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joelsgreys · 9 months

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fall into temptation | one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before.

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it?

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name.

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face.

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them.

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that.

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened.

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing.

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him.

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol.

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit.

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late.

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head.

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse.

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?”

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig.

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly.

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?”

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door.

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone.

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself.

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet.

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening.

Kent was going after you.

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around.

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent.

That couldn’t fucking be good.

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh.

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs.

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two.

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist.

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear.

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard.

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face.

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley.

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more.

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you.

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet.

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it.

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest.

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you.

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face.

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours.

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards.

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.”

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you.

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?”

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.”

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin.

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side.

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted.

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship.

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring.

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls.

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk.

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered.

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar.

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else.

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it.

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world.

A fucking slab of carved wood.

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder.

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt.

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers.

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church.

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly.

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words.

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him.

He was right, after all.

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?”

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.”

It had been a statement, not a question.

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone.

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse.

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee.

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest. “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables?

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone.

Want, sure.

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther.

But Joel didn’t just want you.

He fucking needed you.

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain.

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?”

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you.

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek.

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body.

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.”

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours.

You heard him chuckle softly.

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle.

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss.

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

And what about you?

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it.

None.

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench.

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss.

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you?

He couldn’t. Simple as that.

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself?

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further.

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance.

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat.

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt.

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline.

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise.

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt.

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else.

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud.

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.”

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle.

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest.

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t.

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson.

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God.

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?”

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression.

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

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tightjeansjavi · 4 months

Note

Hi!! Love your writing!! Can you write a cowboy fetish joel miller with boot riding 🥺🥺

Hi nonnie! Thank you for sending this in! It scratched my brain just ✨right✨ and I hope it does the same for you! I couldn’t just do some boot ridin’ without some plot ;) enjoy 🤠

Dinner & Diatribes

~word count: 3.7k~

Pairing | Cowboy/bounty hunter! Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re the kind of love that Joel Miller has been dreaming of all his life

Warnings: smut,fluff, angst, cowboy in shining armor vibes, unprotected piv, boot ridin! dick slingin, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implied age gap, dom/sub vibes, sir/mister kink, implied abuse (not by Joel) Joel is a bounty hunter during the Wild West, reader is a runaway bride wanted for murdering three men, filthy language, pining, protective! Joel, assumed unrequited love, swearing, AU that might not 100% be historically accurate but I tried! reader has no physical descriptions such a skin tone or body type, readers nickname is Chickadee, +18 minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything!

Joel Miller knows that keeping a bounty for himself ain’t the way to go about things..he knows that there’s consequences for his actions, an imminent problem would surely arise if he didn’t bring you back to the town you fled from. Wanted for the murders of three men. A wild untamable thing on the run is how the sheriff described you to Joel. And the most important detail of all; I don’t care if you bring her back alive, or in pieces.

And then Joel found you, tracked your trails for miles and miles through the barren rough terrain of the Wild West. You didn’t even put up a fight when you heard the distinct sound of thundering hooves drawing nearer and nearer. You were exhausted, dehydrated, and on the verge of collapsing to the dusty earth while vultures circled ahead.

This didn’t mean you gave up entirely when Joel Miller had you circled, cornered and lasso at the ready. That’s when he took notice of your state, your attire. A once glittering wedding dress now hanging on by threads of shredded fabric. The bottom tooled fabric was now a dirty sand color, blending in with the dirt. Remnants of your eye makeup cracked and stained beneath your eyes and cheekbones that were once painted in a pretty pigment.

He watched from the saddle of his horse as you sank down to your knees, awaiting your inevitable fate to be delivered. “Have you come to turn me in, Mister?”

His head cocked to the side, eyes studying your vulnerable form intently. You couldn’t see his face as it was obstructed from your view with a tied bandana, but even from where you sat on your knees, you could see that his eyes were a deep shade of brown, dark and mysterious.

He dismounted his horse swiftly, silently, boots tearing up dusty patches of earth with each heavy step he took. The spurs on the back of his boots chimed through the air as he stopped in front of you. His broad frame casted a shadow over your kneeling form. His hands were encased in worn leather, and he smelled of tobacco smoke, saddle soap, and musk.

He crouched down, hat tipping forward while one leather clad hand reached for your jaw, thumb brushing across your skin as he tilted it upwards, forcing you to look into his eyes. He saw your grime and dried blood stained face up close. Your eyes flickered nervously as he turned your head to the side.

“Ain’t you gonna get on with it and turn me in? What’re you draggin’ this out for, huh? You caught me, mister. Go and collect your fuckin’ reward.” You spat defiantly into the dirt, a glob of salvia landing on the toe of his boot.

His grip tightened around your chin, jaw ticking sharp like a knife, eyes narrowing in on your face and the subtle wobble of your severely cracked and dry lower lip.

“What happened to you?” He finally spoke. His voice reminded you of fire crackling, ominous thunder and heavy rain. Thick, gravelly, deeper than the Grand Canyon itself.

“What’s it matter if I tell ya, huh? You gonna take pity on me or somethin’ mister?”

He was silent again, appearing deep in thought as he continued to study your face, searching through the grime and dirt for any clues..then, he saw it; The eyes of someone that suffered abuse. His grip around your chin softened

“Stand up.” He commanded.

You struggled to your feet, confusion etched in your features, the obvious sway in your step before two strong hands grabbed your shoulders to steady you.

“We’ll have to move fast.”

“What’re you—” You were still confused, head spinning from his words and malnourishment.

“I don’t turn in folks that killed outta self defense, Chickadee. And certainly not a woman that killed her abusers.” He gave you a curt, tight nod. “Better you than I cause I woulda tied those sons a bitches up and dragged them through the fuckin’ desert.” He rasped.

“You’re..not turnin’ me in?”

“No. Ain’t morally right for me t’do so.” He said softly.

And that’s how you ended up riding through the countryside with Joel Miller to protect you. You’d patch up his shiners, his wounds, keep his belly full with hearty stews that kept him strong and alert. You’d clean his gun, shine his leather till you could see your reflection in the fabric. And in return, he protected you. He never asked for any sexual favors, or for your hand. He viewed you as his equal, his partner.

It hurt sometimes, to flirt with the man you owed your life to and for him to brush your attempts off everytime. As if you were a pesky horsefly, or insignificant gnat. Yet, you couldn’t help it. Joel was handsome, ruggedly so and you’d often find yourself fantasizing about kissing him, feeling his fingers touch you in places you craved to be touched in. To feel his caress on your skin, the bite of his leather, the scrape of his scruffy beard. The stretch of his cock inside of your wet cunt.

You were driving yourself mad with want for a man that didn’t want you back, or so you assumed that was to be the case.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Joel Miller was on the edge to finally just give in when he caught you one night with your skirts hiked above your thighs with your boot clad feet firmly planted in the dirt. Under the pale glow of the moonlight above, and the glittery shining stars, he could see your hand between your thighs, touching yourself and moaning his name.

It felt wrong to watch you, to invade your privacy and your modesty. But he’d be damned if he’d go another night without feeling the hug of your pussy around his aching cock. Or to feel the taste of your kissable lips on his tongue. Damned. Damned. Damned. Fuck, he couldn’t survive another second without knowing what it was like to be loved by you.

For years he had pushed you away despite knowing the pain it caused both you and him. A man could only last so long pretending to not love a woman that he’d throw his life down for in a heartbeat. That’s the kinda love Joel Miller had been dreaming of all his life.

Your head snapped at the sound of a twig snapping behind you as your hand stilled between your thighs. Your heartbeat rattled wildly in your rib cage at the fear and excitement of being caught.

Oh, please. Please let tonight be the night.

“Don’t stop on my account, Chickadee.” He drawled deeply before stepping closer to where you sat.

The heat rushed to your cheeks like a wildfire spreading, your stomach clenched inwards as you began to touch yourself once more, eyes staying locked on his own.

When he was close enough, you used his shins for support as you rubbed your swollen clit in tight, fast circles.

“No.” He shook his head. “Slower. Take your time, darlin.’ There ain’t no rush. Let me see you.” He rasped, before slowly sinking into the dirt behind you. His strong thighs corralled your own almost possessively as his hands gently grasped the hem of your skirts, pulling them up higher. You felt the brush of his beard against your cheek when his chin came to rest along your shoulder. “Nice and slow for me.”

“I’m—sorry, Joel.” You whispered ashamedly through the cool darkness of the desert night. You slowed your fingers, dragging them through the building slick that pooled between the seam of your cunt.

“Sorry for what, Chickadee? Sorry for touchin’ yourself? For moanin’ my name? Why would you be sorry for that?..” His deep tone sent sparks flying through your body as you leaned back into his strong chest.

“Because—you don’t want me, and this is wrong for me to do. To touch myself and moan a man’s name that doesn’t desire me the way I desire him.” A whimper was clawing up your throat, begging to be released, but you wouldn’t allow it.

He dropped the fabric of your skirts briefly only to dip his hand between your thighs and place his massive palm over the top of your hand, guiding your fingers over your clit once more. “This man desires you plenty, Chickadee. I was only tryin’ to protect your modesty..and our hearts.” He whispered against your ear, lips ghosting across your exposed skin. “Been wantin’ to love you all these years we’ve spent together.” He admitted. “I’m a terrible, rotten man for keepin’ you starved this long..” he trailed off, pressing open mouthed kisses at the spot where your jaw met your neck. “M’sorry.”

Those were the last words you ever expected a fucking bounty hunter to whisper..let alone to you?

A shuddered breath slipped past your parted lips, just for him. Your head lolled to the side, granting him easier access as your lashes fluttered shut. “I’ve felt like..such a fool, Joel. A dirty little fool for a bounty hunter.” You took your lower lip between your teeth, biting down harshly and drawing blood to the surface. You let him take full control of your hand, letting him guide and manipulate your fingers to play with yourself just right.

“Shh..I know now, Chickadee. M’sorry, truly. But I’m here now, ain’t I? M’here. Here forever if you’ll have me. I understand if I've bruised and neglected your heart far too many times..I can accept your rejection if it is coming.”

You could detect the edge of sadness in his tone, the acceptance already settling into his bones and heart.

“Joel, please kiss me.” You nearly begged him, dying to finally know what his lips would feel like on your own.

“Why didn’t ya just say that sooner, Chickadee.” He chuckled. “I wish ya woulda just grabbed me by the breeches years ago and knocked some sense into my thick skull. Woulda taken your ache away a long time ago, darlin.’” He said in a hushed whisper. “But I know you were afraid..can’t blame ya for that. Not really. ‘Specially since I ain’t the nicest of men to come by.”

He was taking too long, and you were an impatient woman.

“Joel.” You huffed, fighting the urge to curse him out before you decided to take matters into your own hands, finally. Tomorrow was never promised, not when you and Joel were constantly on the run.

He kept rambling on until he felt the soft touch of your fingertips brushing against the patches in his scruffy beard and the magnetic pull drawing him in closer, closer till he could taste your mingled breath on his lips.

Here in the middle of the desert, with nothing but the moon and stars as a source of light, you finally knew what it was like to kiss Joel Miller. You learned his lips quickly, liking that they were both soft and a bit chapped. As you licked slowly into one another’s mouths you could taste the faint remnants of tobacco on his tongue. It was a bruising kiss, one that both ignited the fire deep within you, and sent a delicious tingle curving down your spine.

So, this is what the girls back home were all talking about. Being kissed by a real man.

And then you found yourself straddling him in the dirt, saying fuck all to your modesty because you had never wanted a man more than you did now. And you wished that your mother could see you now. To see what her perfect little daughter had turned into.

Fuck you, mother. Fuck you for forcing me to marry that monster.

Joel brought you back down to earth with both his lips and his words tattooed on your skin. He caged you with his body, acting as a shield from the chilly night ear that sent goosebumps rising.

He worked your blouse open, growing more frustrated by the minute when the clasps wouldn’t automatically give. He was desperate to feel more of you, all of you because he knew then that you were his, and he was yours. And if you’d end up being the death of him, so be it. At least he could go out being loved rather than unloved.

“You gonna fuck me now, mister? Gonna take what belongs to you, Joel?” You mumbled against his lips in a chasing kiss, growing more desperate as the seconds ticked by.

“Gonna do more than that, Chickadee.” He rasped. This was a promise, and a man such as Joel always kept his promises.

The howl of a Coyote far off in the distant sent uneasy nerves rolling through you, because the realization hit you then that you and Joel were out in the fucking wilderness, and you suddenly felt bare and exposed.

“Jus’ a coyote, doll. He’s singin’ to the moon. We’re safe here, I promise. Ain’t ever gonna let somethin’ happen to you again, Chickadee.” His strong calloused, yet gentle hands came to cup for your face. His deep brown eyes met yours through the pale glow of the moonlight casted over your faces. “I swear on my life, you will always be safe with me.”

and while the lone coyote sang his song to the moon, Joel Miller had you singing your own song, just for his ears too.

After that night spent together, you never had a night where you slept alone. Joel was always there. Holding you, kissing you, fucking you into a blissful state.

He still feared for your safety, and you feared for his. This would never change, but you refused to live in fear for the rest of your life.

It was a boiling hot day under the blazing desert sun. You and Joel were moving west towards California. Hearing about the gold rush there sounded like as good of an opportunity as any. Not even just for the gold, but the prospects of a new life. Joel had dreams of owning a ranch, sheep specifically and living out his days with you by his side.

“Come join me for a swim, cowboy.” You were sitting side by side under the one single tree along the river's edge. Your two horses were drinking their fill after traveling for days in these conditions.

Your cowboy had his arms crossed behind his head, biceps bulging under the thin fabric of his shirt. His hat was tipped down over his head. You only witnessed Joel being fully relaxed on a few occasions where he would let his guard down for just mere minutes.

“Mmm. That’s alright, doll. Y’go on and enjoy yourself.” He said with a lazy sigh.

“Just a quick one together? Please?” You reached over and gently lifted the brim of his hat just enough so you could see his closed eyes.”

“Chickadee..” he said in a low warning tone, peeking one eye open to look up at you before he shut it once more.

“You’re no fun.” You huffed while releasing your gentle grip on his hat.

“M’plenty fun, doll. I gotta keep watch, anyway. Can’t do that if I’m stark naked in the river with ya. What if someone tries to sneak up? Won’t have my gun at arms reach.” He sighed.

“I know, Joel.”

Maybe when we get to California..he won’t have to worry about all of that.

He sat up turning his body to face you before his palm came to rest upon your cheek in a gentle caress. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, tugging it down gently before he leaned in and kissed you sweetly. “Now go on and cool off, Chickadee.”

You kissed him back with the same amount of sweetness before you pulled away and gave his nose a light boop. His face scrunched inwards before he reached around and gave your ass a light and playful swat that sent you giggling as you rose to your feet.

You shot him a seductive wink before you raced down to the river's edge, kicking up a cloud of dirt with your boots.

Joel watched from afar with a hooded gaze as you stripped down from your skirts and blouse followed by your unlaced boots. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when your one boot wouldn’t give right away and you nearly tripped before finally getting it off. He kept watch as you dove into the crystal clear waters and reameraged moments later.

He reached into his pack, pulling out an apple and pocket knife while you splashed around like a kid on Christmas. He cut off a small slice before biting it off on the edge of the knife, chewing thoughtfully as he leaned back against the sturdy tree.

When we get to California..I’m going to marry her.

He didn’t want to end your fun so soon..but it was time to get moving again. He brought his thumb and forefinger into his mouth, whistling to let you know that it was time to pack up.

You had been floating peacefully on your back with your eyes closed when you heard his whistle that immediately tore you from your daydream state.

He was just about to stand up from where he was resting against the tree when you emerged from the river. You reminded him of a goddess. Bare, beautiful, skin sprinkled in water droplets that were kissed by the sun. You looked unreal, and he was the luckiest man alive.

“C’mon, Chickadee. We gotta head out.” He called for you when you were within earshot.

“I’m coming!” You bent down to gather up your clothes before the idea struck you. “Can I dry off first, please?”

He let out a grumbled sigh before he ultimately nodded his head in agreement. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt..

“Jus’ till ya dry off, doll.”

With your clothes and boots gathered up in your bare arms, you approached him casually, setting everything down on your nearby saddle while he watched you with piqued curiosity.

“I was thinking about you out there..laying on my back and feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin..” you trailed off.

“Is that so? Hmm..what were you thinkin’ about, Chickadee?” His eyes slowly trailed down your bare body. From the swell of your breasts, down your tummy and thighs and what lay between them.

“Want to take a guess, cowboy?” You asked teasingly.

His brow raised as a grin tugged along the corner of his lips. A game is what you were playing, and he was the willing participant.

“Based on your tone, I’m gonna guess it’s got somethin’ to do with..my cock?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner while his hand casually came to rest between his own thighs. Oh, he was playing alright.

“Mmm..perhaps I was thinkin’ of ridin’ your cock right under the shade of this tree..but that would be too obvious, Joel.” Your eyes drifted down to where his hand was before the traveled down the expanse of his strong thighs and ending at the toe of his leather boots.

He caught onto your drift almost immediately and you saw his pupils begin to darken. “Y’wanna ride my boot? Is’that it? Well, ain’t you a filthy thing, Chickadee. You wanna get ‘em all shined up for me? Drag that sweet cunt of yours over them?”

His eyes stayed locked on yours in a challenging stare while he palmed himself through his pants to relieve the growing tension.

“I do, sir. I really, really, really want to ride your boot.” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks because never in your wildest dreams did you expect to take part in debauchery such as this.

“On your knees then, girl. Kiss ‘em for me.” He fell right into character with a flip of a switch.

You found yourself lowering onto your knees without a care in the world about the dirt while you bent down over his boots, pressing a kiss to the leather, dragging your tongue down the stitched seam.

“That’s it, doll. Get ‘em nice and shined up for me.” He said while popping the button on his pants open and pulling his cock free from the confines.

“You gonna touch yourself while I ride your boot, mister?” You were sitting upright again before you crawled closer, letting your hands rest along his thighs as you positioned yourself right above his left boot. The imprint of your kiss had already begun to dry from the scorching heat.

“Yeah, doll. I’m gonna fist my cock while you ride my boot like the dirty Chickadee that you are.” He spat into his palm before he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock just as you lowered yourself over the expanse of his boot, taking your lip between your teeth when you dragged your clit right across the smooth leather.

“Fuuck me. Ain’t that a sight. Look at you, fuckin’ filthy girl. S’feel good, Chickadee?”

You rolled your hips forward slowly at the rate that he was pumping his fist. A soft whimper slipped past your lips while your eyes stayed locked on his.

“Feels so good, mister. So—so good.” You moaned freely with each steady roll of your hips, chasing that high. Nothing would ever compare to Joel’s cock. You knew this, he knew this, and you also were aware that this little game would only last so long.

And then he watched you lose yourself completely on his boot with each roll and grind of your hips against the dampened leather. Crying out his name, nails digging into his covered thighs, head thrown back, tears nearly flooding your eyes.

He had the same sense of urgency and realization that nothing would ever compare to the warm hug of your pussy around his cock. That’s when the game ended as his strong arms came to lift you into his lap by your thighs. His lips met yours in a bruising kiss filled with intermingled moans and teeth clashing together when he finally slipped into your warmth.

California could wait a little longer, he wanted to savor this moment for as long as it lasted because now he had the love that he had been dreaming of all his life. Right here in his arms, cock buried to the hilt under the shade of this very tree. Right here with his Chickadee.

That’s the kinda love I’ve been dreaming of

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yeollie-plz · 5 months

Text

12 Days Of Pedromas ‘23

Starting December 14th, I am going to be doing a post everyday until Christmas to celebrate Pedro and the holiday season!

Extra info here!

Day One: Hate sex with Costar! Pedro Pascal

Day Two: Virgin! Reader x dbf! Joel Miller

Day Three: 3some with Frankie Morales and a special guest

Day Four: Phone sex with Pedro Pascal

Day Five: Wedding night and breeding kink with Joel Miller

Day Six: Cockwarming with Din Djarin

Day Seven: Pool Sex with Exhibitionist! Agent Whiskey

Day Eight: Lactation Kink! Joel Miller

Day Nine: Stripper! Reader x Javier Pena

Day Ten: Pegging with Oberyn Martell

Day Eleven: One night stand with Frankie Morales

Day Twelve: Rough sex with Din Djarin

Make sure to keep an eye out for all the posts and enjoy reading! 😉

Main Pedro Masterlist

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honeyedmiller · 8 months

Text

Law of Attraction — Chapter Two: Exposition

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: professor!Joel, student!reader, (consensual) professor x student relations, joel miller au, reader is mentioned to be plus sized, drinking, jealousy, age gap (reader is late 20’s, joel mid 40’s), smut (m oral receiving, fingering, face sitting, unprotected piv), fluff, no use of y/n. 18+, minors dni.

word count: 5.3k

chapter synopsis: only one student gets chosen to go on an all-inclusive trip to the criminal justice expo that’s held at a different location every year. what happens when professor miller happens to be the attending staff representing the university of austin?

Your phone pinged in your lap, and you tore your eyes away from the TV screen to see what it was. You and your roommate, Adrienne, who also happened to be your best friend, were watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.

It was Saturday night and both of you felt like staying in, which ended up with both of you making dinner and filling up wine glasses before you settled in on the couch to watch the beloved show.

“Holy shit.” You say out loud, not believing the student e-mail you received in your inbox.

“What?” Adrienne questioned, gaze slowly moving to you.

“I got accepted– my application,” You started, completely dumbfounded. “I get to go to the criminal justice expo.”

“What? No fucking way dude! Isn’t that like a one-student-only type deal?” Adrienne questioned, turning her body to fully face you.

You nod, looking down to your phone again. You scrolled down the email, looking for the details of where it was going to be this year.

“It’s in California this year,” You say, chewing on your bottom lip to find out the attending staff from your school. You froze when you saw his name pop up. “Professor Miller is the attending staff.”

Adrienne’s face lit up, and she nudged you with her foot. “Are you kidding me? Free drinks, free food, free flight, and you get to bone again with your hot Professor?”

“Adri!”

“What? Oh, come on, you said that the sex you two had was mind blowing. Now you guys can, you know, fuck on an actual bed instead of a desk.” She snickered, and you rolled your eyes.

Adrienne knew how hot Joel was. She never had him as a professor, but people talked regardless. She was an alumni now and when you told her you two fucked, she nearly lost her mind. She told you to give her all the juicy details, and congratulated you for finally allowing yourself to have something like this.

You and Joel had been texting back and forth every so often within the past couple of weeks, and when it came to seeing him in class, he could barely look your way. He told you that if he did, he’d just get way too turned on to even carry on with the lesson.

The trip was over the beginning weekend of spring break, which was in a week. You sighed and toyed with your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating on telling Joel if you were the chosen student.

“So are you gonna tell Professor Hottie that you’re going to California?” It’s like Adrienne could read your mind sometimes.

“Actually, I think I’m going to keep it a surprise.”

She raises her eyebrows, “Will there be a bar there?”

You look up the hotel listed on the itinerary— J.W. Marriott in Los Angeles.

“The hotel has a bar.”

“So what I’m hearing is we need to go shopping for a nice little number that’ll make him wanna eat you right up.” Adrienne cocks an eyebrow up at you, and you purse your lips into a thin line. You knew you wouldn’t win this argument if you told her no.

“I mean, I’m going back home. Might as well shmooze some potential employers too, right?” You crack a grin at her, and she cheers while clapping her hands.

“You’re gonna look so hot in California. Professor M won’t know what’s coming to him.”

The following week went by swiftly. Your flight left at six in the morning to Los Angeles. As soon as you got to the hotel, you showered and napped before you had to get ready for the convergence of the first night.

The black dress Adrienne helped you pick out defined your curves, giving you a sexy silhouette. You took your time getting ready. You wore your hair down, put dark brown shadow in the crease of your eye, dusted gold shimmer over the top of your lid, and painted your lips red. You slipped on your trustee black heels and gave yourself one last look-over before you decided you looked hot enough to woo the richest man in the room.

You knew Joel was going to be downstairs, as staff and faculty had to pair with students from their own school. He texted you that he’d miss you since he had to go to this event before spring break, so it meant that he had absolutely no clue you’d be here. Unless he did, and he was just playing coy.

You put your keycard in your clutch, spritzing your favorite perfume on yourself, and walked out of your room to head for the elevator. Your heels clicked against the wooden floors of the elevator, and the glossy metal surrounding you gave you a good view of your reflection. You hit the button to take you down to the lobby, going back to looking at yourself a little bit longer.

You felt confident if you were honest with yourself. You usually adorned your body in looser clothing, something comfy and casual that wouldn’t show off too many of your curves. That was just your comfort zone—but, after the way you’ve been feeling lately, it’s elevated ten times more.

The elevator dinged, signaling you were down at the lobby’s level. The convention room wasn’t too far off, veering to the right. There were already so many students and faculty members from all kinds of different universities, mingling and drinking and having a good time. Nerves overtook your body for a split second before completely dissipating when you realized you were the one turning heads.

You decided it was safest to head for the bar first, just to get a little bit of liquid courage into your system. You ordered a Mai Tai, graciously thanking the bartender as you slipped onto a stool and deliberately sipped on your drink.

You turned your body so your eyes could casually scan the crowd, but in all reality, you were looking for Joel. Not even a few minutes later, and you spotted him. He looked deliciously handsome, with some dark slacks that hung low on his hips with an aqua blue button-up that complimented his tan skin tone exquisitely. His black glasses that framed his face matched his shiny black shoes. But, there was just one thing.

He wasn’t alone.

Some woman, who looked to be around his age, had a gentle hand on his bicep as she was laughing at something he said. They were talking with two other gentlemen whom you didn’t recognize.

You felt it. The ugly green monster slowly crept into you, seeping into your bones the longer you stared at Joel and the woman. They actually looked really nice together. Someone his age, more experienced, and really pretty. Someone his type.

You sipped on your drink some more, hating how you felt this way. He wasn’t even your boyfriend or anything of the sort. You two’ve only fucked once. He doesn’t owe you anything, and he can see whoever he pleases. So why did this make you so uneasy?

You sighed and slipped off of the stool, heading to the check-in area to get your lanyard that was supposed to say your name and the school you represented.

That’s when Joel spotted you from behind. He could recognize those beautiful curves anywhere. He excused himself from the conversation briefly as he made his way over to you, leaning against the table. You jumped at his presence, putting a hand over your heart, which was now racing.

“Joel.” You spoke softly, and he looked confused.

“Darlin’, what are you doin’ here? Are you the student that got chosen? Why didn’t ya tell me?” He asked all at once, his words coming out in a rush.

You simply shrugged. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, it’s definitely one hell of a surprise. Look at you.” He whistled, eyes trailing down your body. You looked incredible and the more he looked at his surroundings, the more he saw men staring at you. They looked at you in an almost perverted way, and Joel frowned.

“Thanks, Professor. You clean up nicely too.” Your smile is lip tight, and you’re secretly begging the alcohol to start taking effect. Joel’s eyes roam down to your drink, and he quirks an eyebrow.

“C’mon, I have someone I want ya t’meet.” He holds out his arm for you so he can escort you to his previous spot, where the same woman you saw with him earlier stood talking to another woman this time.

“Joel! I was just telling Misty that their food at the breakfast buffet here is amazing. Will you join us tomorrow morning?” The woman asks, and Joel smiles.

“Of course, Tess. I’d love to.”

“And who might this lovely young woman be?” The woman, who’s name is apparently Tess, gestures to you.

“My student in my criminal law class. The one I told you about last week.”

So he talks about you?

“Mm. Well ain’t you a beauty. Even prettier than Joel described you to be.” Tess smiles at you, holding out a hand for you to shake. You take her hand in yours, giving it a shake as a shy smiles comes over your lips.

“Tess and I go way back. Went to college together. She’s my best friend. She works for the FBI now, actually.” Joel chuckles, and Tess waves a hand to ward his words off.

“That’s impressive. Hope my background check came out clean.” You joke, and Tess laughs.

“She’s funny, Joel,” Tess nudges him. She then turns to you. “Lovely woman you are, sweetheart. This here is my partner, Misty. She also works for the FBI.”

Her fucking partner. You feel so stupid. Why the fuck would you be so presumptuous when Joel’s been nothing but honest with you about everything you’ve asked him?

“It’s nice to meet you, Misty.” You say, shaking her hand.

“You too!” She beams, and you can already see the sunshine and realist dynamic between the two women. “You should join us for breakfast tomorrow.” She offers, tossing you a warm smile.

“Uhm,” You look at Joel for a split second. “I don’t want to intrude, really.”

“Nonsense! You’re not intruding at all, sweetheart. I wanna get to know the woman Joel’s been gushing about to me all week.” Tess teases, and Joel’s face immediately turns crimson.

“Okay, Tess. Enough.” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

You quietly chuckle as you lightly pat his back.

“Didn’t know you were so fond of me, Professor.” You tease, and he looks at you with an amused expression.

Tess laughs lightheartedly at the interaction between you two, telling you both that she’ll see you both tomorrow before her and Misty bid you two goodbye.

You sipped on the rest of your drink, avoiding trying to talk. The air between you and Joel shifted, and you could feel the tension radiating between both of you.

“Let’s go get you another drink, yeah?” Joel offered, smiling softly down at you. You eyed your empty Mai Tai and nodded, making your way over to the bar with him.

“Another Mai Tai for her. I’ll take a whiskey, neat please.” He told the bartender, and he got started on your drinks.

“Lotta fellas lookin’ at you tonight, darlin’. Y’sure are stealin’ the show.” Joel looks down at you, then to the many eyes staring at you before glancing back to you. The amused expression on his face told you that he wasn’t jealous, but you saw the way his jaw clenched and the muscle ticked in annoyance.

Before you could say anything, the bartender handed you both your drinks. You thanked him and turned back to Joel, who was gripping his whiskey glass rather tightly.

“Are you jealous, Professor?” You quirk your eyebrow at him, taking the drink out of his hand before he could react. You sipped it once, leaving a red lipstick stain to coat the top of the glass. You smirked and slid the drink back into his hand, and his eyes widened as he wearily looked around the room to see if anyone was watching your flirtatious endeavor.

It’s not like you two would particularly get into trouble, because after all, you two were very much legal, consenting adults. However, professors sleeping with their students was a bit… well, frowned upon. Plus, the last thing Joel wanted was for anyone to think that you didn’t get into this expo due to hard work—which was the truth—but rather, by sleeping with him to weasel your way into the one student slot.

“Not here, darlin’.”

“Still didn’t answer my question, Mr. Miller.” Your voice was thick with lust, the idea of Joel getting jealous over you extremely gratifying.

You felt the stickiness of your arousal coat the thin pair of panties you had on, and you started to squirm in your seat.

Joel noticed this too, but he remained collected. “Yes, alright? I don’t like when others look at what’s mine.”

“Yours.” You repeat slowly, a small scoff behind your words. It came off as if you were unimpressed by his wording, but in reality, your stomach erupted with butterflies.

Joel leaned closer to you, not liking your response to his words. “Yes,” He hissed, “Mine. That delicious, tight little pussy is all mine, n’ I mean it when I say I don’t like sharin’.”

You swallowed thickly as he pulled back, studying your face. He took a nonchalant sip of his whiskey, smirk hidden behind the glass.

The smart ass in you wanted to tell him that it was modern times and you weren’t his fucking property, but you refrained. If that’s what it took for this man to fuck you again, then so be it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr. Miller.” You crossed one leg over the other as you sipped on your drink. The bartender had a heavy pour, so you were quickly feeling the affects of the alcohol now.

“Not dangerous when I know how to finish it.” He grits, downing the rest of his whiskey. You sip the rest of your drink nervously, all remembrance of being a lightweight being thrown out the window.

Joel could sense the nervousness that overtook you. You hated yourself for making it so clear that he affected you so much this way, but who could blame you with the way he looked at you?

He nods his head toward the exit. “C’mon, let me walk you to your room.”

Your heart sank in disappointment. Surely his words were just teasing words, and you almost pouted at him. How were you supposed to tell him you wanted him to fuck you until you saw stars?

You silently planted your heels to the ground once more, and with the convergence still in full swing, you doubt you two would be missed. Joel followed you into the elevator, and you let your body sink against the wall. You closed your eyes briefly, exhaustion slowly creeping over your body.

“What floor?” Joel asked.

“Fifteenth.”

He pushed the fifteenth floor button, and only about three floors up, you felt Joel’s hand on your waist. You peeled your eyes open and gasped softly at the new proximity between you two.

“You know how crazy you’ve been drivin’ me all night lookin’ like this, baby?” His whisper is hoarse, dangerously low. A glint of arousal flashes across the dark pools of his brown eyes, and your body instinctively moves closer to his. You’re flush up against him now, breathing uneven as you try to balance yourself.

“Joel.” You whine softly, clutching onto the collar of his shirt.

“I know, baby, I know.” He leans down to kiss you softly, and you completely melt into him. It’s like your body instinctively morphed into his as soon as he got close enough. You couldn’t help it. You craved his touch, his kiss, his expert tongue like nothing you’ve ever craved before.

He was intoxicating, and intoxicated off of him you were.

He took a free hand to slowly slide in between your thighs, already feeling how wet you were between your legs.

“Fuck, sweet girl.” Joel groaned, and you whimpered when he rubbed your clit over the fabric of your panties. He moved them to the side, knuckles teasing your slick folds as you clung onto him for dear life.

You started to grind your hips onto his knuckles, desperate for any kind of friction you could get. Joel chuckled at you, kissing your temple as you used his fingers to pleasure yourself.

“Such a needy pussy, baby.”

“Need you, Joel.”

“You’ll get me, baby. Patience.”

You groaned as he pushed a finger into you, pumping it at an expert pace. You felt the tight coil of release building up so much quicker than you anticipated, and right before you were about to cum, the elevator stopped with a ‘ding’.

Joel pulled his slick-soaked finger out of you, slipping it into his mouth as he sucked your arousal off of his digit. He pulled down your dress quickly before the doors opened, and you were practically trying to drag him to your room.

You made sure the coast was clear before unlocking your door with the keycard, tossing your clutch onto the table beside the door. As soon as the door closed, Joel pushed you up against it.

You had a moment of déjà vu, feeling like you were back in Joel’s office with you up against the door as he hungrily kissed you.

Your hands tangled into his styled hair, greedily tugging at it. You moaned against him, pushing yourself off of the door to lead Joel back to the king sized bed in the middle of the room. The back of his knees hit the bed, and you gently pushed him down so he’d sit.

“Take this dress off, baby. I wanna see you.” You turned around so he could help you with the zipper, and he happily obliged. He kissed the middle of your back once it became bare, and you turned around to face him again as you peeled the straps off of your shoulders. You were moving slowly on purpose, giving Joel a bit of a sensual show before you wanted to make him feel good.

Once the dress was completely off, you got down on your knees in front of him and began undoing his belt buckle. He ran a hand through your hair, cupping your jaw as you fiddled with the button of his slacks next.

“Y’don’t have to, baby.” Joel whispered, searching your eyes for apprehension. You shook your head at him.

“I want to. Wanted to since the day I laid eyes on you.” You confess, and he groans softly as you tap his hips, signaling him to lift them so you could take the clothing off of him. You palmed him through his boxers, giving his cock a slight tug over the cotton material.

If it’s one thing you were determined about, it was giving Joel the best head he’s ever had in his life. You slowly peeled off his boxers as well, tossing them somewhere in the room.

His erection sprang free, head swollen and leaking pre cum. You whined at the sight, biting your faded cherry red lips in anticipation. You looked up at Joel who looked at you expectantly, and you smiled up at him shyly before taking his cock into your hand, giving the silky flesh a few tugs. You kept doing that as you leaned down to trail kisses up his tan thighs, free hand rubbing circles into his skin before using your tongue to lick your way up to the base of his cock.

You moved your mouth away from him so you could finally give the tip a kiss, kitten licking it softly for a few seconds. The salty taste of pre cum melted onto your tongue, and you hummed up at him. You took the tip into your mouth, tongue swirling over it before moving further down his girthy shaft.

“Mmph– fuck, your mouth feels so goddamn good, baby.” Joel groaned, cradling the back of your head with his hand. You moved your mouth all the way down, being met with the coarse, unruly hairs at the bottom of his cock.

You moaned around him as you felt him twitch in your mouth, and you moved your mouth back up while squeezing your lips around him. You continued this motion for the next couple of minutes, bringing your free hand to gently fondle his balls.

His hips bucked up, causing you to gag around him. “Fuck, darlin’, ‘m sorry.”

You hummed against him again as you looked up into his eyes, brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

“Look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock like that, baby.” He was panting now, and you stuck your tongue out of your lips so you could lick the underside of his cock with ease.

Joel gripped the bed sheets with such sheer force that you thought the threading was going to rip. His uneven breathing was apparent now, and his head tossed back as he held onto the back of your head, moving it up and down faster.

“Fuck baby, ‘m gonna– shit.” He cursed, and you swallowed every last drop of cum that spilled onto your tongue. You let go of his cock from your mouth with a small pop, leaning back on your heels to look up at him. His eyes met yours after a brief minute and he hummed, chuckling while he shook his head.

“Christ, babydoll.” Was all he said before gently tugging your arm so you’d stand up. You looked so divine like this in front of him—all lace and heels and curves and a sex appeal he just couldn’t fulfill himself enough with. He needed you in every way all the time. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“You sound so hot when you moan for me, Joel.” You say, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah?” He pulled you closer to him by your hips. You nod, biting your lip. He smirks as you as your hands trail down to the buttons of his shirt. You undo them one by one before slipping the aqua material off of his body, leaving him completely bare for you.

“You’re so handsome.” You whisper, and he smiled shyly up at you. Joel Miller? Shy? That’s a new one. You concluded that he didn’t get told that often, so you made a mental note to tell him as much as possible from now on.

Joel moves back on the bed to lay his head down where the pillows were. “C’mere.”

You moved to sit on your heels on the bed next to him, and he tugged at your wrist. He brought you down for a kiss before mumbling against your lips. “I want you to sit on my face, sweet girl.”

You pulled apart from him quickly, puzzled and completely mortified. “What?”

“I want you,” He repeated, tugging you back down to him, “To sit. On. My. Face.” He emphasized each word, and you felt yourself clench around nothing at his request.

“Joel, are you sure? I’m– what if you can’t breathe? What if I’m too heavy?” Insecurity started to flood your mind quickly, and Joel shook his head.

“You’re not too heavy, baby. You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Just, please, sit that pretty pussy onto my goddamn face.” He begged, and your brows furrowed at him in disbelief.

You trusted him, though, so you sighed as you straddled Joel’s chest carefully. You shuffled forward before stopping right below where he wanted you most in that moment. He grabbed your thighs and forced you to move upward so you were hovering over his face.

“Sit.” Was all he said, but you hesitated for a second. His hands slid up to your hips, forcing them down so his breath fanned over your slick-coated pussy. He kissed your soft flesh over the lace of your panties, moaning at how your hips bucked at the slightest touch.

He brought one hand up before moving the lace of your panties aside, kissing your bare pussy this time. You moaned softly, grabbing onto the headboard before Joel licked a long stripe up your folds. You moaned louder this time, relishing in the heat of his skilled tongue as he lapped up your arousal. He started to eat you out like a man starved, dipping his tongue into you before moving it up and circling around your clit. His hands moved down to grip the soft flesh of your thighs once more, moving them back and forth to encourage you to ride his face.

“Use my face, sweet girl. C’mon.” His voice was muffled, but you got the message loud and clear. You decided to let go of your fears and started to grind your soaked cunt into his face, clit catching onto the hook of his strong nose.

“Fuck, Joel.” You cried, mouth falling agape as you used his mouth for your pleasure. He brought a hand down to your ass and squeezed it, moving his hand back to give your soft flesh a smack. You moaned at the feeling of your stinging flesh, moving your hips in circles.

Joel moaned from underneath you, shooting vibrations up and through your body. You felt that tight coil rapidly approaching again as Joel settled on sucking your clit once more, and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

It was like a dam bursting and the floodwaters came rushing in, unstoppable and forceful.

Your hips rutted against his face as you rode out your intense orgasm, crying his name like a prayer. All that was on your mind was exactly what was coming out of your mouth: Joel Joel Joel.

“Did so well f’me, honey. So fucking good.” He praised, bringing your body down to be leveled with his on the mattress.

Joel looked at you in your already blissfully fucked-out state, brushing your hair out of your face. Your eyes were glossed over as they stared at him, body still convulsing at certain points as you rode out the last of your orgasm.

“Think y’got one more in you, sweet girl?” He asked, and you were confused at his initial question before it quickly dawned on you that he meant another orgasm. The exhausted part of you wanted to say no, but the insatiable part of you wanted to be filled and stretched by his intoxicating cock.

You nodded your head, and he smiled down at you with mischief. “Good. Wanna see those pretty eyes of yours roll back when I make you feel good.”

Fuck, he was really going to be the death of you.

He moved to unhook your bra from you in one easy motion, tossing the lace item somewhere in the room along with the rest of the clothes already in disarray. He maneuvered himself on top of you, and you looked up at him with such adoration. He smiled down at you as he moved down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, a hand cupping your jaw gently as you two just simply kissed for awhile.

It was nice that Joel brought the balance of sweet and sensual to the rough and sexy parts of having sex with him. Though you’ve only fucked once before this, you knew he was a tender lover when he really wanted to be.

Your felt Joel’s hardened cock against your inner thigh, so you took it upon yourself to gently grab it and start gliding his shaft against your folds. He moaned into your mouth as your thumb swiped over the tip, bucking your hips against him to get him soaked with your sticky sweetness.

“You ready, sweetheart?” He asked, taking his own cock into his hand before lining the tip up with your entrance. You nodded, and he gently pushed inside you until he reached the hilt.

The stretch was just as delicious as you remembered. So fucking full that it nearly knocked the breath out of you. You grabbed onto his biceps, jaw slack and brows furrowed.

“Look at me, sweet girl.” He murmured, and your eyes snapped open to find his. He smiled down at you before he started to move his hips, thrusting slowly at first before he started to pick up the pace.

“Feel so good, Joel.” You mumbled, intertwining your hands into his hair.

“So do you, angel.” He moaned as you clenched around him, savoring the feeling of you so warm and wet. He continued the tortured pace of his hips for a couple of more minutes before you decided you wanted, no, needed more. You wanted to see aforementioned stars.

“Faster Joel, please. Need you to fuck me faster.”

“Needy little cunt.” Joel chuckled, and you nodded in agreement.

“Please.” You whisper, and his hips doubled in pace.

“This what you want, angel?” He asks through gritted teeth, knowing he probably wouldn’t last long if he kept fucking you at this pace.

“God, fuck, yes!” You cried, gripping onto the bedsheets as your eyes started to roll into the back of your head. The tip of his cock was kissing that oh so sweet spot inside of you, and you got what you wanted: you were seeing stars.

You clamped your eyes shut as the sound of skin slapping on skin and lewd moans from the both of you filled the cozy hotel room. Joel brought his middle finger to your mouth, and he didn’t even have to ask you to suck on it. You just did.

With Joel, it was this invisible push and pull that drove you crazy. It truly bewildered you how well your body listened to him without him having to say a single goddamn word.

He popped his finger out of your mouth before moving it down to your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles around it. Your body felt like it was on fire as your orgasm built up inside of you. The pit in the depth of your core was licking flames up your spine, ready to burst at the seams at any given time.

“Joel, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You choked out, and he groaned in response.

“Cum with me, baby.” His voice sounded pleading, and you nodded quickly. You felt yourself come undone in the blink of an eye, Joel following suit.

You brought down Joel’s face to smash your lips with his, swallowing each other’s moans as you both rode out your earth-shattering orgasms.

Joel pulled apart from you and dropped his head onto your shoulder as he pumped into you twice more before pulling out. Joel immediately brought you into his side, stroking your bare back with his hand. Goosebumps raised onto your skin, and Joel smiled.

You both laid there for a couple of minutes trying to catch your breaths, enjoying the peaceful aftermath of it all. You turned your head to press a kiss to his chest, heart beating slightly faster at your subtle movement.

“I think this is the best exposition I’ve ever been to.” You teased, tracing patterns on Joel’s chest. It rumbled when he laughed, grabbing your hand to press his lips to the back of it.

“Gotta say, it’s definitely mine too.” He agreed, and you softly giggled as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

You had so much to tell Adrienne when you got back home from California, and you knew she’d lose her mind–just like you’re losing yours as you slowly realized you’re falling for the man that lay beside you.

tag list: @cool-iguana ; @beskarandblasters ; @nostalxgic @pamasaur ; @untamedheart81 ; @joelslegalwhre ; @ilovepedro ; @sarap-77

#joel miller imagines #joel miller au #joel miller x plus size reader #professor!joel #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #pedro pascal imagines #joel miller #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader

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atinylittlepain · 1 month

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Part One

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

series playlist

joel miller masterlist

series masterlist

She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 4.5K

chapter content info | 18+ angst, discussions of pregnancy, people being WASPy, marital squabbles that become something more serious some of the time, but also real, persistent love

a/n | listen, don't look at me. not gonna lie, it feels good to be back in the ring and i'm excited to share this one with y'all. special thanks to @wannab-urs for beta-ing and for encouraging me along with this one - love ya, twin.

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He looks handsome and he’s getting on her nerves. She looks beautiful and he still doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to this. She knows he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to this, but she thinks that’s bullshit, kid gloves that she doesn’t need from him, or from anyone for that matter.

He could, but he doesn’t tell her that her left eye is twitching a little bit. Her left eye is twitching a little bit, she blinks hard every time she feels muscle starting to spasm, keeps her face turned away from him and toward the passenger side window.

“What is it?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You keep sighing.”

“I’m just tired.”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“It’s been a long week.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“I meant last week then.”

“Are you taking those multivitamins I got you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I checked the bottle this morning and the safety seal is still on it.”

“Cass.”

“What?”

“I don’t think a multivitamin is going to be the thing that makes me feel less tired.”

“I hate it when you say my name like that.”

“Okay, how should I say it?”

“Nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just drop it, I don’t want to start the day like this.”

“We’re not starting the day like anything, we’re just having a conversation.”

“Joel, please, I’m not doing this with you right now.” And he asks it before he can think much about it, knee-jerk and maybe a little mean, did you take your pills this morning? Right, going for the nuclear option this morning, she lets out a clipped sound that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp and he wishes there were a way to pluck words out of the air and swallow them back down. And she knows that whatever she says to that is going to be a failure. If she gets angry, if she blows up, she’s crazy. If she informs him that she did, in fact, take her pills, then she’s a liar, because she did, in fact, not take her pills, so she’s even crazier, right.

“You know, that’s a fucked thing to ask me.” Ring the bell because she’s won this round. He thinks about offering her an apology, a glance while they’re stopped at a red light that only affords him the slope of her cheek and her hair tucked behind her ear with the way her face is turned away from him. He sighs and it makes her shoulders hike up a little higher.

There’s a spiral of pink balloons wrapped around the porch banister when they pull up, and of course there is a spiral of pink balloons wrapped around the porch banister, she thinks, because Tommy and Maria are having a girl, and that’s lovely, and she is going to smile when she gets out of the car because of how lovely that is. Already thinking about what her face will have to do to make that smile happen while he parks at the end of the driveway because they’re a little late, always a little late these days. At least they have a clear and present escape route, he thinks.

“Here, let me.” He does, stays still while she runs her fingers up behind the collar of his shirt to smooth it down, and she thinks that she’s not the only one trying to buy a little more time. Made it out of the car, but still standing in front of the car, he has always liked the feeling of her palms splayed over his chest, hums and thanks her for fixing his collar, leans in for a quick smacking thing of a kiss that she gives back to him all ease, and he thinks that maybe they’ll get to be normal today.

“Remind me again what we got them?”

“Bottle warmer and a set of swaddling blankets.”

“What, they can’t use hot water from the tap like everyone else?” That gets him a clipped laugh from her, and he knows he’s bordering on something tender that could snap and snarl if he says any more, so he takes the laugh and leaves it at that. She laughs, feels stupid for the heat that thickens and closes in behind it and hides the flush from him by collecting the gifts from the trunk. Pastel pink and perfect wrapping paper with thin ribbon curled and bouncing. She briefly considers how it would feel to rip it all to pieces. But no, none of that, because this is Tommy and Maria, and she loves Tommy and Maria, really, she does, so happy for Tommy and Maria. Happy, happy, happy.

Maria is the one who opens the door, all smiles, all round because she made it to the third trimester. He glances at Cass as they enter into the usual greetings and congratulations, leaning hugs and Tommy somewhere in the fray. Cassandra thinks she’s doing a good job of smiling but she can’t really feel her mouth, letting her lungs collapse a little when Tommy pulls her in for a quick squeeze, hey, Cassie, good to see you. And maybe it’s the lack of pills in her system but is he? Is it? Verging a little close to hostage negotiator territory? Talking to her like she’s a skittish horse? Because, apparently, it’s not just Joel, but the whole clan who seems to expect her to have a hard time with this. His and Tommy’s parents smile and pet at her shoulders when they see her, that same so good to see you, as if they didn’t just see her a month ago for the fourth of July barbecue, as if she’s the one who’s–

“I appreciate y’all being here, I know Maria does too.” Everyone in the backyard even though it’s already pushing eighty degrees, linen dresses and blue jeans and fluted glasses filled with orange juice and something a little stiffer. He squints at Tommy, nods, of course, lets his eyes drift out over mingling friends and family, settling on Cass. She’s smiling, mouth moving around easy words in a small cluster of women. Her arm is curled across her stomach, elbow held in hand, drink held aloft. She is doing fine, he thinks, good. And of course she’s doing fine, everything fine, and he’s fine too. Her eyes catch his and her smile stays, and he feels one of his own, there and gone. They are doing fine.

“Is Cass, you know, doing alright?”

“Oh yeah, she’s doing fine.”

She can feel sweat starting to collect along the waistband of her underwear, a cool, nauseous shiver, so terrible running beneath the skin. Someone, she can’t remember the name, a friend of Maria’s, is saying something about tits. Well, she doesn’t use the word tits, no, that word couldn’t come out of her baby pink painted lips. Breasts, and Cassandra curls her lips back into her mouth to stop herself from offering up mammary glands, if you want to be so proper about it, smiling and mmhmming instead about stretch marks and leakage and sore, seaming skin. Not that she’d know anything about it, not really. But all the other women do, something close to sharing war stories, all the space the body can make, and what remains when it’s empty once again. Now that, empty, she knows a thing or two about empty.

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“You wanna know what I hear from her? Is mom there? And then can you put her on?” Tommy laughs, continuing to make quick work out of carving up another watermelon, pink, pink, pink while Joel enjoys a second to breathe in the air conditioned kitchen. Almost eleven, and they’re going to do cake at almost eleven, and he supposes he doesn’t really know what the etiquette is for things like these so sure, he thinks, cake at almost eleven.

“I guess dad’s advice can only work for so long, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s a freshman in college, man, you don’t remember what we were like at that age?”

“I’d rather not, thanks.” And the truth is he remembers very little of that time. Playing at boy king, at living forever, and then the flashbang burst and bloom, obliteration and letting the shrapnel boomerang back together when Sarah came. And then, he thinks, back out on the porch and squinting at the sun threaded through the branches of an elm tree, then, it was a sort of crawl in those first few years.

What he remembers, very little eye contact from anyone, and wanting it more than anything. Never expecting the father to be the one to stay, the very young, very bleary-eyed father who eventually learned to stop looking for other eyes to meet his. Yes, a crawl, kept his head down until one day, two-year-old in tow in the grocery store, looking at pouches of pureed sweet potatoes and peaches, someone ducked her head down alongside his, looked him in the eye, and asked him if it was his wallet she found at the end of the aisle. For the record, it wasn’t his, but he can’t remember who it got returned to any more. That Tina Turner song was playing over the speakers, he remembers that. What’s love got to do with it, what’s love got to do with a HEB on a Wednesday night? Just enough for him to keep going to the HEB on Wednesday nights, hoping to run into the woman who looked him in the eye and told him his daughter was beautiful and had his smile.

“How many do you and Joel have, Cassandra?” Must have been smiling and nodding a little too well to get that question from Sally, Sammy? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. Maria needs better friends, she thinks, or maybe just less of them for her to keep track of.

“Oh, just one. Sarah started college this year actually.” And the usual sequence of snobbery that follows her sharing that detail. Yes, had her very young, yes, must be so proud, and she is proud, she can mean that yes, at least.

“But she’s not yours, is that right?”

“Excuse me?” Excuse you, Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck you are. Excuse you in your baby blue linen dress and your fuckass bob. Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is, eats her words fast, quick flickers of french tips and well, I just mean, not yours biologically, you know, I think Maria mentioned something about you adopting her when you and Joel got married. Said with that pitch that winches higher and higher with each word like a question going nowhere. She clasps her hands behind her back and digs her nails into the soft of her palms until the urge to throttle Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is passes.

“Yeah, well, she’s not mine in that way. But I’ve been in her life since she was two so, I think that matters a little more than if she slid out of my vagina.” Shit, slipped, should not have said that, gets a glossed gasp from the peanut gallery and she’s just glad Maria is off hostessing with other people right now, not bearing witness to the way she just slaughtered this conversation with the sharp of her words. Excuse her Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck you are, and excuse her, all the rest of you, she needs to get out of the heat, out of the sun, out of whatever this is.

He knows what looks mean what by now. A pinched brow, a frown that’s just barely a frown. She breezes past the kitchen with one hand pressed high against her stomach as if to make sure the rise and fall is still happening. Says her name once and she waves a hand behind her, already halfway down the hall and not turning around now, sorry, just need the bathroom. Tommy’s eyes do that thing, that softening, slipping thing, looking at him and not asking the question, though it hangs in the air somewhere between them. He excuses himself, walks slowly enough that the bathroom door is already shut and locked by the time he gets to it. The faucet is running, all he hears when he says her name again, feeling like a perfect fool knocking on the door. Not the first time this has happened, and she feels more foolish every time it does. But he’s already asked her if she’s taken her pills today so at the very least, that question is out of the way. Or maybe he’ll ask it again, and maybe she’ll break something, and then report back to her OB-GYN who, for some reason, is the one prescribing her these pills, and tell her OB-GYN that she’s getting crazier and needs more pills that she’ll forget to take. Repeat ad nauseam. No, she thinks, too tired for any of that, two years too tired. She presses her fingers into her temples and closed eyes until the throb in her skull begins to still.

“Do you want to go home?” He doesn’t know how to handle this, not really. Seems to get it wrong more often than not, and sometimes his own frustration turns into meanness that makes it worse, he knows that. He doesn’t know how to deal with her any more, she knows that. The truth is she doesn’t even know how to deal with herself any more, everything always raw and hurting, blistered brain and aching heart and wilting like a frail, flimsy thing. She does alright keeping it tamped down most of the time, keeping it cool and closed off. But, there are times when it flares, like a thin flume of disease nested somewhere deep inside of her. During things like these, around people like these, and the month of April, forget about it.

“I said something a little awful, I think.” Sheepish, the door still only cracked, enough that he can see that she isn’t crying so, little lift of relief in his chest, at least.

“What’s that?” He slips in through the half-opened door and she lets him, shuts the door behind him and tells him, may have snapped, may have used the word vagina. It’s a relief to hear him laugh, a single breath of it like he’s not sure if he should. He touches her hand, her wrist, her elbow, little pulse points, half a tired smile.

“There are worse words to use.”

“Could have said cunt.” She shrugs and you’d think he’d have gotten used to her surprising him like that after sixteen years together, but it’s still a giddy little shock to the system, her brass and brash. Like another vital sign, so long as she has her fang she’s fine, at least he thinks so.

“Yeah, that.” He laughs again, coughs, heat flushing down fast in his face and there’s a quick kick in her chest at the sight, something dormant getting stirred up. She likes that look, coaxing that look out of him. The first time, way out of line and out of place, she thinks. Fresh out of college and buying condoms and pretzel rods at the HEB down the block from her apartment and she shouldn’t have, pretty guy, man, father with pretty brown eyes and a little girl in the seat of his shopping cart with pretty brown eyes like his and she shouldn’t have. Thought she was so smooth, pretending like the wallet she showed him wasn’t hers, like she had found it on the linoleum floor, yeah, so smooth, just looking for a reason to shuffle down the baby food aisle and talk to pretty guy, man, father. That same flush, that same smile, little shock, though he had caught her too, taking a sharp glance down at her basket before she could tuck it behind her legs. And then her turn, little shock when he made some joke about little late for me, for that, shrug and smile and yes, she thinks, she didn’t exactly love him right then and there, but whatever comes right before love, it was that.

“Listen, if it’s getting to be too much for you we can–” Wrong, all wrong, sound in the back of her throat like a scoff that’s how wrong those words were.

“Why does everyone seem to think this is too much for me? It’s a fucking baby shower, not a, I don’t even know what. I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s Tommy’s and Maria’s day and I’m so happy for them that they’re having a–” It catches her off guard, the way the sound gets stuck in her throat, not quite a sob, but verging on it, hiccuping out the rest, a baby. He reaches for her arm again but she jerks it away, hands clasping opposite elbows, all tucked in on herself.

“It’s okay if it’s not fine, you know, nobody is expecting you to–”

“Nobody is expecting me to keep it together, right?”

“Would you let me finish speaking?” No, never winning any points for patience, ever. Not too many for thinking before he speaks either. Her face crumples for a breath, if that, smoothing back out with a scoff, I’m so sorry, Joel, what were you going to say? No, not normal, not today. He wonders briefly how long they’ve been in the bathroom now, and whether they’ve been speaking loudly enough to draw attention to the fact of how long they’ve been in the bathroom now.

“You know what, forget it. If you say you’re fine then I guess you’re fine. Can we just get through fucking cake and leave, please?” She’s very good at this, at turning herself off, something cool and distant slipping over her eyes, her face, shoulders rolled back sharp. Of course, she says, whatever you say, she says, doesn’t give him another glance as she opens the bathroom door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t standing here long, just waiting to use the–”

“Cunt.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Cut– I had a cut and I needed Joel to look at it but I’m fine, right, Joel? Aren’t I fine?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer that, doesn’t give Sally, Sammy, whoever the fuck she is a chance to say any more either, already moving past both of them and back toward the sound of laughter and cake, fucking cake about to happen.

He needs to keep his mouth shut, all he can figure. Keep his mouth shut and maybe, maybe, they’ll get through fucking cake without any more seams splitting. Nothing like this when Sarah came, no balloons, no perfectly frosted and tiered cake with a whole cluster of people around it, and he thinks briefly that maybe he’s the one who isn’t fine being here. Like an ache, or an absence, a place inside of him that has been scooped out and left empty. He doesn’t let himself get sad about it often, mostly because he’s too busy being angry about it with (at?) Cass. But he feels it now, a sinking, swimming feeling that weighs everything down, slow to smile when Maria hands him a plate with a slice of cake on it.

She takes a plate and pushes around globs of pink icing with her fork for a while, standing in another cluster of people she doesn’t really know, one of the women commenting on how good she’s being when she sets her plate down on the kitchen counter, smile and laugh, though the truth is she’s not sure she could stomach pretty pink icing right now. A small mercy when Tommy steps over alongside her and effectively relieves her of having to continue pretending to be interested in a conversation about kitchen remodels.

“Looking a little green, Cassie, you alright?”

“I think the heat got to me, but I’ll survive. Congratulations again, you guys are going to be great, really.” And she hopes he interprets the pitch, the little catch of her words as a good emotion that is entirely for him and his family. Not anything else, not anything that would be entirely ridiculous and well, crazy, on her part.

“I just want to say thank you again for giving us all that furniture, and the clothes, we really–”

“Oh of course, Tom, you did us a favor taking all that stuff. It’s not like we were going to–” Going to what? She doesn’t finish that sentence, and Tommy doesn’t need her to, already nodding, already that look in his eyes that she has come to recognize as thinly-concealed pity. Not like they were ever going to have a use for that furniture, those clothes, not again, not after. A foreclosed room in their house that stayed as silent and shut up as a tomb, and then the happy, happy, happy news from Tommy and Maria and of course, they said, take whatever you want, take it all, actually. The room is empty now. The door stays closed.

He wants to leave and he wants to leave now. The walls creeping in closer and that hollow thing in between his ribs starting to ache and twinge. He catches her eyes from across the room and it takes little else for a knowing to pass between them, both of them already moving, already starting a string of polite goodbyes, friends and family, sorry, yes, really have to go, it’s becoming hard to breathe, really have to go.

Early in the afternoon and the sun so bright it makes him a little dizzy when they step outside. He follows the sound of her heels on the sidewalk back to the car, relief in the closing of the door, in settling into the driver’s seat.

She feels like her brain is deflating in her skull. Enough normal for the day, don’t ask her for any more than that. She props her head in her hand and lets her eyes unfocus, turning the suburban streets they're driving through into pale blurs of minivans and basketball hoops. And there is little fanfare to what happens next, she glances at him once, then looks out the window, hears a metallic clink, and when she looks at him again, there’s a cigarette dangling from his lips. It’s so absurd, so out of nowhere, that she has to laugh.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t know. Tommy’s a bad influence.”

“Tommy quit.”

“Well then I did him a favor finishing off all his packs.”

“Joel.”

“Yes?”

“How did I miss you picking up smoking again?”

“It’s not like I do it around the house, I know you don’t like the smell.”

“Oh, but you’re happy to trap me in the car with it?”

“The windows are down.”

“Secondhand smoke.”

“Would you prefer to get out at the next red light?”

“You know, you’re probably gonna die before me. Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m serious. Statistically speaking, men die first–”

“I wonder why.”

“Cardiac events.”

“That tracks.”

“You’re already two years older than me and now you’re doing shit like this and I’m probably gonna be like, sixty-eight and a widow, and then I’ll die of stress from being a sixty-eight-year-old widow.”

“Are you done?”

“Oh fuck you–”

“Hey.”

“No, what next, huh? Are you gonna ask me if I took my pills again?”

“Well, did you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Jesus Christ, Cass, it’s like you don’t even want to get better, you don’t even try.” Silence, she doesn’t fire back, doesn’t make a sound, her lips parted around a wordless frown. The only noise is the turn signal clicking as he pulls into a gas station, his heart sunk down low in his chest, shrinking back in on itself. Too far, too mean, and not even knowing what he was saying until he said it, until she was looking at him in a devastated crumple.

He parks beside a pump but doesn’t get out, doesn’t move at all, really. Waiting. For what, he isn’t sure. When he looks at her again, that stricken look is gone, something slackening, something tired settled in its place.

“Do you remember when you stopped shaving and you asked me if your beard looked stupid and I told you it didn’t?”

“Uh, yes.”

“I lied. Your beard does look stupid.” And with that, she’s out of her seat, out of the car, and clipping fast toward the convenience store, not sparing him another look. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

The light flickers a little in the convenience store bathroom when she flips it on, locking the door behind her just as the first sob shudders up and out of her throat. She doesn’t look in the mirror, she has no use for that, just grips the edge of the sink and allows herself this, a few minutes to get the worst of it out.

He had finished pumping gas ten minutes ago when she comes back out with a bottle of snapple lemonade tucked under her arm. She has been crying, he can see. He doesn’t know why she always hides it from him. It catches him off guard when she walks around the front of the car to stand in front of his rolled-down window, something bordering on sheepish in the set of her expression, her eyes doing a quick loop from her feet back up to him.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think your beard is stupid.”

“Okay.”

“I like it, think you look handsome with it.”

“Honey, will you get in the car, please?” She does, offers him the bottle of lemonade and they both take a swig, waiting for whatever words are supposed to come next. A car honks at them, still at the pump, and he has enough sense to wave an apology behind his head and pull over into a parking spot instead.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Cass? That was a stupid thing for me to say. I didn’t mean that.” She wants to say no, not a stupid thing to say, not unfair, not really. But that would be an admission she doesn’t want to make, so she nods, accepts his apology, both of them having a hard time looking at the other, suddenly so interested in the brick wall of the convenience store.

“We can’t keep doing this.” She doesn’t realize how much she means that until she’s done saying it. Finally saying it, this truth they have been scrapping and snapping around for months now. He says, no, we can’t, and she braces for impact, anticipating the worst, the nuclear option, and she wouldn’t blame him for it. But that blow doesn’t come. He takes her hand over the center console, as simple as anything, and she is reminded again of how much she loves him.

“Something has to change.”

“I think so.”

“We can figure this out, can’t we?”

“It’s us.” As if that’s an answer, though he still nods, repeats it back to her, it’s us. It’s them. They can’t keep doing this. They have to change. They can figure this out, can’t they?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!oc

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creedslove · 5 months

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WHO KNEW? 💍💔 - PART THREE

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

"You took my hand, you showed me how

You promised me you'd be around (...)

I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me (...)

If someone said three years from now, you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out, 'cause they're all wrong

I know better, 'cause you said forever, and ever, who knew?"

Summary: you and Joel try to handle what happens after you both slept together and a revelation brings the truth about the nature of your relationship with Joel

• This is the third part of the small series: Who Knew? 💍💔 (PART ONE | PART TWO) which was also inspired by this amazing HEADCANON request

Warnings: angst, broken hearts, mentions of divorce, mentions of infidelity, fluff, age gap (Joel is four to five years older than reader and the time skip is 12 to 14 years (Sarah's age) but feel free to imagine whatever you want), smut, oral sex (f! receiving/m!receiving) piv, dirty talking, discussions of relationships

A/N: alright besties, I really don't know where this chapter came from, I had sworn I wouldn't write continuations of this story, but here I am, with a serious case of Joel Miller brain rot and all I could think of was him! I love this story with all my heart and I don't know if this chapter is consistent or not, as it was written through several days and I poured my feelings into it, but days change and so do feelings so hehehe, also, I may or may not have been a little too horny for Joel xD, anyway, I hope you beautiful besties like the story ❤️

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Waking up by Joel's side was something you could've sworn it would never happen, it would only become a distant memory as the years advanced after the divorce; you thought maybe you would think about it every so often, when nostalgia got the best of you, if you felt lonely at times or maybe even the moments you would spend next to your ideal future husband, a man worthy of you and your love, someone who would actually treat you exactly how you deserved it, who wouldn't run away with the first willing whore he could find and build a life with her, the life that used to be yours, and was supposed to. No, that ideal husband would never steal from you, not your happiness, your beauty or your youth, as much as you closed your eyes and tried picturing this ideal, ethereal man, you were haunted by your ex-husband. It was his smile that came to your mind when you thought of this bittersweet fantasy; his hands that gripped your body, it was him. You realized your deepest wish was to have Joel as that husband; in an alternative universe where he wasn't a jerk, instead, he would be the perfect, sweet and hard-working husband, just like he used to in the beginning, and you both would love and support each other, building up a life, a family and a home together. That was how things were supposed to go, but everyone knew the end of that story.

What nobody except you and Joel knew, was the plot-twisted epilogue of your story with Joel. Very often, you thought of your relationship as a closed book, a shitty, depressing romance novel that had its indignant ending written and done, with no space to fix things up… until your return to Austin and things simply started to happen. You refused to believe it was a new chapter or a new beginning, quite the opposite, as much as your rational said had begged and screamed not to do it, not to get close to Joel and you simply went there and did it, now it begged you to put an end to it, your mind told you the night you'd spent together was just scratching that maddening itch and nothing more. It would be easy to pretend nothing had happened: Tommy had left shortly after the cops arrived at your place and headed to his girlfriend's, according to Joel. Sarah was absolutely clueless and had no idea what was going on, especially after both you and her dad had put an end to her efforts of setting you both up. All you had to do was to convince Joel of the same: it was a mistake, it shouldn't happen again.

But then, at the same time, why was it so good to wake up next to him? In fact, next to him was an understatement, as you were all over him. Safely tucked into his arms during the night, you had switched positions several times like you often did when you slept, but Joel always kept you at arms length, refusing to let go of you no matter what. It shouldn't feel this good, but it did, and even when morning came and it was time to get up, you pretended you didn't really have to. It was your secret, no one would know nor judge you if you stayed a little longer in his bed, what was the worst that could happen, after all? So the moment you felt Joel stirring right behind you, your eyes closed shut and you relaxed your body as best as you could so he would think you were asleep. It was quite stupid, you were aware, but suddenly you felt shy to be awake in his presence?! It was odd, but you didn't know how to act exactly… were you supposed to kiss? Act as a continuation of the night before or straight up pretend nothing happened? Should you begin ‘the talk' with Joel?! You didn't even know what you were going to say, so instead, pretending to be dead, well actually, asleep, was definitely a better plan. Joel hadn't changed in all those years, you recognized and anticipated every single move he would make; it started by his soft groans the moment he fully woke up, the hesitation he probably felt the moment he eyed you there and quickly the memories of the night before filled him entirely. His morning erection was hard pressed against your ass and that was another difficult part of the equation taking place in your mind at that moment; all it would take you was wiggling your ass a little and you both could start your day in a very fun way. It was tempting, and while you baffled yourself whether to do it or not, you felt Joel again. The way he gently placed his hand on your arm, caressing it up and down, almost in a ghostly touch, a bit afraid of scaring you away; to Joel, you were like a beautiful, delicate butterfly flying into his life, making things prettier for him, but also so easily scared off. He couldn't afford to have you fly away from him once more, not that time. His hand went to your naked stomach, stroking it softly, he enjoyed the butter-like feel of your skin under his hand. After all the cuts, bruises and dirt from hard work, it was a nice change to be able to touch you. He'd had his fair share of touching beautiful women, but none of them would ever compare to you. You were naked under his touch, entirely for himself, a dream that came true at that moment and yet it seemed way too good to be real. Hands that stroked your body leaving a trail of goosebumps over your sensitive skin, as he nuzzled your shoulder, taking some strands of hair away from your neck, he let his stubble beard scratch it softly, lips connecting to your skin, in gentle and silent pecks, ones that made you bite your lips not to moan too loud, even if the goosebumps insisted on appearing, hardening your nipples and sending a wave of lust down your core. Joel had his good ear to the mattress, not hearing if you were letting out small, sexy sounds but he could see the visible signs of his caress on you. He wanted more of it, he woke up with hunger, more like starvation and it was for you, your body, your touch, your presence. He wanted you, and he would have you, not only that morning, but forever, by his side.

“I know you're awake” Joel mumbled against your skin, you could feel his teeth nibbling you, making you squeal softly and moan at his touch, you turned around facing him and raised your eyebrow, heart melting at how adorable Joel's messy bed hair was, even if it was a little grayer now, it still made him look so handsome, you couldn't hold yourself back but caress his curls gently.

“How did you know I was awake?” You questioned him and felt his teeth scraping your collarbone instead of actually answering your question. It didn't take very long for Joel to straddle you, pinning you against the mattress as he took in all of you. You were beautiful, gorgeous, you were his. At least that was what he wanted to tell himself, but it didn't matter the future, not then, because at that very moment you belonged to him and only him. You lay under Joel, your breathing accelerating as you didn't know exactly what to do or what to expect, crashing your lips together, you tugged at his hair - you loved Joel's hair so much - and felt his rough hands running even more freely through your body. One knee on each side of you, preventing you from moving as he stared down at you, your body being the most beautiful piece of art he'd ever laid eyes on. Joel Miller was a man sinking deep further into his passions and he couldn't even hide it or pretend it otherwise. His mouth went for your neck, then down your collarbone, your breasts, so beautiful and tempting as they'd always been, time he'd been so kind to you, and now he appreciated it. He kissed your breasts gently at first, getting to your nipples, they were always so hard and sensitive and it was all for him. Lips wrapping around them, his tongue flicking then gently as you tugged even harder and pulled his curls gently. The way Joel made you feel was always something else, it was so stupid to try to fight that, at least while you were pinned down by his strong, sexy body. When he finally let go of your breasts, he kept moving his tortuous path south down you. His lips were dancing over your stomach, he loved that part of you and had lost track of how many times he'd daydreamed about your figure looking round while you carried his baby Miller inside. He enjoyed picturing it, another life coming out of you, a baby that would be half you and half him, that would bring Sarah the title of ‘big sister’ and seal the happy ending of your story in which you would become Mrs.Miller once more, for real and above all for the rest of your lives. Deep down he knew that wouldn't go further than a simple fantasy, something to lose himself in before falling asleep before bed every night, and yet, it always brought him such joy, comfort and affection within his body, and at that moment, when he was kissing your womb, his hands holding you legs spread as he took his time in kissing and nibbling your lower stomach, he closed his eyes and made that irrational wish, practically, that wouldn't do, not in real life, not with your history weighing heavily on the two of you, nor with your life styles that were so different from each other's. He worked too much, Sarah was already growing into a teenager, you were inexperienced at that matter at the same time he was getting older and was certain that having to watch a baby and later on a toddler would absolutely kill his back. But if it was so impractical, it should be so sweet at the same time. It would be a lot easier for him to keep those stupid thoughts out of his mind. When Joel got closer to your core, you wanted to tell him to stop, to remind him that you didn't use protection at all and you'd been missing up the pills, warn him there was maybe some probability of you both making that situation even more of a mess than it already was, but the words died out in your mouth, the moment Joel's eyes matched yours, the pool of brown warmth making your heart skip a beat at the same time he parted your legs, giving your inner thighs each a love bite, and your breathing accelerating once more in the anticipation of what was about to happen.

“Relax, baby girl” he purred against your skin, he was so close to your core you could feel his breath fanning your sensitive area, his hands gripping the outside of your legs in a way it was clear he was claiming his power over you. You were about to be devoured by a hungry man and at that, your heart raced like no other, just as Joel reached you.

His lips ghosted over your slit, loving how shaky and sensitive you were at that moment, head shoved between your legs he took his hands into action, using them to spread your lips wide and groaned in approval of how sexy that view was. Ever since you married Joel, being intimate with your husband was something normal and natural, expected even, and whereas you weren't a prude by any means, the way Joel touched you or how filthy that mouth could be always made you go red from head to toes, especially when he simply stopped at stared at your body like that.

“Fuck baby, you still got the same pretty pussy I remember, it's the best one I've ever seen, you taste so fucking good, this sweet clit of yours had always made my mouth water” he teased as you could barely hear his voice through the adrenaline making all that blood pumped so loud into your ear. He spread your pussy lips open, his cock was already twitching to see your cunt twitching for him. The way your clit twitched in anticipation and your hole clenched at the air, how your wetness simply pooled in your entrance and it was all for Joel, because of Joel and he wasn't going to waste another minute before having you. You closed your eyes the moment he kissed your clit, kissing it as he would with your lips, all you could do was whimper and once more grip your hands into his hair pulling his head against your pussy, wanting more and more. At your touch, Joel stopped playing around, he simply sank his face into you, devouring you, licking, suckling and flicking your sensitive clit, lapping at your juices so hungrily, like a madman having his favorite meal. Joel's hands were large and his fingers were thick, so the moment he inserted two digits inside, you were already filled with him, the way he ate your pussy and fingered you, the knot forming down your lower belly, you barely had time to warn him, but it wasn't necessary, Joel knew your body well enough to know you were cumming, getting so nice and ready for him he continued, until you exploded into an intense and long orgasm, in which he tried to make it last for you as much as he could.

After your bliss, it didn't take very long for him to slip inside, now that you were all wet and stretched for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist and closed your eyes in pleasure. Your nails scratching down his broad back, his skin warm and sweaty on top of you. You wanted more of him, at that moment that was you favorite place in the world, primal, obscene, his grunts into your ear as he fucked you like he would any whore. At that moment you couldn't hold back your desires, your lustful thoughts took the best of you. If Joel asked you to be his personal cum dumpster, you would say yes. And at that realization, he came inside, once more, just like he did the night before and you loved it.

Suddenly the exhaustion took over you, your body and your thoughts and it seemed like an impossible task to keep your eyes open.

“Sleep, baby girl, relax” Joel whispered against your ear once more, pulling you closer, the two of you appreciating the lovely bliss you shared after your orgasms. It felt right, even if it shouldn't.

•••

When Joel woke up that morning for the second time with you tangled in his arms, he smiled at himself, wondering how lucky a motherfucker like himself could actually be. The past hours replayed in his mind, over and over, and he still didn't believe they were true, simply because they were too good to be true in the first place, still the reminders of how true it all had been were there: the pink fading lines you left all over his skin were still apparent, your clothes scattered around the bedroom floor, the way your hair invaded his pillow and now you smell lingered all over his bedsheets. It was real, and he couldn't be happier. Watching as you exhaustively slept, he dragged himself out of bed, not really wanting to leave but knowing he needed to start his day somehow. So he just planted a soft kiss on your forehead and headed to shower before going downstairs, as he needed to get breakfast ready for his girl.

You on the other hand, slept without even noticing you, being so exhausted after another steamy session with Joel; when you woke up nearly an hour later, you felt his side of the bed empty and for a split second you sighed disappointed at the impression it'd been just a dream, which only lasted until you could feel that bittersweet soreness between your legs, the mess Joel's room was in and how sticky you were with sweat and some of your juices mixed up together. You bit your lips and giggled, you thought you'd wake up full of regret, feeling guilty and upset about what happened, but turns out you felt great, perhaps, all you needed to decrease that upsetting feeling of melancholy you often grew inside was a good fuck provided by the best man you'd ever tried.

You yawned big and stretched, getting up and feeling that familiar sting between your legs, a reminder of Joel's virility and size. As you weren't sure what to do or where Joel could be, or even worse: if Sarah was home at all, you decided to be as silent as possible, your wish was just getting dressed and going downstairs, but the moment you saw your reflection in the mirror you knew you had to shower. It didn't take too long to find Joel's bathroom, you got yourself under the shower stream, groaning at how your muscles relaxed under it, the way the knots on your hair seemed to undo themselves. You chuckled while soaping your body in Joel's soap, shampooing your hair with his shampoo, smelling entirely like him, as if he'd marked you like an animal would. Perhaps you shouldn't enjoy this obscene thought as much as you did, but at that point that ship had sailed and you couldn't care less about it. Stepping outside the shower, you dried yourself and went through Joel's drawers just enough to find something comfortable to wear - one of his boxers and an old shirt.

“Joel?!” You called him at the top of the stairs, hoping you two were still alone there, as you really didn't want to risk being seen in those - lack of - clothes by Tommy or god forbid, Sarah.

“In here” Joel replied, his voice coming from the kitchen and as soon as you got downstairs you were hit by the delicious smell of coffee, and just as your stomach growled in hunger you realized you couldn't even remember your last meal.

You followed the delicious smell and smiled when you saw him flipping a bunch of pancakes, frowning softly at the image, it was so odd to see Joel being so domestic, cooking breakfast when in reality, you were the one who usually got to do all the cooking and chores, not to mention the choice of menu for the breakfast.

“You don't like pancakes!” you said surprised as you approached the stove to confirm if you weren't seeing things, being surprised by the way Joel wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, greeting you with a peck on the lips, which you didn't expect but you couldn't complain either.

“I don't, but you do, and you deserve it, baby girl” he stroked your sides as he kept flipping pancakes with his free hand like a damn pro. You could only imagine how many times he had to step in and make his daughter pancakes until he got that skilled at that. You looked at him and as if he'd read your mind, he pecked your forehead this time

“Sarah is at her friend's which means she's only coming in the afternoon, you can hang out, maybe we can grab lunch together and then I'll drive you home, fix your door and all..” he said and stared lovingly at you “if you wanna go, otherwise you can stay here” he winked and made you chuckle.

“Joel, about us, about what happened-”

“Don't do that now, darling, let's not upset ourselves, let's have breakfast together and we can talk about it later”

You could tell Joel was postponing the subject, it was simply inevitable to talk about your future together or lack of it, due to your history, what happened between the two of you should be addressed, and even if you had been as willing as he was, it was a fact you weren't so easy to convince that perhaps being together was a good idea. However, he was also right: you could discuss things later, because at that moment you just wanted to have breakfast with Joel; damage had already been done, so what if you two continued to act the way you were? If anything, if you two parted ways, you would simply still have a nice time to cherish, to balance the ups and downs of your relationship together.

You two walked to the table, Joel placed the pancakes down and got comfortable on the chair, taken by surprise as you simply sat on his lap, instead of taking the seat next to him. You looked at him with a grin and stole a peck from his lips

“What?! You said we should have breakfast first” you giggled and started eating, at the same time his arm wrapped around your frame and he pulled you even closer. You couldn't really complain about that breakfast, it was the best you've ever had in so long, and it had nothing to do with pancakes.

•••

During daylight it was possible to see the damage the thieves left in your home; not only did they steal valuable things, but they also left a trail of mess and dirt through the floors, making you feel so angry at the shit hole they'd left your house. As soon as you got off Joel's truck, you could see cleaning, fixing and buying things again would take a long time, and even if you had the best contractor around town next to you, you still had to do chores. He placed his hands on his waist, furrowing his brows while he scanned the room, thinking of what he should do. You quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, grabbing a mop and a bucket and began cleaning up everything you had to, you reminded Joel he could make himself at home and grab drinks or snacks, since it was the least you could do after he'd been so kind to help you - and fuck you raw morning and night.

Once you'd finished your chores and showered quickly to get rid of the sweat, you went downstairs, looking for Joel. He had fixed a few things here and there, things you hadn't even noticed, but the moment you walked down the stairs, he was fixing your door.

And you were not prepared for that sight, at all.

Not with how Joel's shirt was clinging tight to his body, damp with sweat, the way his jeans looked so good around his thighs and his butt, or how he flexed his biceps unconsciously while he forced the warped wood forwards, the soft grunt he let out and how his huge hand wiped the forehead off his forehead was enough to set your core on fire. You stood there, at the bottom of the stairs, gripping the handrail and wondering when you'd become that thirsty for a man. Even when you had relationships after your divorce, you couldn't remember being that easily turned on, but at that moment, a mere display of Joel's roughness was enough to pool your wetness on your panties. He was just so mainly, so strong, something primal and intense about that man's body, he was different from any man you'd met, and the years only added to it, you were so tired of fighting your urges and feelings. Yes, Joel had been the worst husband a woman could've asked for, but just because you wanted to crazily ride on his cock, it didn't mean you would have to marry him again, definitely not. Joel wasn't a good husband, but he was a damn fine lover.

“I didn't see you there” you jumped at Joel's voice, distracted by it as he snapped you out of your lustful thoughts, nodding at him and smiling nervously. He cleared his throat “I'm guessing you want to talk, don't you?” There was a slight hint of disappointment in his voice and you thought for a while

“Yeah, we need to talk, just… take a seat, I'll get you some water” you pointed at your couch and disappeared into the kitchen, finding Joel standing still when you returned with a fresh bottle of water for him. He hadn't moved, something inside of him telling him not to, some kind of superstition, that maybe if he sat down he would go back to the poor reality of his life, a life without you, your touch, your caress. As long as he stood up, he could always find something to do around your home and then spend a little longer by your side. He took the bottle with a nod in gratitude and took a big sip of it, at the same time it seemed you were watching an erotic movie just by the way your body reacted to the image of his neck, the way his veins pumped as he swallowed his water, showing his thirst, and to think just a few hours before he was eating your pussy with the same ferocity, made you press your thighs together. You needed that man, and you were going to have him, no matter what. To hell with needing to have a serious chat, to move on with your life and not forgetting the past, you needed him carnally. Joel finished his water and finally walked to your couch, taking a seat and spreading his legs, just like he often did to find a comfortable position. You hated when men did that, taking up space and being rude, but not Joel, the way he did it was hot, it reminded you of how big he was, his long legs, big, strong thighs, so perfect to ride, and his frowny face, you could tell he was worried, probably thinking you would just thank him for the help, tell him what happened between the two of you couldn't happen again and ask him to leave. Hiding the heartbreak under his mean face, little did he know that conversation would have to be postponed, because your mouth was about to be too busy to talk.

“You want to talk, right?” He asked, nervously running his hands through his jeans, watching as you took another step closer and nodded.

“Yeah, but we can't talk right now… I'd rather use my mouth for something else” you winked at him, falling onto his knees and began caressing his thighs over his rough jean, smirking at his surprised face, hands fiddling his pants as you opened his fly and bit your lips

“I need your cock now, Joel, I need you in my mouth”

He was taken aback by your sudden change of behavior, he'd sat down expecting to be told to leave, but now he had you on your knees begging for his cock and that was something he couldn't deny. His left hand gripped your hair, tilting your head up a little, while his right hand stroked your cheek gently, his thumb ghosted over your lips, tracing an invisible path on it as he nodded. Suddenly, roles were reversed: he wasn't waiting for you to stop and decide what he should do, instead, he was in charge and he was about to make you choke on his cock.

“So pretty, baby girl…” Joel's voice wasn't much more than a whisper “you want my cock, don't you? Just like a filthy little slut, you wanna choke on it? Want my cum down your pretty throat?”

All you could was nod at his filthy words, Joel's mouth could drive any woman inside without any physical touch, just his dirty choice of words was enough to cause a turmoil of feelings and increase the pool in your panties. He lifted his hips and pulled his pants down, freeing his cock, already hard and held it by the base, while you licked your lips. You could see his tip glistening and closing your eyes as Joel rubbed his tip against your lips, before you opened it and took his cock into your mouth. Joel threw his head back and groaned in pleasure, he could feel his balls quivering while both hands flew to your hair, gripping it as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft, your hand squeezing and stroking his cock up and down where you couldn't reach his length. You'd always loved Joel's groans, the way he sounded so voracious, you clenched your thighs together, trying to give your throbbing clit some sort of relief. He guided you through his blowjob, he hadn't gotten a good one like that in years; of course he'd had his affairs, nightstands and such, but no mouth in the world compared to yours at all. He praised you, reminded you were his favorite cock slut and he wouldn't have any other than you.

You could feel by the way he clenched in your mouth his release was close, he was about to unload and you wanted to swallow all of him. So you continued, even when Joel tried to lift your head gently and warn you, you didn't need any warnings, you simply continued blowing him until he was cumming into your mouth. He reached his orgasm with another grunt, at the same time you worked your magic and swallowed every single drop of him. The way his cock pulsed inside of your mouth, how his breathing got rapid, his chest raising up and down at a fast pace, it was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen. Joel Miller was a strong, manly man, and you loved it.

He finally rested his eyes on you, his hell and heaven on earth, and he just needed more of you, convinced that whatever he had of you just wasn't enough. He helped you up, then pulled you to his lap, making you squeak in surprise as you landed right on top of him. You rested your forehead against his, while he pressed your body closer, never wanting to let go. He pulled you for a kiss, your lips tasting like him, sent Joel another wave of lust and need; he kissed your neck, his hands fiddling with your clothes, getting rid of them as he wanted you bare for him, your body on his, naked; he wanted to take you inside your house, not just some dirty, rushed secret locked in his room, but instead, claim you in any room of your home, if you ever wanted to break with him and decide he shouldn't be part of your life any longer, then at least he would leave his mark knowing each time you walked into any room, you would think of him, reminded of the time Joel fucked you and emptied himself inside of your tight juicy cunt.

“Come on, darling, ride my cock” his rough voice commanded you at the exact time Joel's hand pulled your shorts and your panties down. He went for your ass, massaging it, squeezing your cheeks and slapping it a couple of times, seeing it wiggle softly

“You're so fucking hot, you know that, sugar? Only you can make my cock throb the way you do” he praised you. His fingers traveled to your cunt, caressing it for the second time that day, making you spread your legs as wide as you could over him. He stroked your clit, feeling your arousal pooled in your entrance, it was intoxicating to him, he needed you every single day for the rest of his life. He gripped your hips, helping you lift yourself up and as held his cock in place and sank down onto it.

“Just like that, gorgeous, take that cock baby girl” he praised you.

You spent the rest of your afternoon riding Joel on your couch, not giving a single shit if any of the neighbors could see it through the curtains or the mere fact Joel had given you the worst heartbreak of your life; you needed him as much as he needed you, and it seemed neither of you could let go.

•••

The following days went by exactly the same way they usually did: you either worked from home or you went to the office a few times a week, you went grocery shopping, led a quiet, normal life, received Sarah's visits almost daily with the exception you were also seeing her dad without her having any idea. In fact, no one apart from you and Joel knew what was going on, and neither of you had any intention of changing that. Being completely honest, you should have broken things up with Joel the morning after, but each time you decided to do so, you simply couldn't get it done, the mere thought of standing in front of Joel and asking him to stay away from you was devastating, even if you turned to your memories of the day you found out Joel was in love with Angela and didn't want to be with you any longer couldn't help you. Of course they were as painful as if they were fresh, but at the same time it also felt like it happened between two completely different people rather than you and Joel. It was so difficult to process that Joel and your current Joel were the same, because deep down your heart claimed they weren't; the Joel you were constantly hooking up with was a hardworking, a great father, he was caring, sweet, he was passionate and he treated you as if you were the best thing he'd ever seen in the whole world. He'd become a closed man to relationships due to the guilt he felt for treating you the way he did and the abandonment he suffered from Angela. As much as that sounded twisted, the fact you were both abandoned by people you loved, also brought you closer, especially because he got to know exactly how you felt, which increased his guilt. It was terrible, but he was aware he was probably going to carry that for the rest of his life; even if he watched you smile and laugh, or if you wrapped your arms around him, underneath the joy and excitement he felt within, there would always be a tad of guilt just like a bitter taste in his mouth, reminding him of his coward attitude and how much better than him you truly were. As you had told Joel while you still hadn't crossed the line of how far your relationship should go, the problem wasn't the fact he fell in love with Angela, that could've happened to anyone, even if the sting of rejection hurt, being tricked and lied to was way worse than that. Even if it was hard to recover from the pain - if you had even recovered at all, after all, more than a decade went by without you being able to have a commitment to anyone, unable to stay in a relationship for more than other a few months, - you could only imagine Joel's experience was even worse; not only his relationship with Angela ended, but she also cut her ties with her own baby daughter. The disappointment he felt to realize his daughter would have to grow up without her mom, the paralyzing fear of being on his own to raise a baby, must've been intense. And even if some people could actually laugh at how funny life can be and swear there was still some kind of divine justice lurking around and he was simply paying for everything he'd done to you, you couldn't find the amusement in that situation, it was so sad, you could only feel pity. It seemed to you the years had turned Joel into a silent companion of pain, and not so much into the villain you'd projected onto him.

And all that was only the rational side of the story, because if you left it all to your feelings and desires, you wouldn't be able to leave his bed. Perhaps you were both feeling an overloaded amount of everything you had repressed for each other over the years; being able to externalize it was addictive, at first it was thought to be an inch you both needed to scratch, but soon enough it became obvious it was way more than that, which caused you to fall into his arms whenever you tried to make things easier for the two of you and simply let this condemned relationship go.

As you closed your laptop and watched Sarah's brows furrowing at the paper in front of her, in a mixture of focused and cranky for not being able to solve another math problem easily, she reminded you of Joel and how he would get the same way and have the same expression whenever he got frustrated with something not going according planned. You gently placed your hand on top of hers and offered her a reassuring smile, Sarah had had her nails done by you earlier, proud to see how pretty the sparkly color got on contracts with her skin. She was such a beautiful girl and you enjoyed being able to help her discover that, by introducing simple things like that, which meant the world to her, since she didn't have a mom around, it was nice doing stuff like that with someone experienced who could give her advice on school, friends and boys. She really appreciated it and if it were for Sarah, she would find a way to set you up with her dad and become one small family.

“you should have a break, you've been stuck in this question for a long time, try again later” you advised her and even if she sighed in a gruff way, - again, so Joel Miller coded - she nodded, closing her notebook and checking up her nails discreetly, which brought a warmth into your heart.

“So…” you started, hoping you would sound convincing enough and not raise any kind of suspicions from her, after all, that girl was smart “...you told me your dad is coming to pick you up, right? When he does, invite him inside so you guys can have dinner with me” you suggested, even if you and Joel had already agreed on it. You hadn't been able to see each other in a few days let alone touch each other, which was actually what you both really wanted, so all the options you got were texting like a bunch of horny teenagers. Now, sending nudes to a guy was something you would strongly disagree several months ago, but now? Each time your phone buzzed, you rushed to it, in hopes to get yet another picture of Joel's big hand holding his cock by its base, so you could lock yourself in any room and pull down your bra and panties, exactly the way he liked it. So spending some time around Joel even if you both had to play it cool was better than nothing. Sarah agreed but still felt a little puzzled at your suggestion.

“Alright… but why? You're regretting saying no when I tried to set you up?” She chuckled and you rolled your eyes, hoping you weren't so obvious. You moved to the kitchen and invited her to come along, so she could help you with dinner. You opened the fridge and had your back to Sarah, while you picked the meat and the vegetables.

“No, it's just that your dad was so nice to me, he fixed my front door after the break in, it would be a nice way to repay” you said “why do you even say that?”

“I think dad has a girlfriend or something…” she shrugged and you stopped, looking at her and trying to control the shock over your face.

“Y-yeah? And how do you know it?”

“Well, dad's different now, he seems happier, more cheerful, he's very often texting on his phone…”

“And what do you think of that?”

“It's nice, I guess” Sarah licked her lips “dad deserves to be happy, he's been lonely for a long time, ever since my mom left…” she said “but uncle Tommy says dad was sad before that, apparently there was another girl before mom, it didn't work between them or dad made her go away, I don't know why, but uncle Tommy told me once that even when he was with my mom, he couldn't forget about her an-”

“What happened then?” Only after you said it you realized you interrupted Sarah and sounded a little crazy, she didn't understand why you were so into that story after all, but seeing how eager you were to hear the ending of it, she continued.

“Well, according to uncle Tommy dad never forgot that girl, but she was way out of his league by the time my mom had left, so my dad sort of gave up dating” she shrugged “then my dad got home and interrupted uncle Tommy when he was about to tell me the full story, and he never spoke about it since” she replied with a simple shrug and pointed at the meat you were about to roast

“Hey, that's my dad's favorite!” She said amused at the coincidence of menus which you knew damn well that wasn't a coincidence, but your treat to Joel. As you kept cooking with Sarah's help, you also thought about the story she'd told you, too many things happening at once: finding out Joel had never forgotten you while his daughter was sure he had a mysterious girlfriend, which of course, was also you.

During dinner, you tried your best to forget about all of that, the way Joel and Sarah fit so well in that scene, the three of you at the table, eating and sharing how your days had been seemed like a beautiful painting of a perfect little family. A portrait of what things could've been like, or should have been like, and you enjoyed it, you couldn't deny it at all. Your gaze met Joel's and you shared a smile, silently agreeing you were spending a family time; you wondered if some day that would actually happen and if you would indeed be a family with Joel, sometimes you thought you would like it, and sometimes you would brush it off as some momentary lapse. But when he reached for your hand under the table and held it, caressing your knuckles with his thumb, your heart raced one more time and you couldn't help but allow yourself to picture a life by his and Sarah's side.

When you were all finished, Joel gladly dismissed his daughter from having to help with the dishes and the moment you two noticed she was fairly entertained with the new books you'd bought, he stole a kiss from you. It was quick but sweet and as much as it left you all giggly and blushing, it wasn't enough. Your need for Joel was overpowering, it was addictive, and you needed to touch him. Nothing would happen between the two of you while Sarah stood just a few feet away, Joel would never risk being caught that way, he respected his daughter too much, but he would kill to have his hands all over your body. He thought of asking you on a escapade with him, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea, not with Sarah being a little suspicious of how friendly you were acting towards each other. He wondered if he could actually call you his girlfriend, if he could admit he was dating you, because that's what it felt like, but then, if you both came clean about the situation, it would get complicated, not only for him because of Sarah, but he was well aware you would be in a tricky situation with your family, since he knew for a fact your parents hated him, - with plenty reasons to do so - eventually, you would two would have to have the talk. Now, Joel didn't fear not being with you any longer, he knew that wouldn't happen, you were as attached to him as he was to you, but eventually, you would have to define that situation. He knew he could be cold and distant, but it was so damn hard for him to hide his passion, the way he leaned against the doorframe and watched as you carefully put the dishes away, looking every bit of sexy as you could be, not that young and naive little wife he kept at home before he screwed things up, but instead, the powerful, beautiful woman you grew to be.

Sarah was incredibly smart, but she was also naive at some level, which caused her to be oblivious to the fact you called Joel into the backyard at some point, asking him to check something up you wanted it fixed, only to pull him closer and kiss him deeply, gripping his body, wanting him to engulf you like he always did, your nails gently scratching down his back while his lips ravished yours.

“I want to spend the night with you so bad, baby girl” he whispered against your lips “you're so good to me, you treat Sarah like a princess, you cooked us my favorite meal, all I want is to show my gratitude by getting lost between these beautiful thighs” he teased and for a split second you felt like telling him to stay the night, to come clean and tell Sarah you were dating, dating as if you two were pretty much a decade younger and so eager to be in each other's arms, but it couldn't happen that way, not like that, and not at that moment. You nibbled his bottom lip a couple of times before letting go, your body tingled for him, aching for his touch and as he told you he would call Sarah to go home, you felt unannounced tears flooding your eyes for no reason. Why did things have to be so complicated, why Joel couldn't have been this good from the beginning? You could've lived more than a decade of happiness together, if it weren't for that.

As they said their goodbyes, you watched Joel's truck disappear from your eyesight, a pang in your chest insisting on saying it was your family leaving while you played too hard to get.

•••

You had never seen Sarah smile that wide as she did while you two walked around the mall; side by side, a bunch of bags in hands as you spent such a simple, and yet incredible quality time together. For her, it was like hanging out with the mom she never had, and you felt as if you were shopping around for the daughter you could never conceive. It didn't matter where you were going, which stores you were checking and not even exactly what you were buying, just the fact you were doing that together felt incredibly special. It all began when Sarah complained about not having what to wear to the Harry Styles concert in the upcoming week; after months of begging her dad and uncle Tommy, she was given a ticket to the presentation she'd been dreaming of watching, under the condition she wasn't going to drag her dad along. Joel was an amazing dad, and he would do almost about anything for her, but standing in line for hours and then having to watch that guy performing while an entire stadium of hysterical teenage girls would be screaming at the top of their lungs which would probably cause Joel to go deaf in his good ear was a hard pass, that he wouldn't do. In fact, he would. The moment she gave him her puppy eyes and asked him to take her, he would do it, even if he tried tricking himself, however, luck seemed to be standing by his side, as Tommy happened to start dating this chick who was also obsessed with that Harry guy and when she got herself and Tommy a ticket, Sarah was all set. And so was Joel, because without anyone knowing, he managed to get a free night with you. And in the blink of an eye, you and Joel seemed way more excited for the Harry Styles concert than Sarah.

So when she complained she didn't actually have anything nice to wear, you thought of doing that for her, it would be fun, a change of just staying inside reading books, you could spend some girl time together and while you were out with her, you could really watch Sarah, the way she behaved, how she talked and acted, it reminded you so much of Joel, you wondered if she'd taken anything from Angela at all, deep inside, you wish she didn't, even if it was a petty thing to do. The idea of Sarah being similar only to her dad was nothing but comforting and sweet to you, it was the easiest way to see the evolution he went through, unfortunately, he had to learn how to be a better person through the pain, but he had succeeded and that was what it really mattered. You didn't really care if you'd spent a lot on Sarah, you had the money after all, and she deserved it. She was happy, talking excitedly about several things, to the point she barely noticed when Joel walked towards the two of you. He had his jacket on, hair a little messy from the wind as he grinned shyly at the sight of you, his heart skipping a beat as it felt to him he was meeting his daughter and wife at the mall.

Sarah frowned, amused to see her dad, walking towards him, she hugged him, which surprised Joel a little, not expecting that gesture at that very moment.

“What are you doing here, dad?” She asked curiously as Joel greeted you by giving you a peck on the cheek, trying so hard not to seem he was practically drooling over you.

“Tommy needed to buy his girlfriend whatever and asked me for a ride, so while he disappeared into the crowd I was trying to find him” he explained and stared at you “you girls are having fun, I see?” He raised his eyebrow and Sarah eagerly nodded, lifting her bags a little and showing him everything you'd bought her. He was so thankful for everything you were doing for his daughter, especially because he was sure you did it out of kindness and the fact you care about her. You watched their interaction and bit your lips in anticipation, you felt a sudden urge to kiss Joel in front of everyone and walk around the mall holding hands with him, you had never discussed that before, but the thought of it made your heart race. Sarah exchanged a few words with her dad before her eyes went wide as she spotted one of her best friends a couple of stores ahead and smiled big

“Dad, can I go show Nat the things I got? Please?! I'll be right back!” She asked with her sweet eyes and Joel agreed, telling her you two would be around as he intended to keep you company. As you walked towards another store with Joel following you, Sarah soon got entertained with her friend in an ice cream booth nearby. You both chuckled at the scene and he quickly placed his hand on the small of your back.

“Is Tommy really shopping around for his girlfriend or were you just stalking us?” You teased Joel, entering the lingerie store, earning a gasp from him before he could actually answer your question.

“Don't even think about it, Miller, I'm here just to buy some sports bra to go to the gym and nothing more” you added but the mischievous look in his eyes was extremely well-known.

“That's a shame, because this one would look so good on you” he pointed at a lilac lacey pair of underwear, his mouth watering at how beautiful you would certainly get in it, and how stripping you out of all that lace would feel like unwrapping a Christmas gift. You frowned at him, reminding him you were just there to buy a couple of things and leave, in fact, you shouldn't have even let Joel get inside the store with you, it wouldn't be appropriate and how would he explain to Sarah what the hell he was doing there in the first place. Joel, on the other hand, was pretty much entertained by all the beautiful colors and shapes the tiny pieces of fabric came with; he could picture every inch of your body in them, trying to guess which ones would look better. He knew all of them would be just perfect, but he was a guy who was simply drawn to the traditional good old red lacey; it was gorgeous, and it would be a nice gift for the two of you. As he looked around to find you and show you what he'd decided to treat you to, you were nowhere to be seen; the sales clerk already busy with the new customers walking into the store, he decided to wander after you. He was thankful no one seemed to mind nor notice him there, too worried to be seen as a creep, but determined to find you nonetheless; as he got to the fitting room area, he quickly called your name.

“What now, Joel?!” You immediately replied from the one in the corner, slightly annoyed at the fact he'd followed you there, sometimes Joel was a little like a stray puppy, coming after you with those big sad brown eyes, and even if you wanted to shop for freaking sports bras on your own, you couldn't help but enjoy the fact he was just so needy of you.

When Joel opened the door and got inside, you even tried to argue and ask him what the heck he was doing there, but instead, he smirked, gripping your sides and kissing you as a way to keep you silent. You wanted to push him away and tell him to fuck off, but the rushing adrenaline you felt through your veins made you feel alive, and as always, Joel's touch set you on fire. He broke the kiss dragging his lips over to your neck and then your collarbone, his hands climbing up your sides and going to your breasts, squeezing them softly

“This sports bra ain't bad, but I'd say a work of art like your body should have more lace, or glitter or whatever shit you like” he said in a grunt and lowered your top, even against your protests that weren't much more than just some whimpers that couldn't convince you, let alone Joel. You could feel his beard scratching down your chest and going straight to your breasts, lips wrapping around your nipples as he suckled on it gently at first, flicking it with his tongue before moving to your other breast and working the same magic. Your heart raced to the point you could feel your blood rushing through your ears, the fact you both could be caught at any moment and kicked out of the store, or even worse: be arrested for public indecency, added a hint of fear to the traditional lust you had for Joel; that man would be the dead of you, that much you were sure of.

“We can't Joel…” you mumbled against his curls, his head on your chest as his fingers found their way down your belly, getting so close to your sweet spot, he was so needy of you, wanting all of you to the point it felt he would go crazy. His digits toyed with the hem of your panties, while you pulled his curls a little, making him groan.

“Sorry honey” you whispered and kissed this temple, which made him smile. Joel was about to finger you in a fitting room in the middle of a store and you were so sweet to him, it made his heart ache a little, at the realization he definitely didn't deserve you. He kissed you once more and nibbled your lower lips the moment his fingers reached your core, spreading your lips apart and finding your needy clit, already so hard and wet, just for him to enjoy. He wasn't going to tease you, you both didn't have time for it, so instead, he played with your wetness, before shoving his fingers inside of you, stretching you up the way you both knew and enjoyed it, he thumbed with your clit before focusing all his ministrations into your tight cunt, feeling your muscles squeezing and clenching around him. He'd kill to have his cock inside of you instead of his fingers, but that would have to wait. He felt your teeth on his shoulder, while your pussy gushed at the same time you came for him. He felt your body going limp, sustaining your weight with his free hand

“Taste yourself, princess” he whispered against your ear and held his fingers up, waiting for you to wrap your devilish lips around them and lick them clean. Joel felt the urge to take you right there and then, but he was a patient man and knew things would have to wait. He kissed your lips goodbye and exited the fitting room after making sure no one was around to see him.

The sales clerk was a little confused when she saw Joel walking towards the register with a blood red pair of lacey lingerie, she couldn't remember seeing him walk into the store and let alone hang around, but the work policy forced her to smile at him and be helpful, especially when he got his wallet out and extended his credit card.

“I'd like you to gift wrap this and give it to the beautiful lady who's trying sports bra in the fitting room, tell her it's my treat” he winked at the woman, aware he could use his charms in his own favor. She agreed to his request and he left the store just like any other ordinary customer, at the same time you received the package as a present the moment you tried paying for your stuff.

•••

After waiting what it seemed like forever, the Harry Styles concert was about to happen, which caused Joel to have a break from his brother, his girlfriend Maria and Sarah, who insisted they all spend hours waiting in line. His heart was full of joy and pride to see how happy his precious daughter was, the way she could barely sleep at night and that guy was the only thing she ever talked about. It was amusing to him, even if he ran out of patience from time to time, it was amazing to see his little girl looking like a beautiful young woman in her new outfit bursting with happiness. Joel couldn't also complain about the fact he managed to enjoy a full day by himself and get ready to receive you through the night. He'd gone grocery shopping, buying all the kinds of treats he knew you loved - or used to, as people could often change their personal taste over the years, but instead of seeing that with sadness, he felt glad to be able to learn something new about the woman he was madly in love with. He was going to go for some beer, but Joel thought again and decided to pick some wine, he just thought you were more of a wine kind of woman, more elegant than just cheap beer.

What you both hadn't counted on, was how hot the weather was, even if the sun had set down, it was still uncomfortable to remain inside, which made Joel suggest you both should move your date night to the swimming pool. At first you thought he was joking, but the stern look on his face told you he was being completely serious, and you thought it was a nice change. The way Joel took the bottle of wine, the glasses and simply began undressing without a word made you puzzled, until he turned around and told you to take off your clothes as well.

One skinny-dipping adventure and a quicky in his pool later, you both took sips of your wine, as you pressed yourself against him; Joel's arms were tight around your body as you rested your head on his chest, kissing it gently, and listening to his heartbeats, it was scary how out of the sudden, his arms became your favorite place in the world. You were far too deep into this story, and there was no way out without getting hurt, but that wasn't the time to think of that, you didn't want to have those kinds of thoughts, you wanted to spend your time with Joel and get lost into him, just as he was into you.

“Sarah told me you have a girlfriend” you blurted out, making Joel raise his eyebrow at you and looking down at you

“What?!”

“Well, she said you seemed happier lately, always texting someone, sneaking out here and there…” you chuckled “I wonder who that bitch is” Joel laughed at your comment, his hand sliding down your back and resting on your ass, squeezing it and then pecking your lips.

“She ain't no bitch, I can assure you that much” he said gently and nuzzled your neck “she's gorgeous, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me, well, after Sarah, of course, but still, and she was so kind to forgive me after everything I've done” his lips were back on your cheek and then on your lips “and I love her very much”

For a moment your whole world stopped. Joel loved you. He admitted it out loud, it wasn't just a matter of simple assumptions, but rather a concrete, explicit feeling. You opened your mouth looking at him hesitantly, what exactly should you say? What could you tell Joel? Did you love him back? If so, were you ready to admit it and face the consequences of getting back together with the man who caused the biggest emotional trauma of your life. Joel took his hands off your body and looked at you with a hint of disappointment, even if he didn't want to admit it, he was disappointed, he thought you shared the same feeling as he did, so he sighed and nodded.

“It's fine, you don't have to say it back…” he cleared his throat and swam to the ladder of the pool “it's getting a little chilly, I think we should get inside”

•••

A few days later, your conversation with Joel simply wouldn't leave your mind; you were in love with him, it was impossible for anyone not to notice, him included, and yet, you didn't understand why it was so hard for you to simply admit it. Perhaps, if you did it, then it would become real, and your relationship with him would stop being a fun, little secret shared by the two of you, but rather a concrete relationship between two adults, where you'd eventually have to come clean and open up to family, friends, you would celebrate birthdays and holidays, anniversaries and face several, typical questions coming from all sides, wondering if you would both remarry or have kids. It was overwhelming, but not as bad as how you were feeling at that moment. You felt guilty and embarrassed, and the paranoid side of you was convinced Joel had been avoiding you for the past week, whereas Sarah was at your place nearly everyday, still talking about Harry Styles and showing you countless pictures of the concert, he wouldn't text much nor insist to see you, even when you suggested him to sneak out late at night and go to yours, he politely declined by saying Tommy and him got a new big client and work was rushed and soul crushing. Of course he could be telling you the truth, he did sound exhausted on the phone and Sarah had mentioned Joel and Tommy had been arriving late most days, both of them covered in sweat and in such a bad mood due to the unbelievable amount of work they were having. Yet, what should make you feel calm and at ease, didn't help one bit, it was uncomfortable and depressing not having Joel around, you missed him, his touch, his body but mostly his presence. He'd been a constant in your life for the past months, and it was only taking a week for you to feel abandoned. It wasn't fair to you, and yet, it wasn't fair to him either, not when he declared his love for you and you couldn't even say it back. You placed your living room, not sure whether you should drive to his home or not, in fact, you knew you shouldn't, but you wanted to, because that particular day, not even Sarah showed up, and it made you sad. You were so attached to the little family destiny set apart for you, simply a day or two away from them was enough to cause a large wound in your heart. You looked around, looking for an excuse to show up at the Miller's household; until your eyes widened and you grinned to see Sarah's history book lying around your coffee table. It was the perfect excuse to go and see them! Perhaps you could even end up having dinner with them, and then make up an excuse about a flat tire or whatever, have Joel giving you a ride home and end up being railed by him in the back of his truck. The longing for Joel was increasing and all you wanted was to make things right by explaining him you did have feelings for him and you needed some time, but you were willing to make sacrifices in order to be with him, because you wanted to and it was important for you that he saw how appreciated he was by you.

On your way to Joel's, you stopped at a bakery you knew Sarah loved, thinking of all the delicious treats you could take so you'd keep your family spoiled, at least a little. You smiled at yourself the moment you chose a couple of cupcakes, cookies and the chicken pie Joel loved, thinking of how you were already addressing them as your family. The truth is that they were indeed your family, the connection you three had was strong, the bond you created with Sarah without even knowing for a fact who she was and later on all that passion for Joel surfacing after spending a decade buried deep inside of you. It was a waste of time fighting that, and you wanted to get to them as soon as possible, you'd been alone far too long, it was about time to yourself have one good thing, to break free and admit how happy you were next to the Millers. You loved them just as they loved you, and it made no sense to fight that feeling and pretend it didn't exist.

The ride wasn't long, there was hardly any traffic in the suburbs, most families were already inside, having dinner together as the sun had set and the street lights were all lit up, as you parked your car, you saw Joel's truck in the driveway and felt your chest tightening in anxiety and fear; if he was already home why didn't he call or text you? Maybe he was indeed avoiding you?! Joel wouldn't make the same mistake twice and push you away, would he? You shook your head, you had faith in him, faith you both had matured and were able to handle things by talking and being honest with each other; you licked your lips and sighed, knowing that whatever was going on could be solved by the two of you as two functional adults, besides, there were a bunch of explanations to why he hadn't talked to you that day yet, you shouldn't jump to conclusions and let your paranoia win once more. You got out of the car with the bag full of treats and walked to the front door, you knocked a couple of times and waited for an answer but nobody came. It was odd, as you could hear Joel's and Sarah's voices coming from inside, and even if you couldn't tell what they were saying your heart raced, your gut feeling telling you something was up and you couldn't wait any longer, silently opening the door and getting inside. You placed the bag of food down the coffee table as you could clearly hear what they were saying. It seemed Joel and Sarah were arguing, which was extremely odd, since you had never seen them have any kind of disagreement, they just had a real nice and healthy father and daughter relationship in which they both listened to each other and acted with respect. As you approached, you heard Sarah's cries and you were taken by worry, perhaps someone had died? You couldn't wait any longer, you rushed and got into the kitchen, confused at first at what had happened between them, Joel looked so overwhelmed, his face was red and he desperately tried to make a point while telling Sarah a bunch of information she could barely cope with, as she cried in disappointment and shook her head, not believing anything her dad was saying. Her heart was shattered with disappointment and sadness, she couldn't believe her dad, her hero, the man she loved and admired the most in her life had done such a thing.

On the kitchen table, a photograph taken on your wedding day was lying around. A younger version of yourself hugged a much younger Joel as you both stood in front of the courthouse, smiling widely at the camera. There was no way to deny it nor hide it. Sarah had found out about your previous connection god knows how and Joel seemed desperate as he wanted to explain himself to his daughter, he couldn't bear having her so disappointed in him like that, it shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“Sarah…” you whispered and tried touching her cheek, wanting to caress it gently and assure her everything was fine now, that what had happened was in the past and that her dad was still the best father a girl could ever wish for. But Sarah moved her face away from your touch, her eyes were glistening with tears as she seemed so heartbroken

“You both lied to me! Why did you lie?” She asked and you looked at Joel wanting to have some kind of support in order to reply to her question.

“Sarah, we are both sorry, but your dad and I have made up after what happened, I know it's a lot to take now but don't be upset please” you asked her, Joel nodded and wrapped his arm around your waist in order to show her things were fine between the two of you. He promised to talk to her and explain everything to her in detail, but she was just so upset, feeling betrayed by the person she admired and loved the most in the whole world. You knew there was nothing you both could do at that moment, not with Sarah being so nervous and upset, instead, you asked Joel to call Tommy and suggested that he took her out for ice cream or something, maybe have a little chat with his niece while you and Joel could sit down and figure the best way to tell her everything. It didn't take more than twenty minutes for his younger brother to arrive, Sarah had drunk some water and washed her face, leaving with Tommy as you sat next to Joel. You took his hand and caressed it, while he refused to look you in the eye, the guilt and shame once more eating him alive, and now it had become even worse, as his precious little Sarah had found out the truth about him in the worst way possible. All she needed was an old picture for her school project and going through Joel's old memory box should be enough, and then she came across the pictures of his wedding day. Not to her mom, but to you instead, and then it all made sense: why you were never willing to be around her dad, or how you decided to keep yourself away from any kind of relationship. Because the asshole you told her you'd married once, was simply her father. The good old Joel Miller, the man who had to raise his baby daughter on his own after she left him, and then, Sarah had found out her dad had been really bad to someone so dearly to her. You, you could've been married to her dad, you could've been her mom, she could've had a family all along.

You looked at Joel and wiped a single tear that rolled down his cheek, even if he tried to hide it.

“What are we doing now, Joel?”

“I don't know…”

____

A/N: what a ride, right besties? Remember, feedback is life ❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #joel miller story #pedro pascal story

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zialltops · 2 months

Text

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his mouth connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck.

a/n: this chapter was so fun to write, I accidentally made it 9.5k words lol, but it was such a relief (ish) to write. Some new warning apply to this chapter, so please be advised of those. We get to see a whole new side to Joel this chapter and we’ll get to see some “in the making of” this chapter in the following one. A little bit of context on why Joel changes so abruptly and the reasoning behind his decisions. I hope you all know how much i love love love you guys for being here for me while i struggle to find time to write. I’m working on getting back on my feet every day and this is the one safe place I have to escape and indulge in my favorite coping mechanism. Much love, H 🤍

Chapter 7–You Don’t Want That Smoke

Your birthday falls on Friday this year, (lucky you) but it also means the First Friday dance falls on your birthday this year as well. It’s the first community event after the cold winter months and by that time, most people are itching to get out of their snow-buried homes. The town usually puts on the event to celebrate the coming spring, hosting venders of all sorts and games for the families. Growing up, your parents would take you to the petting zoo and let you ride the ponies, like you didn’t have a horse at home, like there wasn’t a whole ranch to attend to, animals to raise up and sell, like you could just for a moment, be a normal little girl from a quiet street who’d never sat in a saddle in her life.

If only that had been the case, ever. If only you’d had parents who pursued safe, reliable careers, where they had pensions and retirement, insurance and benefits, instead of breaking their backs for a ranch that had been dying long before it was left to your mother by her parents. Was it obligation that kept them here, or was it something else? Was it the same thing that got you through years of college, all in an attempt to keep your parents' dream alive for a little while longer?

It’s Wednesday, which means you have two more days before your birthday and Melly’s plane lands in a few hours from Colorado, but so far your morning has taken you five rounds in the octagon and is currently coming back for more.

“—No! The statements I just got in the mail yesterday said we have ninety days to come up with three months worth of the mortgage before the property faces foreclosure.”

The woman on the other end of the phone sighs at you and you can hear the way her hands hit her keyboard. “I know that, ma’am, but that was a month and a half ago and we still have not received any payments. The bank sent another letter, requesting that the entire six month worth of back payments be received by the end of the ninety days or the property will be foreclosed on.”

The routinely scripted response feels like an open handed slap to the face, white hot pain snapping through your veins like lightning on the Wyoming plains. You sink down into the dining room chair and let it soak in all the way.

“How many days do we have left?” You hear yourself whisper into the phone but it’s not you speaking, not really—its a absent reflex like blinking or breathing.

“That's…51 days, ma’am. We’ll contact you again in thirty days if we have not received the entire amount by that time.”

Your eyes burn and blur, tears for the years of your life wasted on a useless education, until they surge past the dam and plummet to the paper below. When you look down at the document, your tears are stained red by the ink on the foreclosure notice. “How much will it be, again?” Defeated, Inadequate and Doomed.

“Fourteen thousand, three hundred and forty dollars, for six months worth of the Mortgage and late fees accumulated.” She sounds annoyed when she reads off the obscene number, like she isn’t sealing the fate of your family home, the dream your parents have worked their whole lives for to pass down to you—all wasted on a backed mortgage that your parents took out on the farm when you were born.

The full circle indicates that losing your family’s livelihood was your fault, from start to finish. You didn’t make it in time. All your hard work, and you’re still going to lose it.

“Is that everything, ma’am?”

Click

You drop the phone and sob into your arms, your whole body shaking and heaving with every sharp inhale. In your best attempt to keep quiet, you attract the attention of the one person you long to keep this from, your sweet, well meaning mom.

She’s soft spoken when she soothes you, rubs your back while you dry up your tears against her chest and she doesn’t ask why, just kisses your forehead and smiles one of those sweet sweet smiles at you and says, “We’ll get through this, Honey, don’t you worry about that. We’ll figure this out together.”

And you believe her, enough to reel in your hiccups, enough to ease your searing tears. “Why don’t you take a break from work, Melly gets here soon, yeah? You got everything you girls need?”

You smile at her, thankful for her ability to distract you from the things that keep you up at night. She knows you better than anyone, she’s your best friend. “Maybe we can stop at the store after we get her, but we gotta leave soon—“ you check the time, one hour until her plane touches down in Jackson and it takes forty five minutes to get there alone.

“Actually Honey, about that…I can't go with you. I’m not feeling up to it and I thought I would whip up dinner for you girls. But I got someone to go with you,”

You stand up from the chair and put the papers back into the envelope. “Mom, I really can go alone, I drove all the way here—“ she stops you with a quiet scuff. “You got stuck in the snow and Joel had to pull you out.” Joel, that son of a bitch…that big, sexy cowboy son of a bitch who left you in the snow. Who huffs and puffs and walks around like the sweatiest, filthiest, most delicious version of every nasty fantasy you’ve ever had. Of course she would drag him into this, maybe she’s the one who’s after the help.

“Speak of the devil,” she has this knowing look when her gaze travels past you to the doorway of the dining room. You glance over your shoulder to find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of those filthy dreams, dressed in green plaid and his brown Carhartt jacket, his black cowboy hat resting atop his head with curls peeking out of the sides, kissing the tips of his ears. His beard has grown out a tad too, making him look soft all over, scruffy and curly with a dimpled smile. The sight of him comes with a sudden rush of soothing comfort, warm eyes that make you feel safe, hidden in the shadows of his hat.

“Heard I was takin’ you somewhere?” He’s broad and sturdy, with a slight sheen of sweat on the peaks of his collarbones under his shirt. Under his beard, his neck is taught and his muscles are strained, his pulse visible beneath his skin despite his cool composure. If you know Joel, he did a days worth of work this morning to clear his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He probably smells like sweat and dirt, like horses and leather under all that damn southern charm he possesses.

Actually, you can take me anywhere. On the couch, in my room, hell—in the glow of a fridge light.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to bite off your involuntary groan, shooting your mom a sharp look. She may play coy, might act like she's this innocent and sweet, cookie baking, laundry folding, house making mom who knows no better, but you see what she’s really up to. How she hides behind her little false oblivion, a facade she usually only uses for good. This doesn’t feel like it was for the greater good.

“You—“ you sneer at her quietly and she smiles with a “Not sure what you mean dear, but you better get a move on. I have to get dinner in the oven!” She scurries out of the room and into the next, letting the door swing closed behind her. Joel remains in the same spot, one shoulder pressed against the white wood frame of the old door, his muddy boots on the dark hardwood floors. Your eyes drag up the rest of him, his pants are tight in the middle, hugging his hips and probably just barely restraining what lays below the dark blue denim. There's a soft curve to his belly, made apparent when his arms cross over his chest and pull his shirt tight against his front.

His belly looks so damn soft. So fucking round and bite-able. A few more clicks up, his chest nearly bulging out of the buttons of the flannel. The buttons hang on for dear life, but you’re afraid if he flexes, they will scatter to the floor with your resolve.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. “Doin’ alright there, darlin’?” If his presence wasn’t enough, the bourbony southern drawl and the way he cocks his hip makes your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. “Yeah—Yep, just need to get dressed and I’ll be ready.” You’re still in a big sleep shirt, have been all morning because work for you doesn’t require pants half of the time. When you start to breeze past, his eyes drop to the exposed skin of your thighs.

“Been wonderin’…” he stops you with a big hand, pressed against your sternum when you try to pass by his solid form. He’s still faced the opposite direction than your body, only his head turns to look down at you, gone still beneath his stern fingertips. “If you always walk around naked under these shirts, or if you’re wearin’ somethin’ under there when mom and dad are ‘round?”

His eyes flick back to the door leading into the kitchen, where your mother is currently hiding from your scowl, then back down to the hem of your oversized shirt. The hand on your ribs shifts when you haul in a deep, stuttering breath. It slips a few inches lower, the tips of his thick fingers dipping into the flesh of your stomach, just below your belly button. He’s so close and so fucking firm where he holds you in place.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself, Cowboy?”

You challenge him back and you swear he stops breathing beside you. He meets your dare with a low growl, reverberating inside his rib cage like a shout in a vast canyon. What the hell is happening right now, did he hit his head or something? Is he finally getting the fucking hint? How desperately you want him to have his way with you? Then again, the last time he saw you dressed like this, you were bent over, knowingly showing off everything you had to offer, the place you wanted him most, while you listened to the guttural sounds leaving the unsuspecting man behind you. You aren’t going to complain about the sudden shift in his attention, hell no—you’ll soak in what you can get from the leery cowboy.

You hardly register the way he moves until he leans forward and warm fingertips graze the skin just under your ass. He’s looking when he lifts the shirt all the way up to your tailbone slowly, covered by smooth black satin, a thong that hugs your hips but leaves your cheeks exposed to his greedy sight. His eyes are everywhere, your thighs and the curve of your bare behind. His fingers dip just under the black satin band on your hip, his expression is just shy of a devoted man as he drinks in the contrasting sensation of your smooth skin and the silky material.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, letting his hand slip from your panties to travel back down, unsure fingers tracing along the crease of your ass, curling under your cheek when he gets to the bottom. It’s the softest touch you’ve ever felt, full of admiration and barely restrained desire. It sets your skin on fire, radiating behind your eyelids. “Those are…damn pretty, sugar…but you better go get yourself ready, before you’re late.” His hands slip away from you completely and he turns in the direction of the door, already on his way out before you even fully process what just happened. What flipped inside of Joel on a random Wednesday afternoon in late February?

He leaves with a satisfied smirk with intentions of starting the truck while you stammer against the doorway and remind yourself to breathe. When the front door closes behind him, you lean against the wood he was just propped against, hoping his heat will still linger there. He instigated something, a secret whisper of want, the thought makes a grin break out from one side of your face to the other, pulling your cheeks tight. He wants you.

You get dressed with that same stupid grin plastered on your face. You shift through your closet a few times, but you keep falling back on the same outfit. A pair of flared jeans, light in color with stitch work on the sides. With a pair of boots, they make your ass look like a dream—just what you are going for, just so you can rile Joel further. You find a tight top and a thick wool flannel to throw over it, before tracking back down the stairs to the front door.

It’s the rush of adrenaline that shocks the agony from your brain, but the moment you bound down the front steps to his waiting truck, the door already propped open, you pause.

You stop at the foot of the stairs and turn, looking up the steps you’ve known your entire life, the screen door you’ve spent numerous summers swinging in and out of. The porch you’ve watched storms roll in from, the porch swing where you had your first kiss. All this and…your heart sinks. When you turn back towards the running chevy, Joel is staring back at you, his once knowing smirk traded in for a furrow of concern on his handsome features.

You climb into the passenger seat and fasten your seatbelt while Joel puts the truck in gear and pulls away from the house.

There’s a long stretch of road that passes in near silence, before it’s you who just can’t take it anymore. Joel, sweet fucking Joel sat beside you, respecting your emotions and your boundaries once again. “Ranch is ‘bout to be foreclosed.” You tell him. Once it’s spoken aloud, you realize just how imminent your family’s demise really is. How quickly you are going to lose everything, watch your parents walk away with no retirement and nothing to show for themselves, for generations of hard work.

You expect something, questions about how you know, how long you have, if there's anything he can do to help you, but the questions never come. Instead, Joel reaches over and presses his fingers into the latch on your buckle, pulling it off of you with one click.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” His tone is low, soft enough to not interrupt your thoughts, but enough to have you drawing across the bench seat and slipping under his sturdy arm while he drives. He keeps you tucked in close beside him, his hand trailing up and down your arm to ease out the pain residing in your veins. He takes one glance down at you and leans forward, his lips connecting with the crown of your head. “We’ll get through it. We ain’t goin’ down without a hell of a fight.”

Because after the years you’ve spent away from this place, Joel has come to think of the Rising Sun ranch as his home just as much as it is yours. He’d raised every one of the cattle on that ranch, he’s worked day and night to ensure its survival, he’s lost sleep and nearly limbs fighting to keep them afloat while you were gone. This is his home, his fight right alongside yours. Finally, the weight seems to ease up, shouldered by Joel's sense of responsibility for your family’s livelihood.

Beside you, he’s solid and warm, he’s alive and overflowing with strength, enough to spare, for something to cling to. You turn your head and bury your face in his shoulder, covering yourself in the shield of protection he has to offer, sturdy, devoted support that makes you feel lightheaded with security. He doesn’t push you further, doesn’t prod you for details. He just hangs on, keeps your body tucked in close to his while he drives into town. At some point, the rattling of the old truck along patchy highway roads lulls you into sleep with your head against his shoulder and one leg across his lap.

Joel, with all the strength he can muster—holds on tight.

“Hey,” your senses come rushing back when the truck comes to a stop and your warm pillow jostles under your head. You lift up off his weight a little and glance at him through a sleepy gaze, a soft smile present on his lips. “As much as I like you droolin’ all over me…” he gestures to wet stain on his flannel. “Think your friends plane lands soon, don’t want you to miss it.”

You get yourself together enough to look out the window. Joel parked right outside of baggage claim at Jacksons little airport and his arm still sits tightly around your shoulders. A deep sigh sets in to your bones and you lean against him for just a moment longer to soak in the warmth. “Hey, look at me, darlin’,” his hand wraps around your chin gently, coaxing your eyes up to his. “Don’t think about the ranch, at least till the week is over. Ain’t nothin’ you can do right now, so don’t let it ruin your birthday. Everythin’s gonna be alright.” His words trail off when a broad thumb swipes across the underside of your bottom lip, his gaze caught in yours so tightly you’re half sure the jaws of life couldn’t draw you apart. He breaks out into a grin and heaves a shallow laugh. “Had a little drool there.”

The little laugh that bubbles up in you breaks the eye contact and Joel shuts off the truck, untucking you from his arm. You check the time for safe measures, there's still a few more minutes before the plane lands and she still has to make it out the gates.

“Joel?” He’s fiddling with his key chain, adjusting a few backwards keys. “Hmm?” He barely makes eye contact—is he embarrassed? From holding you while you slept? “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me—for my family while I’ve been gone. I can't think of a way to…repay you for everything.”

Joel glances over at you and something flashes in his brown eyes, something that looks like discomfort and shame. He takes a sharp breath in and squeezes his knuckles around the keys. “I didn’t do it all selflessly…please don’t take this wrong. I haven’t felt a sense of belonging in years. Me and Tommy have been drifting since I was twenty eight, working on one ranch after another. We’d stick around a town for six months and he’d get antsy, stir up trouble and we’d have to hit the road again.”

He brings his hand up to his mouth and chews on the corner of his thumb. He’s anxious, you can tell by the way his eyes flitter to you then away quickly. “I’ve covered his ass more times than I can count because I don’t know if I’ll be the same if I have to leave here. It feels fuckin—selfish, like I’m usin’ your folks. M’gettin’ old, my bones are tired and all I want is to…stop. Slow down for once in my life. I’ve never been more at peace than I am here, with your parents and the ranch. I was doin’ so good, gettin’ my mind right, hatin’ myself a little less and then—“ he trails off with a distant look in his eyes.

And then…what? What’s caused Joel to lose that sense of peace and stability? “What happened?” You sink back in the bench seat, run your fingers along the stitched pattern of color adorning the warn padding. “S’big snow storm came in…I was comin’ back from town because I took Tommy to pick up flowers. He’d been a real asshole to a sweet lady who didn’t deserve it. Was pissed off he was smokin’ in the truck, pissed he was jeopardizin’ our home again, when we see this little car stuck in the embankment, met this—real pretty girl, and she…” he sneaks a glance over at you, but he’s doing his best to find anywhere, anything else to look at. Cars passing by, the sun reflecting off the bright white paint on the cross walk. The older woman in-front of you, helping what looks like her daughter, load her luggage into the trunk.

“She got under my skin and I was flustered for the first time in a really long time. Kinda freaked me out—and then I left here there—‘cuz I was scared shitless and nothin’s ever been the same since. Sorta think she hates my guts half the time for it.”

There's this unsettling silence in the cab, Joel's nerves and his admission hanging in the air between you. He’s never ever been this vulnerable and honest with you before. You’ve talked to him more times than you can count now, a meaningless little conversation where you found everything you needed to change your mind about him. But he’s never opened himself up like he was right now, in the damn pick up line of the Jackson airport.

“Joel I…I already forgave you for that.” You forgave him for that when he gave you your necklace for Christmas. You forgave him when he carried a newborn calf half a mile through a snowstorm for you. You forgave him when you came down the stairs to him in that damn cowboy hat.

You forgave him when he came back for you and looked at you with those pretty brown eyes.

“What?” He looks over at you and you hold onto the eye contact for as long as you possibly can. “I don’t hate you. Furthest thing from it actually—I do hate how much you avoid me. Like I’m going to bite your head off any second—“ he snorts, cracks a white smile at you and his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flutter, little blue butterflies soaring through your abdomen. “You do bite my head off—often.”

Okay—maybe he’s a little right, maybe you let it get too far a few times, spent too many afternoons angry at his distaste for you, when all you wanted was a taste of him. “Well, I’m sorry…for all the things I’ve said to you, the things I’ve called you. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I forgave you for that a long time ago. You’ve already made up for it a million times, Joel.”

He’s grinning at you like you just told him he won the fucking lottery, his nervous hands drumming a absent tune against the steering wheel. He’s looking at you like it’s the first time you’ve ever met him, his eyes shining with mirth and admiration. “Think…you could give this ol’ cowboy another shot?” That nervous little shake of his jaw, the tick in his voice and the hopefulness in his eyes is enough to break anyone, but you? You’re so lost on him you never want to find your way back. Throw away the maps, toss the keys somewhere you’ll never find them again—you never want to go anywhere else in the world. Another shot? You’d give him all of them.

“Pretend you’ve never met me before.”

He blinks, cocks an eyebrow and makes a face of confusion at you. “I’ve never met you?” You nod, turn your whole body to face him on the bench seat of his old beat up chevy. “Like it’s the first time we’ve met. I’m Hank's daughter and you’re picking me up from the airport to take me home for the first time in years. We’ve never met. Try again, shoot your shot, cowboy.”

You’d like to imagine that's how it went—your mom and dad were too busy to come get you and you decided to fly because you knew your little car wouldn’t make it. They send Joel, because he’s trustworthy and punctual. They know he’ll treat their daughter with respect, they trust that he’ll use his better judgment, because they know he’s a good man. You know that under that rough, hard exterior is an anxious man searching for belonging, a good man.

Joel takes a deep breath, lets his mind drift out the window before he turns it back to you with a charming smile, one you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It’s smoldering, flirtatious—everything you imagined Joel to be after all those years of pinning after a man you’ve never laid eyes on. A Joel you’ve never met and desperately need to get to know better. “Prodigy daughter finally returns,” his drawl is thick and his eyes rake over you once, twice, before settling on your own. “I’m Joel.”

You giggle—rightfully so, because this Joel? This Joel is all quick wit and chivalry. You fake introduce yourself back, your grin mirroring his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel.”

“Pleasure is…all mine, darlin’.”

You could stare at him forever with that damn goofy smile on his face. “Anyone ever tell you—you look good in this?” You tell him, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat, but it stays firmly in place despite your efforts. He snorts and snaps up to catch your wrist, holding onto it tightly in his big hand. “S’funny, I was just thinkin’ about how good you’d look in my hat.” His thumb circles the inside of your wrist slowly,’ pushing down the fabric of your sleeve with the effort. Slowly, he draws your appendage closer, till his mouth hovers just above your skin. His eyes are like witnessing something tragic, so devastating you can't bring yourself to look away.

“In just—“ His eyes slip closed when his lips connect with the inside of your wrist. His lips are warm and so tender you fight down a soft whimper at the intoxicating sensation. When they open again, dangerous amber irises peer back at you like you’re their salvation. “-my cowboy hat.”

Oh—fuck. There’s an image you’ll never get out of your mind—your hands on his sweaty chest, the brim of his hat falling in front of your eyes while you try to keep it in place, despite the way you ride him—

“Joel—Jesus, you can’t just—“

He breaks out into a chest filled laugh, his eyes slip close and his head falls back. His whole body responds to the way he laughs, his legs kick up, his chest heaves and his belly bounces. He’s a menace, a damn trouble starter—he makes you see hearts around his head and a sparkle in his eyes you’re sure you’re imagining. He calms his laugh down with a few deep breaths, a grin still plastered on his handsome face. “What can I say? I’m really bad at first impressions.”

He is, but it doesn’t bother you like it used to. Joel isn’t and never will be the perfect man you’d envisioned. He’ll never be the Joel you’d made up in your head for so long, because that Joel was made solely for you, from your interpretation of a man who’s perfect for you in every way. But that Joel and the one in front of you are two vastly different people—this Joel is gruff at times, opinionated and flawed. He wasn’t made perfect for you, but you find that the things that make him the least like the Joel in your mind—are the things that you like most about him. He’s gruff, but he’s punctual and takes no shit. He’s opinionated, but he’s wise about life, he’s earned the right to voice his beliefs. He’s flawed—he has crows feet by his kind eyes, graying curls and weathered hands—but it’s his flaws that entice you to learn more about him. They make him real in front of you instead of a made up, faceless man in your dreams.

Your phone chimes in your pocket and it sucks you from the void in the cab of this old truck, away from Joel's charming smile and his burning hand on your wrist. He pulls away and the moment dissipates into dust on the dashboard.

Melly: I just got my bag, headed out now!

“Be right back,” you slip out the door with a firm shut and try your hardest not to glance back at the man in the cab of that blue and white truck.

Finding Melly is easy, she sticks out like a sore thumb with her blonde hair and too-blessed chest. What did she do in a past life for tits like that, anyways?

She comes out the double doors and jogs to you with a grin your wearing on your own face. “Oh my gosh!” She squeals, finally getting close enough to throw your arms around each other. It’s been months since you’ve seen each other after spending everyday together for the last two years. You tumble around together in your hug for a few minutes before she pulls back to look you over, in a pair of flared jeans and boots. “Oh man, the country got you.” She jokes, faking a deflated sigh. “Would you fuck off?” She laughs menacingly, slinging her bag over her shoulder for more security. “Let me guess, you’re still trying to drive that cowboy crazy, right?”

With a deep eye roll, you finally look back at the truck. He’s looking right back at you, an easy smile on his lips when your eyes connect. You look back to your best friend and make a face. “He uhm…he actually drove me…to come get you. He’s in the truck, please be nice to him, okay?” She sneers and you know she means trouble when you help her with her things on her way to the truck.

“Please don’t fucking embarrass me, I swear dude—“ Mel gives you a little shove and huffs a laugh when you put her suitcase in the bed of the pickup. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ruin your shot with the old dude.” She looks around you, eyeing him from outside of the truck without his knowledge. “Holy shit, dude he’s hot. He’s like, stupid hot.”

You look over at him too and like he can feel your eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder, smiles warmly and you know it—

Know you’re fucked.

“Not a word.” Mel throws her hands up innocently and follows your lead when you open the door of the truck and climb in the middle, sliding in right beside Joel, reclaiming the space you’d taken up on your way here.

The whole drive back to the ranch, your body is on fire along the parts that connect to Joel, pressed so close you’re afraid you might melt into him.

Two days pass in a blur.

You spend a lot of time with Mel, catching up on how she's been doing since graduating, how she likes work—she’s a wildlife biologist in Colorado, who’s still learning the ropes of the job but she’s never been more excited to be a part of something. You don’t tell her about the ranch for a good reason, but she still asks and doesn’t say anything if she notices the look on your face when you lie to her.

We’ll get through it

You love spending time with her, but you don’t see a lot of Joel besides meals. He’s pleasant and soft, smiling at you like he’s never worn a frown on that handsome face. He sits too close at dinner, draws your gaze in far too many times for it to be an accident. It’s not anymore but it’s still so damn hard to make yourself believe that this isn’t just a fleeting moment—temptation breathing life into you for the first time in years, teasing you with possibilities.

He makes you burn but he doesn’t push further, doesn’t chase that desire down its narrowing path. It’s so close—you’re so close to finally making him yours.

When your birthday rolls around, he’s nowhere to be seen at breakfast. When you head out to the stables, the horses have already been fed and there's no trace of the man who plagues your every waking moment. The truck is gone and the tire-tracks in the driveway look old, like he’s been gone for hours. It’s not that he’s required to see you on your birthday, but you thought things were going to change. You thought that re-meeting him in the truck at the airport would restart everything, he’d realize you want him around more than the ranch hand who got under your skin and made you desperate for his attention. It feels naive, to watch out the window for his truck for most of the morning, pining after that faded powder blue and rust.

“This is depressing to watch from the outside, you know that right?” Comes Mel’s voice from the other side of your room when you check the window for the first time in the last half hour. She's painting her nails on the chair in your room while you peer through the blinds like he might appear out of thin air without you hearing the rumble of his old chevy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You do your best to defend yourself, stepping away and crossing your arms as you trudge to your bed.

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you. You’re pacing your room wondering when you’ll see him. You know everyone can see the way you guys look at each other right? When are you guys going to like…kick it up a notch, get in his pants?”

You toss yourself on the fluffy sheets and close your eyes tight, letting your mind wander for a moment. “I don’t know…” what are you going to do, if you cant even see him long enough to get him alone? Tonight is the dance and you were hoping he’d be there, maybe he’d ask you for a dance. You’ve never told a boy in your hometown yes to a dance at this thing, but you’d change that for Joel. If he asked, you’d let him spin you around all night long.

Only problem is, he can’t do that if he’s still avoiding you like you're an illness he can’t afford to catch. “He’s so confusing. One second he acts like…he wants me, the next he’s hiding from me, probably—ugh, I just wish I could get him out of my head if he wants nothing to do with me!”

The room is silent, still for all of five glorious seconds before Mel breaks it. “Does he still run away to jerk off?” You snap your eyes over to her with a sharp glare. “Yes! And he drives me up the fucking wall, dude! All I want is to get my hands on that delicious man and he runs away every time. How am I ever supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even get him alone for five minutes. And every time I do, something happens and ruins it all.”

You can't seem to get a second with him no matter how hard you try. The last two days, he hasn’t been around aside from his work in the morning, a few meals he makes it to in between. If you’re being honest, it's painful to think about the way he’d smiled at you a few days ago and the way he doesn’t have the time of day now.

“If he shows up at that dance tonight, I’m making sure you get your second alone. Now come on, let me help you pick out your dress. He won't know what he’s missing out on.”

By the time you’re headed out the door for town, Joel is still nowhere in sight. You thought you’d heard his truck for a moment earlier, but when you’d peered out the window a few minutes later, there was no blue chevy in the driveway. No cowboy waiting out front for you.

You trudged to the car in your black dress, two slits up the sides where your thighs peak out and a back so low your half afraid your ass is going to fall out of the damn thing. You do your best to hold it up when you walk through the dirt, a pair of knee high red cowgirl boots are the only thing saving you from the mud right now.

Melly isn’t far behind, but she's not dressed in anything nearly as revealing as you. She’s making friends with Tommy who surprisingly hasn’t tried to flirt yet and claims to have no idea where his older brother has disappeared to. He’s endearing, but you know he’s playing for both sides here, hiding something for his brother.

On the drive into town, your parents take your dads truck, leaving you, Mel and Tommy in your car. When you get about half way, you finally break and ask if Tommy has seen Joel, if he knows if he’s coming. Tommy shrugs in the rearview mirror with a smile.

“I’m sure we’ll see ‘em.” Is the only answer you get.

It doesn’t happen for hours.

Hours of forcing a smile through mind numbing conversation with people you haven’t seen in years. The same old how have you been in the big city? and you tell them it was hard work and commitment. They ask no plans for the future? like you’re doomed without a ring on your hand at your age. You keep your head up through every comment, back handed compliment and pick up line that passes you by for a whole fucking hour on the dance floor alone.

“I think I want to go home soon. I’m having the worst fucking time, my feet are killing me and I think my eyelash is falling off.” Your whining and limping, faking distress and discomfort for any shot to get the fuck out of here, go home and maybe you can chance a run in with Joel.

Maybe he’s coming in from the north pasture where he’s probably been hiding all day. He’d be covered in muck and sweat, dirt clinging to the creases in his face. He’d be tired and worn out, vulnerable to the way you’d take advantage of his weakened restraint. “You sure you don’t want to stay a few minutes longer?” Melly muses beside you sipping on a tall glass of tequila on ice, watching the small town’s people converse and dance, laugh and gather together under the low string lighting.

You take a long drag of the drink in your own hand, your third of the night that's finally starting to warm your insides. It’s not enough to ease the ache of wishing Joel would appear. You know he won't, there's only a few hours left and people are starting to get tipsy. “I think you might want to rethink that…the devil himself just walked in, twelve o’clock.”

You look up at her, in a pretty green dress with curly hair framing her face. She’s smirking over your shoulder at something—or someone behind you. You turn the rest of the way around and swear you’re in the middle of one of those movie scenes.

The ones where the love interest walks in and sexy rock plays while they walk in slow motion. With wind blowing this hair back even though they are inside. Joel fucking Miller was doing exactly that at this very minute, striding through the hall in his cowboy hat and a black button down, dark wash jeans and his boots. He looks like a wet dream standing there, looking a little bit lost and so damn handsome. Under his hat, you can see that his hair is slicked back and he looks clean like he’d gone home and gotten ready.

He’s here.

“Oh he looks…if you don’t ask him to dance, I will. He’s hot.” You wish you could explain to her that Joel is more than that, that he’s funny and endearing, that he’s honorable and loyal to a fault. He’s so many more things than just hot. You swivel around as he makes his way through the crowd, he’s bound to find you and you don’t want him to spot you gawking at him. “Do I look okay? Fuck he looks so good—is my hair alright?” You try to do a quick pat down but Melly grabs your hand with a smile. “You look fine. He’s not going to know what hit him, I promise—but he’s coming this way so whatever you do, chill out.”

She sets her drink on the tall table, the ones that adorn the outside of the dance floor for people who want to mingle. You take a long drink of yours and move to set it down when someone clears their throat behind you. The drink hits the table and you turn slowly, till you rotate around to face him completely. He’s even more devastating up close with pearl snap buttons on his shirt, his arms nearly bulging out of the damn thing. His facial hair looks shorter, his eyes shimmering with reflected light.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, standin’ here all by herself on her birthday?” He grins at you and takes another step forward. “Guess I’m just waiting for the right cowboy to ask me for a dance.” You tease back, reaching out for him once he’s close enough for you to touch. You start at his stomach, soft under his dress shirt. When your hands make contact, a visible shiver runs through Joel.

There’s suddenly two more hands to join the party, one high up on your waist while the other curves around low on your hip, his digits digging into the top of your ass. “I’ll be real’ honest with you here, doll—askin’ you for a dance is the only reason I came tonight.” He smells good for once, usually you catch a hint of his shower under the smell of dirt and manure, a faintness of his once clean skin. Now, it’s all you can focus on—how he’d taste like his soap, smooth and clean, every part of him reachable by your watering mouth. “Well, Cowboy…go on.” Your hands slip up his chest and over his broad shoulders, like you’ve imagined yourself doing a thousand times. He’s responsive, lowers his shoulders so you fit along him perfectly.

“Would ya make this old man's day, let me have a dance?” His hand drops lower, along the side of your thigh until he can dig them into the curve under your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to hoist you up, drag you into that vice-like grip you want to be at the mercy of every day of your life. “Can’t get me any closer, Joel.” You giggle, hiding your face against his neck. He smells like after shave and a little like whiskey. “I thought you were giving up drinking?” You nip at his jaw lightly, just to listen to the way he rumbles against you.

“I’m—tryin’ to keep my cool here, but you look fucking incredible tonight. Needed a little courage to walk up to you, s’all.” He leans back slightly, looking down at the way your dress squeezes your tits together, nearly pouring out of the black satin. “Fucking…gorgeous in this thing, you know that? You knew how sexy this little thing was, didn’t you?” He pulls at the slit that exposes your thighs, raking it up a little higher, until he can get a handful of bare skin. He’s not wrong—you’d put the dress on and thought about all the ways it would drive Joel crazy if he saw you in it.

“You better take me dancing before you take this off of me.” The dance around you has started to fade away. Melly took her cue to go and has started to make conversation elsewhere. “With pleasure, darlin’.”

Joel all but carries you to the middle of the dance floor before you notice his obvious nervous ticks, the shake of his hands and the way he’s fighting the urge to gnaw on his thumb. He’s anxious despite his obvious attempt at faking composure. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders again, he stammers. “Need to tell you somethin’.” His voice is a little shaky on the inhale when his hands find your waist again. “I went into town last week, there’s this dance studio on sixth street and I thought, maybe I could trade work for someone to…teach me how to use my damn feet.” For added flair, he reels away from you and spins you once before drawing you back into his chest as he moves. “So, I take it someone taught you?”

The song changes, something slow, romantic and sweet that couples join in around you, swaying together around the dance floor. “Lady said she’d been lookin’ for someone to replace the dance floor. Told her I just wanted to learn to dance, so I’d stand a chance against the other schmucks askin’ you.” He dances you around for a few more moments, pulling out all the stops—every new move he learned. Was that why he was gone so much, disappearing every time you turned around? He was replacing a damn floor and learning how to dance, all for you?

“Joel—“ you start, trying to grab ahold of him for long enough to make him still. “There's somethin’ else,” he dips you back and your insides flutter, looking up at him with those big brown hopeful eyes. He stands you up right again and the dancing slows to a stop, right there in the middle of the dance hall. You’re sure the towns eyes are on you, your mom and dad, friends from high school, older people you’ve been around your entire life. “She wouldn’t let me leave without payin’ me for it, said dancin’ lessons don’t cost that much after all.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a envelope, sealed tight with a number written on the front.

“Ranch needs it a whole hell of a lot more than I do. S’just two grand, but I’ve found a few other odd jobs, so there will be more comin’, but it’s a start—“ your hand clasps over his clutching the envelope. You push his hand down, stepping forward until you're nearly standing on his own feet. “Joel Miller…are you going to stand there all night running your mouth, or are you going to kiss me?” This endearing man, this big, expressive cowboy who can’t seem to get anything right in his own eyes, but everything right in yours.

He chuckles, the hand not holding the envelope finds the side of your face, sliding his thumb along the apple of your cheek. He’s not the one to make the first move after all—after all the leading him towards it, the teasing and the showmanship. It’s you that stands up high on your tiptoes and drags him the rest of the way in, until his mouth finds yours in the lull of the dance hall, surrounded by swaying bodies and sweet music.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his mouth opens, slots your lips between his when he finally, fucking finally gives all the way in. It’s sweet, chaste while you stand there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. Joel stuffs the envelope back into his pocket and his other hand finds your body again, yanking until you're flushed against him, digging your hands into his shoulders when his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth, begging to be let into the slick heat. What was slow and steady, soon becomes frantic, hot and needy. Your fingers tug at the buttons of his shirt and someone shoots off a whistle from across the room, enough to have you reeling apart. Joel's mouth is red, his lips swollen and shiny from your spit.

“You want to get out of here?”

Yes. Fucking hell yes you wanted to, you’ve wanted to all damn night, but with Joel standing in front of you, a strained tent in his dark jeans, it’s all you can think about. Instead of a response, you grab him by his hand and all but drag him out the back doors towards the parking lot. It's quiet, dark—the dance isn’t even close to being over so there’s next to no one in the parking lot.

You never stood a chance, looking back on this moment right here. You never would have stood a chance, with Joel’s ragged breathing behind you when he closes the door tight behind him.

One look at his wild eyes and parted lips, you should have known how this night was going to end.

Joel was desperate. He needed you, needed to touch you every second of his day. He thought about you every second he spent awake and he dreamt of you all night long. When he’d heard about the dance, he wanted to kick himself for not learning sooner. Finding the dance studio was a fluke, learning to dance was a damn nightmare and the floor wasn’t much better, but he’d do it all again for another opportunity to press you up against the brick wall with your thighs pressed apart and his hips slotted between them while he all but devoured your mouth.

He’s ruthless, relentless as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth. You—you can't keep your sounds to yourself, hiking your legs up higher around his waist when he presses in closer. He can feel himself straining through his jeans, can feel the heat of your core against his painfully hard cock. He’d take you right fucking here if you let him. “Joel—Joel,” your hips roll down to meet his uncontrollable press forward. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” His movements are hurried and frantic, like this might be the only shot he has to get his hands on you. His mouth finds your jaw and he bites down on your flesh, relishing in the salty taste of sweat from dancing, the tang of your perfume and the sweet taste of your skin. It’s your sharp whine that gets him in motion again, his stilled teeth still hanging on to your delicate jaw. “Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

In a scurry, he drops his hand between your bodies, pushing the fabric of your dress to the side so his fingertips can work under the elastic of your panties, past the soaked material to the place he’s always longed to touch, always wondered what it would feel like.

And you are fucking drenched under his exploring digits. He slips them through your lips, your slick already dripping down his knuckles when he finds your clit and presses the pad of his thumb to it, swirling it around in a swift motion. Your head falls back and your mouth hangs open, a silent scream on your parted lips.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” He groans when your thighs tremble against him, trying to tighten up around his waist where he has you pinned to the cold wall. His thumb keeps its rhythm while his fingers dip lower, making him breathless at how easily your body draws those fingers in. You come apart like you were meant to do just that, your body rapidly chasing him towards the brink. If he hadn’t gotten himself off twice today, he’s sure he’d already have cum in his pants from just this. “Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum, please!” Your voice is wrecked.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving in that pretty little dress—your tits are about to bust out of the damn thing. He picks up the pace, slams his fingers into your heat and curls them while his thumb makes quick work of your clit. It’s been so long since he touched a woman, but he’ll never forget the signs.

You are dangerously, furiously close in mere minutes alone. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.” You cry out sharply and he nearly covers your mouth with his other hand, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he revels in the pulse of your pussy on his fingers, the way you grind down against him while your body grasps for release. It comes to you with a whole body shake, a ragged gasp of his name and his tongue on your jugular.

When he pulls his hand free, it’s with a wet sound that makes his gut tighten and his knees weak. He has to get you somewhere more secluded, away from the prying eyes of the town folks. “Wunna taste you,” he growls lowly, dragging you away from the building despite the way you stumble, the lightheadedness from cuming on his fingers.

His truck is parked in the back for lack of a better spot, due to his tardiness. He’ll thank his lucky stars for it later, if he can remind himself of it. Now, he slings the door open and nearly throws you down on the bench seat. “C’mere, girl.” He’s running out of will power and common sense, the only thing driving his mind right now is sheer want, carnal desire to get his mouth all over what he’s already ruined. He’s lucky for the part of his brain that slips off his hat and sets it on the dashboard. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.”

His hands find the backs of your knees and he yanks you to the edge of the seat. At this angle, he can spread you out and kneel beside the truck, let you use the door jam to rest your foot on. When your eyes find him, he thinks you’re just as far gone as he is, blinded to the world unfolding around you, to rubber hitting asphalt nearby.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” He pushes your dress up with your hurried help, both of you desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as possible. The second he has your panties dangling between his finger tips, he pushes his head between your spread legs and buries himself under your dress.

The thing about Joel is, he’s always been too good at this. Half the time, it's the only reason women stick around. It must have been the only reason he got his ex wife to marry him.

He’s abandoned his shame and better judgment. He’s starved, famished for a taste of you. This man, this unhinged version of Joel eats pussy like he’s going to die without it. From the very second his mouth finds your center, he’s lost to your immodest cries, your mindless begging for him to keep going, never stop, never stop, Joel—please. He opens his mouth wide, slops his tongue through your folds like he’s trying to lick every drop from your sensitive skin. He pulls away for a breath and his eyes bounce up to meet yours, transfixed on his relentless attack. “Wunna split this little pussy open on me,” he says, muffled against your soft mound. He takes another long lap and moans at the heady taste of you on his greedy tongue.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” your head tips back and he pulls his mouth away completely. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body clenches on nothing and his eyes track the movement with a low rumble. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

You’d thought about this, about him. You’d thought about him while fucking yourself on a toy you’d bought to train yourself.

He doesn’t have the words to express the way it makes his chest tighten, so he presses his face between your thighs again and gets back to work, drawing out every secret you can no longer hold onto, how good he makes you feel, how hot and devastating his tongue is—how the sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even register until—

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

You should have known.

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farmerlarrry · 7 months

Text

This Time It's Over | Joel Miller One Shot

Inspired by the song: This Time It’s Over by Crybaby

Pairing: Joel Miller x afab!reader | WC: 3.5k

Summary: You and Joel have another argument. When you try to leave, Joel stops you, making up for his faults the only way he can think of. However, is it really over this time?

A/N: If this is bad, just know this is my first attempt at writing smut (and, in general, my first one shot), so please be kind lol. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, just be nice about it!! ♡

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), no use of y/n, toxic relationship (mainly alluding to it, but there is some arguing in the beginning), post-outbreak, age gap (Joel is early 50’s/reader is early to mid 20’s but that’s not really mentioned so…), softdom!Joel, angry!Joel, soft!Joel makes an appearance too, praise kink, pet name (sweetheart), oral sex (male receiving), unprotected PiV sex, (kind of) fingering, light ass slapping, ass touching, encouraged begging, light hair pulling, nipple play/sucking (if I missed anything, I sincerely apologize, just let me know if I need to/should add anything)

“How many times have I asked you to put up the curtains?” You greet Joel with hostility as he enters through the front door. His face immediately goes sour.

“Well, hello to you too,” His tone is dry. You turn away from the barren windows to face him; he’s setting down an assortment of flowers on the kitchen table, pulling out one of the chairs aggressively and taking a seat. “Got these for you, by the way.”

“Thanks,” You instantly shoot back sarcastically. “But I’d really like it if you would hang the fucking curtains up like I’ve been asking you for the past year and a half, Joel.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” His voice getting louder as he speaks. “I’m out there all fucking day doin’ patrol, ‘n when I get home all you do it bitch and complain about what I’m not doin’. I’ll get around to it.”

“I’ll get around to it,” You mock what he said and narrow your eyes at him, causing him to turn away from you, crossing his arms. “Maybe if you actually followed through with anything you’ve promised me, every fucking thing you said you’d get around to doing, I wouldn’t have to be on your ass all the time.”

“If you want it done that fuckin’ bad, do it yo–” He snares at you, not finishing his sentence. Not that it matters because you know exactly what he was going to say.

You and Joel have always had a sort of on again, off again relationship. No matter how much the two of you tried, no matter how much you communicated, talked things through; there was always something that left the two of you clawing at each other’s necks. The real issue, though, is you’d always come back together again, things would be sweet and good for a month or two, and then it would all go to shit again, like clockwork. It’s happened time and time again, but there’s something about Joel that no one else could give you in Jackson. And because he keeps coming back to you as well, you assume it’s the same for him.

Lately, things have become much more intense; the fights are louder, they last longer. You’re sick of it. This time it’s over. Really over.

All you can think to do at the moment is roll your eyes and scoff— loudly. He was right, you could do it yourself, but you were already committed to being annoyed over the fact he didn’t do it when you originally asked. The noise causes Joel to crank his head toward you. You can see the anger building up inside him, his neck becoming splotchy and red; something that only happens when he is seriously pissed off. Throwing down the tea towel you had been using to dry the dishes, you rush past the table, past Joel and head toward the front door. I’m not living like this anymore, you think to yourself, a tightness in your chest is quickly forming.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Joel slaps his hand against the table, sending a chill down your spine as your hand hovers the door knob. There’s a hitch in your breathing, before you slowly turn on your heel and face him. He’s never hit anything before in his fits of rage and him doing it now shocked you.

“I’m done, Joel,” Your voice sounds weak and you’re barely able to get your words out, a burning sensation starts to form in your throat. Joel rises from his chair, there’s a darkness in his eyes. He’s walking toward you slowly, like you’re some sort of prey, and you're unable to move; the only thing you can do is watch him as he gets closer and closer. He has a smirk on his face, not even attempting to hide it.

“You’re done?” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, as he hovers over you. You cower under his touch, looking up at him with wide, doe-eyes. “You know that’s not true, sweetheart.”

You pull yourself out of your daze and roll your eyes in annoyance, starting to turn away from him. Joel grabs you by your wrists, pushing your back up against the door. The intense smell of aftershave, cigarettes, and coffee fills your senses, your stomach begins to flutter, a fire burning deep inside of you.

“Let go of me,” You say softly, not convincing anyone that you truly want him to. Your eyes are stuck on his slightly parted lips, his bottom one still healing from the last run in he had with someone at The Tipsy Bison. He begins to grab at your ankle length dress, a smirk still plastered on his face, he begins to walk his fingers up your thigh and hiking up the bottom of the dress as quickly as he can. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath when your panties come into view, running his fingers along the hem where your thigh and womanhood meet.

“I don’t think so,” He barely gets his words out before crashing his lip into yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth which you gladly welcome. You let out a small moan as Joel presses his growing bulge against your leg, and pulls your panties to the side, running his index finger over your pulsing clit. The sensation causes your hips to roll, pushing into his touch. As he pulls away, you grab onto his lip with your teeth, tugging on it. Joel moans, following up with a small, dark chuckle. Joel, you breathily let out, screwing your eyes shut as he teases your hole with two of his fingers.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?” Joel grunts, pulling his hand out of your panties, knowing that he won’t be able to push through teasing you. He needs you right now.

Before you know it, he’s pulling you by your wrist over to the kitchen table— the one the two of you were arguing at only moments prior. But right now, none of that matters. The only thing that matters is what you want from Joel, and what he wants from you. He flattens his hand against the middle of your back, pushing you down and bending you over the table. Your chest slams against the surface, you let out a small, devilish giggle. ‘M sorry, Joel mutters, you can hear him struggling with his belt buckle, and then it hitting the wood flooring. Your pussy throbs at the thought of Joel fucking you. Without thinking, you grab the edges of the table, wrapping your fingers around the sides until your knuckles go white.

As he comes up behind you, you can feel the warmth of his presence on the back of your thighs, causing the hair to stand up on the back of your neck. You arch your back towards him, begging him to fill you up, to ease the aching feeling between your legs. Your breathing becomes shallow and an intense feeling of irritation comes over you.

Joel suddenly runs his hand down your back, causing goosebumps to appear across your arms and legs, before lightly slapping your ass. Mhmm, he softly hums. As he comes closer, you can feel his manhood wiggling itself in the slit between your legs. As the tip brushes against your clit, you become impatient, cranking your neck back toward Joel. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s enjoying seeing you like this.

“Joel—“ You practically cry out.

“Tell me sweetheart, tell me how bad you want me,” His voice is dark, but smooth.

“So— so fucking bad, please,” You whimper, laying the side of your head down at the table, preparing yourself for when Joel decides to enter your dripping hole.

“You look so fucking good from this angle,” He moans quietly, more for himself than for you to hear.

He reaches between him and you with his hand, and you can feel him slowly drag his cock between your lips, positioning his tip ever so slightly at the entrance of your hole. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying to scoot yourself back toward him.

“Please,” You practically shout out to him, and he returns a seductive laugh before slowly pushing himself deeper, and deeper inside you. You let out a loud moan as you feel your tight hole stretch around him; both pain and pleasure fills you, the feeling spreading down to your legs.

“Tell me how good I feel inside of you,” Joel grunts, gripping onto your hips, pressing his fingers into the dips of your hips, and slamming them back toward him. Your eyes roll back at the force, and you can feel your legs begin to go numb. When you don’t respond fast enough for him, he pushes himself into you more aggressively. “I said, tell me—“

You cut him off before he can complete his sentence.

“So…fucking…good,” You pause, saying each would on each thrust. The table is moving underneath you, scraping against the flooring. Joel draws himself slowly out of you before thrusting back in, you can feel something warm begin to run down your legs.

“Shit,” Joel says in a serious tone, pulling out of you without any warning. A feeling of emptiness overcomes you and you begin to whimper, cranking your neck back to him. You lock eyes with him, giving him pleading eyes, he glances back and forth between you and the window.

“Wha— what are you doing?” You can feel yourself dripping, pulsing at your undying desire for him to be back inside of you.

“Head on upstairs,” Joel says, grabbing his jeans off the floor and covering his lower half. You look over to the window, the family who lives next door is approaching from the side street. There’s no way they won’t see the two of you once they get closer.

“I should’ve put those curtains up.” Joel sounds slightly embarrassed admitting that. You turn back to him about halfway up the steps, I told you so, you think to yourself, giving him a telling look. He just shakes his head, slapping your ass to get you moving. “C’mon, we got some business to finish.”

As soon as the two of you are in the main bedroom, Joel is already all over you again. The sun is now setting, casting a dim, warm glow over the bedroom. As he begins to tug at the straps of your dress, you start to thumb at the hem of his worn, faded blue t-shirt. The one you told him to throw out. Your subtle frustration at the realization he failed to listen to you again turns to lust and firmly plant your hands on his chest, forcibly pushing him back on the bed. Your aggressiveness comes to him as a surprise, turning him on even more at the same time. He’s now watching you with begging eyes as you slip the other strap over your arm, your dress falling into a messy pile on the floor. Joel runs his eyes all over you, his throat bobbing when the two of you lock eyes. You walk over to him slowly, positioning yourself between his legs. Joel runs his hands across your lower back, rubbing your ass and squeezing occasionally.

You drop to your knees, still keeping intense eye contact with Joel. His eyes are wide and his breathing is slow. Sweat is beginning to form on his forehead and is clinging onto his chest hairs. You grab your hair with one of your hands, moving it to one side and then drop your eyes to his cock, the tip is swollen, begging to be touched. As you begin to rub your thumb over the dripping head, Joel lets out a guttural moan. A moan that clearly conveys finally. The sounds he’s making turns you on ever more than before, you can feel your breasts begin to swell.

“Look at me,” You whisper to Joel who has his head tilted back, looking towards the ceiling. You bring your free hand up to the back of his head, lightly wrapping your fingers around his hair and pulling it upright. He hazily looks at you, his tongue poking out from between his swollen lips. “Watch me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes as you take just the head of his cock between your lips, sucking on it ever so slightly. You watch as his eyelids flutter, and his eyes roll back; you watch as he struggles to keep his eyes open to watch you. The warmth of his precum caresses your cold tongues as you begin to swirl it, feeling the liquid steadily come from the slit of his cock.

“Do– fuck– take i–in more,” Joel begins to plead, bring one of his hands up to the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair, encouraging you to take in more of him by pushing the back of your head into him. You immediately obliged, slowly and messily bobbing your head, taking in more of him each time. When you can feel the tip reach the farthest point your body will allow it to go, you take your hand, pumping and twisting the remainder of his girth. “That’s i–it sweetheart, you know h– oh my fucking God– you know how to make me fe–el good. Keep going, you–re doing s–so good.”

He’s guiding your head, pushing and pulling at his desired pace. His cock is covered in your saliva, pooling around the base. When the muscles in his thighs begin to tense up, he pulls you off of him, more aggressively than intended. You fall back on your hands on the floor, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“Don’t think I’m not gonna pleasure you, do ya?” He says begin his heavy breaths, his chest rising and falling quickly. “Get up here.”

Joel stands up, slightly pumping his cock and points at the bed. You oblige, bringing yourself up to your feet and centering yourself on the bed. Joel joins you without hesitation, positioning himself between your legs and hovering over you. He starts to nip at your neck, following down to collarbones, before taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth, gently sucking and biting at it. A wave of pleasure shoots through your limbs, causing you to let out a moan. Joel snickers.

“You like that, huh?” His tone is dark. As he nips at it again, you can feel his cock hit against your clit, sending a whole new sensation through your body. He swirls his tongue around the bud, moving on down your stomach, planting small kisses along the way.

Getting impatient, once again, you reach between the two of you grabbing his cock and scooting your body down. Joel begins to thrust in your hand, his eyes rolling back. He lets small, soft moans escape past his lips, to which you respond with whimpers. You want him so damn bad.

“Just– fuck me Joel,” You are finally able to get the words out. Joel nods in response, obviously over teasing you, and he spreads your legs wider.

As soon as you feel the tip connect with your hole, you buckle your hips and wrap your legs around his torso. In harmony, Joel thrusts deep inside of you, the two of you let out a loud moan. The bed creaks as he draws in and out, you can feel the sheets starting to become damp with sweat and other bodily fluids.

“Tell me you're done,” Joel suddenly says in a clear voice. “You’re done with me, with u–us.”

His request throws you off. His breathing becomes heavier as he starts to thrust faster and harder into you, your mind goes blank, the only thing you can focus on is how sexy Joel looks hovering over you and how fucking good it feels to be fucked by him. You don’t think anyone else would be able to make you feel this good.

“I– I’m– duh–” You try to get the words out but the building chaos in your stomach becomes overwhelming and nearly debilitating. You can feel your legs start to tense up, your toes becoming numb.

“You… can’t… even…say…it…,” Joel drags out between his heavy breaths. Sweat is running down his cheeks and chest, dropping in splotches on your stomach.

“Joel, I– I can’t– I’m about to–” You screw your eyes shut as you twitch under Joel’s weight, for a moment all you can see are bright splotches of colors; the tension in your stomach coming to an explosive end. Joel slows his thrusting, but continues, riding you out of your orgasm. You have your hands grasped around his forearms, squeezing as tight as you can.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” He says in a soothing tone. You can feel yourself pulsing around him. “You’re so fucking good.”

On his last thrust, he doesnt pull out right away, his breathing hitches and he lets out a moan of relief. You can feel his girth twitch inside of you, and your pussy responds with a few more pulses. As he pulls out, the warmth of him remains, running down your slit and pooling on the bed. Joel drops down next to you, half limp with his arm strewn across your chest.

–

“Where are you going?” Joel props himself up on the bed with one elbow, sweat glistening off his chest and forehead as the moonlight shines in through the open window.

“Home,” You respond, almost confused. Where else would you be going?

You see his face drop in return, slightly pouting his bottom lip. For a moment, you wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, you go back to wrangling with your mess of a dress; nearly falling over in the dark room when your foot doesn’t slide through the top opening with ease.

In the corner of your eye, you see Joel slowly pull himself out of bed, slipping on his gray boxers without any struggle. The floorboards creak quietly as he makes his way across the room toward you. You let out a deep sigh, a sense of relief lingers as you exhale. As you pull the last strap over your shoulder and adjust the bust, Joel loosely wraps his still damp arms around you and you crumble under his touch. You can hear his heartbeat as you nuzzle your head against his chest. Strong and deep. You close your eyes. This is the last time, you think.

“It’s cold out,” His voice is quiet and hoarse. He has his arms fully wrapped around you, not letting you escape, even if you tried— even if you wanted to. A somber smile appears on your face and you tilt your head back to look up at him. He doesn’t return your gaze, staring out the window as the two of you begin to sway from side to side. “Just stay for the night.”

His voice is even smaller than it was before, the sound coming out like a breeze. Joel runs his hands smoothly along the sides of your arms, barely brushing past your hips, before letting his arms fall at his side. He deeply inhales, locking his intense eyes on you, anticipating for you to say something— anything— at this point. You know exactly what he wants to hear.

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating your choices and their potential consequences. If I don’t leave now, it will just be a never ending cycle, you think, your breathing becoming slow and deep. As you’re thinking, Joel brings his hand up to the back of your neck, running his fingers along your hairline, then tracing your jawline with the tips.

Even though you know what you should do— the right thing to do— Joel is your weakness. And you are his. That’s why breaking up has never worked in the past. The community is too small, and your relationship is too intense.

“Sweetheart,” His tone has a hint of anxiousness to it.

You give him a slight nod, a bit of hesitation behind the gesture. He grabs your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckles, pulling you back toward the messy bed. You crawl from his designation side over to yours, laying on your side to face him. With your hand tucked under your head, cupping your ear, you watch him take a smooth draw at his whiskey, the muscles in his chest twitch as he moves his arm.

He slips into the bed, pulling the blanket over the two of you, and scooting closer to you. Your eyelashes are fluttering at him, your heart full; the infatuation that comes after an intense break up, you think, self-aware of what you’re feeling. A small part of you feels guilty. Joel is looking at you with hungry eyes, although a softness exudes from them. He leans in, planting a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

“This time it’s over,” He says as he pulls away, brushing a few pieces of stray hair out of your face. You smile at him, following up with a bittersweet nod.

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jksprincess10 · 3 months

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Something in the shadows || 1. Awakening

Summary: When a girl is found by Ellie just outside of Jackson, covered in what seems to be scratches from a beast, the community realizes that the infected might not be the only monsters out there.

CWs: Dark!Joel, monster!Joel, werewolf!Joel, NOT an omegaverse fic, fated mates, DUBCON, murders, gore, dark and horror themes, overprotective!joel, explicit smut, FMC without a name and a physical description (it's you baby), unspecified age gap, no y/n.

(3600 wordS)

Dividers by @saradika

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Divider by @saradika

“Are you fucking kidding me! Joel, Joel, come here!”

The girl’s yell tore the morning peace. She was going on her morning errands when a trail of blood, so clear on the white snow, lead her to an unconscious woman. She was just out of Jackson, so close to survival, yet so far. She saw from the shallow movements of her chest that she was still breathing, even though she was probably freezing, her face covered in a fresh coat of snow. Ellie knelt beside the unnamed woman and with the help of her warm glove, brushed away the snow from her face. Her lips were blue and trembling, and a deep scratch was formed on her face; the blood half dried already. Her features were soft besides the ugly cut.

“Come on old man, fucking hurry up!” Ellie yelled from the top of her lungs as Joel ran as fast as he could towards the clearing. While she waited for him, she peeled the superficial layers on her body to envelop the dying stranger. “Don’t worry, we got you.” She whispered to the woman, who was probably too far away in her mind to hear her.

Joel’s heavy boots crushed the snow as he ran as fast as his tired bones let him. His coat was barely on; an old leather jacket thrown over a green flannel before Ellie dragged him outside. He didn’t get much sleep, as usual. His jeans, like his bones, were worn, originally a dark blue that became whiter at the knees. His boots held together with tape and prayers, like his whole life.

When he got closer, he saw the crimson tainting the snow, like roses on a white bed. He thought that maybe it was already too late. But when he knelt beside Ellie and held a hand over the woman’s mouth, he felt her weak breathing. She wore the appropriate clothing to walk in the snow, but that wasn’t enough to last her through the night under the stars. When he searched her face for a sign of life, something akin to fear took over the tiredness of his gaze. It didn’t look human or like anything he had ever dealt with before.

Joel slid his arms around the injured woman’s body to get her up. She’s dead weight, but he would make it.

“Go back first Ellie, ask for help.”

The girl flew back to camp at his demand, trying to gather everyone and anyone that could help. Joel’s walk was heavy as he carried her back to safety. He passed the metal fence that separated Jackson from the rest of the cruel world, passed a few houses built by the community until he got to the makeshift hospital, where people already gathered under Ellie’s pleads for help.

A woman was already waiting for them, olive skin, dark hair, and full lips. She wore a handmade nurse uniform, even though uniforms didn’t really matter anymore.

Differentiating people mattered, though.

Discerning who could help you and who could kill you mattered.

Joel let her down on the bed. He heard the door close behind him, trapping the cold behind.

“My name is Amelia.” Said the nurse as she gathered her supplies. “Who is this?”

Ellie, who was there the whole time, responded. “We don’t know. I just found her outside of Jackson. Can you help her?!” Joel stood in the corner of the room, watching like a hawk. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to touch the woman again.

“I’ll do my best.” She assured, a reassuring smile on her lips. She seemed kind and perfect for her job, hiding behind lies and reassurances.

When the woman got undressed and put under blankets to warm her up rapidly, Joel looked away. He saw enough, between the wounds on her face and under her coat, that got torn in some places; like they were hit by giant claws. The thought made him shudder.

“She infected?” Joel asked as the nurse examined her when she was stable enough.

“There are no bite marks.” Amelia responded matter-of-factly. “Except those… scratch marks.”

He didn’t know why the thought consoled him. Ellie let out an exclamation of relief.

“We should let ‘er rest. C’mon, Ellie. Let’s go. We’ll tell my brother about her.”

Ellie knew better than to protest. Being in Joel’s life for as long as she was, she knew he was stubborn as a rock. And that she was still technically under his protection. He was the closest thing to a father she ever had, but she would never tell him that.

Tommy didn’t expect to see his brother so early. His baby in his arms, he opened the door and hushed him inside. Joel told Ellie that it would be better to talk “between adults” and sent her on some errands that they were supposed to do before they found the body.

“What’s goin’ on, brother?” Tommy asked in a low voice, worry tinting his expression. He was alone. Maria was probably resting.

“Ain’t gonna take much of your time. Just wanted to say that we found someone outside of the barrier. Injured pretty badly, with scratch marks, like she was attacked by a wolf or somethin’. She has no bitemarks. She was still alive and she’s with Amelia now. Was just wonderin’ what to do with her…”

“Hmmm. I see.” Tommy seemed pensive; his mind stuck on the scratch marks. Everything in Jackson was so peaceful before. He soothed his baby, rocking him slightly. “Let me visit her at the end of the day and see if she’s awake. We don’t have… much space left, though, and we want to prioritize families. You think you can take her in? Y’have an extra room.”

Joel’s blood ran cold at the suggestion. He was afraid to be close to her, and now she would possibly live with him. Tommy saw how he resisted the idea.

“She was found alone?”

“Yeah…”

“Think about it, yeah? I’ll catch ya later.”

Joel nodded and looked down at the baby for a brief instant; he still wasn’t sure how to act around his nephew. He wanted to love him and be happy for Tommy, truly, but Sarah’s loss still burned, like it didn’t happen 20 years ago, but yesterday. Sure, Ellie helped a little, but as she got older, he was scared she would leave him too. The signs were already there; she had found new friends, she was out all the time, she didn’t need him as much as she did before. He needed someone to need him, it was his whole life purpose.

Dinner set in front of them, Joel and Ellie ate in a comfortable silence. When Ellie finished her errands, she went to check on the mysterious girl, but she was still in a deep coma.

“What’s on your mind, old man?”

After approximately a year of traveling together and then living together, Ellie could decipher any change in the already grumpy man; like when his scowl deepened or when his fingers tapped nervously on every surface available. Joel cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat, the old chair creaking under the shift of his weight. He kept a mental note of that; he would have to fix it later.

“Told Tommy about the girl… If she wants to stay, we prioritize families, so…”

“So, she’d have to stay here?” Ellie suggested.

Joel nodded and got up to clear the emptied plates off the table.

“Can she stay here, please? We can’t leave her…” Ellie pleaded.

“We don’t take any strays.” He responded abruptly.

“You took me in. What’s another stray?” The girl shrugged in response. She knew she could pull on the right strings, and Joel would accept. Despite his harsh shell, Joel had a good heart. She saw it, when he took care of her, when he helped everyone around him without a word. “What are you scared of, Joel?”

Joel’s only response was silence, and the sound of water running down the sink. When it was full of soapy water, he plunged his hands in it, scrubbing the dishes with too much intensity. His hands were roughened by the age and his years of work. His fingers were thick, prominent veins decorated the back of his hand. His nails were short, sometimes blackened by the odd jobs he did for the community, but for now, they were clean.

He felt Ellie’s presence, the intensity of her pleading gaze burning a hole through his head. He let out a long sigh and set the dishes aside to dry, before turning around to look at his first stray. “Okay.” He simply said, not answering her questions.

What was he afraid of?

When he had taken her to the hospital, her body in his arms, he felt like she was burning him. He was afraid of…her. And in the back of his mind, he was afraid of what he could do to her.

Ellie was fast asleep in her room, while Joel relaxed in the living room. He was enjoying his usual drink; a dark, strong scotch produced in the community. It was the only way he could fall asleep. Even though when he did… he never felt rested. Maybe he sleepwalked? Although, Ellie would’ve told him. Still, something was going on. He didn’t remember having dreams or nightmares.

His lids closed slowly when he heard a knock at the door. He looked through the window, before opening, his brother on the porch. Tommy was the spitting image of their mother, the same dark hair, the same freckles. Joel thought that he inherited all the shitty genes in the family.

“She awake?” Joel asked, leaning against the door frame.

“No, but Amelia said she’s stable. But I’m gonna need your answer, Joel.”

Relief settled in his stomach. The girl would be fine.

“We’ll take her in. Would be cruel to kick her out.”

“Alright. I’ll see ya tomorrow at patrol.”

They punctuated their goodbyes with a manly and friendly slap on the shoulder. When the door closed behind Tommy, Joel climbed the stairs and fell into his bed.

A new routine took form in the next few days; Ellie would check on the girl in the mornings, and Joel in the evenings. During the day, they also gathered things their new roommate would need; like clothes and the essentials to decorate her room.

No signs of life, until a week later. Her fingers started moving, and her eyelids opened abruptly, like she was awakening from a violent nightmare. The first person she saw was the nice nurse, who took care of her day and night until her arrival. Amelia jumped to her side, so she wouldn’t get up too fast.

“You’re fine, you’re fine.” The nurse assured, and she believed her.

Amelia checked her vitals, everything seemed normal. “Do you remember what happened?” She asked as she busied herself with her work.

She tried to dig in the depths of her mind, but everything was a blur. The only word that came to mind was something that looked like a name. Her name. What happened? Where did she land? She had no idea.

“I don’t.” Her voice was quiet, scared. She looked down, she had a feeling the clothes weren’t hers; a hospital cotton gown covered her body. Her arms were wrapped in bandages, and she could vaguely feel something taped to her face, almost obstructing the view from her left eye.

“Do you remember your name?” Amelia asked in a soft voice, like she was trying to tame a savage animal.

The woman responded with her name.

“That’s a start.” She encouraged her, as she checked on her wounds.

“Am I hurt?” The patient asked, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“A few bad scratches, but you’re fine. You’re healing very well. You might get a few scars…” She sat on a stool next to the makeshift hospital bed. “It’s a miracle you’re alive. We found you out in the cold.”

Even with the nurse’s words, she didn’t remember anything. As she was talking, people entered the room. A tall man and a girl, probably in her teenage years.

“Ellie and Joel, she just woke up. It’s good you both came.”

The girl – Ellie looked happy to see her. Did she know her? She tried to smile to “Ellie”, like a friend would, soft, with barely any teeth. Ellie approached her with a big smile. The man stayed behind, big arms crossed on his chest.

“Hi! I’m the one who found you.”

“Oh… thank you.” That’s all she could say, really. So, she didn’t know them.

“Do you remember what attacked you?” The man – Joel – asked from his corner. His voice was rough, like the beard he wore.

“Attacked? No… I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything.”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. I’m sure it’ll come back.” Joel looked at the nurse then. “She good to go?”

“Yes, she almost is.” Amelia crouched and took a fabric bag that contained new clothes, that she gave her. “Joel and Ellie brought this for you, I hope it fits.”

“C’mon Ellie, we’ll wait outside.”

After they had left the small hospital, the woman got up, her legs still numb from the lack of use. She undid her hospital gown, before shimmying on the dark jeans. She then slipped on the other piece of clothing – a thick, light blue wool shirt over her head. It was soft and comfortable. She zipped her boots and also grabbed a coat that was left for her.

“Thank you… ” She told the nurse, insure of what was next for her.

“No problem. Welcome to Jackson, honey. I hope you will like it here.”

She smiled, like she knew what Jackson was, then left. The man and the teenager were waiting for her outside. It seemed like she was in some sort of Christmas village – the houses were close together, there was snow on the ground and on the mountains in the distance. The trees were lit up with beautiful lights, keeping the village in view in the dark night. She couldn’t believe this place was real.

She heard the man clear her throat, then she turned to him, her cheeks heating up.

“So… we guessed you had nowhere to go. If you want, we have a guest room. ‘Til you figure things out.”

“Oh – thank you.” She responded, embarrassed. “I… you didn’t have to.” But in truth, where would she go? She didn’t remember how she ended up here.

“Come on! We love helping people, don’t we, Joel?” Ellie exclaimed as she hit Joel’s side with her elbow. “Oh by the way this is Joel, I’m Ellie. What’s your name?”

She gave them her name ; she had no reason not to. They walked, and she followed closely, still in awe as she observed the trees and the lights lighting up the road. They stopped in front of a house, it was beige with a wooden porch at the front. They entered and she followed, taking in her surroundings.

There was a fire still burning in the living room; like they knew they wouldn’t be gone for too long. The house was simply decorated, and it resembled a country home. She half expected to see farm animals at the back.

“I’ll show you your room.” Ellie offered, putting her arm around her waist. “And then, maybe we could get you something to eat.”

She flinched a bit at the touch, but she followed Ellie upstairs. The house was big, but not too much, to the point where it was still cozy. The old wood floors and the vintage décor really helped with the overall ambiance. Upstairs, there was four doors leading to four different rooms.

“This is Joel’s room, don’t go in there if you don’t want to get murdered.” Ellie explained, but in a humorous tone that hid any murderous intentions. “Bathroom, my room, then yours at the end of the hallway.”

“Thank you.”

“Take the time to get settled, and when you’re ready, you should eat something.”

She nodded in agreement. For what seemed to be a teenager, Ellie was very caring. She waited until she heard Ellie’s footsteps fading to open the door to what would be her bedroom. It was simply decorated; the walls were a yellowy beige, the double bed was covered with a beautiful quilt – mixed with floral fabrics and soft, pastel colors. The room also contained a dark-wooden shelf and a small wardrobe under a big window that brought in some natural light. She opened the drawers and discovered that they were already filled with essentials for every season – pants, t-shirts, cardigans, thick wool shirts, socks, and underwear. She felt her cheeks heating up at the thought of that man – Joel – finding underwear for her, before pushing the thought away. She also discovered some basic toiletries and a menstrual cup in a bottom drawer - taking the strange object between her fingers and squished it. She could guess what it was for – but from her distant memories, she could remember using cloth to contain the blood. She put it aside and let her hand trail against the pleasant grain of the wood, before going back downstairs, recounting what she remembered as she stepped down.

Her name.

Her menstruations.

The fact that the world had somehow stopped before she found herself here – an apocalypse, yeah, that was probably the right word.

She heard activity in the kitchen, so she followed the sound. Ellie was sat at the table and Joel was making a plate of leftovers – meat and some sort of purée.

“Ellie, you know, you could give the woman some space.” Joel sighed as she saw Ellie eyeing the girl she saved with curiosity. “Besides, you already had dinner. Go away.” There was no bite in his tone, but she obeyed with an elongated sigh, before wishing the woman she saved a good night.

She sat down at the table and gawked at the plate that Joel deposited in front of her – her stomach already growling in anticipation. Joel cleared his throat as he looked through the cupboards for a glass. “You want anything to drink? We have… water.”

“Water sounds good.” She tried to smile at him, but he didn’t return the attention as he left the glass in front of her and sat across from her at the table. “Thank you.”

Joel crossed his arms on his chest as she started eating. The food was so fresh, the meat melted on her tongue. She let out a sound that resembled a moan. “This is incredible.”

The man looked away, the tip of ears getting red. He readjusted his jeans that had suddenly gotten uncomfortable as he thought Come on Miller, keep it together.

“So, what’s this place?” She asked curiously between a few bites.

“We are in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s a secluded village where people are safe, away from the horrors out there. Do you… remember the apocalypse?”

“Well, that was long ago, was it? I was pretty young.”

“Oh.” She was much younger than him, then. She was probably a kid, while he was already a single dad. “Yeah, guess that makes sense.” Joel agreed as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Are you from here, Joel?” She asked, tasting the name on her tongue like she was tasting the meat he cooked.

“No. Was born and raised in Texas.”

“Hmm. So, this is where that accent comes from.” She said, her fork pointing in his direction. Talking to Joel was easier than she thought. She felt a pull towards him, she wanted to know him.

“Do you remember where you’re from?”

Complete silence as she searched her mind for answers, but they seemed so far out of reach. “No. Guess… we’ll figure it out.” She smiled through the sadness. “Is Ellie your daughter?”

“She’s… adopted.” He said simply. He would skip the long story for now, until he knew he could trust her. Even Ellie didn’t know the real story. “C’mon now, you should finish your meal and you may want to take a bath.”

“Oh no! Do I smell bad?” She asked innocently, as she attempted to subtly smell her own armpit. Joel chuckled softly and assured her that she didn’t. “Thank you for the meal, Joel.” She added as the man left the room.

After she left her, Joel climbed directly to his bedroom. Ellie’s door was closed – she was probably drawing or sleeping. He shut the door behind himself and got rid of his clothes to wear clean pajamas – grey loose pants and a black t-shirt. He sighed as he noticed that he was still half-hard. He sat on his bed to get rid of the problem, pulling down his bottoms and letting them rest under his heavy balls. At the thought of her, his body burned, begged for more. He wrapped his big hand around his girth and stroked slowly, careful not to make any noise. He got lost in his euphoria for a bit, before he heard some splashing sounds – maybe, maybe he should check on her and make sure she didn’t need anything. He didn’t let himself come, and pushed his cock back in place as he pulled up his pants to get out of his room.

The bathroom door was a little open. How could she be so… naïve. The beast clawed at him, it wanted to see, to feel. Maybe a little peek wouldn’t hurt. He hid against the wall, his eyes peeking inside the bathroom. Her body was laid in the tub, and her eyes were closed. He could get a glimpse of her breasts when she breathed. She looked almost asleep. The beast growled more, more, more. He pushed it away, deep inside of him, as he stroked his clothed cock. It wouldn’t take too long for him to come. And when he did and when she moved ; he disappeared fast in his room and locked the door, afraid of what he could do to her.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #something in the shadows #monster!joel #monster!joel miller #werewolf!joel miller #werewolf!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x foc #joel miller x f!oc

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luvrxbunny · 1 month

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homecoming ─ ★ joel miller x f! reader

a/n: i wrote this at like 3:30am 🦢

wc: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ MNDI, really light choking, dry humping, piv, some praise, oh and some hair pulling but i feel like joel miller smut = some hair pulling.. with me at least cus like.. THE CURLS (not proofread and much longer than intended)

okay so Joel coming back from a trip, maybe it wasn’t even super long, a week or so but nothing you guys haven’t weathered before.

but for some reason; maybe it’s been a long time since he was away from you for even a day.. Joel all but loses his mind without you.

it’s like he goes into heat or something. like his body knows that he can’t have you and suddenly its craving you 10x its usual amount.

he comes back late at night, near midnight. all the guys wanted to take shelter for the night, arrive at the community in the morning but Joel hadn’t mentally prepared himself for another night without you. he refused to go another night without you.

you’re snug in bed when he crawls in. you’re pulled from your sleep by the dip in the bed but you instantly recognize the broad chest pressing against your back.

you gasp and bury your hand in his hair as quickly as possible. you reach over his face as he gives your neck a kiss and presses closer to you, poking you in the back with a feeling you’ve missed.

“is this okay? i’ve missed you so much, love.” you only hum in response, arching your back so he can grind against the plush of your ass, an opportunity he graciously accepts. he groans low and rough into the back of your neck as he starts humping you. “we can stop if you’re sleepy, baby.. shit.” his arm comes to wrap around you.

his forearm stretches diagonally across your torso as he cups your blood with his palm, using you for leverage to grind himself more forcefully into your ass. “could- oh god.. mmm we could w-wait for— until the—”

“baby, shut up.” is all you mumble before twisting to finally devour his lips in a kiss that he whines into. whines

his frantic humping turns into purposeful grinding as you pull away. his breathing is more erratic than you’ve ever heard it. his eyes are shut as tightly as his hand is gripping your hip, surely leaving dents in your skin.

you turn back around to bury your face in the pillow in front of you, too uncomfortable with your body twisted but leaving your hand to play with his hair. “needed me this bad, baby?”

you try to sound teasing, dominant but instead the question comes out high and breathy, sounds as desperate as he’s acting.

all you get in response is a growl from Joel before his hand leaves your boob to flip your body around, letting you face him, letting you— for the first time— really take in his disheveled state.

his hair is mussed— definitely your doing, but his lips are red and bitten, presumably from holding in his sounds to not disturb the silence of the night. his eyes are blown wide, glinting with a crazed look as he grinds into you gently.

he has his hand on your thigh, your leg pulled over his hip do he can grind right into your core, sending convulsions throughout your body.

after taking him in you meet his eyes again and he crumbles. whimpering a loose form of your name before burying his face in your neck and inhaling your scent as his hand coming to your lower back to press your body into his.

“i’ve needed you more that air, dove. been craving your soft body, your- fuck- your sweet sounds.” his voice gets high near the end of the sentence, only reminding you of his need. “swear i’ve been seeing you in the stars at night. m’losin my goddamn mind over ya’.”

his desperation is leaking into your veins now, the same way you’ve started to seep into your underwear, growing tired and teased with Joel’s incessant movements against you.

you stay silent, let him release wet moans into your skin as you take matters into your own hands.

you grab his waist band and pull the buttons apart so roughly you may have broken them. you keep up your urgent demeanor as you free his cock from its confines.

his hips don’t stop moving as you fumble with his pants, he grinds against the air, your hands and your wrists, anything he can reach.

he moans your name when you wrap your hand around him but his breath is stolen as you quickly pull your panties aside and shove him in.

he’s surrounded in your wet warmth before he can take another breath. the same heat he’s been dreaming of, craving, fiending for over the course of the past week.

his head is finally pulled from your neck as he sits up a bit with his hand on your throat, his index finger and thumb holding your jaw in place as he forces you to look him in the eye.

his brows are furrowed and there’s a look of confusion and a softness that feels like begging in his eyes. you’re waiting for him to scold you, remind you who’s in charge, that you don’t do anything without his permission first. but instead he just pants against you, incapable of taking even breaths as his hips twitch softly and against his will into you.

you hold his eye contact as your hands come to the base of his spine, pressing down and curving his hips into you, guiding his slow and gentle thrusts.

his face crumples in pleasure, all his features scrunching in as he tries not to moan into your face. his hand twitches on your throat before tightening again as he leans down to press you against his forehead before resting his cheek on yours as he finally releases all the sounds he’s been holding in.

first you get a guttural groan, something that sounds like it came from the depths of his chest; low and rumbling. as his hips begin to move on their own accord, his moans change. they become more urgent, short and cut off as he tries to catch his breath. every now and then it sounds like the first syllable of your name but he’s never able to get the full thing out. “there you go, sweetheart. just like that.”

you try and stay composed as you guide him but he’s ramming into your g-spot like he’s been searching for it for weeks. your brain is turning to mush, melting out of your ears. when Joel pulls his face away from yours, wanting to examine your state, he can tell. he can tell that you’re not all there, that you’re holding on by a thread for him. it fills his chest with pride.

you watch a lazy smirk slide over his face as his hooded eyes meet yours. “it’s okay, baby.. m’here now.”

Joel lifts one of your legs, gripping your thigh and pushing it to meet your chest. “you don’t gotta be all tough anymore.” it feels as though he’s opened up a new channel inside your pussy, like he’s reaching places that weren’t accessible before. like he’s reached heaven, inside you. “you can let go, darlin’.”

you explode.

its that godforsaken southern drawl of his. whenever he talks to you in his low, smooth voice, like pouring warm honey right into your ear, filling your brain with sweetness. you have no choice but to fall apart. you hadn’t even been aware of how badly you’d been craving him.

you knew you missed him of course, but you thought you’d be satisfying yourself decently in his absence.

you obviously had forgotten when your orgasms feel like when they belong to Joel.

it feels like your body falls completely apart. you don’t feel attached your limbs anymore. all you can feel is the warmth blossoming violently in your abdomen. your thighs shake, and Joel tightens his grip, wanting to feel the rippling muscles under his palm.

he watches your brows furrow as your eyes roll back. you go limp in his arms, your entire body relaxed as your soak his cock in your juices.

Joel fucks into you at a leisurely pace, forgetting his desperation in favor of watching you melt into the bed. but as he thrusts he watches you slowly coat his cock, giving him a milky sheen, an award for his actions and a reminder of your own craving for him.

it’s more than a punch in the gut, it’s like he’s been completely winded, like someone has punctured his lungs and crushed his heart inside his chest.

he gasps once and sees your eyes snap open to his, waiting and watching as his body folds in on itself to fill you with its seed.

Joel almost falls on top of you, his arm catching him before he lowers himself into your lips. he’s too busy moaning your name and praises to kiss you properly. he rests his lips against yours as his mind clears, blank and thoughtless, finally satiated after a week of driving him crazy.

his body weight slowly increases as he blankets you, his cock pulsing inside you gently, gently pumping pent up ropes of cum into you despite the small amount already leaking onto your thighs.

“love you s’much.” Joel mumbles groggily into your ear. his hand comes up to stroke your head, soothing you as he notices your rapid heartbeat. “you’re my perfect girl, y’know that? everything i dream of, everything pure.” you feel that terrifying warmth spread through your chest, that intense, buzzing love that blooms in your chest whenever he opens his mouth.

“i know, joey.” your hand slides out of his hair and down his back, scratching gently and relishing in the way you feel his chest rumble with a contented hum. “i love you so much more, y’know that?”

he chuckles softly before biting you semi-gently. “no way.” he sighs against your skin. “ain’t possible.” he licks over his teeth marks before kissing them.

his lips just barely ghost over the area as he falls asleep, his cock warm and soaked inside you.

a horrid surprise for Tommy when he tries to welcome his brother home with a “gourmet” breakfast in bed service.

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joelsgreys · 10 months

Text

to hell and back l two

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, reader has a flashback, mentions of slavers, implied threat of assault, guns, reader gets groped, reader has a panic attack, a lot of angst, trauma. soft Joel, protective Joel, and i even threw in some domestic Joel because just imagine that old man making you a nice lil late night snack. 🥹 i think i got most of the major warnings out of the way, i’m sorry if i missed anything!

Word Count: 8.7k

Smoke was coming off my jacket

and you didn’t seem to mind

I left a long trail of ashes and

you said, I like your style

California l Spring, 2023

Your hand trembled slightly as you gripped your pistol and aimed it at his chest.

You’d never pointed your gun at another human being before. At least not one that was still alive.

“Hey now, it’s alright. You can trust us.”

Anxiously, you glimpsed from the man who had just spoken to the woman who stood beside him.

Surely the two had to be related. Both possessed the same fiery red hair, a face full of freckles, and vivid green eyes. They stood before you with their weapons lowered in an attempt to show you that they weren’t a threat to your safety.

The man, who had to be in his mid to late thirties, moved to step forward, but halted in his tracks when he caught sight of the way your finger had twitched over the trigger. “My name is Mark,” he said, carefully gesturing to himself with his free hand. In his opposite hand, he clutched his rifle, an assault style weapon that made your gun look like a fucking toy in comparison. Still, it was you who had the upper hand, at least for now. “This here is my sister. Her name is Jessa.” He paused and when you said nothing, he asked, “Can you tell us your name?”

Chewing your bottom lip, you shook your head at him in response.

You didn’t trust them.

Not quite yet.

Jessa, who was younger and looked to be closer to your own age, offered you a kind smile. “That’s alright. You don’t have to tell us your name until you feel comfortable.” She took a look around at the small, makeshift camp that you had made for yourself. “Are you all by yourself, sweets?”

You quickly wracked your brain.

“No,” You fibbed. “I’m with my father. He should be back any minute now. He’s armed and he does not take all too kindly to strangers, so you’d best be on your way before he sees you.” You added in a steadier tone, “He won’t even think twice. He’ll just kill you on the spot, so you better leave right now. Or else.”

Amused, Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, come on now, dollface. You don’t have to lie to us,” he stated, shaking his head. “Let’s try this again and let’s be honest this time, alright? How long have you been alone?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed harshly.

Fuck.

He had seen right through the bullshit threat.

“For about three or four days now,” You admitted, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I was with my father and my sister. The three of us were on our way up north. We were trying to get to Seattle to the quarantine zone, but then they were—”

You suddenly stopped.

It felt like someone had driven their fist right into your gut, knocking all the wind out of your lungs and hindering your ability to speak.

You couldn’t even say it out loud.

Gruesome images of them being torn apart limb from limb flashed through your mind. Bile slowly started climbing its way up your throat and your stomach churned violently.

You were going to be sick.

“Are they both dead?” Mark questioned you.

You nodded, whispering shakily, “Yes.”

Jessa frowned. “I’m so sorry for your loss, honey. If it’s any consolation, me and Mark know exactly how it feels. We lost our entire family about three years ago. It’s the hardest thing we’ve ever been through.” Swinging back her own rifle behind her, she approached you and reached out, placing her hand over yours—the one that was still clutching your weapon. She didn’t even so much as flinch at the way the barrel was now pointed at her, how it was just an inch or two away from her chest. It didn’t seem to faze her that all it would take was you bringing your index finger down a bit harder on the trigger and she would be dead. “We know you must be fucking terrified, but it’s okay. You can trust us. We’re good, honest people and we just want to help you. But we can’t do that if you try and kill us, now can we?”

Slowly, Jessa guided you to lower your gun. She then looked over her shoulder, exchanging a look with her brother, as if asking him to back her up.

“Yeah. She’s right. We just want to help you,” he repeated after her. “We aren’t going to hurt you. If we wanted to, we probably would have by now, don’t you think so?”

You let out a tiny breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding and loosened your iron grip on your pistol.

He did make a fair point.

Now that your gun was pointed at the ground, he could have easily killed you. And yet, he’d made no move to blow your fucking head off.

Maybe they really were good people.

But what if they weren’t?

What if it was just a trap?

You didn’t know what to fucking think.

All you knew was that you were so helplessly lost now that your family was gone.

You were afraid.

Alone.

Jessa turned back to you. “Listen, we’re part of a settlement,” she informed you. “It’s not all too far from here, maybe six or seven miles tops. We’ve got a really big group of people and we’re always looking to bring in anyone in need. Come with us, sweets. There’s plenty of food, water, and we can you into some fresh, clean clothes too. How does that sound?”

You momentarily hesitated, still unsure whether or not you could trust the two strangers.

How did it sound?

It sounded too fucking good to be true.

“It’s a safe place,” Mark assured you from behind her. He could see the reluctance written all over your face.

“It’s as safe as safe can be,” Jessa promised. She touched your arm and flashed you another smile, one that was more kind than the first—one that was so comforting it made you feel like you could actually trust her. “So? What do you say? Will you come back with us? Will you let us help you?”

You nervously bit the inside of your cheek.

Scared, starving, and exhausted, their offer for a safe haven was much too tempting to decline.

Besides, how long could you possibly survive out here all on your own?

“Alright,” You finally agreed after a moment. “I’ll come with you.”

“There’s just one condition,” Mark stated, falling into step beside his sister in front of you. “We’re going to need you to hand over your weapon.”

“What?” You stared at him. “Why?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s protocol,” he said, waving a hand dismissively at you. “It’s purely for safety reasons. Anyone who comes into our group must surrender their weapons. We want to be sure that we’re bringing in someone who isn’t going to be a threat to our people. We have children, so we just want to be cautious, you know?”

“I guess that does makes sense,” You admitted.

“You’ll get it back,” Jessa reassured you. “Once you speak to the council and they determine you aren’t a threat, you’ll get your gun back. Okay?”

Left with very little choice, you agreed. “Okay.”

Mark held out his hand for the weapon.

Slowly, you placed your pistol in his open palm.

“Perfect.” Jessa chirped. “Now grab your things and let’s get going. If we hurry up, we can make it back before nightfall.”

Nodding, you turned around to grab your pack.

The second you turned your back, the barrel of the same gun you’d just handed to Mark poked you between your shoulder blades and you froze, your blood running cold in your veins.

“Hands up, bitch,” Jessa commanded. Her warm and friendly tone had vanished. “And turn around towards me slowly. Now.”

Terrified, you did as you were told and you lifted both of your hands, turning around on the heel of your sneaker to face her.

Her expression, much like her tone, was frigid.

Hostile.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say when I say it.” She held up her rifle, aiming it at you. “And if you don’t, you fucking die. Do you understand?”

“Please,” You choked out. “Don’t—”

“Do you fucking understand?” Jessa repeated in a hiss, her finger hovering over the trigger. When she was met with a small, meek nod, she turned to look at her brother. “Cuff her.”

Mark smirked. He tucked your gun away into the waistband of his jeans and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of rusted handcuffs. He walked around and stood behind you, instructing, “Hands behind your back.” Once he had both of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to slip on the cuffs, tightening them so hard that the old oxidized steel dug painfully into your skin. “She’s a pretty one,” he murmured. As soon as he made certain the cuffs were securely fastened, he put a hand on your ass, groping it roughly. “Oh, you’re going to be popular with the guys, dollface. Kind of makes me want to break you in, right here and right now—give me a few minutes with her, Jess.”

Completely paralyzed with fear, all you could do was stand there in silence as his hands continued to roam your lower body, feeling you up through your jeans. He squeezed at your inner thigh, then brushed up over your zipper.

“Mark! That’s not what she’s for, you idiot,” Jessa reminded him, rolling her eyes. “Now quit fucking around and let’s start heading back to camp.”

She whirled around and started leading the way.

Mark grinned and pressed his mouth to your ear as he whispered in cruel reassurance, “Don’t you worry, now. I’ll get my chance with you—we’re all going to our chance with you.”

He grabbed you by your upper arm and roughly shoved you forward, leading you to what would inevitably be hell on earth.

Joel leans against the tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes are fixed intently on you, carefully observing you from where he stands, more so out of concern rather than curiosity. Something isn’t right.

It’s late in the afternoon and the two of you had been about halfway into the six hour trek down south to Jackson when Joel offered to stop for a while, just long enough for the both of you to rest and take a quick breather, find a second wind before finishing the journey—but as he continues watching you, Joel starts to realize that perhaps stopping had done you much more harm than it’s done you good.

Just a few feet away from where he’s standing and keeping a watchful eye on you, you sit perched on top of a small, flat boulder hugging your knees up to your chest with both hands wrapped tightly around the grip of your pistol.

You’re in a trance like state, staring straight off into the distance at nothing in particular. Your face is completely blank. Emotionless. It appears that while all the lights are on, nobody is fucking home.

Squinting against the sunlight, Joel takes a closer look at you. He sees it so clearly, the faraway look in your eyes.

You are gone. You’ve checked out and completely disconnected from reality.

He would go as far as saying you’ve disconnected from this fucking planet.

You’re sinking, slowly drowning in some kind of thought or perhaps it was a memory—whatever it is that’s currently preoccupying your mind, it sure as hell isn’t anything good. He has no fucking clue how he’d managed to clock it so easily, so quickly, but Joel had sensed something was wrong the instant you’d drifted off.

The deeper you go and the further you lose yourself, the harder your hands clutch at your grin, the thin delicate skin on your knuckles stretching taught over the bones. It’s not until Joel notices the way your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as your breaths quicken, the way you start struggling for air, that he knows it’s time for him to intervene before you worsen and suffocate under the weight of whatever it is that’s sitting so heavily on you.

Pushing himself away from the tree, Joel begins to approach you, taking extra care so as not to spook you into turning your pistol on him and pulling the trigger in a moment of panic. He lifts both of his hands and holds them out in front of him. Cautiously, Joel makes his way over towards where you’re sitting on the boulder, his footsteps slow and careful.

“Hey,” he calls out to you, keeping his tone firm, but somehow still gentle as he tries to garner your attention. When you don’t even acknowledge him or his presence, he tries again, speaking a little bit louder. “Hey. S’okay. S’alright. Everythin’ is alright—come on back now.” Joel draws closer and closer to you, taking tiny step after tiny step on the steel toes of his worn, black leather boots. “S’alright, darlin’. I need you to come back to me now, okay? You ain’t where you think you are. You’re alright—”

The sound of a twig snapping underneath his boot startles you. Jumping to your feet, you aim your gun at him with shaking hands and wild, terrified eyes.

Even as your finger trembles over the trigger, Joel remains calm. “Hey, c’mon. Take it easy. S’okay. You’re alright. Look, it’s me. It’s just me and I ain’t gonna do anythin’ to hurt you,” he swears. He shows you his empty hands, hoping that you would be able to snap out of it and realize that he isn’t a threat. That you aren’t in any kind of danger. But as you hold your weapon, chest heaving as you panic, Joel knows it doesn’t matter that his hands are empty. It doesn’t make a fucking difference. He knows it isn’t him who is standing in front of you.

It’s someone else. Whoever you were seeing standing there in his place, it’s someone who had done god knows what to you. Joel has a gut wrenching hunch it had something to do with the marks he’d seen around your wrists back at the cabin. The mere thought of it is enough to send an unpleasant chill up and down the length of his spine.

Joel speaks again. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He feels the sudden urge to reach out for you, but knowing it would be unwelcome, he resists it. All he can do is try and use his words to bring you back to the present. Back to him. “Breathe. You’re safe. I need you to breathe, can you do that for me? Do you think you can breathe for me, darlin’?”

Somehow, his voice penetrates its way in through the thickness of the white fog that you’d been lost in. You had been stumbling around helplessly in it, desperately searching for a way through. Joel’s heavy, deep Southern drawl permeates the memory, causing the haunting images from that fateful day when your life had taken a sharp turn for the worst to dissolve into nothing.

“Just breathe. Nice and slow. Inhale through your nose, then out through your mouth. Easy does it.” Joel controls his own breathing, slowing it down to demonstrate. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth.

You stare at him with wide eyes as you fight to get the rise and fall of your chest to match his. How the hell do you know what to do?

Joel can practically hear your question ringing in your mind amidst the chaos. “My kid, she gets these awful nightmares sometimes. Wakes up in a panic thinkin’ she’s somewhere else, somewhere she ain’t safe. So my brother’s wife, Maria, well she was kind enough to show me what to do whenever it happens. She taught me a couple different breathin’ techniques that help soothe Ellie and calm her down. Told me it helps if I do them with her,” he explains to you. He can tell that you’re now coming out of the worst of it and that you’re finally starting to get some oxygen back into your lungs. He lowers his hands. Your pistol is still aimed at him, but Joel trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t pull the trigger and blow his fucking head off. “C’mon, breathe. There we go. That’s it. Easy does it, now. In through your nose and out through your mouth, that’s it. That’s a good girl.”

It takes you a good minute or two, but your breaths fall into sync with his own and before you know it, the two of you are breathing together in harmony.

Oh. You’re not in California.

The man standing before you doesn’t have red hair and green eyes. He doesn’t have that twisted smirk on his face. He isn’t putting his hands on you. He’s not hurting you. He’s helping you.

Swallowing dryly, you lower your weapon. Your gaze meets Joel’s and somehow you find the courage to look him in his eyes for the very first time. Even though you had turned your gun on him, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it all. He isn’t upset or angry. The look of worry on his face has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you could have easily killed him just now. It’s as if he’d known for certain that you wouldn’t pull the trigger.

“There we go,” Joel says after another minute passes by. “You see? You’re alright. You’re safe.”

There’s comfort in his words, in his deep brown eyes.

Fuck, there’s comfort in him.

Still. Your mind refuses to allow you to accept it.

At least, not completely.

Averting your gaze, you shuffle your weight from one foot to the other and then back again.

Joel clears his throat lightly. “It’s gettin’ real late,” he murmurs. “We should get a move on. We’ve still got a bit of a way to go and we really don’t wanna get ourselves caught out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere after dark for too long, y’know?”

You give him a small nod and start to gather up your belongings. You pick up your canteen, which is now almost completely empty after you’d shared your water with him during the first leg of the hike, and shove it into one of the side pockets of your back.

“S’kinda cold,” Joel states. “And it’ll only get colder as nightfall approaches. You, uh—you warm enough in that little denim jacket?”

You shrugged a shoulder at him, not thinking anything much of the question. I’m fine.

However, as if on cue, a chilly breeze blows its way through Wyoming’s plains, causing you to shiver.

Joel quickly shrugs out of his brown jacket. “You mind if I—?”

You toss him a confused glance.

Do I mind if you what?

Joel steps towards you and lifts his arms as if he’s going to put them around you. Flinching, every muscle in your entire body goes rigid and he halts. “S’alright. I’m just gonna give you my jacket, that’s all,” he assures you, his arms frozen midair. He patiently waits for a small nod of approval. Once he has it, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders and then takes several steps back, giving you your space. “Should keep you from freezin’ your ass off out here.”

As he turns around and walks over to where he had set his rifle down, you stand there somewhat stupefied over what he’d just done. Something so simple, and yet you can’t seem to wrap your fucking brain around it.

Willing yourself to move, you carefully slide both of your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, wrapping it around your body. The scent of him, a mixture of earthy sandalwood and whatever soap he uses to wash his clothes, fills your senses and a strange, but pleasant warmth radiates throughout your chest, gradually spreading itself to the rest of your body from head to toe.

Ignoring the feeling, you pick up your backpack along with your bow and quiver of arrows, slinging everything over your shoulders.

Joel slings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and turns back to you. “Ready to get goin’?”

Pistol in hand, you gesture for him to go ahead and walk in front of you, much like he’d done for the first half of the trip.

He lets out a small sigh. “Alright, I get it. Still don’t fully trust me. Well, we’ll keep workin’ on that, then.”

A couple of hours had gone by. The slanting rays of the setting sun give a warm orange tinge to the skies as late evening begins settling itself in.

“Y’wanna know somethin’?” Joel asks, breaking the silence between you.

You look up at the back of his head, your eyes fixing themselves on his mop of thick, unkempt salt and pepper waves. Occasionally, as you’d been slowly trudging along behind Joel, you stole glimpses of the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck and brushed against the collar of his henley.

Despite the lack of a response, Joel continues to talk. “Earlier at the cabin, just when I was startin’ to come back around, I heard a woman singin’ to me. At least, it sure seemed like she was singin’ to me. It was a real pretty song too.” He glances over his shoulder at you with curiosity. “Was that you?”

You blink at him, keeping a straight face.

“Hm, no I s’ppose it wasn’t you,” he answers his own question. He turns his attention back to the path ahead of him. “I reckon that it must have just been some sorta dream I had while I was out cold. But it sounded so vivid, y’ know? It sounded so fuckin’ real. And the strangest part of it all is that I don’t know how it’s even possible for me to dream of a voice like that,” he muses aloud.

Oh? Unable to help yourself, you move yourself from behind Joel and fall into step beside him. Now it’s you that’s riddled with curiosity. What do you mean by that?

Joel glances down at you. He grips the leather strap of his rifle and shrugs his shoulders. “Well, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a voice quite like that in my whole entire life,” he tells you. He shrugs once more, his arm brushing against yours by accident. Joel half expected you to deck him for it, but much to his surprise, it doesn’t seem like his touch had bothered you. “It was too fuckin’ gorgeous. So beautiful that part of me wonders if it was someone or somethin’ out of this world.” He pauses and peered at you, detecting a slight glimmer of light in your eyes. “Felt like I had a real life angel singin’ to me.”

You feel the corners of your lips threatening to turn upwards into a smile. Turning your face away from him, it takes everything you had in you to force them back down.

“Well look at that. You’re walkin’ right next to me,” Joel observes after a minute, raising an eyebrow.

Your head whips back around.

“Must mean that I’m doin’ somethin’ right, huh darlin’?”

You snort and roll your eyes.

I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking.

Still, you remain at his side.

The rest of the trek is silent.

Night had just fallen by the time that you and Joel finally made it to Jackson. The moment that you set your sights on the massive wooden gate out in the distance, your heart begins to pound, slamming against your ribcage.

The closer the both of you draw to the barrier, the easier it is for you to see the men and women who are standing on a platform on top of the gate, heavily armed as they keep watch—their lights illuminate the perimeter of the settlement and light up the velvet purple sky.

You stop dead in your tracks. Oh fuck that.

Joel shakes his head. “S’alright. Don’t be scared.”

There’s six people standing on top of that gate armed with fucking assault rifles. And you don’t expect me to be scared? Are you for real?

“Look, things might be a little tense at first when the patrolmen see us,” he admits, raking a hand through his hair. “None of them have any idea that I’m still alive, but as soon as they see that it’s me, they’re gonna stand down. All I need is for you to stay calm and follow my lead, alright?” He nods at the pistol in your hand. “M’also gonna need for you to put your gun away and out of sight.”

You glare at him, your eyes flashing angrily in the darkness.

You said I could have my weapons on me.

Joel holds up his hand. “I promise that I ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you, alright? I swear it on my fuckin’ life,” he vows. “You have my word. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. Just stay calm and do as I say. Please,” he adds, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. “Y’think you can do that for me?”

Your mind is screaming, begging you to run and run fast. Instead, you find yourself reluctantly tucking your gun into the waistband of your jeans, concealing it just like Joel had asked you to do.

“Stay behind me,” he instructs, shoving his own rifle behind him. He begins leading the way towards the gate and beckons for you to follow close.

The second the two of you step out from the darkness and into the light, the sound of firearms cocking breaks through the silence of the night.

“Stop right there!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Freeze! Or we’ll fucking shoot!”

“Melissa, it’s me!” Joel calls out, holding up his hands. “It’s Joel!”

“What?”

He huffs and yells again, “It’s Joel!”

“Wait a goddamn minute, everyone fucking stand down!” Melissa loudly barks the order at the five other patrol men and women who are standing on either side of her with their firearms aimed and at the ready. “Joel? Joel Miller, is that really you?” She leans her body forward over the gate and squints at him, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Well butter my fucking ass and call me a goddamn biscuit, the man is fucking alive! Quick, open up the gates! Somebody go and get Tommy! Let’s go, fucking move it people!”

Joel drops his hands, sighing in relief.

You, on the other hand, are scared shitless and wonder if it’s too late to make a run for it.

“Remember,” he says, looking back at you. “Calm. Okay?”

You force a small, tight nod of your head.

Okay.

The gate’s doors pull apart and he leads you up to them and through to the other side where you and Joel are met with a frantic crowd of at least two dozen people—the obnoxious, overlapping chatter coupled with the blatant stares you’re receiving cause an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness to wash over you in a massive wave that, if you allow it, is going to drown you right there on the spot. Refusing to make eye contact with anybody, you fix your gaze on Joel, keeping it focused on the broadness of his back as more and more people circle around the both of you, caging you in with nowhere to run.

“Joel!” Melissa elbows her way through the large crowd, rushing up to him. She grabs him by the arms, giving him a quick once over. “Holy shit! We thought you were fucking dead! I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Where’s Tommy?” Joel asks her.

“At home with Maria. Lisa went to pull him out of bed—where the hell have you been, Joel? It’s been three fucking days!”

Joel purses his lips together tightly. He can feel you inching yourself forward, trying to stand as close to him as possible as more people join the scene. The toes of your boots touch the heels of his, your chest lightly brushing against his back. While Joel doesn’t blame the people of the town for being curious, he isn’t all too fond of the way they’re staring at you—the gestures and the finger pointing, the mutters and the whispers. He doesn’t have to see you to know it’s making you uncomfortable, and his priority is to get you out of there and somewhere where you would feel safe. “Listen, it’s a real long story that I ain’t got time for right this minute. I need Tommy—”

“Miller!”

A loud, booming voice comes from behind Melissa.

It belongs to a tall, bulky blond haired man—his mere presence is intimidating, proven by how it had taken absolutely nothing for the crowd to part and make room for him to pass through. Smirking, he saunters up to Joel and remarks, “I thought you were a fucking goner.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing.

The tension between the two men could be sliced with a fucking machete.

His blue eyes flit over Joel’s shoulder to you. “Well, well, well. Who is this sweet little lady?”

You step even closer to Joel, pressing yourself against his backside and taking a fistful of his shirt.

“None of your fuckin’ business, that’s who.”

Keith’s smirk widens. “Actually, as head of safety and security for this community, it fucking is my business,” he reminds him. “She infected?”

Joel raises his eyebrows. “Does she look fuckin’ infected to you?”

“You know the commune’s rules, Miller.” Without tearing his eyes away from you, Keith calls over his shoulder, “Bring out one of the hounds! Now!”

Behind him, Joel hears a small gasp.

Hounds?

Joel whirls around. “Hey, s’alright,” he says quickly before you can start to panic. “We have dogs that have been trained to sniff out the cordyceps infection. S’just gonna smell you, that’s all.”

The crowd backs away as a woman with cropped hair brings out a large black dog on a chain leash attached to a brown leather harness. Once it catches sight of you, the unfamiliar newcomer, the animal begins to bark and growl, thrashing around as it tries to lunge towards you. The dog tugs and pulls at his leash so violently that he nearly knocks his handler over. The woman unclips the leash and sets the dog free—it approaches you, snarling and baring its teeth.

You start to back away, but Joel stops you.

“Relax,” he mutters to you under his breath. He moves to stand beside you and holds out his hand, offering it in an attempt to comfort you and ease the fear. He hadn’t expected you to accept it, so when you place your hand in his and lace your fingers with his own, he’s taken by complete surprise.

You squeeze his rough, calloused fingers as the dog comes closer towards you. Nervously, you hold your other hand out to it, prompting it to snap at you, its teeth snapping together. Somehow, you muster enough courage to hold your hand steady and the animal growls, but then gives it a sniff. When it doesn’t detect what it’s searching for, the dog happily wags his tail and gives your hand a friendly lick before running back over to its handler who puts the animal back on the leash.

You breathe out in relief.

“There,” Joel snaps at Keith. “You satisfied?”

Keith clicks his tongue. “Almost,” he drawls. He walks over to you, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What’s your name, dollface?”

Your stomach drops at the nickname. Looking down at the dirt, you don’t reply.

“Aw, she’s shy! Well isn’t that just adorable.” Keith lets out a raspy laugh, causing a couple of the onlookers to laugh along with him. “What’s the matter, sweetie pie? Hm? Cat got your tongue?”

Joel drops your hand, his nostrils flaring. “Back off asshole or else—”

Ignoring him, the blond patrolman eyes the weapon hanging on your shoulder. “That’s a really nice bow you’ve got there,” Keith states, cutting off Joel’s threat. “But we do have rules here. Newcomers have to surrender their weapons so they can be stored away securely. We don’t know you and until we can know for sure you won’t be a threat to the people of this town, you’re going to have to surrender that bow along with all other weapons you’re carrying.” Keith lowers his voice as he adds, “And I would advise you not to try and hide anything because I’m going to be the one to pat you down—and I’ll be thorough. I don’t take all too kindly to liars, so keep that in mind.”

“You just threaten her in front of me?” Trying his hardest not to cause a scene with so many people watching the three of you, Joel keeps his voice low and quiet—but the sharp, dangerous edge to his tone can’t be missed.

“Of course I didn’t,” Keith responds, innocently. “All I was doing was letting her know how we work around here in Jackson. We’ve been operating the town the same way for years now for a good reason. The rules we set in place apply to any and all newcomers, regardless of who they came here with.” He holds out his hands to you. “Surrender all of your weapons to me. Now.”

Shaking your head, you take a step back. This was not what you’d agreed to. This wasn’t the promise that Joel had made you back at the cabin.

Joel glares at him. “She ain’t surrenderin’ a goddamn thing—”

It’s too late.

Keith steps towards you and goes for the bow. As his hand shoots out to take it from your shoulder, you quickly turn your body and swiftly dodge it. He feels his face burn with red hot anger as several onlookers gasp at your act of rebelliousness. Furious, Keith reaches for you again and grabs you, taking the upper part of your arm in a harsh grip that makes you squeak out in pain.

You lift your opposite arm and swing a curled fist up towards his face, but he catches your wrist in his other hand before it can connect with his jawline.

Joel!

You try to say his name, but you fucking can’t.

Your mouth opens and nothing comes out. For as hard you push and try to force it, you can’t find your voice. Instead, all that falls from your lips is a pathetic, strangled little cry. You yank and pull, struggling as you try to tear yourself out of Keith’s grasp.

Livid, Joel nearly goes fucking blind with rage. He snatches Keith by the collar of his leather jacket, ripping him away from you. Though he’s still sore as from the fall off of his horse three days ago, he uses every ounce of strength he has left in him to throw him down into the dirt at the feet of a fellow patrolman named Wyatt. “Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. Her.” He barely manages to bite out the words through gritted teeth. “Ever.”

Wyatt helps him up to his feet. “You alright, man?”

“Get the fuck off me!” Keith snarls, pushing him away. His chest is heaving and his face turns a deep shade of red. Whether it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s angry, no one can quite tell the difference. One thing is for damn sure, he isn’t used to someone going against his authority and everyone watching holds their breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do next. After all, the man going against him happened to be their leader’s brother in law. “What the fuck is your goddamn problem, Miller? It’s protocol—”

“Not today it ain’t.”

Keith approaches him, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He stands so close that the two of them are chest to chest, ready to tear each other to shreds. “Do you think just because your fucking brother is second in command, you can just do as you please? Is that it?” He questions, bitterly. “It doesn’t fucking work like that. We have rules set in place for a reason, Joel. We are going to do this by the fucking book whether your little girlfriend here likes it or not, got it?”

Stepping around him, he starts towards you but Joel is quick to block his path. He stands in front of you and squares his shoulders.

He speaks, his voice dangerously low. “You listen and you listen good. If you even so much as think about layin’ another fuckin’ finger on her, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of tonight pickin’ up your teeth off the ground. You understand me?”

“That a threat?”

“It ain’t a threat. It’s a fuckin’ promise.”

Keith pulls his arm back and he’s about ready to take a swing when he’s stopped by the sound of Tommy Miller’s frantic voice.

“Joel! Where is he—where the fuck is Joel?”

The much younger, raven haired man approaches the scene, shrugging a blue denim jacket over his cotton white t-shirt. The instant that he spots Joel, he runs up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders. “Fuckin’ Christ, I thought I fuckin’ lost you out there! What the hell happened?”

“Where’s Ellie?” Joel demands. “She okay?”

“She’s fast asleep at my place with Maria and the baby. She’s been with us this entire time.”

Joel’s shoulders sag in relief.

Tommy looks around, frowning. “What’s going on? What’s everyone doin’ out here?” He then sees you and raises his eyebrows at his older brother. “Joel? Who’s that?”

“Look, I’ll explain everything, can we just—can we talk in private?”

Although he’s confused, Tommy nods.

“Of course. C’mon, let’s go back to my place.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy states as soon as Joel had finished recounting the story—well, what he could remember, anyway. It wasn’t much.

You’re sitting beside Joel across the table from Tommy and Maria in the kitchen of their home. All three of them speak in quiet, hushed voices so as not to wake Ellie and Samuel, Tommy and Maria’s infant son. Maria had offered to go upstairs to pull Ellie out of bed so that she and Joel could reunite, but when Tommy mentioned tonight had been the first night since Joel had gone missing three days ago that she had finally managed to fall asleep, everyone agreed it would be best to wait until the morning.

“So, she saved your life,” Tommy concludes. His brown eyes, even darker than those of his older brother, flicker over to you once again. You sit there in complete silence, staring at the top of the wooden table, refusing to meet his gaze—or that of his wife.

Joel nods. “She did, Tommy. I don’t fuckin’ know how, but what I do know is that if it wasn’t for her, then I wouldn’t be sittin’ here at this table right now.”

You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair. Though the couple had been kind to you, it didn’t make it any easier when they stared at you like you had a second head.

“She saved your life and you don’t even know her name?” Tommy’s in complete disbelief.

“No. She doesn’t talk.”

Maria hums. “I have an idea. Let me find her a notepad or something to write on,” she suggests after a minute. She stands up, wrapping her cotton blue robe around herself, concealing her pajamas as she walks over to the kitchen counter. It takes her a bit of digging around, but in one of her junk drawers, she finds a pen and a small notepad. She makes her way back over to the table and sets the items down in front of you. “Can you write down your name for us?”

You don’t move a single muscle.

“It’s okay, honey. Just write down your name—”

“Best we don’t push her too much,” Joel warns her, holding out his hand to stop her from coming too close into your space.

You glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.

“Don’t worry,” he tells you. “You ain’t gotta tell us anythin’ until you’re good and ready. Alright?”

Tommy clears his throat. “Joel? Can me and you have a quick word in private please?”

Your heart skips an anxious beat.

No, wait! Please don’t leave me.

Less than eight hours ago, you’d been wary of this man, unable to fully trust him. Now, just the mere thought of him leaving your side puts you on edge.

“S’fine, we’re just gonna be out in the hallway,” he assures you. “It’ll only be for a minute or two.”

Realizing you didn’t want to be left alone with her, Maria jabs a thumb over her shoulder towards the gas powered stove. “I’m going to make myself a hot cup of chamomile tea. I can boil water for an extra mug if you’d like some?” she offers, warmly.

You’d turned down food and water already, much too afraid to accept anything from her. However, a warm drink did sound tempting and truth be told, Maria did seem like a nice woman. She’s Joel’s family—maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at the very least try and trust her too.

Finally, you nod your head.

“Great,” Maria smiles, looking pleased. “I think it’ll do you some good. Chamomile is very soothing. It helps me relax—something that’s hard to do when you have a fussy six month old,” she kids as she whirls around and goes about preparing the tea.

After making certain that you’ll be fine without him, Joel follows Tommy out into the hallway.

“Joel, what were you thinkin’ bringing her here?”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Tommy sighs. “We need to be careful about who we bring into Jackson—”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now? You worried about this girl bein’ a threat?” Joel stares at him in complete shock. “You serious, Tommy?”

“For all we know, she could be a threat. She didn’t want to give up her weapons, Joel! She even took a swing at Keith!” He hisses. “And she did it in front of a fuckin’ crowd!”

“He put his fuckin’ hands on her—”

“She didn’t cooperate, Joel. You know damn good and well what happens when someone isn’t willin’ to cooperate with the rules. It leads to nothin’ but trouble and you know it as well as I do,” Tommy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Her first impression here wasn’t a good one. And to make matters a whole lot worse, we don’t know anythin’ about her. It’s a risk takin’ her into the community.”

Joel can’t even believe what he’s hearing.

“So you’d rather I just left her out there alone?”

“Look Joel, we don’t know what she’s capable of,” Tommy reminds him, quietly. “If she’s managed to survive out there all on her own for this fuckin’ long, then who the hell knows what she’s done or what kind of blood is on her hands—you might be thinkin’ that she’s some helpless little victim, but maybe she’s not. Hell, we’ll never know because the girl can’t fuckin’ talk. Or maybe she just won’t talk. Either way, we’re runnin’ a huge risk by takin’ her in without knowin’ who the hell she is or where she came from.”

Joel glares at him. “Listen here, whether she can’t talk or just won’t talk, that doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he says. He pauses briefly, long enough to take a peek back into the kitchen where you’re still sitting at the table. After she’d finished making the tea, Maria took the two steaming mugs and sat down in the chair beside you. She’s now trying almost desperately to get you to write down your name on the notepad. He immediately notices the way that you’d started wringing your hands together anxiously in your lap and he knows you’re debating in your mind whether or not you should reveal your identity to the stranger. He turns back to his brother with a frown. “She ain’t a helpless victim. She’s a survivor. She saved my fuckin’ life out there, Tommy. If it weren’t for her, I would be dead right now.”

“And where is she gonna stay?”

“With me and Ellie, of course.”

Tommy almost laughs. “Wait. You’re gonna be in charge of her? Someone who won’t fuckin’ talk to you? Whose name you don’t even know? Are you serious?”

Joel doesn’t even think twice about it. “Yeah.”

“Look Joel, I know you can be kind of a fuckin’ dumbass, but you can’t possibly be this goddamn dumb, big brother. Think ‘bout it—”

“I already have thought about it. She’s stayin’ with me.” Joel shrugs. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but maybe I can get her to trust me enough to talk to me.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “You really think she can talk and she’s just choosin’ not to?”

“I think she wants to talk, but she can’t. She’s too scared right now. But if I can get her to really trust me—”

“That girl ain’t gonna fuckin’ trust you, Joel.”

“She trusted me enough to come to Jackson,” he says, fiercely. “That has to mean somethin’, I just know it does.”

Tommy exhales a long and heavy sigh. He already knew just how fucking stubborn his brother could be. There’s no changing Joel’s mind once it was made up.

Maria steps out into the hallway. “No luck,” she tells them, shaking her head lightly. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through. If she’s too terrified to even give us her name—”

“It must’ve been somethin’ real bad,” Joel finishes for her. He places his hands on his hips. “I think I might have some idea of what happened to her.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Joel lowers his voice as he briefly tells Tommy and Maria about the scars he’d seen around your wrist. “Like she’s been in handcuffs or somethin’,” he murmurs. “Think it could’ve been FEDRA?”

“Possibly.” Maria thinks it over for a moment. “There’s also a good possibility that she’s been a prisoner in a slave camp.”

Slavers.

Joel’s stomach churns at the thought of it. He’d heard about those kinds of groups, about the cruel and inhumane things they did to their prisoners.

He fucking hoped that wasn’t it. But something in his gut told him not to be so goddamn naive.

“Listen, we feel for the girl, Joel. We do,” Tommy admits. “And we’re willin’ to give her some time to adjust, same as we did with you and with Ellie—same as we do with all newcomers. But regardless of what she’s been through, she’s still gonna need to pull her weight around here, just like the rest of us. She’s expected to take on work duty just like everybody else. It’ll be hard findin’ the right job for her if she’s not gonna talk to anyone so the sooner you can get her to break her silence, the better it’ll be,” he advises. He points a finger at his brother. “From this point on, she’s your responsibility.”

“I can handle it, Tommy.”

“For your sake, I really hope you can.”

“Good to know you’ve got faith in me,” Joel makes the sarcastic comment under his breath, but he’s certain Tommy had heard it. “It’s gettin’ pretty late now. She’s exhausted and so am I. M’gonna take her back to my place and get her settled in for the night.”

“What ‘bout Ellie?”

“Best she just stays here with you two tonight. As soon as she’s up in the mornin’, you can bring her on over to mine if that’s alright with you and Maria?”

Tommy nods. “You got it, brother.”

“Besides, I figure it’ll give me a bit of extra time to think of how I’m gonna explain everythin’ to her.” Joel suddenly realizes that he hadn’t given much thought about how he was going to tell Ellie about you—how he was going to explain your condition to her and how you’d be sharing a roof with them from this point on.

Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, good luck with that one.”

Rolling his eyes, Joel roughly shoves past him and back into the kitchen.

You hadn’t drank the tea Maria had made you, but you’d wrapped your hands around the ceramic red mug to warm them up.

“C’mon,” he beckons to you with his hand. “Let’s go. M’gonna take you home now.”

Home.

The word rinds oddly in your ears.

You stand up from the table.

“Wait.” Maria picks up the notepad and pen, handing them over to you. “Here. Take these with you. Just in case you decide you want to use them.”

Joel pushes through the front door, switching on the lights in the foyer of his home before stepping aside to let you in. He watches as you stand there at the door looking rather apprehensive. “It’s okay, darlin’. S’just me and you here tonight.”

Carefully, you step over the threshold. When was the last time you’d even set foot in an actual house? One with running water and electricity?

You couldn’t remember.

Joel shuts the front door behind you and locks it. “Let’s go upstairs.” He gestures for you to follow him up the cherrywood staircase. “It’s pretty late, so I’ll show you the rest of the house tomorrow in the mornin’,” he promises you over his shoulder. At the top of the staircase, Joel switches on more lights that illuminate a short hallway. He points to a door at the end of it, stating, “That one there at the end, that’s mine. This one here is Ellie’s. We also have a third spare, it’s right across from her.” He nods with his head towards the door of the bedroom he’d been referring to. “Go on. Open it up and check it out for yourself.”

You want me to open the door?

Seeing your expression, Joel chuckles. “Go on. It’s alright. There’s nothin’ bad in there. I promise.”

You momentarily hesitate. Fingers trembling, you reach out and grasp the brass door knob, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. You peek inside and flip the light switch next to the door frame.

You gasp. Holy shit, is this fucking real?

The spare bedroom is fully furnished with light oakwood furniture—a dresser up against one wall, a desk nestled in the corner, and two nightstands on either side of the most comfortable, full sized bed that you’d ever seen. The décor is minimal, but whoever had occupied the space before had a clear adoration for simple, warm, earthy tones. You nearly smile at the shades of mud brown, forest green, and autumn orange. Setting your things down on the hardwood floor, you make your way over to the bed and sit down, planting your hands firmly on either side of you. You relish in the softness of the cream colored duvet comforter.

“I’m guessin’ you like it.” Joel can’t help but grin a little. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go see if I can get you one of my shirts or somethin’ that you can sleep in. Make yourself comfortable.” He spins around on the heel of his boot, disappearing into the hallway.

Unable to resist, you lay back onto the bed. Your body sinks into it, melting right into the mattress. It feels like a fucking cloud.

Joel reappears in the room just seconds later. “I can see you took what I said about makin’ yourself comfortable quite literally.” His voice causes you to shoot back up into a sitting position. Joel stands there at the door holding a long sleeved, navy and white flannel shirt in one hand—in the other, he’d been holding a gray hooded sweatshirt and from his arm swings a brown canvas tote bag. “Not too sure what you would prefer to sleep in. I figured you might want somethin’ on the warmer side. Here’s a couple options to choose from. I’ve also got t-shirts if you’d rather sleep in one of those.”

Standing up from the bed, you walk over to him and he holds out the articles of clothing for you to see better. It’s his flannel you gravitate to the most. Taking it from him, you run your fingers over the fabric.

“I can throw your clothes in the washing machine for you first thing tomorrow so they’ll be clean by the time you wake up,” he adds.

You breath out shakily.

A fucking washing machine.

“Overwhelming, ain’t it?”Joel drapes the hooded sweatshirt over a nearby chair, deciding to leave it for you as well. “Trust me, I get it. I felt the same when I first got here with Ellie. It took a lot of time for the both of us to adjust to this new way of life after being out there for so long,” he confesses to you. “The important thing is to take it one step at a time, darlin’. And somethin’ is tellin’ me the next step for you is probably takin’ a nice hot shower?”

Your mouth falls open. A hot shower? Hot?

“You’ll have to share a bathroom with Ellie.” Joel leads you out of the bedroom and to another door adjacent to yours. He shows you the bathroom, telling you which knob in the shower was for hot water and which one was for cold water. “You can use Ellie’s shampoo, m’sure she won’t mind. I’d offer you some of my own, but I don’t think you’ll wanna walk around smellin’ like sandalwood and spice.” Joel hands you the canvas bag he’d had draped over his arm. “Here. Should be pretty much everythin’ you’re gonna need. There’s a bar of soap, a couple clean washcloths, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. There’s also a razor.” He pauses. “It’s a men’s razor, one of mine I’ve never used, but I reckon it does the job just the same as a woman’s razor.”

Amused, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What the hell are you trying to say? That I need to shave?

“Not that you have to use it,” he adds quickly, his cheeks burning bright red at what you thought he had been insinuating. He shifts awkwardly from boot to boot. “I tossed it in there just in case you’d want to, but you ain’t gotta use it, that’s not what I meant at all—”

Deciding you don’t want to see him squirm, you lift a hand up to stop him and shake your head.

Truth be told, you actually couldn’t fucking wait to shave your legs.

Calm down, cowboy. It’s all good.

Realizing he hadn’t offended you, Joel relaxes. “I’ll let you get to your shower. You take as long as you want, but just try and leave some hot water for me since I’m next,” he chuckles. “As soon as we both get all cleaned up, we can meet downstairs in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before bed. Deal?”

Deal.

He’s about to leave you to it when you stop him, grabbing his arm. Wait a second, Joel.

Joel’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah?”

Thank you.

Your gratitude might have been silent, but it was there and he knew it.

Feeling brave, Joel reaches up and places his hand over yours for a moment, his thumb brushing against the softness of your skin. “No need to thank me, sweetheart.”

Letting his hand drop away from yours, Joel then turns and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy.

Once you have the hot water running, you kick off your boots and start to peel off your clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor near the door. Completely naked, you turn your back towards the oval shaped mirror hanging over the bathroom sink, unwilling to take a look at the scars on your body—painful reminders of the cruel punishments you’d endured during your time in captivity.

You grab the toiletries from the tote bag Joel had given you and set them on the side of the tub. Pulling the yellow floral curtain aside, you step into the shower and position yourself directly underneath the scalding hot water, letting it burn your skin to give you an entirely different kind of pain to think about, even if it was just for a minute until your body adjusted to the temperature of the water and it no longer hurt.

You begin washing yourself, trying your hardest to keep from crumbling. But you couldn’t. Lump in your throat and a tightness in your chest, tears brim your eyes, ready to fall.

You’re willing to let them.

Two years. For almost two fucking years, you had been suppressing your emotions. You’d been in a constant survival mode, there had been no time to feel anything. And now here you were, standing in a fucking shower with all the freedom in the world to just let it all out.

Silent sobs wrack your body, bringing you down onto your knees.

Joel’s shower had been a quick one.

You hadn’t left him very much hot water—but he couldn’t even be mad about it.

He pulls on a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He haphazardly dries off his hair and makes his way downstairs, knowing you would be heading down there any minute now to meet him like you’d agreed. Without much time to make a proper meal for you to eat, Joel goes about the dimly lit kitchen and prepares a couple of cold turkey sandwiches. He’d just plated them and set them on the table when the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor prompts him to look up.

His breath catches in his throat. You stand there in the doorway wearing nothing but his flannel shirt. The hem of it falls to the middle of your thighs, and it takes everything in him not to think about the fact that you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt. His fucking shirt.

Clearing his throat lightly, he makes sure not to let his gaze wander where it’s not supposed to. “I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you?”

You sigh softly. Oh, you have no fucking idea.

Noticing you’re holding your hands behind your back, Joel shoots you a puzzled look. “What’cha got there?”

You bring your arms forward. Clutched in your hands is the notepad and pen that Maria had given you.

Although he takes it as a sign that you are willing to communicate with him, Joel knows better than to get too far ahead of himself. He’d wait until you were ready to make the first move and he’d follow your lead. “I made you a sandwich to eat,” he tells you, pulling out a chair at the table. “C’mon, come have a seat.”

After you sit down, Joel goes over to the sink and fills two glasses of water, one for you and one for himself. Setting them down on the table, he finally takes a seat across from you—that’s when he notices the redness in your eyes. You’d been crying. Even though he wants to ask you if you’re alright, Joel decides against it for the time being and the two of you eat in comfortable, tranquil silence.

“I can make you another one if you’re still hungry,” Joel offers when you polish off the last couple bites of your sandwich.

Shaking your head, you place your hands on your belly signaling that you’re full. You’re not, though. You’d eagerly scarf another three of them down if you could, but you were a lot more exhausted than you were hungry and you couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed upstairs and get some sleep..

Joel studies you. “You okay, darlin’?”

You shrug. This has just been a lot to process.

“I know it’s gonna be tough for you. It’s like I told you earlier, it’s gonna take some time to adjust to your new life here in Jackson. But I need you to know you ain’t alone anymore. I’m gonna be here to look out for you. And trust me, I know you don’t really need me to.” Joel pauses and shoots you a crooked little grin. “Hell, you took a swing at Keith. You’ve got bigger fuckin’ balls than half of the men in this town. Includin’ myself.”

You let out a huff of amusement from your nose and the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile—you don’t try to force it down.

Joel blurts the words before he can even think to stop himself. “You’ve got a real nice smile, y’know.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you move your empty plate off to the side and grab your pen and notepad. You swiftly scribble something onto the blank page, then slide it across the table to Joel.

He picks it up, an odd sensation fluttering inside his chest when he realizes what you had done.

You’d written down your name for him.

He says it out loud, and then looks up at you.

“That’s a real beautiful name.” Sincerity drips from his tone, going hand in hand with his compliment.

Cheeks burning, you glance down at your hands, which you’d begun wringing together on top of the table. It was out of nervousness, but this kind was different. You couldn’t quite explain it.

“I know it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a hot shower and a sandwich to get you to trust me. But I swear that I’m gonna do whatever I can to show you that you ain’t got anythin’ to be afraid of. Not with me around. Okay?”

Okay.

You open your mouth, trying to repeat the word back to him.

Joel’s eyes widen slightly. You wanted to talk to him—you were actually trying to talk to him. But it was a clear struggle. Something wasn’t letting you find your voice.

Clamping your mouth shut, you sigh and sink back into your chair. I’m sorry. I can’t.

“It’s okay,” he says, softly. “We’re gonna take this one step at a time. Together.”

#to hell and back fic #to hell and back #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller hbo #joel miller comfort #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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tightjeansjavi · 6 days

Text

My Joel,

A/N: I have not written a fic with this many words in a HOT minute, and boy does it feel good! What a cathartic experience this has been for me after writing Joel’s letters. I did not expect so many of you to want Joel and his dearest to have an alternative ending, but here we are 🤭 writing this has been a real treat, and I hope I have done their backstory and alternative ending justice! Buckle up, because you’re in for a wild ride! Thank you to @beardedjoel for letting me spam you with all the updates and screaming along with me 🥹 thank you to @strang3lov3 for betaing and creating these STUNNING divider mood boards for each section of the fic 💘

~word count: 14.4k~

Summary: the story of two forbidden lovers finding each other once more.

Pairing | forbidden lover!joel x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, infertility, canon typical violence, mutual pining, child abuse, mentions of S/A accusations (not by Joel) misogyny (not by Joel) homophobia/homophobic slurs (not by Joel) mutual pining, hopeless romantics, forbidden love, societal status, somewhat historically accurate language, arranged marriage (not to Joel), language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco products, virginity/virginity loss, happy ending/alternative ending, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

My Dearest,

June 1st, 1844

“This evening you are to meet the banker's son, daughter.” Your mother’s sickly sweet voice floated through your room, where you sat along the cushioned bench beneath the long window, your palm resting along your chin as you gazed out towards the gardens, the grass an unnatural shade of green compared to the common folk and farmers that would only dream of stepping foot on your family's estate. Your wealth was directly a result of your fathers parents, and their long lineage of thoroughbred horses. Your own mare was a descendant of the original three stallions imported into England in the late 1600’s.

But you were more focused on the man leading your mare, and her two stallions flocking at her hindquarters from the pasture: your Joel.

Joel Miller was a mere stable hand who was entrusted by your father himself to care for your family's prized horses. But to you? Joel was much more than just a stable hand. In fact, you begged your father one summer to increase Joel’s pay when he proved to be knowledgeable with the horses and their needs. Your father agreed, but refused to dote Joel with a new title. He was penniless compared to you, but you saw his heart before you saw his status in society. And he? He loved you from the moment you first met.

Spring, 1839

“Sir, sir!” A young Joel, 13 years of age burst into your fathers parlor, his hand-me-down clothes were soaked to the bone as the storm raged on outside the estate walls. “Dahlia’s womb has breached! Her foal is on the way!” He exclaimed with excitement.

Outside of your families prized stallions, the mares were just as valuable, bearing the next line of champions, no doubt. Dahlia belonged to your mother, and this was her third foal. Your mother couldn’t stand the presence of Joel in her home, dripping all over the floor, creating a puddle of water along the artisan rug beneath his muddy boots.

“Boy!” She snapped, setting her book down along her skirts where she was sitting near the fireplace, with perfect posture. Her eyes held a cold, unnerving stare. “You are in no state to be in my home looking like—” her pointed comment was cut off by the double doors leading to the parlor bursting open, to reveal your excited, and visibly out of breath face.

“Dahlia’s foal is on the way?!”

It was past your bedtime, but down the hall you heard the news of Dahlia, and couldn’t contain yourself. You were still in your nightgown, your hair in braids with bows tied into the ends. Joel felt a flush immediately rise to his damp cheeks at the sight of you. You were as pretty as a flower, the same age as him, and he wondered why this was the first time he’s seen you, till he remembered that most girls your age spent their days indoors preparing for marriage to a suitable husband of their fathers choosing, and inevitably bearing children down the line.

Just as quickly as his gaze fell upon you, he looked away, clearing his throat to hide the redness rising in his cheeks.

“Daughter!” Your mother scolded you when you rushed into the room and didn’t curtsy upon your arrival. She had yet to notice the bows in your hair when you quickly curtsied, fingers delicately grasping the hem of your nightgown as you bent down at the waist, one foot in front of the other just as it was ingrained into your brain for years. “Apologies, mother.” You softly squeaked out in embarrassment.

She shook her head, a displeasured look fell upon her hardened features. She rose from the couch, silk shawl clenched in her fist as she crossed the room and draped the garment across your shoulders. “Cover up your modesty.” She snapped unkindly. “Men should never see a lady in her night garments.”

I am not a lady, mother. I am a child! Is what you wanted to say, but instead you weakly nodded, muttering another apology under your breath. That’s when your mother took notice of your braids and the bows tied at the ends of them, a sign of innocent youth when you were to become a woman. She scoffed, nose upturning at the sight of them. Her cruel hand rose and fell, landing harshly against your soft cheek.

Joel visibly flinched from the sound, feeling his blood begin to boil under his soaked clothing. You had done nothing wrong! And who in their right mind slaps their own child!

Your skin stung, tears welling and nearly breaching down your cheeks when she yanked the bows from your braids and mockingly held them in front of your face. “These are for little girls. You are to become a woman, or have you forgotten?”

Your lower lip wobbled, and your knees trembled. Your eyes frantically searched the room, landing upon your father who paid no mind to your distress. He was too busy puffing away on his cigar, and even if he didn’t agree with his wife’s treatment upon you, he didn’t dare speak up about it.

“Joel, be a good lad and fetch my daughters coat. I will not be treading out in a storm such as that one, but someone from our family should be present for the birth of Dahlias foal.” He gruffed out. “Let us hope for a strong colt. There are too many fillies prancing around here.”

“Sir—” Joel started, but was cut off.

“Fetch her coat, and do not make me ask you a third time, boy.” He sternly reiterated.

“Yes, sir. Right away!” He nodded, quickly turning on his heel and exited the parlor, his eyes met your teary-eyed one briefly before he disappeared behind the open doors.

“Our daughter has no business going out in this storm, husband! Especially not with the likes of that—boy.” She seethed, stepping back from your trembling frame and walked in the direction of the fire, the now crumpled bows in her fist. She wasted no time to throw them directly into flames, watching as they were burnt up into ash immediately.

“Relax, wife.” Your father sighed, tapping out the ash from his cigar into the crystal ashtray along the table, “she is in good hands with Joel, I trust him.”

“Excuse me, miss?” a timid, youth filled voice appeared behind your shoulder, hand outstretched with your coat grasped between his fingers.

You sniffled, turning to face him and quickly wiped at your brewing tears with the back of your hand. “Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, fingers brushing his gently as you removed your coat from his grasp.

He nearly shied from your touch, a series of tingles and sparks shooting up his spine when he felt your soft touch for the first time. You reacted all the same; shocked gazes meeting before he was stepping to the side for you to pass by him first, a gentleman in nature despite coming from nothing. He cleared his throat, offering you his elbow to brace against the pounding rain and blustering winds. “I’ve got you, miss.” He whispered as your palm gently rested along the crook of his elbow.

Despite your mother’s incessant protests, Joel Miller guided you outside, acting as a physical shield as you endured the storm together. Once inside the safety of the barn, Joel parted from your side, grabbing a nearby stool for you to sit upon before entering Dahlia’s stall. You watched in pure curiosity and amazement as Joel spoke softly to the mare while her head rested in his lap. Beast trusted man; man trusted beast.

When Dahlia’s foal was born, she was not blessed with a strong colt like your father hoped for, but instead a filly. She was smaller than Dahlia’s other foals, and coal black unlike her mother’s dazzling, dappled silver coat. Joel helped the young filly stand on her long, spindly legs so that she could nurse. He was incredibly gentle, letting the filly lean her weight into him. Although Joel knew he was not allowed to name the horses, he started to call the filly ‘Little Shadow’ and only left the stall when he was certain she could stand on her own.

That’s when he remembered he wasn’t alone, and that you were still sitting upon the stool, hands clasped in your lap.

“Wanna meet her?” He suddenly asked, wiping his hands down on a nearby towel.

“Oh…” you trailed off, “I’m unsure if—”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, a small, boy-like grin tugging on his lips. “M’sure your father would want you to have the full experience, would he not?”

“Yes, I suppose he would.” You agreed and graciously took his hand when he offered it. “He will be displeased to hear that Dahlia did not bear a strong colt.”

“I never understood that.” He mused, helping you down from the stool and gently released your hand. “A healthy foal, no matter the sex, is better than an unhealthy one, is it not?”

“Yes, this is true.” You nervously toyed with a loose thread on your coat, avoiding making eye contact with him. “She is…small though, is she not?”

He took no offense to your lack of direct eye contact. He felt undeserving to be in your presence, let alone hold your gaze? “Forgive me if this comes across negatively, miss. But must you always speak so…proper?”

You turned your nose up at his question, dropping the loose thread from your fingertips, “I am to be a lady, Joel. This is how ladies talk.”

He snorted under his breath, shaking his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I suppose you are right. And to answer your question, she may be smaller than the rest of Dahlia’s offspring, but her legs are long, and strong.” He commented thoughtfully as he walked over to the nursing foal. “She will be a winner one day, no doubt.”

“Do you wish to name her, Joel?” You asked softly, standing alongside him with your hand outstretched to gently pet the fillies jet black neck.

“Oh, miss—I could never. I was only calling her Little Shadow because well, she is like a Little Shadow.”

“I don’t think father would approve of Little Shadow…but I think Shadow is a fine name for her, sir.”

“Miss, I am not a sir.” He sighed, reaching behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I’m just a stable hand. I do not possess any titles, and I never will. I agree, Shadow is a fine name for her.”

“Joel, I have heard that you are more than just a stable hand, but I address every man as sir. It’s how I have been taught.”

He looked over at you, eyes scanning the side of your face, the same side where your cheek had been struck by your mothers cruel hand. “That it be true, I am not a man, miss. I am just a boy.”

Silence fell between the two of you while you continued to gently stroke Shadow’s neck. You could feel Joel’s gaze landing on your cheek, but you chose to ignore it despite the heat that was slowly beginning to rise to your cheeks.

“Miss…?” He sounded unsure of himself, nervous, apprehensive of the words he was about to speak next,

“Yes, Joel?”

“Forgive me, I should not be uttering these words to a lady like yourself, but the bows in your hair…I thought they were quite—pretty.” He whispered the last bit, expecting you to scold him, to scream, and surely send him to the gallows for even thinking of you in that inappropriate manner, but instead, you smiled softly.

“Thank you, Joel. Mother…doesn’t approve of them. Says they are for little girls, and not for a lady to be. But they are just ribbons, are they not? I like how they look, and I wish she did too.” You sighed, eyes casting downwards.

He was more bold this time around as the images of your mothers hand making contact with your soft cheek flashes in his mind, “she should have never laid a hand upon you like that, miss. You did nothing wrong! Forgive me—I have forgotten my place.” He dropped his chin between his shoulders in shame.

You wept then, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the phantom sting of your mothers palm. You slowly sank down into the straw bed, head in your hands. You looked so small, frail, weak, and Joel never wanted you to feel this way again.

At first he didn’t know how to react to your distress, but soon he found himself sinking down to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reached out to grasp your covered shoulders, “my dearest, do not weep, please. Your mother has never learned kindness in her life, but you? You—” he struggled to find his words, his empathetic nature coming out in full swing.

You slowly tilted your chin upwards to meet his gaze, glassy eyes boring into his. You both took a sharp inhale of breath, time seemed to cease completely. The storm outside raged on, the wind whipped and howled outside the heavy barn doors when Joel Miller’s calloused palms gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away your glistening tears.

1842

Spring turned to summer, summer to fall, and fall to winter. Your Joel transformed into a man before your very eyes. In your youth he showed you how to run, to make mud pies, to swim in the river, despite your mothers disapproval. Your father showed an inkling of care to allow your years before marriage to be spent with Joel by your side.

On the approach of your sixteenth birthday, Joel Miller no longer looked like a boy in your eyes. He was a man, and for the first time in your life, you felt that forbidden part between your thighs come alive at the sight of him. He had grown taller, his arms filling in, paired with strong thighs. The muscles in his back and shoulders were defined with laborious hours of work. His chiseled jaw was speckled with facial hair, paired with unruly curls that you wished you could feel their softness between your fingers. You found yourself transfixed by his lips and often imagined how they would feel pressed to yours in a heated embrace. The only thing about your Joel that didn’t change with age was his eyes; the deepest pools of brown that always appeared lighter when he was graced with your presence.

Your father treated him like a son, inviting him out on the weekends to go fox hunting with your brothers. The prospect of attending college was even on the horizon for him, and Joel could taste his new life brewing on his tongue. His feelings grew for you over the years, feeling his heart flutter and clench whenever you would look his way. Even in your modest attire, he envisioned your womanly figure beneath your layers of tooled skirts. Every night before he laid his body to sleep, he would imagine your lips pressing to his own until the thought of it had begun to drive him mad.

So upon your sixteenth birthday, he approached your father in his office with only one thought on his mind; asking for your fathers permission, and blessing to court, and eventually marry you.

“Come in.” Your father’s voice rasped behind the closed door.

Joel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms along the front of his trousers, bringing one hand up to smooth down his untamed curls. His calloused palm grasped the brass handle and slowly pushed it open.

Your father was seated behind his desk, cigar smoke wafting through the air in a swirling pattern from where it rested between his lips. He looked at Joel expectantly, arms crossed behind his head in a lax position. “Joel, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him softly. He momentarily glanced out a large window overlooking the gardens where in just a few hours, your party would be in full swing. “Good afternoon, sir.” He nodded curtly, “beautiful day we’re having, yes? The weather will be exceptional for your daughter's birthday this evening.”

My Dearest.

“Yes, indeed. The weather has been lovely.” Your father mused. “If you’re asking if you can attend tonight’s festivities, you already know my answer, Joel. The lady of the house wouldn’t stand for it.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Yes, of course, sir. I won’t be on the grounds this evening. A few friends have invited me to the tavern for drinks. I won’t be out late, I swear it.”

“I see.” Your father nodded, “a handsome young man such as yourself oughta get out there more.” He agreed, “So, what are you here for then?”

Shit.

“Sir, I have—known your daughter for many years now, as you are aware. I am also aware that she has many suitors lined up to offer her hand in marriage, but sir, if I was given your blessing, and permission, I would—”

“Joel.” Your father’s tone cut through the younger man like a sharpened blade. “My daughter has already been promised to another. Do not take me for a fool, boy. I have seen the way your gaze lingers on her longer than what would even be described as appropriate. I see the way she looks at you, Joel. I have bit my tongue on this matter because I happen to like you, son. What I can offer you is another lady, at your choosing. You can live a happy, comfortable life and hold a title that you would never otherwise possess. My suggestion is that you accept my generous offer, and throw away your fantasy of ever marrying my daughter.”

Joel swallowed his disappointment down with a heavy gulp. He was naive to believe that he could ever be granted with your fathers blessing. How foolish of him to believe that a man such as himself, would ever end up with the likes of you. It was a fantasy, an unattainable dream that he was better off extinguishing now instead of dwelling on what could never be. He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way his heart submerged to the very pits of his stomach. “I understand, sir.” He finally spoke.

“Good lad. I knew you were a smart one from the start. Now, this stays between you and I, alright?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. You didn’t hear this from me, but the lady of the house plans to retire early this evening. If you see the opportunity to whisk my daughter away for one evening, take it. If it sours, do not even think about taking me down with you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir?” Joel sounded confused, his eyes going wide momentarily, “I’m confused—”

“Treat my daughter to a night that she will never forget, so that in her later years, when she is in misery after bearing her husband's children, and finds herself in a loveless marriage, she will have her memories of you to look back on. Do not, and I mean by any means, get caught and throw your life away so foolishly.”

“I—I understand, sir.” He stuttered out, his heart lurching in his chest at the prospect of one evening with you in his embrace. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He gushed earnestly.

“Leave now, Joel. Do not speak of this to anyone.”

“I won’t, sir. I promise.”

All evening you danced merrily and socialized with the upper socialites of Texas with a fake smile plastered on your pretty painted lips. You searched high and low for your Joel all evening. Your gaze lingered, heart skipping a beat anytime a man that resembled him would stride past, only to be met with bitter disappointment when they would turn their cheek towards you and the resemblance would dissipate like the bubbles in your champagne flute. Your mother had retired for the evening, and your father was in his parlor with his colleagues, smoking, drinking, and playing hands of poker.

And then you felt a presence brush past your bare shoulder, the skirts of your dress ruffling in the warm summer breeze. A shred of parchment was placed into your palm discreetly as you watched the inconspicuous figure disappear in the direction of the nearby stables. Once you were certain no one was paying any attention to you, you unfolded parchment, your heart surging at the familiar penmanship.

My Dearest,

Happy sixteenth birthday. Meet me at the stables in exactly one hour.

Your Joel

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the butterflies erupted and fluttered wildly in your stomach, Your Joel. You brought the parchment to your lips, kissing his words, your lashes fluttering shut.

As the minutes ticked by, your excitement heightened, and when it was ten minutes to the hour, you snuck off to the stables with a visible pep in your step. The barn door was left ajar upon your entering, and when you turned the corner, you found your Joel inside of Shadow’s stall, bows and flowers were braided delicately throughout her luscious mane and tail. When he sensed your presence, he turned around, the biggest grin plastered on his face, dimples peeking through, one stray curl falling across his forehead that was begging to be brushed away by your soft fingertips.

“Joel.” You breathed out, smile mimicking his own.

“My Dearest.” His heart surged in his chest, and then you were launching yourself into his arms unexpectedly. He caught you, of course, hugging you tightly to his broad frame. “No one saw you, right?”

“No.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands fell to your waist. “Shadow looks beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

He chuckled warmly, tilting his forehead to rest upon yours with a sigh of relief, “she doesn’t look nearly as beautiful as you, darlin.’ And why for your birthday, of course!”

His warm, timbre laugh sent your stomach somersaulting, and your mind feeling dizzy. “An evening ride through the countryside, is that my present from you?” You teased him lightly, threading your fingers through the back of his hair.

“No, no, my sweet. It’s actually…a surprise. Are you up for it? Oh! You’ll be needing these, however.” He reluctantly departed from your embrace, stepping off to the side to lift a rucksack from the ground. “I believe they’re your size.”

You raised a curious brow as he handed the rucksack off to you. “You mean, I get an excuse to wear something outside of my fine dresses?” You gasped softly.

“Mhm.” He nodded, smile playing on his lips at your pure excitement over something so small. “I’ll uh—give you some privacy to change.” He cleared his throat, eyes dancing in the direction opposite of you as he turned on his heel so his back would be facing you.

Secretly, you wanted him to see you undress from your obnoxious layers and reveal your untouched skin to his admiring gaze. The times that you would swim in the river together were different. You were both still children, and your womanly curves hadn’t made their appearance just yet.

He silently listened to your fine skirts fall to the dusty barn floor and he was half tempted to peek, but remained respectful as you undressed. Once you gave him the okay, he slowly turned around to face you once more. Gone were your frilly heavy skirts that dragged along the floor with each step that you took. Your skirt was still long, but not as weighted and while the bodice was still fairly constricting, the sleeves were dainty and hung off the side of your shoulders like silk drapery. Your mother would certainly have a fit if she saw you dressed so un-modestly.

“So…” You trailed off, “how do I look?” You twirled on your heel, your smile never faltering.

He unashamedly looked you up and down, twice, before one strong arm looped around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, caging you against him.

“Pardon my French, mademoiselle, but you look fuckin’ stunning.”

You giggled, hands resting against his chest to brace yourself against him. It was the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears; your laugh.

“Thank you, sir. Mother would scold me if she saw me dressed like this!” You giggled again when his nose came to nuzzle against your cheek, bristles in his beard gently scraping against your skin, “she would, my dearest. But don’t worry about any of that, okay? Tonight you will have the time of your life with me, and your mother will have no say in it.” He assured you.

—

You rode into town on horseback, Shadow moving swiftly with Joel steering her with the reins and you behind him with your arms wrapped around him, pressing yourself as close to his back as possible. You had never been to a tavern before, but tonight would certainly be a night of firsts.

Your first sips of Ale were with Joel by your side, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over, warm breath fanning your face as he asked you what you thought about the taste.

Truthfully? Ale was not your first drink of choice, but you had an understanding for the appeal of it. Joel agreed, and whispered in your ear that he thought it tasted like shit. His tone and crude remark sent you giggling in tandem.

Now, whiskey on the other hand? You enjoyed the smoky flavor that lingered on your tongue and the way it instantly sent a warm fire simmering in your belly, and heat to flood your cheeks. You danced, laughed, drank and you even played a hand of poker! No one in the tavern knew of your status, your wealth. Everyone in the rowdy establishment was just there living, and you silently wished for your life to always be this freeing.

When the tavern closed for the night, you and Joel strolled down the street, hand in hand. The late evening air held that familiar summer sweetness, crickets chirping, fireflies dancing around your heads. Another pair of lovers strolled in front of you and Joel, seemingly unable to keep their hands off of one another as they neared the town inn. Would that be you and your Joel?

His palm felt clammy in your palm, but his face gave no distinction that he was absolutely freaking the fuck out inside at the prospect of finally getting the privilege to press his lips to yours.

“Shadow is staying at the inn’s barn for the evening, my dearest. It’s far too late for either of us to return back to the estate…” he trailed off, eyes casting in your direction to await your response.

“Joel…” you sighed, loosening your grip around his hand, nearly dropping it entirely. “We—we have to go back. Father, mother—”

“My dearest, your mother has retired early for the evening, and your father is probably too deep in a hand of poker to even notice your absence.” He spoke softly, slowly bringing your entwined fingers up to his face, illuminated in a soft, warm glow from the flickering street lights lining the walkway. He brushed his lips against the outside of your hand, eyes locking onto yours, “I understand if you don’t desire me the way I desire you, my dearest. And if that is the case, we can leave immediately—”

“I—I desire you plenty, my Joel. All evening at the party, I kept seeing the resemblance of your beautiful face in every male passerby, but none of them were you. I’m just—I’m so afraid, Joel. My heart—it feels so deeply for you, but it’s forbidden. You and I both know the bitter truth of what we can never be.”

“My dearest, tonight we need not be afraid, okay? It is your birthday, your special day, and there is nowhere else in this world that I would rather be, than here with you. I ask you for nothing, only to trust me. Trust your Joel.”

You could feel yourself caving into his words, your body drawn to be closer to him as if by some invisible force pulling you into his chest. “I trust you always, my Joel.”

He nodded, pressing another sweet kiss to the outside of your hand. You moved in sync, his strong, broad body caging you against the brick wall of the inn, his hands, calloused and warm, holding your face between them as if you were fine delicate china. His forehead came to rest upon yours, warm breath fanning your face, “can I kiss you, my dearest?”

“Please, my Joel.” You breathed out, fingers gently resting along the nape of his neck. “You—you will be my first.” You whispered.

“And you will be mine, my dearest.” He rasped, thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones, feeling his heartbeat faster, and faster, when his lips finally brushed upon your own, both of your inexperience showing, but nature took over when your lips finally met, pressing against one another. Your breath hitched in your throat, fingers tightening around his soft curls, pulling him in closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, make a home inside of his heart and never leave.

“I—have never felt a sweetness upon my lips till I have kissed you, my dearest.” He murmured sweetly against your locked lips, taking the leap of what felt right when your lips parted like the narrow sea for him to slowly lick into your mouth so your tongues could meet, and dance.

An unexpected moan slipped past your lips when he licked into your mouth, a sound only for his ears, sending blood flowing southwards beneath his trousers and directly to his groin. He parted from the kiss momentarily, a string of translucent saliva hung between your swollen lips. He dived back in seconds later, but this time you felt his lips upon your neck, sucking, kissing, licking at your throat and all the way back up to your lips.

“I scraped up enough money to afford us a night at the inn, my dearest.” He let out a soft grunt when your nails lightly scratched his scalp, and your fingers tugged on the root of his curls, “do you wish to—”

“Yes, my Joel.” You didn’t even wait for him to finish his question, you already knew your answer was going to be yes.

He chuckled at your eagerness, letting his hands drop from your face and rest along your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, “lay beside me tonight, my love?”

“Yes, my Joel. I wish for that.”

He smiled into the kiss, the butterflies in his own stomach were no longer fluttering wildly, his nerves were gone because never in his life had he been more sure about his feelings till now. It was a moment of calm that both you and he felt in one another’s embrace. “Then let it be known that tonight, beneath the stars, I will make love to you, my dearest.” The words he spoke fell like a sweet oath upon your lips.

You kissed him once more, before your lips parted, but only for a little while. He took your hand in his, fingers entwined and led you to the entrance of the inn. The room was paid for, and the excitement was beginning to tingle once more as he unlocked the door to the room you would share. A single bed to accommodate you both.

And when he laid you down, fitting in the space between your thighs, kissing every inch of your untouched skin, drawing sounds from your throat that you had never felt, nor heard before. Calloused palms moved with languid ease, undressing you with methodical care. You did the same to him, marveling at the flex of his muscles beneath your touch. He was so gentle, so patient as you parted for him like a blooming flower. He kissed you there, too. Dark head of curls moving between your thighs, strong fingers spreading you open where his tongue quickly found the little bud that had your whole body quivering, and your back bowing, arching from the mattress.

He kissed, licked, worshiped, suckled on your womanhood, the taste of you was something so foreign, yet familiar, and his cock grew heavy between his thighs, hips rutting into the mattress for any form of relief.

Your speech was slurred, broken, fragmented moans dangling from your lips, and you were only able to say one word; his name.

Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.

And when the coil in deep within your tummy was pulled tight, and a burning warmth that could only be described as the feeling of heaven on earth, traveled from the tips of your toes and up your spine, you convulsed around his tongue, eyes rolling back into your skull, muscles spasming, your cunt pulsing, leaking along the sheets. He lapped up every sweet drop of your release, swallowing it down as if he was quenched with thirst. His eyes opened, dark pools of brown staring intensely into yours, grinning like a devil. His chin and beard glistening in your sweet nectar, illuminated by the pale moonlight casting in through the thin, billowing curtains.

He kissed up your body, finding your lips and molding his tongue around yours so you could taste yourself, too. He whispered sweet nothings between kisses when the heavy weight of his cock slowly began to press into you. Tears sprung from the sudden sharp pain caused by the stretch of him easing inside of you. He kissed away your tears, shushing you softly and promising you that it would feel good so soon, my dearest.

Your nails left crescents in his back, thighs wrapping around his waist when he was fully sheathed inside of your pulsing, hugging warmth. It was the tightest vice he ever did feel, and he never wanted to part from you.

“I’ve got you, my dearest.” He whispered upon your lips, drawing his hips back slowly, oh so slowly, before guiding them forward. The coarse dark hair on his pubic bone brushed against your own with each gentle thrust he gave you. A rhythm set in with his movements, your body naturally began to mold to his as you became one. Sweat soaked skin, tangled moans and limbs, wet kisses and words of love shared between what little space was left between you.

And when he spilled his seed deep within your womb, and he moaned your name, proclaiming his love and devotion for you with his face buried against your neck. You refused to part from one another, even as his cock softened inside of you, and your cunt no longer fluttered. You pressed your lips to his scruffy cheek, tangled your fingers through his now sweat soaked curls that were matted to his forehead and back of his neck. You held him, and he held you as the sun slowly began to rise, and the birds chirped cheerfully just outside the window.

“I don’t want to go home, my Joel. I want to stay here, with you…forever.” You whispered softly through the early morning air.

He shifted deep within you, lifting his chin and turned his cheek to the side, brushing his lips sweetly against your soft cheek. His eyes were sleepy, a dopey, boyish grin graced his features, lips curved in a perfect pout, swollen with your kisses, “I need not yet to part from you, my love. But I must return you home before your father and mother awake.”

You sighed softly, dropping your fingers from their grip on his hair to then drag across his jaw, nuzzling your nose against his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “our home, my Joel.” You gently reminded him.

He kissed you back, lashes fluttering shut to savor the moment before opening again so he could once again gaze upon your face and paint a picture in his memory to hold onto forever, “our home, my dearest.”

Reality began to rear its ugly head into both of your minds and he reluctantly parted from your kiss, drawing his hips back slowly to release his cock from your warmth. “We must return home, my dearest.” He sat back on his haunches, his softened cock wet, sticky with a mix of your combined releases and a thin layer of blood.

You slowly sat up, taking the coarse sheet with you as you gazed upon his groin for the first time. Even soft now, your sex induced eyes widened at the girth of him.

He, however, was more focused on the stain of blood on his skin, and swiped his thumb across it before his gaze landed on you, “have you…bled before, my sweet?”

You nodded, “yes, my Joel. I bleed the same time every month since my thirteenth birthday. Mother told me that it means I am ready to bear children, and I have become a woman. She told me that I would bleed again when my husband makes love to me for the first time.”

His chin falls between his shoulders, feeling them sink from the realization that he would never be your husband, and you would never be his wife. “Does it hurt…to bleed? Did I hurt you, my love?”

You shook your head, letting the sheets drop from your chest as you reached out to comfort him. “No, my love. It can be uncomfortable, but you did not hurt me. A dull sting is all I felt, nothing more. You took care of me.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently as you emerged from under the covers, “my dearest, what is to happen if…you end up bearing my children? We are both so young, I wish not to steal what remains of your youth. You deserve so much more than only what is expected of you, my lady.”

You found yourself straddling his hips with your thighs on either side of him, caging his body around yours while his arms wrapped around your waist, using his core strength to stay upright as your hands came to rest upon his face, “if I bear your children, then we could marry, Joel. We could—be together!” You spoke excitedly.

“My dearest, I—have nothing to offer you. I am penniless…we are not of the same status, and your mother and father would never allow it.” His thumbs gently stroked the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine.

“I will speak with my father! He will understand, he must! No man will ever wish to marry me if I am bearing another’s child! Father—he’ll have to agree!”

“My dearest, what if my seed doesn’t take to your womb the first time? What if we are unable—”

You cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips, pulling him in close with your hand resting along the nape of his neck, “then we keep trying till my womb is swelling with life.”

He kissed you deeply, feeling his cock begin to stir to life between your tightly pressed bodies. He nodded, a silent agreement as he dropped one hand from where it rested against your spine and dragged it between you so that he could grasp the base of his cock and slowly press himself inside of you once more.

By the time you and Joel arrived back at the estate, the sun was already beginning to rise high above the sky. The stables were empty upon your arrival as Joel helped you dismount from Shadow. He urged you to change back into your attire that you wore to the party so that your mother, nor father would raise their suspicions. You parted ways with a kiss, a longing behind his lips as he watched you leave his embrace and walk back into the life you had always known.

At the breakfast table your mother was quick to question why you were not present in your chambers at sunrise, but you already had a rehearsed script planned in your mind. Without missing a beat, you told the story of how you had a few too many flutes of champagne, and fell asleep in the gardens.

Your mother, of course, scolded you, but your father? He had a hidden, knowing smile playing beneath his mustache.

You and Joel were extremely cautious and strategic when it came to planning your rendezvous. They happened frequently, under the cover of night when everyone was sleeping. Sometimes in the stables, sometimes in the gardens, and you even returned to the inn a few times in secret. He could not get enough of you, your kisses, or your touch. The feeling was mutual, and you both knew that the deep, profound feelings you were both experiencing was not infatuation or lust, no, you and Joel Miller were madly, deeply, tragically in love with one another.

Even in the daytime he would seek your presence, asking your father if he could accompany you on a ride through the countryside as your guide, and protector. You had picnics by the river where he would lay his head upon your skirts, eyes closed blissfully as he listened to you read love stories from Shakespeare till he would drift off, soft snores escaping his lips, your voice lulling him to a sweet slumber. Your horses would graze side by side, his stallion, your mare. Their tails swishing to fight off the pesky flies.

Upon the approach of your eighteenth birthday, you wept in Joel’s arms, for no matter how many times he spilled his seed inside of you, your womb did not swell with life; his child. You feared that his love for you would sour and rot when you broke the mournful news to him beneath comfort of the shimmering moon, and twinkling stars.

“My dearest, why do you weep? Who, or what has caused my sweet love to shed her tears?” He sank to his knees with you crumbling in his arms. His heart felt like it was being shredded to fragmented pieces when your sobs echoed off the nearby hedges in the garden where your embrace was hidden.

“My Joel!” You cried, clawing at his arms with fat, heavy tears streaming down your cheeks, “I—I’m so sorry. I have let you down, my love.”

“My dearest, how have you let me down? Tell me what is wrong! What has happened?” He spoke urgently, tone hushed.

“My womb does not swell with life, Joel! We have tried, and tried! No matter how many times, it has been fruitless! I bear you no sons, no daughters—” you wailed mournfully.

“My sweet, are you certain of this? Oh, my girl…” he felt his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he began to gently rock you in his arms. “Do you weep in sadness, or in fear? I do not care that you cannot bear me any children, my dearest. My love for you will never sour.”

“Do not lie to me, lover!” You were on the edge of snapping through your tears, “when my sole purpose in this life is to marry and bear children to my husband! There must be something wrong with me, Joel! How can you say you love me when I cannot be the woman I am expected to be! I never can fucking—”

You surprised yourself and him by your sudden crude language, but then again, spending as much time as you did with Joel, his verbiage began to rub off on you, and yours onto him.

“Then don’t be the woman you are expected to be, my love! There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing, do you hear me? I love you as you are! You are my lady, for fucks sakes! You can be whoever you want to be with me! Do you wish to be a poet? Be one! Do you wish to be a scholar? A singer? Do you wish to live a normal life where your choices are not already chosen for you?!” His voice cracked, coming out as a hoarse rasp deep from within his chest.

You fought the urge to scoff and chide him for being so naive. “My life will never be normal! Don’t you understand?! All I know is what has been chosen for me! It doesn’t matter what I want, Joel! I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth! My studies, my thoughts, opinions, have all been predisposed! Even the fucking food I consume, and the clothing on my back has been chosen for me!”

“Of course I understand! All I have ever done is understand that you and I were never cut from the same cloth! And yet, I love you all the same because what else is a man to do? My sweet, we are weeks away from your eighteenth birthday! We can run away together and carve out the life of our choosing! Fuck your parents, fuck the society we live in! Do you want to marry a man you don’t love and live in misery?! Or do you want the chance to live! To wake up at your choosing, to wear what you desire, to love freely with no prejudice? To never again live under your parents control? Don’t you want to…love me?” He was exasperated, chest heaving, nostrils flaring from the pure passion oozing from his words.

You fell silent, your lower lip wobbling, eyes glassy with tears as you looked into his eyes, taking in the redness in his cheeks, the puffing of his chest—the love pooling in his dark irises, “of course I want to love you, my Joel. I—I’m afraid! Can’t you see that? I’m expected to marry and bear my husband's children and now I cannot! If we run away together, I’ll never be able to return home! What if our love isn’t destined to make it! What if we fail—”

“Of course I can see you’re afraid, my girl. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice! You are safe here, with me. With your Joel! I would never, ever, ever let anything happen to you. We may not live a life of riches, but we would live a life rich in love! I—I can get a job! I will work until my bones break if it means that I get to be with you. I’ll work the railways, the mines! Any job that I can take, I will, and I’ll do it all for you.”

You kissed him then, tasting the salt from your own tears and his upon your locked lips. “We’ll move west! As far west as we can! We’ll see the ocean for the first time, plot out our land and live out our days together!” You murmured against his lips.

“California.” He promised you, kissing you deeply as his hands came to cradle your face, “a sheep ranch with Shadow and Sunfyre.”

“Why sheep, lover?” You asked softly between desperation filled kisses,

“They’re quiet, do as they're told.” He teased, chuckling when you gently swatted at his chest for making such a comment.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You giggled, which soon turned into a moan when his fingers slipped down to your waist and hastily began to unlace your bodice, while your hand drifted downwards to undo the string on his trousers. Neither of you knew that one of your own ladies, the same lady that had been promised to Joel by your father, caught the two of you in the gardens while she was out for a midnight stroll. Her presence was undetected as you sank down around Joel’s cock beneath your skirts, moaning his name unashamedly as your entwined bodies moved in sync.

June 1st, 1844

“Yes, mother.” You responded in a practiced, complacent sweetness to appease her.

“He will make a fine husband to you, one day.” She added, her perfectly dainty fingers came to rest upon your shoulder, squeezing it with anything but a comforting touch. She didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered on your secret lover, nor did she sense your longing.

“Yes, he will, mother. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

“Good. You have grown into being a fine young woman, daughter. Your father and I are so very proud of you.”

If only they knew that you were not the perfect, proper lady than they believed you to be, and that your heart belonged to another man.

Your Joel had requested a private audience with your father leading up to the festivities surrounding your monumental birthday. And so after bringing the horses in from the pasture, he made his way to your fathers office, closing the door quietly behind him when he was given permission to enter.

“Sir, I have wonderful news to bestow upon you, Shadow is expectin’. She was showin’ early signs a few weeks back, but it is official.”

“Wonderful news indeed, Joel. And who is the lucky stud?” Your father asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Sunfyre, sir.”

“Ahh. What a combination. A filly, as black as the night, and a colt, as golden as the sun. I wonder what their offspring will look like.” He mused.

Joel swallowed the lump growing in his throat, his palms growing clammier by the second. He took a deep breath to calm his budding nerves, “Sir, I need to disclose something to you, but before I do, I just wanted to say that I have appreciated being able to confide in you in some capacity. I am grateful that you have taken me under your wing and offered me the chance at having a better life, but your daughter—”

“Joel.” He warned, leaning forward in his chair with his hands clasped together. “Be extremely careful with your choice in words for whatever it is you are about to tell me. Perhaps I need to remind you where your place is? Maybe I should have been wary of confiding in you, boy.”

“Sir, please. You must hear this! If you care about your daughter's happiness, and her well being, you will listen to what I have to say. I swear that our conversations have remained confidential! I have spoken about them to no one, I swear it!”

Your father let out a deep sigh, bringing his hands to his face where he pressed the pads of his fingers into the deep set wrinkles in his forehead. “Go on then.”

“Your daughter—she is unable to bear children. She is afraid of what is to become of her if she cannot bear children for her future husband, sir. And I fear for her as well! Sir, men are unkind, and she is sweet. She is sweet and kind and deserving—”

Your fathers heart slowly began to sink, his composure crumbled because of his darling little girl, who would certainly face a life of hardship and misery if you could not bear children and enact your duties as a perfect wife for your husband. He didn’t agree with it, but that was how society worked. Men ruled the house, and the women cared for their husbands and children. “How do you know of this, Joel?” Your fathers tone wavered, his eyes casting in Joel’s direction and he saw a younger version of himself in your forbidden lover.

“Sir, you know the answer to your own question.” Joel nearly whispered, avoiding direct eye contact and let his gaze fall to a portrait behind your fathers desk, two young men with their arms around one another’s shoulders.

“You love her, don’t you?” His question hung heavy in the air.

Joel froze like a deer that was inevitably caught by hunters in the meadow. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think as he listened to the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his pulse pounding, “with all of my heart, sir.”

Your father slowly nodded his head in understanding as he let out a sigh, “then you must know that you have to swallow down your feelings for my daughter for her benefit and your own. You are playing a dangerous game, Joel. One that could very well cost you your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. I have never loved another being outside of your daughter. Our love may be frowned upon and forbidden, but it is real. I have felt for her since I was just a mere boy, when the storm was raging outside and she accompanied me to see the birth of Dahlia’s foal. My love for her will never sour, it will never over ripen and rot like the low hanging fruit upon the trees. I have nothing to offer her but my heart, and that holds a weight more valuable than gold or silver.”

Your father smiled, one that did not reach his eyes as he slowly stood from his chair behind his desk and walked in front of it. “You remind me so much of my younger self, Joel. Willing to do anything for the person you love. Despite all the odds being stacked against you.”

Joel took a hesitant step back, the heel of his boot nearly catching along the rug, “do not patronize me, sir. I love your daughter, and nothing will stop me from loving her. Even after death, my love for her will remain.”

“Of course nothing will stop you, Joel. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He smiled sadly, a look of longing hidden behind his eyes. Joel knew the look all too well.

“I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to tell you something that you have to swear you will never utter to anyone. It is a secret that you must take to your grave, Joel. You cannot even tell my daughter. Are we clear?”

“I swear I will not tell a single soul, sir. Not even your daughter will know.”

“Good, I trust you. You have a good heart, Joel.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Your father reached for his box of cigars, silently offering one to Joel who politely declined. It had been many, many, years since your father spoke about his past, and while he lit the end of the cigar, those memories began to surface. “I meant what I said when I told you that you remind me of my younger self.”

Joel nodded in understanding.

“When I was your age, the world was at my fingertips, Joel. It was my oyster, and I could have any lady of my choosing, but I had to marry. That was my parents one rule upon me was that I had to marry.”

“You could have any lady of your choosing, but it wasn’t a lady that held your affections, was it, sir?”

“No. It was not a lady that held my affections.”

“The man…in the portrait behind your desk, was he your…?”

“Yes, Joel. The man in the portrait was my lover. The butler's son nonetheless. I of course tried to appease my parents and court the finest lady in town, but my heart longed for my lover. We were going to run away together, Joel. It was all planned out, and I was ready to throw away my old life for him. It was, and still is taboo and forbidden to lay with the same sex. We were careful, until I came to him with the grave news that I would have to marry, and that we could no longer be together. He was angry, I was angry, we got reckless, and one night we were caught.”

“By…the lady of the house? Your now wife?”

He nodded, leaning back against the front of his desk, “yes, she was the one who caught us in the act, in my chambers. She screamed so loud, as if she was witnessing a murder! I begged her to keep her voice down but she wouldn’t listen. She was disgusted with me, and proclaimed that I would rot in eternal hell for the sins I committed.”

“What happened…to your lover, sir?”

“My own father nearly beat my lover to death in front of me. I was forced to watch the life drain from his eyes. I begged and begged for him to stop, to let him live! Maybe he would have, if it wasn’t for the lady of the house to spread a rumor that the butler's son came onto me against my will. My father didn’t want to believe that his son was a fairy, and so my lover was sentenced to hang. I visited him for the very last time when he was shackled, malnourished, and begging for death to take him. I stayed with him all night, praying that the sun would never rise. The following morning I was forced to watch him hang. Every single spectator in the crowd, except for me, cheered for the death of another fairy!” He used the back of his hand to swiftly wipe at his eyes when his tears began to well and roll down his cheeks.

“He was buried in an unmarked grave and I went through with marrying the lady of the house. I wasn’t given another choice, and on the night of our wedding, she whispered to me that she knew the truth, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail me for it.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. Your lover—you, I’m so sorry. I do not understand why people are so cruel and hateful. Love is love, is it not?”

“Please do not sympathize with me, Joel. I do not seek your sympathy. I am telling you this because if you do not swallow your feelings for my daughter, you will surely face the same fate that my lover did! Don’t you understand? She has been promised to another. She meets with the banker's son tonight and in time, they will be married. It is her duty and expectation. And you will have the choice to marry the lady I have chosen for you. Your love for my daughter will fade, and you will be grateful that it did.”

“How dare you! How dare you stand there—you coward! You could have been with your lover now if you had run away together! You had the opportunity, and didn’t seize it?! Don’t stand there and claim that my love for your daughter will fade, when yours for your dead lover has not! You stand there, weeping for him! Your life could have been different—”

Crack

Your fathers cruel fist made direct contact with Joel’s beautiful nose, the force of impact sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his face in despair as blood trickled and dripped between the grooves of his fingers, staining the golden threaded hearthrug in splotches of crimson.

“Get the fuck out of my office. It is clear that you have forgotten your place, boy. You will never marry the likes of my daughter.”

Joel retreated through the office doors with what remained of his dignity. He confided in your father purely out of trust, and he thought it was a mutual feeling. For the rest of the afternoon, leading into the evening, you did not see your Joel.

The banker’s son was polite, well-mannered, but goodness—was he a bore. You had no interest in hearing him drone on about the stock market in New York City. He didn’t bother to ask you about you, or your interests as they were already predisposed by your mother.

Fucking cunt.

He strolled with you in the gardens with your hand lightly grasping onto his elbow. Your eyes wandered off, in search for that familiar stature, and head of distinguishable dark curls as you passed by the stables, but your Joel was nowhere to be found. Your heart sank and you asked the banker’s son, Timothy, if he would mind giving you a moment of privacy in the garden's gazebo. He obliged, but not before he could press an affectionate kiss to the outside of your hand. The bristles in his perfectly groomed mustache tickled your skin before he reluctantly pulled away.

You let out a sigh of relief, your posture returning to a relaxed state as you watched him walk back towards the festivities inside. When you were certain that he was not lingering, you began to nervously pace the short distance inside of the gazebo, muttering about how Joel would never just leave you like this, would he?

Where the fuck was he?

Then you heard it, the groaning of the tired wood beneath his boots, and that warm, deep rasp in his voice. “My dearest.” He croaked, and you immediately knew something was wrong, something had happened. His voice sounded far more nasally, and when you turned around to face him, that’s when you noticed the dry, crusted blood beneath his fractured nose, the rusted blood stains in his white shirt. You ran to him, delicately cradling his beautiful face in your palms.

“My Joel!” You cried, “what has happened? Who has done this to you! Your nose—your beautiful nose!”

“Hush, my darling. It’s—just a fracture, lover. It will heal.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, his hands slowly coming to rest around your waist. “It does not matter who did this to me, my dearest.”

“How can you say such a thing? Joel, please, my love, who did this to you?” You softly begged, thumbs gently stroking the scruff speckled on his strong jaw.

“Your father.” He murmured, bitterness laced in his words.

“What?” You murmured in disbelief, dropping your hands from his face, refusing to believe it. “Why would he do such a thing to you! Joel, please, please tell me what happened!”

“My love, please promise you will not hate me for what I am about to utter. Swear to me that you won’t.” He pleaded, tightening his grip around your waist in fear that you would slip between his fingers like grains of sand.

“I swear it.”

“He knows about us, my dearest. He knows that I love you, and you love me. He knows that you cannot bear children because I am the one who confided in him this afternoon. I did it in hopes that he would understand, and stop the banker's son from courting you tonight. I—I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to run away, and we would be accepted as lovers!”

“Oh Joel, they will never accept us! You stupid, stupid, beautiful little fool.” You sniffled sadly, feeling your tears oncoming. “You are too good for this world and everyone in it! Your heart is made of pure gold, and I love you for it, but now you have put yourself in grave danger! That was so fucking stupid of you to do, lover.”

“My sweet, I may be a fool, but what else is a man to do when he is in love? Your father knows, yes, but now we must seize our opportunity to leave, tonight! The party is in full swing, is it not? No one will notice your absence, my dearest. If we don’t leave tonight, I fear we will never have another chance at eternal happiness.”

You swallow down your tears, melting into his embrace and his words. “The banker’s son waits for me inside, it will be suspicious if I do not return to him within the hour…” you trailed off.

“Are you having your doubts, my love?”

“No, no! Of course not. I am in fear that we will be caught if we aren’t careful, my Joel. I will return to him and you will go to my chambers. Lock the doors and do not open them for anyone. Take the back entrance, through the kitchens! No one will see you, I swear it.” You reached for his hands on your waist, interlocking your fingers through his.

“And you? I cannot fathom thinking of the banker’s son touching—”

“My Joel, please do not allow your thoughts to sour. I am expected to dance with him and when the timing is right, I will come find you. I promise.”

He nodded, bringing your clasped hands up to his face so he could kiss your knuckles, wincing from the dull ache in his nose.

“Together?” He murmured, eyes locking onto yours.

“Always.”

You parted ways after he kissed you, promising you that all this pain would be worth it in the end, and of course, you believed him, for what else is a girl to do when she is in love?

You returned to Timothy’s side, assuring him that you just needed to be alone with your thoughts. He was an understanding man, and you could understand why your father assumed that he would be a perfect match for you, but no one would ever be your Joel. And while you danced, and made small talk with him and his friends, Joel was making his way through the kitchens, ducking into one of the main hallways, muscle memory guiding him the way to your chambers, but unbeknownst to him, he was being followed.

It was a quarter to midnight and your lover could hear the party growing rowdier by the minute even behind your locked doors. He grew weary, doubts settling into his mind that perhaps you had forgotten him. Perhaps you were having a good time with the fucking bankers son. His spirits lifted when he heard the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He sprung up from the edge of your perfectly made up bed, heart racing in his chest when the doors opened.

His face fell, blood running ice cold when the person revealed behind the door was not you, but the lady who was promised to him by your father. He took a step back, palms growing clammy.

“How did I know that you would be lingering in her chambers, Joel?” She closed the doors behind her and locked them for good measure. “What would her father say if he knew you were in here…hmm?”

“You fucking followed me here, didn’t you, Lady Florence?” He seethed, feeling like an animal trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Because you were promised to me, or have you forgotten?” She cocked a brow in his direction, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I never approached you. Never even attempted to court you. Just because her father promised me to you, doesn’t fucking mean shit until actions are taken after words.” He snapped.

“I suppose, but then again, you’re in a not so favorable position, Joel. Trespassing after hours, and in his daughter's chambers nonetheless? I’m almost certain you would hang for such a crime.” She mused, stepping closer to where he had tucked himself nearly into a corner closest to the window. “Perhaps he would love to hear how I caught you and his daughter fucking in the gardens a few weeks back. How truly reckless of you both.” She tsked.

He scoffed at her attempt at blackmailing him in such a petty way. “Your threats are made in vain. Her father already knows about my love for his daughter. He’s well aware, and you look fucking desperate and pathetic at your attempt to blackmail me.”

“Blackmail you? Joel, you have me all wrong!” She laughed, “I don’t have the heart to blackmail you!”

“Then what the fuck do you call what you just attempted to do, hmm? Don’t take me for a fool! You are nothing but a jealous little—”

“Joel? It’s me, my love. I don’t have my key…someone must have nicked it!” You whispered through the outside of the closed door, looking around the vacant hallway anxiously. “Are you in there?”

He strode past Florence, shoulder checking her on his way to the door and quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside before closing and locking it again.

Your eyes landed on his face, and then trailed over his shoulder to Florence, one of your ladies, who you had believed up until this point was loyal, and not a conniving little—

“Lady Florence? What are you doing in my chambers? What is going on?!”

Joel reached for bare forearm with a gentle grip to pull you back. “My dearest, it isn’t what you think! Lady Florence is the one who nicked your key and followed me to your chambers! She cornered me, threatened me with blackmail, and claimed that she caught you and I in the gardens weeks ago!”

“Is this true?” You felt saddened, betrayed, and disappointed. “Flo, how could you do such a thing to me? I thought we were friends!”

“My lady—he lies! I never would steal from you, he is the one to corner me! He sought me out, forcing me into your chambers—” she lied between her teeth, digging herself in a graver hole than she was planning.

“LIAR!” you yelled, ripping your arm from Joel’s grasp, “he would never lay a hand on a lady, nor pressure her! You speak only of lies Florence!”

“Lover! We do not have the time for this! We have to go, we have to go now!” Joel urged you from behind, reaching for your arm again. “She isn’t worth it! Please, we must—”

And then you heard your fathers voice booming down the hall. Your biggest fear was coming true, and now there was nowhere for you or Joel to hide when the doors bursted open, the locking mechanism snapping in half from the force of your father.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He demanded.

Lady Florence, being the snake in the grass that she was, immediately flocked to your fathers side. “Sir! You arrived just in time!” She said exasperatedly, “Your daughter was in her chambers freshening up and I went to go check on her, being the good friend that I am, when I heard her dreadful scream! I came upon the heinous crime of the filthy stable hand taking your daughter against her will!” She wept her crocodile tears. “He threatened to—”

Your father wasn’t buying it for he knew that Florence was a terrible liar, and a rotten friend. “Lady Florence, this does not concern you. Return to the party immediately, and speak this to no one.”

“But sir—”

“GET OUT!” He yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She narrowed her eyes at both you and Joel before slinking out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

You immediately stepped in front of Joel, silently vowing to protect him no matter what would happen, you would not allow your father to harm another hair upon your lover's head.

“Daddy, please, I love him! Please, let us be! I know it goes against what is expected of me, but Joel is a good man! He has only ever been good to me, father!”

“Your mother will never allow it, daughter. All Joel has done is tempted you and filled your head with fantasies! You have been promised to the banker's son and that is final! You think of me to be cruel, but I am only doing what is best for you!”

“I do not care what you think is best for me, father! I do not want to marry the banker's son! I wish to be happy with my one love, and I do not care if that means that you and mother will exile me! I do not care that it means I will no longer live a life of riches! I am rich in love and happiness with him by my side!”

Your father ignored your pleas, even when you clung to his arm and dug your heels in the ground to stop him from advancing towards Joel. “Please, father! Please! I am begging you to leave him be!” You cried, and your words were caught in your throat when the backside of your fathers ring clad hand made swift contact with your cheek, sending you tumbling to the floor in shock. All Joel could see was red behind his eyes when your fathers hand made contact with your cheek. He sprung into action, but your father, despite his age, was quick, ready for Joel’s attack.

“YOU DARE FUCKIN’ LAY A HAND ON HER?!” Your lover yelled with a rage you had never heard leave his lips, “I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A HAND UPON HER AGAIN!”

Your father used Joel’s rage to his advantage, letting the younger man assume he had control of the situation when he was shoved against your tall, wooden chifferobe.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cried, “BOTH OF YOU, PLEASE STOP!”

In your moment of distress, Joel was distracted for a millisecond too long when your fathers fist connected with Joel’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He landed another hit, and then another, weakening Joel enough that he crumbled to his knees, bringing his arms over his head to block out the fists raining down upon him.

Your father was relentless, grabbing your lover by the back of his neck, yanking it upwards so he was forced to look up at the older man from his knees. He bent down to his level, getting close to his ear and whispered only for him to hear “I warned you this would end badly if you weren’t careful, boy.”

Joel spit a mixture of congealed blood and saliva directly onto his face, spattering it in speckles of crimson. “Fuck you, you coward.” He hissed between gritted teeth.

Your fathers fist trembled, his hand surely was broken, but all he could think about was how he was forced to watch his own lover be beaten in the same fashion, and now he was on the delivering end of it. “Get out.” He seethed. “Leave the property before lady Florence runs her large mouth to the lady of the house and spreads a false rumor about you and my daughter. Leave before I change my mind, Joel.”

Defeat; complete and utter defeat is all Joel Miller felt in his bones when your father released him with a rough shove to the ground. He struggled to sit up, coughing up more blood, and when you attempted to crawl to his side, your father grasped your elbow and yanked you to the door.

your fading screams of his name echoed down the hall as your father dragged you further and further away.

Bruised, beaten, and feeling hopeless, Joel Miller forced himself to his feet and obeyed your fathers word to leave while he still had the chance. He felt like a coward now, but what else could he do? If he stayed, surely he would face the gallows for a crime that he didn’t commit. Lady Florence had infact gone to run her big mouth to the lady of the house, claiming that Joel Miller raped you in your bed chambers. It was of course a fabricated lie, and only lady Florence, Joel, your father, and you knew the truth.

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealousy drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel

Unspecified date.

My Joel,

I write this to you in secret. My words are only for your eyes, and when you receive my letter, tell no one, my lover. Father is angry, so very angry, and mother only speaks of hate towards you. She is determined to make me press charges against you to hang for a crime you did not commit! Father won’t stand for it and instead we have abandoned the estate, left all of our belongings including our dear horses! They will not tell me where we are going, but I miss you terribly, my Joel. My brothers have been free to marry by their choosing, but I? I cannot. It’s rather cruel, isn’t it? To be given one life and since birth, since I first opened my eyes and gazed upon the new world, my choice has been stolen from my grasp. Oh, my Joel, you speak in sorrows, but the fault lands upon my shoulders. I’m so sorry, lover. I should have been more careful and discreet with our planned rendezvous. I deeply loathe Lady Florence for spying upon us! You are right of her jealousy, and now she claims to be remorseful! Oh, I feel your lips now. Your kiss, your touch upon my skin. My love for you has not weakened, I promise. Hold my words close to your heart, my Joel. I fear I will not be able to write to you again, but I will try, for you. My Joel, you are in my thoughts, always.

You have my heart,

Your Dearest.

January 1848, one hour after dusk

The decision to leave Texas and travel to New York to stop yours and the banker’s son’s wedding could quite possibly be the last thing that Joel Miller would ever do. But how could he sleep at night knowing that you were out there, somewhere in the city, thousands of miles away. You had not written to him in so long, but that didn’t deter him from following his heart back to you. He couldn’t fathom life without you in it any longer, and what else is a man to do when he is in love?

That’s how he found himself in the familiar stables, the horses peeking their heads out from their stalls and nickering softly to him in greeting. He kept the single letter you wrote to him safely tucked away in the pocket of his coat, rucksack thrown over his shoulder with what little belongings he possessed. After a new family moved into your home he was given a higher title, a warm bed to sleep in, and he could have married his new boss's daughter and lived a comfortable, happy life, but he declined, for she would never be you, his dearest. Despite turning down every single one of her affections, she still lingered, hoping that one day she would be good enough for his affections and heart.

He was frantically tacking up Sunfyre, cinching up the girth when the barn doors creeped open and Phoebe, his boss’s daughter appeared.

“Joel?” She whispered through the cool evening air, lantern in hand to peer into the low-lit stalls, “what…are you doing?”

He let out a sigh, dropping his hand from the girth and turned around to face her, “lady Phoebe, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out after hours.”

“Neither should you.” She chastised. “Where are you going at this hour, Joel?”

“My lady, that is none of your business. Please, return home. Forget that you ever saw me.”

“You’re going after her, aren’t you? Joel, it’s been years, and she has only written back to you once! It’s in all the papers that she is marrying the banker's son. You could be happy here, with me.” She whispered the last bit, feeling her heart ache for a man who would never feel the same for her.

“Lady Phoebe, “You are a dear friend to me, but I cannot love you, for my heart belongs to another.”

“But I can love you, Joel. I’m right here! She is thousands of miles away and—”

“She is my love, my one true love, and I’ll be damned if I don’t follow my heart. Your heart sings for me, but it’s not my tune to hear. You will belong to another, I promise.” He moved from Sunfyre’s side, grasping Phoebe's hands gently in his calloused palms, “you have to let me, and what could never be between us go.”

May 6th, 1848

My Joel, if you’re out there…please, please come find me, lover.

Your Joel wasn’t even sure how the fuck he was supposed to find you in a city as large as New York City. All he knew is that today you were expected to marry the banker’s son, and he would be damned if he didn’t stop this wedding from happening. He asked nearly every passbery in the street if they knew where the biggest wedding of the month would be taking place. It took less time than expected to find his answer, and once he did, he rented the finest suit that he could afford, tucked the ring box safely in his suit pocket, and rode to the chapel.

The wedding bells were already beginning to sweetly chime, and he felt his blood run cold at the sound. Was he too late? He would never forgive himself if he was.

“If anyone here, in this room objects to the unifying marriage between this man and woman, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant spoke at the head of the altar, just as the doors leading into the chapel burst open.

“I OBJECT!” Joel’s familiar voice boomed up the aisle. Hushed murmurs, and surprised gasps echoed throughout the chapel when your eyes landed upon your Joel. All time ceased as you dropped Timothy’s hands, racing down the aisle, the train of your perfectly fitted wedding dress dragged behind you.

Tears flooded your eyes as you threw yourself into your lover's embrace, clinging to him in disbelief with your hands cradling his face. “MY JOEL, YOU CAME FOR ME!”

“Of course I did, my dearest. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He murmured, unable to truly process all the feelings he was experiencing at once. But what did it truly matter? The time apart was years, but it was all worth it leading up to this moment.

Your father was already making his way down the aisle, followed by your mother and Timothy when Joel grasped your hand tightly in his and whisked you down the aisle towards the exit. He wasn’t going to let them take you away from him again, not this time.

His grip on your hand did not loosen at the harsh sound of your fathers voice, and even when you were running down the chapel steps in unison, he did not let go until you and him were safely tucked behind a wall of a building, out of sight from the wedding party.

He kept you safely caged against the wall, a burst of memories from the night of firsts that you shared together all those years ago. “My dearest,” he breathed, “I thought I was too late! I thought the wedding already happened and you—”

“My Joel, I—I never thought I would see you again! I only ever received your single letter and I thought that you had moved on, that you had forgotten about me!”

“What?” He shook his head, brows furrowed as he grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips, kissing every inch of your skin there. “My Dearest, I wrote to you many, many times! Did you receive all of my letters? I thought the same! I thought you forgot about your Joel.” He admitted quietly.

“Fuck! I bet it was mother, or father! I bet they were keeping your letters from me, lover! Maybe they thought that if I believed you had forgotten me, I would be more inclined to marry the banker’s son!”

“I would believe that to be true, my sweet. But none of that matters, okay? I’m here now. Your Joel is here, and I will never leave your side again.”

“I-I can’t believe you’re here! Oh, my Joel, I’m so sorry—for everything! I have not stopped thinking about you all these years, I swear it. My heart only has ever belonged to you. I wear his ring, but it means nothing to me!”

“Shh, my love. I know, I know. My heart has only ever belonged to you, my dearest. Only to you. Fuck his ring. I will remove it from your finger so you never have to gaze upon it again.” He rasped, gently grabbing your left hand, scoffing at the enormous rock on your ring finger. “And I will replace it with my own.”

“Please, my Joel.”

He slipped the banker’s son’s ring off of your finger, tucking it into his pocket before he pulled out his own ring box, revealing a smaller, dainter ring beneath the velvet cover.

“It’s not much, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t grace your finger with the largest diamond the world has ever seen, but—I love you, dearest. I came all this way because I couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of losing you to another. I have never loved another soul as I do you, and while I don’t have riches to offer you, shiny carriages, silver platters, I have my heart and I know that it’s worth something to you, darlin.’”

He slipped his ring onto your finger, where it always belonged, and then you finally kissed him, your lips meeting in gentle brush before he surged forward, kissing you with everything that he had to offer. He believed that he was hallucinating, that he was back in Texas, longing for you in his empty bed. But you were here, you were real beneath his fingertips as he licked sweetly into your mouth, hands splayed around your waist, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, my Joel.” You murmured against his lips.

“Only because the lady that wears it is the most beautiful in the entire world. Sunfyre is waiting for us down the street. We can go as far east, west, wherever your heart desires. I will love you eternally, and no one will ever keep us apart, my dearest. I swear it.”

“Let’s go home, my Joel. To Texas. Take me home.”

And so he did, for what else is a man to do when he is in love?

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