#pedro pascal story
Text
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 ❤️
12.3k words
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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Calling Birds
Day 4 of Pedromas! | Masterlist
Pedro Pascal x F! Reader
Synopsis: Pedro has been away for a while and you miss him, he has a bit of a solution to your problem.
Genre: smut
Warnings: phone sex, m! and f! masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, a touch of degrading, vivid descriptions of sex and oral sex
Gif credits to owners!
Pedro was currently away filming and you missed every part of him. Cuddles, walks hand in hand, the talks you had while laying in bed, watching movies together, everything. But in this current moment in time you missed his dick more than anything else.
And you told him exactly that. Word for word. That you missed his dick. At first he responded in a joking sort of way but that one simple 'I miss you' text, had morphed into an intense back and forth of sexting.
He had warned you not to start this while he was on set. He had warned you not to start something you couldn't finish, but in your clouded lust you just didn't care.
So here you were sending dirty texts to your boyfriend and getting ready to send him a tasteful nude or two. You hit the 'send' button and less then five seconds after it says read, your phone is ringing.
Your boyfriend's name lights up on your screen. After letting it ring for just a second, you hit answer. Although you were desperate for his attention, you didn't want to completely show it.
"What are you playing at, amor?" He says before you can even utter out a hello.
Of course you feign innocence, "I don't know what you are talking about."
He sighs into the phone, "You know exactly what I am talking about. You're being a brat, teasing me while I'm at work." Your cheeks flush at the pet name, warmth rushing between your thighs.
"What? Have nothing to say anymore?" He responds when there is no sounds coming from the other line.
"I just need you." You whimper out.
"My poor baby, so desperate for my cock, needy whore." Your blood burns, a shiver runs down your spine. It was almost insane how turned on the man could make you with just a few words.
"Please", is all you can manage to say while you are so desperately trying not to touch yourself without permission.
He chuckles, "Why don't you touch yourself for me, my love?"
That's all you need before quickly slipping your hand under your panties, teasing your core. You let your fingers tease your opening before reaching your clit. Finally touching the spot where you needed, causes you to whimper out.
"You like it that much, baby? You've barely touched yourself, naughty girl."
"I just need to feel you. I need your fingers on me, in me. I need, I need-" You trail off as you continue circling your clit, the pleasure dulling your senses.
"Imagine its my fingers or my tongue. Imagine its whatever you want." A grunt sounds from his end of the call.
"Are you touching yourself?" You question comes out as almost a whimper.
"Yes, I'm imagining your lips wrapping around my cock. Your pretty head bobbing up and down as you take all of me in your mouth. So pretty when you give me head." Groans come from him as he speaks.
"Tell me what you want to do to me." You practically beg.
"I want to be the one touching your clit. I want my tongue on you, teasing your pretty little cunt until your writhing underneath me."
His words make you even wetter, as you let two of your fingers slip inside you. The stretch is nice but not as nice as his fingers would feel. So much bigger, with callouses that felt so delicious against your core.
"My fingers are so much smaller than yours." You complain.
"Put one more in, fill yourself as much as you can. Pretend its my fingers, fucking you, bringing you close to your peak. Are you close?"
"Almost, you?" He lets out a grunt in response, you hear the sound of fabric moving faster. You hear a squelch with another moan, knowing he was getting close without him having to tell you.
He still answers, "Yes, now think about me thrusting my fingers in and out of you, my tongue on your clit. You like when my mouth is on you?"
You only moan in response, getting close to your release. With the stretch of your fingers, moving in and out of you at a perfect speed. The phone on speaker, laying on your chest, as you use your other hand to tease your clit. Both actions causing your head to spin in ecstasy.
As your peak begins to mount, your moans get louder and your fingers move faster. More sounds also come from Pedro's end of the phone.
"Cum for me baby." He says before he's moaning, knowing that he is cumming sends you also over the edge.
Your orgasm washes over you. Your walls clench around your fingers as you continue to work your clit through your high.
As you start to come down, your head returns to earth. Hearing his breathing beginning to settle on the other side of the phone. You laugh.
"What?" He questions, still a bit breathless.
"Nothing, just didn't imagine this happening today."
"All of that imagination and you didn't even picture you fingering yourself?"
Another laugh, "Not that, just I didn't think a phone call could get so hot."
Now he laughs, "What don't think I can't make a simple phone call hot?"
"No, babe, I know you can make everything hot."
<- Previous Day | Next Day ->
Taglist:
@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley
#fanfiction#fanfic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal imagine#12 days of pedromas#pedromas#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal story
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Mexico 🌿🍃
Pedro Pascal x reader
Summary: When you need some distance from your hometown, Pedro booked a luxurious villa for you in Mexico. It was almost perfect except that Pedro wasn’t there since he was away for filming… or is he?
Warnings: FLUFF! Teeth rotting, cotton candy fluff! Mention of smoking weed, mention of having a rough time, Spanish sentences that might be incorrect (English translation behind) so I’m sorry if it’s wrong! Most is just fluff.
A/N: Hiya, remember me? 😂I’ve been sooooo busy with work and school and handling some personal stuff and just still trying to heal from some things, so I must keep a lot of balls high so that’s why I haven’t been posting for a while. I hope that things will soon get a little more reasonable, but I have no clue when. But for now, I hope you guys enjoy this sweet piece! Much love from your homegirl 🩷🪬🧿
Mexico
You had a couple of very rough months and every time you got back up but that didn’t mean that it was exhausting. Pedro was away filming and knew what you were going through. You both facetimed each other every day and every time you cried or were upset, Pedro wanted to come home to you and take care of you, even though you reassured him that you’d be okay.
It wasn’t new of you for you to push people away and take care of yourself. You finally learned how to love yourself and take care of your inner child. You might’ve lost so much in the last month but found yourself on that journey. You were used to doing things alone and found it hard to accept people in and let them take care of you. But like I said, you were learning that bit by bit.
You were currently in Mexico. Pedro was renting a house there where you could stay for a while and focus on yourself and your healing, leaving everything behind for a while and it was the best decision ever. You felt so extremely relaxed, not forget the fact that you’ve always wanted to go to Mexico. The house was GORGEOUS to say the least. It was some sort of villa and the moment you stepped into the villa, you felt at peace. It was very luxurious, the backyard was huge, with a pool, gorgeous view over the city,
You had thanked Pedro multiple times and he was happy he could help you with something. He wanted to give you the entire world so he did his best to spoil you, escpecially after everything that happened. You deserved to rest and heal in a very luxurious and comforting villa. He didn’t tell you that he rented it just for you, but he would tell you eventually.
This was your 3th night here and you already felt more and more peacefull and relaxed. Throughout the day you would stroll around a market, buying fresh fruit, vegetables and whatever else you needed. After that, you would meditate, after that you would journal with a self-help book called healing through words of Rupi Kaur for at least 2 hours. Than you would do whatever you felt like but mostly, read.
It was evening right now and you decided to get into the huge bathtub. You even looked down over the city in the bathroom as a view. You lit some candles, lit some insence and relaxed while reading your favorite book. You had smoked a joint before you got into the baththub so you were completely fuzzy and relaxed.
Pedro even bought all of your favorite bath oi, foam, salt, body butter, body lotion, body mist with a huge bouquet of roses etc and delivered it to the renting. It came in today and you after you got it, you immediately called Pedro to thank him but he didn’t pick up the phone so you’de figure that he was busy shooting his new movie so instead you send him a sweet text with a selfie of you smiling with the bouquet of roses in your hand before you got into the bathtub.
You had some music playing in the background, the smell of insence comforting you as you let yourself relax completely. It was hard for you to give into relaxation completely. That’s because you’ve never felt really safe but even though you knew that you were safe in your head, your body was so used to be on edge all the time that you had to remind yourself that you are indeed very safe. And it worked. Slowly but surely, you started to rewire your brain.
After a while you put your book away. You took a deep breath from relaxation and softly touched your legs. You hummed to yourself and decided to shave it. Not because you thought it was prettier, you just very much liked the feeling how your legs felt after you shaved. You put some shower foam on your legs and slowly shaved your first leg. You were so in your own space that you didn’t hear someone open the door. “Mi amor….” You heard a familiar voice say. You got startled, not expecting someone here. You looked at the familiar voice, only to be met with the softest brown eyes in the entire world. “Pedro…?” you asked surprised, but happy, to see him standing in your bathroom.
He slowly walked towards you, seeing how relaxed you were, your eyes heavy. “Oh, mi hermosa, cuanto te he extrañado (oh my beautiful, how much I’ve missed you)” he whispered as he crouched down besides the bathtub and gently placed a string of hair behind your ear. He cupped your cheek, making you lean into his touch. You placed your hand over his and your other hand cupping his cheek, meeting his eyes that held so much love in them that it made your heart flutter. “Pedro…… I’ve missed you so much.” You told him and couldn’t contain the urge to hug him. You moved in the bath and placed your arms around his shoulders and nuzzled your face in his neck. Your wet, naked body against his clothes and the comforting sound of him chuckling made you feel like you were home again. His arms around your waist, holding you close and tightly against his body as he kissed your head multiple times. You got your face from the crook of his neck and kissed him passionately. His hands cupping your cheek again and got out of the kiss so he could look at you. His smile bright and reaching his eyes, giving a twinkle in them.
“Took some days off. I want to take care of you. Please, let me take care of you now.” He asked you lovingly while he played with your hair and cupped your cheek again. That was the last step for you, to give someone permission to completely take care of you. He knew you found that difficult, but you knew you were ready. You smiled at him “I’d like that” you still felt fuzzy and relaxed from the weed you smoked before. Pedro had the most loving smile on his faze that it made all the butterflies come back in a matter of a second.
“You know I don’t mind if you shave or not, right?” He asked you before doing anything at all. You smiled and nodded. “I know, I just like the feeling” you chuckled softly. Pedro smiled with adoration, reaching his eyes. “Then it’s alright, mi Corazón”.
You sat back down in the bathtub and Pedro gently placed your feet on the edge of the tub so he could continue shaving your leg where you left off. His big hands gently on your skin as he shaved your leg in concentration. When he was done with one leg, he placed a kiss on your knee as he made eye contact with you. He got the scrub supplies and gently scrubbed your leg, being careful so he wouldn’t hurt you. Your heart filled with love just by seeing how careful he was with you and how much love he put in the things he did for you, just like this.
When he was done with your first leg, he got to the other, repeating the things he did with your other leg. When he was done, he placed a kiss on your forehead and cupped your cheeks again, looking lovingly into your eyes which held nothing else but adoration and love, radiating it through them. “Let’s get you out and dried up, princesa.” Pedro stood up and held up a towel for you, giving you a hand so you could get out safe. Once you were out, he wrapped the soft towel around your body. His hands still on your waist when he pulled you closer for a loving hug. His arms around you while he tucked your head underneath his chin, not caring that his clothes got a bit wet from you. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his waist, and you let the side of your head rest against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“Te amo, mi amor.” He whispered in your ear. “I love you too Pedge” he smiled softly and kissed your head, his lips lingering. He got your underwear and helped you in them, your hands resting on his shoulders as he crouched down to put it on. He got the body butter and looked at you for permission. You nodded and he rubbed his hands together so his hands wouldn’t be so cold. He placed some on his hands and put it gently on your upper body. His hands gentle, making sure that he didn’t miss a spot. After he was done, he placed a top on your body. And continued with your legs. He got on one knee and placed your leg on his knee, so he had better access for your legs. His hands were soft and gentle on your skin.
He got your kimono and helped you in it with your arms. It was still a very nice temperature outside, so you didn’t need more clothes. You put your arms around Pedro again and he did the same, giving you a kiss on the top of your head. Pedro held your hand and let you to the kitchen. “Ve a sentarte afuera cariño (Go sit outside, dear.)” He told you softly and you nodded, softly letting go of his hand with a loving smile that held Pedro in a trance. You walked outside, his eyes following you with a smile upon his lips.
You sat down in a big chair, your knees up to your chest. You put some slow R&B on through the speakers and lit your new joint. You let your head fall back as you exhaled the smoke. “No puedo creer lo hermosa que eres, mi amor (I can’t believe how beautiful you are my love.)” You heard Pedro say as he walked towards you with, what looked like two mojitos. Pedro sat next to you, placing the mojitos on the table, which was lit by candles and fairy lights. When Pedro was comfortable, you got out of your own chair and sat down on his lap, making Pedro smile. His arms already wrapped around you as you got comfortable on his lap. He couldn’t hide his loving smile for you. You handed him the joint and he took it from you, taking a big puff as he kept eye contact. You smiled at him and kissed him, making him cup your cheek softly.
“How was work?” you asked him after a while when you saw him finally relaxed. He hummed a bit and started talking about his day while you listened intently to his story. You went with your nails softly through his hair and he leaned more into you as he let out a sigh. “But it’s all better now. porque estoy aquí contigo, el amor de mi vida (because I'm here with you, the love of my life)” You smiled and felt a bit flustered. “Oye, mírame cariño (Hey, look at me, baby)” he whispered, his finger underneath your chin as you looked up. He gave you a couple of sensual and loving kisses before he kissed your forehead.
He handed you your mojito and you got your book, that you were reading, from the table in front of you. Pedro drew circles on your back while you tried to find the page you left it on. When you finally found it, you let your head rest against his chest and started reading it. Pedro let his chin rest on the top of your head and started reading with you, unknown to you until you wanted to turn the page. “Wait, I’m not that fast yet.” He chuckled nervously, making you look up. You smiled that he was reading the book with you. His eyebrows knotted together as he tried to read the words, but he forgot his glasses inside. “Want me to read to you?” You asked him genuine with a smile. “I’d love that. You know I love your voice.” You smiled and gave him a quick peck on his lips before you started reading to him.
An hour got by when you put your book away and looked at Pedro, tiredly. “I’m tired, P” you told him softly and he smiled adoringly at you as he stroked your hair. “vamos a la cama, mi chica (Lets go to bed, my girl)” he told you as he kissed the side of your head and helped you stand up before he stood up.
Once again, you walked hand in hand inside of the house. “You go freshen up, princess. I’m going to put out the lights. I’ll be right back.” he told you and carefully let go of your hand.
You were doing your skincare as last when you were almost finished with the rest, Pedro walked in, smiling at you while you applied the moisturizer to your face. He strutted towards you and put his arms around your waist, letting his chin rest on your shoulder. His body pressed against yours. Pedro almost had heart eyes while he looked at you, doing your skincare routine. He knew you were almost finished as he memorized every product in your routine. When you applied the last thing, he turned you around with his hands on your waist. You looked up at him with a loving smile and giggled softly at the way he carefully stroked your cheek. “Mi amor….” You felt butterflies in your stomach and looked down shyly. “Get comfortable in the bed, I’ll be right there.” he told you, making you nod. You wanted to walk to the bedroom, but Pedro pulled you back. “I think you forgot something….” He told you, getting you confused a bit. “Dame un beso mi Chica Bonita (give me a kiss, my pretty girl.)” you giggled when he told you what you forgot and stood on your tippy toes to give him a kiss. He cupped your cheeks with both of his hands and deepened the kiss as he sighed from relaxation in the kiss. When he pulled away, he looked at you with a smile. “Now you can go.” He told you with a smile as he reluctantly let go of you. You chuckled and quickly kissed his cheek before you left the bathroom and into the bedroom.
You put on a soft warm light and crawled into bed, pushing away the mosquito net. You hadn’t closed the curtains yet, keeping the view over the ocean and a couple of lights from homes further away and of course, the garden where you just sat. You got your book and started reading where you left off. Pedro walked in the bedroom in only his boxers and smiled when he saw you all comfortable in the big bed.
You put your book on your chest for a moment and looked at Pedro who crawled in next to you. “This bed was too big without you in it… I’ve missed you…” you told him softly as you laid down on your side for a moment so you could look at him. “Yo también te extrañé, cariño. Me alegro de estar aquí contigo. (I missed you too, sweetheart. I'm glad to be here with you.)” his voice husk from tiredness, making you smile. He gave you a passionate yet sensual kiss before he softly and gently placed a kiss on your nose and forehead.
You laid down on your back, picking your book up. Pedro let his head rest on your chest, your arm around him while you went with your fingers through his soft locks. Pedro softly hummed from satisfaction of your fingers over his scalp. You noticed that he was reading along with you, so you slowed down your pace with the reading until he was done too. He softly nodded and hummed, letting you know that you could flip the page.
Your eyes started to feel heavier, and you almost dropped the book, but Pedro was fast enough to catch it and put it away. it startled you for a sec, knowing you almost drifted off. “Vamos a dormir, mi dulce niña. (Let’s get some sleep, my sweet girl)” he whispered, and you were too tired to respond so you hummed, already eyes closed as you turned on your side. You waited for Pedro to turn of the lights and to get comfortable before you could cuddle him.
Pedro didn’t even need to say anything, he already pulled you towards him to cuddle. Pedro laid down on his side, facing you, while he pulled you against your chest, his arms around you, your head resting against his chest while he tucked your head underneath his chin. “duerme bien cariño, te amo (sleep well sweetheart, I love you)” his voice soft and you were almost drifting off. “I love you too” you murmured, already half asleep, making Pedro smile and close his own eyes as well, inhaling deeply from relaxation, knowing you were in his arms again.
~time skip~
You woke up from the sunlight shining into your eyes. You groaned softly and turned around, wanting to wrap your arm around Pedro, but you were greeted by an empty side of the bed. You frowned and finally opened your eyes. You saw a note against the headboard of the bed with: “Good morning sweetheart, I’m getting some groceries, I won’t take long.” You read and let your head fall back on the pillow, glad that it wasn’t a dream that Pedro was here.
The door went softly open, revealing Pedro with a tray with breakfast on it. You didn’t expect Pedro to be back already but here he was. “Buenos días mi amor, ¿cómo dormiste? (Good morning my love, how did you sleep?)” His smile radiant and his eyes shining, making you immediately happier. “Buena, te tenía a mi lado (Good, I had you next to me.)” You told him back in Spanish and Pedro loved it when you spoke Spanish back to him.
His smile even more radiant. “And you? Did you sleep well?” You asked him as you sat up in bed. “Good. I had you next to me again.” He repeated you with the biggest grin and leaned down to give you a kiss and sat down next to you. “Made you breakfast.” He told you and placed the tray with food on your lap. He made some eggs, avocado with toast, coffee, and some fresh fruit. You smiled “Thank you Pedge.” He smiled and kissed your forehead. “You’re welcome baby girl.” He told you and stood up, walked to the other side of the bed, and laid down on his side, facing you. “So… what should we do today?” he asked, “I mean, obviously we don’t have to do anything if you want to stay here, that’s fine with me too.” You smiled and looked outside at the beautiful weather. “We could go to the beach?” You suggested and Pedro smiled. “I would love that!” he told you with a smile.
You asked Pedro more about work now that he had completely settled in and not having a bad jetlag. He chatted about the fun things and less fun things that had happened making you listen intently. You loved hearing Pedro talk about things, especially if he was very passionate about the things he talked about. You ate your breakfast in the meanwhile and couldn’t help but beam because of how happy you were that you had your Pedro back by your side. You were silently enjoying this morning and Pedro saw it, making him happy as well.
This was going to be a great day! After the beach, maybe go to the market to get fresh products to make dinner with, get a drink at your favorite beach club and just spent time with each other, because God knows you both really needed it. You were completely happy and content, not needing anything else when Pedro was around you. He was all you needed.
Part 2 maybe?
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal stories#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x ofc#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal x fluff#pedro pascal x original female character#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal imagines#pedro pascal oneshot#pedro pascal story#pedro pascal cute#pedro pascal sweet
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💅🏻 regarding Pedro being cast as Reed (as confirmed by my hubs today as he sent me a link showing it had been finalized apparently/ the filming beginning soon) .
Would love to hear thoughts, personally I think its a little of an odd choice for Pedro but at the same time like we dont know. He may really wanna do it. I definitely dont know what to expect but Im sure he’ll kick ass, or give it all hes got. Reed with a beard kinda resembles Pedro a teeny bit.
But part of me is wondering why he chose to pursue the role or accept it/marvel is not a great studio to work for allegedly/they shit everything out and its quantity over quality with them/im not a marvel fan tho. Im genuinely curious how itll be and if he’s gonna be a good fit. But let’s see! Again, though, not a fan of Marvel films nor them as a studio, never pictured him accepting a superhero role (superHERO lead role, Max Lord was a fun villain, not the lead HERO i wouldnt want him to get tied down to marvel forever but maybe this’ll be one and done.)
#pedro pascal#pedropascal#films#discussion#reed richards#marvel#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal story#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#tlou#thelastofus#joelmiller#dieter bravo#the bubble#prospect movie
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i’m scared of ending up alone.
#the last of us#the last of us hbo#tlouedit#tlouhboedit#bella ramsey#pedro pascal#storm reid#ellie williams#joel miller#riley abel#tlou spoilers#i thought the ellie riley story was gonna be the thing that broke me#and it did but#it's the joel ellie undercurrent that really drove it home#sigh
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#little tantrum baby
Pedro Pascal, Billy Crudup, Matthew Macfadyen & Kieran Culkin I SAG Awards 2024
#pedro pascal#pedrohub#ppascaledit#userfanni#useroaks#useriselin#tusercora#xuserannie#tuserpolly#*#this entire interview had me cackling#his story time about denzel dafjshskdg
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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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like a virgin
joel miller x reader
🫧 inspired by madonnas like a virgin MY MADONNA CONCERT IS COMING UP I-
🫧 i always make my writings for joel so long but i love this man smm i could write all day for him it dont even b on purpose 😩
🫧 description: pre-outbreak!joel, babysitter!reader, reader babysits sarah, semi-fluff, DILF JOEL DILFFF, age gap (joel is 36 and reader is early 20s), smut smut, SMUT SMUTTT, dom!joel, softdom!joel(ugh i need so bad),sub!reader, hella praise kink, reader and joel are obessesed w each other tbh, secret crushing, body worship (reader reciving/ slight joel), pussy eating, possessive!joel, unprotected sex, p in v sex, hair pulling (j recieving), tommy is a teasing p.o.s 😭, no use of y/n, use of nicknames (sweetheart, darlin, and sweet girl).
you stepped into the miller’s residence weekly to babysit his daughter Sarah, she was the sweetest teen girl. she reminded you a bit of yourself when you were her age which was probably the cause of the instant connection.
you had been baby-sitting for almost 8 months now, leading to getting closer to Joel; Sarah’s dad.
Joel was more than a hunk of a man, he towered over you even with your heeled mary-janes at times, his broad build engulfing all his clothing making him look like a slutty construction worker with his roughed up baggy-blue jeans thats sinched around his waist perfectly.
you would be lying if you wouldn’t oogle the man while his attention was pulled onto something else. you would watch the way he talked so sweetly to Sarah, yet when it came to a phone call, his neighbor, a stranger or his brother, Tommy that would occasionally stop by.
Joel would have this assertive and unruly tone underneath that thick southern accent. he was a man that paid close attention in his life which is why he has allowed you to take care of his daughter with so much trust.
you would never know it but Joel cherished you and the things you do.
Joel would show it in very discreet ways, today was a prime a example.
“m’havin a famiy cookout later t’night, why don’t you head on home to rest, so you can come back to enjoy with us.” Joel invitied you with ease as you began to grab your belongings from his coat-rack near his front door.
you grabbed your purse, walking towards the sound of his voice which was right around the corner. Joel was standing in his wide living room.
“it would be more than my pleasure. thank you for everything again. im always very appreciative for sarah and you” you thanked him sweetly, eyes meeting his.
he stood next to his large bookcase that had an assortment of different books, personal objects, some cds/dvds, and his vinyls.
joel picked up a vinyl, sliding out of the slot in the shelving of his bookcase, pulling it out of the envelope, and placing it on the record player.
yet another instance, where you accidentally ogle him.
“the real thank you should be t’ya. im adjustin’ to single parentin’ and ya’ been very accommodatin’, thank you.”
your kind demeanor was the sweetner to his coffee.
you were now home, getting dressed to return to the Miller’s residence.
usually when you’re babysitting, you dressed lazily. you would put on a random shirt and jeans or sweats.
you wanted to cleanup a bit more, knowing it wasnt just going to be you and sarah most of the day; Joel would be there.
you threw on this cute blue floral sundress that was mid-length, it stopped right below your cross necklace.
you finished up by pairing it with white frilly socks with mid-heeled black flats.
you didn’t put much makeup on, only putting the basics before doing any last touch-ups and grabbing your black mini-purse.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
once you arrived, opening the gate and greeting a few of the people that were sitting on the porch before entering through the front door.
the sound of chatter got louder as you walked through his home. you turned around to the corner and his living room was empty but his kitchen was cluttered with different food and grill necessities.
you thought to yourself how they must be outside, you began to walk farther into his home till the back where the sliding door to his backyard was.
you began to slide the door open “oh my!! you came!” sarah squealed out of excitement, she came from restroom door next to the side of his sliding door.
you immediately engulfed the excited girl that ran into your arms “i wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl!” you exclaim while smiling.
“c’mon! my dad is outside grilling!” sarah spoke excitedly. she grabbed your hand as you opened the door and walked outside together.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
“d’ya invite that sweet babysitter of yours?” Tommy asks joel while seasoning the steak “i did, i hope she comes-you know, for sarah and all” Joel tries to play off with his words.
“oh my brother fancy’s someone, i see” Tommy chuckles out, putting his beer bottle up in the air slightly.
“i do not fuckin’fancy that young lady. she’s gone above and beyond for my daughter and i just wanted her to feel welcome” Joel explains himself, his tone laced with angry yet getting his explaination a across a bit hastily. Tommy’s eyebrow quirks.
“don’t say nothin’ else” Joel utters out in a stern tone, grabbing his cold corona as Tommy puts his hands up in defence.
Tommy turned his head, not the best decision as it made his amusement grow fonder. he turns back to Joel.
“well, ya’look at that brother” Tommy slys out, throwing a wink at his older brother before making his way back to his wife Maria.
It was you and sarah approaching, Joel actually choked on his sip of beer.
you were beautiful, Joel wasn’t an oblivious man.
Joel, himself even thought it was impressive how easily you cleaned yourself up by just some jeans and sweatshirt; at times just a shirt.
tonight was different, very different.
Joel finally has seen you outside of your different hoodies and pants.
he couldn’t begin to comprehend as you and sarah got closer and closer “Dad! she made it” sarah calls him out in excitement.
you finally approached him next to his griller which caused him to immediately snap out of his gaze.
Joel gave you his hand to shake “thank you so much for having me” you thank him, sweetly accepting as you began to shake pulling you in for a soft side hug.
you were right beside him, feeling the heat of the fire from the grill on both of you.
in Joel’s eyes, up close, your beauty was now beyond otherworldly. your light blue sundress bringing out the color of your eyes, the way your hair fell on your shoulders, and your jewlery sparkiling the tone of your skin.
you looked so elegant, yet you still managed to keep it simple. your winged liner making you look more mature than just the light mascara you would rush onto your lashes before getting out of your car on babysitting days.
Joel couldn’t begin to wrap it around his mind how you could possibly look so pure yet you were a woman. a hard-working one at that.
he knew that. it was something that made him desire you which felt so wrong.
“anytime, ya deserve to be apart of the family-shit! ya’already are” Joel goes off a bit nervously after ogling you. you gave him a soft smile.
“did’ya need help with the grill?” you quickly perk in as the fire began to sizzle a tad bit louder than usual “ah shit!” Joel exclaims, flipping each of the steak.
“careful now, brother! dont burn ‘em!” Tommy calls out, laughing with a devious smirk as he approaches again with cooler in hand.
Joel grumbled something under his under his breath as he focused on the grill.
“nice to meet you, i’ve heard s’much about you! I’m Joel’s brother, Tommy.” the younger brother introduces himself.
you give him your hand to shake “It is nice to meet the uncle tommy” you joke out causing sarah to giggle with you.
Joel couldn’t begin to explain the beauty you carried within you.
he was sure that if a god made you, it was Hestia and Aphrodite.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
the evening was pleasantly spent by you getting to meet maria and her pregnant belly, congratulating her.
then once it was time to serve the dinner, you helped Joel and Tommy by moving the grilled food off of the grill.
this consisted of Tommy making jokes that had slight insinuating under-tones that you were too naive to pick up but laugh everytime Joel would punch Tommy’s shoulder roughly, not being playful at all.
you helped bring in the food as sarah set up the dining table. once everything was set up and everyone sat down to eat, Joel’s grilling being beyond splendid.
when dinner was over while everyone cleaned up, you went to use the restroom.
you finished using up the restroom which is how you were now in Joel’s living room.
you began to admire his large bookcase from where he stood earlier to invite you.
you skimmed through, your hands softly going over the objects as you observed his books, framed pictures, his collection of dvds, and then his vinyls.
you had a record player of your own, sometimes sarah would ask you to play bon jovi and tell you where the record was.
Joel had an impressive collection, ranging to every genre of music. he had some legends on vinyls like Bob Marley, Johnny Cash, Lionel Richie, and Madonna.
you immediately picked up the Madonna vinyl, it was her second album ‘Like a Virgin’.
you grew up with your mom adoring Madonna more than anything which explains your adoration for her music.
“I was in highschool when i first heard Madonna” a deep voice spoke through the room, behind you.
you automatically knew it was Joel, turning around still looking at the tracklist on the back of his vinyl “this is my favorite album besides Like a Prayer” you say as you walk up to him, smiling.
“you weren’t even born yet” Joel laughs out causing you to jokingly get offended.
“excuse me, i know my Madonna” you joke back, giving him a playful wink which he just gave you a slight chuckle too.
“she say she know she Madonna, ay?” he gives you a slight smile, opening up his record player before inserting the vinyl.
soon enough the record player began to ring a classic 80s pop beat through the room.
you automatically felt yourself slightly popping your leg with the beat and snapling your fingers slightly.
“go ahead, Mr.80s” you state smiling, inviting him to dance “oh no, i-don’t dance” Joel quirks out awkwardly, now standing nervous.
Joel admired your confidence and comfortabilty in your skin, you were so young and full of life while also being so sophisticated and methodical.
you grab Joels hands and began to playfully sway with him.
Oh, like a virgin
Touched for the very first time
Like a virgin
When your heart beats next to mine
🫧
you sang the melodious lyrics under your breath. you felt your breath hitch as you locked eyes with joel, being in his grasp.
you could feel your body burn up in his strong hold, his heavy hand on the small of your waist.
your breath hitched causing your chest to push up against his chest. this felt so right, the way his hands held your body and each of your curves.
🫧
You're so fine, and you're mine
Make me strong, yeah, you make me bold
Oh, your love thawed out
Yeah, your love thawed out
What was scared and cold
Joel made you feel more than a woman, you were so polish and refined, yet so sophisticated and mature while all-looking ever so young and full of life.
he felt a bit of confidence which made him twirl you around, engulfing you into his embrace again with one arm; your back to his chest now.
you swore the sound of the song was slowly drowning out and now the sexual tension was ringing through the both of you.
you could feel his heartbeat thump against your back as his hands rubbed both sides of your waist to the rythem of your delicate sways.
you leaned your head back against his chest, his scent being the only thing on your mind.
you felt him begin to caress your hair with one hand as it left your waist.
“you’re s’beautiful, hope y’know that” Joel could blame it on his 5 beers but 5 beers wasn’t shit for Joel, he was very conscious of his choices.
the compliment sent shivers down your spine as you swore your knees grew limp momentarily.
you turned around, your thigh now inbetween one of his legs, chests pressed against each other, his hands gripping your hips now, and faces inches away from each other.
your lips were parted, you really were debating on kissing the beautiful hunk of a dad infront of you.
fuck it
just like that, within no time your lips were moving like you both had never kissed anyone before.
the song continuing to play as the both of you makeout in his living room while everyone was outside.
the way his hands ran through all of your body like he had never touched anyone, your lips pulling away to catch your breathe momentarily like you had never been kissed like that before.
Joel completely ravished you.
hell…now that he had you, he wasn’t gonna let go now.
“m’room darlin’” he mutters against your lips, before completely scooping you up bridal style. it caught you slightly off guard, gasping which made Joel smack your ass playfully.
“oh, aren’t you a gentleman?” you joke, your arms were wrapped around his neck.
“oh, don’t’cha worry sweetheart” Joel smirks out as you arrived to his room.
he laid you on his bed, going down with you while on top of you. he began to move his lips from kissing you to your neck, pulling down the small straps that held your dress.
each kiss that Joel placed on your body felt like a burning sensation, making your insides erupt with giddiness.
you felt like this was your first time all over again. your mind was racing, heart was nervous, and body was clamy.
and it was all because of Joel.
you weren’t sexually active at all recently, you were so busy with work, about to graduate with your masters, and even babysitting sarah; spending more time at the Millers than on dates.
you did go out but lord were the guys of this generation a bunch of sluts.
“what’s on your mind? am i doin’ somethin’ wrong?” Joel’s rushes out accidentally, not wanting to sound nervous but he did.
you weren’t only one feeling like a bad teenager doing this for the first time.
Joel smelled your perfume and that was all it took to get his mind racing. he couldn’t begin to fathom how he finally got to have you.
the way his big frame craddled yours sent him into overdrive, his heart going a million miles per minute as he tries to figure out where to even begin.
for you, it might’ve been a year but for him, it was almost like ages with the years he’s gone.
all Joel’s mind could do was think of all the things he could do to you.
“Joel-hmph” you couldnt help but whine out as his hands massaged closer and closer to your arousal.
“there there sweet girl, you ever been with a man?” Joel asks, lifting your dress up, exposing your angelic white panties.
Joel was damned forsure for the filthy thoughts you provoked out of him.
“n-no, i have never—they were idiots.” you felt so small under him, feeling overwhelmed like it was your first time all again.
at this point, you could’ve considered yourself a virgin with how Joel had you and how much of a man he was.
“you ain’t gon’go lookin’ f’someone to take care of that pretty lil’mind, not after im done with’ya.” Joel claims to you.
you believe every single word laced in his southern accent; making your cunt pulsate wantingly.
“is that what you want to do, Joel? take care of me?” you ask him, lifting your leg to spread yourself open more as you wrap it around his lower waist; basically resting on his thick thigh.
the way you looked at him through your lashes, batting them softly. it was a genuine question, laced with purity and hope.
“if you’ll allow me too-” Joel began, pulling down your panties. you expected him to unbuckle his belt next but no; he got on his knees.
your chest weighed up and down heavily, each of his touch making your body hot.
“it’s my only wish for taking care of me and sarah” Joel finishes before hooking both of your legs up onto his shoulders, his tongue wasting no time.
you didn’t even get a chance to respond, a moan erupting out of you being the only thing.
the way he ate your pussy like he didn’t just eat a whole meal downstairs had your back already arching.
Joel’s tongue swiped along all of your cunt, fucking your sweethole “jesus, ya’taste fuckin’ delicious” Joel mumbles against your pussy as his tongue quickens all along your juiced cunt.
“ahmph!” your shriek sounding like music to his ears, if he didnt have his family downstairs, he’d have you screaming.
“quiet fa’me, doll” he says, taking a hand to cover your mouth as before diving back in.
joel’s tongue fucks into your hole this time causing you to let out a muffled moan against his big hand.
the way that man was eating your pussy, tainting your pussy with his spit, marking it all as his drove you insane. there wasnt nothing this man couldn’t do.
“god! j-joel!” you muffle out, your hands go to his roughed up brown hair, pulling on it causing him to groan into your dripping pussy.
you felt yourself getting closer and closer, your pussyhole squeezing around the tip of his tongue.
“this pussy s’perfect- s’all fuckin’ mine.” Joel spits out once he pulled away from your pussy, denying you of your orgasm.
your mouth was agape in pleasure but then quickly falling into a pout “don’t worry darlin’, my baby will cum…on my dick” Joel’s voice is sweet like honey now as he leaned down to connect your lips together.
you taste yourself on his lips, mixture of his spit along his lips causing you to moan at the mix of both of your filth fogging your mind.
the way both of your lips moved in sync perfectly was beyond intoxicating for joel. he swore he could get addicted to just at the look of you but at this point, both of your lips had him drunk.
he had shimmied and kicked off his pants while making-out with you. he was completely taking over you once again, your body turning small under his big one.
“are you ready, sweetheart?” joel asks delicately, pulling away from your lips to look at your eyes.
you told him yes, leaning up to take his shirt off which he happily obliged.
you had only seen his toned arms but it was obvious he had a strong build. he might’ve not had a six-pack but lord were his muscles chiseled like a greek god.
“you gon’ drool over an old man?” joel utters out, his hand going in to caress your hair.
“oh baby, you’re beyond fine wine.” you whisper. your forehead’s connected, lips away from kissing, and looking him deep in his chocolate eyes.
Joel could feel his breath hitch at what you said, you already had him wrapped around your finger as he worshipped you.
Joel thrusted himself into you, he couldn’t even fucking believe how tight you were.
“jesus- god, this pussy s-ah fuck!” joel’s groan was almost animalistic as your mouth fell as if you wanted to scream but nothing came out.
Joel’s cock was a size you’ve never had before, it didnt hurt but oh, did it stretch.
“s’big-oh my!” you moan out loudly, eyes rolling back at the feeling of him delectably stretching your pussy out.
“you got it baby, you got it” he praises you although he was too busy trying not too pass-out because of your cunt.
after a small moment of adjusting for the both of you, he began to thrust into you at a slow pace.
you arch into him as your whimpers and soft moans turn slowly work their way up to louder and heavier moans.
joel worked himself into you, his mind not being able to get enough of all of you. he still had to process that he really had a young beautiful woman with the heart of a home in his bed.
joel completely held your body with one hand, eventually putting a hand over your mouth again once his sweet thrusts turned into pounds.
your body shaking against his with each of his rough and hard thrusts, fucking your name out of your mind and replacing it wirh his.
your muffled little cries of his name “Joel! joel-ah! j-j! j-joel!” sounding like a sweet lullaby to him. he couldn’t help but smirk at your teary eyed-self.
you werent even worried about ruining that pretty liner of yours as he fucked into you.
“shh my baby, you’re taking me so well” joel coos out, caressing you hair before leaning down to plant kisses and suck on your chest.
your hands grip his bed sheets as your body begins to shake in pure sensual bliss that joel brought you, making your mind fog up as the build up of your orgasm is almost virginal.
“ya’look so beautiful like this-” praises left joel’s lips left and right, loving and indulging in every single one of his praises as he fucked you to your orgasm so sickeningly good; leaving the both of you intoxicated.
“you was made fa’me, not no one else.” Joel’s eyes were shut now, completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him.
it was almost like a prayer, a hopeful chant, almost a possessive plead.
joel had wanted you just as much as you wanted him “yes! god yes! m’close! it’s y-yours! all yours!” your pleasure-filled babbles as your mind gets drunk of joels cock and overwhelming orgasm.
“let go, darlin’ ” Joel works you through your orgasm, hips going from pistoling into you to the delicate pace he started off with.
your entire body shook as both of your sweaty hot bodies embraced each other through both of your orgasms.
the room filled with heavy pants and moans as his hand left your mouth and began to massage your hair.
you both held each other, not wanting to let go of each other.
“i understand what madonna meant by ‘like a virgin’ now” you giggle out causing a playfully scoff to come from him.
“alright alright, we need t’get dressed and head back down. would ya’ want to stop by tomorrow after i drop sarah off at school?” joel asks, his chocolate eyes now ridden of lust and replaced with soft hope.
you were about to tell him yes but another voice spoke before you.
“are you fucking done?! fuck! i can’t keep stalling Sarah and Maria!” it was Tommy.
#the last of us fandom#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedrostories#the last of us#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller#joel miller pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal x you#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#pedro pascal stories#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#tlou hbo#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou joel#pedro pascal the last of us#pedro pascal tlou
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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader
Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them.
Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands.
Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Word Count: ~6.7K
Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny.
Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.
Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications
Part 2 | Part 3 Preview | Part 3
S P R I N G
Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.
Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.
Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.
That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.
“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could.
You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.
She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.
Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.
++++
You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.
While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.
You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.
As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.
After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.
As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.
Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.
You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.
In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.
Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.
As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.
You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.
With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.
The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.
++++
The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.
It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.
And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.
You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.
You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.
++++
The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.
While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.
“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.
More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.
You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.
As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.
“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"
The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.
"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer.
“Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.
Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.
Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.
And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.
“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.
His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.
“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.
“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”
“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.
Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.
“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.
“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.
“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.
Oh god.
You’re so fucked.
++++
Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.
Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.
“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”
Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.
You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.
Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.
The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.
Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.
“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”
Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.
God, he wishes you would have kept it.
S U M M E R
As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.
It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.
Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.
People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.
You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.
Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.
You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.
You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.
The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.
You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.
The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.
As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.
Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself.
Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.
“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.
“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.
Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.
"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.
Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.
Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration.
“You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…
You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.
“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.
“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.
“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.
Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt.
You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”
His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.
He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.
“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.
“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”
“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.
“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.
He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.
“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off.
“Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.
You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.
Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.
Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.
He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.
The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.
“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt.
“Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.
++++
Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.
If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.
“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.
“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.
You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.
Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.
You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.
He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.
“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.
“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.
“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.
“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.
“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.
His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.
“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.
“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all.
“Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.
“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.
You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.
“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.
You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.
“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.
“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.
“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.
You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.
Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.
You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.
You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.
His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.
The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.
“Fuck.” Joel groans.
TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2
Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro
As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x you#joel miller fluff#joel miller#pedro pascal character#pedrohub#pedro pascal#new york#firefighter smut#pedro stories
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That fucking hospital scene…that is a sequence that I’m glad it didn’t feel like playing the game. Instead, I felt like I wasn’t breathing the entire time. That was one of the most effective sequences of television I’ve ever seen, from the acting to the emphasis on the brutality.
The way Joel seemed to be walking through a dream…that’s the part that hit the hardest. We as the audience were hyperaware of his actions, while he was barely there at all—Sarah and his grief and Ellie were the only things on his mind.
Neil Druckmann really wrote a story that turned a mirror on humanity, and my god am I thankful for both the game and this adaptation.
#the last of us#text post#i could write a 500 page thesis on this story istg#the last of us spoilers#the last of us hbo#hbo the last of us#bella ramsey#ellie the last of us#joel and ellie#joel miller#pedro pascal#anna torv#neil druckmann#tlou series#tlou show#tlou#tlou spoilers#joel tlou#ellie tlou#marlene tlou#i ramble
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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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#fic: my Joel#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller angst#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller comfort#joel miller hurt/comfort#joel miller fluff#joel miller au#joel miller fic#joel miller story#joel miller imagine#regency!joel#regency!au
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Idk why, but this is so Bridgerton/Pride and Prejudice coded. Now nothing can stop me from writing this story about a single and grumpy lord, bye
(edit: the reader will be curvy, bye)
#pedro pascal#joel miller#delulu#pedro pascal tlou#sag awards#bridgerton#lord#javier peña#fake scenarios#stories#fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#joel miller x reader#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton netflix#pride and prejudice#mr darcy#pride and predjudice 2005#lets go mr Darcy
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The fight and the love
Pedro Pascal x Agent reader (ANGST)
Summary: It would’ve been an easy mission. You were supposed to take out a group that was planning a terrorist attack but things soon, turned horribly wrong.
Warnings: SEVERE PTSD, VERY TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE, mention of terrorism attack, being tortured for information, close to death, all the Symptoms that comes along with PTSD, quick mention of wanting to die but not by suicide, mention of team being murdered and tortured, multiple injuries etc etc, really, read with precaution and if you’re sensitive to these kind of things, I would advise you not to read this story. I have a masterlist with more uplifting and comforting storied but I wanted to try something new.
Words: 6K (oops)
I’M NOT JOKING, READ WITH PRECAUTION PLEASE!
A/N: This could be read as platonic or romantic relationship with Pedro. Also hi, I’m sorry for being so inactive for too long, I’ve been so, so busy with school, my job, and doing the graphics on my own for a big festival so as you can imagine, I don’t have the time to write but I WON’T stop! I’ll post so now and then. Hope you all understand, much love from your homegirl.❤️
The fight and the love
It would’ve been an easy mission they said… This was your first mission as a team leader, and it wouldn’t have been a big deal but that was nothing close to the truth. One thing you were sure about, there was a leak. But that wasn’t your big concern right now. Getting out of this situation alive, was your biggest concern. You needed to get yourself and your team back home.
You were supposed to stop a terror attack, but it was a well planed trap, taking you and your team somewhere secluded to spread terror across the country. They send videos public of yourself and your team getting tortured, and it booked the news all over the news. Not that you knew all of that, but you did know that the torture sessions were getting recorded. They wanted to know something and since you were the leader of the team, they came regular back into the room you were placed in.
Your breathing was wheezy, suspectedly from a collapsed lung, you guessed. You looked at the stab wounds which were burned to stop the bleeding, so they could keep torturing you and try to get information from you. You told them lies. You knew they would kill you if you didn’t give them something, yet they would kill you if you would tell the truth. They were doubting if you were lying or not so that’s how you’re still alive, inside some sort of chamber.
You had no idea how long you were here. It felt like an eternity, but it might’ve been 2 days or 2 weeks. You had no access to sunlight, keeping you guessing if it was night or day. You stared at the cement wall in front of you and thought about Pedro and the tears fell across your face. You were sure that you were not getting out of here alive. You just wished you would’ve told him how much he means to you, hug him, tell him you loved him. That was all you could think about in here, Pedro and how the hell you were getting yourself out of this. You were scared to death that he might’ve seen a torture video of you, that might’ve been worse than the torture because you knew it would affect him on a deeper level. You didn’t want those images circling his mind. You wanted him to think about the happy memories.
That was how you didn’t give up. There were many, many moments where you just wanted to die. Wanted them to kill you and be over with this. The moments where they were waterboarding and your lungs feeling on fire, thinking every second will be your last. Every hit, every shock, every stab wound, made you just want to die but then Pedro flashes through your mind. The moments of laughter, the hugs, silly dances, serious conversations, and most importantly, the love you felt in his presence. He was and will always be, the most important person in your entire live. Pedro was your family. And the moments you were the most scared in the torture sessions, all you could think of was Pedro, thinking that every minute was going to be your last and you didn’t want to go with the feeling of being absolutely petrified. No, you wanted to think about someone you loved, Pedro.
You had no clue when your last ‘session’ was. To keep yourself sane, you talked to the wall, imagining it was Pedro. You told the wall everything you wanted to tell him. You had no idea if your team members were still alive, who weren’t or if you were the only one. The thoughts about the government handling this came to mind as well. Were they planning on rescuing you, or not. You knew that they wouldn’t negotiate with terrorist so that scared you. The thought of nobody coming to rescue you was horrible. You had to keep your mind from swirling down into a deep rabbit hole, so you refocused on the happy memories with Pedro. Like the days he brought you to Disney because he heard you’ve never been there, taking you to the beach, or you taking him back to your birth country and show him the things from your childhood. You felt helpless yet determined. It was such a rollercoaster of emotions and thoughts. You were sure that this was a form of torture as well as the physical.
The door slammed open, and you saw the terrorist for the first time without something covering their face and at that moment, you were sure you were going to die. They walked over to you, dragging you up. You tried to fight back but your entire body was in too much pain. You had no idea how many bones they broke but you were sure there would be a couple. They kicked you and you screamed as loud as you could and kicked around but they got you. You promised yourself, not to go down without putting up a fight. They dragged your body into the torture room, and you saw blood everywhere. You were sure someone just died in here. There was no way that someone could lose this much blood and still be alive.
They placed you on a table and you knew the drill. Waterboarding. You felt your heartrate pick up, the thundering against your chest, your breathing shallow and fast. You tried to beg for mercy, crying your eyes out at this point and tried to fight them. A towel was placed over your face, and you felt water being poured over you, the air escaping you. You tried to remain as calm as possible at this point, trying to keep as much air in your lungs as you could. But as usual, they kept the towel on your face for a very long time. You started gasping for air and tried to wiggle around but they had put something sharp on your wrist, ankles, and neck, making every movement even more unbearable because of the pain. You felt yourself grow dizzy and slowly losing consciousness until you passed out.
~time skip~
You felt something sharp hit you, waking you up in an unbearable feeling of pain as you let out a blood curling scream. You tried to wiggle away but the sharp things, keeping you in place, which you could now see was barbed wire. You saw the blood seeping down and a big knife in your stomach and you were certain they had hit an organ, making you bleed intern. They took out the knife and they plunged it into your leg, making you scream again, and they repeated this for a while, screaming things in a different language. They held the knife up to your throat and made you look in the camera. And this was the moment you were sure that you were going to die in here. You saw the camera blink red. Tears streamed down your face and all you could think of was the world seeing you die. Pedro, seeing you die. You needed him to know that you loved him so that was what you said: “I love you Pedge.” The knife was tightly against your throat, and you felt hot liquid wall down from where the knife was and closed your eyes, expecting it to happen right now until there was an extremely loud sound coming from outside.
So loud that the whole building shook. The camera fell, just like the terrorists besides you. everything was covered in dust, making it hard to see. Your ears were buzzing, and people were screaming around you, giving out orders and from pain. There was still a knife in your leg, and you knew that this was your only chance to escape so you took the knife out of your leg and tried to cover your scream. You started slicing in the wires and luckily, you were loose. You saw that they left the door open, and you tried to stand up but fell from the pain and the loss of blood.
You saw people in uniforms coming in, a green laser from their guns. “Found her!” a man screamed and helped you up. Another soldier helping you as well, leading you out of the room and building. “We’re going to get you out of here chief.” They said and it was an odd feeling of relieve, yet horror. People were screaming all around you, your vision blurry and you fell again. They picked you up and carried you outside. The sun was out, shining brightly on your face. It was hot and still dusty. You looked around you and saw a couple of buildings around you, probably base camp of some sorts. There was a lot of sand, and the sun was already burning you. They gave you water since you were very dehydrated. That was the moment it occurred to you that they didn’t give you food. It might be strange not to think about it earlier but with all the pain and torture going around, that was the last thing on your mind.
They brought you to the rescue helicopter and immediately a doctor looked at your wounds. The way her nose scrunched up and her eyebrows knitted together, didn’t give you the best feeling in the world, even though it was no surprise to you how badly you were injured. Yes, they’ve rescued you out of the building but there was still an immediate danger for your life. The moment the helicopter raised up, a feeling of safety washed over you. A colleague who went along on the mission, held your hand. You wanted to ask where everyone was, but you couldn’t talk, you didn’t know why. She was trying to get every wound stable, her hands grabbing stuff around her as you slipped in and out of consciousness.
“Hey kiddo, come on, stay awake for me, okay?” your colleague begged you. “We’re going to get you home, okay? But you’ve got to stay awake for me.” you squeezed his hand and the doctor spoke up: “This is bad. It’s not looking good right now. Can we go faster?” she asked worried. You just tried to stay focused on your colleague until you felt everything grow very heavy, including your eyelids. You heard people begging around you to stay away and you tried to, but the feeling of your heavy eyelids won.
~
“Put her on the stretcher!” your colleague shouted. The helicopter was landed on the roof of the hospital, the other doctors already waiting for you. The doctor from the helicopter, staying by your side and keeping the bags of blood transfusion and painkillers, and the IV. Some soldiers put pressure on the wounds inflicted on you. They wheeled you in and Pedro was walking back and forth, biting his nails, hair ruffled, baggy eyes from lack of sleep and crying. His eyes went big as they wheeled you in the hospital and tried to get you as fast to surgery as possible. The doctor from the helicopter, telling the doctors her founding’s. Pedro was by your side in a second and was shocked to see the state that you were in. The tears streamed down his face as he looked at your bloody, bruised body that was covered by wires, bags, and Iv’s. Your colleagues took Pedro away and informed him while the rolled you immediately into surgery.
~time skip~
Your head was pounding, ears still buzzing, and your body started to tense up from anxiety and adrenaline. You heard a familiar beeping sound, speeding up, and you tried to open your eyes. The pain rushed back to you and the room was too light. You whimpered from the pain and felt that somebody was holding your hand. “baby girl?” you heard a very familiar voice, whisper. His voice cracked as he asked you. You tried to blink a few times, but everything looked blurry. You saw Pedro bow a bit down over you. You squeezed his hand in response, your voice still very painful and croaky. You heard someone walk in with heels. Everything in you was now on high alert. You knew you were safe and probably in a hospital yet, your body didn’t know that and was still completely in survival modes. You kept blinking until the blur wasn’t so obvious anymore.
You saw Pedro with tears pooling in his eyes and it broke your heart into a million pieces. This was the man that kept you going so long, that made you want to keep on fighting, keeping you alive, sane, and not so alone. You felt everything crumble down as you let the tears out. A loud sob escaped your throat, hurting you in the process as you tried to reach your arms around him but to no avail. Luckily, Pedro knew what you wanted and very carefully placed his arms around you, and hang a bit over your body, making it look like he was shielding you from every dangerous thing in the world. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and completely broke down as his comforting smell hit your nose, giving you the feeling of safety back.
“Oh, baby girl.” He tried to calm you down, but he was way too emotional as well and cried. You just both held each other, and you tensed every muscle that you had around him, to feel him close even though it pained you. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” That were the first words you told him. He didn’t know why you thanked him at that time, but you were sure to tell him why later. More sobs escaped you and you felt something move the iv in your arm, making you panicked again. Your body jolted from panic as you tried to move Pedro away and look at what was happening. Even though your rational thoughts knew it was a doctor, you just didn’t trust it. You saw a kind face looking at you and before you could do anything she spoke up: “Don’t worry, I’m just readjusting your iv and put some extra medication in against the pain and to keep you relaxed.”
You had a rollercoaster of emotions floating through you right now. From panic, to feeling safe, to feeling scared and in danger to emptiness again. Pedro saw the swirl of emotions in your eyes just like the doctor. Pedro’s heart broke even more, seeing you like this. “Do you remember what happened?” The doctor asked softly and now you finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room, next to a window. It was dark out and you could see lights from the skyscrapers. The lights in the room dimmed but since they kept you in darkness for God knows how long, it obviously pained your eyes,
“How long was I in there?” that was all you needed to know. The doctor looked down with a pained expression just like Pedro. “A week and a half. They found you through some details in the video that was shown public.” You frowned “Public?” you felt your heartbeat go up and the doctor and Pedro looked at the monitor. “Videos of you, and your team being tortured and killed, got leaked to the public…..” and once again, it felt like your world was crashing down on you. “Everyone has seen it?” You asked and your voice cracked. Pedro sniffled and nodded as he looked down for a second before making eye contact. You saw it. you could see it in his eyes, clear as day, that he had seen the things and you felt your heart break once again. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” You weren’t sure why he was apologizing but nodded, tears escaping.
‘How long have I been here?” you decided to ask and change the subject. “2 days or so. We were expecting for you to be asleep for a week, given your injuries.” She told you honest. “What are my injuries exactly?” you looked at her, kind of afraid of her answer. It became dead silent in the room as she handed you the file. You frowned a bit and opened your file. You saw a whole goddamn list of injuries. Broken ribs, 24 stab wounds, collapsed lung, internal bleeding from your abdomen, jaw broken on multiple places, broken eye socket, multiple stiches needed for the cuttings, broken wrist, broken ankle, water found in lungs, badly bruised neck, and the list just went on and on.
You felt tears pooling in your eyes and handed the doctor her files back, not wanting to read more for now. “There will be a psychologist seeing you tomorrow. To adjust ehh.. your mental health…” you nodded and felt a brick on your heart. You just wanted to forget about it all and never talk about it again, but you knew. You knew damn well. You already had PTSD but now…. yeah, you knew the drill, didn’t make it any easier though.
“Thank you.” you tried to steady your voice but failed. She nodded “Can I do something else for you? How is the pain now and do you maybe want to eat or drink something?” she asked you and you didn’t know. Everything was just so intense right now that even answering the easiest questions was too hard. “Do you want some water sweetheart?” Pedro crouched down on eyesight, figuring out what kind of mental state you were in and tried to make it easier for you. Pedro’s voice was so soft and kind that it brought you to tears again. You nodded about drinking some water. “I’ll give you something stronger for the pain.” She decided for herself, and you were glad she did.
You couldn’t look away from Pedro. It felt unreal to see him again. For, apparently, a week and a half you were so sure that you were going to die and never see him again. But you were here and so was he. The doctor walked away, and Pedro found it hard to make eye contact with you. To see the pain in your eyes was too much for him to handle. You brushed your bruise knuckles over the back of his hand. “Please look at me.” You begged him as your voice broke. He slowly looked up, tears in his eyes as well. “Please stay with me. I’m scared.” You told him through tears as you confessed and that was what broke him the most, hearing you, the person he knew that wasn’t afraid of anything, tell him that you were scared. Tears fell onto his cheeks.
He intertwined your fingers, and you cupped his cheek to softly wipe the tears of his cheek. “Can you please hold me?” you sniffled, having enough of being strong right now. You just wanted to be held so badly. He nodded “Of course, mi Chica.” He sniffled and kissed your forehead as he stood up, letting his lips linger on your forehead. Your hands carefully held his wrist that ever so carefully cupped your cheek. Pedro sniffled again and let his forehead rest against yours. “I was so afraid to lose you.” Pedro confessed as his tears escaped his eyes again. “I was afraid that I was never going to see you again, tell you how much I love you, hold you.” he kept confessing and somehow you felt relieved yet pained that he felt the same thing as you did. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here now.” you sniffled through your own tears. He nodded and took a deep breath to control himself.
You tried to scoop over so Pedro could lay down next to you, but the pain was too much. “Lie still sweetheart, I don’t want you to be in more pain as it is.” You whimpered slightly. You didn’t care about the pain, you wanted Pedro to cuddle you, and the determination was visible on your eyes as he chuckled softly, but it also told him in how much of desperation you were for him right now.
The doctor walked back in and softly knocked, exposing her presence as not to scare you. You and Pedro looked at her and as if she figured out what you wanted, she smiled kindly at you. “We could put an extra bed besides you, if you’d like…” she told the two of you with a smile. You nodded and tried to give her a genuine smile back but failed. She gave you a bottle of water with a straw in and put the things besides you to your other side. Pedro helped her with the bed and placed it tightly against yours. Pedro took his shoes off and climbed in next to you as the doctor put some stronger medication into your iv. “There you go, you should be able to sleep a bit now. Get some rest, you and your body need it right now. And if there is anything, anything at all, just press this button and I’m here within seconds.” You could cry at how kind she was right now. It probably was because of the week and a half full of torture and hate that it felt unnatural that someone was kind. It just felt off.
You whispered a small thank you and looked at her with tears in your eyes. She gave you an apologetic smile back and nodded, walking out of the room. You looked at Pedro who held a close eye on you, as suspected. He carefully placed his arm underneath your head so you could rest on it. “I’ll hold you on one condition.” It felt like he was strict right now “If it pains you, you tell me, okay? and we figure another way out, alright baby girl?” He asked you and looked deeply into your eyes so the message would be clear. You nodded and let him hold you. He laid down on his side, his other arm around you and you let your head rest against his shoulder. “Thank you.” you whispered out. You felt the meds kicking in like a brick. It got you relaxed and sleepy and it worked like a charm. Your eyes heavy again and you fell asleep in no time just not for long. Night terrors are a common symptom of PTSD and even though you were safe, it wasn’t over.
“baby girl wake up! Sweetheart! please wake up…..” Pedro tried to wake you up from a bad night terror. The doctor and nurses ran into the room. “Miss…. Miss, you’re dreaming wake up.” but nothing worked so they decided to doze up your medication until you shot up straight in bed, completely out of breath, still in a panic. You were in the hospital, but the flashbacks got you back into the chamber and in everyone around you, you saw those terrorists. You screamed on the top of your lungs and tried to fight them off. Pedro was shocked in horror at how bad this was. I mean, of course he knew it was bad, he saw the videos. But the moment you didn’t recognize Pedro, he knew you needed help. Tears floating in his eyes again when a nurse ran out of the room. Even though, you are very badly injured, your need to survival was stronger, making you inhumanly strong from the adrenaline right now.
Pedro walked up to you while the nurses tried to hold you down, so you wouldn’t tear up the stitches. Pedro was determined to bring you back and cupped your cheeks. Your eyes were extremely big, pupils blown as he looked desperately in your eyes. “Baby girl, it’s me, Pedro. Remember? Your safe, I won’t let anything bad happen to you, look at me Chiquita. Come on, I know you’re in there. please, I need you.” his voice begging you more with each word. You slowly stopped struggling and Pedro could see it in your eyes that you were back. Your heartrate slowly going down, while you tried to catch your breath and looked around you in shock of what you just did. Tears forming in your eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry… I eh…..” you were shocked in horror at how bad it was, I mean, it’s to be suspected but still, how could you forget your Pedge? They all took a deep breath that you were back. Pedro softly petted over your hair in order to calm you down more and letting you know that he is there. “I’m sorry…” you looked teary eyed at the nurses and doctors.
“It’s okay, don’t worry. It’s not a little thing you went through. IT completely understandable. But thank you for apologizing even though you don’t have to.” You felt tears running over your cheeks as the realization hit you that you were going to have to deal with a lot of things. You just started crying, feeling so extremely defeated that for a moment, you whished they just would’ve killed you and that thought made you even cry more because on the other hand you were happy to be alive and with Pedro, but it was all so much and confusing with all these emotions running through your body.
You tried to collect your head when a nurse spoke up: “Would you like to maybe watch a movie or something light? It might help you fall asleep a bit more peaceful and distract you.” The other nurses exchanged looks as if it was a good idea and to be honest, you would like that. You tried to give her a smile and nodded “That might be a good idea. I would like that.” She smiled and nodded.
She gave you the tv remote and told you that Netflix was available. The nurses still gave you the medication to calm you down if you would have another flashback. Pedro noticed your need for distraction right now and he gave you all the room and time to share your story with him, whenever you are ready. He was just relieved that he had you back in his arms again.
Pedro was glued to your side, and you didn’t mind it one bit, you needed him to be as close as possible. You both watched the Golden Girls. Pedro told you about the show once and you decided to watch a couple of episodes with him and you loved it. Even though you tried to focus on the tv but you kept going back to that moment which you thought would be your last. “I thought I would never see you again.” You whispered as your head was resting on his chest in a way that didn’t hurt you. You felt Pedro shift and you knew he was looking at you, so you looked up.
You felt your eyes filled up with tears again for the millionth time that day. “I thought I was going to die there and all I could think about was you.” Pedro felt his heart break and tears escaped his eyes but didn’t say something. He just let you speak, knowing you weren’t finished telling him. “All I could think of that week and a half was you. You kept me going when I wanted to die. They put me in a chamber for so long in complete darkness and I would talk to the wall, pretending I was talking to you. It kept me somehow sane.” Pedro listened intently to every word you told him. He was absolutely gob smacked to what you confessed and how much he meant to you.
“When they would…. When they did those things to me… I wanted nothing more than to die right on the spot, hoping they would have mercy and take me out of my misery but… when those thoughts came, so did you, it was like you pushed those thoughts away and when they would…. torture me… all I thought was about happy memories of us. Of us in Disneyland, dancing in the livingroom, sneaking into a theater to see the reaction of people who watched you on the big screen. Every happy memory I could think of, was with you. You kept me going, kept me fighting to survive.”
Pedro couldn’t help but cry from the moving words you confessed to him. “I thought… I was never going to see you again. I wanted to tell you so many things, hug you and see you for the last time. I was so sure of it to never see you again, and so convinced I was going to die there and already accepting my faith, that… that it feels weird to see you again. Like it all isn’t real and I’m just imagining it, like I’m going crazy, and I’ve finally lost it in there that I’m imagining all of this. I don’t know what’s real or not anymore….” Pedro was silently letting his tears fall until you confessed that you weren’t sure if this was real. That part brought determination to him.
“Mi corazon…. This is real, I’m real. You are safe but I understand that you don’t feel that way… that it messes with your head. But I know you trust me, and let me tell you, this is real. He carefully took your hand in his and placed it on his chest where his heart is. “You feel that? That’s real. All of this is real. I’m lost for words to your story… it… I …. I love you too. I’m so sorry that this happened, really, I can’t express it enough. And I love you too, I really do. When you’re fully recovered, we are going to make so many more happy memories. So much more that it won’t leave room for the bad” he told you and his digit softly tapping against your head. “We’ll get through this, together. I won’t leave your side and when you can get out of here, please stay at my house for a while. I’ll take care of you, love you through the good and the bad and won’t ever leave you. Come here sweetheart, your safe now.” he told you and let you cry it out while he comforted you through it.
“I would like that, to stay a while with you after this.” you talked through the sniffles.
~time skip~
It’s been over 3 months and you moved in with Pedro for a while. You had trauma therapy at least 3 times in the week and the aftermath of the event was unbelievable heavy. Panic attacks, night terrors, flashbacks, dissociation. Your triggers were enormous. Like the shower already triggered you from the waterboarding. Not to forget that your body was still recovering. It was tough but Pedro kept true to his word, not that you thought differently but still. He had soooo much patience and helped you through every flashback, every night terror, every panic attack, he was there, and you could count on him.
You’ve been given a while from work to readjust. But you still had court sittings. You had to testify against some of the terrorists that were still alive and in captivity. They had all the recordings, inclusive the last video, just before you got rescued. They haven’t shown that tape to the public but now would be the first time and obviously, Pedro was there to support you. They played the tape, and you couldn’t look. You couldn’t look at the screen, couldn’t look at the people in court, couldn’t look at Pedro because you knew, what you though were, your last words.
Every now and then your curiosity got the best of you and stole a glance from Pedro who stared in disbelieve at the screen, tears going over his cheek as he shook his head. The moment you looked in the camera, you looked up at the screen. God you looked bad, like really bad in that video that you are shocked yourself that you even made it out alive. That was how bad you looked like.
You looked down again and heard through the speakers in the court room: “I love you Pedge.” Pedro’s eyes went wide and immediately landed on you, the pool of tears visible in his eyes as he tried to give you a loving smile. Which you tried to return but in both of your expressions, there was too much pain. The people in the room went silent and the judge as well, everyone was taken aback by the horrors that played out on the screen.
~time skip~
Pedro opened the door of his car for you and helped you in. both of you were still lost for words after the video being played. Not only that, but you also saw how the people of your team die. It was a very hard day. The terrorist won’t be seeing the daylight ever in their life and you couldn’t care less about it right now. so many emotions going through you. “Why don’t we pick up some ice cream for at home?” Pedro softly asked you, both of you still not mentioned about what you said in the video. “Yeah, sure.” You told him and there was a thick silence again that you both felt. You looked over at Pedro who had tears in his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the way. You knew that this hit him very hard. You placed your hand gently on his and he looked over at you, trying to push his tears away. “I told you, I was thinking about you all the time. I just… I thought I was going to die and… and I didn’t want to go out without saying that I loved you. I needed you to know that.” Pedro parked on the side of the road and sniffled. He got out of the car without saying anything and it almost had sent you into a complete panic attack. He opened your door and you looked at him, afraid of what was to come.
He wrapped his arms tightly around you as he sat on his knees on the ground and held you tightly while some sobs escaped his own throat. His face was against your stomach, and you went with your fingers through his hair and held him tightly with your other arm. When he calmed down after a while, he sniffled. “I’m sorry. It’s different to really see it on video. I wanted to attack that guy so bad because of what eh has done to you. it made me furious and to hear you say, what you thought were your last moments. I just… it hit me that… that you wanted your last words….” He couldn’t finish it, but you knew what he meant. To direct your last words to him.
You cupped his cheeks and gave him for the first time in a very, very long time a genuine smile. He started laughing through his tears and put his arms around you in a big hug. “I love you too and there won’t be a day gone by without me saying that to you. I love you to the moon and back.” he kissed your head multiple times. “Like you said, we’ll get through this together.” Pedro smiled and held you tightly. “So how about that ice cream, and cuddles when we get home? We could watch a movie if you’d like?” he told you enthusiastic which made you smile, genuinely again. It hyped Pedro even more up to finally see that beautiful smile after 3 months. “That sounds very nice Pedge. I’d like that.” You told him and he drove off with a smile as he held your hand.
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NOBODY WANTS TO BE ALONE ON CHRISTMAS - A Javier Peña Christmas One Shot
Summary: You discover your boss Javi will be spending the night alone, working on the cartel case on Christmas Eve, so you extend a kind offer for him to join you for some Christmas dinner.
Pairing: Javier Pena x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)
Word Count: 6.1k
Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Warnings/triggers - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks)/oral M receiving/fingering.
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author’s Note: There's some sexy Javi Spanish, not a lot, so I've not provided translations. Feliz Navidad!
12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤
The yellowing fluorescent lights overhead cast a slightly harsh glow on the worn-out carpet that covers the office floor.
The colour, once a muted gray, bears the marks of countless footsteps and the occasional coffee spill.
The desks, a mishmash of transient styles, are strewn with stacks of files, half-empty coffee mugs, and a scattering of outdated office supplies, like typewriter ribbons and correctional fluid.
The air carries the distinct scent of freshly brewed Colombian coffee, a constant companion in the war rooms of the DEA office. Agents huddle around a communal pot, exchanging quick greetings and nods as they fuel up for the next round of investigations.
The walls are plastered with maps and charts tracking drug routes and cartel activities. Bulletin boards are covered with Polaroid pictures of suspects, illustrating the intricate web of criminal connections in Cali.
The faint hum of dial-up internet connections emanate from the few computers scattered around the office. The whirr of dot matrix printers echo intermittently, producing reports that will become integral parts of the ongoing investigations.
The agents, clad in power suits and shoulder-padded blazers work with a sense of determination etched on their faces. The sounds of phones ringing and typewriters clacking provide a constant background symphony, underscoring the urgency of their mission.
The office's ambiance is further accentuated by the occasional chatter in both English and Spanish, a linguistic blend reflective of the team's diverse composition.
Agents move purposefully between desks, exchanging information in hushed tones. The dated computer terminals emit a soft hum as agents navigate through databases filled with information on known traffickers and cartel activities.
In the midst of this utilitarian environment stands a small potted Christmas tree, perched on the edge of the desk of Javier Peña.
Placed there as a tiresome joke, created by the junior agents during a rare lighthearted moment he suspects, adding a touch of personal flair to the otherwise stern atmosphere.
He’s pushed it off his desk twice now and it keeps reappearing, a constant reminder of his own inward dismay for this time of year.
You glance at him over the top of your screen, hard not to on the regular, seeing as your desk is placed directly opposite his, your back to the window. Not a strategic decision but one you're thankful for when his dark cocoa bean eyes meet yours.
As Javier focuses on decoding messages or delving into the intricacies of ongoing investigations at his computer, that he types really slow on, tapping laboriously on the keys, his eyes will inevitably wander to the window.
There, amidst the rain-streaked glass and the rhythmic dance of palm leaves, he’ll always find you diligently working at your desk. Your concentration, juxtaposed against the vibrant outdoor scenery, often draws his attention.
In those fleeting moments, as your eyes lock across the narrow expanse of the office, the intensity of your work seems to momentarily fade away, replaced by an unspoken connection that hints at something beyond the professional facade.
It isn't just the shared pursuit of justice that binds you to Javier; it’s the exchange of glances, the uncharted territory of emotions that simmer beneath the surface.
At least on your part anyway.
Harbouring an attraction to your boss isn’t a wise move. A move that you’ve sat on relentlessly, trying to squash it into the soft foam of your office chair ever since you were transferred from the archives to real administration work in a real investigations office.
Javier is indifferent to you, looks upon with you a less-than-impressed, resting bitch face, but you’ve soon learned it’s the way his features have been moulded after years of chasing down hardened criminals in the dangerous territories this country harbours.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile.
But he always holds your gaze, far longer than you suspect he should. Just lingering looks that neither of you spiral into a verbal acknowledgement.
You bring him coffee with his reports on occasion, always making one for him when you get one for yourself; another unspoken routine you’ve found yourselves waltzing in. You know he needs at least three cups in the morning to function before the computer is even switched on.
You feel the gravitational pull of these unspoken moments. As you diligently work on your assignments, your eyes instinctively drift towards Javier's desk; a magnetised shift as you meet his eyes lancing back at you and you allow yourself to believe it could be a look of want, of some coveted desire he has for you as you squeeze your thighs together during the heated exchanges.
But of course, that’s wishful thinking.
You know that your crush is a pointless endeavour with no viable outcome. Javier Peña’s reputation precedes him. You’ve heard whispers from the team about the hookers in downtown Bogotá, even if they leave a heavy weight of disappointment and longing in your stomach.
Plus, there is that mantra of not shitting where you eat.
As the agents prepare for the holidays, Christmas Eve being where you find yourself, tapping away on your keyboard at a productive speed of seventy WPM, compared to Javier’s eight WPM - you know, you’ve counted - the potted Christmas tree standing lackadaisical on his desk serves not only as a festive ornament, but also as a reminder that even in the heart of a demanding and dangerous mission, camaraderie and the spirit of the season can find a place, however small, in the DEA office in Colombia.
Plans are exchanged and shared as your colleagues speak of them later on when they’ll clock off.
"I'm taking the kids to see the Christmas lights downtown. They've been pestering me about it for weeks." One says.
Another chimes in, "I'm heading to my parents' house for a big family gathering. It's chaotic, but I love it."
As the discussions continue like billowy rain clouds drifting around, Javier remains at his desk, seemingly engrossed in his work and you notice his obvious disengagement from the holiday chatter ebbing around him.
One of them dares to direct a comment towards him. “Plans, boss?”
Javier shakes his head and you’re certain you can hear a grunt. “Work. Something you clearly don’t understand the concept of, Ramirez.”
It’s enough to bring the team to an awkward hush as they settle back behind their screens murmuring to themselves indistinctly.
And the thought gnaws at you throughout the remainder of the day. The thought of Javier spending Christmas eve in the office alone, powering through, as the light from outside dims and he works by eventual lamplight on his desk.
You’ve seen it before, coming in the following morning to see him blinking tiredly into the stacks of paperwork that often drown him on his desk out of your view completely.
He’s known for practically living in the office like a hermit when he’s not out in the tacvest taking on the cartel's head first, or seeking solace in some hooker's cleavage, if you’re to believe those rumours that buzz around like flies over a festering pile of shit.
And that gnawing thought starts to bite harder in the late afternoon.
Hard enough for you to try and soothe the shredded skin around your nails having bitten at them for most of the day, as you find yourself hovering over his desk a little longer after gathering completed files for you to alphabetise.
He doesn’t look up at you, even though your shadow is still in his peripherals. The scent of him this close is intoxicating. Tobacco and a faint note of whiskey from the bottle you know he keeps in his drawer.
A swilling musk of sweat; the climate at this time of year is tropical and it ruminates inside the ill fitting jacket of his beige suit. A slight glean of it runs tracks down his throat and you lick your lips, trying not to focus on it too much as he swallows.
“Señor Peña-”
“Javi.” He corrects bluntly.
“-I couldn’t help but overhear you don’t have any plans for Christmas.” You begin, tactfully, keeping your voice low.
Javi finally glances up, a stoic expression on his face, "I'll be working. The case needs my attention."
“Surely it can wait for one evening?” You sway. “I’m sure the cartels will be celebrating and making merry. You should have a break, sir. It’s Christmas.”
“Just another day,” he swallows grittily.
The atmosphere in the office seems to thicken with a sudden tension. Javier, known for his abrupt stoicism, can't hide the defensive edge in his voice.
You sigh and gather the files in your arms. “You’re welcome at my place, if you want. A bit of dinner?”
"Christmas dinner? Mierda.” He scoffs. “You trying to play the good samaritan or something?" Javier says, his tone edging with a hint of spite.
His eyes, usually stern, carry an unusual flicker of irritation as they darken. “Did I miss the memo that we're suddenly one big, happy family in this office?”
You clock your colleagues, now silent and peering over their screens at the spectacle.
Javier, leaning back in his chair, retorts, "save the Hallmark moments. I'm perfectly capable of spending Christmas alone. I don't need company, especially not from someone who doesn't know when to mind their own business."
Your expression holds a mix of hurt and determination. "This isn't about charity, Señor Peña-”
“Javi.” He corrects again with gritted teeth.
“-We're a team, aren't we?"
Maintaining his composure, he brushes off the suggestion.
"Team or not, I don't need or want your pity, cariño. I've got work to do. And so do you." He stares up at you with a silent fury venting from his dark eyes.
You bite down on the inside of your cheek.
“It’s not pity.” You correct, stepping away; cheeks burning up with some humiliation brewing.
He watches you leave towards the file room, and tosses a glare at the others who immediately begin tapping and working again.
Growling inwardly, he shoves the potted Christmas tree off his desk again and hears it topple to the floor.
The empty office seems to echo with the ghosts of the day's activities, the remnants of conversations and shared jovial laughter hanging in the air to taunt him long after you’re all gone.
Javi is sitting alone, the harsh glow of his desk lamp casting shadows across his caramel skin and making his eyeballs ache.
His long fingers trace the edge of the whiskey glass, each sip a bitter reminder of the solitude he’s chosen. The rain outside, a constant drizzle against the windowpane, mirrors the melancholy that settles within his chest.
His thoughts drift towards you, your invitation lingering like an unanswered question in the quiet room.
The disappointment and hurt swelling in the moisture of your eyes as he fired venom and hostility at your attempt at festive kindness. He knows it wasn't pity you offered, not really.
It’s in the coffee you always have made for him in the mornings that's just the right amount of rich and sweet, despite being from a cheap packet.
Your good nature, although grating at times, is what he secretly finds admirable about you - you care.
It's the care in your work, the attention to detail. The care in your questioning of your colleagues’ weekends and how you listen, hanging on their every word with bright curious eyes.
As he sips the whiskey, the amber liquid burns with a bitterness that seems to match the regret pooling in his chest. The files on his desk, once symbols of purpose, now feel like burdens, heavy with the weight of his own inane stubbornness.
He can't shake the feeling that he's missed out on something important here, a chance for a connection that has slipped through his fingers.
The loneliness presses in on him, and for the first time, Javi questions the walls he has built around himself. The whiskey, usually a numbing agent, now accentuates the ache of regret. He finds himself replaying the words he’d spoken to you, realising the rooted cruelty of his own defences.
The night unfolds slowly, the hands of the clock ticking away the minutes as Javi works through unrelenting paperwork.
In the quiet solitude, his thoughts mutate into a tempest of introspection. Your words batter his skull, your face.
He glances up at your desk and you’re not there, looking back at him and feeling his chest and loins alike filling with a tightness that aches.
The rhythmic tap of raindrops against the window becomes a thundering metronome. Filling his mind with flashes of your naked body pressed against his, the sound of your pleads and gasps filling him up as he fills you with himself.
Growls at the ache hardening between his legs, growling at his own stupidity, feeling a lifeline he's let slip away.
He glances around the empty office, the shadows dancing along the walls like phantoms of missed chances, beacons of potential connection.
His silhouette and yours, fucking in every position known to him, and Javi growls.
The weight of his own words linger in the air, each one a sharp reminder of the distance he’s purposefully placed between himself and his colleagues, and he’s not sure why.
He bends and picks it up and sees there's a label stabbed into the back of it, one he never noticed before.
The whiskey, now a bitter residue in his glass, mirrors the lingering taste of remorse and as he gets up to attend to a task, he trips on something.
The potted tree that he tossed so carelessly off of his desk.
Unfurling it, he realises it's a gift and not a practical joke played by his colleagues who have nothing better to do than mock his authority and professionalism behind his back.
Feliz Navidad, Señor Peña x
Placing the tree back on his desk, he lingers on the guilt.
The hum of the lonely printer and the distant patter of rain becomes a backdrop to his internal dialogue. What if, he wonders, he has misunderstood your invitation? What if it isn't about pity, but a genuine desire for his companionship?
The barriers he’s erected around himself feel suddenly fragile; the stoicism that has defined him now seems like a self-imposed prison.
Has he really been so blind of your affections towards him?
In that moment, a decision crystallises in Javi's mind. He can't spend Christmas alone in the sterile glow of the fluorescent lamplight, drowning in whiskey and the silence of his regrets.
His fingers drum on the desk, a silent debate waging within him. As he grabs his creased jacket from hours of sitting on it, the decision solidifies with every step.
The office, with its empty corridors and the ghosts of his own stubbornness, seem to release him with a reluctant sigh. He can’t stay here tonight.
Not when he knows now that you want him.
“Javi… I mean, Señor Peña.”
You stand on the other side of the door. The intrepid concern for a late night knocker in a city like this, melts away into something else as you peer at him on the other side.
“Buenas noches, cariño.”
He’s wet, soaked through almost. His hair sticking to his forehead like an oil slick, and droplets caught in the prominent pencil moustache that you’ve always wondered if it would be soft or coarse against your skin.
“Javi, please.” He softens.
“What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you to...” You’re a little stunned actually. The gall and unpredictability of this man never ceases to amaze.
He holds out a bottle that he plucks from a brown bag, tequila.
“Call it a peace offering, or a Christmas gift. Either way, I'm sorry for snapping.” Javi says, and you can feel the sincerity and regret radiate from him, burning hotter than the sun.
“It’s okay.” You say, with a blooming smile at the corners of your lips.
He questions it. Relief? Are you as genuinely pleased to see him as you appear? And it stunts him, your instant forgiveness.
He nods slowly. “If it’s alright with you, querida, I’d like to take you up on your offer if it still stands?"
He extends the olive branch and you’re only too quick and eager to receive it.
“Sure. Come on in, Javi.” You smile with pertinent relief.
You fix him a plate, reheating leftovers, as he perches on the edge of your lumpy sofa, feeling that it could swallow him down into its gullet at any moment if he truly relaxes.
It’s a rental, probably more than you can afford, bland with peeling paint and a musty aroma that lingers under the scent of your floral perfume that pollutes his head daily at work.
He shuffles out of his wet jacket, large wet patches dye the beige of his pants darker at the thighs and knees. He takes in the frailty of your apartment. The emptiness of it.
How nothing here reflects the sparkling personality he knows you have.
The air carries a faint scent of scented candles, the flickering flames casting a soft ambiance as his eyes find them gloaming on the coffee table in clusters. The muted colours of the furniture and the strategically placed potted plants create a serene atmosphere, a stark departure from the chaos of the office.
The harsh absence of the expected holiday decorations strike him. There are no garlands draped along the walls, no twinkling lights casting a festive glow. A vast, empty space threatens the room where a Christmas tree should stand.
Instead, the void exudes a calm simplicity that feels like a deliberate choice rather than an oversight on your part.
Noticing his surprise, you offer a small smile. "Not what you were expecting, huh?”
Javi, still processing the unexpected interior, manages a nod. The realisation that your invitation wasn't an attempt to impress, but a genuine extension of your simple world, settles within him.
The apartment, with its quiet and dated elegance, feels like a reflection of your character - strong, resilient, and unassuming.
"I didn't expect this," he admits, gesturing around the room. "I thought there would be... I don't know, more Christmas shit."
You hum with a smile as you pass him a plate.
Javi tentatively asks, "so, why did you invite me here, if it wasn’t pity?"
Your eyes hold a glint of sincerity. "Because I sensed you needed it. Christmas alone in the office isn't how anyone should spend the holidays. You work too much."
He takes the plate gratefully. Then he watches as you slice into limes with a blunt knife and toss the segments into a chipped bowl.
Javi, caught off guard by the sincerity in your words, feels a pang of gratitude. The walls he had so meticulously built around himself were showing cracks, and your presence seems to widen those fractures, as you seat yourself beside him on the sofa bringing glasses and salt for the tequila.
You lean back, studying him as he replaces his picked at plate for the bottle, twisting off the cap.
“So, you really are a good samaritan?”
"No, I just don’t think we realise what we need until someone offers it, I guess.” You shrug.
“Is that so?” He asks, pouring out shots into the glasses.
“It's okay to accept help, Javi."
“Do you think I need rescuing?”
“You don’t want to know what I think.” You say.
“Humour me.” He tempts as he hands you a glass. You pick up the salt shaker sprinkling some on the base of your thumb.
“Well, you’re an asshole.”
Javi chokes immediately on his tequila, spluttering it over the rim of the glass as you grin.
Then he nods, wiping at his long since loosened tie. “I am.”
“And you’re grumpy and you’re mean.”
“Never proclaimed to be Christ.” He smirks.
“Is it true what they say about you?” You question, carefully.
“What do they say about me?” Javi asks with raised eyebrows.
“That you… you know, spend a lot of time in Bogotá with the uh…”
“Hookers. You can say it.” He scoffs.
“Yeah.” You say swallowing back the tequila hard.
“Sometimes a man has his vices.” He simply says, pouring out another. He catches your face, bitter from the lime you suck. Or maybe something else.
“What about you, no boyfriend?” He asks.
You shake your head. “No.” He watches as you frown and try to mask it.
“Thank you… for the tree.” He says after a few minutes of awkward silence have descended upon you both. “I didn’t realise it was from you.”
“It’s nothing.” you shrug.
“We both know that’s not true.”
You smile, looking away. “Doesn’t matter.”
He turns your face back to him with a simple finger and thumb on your chin gently, dropping it when your eyes meet his again. You watch his eyes watch as you gnaw on your lip.
“Do you really think I’m an asshole?” He questions.
“Why do you care what I think, Javi?”
“Because I’d hate for you to think that about me.”
“Sometimes…" You admit. "But I just mostly think... that you’re sexy.”
His eyebrows raise. “Por que?”
“I mean-” You fluster. Shit. “Too much tequila,” you say quickly, feeling the heat abruptly flood into your face.
“You think I’m sexy, cariño?”
You reach for more tequila, but his hand, gently curling around your wrist, stops you.
“No.” You say, and he knows you're bluffing.
It’s out there now, that spoken want and desire growing limbs and becoming a solid form before you.
“That’s not what you said.” Javi, taken slightly aback by the depth of your admission, meets your twinkly gaze with a mix of curiosity and simmering.
“I should go,” he says, edging closer to you.
You bite down on your lip again, your eyes falling to his lips, pink and shiny as he runs his tongue on the bottom one.
A subtle drumming fills the silence between you until you realise it’s your heart beating frantically in your chest.
The air between Javi and you now crackles with a newfound tension, static that clings to your skin and makes all the hairs on your body stand tall.
“Stay.” You whisper, turning your body in and knocking against his knees with yours.
His hand around your wrist travels onto your thigh, moving up to your hip.
“If I stay, I’m going to fuck you, cariño. All night.” He husks, as your face draws near.
You can smell the honeyed agave on his breath. Feel it warm your eyelashes. He's so close.
“Stay, Javi.” Your hands climb the lapels of his damp shirt, twisting.
“Is that what you want?” He questions, dangerously close now.
You can feel both his hands circling your hips, kneading and squeezing gently, but firm. His forehead touching yours, lips so close to take in your teeth.
“I don’t want to be alone on Christmas. And neither do you.” You confirm.
The sharp citrus of the lime stings against your lips as he presses his mouth to yours, swallowing your gasps.
You taste his tongue; a faint descry of smoke and distilled amber dances over your own. Javi’s large hands caress your back, pulling you closer, cradling you in his arms as your kiss becomes deeper, more desperate.
You explore the uncharted territory of him; exhilarated and emboldened by his mutual want of you. Gasps pelt into your mouth as you finger through his hair feeling the silk of it, nails scrape down his spine over the damp material of his shirt.
His hands do all the talking too as he strokes them over your body, feeling the hilts and curves. He winds up your stomach and gropes gently at your breast, pushing upwards so it spills over your cami.
He glances at you, watching him as he flicks his tongue across your nipple, and sucks it into his mouth. He frees the other one and alternates between running his tongue and mouth across them.
“Eres tan hermosa.” Javi mists over your skin. And it pulls the breath from you to know that he thinks you're beautiful.
This man that you’ve coveted for so long, in the secret, sordid confines of your imagination and your sheets as you fuck yourself with your fingers to orgasm, is running his lips over your nipples and sucking them into his mouth as though he can’t get enough of you.
You can only choke out a gasp at how good it feels, how absurd it still is that he’s actually here.
Javi tilts your head back, fingers wrapping gently around your jaw so he can kiss your throat. You feel the graze of his teeth as he pulls on the skin, marking you as your hands fumble with the buttons on his shirt.
Revealing caramel, tan skin, you trail kisses down his throat, tasting the sweat that lingers in with the indolence of his cologne, notes of spice barely hanging on as you wash them away with your tongue. His skin is warm, smooth as you kiss down his chest as he leans back into the sofa.
You feel his fingers fighting with his belt under the tendrils of your hair. You take over, unzipping his pants and pulling them down his svelte waist as you glance up at him; your mouth dangerously close to his cock, freed and swollen.
You’re surprised at his size, hidden and tucked away in those tight pants on the daily and unsure how you’ve never noticed this enormity before. It’s not like you haven’t looked at his crotch when he stands from his desk, it's in your direct line of sight.
You can smell it, smell that salted crystal of precum glistening at you as it bubbles on his head, soaking his pink engorged skin, and you brave yourself to lick it. To finally taste him.
He shudders, you know you want to take your time worshipping him, suckling gently around his swollen head as his hands coil inside your roots.
Savouring the taste for yourself, only ever being able to imagine what he would feel like inside your mouth. Alternating between sucks and licks, you tease the length of him, taking him deeper each time.
“Fuck,” Javi hisses as he watches your lips suction around him.
You let your lips slide up and down the thick girth of him, smooth and warm, listening as he hisses between his teeth, his fingers stroking at your face.
You jerk him as you go, hand sliding up and down and pulling the wet tracks from your mouth down his hard cock, as he glides effortlessly into your fist.
You keep licking the head until you take him inside again, cheeks hollowed out as you suck harder.
“So fucking good,” he grits at you, a visible strain in his throat.
You relax your throat, opening wider, taking him in deeper and he audibly groans.
Your eyes flick to his and his pupils have bled into the chocolatey irises; a dark hungry stare tossed back at you that makes your clit pull tight in response.
You hum in satisfaction around him, listening to him enjoying your mouth.
He reaches forward, “ven aquí,” pulling you to him and twisting so you’re on the couch.
He kisses over your skin as he reveals it, pulling off your clothes until you’re naked in his arms.
His hands leave a desolate carnage of tingles as he traverses your body, fingers trailing delicately across your navel as he sucks on your lip, nipping gently between his teeth. You feel him, digits slipping further to the swollen, wet bud of your clit.
You gasp into his mouth as he circles on it, slick movements as your inner thighs jerk and twitch. You clasp onto his shoulders, kissing him deeply as he runs his fingers through your folds, teasing your hole before he pushes two of them inside.
“Javi,” you groan.
“That feel good, cariño?”
You nod. “So good.”
“So tight,” he groans as he slips his tongue in your mouth, the soft bristles of his moustache tickling deliciously against your lip. “Lay back for me.”
Withdrawing his fingers after a few teasing pumps, you lay back, Javi kneeling between your thighs and stroking himself. Spitting into his palm and coating himself with it as he watches your fingers rub quick, little circles around your clit.
His other hand strokes up your thigh and reaches for your breast; palming it and feeling your nipple pebble under the rough skin of his palm - rough and calloused from the constant handling of his Beretta as of late.
He kneels up slightly, running the tip of his cock inside your folds, greasing himself up with your slick. Tapping gently against your clit and you gasp as he squelches around you.
“So wet for me, are you always this wet?” He utters in praised disbelief.
You smirk, nodding. “For you I am.”
“Fuck,” he smirks back.
“You don’t want to know what you do to me…” You whisper.
“I want to know,” he says with deep hypnotic eyes. “I want to know everything. Dime que hago por ti, querida.”
Leaving forward over you, his hand splayed on the cushion above your head, Javi lines up, the thick head of him notching gently at your entrance.
"Tell me what you think about when you look at me over your desk," He urges.
Javi feels you flutter against him already, the desperation to suck him in as he bites down on his lip watching you. Watching your eyes flit from the centre of your legs, to his eyes.
“This," you breathe. "Want you, Javi,” you moan to him, trying to push yourself against him.
You move as he slips in, letting go of his cock and laying over you as his hips shunt forward in a smooth thrust, filling you full of him.
“Oh!” You gasp.
Your lips tear at his; your arms creeping around the back of his neck as he winds into you, grunting in your ear.
“Oh my God, Javi…”
The crest of his hips rattle against you, pushing you closer together as you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his pert ass.
He moves with intention, every thrust well thought out to feel every inch of you, to make you feel every inch of him.
“You feel so good, so wet around my cock…” He grunts into you.
You can hear it, hear every lewd, wet squelch as he thrusts in and out. Louder than your mutual breathing and gasps.
He pushes your left leg up against the sofa and leans forward, closer into you as his hips continue to piston in.
His breath is heavier, ragged in the back of his throat as it scrapes across his tongue and out into your face.
He kisses you like he’s in love with you; gentle clicks of his lips against yours. Sucking gently around your tongue as he puffs through his nose.
He runs his chin up the side of your face, nuzzling. The moustache feels soft and silken; finally answering all your probing questions about it.
He hooks your legs against his shoulders and stays close to your face, his hips doing all the work now. Hitting that spot deep inside you as he fucks that bit harder, that bit more intense.
You can feel the flames licking at your skin, the heat suffocating the room. The tightness in your belly, the way your limbs begin to contort with the pressure.
“Oh, oh,” you whine. You can feel it brewing, feeling it rushing through your veins.
He presses his forehead to yours in an effort to ground you, pull you back to him, but it does the opposite, it makes you soar. Your gasps become throated grunts as it builds.
“Let it out,” Javi coaxes. “Let go, cariño. You feel so good around me like this. That’s it, come for me.”
He glances down, watching his cock disappear inside your swollen lips, and coming back out slick and shinier with each thrust. He pushes down on your thighs, your knees against your shoulders folding you up as he ploughs harder.
Each breath in the back of his throat punching out as though he’s running a marathon.
“Oh my God, yes… Javi!”
“Come for me,” he pleads again, moaning around each syllable in a soft tincture that punctures your lungs.
He can feel it when you contract, that moment you flood around him. He watches as you writhe and shudder, your voice losing it’s alto as you sigh and pant, losing yourself blind to your orgasm.
“Oh fuck… fuck yes!" He groans as he can feel you shaking on his cock.
“Hold on to me,” he says, pushing your hands to his neck where you wrap them around him.
He kneels, hooking his hands under your thighs to pull you upright onto him, and closer, and you feel him hit deeper as you cry out.
Javi slows his pace, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip for a second as he completely loses himself. Pussy drunk on you, buried so deep inside that he forgets where he is for a moment.
The sofa creaks in pain with his tempo, both his hands on your ass winding you back and forth over his cock.
The sweat shines at the bottom of your back; the room feels like a furnace, despite the rain outside cooling the night's air that seeps in from the open window.
“You’re gonna make me fucking come so hard…” He’s growling now, you can hear it. Those husked grunts ribbing at the back of his throat, lips curled up over his teeth as he plunders deeper into your cunt.
You move, flexing your hips back and forth as you fuck him slowly, and he groans coming back to you. His hands slip back down onto your hips as he moves you, faster, harder on his cock.
“Come inside me, Javi.”
“Oh fuck, mierda… Fuck!” It’s sweetly blasphemous as he comes, grunting and whimpering, his own body shaking and shuddering against yours. Sweat glueing you to one another.
He groans out as he comes, filling you with his thick spend as your tongue knots in his mouth.
“Querida,” he moans, as you peck gently over his face, his arms unrelenting, refusing to let go of you.
He lays back, taking you with him into the breach of the sofa. And you smile at his face regarding you back; big browns that are just mesmerised in some post-coital bliss by all those little nuances, up close and in his face.
You become mesmerised too, by the way his tongue glides over his teeth, usually to show mirth or derision in the office, but here it commands desire. Want.
How when he smiles, the left side of his top lip is the first to crook up into that beam that drags his cheeks up to reveal dimples either side of his face, marred usually by his moustache.
It takes you a moment to realise he’s smiling. Javier Peña is smiling for you, and it stuns you, tracing your fingers around the edges of it like a fine piece of art, the beauty of it etched forever in your memory.
“Que?” He asks, observing your awe.
“I’ve never seen you smile before.” You say, shaking your head. “You should do it more often.”
You think you spy a blush creep into the bronze sculpting of his cheeks. Small capillaries flooding with blood.
He slips out of you, but you feel his fingers reaching between your lips probing and slipping around gently in the silken feel of him starting to drip out of you.
He runs his nose across your face, nuzzling into you further. You feel him, sticky and softening under you, and you stroke through his hair, matted with sweat and smiling as he pecks at you still.
He kisses you, tonguing around your mouth as you feel his fingers sliding inside you, pushing his come back in. His thumb delicately stroking on your clit, barely ghosting it as your shudder and clutch onto him.
He softly strokes you to another orgasm as you pant inside his mouth.
You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, how he’ll treat you in the office after this.
If this could become a regular thing where he brings flowers and tequila, and takes a spare key and keeps some of his things here, and has dinner with you and showers with you.
You try to ponder on if it will make things tense or awkward. If he’ll regret it. If you’ll regret it. If he’ll see you as some easy conquest, another notch on his bedpost.
Or if this could become something more.
It doesn’t matter, because right now in this moment, as the clock rolls over into the early hours of Christmas morning in the torrential rain that sprays over Colombia, Javi kisses at your throat with a gentleness about him you couldn’t believe could have existed.
And it’s the best Christmas gift you ever could have wished for.
“Feliz Navidad, Javi.” You whisper into the hairs of his moustache.
“Feliz Navidad, cariño.” He whispers back.
12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
#javier pena x reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#javier pena#javier pena narcos#pedro pascal characters#javi p#javi pena smut#javi pena fic#javier peña#javi peña#javier pena x f!reader#javier pena x you#narcos fic#christmas stories#jett's writing
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history repeats itself.
#the last of us#joel miller#pedro pascal#tlou#ellie williams#hbo the last of us#the last of us hbo#bella ramsey#joel tlou#ellie and joel#troy baker#ashley johnson#tlou fluff#tlou edit#tlou hbo#tlou part 2#the last of us game#tlou2#this is from troy’s insta story btw
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Netflix & Chill
Marcus Pike x Female Reader
18+, MDNI
Summary: You spend your fifth date with Marcus at his place watching Netflix.
Or
You might be in your thirties, but you can still Netflix and Chill.
Warnings: fluffy smut. Kissing. Little bit of dirty talk. Fully clothed. Marcus just being the love of my life the entire time.
AN: Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. I am too busy having my brain absolutely disintegrated by thoughts of Agent Pike. I am sick over him. Down bad. Wanting to rip off my arms and beat myself senseless with them over him. Leave me alone!! But also leave me nice comments because I’m a slut with a praise kink lol. Thank you so much for reading 🤎
Graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics
Moodboard by me
“Oh god,” you whimper, both of you are fully dressed. You’re caged under his strong body as he pushes his hips down on you. You can feel his cock through his grey sweats and your thin, black yoga pants. The credits of whatever movie you were watching rolled in the background.
“Is this ok?” He asks, kissing at your neck and earlobe. The soft, fuzzy brown blanket falls around both of you, encasing you in his earthy and citrus scent.
“Ya, please don’t stop.” You writhe under him, feeling that familiar tingly pressure building. He smiles into the crook of your neck.
It was your fifth date with Marcus Pike, FBI agent and potential man of your dreams. In his younger years, he probably would have already slept with you by now. But age has made him a man of patience and waiting. Only giving what he’s willing to let go of, what he can nurture and grow. And for the first time in a long time, he thinks that might be you.
“I won’t stop, baby.”
Baby, shit. He panics internally. He’s only called you by your name until now. He nervously looks over at you and you smile sleepily.
“I like that,” you mumble.
“Which part?” He asks his voice like warm oil along your skin. “Me grinding into what I’m sure is the most beautiful pussy in the world, or the kisses on your soft, slender, vanilla scented neck, or me calling you baby?”
Your legs start to shake around him as you pull him in to kiss him hard. You sweep your tongue along his bottom lip. He tastes like the popcorn and expensive Cabernet Sauvignon you were both drinking.
“All of it,” you say between kisses.
He pulls away, bringing his hands to your face and gently wiping the few loose hairs that stick to your skin, then drags the tip of his nose down yours before resting his forehead against yours.
“You’re truly so beautiful. I’m so happy I met you, baby.” He pushes his hips into you harder and a pornographic moan fills the room as the trailer for whatever Netflix is suggesting next plays. “Sound so pretty too.”
“Marcus,” you say wantonly.
“I know. I’m here.” He says, eyes still locked on yours, one thumb making sweet, soft circles on your cheek while his other slips behind your head.
Your hands bunch into his white t-shirt. “I’m gonna cum,” you moan, letting his coca-cola coloured eyes wash over you, and drench your whole body in carbonated pleasure. Sparkling, bubbling, fizzing over the edge.
“I’m right here, honey.” He whispers, pushing into you a little faster. Your body jolts into his as you suck in quick, shallow breaths.
“Ohgodohgod. Mar-Marcus,” your walls clench tightly around nothing as he hits at your puffy, sensitive clit through your pants at the perfect tempo and pressure.
“Relax, baby. I got you.” He encourages and then you fall apart for him. Your body twitches on its own accord as your orgasm rolls through you for what feels like an eternity.
“That’s it,” he whispers, stilling his hips. “Just take. That’s a good girl.”
You clamp your eyes shut as you reach the top of it. “No, look at me, baby. You’re so beautiful like this.”
Pink flushes your cheeks at his words and the blood that seems to not know where to go in your body. Everything feels like it’s being doused with warm water as you finally come over the edge and the fluttering of your pussy slows.
His eyes dance around your face before he kisses your forehead, and the tip of your nose. You smile into his lips as he places a light and lingering kiss on yours.
“Are you okay?” He says sweetly, pulling back slightly.
“Ya, that’s was…” you search his face for any hint of regret but all you see is admiration. You finish with, “…unexpected, but amazing.”
As he starts to respond, a whipping sound followed by a moan comes from the TV. Both of your heads turn towards it.
“Netflix is suggesting 50 Shades of Grey,” he laughs.
“That’s more of a seventh date thing for me,” you say flatly as his face whips back to you. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction. Both of you now laughing as you sort yourself back out, cuddling into him to find a new movie to “watch” next.
Taglist:
@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @keylimebeag @pimosworld
@casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @jessthebaker
@jasminedragoon @pedroswife69 @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @pedroshotwifey
@mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @untamedheart81
Special tag for @survivingandenduring because I know you share my love of this man.
#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#pedro stories#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal fanfiction#marcus pike x you#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike#the mentalist#marcus pike smut#netflix and chill
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