the earliest he could to help his past lover.

But hell, why did it have to hurt you every damn time?

He returns to camp just after the sun rises and light starts to colour the world around you. The air is still crisp, and the heat of the sun is non-existent on your skin. You’re brushing your horse’s mane when you hear the familiar holler of his voice towards Bill. You don’t look towards him as his horse trots towards the hitching post.

As he dismounts, he greets you, a little pep in the tone of his voice.

It irritates you immediately.

“Mornin’.”

You grit your teeth and put on the brightest smile you can muster. “Mornin’!”

He takes a moment. His eyebrows crease. “Something matter?”

“Uh-?”

“Nothing it’s just-“ he breaks to think about the right words to say. “You don’t look- Never mind.”

This only encourages you to grow your façade stronger. “So,” you start “what’d Mary need this time?” It comes off a little pettier than you intended it to be. He doesn’t deserve that, hell, Mary didn’t deserve your bitterness either, fine woman she was.

That little fact seemed inconsequential however every time he uttered her name and the familiar feeling of jealousy pricked, downright stabbed itself in your gut.

He picks up on your tone, not appreciating it one bit. The displeasure that carves into his expression almost makes you wince and the fake smile that’s plastered on your face twitches the slightest bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You take the coward’s way out, you always do.

You break eye contact and continue to brush away the embarrasment. You’re rewarded by a loving whinny and it almost distracts you from the ice-cold awkwardness you’ve built around this conversation. “Nothin’, just asking.”

Whether he believes your fib or doesn’t, he doesn’t let it show. But him moving on has you thanking God regardless. He takes out a brush, starting to work on his own mare’s mane. “Good girl.” He whispers. Warmth creeps up your neck as your ears tingle towards the baritone timber of his voice. It makes you lose all self-respect for yourself. He sneaks a look at you for the tiniest bit of time before continuing your conversation. “Her brother was involved in some weird religious group.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep,” he sighs “buncha turtle lovers.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you even though you don’t understand it. When you glance towards Arthur’s direction, the indifference has faded away from his features and all that’s left is a sarcastic smirk in its place. All frost has melted away and all too quickly you’re back to the ease that usually came with your dynamic.

You can’t help but throw a snide joke his way. “Gosh, if you’re still this involved in their family drama, you should just make it official and propose again.”

The idea haunts you, of course, it does. But you weren’t going to let Arthur know that. The more you joke, the more it becomes real, the more your true feelings become buried underneath a pile of age-old lies and supportive nonsense. Because at the end of the day, if it would make Arthur happy, you’d keep biting your lip and pushing him towards that happiness.

Love worked funny like that.

His smirk falls and you’re worried you pushed it a tad bit too far. “I tried once and I don’t know if it’ll ever happen.” He turns almost sombre, like thinking back on old memories that were equal parts sweet and bitter and this bothers you in a different way.

“I sincerely think if you were to propose to her right now, she’d say yes with no questions asked.” You hope he sees the genuineness in your intentions.

He merely gives you a scoff, slightly shaking his head. “Yeah well,” he trails off. “It’d never work out now.”

You decide not to continue pushing. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to dig deeper into the situation and even in your sorry narrow-minded state, you could understand and respect keeping your mouth shut when you needed to. You lick your lips and stick another sickly-sweet smile to your face. “Well, you continue on moping, but I can’t say I’ll be sticking around to see you grumbling around.”

That gets him to snort. “And where will the rough and tough princess be today? Helping a rabbit off the road? Wait-“ he pauses for dramatic effect “Talking to the birds and singing em’ a song?” He makes himself chortle quietly at the idea.

“I have a date.”

That gets him to stop cold turkey. He’s only met with a smug appearance on your end. “You?”

You fake great offence and snap at him. “Hey! Even I can seduce someone if I try!”

“No, I know- I” He appears shaken up about your revelation and for a moment, the tiniest fraction of a second, you could almost see the tensing of his jaw. “With who?”

It’s your turn to leer at him. “Why’s it matter?”

“It doesn’t I-“ he stutters “I just-“

You raise an eyebrow. “Well if you must know, he works at the hardware store.” You say as you recall the day you met the gentleman. “I helped him carry out some tasks and he gave me a daffodil in exchange, of all things.” You pointed at the flower currently tucked in the band of your hat. “Cutest thing.”

“Is that right?” He gruffed out.

“Mhm, so I’m gonna escort him and his granddaughter to a birthday party out in Strawberry.” You giggle. “He said he needed a ‘fighter’ with him because of his ‘old bones’ and ‘lumbago’” You roll your eyes. “Sounds like Uncle.”

This seems to take Arthur by surprise. The dark clouds in his eyes clear out and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Wha-?”

You bite your lip to keep your internal laughter from spilling. “Listen, I offered.” You explain. “He’s been giving me discounts at the store and that girl is just the sweetest thing and well-“ you shrug, “I couldn’t say no like the goddamn softie I am.”

The blades in his eyes dull at the statement. The mysterious scrunch of his shoulders from earlier disappears. He steps away from his horse and walks around his mare to shorten the gap between the two of you. It reminds you that he’s tall, much bigger than you are. “That bleedin’ heart of yours is gonna get you killed one day.”

He mutters his words lightly and yet, there’s some odd sadness you don’t understand attached to it. He puckers his lips as if he wants to say more on the matter yet can’t.

You put on your best Arthur impression, puffing up your chest and scrunching your face. “Well, somehow this don’t suit me, now does it?”

He wouldn’t even have to touch you.

At that, Arthur chuckles deeply. “Nah, you obviously ain’t tall enough to be me, shortcake.” He jabs you playfully at the shoulder and in response, you over-exaggerate the motion of being pushed back.

Though, if he really wanted to, Arthur could have you on your back in less than a second.

Before you can go further down that rabbit hole of thoughts, you carry on with the train of humour. “Besides, heard from Jerry there’ll be plenty of cute fellas around to keep me entertained.”

The clouds start to roll back in his demeanour, dare you say with a touch of thunder this time. “You gonna be looking at other men?” The lightness in his voice is gone, only replaced with the venom from before.

You’re befuddled at the quick-changing atmosphere, but don’t go back on what you said. “All I’ve got to look at are you folks all day,” you quip “A girl needs a change of scenery every once in a while.”

He crosses his arms, clearly not amused. “We not pretty enough for you?”

“Well, you are certainly, but I don’t know about Pearson.”

You purse your lips immediately and silently curse yourself at the admission. That same old shit-eating grin makes a comeback. “Is that right?”

You push his arm back, but unlike him, you hardly get the man to move more than half an inch. “Oh shut it.” You quickly un-hitch your horse and mount her. All you want to do is wipe his lips so it turns back into his usual frown, but you’re afraid you’d just embarrass yourself further. “I won’t be back for a while.” You pull your horse away and pat her on the side. “Didn’t know children’s birthday parties could take so damn long.”

“How long will you be gone for?” He mumbles, voice noticeably quieter.

“However long it takes for a fella to get me off.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. The sun highlights the tips of his ears go red. “Wha- What?” He strained out like he wasn’t quite sure of what he just heard.

A real, true laugh comes out of you then as you spur your horse into action, cantering away from camp. You don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say. His flushed look is enough of a prize to take with you.

You replay it all the way to Strawberry.

------------------

It was well past sundown when you return. Truthfully, you don’t even know what time it is, all you knew was that you were gone long enough that laying down on your cot would be much appreciated by your aching muscles. There’s a light breeze and you take your hat off, shaking out your hair.

The party was a success. Jerry and his granddaughter got to and from Strawberry safely, and really, that was all you could wish for when you were being hunted constantly because of the bounty on your head. You knew you offered, hell you were pretty self-approving when you did. But even then, you made sure to ask if Jerry really wanted a gunslinger as an escort, to which he replied, “Oh, shove it.”

Wonderful man.

The rest of the camp, well those that were here anyways, aside from Bill who was back on guard duty, are already fast asleep. The crackle of the fire is the only sound filling your ears other than your own footsteps.

There’s a small oil lamp turned on in the corner of your vision, brightening the blue hue and you instantly know the only bastard who would be up at this hour.

He’s drawing again. His brows are focused in that way you loved so much and he only looks up from his journal once you amble closer towards him. You almost hate that you’ve disrupted him. You could watch him draw for hours and hardly get bored.

He closes the book and looks up at you. You nod towards his hands. “You’ll have to show me what you’re working on at some point, Picasso.”

Arthur lets a huff through his nose. “Not gonna happen.” He motions you to sit beside him and you take him up on his offer. You catch a whiff of his scent, something like tobacco mixed with old leather. It may have been slightly repulsive to anyone else, but this was Arthur, and all it made you feel was safe. “You was gone a long time.” He points out, a bitter tinge to his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You tilt your head at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “You just went off and didn’t come back until now.” The bitter tinge morphs into something like annoyance. “I was worried.” He mumbles low.

“Oh, I was fine.” You bump your shoulder against his, but it again, doesn’t make him sway. “Besides, I had a fella with me.”

His hand, the one closest to you, balls up at his side. He’s always been hard to read, but he clearly isn't happy at your revelation. You had half a mind in this late hour to stew in that fact. “Did you now?”

“Sure, one of them single fathers.” You let a small laugh escape you and shake your head, kicking the dirt with your worn-out boots. “Don’t worry, I’d never steal one from a married woman.”

“Was he…cute?” He mutters.

“Never thought I’d hear the word ‘cute’ come out of Arthur Morgan’s mouth.” You catch a glimpse towards him and again note the same pink twinge on his ears, probably embarrassed at being called out on something so stupid.

You finally start to feel that familiar flutter in your stomach hidden behind all that supportive “do what makes you happy nonsense”.

No, you couldn’t have that.

So, you bury it down.

It just became easier that way after all these years.

“That ain’t the damn point.” He continues to grumble. “Was he?”

You ponder the question for a short while. “I mean, he was alright in the looks department, not cute-“

He cuts you off quickly. “Just alright?” He scoffs lightly.

You remember the aforementioned single father in question. His looks are the last thing on your mind. He was alright, not cute, not ugly. Sure, you wouldn’t want to sleep with the man, but-

“He was damn good with his kid, and I thought I’d like to get to know someone like that more.” You reveal through a whisper.

This causes Arthur to frown, but his expression softens. Some of that constant bitterness fades away. “You- “he cuts off and thickly swallows. “You weren’t doing anything strange were you?”

You can feel a prickle of heat in your face at the question. “I mean, we talked sure, but if anything, I just maybe wanted to indulge in a fantasy.” You shrug.

He snaps his gaze back towards you. “A fantasy?”

“What it’d be like-“

God, why was it so hard to say? “Being normal, having a family.”

The silence that follows is thick and you immediately scold yourself for ruining a perfectly airy conversation just like this morning. You regret it, you do, but you can’t deny how nice it is to finally get that dream off your chest. It wasn’t original, what woman at camp, save Mrs. Adler, didn’t want that stability?

The feeling of riding was freeing. It gave you the grace of flying during a time when you were being held down and that will never change. But nowadays, you find that instead of being held down, you want to be held close. To be called important, matter to someone, so that when you felt lost soaring, you’d always have a beacon home.

“Damn it, you can’t be sayin’ things like that.” He forces out a murmur, a shred of his usual gruff tone.

“You ever think about that?” You tread lightly. “Having kids? Building a farm out somewhere and just-“ a deep sigh escapes you. “living and not surviving?”

It takes him a while to answer your question.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” The vulnerability colors his voice and it starts to trip you over the edge.

You nod, pursing your lips. “With Mary?” You meekly ask, the crickets chirping making the exchange more awkward. You almost cringe at the silence of it all.

He tenses at her name and it seems like you get your answer.

“With Mary? I mean-“ He tries to dissuade you with absolutely no conviction in his voice. He pauses and curses under his breath. Arthur shakes his head, closing his eyes a moment. “Y’know, it ain’t always about Mary.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Arthur, it’s always been about Mary.” Sighing deeply, you bite your cheek at the acidic truth. “Even when you met Eliza, it was still about Mary.”

He’s taken aback by your statement and a subtle look of frustration overcomes his features. “No, it hasn’t.”

You want to say more, but your sardonic nature halts at his stoic reply. It’s like your heart stops, a coldness and a shrill wake your senses from the inside out. “What?” Your brain halts, all thought ceasing to exist except to process his next response. He tries to avoid eye contact, but you seek his gaze as you tilt your head sideways. “Arthur, what do you mean?” You repeat more sternly, begging to get a straight answer.

He throws you a stick of dynamite.

The smoke clears and all that’s left is the destruction that caters right in the center of your chest.

“What about you?” His voice is hoarse like this is the most difficult thing he’s ever had to squeeze out of his mouth. “What about when it became you?”

Ka-boom.

There’s no longer just a flutter in your stomach, there’s a whole damn circus, and it decides to release the butterflies you worked so hard to keep from their magical chest of caution.

You shake your head and your body goes rigid. You move away from him and stand abruptly as you place your hands on your hips. He’s quick to follow you on your feet. A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat before you can stop yourself. “Arthur-“

“No, let me finish.” He steps in front of you and holds your shoulders square, turning your body towards him. Even in your bubbling anger, you hate the way your skin immediately melts under his touch. His eyes and actions are pleading for you to stay, so you let him speak, biting your tongue to keep yourself from interrupting. He stumbles over his words. “It’s been you for a long damn time.” He admits. “But I was, I don’t know-“You notice the light sheen of sweat gracing his forehead. “I was scared to say something.”

“If this is some dumb joke-“

“No!” He immediately denies like he’s appalled you would even think of it in that way.

“Well,” you sneer “I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing that.” You remove his hands from your shoulders stiffly and start to trudge away back to your horse.

In the years you’d known him, Arthur had been a force, even more so when he was younger and reckless. He was stubborn as a mule and despite keeping the peace for the most part, there was a strut in his step when he walked because he knew he had the power to change that fact whenever he wanted and get away scotch-free. Arthur was arrogant in that way, always threatening people with a smirk or an edge to his voice.

But this is the first time you see him flinch and it happens to be at your curt words.

A lump catches in your throat, but you’re too annoyed to care, all but continuing the short distance back to the hitching posts. Arthur is hot on your tracks, not letting up one bit. Maybe Bill was overhearing, maybe one of the girls stirred awake. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to get the hell away from here.

His catches up to you in no time, his strides much longer than yours. He steps in front of your path and when you make a move to step aside, he mirrors your actions. You click your tongue, glowering at him from beneath your lashes. “Look,” he starts “now I know you may not like me, but I-“

That gets your anger rising to incomparable heights. “Not like you?!” You practically shout out. Looking around, you remember where you are and it’s the only reason your voice lowers. “Arthur, I’ve liked you since the day I met you!”

His eyebrows pull together and his nose crinkles. Arthur’s face morphs into something like agitation from its previous confusion. “So, why all this attitude?”

You’re dejected. “Why all this attitude?” You softly hiss. “Why all this attitude when I’ve loved you for years and all I’ve heard about is Mary?”

Arthur winces. He steps back from you, recoiling like he’s just been shot by a sniper rifle.

Good, you think. He should feel like a right asshole.

“’Why all this attitude’ he says!” You giggle manically at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Where do I even start?” You begin to rant, hands back on your hips to give you some sort of anchor from sinking towards the ground. “I don’t know Arthur, maybe it’s because while I’ve been here stewing in self-pity, you were always out seeing her. Maybe, it’s because every time you were young, drunk, and broken, you’d come back whispering her name, mistaking her for me, and I was the one helping you pick up the pieces.”

Your heart was racing a million yards a minute, but you couldn’t stop now. All the hurt and sorry baggage poured out like molten lava, burning with years of intensity. “Or maybe-“ you point an index finger at him and snap sarcastically as if you’ve just discovered a newfound truth “Maybe, it was because I worked so damn hard to tell myself I wasn’t in love with you and you just-“ your voice breaks.

Arthur doesn’t interrupt you at any part of your monologuing. Just like usual, you can hardly decipher his emotions except notice the colour draining from his face.

“So, I’m sorry that I don’t believe you when you say It’s been me.” You continue. “You’ve given me no reason to believe otherwise.”

You sidestep him, not taking a single look back in fear of him seeing the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You unhitch your horse, giving her a slight pat before mounting her again.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t see or speak to Arthur for a few days after your argument.

You don’t have much energy to talk to anyone really.

So, you somehow end up back at a familiar field surrounded by evergreen trees and flowers. The crystalline water of the hot springs gleams in your eyes and a chill wind sends shivers up your spine.

You set up camp and stay a while. The serenity of the woods is welcomed. You don’t consider yourself the best hunter, but fishing didn’t require the same amount of dexterity. It's quiet, peaceful even. All you hear is the chirp of the birds and the steady flow of water.

It gives you time to cool off, reflect on everything that’s happened.

The more time you spend out here, the more hesitant you are to leave. It's a nice reprieve from the perils of civilization and you find yourself slipping away, trying to grasp a sense of comfort that's unimaginable for you most days.

Tends to happen when you're an outlaw, you suppose.

But one day, as you’re laying under the shade of a tree, feeling the blades of soft grass beneath you, you hear heavy footsteps starting to approach.

There's no need to bother even acting surprised.

Arthur takes a seat beside you with a deep sigh. He leans back, using his hands to support him.

The both of you are silent for a while, not one peep out of your mouths. You expect it to be uncomfortable but having him by your side brings an ease you haven’t felt in days. Arthur continues to stare up at the sun starting to descend in the horizon and you follow suit, eyes trained to the sky above.

“When I met you, I thought you were nothing more than a naïve, innocent little thing.” He starts, baritone drawl catching you off guard. You don’t realize how much you’d missed hearing it until now. “You were this small girl I needed to protect. “

You glance towards him and notice the small smile now gracing his lips, his eyes glossed over like remembering memories from so very long ago. “You could barely ride a horse, hell, you could barely mount one.”

The genuine warmth in his voice continues to chip away any frustrations left within you as you recall those days like snapshots in your mind.

“Every day, it was something new with you.” He laughs out, making your heart traitorously skip a beat. “You were learning the ropes of it all, and for a while, you were just a ratty brat who wanted to try on boots that were too big for her.” He pauses and you look at him more clearly this time, head turned towards him fully in an effort to really listen to what he has to say. “But Mary, she-“ he swallows “I could just turn my thoughts off with her.”

He gives out another sigh. “I loved her, I did.” He admits. “It was so easy loving her at the time. We had no expectations of one another, and then all of a sudden that shifted and I don’t know if I could have been the man she needed me to be.”

You ache but it’s not because he mentions his past lover’s name.

“So I ended up actin’ like a goddamn fool. Boozin’, sleeping around.” He groans, obviously not proud of his previous ventures. “Dutch and Hosea, they couldn’t pull me out of it. I mean, they tried everything, but then-“ He releases a relieved chuckle. “Some woman I’d never met before poured a bucket of cold water over my head and pulled out her revolver, threatening to shoot my dumb ass if I didn’t get up.”

You snort as you’re reminded of that day.

It was dry and humid, overall making it a miserable summer afternoon. Arthur stumbled back into camp smelling like he was doused in moonshine, groggy and slurring his words together. Even Hosea, forgiving as he was, cringed at his sorry state.

You just about had it.

After collecting some from the nearby stream, you pushed Arthur down and doused him in ice-cold water. He sputtered, clearly not happy about what you just did and attempted to get up to confront you. You pulled out your gun before he could and shot right between his legs onto the dirt below. “If you don’t pull your damn weight around here, I’ll make sure the next shot hits!” you shouted, utterly disappointed.

“Good times.” You mutter and Arthur’s smile widens.

“Sure.” He agreed. “When my eyes started to clear, I swear to god I thought I was looking at an angel.”

You had a hard time believing that too. “You looked at a woman who just shot at you and thought she was angelic?”

He tries to find better words. “I guess you looked ethereal all together.” He tries to explain. “Like you were something I’d see at the pearly white gates of judgement.”

You sat amused at his thoughts. “That so?”

He’s finally able to make eye contact with you and revels in that fact. “My vision was still a little hazy and you just stood over me, posture straight, hat on.” He takes his hand and scratches his chin. It’s a tick for when he’s nervous. “Your hair had a glow to it from the sun and your eyes, they just- had this fire in em’ I’d never seen before.”

His shoulders drop and the mood suddenly turns mellow. “When we were ridin’ around and ended up at this clearin’, you just took off without me and I realized how much you’d grown into yourself right under my nose. You didn’t change much, you were still the same old, sunshine, animal-lovin’ princess, but the way you carried yourself? Asserted yourself more? God-.”

He holds your gaze as he continues and it’s like the world holds its breath for whatever he has to say next. “You rode off, hair wild, not looking back at me one bit and I just couldn’t stop starin’ at you because I thought you were such a damn sight.”

“It made me wonder-“ his words trail off. He stops for a while and you let him. You know how much courage it was taking him right now to admit this to you, letting down those guarded stone walls he loved so much.

You lick your lips, and in an act of your own bravery, you settle your hand on top of his, to which he visibly softens upon. “Made you wonder?” You urge.

“If that’s what Mary felt like, seeing me go all those times.” He finishes. “Because I hated it. I hated every time you got on that horse and left, and it would only hurt less whenever you came back.”

Arthur’s hand starts to clench, but you flip his hand in yours so you can interlock your fingers properly. You give his hand a squeeze and the tension eases off.

“But then I hear you wantin’ to go off with some man and all I could do was mope like a sorry idiot because what if-“ His throat works. “What if you rode off and didn’t come back this time?”

“Oh, Arthur.” You softly coo.

His hand starts to make small slow circles over your hands. “You know I realized something when I last saw Mary that I didn’t before.”

You’re expectant to hear what it is.

“Every time it got a little too rough between us, she was done with me.” He perceived. “I don’t blame her, she deserves someone to make her happy, but I wasn’t gonna change fast enough in her eyes.” He squeezes your hand tighter. “But you- you didn’t expect me to change on a dime. You were patient, you understood that I didn’t want to start a family not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid of feeling that pain again.”

After clenching his jaw, he takes his other palm and cups your cheek with the utmost tenderness a man of his size could muster. “With you, I feel like I can be something else, something good.” You lean towards his touch, begging that if this were a dream, you never wanted to be woken up. His gaze is soft on your features, highlighted by the starlight above.

“I fell in love with you a long time ago Arthur Morgan.” You confess. “I keep running away because no one holds me close enough to keep me somewhere.”

You feel a lump in your throat as you remember all the times you rode off wanting to hear him shout "Wait!", but he never did.

“I know and I’m sorry for that sweetheart, I really am.”

Tears start to escape your eyes and you don’t bother wiping them away. “Loving you hurt so much Arthur.” You whimper. “I started to pack all of those feelings away if it meant I didn’t have to ruin what we already had.”

He presses his rough lips to your forehead and leans back. “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He tilts your chin up with a finger. “If I could go back and change the way I handled it all, I would.”

“Give me something to believe that this is real. That I’m not just making this up in my misery.”

Arthur takes a moment to look at you before he speaks. He takes the time to figure out how he’s supposed to approach what he wanted to convey “Close your eyes for just a second.” He mumbled, his voice pleading.

You don’t question it and do what he wants you to do. You fully accept you’d be one of those pathetic individuals who’d follow him off a cliff if it meant staying with him and keeping him safe.

In the darkness, you feel him pick up your hands and place them on his chest. Under your palms, you feel the fast thrum of the beat of his heart and the laboured way his chest rises. You stay like that for a few seconds and match your breathing to his.

“Okay,” his voice cuts through your thoughts “now open your eyes.” You follow his command and you open your eyes to Arthur with a tender expression. You feel his breathing get faster, like he’s almost waiting for a reaction.

You tilt your head. “What?”

Arthur chuckles quietly at your question. “This is me trying to prove I’m serious about you.” His hands are still around your wrists, keeping your palms on his chest in place.

“By what? Letting me feel you up?” You jokingly say. “Arthur, who do you think’s being lugging your heavy ass around when you’re drunk, cause it sure as hell ain’t Uncle-“

Even in the darkness that surrounded you, you can sense his embarrassment. He starts to sputter to quickly get words out “Wha- no, that’s not what- I- you-“ He stutters, clearly flustered at the comment. He sighs. “Now, that’s not what I meant and you know it, sweetheart.”

“So then, what?” You push. You’re not trying to be obtuse in any way, but you want to hear a proper answer.

Arthur swallows awkwardly. “I’m just- I want you to know that my heart beats for you.”

It puts you in such a complete state of shock, it renders you speechless.

Just a couple of days ago, you would have been thirsty to hear those words drip out of his lips, but now that you’ve actually heard him say it, you don’t know how to exactly respond.

“Sweetheart?” He calls, voice laced with worry.

You slowly lean down and press your ear against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. He smells like gun smoke and mountain air. The fast bu-dump of his heart is intoxicating, making you break out into a smile.

After a few seconds, he slowly places his own arms around you and pulls you in closer. His hold is firm. Secure. A bandwagon of bandits or federal agents could show up this instant and he wouldn’t let anything or anyone so much as even look at you the wrong way.

He tucks your head under his chin. “I can’t give you a house, or children, or land right now, but I want you to know you have my heart.” He places another soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ve had it for a long time and it’ll always be yours as long you’ll have me.”

“Well, I never thought Arthur Morgan was capable of such sweet words.” You tease.

You feel the rumble of his chest as he freely laughs. “Well, there’s a lot we don’t know about each other it seems.”

You give his statement some thought. “Maybe we can start to find those things about each other out.”

He nods against you. “I’d like that.”

You sniffle and follow him in letting out a laugh. “I’ll end up falling asleep here if we keep this up.”

He snickers at your comment. “I guess I’ll just have to carry you to bed then, huh?” He teases back, his tone light and playful.

You push away from his chest and fix your gaze directly at him, a dazed smile on your face. “I guess you’ll just have to, Arthur Morgan.”

His breathing hitches, obviously not expecting to be accepted on his offer. “Yeah, I suppose I will, sweetheart.”

You place a kiss squarely on his mouth and he reciprocates it almost immediately.

You grasp his face with your hands and do something you’ve been wanting to do since the day you met him.

His lips, though slightly chapped are soft and his stubble that he hasn’t shaved for weeks tickles your cheeks, poking you in a pleasurable way. You taste the tobacco on him and though you don’t smoke, maybe through kissing him you get the appeal. Fingers thread through your braid that’s falling apart by the second.

For the first time, you don't hold the butteflies back.

You part your lips to deepen the kiss and allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

It becomes hungry. Insatiable. It's years of pent up frustration and confusion exploding into a possession that consumes your whole body. He groans and you barely notice when he scoops you up, hooking his arm under your legs. “God, we could have been doing this earlier.” He growls.

As you giggle against his lips, Arthur continues to carry you, walking briskly towards your tent.

And the world around you stayed silent that night, except for a few hushed noises.

- - - - - - -

A/N: Yee-haw. Pls interact, I need to to talk to more RDR people lmao. pls.

#arthur morgan

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zeisly · 21 days ago

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One Small Step for Hope / FatherHusband!Arthur Morgan x WifeMother!Reader

Summary: Yours and Arthur’s little girl takes her first steps! Tags: Fluff!!!!!!!!!!!! Word count: 1,240. Author’s Note: This is a request from a sweet Anon <3 Thank you for your request, I hope I did the topic justice as I’m not a mother nor do I spend much time with kids, so I hope I wrote the cutie pie well. Ao3 Link. All photos above are sourced from Pinterest. They're not representative of Reader outside of setting a vibe.

“Looks like it’s lunchtime, Hope.”

Hosea’s voice mirrors the gentleness in his expression as he bounces your daughter on his thigh while he watches you make your way over with a small plate of stew. You stir the stew, scooping up half a spoonful and blowing on it as you walk. Your daughter’s eyes light up at the sight of you, “Mama, hiya.” She says, reaching a hand up to you.

“Hiya, sweetie.” You coo back to her, moving to kneel before her as she sits on Hosea’s lap. Hosea eyes up the stew for a moment, the salty-sweet scent wafting up to him, coaxing his stomach into hunger. “I might go an’ get some of that myself, if you don’t mind.” He muses, giving your daughter a little side-hug before carefully lifting her and placing her to sit on her knees in the grass. You give a friendly smile to Hosea, “You go ahead. Thanks for taking her while I laid out the washin’. I didn’t have the time to chase her out of the river today.” Hosea chuckles, ruffling Hope’s hair,

“It’s no fuss, dear. I’m here when you need me.” He gives a nod before heading off towards the stew pot. You bring the spoon to your mouth and tap your tongue into the stew gently, checking that the steamy heat of it has waned enough to bring it to Hope’s lips. With a soft motion, you guide the spoon into her mouth, letting her suck at it for a moment before pulling it out and watching her start to chew. “Good girl. S’nice, hm?” You ask fondly, slouching a little to look at her munching face. Hope gives a clumsy nod, lips pursed as she grabs at some grass that is tickling her knee.

“Carrots, Mama.”

“Yeah, sweetie. Carrots’re your favourite, ain’t they?”

Another nod from Hope causes a glimmer of endearment to flicker throughout your chest and you watch her glance about before scooping up another spoonful of stew and blowing on it, testing the temperature again with your tongue. You feed her again and she wraps her fingers around your hand. As she suckles on the spoon, Hope’s eyes are drawn toward the thumping canters of horses approaching camp at your back. She garbles out “da-da”, her usual babble slurred further by the food.

You chuckle, taking the spoon from her mouth and wrapping your apron around your hand to wipe away the dribbles from her distracted face before feeding her another spoonful. You glance behind you to see Arthur and Charles unpacking their horses and chatting. You turn back to Hope who is still mindlessly and messily chewing, a smidge of stew already having made its way back onto her chin.

“Chew, sweetie. Finish your… Bite before…”

Your speech slows and your eyes widen as you watch Hope push herself forward into a crawl, her plush fingers clutching into the dirt, the grass staining her dress at the knee. Quickly, you discard the spoon onto the plate and put it on the chair Hosea was sitting on. You watch in utter disbelief. Your baby girl is crawling.

A nearby gasp from Molly pulls you from your stupor, her skirts swishing as she pads over to you, “My goodness, Dutch– Dutch, Hope’s crawlin’ look.” You hear a swift set of steps accompany Molly’s, and Dutch’s hand lands gently atop your head as he watches Hope with a raised brow, “Well, would you look at that.”

“Hope,” You call out quietly, “Hopie–” A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you watch, each thump of Hope’s little fists into the dirt only increasing your astonishment.

“Da-da.” She babbles, her sweet face determined and big-eyed as she stares up at Arthur who is focused on wiping his revolver down.

Hope’s dress snags beneath her knees and she stops for a moment, only to blow you all away even further. With a soft grunt, she hoists herself up onto her feet, wobbling. You find yourself following suit, but Dutch’s hand moves from your head to your shoulder, holding you. “Let her work it out, she’ll do it. Worst she can do is graze her knees.”

Hope takes a step forward, her arms out, her eyes flitting down to her bare feet, her soft brow furrowed in concentration. Before you know it, she settles into a shaky rhythm, her feet padding quietly in the grass. You start to walk, keeping a small distance, your voice tight with elation, with pride as you call out,

“Arthur- Arthur! Arthur, look! Hope’s walkin’!”

Arthur turns his head, his befuddled expression melting into pure amazement at the sight of his baby girl rambling towards him and his dear wife in tow. He shakes his head, making sure he’s seeing things right before giving Charles a quick look, seeing him wide-eyed and agape. Hope starts to giggle once Arthur’s gaze connects back with hers and he chokes on a laugh as he swiftly but carefully tucks his revolver into his horse’s satchel. He strides a few paces diagonally to have Hope arc her path slightly, keeping her a safe distance from the horses and weapons.

He drops to his knees in an instant, reaching out towards her, his voice a strained coo as excitement steals his breath, “Look’achu go, baby girl! C’mon–” He beckons her eagerly, grinning, “-Come ‘n’ get me, Hopie!”

At Arthur’s tone, more of the gang start to realise what’s happening, each of them exclaiming at the sight and making their way over. Hosea joins Dutch, and they both give one another a proud look, Dutch tipping his head up and patting Hosea’s shoulder.

“Get daddy! get’ch’yer daddy, Hopie!” You urge keenly, your own giggles dancing with Hope’s in the spring air. Hope squeals at the encouragement and her walk quickens, her dress flowing and her pinkish cheeks bouncing as she breaks into a speedy stumble.

Arthur barks out a proud and triumphant laugh as she reaches him and he wraps his arms around her back. He pulls her to his chest and lifts her, supporting her back and legs, spinning and making her squeal. You catch up, watching the chestnut hair of your husband and daughter whirl together as Arthur waltzes in a circle, kissing Hope all over her face, relentless.

“Da-da!” Hope squeaks, grabbing at his shirt, her grass-stained feet kicking.

“I didn’t think– today could– get any better–” Arthur chuckles as he slows down to a sway, threading his fingers through her hair. He plants a firm kiss to her forehead and she uses the opportunity to playfully grab at his face, “Ah–! But you just proved me wrong, little lady.” He turns to look at you as you place one hand on his back and the other on Hope’s, leaning up to kiss Arthur in greeting.

“Afternoon to you, Mister.” You grin, your face flushed with an almost delirious excitement, matching that of your cooing daughter. “A beautiful afternoon to you, my girls.” Arthur’s eyes glint with affection as he looks between you and Hope who is pawing at his neck, trying to reach around for a cuddle. With a purse of his lips and a sweet cooing sound, he shifts Hope to his hip, holding her with one arm. He then snakes his free arm around your waist, pulling you in for a tight hug, a content sigh drawing from him.

A beautiful afternoon, indeed.

Tags for my sweethearts: @thundermartini @pinescent-and-gingerbread

#arthur morgan

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zeisly · 21 days ago

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Beneath the Battles (Final)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: You and Arthur finally face your true feelings and past grievances, breaking down the barriers that have kept you apart. Word Count: 8.8k Warnings/Tags: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MINORS DNI. No use of y/n, explicit language, angst with fluff, size difference (Arthur is a big guy), oral (female receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, Arthur pulls out, a little roughness, aftercare, SMUT with plot A/N: AHHH, here’s the final part!! I’d like to formally apologize for taking so long to update, I actually ended up scrapping and rewriting it, which took longer than expected. I hope this makes up for it. Once again, thank you to those who read this story and for all your lovely comments!

Read on AO3

The mansion loomed in the distance, its imposing structure partially obscured by the dense trees and underbrush that surrounded it, its windows glimmering faintly under the moonlight, casting a soft glow on the well-kept grounds.

The night was unnervingly quiet, the kind of stillness that breeds caution. After days of scouting, the mansion was finally dark and silent, just as expected. Its owners were away traveling, leaving only a few guards to patrol the surrounding grounds.

The plan was straightforward: sneak into the mansion, locate the concealed safe, and disappear with the loot before anyone was the wiser. It seemed like a simple enough task—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You’re crouched behind the mansion's back door, fingers deftly working through the lock. With a final click, the lock gave way, and you quickly slipped inside, closing the door behind you with practiced ease.

The air inside the mansion was heavy, filled with the scent of polished wood and aged stone. Once your eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtained windows, you moved swiftly through the shadowed corridors, your footsteps barely making a sound on the ornate rugs that lined the floors.

Just as you rounded the corner, you find yourself coming to a sudden halt.

A man stood before the very door leading to your prize. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had an air of confidence that immediately put you on edge. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy trying to jimmy open the lock.

You cursed under your breath. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he here?

This man was no bumbling thief; his movements were too precise, too deliberate. Whoever he was, he knew what he was doing, and that realization sent a wave of frustration through you. If he got to the safe first, all your planning, all your risk, would be for nothing.

You stayed hidden behind a wall as you considered your options. Confronting him could blow your cover, but waiting too long could mean losing the item.

Deciding to take the upper hand, you crept closer, making sure to keep to the shadows with calculated movements to avoid detection.

Once you were close enough, you cleared your throat, the sound slicing through the stillness like a knife just as he managed to break the lock.

The sudden noise startled him, and he froze, his head snapping toward the source of the disturbance. The look of surprise and irritation on his face was fleeting, quickly replaced by a calculating stare as he took in your presence.

You took a moment to assess him. A rugged, handsome face with piercing blue-green eyes that locked onto yours, their intensity making it clear that he was not easily intimidated.

“Well, well,” you said, your voice laced with a mix of amusement and irritation. “Looks like we both had the same idea. Didn’t think I'd run into competition tonight. What’s your game, stranger?”

You kept your voice light but there was an edge to it. You had scouted this place for weeks, and you weren’t about to let some stranger steal it out from under you.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm before replying with a low Southern drawl that sent a chill down your spine.

"I reckon I oughta be askin' you that too, miss. Ain't seen you around here when I was scoutin' the place, so I guess you're after the same prize."

“Perhaps. Too bad there’s only one prize in that safe,” you said, eyeing the opened safe behind him.

He raised an eyebrow, a small, cocky smile playing on his lips. “Guess we’ll see who gets it first.”

You didn’t wait for him to make the first move.

In a flash, you darted forward, aiming to dodge him and get to the safe. But he was quick—quicker than you expected. He sidestepped your advance, grabbing your arm as you tried to slip past him.

“Not so fast, darlin’,” he said, his grip firm but not painful.

You twisted out of his hold, a breathless laugh escaping you as you spun around to face him again, eyes flashing with determination. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Without warning, both of you drew your weapons in a swift motion, yours a knife and his a pistol. You knew you were at a disadvantage, the cold steel of his gun giving him the upper hand. But you weren’t about to back down.

A game of cat and mouse ensued, each of you circling the other, quips exchanged with a tension neither acknowledged.

You racked your thoughts for every trick you knew to try and outsmart him but in a moment of distraction, you seized your opportunity as a noise from outside drew both your attention.

He briefly looked away and you grabbed the nearest object—a heavy, decorative vase—and hurled it in his direction, your sudden movement catching his attention once more.

“Goddammit!” he swore as the vase sailed through the air.

The unexpected move caught him off guard, and he instinctively raised his arm to shield himself as the vase struck his arm, causing his pistol to slip from his grip and clatter onto the floor. The shattering noise echoed, no doubt alerting the guards outside.

You wasted no time and sprinted towards him, kicking the gun to the other side of the room. Ducking under his arm with practiced agility, you bolted toward the safe, your nimble fingers swiftly retrieving the necklace inside—a beautiful, intricate piece that promised a hefty pay.

The gleaming jewelry caught your eye, but you didn’t let your guard down. You knew he was still behind you, and the potential for danger was ever-present.

Turning around, you found him standing in place, watching you with an unreadable expression. You eyed him warily, adjusting your stance in case he made any sudden moves.

To your surprise, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in a gesture that seemed almost admiring.

"I'll give you that one," he said with a chuckle. "But don’t go thinkin' I’ll let ya off that easy next time."

You met his gaze steadily, with the tone in his voice, you couldn't help a smirk of your own.

“Next time?” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of challenge. “You might want to reconsider how you pick your battles.”

He tilted his head slightly, raising a brow. “Maybe,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You smirk before taking a step back, keeping your eyes on him as you begin to make your exit.

“Until we meet again, stranger,” you said, voice cool and confident.

His smirk remained, making no move to stop you or follow as you slipped toward the shadows. Once you were sure he wasn’t making any sudden moves, you turned and made your way out.

The cool night air hits your face as you slip away into the darkness, the necklace secure in your pocket.

Weeks later, you stand before the Van Der Linde gang, newly recruited and eager to prove your worth. As Dutch wraps up your introduction with the gang members, a familiar face catches your eye amidst the crowd—leaning on a wagon, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression from the night at the mansion.

Arthur Morgan, you’ve come to know from Dutch as he introduced him as one of his most trusted men. You could see the recognition in Arthur’s eyes, and you couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto your face.

“We’ve met,” you said casually, holding his gaze, making his lips twitch, but he remains silent.

And so it was, a few months into your time with the gang, Dutch pairs the two of you together for a job. From the start, things don’t go smoothly. Arthur’s stubbornness clashes with your determination, turning every decision into a heated argument.

"You're too damn cautious," you snap as you crouch behind a rock, waiting to ambush a carriage.

"And you're too damn reckless," he retorts, his voice low but heated.

The frustration between you simmering, neither willing to back down.

Though the job was a success, it was clear that your relationship had shifted to something far more complex.

A rivalry that would become full of sharp words, stolen glances, and the kind of tension that made your heart race whenever Arthur Morgan was near.

The burning in your lungs is the first sensation that pierces through the fog.

It feels like your chest is on fire, each breath a painful struggle as your body fights to expel the water that had been forced into your lungs. You cough weakly, the sound raw and strained.

The presence of another person over you is the next thing you sense. Their hand cradling your back as the other presses gently on your cheek, their voice a low, comforting murmur that reaches through the haze of pain.

“C’mon, easy now,” a deep voice rang out, soothing but urgent. “Breathe slow. Just breathe.”

As the pain in your chest begins to ease, you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. The rough ground beneath you feels gritty, the chill in the air seeps through your wet clothes, which cling uncomfortably to your damp skin. A persistent throbbing in your temple adds to the disorienting discomfort.

As your sight finally focuses, you see Arthur standing over you, his rugged features marked by concern and relief. His hair was wet and tousled, with a few strands clinging to his forehead, and his face was streaked with water and mud.

“You alright?” His voice is softer now, though it still carries a note of urgency.

You try to speak, but your voice comes out as a faint, hoarse whisper. Attempting to sit up, you slump back into his arms, completely drained.

Arthur’s hand remains steady, his hand continuing to support you from your back.“Just take it easy, darlin’,” he insists. “We gotta get that nasty cut of yours fixed up.”

After a moment, he speaks up again. "You scared the hell outta me, you know that?" he says, his tone softer than you expected. Confusion flickers in your eyes as you try to make sense of his reaction.

Arthur quickly brushes it off with a shrug and a quick, dismissive smile. "You good to stand? We need to find a place to camp."

Though slightly dazed, you nod and he begins helping you to your feet, his grip firm but gentle and begins to lead the way.

You take a chance to glance over at the river, your heart sinking. "There goes everything," you mutter, as you thought of all the loot from the stagecoach robbery now lost in those dark waters, swept away without a trace.

Arthur’s eyes follow your gaze. “Yeah, things went south real quick. Can’t say I’m surprised, though. Ain’t never gone smooth with us.”

A weary sigh escapes you. Arthur gives your shoulder a small squeeze, his voice softening.

“We’ll figure out another way to make it up so we don’t come back empty-handed.”

As you and Arthur push through the thick underbrush, the sun has long set, leaving the sky almost entirely dark and providing scant light. The air is growing colder, and the fatigue from the ordeal is beginning to weigh heavily.

After a while, Arthur spots a faint outline against the darkening sky. "There," he says, pointing toward the silhouette of a structure hidden among the trees.

You squint and make out the shape of an old, dilapidated cabin. Its roof is partially caved in, and the wooden walls weathered. Still, it seems like a decent refuge for the night.

Arthur leads the both of you towards it, his steps careful as he surveys the area for any signs of danger. He pushes open the creaky door with a grunt, revealing a dusty, cobweb-covered interior. The air inside is stale, but it’s dry and shielded from the elements.

"Looks like this’ll do for tonight," Arthur says, stepping inside and looking around.

The main room contains a few pieces of furniture: a worn-out sofa, a small wooden table, and a couple of chairs. There’s a door on the left, which you assume leads to a bedroom.

A stone fireplace stands against one wall, its hearth empty but still looking functional. To the right, you notice a small kitchen area with cabinets lining the wall, hinting at a space used for simple meals.

Arthur moves with practiced caution, his eyes scanning the room as he checks for any signs of danger. He pauses, pulling his pistol from its holster. It seems he managed to keep hold of his weapon and satchel during your fall into the water—an unexpected stroke of luck.

Once he’s satisfied that the area is clear and no immediate threat is apparent, he nods and holsters the gun.

“Alright, let’s settle in,” he says, guiding you to a nearby chair. “I’ll get a fire going and check for any supplies. You just sit tight and rest.”

You nod, gratefully sinking into the chair. As Arthur moves around the house, you take a moment to let the exhaustion wash over you.

You hadn’t noticed the several minutes that had passed by where Arthur managed to set up a fire with the dried wood he had found stacked by the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a warm glow over the room.

He turns his attention back to you, a determined look on his face and retrieves a cloth from his satchel, pouring a generous amount of whiskey over it that he must have found when rummaging through the cabinets.

He takes a seat across from you, gaze steady and focused as he carefully examines the gash near your temple.

“This might sting a bit,” he says softly, his voice carrying a reassuring calm. Gently, he dabs the cloth against the cut, the wound stinging from the contact.

Arthur’s movements are careful and deliberate, his brow furrowed in concentration. As he works, his eyes occasionally meet yours, a mix of concern and resolve evident in his expression.

You watch him closely, the intensity in his expression a stark contrast to the usual deflective bravado he shows, a rare glimpse of the softer side of him that you don’t often see.

After finishing with your wound, Arthur sets the cloth aside and glances at the both of you, noting the dampness of your clothes.

“We’d best find us some dry clothes; ain't no good in keepin' us warm when we're soaked to the bone.”

You respond with a nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable from the wet garments clinging tightly to your skin.

He stands up and motions you to follow, moving towards the door on the left you saw earlier. Inside, the room is dimly lit by the fading light seeping through the grime-streaked windows. Old, moth-eaten drapes hang limply from their rods, and the floorboards creak with each step.

There was a rickety, sagging bed with a threadbare quilt, and a lone wooden chest pushed against the wall. You follow behind him, noticing the layer of dust that covers everything, marking the years of abandonment.

He heads to a chest, prying it open with a groan as the hinges protest, and begins rummaging through the contents.

As he searches for dry clothes, you start to remove some of your damp garments feeling the need to get more comfortable and ease the weight.

You’re in the process of slipping off your soaked shirt when Arthur turns around, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you in your soaked white chemise, and he quickly averts his gaze, his face flushing a deep red.

“Uh—here,” he stammers, his voice suddenly unsteady as he holds out a faded long brown skirt and a low-necked cotton blouse. “Found these. They should fit.” He glances away, clearly flustered.

Seizing the opportunity, you smirk and tease. “What’s the matter, Arthur? Never seen a woman in her underclothes before? I thought you were used to all sorts of rough and tumble.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, his face turning redder, and he clears his throat, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “Even after gettin' yourself all banged up, you still can’t help but run that smart mouth of yours,” he retorts, trying to mask his embarrassment with a touch of irritation.

You chuckle at his flustered response, enjoying the rare sight of him so off-balance before taking the clothes from him.

Arthur shifts uncomfortably, casting furtive glances as he takes a change of clothes for himself. He clears his throat again, his usual confidence momentarily eclipsed by awkwardness.

“I’ll, uh, just be outside if you need anything,” he mutters, leaving the room with a hasty step to give you your privacy.

The door creaks as he pulls it shut, and you can hear him mumbling to himself as he closes it behind him. His grumbling is low and unintelligible, but it brings a faint, amused smile to your lips. You chuckle silently before turning your attention to the garments.

Moments later, you find Arthur standing by the window, now dressed in a fresh set of clothes—worn jeans and a plain gray button up. His silhouette is outlined against the darkness outside. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, its warmth beginning to chase away the chill.

Arthur turns to you, his expression more relaxed now that he's shed his previous discomfort. “Feeling a bit better?”

You nod. “Yeah, much better. You?”

Arthur gives a small, awkward smile. “I’ll be just fine. Just need to take it easy and let the warmth do its work.” He gestures toward the fire. “Might as well make ourselves comfortable while we can.”

You nod and make your way to sit at the worn out sofa to warm up by the fireplace. After a comfortable silence you finally speak up, your voice soft with gratitude.

“Thanks for everything, Arthur. I know it’s been a rough day, but I really appreciate you taking care of me.”

Arthur turns to you and nods, his usual gruffness softened by the warmth of the fire and the genuine moment between you. “Don’t mention it. Just doing what needs to be done.”

As the silence settles again, Arthur clears his throat and shifts slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Speaking of rough days… reckon I oughta say somethin’ about that night at the, uh, well, what happened at the Mayor’s party,” he begins, his tone a bit hesitant.

You fold your arms, feeling uncomfortable about bringing it up again, but you know you’ve both put off addressing the issue long enough. You nod, signaling for him to continue.

Arthur looks away for a moment, clearly struggling with how to frame his words.

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like what happened between us didn’t matter. I guess I thought it’d be better to just… keep things simple and avoid complicatin’ things.”

Your eyes narrow and you let out a sigh. “You already said that but I still don’t know what you mean. If you don’t have anything new to add, then yes, I guess that’s all it was—just a fleeting moment to pass the time while we were stuck in that situation.”

“Godammit, it ain’t like that,” he says, his voice firm but tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You glare at him, standing up as your anger and frustration begin to boil over. “Then what, Arthur? I’m done with the guessing games. If you can’t be honest with me, then at least stop pretending you care.”

“Oh, is that so? What do you want me to say, huh? That I’ve been usin’ you? That I don’t give a damn? You think that’s gonna make things better?”

“I’m not askin’ you to lay it all out. I’m askin’ you to quit actin’ like none of this means a damn thing. You’re scared to face the truth, and it’s obvious. If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

Arthur steps closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You don’t know a damn thing about what’s goin’ on with me.”

You meet his gaze, your anger unwavering despite the intensity of his look. “Then why don’t you stop hiding behind your excuses and show me what’s real for once? Or are you too scared to face it yourself?”

His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing as the silence grows heavy between the two of you. You take a deep breath before continuing, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Everything that happened at that party… it wasn’t just part of the act, was it?”

He looks away, eyes fixed on the ground as his expression hardens. “I was doin’ what we had to,” he says, his voice gruff. “We were pretendin’—had to make it look real.”

“That’s a goddamn lie and you know it,” you retorted. “Everything you did that night, kissing me like it meant something just to suddenly pull away and act like I was something you regretted. Do you have any idea how that felt, Arthur? How it made me feel?”

He flinched at your words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand—”

“Then help me understand! You shut me out, you push me away, and I’m done pretending like it doesn’t hurt.”

Arthur looked at you then, really looked at you, and you saw the pain in his eyes, the conflict warring within him.

Your words hang in the air, and for a moment, you thought he might continue ignoring you, that he’d keep his distance just as he always did. But when his eyes met yours again, there was something raw and unguarded in them that made your heart twist before he spoke, voice filled with a vulnerability you had never seen in him before.

“That night at the party, when I told you it meant nothing and pushed you away—it wasn’t because I didn’t care, but because I did. I didn’t want you seein’ me as more than just part of this damned life I’ve led.”

“Have you not thought that I’m already a part of this life too? I’m not some innocent bystander in this, Arthur. I’m in it just as much as you are, fighting beside you, continuing to risk everything for the gang. Every time you push me away, it feels like you’re saying I don’t belong, that I’m not worthy of being part of this.”

Arthur’s face softened with regret. “I’m sorry if it came across that way. I’ve just been tryin’ to protect you in my own messed-up way. I don’t want you feelin’ like you’re not part of this, ‘cause you are. More than you know.”

You looked at him, searching for honesty in his eyes. “Then be honest with me, Arthur. Don’t shut me out. I need to know where we stand.”

“I ain’t good enough for you,” he confessed, the words coming out like a reluctant admission. “I’ve done things—bad things. And I know you’ve seen some of it, but you don’t know the half of it. You deserve better than some outlaw who’s spent his life takin’ more than he’s given.”

The silence that followed was thick with emotion, as you both tried to come to terms with the weight of his confession. The barriers between you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the truth of your feelings and the painful realities of the life you both led.

You stared at him, the anger long dissipated from you as his words sank in. This was it—this was what had been driving him to keep you at arm’s length, to push you away whenever you got too close. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way you did; it was that he didn’t think he was worthy of it.

“Arthur,” you said quietly, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you, “I don’t care about what you’ve done, or who you think you are. I care about you. The man who saved me today, who risked everything to make sure I was safe. The man who gives more to the gang than he ever takes for himself—that’s the man I see.”

He shook his head, his expression tortured. “You ain’t seen the worst of me yet.”

“And I don’t care if I do,” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about you, or what I’m willing to accept. I’ve made my choice, Arthur. I’m not turning back.”

He stared at you, his defenses crumbling as the truth of your words hit him. He’d spent so long believing he didn’t deserve anything good, that any softness or kindness was something he had to push away before it could be taken from him. Hell, that’s why it never worked out with Mary, too.

But here you were, standing in front of him, refusing to let him go, even after everything he’d done to keep you at a distance.

He leaned in closer, his free hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“I don’t know if I can be the man you deserve,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You crack a small smile, your voice laced with a sarcastic edge but softened by the warmth in your eyes.

“Come on, Arthur. Since when did you become an expert in what I deserve? I’ve been putting up with your brooding for far too long to be picky about the details.”

Arthur’s lips curled into a wry smile as he listened to your response. Despite the gravity of the moment, there was a glimmer of amusement and admiration in his eyes.

“You know,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of his old charm, “you’ve been a right pain in my ass since day one. Guess that’s why it’s so damn complicated with us. But, damn it, you��re still the only one who can make me see the bright side of this mess.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a challenging look.

“Oh, is that your way of saying I’m the best you’ve got? How flattering.”

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe more than you know. You’ve got a knack for makin’ everything seem less bleak, even when you’re makin’ my life hell.”

After a silent moment, Arthur reaches out, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw which sends shivers down your spine.

“I’ve been a damn fool,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “for fightin’ this… for fightin’ you.”

Your heart ached at his words, at the honesty you had never expected from him.

You had always seen him as a man of few words, someone who hid his true self behind a wall of sarcasm and indifference. But now, as he stood in front of you, you saw the truth in his eyes—the feelings he had tried so hard to deny.

Before you could respond, Arthur closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.

The kiss was a heady mix of passion and urgency, a kiss full of the unresolved tension and undeniable attraction that had been building between you.

As the kiss deepens, you feel Arthur’s hand move to tangle in your hair, his fingers gently gripping the strands as he kisses you harder, his body pressing hard against yours.

You respond with equal fervor, your hands fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer before you both pull away for air, breaths labored with his chest rising and falling against yours.

Arthur nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He begins to trail soft kisses along your neck, his lips barely grazing your skin as his voice drops to a whisper, full of longing and relief.

“Been powerless against you since the moment you joined the gang. Reckon it all started that night at the mansion when we were both after the same prize.”

A low hum escapes him as your fingers thread through his hair, your touch sending shivers down his spine. He nuzzles further into your neck as he continues to mumble against your skin.

“Wanted you so bad, and damn if that don’t scare the absolute life out of me.”

Arthur continues to kiss your neck, his lips moving down to your shoulder as his hands tighten their grip on your hips. The intensity of his touch grows as he pulls you even closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours, enveloping you in a wave of warmth and desire.

You lean in closer, your lips grazing the shell of his ear as you whisper, your voice trembling with the same urgency that you hear in his. “Then stop holding back, Arthur. I want you.”

Your words seem to break whatever last bit of restraint he was clinging to. He lets out a low growl, and before you can even take another breath, his lips crash against yours once more, all fire and desperation. It’s a kiss that sears through you leaving no room for doubt.

Without breaking the kiss, he nudges you back until you feel the edge of the table pressing against the backs of your thighs. In one fluid motion, Arthur’s hands slip from your hips to your waist, lifting you just enough to set you down on the table's surface.

He steps closer, sliding between your legs as his hands grip your hips possessively. You felt his hips pressing insistently against your core, the contact electrifying and intense.

He was achingly hard, a burning pressure that felt almost unbearable through the fabric of your clothes. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, every shift of his body against yours sending waves of sensation coursing through you.

His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard living, left your waist and slipped under your shirt to savor the softness of your skin. His skilled fingers traced over your ribs before reaching your breasts.

You've never been so glad to not be wearing your chemise underneath your clothes.

You inhaled sharply as he took one of your nipples between his fingers and pinched. "So responsive." Arthur murmurs against your mouth before pulling away and breaking the kiss. You chance a glance at his face, his eyes dark with hunger.

With deliberate slowness, his hands begin their descent, gliding down to your calves, his fingers tracing the curve of your legs.

He caresses your skin, almost reverently, before sliding up to the hem of your skirt. You shiver at the sensation as he pushes the fabric higher, gathering it around your waist, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Arthur’s eyes drink in the sight of you, his gaze heavy with desire. His hands, still lingering on the edge of your skirt, begin to trail slowly up your thighs, his touch careful and teasing.

He pauses just as his fingers brush against the most sensitive part of your skin, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark and questioning.

He’s waiting, holding back, as if needing your permission to go further. He doesn't move, his touch achingly close yet frustratingly distant.

"Arthur…" you plead, your voice edged with frustration.

He meets your gaze, lips twitch up in a slight smirk as his eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and challenge. "You can do better than that, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

You scowl, making him smirk wider, the pressure making your frustration boil over. "Arthur, just—"

His fingers remain tantalizingly still, his eyes locked onto yours with a challenging gleam. The irritation fuels your desperation, and you let out a shaky breath, finally conceding.

"Arthur... please, I need you. I can’t stand it anymore," you say, your voice softened by surrender, the depth of your need evident.

Arthur’s lips curl into a satisfied grin as he hears your plea. He hums with approval and without another word, you watch as he leans down, his mouth finding your core with a fervent intensity, enveloping you in a warm, consuming embrace.

You gasped out as pleasure rippled through you, his name tumbling from your lips. Your fingers fly down to his hair, clenching at the strands and pull him closer as you surrender to the waves of sensation that crash over you.

He groans against you, his lips teasing the sensitive bud before his tongue moves with deliberate, savoring strokes, licking up your wetness. The taste of you lingers, smearing over his lips and dripping down his chin.

You feel his hand move between your thighs, his touch igniting another wave of pleasure as his thumb gently grazes your clit. The added sensation heightens your arousal, making your breath come in short, gasping bursts.

Without warning, he slips one of his fingers inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of intense pleasure through you.

He moves with practiced ease, curling and thrusting as he builds a rhythm that makes you gasp and moan. Each movement is designed to amplify the pleasure he's already delivering, his touch skillfully coaxing you closer to the edge.

“Oh God—Arthur!”

His hands pick up the pace, moving faster and with more pressure, targeting that one sensitive spot inside you while his mouth continues to work on your delicate bud. You tighten around his fingers, feeling your legs start to tremble.

You were at the height of your pleasure, your climax so near it felt like you might explode at any moment. Arthur seems to sense it too, his movements expertly bringing you to the brink.

But just as you're about to come, he abruptly pulls away, smirking down at you. You let out a frustrated whine, your body still trembling from the near climax.

"Why—" you gasp, eyes pleading as you look up at him, your voice a mix of annoyance and need. The sudden halt only intensifies your frustration, making your desire for release even more unbearable.

Arthur leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t worry, darlin’, I ain’t finished yet," he murmurs, his voice a low, gritty whisper. "Wanna feel you wrapped around me when you come."

With a firm, decisive moment, his hands wrap beneath your bum, lifting you effortlessly. He carries you toward the worn couch, his strength palpable as he places you gently but firmly onto the cushions before positioning himself above you, his gaze never leaving yours.

Arthur’s hands move to unbutton his jeans with a practiced ease before shedding them, revealing his lengthy member, its impressive size immediately drawing your wide-eyed attention.

You can’t help but stare, your eyes widening with a mix of awe and anticipation as you take in the full extent of his arousal. The sight of him, so well-endowed and commanding, sends a thrill of excitement through you, and your breath catches in your throat.

Arthur notices your reaction, a grin curling on his lips. He moves closer, his hands firmly cupping your face as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, capturing your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

While his mouth claims yours, his hands move with purpose, deftly working to remove your blouse. You respond eagerly, your hands sliding over his chest and working at the buttons of his shirt until it falls away.

The two of you move with a synchrony of urgency and passion, shedding the rest of your clothes with a desperate need. Each article of clothing is discarded in a flurry of movement, leaving you both bare.

Arthur pauses, his eyes dark and intense as they roam over your bare form with a feral hunger. A low growl escapes his throat, his eyes gleaming with a primal desire.

“Shit,” he rasps, his voice rough and throaty. “Can’t believe I held myself back for so long.” His gaze lingers on you, filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger, as he savors the sight of you completely bare before him.

He wraps your legs around his hips, drawing you closer as he positions himself between you. With one hand gripping himself and the other steadying your leg, he lines himself up, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he looks down at you.

“You ready for this?”

You nod, your eyes locked onto his, filled with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. “Please, Arthur,” you reply, your voice trembling slightly. “I want you.”

Arthur’s lips curl into a fierce, satisfied smile before pressing himself against you and slowly begins to enter you, his gaze never leaving your face as a gasp escapes your lips, your body tensing with the intense sensation.

You arch against him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you adjust to his size. The stretch and pressure of him inside you sends a wave of pleasure through you, your eyes fluttering closed momentarily as you moan out his name.

He growls in response, his face contorted with both pleasure and concentration. “Goddamn you’re so tight.”

His hands tighten on your hips, grip firm and possessive as waits for you to adjust around him. After a moment, you grip his shoulders tighter, your nails digging in as you try to steady yourself.

“Arthur,” you murmur, struggling to control your breath. “I need you to move.”

“You sure, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice dripping with raw desire. His eyes search yours for a sign of hesitation but find only eager need.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with urgency. “Please.”

With a satisfied nod, Arthur begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one bringing a wave of pleasure that makes your body tremble.

As he finds a rhythm, his movements become more intense and fervent, his eyes never leaving your face. His breathing grows heavier, matching the pace of his thrusts as he drives deeper into you.

“Arthur, please…faster.”

He meets your gaze and with a firm grip, he pushes your leg further back against you, angling himself deeper.

You gasp at the shift, your body arching and gripping him tighter as waves of pleasure crash over you. Each thrust sends a jolt of ecstasy through you, your breaths coming in quick, sharp bursts as you lose yourself in the mounting sensation.

His thrusts become more urgent, each movement sending a jolt of ecstasy through you. “That’s it,” he murmurs between breaths, “let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You moan in response, the sound escaping in a breathless gasp as his relentless pace overwhelms you, crying out his name as your voice trembles with pleasure.

Arthur’s eyes darken with desire, and he groans deeply. He takes your face in his hand, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. his gaze intently fixed on you, taking in every reaction, every flush of pleasure, driving him wild.

He can’t help but be captivated by the way you look at him, your gaze locking onto his with a mix of urgency and raw longing.

He’s not going to last long. Not when you look at him like that.

Arthur pushes your leg further back, nearly folding you in half as his thrusts become rougher and more intense, driving into you with a forceful rhythm. Each thrust relentlessly hits the spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You feel yourself tighten around him, eliciting a deep groan from him.

His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core and begins to apply a firm, rhythmic pressure, his touch syncing with the hard, relentless pace of his thrusts.

“Arthur,” you moan, your voice a mixture of desperation and bliss.

Arthur grits his teeth, the effort to maintain control clear on his face. “Come on, sweetheart, let go for me… Wanna feel ya,” he growls, his voice thick with desire and urgency.

The combined stimulation of his touch and his relentless thrusting pushes you toward the edge, your body quaking as the waves of pleasure crest and crash over you. His words, laced with raw need, tip you over that edge, breaking the last of your control.

You let go completely, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure as you tremble and gasp in his grasp, your body responding to his every command.

“That’s it,” Arthur growls, his voice rough with pleasure. “Good girl. Feels so good squeezing around me… there we go.”

He moves his hands to your hips, his own breathing ragged as he feels you tighten and convulse around him. He continues to drive into you through the waves of pleasure, his thrusts becoming even more urgent and relentless. You cry out, the sensation overwhelming.

Finally, with a groan of his own, he thrusts deep one last time before pulling out, taking his length into his hand. His body shudders, breath coming in rough, uneven gasps as he finds his release, spilling onto your stomach as the tension finally breaks.

He collapses onto you, his breath ragged and heavy, both of you trying to catch your breaths. After a while, you gently pat him, feeling the weight of him pressing down on you, and he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes half-lidded with contentment.

Arthur stands up and grabs the shirt he was wearing, using it to wipe the evidence of his release from your stomach and his. His touch is tender despite the intensity of the moment.

Once he’s finished, he lays back down beside you, pulling you into his arms. With a gentle but firm motion, he adjusts to create enough room for both of you on the worn couch.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you settle against him, the warmth of his body providing a soothing contrast to the earlier intensity.

“You alright there?” he asks, his voice soft and slightly teasing as he runs a hand soothingly along your arm.

You nod, your head resting against his shoulder, feeling a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, your voice a bit breathless. “Just needed a moment.”

Arthur chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t say I’m sorry we didn’t do this sooner,” he murmurs, his tone filled with genuine warmth.

You smile, your eyes closing as you let yourself relax into his embrace. “Me neither,” you whisper, feeling the comfort of his presence. “Guess it’s a good thing we finally did.”

A comfortable silence envelops you both, the warmth of the fire crackling softly in the background. As you settle into the quiet, the room is filled with a tranquil intimacy.

The gentle heat from the fire and the flickering light cast a soft glow over your resting forms, guiding you both into a peaceful rest.

The next morning, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the curtains gently warms your face, coaxing you awake from your slumber.

You blink, slightly disoriented, and notice a quilt draped over you—a cozy, unexpected comfort that you don’t remember covering yourself with.

You stretch out and sit up, searching for Arthur, but find that he’s no longer beside you. The space next to you is empty, leaving only the lingering warmth of his presence and the faint scent of him in the air.

You wrap the quilt around you before making your way to the bedroom, where you begin to get dressed in your now-dry clothes.

As you finish getting dressed, you head outside, still wondering where Arthur could be. Opening the front door, you’re startled to find him now dressed in his own clothes and standing with both your horses.

He’s feeding his horse calmly, the sight of the horses safe and sound, along with Arthur’s relaxed demeanor, fills you with a mix of relief and surprise.

He looks up, catching your gaze with a casual, knowing smile, clearly at ease despite the unexpected circumstances.

“Mornin’, sorry I didn’t want to wake ya,” he says, his voice warm and relaxed.

You blink, still processing the sight before you. “Wait, how did you find the horses? They ran off during that chase,” you ask, your voice filled with surprise and confusion.

Arthur grins, a touch of pride in his eyes. “Managed to track ’em down this mornin’. They’d wandered off a ways but were easy enough to follow. Took a bit of patience, but I got ’em back here safe and sound.” He pats one of the horses affectionately.

You let out a relieved laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Well, I’m definitely grateful. I wasn’t sure how we’d get them back.

Arthur gives you a casual nod, his eyes still carrying a hint of satisfaction. “We should probably think about getting back to camp soon. Can’t say Dutch’ll be too happy about us comin’ back empty-handed.”

You frown slightly, your mind starting to turn over the implications. “Yeah, he might not be too pleased about that.”

Suddenly, something clicks in your mind, your expression brightening with realization. You make your way to your horse, patting her affectionately as you reach her.

You move to the saddlebag and start fishing around inside before pulling out a small pouch. Arthur watches you with curiosity as you open it, revealing the jewelry you had remembered stuffing inside. With a proud smile, you show it to Arthur, the glint of the gems catching the light.

Arthur raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well… that’s a nice surprise. Turns out we’re not comin’ back empty-handed after all.”

He glances at the jewelry, then back at you. “Good thinking.”

You tuck the pouch back into the saddlebag, feeling a surge of relief. “At least we’ve got something to make up for the trouble.”

Arthur shifts, his expression turning serious. “Listen, uh… everything I said last night—I meant it. I care about you, you know.”

You look at him, a soft smile forming on your lips. “I know.”

He pulls you close, and you share a tender kiss, the warmth and reassurance evident in the moment. When you pull away, you give him a playful nudge. “Now, let’s get back to camp.”

Arthur grins, nodding as he mounts his horse. “Lead the way.”

After a few hours of steady travel, you finally crest through the dense woods and emerge into the open area of Shady Belle.

As you draw closer, you hear John’s voice call out from his post. “Who’s there?”

Arthur raises a hand in greeting, his tone slightly exasperated. “It’s just us two, you idiot.”

John approaches with a grin, clearly relieved to see familiar faces. “Well, well, look who’s back! Didn’t think you’d make it this time.”

His gaze shifts to you, and he notices the cut on your forehead. “What happened there?” he asks, his tone shifting to one of concern.

“It’s nothing, just a little mishap,” you reply with a shrug and a small reassuring smile.

John nods, still eyeing the cut with a concerned look. Before he can respond, the sound of Dutch’s voice cuts through the air.

“There they are!” Dutch strides forward with Hosea, catching the attention of the other gang members. The atmosphere shifts to one of eager anticipation as they approach to welcome you both back.

Arthur and you quickly hitch your horses, and Dutch’s eyes light up with a mix of relief and curiosity.

“You two look like you’ve had quite the adventure,” he says with a grin. “Let’s hear what you’ve got for us.”

You and Arthur follow Dutch and Hosea inside the house, nodding to the other members who offer warm welcomes at your arrival.

Once inside, the four of you make your way outside to the terrace to discuss the details. The afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the camp, and you all settle into a comfortable spot.

Hosea’s eyes shift to the cut on your forehead. “You alright?” he asks, his tone filled with concern.

You give a small nod, trying to brush off the worry. “I’ll be alright. Can’t say about the coach, though.”

Hosea raises an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. “The coach, huh? Did something go wrong?”

“The job went well initially. Arthur and I got what we needed, but then things went sideways on the way back.”

Arthur picks up the story, his voice steady. “We ran into trouble. More guards came in hot on our heels, forcing us into some rough terrain. Lost the coach, and then we ended up falling into a river with it.”

You chime in, “The river swept the coach away, taking all the loot with it. We couldn’t salvage anything.”

Dutch’s expression falls. “So, you lost it all?”

Arthur nods, looking apologetic. “Yeah. We couldn’t recover the goods.”

Dutch’s face reflects a mix of disappointment and frustration. “Well, that’s a shame. We coulda used that haul. Least you two are alright, though.”

Hosea tries to lighten the mood. “We’ll bounce back from this. The important thing is that you made it back safely. We’ll sort out the rest.”

Arthur reaches into his satchel and pulls out the small pouch of jewelry from you and a few clipped bundles of cash. He holds them up with a faint, reassuring smile.

“Well, we didn’t lose everything. Reckon this might help make up for it.”

Arthur hands Hosea the pouch, and Hosea inspects its contents. “With this and the cash we got, I’d say we’re lookin’ at around 800. That should help us get back on our feet.”

Dutch’s eyes light up with relief as he takes in the sight of the recovered items. “Well, that’s a right bit of luck in the middle of all this mess. Better than nothin’.”

Arthur nods, looking somewhat relieved. “Didn’t want to come back here and leave y’all thinkin’ we came up empty.”

Dutch claps Arthur on the shoulder, his mood lifting a bit. “Appreciate that. Let’s get this sorted and move on. We’ve got plenty of work ahead of us.”

Hosea looks over at you and Arthur with a nod of approval. “I gotta hand it to you both. Despite the rough patch, you came through. Good work out there.”

With that, Dutch and Hosea start discussing plans to distribute the recovered items and strategize the next steps.

Over the next few days, the gang once again begins to notice something distinctly different about you and Arthur.

It’s not just the absence of shouting and tension, but a new, subtle intimacy that marks a significant shift in how you interact. While the first change was notable, this time it's even more pronounced.

Although you and Arthur have kept your more intimate moments away from the prying eyes of the gang, there’s a palpable difference in the way you connect.

You’re often seen sharing quiet conversations, laughing together, and engaging in playful banter, with soft touches and exchanged smiles now part of your interactions. The closeness between you is evident, and it piques the gang’s curiosity once more.

Speculation runs rife among the camp members about the nature of your evolving relationship. They observe the affectionate gestures and tender glances, each theory more imaginative than the last.

Despite the growing curiosity, you and Arthur continue to maintain your privacy. When questioned or approached, you both respond with a mix of amused indifference and casual deflection.

You shrug off the gossip with lighthearted comments or evasive answers, enjoying the newfound closeness while keeping the details of your relationship to yourselves.

On this particular day, while you were engaged in a chore, you overheard Arthur speaking to Dutch, asking why he kept pairing the two of you together despite your apparent dislike for each other.

You glance over from your place, noting how Dutch seems genuinely puzzled by the question.

“It wasn’t really my call,” Dutch says with a shrug. “That was all Hosea’s idea. I didn’t rightly agree with him and don’t know why the hell he was so insistent or thought it was a good idea, but I just went along with it.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Both your attention shifts to Hosea, who is currently sitting nearby, absorbed in reading a newspaper.

Despite his apparent focus on the paper, you notice a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t look up or acknowledge you both, but his expression clearly suggests he’s pleased with the outcome of his decision.

The revelation leaves you and Arthur with a mix of emotions, but the smirk on Hosea’s face makes it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

#arthur morgan

358 notes · View notes

zeisly · 27 days ago

Text

Losing a loved one is so hard, but I cannot understand the pain Joel has gone through in whatever universe he's written in. Going from such a happy life to barely making it is difficult. What he needs is someone to see that person is still there and to be loved as he deserves!

Beneath the Armor —part one

summary: Joel Miller has been the center of all the gossip in the trailer park since he tragically lost his daughter. He's short-tempered and mean as hell, his hostility no doubt spurred on by that beer he always has in hand. But when you need a ride to work and he's your last resort, you come to find he's much more than what meets the eye.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI (not in this part but in part two!), ANGST with a happy ending, grief, mention of child loss, daddy issues, age difference, slow burn, attempted seduction, use of alcohol, and references to alcohol abuse, brat taming, eventual smut

wc: 6.9k

note: this entire concept is owed to my bff joelmillersgirlfriend over on AO3! we've cowritten this together (to the shock of no one, i'm pretty sure i need her to write at this point), and if you haven't gone over there to read her stuff by now then you're missing out!! part two coming soon <3 let us know what you think!

[part two]

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Talking to Joel Miller was like pulling teeth with a rusty old plier, one by one, nerve by nerve. He used his silence, his pity like a suit of armor. Meant to protect him, but still wrapped around a man who was too scared to confront his fears. To learn his own forgiveness.

You had vaguely known him since you were a senior in high school and had seen him and his little girl move into the trailer across from yours. You were sitting on the front porch, occasionally sipping from the iced lemonade in your hand. Summer had come in hot, and the beaming sun was relentless during the first humid weeks of July.

Joel and Sarah had been the talk of the neighborhood — the dad and the little girl with an oxygen tank. You heard the rumors from some of your friends in the trailer park - that Joel couldn’t afford to keep up with her medical bills, so he had to sell his house and abandon the business he had built up with his bare hands.

Still, she was a fighter until her last breath. Joel, however, died the day Sarah did. She had only lived for eleven months after moving into the park. What was once a motivated little family fighting hard against the disease soon became a single man inside of an empty shell.

His warm smiles that he would give to neighbors who brought Sarah over toys and “get well soon!” cards soon turned into nothingness — a dark, empty expression. Joel stopped going out as much, replacing soccer balls and dirty sneakers with whiskey and cigarettes. He no longer stood out on his porch, playing guitar and smiling at you once he met your eyes from your own porch.

Kathy, who lived directly next to you, begged her husband, Parker, to call the cops for a wellness check for Joel. On the first anniversary of her death, he didn’t leave the house for a week.

“Mind your own business. God only knows how he’s havin’ to cope; seeing cops knocking on his front door in the middle of the night won’t help nothing.”

You had to admit you were more than a little relieved when you saw him finally emerge, tired-looking with heavy eyes. He got in his car and left before coming back thirty minutes later, a new case of beer in tow.

You spent too much time observing him, ensuring he was alright, even if he didn’t know that. With no dad that you could remember and a mother who remarried some douchebag and skipped town after you were old enough to live on your own, all you had was time. After senior graduation, your friends in the park found a way to escape to college, but you were stuck and unable to escape, just like Joel.

While your friends went to get a degree, you found a job at a bar up the road. It was grimy and far beyond your dream, but you earned good tips. With responsibilities that caused you to stay and a deep fear of failure, you could not leave the town you’d grown up in.

Out of desperation, you’d leaped and applied to some college several towns away. It was a spur-of-the-moment impulse, an unrealistic kind of thing. It’s not like you’d be able to afford it anyway.

So it was a cycle: wake up, work, sleep, and do it all over again. You understood how Joel must feel, trapped in a never-ending pattern, reliving memories that couldn’t ever really go away — not entirely.

And of course, you understood what it was like being handed the short end of the stick. You both wound up in the same place, after all.

Which was what led you to walk towards Joel’s trailer one evening. Your shift at work was about to start, but your car wouldn’t crank. You'd tried going to Kathy’s house first, but nobody answered. You couldn’t lose your job, already having too many tardies because of your piece of shit car.

The soles of your shoes crunched against the leaves on Joel’s front porch step, your eyes moving to look at him sitting in a plastic lawn chair. His hair was getting long, hanging over his eyes wildly.

Joel bristled when he noticed you standing on his front porch step, a cigarette hanging between his lips. You’d never been this close to him. It was much easier to see how handsome he was up close: thick hair, a graying beard. Simply too easy on the eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his eyes slipping away from your face and down to your outfit. You always dressed up for work, knowing it’d get you extra tips. Maybe you went a little overboard with the fishnets and the amount of cleavage you were showing, but it always paid off in the end.

His hips shift in his seat, waiting for you to answer his question.

You cleared your throat, standing up straight to make yourself feel more significant compared to the giant man. “I’m sorry to bother you. My car won’t start, and I’m gonna be late for work.”

Joel glared up at you. “So?”

Taken aback by his hostility, you paused, hesitating. You knew that he was a sad man, but nobody had told you that he was an asshole.

“So… I was hoping you could give me a ride. I could pay you for the gas and-“

Joel stood up in the middle of you talking, the wood creaking under his boots as he walked to the front door and into the house. You faltered, standing stupidly on this rude man’s front porch step.

With a huff, you spun around, leaving the porch. “Fuckin’ asshole,” you muttered under your breath, suddenly jumping at the sound of the screen door slamming shut behind you. Joel had returned, this time with keys in his hand and a brown t-shirt pulled over his white wife's beater.

“Say somethin’?” Joel asked, walking ahead but narrowing his eyes directly at your face.

“Nope,” you quickly chirped, rushing to catch up with him. “I thought you’d left me standing outside.”

“‘Bout did,” Joel grumbled under his breath, unlocking the truck door before climbing in. It was your turn to narrow your eyes at Joel, rolling them at the asshole. Even though he was an unexpected dickhead, you had to admit that you enjoyed the way his arms flexed as he pulled himself into his truck.

The drive to the bar was filled with mostly silence, except for the hum of some Radiohead album playing on the radio. Joel had the truck windows rolled down, the wind whipping the loose strands of your hair around your face.

You tried to subtly glance over at him, watching the same cigarette from earlier placed between his plush lips. Without thinking, you reached over, plucking the cigarette away from his mouth.

His dark eyes snapped at you in disbelief as he watched you inhale his cigarette, the residue from your lipstick staining the filter. You weren’t sure why you needed to catch Joel’s attention, but you were sure it somehow related to how he was ignoring you. It made you crave his attention. Fucking daddy issues.

“Now you owe me gas money and a pack of Marlboro’s,” Joel said, reaching over to swipe the cigarette out of your mouth. He eyed the lipstick stain, sighing in annoyance before deciding the nicotine was worth it.

Your blood warmed at the thought that Joel’s lips touched where yours had just been, indirectly tasting your mouth. His eyes flickered over to you, watching him, a low frown on his face.

“What’s a girl like you workin’ at Dazzlers anyways?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at his remark. “I’m a bartender, not a lap dancer,” you said, prompting Joel to give you an eye roll in return.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, almost so quietly that you didn’t notice, but you did. You understood that he had been through a lot, but Christ, there was no need to take it out on you. You swallowed your pride, knowing he was your last resort to not being fired.

Despite the weird tension and the silence, you found yourself drawn to Joel’s brooding energy, glancing at him occasionally through the darkness.

Apparently, he was more observant than you thought.

“Need somethin’?” he questioned, not even glancing in your direction. Maybe it had to do with dad spidey senses or something, but being caught had made your blood warm in your veins.

You shook your head, unable to bite your tongue.

“Nobody told me that you were such a dickhead.”

To your surprise, Joel didn’t even falter, with almost no response to your jab at his aggressive demeanor.

“Yeah, well, watchin’ your daughter deteriorate right in front of you can change a man,” he replied bluntly, taking a long drag of his cigarette without even looking away from the road.

It made you instantly feel bad, regretting your words no matter how much truth they held.

“That’s not what I meant-“ you tried to explain, but Joel waved his hand, dismissing your excuse. His large palm made a rush of air past your face, your eyes blinking at him in response.

“Just leave it,” Joel grumbled, so you obeyed. It wasn’t for long before you arrived at your job, your eyes watching the bright neon lights flashing through the parking lot. You rifled through your purse, attempting to retrieve a couple of bills, but Joel’s palm wrapping around your own stopped you.

Bright-eyed, you looked up to meet his gaze, his usual timid expression replaced with one of determination.

“You don’t gotta pay me.”

Strong words coming from someone who was just belittling you for owing him money for gas and cigarettes.

“I don’t wanna owe you anything. Just let me give you a couple of dollars and we’ll call it even,” you said, attempting to rifle back through your bag, but being stopped by his massive palm once again.

“Who’s gonna bring you back home tonight?” Joel questioned, his concern genuinely surprising you. Before you shrugged, you allowed your defenses to fall, mostly due to your shock.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll figure it out.”

Joel shook his head, rolling his eyes at your half-assed answer. “What time does your shift end?”

You paused, pulling your purse to your chest before glancing at the front of the building. Did you really want Joel to pick you up? Was sitting through another weirdly comforting yet intense ride worth it?

When you looked back at Joel, he didn’t seem willing to take no for an answer; his eyebrows were drawn into an almost scowl-like expression. Sighing with exasperation, you finally spoke.

“We close at midnight.”

He nodded in response, breaking his intense eye contact with you before opting out to seemingly judge the building itself. It was a rough place, with neon lights flashing and motorcycles lined up at the entrance. It certainly looked more intimidating than it actually was.

You were surprised when Joel decided to bite his tongue, not slipping out with some smart allelic response about the place. Instead, he hummed, a quick and easy response to your answer.

“I’ll see you then,” he replied, but something about his words made your chest burn, like it was almost a promise that he’d be there to look out for you. To protect you.

He did wind up picking you up that night and numerous nights after you explained to him that your alternator had given out and your car would be in the shop for a couple of days. He never argued or took your gas money despite the way he grumbled under his breath when you knocked at his front door at quarter past three.

It was almost routine to have Joel take you to and from work, and when your car was back in operation, you nearly didn’t want to tell him. Though your time together hadn’t really given you a glimpse into the man Joel truly was since he hardly spoke, it allowed him to get to know you.

You’d rambled on about your absent father, how your mom had abandoned you once she realized you could support yourself. Never did he judge or belittle you. He’d always listen and make sure you were heard.

Despite that, he never answered your questions when you’d pried at him. Asking him about family? No go. The business he’d given up? Of course not.

Anything about Sarah?

The first and only time you had fished for information about her, you thought he was going to toss you out of his car. His eyes narrowed and fists clenched the steering wheel, an audible growl of anger leaving his throat.

“You ever say her name again, and you can walk to work, understand?”

You hadn’t seen much of his anger explode like that before, except during the unexpected arrival of his brother, Tommy. It was on the evening that you finally got your car back, and as you mustered the courage to walk over to Joel’s trailer to let him know that he didn’t have to take you back and forth, you noticed something. In front of his crumbling front deck was a dark pick-up truck, one that didn’t belong in a place like this. It was sparkling new, clearly waxed, with big, gleaming rims.

Before you even had the chance to think much about it, you heard a shout inside Joel’s trailer, a booming voice that almost made you scurry back to your own home.

“I already told you, Tommy! I’m not doin’ it!” Footsteps tracked through the house, heavy boots against weak plywood practically shaking the trailer. You could see shapes pass by the front window, suggesting that both Joel and his seemingly unwanted guest were about to come outside.

Now you were actually scurrying across his lawn, attempting to retreat back from Joel’s yard before you were spotted, but the front door opened too quickly. Thankfully, the heated conversation between him and who you assumed to be Tommy precluded their heated gazes from meeting yours.

Without wanting to assume who Tommy was, he certainly looked like he was related to Joel - their intense glares were almost identical. The height, the face-shapes, all of it. Even Tommy’s deep drawl matched as he bellowed in return.

“I don’t understand why you gotta be so goddamn stubborn. Here I am, drivin’ halfway across the county just to see you, to give you an opportunity to get out of this shithole, but instead, you’re chosin’ to live in a shell and letting yourself wind up just like-”

Joel’s frame towered over Tommy’s despite the considerable height that Tommy had himself. Something dark was brewing beneath Joel’s features, clearly quite close to boiling over. Even though you knew you were watching an intense, private moment, you had never seen this kind of emotion from Joel before. You were almost bewitched, unmoving, questioning if you should intervene to stop a potential fight from breaking out.

Tommy’s nostrils were flared, his chest pressed against Joel’s, while Joel’s fists were clenched into a tight ball, threatening to strike like a snake.

“I told you last time. Bring her up again, and you won’t have a mouth left to speak from.”

Tommy scoffed. “She was just as much mine as she was yours, Joel. Just because you ran away when things got hard and buried yourself deeper and deeper into a hole doesn’t mean I don’t miss her.” He began to stomp off of the front porch, making his way to the truck that was parked in the driveway.

“But that’s fine! This will be the last damn time I come over thinkin’ that maybe you’re ready to change. Go ahead and delete my number from your phone.”

Both you and Joel, as well as a couple of other neighbors who had decided to leave their houses to view the commotion, watched Tommy’s truck tires screech against the pavement. His departure was bitter and final, an angry bite to the way he spit those words.

You can’t imagine being on the receiving end of them, and when you turned your head to glance at Joel, you found his eyes boring into you. His shoulders are pulled tight, and his jaw is set, and he said nothing as he stepped back into his trailer and slammed the door hard behind him.

Perfect timing, you thought to yourself. There’s never been a better day for your car to have been up and running again. You didn’t waste time lingering in his yard.

But before you can feel the pavement of the narrow street beneath your sneakers, his disgruntled voice cut through the air. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

You turned to face him, unsure of yourself. Joel’s an asshole, you know that much, but you didn’t think you’ve ever seen him this worked up and angry. “Uhm…about that. I was just coming to tell you that I don’t need a ride today-”

Joel scoffed and shook his head, keys jingling in his hand “Get in the damn truck,” he said, venom on his tongue. And you know he’s not mad at you, but your stomach turned at his fury anyway. “Gonna be late if we don’t get a move on.”

Tomorrow, you decide. You’ll tell him about your car tomorrow. But for now, you do as he said. While he stuck the key in the ignition and turned the engine over, you climbed into the passenger seat, which still smelled faintly of your perfume from the night before.

He pulled onto the road and started the familiar route to the bar, his movements rehearsed and, by now, muscle memory. You sat in silence as he steered with one hand and pulled a cigarette from the center console with the other. He lit it, inhaled the nicotine deep into his lungs, and let out a heavy sigh.

You wondered if you should say something. A million questions are pressed against the back of your teeth. But now isn’t the best time to poke and prod for a glimpse into the man he is outside of what you’ve seen with your own two eyes. So you decided to say something else instead, something that might grant him a little relief. “My car is fixed. That’s what I was trying to tell you. So, tomorrow, you won’t have to worry about giving me rides anymore.”

He glanced at you briefly and then shook his head. “No.”

The word is so simple and definitive in his mouth that it caught you off guard. So much so that you found yourself fighting amusement. “What do you mean no?”

“Just what I said, damn it. You hard of hearing all of a sudden?”

“Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you?” You hadn’t wanted to press his buttons. Truly. But what right does he have to spew insults as if you were the one screaming at him on his front porch? Your tone was condescending as you said, “Come on. Try it with me; congrats! I’m sooo happy things are finally going your way! I’m glad I could be of help! No problem at all-!”

“Cut that shit out.”

“Me? You first.”

His jaw feathered as he clenched his teeth. He ashed his cigarette out of the open window and then sighed again, calmer this time. “Alright. I’m…”

“Sorry?”

His throat bobbed as if he tried to get the word out but it didn’t quite make it to his tongue. Instead, he just said, “Yeah.”

This time, you’re the one sighing. “It’s okay.”

Another few seconds of silence passed between you, but they were not as uncomfortable as they’d been when you’d first gotten into the truck. Less tension, less anger. And then he said, “Don’t want you drivin’ anywhere in that thing in the middle of the night.”

Your heart pinched in your chest at the words. They’re said with a certain sort of irritation, but yet they’re still so… protective. It’s not something you’ve ever had before, but in the last few days he’s given you a taste and it isn’t until now that you realized you’d developed a craving for it. “Why not?”

“Ain’t safe. Could break down again any second. Leave you stranded at midnight in the middle of nowhere. God knows the kinda people you’re servin’ at that place, would consider themselves lucky to find ya on the side of the road.” He shook his head as if to clear the image from his mind. “I’ll just keep takin’ ya.”

Even though you fought the warmth that crawled up your cheeks, you know he could tell his words did something to you. Joel’s attention left the road for only long enough to steal a fleeting glance at your face, and when he turned back to the task at hand he snorted incredulously.

But it’s the first time that anyone has ever considered your safety and altered their routine to make it a priority. It makes you feel special and warm and…wanted. And you know it’s likely your daddy issues blurring the lines once again, but you just can’t help yourself or the way your mind jumped to conclusions. “Is that your way of saying you care about me?”

He pressed his fingertips into his temple to massage away a headache. “Stop that.”

You didn’t listen. Of course, you don’t. You leaned in closer, hands on the empty leather seat between you. “Aww… who would've thought Joel Miller would secretly be a softie?” You’d never been so close to him before, so close that you could see the brown-colored freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose.

You swallowed down your sudden nerves due to the close proximity, enjoying the way Joel shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I said cut it out. Sit back down the right way ‘fore I get a ticket.”

It was impossible to follow his orders now, not after seeing how easy it was to rile him up.

Moving even closer, your lips a breath's distance away from Joel’s neck, you whispered, “I think you like the attention.”

“I think you’re mistaken,” he huffed back, but his voice lacked the bite he intended, much softer than the way he was yelling at Tommy earlier. His gaze flicked over to you, watching with an intense curiosity, but only momentarily.

“I won’t tell you again,” Joel commanded, brushing you back to your seat with a gentle shove of his elbow.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t?” you questioned, although you were sitting back in your seat like he asked you to. “Punish me? Spank me?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, I oughta. Maybe it’d finally teach you some manners,” Joel glanced over to catch your eye. “Anyone ever told you that you got a real weird sense of humor?”

Shrugging, you couldn’t help the slide smirk that spread across your face. “Blame it on my daddy issues.”

Joel didn’t even try to hide his disbelief, a red flush rising from the top of his collarbones and up his neck.

“Lord help me,” he whispered under his breath.

You granted him a bit of grace, ending your teasing and opting to enjoy the sound of music playing on the radio for the rest of the ride. It was always peaceful riding with Joel, the heat of the summer breeze warming your face.

From the heady smell of Joel’s Marlboros to the shrill voice of The Smashing Pumpkins playing over the speakers; the comfort of the situation always made you want to break down Joel’s walls. You wanted to see what he was like when he was entirely vulnerable, what he looked like when he woke up in the morning and didn’t have the opportunity to remember all his worries.

From that moment, you decided that you would get Joel to open up one way or another.

Your heart dropped a little when he pulled into the bar's parking lot, his tires crunching against the loose gravel. Joel’s long fingers were swift, reaching to the radio to turn down the music.

Things felt weird, that same intensity from the moment you’d gotten into the car returning. It felt like he wanted to say something, his mouth twitching before his lips were pressed into a straight line.

“I wasn’t joking, y’know,” you said, hoping to break the awkward silence of saying goodbye.

Joel didn’t say anything, the curious raise of his eyebrow speaking for him.

“About wanting you to spank me,” you snipped back, hopping out of his truck right after you admitted it to him. You could see what appeared to be a stifled smile forming on his lips as he shook his head. It made you feel good that you were able to distract him from reality for even a couple of minutes. God knew he needed it.

“See you at midnight. Stay out of trouble,” he called back from his truck, waiting to leave until he watched you safely enter the building.

He was on your brain your entire shift, which wasn’t unusual. What was different now was the pieces of information you’d found out, ranging from his argument with Tommy and his little resistance to your flirting.

So, of course, curiosity killed the cat. On your break you found yourself googling a string of searches; Joel Miller, Tommy, Joel and Tommy, until eventually you landed on an old company website.

Miller Bros Construction Company.

It was outdated, with inquiries and testimonials from years ago, but it did answer a couple of your questions. After clicking on the “about us” tab, you saw a photo of a much younger, happier-looking Joel.

His arm was thrown around Tommy’s shoulder, a huge smile plastered on his face. If you didn’t know every inch of Joel’s face, you would’ve considered that it wasn’t actually him. He looked so… happy. It broke your heart to know that he had become half of the man he used to be.

‘Brothers Joel and Tommy Miller have been serving the greater population of Austin, TX for several years,’ the tab read, confirming your suspicions that they were related. You glanced at Tommy, happily smiling next to Joel, directly contradicting what you’d seen earlier.

The inquiry tab at the bottom was broken, redirecting to a no longer active form.

Christ. His daughter's death had indeed ruined him. It had sucked all of the happiness out of Joel, leaving him angry and alone. He pushed everything good and decent away.

You spent the rest of your break lurking, sifting through Tommy’s Facebook page, seeing his now solely owned business booming. He had a pretty fiancé, and things honestly looked good for him. You noticed that Joel was nowhere on his page, but you would occasionally see photos of Tommy and Sarah beaming together before she’d gotten sick.

The guilt of it all had eaten at you, so severely that you decided to buy a burger plate before the kitchen closed for the night. Joel had gone out of his way to take care of you, to take you back and forth from work, even though he grumbled about it. He deserved to feel taken care of in return.

Plus, you were almost certain that his diet mainly consisted of cigarettes and alcohol. How he still looked so goddamn good was a question you’d never have answered.

When you left work, it was like clockwork; Joel’s truck sat outside the building, waiting for you.

The sun was long gone by now, so it was difficult to see Joel sitting in the driver's seat. You’d hoped that he had cooled off from earlier, especially now that you know more about the context of the argument.

You plopped into the passenger seat, greeting Joel only by placing the plate of food on the center console.

“What’s this?” Joel questioned, no hello or how was your shift? Typical Joel Miller.

“What’s it look like? I got you dinner.”

He rolled his eyes, pointing a finger at the clock display. “It’s midnight.”

“And…?” He raised his brows and you clicked your tongue in response. “When was the last time you had a meal that wasn’t made in a microwave?”

Joel fixed you with a stare, and something lingered in his eyes that you couldn’t quite make out. It’s as if he’s trying to decide whether to yell at you or simply say thank you. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” he stated, but there was no malice in it.

“I know. I wanted to.” You shrugged casually because it was truly nothing to you. But apparently, Joel didn’t see it that way.

The truck sat idle in the parking lot. He said nothing for several seconds, which felt far too long. It was dark—the only illumination provided was the distant street lamps outside, but you swore you could see the corners of his mouth turn up. Not quite a smile, but something. And it made you feel so victorious that you thought about mentioning it, about making some snide remark, but know better by now.

Instead, you teased him. “At this rate, I might as well pack a bag and stay the night here.”

Joel scoffed but turned the key in the ignition anyway. “You got a mouth on you, girl. That’s for damn sure.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t sent me away yet. So there must be something you like about it, right?”

He doesn’t agree but he doesn’t deny it, either. Still, sarcasm dripped off his tongue as he said, “Somethin’ like that.”

When he turned the radio up, a rock ballad played and put you at ease. You start to realize that these quiet moments with him are the lightest part of your days. Nothing to think about but the way the cool wind hit your face and the sound of his soft humming from behind the wheel. It’s simple and good and you feel safe.

When he pulled into the trailer park a short while later, you almost hated to see it end. For a split second, you debated inviting him over in an attempt to extend your time together. But you knew that after the day he’s had, he probably didn’t want the company. So instead, you gathered your things and hopped out of the truck. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hang on a sec.”

You paused with your hand on the passenger door. “Yeah?”

Joel hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak, but all he managed was, “Uh..” His eyes darted everywhere but yours. The dashboard, the steering wheel, his hands - everywhere but you.

He’s nervous, you realized. Uneasy. You tried to comfort him. “What is it?”

“I, uh…I was just wonderin’ if, I don’t know. You wanna… split it with me?” He pointed to the takeout container. “Or you could have a drink, or…do you drink?”

Your heart was doing somersaults behind your sternum. A girlish giggle left you despite your attempts to hide your excitement. Through a face-splitting grin, you asked, “Like a date?”

“Christ,” he sneered. “You know what? I take it back. Never-”

“I’m kidding!” Your laughter filled the cab of the truck. “I’m just kidding, Joel, I swear. Of course, I’ll come in for a drink.”

He looked hesitant, and at first, you thought it was because of how you’d been pulling his leg all night. By the time you had made it inside of his trailer, you realized that he was probably a little nervous on account of the mess in his living room.

Empty bud light bottles covered the surface of the side table next to his couch. An ashtray haphazardly placed on the kitchen counter was long overdue to be emptied, ash and half-smoked cigarettes threatening to spill over. Next to it were a couple of prescription bottles, the print too small for you to make out what they were supposed to be treating.

No matter how you felt about the place, you understood how difficult it all must’ve been for Joel. It wasn’t dirty or anything, just unkempt, a man overwhelmed by grief too distracted to focus on cleaning.

“It’s not much to see, but feel free to make yourself at home,” Joel said, slipping past you at the front door to place the bag of food down on the kitchen counter. You watched him momentarily, taking in the normalcy of his routine.

His movements to wash his hands before eating, the clatter of plates being pulled out of the dishwasher. Watching him in his element relaxed you. You tried to envision what it was like in the home when Sarah was still alive, filling the space with her innocent laughter.

“I won’t bite,” Joel spoke, pulling you out of your own head. Your gaze refocused, a quiet sense of fulfillment washing over you as you watched him for a fleeting second.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” you chirped back, toeing out of your work shoes and heading over to his leather couch. A knitted blanket thrown across the leather prevented the back of your legs from pressing against the cold material, and you were grateful.

“Do you get pleasure outta givin’ me a hard time or something?” Joel asked, plopping next to you. He slid a plate over to your side of the coffee table, pulling the table forward slightly so you’d be able to reach it easier. He placed two beers on the table, too, and cracked the seal of yours. It’s such a small but gentlemanly thing to do, and you try not to think too hard about how it makes your heart swell.

You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until he unwrapped the bag and split the food between the two of you, your stomach growling in response.

“I just like seeing you squirm,” you joked, noticing how Joel shook his head and snorted under his breath. Both of you ate together, quietly but comfortably.

You were sure that Joel spent most of his nights like this, in his living room with the TV flashing light across the walls of the house. It made you feel good that you were there to change his routine so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

The longer that time passed and the less food on your plate created an odd sense of pressure, that you were running out of time to pull something new out of Joel. Being in his home was an accomplishment on its own, but you still had a challenge with yourself to learn even more.

“Do you wanna, uh,” you began to speak, picking at one of your fries to fill the awkward space, “y’know… talk about earlier?”

“Nope,” he replied without hesitation, which you probably should’ve expected. Your pout was uncontrollable, discouraged by his instant lack of vulnerability. But you weren’t going to force him to talk, because he’d for sure shut down.

“Not to be cheesy or anything, but you’re pretty decent to be around, once you stopped being an asshole all the time,” you said, finishing the final bite of your fry. “If you ever need to talk about shit, I’m probably the best option you got here. Kathy tells everyone’s business, so.”

Joel actually chuckled at that, a deep, rumbling sound that made your gut twist. “I didn’t plan on talkin’ to anybody about anything, much less Kathy. But thanks.”

You nodded, a pang of disappointment flickering through your abdomen.

That night, you thanked him for the company and he promised to meet you in the afternoon right on time. The same routine you’ve had all week.

You and Joel get good at routines. Because the next night when you brought him dinner again, he didn’t even ask if you’d like to eat with him. He just said, “Picked up some sodas earlier. Figured you might want that instead of beer.”

And just like that, it became a nightly thing. The cooks at the bar don’t even ask what you want any more, they simply have the food finished by the time you’re ready to meet Joel in the parking lot. You had even occasionally fallen asleep in his living room, the comforting sound of the TV humming and Joel’s even breathing lulling you to sleep.

He always made sure to throw a blanket over you and quietly slip into his room, never waking you or forcing you to leave. It was an unspoken rule.

So, due to your growing interest in Joel and alleviating some of his stress, you decided to take a leap. One morning you’d woken up on Joel’s couch after falling asleep there the night before. Joel wasn’t home, which wasn’t unusual since he sometimes picked up odd jobs at the mechanic's shop in town to pay the bills.

It was the perfect opportunity to clean his house. You weren’t sure how he was going to feel about it, but you were only going to take out the trash and leave everything else as it was. You didn’t need him hollering at you for moving his shit around.

You had a good four hours to just clean out the place, and Jesus, you needed it. It appeared that he didn’t have any other cleaning products besides bleach and dish soap, which you couldn’t really use to get some old stains out of the carpet. It had taken you an hour of rifling through your own stuff to get the correct products and supplies to make a dent.

By the time you finished a couple hours later, you had three trash bags full of random newspapers, beer cans, and whatever other miscellaneous stuff you were sure Joel wouldn’t be upset to part with. Surprisingly, you hadn’t seen anything belonging to Sarah, no pictures hanging on the wall, no toys, nothing that indicated that anyone besides Joel had lived there.

That was until you’d decided to step into the room towards the back of the trailer. Joel’s bedroom was hardly used, his bed made and room clean, indicating that he probably spent most of his nights on the couch, so you didn’t bother cleaning that space. You were, however, curious about the spare room.

As soon as you’d opened it, you knew why you couldn’t find anything of Sarah’s. It was like a museum, a room stuck in time. Light pink paint covered the wall, the late afternoon sun streaming in colorful rays through the sheer purple curtains. The bed was made, without a wrinkle in sight, with a little teddy bear tucked in, as if it was keeping the bed warm for Sarah’s return.

You stepped in a little, taking in the small details; the photos of Joel and Sarah hugging on the wall, a little caboodle makeup box, and nail polishes lined up against the dresser. What truly broke your heart was the oxygen tank that was placed next to her bed, still attached to the mask.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” spoke a voice from behind you, almost causing your body to jump out of its skin. You whipped around to see an absolutely fuming Joel watching you with narrowed eyes. You stammered, quickly trying to come up with some sort of excuse.

“I was cleaning and I thought, I mean I was thinking that-“

Joel quickly approached you, his face only a mere breath away from yours. You were too anxious to even notice the closeness because you knew he was beyond pissed. You don’t think he was even this mad when he was fighting with Tommy.

“I don’t know why you think that you’re entitled to comin’ into my life, touchin’ my shit, steppin’ foot into this room, but guess what? You’re not.” He spat, stepping even closer to you. You felt tiny, like a bug ready to be squashed by a foot.

“You don’t mean shit to me. Just because your life is fucked up doesn’t mean I need you to try to come into mine and save me. I don’t wanna be saved. Now get the hell outta my house,” he spoke, his voice unwavering and scarily calm. It took every ounce of strength inside of you not to cry, not to shout, because you knew he didn’t mean it. You had crossed his invisible line, despite not doing it intentionally.

But you weren’t strong enough to control your emotions, and eventually, the pressure of Joel’s angry words left your eyes watering. Though your jaw was clenched and your face wasn’t giving much away, Joel easily saw past the facade and noticed the tears welling up in your eyes.

And he scoffed. A quick laugh, right in your face, at seeing your tears.

“Christ, you gonna cry now? Upset that you don’t got no daddy here to comfort you, gotta take out all your trauma on me? Fuckin’ pathetic.”

Your tears turned from hurt, into angry, hot streams rolling down your face.

“Fuck you, Joel.”

You could feel your blood pumping in your head, so angry that you could break something. He was lucky that you made your way straight out of his house instead of grabbing all of the trash bags and pouring them right back onto the floor.

You knew that he was self-destructing, that he was pushing you away because you were too good for him, but it didn’t make his words hurt any less. He wasn’t wrong. You did take interest in him because he was broken, similar to yourself. Despite that, it didn’t hurt any less.

As painful as it was to believe, you began to wonder if he had fooled you.

Maybe all that remained of Joel Miller was the worst part of him.

[part two]

#joel miller

675 notes · View notes

zeisly · 1 month ago

Note

Oh my good God your writing is absolutely fabulousssss 🤤 The way you write about Joel and his baby girl is sending me into orbit!!! Genuinely I cannot wait to read more of your work 😍 Do you think that you would ever do one where Joel comforts his baby if she got jealous? There’s a few different ways this could go but the idea of him comforting his sweet girl when she’s upset over something like seeing another woman in Jackson hit on him or something makes me think terrible, nsfw thoughts 😆🩷🎀

This was so fun to write, thank you for the ask anon! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When you see a woman making a move on Joel and storm out in a flurry of tears, Joel realizes exactly how much he’s been neglecting his baby. He’s determined to make it up to you.

Notes: Smut, oral (f receiving), dom!joel, sub!reader, praise, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, babygirl, little girl, honey, darling, any fanfic-typical nickname Joel has for reader), jealous!reader, oblivious!joel (sorta), semi-public, implied age gap

You were fuming.

It was Tommy’s birthday and Maria had decided to invite the entire town of Jackson to the Tipsy Bison that night to celebrate. The bar was lively with the hum of chatter and small talk, the smell of whiskey and beer curling in the air, paper lanterns hung in a zig-zag pattern across the ceiling.

Normally you would have loved to go out like this. It gave you an excuse to dress up all pretty and do your makeup, maybe even get Joel to abandon his stone-faced stoic facade and go dancing with you after he’d had a couple drinks.

Except for the fact that the night had gotten off to a horrible start.

The past few weeks Joel had been busy. Very busy. Which you didn’t blame him for, of course—he was one of the town’s strongest working men and the people needed him to help with patrol. But recently a worker at the Bison had sprained his ankle and Seth had asked Joel to help cover him while he healed, which meant that now Joel was gone during the day for patrol and several nights during the week while he fixed barstools or whatever it was Seth had him working on.

The nights he actually was home, he usually went straight to bed with you after placing a kiss to your lips and gave a murmured, “Goodnight.” You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched you, really touched you.

And you knew that Joel was a good man, that the reason he was so exhausted all the time now was because he was doing work for the community.

It didn’t stop his girl from getting a little needy and missing him.

Tonight you had taken advantage of the outing. You’d made sure to do your makeup immaculately, with your lips glossed and eyes lined to make them look all doe-like and pretty, how Joel liked them. You’d curled your hair and pinned the top part of it back in a half-updo with a white satin bow. You’d even worn a new dress that you’d traded for a couple days before. It was baby pink, hugging your bust and waist before flaring out the smallest bit around your hips. The short hem paired with your white heels showed off your legs very nicely.

You’d thought that maybe if you put enough effort into your appearance tonight, Joel would want to touch you no matter how tired he was.

Unfortunately, so much self-grooming had caused you and Joel to be a little late, which meant rushing out the door and speed-walking over to the Bison so you two weren’t more tardy than you already were, which meant there wasn’t time for Joel to appreciate his princess in her pretty dress.

Now that you guys were here at the bar, he was hardly looking at you. His large hand was still holding yours so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but he hadn’t even said anything about how you looked tonight. Did he even care? It made you want to whine and cry or stamp your little heeled foot against the floor until he paid attention to you.

But you didn’t. You wanted to be his good girl…and you didn’t want to ruin Tommy’s birthday, either, by making a scene.

Joel kept craning his neck around to look for his brother, and when he found Tommy and Maria standing at the bar, he guided you over with him with a hand on the small of your back.

“Joel!” Tommy exclaimed, expression bright as he embraced his brother—overly bright. It was clear he’d already had a few glasses.

Joel slapped Tommy on the back. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” you said softly right as Maria was thanking the both of you for coming.

“What did you get me?” Tommy asked his brother.

Joel grunted as he put his hand back on your waist. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

“A book? A shirt? A razor? I’ve been needin’ a new one of those, mine broke just yesterday—“

“Boots,” Joel said. “Traded for ‘em last week. They’re back at the house.”

Tommy grinned. “Awe, now you’ve just ruined the surprise.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Tommy—“

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s somethin’ I need to show you real quick.” Tommy turned to you. “Mind if I borrow him for a few?”

You frowned. “Well—“

Without waiting for a response Tommy dragged Joel away, heading for some unseen destination across the bar. You couldn’t tell where they were going from your position in the crowd. You tried not to wilt.

A moment later Maria handed you a drink. “You look nice,” she commented.

“At least someone noticed,” you grumbled, taking a sip. The alcohol burned your throat.

“Joel giving you trouble?”

You shrugged.

Maria waited for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, she pressed. “I was going to go sit with some friends over there.” She gestured to her right somewhere. “Want to join?”

You sighed, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. Thank you Maria, but I don’t want my mood to infect your guys’.”

“Well…alright. If you’re sure.” And with that, she left you to your own devices.

It had been hours. Or…maybe a half hour. Forty five minutes? You weren’t sure. Enough time for you to have made a home for yourself on one of the barstools with several now-empty liquor glasses in front of you.

And Joel still wasn’t back.

Your toes were starting to go numb in your tight shoes even just sitting there, so you huffed and got to your feet—you only swayed a little. You were determined to find Joel and make him dance with you.

You weaved in and out of the crowd as you searched. Where had Tommy taken Joel? Was it….this way? That way? You couldn’t think very clearly right now. How many glasses had you….?

You finally spotted the back of Joel’s head through the throng of partygoers. Your eyes lit up and you started to move in that direction, ready to tug on Joel’s hand and stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. Why had you even been upset again?

You squirmed between two people to move closer and—

There was a woman beside Joel. She had honey brown hair and keen, wise eyes. She was older than you—much older. Closer to Joel’s age. Her name was Sharon…Shannon…something?

You froze as she laughed at something someone said and put a hand on Joel’s arm.

Your eyes went wide and you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or start crying. Joel suddenly turned his head and met your gaze.

Your body decided for you. Tears pooled on your lashes and you turned to duck out of the bar before you made even more of a fool of yourself.

The crisp, cool night air greeted you as you escaped the Tipsy Bison’s warmth. You sniffled and kept walking, not even really sure where you were going.

“Darlin’?” Joel’s voice reached you and you heard footsteps from behind.

You sped up.

But Joel was Joel, and so he quickly caught up to you with his long legs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Joel.”

“Hey.” He grabbed you and turned you around, his grip gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“Get offa me,” you protested, trying to push away.

“What’re you…” He paused. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you whined. You broke out of his grip and kept walking, turning around the corner of the Bison and walking around the back of the building. “Leave me alone.”

“Baby.”

At his tone you stopped. Even though you were embarrassed and upset and didn’t want to see his face, a small part of you still wanted to be obedient.

He came around your front and lifted your chin so you were looking up at him. His stern gaze melted away and his eyes softened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong?” You sniffled and took a step back. His hand fell away.

“What’s wrong is that you don’t pay attention to me anymore. You work all day and all night and it feels like you hardly have time for me now. I even got all dressed up tonight for you, wore a new dress and everything, a-and you didn’t say anything, didn’t even look—“

You blinked and more tears ran down your face. “And now I jus’ saw Sharon or Shannon or whoever that woman was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything—”

You cut off as your face crumpled. You looked down, shivering from the cold.

“I know she’s older and…and probably smarter, and she—”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart.” Joel tenderly gripped your upper arms, ducking his head to try and get you to meet your gaze. “What…what are you thinkin’? You think she could ever compare to my babygirl?”

You opened your mouth to respond but he prattled on before you had the chance. “The moment she touched me I pulled away. I don’t know if you didn’t see or what, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often. It’s just until Seth’s friend heals up that I’ll be gone. I should be out of bar duty by next week.”

“And what about tonight?” you whined.

At that, Joel smiled. “You really think I didn’t notice how pretty you looked, sweet girl? I was trying not to get a hard on in the middle of Tommy’s party.”

You almost smiled. Almost. But you were still mad about Shannon, and you still felt needy and lonely and you were pretty sure you were way more than tipsy and you still kind of felt like punching Joel in his handsome face a little bit.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry that I made my baby feel alone….and needy…and neglected…” He punctuated each word with a kiss to a different part of your face—your cheek, your nose, your lips.

Now that you were alone, Joel’s eyes roved over your body shamelessly. “Look at you….” he cooed. “So beautiful.” His hands fell to your waist. “And this pretty new dress.” His eyes looked lower, down to your feet, and he grinned. “Your shoes match your bow. You said you dressed up just for me?”

You sniffed and nodded. “M’still a little mad at you.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He kissed your jaw. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

That sobered you up real quick. “Wh….here?”

“Why not?” Joel pressed your back to the wall of the building. “No one’s around.”

“But someone could—”

“Shhh.” He kissed lower this time, at the skin beneath your jaw. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He pressed a kiss lower. “I’m going to make my little girl feel good right here and now so she doesn’t have to wait another minute.” Another kiss. “After that I’m gonna carry her back to our bed….” Another. “And there I’m gonna make love to her until she gets absolutely sick of it.”

You squirmed as his beard dragged along your skin the lower and lower he kissed, lips now at your collarbone. “I-I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it….”

He nipped at your skin and you gasped. “Then you had better have enough energy to be up all night, sweetheart.”

Joel kissed down the center of your clavicle, the middle of your breasts, down your tummy over your dress….soon he was kneeling before you, looking up to meet your gaze with those dark brown eyes of his.

“Joel—” you said, still a bit uncertain.

“Lean back against the wall, babygirl.”

You hesitated, but obeyed. Any complaints or protests you had against the situation dissolved as soon as Joel lifted one of your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

His lips traveled upward. He kissed along your calf….the inside of your knee…your thigh….soon he pressed the skirt of your dress up to your waist.

He paused.

Then:

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was nearly a groan. His eyes flicked up to yours. “No panties?”

You smiled shyly. The truth was you’d forgotten almost entirely about that—it had been a quick last minute decision to forego wearing anything beneath your dress, but seeing his eyes dark with lust now….you definitely did not regret it.

“I’m a little glad I didn’t have time to look you over properly before coming here,” he murmured, lips skimming your hip bone. “If I knew you weren’t wearin’ anything under this we would have never left the house.”

You could feel his breath on your inner thigh now as he moved his head and you whimpered. “Joel.”

“Shhh, no whining honey, ‘less it’s about how good it feels.” He placed a kiss right above the patch of skin above your bud. “Just let that pretty head of yours empty—I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever you were about to say in response left your head as Joel hiked your leg over his shoulder and started to lick at your clit.

You gasped and one of your hands threaded through his salt and pepper curls to steady yourself. His tongue flicked against your swollen, needy button teasingly. Your lower belly simmered with the heat of crackling coals.

Joel’s large hand found purchase on your hip and he squeezed in response to each noise that escaped you. He was soon embracing you with his full mouth, tongue licking between your folds, at your bud, into you. It was as if he was everywhere, helping himself to your taste and enjoying every bit of it.

“Oh,” you sighed, pushing your hips into his mouth involuntarily and his head bobbed in time with his motions.

Each flick, each twist of his tongue had you nearly writhing, and you were pretty sure it was only Joel’s hand on your hip keeping you from collapsing.

“Joel, I—it’s—oh please, I can’t—” You were babbling mindlessly, head empty, unsure of what you were even really saying.

Joel just chuckled against you, the vibrations running through your core making you gasp.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured as he sucked and licked at your wetness. “‘S like you were made for me—just keep rockin’ your hips—oh, good girl.”

He lapped at you as you let out a high-pitched whine. You were there, right there, with his nose nudging at your clit and his warm wet tongue pushing into you and he was shaking his head and oh—

You bit your knuckle to muffle your moan as you came, your folds drenched, your lower belly warm, your legs shaking, your clit tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Joel kept murmuring praises as you came down from your high, hips squirming from oversensitivity.

He placed soft and slow kisses on your right hip before rising and gripping your waist. Your legs nearly buckled.

Joel chuckled and caught you as you stumbled a bit, sweeping you up in his arms, the ease in which he lifted you making your belly swoop.

He pressed his lips to your hairline in an achingly sweet kiss. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

You let out a happy hum and rested your head on his shoulder. “Better.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he started to walk, carrying you like you were a princess. You supposed that you were, in a sort of way. You were his.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep yet, babygirl.”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drifting off until he had said something. It wasn’t your fault. The gentle sway of him walking with you had rocked you to sleep…

“Sorry.” You yawned.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, honey,” he said. He held you closer. “And you gotta stay awake with me. I got a lot more I wanna do to apologize to my princess.”

The low voice he used made your heart flutter.

You were in for a very long night.

#joel miller

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zeisly · 1 month ago

Note

I wish everyone had someone like this Joel to give them the confidence and reassurance they need!

Hello, i really like everything you write about Joel, i am so in love with him😭💕

What if reader has been having some insecurities lately and Joel fcks her in front of a mirror, worshipping her and telling her how beautiful she is🎀💖

Here you go anon, hope you like it!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You start pulling away from Joel because you’re having doubts about yourself. Joel decides to do something about it.

Notes: smut, p in v, Joel pulls out, praise, body worship, reader has body dysmorphia, reader has insecurities, soft!Joel, dom!Joel, sub!reader, mirror sex

A/n: Yes, I put a Pride and Prejudice reference in there (iykyk 😘)

“Give yourself a compliment.”

The past few weeks, you had been having some…doubts, to say the least. Before, it had been just you and Joel fending for yourselves out in the woods, traveling West. Just you and Joel against the world.

Then you found Jackson.

Oh, what a haven it was. Even if Joel’s brother hadn’t been here, even if you knew nobody in town, you still would have convinced Joel to stay. They had hot water, heating, and goddamn coffee of all things? Yeah. You guys were sticking around.

Not only were you able to shower once a day, but your diet had also changed drastically. Instead of only eating a couple sticks of jerky and some crackers for dinner each day, you had the luxury of consuming steamed broccoli, roast pork, and such excellent boiled potatoes—it had been many years since you’d had such an exemplary vegetable. Now you always went to bed with a full belly.

The diet change was reflected in the way you looked. You could no longer see your ribs through your skin, and your thigh gap was gone. Your eyes looked less sunken, your cheekbones less protruding. Your hips were a little rounder, your tummy a little softer. And you knew that it was a good thing, that it meant you were getting over the malnourishment and becoming healthy again, that you were at a perfectly normal weight for your height—you knew that.

But a small part of your brain whispered otherwise. It didn’t matter if it was healthy or not, it didn’t matter if you had looked like a walking skeleton before, you were getting bigger. You started to wonder if it was getting harder for Joel to lift you during your activities in the bedroom. You started to wonder if he didn’t know what to do with each pound you gained, if he preferred you when you were smaller and lighter, even if you had only been skin and bones.

And so you started to pull away.

You still pleasured Joel, of course. You’d wake him up with your mouth on him, or kiss him while grinding on his bulge. But each time he tried to pull at your clothes to return the favor you’d shake your head and give him some lame excuse like I’m tired, or I promised Maria I’d go help her organize the inventory lists.

Eventually Joel had had enough. He sat you down and kept pushing and pushing, trying to know what was the matter. And oh…his callused hands cupping your face had been so gentle. His eyes had been so soft. You had confessed everything then and there through your tears.

Which brought you to now.

You were in the bathroom in just your bra and panties with Joel standing behind you, one hand gently lingering on the small of your back as you both faced the mirror.

“Give yourself a compliment,” Joel repeated.

Your brow creased and you shook your head. “I can’t,” you whispered.

Joel met your gaze in the mirror. “Come on, sweetheart. You—”

You shook your head again, tears blooming in your eyes.

Joel stood there for a few moments, his hand still stroking over the small of your back. Soon he spoke. “Well, I’ll start, then,” he said, his voice tender. “That alright with you, darlin’?”

He didn’t give you time to reply. He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed an achingly soft kiss to the back of it. “I love your hands,” he whispered. “Look at ‘em—so small, so soft. I like it when you use ‘em to run through my hair, or when I hold your hand as we walk through town.”

He moved his hand up to gently hold your chin. “And your face—my gorgeous girl. And those eyes… I love when you let me hold your cheek as I kiss those soft lips…”

Joel kissed the sensitive patch of skin beneath your jaw and your breath hitched. You could feel his smile against you as he moved down, kissing along your neck to your shoulder. His hands went to your hips and squeezed.

You hesitated, doubt filling you. “Joel—”

“Ah, I’m not done yet.” He kneaded at the softness on your hips and thighs. “Oh…I love this piece of you, honey…grabbin’ onto these hips every time I wanna tell everyone you’re mine, or when I’m drivin’ into you in the bedroom.”

Your breath caught at that, cheeks flushing the same color as the strawberries that Maria was starting to grow for the town.

Joel chuckled and before you knew it your bra was unhooked and tossed across the room, but that didn’t matter because the moment it was gone Joel’s hands were there. You gasped again as he started to gently squeeze, thumbs flicking over the peaks.

“And these,” he went on, voice dropping lower. “You’re so soft, babygirl, ‘specially these pretty tits. Just wanna kiss ‘em and bite ‘em all day every day.” He pinched one of your nipples and you whimpered. You could feel his bulge pressing into you from behind.

One of his hands stayed working on your breast as the other flattened and smoothed down the front of your torso. “And this pretty tummy…makes me so happy to see you like this, baby. Full of food every night. It means I’m doin’ my job providin’ for you.”

Joel’s relentless touching was really getting to you. You were damp between your legs by now surely.

“And here…” Joel slid his hand past the waistband of your panties and you whimpered as his fingers stroked along your wetness. He let out a breath that was nearly a groan. “I love feelin’ you here, sweetheart. Feelin’ you clench around me as you finish, gettin’ that hazy look in your eyes…”

He pushed two fingers into you and you whined, arching your back against him. “Joel—”

“Shh,” he whispered. He mouthed at your neck and curled his fingers to stroke along your front wall. “Look at you, darlin’.” When you were nice and ready, he retracted his fingers. You whimpered at the loss, but it soon turned into a gasp as he unzipped his pants and pushed his length into you.

You let out a soft moan and closed your eyes at the feeling. Oh…he was so big, so—

He nipped at your neck and your eyes flicked open with a gasp. “Eyes on yourself, pretty girl. Want you to see how gorgeous you are takin’ me.”

At that, hesitation won over arousal for a split second. “Joel, I don’t…”

He kissed the part of your neck he bit, his affection so tender it made your heart swell. “You trust me?”

You nodded.

“You can do this, baby. Watch. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You bit your lip, then nodded again.

Joel grinned. “Good girl,” he cooed. “Put your hands on the counter.”

You did as he asked. The white porcelain was cold against your palms, but one of Joel’s big hands came to rest atop one of yours. The other grabbed your hip.

Then he started to move.

You let out a moan as he dragged along your walls. It had been so long since you both had done this and he was filling you so well, making it hard to breath, hard to see, hard to think…

“Eyes open, baby.”

They had closed in your feeling of ecstasy and you hastily snapped them open. Sex with Joel was always erotic, but actually watching it happen in the mirror like this…

He reached down to thumb at your clit and you let out a soft whine. Joel chuckled. “Needy girl,” he murmured. He let out a groan into your neck. “So warm, darlin’.”

Joel thrust into you deeper and put a hand on your stomach. “Another thing I love,” he whispered, “is when I make it so you can feel me all the way up in this pretty tummy.”

You mewled at that. There was a white-hot fire in your lower belly and it ached and you didn’t know if you wanted the fans flamed or extinguished or—

“Look how pretty my babygirl looks when she’s takin’ me,” Joel murmured.

Your eyes were half-lidded in the mirror, breasts moving with every thrust up into you. There was a flush around your cheekbones and nose and your lips were softly parted as Joel took you.

“Mmm.”

“Oh?” Joel kept rubbing circles into your clit as your hips squirmed. “Was that an agreement, sweet girl?”

You hesitated. Your mind was too blissed out to think clearly. “I—“

“Does my pretty baby see how I see her now?” A particularly well-placed thrust from Joel had you keening. “How beautiful she is?”

You whined and rocked back against him. Something was building inside you, a tight coil right between your legs, and it was too hot, too hot, and you…you needed…

“Fall apart for me, sweetheart,” Joel breathed.

You did. You let out a high-pitched moan and your walls clenched around Joel’s length, causing him to grunt. Your head swam. Your vision fuzzed. You barely even registered Joel pulling out and his spend landing on the back of your thigh.

Your legs shook and you let out a pathetic whine. Joel was quick to scoop you into his arms. “I gotcha, babygirl,” he whispered, kissing your cheek as he carried you to the bedroom. “Gotta lay on your tummy so I can clean you up, yeah?”

You nodded and let him place you on the bed face down. Your entire body felt like it was melting.

Joel left for the bathroom and soon returned with a warm washcloth to gently wipe between your legs and at his spend on the back of your thigh. When he was done he took you into his arms.

Chest to chest, he smiled down at you and pushed hair back from your face. “Hi pretty girl.”

You smiled back. “Hi,” you whispered.

His thumb caressed your cheekbone for a moment. “I know your feelings about yourself aren’t going to disappear overnight and that’s okay, but…you think you can give yourself a compliment now?”

You blushed, then nodded. “I like it when you make my cheeks flush.” Your voice was small, shy.

“Yeah?” Joel’s eyes sparkled. “How come?”

“Because I think I…” You swallowed. “I think I look pretty like that.”

Joel grinned. “Yes you do, baby.” He held you close. “Yes…you most definitely do.”

#joel miller

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zeisly · 1 month ago

Text

The Weight of It All

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’ve been hiding your sickness—and the truth—from Joel for weeks. But when a pregnancy test confirms your fears, the weight of it becomes too much to bear. Telling him risks reopening old wounds… but keeping it secret might break you both.

WC: 3.8K

tags: Age gap (60s Joel x 30s reader), pregnancy reveal, anxiety, crying, panic, mentions of past child loss (Sarah), emotional vulnerability, soft Joel, comfort, domestic tenderness, happy ending

My Masterlist

You’ve been sick for days. Maybe longer.

It started as something small—dull headaches, a little nausea in the mornings, that tight ache behind your ribs when you stood too fast. Nothing worth bringing up. Not with Joel. Not when he already worries too much.

You’d blamed it on stress. On the cold. On whatever dried meat Maria had handed you from the trade post. But it hasn’t gone away. It’s gotten worse.

Today, it hits harder than usual. Your stomach twists before your eyes even open. You lie in bed, curled on your side, one hand pressed to your mouth, breathing shallowly through your nose.

Joel’s already up. You hear him in the kitchen—footsteps creaking across the floorboards, the soft clink of silverware, the low grumble of the stove catching. You try to move, but the moment you sit up, your body rebels.

You make it to the bathroom just in time.

You vomit hard, clutching the edge of the sink like it might keep you tethered. Cold sweat beads on your neck, your spine prickling with heat and nausea and panic.

It’s not the first time this week.

And still, you haven’t told him.

By the time you pull yourself together, Joel’s voice is already calling down the hallway.

“Breakfast’s ready. You up?”

You splash water on your face and don’t answer right away. You can’t. Your reflection in the mirror looks pale, your lips chapped. You stare at yourself a moment too long.

Then you step into the hallway like nothing’s wrong.

He doesn’t question you.

He never does at first.

Joel’s at the stove, dividing up the food onto two plates. It’s not much—just scrambled eggs and a toasted slice of bread—but he’s humming under his breath like he’s proud of it. You try to sit down without making a face. The smell turns your stomach.

“Didn’t hear you get up,” he says, voice low and easy. “Sleep okay?”

You nod. Lie.

He sets the plate in front of you. You force yourself to eat a few bites, chewing carefully, swallowing around the nausea.

“You sure you’re not gettin’ sick?” he asks after a while, studying you. “You’ve been lookin’ a little… off.”

You shake your head too quickly. “No, just tired. Stomach’s been weird. Probably a bug or something.”

He doesn’t push. Just narrows his eyes, then reaches over to squeeze your thigh under the table. A quiet gesture. Comforting. You wish it didn’t make your chest ache.

You don’t talk much after that. Joel launches into something about a new gate they’re reinforcing on the east wall, and you nod along, trying not to gag every time you lift your fork. You excuse yourself early and claim a headache. He offers to make tea. You say no.

By the time you crawl back into bed, you’re already crying.

The test isn’t something you went looking for. Not really.

It’s tucked in the back of your dresser, hidden beneath a pair of old gloves and a cracked mirror you meant to throw away. You remember Maria handing it to you months ago, half-joking—“Just in case.” You’d laughed then. Said something sarcastic. Stuffed it in the drawer and forgot.

But you find it now.

Hands shaking.

Heart pounding.

You stare at the little plastic thing like it’s a weapon.

You haven’t had your period in… shit. You count on your fingers. At least two months. Maybe more. You try to remember when the last time was and come up blank. Just nausea and headaches and crying over stupid things like burnt toast and Joel leaving his damn flannel on the floor again.

You sit on the edge of the bed and peel the wrapper back slowly.

The directions are smeared but readable. You follow them. You take the test.

You wait.

Two minutes feels like an hour.

You pace the room, bare feet cold against the floor, every breath too shallow, too loud. You’re not ready for this. You can’t be. You’ve been careful. Joel’s older. You thought…

You glance at the stick.

Two pink lines.

Clear as day.

No denying it. No maybes. No confusion.

You’re pregnant.

You sink to the floor and cry so hard your throat burns.

It’s not that you don’t want a baby.

It’s that you don’t know how to have one. Not here. Not in this world. And not with Joel, not after everything he’s been through. After everything he’s lost.

You think about Sarah. The photo he keeps in his coat pocket. The way he still gets quiet when kids are nearby. The way he looks at you sometimes—like he’s waiting for you to vanish, too.

He hasn’t said her name in months.

But you see it in his eyes.

You press your hands to your stomach. Try to imagine what’s inside. Try to make it feel real.

And it does.

Terrifyingly real.

But you don’t tell him.

Not that night. Not the next. Not the week after.

You keep pretending.

Keep hiding.

Keep waking up sick and saying it’s nothing.

Because you love him too much to ruin this.

And you’re afraid—so afraid—that this will be the thing that finally breaks him.

You don’t remember when it stopped being something you could ignore.

Maybe it was when your nausea turned into full-blown vomiting every other morning. Maybe it was the way your body started to ache differently—heavier, tender in places it hadn’t been before. Or maybe it was the way Joel kept watching you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You try to keep up the act. Try to smile when he brushes your hair behind your ear. Try to laugh when he mutters something sarcastic about Jackson politics or how damn cold it still is. You sit with him by the fire at night, listening to the quiet crackle of the wood, letting him rest his hand on your thigh like nothing’s changed.

But everything’s changed.

You’ve got a secret growing inside you. One you didn’t ask for. One you still don’t know how to feel about.

And it’s eating you alive.

You start waking up before Joel does, slipping quietly out of bed to vomit or dry heave into the toilet, chewing your lip to keep from crying out. You brush your teeth in silence. Splash cold water on your face. Sit on the edge of the tub until the spinning stops.

By the time he’s awake, you’re already wrapped in a blanket on the couch, pretending to read a book you haven’t turned the page on in three days.

“You sure you’re not comin’ down with somethin’?” Joel asks again that morning, a mug of tea in his hand instead of coffee. “You’ve been… quiet.”

“I’m just tired.”

He gives you a look.

You try to change the subject. “What time you heading out with Tommy today?”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. Just hands you the mug. It’s chamomile. Your favorite. He’s trying. It makes your heart ache.

“I could stay,” he says slowly, sitting down beside you. “Ain’t nothin’ urgent. We were just gonna check the perimeter out past the ridge.”

“No, it’s okay,” you say too quickly. “I’m fine. Go.”

His jaw tightens a little. Not in frustration—more like… uncertainty. Like he doesn’t quite believe you but doesn’t know how to press without making things worse.

He kisses your forehead before he leaves.

You cry as soon as the door shuts.

You wander out later, needing air, even though the snow’s still packed in frozen ridges along the path outside the cabin. The sky is overcast, the wind sharp enough to sting your cheeks. You wrap Joel’s flannel tighter around you—he left it behind again this morning—and follow the half-trodden trail into the woods behind the cabin.

No one follows.

No one knows.

You find the edge of the treeline, the big flat rock you sometimes sit on in warmer months. You stand there now, breath puffing out in clouds, staring down at your gloved hands like they might hold an answer.

You fish the test out of your coat pocket.

You’ve been carrying it with you. You don’t know why.

Two pink lines, clear as ever.

You could throw it into the snow. You think about it—feel the urge in your fingers, the burst of anger that’s starting to rise like bile. You want to throw it, scream, crush it beneath your boot, pretend this isn’t happening.

But you don’t.

You sit.

And you hold it.

And you cry again.

That night, Joel makes soup. He tries not to burn it this time. You sit at the table and pretend to eat, smiling when he cracks a joke about the carrots being too soft. You’re exhausted, not just physically but from the weight of pretending.

“Was Maria askin’ about you today?” Joel says casually, handing you a piece of crusty bread. “Said she hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“Just been tired.”

“She said you should stop by.”

“I will.”

You won’t.

Joel leans back in his chair, watching you. “You know you can tell me if somethin’s wrong, right?”

You freeze.

He says it so gently, it almost breaks you. No suspicion in his voice, just quiet concern. The kind he only shows when he thinks you’re about to run—or when he is.

You want to tell him. You do.

But fear clamps down hard on your throat.

What if he looks at you and sees a mistake?

What if he looks at you and sees Sarah?

What if this is the thing that makes him leave?

You force a smile. “I know.”

Joel looks like he wants to say more. But he doesn’t.

He just reaches for your hand across the table and holds it in his calloused palm.

And you grip it like it’s the only solid thing keeping you from unraveling.

The nightmares come next.

You dream of blood. Of silence. Of holding something small and helpless and watching it disappear. You wake up gasping, clutching your stomach. Joel stirs beside you but doesn’t wake, and you’re glad. You don’t want him to see you like this.

You start wearing looser clothes. You start avoiding the mirror. You start skipping dinner.

Joel notices. Of course he does. He’s not stupid.

“Did I do somethin’?” he asks one night, voice quiet against your shoulder.

You’re in bed, turned away from him, pretending to be asleep. His fingers brush your arm.

“You’ve been distant.”

You say nothing. Your throat tightens.

“I ain’t mad,” he adds. “Just worried.”

You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“I love you, y’know,” Joel murmurs. “Even when you shut down like this.”

That’s the moment your heart breaks.

Because you realize what you’re doing isn’t fair. Not to him. Not to yourself. Not to the tiny life you’re carrying inside you.

But you’re still not ready.

Not yet.

You nod into the pillow, blinking tears onto the fabric.

“Love you too.”

A week passes.

Maybe more.

You lose track of time, counting your life in nausea and guilt and half-eaten meals. Joel never says it out loud, but you can see it in the way he watches you—like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.

You think about telling him every night.

You rehearse the words. I’m pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m scared.

But when you open your mouth, nothing comes.

Until finally… it does.

You don’t plan to tell him that night.

It’s the same as every other evening lately. Joel gets back late from patrol, shedding his coat and boots at the door with a tired grunt. You’re already in the kitchen, stirring soup that smells better than it tastes. You’re still too nauseous to eat more than a few bites, but you pretend for his sake.

He doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just waiting.

The table is quiet as you both eat. Joel hums under his breath between spoonfuls, something familiar—an old Johnny Cash tune, maybe. He thanks you like always. Tells you it’s good even though it’s barely seasoned.

After dinner, he offers to wash up, and you let him. Your hands won’t stop shaking anyway.

You find him in bed later, shirtless and reading something he borrowed from Tommy—a survival manual someone dug up from the library. He doesn’t look up when you enter. Just shifts a little to make room for you under the quilt, reaching out to rest a warm hand on your hip when you slide in beside him.

You lie there stiffly.

Heart pounding.

Stomach twisting.

“You’re awful quiet,” he murmurs after a while, voice rough from sleep already creeping in.

You swallow. “Just tired.”

“Mm.” He turns slightly, fingers idly stroking the hem of your shirt. “You been sayin’ that a lot lately.”

You tense.

“I—” Your voice cracks. “Yeah.”

Joel doesn’t push. Not right away. He just keeps tracing slow circles on your skin, quiet and patient, like he’s waiting for something you’re not sure you know how to give.

And then—

“Been thinkin’…” he says slowly. “Maybe you oughta see that doctor Maria keeps fussin’ about. Just in case.”

You flinch. He feels it.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

Joel rolls onto his side to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. His brow furrows, and the concern there nearly guts you.

“You’ve been sick almost every damn day,” he says gently. “You ain’t eatin’. You’re pale. You cry at soup commercials.”

You bark a laugh that dissolves into a sob before you can stop it.

Joel’s expression shifts. Alarmed now. He sits up fully, cupping your face in both hands. “Hey—hey. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, curling into yourself. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“What—? Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

And finally—finally—you say it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Not shocked. Not gasped or cursed.

Just… silence.

You feel him go still, like every muscle has locked up at once. His hands fall from your face.

You don’t look at him.

“I found the test a couple weeks ago,” you say, words tumbling now, rushed and raw. “I thought it was a stomach bug, or something I ate, but then it didn’t stop. And I remembered Maria gave me that test a while back and I just—fuck, I didn’t mean for this to happen, Joel. I didn’t mean to do this to you.”

“To me?”

Your breath catches.

Joel’s voice is low. Barely above a whisper. You finally glance at him.

He looks shell-shocked. Not angry. Not even upset. Just… wrecked. His eyes are wide, jaw tight, like he’s trying to keep something inside from breaking loose.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whisper. “After everything. After Sarah. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at the blanket bunched around his waist, like it might offer an explanation he can’t find in your words.

“I thought you’d leave,” you admit softly. “Or worse—I thought you’d stay, but you’d hate me for it.”

Joel blinks slowly. “You really think that little of me?”

“No.” You wipe your eyes. “No, I just—I know what this means for you. I know what it could bring back.”

Joel’s breath hitches. He leans back against the headboard, one hand dragging over his face. The silence stretches between you like a rope pulled taut.

“I ain’t mad,” he says finally.

You flinch.

“I ain’t,” he repeats, quieter this time. “Just… I need a second.”

You nod. Curl your knees to your chest. You try not to cry again, but your chest won’t stop heaving, your hands won’t stop trembling.

Joel stays where he is for a long time. Not speaking. Not touching you.

But he doesn’t leave.

And somehow, that’s what breaks you the most.

Ten minutes pass. Maybe twenty.

Then Joel shifts.

He reaches for you slowly, hesitantly, and when you don’t pull away, he pulls you into his arms.

You bury your face in his chest and let yourself fall apart.

He holds you through all of it. Lets you sob until your voice goes hoarse, rubbing your back and whispering nothing-words you barely register.

When you finally quiet, he kisses the top of your head.

“You should’ve told me,” he says, not angry. Just aching.

“I was scared.”

“I know.” He sighs against your temple. “So was I.”

You blink. “You?”

Joel nods, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are wet, rimmed with red.

“I knew somethin’ was off. Knew it wasn’t just the weather or the food. I kept thinkin’ about what it could be, and I… I think I knew. I just didn’t wanna be the one to say it.”

“Why?”

He swallows hard. “Because if I said it, it’d be real. And if it’s real, it can be lost.”

Your breath catches.

He cups your face again, thumb brushing your cheek.

“But I’m not walkin’ away,” he says, voice rough but certain. “Not from you. Not from this.”

You close your eyes.

“Joel—”

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, whisper soft. “But I want to try. If you want this… I want it too.”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I do. I really do.”

He pulls you into his chest again and kisses your hair like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“You’re not alone,” he says.

And this time, you believe him.

You wake to the sound of rain tapping against the window.

It’s still dark, the kind of blue-black quiet that only settles in just before dawn. Joel’s arm is wrapped around your middle, his chest pressed warm and steady to your back, one hand splayed low over your stomach like he already knows what’s growing there.

Maybe he does.

He hasn’t moved all night.

You lie still for a while, not quite ready to break the spell. The room is quiet, the fire low in the hearth, the storm outside soft but persistent. You can hear his breathing behind you—slow, even, calmer than you’ve heard it in days.

It’s the first time you’ve really slept in weeks. The first time you haven’t woken up sick with dread curling through your spine. There’s fear, still. Of course there is. But it’s quieter now. Outweighed by something else.

Something that feels a little like hope.

Joel stirs not long after, mumbling sleep-drunk nonsense against your neck.

You hum softly, shifting to face him. His eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep. You expect him to look tense. Uncertain. But he doesn’t.

He looks soft.

His thumb brushes your hip. “Mornin’.”

“Hi,” you whisper.

His gaze drifts to your stomach, then back to your face. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better.”

He studies you a beat longer. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yeah. Still tired. A little queasy. But… it’s different now.”

Joel’s fingers flex against your side. “Yeah. It is.”

There’s a quiet pause. Neither of you says it, but it’s there in the air between you. Real. Alive.

“I kept thinkin’ about what I’d say,” you admit quietly. “When I finally told you.”

Joel smiles faintly. “What’d you come up with?”

You shrug. “I didn’t think I’d get that far.”

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at your cheek.

“You were right to be scared,” he says. “I was scared, too.”

You nod.

“But I want this,” he adds. “I want you. I want this baby.”

You blink fast. “You sure?”

“Sweetheart.” His hand moves back to your belly, resting there like it belongs. “I ain’t been sure about much in my life, but this?” He leans in, voice low and raspy. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Your eyes sting again.

He kisses you softly—slow, lingering, like he’s not in a rush anymore. And for once, neither are you.

Later, when the sky lightens and the rain slows, Joel gets up and pads to the fire to stoke it back to life. You sit on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his flannels, watching him move around the cabin like he’s already settled into this new chapter.

He talks as he works.

“Might need to reinforce that back door soon. Wind keeps slippin’ through the cracks.”

“Mmhm.”

“And we’ll need more blankets. If you’re gonna get cold easier, can’t have you freezin’ all night.”

You smile, resting a hand on your stomach.

“Could build a new shelf for the pantry,” he adds, glancing at you. “Start settin’ aside things for winter. For… y’know.”

He gestures vaguely at your stomach, the faintest blush creeping into his cheeks.

You can’t help it—you laugh.

“What?”

“You’re nesting.”

He frowns. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Joel mutters under his breath, but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching.

He crosses the room a moment later and crouches in front of you, palms resting on your knees.

“I’m serious, though,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever we need. You just gotta tell me what’s goin’ on, alright?”

You nod.

“No more secrets,” you whisper.

“No more secrets,” he echoes.

He leans forward, presses a kiss to your thigh, then rests his forehead there for a long moment. When he looks up again, his eyes are glassy.

“You ever think about names?”

Your heart lurches.

“I haven’t gotten that far.”

“Well,” he says softly, “maybe we should.”

You stare at him.

“I know it’s early,” he continues. “But I keep thinkin’ about it. The kind of name we’d give. What kind of person they’ll be.”

You reach for his hand. “You really want this?”

“I already do,” he says.

You smile, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “What if it’s a girl?”

Joel swallows hard. “Then I guess I’ll have two reasons to keep this world safe.”

You press your forehead to his.

And you both sit there in the early morning quiet, breathing together, dreaming of something you never thought you’d have again.

A future.

That evening, Joel pulls you into his lap while the fire crackles, his hand absentminded on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles over the curve that isn’t there yet but will be.

He talks to the baby like he’s already met them.

Tells them how much he’s looking forward to teaching them to fish, to play guitar, to run without looking back. He jokes about how stubborn they’re probably gonna be, how it’s definitely your fault, and how he’s not gonna let them out of his sight until they’re at least twenty-five.

You laugh, and cry, and laugh again.

And when you fall asleep in his arms, it’s the first time in weeks that your dreams aren’t full of fear.

They’re full of names.

And tiny hands.

And sunlight.

tags: @lowrisemiller @pedrito-is-punk7 here ya go from a post a couple weeks ago

#joel miller

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zeisly · 1 month ago

Text

ay dios mio

Papi Chulo

18+ account - minors do not interact

actor!joel miller x f!reader

Rating: E

Summary: You and Joel take your first vacation away from Sarah after becoming parents and discover that you like using a new nickname on your incredibly sexy husband.

Warning: established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, language, brief insecurity about body post baby, alcohol, teasing, size kink? dirty talk, fingering, papi kink (aka daddy kink), 3 punani slaps, sex on a yacht (let a girl dream) unprotected p in v sex, praise, pet names, latino!joel

A/N: This is my submission for Jamie’s Ocean Challenge.

Thank you @rhoorl, my queen for reviewing the Spanish. Written on my phone 📱

Note: Reminder that just because reader speaks French does not mean she is from France. There are 29 or so countries where French is an official language.

Until you had Sarah, you sometimes forgot that Joel was bilingual because he only really spoke with his mother in Spanish, and honestly it was more Spanglish. Him and Tommy never really spoke in Spanish unless they were talking shit or cursing someone out. Full blown Spanish was only ever used with his mother’s side of the family when you guys attended family reunions and other functions.

The difference with you was that both of your parents spoke French so Joel had heard you speaking it with your family since you two had started dating. He always told you he found it sexy and sometimes you would incorporate it in the bedroom with dirty talk and you definitely had played the sexy French maid for him a couple of times over the years calling him ‘Monsieur Miller’ and having your way with him. But in general, you two stuck to English when it came to private time.

Joel wanted Sarah to understand and speak Spanish so you heard a lot more of it at home after she was born and you were getting better at it yourself. Spanish was close enough to French, so it was nice to see Joel pick up French as well over the years when you would speak to your family or Sarah in French.

You sometimes feared that you might have been confusing Sarah with all the languages being thrown at her, but you wanted her to be able to communicate with both sides of her family and you knew that her being trilingual would be beneficial for her future travels for when she would visit Mexico or your motherland.

For you, Joel speaking Spanish more consistently was a more recent development and so you realized very quickly that it turned you on… a lot. It didn’t help that the internet had exploded with calling him ‘Papi Chulo’ after Sarah was born. You had actually purchased a mug with his face on it that had those very words on it to tease him. He rolled his eyes when you gave it to him as present, but you drank from it most mornings and you knew he secretly loved it because he would pout and ask you where your mug was if you used another one.

You had communicated how much you loved it when Joel spoke Spanish so he definitely used Spanish endearments with you way more often now and used it to seduce you in the bedroom. However, you hadn’t expected to find something else sexy…

“Do you think Sarah’s okay?” You asked Joel as your body was soaking up the warm sun as you two relaxed on the plush cushioned deck on the yacht.

“Mi amor, she’s fine,” he replied, a chuckle escaping his lips.

With your sunglasses on, you gazed out at the crystal-clear waters of the Mediterranean, watching as the sunlight danced on the waves. The vibrant blues and greens of the ocean stretched out endlessly before you, creating a serene and tranquil backdrop for a relaxing day.

“I’m sorry, I swear I’m not trying to be one of those Mom’s that can’t be away from her kid,” you sighed, trying to hide your frown.

This was the perfect place to unwind, to escape from the pressures of everyday life and simply enjoy the beauty of the ocean and the soothing sound of the waves lapping against the boat, but you couldn’t help but think of your daughter.

“I’m thinkin’ bout’ her too, but I think she wants her Mamá and Papá to relax. I’ve checked in with Tommy and Maria, and I promise she’s fine,”

He gently placed one of his hands on your thigh, rubbing slow and steady circles in an effort to soothe your frayed nerves.

You smiled at him. "Okay."

He smiled back.

"Te amo,” you continued. I love you.

His smile grew larger.

"Te amo…tienes mi corazón,” he said. I love you…you have my heart.

As you basked in the warmth of the sun, you closed your eyes and let out a contented sigh, feeling completely at peace in this luxurious moment on the yacht.

“You look so sexy in this swimsuit. Eres tan jodidamente hermosa,” You're so fucking beautiful.

You tried to accept his kind words and embrace them, but the insecurities nagged at you constantly since having Sarah. You didn’t even pack any two-piece bikini’s on this trip and just settled for one-pieces and cover-ups. Whenever you looked in the mirror, you couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that lingered in the back of your mind. The stretch marks and some of the extra pounds you gained during the pregnancy that you couldn’t seem to shake off almost a year after her birth was frustrating. You wondered if he was just saying these things to make you feel better, or if he truly believed what he was saying.

You opened your eyes and took in Joel who looked like he wanted to devour you, so you decided to believe his words. “Mira quién habla,” Look who's talking

He whistled. “Your Spanish pronunciation is gettin’ so good,”

“We’re in Spain, I’m trying to practice more. Also, I have a hot teacher,” you purred. You and Joel had visited some of Spain’s charming, gorgeous seaside communities and jaw-dropping beaches over the last week, and were currently on your way to Ibiza.

Joel’s hand started to slide up your thigh slowly, leaving a trail of fire to the place that you wanted him to touch the most. However, you sadly weren’t alone on the deck with some of the staff coming in and out to serve you drinks and food.

“Pórtate bien,” you warned, meeting his dark eyes. Behave.

Joel huffed at you and leaned forward to kiss your mouth softly and moved to your neck laying open mouthed kisses along your jaw and then started sucking on your pulse point which made you let out a loud moan. You were so caught up that you didn’t acknowledge the presence of someone else until there was a distinct sound of someone clearing their throat. You pulled away and realized Joel hadn’t heard the intrusion either. His eyes finally popped open at the sound of another body clearing their throat, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks seeing the captain and a server looking down at you both.

“Mrs. Miller, would you like another cocktail?” the beautiful server asked you.

“Please, I’ll have another of whatever you gave me, it was really good,” you responded as you overheard Joel talking to the captain about where the next stop would be and ordered himself a Corona.

She quickly made the drink for you and handed it over as you thanked her. You picked up your cocktail, the condensation dripping down the glass in the heat and took leisurely sips, enjoying the taste of the fruity drink.

“Stop scowling. You’re going to scare away the crew,” you teased when you saw how grumpy Joel looked after the captain and server walked away.

“Te quiero, te necesito,” he whispered seductively. I want you, I need you.

Your eyes went wide when he grabbed your hand that wasn’t holding your drink to trail it down towards his painfully hard erection. You were completely fixed on it. It was huge as always and straining underneath his swim trunks and you could feel it twitch and felt yourself get sinfully wet.

Suddenly, Joel’s lips were on yours practically inhaling your entire face, and his right hand found its way to your hair as he thrusted his tongue in your mouth. “Don’t you want me to shove my cock deep inside of you, pretty girl?” he breathed against your mouth, and leaned forward to whisper more filth into your ear.

You sucked in a quick breath and you could feel the heat radiate off your face at his words. His fucking foul mouth was going to kill you.

Faces were a blur as you both hurried along, walking through the yacht. Crew members approached Joel, but he didn't acknowledge anyone. He kept a firm grip on your hand and you were almost running to keep up with him as he rushed you downstairs to pull you into the bedroom suite.

“Take off your swimsuit and get on the fuckin’ bed,” Joel demanded as he ripped off his swim trunks.

Your core was pulsing with anticipation as you did as you were told and layed on your back as you pushed yourself up on your elbows.

He came closer to the bed and pushed you down slowly to lay you flat on your back and lowered his face to yours, pressing his lips gently against yours while you slowly slid your tongue between his lips. He groaned as soon as he felt the contact and started sucking on your bottom lip between his lips, and your body arched off of the bed.

Joel slowly ran his hands down your body as you breathed in slowly. Then he trailed his tongue from your mouth, to your neck, to your collarbone, to in between your breasts, and past your belly button all in what felt like slow motion. Your fingers found his hair as he trailed kisses just above your heat, teasing you and making you feel crazy.

“Tan deliciosa,” You're so delicious.

You moaned, fluttering your eyes closed when you felt his fingers slide down your body, and then felt them cover your pussy.

“Pobrecita, you’re soakin’ wet,” he stated with a fake sympathetic frown. Poor baby.

“Joel, please,” you begged. You had no pride when it came to your husband. Years later and he was still the sexiest man alive to you and you were always so desperate for him, and it should have been embarrassing but you didn’t care.

“Quiero metértela,” he teased, smirking at you. I want to put it in.

Pathetically, you whined and got lost in the pleasure of what he had just said that the next words out of your mouth just came out without much thought. “Please papi,”

You felt Joel tense and realized what you had said and instantly felt the heat of humiliation rising in your chest. The desire to jump into the ocean, to disappear beneath the waves and be carried away from your embarrassment was overwhelming.

You opened your eyes and were surprised to see a mischievous glint in Joel’s eyes and a sly smile playing on his lips and then felt a harsh slap on your pussy and couldn’t help but cry out, shaking uncontrollably.

“Say it again,” he growled.

You bit your bottom lip for a moment, hesitating but then Joel slapped your pussy again and arched his brow at you waiting for your response.

“Please papi, need you to make me feel good,” you whimpered, suddenly not caring if you sounded like you were in a bad porno. And from the look on Joel’s face, and how his eyes darkened at your statement, you realized he was enjoying it and watching you with fascination as he darted his tongue out to lick his lips.

Joel gave your pussy one last jarring slap and then he started grazing tiny circles around your entrance and started telling you all the different ways he wanted to touch you and fuck you. You felt like you were losing control of your body as he began to move his fingers in and out of your tight walls as you clutched at the sheets.

“Te desero tanto,” his voice low and demanding. I want you so much.

His words were driving you crazy and you could already feel the pressure building in your belly much faster than anticipated.

You pinched your eyebrows together. “I’m so fucking close already,” you cried out, your breath coming in quick gasps.

“You can do it, mi amor. Let me have it, come for me—" he grunted as his thumb rubbed harsh circles on your clit.

You then let out what felt like the loudest, "Fff-fuc—kkk!” that you were certain the entire crew heard as you came hard, your body convulsing with pleasure, giving him all you had to give as you felt tears coming out of your eyes.

“Mierda- yes take it, just like that, pretty girl. You get so tight- so fuckin’ tight when you come for me,” he said, voice strained and jaw clenched.

You were slowly coming back to earth when you watched him lick up your release from his fingers and he grabbed your waist and rocked his cock against your slick.

“Talk to me, baby. Tell papi what you need,” he urged, his stare intense and needy.

“Oh god, inside. I need you inside,” you begged, your body moving against his, seeking more friction.

Joel grabbed his cock and lined himself up to plunge himself into your dripping cunt and you hissed at the size of him. He set a brutal pace and you could tell he wasn’t going to last long, as he was already struggling to keep it together. It was all low, visceral grunts and moans from him at this point.

“Takin’ papi's cock so well,” he choked out, leaning his forehead to rest against your shoulder and traced his tongue along your collarbone.

You whined, not caring about how obscene this sounded as both your moans and groans echoed throughout the master suite. You were so fucking lost in the sheer lust of it all and watched Joel’s eyes dart south, between your legs, to watch himself move in and out of you.

“Eres mía?” he asked possessively. Are you mine?

“Soy tuya, papi,” you responded using your legs as leverage to meet him thrust for thrust. I'm yours, daddy.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, his brutal thrusts continuing and your breath getting knocked out of your lungs.

Then suddently, he threw his head back and came hard without warning and let out a strangled groan, while looking so beautiful lost in his pleasure with a wrecked expression on his face filling you up with his release. You felt his hands grabbing you tightly and you knew they were going to leave marks on your hips. His tan skin was flushed up his neck and across his cheeks and you watched his arms give out, as he buried his face into your neck and hugged you tight as he whispered ‘Me vuelves loco’ You drive me crazy.

Joel stayed inside of you as he pulled his head up to kiss your cheek and push a strand of damp hair back from your neck and widened his eyes at you. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know, I just said it in the moment… and then I really liked it… did you like it?” you asked shyly.

“I just came quickly like a fuckin’ teenager, what do you think?” he responded sheepishly.

“I mean, I don’t think I’ll be calling you daddy anytime soon. But I don’t know… papi felt different,”

“Well give Papi a few moments, and then let’s take care of you,” he grinned wickedly, making his dimple deepen.

You giggled. “Joel, it’s okay. You made me come before, don’t forget that. I think I can count maybe two other times in our relationship when you’ve ever finished before me during sex,”

“Well I’m not tryna make it a habit,” he frowned, voice soft.

He was always so selfless and considerate about making sure you he made you feel good before he allowed himself to lose himself inside of you. You stroked his cheek and he leaned in, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to yours. “Je t’aime tellement,” I love you so much.

Your heart swelled with love, you loved it when Joel spoke in French with you. Over the years, his effort to learn and communicate with your family and now Sarah always touched you deeply and his Texas accent in French was seriously fucking sexy.

You gazed adoringly at him. In that moment, you felt like the luckiest woman in the world because Joel Miller loved you in not 1, not 2, but 3 different languages…

^papi chulo tax

Tagging people who seemed interested in the WIP preview/moots:

@mermaidgirl30 , @janaispunk , @katiexpunk , @mothandpidgeon , @burntheedges , @schnarfer , @alltheirdamn, @arcanefox207 (thanks for the gifff)

#joel miller

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zeisly · 1 month ago

Text

Galway Girl (joel miller x fem!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

joel miller x f!reader

Words: 7K Rating: E

Summary: You meet Joel Miller in a chance encounter when checking him in at his hotel in Ireland for his cousin's wedding. As you exchange stories, a web of coincidences binds you in ways neither of you could have anticipated. Is it fate? Or is it merely just coincidence?

or simply... a soulmate au fic

Warning: Smut (18+MDNI), language, alcohol use, sexual tension, mutual pining, flirting, pet names, romcom vibes, fluff (lots of it), intimate smut (it’s soulmate sex y’all), slight nipple play, size kink? (of course joel is huge), fingering, protected p in v sex, praise, fucking softness, wealthy!joel, did I mention fluff?

A/N: This is my submission for the Roll-A-Trope and Trope-Off challenges where I am submitting a soulmate AU for these challenges.

As @punkshort would say: “This is my take on a cheesy, fluffy, soft, smutty, Joel Miller Hallmark Ireland movie,”

Thank you for hosting these challenges! @burntheedges and @auteurdelabre

As the plane descended toward Dublin, Joel felt that familiar flutter of anxiety in his stomach. Flying was never his favorite mode of transportation; the sensation of plummeting created an uncomfortable knot he couldn’t shake. He glanced at Sarah, who was glued to her iPad, completely absorbed in a movie, blissfully unaware of his internal turmoil.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, attempting to sound casual. “You doin’ alright?”

Her head bobbed in response, but her focus remained on the screen. Joel sighed softly, a mix of pride and worry welling up inside him. She had become so independent.

Beside him sat Tommy, who couldn't have been more relaxed. He was cracking jokes with fellow passengers, effortlessly charming the ladies in the seats in front of them.

As the wheels touched down, a wave of relief washed over him. “Thank fuckin’ God,” he muttered under his breath, the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. Sarah, leaned closer, giving him an encouraging nod, and reached over, her small hand wrapping around his. They had made it safely to Ireland. With the plane taxied and the seatbelt sign turned off, he stood up slowly, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Tommy said, slapping Joel on the back.

Joel chuckled nervously but couldn’t shake the tension as the three of them filed off the plane, navigating the bustling airport. The lively atmosphere buzzed with a mix of accents and different languages.

Once they retrieved their bags and passed through customs—without any hiccups—they made their way to the car rental area. The signs were clear enough, but navigating the crowd felt like herding cats as they dodged fellow travelers and their luggage.

“Stay close, Sarah,” he instructed, instinctively placing a hand on her shoulder. The last thing he wanted was for her to get lost in the throng of people.

“Dad, I’m fine,” she said, rolling her eyes but offering him her killer smile.

Waiting in line for the car rental, Joel suddenly was caught in a whirlwind of thoughts regarding his cousin's wedding, the family reunion, and making sure Sarah had a memorable time. He wanted everything to go smoothly, it was her first time in Ireland.

“Keep an eye on the time, will ya?” Tommy chimed in, tapping his watch. “We don’t want to be late for the rehearsal dinner.

After what felt like an eternity waiting in line, they finally reached the counter. Joel handed over the necessary documents to the attendant, who rattled off the details of their rental car while Tommy continued to joke around with Sarah.

With the car keys in hand, the trio headed out of the airport, and Joel took a deep breath, scanning the lot for their vehicle.

“There it is!” Sarah exclaimed, pointing to an SUV parked a few rows down, her excitement contagious.

Joel followed her gaze, forcing himself to smile. “Alright, let’s get goin’. Galway is bout’ two and a half hours away from here,”

As they loaded their bags into the car, Joel couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude that they'd made it this far without any major issues. He settled into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors and the seat to fit him comfortably, while Sarah and Tommy transferred their chatter to the back.

As Joel stepped into the grand foyer of the hotel and estate, a stunning blend of elegance and warmth greeted him. The soft golden light filtered through the ornate windows, illuminating the exquisitely decorated space. It was probably the fanciest place he had ever set foot in.

However, his gaze was instantly drawn to you, the hotel concierge, standing behind the elegant reception desk. He couldn’t help but be captivated by every detail of you.

Holy fuck, you were gorgeous.

Your eyes were mesmerizing. Your full lips formed a soft, inviting smile. The subtle gloss highlighted their shape, making them appear even more alluring. He took in the delicate curve of your jawline. He observed the way your hands moved expressively as you spoke. He admired how your laughter danced in your eyes. Joel’s gaze wandered past your face, taking in the elegance of your posture. The tailored uniform you wore hugged your figure and accentuated your curves. As you leaned slightly forward, he couldn’t help but notice the way your hair caught the light and framed your face like a halo.

It wasn't like Joel had never seen an attractive woman before, but this was different, for reasons he couldn't even begin to define. He simply knew, without question, that you were different.

He probably looked like a complete moron with his mouth gaping like a fish. Tommy, was trying to stifle a chuckle as he caught wind of Joel's noticeable admiration.

Sarah, ever perceptive, nudged Joel with a teasing smile. “Dad, you’ve got your thinking face on,"

“Shush, kid,” Joel replied, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself. He walked up to the desk, determined to shake off the daze. He caught a whiff of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the air, a delicate blend of floral and citrus that seemed to draw him closer.

“Hello!” you greeted, your voice smooth and inviting. “Welcome to Glenlo Abbey. How can I assist you today?”

He picked up on the fact that you didn't have an Irish accent, and you actually sounded American.

Joel cleared his throat, trying to shake off the momentary spell you had cast over him. “Hi, I’m Joel Miller. Just checkin' in for the weddin' tomorrow," he said, trying to sound composed even as his heart raced.

“Of course, Mr. Miller,” you replied, your smile broadening as you scanned your computer screen. “We’ve been expecting you. I hope the journey here wasn’t too taxing?”

He swallowed hard, trying to refocus on what you were saying. He could feel the warmth of a blush creeping up his neck as he processed how flustered he was feeling just standing there.

"No need for formalities, Mr. Miller is my father. Please call me Joel."

“Joel,” you repeated, and he loved the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“Uh, yeah. The journey wasn’t too bad,” he finally managed, forcing himself to meet your gaze again.

You printed out the registration details and handed them over. “You’re in rooms 215 and 216. They are cozy suites with a lovely view of the gardens. I think you’ll enjoy it, especially at sunset.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Joel managed to respond.

“Is this your first time in Ireland?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, making him feel like you genuinely cared about his answer.

Joel chuckled softly, feeling a bit more at ease despite the hints of nerves still bubbling under the surface. “No, not my first time. My brother and I grew up comin’ here. Our father’s Irish— he’s from Cork, actually,” he said, offering you a small smile as he leaned against the desk, trying to appear relaxed.

You raised an eyebrow in a playful manner, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “Ah, I would have never assumed you were Irish with a last name like Miller. You had me completely fooled.” Your tone dripped with light sarcasm.

Joel couldn’t help but laugh outright at your quip. “Yeah, I guess it’s not the most unique Irish last name, is it?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a grin spreading across his face.

You leaned in slightly, engaging with a genuine curiosity that sent a flutter through him. “And what’s his story? Did he come over to embrace the American life, or was he just on an adventure?”

“Well, it was supposed to be an adventure, at least at first. My dad came to the states on a whim—just lookin' for somethin' new, I guess. But then he met my mom in Texas—she was fiercely independent, and utterly captivatin', or so he tells me. My abuela tried her best to scare him off when he showed up on her doorstep for his first date with my Mamá, but he was hooked… so he stayed in Texas.

You leaned against the desk. “That’s quite the story. Are your parents coming for the wedding, then?”

“Yeah, they landed yesterday. They’re probably already checked in and explorin' the place. Joel chuckled. “I want to make sure my daughter—” he gestured to Sarah, who was wriggling with excitement, “—has a good time. It’s her first time in Ireland,”

“Is that so?” you asked, turning your attention to Sarah. “Well, welcome to Ireland! Any plans while you’re here?”

Sarah perked up, her eyes sparkling. “I want to see all the castles, all the cliffs, and maybe do some hiking!” she exclaimed, clearly excited about the visit.

“Great choices,” you said with enthusiasm. “Well, if you need recommendations, I can provide some lovely places to visit and eat. Just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Joel said, feeling grateful for your kindness towards his daughter.

“Here are your keys,” you said, handing over two small brass keys with an intricate design.

His fingers brushed against yours slightly, and he felt an electric jolt shoot through him. The world around him faded, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

“Enjoy your stay, Joel. And don’t hesitate to come back if you have any questions or need assistance with anything. I’ll be here,” you said, your smile making him wish time would pause.

“Thank you,” he breathed your name, and confusion crossed your face. Then, his finger pointed down at your chest, where your name tag was pinned neatly in place. Realization dawned on you, and he could see that you understood that he had been reading your name tag.

Joel turned to leave, eyes lingering on you just a moment longer before his instincts kicked in, urging him to focus on getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. “Alright, let’s go,” he said, beckoning Tommy and Sarah to follow.

As he walked away, he could feel your gaze on him, and he caught himself glancing back over his shoulder, seeing you still there, watching him with that radiant smile.

“Joel,” Tommy called playfully, “I think you forgot to get her number!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he groaned, shaking his head with a grin as the flush crept back to his cheeks. But somewhere in his mind, a little spark ignited, and the flutter of anxiety shifted into a flutter of possibility.

As the early afternoon sun filtered through the delicate curtains of the hotel’s grand foyer, you took a moment to breathe in the fragrant bouquet of fresh flowers that decorated the space. This was the day everyone had been waiting for—the Miller wedding. The excitement in the air was palpable, with staff bustling about, adjusting floral arrangements and finalizing last-minute details. Glenlo Abbey was glowing, ready to host one of the most anticipated events of the season.

The Miller family was a well-known name in Ireland, not just for their reputation but also for their commitment to the community. Their building materials manufacturing company played a significant role in shaping the landscape of many towns across the country. Despite their prominence, they carried themselves with an air of humility. It was an honor for the hotel to host such a notable occasion, and your boss was determined to ensure every detail was perfect.

Yesterday, when you watched Joel walk away, his broad shoulders and casual stride caught your attention. There was something undeniably magnetic about him.

The way he looked at you, as if he could see beyond the surface, sent faint butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You reminded yourself to breathe, forcing yourself to focus on your job. But even as the next guest approached, your thoughts lingered on that moment—his hand brushing against yours, that genuine smile spreading across his face as you bantered back and forth.

“Hello, welcome to Glenlo Abbey!” you greeted the new guests, snapping back to attention. Your mind was still half on Joel.

You made quick work of checking them in, but those brown eyes and his playful tone kept echoing in your mind. There was something disarmingly refreshing about him, especially compared to the types you often encountered in your line of work. Most guests were either grumpy travelers or overly formal, but Joel felt different, a breath of fresh air. And you hadn’t noticed a wedding band on his hand…

Just then, a familiar laugh broke through the buzz of the lobby, drawing your attention. There he was—Joel—standing near the grand staircase with his brother and his daughter, Sarah. He had traded his casual travel attire for an elegant suit that accentuated his physique. But it was the traditional Scottish kilt that truly caught your eye. The fabric swayed slightly with his movements, complementing his rugged charm and giving him a distinguished air. He looked handsome, effortlessly embodying both sophistication and tradition. The bride was Scottish, and with the Millers being Irish, the wedding was going to have many Celtic wedding traditions and rituals.

Standing beside him was a gorgeous older woman you assumed was his mother, a warm smile on her face as she adjusted a brooch pinned to her elegant dress. His father stood on the opposite side, a proud look in his eyes as he surveyed the lobby filled with anticipatory guests. Joel’s family exuded warmth and togetherness, contrasting the more formal setting of the hotel.

Suddenly, Joel met your gaze, and you felt a jolt of surprise swirl through you. His expression shifted from casual discussion to something more curious, a glimmer of recognition lighting up his brown eyes. He stepped away from his family, making his way toward you with a charming smile that made you forget the rest of the lobby.

“Hey,” He greeted, his voice warm and inviting. “What are the odds I’d run into you again?” he winked at you.

You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden attention as a smile broke across your face. “Well, I work here, so I guess the odds are pretty good,” you replied playfully, leaning against the reception desk. “You clean up nice, Mr. Miller.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes while you chuckled. “What did I tell you bout’ Mr. Miller?”

You rolled your eyes. “You clean up nice, Joel,”

He flashed you an irresistible grin. “Good girl,”

You swallowed a heavy breath and felt your arousal growing between your legs. Jesus fucking Christ.

Joel glanced back at his family, who were busy chatting among themselves, then turned back to you, clearly contemplating. “Actually, after the weddin’ and reception, some of us adults are lookin’ for a good pub to hang out at. Any recommendations?”

A grin spread across your face; you had the perfect place in mind. “You should definitely check out Kelehan's. It's one of my favorite spots. Authentic Irish atmosphere, great music, and the locals are incredible. It’s a good mix of people, and it really embodies the spirit of Galway.”

“Sounds perfect. What do you like most bout’ it?” he asked.

“Well, the drinks are good for a start—can’t go wrong with a pint of Guinness. And if you’re up for it, you might catch some live music. It’s the type of place where you’ll find someone playing traditional tunes, and people often join in for a singalong. It’s such a fun vibe,” you replied.

Joel’s smile widened. “I might just have to take your advice. Are you headin’ there yourself after your shift?” he asked, almost teasingly.

You chuckled softly, realizing that you had unintentionally opened a door. “Well, my friends and I usually hang out there, so… maybe,”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Last question and then I’ll leave you alone sweetheart,”

Sweetheart. You liked that.

You nodded at him and then Joel raised an eyebrow, curiosity shining in his eyes. “So, where's that accent from? 'Cause you definitely don’t sound Irish," he teased.

You chuckled, “Correct,” you said, leaning a bit closer, “I’m Canadian, actually, from Vancouver. But actually my dad—he’s from Texas.”

His eyes lit up. “Texas, huh? What part?”

“Oh, um, just a tiny little town you’ve probably never heard of. Abernathy?” you replied, half-shrugging as you prepared for the usual blank stare that came after mentioning it.

But instead, Joel’s reaction was one of disbelief. He paused, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ as he looked at you with astonishment. “Wait, you’re serious? Abernathy?”

Your brow furrowed. “Yeah, why? Do you know it?”

“Know it? That’s where my Mamá grew up,” he exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise.

“Really?” you asked, your own surprise reflected back at him. “Wow, what are the chances,”

“Yep! Small world, huh?” Joel grinned, clearly delighted by this unexpected connection.

“Tell me about it! I mean, do you even know what’s in Abernathy other than the one BBQ joint?” you laughed, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest at the shared familiarity.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not much. Is your family still back there?”

“Yeah, my dad’s side is still there, mostly. Some of my cousins have moved to bigger cities, but the rest are holding down the fort,” you replied, feeling the conversation ease into something more comfortable and personal.

There was something about the way his brown eyes held your gaze that made time and space begin to dissolve around you.

“I should get goin’, but it was really great seein’ you again. I’m sure I’ll see you later at Kelehan's, right?”

You smiled. “Definitely. I’ll be there after my shift. Just look for the most embarrassed girl in the corner trying to remember the lyrics to ‘Galway Girl’,” you joked.

He laughed warmly, “I’ll hold you to that. And hey, if you put up with my terrible dancin’, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Deal,” you said eagerly, both of you exchanging one last lingering look before he turned back to his family.

The clock struck 11 PM, and the lively atmosphere of Kelehan's Pub was buzzing with laughter and music. The sounds of traditional Irish melodies filled the air, interspersed with the occasional cheers from patrons who had gathered around the bar and tables.

You were seated at a table in the corner with your friends, enjoying a round of drinks. In the midst of your own chatter, you took a moment to survey the pub, the lively energy swirling around you igniting a sense of freedom and fun.

As you sipped your drink, your eyes scanned the crowd, and that’s when you saw him. Joel stood just inside the doorway, framed by the soft lighting of the pub as it illuminated his strong features. He looked even more handsome than you remembered, he had traded in the elegance of the suit and kilt from earlier in the day for a more relaxed outfit. He wore a deep green button-up shirt that hugged his well-defined arms, the sleeves rolled up casually to just below his elbows. Paired with that, he had opted for dark, well-fitted jeans. Surrounding him was a playful gaggle of what you assumed were his cousins, more extended family, friends, and their significant others, all bursting with energy and laughter.

The moment Tommy burst through the door with the bride and groom trailing just behind Joel, he let out an exuberant shout that echoed through Kelehan's Pub, commanding everyone’s attention. "Oi, everyone! My cousin just got married to this gorgeous lass!"

The pub erupted into a chorus of cheers, laughter, and clinking glasses.

“Cheers to the happy couple!” one patron shouted, raising a pint of Guinness high above his head with a twinkle in his eye.

“May yer love be modern enough to survive the times and old-fashioned enough to last forever!” another voice chimed in, invoking an old Irish blessing.

"That’s right! Give 'em a toast!” someone else called out, grabbing the attention of the entire bar.

"Here’s to love, laughter, and happily ever after!" a woman cried from the bar, her voice filled with excitement, as she raised her glass with a smile.

With each new cheer and toast, the energy in the room amplified. Everyone began to chant ‘Sláinte!’—a customary Irish toast—sending a ripple of enthusiasm through the crowd as they joined in with their own variations.

“May the best day of yer past be the worst day of yer future!” a jovial man hollered, and the room roared in laughter, raising their drinks in solidarity.

Tommy shouted out to the pub, “And the first round's on me lads an’ lassies!”

“Make it a good one, will ya?” yelled an enthusiastic voice from across the room, eliciting a laugh from the other patrons.

As clusters of people began shouting out their favorite pub orders, bar staff moved swiftly, filling orders and delivering pints.

“Oi, Everyone take a shot for the couple!” a woman near the bar exclaimed, lifting her glass high while her friends cheered her on.

“Bottoms up, an’ may the road rise to meet ye!” another fella called out, clinking his glass with his mate’s.

“Here’s to love, laughter, and a bleedin’ good time!” a voice echoed from the back.

Joel was scanning the room, chatting animatedly with his group. Just as you were trying to look away, his gaze locked onto yours from across the room. The moment your eyes met, a grin broke across his face, and your breath hitched in your throat.

Before you could contemplate your thoughts further, Joel started making his way through the crowd. Your heart pounded in your chest as he approached, his expression warm and inviting, the world around you fading into the background.

“Hey,” he greeted breathlessly, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Hey,” you parroted back, a playful smile spreading across your face. Your girlfriends quickly told you that they were going to grab another drink at the bar after giving you a subtle wink.

He chuckled and leaned against the table. You could smell the subtle fragrance of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of wood and whiskey, a combination that made your heart flutter “Listen, I hope this ain’t too forward, but I haven’t stopped thinkin’ bout’ you since I met you yesterday,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

You felt your cheeks warm, and you were happy to know the feeling was mutual. “Really?”

“Really,” he affirmed with a soft chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours.

A rush of warmth filled your chest; you found it hard to remember a time when someone had made you feel this way so quickly.

“That's really sweet of you to say,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite how flustered you felt. “It was a fun wedding, I’m assuming?”

“I’m pretty sure the bride and groom will not even remember comin’ to this pub,” he joked, as you both watched them stumble on the dancefloor with friends. “But I was waitin’ for a reason to escape the crowd and have a chat with you,” he admitted, glancing around for a moment before leaning in a little closer. “I’d love to get to know you better.”

Your pulse quickened at the prospect. “I’d like that too.”

So, you both began to chat, and as you shared stories, the connection between you deepened in a way that felt almost effortless. You found yourselves discussing everything—from the silly mishaps Joel experienced at the wedding to the little traditions that made it unique. With each revelation, there was an undeniable chemistry, a sense that you were both intrigued and enchanted by one another. His animated gestures accompanied stories that made you laugh until your sides hurt.

As the hour grew late, there was something on your mind that you just hadn’t been able to get out of your brain. So, you decided to pull off the band-aid and ask him a question that you had been thinking about since yesterday.

“So, where do you live in Texas?” you asked, bringing your drink to your lips.

“Austin, born and raised,” he replied, “Why?” he asked when he noticed you start shaking your head and laughing.

No fucking way.

“I wrapped up my PhD a year ago in International History at LSE. I received a grant to conduct additional research here as a visiting professor in Dublin, but I’ve just accepted a position as an adjunct professor at UT Austin in their History department,” you said quickly, watching his face. “My job at the hotel is just temporary and for some additional cash, but otherwise…I move there in a month.”

His brow furrowed slightly as he processed your words, the atmosphere around you both buzzing with life but fading into the background like a distant hum. You could feel the weight of the moment resting on both of your shoulders, the realization settling in. For all the miles that had separated you until now, there was something conspicuously close—something almost predestined—about your encounter.

Joel’s gaze shifted from your eyes to the clinking glasses and smiling faces around you, but it was clear he wasn’t seeing any of it. His expression turned contemplative, as if he were weighing the improbability of your meeting against the serendipity of this moment.

What were the chances that you would meet the nicest and possibly the most attractive guy that you had ever met in your life here in Ireland and find out that he lived in Austin and had roots in Aberthany? Was this… fate or just a mere coincidence? You were too much of a realist to believe in… fate.

Then, he turned back to you, his eyes locking onto yours—intense, as though attempting to decipher everything you were feeling. A soft gulp escaped his throat, and you felt a corresponding flutter deep in your stomach.

“Wait a second,” he started, his voice low enough to drift over the music but filled with urgency. “You’re movin’ to Austin?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

He studied you for a moment, a slow smile creeping across his face. “I like the sound of that.”

The air in your apartment was thick with the heady scent of sage and lavender.

He hadn’t stopped kissing you since leaving the pub and entering the taxi. Joel’s heart raced with a mixture of disbelief and elation. As he locked eyes with you in your living room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had stumbled into a dream—a vivid, intoxicating fantasy that felt almost too good to be true.

He pulled you close, the heat radiating off him palpable as he dipped his head down to capture your lips with his. The kiss started slow— But it quickly escalated, ignited by the chemistry that had crackled between the two of you since meeting at the hotel.

His hands found their way to your waist, fingers digging gently into your sides as if he wanted to anchor himself to this moment. You responded by slipping your hands into his hair, feeling the softness of it against your palms as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. The way you pulled him close, your fingers entwining in his hair, made him feel seen and cherished in a way he hadn’t experienced in years.

The warmth of his body pressed against you felt like home, which sounded certifiably insane. You had met this man fucking yesterday.

After several heated kisses, you pulled back slightly, breathless, and looked up into his deep brown eyes, which sparkled with desire. “You know,” he said, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, “this is a really nice place you got here.” He scanned the room, taking in the tasteful decorations and the inviting atmosphere.

You couldn’t help but smile at his compliment, but a teasing thought danced in your mind. “Oh, just wait until you see the bedroom. It’s even nicer,” you replied, your voice low and flirty.

Your hands shook as you attacked the buttons on his shirt. You could feel Joel’s breath hitch as you finally managed to pop the last button, exposing the smooth, warm skin underneath. You could see the muscles of his chest and stomach ripple beneath his tanned skin, and it made your pulse quicken. You wanted to explore every inch of him.

When your fingers finally pushed the fabric away and he caught a glimpse of your intent gaze, he felt an overwhelming rush of desire crash over him. He craved you, in every sense. As you pulled him closer, he could feel the heat radiating from your body, and a primal instinct pushed him to wrap his arms around you, lifting you effortlessly, wanting to feel your weight against him.

You gasped as Joel picked you up and unzipped the back of your dress. As he carried you toward the bedroom, you looped your arms around his neck, marveling at the way his body felt against yours. You couldn't resist nibbling playfully at his earlobe, eliciting a low growl from him that sent a thrill up your spine.

He set you down on the bed and began to peel the dress from your body, leaving you topless with a thong, and you met his gaze, heart racing as both apprehension and excitement danced in your chest. You could sense a longing in his eyes, a deep need that mirrored your own. You leaned back, propping yourself on your elbows. His eyes roamed hungrily over your body, and he reached for his zipper, to take off his pants and boxers, kicking them down his legs. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby,”

He was the one who was beautiful, with the massive gift between his legs.

He climbed onto the bed, settling between your legs, easing your thong down over your hips, tracing his fingers along your sides, feeling how you shivered beneath his touch. His eyes were fixated on your glistening pussy and then he zeroed in on your breasts before he put his mouth on your breasts, licking and nipping at them. You gasped when he took one nipple into his mouth, the sensation sending shocks of pleasure radiating through you. Each gentle tug and swirl of his tongue made you feel crazy.

"Joel," you breathed, fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer, wanting more. He looked up at you from your chest and slid his hand between your legs to feel how wet and warm you were for him and sunk two fingers inside your cunt, a low moan escaping your lips as he touched you. He watched the way you reacted, the way your back arched and your breath hitched, each flick of his fingers drawing more responses from you. The air was thick with need, and he felt an overwhelming urge to make you feel every ounce of pleasure you could possibly handle.

He curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp, your hips instinctively grinding against his hand. "Good?" he murmured, watching as your eyes fluttered closed, a look of pure ecstasy washing over your features. You nodded fervently, gripping his hair tighter as he picked up the pace, his fingers moving with a delightful urgency that left you breathless.

As good as this felt, you wanted more. You needed more.

“Please, Joel. I want you,” you gasped grabbing his length urgently and whispering “now” over and over again while he threw his head back, gasping out a harsh “fucking hell,”

He withdrew his fingers slowly, savoring the way your body shuddered in protest at the loss of contact. You opened your eyes, and you could see the hunger in his gaze as he positioned himself over you, the weight of him pressing against your thighs enough to make you dizzy with anticipation.

He watched as you reached for a condom from inside your nightstand, your heart racing at the thought of what was about to happen. He grabbed it from you and ripped the foil with his teeth and then rolled it on his cock with practiced ease. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way he held himself back, and it made you want him even more.

“Ready?” he murmured against your lips, aligning himself with your entrance, looking deep into your eyes seeking permission. You met his gaze and nodded, and he rubbed his nose against yours to soothe you.

You whimpered when you felt the head of his cock slide between your slick folds, your eyes fluttering shut as he slowly buried himself deep inside of you and a low moan escaped his lips.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned as his tongue swirled at your pulse, his voice thick with desire, and you just whined in response, urging him on.

He grabbed your thigh to hitch it higher around his waist and began to move, each thrust taking him deeper. The rhythm he set was slow and deliberate at first, a tantalizing build-up that made you savor every moment.

With each movement, you could sense something—this wasn’t just physical; it was an unspoken promise between two souls.

“Joel…” you managed to gasp, the sound spilling from your lips as you felt the pleasure building within you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. He grunted in response, his breath coming in hot bursts against your ear as he grabbed the headboard to use it as leverage and picked up the pace.

With each deliberate thrust, he found a perfect angle that made you moan his name. Your body arched and reacted instinctively, your nails digging into his back as you pulled him closer, urging him to move faster. “Please, just like that…”

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he breathed out, his lips brushing yours. It was as if your body had been crafted to fit perfectly against his, a puzzle piece that had been missing that slotted into place with an effortless grace that left him in awe. The warmth of your skin against his, the way your curves molded against him, ignited a spark deep within, making him feel whole in a way he had never truly comprehended before. He had felt desire before, but this… this was something far more profound.

“Joel, I’m so close,” you blurted out, your voice shaky as you bucked your hips against him, desperate for release. He responded to your urgency, his movements becoming more frantic, as he lost himself in the pleasure you were both experiencing.

His fingers found their way to your sensitive spot, rubbing tight circles against your clit. The combination of his thrusts and fingers had you spiraling, your senses overwhelmed.

“You gonna come for me?” he urged. “I want to feel you.”

His words broke the last of your restraint. As if on command, waves of pleasure crashed over you, making your whole body shudder. Some strange sound erupted from your throat as you cried out his name, and your orgasm slammed into you with a powerful force.

“That's it, just like that. So good baby. Good girl, so fuckin’ pretty," he cooed, his own breath coming in ragged gasps.

The moment your muscles tightened around him, the sensation sent him spiraling too. He groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With a few more deep strokes, he found his peak, spilling into the condom as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, moaning your name, and your essence lingered around him like a fragrant spell.

His hand cupped your cheek as he broke away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Can’t believe how lucky I got findin’ you here.”

Joel could hardly fathom how someone he had only met a day prior could evoke such depth of emotion within him.

“Me too,” you breathed, smiling into his eyes.

Joel slid off you as he reluctantly left your warm embrace. He made his way to the bathroom, the faint scent of sage and lavender still hanging in the air, enveloping him like a cozy blanket.

He disposed of the condom in your trashcan, and after washing his hands, he glanced in the mirror, running a hand through his tousled hair and letting out a quiet chuckle at the sheer absurdity of the night. He was grinning like a fool. He walked back to the bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating you in a way that accentuated your beauty. Your hair sprawled across the pillows, and your skin glowed, the aftermath of the intimate moment you shared still evident in the lingering heat between you.

“Hey,” he called softly, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you need anythin’?

“Water would be great,” you replied, a smile teasing at your lips.

“Okay, I’ll go grab some.” He turned to head back to the kitchen, but then paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “You okay?” The concern was genuine; he wanted to make sure this was as good for you as it had been for him.

“Yeah, just enjoying the afterglow.” You arched an eyebrow playfully.

Joel couldn’t help but laugh, the sound rich and warm as it filled the room. He disappeared into the kitchen, moving through the soft lighting, feeling surprisingly at ease. He filled a glass with water, the sound of the tap running grounding him in the moment.

As he returned, he found you propped up against the headboard. He set the glass on the bedside table and handed it to you. “Here you go,” he said, leaning in closer as you took a sip.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your eyes sparkling with appreciation. You set the glass down and looked at him, the atmosphere shifting slightly. “You really surprised me tonight, Joel. I wasn’t expecting… this. Any of this.”

He smiled, a warmth spreading through him at your words. “Neither was I, honestly,” he admitted. “But I’m glad it happened.” He reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers. “It feels… different.”

You nodded slowly, an understanding passing between you. “Different good or different weird?” you quipped, a teasing smile dancing on your lips.

“Definitely good," he replied, his voice steady and sincere. "In a way that feels… right. I know it’s all so sudden, but—” he paused. “But I can’t shake the feeling’ that there’s somethin’ special bout’ you,” he continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he searched your eyes for understanding. “Meetin’ you has been one of the best things to happen to me in a long time.”

Your heart swelled at his words, “I feel the same way,” you admitted softly, your gaze unwavering. “It’s so strange, but… right.”

“Do you think we could explore this… whatever it is, together once you get to Austin?”

“I’d like that,” you replied, unable to hide your excitement.

His expression softened, and he tightened his grip on your hand as if sealing a silent agreement between you two. “Let’s take it slow, see where this leads. No pressure,”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, your heart fluttering at the potential of what the future might hold.

1 month later – Austin, Texas

The warm Texas sun poured through the windows of your new apartment, illuminating the space you had just begun to call your own. The scent of fresh paint and cardboard boxes filled the air, a reminder of the adventure that lay ahead. You stood in the middle of the living room, the keys to your new home in your hand.

As you took a moment to soak it all in, memories of the wedding and your whirlwind romance with Joel flooded your mind. After that unforgettable night, you and Joel had spent another incredible week together in Ireland, and you got to know his family, and you especially got to know Sarah. Since his ex-wife, he told you he had just had a few flings and one-night stands here and there, but he had never introduced anyone to Sarah. You didn’t want Sarah to feel like you were coming into her life and taking time away from her relationship with her father on her vacation– especially considering how sudden this all was. So, you made sure to include her in your activities with Joel in Ireland. You also made sure to have alone time with her as well, and she slowly became one of your favorite people with her sarcastic personality and comedic quips.

You and Joel would exchange casual smiles over breakfast that turned into stolen glances during afternoon strolls, and before you knew it, you would find yourselves in bed together wrapped up in deep conversations sharing personal stories and dreams.

And then, amidst the laughter and romantic chaos, the words slipped out from Joel during his last night in Ireland —an “I love you,” followed by a soft confirmation from you that you felt the same. It felt surreal, in fact, it was fucking crazy. Yet, your heart insisted that it was right.

You knew Joel would be coming to visit you tomorrow as he was eager to see you and your new place, he was currently on a business trip in Houston with Tommy. He had hated that he couldn’t pick you up from the airport when you landed from Dublin a few days ago, but you reminded him that your parents were helping you move in. After weeks of texts and FaceTime calls, the thought of being reunited made your chest swell with anticipation.

As you turned to face the kitchen, you noticed a small bouquet of fresh flowers resting on the countertop—a sweet touch from your father, who had insisted on bringing a little something to your new place before he left to visit his family in Abernathy with your mother. You smiled as you arranged them in a bright vase, the colors vivid and cheerful.

As you unpacked the last of your boxes, you started transferring a few knick-knacks from the kitchen into a cabinet, and your phone buzzed on the counter, interrupting your thoughts. You glanced at the screen to see a notification from the complex’s resident portal. You opened it up to find a message from the management team welcoming you and sharing upcoming events at the complex.

Earthy pictures of community events, BBQs, and some sort of welcome dinner flickered through, but then something caught your eye. You paused, reading it slowly—the name of the owning company: Miller Construction Corporation.

You laughed thinking back to the shit-eating grin Joel had when you told him what apartment complex you would be living in. Now, it all made sense why he had been so giddy about it. The fact that you had found each other, that you had stumbled into his life in Ireland, and now this twist of fate—you felt as if the cosmos were aligning again to affirm that your bond was meant to be. It felt fitting, given that your new boyfriend's company owned the apartment complex that had become your new home, intertwining your lives in ways you could have never anticipated.

You had been wrong all along. Meeting Joel hadn’t been a mere coincidence.

It was simply fate.

Part 2 (Requested Blurb)

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#joel miller

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zeisly · 1 month ago

Text

God I have never wanted to be fluent in another language until now

Monsieur Miller

18+ account - minors do not interact

actor!joel x f!reader

Word Count: 3250ish+

Rating: E

Summary: You decide to surprise Joel by buying a sexy outfit for him to spice things up. How will he react?

Warning: brief insecurity from reader, alcohol, established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, language, teasing, role play, dirty talk, spanking, praise, pet names, masturbation (f – and joel watching), slight dom/sub dynamics?, size kink, joel being impatient AF, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex

A/N: Papi Chulo received so much love that I received requests for reader to play sexy French maid for Joel, so here it is.

Note: Reminder that just because reader speaks French does not mean she is from France. There are 29 or so countries where French is an official language.

Upper East Side, New York City

“How have you and Joel never role-played before? He’s a fucking actor,” Lina shrieked from the changing room, trying on another piece of lingerie. You had flown into New York City to help your best friend find a critical outfit, you two had been shopping for hours, catching up, and trying on countless pieces of lingerie in preparation for her wedding night.

Lina and Theo’s wedding was right around the corner, and they were going to get married at Domaine de la Baume, situated in the heart of Provence. It was a luxury estate offering breathtaking views of the surrounding vineyards and olive groves. Lina’s family was overjoyed that she was getting married in France because they saw it as a celebration of her French heritage. Her father was French and passed down a love for the country and its culture to her. Lina was excited to have the wedding in France as it would be a way for her to honor and connect with her French roots. The estate's elegant mansion and lush gardens would provide the perfect romantic backdrop for a sophisticated wedding

“I don’t know, I guess we just haven’t,” you replied, sitting on the couch while sipping on your glass of champagne. You closed your eyes, savoring the crisp refreshing taste. Damn, this shit was good.

“He played a hot DEA agent for fucks sake. How have you not begged him to ‘arrest you’ and handcuff you to the bed while he has his way with you, fucks the shit out of you, and make your head bang against the headboard,” Lina’s voice echoed from inside the changing room.

Even though you knew Lina couldn’t see you, your cheeks began to heat. Lina had always been less shy talking about sex than you and was always very direct and blunt. “I just know I would be terrible at it. I would just be awkward and ruin the whole thing,” you replied.

You heard Lina sigh, flipping through the options hanging on the hooks. “Don’t worry about being perfect, just have fun with it. Men are simple creatures when it comes to certain things, and sex is definitely one of them. It doesn't take much to get a man excited about the idea of fucking his hot fiancé, especially when she’s playing a slutty sexy informant for him,”

“I hate you so much right now,” you dramatically declared, tilting your head back, as you brought the crystal flute to your lips again.

You heard the soft sounds of fabric rustling and Lina giggling at your discomfort. “Maybe you play a character for him, and he stays as himself since you’re nervous, allows you to get more comfortable with the idea,”

“Ugh, laisse-moi tranquille. I would just embarrass myself,” Leave me alone.

Lina emerged from the changing room, a smile on her face. She twirled in front of you wearing a white sheer babydoll nightgown. With a playful smile, she began to strut and sway to an imaginary beat, showcasing the intricate details of the lingerie.

You set your glass down on the table. "Dude, you look hot! This is the one, Theo is going to die when he sees you," you exclaimed, clapping your hands in excitement.

“Well, Joel will come in his pants when you do the following…” Lina said as she settled down on the couch next to you, and crossed her legs elegantly as she grabbed the bottle of champagne to serve herself a glass.

“Mais de quoi tu parles?” you said confused. What are you talking about?

“Fais moi confiance,” she said, with a reassuring smile and squeezed your hand to emphasize her words. Trust me.

You nodded at her and glanced around to ensure the salespeople were far away from this room, to ensure no one else would eavesdrop on the conversation.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and a mischievous smile played on her lips “So, here’s what you’re going to do,”

A couple of days later – Santa Monica, Los Angeles

You and Joel had been engaged for a few months now, and you were so thankful he had taken the reins on wedding planning, a task you found overwhelming and anxiety-inducing. You knew that he was taking on the burden of planning not out of obligation, but out of love for you. He was so fucking amazing. You two had decided to get married in Austin to prioritize privacy and intimacy and enjoy a more relaxed and low-key celebration away from the paparazzi and media frenzy. He had been in his office for the last hour talking to the wedding planner while you were in your shared bedroom.

You heard Joel call for you and ask if you could meet him in the living room since he had an update about the live band. With a final glance in the mirror, you took a deep breath and straightened your shoulders before stepping out of the room, quickly making your way down the stairs and walked into the living room.

Joel stood with his back to you. “So, the wedding planner thinks –,”

His eyes widened in shock when he turned around and took in the sight of you standing in front of him wearing a revealing sexy French maid outfit that hugged your curves in all the right places. You were wearing a short black minidress with a white lace trim and a lacy apron tied around your waist, with thigh-high stockings. Your hair was pinned up in a messy bun and you had on a white lace headpiece while holding a black feather duster in your right hand.

“Baby… What the fu-” His breath hitched in his throat, and you could hear him struggling to find the words to speak. He slowly walked towards you with his lips parted slightly, but no words escaped his mouth as he continued to stare at you in mesmerized silence, and looked like he was about to go into heart failure.

You smiled as you approached him, your high heels clicking on the floor. You ran your fingers along his chest, teasing him with your touch. “Monsieur Miller, may I have the pleasure of serving you tonight?”

You leaned in close with your red lips, whispering seductively in his ear, "Or do you have other better plans for tonight?”

You pulled back and a grin crossed Joel’s face as he realized what you were doing. Without missing a beat, he straightened up and adopted a more serious expression, getting into character. He was an actor after all.

“Your outfit leaves little to the imagination, you're makin’ it hard for me to focus on anythin’ else.” He said as his eyes raked up and down your body.

“Merci pour les compliments,” you replied seductively. Thank you for the compliments.

“My French ain’t the best, you might need to teach me some phrases,” he lied. While Joel wasn’t an expert, he was starting to pick up on French, so you knew that he understood what you had just said. Especially since you noticed the unmistakable bulge in his pants. Joel loved it when you spoke French. His always impressively sized desire stirring beneath his clothes sent a rush of tingling anticipation through your cunt.

“Pity,” you replied shaking your head in mock disapproval, making a sharp, clicking sound with your tongue. “Is there anything I can do for you today, Monsieur Miller?”

“How about you dust off those hard-to-reach corners while I watch?” he replied cockily, while he parted his lips, and his tongue came out to wet his bottom lip.

“Of course, I’ll make sure to give you a nice view,” you said as you turned away from him and pretended to bend over to dust something off on the coffee table when you heard him gasp. You giggled since you knew he had just noticed that you weren’t wearing any panties under the dress, and he was seeing a pretty little view… of well everything from behind.

You walked towards the piano in your living room, ran a finger along the dusty keys, and scowled. "Mon chéri, this piano is filthy," you purred in an exaggerated French accent. My dear. "You want me to clean your mess Monsieur Miller? Well, I think I’m going to have to punish you for making it in the first place,”

You stepped on the piano bench with your high heels and moved your body on top of the glossy black surface of the piano lid hitting a few keys in the process while you sat down and leaned back with your feet dangling over the keys.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured shakily as he saw you get comfortable on top of the piano and throw the feather duster on the ground.

“Do you say that to all your cleaning ladies Monsieur Miller?” you whispered in a breathy moan.

Joel walked up to the piano, reached for you, and ran his hands along your arms gently. He leaned in for a kiss and you pushed him away with a glare in your eyes.

"I'm sorry Monsieur Miller, but you can’t touch me without my permission. You will have to wait until I decide that the time is right,” you declared seriously, trying to keep your game face on.

Joel blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by this as this was not usually the dynamic between you two. You were naturally more submissive with him. You carried yourself strongly as a high-powered woman for the world outside, but you were more than willing to surrender control inside closed doors and had always preferred it when your partners were assertive with you in bed.

He attempted to reach for you again, his desire evident in his gaze. But you held your ground, shaking your head defiantly. "I mean it," you said firmly. "I decide when you can touch me."

“Baby, come on,” he exhaled, unable to hide his frustration.

You shook your head. “You’re being punished, remember?”

You spread your legs and moved your index finger to your opening, drawing teasing circles around it. Joel swayed slightly as he rested against the piano, his gaze fixed intently on your every move.

“I’m so wet Monsieur Miller, tu m'excites,” you said. You turn me on.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, as you let a finger slip inside you while your thumb caressed your clit. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he groaned as his eyes continued to watch your little show.

“I want you so bad Monsieur Miller,” you teased, your hips started rocking as you introduced another finger, while your other hand caressed one of your breasts over your dress.

“S'il te plaît mon amour, laisse-moi te toucher. Let me make that gorgeous pussy feel good,” he begged, not sounding much like himself. You had never really seen him like this. He had become a shuddering, gasping mess. Please my love, let me touch you.

You moaned, pulling your soaked fingers in and out of you feeling yourself already getting close as you were getting wetter and wetter with every stroke. The feeling of his eyes on you was driving you wild with desire. “I guess you do speak a little French,” you teased.

His hand touched your leg, and you immediately shoved your stiletto heel on his chest pushing him back. “You fucking Americans don’t listen. I said no touching,”

“Why the fuck are you torturin’ me?” he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry, am I doing something to upset you?” you giggled, as you heard a growl rumble in his throat at the teasing tone of your voice.

He stared at you in pain as he continued to watch you squirm in pleasure. “You’re already so wet for it, baby. Don’t you want me to make you come?

“I can just do it myself,” you challenged, as obscene wet sounds of your fingers going in and out of you continued to fill the room.

“This is killin’ me. I can’t handle this. I’m going to give you about 5 seconds before I fuckin’ take over,” he pleaded, his eyes squeezed shut tight, eyebrows knitted, and jaw tense.

“Be good,” you whispered hoarsely. You were so fucking close.

“I’m not fuckin’ playin’ baby,” he replied breathlessly, opening his eyes to stare at your pussy fully on display for him.

Before you could react, he spread your legs with his hands and pulled your hand away from between your throbbing cunt. You propped yourself up on your elbows, meeting his dark gaze as you licked your lips. You watched him lift your hand to his lips and slip your fingers into his mouth as he delicately traced each finger with his wet tongue, and he hummed and grunted like it was the best damn thing he had ever tasted in his life.

“Look at how wet you are… Drippin’ all over this piano. Fuckin’ filthy,” he said, gripping your calves, and running his hands up them.

“Prends-moi,” you demanded. You had already forgotten that he had broken the rules because you had gotten so close to falling over the edge and were desperate for release. Your pussy ached and needed attention. Take me.

He shook his head and sighed heavily, his hand going up your dress to cup you as you let out a small gasp that turned into a filthy moan. “Now you’re gonna wait, for makin’ me wait,”

“Ungh, Joel,” you whined, accidentally dropping your act and forgetting your role which Joel noticed immediately.

“What’d you call me,” he growled as his other hand came down to slap your ass roughly.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “Monsieur Miller, please fuck me,”

“You want my cock? You think you deserve it?” he spat out while he ran his fingers between your legs, feeling your wetness, teasing you, but never entering inside of you.

“Yes,” you whined in frustration.

He chuckled, his voice low and raspy. “Then tell me how badly you need it, pretty girl”

“Please, I need it,” you cried when he started to dip just the tip of his finger inside of you.

“How fuckin’ badly,” his eyes were darker, and his other hand connected with your ass again, and you let out a squeal.

“I’m sorry for being bad. Fuck, please. I need you,” your request came out like a broken sob.

He pulled his hand out of under your dress trying to hide the smug grin on his face and wasted no time in unfastening his belt and pants, shoving them down to fall at his feet with his boxer briefs and kicking them to the side as he took a seat on the piano bench and took off his shirt.

“I want you on top so I can fuckin’ watch you ride me,” he smirked, his arrogance shining through, as he threw his shirt on the ground.

“Whatever you want, Monsieur Miller,” you said as he pulled your frame on top of him, your legs straddling his hips and he lifted your dress to your waist. His hand dove into your hair and he sealed his lips over yours and shoved your core against him.

“You’re going to fuckin’ kill me,” He reached between you two and stroked himself before placing the head of his cock at your entrance and coating himself with your arousal. Instead of slowly easing in, Joel shoved himself inside of you in one thrust, and you groaned at how good it felt, and were surprised that after all this time, you still needed some time to adjust to his size, feeling fully impaled by his thickness. You clenched around him, throwing your head back and your fingernails dug into his shoulders, while your ass hit some of the piano keys. You pushed yourself up and down on him while you held on tightly, Joel hissed through his teeth before kissing you desperately to muffle your desperate whimpers.

“Fuck, baby,” he hummed, keeping his hand in place on your ass as you began to bounce on top of him and began a delicious pace.

“C’est trop bon,” you moaned. It feels so good.

You traced your fingertips along his jaw and gazed into his darkened eyes. While you had wanted to be the more dominant one tonight, the truth was he had complete control over you. And you had a feeling that your fiancé was about to make you shatter in a matter of moments.

“Plus fort,” he whispered, as he slid your body forward and kissed and licked at the swell of your breasts spilling over from the top of your dress. Harder.

He kept moving with you, and you started moving your hips to take him harder and faster. It was dirty, and quick, and desperate, and Joel’s mouth found yours to swallow your moans.

“This pussy mine?” he panted aggressively against your mouth and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure there would be bruises tomorrow.

“Oui,” The word lingered longer than its three letters should have allowed for as you continued to ride him and picked up the pace, trailing your hands up to your hair, and threw your head back with a throaty moan. Yes.

That seemed to drive Joel insane, and he proceeded to grip your ass and rolled his hips up into you brutally, ignoring your ass hitting the keys on the piano harder. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as he pounded up into the same spot over and over again and speared you down on his cock as more keys pressed against your ass. He throbbed inside of you, and you felt him slide his hand down your body to circle your clit, stroking it in time with his aggressive thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you cried out, as you tried to catch your breath.

He pinched your clit between his fingers. “I can feel how close you are,” he groaned as you clenched around him. “That’s it. Be a good girl and let go for me,” and he continued to sheathe himself to the hilt inside of you and hit a devastating spot that only he could reach.

“Joel,” you screamed as you fell apart and constricted violently on his cock. This spiraled Joel towards his own release and you heard your name escape his perfect lips as he spilled himself inside of you after a few thrusts.

As you both caught your breath, Joel wrapped you in his arms and planted a tender kiss on your forehead, and muttered his praises. “You did so good for me, baby,” You winced when he pulled you off of him to set you back on the piano lid and untied the apron around your waist to gently clean the mess between your legs.

You were exhausted and could feel the sweat drenching your dress, clinging to your skin like a second layer. Joel’s hair was stuck to his neck in damp tendrils and his cheeks were flushed with exertion. “Dirty boy. You’re a mess Monsieur Miller,”

He groaned loudly and kissed you hard. “Shower. Now. I’m not done with you,”

Joel effortlessly lifted you from the piano, cradling you in his arms, as you instinctively wrapped yours around his neck for support as he carried you towards the bathroom.

You definitely were going to ask Joel if he wouldn’t mind ‘being’ Agent Peña tomorrow night. Maybe he still had that tac vest…

^ ironically, enjoy this Javier Peña tax

If Joel Miller was planning our wedding, I would die. MEN WHO PLAN SHIT!? Also, I didn’t go overboard with the French because ironically as a French speaker, I actually don’t find dirty talk in French to be that sexy. It’s always hotter to me in English and of course in Spanish with Mr. Papi Chulo himself. However, Joel Miller speaking French is in fact glorious.

Adding some tags for peeps that commented / engaged on the most recent WIPs for this story: @mothandpidgeon, @mermaidgirl30, @schnarfer, @rhoorl, @janaispunk, @nandan11 , @burntheedges , @dugiioh, @amyispxnk, @sawymredfox, @survivingandenduring

#joel miller

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