masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍
summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby.
warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles
word count: 5.5k
ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics
"When's the last time you slept?"
He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.
"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."
No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.
"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.
Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.
"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."
No answer.
"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."
His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.
You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.
You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.
He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.
"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."
You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.
He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.
"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"
His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.
"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.
Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."
He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.
"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"
You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.
"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.
"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"
"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."
"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"
"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."
He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.
"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."
You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.
I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.
You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.
"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."
"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"
"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."
Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.
Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.
Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.
Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.
"That was not my fault."
Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"
"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"
"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."
Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.
"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."
He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.
"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"
You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.
"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"
"I- I don't know what you're talking about."
He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."
You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:
"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."
You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.
"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.
"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."
You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.
"I can do that myself," he murmurs.
"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.
It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?
You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.
"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.
He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."
His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.
"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"
His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."
"Is there anything I can do?"
He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."
It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.
"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."
"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."
You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.
"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."
He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."
You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"
Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.
He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.
His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.
"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."
The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.
This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.
"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.
Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.
"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.
You don't linger, even though you want to.
It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.
"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.
"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."
"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.
His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.
"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.
Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.
He's so handsome.
He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."
"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."
"I can drive."
"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."
"No I-"
"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."
He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.
"You called me baby."
It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.
He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"
"...Yeah."
You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?
The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.
"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"
A beat of silence. Then-
"Don't ask me that."
The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.
You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.
"I don't know why."
The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"
He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."
"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.
"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."
With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.
"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.
You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...
And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.
You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.
"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.
He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.
"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."
You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."
"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."
"For how long?"
He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.
"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."
"Why?"
He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."
"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.
"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."
"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.
But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.
"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"
"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.
"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."
You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.
You do not want to leave his room. But you do.
You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.
But you do.
You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.
All you want to do is be in that bed with him.
So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.
"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.
Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.
"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.
The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.
Summary: The sky is a glass mirror of blackened silver streaks, and you’re almost positive that all the stars in the Milky Way are visible from right here at this very spot in the heart of Wyoming. The sight makes your broken heart feel full and falsely mended.
And then there is Joel Miller, too.
-OR-
the cowboy/heiress AU
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Fluff and Angst; Alcohol & Drug Use, DD/lg Dynamics; Dom/sub Undertones; Discussions of Grief; Death of a Parent; Parental Neglect; Daddy Issues to the Max; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Explicit Sexual Content; Size Difference; Past Teenage Crush; Unrequited Pinning; Yearning and Longing Galore; Possessive Behavior; Boss’s Daughter; Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy!; Complicated Family Relationships; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family
series outline: a slacker of a boyfriend, no job, and now your car needs serious maintenance. heading to the mechanic’s, you’re just expecting him to rid you of your car troubles and move on — you’re certainly not expecting him to change your life
A/N: This just came out of nowhere when I was eating cherries, so here we are 😂 I was going to post this one later, but it was just sitting in my drafts.
Summary: Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller, finds you in the kitchen eating some cherries. For your birthday, he gives you something that’ll make you a little tongue tied.
Rating: 18+ Only MDNI
Word Count: 3.1k
Tags: Smut, flirting, teasing, eating cherries, age gap (reader is 24, Joel is 51), oral receiving (fem), fingering, dirty talk, sneaking around, switching POVs
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
The air is warm as the summer breeze blows through the open window of the lit up kitchen. After a night of celebrating your twenty-fourth birthday, your parents decided to throw you a surprise barbecue. A few of your friends came, a couple of the neighbors meandered around the backyard, but one certain person was here that set your core on fire. Joel Miller. Your dad’s best friend, his favorite fishing buddy.
Joel was hot, like extremely hot. And not to mention he was fifty-one. Twice your age and off limits, but that made it that much more fun to tease him.
He’s in his signature blue flannel shirt today, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose strong arms and tanned skin, large veins threading down his forearms, and large meaty hands that could probably split you in two. His dark jeans hug his strong thighs, and his tousled grey speckled hair is slicked back just begging to be played with.
You can’t lie that you dream about him at night, can’t pretend you don’t imagine your fingers are his own that slip inside your dripping core and talk you through your orgasm. Attagirl. Say my name. Yeah, jus’ like that, sweetheart. Such a good fuckin’ girl.
You bet he’s the best kisser, bet his tongue can take you to places that your fingers never could. You imagine his dark smoldering eyes all blown out and wide, his grey threaded beard tickling against your neckline while his tongue slides against your glistening skin. It’s only a dream, a fantasy your mind has conjured up to fill some void. But you’re determined to win him over one way or another. He will be yours.
And it’s not like he’s completely innocent. You’ve seen him catch your eye once or twice, have caught him checking you out when you wore that pink bikini to the pool a few weeks ago. He can pretend all he wants, but the man fantasizes about you, too.
You sigh and pick another cherry from the big bowl sitting on the ceramic kitchen counter, popping it into your mouth as the sweet flavor slides down your throat. You lean against the counter and pull your short yellow dress down, the material barely grazing your tanned thighs.
You pop another cherry into your mouth and enjoy the quiet kitchen, taking just a few moments to pull yourself together until you have to go back outside. You’re sure they’re looking for you, but you had to get away from the heat of Joel’s smoldering stare.
Another minute goes by until you hear boots scuffing against the tiled floor. When you look up from under your long lashes, you freeze in place and gulp down the cherry that almost gets stuck in your throat. There he is, Joel Miller. Just standing and leaning against the doorway, brown eyes locked on yours.
“What’re you doin’ in here? Your dad’s lookin’ for ya out in the back,” Joel says across the kitchen.
“Couldn’t come get me himself so he sent you instead? What a good friend you are.” You roll your eyes, one eyebrow raising in question while you see him scoff under his breath.
“Don’t be a brat. He’s busy makin’ burgers. Jus’ asked if I could come find ya.”
“Well, you found me.” You lean into the counter and pick out another plump cherry.
“C’mon then. Get out there.” He nods his head towards the backyard and crosses his large arms over his broad chest.
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” You pop the cherry into your mouth and twirl the stem in between your fingers, keeping your eyes locked carefully on his.
He huffs out annoyed, pinching the bridge of his nose while he makes his way across the kitchen, stopping on the opposite side of the counter as he leans against it and keeps his arms tight across his chest. “Yeah, real busy over there. Those cherries must be real good if they’ve got you locked in the kitchen.” His eyes flick to the glass bowl as you plop another one out from the batch.
“Sooo good.” You take your tongue and lick up the side of the cherry, pushing it into your mouth as you throw the stem on the edge of the counter.
He watches you chew, gulping down saliva as he focuses in on your red glossy lips. He thinks you look so gorgeous in your little yellow sundress, thinks your lips might taste just like those cherries. Savory, sweet, delicious. A thought that’s crossed his mind more than once before.
He shouldn’t be in here alone with you, shouldn’t even stare while you lick your plush lips and devour the fresh cherries all seductively in front of him. He can picture you down on your knees, your tongue gliding over the tip of his throbbing cock, his fingers fisting the back of your hair while he fucks your pretty little mouth with his thick cock. He wants to hear those melodic moans out of your mouth, needs to get his mouth on your pretty pink pussy, would love to throw you on top of his bed sheets while he fucks you till he fills you with hot ropes of cum.
He’s a bad man for thinking of his best friend’s daughter like that, but he can’t help wanting something he can’t technically have. You’re off limits to him and so much younger, but he doesn’t give a shit.
He sees the way you’ve been teasing him. Walking around in those short skirts that barely cover your curvy ass and brushing your fingertips against his arms with every chance you get. He’s not a stupid man, he knows what you’re doing. But he won’t dare try to stop you. He likes the tease, loves the thought of you pining over him, and maybe one day he’ll finally teach you a lesson of what happens to naughty girls that just don’t know when to quit.
“Stop that,” he demands, watching you lick your lips slowly while you swallow a cherry.
“Stop what?” you ask innocently.
“Stop teasin’ me.” His eyes are narrowed, jaw clenched as his eyes follow your tongue licking across the fresh fruit.
“Make me,” you smirk. You swallow the cherry whole and tap your manicured fingernails against the counter top, challenging him to make a move.
He clenches his fingers into a tight fist, sliding his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his eyes darkening as his nostrils flare in anger. He’s mad, furious that you’re making him this frazzled. He can’t ignore the hardening cock that stiffens against the denim of his jeans. All because you’re a fucking tease.
You pop your hip out and play with the cherry stem in between your fingers, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously at the handsome man that can barely control himself around you. “You know, they say if you can tie a knot with your tongue with a cherry stem that means you’re a good kisser,” you smirk.
“Is that right, darlin’?” he asks all intrigued, leaning forward as his dark eyes hone in on you.
“Mhm. Read a thing or two about it,” you giggle.
“Show me.” His voice comes out deep, gravelly as he leans against the counter and crosses his arms. It doesn’t come out as a response but a demand loud and clear.
You smirk his way and nod. You pop the cherry stem in your mouth and get to work. Your tongue twists and turns, working hard to get just the right angle with the stem. Joel watches you eagerly, his eyes blowing wide while his nostrils flare aggressively. You know he’s hard behind his jeans, and you’re dying to see just how massive he is.
When you finally feel the tiny knot in the stem, you open your mouth and reach in, grabbing the wet end with your fingertips. You hold it up and sure enough you did it. Right in the middle it’s tied in a tight knot. You knew you could do it.
Joel smirks your way, smoldering eyes glazed in a trance as he flicks them up and down your body seductively. Oh, he’s impressed and turned on. Look at the mess you’ve made.
“Color me impressed, sweetheart. That’s a neat talent you got there. What else can you do with that tongue?” he asks with a devilish grin curling against his big lips.
“Why don’t you come find out?” you taunt him.
He’s on you in less than a minute, large hands holding your hips against the counter while his hard cock digs into your thigh. You’re breathless, breathing in the scent of his mahogany cologne and his fresh soap smell while his dark eyes bleed into yours.
“Careful with that pretty mouth, darlin’. I don’t think you realize what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” he warns, blown eyes making slick build in your lacy panties.
“No? I think I do,” you smirk.
“Shouldn’t be playin’ games with your dad’s best friend, sweetheart. Could get ya into trouble,” he tsks, clicking his tongue will his thick fingers dig into the material of your skimpy dress.
“So get me into trouble, Mr. Miller,” you whisper, enticing him to make a move as your hand drags down to where his hard cock is skimming across your thigh.
He’s on you then, his warm mouth pressing firmly against yours as his hands slowly slide your dress up. The kiss is messy, hot, uncontrolled as one of his hands fist the back of your curls. You part your mouth open and invite him in, letting him slot his tongue inside your panting mouth.
Your fingers slide through his tousled curls, pulling a low groan from his throat while his tongue licks feverishly inside your mouth. You could drown in his coffee taste, get lost in his lush locks with his teeth nipping at your skin. This was better than you imagined, better than your wildest dreams.
He slides his calloused thumb against your drenched lace, finding your buzzing clit as he draws meticulous circles over and over. You moan into his mouth, panting his name as his fingers set your core on fire.
“Yeah? You like that, little tease?” he chuckles darkly, nipping against your bottom lip as another moan leaves your lips.
“Yes, fuck yes,” you say through clenched teeth.
“Mmm. Dirty girl wants her daddy’s best friend to finger fuck her, is that right?” he teases, sliding his fingers inside your lace and gliding through your damp folds, his fingers curling up into your dripping hole.
You part your lips and moan, twisting your fingers tightly through his messy curls. “Fuck, Joel. Please, please. Want you to… ohhh,” you moan, melting into a puddle as his thick fingers hit that spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.
“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles.
His mouth finds neck, sucking against your collarbone as his free hand squeezes one of your perky breasts. He elicits another moan from you, the wet noises of his fingers fucking into you floating around the room, the obscene sounds making him groan against the shell of your ear.
Before you know what happens he releases his fingers from your core and grabs your hips firmly, hoisting you up on the edge of the counter while he pulls the ruined lace down your legs and drops them to the tiled floor. You let out a squeak, watching the way he spreads your legs and pulls you to the edge, hungry eyes eating you alive.
“Gonna need you to be quiet, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” he asks through gritted teeth, like he’s holding himself back from dragging you to his mouth.
“Mhm,” you hum, out of breath while more slick pools in between your thighs. “Joel, please,” you beg.
“Ain’t gotta beg, baby girl. Gonna take good care of this pretty pussy,” he purrs.
He wastes no time as he licks a thick stripe up your folds, lathering you in the wetness of his warm tongue. You throw your head back and grip the edge of the counter while he settles your legs over his shoulders.
He places his meaty hands around the backs of your thighs and starts to make out with your pussy. His tongue divides your folds, licking up inside your drenched hole and makes his way up to your puffy clit. He draws meticulous circles over your aching bundle of nerves, eliciting low moans that fall off the tip of your tongue.
You tangle your hands through his smooth locks, hear him grunt while he pulls your buzzing mound into his warm mouth. “Oh my God, Joel,” you whine.
“Yeah? Like the sound of you moaning my name, sweetheart. Say it again,” he demands as he plunges two thick fingers into your gushing core, watching slick slide down his hand while he’s knuckles deep in you.
You moan it again and again and again, watching his blown out eyes stare up at you menacingly, mouth feasting on your drool coated pussy. He finger fucks you swiftly, curling his fingers to hit that spongy spot over and over again, his deft tongue gliding against your throbbing clit until you’re right on the edge.
Your walls clench against his fingers, mouth chanting his name dreamily while he gets you right where you need to be.
“Come for me, sweetheart. Drench these fingers with that sweet, sticky cum. Be a good girl now,” he purrs, licking against your warm core.
He pulls your bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucks hard, rutting his thick fingers against the sweetest spongy spots that takes you to the finish line. You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling the white hot heat slide down the back of your spine.
“Attagirl. Look at you spill, goddamn” he growls, licking your spilling slick between your thighs and working his fingers in and out of your core, making sure to get every single drop of cum from your center.
He talks you through it, licking you clean as he works you through your intense orgasm, massaging your thighs until your breathing is back to normal. He slides your panties back up your thighs, covering your ruined pussy while he pulls your skirt back over your thighs.
He stands up between your legs and circles your hips with his meaty hands, whispering sweet incantations in the shell of your ear. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Hope you liked your present.”
He gives you a quick kiss to your lips, letting you taste your own release on the tip of your tongue along with the delicious taste of him.
You wrap your arms around his neck loosely, not yet wanting him to leave the room without you tucked into his side. “Joel,” you murmur through a warm daze.
“Hmm?” He knits his eyebrows into a tight line and looks at you with clouded brown eyes.
“Can we do that again?” you ask with big sappy eyes full of hope.
He huffs out, groaning through his teeth as his wide eyes stay locked on yours. “You want to do that again?” he asks, licking his tongue along the bottom of his teeth.
“Mhm,” you nod, smiling over at him. “Next time I want you to fuck me, and I want to suck your cock.”
He chokes on his own saliva and chuckles out, shaking his head as he tightens his grip on your hips. “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna be a handful, ain’t ya?”
“You know I am.” You giggle and push your fingers through his messy curls, adjusting it so it doesn’t look like he just went down on you.
He shakes his head and sighs, helping you off the spotless counter top. His fingertips hover over your back, hands pressing against your sweating skin while his lips hang dangerously close to your mouth. “You messy girl. What am I gonna do with ya, huh?” he smiles, tracing his thumb over your lower lip.
“Guess you just have to keep me,” you shrug, smiling blissfully at the man of your dreams.
“Maybe I will, sweetheart. Maybe I will.”
He curls a strand of hair behind your ear and trails his lips against your cheek, mouth closing in on yours. Your breath hitches and body comes alive just waiting for his lips to be back on yours. Suddenly, the back door is swinging up and heavy footsteps are coming through the kitchen entryway.
You and Joel jump apart, your heart in your throat and adrenaline coursing through your blood. “There you two are. Was wondering where you were,” your dad shouts, his loud voice killing the heat of the moment.
“Sorry, bud. Your daughter here was just showin’ me how good these cherries were,” Joel says calmly. He grabs a cherry from the bowl and pops it in his mouth, winking your way before he exits the kitchen with your dad.
You stand there breathlessly, not believing what just happened. Joel just kissed you, finger fucked you, and ate you out in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could’ve walked in and saw. You were walking on thin ice, but you’d happily do it all over again.
You readjust your dress and smooth down your messy locks, making sure your lipstick isn’t all smudged down your chin. Once you make sure you look like you hadn’t just been fucked, you make your way outside into the backyard.
Your friends crowd around the inground pool while your folks and neighbors sit around on some lounge chairs, sipping on lemonade and eating hamburgers off plastic plates. You find an empty chair next to your friend, Nikki, and act as if you were completely normal. Nothing was normal about today, though. Not after what just happened in the kitchen with Joel Miller. The hottest neighbor that had walked into your dad’s life three years ago. Guess he always had a thing for you secretly, you just didn’t know it till this year.
Your eyes flick across the lawn and you find Joel staring at you, nursing a beer down with his lips around the flute of the bottle. His honey brown eyes find yours, and you gasp when you see a smudge of red lipstick smeared across the collar of his blue flannel. You giggle at the sight of it, snickering to yourself as you join in on a conversation about your weekend plans.
pairing: rancher Joel Miller x female reader (afab)
series summary: after nursing a seemingly irrational crush on fellow single parent Joel Miller, your innocent friendship develops into more when he invites you and your daughter to stay at their ranch house during the summer. what started as nothing more than simple feelings ignites into something neither of you expected.
series wide rating/tags/warnings: [explicit 18+ only, minors DNI] no outbreak!Joel Miller, rancher!Joel Miller, cowboy!Joel Miller (?), canon divergence (Joel is 50's, Sarah is 9), reader is a single mom, unspecified age gap (Joel is early 50's, I wrote this with the idea of reader being mid/early 40's but she can be whatever age you want because her age is not discussed or specified), idiots friends to lovers, SOFT JOEL, alcohol, horse riding (!), pining, sexual tension, Joel is a polite southern gentleman until he's not (*wink wink*), DILF Joel, protected and unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk up the wazoo, praise kink, competency kink, size kink, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, semi-public sex (?), spit as lube, light spanking, light restraints (Joel's hands), overstimulation, semi-rough sex, semi-slowburn leading to so much smut, Joel really is very filthy in this, no use of y/n.
word count: 5.1k
author’s note: so i started working on this little 3 part series in literally August last year lmao. this part is mainly background it's necessary for the story so pls stick with it because it's worth it for the smut in part 2 and 3 imo. thank you as always to my angels @tieronecrush and @kiwisbell for beta'ing this for me (so, so long ago). dividers by me.
masterlist | AO3
The Before.
You met Joel about a year ago when picking your daughter, May, up from a birthday party one afternoon. Rushing over there after getting stuck working late, you braced yourself for either snarky comments and sneers from other parents, or the feelings of shame and guilt if she was the last one there. When you arrived you were surprised when she grabbed you by the hand and tugged you toward her best friend, Sarah. They’d become friends at school months earlier, bonding easily over their shared love of the Powerpuff Girls and Winx Club, quickly becoming inseparable, joined at the hip.
Sarah was a sweet girl, always excited to see your daughter and she was a good friend to her. Sarah stood with an older man who was crouched down next to her, while she animatedly showed him the face paint swirling over her cheekbones in the pattern of fairy wings. Instantly your mouth went dry when you looked at him—thick forearms peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of his green flannel, tan chest exposed by the open buttons on his collar, brown curls streaked with grey that matched the scruff along his jaw.
“You must be May’s Mom?” He smiled up at you, eyes crinkling in the corners, before standing to his full height and placing a hand in between Sarah’s shoulder blades. “Joel. Nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you and your daughter from Sarah here,” he said in his thick Texan drawl, sticking his other hand out toward you.
He loomed over you with his broad frame, shoulders wide and strong. You shook his hand, nodding dumbly while telling him your name, your own hand dwarfed in his. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you said politely, trying to keep your eyes on his face and not let them wander to the peek of sun-freckled skin on his chest.
The corner of his mouth twitched, one dimple peeking through on his cheek. Crouching back down to your daughter's height, he introduced himself to her. “May—that’s a real pretty name,” he said warmly, stealing a glance up at you with a cheeky wink.
She giggled, turning into your side with a squirm. “What do you say, honey?” you asked, placing a hand on the crown of her head.
“Thank you,” she replied in a small voice, thumbnail caught between her teeth as she looked at him with a shy expression.
“And you and Sarah got matchin’ fairy face paint, huh?” he observed, trying to break the ice while gesturing to the face paint matching his own daughters.
“Oh! We do, see,” May said, lighting up as she swivelled back toward him, jutting her chin forward to show him. “D’you like fairies, too?”
You smiled watching as she came out of her shell, always eager to speak about the things she loved, continuing to talk to both him and Sarah. Joel stayed crouched down to her level the entire time, elbows resting on his knees as he nodded enthusiastically while May and Sarah talked to him. You thought it was endearing—this big burly man talking to the two girls about which paint colours matched their dresses, whose fairy wing face paint matched which Winx Club character. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, a stirring feeling growing low in your gut as you watched him, but you willed it away.
You had only just met him, he’s the father of one of your daughter's friends, and he’s probably married. Chastising yourself internally for letting your eyes linger on him for far too long, the stirring returned when he reached his left hand up to smooth back Sarah’s curls—no wedding ring.
Interesting.
After that, you had seen him around at PTA meetings, while picking May up from sleepovers, at a school talent show one evening, and at early morning soccer games after May had begged you to let her sign up for the team Sarah played in. You were always the last one there for everything, rushing in at the last minute with whispered apologies about your tardiness.
Each time he would seek you out, making a beeline right toward you before greeting you with a warm smile. He seemed to ignore everyone else, making you the sole focus of his attention every time he saw you. Joel would never say anything about how stressed you constantly seemed, nor would he ask why you were always late, instead keeping the conversation light and making you take your mind off the constant state of mess you felt like your life was in.
He made a habit of asking how you were, seeing if there was anything he could do to help you and May out. He didn’t treat you like you were incapable or a bad parent, but clearly understood how difficult things could be for you at times, how inflexible your work schedule was. Explaining that he could set his own work hours and always had his younger brother, Tommy, to help him out, he made it known that you could call on him at any time. His genuine kindness and caring nature made you giddy, a rush of affection for him consuming you whenever you saw him.
The two of you would talk for as long as you could, and he was always overly charming, making you laugh in a girlish fashion and turn away to hide your grin. It was embarrassing, you thought. The way this man could make you blush and squirm at the mere sound of his gravelly voice, the sight of the wide expanse of his back, the way he listened as you spoke and made you feel like the only person in the room. He would just grin back at you, pleased with himself as that stupidly handsome dimple appeared on his face, making your stomach knot up even more.
It was like he knew the effect he had on you, constantly toeing the line to see how far he could go. It didn’t take you long to realise that you had what could only be described as a crush, on Joel.
One morning, after a particularly long and tiring week at work, you had been woken up by May shaking you by the shoulders, yelling at you that she was going to be late for her soccer match. Drowsily, you had rolled over and seen what time it was and in your half-awake state, you realised that you hadn’t set an alarm. A jolt of anxiety and embarrassment coursed through you, cringing at yourself after yet another failure. After pulling on a pair of day-old jeans and your old UTSA sweatshirt in a panicked state, you herded May into the car and rushed to the fields, cursing yourself the entire drive there.
Only just making it in time for kick-off, you flopped down on the sidelines of the pitch with a groan before a broad figure loomed over the top of you.
“Big night?”
You sighed, running a hand over your face before pushing yourself up onto your elbows and gazing up at Joel who looked at you with a half smile. “No, a big week, actually. Crashed last night and forgot to set the alarm on my clock.”
He noticed you squinting against the sun to look at him, and moved to the side to block the beam of light from your view. “Ah,” he vocalised with a nod, before gesturing over to the picnic rug laid out a few feet away. “Why don’t you come sit over here with me? Much more comfortable than the grass, huh? You can even lie down if you want, rest your eyes, I’ll keep you updated on the score.”
“That’s sweet,” you replied with a pout, brows knitting together. Taking his outstretched hand, he pulled you up and guided you back over to his rug, hand lingering in yours as you both sat down.
“Fuck. Stretching myself too thin, I think. Poor May always gets the short end of the stick,” you muttered with a shake of your head, rubbing your palm over a crick in your neck.
“S’alright. You’re doin’ your best,” Joel said with a smile. Observing you for a long moment, he frowned, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You taking care of yourself?”
Meeting his eyes, his expression softened at your tired eyes as you exhaled a wearied sigh. “I’m exhausted.”
“You seem like you might need this more than me.” He picked up a thermos and handed it to you, your fingertips brushing as you grabbed it from him. “Just remember… you gotta take time away for yourself, sweetheart. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you conceded. “Thanks, Joel.” Giving him a gentle smile and looking at him with big, wide eyes, you tried to ignore the way the term of endearment made your face heat up and brought the cup to your lips.
After that, you should’ve felt bad about not watching a single second of your daughter's game, but you ended up talking to Joel throughout the entire thing. He didn’t seem phased either, continually asking you questions and responding with enthusiasm. You laid down, body relaxing and a sense of calm overtaking you, and he turned to shield your eyes from the sun with his broad frame. Talking to him was so easy, and he radiated a warmth that drew you in.
It became your thing.
Every soccer match after that, Joel would bring a second thermos filled with coffee for you. You would sit together and watch your daughters play, talking and drinking, enjoying each other's company. He seemed to genuinely want to spend time with you and was doting in a way you didn’t expect. It wasn’t hard for your self-confessed crush to grow, developing into full-blown feelings for the man, which you desperately tried to forget each time you saw him.
But it was almost impossible to ignore. Every time you saw him, it would weaken your defences—the cheeky dad jokes, the playful touches, the thoughtful comments, the way he would bark out a laugh at something you said and grab you by the arm to steady himself while resting his head on your shoulder. It seemed like it was his life mission to get under your skin, leaving you to constantly bite your tongue to stop words spilling out whenever you were with him.
You were friends. That’s all.
Late one night, early on in Summer break, you were picking May up from a movie night at Joel and Sarah’s house when he invited you in for a drink. He ushered you towards the dining area where he had a small bar cart set up.
“They’re just in the other room. Movie’s nearly finished,” he explained while gesturing his hand towards the other side of the house. “I’m drinkin’ whiskey neat, but you can have whatever you want.”
“Do you have any ginger ale?”
He nodded and walked to the fridge to get the bottle of soda and ice cubes before mixing up your drink. You watched him as he did it, the muscles of his forearms working as he poured and stirred the drink, the stretch of his navy t-shirt across his broad shoulders as he worked. The sight of him sent a steady buzz thrumming through your veins, even before you had any alcohol.
When he passed you the tumbler glass in one hand, he gently rested an open palm on your upper arm as he moved closer to you. It was only for a few seconds—just a fleeting moment—but you felt your skin tingle when he withdrew his hand.
“D’you wanna go sit out on the porch?”
You peeked your head around the corner, quickly looking into the living room where May and Sarah were engrossed in the final part of their movie. “Lead the way.”
He motioned behind you with the hand curled around his own crystal glass, and placed a palm on your lower back to guide you towards the backyard. You purposely moved slowly, him trailing behind you, sneaking glances at the photo frames perched on the shelves of a cabinet in the back room. You had noticed that they were all of Joel and Sarah, a few with another man that had dark curly hair and a nose that resembled Joel’s, his brother, you guessed. One photo in particular caught your eye, a younger Joel—no grey hairs, no wrinkles, wide-eyed and grinning as he cradled a small baby in his arms, his palm cupping the back of her head as he held her against his chest. It made your heart constrict, seeing him with Sarah when she was so young.
In your quick glance, you had noticed the distinct lack of photos with anyone who could vaguely resemble Sarah’s mom. If Joel caught you dawdling and staring, he didn’t say anything, only gently guiding you with the palm pressed to your back. Opening the sliding door, you were met by the balmy night air, settling on you and sticking to your skin. You sat down on the edge of the timber deck, Joel letting out a long sigh as rested a hand on his knee and sunk down next to you.
“Thanks for this,” you smiled, tilting your glass towards him.
“‘Course, anytime.”
You swirled the contents of your glass, ice cubes rattling against the sides, sneaking a look over at Joel who had a furrowed brow and was circling the rim of his glass with his thumb. He looked up at you when he felt your eyes on him, and the corners of his lips curved when you had hastily looked away, rushing to take a sip of your drink.
“So,” he started, turning his attention back to his glass and sitting up a little straighter, chest puffing out as he took a breath. “Are you looking forward to summer break with May? Got anything planned?”
Your face immediately fell at his words, a palm pressed to your forehead as you tried to smooth out the seemingly ever-present lines. You sighed, long and drawn out, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess—I mean, I am, but I just—”
He cut you off with a sidelong glance and a gentle nudge of his knee against yours. “Why do you seem so stressed, sweetheart? What’s goin’ on?”
“I just found out I’m getting sent out on a work trip to New York. Two whole weeks,” you released with another sigh, once again ignoring the way the term of endearment made your insides churn. “Poor May, she’s gonna be so upset,” you murmured under your breath, lips downturned.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what about May’s dad? Can he help out? Are y’all—you know...?” he asked, gesturing vaguely in front of him.
You snorted out a laugh, shaking your head quickly. “No, no. Definitely not. He’s not in the picture. It’s just May and I.”
He nodded in understanding, a hot feeling rising in his chest at the realisation. “I get it. Same for me. It’s just been me and Sarah for as long as I can remember—since she was just a tiny little thing.”
“So she doesn’t spend any time with her mom?”
“No, never. Her mom did the ol’ cut and run very early on.”
Joel had been expecting to hear the usual ‘I’m sorry’ that he received every time he told someone, but it didn’t come, and he was grateful. He hadn’t ever needed pity, and he was glad to be talking about it with someone who seemed to understand, someone who was in a similar situation.
“It was for the best, if I’m honest. I always wanted kids, she didn’t, and that’s fine. As harsh as it sounds, Sarah has a better life this way, and I only want the best for her. That kid is my whole fuckin’ world.”
You smiled, looking at him with a knowing glance. “I get it,” you said, repeating his words right back to him.
It was silent for a long moment, the only noise coming from crickets chirping from within the backyard and the gentle breeze that made the leaves on the low-hanging branches sway. You took a sip from your drink, the ice starting to melt. Suddenly, Joel turned completely towards you, bringing one knee up to rest under the opposite thigh as he looked at you. You mirrored his position, looking at him with your eyebrows raised in question as he looked between the glass in his hand and your face. His gaze consumed yours, pools of deep endless brown that made you feel lightheaded.
“Would—” he started, looking unsure for a moment before continuing on. “What if May stayed with us? Would that help?”
You laughed, a loud and surprised noise bubbling up from your throat. “No, Joel, no way. I couldn’t ask that of you.”
“You’re not, I’m offering. Let me help,” he said, tilting his head down and looking up at you through his lashes with those big brown eyes. “I want to help. I know how hard it is trying to raise a kid all on your own... it’s the best thing in the world but it’s also the hardest thing in the world. You shouldn’t have to worry about who's gonna take care of her while you’re working.”
“Joel, I can’t. That’s too much for you to take on.”
He reached a hand out toward you, clasping it around the wrist not holding your drink, calloused fingertips digging into the soft skin. “Let me help.”
“Are you... are you sure?” you asked, voice a little unsure and breathless.
“Absolutely. Sarah’ll be so excited to hear that she’ll have her friend staying with her.”
“You don’t know how much that would mean to both her and me, Joel. The amount of times I’ve had to send the poor kid to summer camp... she’ll be so excited to spend it with you both.”
He just smiled, the light from the porch illuminating the dimple on his cheek as he nodded while blinking up at you with a soft expression.
You looked back into the house, mind turning over as you thought about all the things May would need while you were gone. “I can do some grocery shopping, get some stuff for y’all to stock up your fridge. Uh—do you have a spare bedroom? If not, I have a blow-up mattress I can bring for her?” you rushed out, thoughts bouncing back and forth. “And I can give you some extra bed sheets and towels. What else...?” you asked yourself, brow furrowing.
“Relax,” Joel replied, voice warm and calming while rubbing his thumb against the inside of your wrist. “You don’t need to worry about any of that. Besides, we won’t be staying here anyway.”
“You won’t be—wait, what?”
“I’m takin’ Sarah to the ranch for the rest of summer break. We’re gonna be spendin’ her birthday there. I thought I told you when we were chattin’ last week, must not have.”
“No? The ranch?” you asked, head tilting in question.
“Yeah, I’ve got a ranch outside of Austin. It was my pop’s, he handed it down to me and Tommy when he passed. Sarah and I usually spend some time there in the summer. Will that be okay with May?”
You nodded hurriedly, quickly trying to reassure him. “Are you serious? Absolutely—that sounds great. So, is it like a proper working ranch?”
“Not quite,” he chuckled, eyes shining in the porch light. “Just a big property with some horses, a few other animals. Usually have people tendin’ to it when we’re not there.”
“Horses?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my God, she’s going to be so excited, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. This is way better than spending summer with her mom or going to camp. She is obsessed with horses.”
Joel laughed again, face soft and relaxed as his hand flexed against your arm, fingertips just brushing against your skin. “That’s good, she’ll have a good time then.”
You tilted your head up at him, only to find his eyes already on you—again, those dark eyes seemed to look right through you. Stuttering in a breath, you turned your hand over, arm moving as you looked up at him with a vulnerable expression, palm brushing against his. You bit your lip, teeth digging into the plush flesh as Joel’s fingers twitched, beginning to slide between yours before you closed the remaining gap and slotted them together.
The corner of his mouth lifted, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Promise—I’ll take real good care of her, like she’s my own. She’ll have fun.”
“I know. It’s you, Joel, I’m not worried. You’re the best dad, I know she’ll be in good hands.”
“Scout’s honour,” he said with a cheeky smile.
Joel had begun to open his mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted by the sound of giggles and feet smacking against the wooden floors of the house, before a blur of curly hair and a mass of limbs slammed into him.
A breath was ripped from him, the air stolen from his lungs as two small arms squeezed him tight. Your hands were disconnected in the flurry of movement, the body of a tiny eight-year-old sandwiched between you. “Sare Bear, would you loosen up on your old man, please?” he wheezed.
She giggled, pulling her arms back before sitting herself across his lap. May sat next to you, resting her head on your shoulder with a sleepy smile.
“Have fun, pumpkin?” Joel asked, hooking an arm around his daughter's back.
“Yep! When can May come over again?”
He glanced up at you before looking back down at her. “Well... that’s actually what we were just talkin’ about. What if May came and stayed with us on the ranch for a week or two? She can be there for your birthday?”
May sat forward with a jolt, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eyes to try and wake herself up as she looked back and forth between you and Joel.
“Really?” both the girls asked in unison, excitement already beginning to roll off them in waves.
“Am I allowed, Mom?” May asked.
“Yeah, well, I just found out today that I have to go away for work so it makes more sense for you to be with Joel and Sarah rather than sending you off to camp. I’ll be gone for two weeks, and Joel has very kindly offered to have you stay the whole time. Think that’ll be fine? You’ll be on your best behaviour?” you asked, raising your eyebrows with a pointed look.
She nodded quickly, fingers curling around your arm as she shook you. “Yes, yes, I promise. I’ll be good—they have horses, Mom, Sarah told me about it last week! I want to go, please, I promise, I swear, best behaviour!”
“And what do you say to Joel?”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed, looking back at you for a second, you sending a nod of encouragement her way as she turned around to Joel again. “I’m so excited,” she gushed, eyes lighting up.
Joel shook his head, brushing off the thanks and tapping the side of his knuckle against the underside of her chin. “No worries, kiddo. We’re excited to have you come stay. Right, Sare Bear?”
Sarah nodded, “Yes! Wait, let’s go to my room and pick out what we can take with us,” she said, giggling as she stood up and grabbed May’s hand, the two of them hurrying back off inside the house without a further word to you.
“Don’t go too far, May!” you called out behind her. “It’s almost home time.”
“Just five more minutes, please!” she threw over her shoulder as she ran down the hallway, Sarah pulling her along.
As you turned back to look at him, he was already watching you with an unreadable expression, one side of his mouth twisted up into a small smile, eyes soft and crinkling at the edges.
You tilted your head in question at him. “What is it?”
He shook his head minutely, gaze dropping from your eyes to flit across your face. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all,” he said quietly with a small huff of a laugh.
You had wanted to ask him—ask him why he’d been so kind to you, why he was offering to help you and have May stay with them, why he was looking at you like that; but you had felt the sweat already starting to stick to your chest. Simply being in his presence made your nerves double in size, the fluttering in your stomach continuing incessantly, and you didn’t think you would make it through any sort of conversation with Joel about feelings.
You were sure that even if you did ask him, he would just tell you point-blank that you were just friends, and he was doing what he could to look out for a fellow single parent. You couldn’t decide if the idea of that was a relief, something to give you closure to shove this damned crush to the back of your brain, or if it would secretly upset you, knowing that he didn’t see you in the same way.
It was for that exact reason that you didn’t ask, instead swallowing down the last remnants of your drink before standing and placing the tumbler on the deck next to Joel. Smoothing your palms down the tops of your jeans, you cleared your throat.
“Well, better head home,” you said with a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks again, Joel, I really appreciate it. I’ll give you all the details in a few days, once I have my flights and all the other stuff sorted out. I’ll call you.”
A few days later, your boss pulled you into her office to let you know that your client had backed out of the deal you had been working on, meaning you no longer needed to go on your trip to New York. At first, you were relieved, thinking that you wouldn’t have to trouble Joel with looking after May for two weeks and that you would actually get to spend some time with her. Then, that relief morphed into guilt when you realised that she wouldn’t get to spend time with her friend. She’d been talking nonstop about how Joel had promised to teach her how to ride a horse, and her excitement had grown tenfold as the days passed.
Slumping down on your desk, you rubbed a palm across your forehead and thought about what you could say to May, what you could do to make it up to her. You flipped your cell phone open, going into your contacts before clicking on Joel’s name and bringing it up to your ear.
“Hey you,” he answered after a few rings, a grin evident in his voice and the noise of a door closing coming through the receiver. “How’s it going? You all packed and ready to go?”
“Hey—uh, yeah, about that...” you said, running your thumb back and forward over a groove in the wood of your desk. “They’ve actually, um, they cancelled the trip, so...”
“Oh,” came his reply, a shuffling noise on the other end. “So, you’re stayin’ here then.”
“Yeah. I just found out, so figured I’d let you know you’re off the hook.”
Joel hummed and then stayed silent for a long moment. “I’m not gonna lie, Sarah’s gonna be disappointed,” he chuckled half-heartedly.
You let out a watery laugh of your own, sniffling as you felt your bottom lip quiver. “Yeah, so is May.”
“Hey, hey, don’t—you don’t need to... ‘m not trying to guilt you. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s just—” you sighed, shaking your head with a sniffle.
“Talk to me. What’s goin’ on?” he asked gently, his voice soft through the phone.
“I just feel like I’m failing... I’m always so fucking busy, she’s always missing out on things because of me. I’m always late, always rushing, always stressed... I’m just so exhausted, and May doesn’t deserve that,” you said through the thick feeling in your throat, eyes burning.
“Shh, just calm down for a second, sweetheart. Just take a breath, okay?”
You paused, breathing in and out, trying to will away the burning in your eyes and nose.
“Good, that’s good,” Joel whispered, voice low and gravelly over the phone. “You’re not failing. I’m not just sayin’ that either, you clearly work your ass off and even then you still do everything you can to be there for May. Hell, you do more for her than most of the other moms who have a partner helping them.” With no reply from you, he continued, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doin’ your best, and you’re doin’ a good job, okay?”
“Really?” you asked, a palm pressed to your cheek as you felt the burning in your eyes return from his kind words.
“Yeah, really.”
You were quiet again, the sound of your breath crackling over the line. “Thanks,” you replied weakly. “It just feels like so much sometimes, and I see someone like you, in the same position as me, single parent and all, and you always seem to have it together.”
Joel scoffed, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. “Not at all. I’m tryna figure this out just like you, I got no clue.”
“Well Sarah is happy, so you’re doing a good job.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice tinged with fondness.
You were both silent for a beat before you sniffed and spoke again. “Well, I just gotta figure out how I’m gonna break the news to May.”
He let out a small noise of realisation before he spoke again. “What if she comes and stays on the ranch anyway? Sarah’s real excited to have her there.”
“No, Joel, I felt bad enough imposing on you in the first place. I can’t let her stay with you if I’m going to be home.”
“Well, what if—” he started, clearing his throat before speaking again, this time more resolute. “What if you come too?”
“What?”
“What if the both of you come and stay with us? God knows you need the break, by the sounds of it.”
“Joel, I couldn’t—”
“Stop,” he chastised gently. “You’ve gotta learn to accept help sometimes, sweetheart. You’re not askin’, I’m offerin’,” he said, repeating the words he’d spoken to you a few nights ago.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, I’m positive.”
After a beat, you took a breath and with one last sniffle, you had sat up in your chair, looking around your office before speaking definitively. “Okay, I’d love to.”
—
end notes:
yay thank you for reading! part two will take us to the ranch!!
npt for some mutuals: @cavillscurls , @janaispunk , @party-hearses , @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin , @joelscurls, @planet-marz1 @undrthelights @joelsgreys 🫶 sorry if i forgot anyone!!!
✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Chapter 5: Let Me Take You There✨
Dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader
Series Masterlist
A/N: This has been a work in progress for 2 months, but it is finally here! Moodboard made by @mrsmando 🩵 I have been working on so many things lately, but I’m so happy with how this chapter turned out. I hope you enjoy 🥰 No beta for this one, but thank you to @mountainsandmayhem and @littlevenicebitch69 for letting me share snippets with you and scream about these two 🩷
Chapter Summary: After your parents cancel your weekend trip to Galveston at the last minute, Joel offers to take you instead.
Rating: 18+ Only MDNI
Word Count: 10.5k
Chapter Tags: Joel takes reader to Galveston, road trip, oral receiving (both male and female), unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, reader and Joel being in love, bondage, vibrator use, lots of fluff and smut, switching POVs, no use y/n
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
It’s Tuesday evening, a few days after your birthday and you’re sitting at the kitchen table eating takeout Mexican food. You’re not alone with your parents; your dad invited Joel over to watch some college game with him. He sits next to you, leg digging into yours as you let yours mold into his. His leg is strong, firm, holding you together as you let it rest against yours. You want to be in his arms, let him hold you tight while you drown in his lips, in his taste, but you can’t. Not here, not right now.
You take another bite out of your chicken enchilada and pop another chip drowned in queso in your mouth, letting the juicy flavors run down your throat as it hits just the right spot.
“Hey, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. You know the Galveston trip this upcoming weekend?” your dad asks, finishing off a bite of his cheesy quesadilla as he sips from his tall water glass.
“Yeah, what about it?” you ask through another bite of enchilada.
“We’re gonna have to cancel the trip,” he says sadly, taking another bite out of his dripping quesadilla like he has no care in the world for the words that just came out of his mouth.
“What?” you ask, shocked. You drop your fork and it goes tumbling to the ground, landing with a loud clunk against the hardwood. Joel doesn’t hesitate and reaches his long arm down, picking up the ruined fork and setting it on the table next to him.
“I’m sorry, hun. Your aunt May and Charlie are making a surprise visit down, and they’re gonna come stay with us for the weekend. We wanted to tell you Thursday, but we didn’t want to ruin your weekend,” she says with apologies all over her uneasy tone.
“Why couldn’t you just tell them we already had plans? You’ve never canceled this trip before!” The words come out stronger than you want them to, hurt written all over your angry voice. They knew this weekend was important to you. They knew.
Joel places a hand discreetly on your thigh to help soothe you, but you barely register his gentle touch with how mad you are.
“We tried, hun, but the plans just fell through. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to go. Maybe next year…”
You interrupt your mom. “Maybe next year?” you ask quietly with your lip quivering around your words. This trip was important to you. It was always something you looked forward to, but now it was ruined. You feel the backs of your eyes burn with hot tears, but you won’t let them see. They don’t deserve to see you crumble. You’ll just go sulk in your room.
Joel sees how upset you’re getting, sees the way you’re trying to keep it together at the table. He digs his thick fingers into the flesh of your knee and knits his brows together as he looks over at you from the corner of his eye. You feel his concern through the connected skin. As much as you want to place your hand over his, you just need a few minutes alone.
“If you’ll excuse me, I just lost my appetite,” you say as you push back your chair and feel Joel’s warm fingers drop from your skin.
As you leave the room and make your way up the towering steps, you hear your dad say something under his breath. “She just needs to cool off. She’ll be fine.”
For some reason those words just make you more frustrated as you tread up the stairs, letting a hot tear collapse down your cheek as your vision begins to blur. Stupid trip, stupid aunt, stupid everything. You can kiss goodbye to any chance of your ocean weekend getaway because it isn’t happening.
You slam the door closed and flop onto your bed, curling your knees into your chest as you let the tears fall. You try to keep yourself together, but you’re too angry, too sad, too hurt. It might not be a big deal to them, but it is to you. So you burn with the heat inside your body and let it swallow you whole.
Joel takes a stiff drink of his iced tea and looks over at George. “You didn’t tell me you were canceling the trip,” he says slowly, trying not to show the concern in his voice as he worries about you wallowing alone in your room.
“It just came up. May isn’t usually the type to just drop in, so we thought we’d better stay home and let them come on down. I feel bad, but sometimes things come up, ya know?” George says through a bite of a crunchy tortilla chip, not seeming all that concerned about his daughter.
“That’s too bad. She seemed really excited. I think you crushed her,” Joel says as calmly as he can without getting all worked up himself. The thing was, he hated seeing you upset, would never dream of ever making you feel that way. And now he felt obligated to make you feel better. He had to because you’re his girl, and he always takes care of his girl.
“We are really sorry. We just hope she’ll forgive us,” Claire says with a sigh huffed in between bites of her dinner.
“Yeah. Joel, the game’s back on, you ready to go finish it?” George asks as he gets up and starts heading toward the living room.
“Oh, yeah. Just go ahead and turn it on. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Gonna head up to the bathroom first,” Joel says as he pushes back his chair and heads toward the stairs.
“Alright, don’t take too long,” George calls as he disappears into the dark living room. Joel prowls up the stairs quietly and heads toward your room.
You wipe the last tear away from your cheek and look at yourself in the mirror across the room. You definitely look like you’ve been crying with your tinted red eyes and wet sleeves that leave traces of tears on the back of the aquamarine color. You feel like a complete mess.
Just then, you hear the click of the door handle and the squeak of hinges as Joel opens the door and slowly shuts in behind him. You silently gasp as you hope he doesn’t notice you were crying, but he probably will. He always notices.
“Hey, you okay there, darlin’?” Joel asks as he comes over and sits on the bed beside you, his eyebrows knit together with worry as his brown eyes stare intently at you.
“Mhm,” you hum out faintly as you keep your eyes locked on the cream carpet.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing to me,” he says as his hand brushes up against the side of your thigh, almost calming you down as your insides still rage like a hurricane.
“I’m fine, just a little upset is all,” you mumble out, holding back anymore tears that may spill over the edge.
“Hey, look at me,” he says gently as he cups your chin carefully and turns your face to him. His brown eyes are full of concern, and his gaze doesn’t waver from yours at all.
“Where’s that smile that I love so much, huh? C’mon, baby. Let me see it,” he coaxes as he lifts the corners of his mouth into a warm smile, the sight instantly calming you down.
He slowly unfolds you, and you can’t help but break when you see his crooked smile splayed across his face. It’s your favorite thing in the world. You drop the frown and replace it with a gentle smile as he trails his calloused thumb against your jawline, making you relax into his touch.
“Ahh there’s my girl. The one with the beautiful smile,” he presses as the words send a quick giggle out of you. “Attagirl,” he praises as you get lost in his soft brown eyes. He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, making your insides coat with tingles at the warmth of him.
“Thanks for making me feel a little better,” you sigh as you fall into his chest and lean your head into the crook of his neck as he gently runs a hand through your hair, soothing you into a calm state.
“I’m sorry about this weekend,” he apologizes as he gently combs his fingers through your hair.
“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault my parents canceled at the last minute. It’s whatever. I didn’t even want to go that bad anyways,” you pout as you jut your bottom lip out.
“Oh, yes you did, sweetheart. I saw how upset you got down there. This trip meant a lot to you, didn’t it?” he asks as he trails his large hand up and down your back repeatedly.
“Yeah, it did,” you sigh, letting the thoughts wash out of your head so you don’t get upset again.
“What if you could still go?” he asks as your body goes still underneath his touch.
“Huh?” you ask as you pull your head up and sit up straight. “Still go? What do you mean?” you ask, confused because the trip had already been canceled.
“What if you could still go, would you?” he asks as he pushes a fallen stray curl away from his forehead.
You ponder his question, wondering why he’s asking such a silly thing. “Of course I would, but why are you asking?” You raise an eyebrow and look at him curiously, trying to decipher his meaning.
“Because,” he starts, straightening out his button-up blue flannel, “what if I take you?”
Your mouth drops open and your eyes go wide. “What?” you ask with a locked jaw expression, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth.
“What if I take you? Just you and me. We could stay the weekend, get a little sun, maybe swim some, explore Galveston.”
“You’d do that for me?” you ask with teary eyes as he connects his hand with yours, entwining his fingers with yours as you feel them burn the back of your skin.
“I’d do anything to see that pretty smile, sweetheart,” he says with the curl of his lips and the dimple that presses deep into his cheek.
He’s so fucking beautiful and sweet and so loving. How did you ever get so lucky?
“Joel…”
“Let me take you to Galveston, please. I’d love nothing more, truly,” he says with genuine brown eyes.
You start to tear up, vision blurring as the tears lick at the edges of your eyes and start to fall against your cheeks. Joel cups your face with his big hands and wipes away the falling tears with the pads of his thumbs.
“Hey, hey. What’s the matter? Why are you cryin’, darlin’?” he asks worriedly as he looks into your eyes intensely, concern lathered in those doe eyes of his.
“You’re just… you’re just so good to me, Joel. Why are you so perfect?” you cry out as another hot tear falls from your eyes. Joel catches it with the tip of his thumb and brushes it away effortlessly.
“I’m nowhere near perfect,” he chuckles as he keeps his brown eyes on you, “I just know how much the trip meant to you, and there’s no way I’m letting that get taken from you. You wanna go? Then we’re going. I’m not gonna see you disappointed, baby. I’ll take you there myself, and I’m gonna make sure you enjoy every second of it,” he confirms as he drops his hands from your face.
You suck in a breath and slam into his broad chest as you wrap your arms tightly around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. God, I love you so much,” you breathe into his ear, feeling one of his hands come to cup the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist.
“You’re so welcome. And I love you, too, sweetheart. Never gonna stop,” he says slowly into your ear, making every part of you completely lose it for him.
You lift your chin up and slowly plant your lips on his, letting the moment move slow, delicately, passionately. You sink into his weight and let him devour your lips, your tongue, your everything.
Joel Miller was the definition of everything, and you’d never ever let him go.
The cool breeze of November blows in a rush through your long locks of hair as you lean your head out the window, the air crisp and smelling of pine trees as you rest your elbows on the edge of the door and enjoy the taste of freedom. The radio hums low through the speakers as you feel Joel’s eyes on your back, feeling his warm smile on your skin as you close your eyes and take in this beautiful moment.
The drive to Galveston is relaxing, the sun kissing your skin as you bathe in warm sunlight. Joel taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel along to an AC/DC song that plays quietly throughout the truck. You take a moment to turn toward him, leaning your head on the back of the seat as you admire the beautiful man that sits before you. Tousled curls with grey threaded through his thick locks, a blue flannel that tugs at his muscular biceps, a glowing smile that reflects off the backs of your eyes as you soak him up, painting a pretty picture in your mind that you’ll surely take to your grave.
Joel catches you staring and reaches an arm out as he snatches your fingers and pulls your hand up to his plush lips. He grazes his lips against the back of your knuckles and laces his fingers through yours as he pulls your hand into his lap, holding tight as he drives along the vacant highway.
You blink twice and smile as you watch him drive, your hand on top of his thigh as he looks over and sees you in a lovesick daze. “What are you smilin’ ‘bout, hmm?” he asks as he smirks your way, arching an eyebrow as he drives along.
“Oh, no reason. Just can’t believe you’re taking me all the way to Galveston.”
He squeezes your hand gently and looks over at you as the crow’s feet crinkle around his warm eyes. “Well, believe it, baby. Gotta keep my girl happy. And trust me, I wouldn’t wanna spend the weekend doin’ anythin’ else.”
You scoot over to his side, unfastening your seatbelt as you nuzzle up into the side of his neck, catching the edge of his greying scruff. He tsks at you as he eyes you with your seatbelt off. “Seatbelt on, baby. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”
You huff out a response, batting your long eyelashes up at him. “I just wanted to be next to you. Being in the passenger seat was too far away,” you pout.
He rolls his eyes and sighs, putting a strong arm around you as he hugs you into his side. “You’re a handful, you know that?” You giggle out and he just shakes his head. “Guess you can stay right here, can’t say no to my girl.”
You beam up at him, reaching up to leave a sweet kiss against his tanned cheek while you wrap your arm around his hip and nuzzle back into the warm, woodsy scent of his flannel. You still can’t believe you’re going to the beach with your boyfriend, your dad’s best friend, and you can’t even fathom how he fell in love with you in the first place, but you’re so glad he did because you think he’s the love of your life.
Joel stops on the way to Galveston at Buc-ee’s, and the both of you jump out and grab all your favorite snacks for the long ride. The two of you share a bbq sandwich, grab fountain drinks, a bag of Doritos, beef jerky, and numerous bags of candy. When you’re back in the truck and driving down the long highway, you’re back against Joel’s side and leaning your head on his shoulder while you slowly chew on a piece of salted beef jerky.
He leans down and bites off a piece of it which makes your head fall back and laughter flow out the cracked window. Who knew that a simple road trip with your dad’s best friend would be the most exciting thing to happen this year? You never saw it coming, but neither did he. He just made you that happy. You’d be content just sitting by his side, reading a book while he watched a baseball game on tv. It was simple really, you were just that in love with Joel.
He takes another bite and hugs you tight against his side while his fingers slowly trail up and down your outer arm, making tingles flow down your spine. “So, what’d you tell your parents? Reckon your mother gave you a mouthful for leavin’ on the weekend you have family comin’ into town,” Joel says as he keeps one hand on the leather steering wheel, his eyes vigilant on the straight road ahead.
You sigh, leaning your head on his broad shoulder. “Told them I was having a girl’s trip this weekend in Dallas. My mom was pissed, but she’ll get over it.”
He nods his head, tongue sliding over his bottom teeth as he eyes you from the corner of his vision. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quick. Besides, how can she stay mad at a pretty face like yours, hmm?” He cups your chin as his calloused fingers slide against your smooth skin, leaning over to give you a quick kiss on your cheek.
You smile up at him, your cheeks warming from the golden sun and his soft touch. He really is the sweetest guy you know. “Thanks, Joel. You always know how to cheer me up.”
“Always here for ya, baby.” He laces his fingers with yours and brings your hand up to his lips while he lays gentle kisses across your dainty knuckles.
When he releases your hand to focus on driving again, you pick out a sucker wrapped in pink paper and slowly unfold the sweet treat. You pop it into your mouth slowly and savor the cherry flavor on your tongue. Joel watches you lick at the sucker, your tongue sliding along the see through candy, eyes growing dark when he watches you pop it out of your mouth with drool sticking to the top.
He shifts in his seat, eyebrows furrowing together as he smirks your way, a devilish grin spreading across his crooked smile. “That good, huh?” he asks with hooded eyes.
You smile his way, taking your tongue along the smooth edge as you slowly lick at the cherry flavored sucker. “Sooo good,” you hum as you take it further into your mouth, as far as you can without choking yourself.
His jaw clenches, hands tightening on the steering wheel as he drives along, fighting himself from running off the road. “Better stop that now,” he warns, his eyes flickering with dark flecks of temptation as he gazes at you again with little control.
“Stop what?” you ask innocently, giving the sucker another lick as you stare directly into his smoldering eyes.
“Stop fuckin’ teasin’ me. You tryin’ to kill me?” he murmurs as you eye the hardening cock against his jeans. Oh yeah, you were going to have fun with this.
“Not trying to kill you, handsome. Just having some fun,” you tease.
He sighs, raking a hand slowly down his grey threaded scruff. “You’re trouble, sweetheart. A little tease is what you are.”
“Oh, I know,” you giggle.
You lean over and lick your tongue up the side of his neck, tasting the salt of sweat and a hint of mahogany cologne. You taste him.
“Christ,” Joel groans as he grips the steering wheel even harder. “You’re gonna make me pull this truck over if you’re not careful, I mean it,” he warns, his voice thick and gravelly against the pinch of temptation.
“You’re not gonna pull over. You’re gonna keep driving with your eyes on the road while I do this.” You palm him through his jeans, feeling just how hard he is as he groans through his gnashed teeth.
“Now, sweetheart. Jus’ hold on there.” He tries to pry your hand off, but you don’t move an inch.
“Joel, I’ve wanted to do this for years. Please, let me make you feel good. Rather suck on your cock than this lollipop.” You give another innocent lick to the pink sucker and bat your long eyelashes at him, giving him the prettiest smile you can muster up.
He ticks his jaw, eyebrows molding together while he drags a huff out. “Alright, alright. Jus’ don’t go wild. I need to concentrate on the road.”
“Noted,” you wink, watching him grit his teeth together as he watches you slowly unzip his denim jeans, pulling his boxers down while his hard cock springs up and hits his soft tummy.
You revel at how thick and long he is, wrapping a hand around him to slowly slide up and down his shaft, spreading the leaking precum over his entirety. He groans at your slow motions, eyes blowing out as he watches you sink down to his lap while your mouth closes over him.
“Fuckkk,” he groans as you bob your head up and down his shaft, hovering down to where his tip is kissing the back of your throat, making you choke and drool all over his weeping cock. He shifts beneath you, hands cemented to the steering wheel as he fights to keep his eyes on the road instead of at your pretty mouth around his thick length.
You gather your spit and fist him in your hand, moaning while you hear the wet, sticky noises of your fingers working him nice and good up and down repeatedly. You feel your own slick gathering in your panties, an ache you’re desperate to alleviate. You slide your left hand under the lace, circling your throbbing clit while you moan his name, still working him up and down with your hand.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he growls, watching you get yourself off with your own fingers. “If I wasn’t in the middle of the highway, I’d pull this truck over and have you spread across my lap while I finished the job.”
“Yeah?” you whine, fingers curling up inside yourself while your thumb presses down on your pulsing bundle of nerves.
“Oh yeah, sweetheart. Better believe I’m takin’ care of you later. You brought what I asked, right?”
“Mhm,” you hum, feeling yourself about to spill inside your denim shorts.
“Attagirl. Gonna get you all nice and wet with my fingers, my tongue. Gonna tie you to the bedpost and give you what you deserve. Gonna make my girl come so hard that we’ll need new sheets before the night is through,” he growls with gritted teeth.
“Joel,” you moan, feeling a white hot sensation flow through your body before your panties are ruined with your release, continuing to stroke him while you come down from the blissful high of an orgasm.
“That’s my good fuckin’ girl,” he praises. You’re absolutely drenched from his dirty words.
You take a minute to come back to the present while your eyes glaze over, feeling his pulsing cock beneath your fingers while you work him up and down slowly. You lean over and glide the tip of your tongue up the underside of his cock where a large vein guides you forward. He groans, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel while you work your magic.
Suddenly, Joel stills beneath you, hearing his phone buzz deep in his pocket. He curses under his breath and reaches one hand in, grabbing up his vibrating phone as his eyes blow wide.
“It’s your father,” he mutters, knitting his eyebrows together as he answers the phone. “Hey, George. What’s up?” he says casually, motioning for you to stop while he talks on the phone.
You still your hand, keeping it wrapped firmly around the base, brushing the end of your nose through his coarse, wiry hairs, breathing him deep as you get intoxicated off his manly musk.
“Beers at your house tonight? Sorry, bud. I’m actually out of town this weekend.”
You hear your dad on the other end sighing, can almost see him rolling his eyes. You know he misses his best friend, but right now he’s a bit tied up with you.
“M’sorry. It was a bit last minute, but I’m goin’ to the lake with Sarah.”
You listen to Joel and your dad carry on the conversation, one hand on the steering wheel tight while he balances the phone on his shoulder. You know he’s trying not to break while he’s on the phone, but you just can’t help yourself.
You lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock, flicking your tongue in slow circles around his swollen red tip as he hisses through his teeth. He glares at you, but you just smile sweetly up at him as you dive back in.
You take him deep in your mouth, feeling the salty precum slide down your throat as you choke on him again and again. He grabs the back of your hair, letting you work him over, swallowing your own moans with his thick length.
You take him deeper, choking on him while you make the most obscene gagging noises around his cock. “Ahh fuck,” he growls through his teeth as he looks down with blown out black eyes. “Oh, sorry. Jus’ lifted somethin’ a little too heavy for me. Guess I couldn’t quite handle it,” he mutters while his fingers grab your hair harder.
He pushes you down further, rutting his hips up while you choke again and again on his cock, letting him deepthroat you as your drool and spit coat him in wetness.
“Yeah, that’s right. Mhm, feels fuckin’ great at the lake. Not too cold, not too hot, jus’ right,” he grits through his teeth, fisting your locks in his hand as he drags your mouth up and down him, mouth fucking him intensly. You’re nearly drowning in him.
“Mhm. Tuesday. I’m gonna come. On Tuesday, right,” he pants out, teeth gritted together as he pushes your head down hard and blows his load inside your hollowed out cheeks.
You swallow him down, barely able to take all the hot ropes of cum as some leaks out of your mouth. He curses under his breath and hits the back of his head on the headrest, broad chest heaving while you clean him up and lap up all the excess cum and drool on his messy cock. When you’re done cleaning him and his cock is softening, you fold it back into his boxers and pull his jeans back up, zipping them up for Joel.
He takes deep breaths, listening to the last few words your dad tells him on the phone. He seems uninterested in whatever your dad has to say, his eyes only watching you now. They’re glazed over, dark flecks shining in the sunlight as he looks at you with love in his eyes. It makes your heartbeat pick up and kick against your chest.
“Alright, George. Sounds good. Have a good weekend. See ya Tuesday.” He clicks the phone off and shoves it in his pocket while his hand trails back over to you. His eyes find yours, and they look so beautiful in the rays of sunshine that glow through the window.
“You messy, messy girl. Goin’ down on me when I’m tryin’ to drive, when I’m on the phone with your father. You’re such a mess, baby,” he chuckles as he settles a large palm on the top of your head, gently running his fingers softly through your long locks.
“Mhm. I’ve always wanted to do that for you. And now I can say I have,” you giggle.
“Christ. How’d I get so lucky with you, hmm?” he smiles, watching you turn on your side and laying your head in his lap while one of your arms wraps around his thigh.
“The question is how’d I get so lucky with you? I’ve wanted you for so long, and now I finally have you all to myself. Almost doesn’t seem real, you know?”
You hear him hum while his thick fingers curl against your shoulder. “I know what ya mean, sweetheart. It’s real, though. You’re mine, and I’m not lettin’ you go. You’re stuck with me, pretty girl.”
“Fine with me, cowboy,” you smile.
He chuckles out, the weight of his laughter echoing through your heart. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“And I love you, Joel Miller.”
He smiles down at you as you situate yourself in his lap, closing your eyes to take a nap. Maybe when you wake up you’ll see the surf and sand of Galveston before your eyes.
After you check into the lavish hotel and place your bags in your suite, you and Joel both throw on your swimsuits and grab some beach towels. You settle into a dark teal bikini, and Joel almost matches you with light blue swim trunks. He looks so good, so broad with his tanned chest almost glistening in the sun, his large muscles flexing every time he moves. He looks like a masterpiece.
Just when you almost get lost in your fantasies in your mind, Joel pulls you right back out. “I’ll race ya to the beach,” he smirks as he pulls open the back sliding door that leads to a winding staircase down to the beach.
“Bet I can beat you,” you giggle as you push him in the shoulder and race past him, barreling down the sturdy steps as you hear him laughing uncontrollably behind you.
“Cheater,” he laughs with a gravelly tone, “pushed right past me.”
You turn your face his way and stick your tongue out playfully. “Come catch me, slow poke,” you giggle. That just makes him sprint faster toward you.
You take off in the warm sand, your heart beating wildly inside your chest as you run toward the blue crashing waves of the ocean. You turn your head back around quickly and scream when you see him right on your heels.
“C’mere, pretty girl,” he chuckles. One more step and he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder while you squeak and try to escape.
“Joel, put me down!” you laugh, using every bit of strength in you to break free of his hold, but it’s no use. He’s got you in a tight embrace.
“Ain’t puttin’ you down jus’ yet, baby. Nah, gonna jus’ take ya for a little dip in the water.”
“Joel Miller, put me down this instant!” you squeak as he squeezes the backs of your thighs, taking off into the thick sand.
“Nah, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna do that.”
You hear the crash of waves before you see them, and then he’s throwing you into the salty water while your head gets completely covered in the cold water. You make your way quickly up to the surface and rub the salt out of your eyes, yelling at Joel playfully while he laughs in the near distance.
Once you see him you start splashing him in the face with the cold water, watching his hair get completely soaked with his tousled curls slicked back with big droplets of salt water framing his face. “Now who’s winning!” you shout gleefully.
“Oh, so you wanna be like that? Okay, baby. Two can play at that game.” He starts splashing you right back while you turn your head and avoid the salt water getting in your eyes.
It’s a water fight in the best possible way, you and Joel going back and forth seeing who can make the biggest splash and who can get the most soaked. A fit of giggles leave your mouths while the sunshine warms your dripping shoulders. It goes on for minutes, the playful water fight until Joel comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist.
“C’mere,” he chuckles. He spins you around and pins you to his chest while his lips find yours hungrily. You melt into the kiss, fingers twisting through his dripping curls, him slotting his tongue into your mouth as you taste the salty flavor of the ocean and him.
You squeak when he picks you up, legs wrapping around his hips as one of his hands locks you to him. You rest your forehead on his, your lips curved into a warm smile as you take in the salt water that covers his tanned skin. “Thanks for taking me here, Joel,” you whisper against his mouth.
“Anytime, darlin’. Anytime.”
You wrap your arms around his neck and let him hold you up in the water, keeping your body flush to his chest. You both turn your attention to the horizon, watching the gentle blue waves lap against the water, focusing on the afternoon glow of the sun, the graceful seagulls flying overhead, your own beating heart mixing with Joel’s.
It’s moments like this that you can never take for granted. Being at the beach with your lover, not having to sneak around under the nose of your reluctant father, being at one of your favorite places in Texas. It’s all surreal, almost fictional. You’re one hell of a lucky girl, and you know that. God, you know that.
You rest your head on Joel’s shoulder and feel him kiss the top of your head slowly, his lips grazing against your drenched hair. “This is so peaceful, Joel,” you breathe, sighing into the scruff of his jaw.
“Mhm, it sure is. Haven’t been down here in a while. You know Sarah was jealous, right?”
You giggle and look up at him, catching the sunlight strike his dazzling honey colored eyes. “You told her you were coming here?”
“Yeah. Guess it was a mistake ‘cause she threw a fit, but she got over it. Told her I wanted a little alone time with my girl.”
You smile and nod in understanding. “Glad she took it well.”
“Me too. She kept askin’ when we were gonna tell your folks about us,” he sighs, one hand raking down the curve of his jaw, thick fingers catching water droplets from his greying beard.
You huff and sink back into his chest. “I don’t even want to think about that. I mean eventually we’ll have to, but not today. Not this month, or year. Maybe next year,” you sigh while your nails scratch against the back of his tousled curls.
“Whenever you want, baby. M’not in a rush either. Whenever you feel like the right time is, we’ll tell ‘em together. I’ll be right there by your side, no matter what happens. M’not goin’ anywhere, even if your father hates me after. I’m yours. Always.” He brushes his lips over your cheekbone, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower regions. The man always knew how to get you.
You stay in the cool, salty water just a little longer, going back and forth from floating on your back to being in Joel’s arms. No one else is in the water or on the beach, it’s just you and Joel. Your own island paradise for the weekend.
You bathe in the beauty of it all. The salty air breezing across your hair, sun kissed skin soaking in every bit of ray of sunshine the sky graces you, Joel standing behind you with his lips brushing against your collarbone, his deep hums sending sparks of lightning through your core. You never want to leave this place, never want to leave him. You’ll just stay in the moment for as long as you can.
“Joel?”
“Hmm?” He hums as he kisses your neck sweetly, his other hand dancing along the bikini line as his thick fingers play with the teal material by your hip bone.
“Promise me this isn’t just a dream and that I’m not gonna wake up tomorrow with you gone.”
He chuckles behind you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers in his deep, gruff voice you so love. “S’not a dream, baby. It’s real, I’m real. And I can promise you I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
You sink your weight into his broad chest, his finger cupping your chin with his calloused fingers. He tips your head backwards and meets your lips with his, letting him soak you in all his sunshine and salty presence while you float off on a cloud into paradise. This is heaven, Joel is heaven. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him.
After half an hour of basking in the beautiful ocean, you decide to get out and lay in the sand for a while. You drag your feet through the damp sand, body relaxed and tired from the ocean water. You spot your towels laid out together, yours pink and Joel’s dark blue. But before you can reach them you feel Joel catch your hips while he envelops you in his warm hold, dragging you down to the sand as his weight topples over you. He pins your wrists to the warm sand while he holds himself over you.
“Got you,” he chuckles, hovering over you with his tousled curls dripping salt water all over your chest.
“Joel!” you laugh as you erupt into a fit of giggles. “Didn’t realize we were still playing.”
“Mmm, found the perfect opportunity to take you down again. Couldn’t resist,” he chuckles.
“Silly old man,” you tease.
“Old man, huh? Ain’t old enough to do this,” he laughs, sinking his body against yours while his lips crash into you.
You melt into his lips, your fingers running through his tousled curls that smell of salty water and mahogany, the two mixing together to form a scent you breathe into your lungs and get lost in. His tongue dances with yours, his rough hands gliding against the curve of your hips as he slithers his way between your legs.
You stay like that for minutes just breathing each other in, getting lost in the hungry kisses, the panting breaths that sound in tune with the lapping waves against the shoreline. It all feels like a dream, but this is real, and it’s the most perfect day with your ridiculously hot boyfriend.
He nips at your bottom lip, slowly releasing his mouth as he hovers back over you. When you open your eyes, you gasp. The way the warm sun beams down over him makes him look angelic, a bright light surrounding him as you look into those beautiful honey eyes, the dark flecks reflecting off your own. God, he looks so beautiful, so exquisite. You could stare at him every second of every day if you got the chance to.
Your fingers brush over his grey threaded beard, lips parting in awe as you smile up at him. His lips curve into a warm smile that makes your toes curl, and his eyes crinkle down at you while one of his hands grazes against your jawline.
“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. You know that?” he asks, affection spilling off his Southern drawl while he traces your bottom lip with the tip of his thumb.
“You tell me all the time, handsome,” you smile, eliciting a groan from his mouth as you drag your fingers against the scruff of the back of his neck.
“You deserve to be told every single second of every day, sweetheart. And I’ll do that, over and over again. Even if you get tired of it, I’ll keep at it. ‘Cause you deserve the world, so let me give it to you.”
Your mouth drops open, your heart in your throat. You’re so stunned that you can barely say anything but run your fingers through his hair, a wide smile splayed over your face as you gaze into the eyes of the love of your life.
“Joel Miller, never knew you were such a romantic at heart,” you smile, lazing into those crystal clear dark eyes.
“Always been a romantic, baby. Guess I jus’ didn’t have anyone to show it to. But now, there’s you. So let me shower you in it. Got many years to make up for it,” he chuckles.
You drag his face down to yours, pressing your lips flush against his until you sink back into him, reveling in his touch, his kiss, his everything while the sun slowly slips against your ocean kissed skin. You swallow his essence, inviting him in while his tongue swirls feverishly around yours. It’s like you’re in the middle of a cute little romance movie, but this is your reality. This is real.
He drags one of your bikini straps down, slipping his fingers underneath the silky teal top, grazing against the underside of your breast. “Joel, stop,” you groan. “This isn’t a nude beach,” you laugh.
“There ain’t nobody around, darlin’. Jus’ let me do one thing, yeah?” he asks while you silently nod your head in approval.
He drags one of your cups free, burying his face in your chest as he takes the flat of his tongue and gently swirls around your pebbled breast. You groan into the shell of his ear while his other hand lightly feathers against the folds of your already soaked center.
“Joel,” you warn, wrapping your arms around his salt covered neck as he nips up your collarbone. He slips a hand beneath your bikini bottoms and starts to slowly circle your puffy clit, eliciting a moan that falls like a melody against the curve of his ear.
“Yeah? That feel good, darlin’?” he asks, feeling just how drenched you are beneath your bikini. He presses harder against your aching bud, pulling you dangerously close to spilling over him as you feel a cold wave hit the backs of your feet.
“Joel, fuck - you’re gonna make me…”
“Make you come? Go on, gorgeous. Spill for me. Know you want to,” he purrs, his calloused fingers swirling swiftly around your bundle of nerves until you dig your fingers into the scruff of his neck and moan his name intensely while he elicits a long, amazing orgasm from you. Your body jolts at the aftershocks, coming down from your high as cum spills all over your teal bikini.
“Attagirl,” he praises, working you through your orgasm, then slipping his fingers inside his mouth to clean them off properly. He groans at the taste of you, savoring the flavor against his tongue.
He leans back and looks at you, glistening tanned skin and chocolate coated eyes you want to melt in. He’s absolutely stunning. “Joel Miller getting me off on the beach?” you smirk as you raise an eyebrow at him.
“Mhm, couldn’t wait to get back to the room. Had to get a taste and repay you for the favor you did for me in the truck.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but laugh and roll him over into the sand. You climb on top of his chest and drape your arms over his broad shoulders while he brings his large hands up to rub your back softly.
“You’re the best, Miller. Best I ever had,” you smile as you rest your chin on his tanned chest.
“Mmm, think you’re the best, sweetheart. Never met a girl that got me quite like you do. You’re somethin’ else.”
He takes one of his fingertips and traces a heart in the sand, writing out your initials and drawing an arrow through the heart with a lovesick look in those pools of honey. You gawk at him, almost tearing up when you see how mesmerized he looks hovering over your initial, like it’s the most important thing in the world to him.
“There. Now it’s our beach. Jus’ yours and mine, baby. It’s written in the sand,” he lulls warmly.
You smile down at him, placing your hand against the soft scruff of his jaw and turn his face toward yours. You part your lips, almost speechless as words start to fail you. Joel really was a romantic after all. Your perfect, romantic, endearing boyfriend.
“Joel Miller. You amaze me every single day. And God, I’m just so in love with you,” you muse.
“Sweetheart, it’s me that’s so in love with you. Never gonna stop. It’s written in the sand, in the ocean, in the stars even. You’re mine, baby. All mine,” he whispers, staring up at you with the most endearing brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Everything about this moment is magical.
You gaze into the warmth of his honey eyes and play with his tousled curls, running your fingers through the soft locks as you get lost in his gaze. You stay like that another hour, listening to the lapping waves of the ocean, soaking up the warm sun, getting hopelessly lost in his mahogany and salt water scent. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, just like he is with you.
After a while, Joel helps you up off the sand and leads you across the shoreline. He takes your hand in his and guides you through the lapping water, taking in the salty breeze of the sea and the picturesque vision of you and him walking along the coast. It’s so romantic, so very special, and it feels so right. His strong hand in yours, him smiling down at you with those beautiful brown eyes, and his smile that sends you over the edge every single time. It’s all just so breathtaking.
Maybe this was fate after all, maybe you were meant to be on this beach with Joel the whole time. It sure seems like it now. You realize why it never worked with anyone else. It’s because Joel Miller was always the one. You just didn’t know it then, but you do now. He’s the one for you. Your forever.
After you and Joel have showered and thrown on white silky robes, you sit on the balcony and watch the sunset paint the sky purple and amber colors. You lean into Joel on the reclining chair, letting his fingertips trace up and down your arms slowly while his lips brush against the shell of your ear.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you ask, watching the waves slowly lap against the sand while he murmurs in your ear.
“Mhm, gorgeous.” He grazes his lips against your cheek and whispers sweet words into your ear. “You wanna go back inside? Let me make love to my girl,” he whispers as he trails another kiss over your cheek.
You spin around and smile down at him. “Okay, handsome. What’d you have in mind?” you giggle.
He smirks up at you and chuckles. “You remember when we were watchin’ Scream on Halloween night, and I asked about the whole handcuff thing?”
You raise your eyebrows in question and nod. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, don’t exactly have the handcuffs, but that black silk ribbon I asked you to bring? Gonna use that to tie you to the headboard. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. That what you want?” he asks with a long Southern drawl, eyes darkening as he speaks to you in a deep voice.
You gulp and nod your head. “Okay, daredevil. Take me to bed then,” you whisper into the shell of his ear.
He wastes no time and hauls you up, cradling you in his strong arms as he makes his way through the sliding glass door, closing it with the heel of his foot. “On the bed for me, naked,” he instructs as you fully oblige.
The room is massive, marble countertops and fancy light fixtures filling the room. The room is dim, only a couple of lamps on as the luminescent dark blue walls cover the space. The king sized bed is pristine, white sheets with fluffy pillows covering the top of the bed. The headboard is made of light wood, and a small fireplace crackles underneath the 70 inch flat screen tv in the center of the room.
You slip off your robe, crawling onto the plush bed while Joel watches with wide eyes, grabbing a couple things from your pink suitcase that sits in the corner of the room. His eyes stay locked on yours, especially when you spread your legs wide and show him the sticky mess already building up over your warm core.
He licks his lips, dragging a hand slowly over his mouth while he feasts on your naked body. “Look at you, baby girl. Already so wet and ready for me. Christ, you’re a fuckin’ vision,” he purrs, leaning against the edge of the bed just mesmerized at the perfection that splays in front of him.
You smile, bedroom eyes slipping over his tanned form, and he knows exactly what that means. He crawls over you, pushing your legs further apart with his knees and catching your wrists above your head. “Stay still for me, sweetheart. Gonna tie you up now.”
You stay still, letting him collect your wrists above your head, gently tying the black silk ribbon against the headboard. You almost moan, feeling his thigh brush against your clit as he sits back to assess his work. “You okay? Not too tight?” he asks with concerned brown eyes.
“Feels perfect, Joel,” you smile, giving him a mischievous smirk while your foot hikes his robe up his tanned thigh. “Gonna take that off, Miller?”
He chuckles, untying the belt slowly and then ripping it off his body as it goes crashing to the floor. You gawk at him, watching his cock twitch before you, already hardening as he assesses your bare body before him.
“Look at my man. So handsome, tan, big, all mine,” you giggle.
“Mmm, all yours, gorgeous. Now breathe for me. Wanna try somethin’,” he murmurs with darkening eyes.
You see him spread your thighs more, trailing kisses up your inner thighs and brushing his nose through your folds, dragging it over your sensitive clit and ending in the soft curls above your mound.
He gives you a devilish grin and then licks a long, thick stripe up your core, sending a moan falling from your lips as he drinks in the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby girl,” he groans, licking the slick from his lips slowly. “Now, for the fun part. Think you’re gonna love this,” he smiles.
He reaches behind his back and grabs the vibrator that was sitting underneath your clothes in your suitcase. He turns the power on, starting it slow as the buzzing noise fills the width of the room. Before he brings it to your center, he hovers it just over your clit as he speaks. “Take a deep breath. Gonna start it slow.”
Your breath falters when he places the end of the vibrator on your clit, pressing down and massaging slow circles across your bundle of nerves. “Fuck, Joel,” you whine, letting him revel in your long, drawn out moans.
“Attagirl, feels good don’t it?” he chuckles, watching the way your lips part and eyes blow wide.
“Yeah, it feels - ohhhhh,” you moan, feeling him slip two digits into your dripping hole, working them nice and slow, curling up into the spongy wall that makes you lose control.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let’s take it up a notch, shall we?” he smirks.
He switches the settings, powering the vibrator to a more intense level that has your legs shaking uncontrollably. He shifts his knee, pinning your thigh down so he can see the spasming movements of your ruined pussy.
His eyes expand into black pits, tongue licking against his bottom lip while he assesses the damage he does to your soaked core. He watches the way the slick runs down his knuckles, fingers fucking deep into your drenched pussy, obscene squelching noises and melodic moans filling the room. He’s never heard anything more beautiful in his entire life.
He presses down harder on your throbbing clit, the buzzing motion of the vibrator making you squirm beneath his calloused fingers. “Joel, I’m so close. I’m so - oh,” you writhe, hearing the wet noises of him fucking your pussy with his thick fingers faster and faster, feeling him coaxing you on each time his fingertips kiss that perfect spongy spot that makes you black out.
“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises, pressing downward on the vibrator and opening a whole new sensation that makes you form your lips into a wide O, white hot heat sliding down the edge of your spine.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, fusing your eyebrows together and choking on a moan.
“Come for me, beautiful. Make a mess on these fingers,” he coaxes.
One more brush of the vibrator and curl of his thick fingers and you’re gone. You moan his name, twisting your fingers into the silky ribbon as you feel the rush of bliss blow over you. You release for him, spilling all over his fingers, along with another wave of pleasure that overcomes you. You feel yourself squirt, watch yourself coat his broad chest, the scruff of his jaw with the slick that just keeps flowing.
“Oh, Jesus Christ you’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby. There she goes. Jus’ keeps on comin’. Fuckin’ drenchin’ me,” he purrs all mesmerized and hypnotic while he talks you through it.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s a good girl,” he praises, turning the vibrator off while he collects slick against your glistening mound. He slides his fingers from your insides, popping his soaked digits into his mouth, groaning from the taste of you.
“Joel, that was incredible,” you pant, coming back to your body after the intense orgasm washes through you.
“Yeah? Well, I ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart,” he teases, a crooked smile forming over his beautiful face.
“Not yet?” you ask, laughing.
“Not yet,” he confirms with a glint in his blown out eyes.
Your eyes look down, staring at the large erection between his legs. His cock is thick, the head red and swollen while precum leaks down his shaft. You go wide-eyed, licking your lips as you gaze hungrily at him.
“Joel,” you whine.
“What do ya need, baby girl? Use your words.”
You strain against your bindings, panting desperately, trying to show him how badly you need him between your thighs. “Your cock. Need you inside, please,” you beg.
“Don’t gotta beg for me, darlin’. It’s all yours, I’m all yours,” he smiles.
He brings your legs over his shoulders, crawling between your thighs as he stretches you wide, cock gliding against your folds, collecting slick on his angry tip. You groan at the feeling of him, the tingling sensation his cock gives as it slides against your wetness.
“You ready for me?” he asks, brushing over your clit once more as you stifle a moan.
“Mhm,” you hum.
“Okay, baby girl. Deep breath for me,” he instructs.
He pushes into you, stretching you wide as his thick cock fills you to the brim. You pant, writhing beneath him while he starts a slow rhythm of going back and forth, his grunts becoming savage like when he talks you through it.
“There ya go, sweetheart. Takin’ me so good, jus’ like you always do,” he grunts out, his large hands caging you against him.
You want so badly to be able to run your hands through his hair, want to scratch your nails down the tanned skin of his back, feel the sweat building on his sculpted skin. Being tied up is hot, and something about not being in control right at this moment is really turning you on, but you also want to just be able to really feel him.
He sees you struggling with your wrists, pulling against the black silk while you pant out his name through every brush of his cock against your tight walls. He stills his thrusts, giving you a concerned look as he takes you in. “You okay, sweetheart? Is it too tight? Too much?” he asks with a soft voice.
“I just… This is really hot, Joel. But I kind of just want my hands free so I can touch you,” you say with glossy eyes.
He chuckles, nodding his head in understanding. “That’s all you had to say, sweetheart. Here, let me jus’ fix this real quick.” His arms go over your head, carefully untying your hands from the polished headboard. He throws the black silk ribbon on the nightstand and situates himself over you again, all while still being inside you. “Better?” he asks, a crooked smile draping over the curve of his mouth.
You throw your arms around his neck and let out a sigh of relief as your fingers scratch up the tousled curls on the back of his neck. “Better,” you smile.
“Now, let me get back to makin’ love to my girl,” he says with eyes that smother over with darkening irises.
He ruts back into you, speeding up his thrusts as his lips come down to meet yours. You part your lips and let him slot in, drowning out your moans with the slide of his tongue as he licks feverishly inside your mouth. You twist your fingers through his sandy colored curls, eliciting a grunt from his lips as your nail beds dig across his scalp.
He moves his lips down to your neck, teeth scraping along your collarbone, sucking against the sensitive areas all while his large palms cup your breasts, pebbling your nipples with every stroke of his calloused thumbs.
“Oh, right there,” you whine, feeling his cock reach that certain spongy spot that you can never reach yourself.
“Yeah, feel good?” he purrs along the shell of your ear, licking his tongue along the edge of it. “How ‘bout this?” he says with a devilish grin, eyes blowing wide with dark black pits.
“Fuck,” you moan, feeling his thumb draw meticulous circles across your swollen clit while his cock kisses the back of your cervix, spreading wet, obscene noises around the glow of the room as his balls slap frantically against your sweaty skin.
You dig your nails into the back of his shoulder blades as Joel folds you like a pancake and ruts deep inside you, his cock drenched in your sticky slick. Your walls squeeze him as you feel the hot heat slide down your spine. You’re so close to spilling.
“Come on, baby. Know you’re close. Want you to come for me, sweetheart. Come on my cock. Attagirl,” he praises as he sees your eyebrows thread together, your body quivering beneath him.
He slides his thumb in slow circles over your buzzing clit, cock hitting your spongy wall again and again and again until you can’t hold back any longer. You squeeze his thick cock, moaning his name as white hot heat takes control of your body. You feel yourself start to spill, covering Joel in your blissful orgasm that coats him in your slick.
“Attagirl, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, talking you through your high as your body starts to come down from sweet release.
He pushes your legs further apart, cock working swiftly in and out of your core as he chases his own release. “Oh yeah, fuck me,” he growls, thrusting in and out faster and faster until he’s furrowing his eyebrows together and clenching his jaw, spilling hot ropes of cum inside you till he collapses at your side and pulls you flush to his chest.
You both pant out in exhaustion, sheets soaked from the sweat of skin on skin, bodies tangled together as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and smiles warmly over at you. “Did so good for me, baby. Always do so good,” he praises, leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek as you take in the starry flecks of amber brown of his dreamy eyes.
“Thanks for showing me something new. Never knew I could be so into bondage,” you tease, smirking his way with flirtatious eyes he can’t seems to look away from.
“Mmm, we’ll jus’ have to explore those kinks together then, yeah?”
You giggle while you run a hand through his messy curls, taking in this beautiful moment of you and Joel on a weekend getaway together. It feels so natural, so right being here with him. You guess it’s just always felt like this ever since starting this whole thing with him.
After a few minutes of just staring at one another mesmerized, Joel traces his thumb across your bottom lip and smiles gently at you. “You wanna know the first thing I noticed about you when I met you?” he asks quietly.
“What?” you laugh gently, placing your palm over the top of his hand.
“Your eyes. Never saw such beautiful eyes before. And your smile. God, that gorgeous smile. Thought I was seein’ an angel the first time you looked at me.”
Your breath gets caught in your throat, the outside waves being muted from the man that lies in front of you. “Joel… that’s so… wow,” you whisper breathlessly.
“Think I was in love before we even started dating, sweetheart. If I’m bein’ honest with myself, I should’ve known all along. You’re exactly the woman I’ve been lookin’ for. You’re so beautiful and smart and kind. I’m jus’ so… fuck, I jus’ love you a lot.”
Your mouth drops open, a gasp leaving your throat as you stare at him like a lovesick puppy. You’re almost too overwhelmed right now with tears licking the backs of your eyes. “Joel Miller, you sweet, sweet man. I never thought… I only dreamed that this could all be real. I never knew it’d turn into this. But I’m so crazy about you, and I love you so so much.”
His eyes tear up, brown syrupy flecks glistening back at you in the starry moonlight. He looks so happy and so in love that your heart swells like a balloon in your chest. “Thank you again for taking me to Galveston. You’re the best, Miller,” you smile, fingers entwining with his.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’d take you here anytime. Jus’ say the words, I’ll take you anywhere. As long as I get to be with my girl, that’s enough for me,” he smiles.
You pull him in for a long kiss, getting lost in the scent of the ocean breeze and the woodsy scent of his cologne. This may last forever, it may not, but you’re going to enjoy the ride for as long as it lasts.
A/N: They are so soft together, I can’t stand it 😭🥰 Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for beta reading and screaming about them with me 🩷 Enjoy, lovelies!
Chapter Summary: Joel takes you on a coffee date. The first official date after falling apart and finding each other again years later.
Rating: 18+
Word Count: 4.3k
Tags: Joel takes you on a cute coffee date, flirting, pining, so much flirting, slight angst, making up, talking about feelings and the past, falling in love, switching POVs
Dividers by @saradika-graphics and @firefly-graphics
Joel stands in the fluorescent lights of his bathroom mirror, smoothing the gel with his thick fingers as he nervously taps his foot against the simple white tile. He can’t stop thinking about the moment he laid eyes on you at the lake, the sun rays making you look like an absolute angel as your smile glowed brightly all around him.
His breath hitched and his heart pounded wildly against his broad chest as you slowly appeared in front of him, standing just inches from his fingertips, enough to reach out and brush against your delicate skin. He knew the moment he saw you again that it was fate, destiny. His lost, wilting rose petal was now blossoming and colorful, and that made him sigh and draw a lazy smile on the edges of his mouth. He found you again, and this time he wouldn’t let you go. Not ever.
He lets out a long sigh and heads for the door, grabbing the keys to his Chevy as he feels the nerves starting to shake through his entire body. He needs to calm down, but he can’t because he’s picking you up. The first official date again since the breakup that happened so long ago. He wouldn’t fuck it up this time, he just wouldn’t.
By the time he pulls up to the front of your quaint little house and scuffs his leather boots against the wooden porch, he’s nervous as hell. Sweat pools down underneath the collar of his green button-up flannel, and his mouth feels like dried up sandpaper.
Before he knocks on your white painted door, he glances to his left and stops dead in his tracks. He sees the bright red blooms of vivid roses glowing like glitter in the midafternoon Texas sun rays. He sees you in them, your perfect blossoms blooming like they’d never been wilted or withered before.
A warm smile beams on his curled up lips as he basks in the presence of your lush rose garden. He always knew you’d bloom again.
He softly knocks three times on your door, nervously shifting his weight on the balls of his feet until he sees the silhouette of your shadow behind the half drawn blinds. When you open the door his breath gets caught in his throat and his eyes grow wide, his thick fingers curling against the pockets of his denim jeans. He thinks you look like the prettiest flower he’s ever laid eyes on.
You stand there blushing, the crimson of your cheeks blending in with the glossy pink lip gloss that’s painted across your full lips. Your eyes are dazzling, glittering diamonds that nearly knock him down to his knees. Your violet colored summer dress grazes the tops of your thighs, and your tan skin glows as bright as your gorgeous, flashy smile.
He’s almost lost for words watching you smile bashfully up at him, just like you did the first time you met him at Lowe’s in the flower department. You always were a shy thing, but sweet as cherry pie. His favorite girl.
“Hi,” you say quietly, blinking up at him with the flutter of your long eyelashes as your painted nails dig into the fabric of your soft dress.
“Hi, sweetheart. You look very… pretty,” he smiles warmly down at you as he watches you giggle.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, beautiful,” he breathes.
You blush even more, twisting your hips slightly as the fabric of your skirt blows gently in the breeze. He could get used to seeing this, seeing you all dolled up and eagerly waiting to be picked up for a date with him. He missed this, missed you.
“You ready to go?”
“Mhm,” you hum.
“Alright then. Coffee’s waitin’,” he laughs as he leads you to the passenger door, his hand resting on the small of your back as he opens the door and helps you inside, gently closing it as he makes his way to the driver's seat.
Once he’s buckled up and has the engine running he nods your way and puts the truck in drive, nervously running his thick fingers over the steering wheel before he drives off into the busy streets of Austin. He was more than ready for this date, ready to have you again.
It feels so weird to be in his truck again. In the passenger seat smelling his woodsy cologne, listening to his soft rock music playing over the speakers, watching him grip the leather steering wheel tightly with one hand as his other hovers outside the rolled down window. It feels… nice, like this is where you were meant to be. Back with Joel.
You watch his greying curls blow in the wind, fixate on his honey flecked eyes that flicker over to you every few seconds with a big crooked grin on his face. He looks so different yet somehow the same as you remember. He seems warmer, kinder, more receptive. And maybe time does change all things, but not the way you feel about him.
Before you know it, he’s pulling up to Houndstooth Coffee, your favorite coffee shop in Austin. When you make your way out of the truck and into the coffee shop, the atmosphere is buzzing with soft music playing over the speakers. Potted plants dangle in the large glass windows, sturdy stained tables sit lined against the open room, nature paintings hang neatly across every corner of the tan walls. You always liked the vibes in here. It’s quiet, relaxing, a great place to come and unwind. What made it even better was this was Joel’s favorite coffee shop, too.
“You wanna go grab a table, and I can go get us some coffee?” he asks as he looks over his shoulder at you.
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Perfect. And let me guess, still a caramel macchiato kinda girl? Extra sugar, heavy on the cream?” He winks at you, and you feel the heat warm your cheeks as you smile up at him.
“Still remember my favorite drink, huh?” you ask curiously as you cross your arms over your summer dress.
“‘Course I do. Don’t know anyone else that has as big of a sweet tooth as you do, darlin’. Kinda hard to forget.”
You push him playfully in the shoulder, and he barely moves an inch. “Yeah, says the guy that drinks his coffee black,” you tease. “You won’t even try mine.”
He chuckles and shakes his head at you, his slicked back curls bouncing against the gel. “It’s too sweet for me, and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Guess so,” you say with a small huff and the pop of your hip.
“Hey,” he says as he steps forward and cups your chin, slowly releasing his fingers as he speaks low. “I don’t need sweetener. I’ve got you here, and you’re sweeter than any of them. My little shot of espresso filled with sugar.”
Your jaw drops open, eyelashes batting up at him as your cheeks burn bright red. He’s going to paint you completely crimson if he’s not careful, but you’ll allow it. You had a lot of lost time to make up for, and he could flirt with you as much as he wanted to.
You nod your head to the short line in front of the cash register, and he smiles back at you. “Be back in a minute.”
You find a quiet place in the far corner, a little booth that has potted pink tulips and a smooth wooden table top. You watch him order the coffees, giving the worker his name and debit card before he patiently waits to the side for the coffees to be made.
He flicks his eyes over at you every few seconds, a small crooked smile spread wide across his mouth. You have to look away to stop the butterflies flitting through your stomach. You can’t believe you’re here again with Joel, your past flame, but this time feels different. A good different.
When they finally get finished making your drinks, Joel comes over to the booth and sits opposite you. He gives a small grunt when he sits and hands you your iced coffee. “Here ya go, darlin’. One caramel macchiato for the pretty lady.”
You giggle and reach for the clear cup full of sugary goodness. “Thanks, Joel,” you smile. When you grab the cup your fingers brush against his, and there’s a moment where sparks shoot through your fingertips, swirling feelings that were always buried deep inside your body.
He smiles nervously at you, running a hand straight back through his tousled curls. His honey eyes shine against the sunlight that’s beaming through the glass window, and you can’t stop the blushing that’s permanent on your cheeks when you’re around him.
Joel takes a sip of his coffee, keeping those soft eyes on you as you take a sip of yours. Your dress suddenly feels too tight, and the insides of your thighs feel sticky and warm from nerves. Maybe the iced coffee will help cool you off, but you doubt it will. Of course it won’t because Joel Miller is sitting across from you, looking extremely handsome in his flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He always was a flannel guy, and that’s why you own so many flannels. Because they remind you of him.
You casually sip from your coffee, curling your fingertips over your violet material, trying to calm yourself down from being in the presence of Joel. He still had you just as frazzled as when you locked eyes with him at the lake. You really were still crazy about him.
“It’s kinda crazy bein’ back here with you. It feels…”
“Right,” you finish for him.
He chuckles, nodding his head as he takes another sip from the black coffee. “Yeah, it does feel right.”
You tap your thumb nervously on the plastic coffee cup and take a breath before you dive into any personal matters. “How’s Sarah doing?”
“She’s good, really good. She just graduated this spring. Took a job at the heart hospital in Austin,” he says proudly, his brown eyes glistening with fondness.
“So she did go with nursing school after all. Joel, you must be so proud!” you squeak excitedly.
He smiles and nods his head, the look of admiration filling his face. “That I am. Can’t believe my baby girl is all grown up. Gonna miss her,” he sighs with sadness ghosting over his doe eyes.
“Hey, she’s always going to be your little girl. Don’t forget that. And she chose to stay in Austin? That’s so great, Joel. See, she didn’t leave after all. I knew she wouldn’t.”
“Oh, you knew she wouldn’t?” he asks with one eyebrow raised high, making the wrinkles across his forehead crease into fine lines.
“I had my suspicions she’d stay,” you wink. He shakes his head and stares at you for just a second, assessing your soft features before continuing.
“So, what about you? Are you still at the same company you were? That one corporate job you were at.”
You shake your head slowly, playing absentmindedly with the straw that you bend back and forth. “No. Actually, I work for the city now.”
“Oh?” he asks all intrigued and interested. “Doin’ what?”
“I’m working for an environmental engineering company that operates off the lakes in Texas. I’m helping them keep track of the bluegill and catfish populations. You know, helping both the water quality and fish populations,” you say fondly.
He stares at you wide-eyed, a big smile curling over the edges of his lips. “Well I’ll be damned. That’s what you always wanted to do. You did it, you actually did it.”
You laugh and push your hair behind your shoulder. “Yeah, finally. I love it so much, you have no idea how much happier I am there.”
He chuckles and rests a hand on the table, looking at you with big brown eyes adoringly. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I always believed in you. I knew that one day you’d get it. They’re so lucky to have you.”
Your eyes fog over with held back tears while you grip tightly to your cold iced coffee. He told you he’s proud of you. Joel is proud of you. That sentence alone makes you weak in the knees. Joel was always so supportive, and that’s one thing you adored about him.
“You’re… proud of me?” you ask breathlessly.
“Mhm. So proud,” he purrs.
He holds your gaze while tension buzzes around the room. There’s no other customers at the moment, no clattering coffee makers echoing around the room, there’s just silence. There’s only you and Joel. Two bodies locked in a heated stare, chests rising and falling in sync, and nervous breaths sharing the same little area.
The intense moment breaks when you nervously push a lock of hair behind your ear and thank him for the kind words. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” you ask, flitting your eyes back up to his.
“Oh, the usual. Me and Tommy started up a new contracting gig. Been busy runnin’ the company and sometimes workin’ on custom pieces.”
“You still like to build things?”
“‘Course, darlin’. Actually, I started buildin’ custom guitars a while ago. Been keepin’ me busy, but I really enjoy it,” he says with a deep chuckle reverberating off his chest.
“Guitars, huh? You always did love playing. Bet they’re beautiful,” you gush, leaning your elbow on the wooden table with your chin resting on your knuckles, looking dreamily at the man with honey glazed eyes.
“Maybe I could show you them sometime? Think you’ll love ‘em. Might have one with your name on it.” Hope fills his voice, and his eyes light up with sparks burning like amber coals.
Did he make you a custom guitar? No. He wouldn’t have. But maybe…. Oh, he did.
“I’d love to,” you smile, watching the light shine brightly through his beautiful brown eyes.
“Okay then, it’s a date,” he beams.
The tinge of crimson is back on your cheeks, and your face physically hurts from smiling so much in one sitting. This is where you were supposed to end up again. Back at your favorite coffee shop with your favorite person who introduced you to this place.
After a few seconds of silent stares and warm smiles, Joel’s face grows serious as his brows knit tightly together. “Listen, I need to apologize.”
“Joel,” you say harshly, trying to stop him from what he’s about to say.
“No, jus’ hear me out. I’m so fuckin’ sorry for how things ended. I didn’t mean… I wish I could’ve jus’…”
You hold out a hand to stop him. “No, Joel. Don’t put the blame on yourself. It’s not your fault. It’s…”
“Please,” he pleads, looking at you with glistening eyes that beg for you to listen. Just looking at them alone makes you want to crawl across the table and sink all your weight into him. “I need to get this out. Please, jus’ let me do this,” he begs.
“Okay,” you whisper, clutching the edge of your soft dress as you wait with bated breath.
“I made some very poor choices over the years. I was selfish, wreckless, so fuckin’ stupid. I didn’t mean to put all my problems on you. That wasn’t fair to you. And all those stupid fights that meant absolutely nothin’ were my fault.”
You catch his wrist and curl your fingers around his tanned skin, looking up at him with furrowed brows and parted lips. “Don’t you dare put all the blame on yourself. It was both of our faults. I was in a toxic job, and I brought that stress home to you so many times. I blew up in your face night after night from all that weight I was keeping on my shoulders. It was me who started half the fights. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve left that job long ago when it was affecting our relationship.”
He clenches his jaw and shakes his head at you. “No, sweetheart. Don’t even try to apologize. I was goin’ through so much shit with Tommy and Maria, and then there was Sarah I was tryin’ to keep a grasp on, and then all that shit with the company goin’ down and all the whiskey I was drinkin’. I was in the wrong mindset. I should’ve never hurt you the way I did.”
He looks like a wounded puppy dog that just lost his family the way he’s looking at you now. His teary doe eyes shooting holes through your beating heart, and you have to keep yourself glued to the seat you’re in. The temptation to crawl into his lap and give him a big hug right now is so very overwhelming.
He always loved when you got in his personal space and threw your arms around him when he was sad. It was his favorite way to be soothed. The way you’d run your fingers through his tousled curls and whisper sweet, calming words into the shell of his ear. He may be a strong man, but he was always so weak for you especially when you were his favorite person that could fix all the broken pieces and mend him back together.
You cling harder to his wrist, but he doesn’t even try to pull away. He just stares with watering eyes while his lips form a tight line. It breaks your heart seeing him like this. “I was the one that told you to leave, Joel…. That rainy night in February when I threw the keys in your face. I didn’t mean to. I was just so… mad. I shouldn’t have done that. I regret it. I was a mess, we were a mess. But I feel like I was the one that ruined it. And then… then…” You can’t even finish your sentence without tears falling down your cheek. You’re embarrassing yourself in front of Joel, in front of the entire coffee shop. You wish you weren’t so emotional about all of this.
“Oh, sweetheart. No. Don’t do that, it’s not your fault,” he coos softly, reaching a hand up to catch your falling tears while his calloused fingers linger on your delicate skin. His eyes are so soft like golden retriever eyes all wide and gentle. You want to just slip into them and sink forever.
“I should’ve never ran out that door, should’ve come right back. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. Maybe my life would’ve looked different if I did. But I was a coward. I jus’ couldn’t get myself to face you. So I decided to leave you alone. And then almost a couple years after that I met Tess.”
The name Tess makes you cower back in your seat, his large hand falling back to the table as it leaves your weepy face. Tess. The other woman he fell in love with.
“I’m not gonna tell you it was all rainbows and butterflies with her ‘cause it wasn’t. But there was a time I did love her, too.”
“Oh. Mhm,” you hum, looking down at your feet scuffing against the clean floor, trying your best not to cry again.
“Look, I’m not tellin’ you this to hurt you. I’m doin’ my best to explain jus’ what all went on. That day we moved to the neighborhood, I had no idea you were livin’ right across the street. If I knew, I don't think I would’ve… I wouldn’t have bought it,” he sighs as he takes a deep breath.
You can’t look at him, can’t make yourself even speak because you know you’ll be a puddle on the ground if you even try, so you just let him continue while you curl your toes underneath you. “When I saw you that first day when I was movin’ furniture out of the movin’ van, I was wrecked. I even dropped a vase when I saw you. Glass went all over the kitchen tile. Tess thought I had a stroke or somethin’, but it was just seein’ you again after all those years that killed me.”
You purse your lips and nod, remembering all too well how you dropped the glass of milk in your kitchen when you saw the two of them together. And it hurt, it still hurts to think about. You guess that wound never fully healed after all.
“I felt so awful and guilty about everything. And it was so fuckin’ hard to watch you day after day. Walking to your mailbox, leaving your house, walking in your kitchen at dinner time when your window was wide open. I jus’… there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t want to walk over and sweep you up in my arms. God, I really wanted to every single day. But then there was Tess. And I made a promise to her that I swore I’d keep.”
You feel a tear fall like rain down your cheek when you hear those words, but Joel’s right there to pick up the pieces. He reaches his arm out and places his large palm over your hand, making you look up from under your soaked lashes.
“Do you remember that day I helped you up off the ground in front of your mailbox?”
“Yeah, how could I forget,” you whisper with a quiet sniffle.
“After you walked back inside, I somehow ended up on your front porch. I stood there for over ten minutes jus’ waitin’ to knock. I wanted to. I knew you were cryin’, I knew I was the reason why. I jus’ wanted to make the pain go away, but I realized I couldn’t ‘cause I made a promise to Tess. So even though that killed me, I walked away. I didn’t knock. I couldn’t. Because if I did, I never would’ve been able to let you go…”
Your eyes prick with fresh tears, and you tremble out some scattered words. “No, I understand. You’re a man of your word. You loved Tess. I couldn’t fault you for that. And I was so selfish to want you all to myself again, but I realized that couldn’t happen because she was yours,” you choke out, feeling the weight of the world press deep into your chest.
“I loved her, but I also realized I never stopped loving you, too. I should’ve realized sooner that it was never supposed to be her, it was supposed to be you.”
Your mouth drops open and your heart thunders in your chest. “What did you just say?” you gasp.
“It was always you, sweetheart. It jus’ took some time and healing to realize you were it for me. There was no one else. There still isn’t anyone else. It’s jus’ you…”
“I… Joel…” you mutter mindlessly.
Before you know what’s happening, Joel slides out of the booth and pulls you to a standing position. His deep chocolate eyes gaze longingly into your eyes, and the words are off his tongue before you can digest them. “I still love you.”
He pulls you into his broad chest, and his calloused hands connect with the sides of your face. His lips meet yours and suddenly the world fades away in the background. There’s no more outside voices, no more sideways glances, no more anything. There’s just Joel’s lips on yours, burning through you like wildfire.
You part your lips, allowing him to slot his tongue in, tasting that strong black coffee taste that you’ve always loved. You loved it because it was Joel’s signature taste, his scent, his essence. And you realize now you love him. God, you never stopped loving him. He’s the one, he’s always been the one.
He breaks away from the kiss, but you stay clinging to his flannel while his calloused thumbs trace light circles over your cheekbones. “God, I missed you,” he breathes, resting his forehead on yours while his soft brown eyes melt into yours.
“I missed you too, Joel. So much,” you murmur against the greying scruff of his jaw. “Stay with me…” you whisper against his mouth.
He hooks a strand of hair behind your ear and traces his thumb gently over the shell of your ear. “I’m not goin’ anywhere this time, sweetheart. This time I’m gonna be the man you’ve always deserved. We’re gonna take it slow and we’re gonna do it right. I’m never hurting you again, do you understand?” he asks with serious brown eyes and knit together eyebrows.
“I understand, Joel. This time we’ll make it work. We have to, I have to. I don’t ever want to lose you again,” you whine as you fall into his chest, his large arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.
“And you won’t lose me. Not this time. Not ever. You’re mine, baby girl.”
You smile into his chest and breathe in his mahogany cologne you’re so familiar with. “Joel?” you ask, your voice getting cut off from your face being buried in Joel’s flannel.
He cups your chin and pulls your face up to his slowly. “Hmm? What is it, pretty girl?”
“You’re still my infinity, aren’t you?”
He chuckles softly and nods his head. “Sure am, sweetheart. Forever and ever…”
You fall back together, lips melding into one, bodies wrapped around each other. It took falling apart and healing to make it back to him, to the love of your life. You may not know what’ll happen tomorrow, but at least you know Joel will still be there holding your hand through it all.
This was exactly where you were meant to end up. You and Joel were for forever. Like he said, infinite.
“I love you, Joel Miller. My infinite…”
Tagging those who read the other parts 🩷 @laurrrra @amyispxnk @lotusbxtch @honey-dip-24 @sawymredfox
Fic Summary | Sarah decides, with a year until she leaves home for good, that it's time for her dad to start dating again. Joel doesn't understand the fuss, he's more than happy with how life is for him right now, but decides if it's for Sarah, he'll give it a go. After wading through the dating apps, he comes across someone new, someone who might just be able to be the company he's needed all along.
Fic Pairing | Joel Miller x Single Parent F!Reader
Fic Warnings | Joel traversing dating apps, single parenthood, no age gap, rom-com vibes, slow burn, mention of food & alcohol, discussions surrounding being a single parents, allusions to controlling behaviour from a previous partner, Sarah & Tommy being menaces in the best way, smut in later chapters, pre/no outbreak AU. No Use of Y/N. Please see individual chapters for more in-depth warnings.
Authors Note | @hellishjoel & I are so excited to drop the masterlist for the fic we've been working on recently. We've been having such good fun putting this together for you all, and we really hope you enjoy it! You’ll be able to find the masterlist on both of our Tumblrs, and we’ll be taking turns in posting chapters, so if you want to keep up to date with posting, please make sure you’re following us both!
Chapter Summary: Saturday brings a barbeque, a whole lot of flirting, and a perfect storm of tension that might just push you and Joel to the brink of something new.
Rating: Mature
Tags/warnings: flirting, sexual tension, smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU!No outbreak.
Word Count: 3.1k
Taglist: @mysterialee@amyispxnk @ghostofzion-blog
The Texas heat is almost unbearable even when you wake at just past seven the next morning. Laying in bed, you can still feel the ghost of Joel’s hand against your jaw, the gentle way his fingers tangled in your hair, the delicate fan of his breath mingling with yours. The memory keeps you in bed a little longer, has you pressing your own hand beneath the waistband of your shorts. You come hard to the thought of Joel’s expression as he looked at you from the doorway of the garage, the intoxicating pull of his eyes. You wonder how his fingers – that trailed so dexterously across your cheek not twelve hours ago – would feel pressed against your core, if they would dip inside you, laying pleasure upon pleasure as he watched you with that same dark, intense expression.
Eventually, you force yourself to get up and dress. You pull on the bikini your brought with you – white, with sculped edges and long ties that you double knot – and then don your favourite sundress, one that you’ve been saving for a special occasion. Examining yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel a little nervous, your stomach squirming uncomfortably. Last night, Joel had been seconds from kissing you, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you up to meet his hungry lips. And God, the thought of it makes your toes curl, your thighs press together.
But there’s anxiety there, too.
It’s been months since you broke up with your boyfriend back home, the same one you’d been with throughout your entire time at university and the gap years between. The thought of starting something new with someone else feels terrifying in so many ways. What if Joel decides he doesn’t like you, or want you? What if he’s hesitant, or unsure, and it ruins all of the hard work you’ve done over the past few months, convincing yourself you’re deserving of love and affection?
You close your eyes against the image in the mirror, refusing to let yourself fall into old habits of self-criticism, and take a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly. You focus on thinking about Joel’s easy smile and his calloused, warm hands. You think about his broad, strong shoulders and the dark lock of hair that always falls across his forehead. The nerves die away a little, replaced by anticipation and excitement. You open your eyes again, look yourself in the eye and repeat the words Diana said to you on Wednesday.
“Flirt your ass off.”
Five hours later finds you and Danny lugging a slightly rusty beer cooler over to the Cuthberts’. Theirs is the biggest lot on the road, a sprawling house surrounded by a flawlessly mown front lawn and backed by huge garden, complete with a patio – almost certainly larger than your entire flat back in London – and a tiled, picture-perfect swimming pool. You let out a low whistle as you and Danny round the house into the garden, taking in the two-tiered, five-grill barbeque in the centre of the patio and the array of chairs, sofas and tables laid out on the decking. There are no other guests yet, but you find yourself searching Joel out anyway, peering around the potted palm trees and oversized plant pots.
Mr Cuthbert, a large, jovial man in a bright Hawaiian print shirt, slaps Danny convivially on the back and introduces himself – “call me John”, he says, offering you a wink which you steadfastly ignore.
You and Danny put the beer cooler in a shady part of the patio and help John fill it with the beers from his drinks fridge – a separate appliance than his usual fridge, he proudly informs you as he hands you bottles of wine, premixed cocktails, sodas, and beers. By the time you’re done, a few guests have trickled into the garden, all carrying more drinks and food.
Slowly, the garden and deck fills up with neighbours and friends. You stand near the kitchen in the shade, leaning against the cool stone of the house, your eyes fixed on the gate, watching with anticipation as each newcomer arrives. You hear Sarah before you see her or Joel, catch the end of a shout of her infectious laughter as the two of them come into the garden.
Joel’s in tinted sunglasses that reflect the garden back at you, his hair brushed back from his forehead, dark and thick and streaked with a few errant greys. He’s wearing a loose-fitting linen Henley and a pair of shorts that show off the tanned vee of collarbone and chest, the bottom of his thick thighs. He says something to Sarah, points her in the direction of a group of similarly-aged kids and she darts off, leaving Joel to survey the garden. When his eyes find yours – or rather when his sunglasses reflect your own figure – he breaks into an easy sideways grin, holds up one hand in greeting.
You told yourself you would play it cool, ease into the flirting, but before his hand has even returned to his side you’re darting towards him, sidestepping a toddler and two middle aged women. He meets you halfway across the garden, taking large steps that cover the distance to the deck easily.
“Hey,” You say when you meet.
“Hi.” He replies, and he draws his sunglasses up off his face to rest on the top of his head, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he does.
“I’m disappointed,” You say, gesturing at his shorts and shirt, “I was promised a toolbelt and workmen’s boots.”
He laughs at this, a deep, throaty chuckle that comes right from his chest.
“Toolbelt’s just at home, if you want me to go and get it.”
“Maybe later.” You reply, smirking.
“You want a drink?”
“Sure.”
You follow him to the beer cooler and watch as Joel plucks two bottles out of the icy water, opens the tops with one hand. The simple gesture shouldn’t be so goddamn attractive, shouldn’t make blood rush to your cheeks and heat pool in your belly, but it is and it does. He hands you one of the beers, and your fingers brush his warm knuckles as you take it. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches in response, his eyes flashing in the bright sunlight. You can feel the blush hot on your face just from these tiny, pathetic touches, slick already pooling in your core, dampening the bikini bottoms under your sundress. You clear your throat and Joel nods to a quiet corner of the deck where a loveseat lies unoccupied. You follow him to it, sink into its plush cushioning. Joel sits beside you. He's so broad that he takes up more than half of the sofa, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles. You both look out over the garden, at where Sarah and the other kids are having an intense discussion in a tight cluster.
“She really enjoyed that math lesson you gave her,” he says, musingly, “won’t stop goin’ on about it. Never seen her so keen to be over at Connie’s before, either.”
“She’s really bright.” You reply, turning to him.
“No idea where she gets that from.”
You roll your eyes at him, cross one leg over the other, watch as Joel follows the movement with his eyes, drags his gaze up your bare thigh to the hem of your dress.
“’s a nice dress,” he says, the drawl of his accent stealing away the first syllable.
“Thanks. I’d been saving it for a special occasion.”
“This a special occasion?” He asks, gaze flicking from your bare thigh to your face, the trace of a mischievous smile playing on his plush lips.
“You tell me.” You reply, letting your own mouth curve into a grin.
There’s a splash from the pool and you both turn to see Sarah emerging from the water, face cracked into a wide smile as her friends jump in after her. Joel shakes his head, laughing.
“Always gotta be the first one in.” He says, and you laugh too, watch as Sarah splashes another girl.
“You going in?” You ask, as a few adults start sitting at the side of the pool to dip their toes in and slowly climbing in after the kids.
“Not a chance.” He says, “I ain’t a swimmer.”
“That’s a shame.” You say, standing up and pulling the sundress up over your head, “Would’ve been nice to have some company.”
Joel’s eyes travel over your body, taking in the curves of your breasts and waist, the swathes of bare skin. His gaze makes you feel self-conscious, but his expression is awe-struck, reverent, like he’s looking at something sacred. His pupils are blown wide despite the bright sunlight, cheeks reddening. The hand clutching his beer is white-knuckled, the other twitching where it rests in his lap like he wants to reach out and trace the path of your curves. He swallows, Adam’s apple rippling in this throat.
“I’ll be jus’ fine watchin’, darlin’.” He says, his voice hoarse.
You waste no time sliding off your sandals and darting towards the water. It’s immature, maybe, but you’ve never been able to resist diving headfirst into water. The pool is cool, fresh: perfect in the intense Texan heat. Sarah giggles as you resurface, splashes you with a back hand. You spend the next half-hour messing about with her, having handstand competitions and lying on your backs to float idly. Every time you let your gaze wander to where Joel is sitting, he’s watching you, his expression intense. He looks away the first few times you catch him, but after the fourth time he lets himself watch you, raises his beer to his lips and takes a sip. When he draws the bottle away, there’s a droplet on his lip. His tongue darts out to catch it, and you have to press your legs together in the water to dull the ache. This man, you think, watching him wipe his mouth with the back of one large hand, veins standing out on his toned forearms, is going to be the death of me.
After a few more minutes you’re starting to feel the cold, fingertips wrinkling in the water. You float over to the side of the pool and push yourself up onto the side. Droplets run down your stomach and legs as you stand up, goosebumps rising in their wake. You turn to look for where you left your bag and towel, but suddenly warmth is engulfing you, a soft, fluffy towel wrapped around your shoulders.
“Here,” Joel’s voice from behind you, his hands on your shoulders, draping the towel over you.
“Thanks.”
He steps back, lets his hands fall back to his sides.
“Water nice?” He asks, as you start to pat yourself dry.
“Refreshing,” You reply, looking up into his face.
“Looked it.” He’s standing close to you in the busyness of the garden, people milling around you both.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Looked… good.” He swallows again, tendons in his neck shifting. You want to put your lips to the flesh there, bite down onto rough skin, lick the stubble covering his jaw.
“I should go and get changed,” you say, nodding towards the house.
You step around him, start towards the kitchen door, turning to look behind you as you pick up your bag from where you left it by the beer cooler. Your eyes meet and the heat in his is almost palpable, rolling off of him in waves. You feel his gaze follow you as you step through the door into the cool air of the kitchen. Inside, you find the Cuthbert’s downstairs bathroom, shut the door behind you and lean back against it, your head spinning, heart pounding.
By the time you’ve changed back into your sundress, food is being served. You take a paper plate and let John load it up with chicken and a burger from the grill, then go and find a seat at a table with Danny, Connie, Joel and Sarah. You slide onto the bench next to Joel, letting your thigh brush against his and offering him a chaste smile when he raises a single eyebrow in response.
“How’s work, Joel?” Danny asks, swiping a blob of ketchup from his cheek.
“Oh, fine, thanks. Busy, at the moment.”
“Tommy alright? Not been getting into any more trouble?”
Joel laughs at this, shaking his head as he replies, “No more’n usual.”
Danny offers an understanding nod in response, and Sarah giggles, catching your eye across the table.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a happy, hazy buzz of food and conversation. Joel remains beside you, your legs pressed together on the bench seat. At some point, as Danny regales you all with a story of a traffic incident he witnessed last week, Joel stretches out, raising his hands over his head. When he brings them down, he lays his arm along the back of the bench behind you. You lean ever so slightly into him, imagining how it would feel if he slipped his arm down from the wood onto your shoulders. When you lean your head back to look up at the clear sky, you let it rest on his forearm, feel the heat of him seep through the hair at the nape of your neck through to your skin. The garden has started to empty now; the sky is slowly turning a pale, picture-perfect pink as the evening draws in. Danny lets out a long, steady sigh and pushes himself to his feet.
“We should get back to Nana,” he says to Connie, who nods and stands, “but you stay on as long as you like.” He adds to you, helping Connie pull on her cardigan.
You and Joel wave them off. Sarah leaves too, tired from the day, a little bored now the other teenagers and kids have left.
“Shouldn’t stay too much longer,” you say, looking around at where Mrs Cuthbert is collecting glasses up.
“No,” Joel agrees, but neither of you move.
His arm is still across the back of the bench, your neck now leaning against it. He flexes his hand, lets the tips of his thick fingers trace the skin on your bare shoulder, pulling up the strap of you sundress where it’s fallen down. The feeling of his hands on you is exhilarating and you shift in your seat, subconsciously begging him to keep touching you, to let his hand trace your shoulder to your collarbone, to dip down beneath the neckline of your dress to your bare breasts. He doesn’t, of course – there are still plenty of people in the garden – but he does leave his fingers where they are, just resting against your shoulder. Minutes pass. The tension between you seems to be building irreversibly, all the flirtatious banter and playful teasing from earlier gone, replaced by heavy silence and a kind of buzz in the air that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.
Joel clears his throat after maybe ten minutes, runs his free hand up the leg of his shorts, wiping his palm which, if he’s feeling anything like you, is sweaty with a heady combination of anticipation and nervous energy.
“Should get back.” He says, his voice low, face turned to you so that the words are said against the shell of your ear.
“Yeah,”
This time, you both move as one. You stand, slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you do, while Joel picks up his sunglasses from the table and slides them into the vee of his Henley. You both call hasty goodbyes to the Cuthberts, thanking them for the food and hospitality. And then you’re leaving the garden, stepping out of sight of the deck into the small alley between the house and the fence. You’ve hardly taken more than two or three steps before you both break.
Joel rounds on you as you grab him by his shirt. Crowding you against the wall of the house, he fists a hand in your hair and draws your mouth up to his. The kiss is frenzied, passionate right from the moment your lips meet. He groans from somewhere deep in his chest, licks his tongue into your mouth, his teeth grazing your lips, bruising them. His hand caresses your jaw, fingers spanning your face, cradling it as he kisses you. It’s intoxicating. You reach up to thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing yourself up onto tiptoes to card them through his curls. You moan into his mouth, let your tongue lick into his mouth, his stubble tickling your face, harsh and scratchy in contrast to his soft lips.
He pulls back, rests his forehead against yours, both of you panting.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He whispers, leaning down to place open mouthed kisses on the underside of your jaw. “I can’t stop thinking about you, I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate.”
“Joel…” It’s all you can say as he nips at your collarbone, runs his fingertips down your sides, hands searching out the flesh of your ass, pulling you to him, bending so that he can slide one thick thigh between yours. The movement brings his hips flush with yours, the line of his hardening cock pressing into your stomach, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You grind against him, pressing your cunt into his thigh, seeking out friction. He hisses into your open mouth as he drags his hips against yours, cock trapped between your rutting bodies – a hot, thick line against you.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he breathes, nipping and pecking at your lips, dragging a hot hand up your side to squeeze your breast.
“Please don’t stop,” You reply, gasping as his fingers find the hard nub of your nipple and pinch, pleasure coursing through you like adrenaline.
The whole thing is ridiculous: you’re pressed against the wall of your neighbour’s house, Joel’s hands mapping out the curves of your body as he kisses you. Anyone could see, anyone could come round the path from the garden but neither of you seem to be capable of caring. The dam has burst and it’s all you can do to cling to each other, rocking your hips together, seeking out friction. It’s only when you slide a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard line of Joel’s cock that he pulls back. His lips are swollen, eyes entirely black in the low light.
“We can’t do this,” he says, “not here.”
And then you’re both laughing, the absurdity of the entire situation overcoming you. When you calm down, still breathing heavily, Joel draws your face between his hands and presses another kiss to your lips.
“I want to,” he says, stroking his thumb along your cheekbone, “Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”
“Me neither,”
“Sarah’s staying at Tommy’s on Friday.” He says, “Come over. I’ll cook dinner, or take you out. I’ll treat you right, like you deserve.”
“Friday?” You say, “That’s a long way away.”
You push yourself onto tiptoes to kiss him again, draw his bottom lip into your mouth and he groans against you, his hips canting forward so that his cock drags against your hip.
He pulls away, rasps, “Shit, darlin’. You’re making me crazy.”
“I’ll be over on Tuesday, for Sarah.” You say, “I’ll stay until you get back from work.”
“You make it really hard to say no.”
“Then don’t say no.”
“Okay. But I’m taking you for dinner on Friday too. Don’t say I don’t know how to treat a woman.”
“Joel Miller, I don’t think anyone could ever say that.” And you press another kiss against his lips, smiling into it.
When you get home a few minutes later, your lips bruised and your head buzzing, there’s already a text in your inbox.
Chapter Summary: You get a job at a coffee shop. It just happens to be across the street from where Joel's working a construction job. Later, things heat up when Joel drops round to pick up Sarah.
Rating: Teen (for now)
Tags/warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU! no outbreak, porn with plot, a lot of sexual tension in this chapter.
Word Count: 2.8k
Taglist: @mysterialee @amyispxnk
You wake late the next morning, head filled with half-remembered dreams about warm arms and a solid, broad chest. The mid-morning sun is already streaming through the bedroom curtains, and you can hear Connie downstairs, pots and pans clashing together as she finishes making breakfast.
You’re halfway down the stairs when she appears at the bottom, clutching a torn-out sheet of note paper which she holds out to you.
“I know you mentioned you’d like to get a part time job,” she says as you reach the bottom step, “so I called around a few places. There’s a coffee shop in town who are looking for new staff. This is the number, if you’re interested.”
She hands you the paper and beckons you into the kitchen, where there are fresh eggs and toast and a stack of steaming hot pancakes. You load up your plate with food and slide onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. Connie whistles as she starts washing the dishes. You’re halfway through your breakfast when she turns back to you and wags a finger as though she’s just remembered something.
“The Cuthberts are having a barbeque this weekend, for the neighbourhood,” she says, “they live a few houses down. You’re invited, of course.”
“Sounds good,” You say, immediately wondering if Joel will be there.
“They’ve got a pool, so make sure you’ve got some swimwear.” Connie adds, and, like a teenager with a crush, you can’t help the blush that settles in your cheeks at the thought of Joel in swimwear, wet hair swept back off his forehead and curling at his ears.
Trying to distract yourself, you examine the number for the café Connie gave you. The job sounds good, so when you’ve finished your breakfast, you pull out your phone and call them.
*****
Three hours later and you’re hopping off a bus in Cedar Park, trying to remember the directions Connie gave you. You find your way, eventually; the coffee shop is a couple of blocks from the bus stop. It’s a pretty nice area, sun-bleached grass lining the wide streets made up of modern shops and restaurants opposite a community college. Inside, welcomed by the dark wood floor and familiar smell of coffee, you feel instantly at home; you’ve done barista work before back in England, in between classes and during the summer.
“Aha,” a woman behind the counter says as you introduce yourself, “fresh meat.”
She’s attractive; mid-forties, maybe, with thick blonde hair tied up in a spotless bun and a pristinely made-up face. A badge on her polo shirt tells you she’s Gina, the manager. She hands you an apron and tells you to make her a coffee. A younger girl – probably twenty, twenty-one, with a name badge that says ‘Diana’ in bubble writing – gives you a grin and offers to help.
And so the rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of grinding and brewing and steaming. The café is busy throughout the day thanks to its prime position opposite the community college. You get to meet an array of students and professors, and although you feel a pang of envy as you watch younger, fresh-faced students settle themselves at tables to sit and write papers, you enjoy the routine and hum of the barista work.
You’re just finishing up when the bell above the door tinkles. Gina’s voice immediately greets the newcomer, and you almost splutter at the sudden enthusiasm lacing every one of her words, the slightly over-the-top, sickly sweet quality that has entered her previously no-nonsense tone. Curious about who is causing your new manager to turn into a simpering dolt, you look up.
It’s Joel, of course.
Joel, in his toolbelt and faded jeans and tight t-shirt. His hair is slicked back with sweat, and there are flecks of plaster on his tanned skin and splatted down his toned arms. Your heart stutters – actually stutters – as though this is a cheap cheesy romcom and he’s the romantic lead. Gina’s batting her eyelashes at him and he’s grinning lopsidedly at her, all southern charm and polite gentleman. Diana shoots you a look from where she’s cleaning tables in the corner, grinning.
Joel doesn’t see you immediately – you’re mostly hidden from his view by the coffee machine you’d been cleaning when he came in – but jealously rises up in your chest when he laughs at something Gina says, at the way he leans against the counter to talk to her, knee popped out, one hand resting on the top of his toolbelt. It’s maddeningly attractive – he’s maddeningly attractive – and you think of how he looked standing so close to you yesterday, the way the heat of his body rolled off him and his scent: wood chippings and soap and something uniquely him.
Finally, Gina stops flirting for long enough to take his order, and his eyes flick up as she passes the receipt with the coffee order to you (americano, no cream). You step out from behind the machine, smiling at him politely, and he does something of a double take.
“Hey.” You say as you crank ground coffee into the filter basket.
“Hi.” He gives you a smile – warmer than the one he offered Gina, you think smugly – and asks, “what’re you doin’ here?”
You point at the apron you’re wearing, at the handwritten name tag, “As of about three hours ago, I work here.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
It’s almost criminal how he can make such a simple, inoffensive question sound so intimate, so flirtatious.
“It picked up significantly in the last few minutes,” You say, holding his warm gaze and biting the side of your mouth to suppress a grin.
He flushes a little, caught off guard, and you push on, not wanting to leave the sentence hanging awkwardly between you, aware of Gina’s presence a few feet away, “How about you? What brings you to this side of town?”
He points vaguely behind him to where the community college is, “’m working on a project across the road at the moment. Big expansion.”
You try to eke out making the coffee for as long as you can, taking care to clean the filter after each shot fills the cup, keeping your eyes on Joel as he explains about the job. He’s easy to talk to. He asks how you’re finding the job, if you’ve done barista work before, and when you answer he really listens, leans in and keeps his eyes right on yours, like you’re the only person in the world who’s interesting. It’s dizzying and electrifying. The fact that Gina is hovering in the background – clearly keen to butt in and join the conversation but not getting a chance as Joel asks you question after question – makes it all the more intoxicating.
After several minutes you push the finished coffee across the counter to him. He wraps a hand around it, his thick fingers and large palm making the cup look tiny.
“Thanks, darlin’” He says, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. “I’d better head back, but I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”
“Yeah,” You say, then, remembering, ask, “oh – are you going to the Cuthbert’s barbeque this weekend?”
“S’long as I can get this plastering finished by Friday.” He replies, and then he’s taking long strides away from you, pushing the door open and stepping through it.
Immediately, Gina is all over you.
“You know him?” She asks, sidling up to you and leaning on the counter conspiratorially.
“He lives next door,” You explain, wiping down the coffee machine absentmindedly, still watching Joel’s broad back as he jogs across the road back towards the college.
“You lucky thing!” Gina exclaims. “He’s been coming in regularly the last couple of weeks, but I’ve never managed to get his name. Or his number.” She gives you an over-the-top wink with this last and you force a polite smile, wiping the milk steamer perhaps a little harder than necessary.
“Can we agree,” Diana says later that evening, as you both wind your way to the bus stop from the café, “that Gina is gagging for it.”
You laugh and Diana bumps against your shoulder, her own laugh high and clear against the hum of the traffic. It feels nice to be hanging out with someone who’s not related to you or thirteen years old or the object of an intense crush. And Diana is quick to laugh and easy to talk to. Her company makes the homesickness for your friends dull a little.
“No but seriously,” she says as you reach the bus stop, “I’m gay and even I can tell that Joel guy is hot. You sleeping with him?”
“What? No.” A pause as Diana raises a single eyebrow at you, and then you add, “I mean, I want to, but I haven’t. As of yet.”
This sends you both into another round of giggles as you flop down onto a bench.
“You think he’s into you too?” Diana asks when you’ve got your breath back.
“I think so, but it’s hard to tell. A couple of times I’ve thought he’s flirting with me, but then I’ll say something back or he realises what’s happening and it’s like he… panics.”
You tell her about last night, about how he looked at you in the half-light of the living room doorway, about the way he suddenly backed off but then sent a text asking you to come back again next week.
Diana shrugs, “Maybe he’s just shy?”
“Yeah, maybe.” You let your gaze drift to the row of shops opposite the bus stop, think about Joel’s face earlier when you told him he’d made your day better, about the blush that coloured his tanned face.
“You know what you’ve got to do, right?” Diana says then, her blue hair almost purple in the fading sunlight.
You roll your eyes, grin, ask, “What?”
“Well, if he turns up at this barbeque you mentioned in the café, you’re gonna have to flirt your ass off.”
“Oh, God.”
Diana cackles as the bus pulls up, and you bury your face in your hands.
*****
Joel works late the next two nights. You know because Sarah comes round both evenings and leaves only when his work truck pulls up onto their drive, at gone nine both Thursday and Friday. You help her out with maths homework, show her how to do differential equations without having to resort to tears, which proves popular.
“Usually,” she declares on Friday, as you sit at the kitchen bench while Danny feeds Nana in the lounge and Connie takes the trash out, “it’s very boring here. But since you came, it’s about a million times better. Even with the math.”
“Especially with the maths.” You reply, grinning, and she rolls her eyes.
Connie bustles back into the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I think your daddy’s home, Sarah.” She says as she comes in.
There’s a tap on the front door as she says it. You rise from the bench, brush cookie crumbs from your jeans and make your way down the hall. The silhouette framed by the glass of the door is broad and tall, and your stomach does a strange little jolt as you step towards it.
Joel’s face is drawn when you open the door, the bags under his eyes accentuated by the porch lights, the lines on his tanned forehead deep. He’s in his work clothes, as usual. The tool belt is off, though, which is strangely a disappointment.
“Hey,” you say grinning, and he smiles back, his tired eyes creasing at the corners.
“Hi, darlin’. Is my kid here, by any chance?”
“She is indeed. She’s just packing up her things.”
He nods, and you take in the sag in his shoulders, the yawn that suddenly stretches his mouth.
“You’re working too hard.” You say, and he chuckles.
“Been tryna finish this plastering, because someone wants me to go to a barbeque.” He quips, grinning, and you feel yourself blushing.
“Did you finish it?”
He holds his hands out to his sides, lets you take in the beige splodges that cover his jeans, the dust that coats his t-shirt, the caked soles of his large work boots.
“Reckon most of it’s on me, but there’s enough on the walls to do the job too.”
“I assume you’ll be wearing this outfit tomorrow, too?” You say, laughing as he tries and fails to brush off a particularly well-dried patch of plaster from the leg of his jeans.
“Oh, ‘course.”
Sarah appears at your side, Connie behind her. She tucks an arm around your waist and you slip yours over her shoulder.
“We did differential equations.” She says proudly, and Joel smiles at her.
“Might as well have done Greek for all that means to me, baby girl.” He says, “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
“Oh, your lawn mower’s in the garage, Joel.” Connie says, as Sarah hops out of the front door and starts down the porch steps. “I wouldn’t ask you to move it now, only Danny wants the space for the beer cooler for tomorrow.”
“No worries,” Joel says, “I’ll get it. Sarah, go on home and open the garage up.” He tosses her a bunch of keys.
“I can open up our garage,” You offer, taking the keys from Connie as she scrabbles to change her slippers, gripping the door handle and wobbling precariously.
“Thank you, dear.” She says, sighing and straightening up.
Outside, you press the key into the garage door and let it swing open. Joel stands by, grabs the top of the door as it swings open, lets it gently rise the last couple of inches. The movement pulls the top of his shirt up, revealing his stomach, the dark hairs the trace a path down below the waistband of his jeans. You swallow, avert your eyes a few seconds too late, straight up into his face. He’s smiling cockily, hand still up on the open garage door.
“Concentrate, darlin’,” He says, and the Southern drawl of it goes straight to you core, has you pressing your thighs together, heat building in your belly.
“I think the mower is just over- ugh, what the fuck!” You bat at the cobweb that you’ve just walked straight into, spluttering and clawing at it, dragging it off of your face.
Joel lurches forward in a split second, panicked by your outburst, then, realising what’s happened, falls back and starts laughing.
“Don’t laugh!” You say, pulling long silky threads from your face. “It’s all over me!”
“Here,” Joel steps toward you again, raises a hand, brushes a single fingertip over your forehead, pulling one of the web’s tendrils away from your skin.
“Thanks,” You say, suddenly stilling, letting your own hands fall, leaning into his touch.
“There’s some in your hair.”
“Can you?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
He reaches up, threads a hand into the front of you hair and combs through it. He’s so gentle it almost makes you whimper, his fingertips just brushing your scalp, side of his thumb barely tracing the side of your jaw, down to your neck. You feel goosebumps erupt in the wake of his hand. He’s looking at you – at your hair, his eyes wide and serious, mouth slightly open. You watch his arm, watch the muscles shift in his bicep as he moves his hand back through your hair, pulling the last of the cobweb out. He slows as he reaches the ends, lets his little finger glide almost imperceptibly under your chin, lifting your face delicately so that you’re looking right at him.
His pupils are blown wide in the dim light of the garage, that same look on his face as he had in the doorway of the lounge a few nights ago. He moves his hand from your face, hesitates, closes it into a fist by your shoulder and then sighs, a resigned, drawn out sigh. Before you can speak he’s pushing his hand back into your hair, caressing your jaw, drawing your face up, towards his lips, which are parted slightly, plump and beautiful. You’re inches from him, your breath mingling, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he leans down to meet you in the middle.
“Dad?”
You spring apart at the sudden sound of Sarah’s voice. You’re both flustered; Joel’s cheeks are ruddy and you can feel your own burning scarlet.
“Coming, we’re coming.” He says, turning from you to Sarah, who steps round the driveway into the entrance of the garage.
Joel steps past you to the mower, lifts it up easily in one arm and carries it back towards his daughter. He turns as he reaches her, looks you up and down in a way that makes you suddenly hot all over, his eyes sparkling with something deliciously dark.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.” He says, and then he’s gone again, and you’re left alone with a thumping heart and a deep, unsatiated hunger.
Chapter Summary: You've just finished a Masters back home in England, and, with little idea of what you want to do next, decide to spend the summer in Texas, staying with your mum's cousins, the Adlers. But its not the Adlers who pick you up from the airport: it's their handsome neighbour, Joel.
Rating: Teen (for now)
Tags/warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU! no outbreak, porn with plot.
Word Count: 1.7k
The Texas heat is something else. You’ve hardly been stateside more than two hours and already it feels overwhelming, cloying and claustrophobic. It doesn’t help that the air-conditioning in the airport is sporadic and patchy. By the time you make it through security, into the dry heat of arrivals, your shirt is sticking to your back, hair plastered to your forehead and you’re wondering why you ever let her mother persuade you this was a good idea.
“Go to Texas,” she’d suggested, when you arrived home from your last university term, unsure of what to do or where to begin with starting a life for yourself, “stay with the Adlers – they’re family and god knows Connie would love to see you. Spend the summer there – see what happens.”
And so here you are, too old for a gap year, really, at twenty-five, too young to commit to anything for more than a summer, dragging your suitcase – one broken wheel courtesy of British Airways – through arrivals, wondering if you’ve just made the worst decision of your life. Danny and Connie are strangers but for the fact that they’re your mum’s cousins, though you’ve seen enough photos of them to know who you’re looking for. You look out over the crowded lounge, trying to spot them.
The man your eyes fall on definitely isn’t Mr or Mrs Adler, but he’s holding a sign that bears your name (along with an assortment of hearts and two poorly drawn butterflies). He’s younger than Danny and Connie, maybe late thirties, dark hair curling around his ears, a patchy beard that only accentuates the strong line of his jaw and nose. His eyes – dark, hooded – are searching the crowd of passengers emerging from arrivals. You slow, watching the man, wondering who he is, wracking your brains to remember if the Adlers have a son or brother they haven’t mentioned before in their letters and Christmas cards, but you come up blank.
Eventually, while you’re still wondering who this man is and why he’s got a board bearing your name, your eyes lock with his. He raises his eyebrows – a question – and you sigh, start off towards him, the broken suitcase bumping against your ankles. When you reach him he holds out a hand for you to shake.
“’m Joel,” he says, voice deep, a smooth Southern drawl that you thought only existed in movies, “I’m Danny’s neighbour. They’re sorry they couldn’t be here, they had to take Mrs Adler – Nana – to a hospital appointment. I’m gonna drive you back to theirs, if that’s alright?”
“Of course,” You take the offered hand, shake it, trying not to think about how large it feels compared to your own, how much strength seems to rest in the callused palms and thick fingers. “I’m guessing you didn’t make that sign?”
Joel looks at the name card in his other hand, colour rising on his cheeks as he takes in the love hearts and butterflies that have been painted onto it.
“I can’t say I did.” He replies, “You’ve got Connie to thank for that.”
You laugh and he smirks too, mouth curving up with amusement, eyes crinkling as he does.
“I’m parked right outside,” he says, “I can take that, if you want?”
You hand him the suitcase, about to warn him about the broken wheel but he lifts it easily by the handle, the weight nothing to the shifting muscles that stretch the sleeves of his t-shirt.
His truck is huge, obscenely large compared to the cars you’re used to seeing back home in England. You clamber in, take in the toolboxes in the bed, a hard hat strewn on the back seat, large work boots in the footwell that dwarf your own battered Converse.
“‘scuse the mess.” Joel says, getting into the driver’s seat. “Been a busy week.”
“You’re a builder?” You ask.
“Contractor. Me ‘n my brother, though mostly me, if I’m being honest. You?” He asks the question without looking at you, already starting the engine, something grating in the ignition as he does so.
“Nothing, yet.” You reply, pulling your seatbelt on, “I just finished university – college – and I’m still kind of figuring it out.”
“What did you study?”
“Maths, then a Masters in Theoretical Physics.”
“Shit, smart girl.”
Something about the way he says this, his eyes lingering perhaps a little longer than they need to on your face as he does so, makes your stomach flip.
“Know what you’re going to do with it, now you’re done?”
“Not a clue,” You reply, looking out of the window as the city opens out around the truck.
“Well, don’t rush into anything. Nothing like your twenties to spend messing around trying things out.”
“That what you did?”
He scoffs out a laugh at this, gives you a sideways look. “Not exactly. I had a kid at twenty-two and spent the rest of my twenties figuring that out. Still am, really.” He pauses, flicks his sun visor down and taps a small polaroid that’s slid into the back of the mirror. “She’s thirteen now. Sarah.”
The girl in the photograph is pretty, all bright eyes and curly hair. She’s leaning back in a chair, giggling at something the photographer has just said.
“She’s beautiful,” You say, and you can see the pride bubbling up in him as he flips the visor back up.
“Smart, too. Struggles a bit with math, now they’ve started bringing in algebra. I’m not much help, either. Once you get past adding and minusing, I’m lost.”
You laugh at this, grin at him. “I’d be happy to help out. God knows I’ll have plenty of free time, and I like teaching.”
“Might just take you up on that.” He replies, giving you a soft smile in return.
There’s a dimple in his cheek as he does so, visible only through the patchiness of his beard. He seems to get more and more handsome the longer you look at him. Leaning back in the truck, you can’t help but let your eyes trace his profile, the strong curve of his nose, plushness of his lips. It’s more fascinating than the concrete jungle that’s passing by the windows of the truck.
He’s a good driver: steady, reassuringly confident. He lets one arm rest across the back of the truck’s long seat, the other gently holding the steering wheel, guiding the truck down the freeway. If you laid your head back against the seat it would rest in the curve of his wrist. You don’t, but you can feel the heat rolling off of his arm anyway on the back of your neck, warm in contrast to the cool air blowing through the AC unit. You let your eyes gently close, jetlag starting to creep up on you. Your limbs are stiff and sore from the long plane journey. The hot sun beats down through the windscreen, casting patterns on your closed eyelids. It’s peaceful, here, in the truck with this handsome stranger, and before you know it you’ve fallen asleep, head lolling back on the seat.
Next thing you know Joel’s gently saying your name, one large hand on your shoulder, rousing you from sleep. You open your eyes, squint against the bright sun. He’s parked up in the driveway of a large, brick built house on a suburban street. The garage door is open: tools are stacked up inside, ladders and racks of scaffolding. The drive and lawn are neat, a little scrubby from the heat. You turn, look over at a house you recognise as the Adler’s, the one you’ve seen in it family photographs sent with the yearly Christmas card. Your new home, for the next three months.
Joel holds the door of the truck open for you and your climb out, get your feet down on the solid concrete driveway. He moves round to the back, tugs out your suitcase like it weighs nothing, even though your arms are still aching from dragging it through security hours earlier.
“Connie left me the key,” Joel says, reaching a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a brass key on a flowery keyring. “I’ll help you get your stuff in, then leave you to settle in. Connie and Danny should be back in an hour or so.”
The Adler’s house is nice. Quaint, a little dated, décor straight from the 1980s, but it’s homely. You feel settled immediately. There’s a photograph of your mum on the bookshelf, from back when she was a kid, long before she moved from Texas to London.
Joel puts your suitcase at the foot of the stairs, asks if you want him to take it up for you, but you’re not sure which room you’re staying in so you tell him to leave it, that you can sort it out later. There’s a whining from the back room and you look at Joel, questioningly.
“That’ll be Mercy,” He says, moving through the hall to the kitchen, swinging open the door.
A bundle of fur throws itself down the hallway towards you, tail wagging. Joel watches, grin on his face as you bury your face in the dog’s soft coat and wrap your arms around him.
“I’d better head off,” He says when you stand up, brushing fur from your clothes. “You need anything, just give me a shout. You know where I am.”
“Thanks, Joel.” You say, watching him pull open the door, t-shirt bunching up around his shoulders revealing a tanned strip of skin just above the waistband of his faded jeans. “And I meant what I said about helping Sarah with that maths homework.” You add as he steps out onto the porch.
He turns back, shields his eyes from the sun to look at you, mouth turned up in a grin. “And I might just take you up on that, darlin’.”
And then he’s gone, long strides taking him back across the lawn and towards his own house. You lean back against the closed door and shut your eyes, basking in the imprint of Joel’s handsome face etched on the back of your eyelids, wondering if you’ve just made the best decision of your life.
one day i'll feel alright (joel miller x reader) 18+
here it is... the Big One. i've been hyping up this part of my soft!dom joel series for a while now (probably too much, i'm sorry) but i'm so excited to finally share it with you guys. i just wanna note that this is not the end of soft!dom joel by any means. i wanna keep writing for these two as long as i can, just probably nothing else as long as this lmao 💖 enjoy! | masterlist
summary: joel must finally face his demons when you don't return from patrol.
rating: 18+ explicit
warnings: fem!reader, age difference (reader is mid 20s, joel mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), hurt/comfort, angst, praise kink, dirty talk, bathing together, oral (both f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, size kink, orgasm denial, comeplay, come eating, yall this one is SO filthy be warned
word count: 15k | ao3
spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major (joel does NOT go golfing in this fic).
The patrol schedule is posted on Monday morning outside the community center and you're one of the first people to look at it, eyes frantically scanning for your name as your heart pounds in your chest. There's no way, you think to yourself, still searching, He wouldn't actually talk to Tommy about a schedule change.
You finally find your name and feel those annoyingly familiar angry tears begin to burn in your eyes.
"Fuck you," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head, "Fuck you, Joel."
You're no longer his patrol partner.
You briefly consider going to his house, pounding on his door until he answers and screaming in his face about how ridiculous and immature he's being, but you realize that doing so would make you just as immature. Instead, you just decide to pretend it never happened, like you never patrolled with him to begin with.
"Steve is nice," one of your friends says to you later, "I like him, you'll get along."
Who the fuck is Steve? you want to ask, but then remember that it's his name that has replaced Joel's on the schedule. To make matters even worse, you're no longer going up to the ski lodge and are instead going out past the perimeter, a patrol location known to encounter raiders pretty often. Fantastic.
--
The next time you see him is that night in the dining hall, sitting in his usual corner by himself and gulping down bites of chili like he hasn't eaten in weeks. It used to be endearing, those big bites, now it just pisses you off.
He doesn't look at you. Over the past few weeks you'd grown accustomed to him peering over at you every so often, giving you small smiles to acknowledge that he saw you and remembered what the two of you shared every weekend. Neither of you would talk about it; it was private and belonged on the mountain, which you were fine with. At least he'd give you those looks, those smiles, and remind you that you were his pretty girl, his little secret.
Now his lack of acknowledgement, his purposeful ignorance of your presence, it makes you feel sick. You end up having to excuse yourself before you do something you'll regret. Like punch someone.
--
Steve is nice, but that's your first immediate problem with him. He's too nice. He talks too much, constantly trying to fill a silence that doesn't need it, asks you way too many questions and doesn't seem even vaguely put-out when you give him the most basic possible answers. He's young, probably in his mid-thirties, and you find yourself desperately missing the long and comfortable silences you shared with Joel, his gruff sighs, his breathy chuckles, his music, his books, his age. You realize pretty quickly that you view Steve as a boy and not a man, despite him being older than you. Internally, you tell yourself you need to get a grip.
Your new patrol location isn't as bad as you'd first thought; you're stationed in an abandoned cabin in a wooded area past the perimeter. It's cozy and inviting, kind of reminds you of the ski lodge, which quickly makes you feel depressed. You both take turns circling the area - although at first Steve had suggested you do it together; you'd vetoed that immediately. Your main responsibilities are checking traps and watching out for infected. It's actually a bit more engaging than your previous patrol which you feel slightly grateful for; it's nice to feel busy. And to shut your thoughts up.
At the end of your first patrol with Steve you both walk back to Jackson together in the early morning, him still continuing to chat and tell you things about himself regardless of whether you respond. You're almost back to town when you notice that you're suddenly on the same path you and Joel used to take, the one that leads up to the mountain. You stop in your tracks.
"What time is it?" you ask, interrupting whatever Steve had been prattling on about.
He looks down at his watch, "Almost six," he smiles at you, "We'll be back just in time for breakfast."
Almost six; around the time you and Joel would usually be reaching the bottom of the mountain. Your eyes scan the tree line, brow furrowing as you search for any sign of him making his way down the path. Steve stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to say something.
"Should we...?" he gestures toward the path you're both on, toward town, and you bite your lip in thought.
"Just gimme a sec," you say quickly, still searching, "I wanna say hi to my old patrol partner."
"Aw, that's sweet," he says with a smile, and it's so earnest and endearing that you can't necessarily be annoyed, "My old patrol partner, we-" he starts chatting again, buying you some more time.
Not more than a moment later, two figures suddenly emerge from the trees: Joel and Tommy. You feel your heart start to pound as they walk down the path, neither seeing you and Steve standing there until they're almost directly in front of you. They're caught up in some kind of deep conversation, you might even call it an argument judging by Tommy's stiffness and Joel's flared nostrils.
Tommy sees you first, giving you a wave and a smile, then nudging Joel. Joel follows Tommy's eyeline and suddenly freezes in his tracks, standing still on the path while Tommy continues to approach you.
"Good patrol?" he asks, nodding to Steve, "No trouble?"
"No, sir," Steve says, eager and polite, kind of like a golden retriever puppy, "No problems whatsoever."
"Glad to hear it," he looks at you again, "Hey, mind if we meet later for a chat?"
You wonder if he wants to chat about whatever he'd just been arguing about with Joel. Intrigued, you nod, "Sure."
Joel reaches you then, pace slow and hesitant. You turn to look at him, trying not to let the anger you feel toward him completely overtake you; the last thing you need right now is to either start crying or yelling.
"Hey," you say with a stiff nod.
"Hi!" Steve says beside you, and you try not to wince as he puts his hand out, waiting for Joel to take it, "I'm Steve."
Joel simply stares at him, then his hand, and then looks at you, eyes dark and cold. His gaze slips between the two of you back and forth for a few seconds, expression unreadable, then continues down the path without speaking.
"Meet me by the stream 'round noon, alright?" Tommy says, backing away to follow Joel, "I'll bring you lunch."
You watch as he catches up to Joel, says something to him, but Joel doesn't respond and just keeps on walking ahead, pace quicker and quicker. You're still just standing there watching their forms get smaller when Steve finally speaks again:
"He's...uh...friendly."
You laugh without humor, hitching your pack up your shoulder and starting to walk, "Oh, you have no idea."
--
You meet Tommy around noon by the stream like he'd asked, crossing the bridge and giving him a small wave of acknowledgement as you approach. He's got a paper bag with him; lunch, just like he'd promised.
"Tuna fish," he says with a kind smile, chuckling at the face you make as he hands the bag to you, "It was either that or egg salad."
"The dining hall must stink today," you reply with a scrunch of your nose, but you take the bag gratefully, "Thanks, Tommy."
"No problem," he gestures toward the bench he's sitting on, inviting you to join him, "Let's talk."
He talks and you mainly listen, nodding along every so often and chewing your tuna sandwich thoughtfully. He starts by thanking you for "everything" you did for him and Maria, which you quickly dodge because all you'd done is take a patrol off his hands - a patrol that's gone back to being his again, but he doesn't mention that part. He talks about how big a help you've been, how he's glad you're here, all the basic stuff he's already told you before. You're almost done your sandwich when you realize he's talking complete bullshit.
"Tommy," you say, balling the paper bag up and shoving it into your pocket, "If you wanna talk about Joel, just do it."
He freezes, recognition dawning in his eyes as he sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It's a habit he and Joel share, and you can't help but feel an ache in your heart when the image of Joel doing the same thing crosses your mind.
"I'm sorry about the switch," he finally says with a deep sigh, "Joel told me to do it. Not asked, told. He was pretty obstinate, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there."
The words sting, even coming from Tommy. You swallow the last of your sandwich and cast your eyes down to the stream, watching the water ebb and flow as Tommy continues to speak.
"I just want you know that if I had it my way, you'd still be up there with him," he says it earnestly, and you understand now why he'd led with all the compliments and reassurances; he'd thought you didn't know why you'd been switched.
"I know," you say quietly, "Tommy, I know it was Joel's idea. He told me last patrol that he was gonna ask you to take me off ski lodge."
"But why?" he sounds genuinely confused, "It was working so well, Maria and I thought you had a great thing goin'."
You nod slowly, refusing to look at him, "We did. But I guess he never told you any details?"
You sense him shake his head beside you, "No, I spent almost the whole patrol trying to get him to talk about it and he wouldn't. Just kept saying it wouldn't work anymore and that he wasn't gonna say anythin' else about it. Stubborn, my brother. Always has been."
I know, you want to say, believe me, I know.
"So I figured I'd ask you."
You finally look over at him then, "There's not much to say, Tommy."
"But there's somethin'," he leans forward, looking concerned, "I know my brother, I know when he's hidin' somethin'. There's somethin' he's not telling me and I want you to tell me 'cause otherwise I'm just gonna assume the worst."
"Which is...?"
He sighs, leaning back against the bench again, "I don't even know."
You touch the back of your neck awkwardly, trying to decide how to word it. There's absolutely no way you're giving him all the details - or any details for that matter - but you do owe him some kind of explanation considering he's now losing his free time again over this.
"Me and Joel, we..." you bite your lip, "We had...." you sigh and shake your head, "Okay, what I'm about to say does not leave this bench, Tommy. You can tell Maria but that's it."
"Oh shit," he says, eyes going wide, "Were y'all fuckin' up there?"
You groan, leaning forward as your arms fall to your knees and you cover your face with your hands. He's not necessarily correct, but somehow the reality is much more embarrassing to admit. You don't say anything in response, confirming his suspicions.
"Jesus Christ," he says, voice full of genuine surprise, "I was...holy shit, I was not expectin' that."
"Anyway," you say into your hands, skin turning bright red beneath your fingertips, "It's over now and he doesn't want me up there with him anymore, that's all you need to know, okay?"
"Yeah," Tommy says immediately, "Yeah, sure, of course. I wouldn't dream of -" he makes a weird noise, "God, I did not think that's what was goin' on."
"Sorry," you wince, pulling your hands away and sitting up again to look at him. He looks genuinely uncomfortable, arms crossed as he shifts next to you on the bench, cogs turning in his mind. He's probably thinking about what exactly the two of you have been doing up there when you're supposed to be patrolling and the very thought makes both of you cringe simultaneously.
"No, don't apologize, I asked," he shakes his head again, eyes still wide, "I, uh, I won't tell anybody, no worries."
"You can tell Maria," you reiterate, "I don't want you keeping anything from your wife."
"I'll tell her but I doubt she'll believe me," he's staring ahead, still in shock, "You? With Joel? I'm sorry but..." he laughs loudly, still shaking his head, "I didn't think my brother had it in him."
You make a face and stand up, "Okay, that's my cue to leave."
"No, sorry, I'll leave," he stands up as well and digs his hands down into his pockets awkwardly, "I'll uh... be at the bar, if you need me."
He goes to cross the bridge but stops halfway, turning slowly and giving you one last kind and gentle look, apologetic.
"Hey, I'm sorry it didn't work out," he says, and you can tell he means it, "You're real sweet, my brother's just an ass."
"I know," you say with a small nod, "You did warn me."
"I did," he says it sadly, looking down at the stream, "He has his reasons, though. Maybe he'll tell you one day."
"Maybe."
He turns back around and walks away, leaving you standing there alone by the stream with an ache in your heart that won't go away.
He was pretty obstinate, Tommy's words echo in your head, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there.
You stare at the steady flowing water and try not to think about how much it hurts to know he really said that to Tommy. Is that how little you mean to him? How little what the two of you shared meant? You've known the whole time that it wasn't a "real" relationship, you haven't even kissed him for god's sake, but it was a relationship nonetheless. A little weird, a little timid, but soft and new and safe and warm. And all along you'd just been a distraction for him.
In the deepest parts of yourself you've known this all along, remembered how many times in the past few weeks he said that it would be the last time, that he couldn't do it anymore, and you'd just continued to persist and persist until he'd finally had enough. You hadn't really thought he'd end it, didn't think he really meant it.
The tears start flowing before you can stop them. You continue to just stand there dejectedly, staring at the water and trying to figure out what exactly it is about you that made him simply stop caring - if he even cared to begin with.
A rustle of branches makes you jump and your head snaps up, looking toward the sound. A short distance away you catch a bush moving in an unnatural sort of way, shaking back and forth like someone had been watching from behind it. Quickly, you dash forward and pull the leaves apart to find the culprit.
No one's there.
Hurriedly you wipe your face and walk across the bridge, shoving your hands back in your pockets and hoping someone hasn't just witnessed your moment of weakness. And if they have, they'd better keep it to themselves.
--
Another week passes without any acknowledgement from Joel. You decide to stop eating in the dining hall because it hurts too much, instead grabbing your meals to-go and eating them either in your house or by the stream. On one occasion you'd arrived at the stream at the same time Ellie had decided to sit and practice guitar, freezing in place when you saw her. You hadn't spoken since that one very brief conversation months ago when she'd asked about your scars. You hadn't known then what you know now.
"Hey," she'd said with a nod, then went back to strumming aimlessly on her guitar, "You can eat your lunch here, I don't mind."
You'd shaken your head and taken a step back, "No, that's okay, sorry," then you'd turned and practically run away from her, not entirely sure why.
She reminds you of Joel, you dummy, you'd thought to yourself on the walk back home, biting down on your lip and trying to keep the tears at bay this time. Everything reminds you of Joel.
--
On Saturday morning you hear a knock at your door. You're still in bed, confused and bleary eyed as you sit up and wait to hear it again, just to be sure you're not still dreaming. When you hear a second series of knocks you practically tumble out of the bed and run downstairs, blanket trailing behind you as you dart to the front door.
It's Joel, it has to be Joel, he's here to apologize, he's gonna kiss you and tell you he's sorry.
You yank open the door and feel your face fall immediately when you see none other than Steve standing there, hands on his hips. He grins at you but it falters slightly when he looks down and sees that you're still in your pajamas.
"Morning, sleepy head," he greets you, reaching forward to playfully bump your arm with his fist, "Looks like someone missed their alarm."
You stare at him, vision still slightly blurred from sleep. You reach up to rub your eyes so you can see him clearer, make sure he's actually standing there in front of you. Yup, he is.
You force yourself to smile back - something which takes a lot of effort but he seems to find genuine - and reply, "My bad, I guess I did."
"No worries," he says with another wide grin, "We got some time before we need to leave, no rush!"
You force one last smile and shut the door in his face, trying not to slam it - even though you really want to. You look at the clock on the wall over your fireplace and make a face: 4:30. He woke you up at 4:30, half an hour before your alarm.
"Steve, I swear to god," you grumble to yourself, heading for the bathroom as you drop your blanket to the floor and clamor back up the stairs; there's no point in going back to sleep, you're wide awake now and pissed.
You know who'd never do this? Joel.
After a shower and a quick bowl of cereal you head back out to meet Steve, prepared to put on your best everything is great impression again. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you open your door.
"Listen, sir, I think you should leave," Steve is saying, voice cracking slightly as he talks to the figure in front of him.
It's still dark outside; the sun hasn't come up yet and everything is muted and hard to make out. It takes you a few seconds to figure out who Steve is talking to, the figure shrouded in shadow and half hidden behind Steve's tall form. You feel your face go pale when you hear him reply.
"You didn't answer my question," the growl is unmistakably Joel's and you grip the edge of the door in your hands tightly, not opening it all the way as you eavesdrop. What the fuck is he doing here? What question?
"I don't think I owe you a reply," Steve replies, attempting to stand his ground but sounding pretty pathetic, voice shaky and high, "I think you should move along, sir."
"What the fuck are you doing at this girl's house at four in the fucking morning?" Joel practically spits, taking a step toward Steve. In response, Steve takes a step backward. He's not a confrontational guy, you know that from the one patrol you've spent with him, "Answer me."
"I'm her patrol partner," Steve finally says, putting his hands up in defeat, "I'm waiting for her to get ready."
"Patrols don't start 'til five thirty."
"It's true, I swear, you literally met me last week!"
That seems to stump Joel, and he must be trying to figure out what to say next when you shove the door open and walk out onto your porch.
"Joel, what the fuck are you doing?" you ask, voice steady and firm. He looks over at you in surprise, backing away from Steve. Is it just your imagination or did his expression soften when he saw you? But that doesn't matter now.
You walk down the steps of your patio and stand in front of Steve, shoving him behind you lightly, "Steve, I'll meet you at the gate," you say firmly.
"But-"
"Steve. Please leave. I'll meet you in a few minutes."
"...Okay," you can't see him but you hear him walk away from you, trudging down the gravel path in the opposite direction. Once his footsteps are faint enough, you finally address Joel again.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" you repeat, "Why are you berating Steve in front of my house?"
"Who the fuck is Steve?" Joel asks; the question of the hour.
"My patrol partner," you reply, shaking your head, "I mean, you should probably know that seeing as you're the one who switched with him."
"I don't know who I switched with, Tommy did that," he retorts, looking away from you, down at his boots, "Wasn't my decision."
"Right, 'cause nothing's ever your fault, right?"
He looks back up, a glint of emotion in his eyes that you've seen only once before, "You have no fucking idea," he says, voice heavy and gruff, "Don't even-"
"Don't even what, Joel? You're the one standing in front of my house at the ass crack of dawn yelling at some guy you've never even talked to before. Steve's actually great, by the way," you're laying it on thick but you don't care; you want him to think you've moved on, "Patrolling with him is much better than patrolling with you."
He raises an eyebrow, "Is that so?"
"Yeah," you lie, cheeks going red with anger, "He actually talks to me."
"And fucks you, I gather?" he says it with a hard edge that makes your blood run cold.
You stand there just staring at him, mouth agape as he lets what he just said wash over you. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling those godforsaken tears sting in your eyes as you take a step away from him, genuinely fearful that you might end up slapping him or punching him or doing something you shouldn't.
"Fuck you," your voice is small and broken and the tears are already flowing, "Fuck you, Joel."
His expression changes then, and you know an apology is coming. You put your hand up before he can speak, shaking your head.
"Don't," you say, firm and solid, not bothering to wipe your tears as they flick off your face into the grass below, "We're done." You turn on your heel and stomp away from him, feeling a sob wrack through you as you cross your arms and speed walk to the main gate where you know Steve is waiting.
Joel doesn't follow you.
--
Steve knows better than to question you about what happened. As soon as you'd approached him at the gate he'd seen your tears and the shake of your head when he'd opened his mouth to say something. Ten minutes later you were on your way out to the cabin again without either of you saying a word.
Now you're back on patrol with an aching heart and a huge lump in your throat that won't go away no matter what you do, trailing the perimeter back and forth with your head hung and eyes downcast. Joel's words repeat over and over in your head like a curse, damning you into a feeling of guilt that you don't think you really deserve. You haven't done shit with Steve, the assumption that you'd just immediately moved on from your sexual relationship with Joel to another man makes your blood boil. Who the fuck does he think you are?
Do you really even know him? This whole time he's remained so secretive and aloof, mysterious and cryptic. You hadn't pushed him to reveal more about himself, hoping eventually he'd open up to you, but he never did. Just kept you on a short leash with good girl and pretty girl and the way he'd look at you in those moments where you bared yourself to him.
But you're not much better, you remind yourself with a grimace, and you know it's true. You never told him much about yourself or your past. Yes, you would've, but you didn't. And you're the one who kept asking to get off with him, kept expecting more and being disappointed when he wouldn't give it to you even though he was clear about his boundaries.
"But that doesn't give him the right," you mutter to yourself, still walking through the muddy grass, deep in thought, "It doesn't make what he said okay."
No, it doesn't. But maybe he's hurting more than he lets on. Maybe this isn't as cut and dry for him as you'd thought. Why the fuck had he been snooping around your house so early this morning? He only lives a few houses down from you; had he seen Steve and felt he had to protect you? Does he actually care about you, as much as he tries to put on a front that it's only been sexual between you two and nothing more? Is that why he's been so distant?
You suddenly realize that you've gone much further than the perimeter, continuing to walk ahead instead of turning back and circling the area. You freeze, eyes scanning around as you try to discern exactly how far you've gone.
"Fuck," you mutter, turning around and starting to walk directly back the way you came, hoping it'll lead you right back to where you're meant to be.
--
It doesn't.
You'd been so lost in thought that somehow you've managed to lose the original path, the tall grass hiding any sign of your own footsteps. This is only your second time out here so nothing looks familiar; it's all grass and mud and trees and rocks. How long have you even been walking? Joel had once admonished you for not having a watch, said one day it was gonna bite you in the ass; you hate that he was right.
"Steve?" you call out, unsure if he'll be able to hear you since you don't know how far you've trailed from the cabin, "You there?"
No reply. You stop again and do another quick glance around, looking for anything that seems familiar to you. But no, this isn't the ski lodge perimeter where you'd grown accustomed to each tree, each stump, each rock. Nothing here is even vaguely telling you exactly where to turn.
You feel the dull throb of panic beneath the surface of your emotions but you quickly shove it down; you're good in situations like this, you've certainly been through enough shit to not get frightened over being a little lost. You've been lost before, you'll figure it out.
All the same, you keep track of the sun's location in the sky as you continue your directionless trek, noting that it's directly above you; noon. You have plenty of time before dark to find your way back, no sweat.
--
It must be around three o'clock when you finally make it back. Relief floods your entire body as you walk into the clearing and see the small wooden cabin sitting there still and picturesque, exactly how you'd left it. You bend down, closing your eyes and pressing your hands to your knees to take a few deep breaths and ground yourself. The panic had started to really settle in about an hour ago, but luckily it hadn't gotten to a point where you'd been too afraid to keep going.
"Steve," you say loudly, still breathing deeply, "I'm back."
No reply. You open your eyes again, heart still thumping in your chest as you eye the cabin for any sign of him. You walk over hesitantly, feeling a knot forming in your stomach when you open the front door and are greeted to a dark and empty cabin.
"Steve?" you say again, voice shaky.
No reply.
Fuck. He must have gone looking for you when you didn't come back to switch. Either that or he went back to Jackson, but you can't see a guy like Steve doing that. The way he'd stood up to Joel this morning, as embarrassing as it was, it had been enough to show you exactly what kind of man Steve is. He'd definitely gone to look for you. It's only fair that you do the same for him.
You grab a roll of twine from the cabin and start your search, making sure to mark the trees every now and then so you can find your way back again. You'd been advised in your patrol orientation not to do this because of raiders, but you doubt Tommy or Maria will give you shit for making sure you and Steve actually make it back to Jackson alive.
The thought makes the panic start to rise again, but you keep going.
--
You keep hoping you'll find some sign of Steve, but it's been about two hours and nothing has caught your eye. The twine is starting to run out and you fear you'll have to go back to Jackson without him, which will undoubtedly start a panic and a huge search party, all because you got a little distracted. This shit with Joel doesn't even matter anymore - you can't believe you let it affect you how it did. And now Steve is paying the price.
Another hour passes and you're preparing to turn back when you see it out of the corner of your eye. You freeze, hair standing up at the back of your neck when you look down to see shiny droplets of blood painting the grass.
You lean down instinctively, eyes wide, reaching forward to touch one of the many large red drops. It shivers beneath your finger, not yet fully dry. It's fresh.
Without hesitation you stand back up and pull your pistol out of its holster, cocking it and holding it steadily in front of you as you start to walk again. You have absolutely no idea what you're expecting to pop out at you; raiders? Infected? Or maybe Steve just cut himself somehow and you've taken your gun out for nothing.
A loud scream suddenly pierces the silence of the forest.
"STEVE!" you scream back, face going pale as you begin to sprint through the woods, gun still in front of you, "STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M COMING."
It's the last thing you say before you suddenly feel something tight grip your ankle and send you flying into the air, gun falling out of your hand. You find yourself completely upside down, entangled in a net.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You sway back and forth in the thick netting, trying to find your gun somewhere below you, but you quickly become much too dizzy to discern absolutely anything. You hear Steve's scream again, further away this time, and your blood runs cold. The panic takes over and you can't speak.
Please, you think to yourself, shutting your eyes tight and trying to keep the dizziness at bay, please don't let me die before I see him again.
It's not Steve you're thinking about.
It doesn't take long for the blood to rush to your head, for your body to go completely numb as you hang there upside down, completely alone. You pass out within minutes.
--
It's pitch black when you wake up.
You're no longer hanging from a tree in the forest, no longer tangled up in a net. Instead, you're lying on what feels like a concrete floor. Your head is pounding, lips dry and parched. Your whole body feels heavy and achy, so much so that you can barely move.
"She's awake," you hear a voice say somewhere close by; it's female and sounds familiar, but not enough for you to place it.
You hear the squeaky hinges of a door opening, then a few hushed whispers that you can't make out. The door shuts again and you swear you hear the sound of a deadbolt being locked in place.
"Where am I?" you finally whisper, voice rough and broken, "Let me go."
"You're in Jackson," the female voice replies, kind and gentle, "You're safe now."
"Who are you?" you can't bring yourself to open your eyes, unsure if this person is really telling you the truth.
"It's Ellie," the voice replies, and recognition dawns on you immediately, "Remember me?"
You nod slowly, wincing at the pain as you continue to lie there on the floor, "Y-yes."
"When you didn't come back this morning they sent out a search party. Tommy found you hanging in a tree, brought you back right away."
This morning? So you must have been hanging there all night. Jesus, no wonder you feel the way you do.
You finally open your eyes then, and are beyond relieved when your vision isn't dizzy and blurry like it had been before you'd passed out. You spot Ellie a few feet away, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, peering down at you with a soft expression.
"Steve?" you whisper.
Her brow furrows, "They found him too. I don't know the details but he was hurt pretty bad," she shakes her head, "They're gonna do everything they can."
You nod again, swallowing and wincing at the dryness of your throat, "C-can I have some water?"
"Oh, fuck, of course," she reaches behind her and grabs a bottle, then walks over to you. Her movements are slow, hesitant, and when she hands you the bottle her arm darts out and back extremely quickly.
You stare at her in confusion, slowly bringing yourself to sit up. She backs away from you again, presses herself against the wall and crosses her arms again. It's like she's feigning nonchalance.
Reality dawns on you.
"Am I bit?" you manage to whisper, clutching the water bottle tightly.
She swallows, looks directly in your eyes, "We're hoping you can answer that for us."
You slowly bring the water to your lips, mind racing. You try to remember anything beyond getting caught up in the net but there's absolutely nothing. If you'd been bit afterward, wouldn't it have woken you up? Wouldn't you feel the pain somewhere on you now?
You drink the entire bottle of water and place it next to you on the floor, then you begin to feel your body, placing your hands back and forth all over yourself and trying to find a particular spot that feels like it might have been bit. You come up blank; all that you feel is a steady ache from being numb for so long.
"I don't think so," you finally say, crossing your legs and bringing your hands to rest in front of you, "I feel okay."
"We only found you about two hours ago," she says softly, "So we weren't sure. This is where they keep people for observation, people who might be infected."
You assess your surroundings. You must be in some kind of shed; it's small and there's no furniture, only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. If you'd woken up alone you probably would've thought you'd been kidnapped. Your brow furrows and you look over at Ellie in confusion.
"If I might be bit, why are they keeping you in here with me?" you ask, bewildered, "It's not safe for you."
Ellie kicks her heel and shrugs, "I don't know, they just thought you shouldn't be alone when you woke up."
She's lying and you don't know why, but you don't have the energy to press her further. What's important is that you're not alone, and you appreciate that. You watch as she inhales deeply, lost in thought, then brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezes. Just like Joel.
Joel.
"Does he know?" you suddenly whisper.
You didn't say his name but she clearly knows who you're talking about. She sets her lips in a firm line, "Yeah."
You place your head in your hands and sigh loudly, shutting your eyes tight. You suddenly feel like you want to cry, just at the thought of that big, broad, grumpy man being told that you didn't come back from patrol. Had he been upset? Annoyed? Angry? Scared?
"He's freaking out," Ellie answers for you, voice quiet, "He punched Tommy in the face."
"What?" you stare at her, eyes wide, "Why'd he do that?"
She laughs softly to herself, shaking her head, "Tommy wouldn't let him go with the search party."
Your face scrunches in confusion, "Why not?"
She looks away from you then, eyeing the closed door, "Because Tommy thought his feelings would get in the way," her voice is slightly shaky, like she might cry, "He thought if they found you dead, Joel might not come back, might try to find the motherfuckers who did it and make them pay."
You're already shaking your head, "That's dumb, he wouldn't do that."
Ellie laughs again, turning back to look at you, "You really don't know anything about Joel, do you?"
You stare, waiting for her to speak again. She adjusts her position, slowly sliding down the wall and sitting across from you with her knees pulled up against her chest.
"Joel's killed a lot of people," she says quietly, looking over at you with tired eyes, "I mean, a lot of us have, I'm sure you have too. We've all done shit we're not proud of," she thumbs a tear on her jeans, biting down on her lip, "But when it comes to the people he cares about... Joel doesn't do things halfway, never."
You swallow, "Ellie, I don't think Joel cares about me in the way you're thinking."
She smiles then, small and hesitant, but still a smile, "As I said, you don't really know much about him. Not like I do."
"But-"
She puts a hand up, "I know about the two of you. I overheard you and Tommy talking last week."
You remember that afternoon by the stream, the rustle of the bushes, when you'd pulled the branches back expecting to see someone but found nobody there.
"That was you?" you ask, eyebrows raised, "By the stream?"
She nods, "I showed up to play my guitar and you guys were already there talking. I wasn't gonna listen but then I heard Joel's name and..." she sighs, looking down at her knees, "I might not be talking to Joel right now but I like to know what he's up to."
You nod slowly, "So...you heard about..."
"The mountain, yeah," she makes a face, "Listen, I don't want the details, trust me, but I wasn't surprised when you said that, not the way Tommy was anyway," she giggles, "I love seeing him get all uncomfortable, it's so funny."
You snort, shaking your head, "Please, it was so awkward."
"He really had no idea, but I think I did, somehow," she smiles again, wistful, "As I said, I might not be talking to Joel but that doesn't mean I don't look out for him, watch him, make sure he's doing alright," she looks down again, "I'm not heartless, okay?"
"I know," you say earnestly, "I know you're not."
"I knew something was different with him. He's been so quiet and sad, doesn't talk to people very much anymore, but these past few weeks it was like he had a pep in his step, like the old Joel was coming back," she smiles at the thought, "And then I saw the way he'd look at you in the dining hall, all those little smiles. And at first I was like...gross. But then..." she sighs, shaking her head, "I don't know, I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him."
Her words elicit a warmth in your chest, soft and safe, like the feeling of being in Joel's presence. You wrap your arms around yourself, huddling forward and continuing to listen.
"We were eating breakfast when Tommy announced the search party this morning. As soon as he said what had happened I looked over at Joel. He looked like he'd just received the worst news of his life," her voice shakes again, like she's on the verge of tears, "He ran up to Tommy, started asking questions about the search, when they were starting, what way they were going, all that. Tommy told him that he couldn't come, they argued, Joel punched Tommy and then I had to practically pull them apart."
"You?" your mouth is agape, "You stopped the fight?"
She nods with another small smile, "As soon as Joel realized it was me pulling on him, he stopped. I told him I knew about what was going on, I said I'd stay with him until you came back safe and sound."
You feel tears prick in your eyes at the words, "That must have meant a lot to him."
"It meant the world to him, I know that," she says quietly, "I haven't talked to him for a long time, I'm sure you know that."
You nod, "I do."
She's silent then for a few moments, staring at the closed door again. When she finally speaks, her voice is shakier than ever, "I sat with him in his living room until they got back with you and Steve. He wanted to see you but they wouldn't let him, so I volunteered to stay with you. That's why I'm here."
She leans back against the wall with a sigh, biting down on her lip. You see tears beginning to brim in her eyes and you look away, knowing you wouldn't want someone staring at you if it was you getting emotional.
"He's lost a lot, you know," she says softly, sniffling a little bit, "He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about," she takes a breath, shaky and full of emotion, "He almost lost me, too. That's part of the reason we're not talking."
You stare at the concrete floor, letting her words sink in. A daughter? Joel had been a father? And Tess, who was she? A girlfriend? A wife? Clearly someone important, and he'd lost both of them.
You've been through your share of trauma, experienced your own losses, but never to that degree. You'd never gotten close enough to someone to really feel a loss like that, can't even imagine what it would feel like. Your heart aches for him; that stoic, quiet, and mysterious man who'd let you in but kept you at arm's length... for reasons you're beginning to understand.
You stand up slowly, wincing at the aches you feel, your skin feeling prickly and uncomfortable as your circulation continues to regulate. Ellie's words cycle through your mind as you stretch, ringing quiet and tender in your ears; I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him.
"When can I see him?" you ask softly, still avoiding looking at her as you pull at parts of your clothes, searching again for a bite you're pretty sure doesn't exist.
"I'll ask Maria," Ellie replies just as quiet, standing up as well and walking over to the door, "If you were bit you'd be showing signs by now, I think you're okay."
"Ask her about Steve too, please," you add, "I need to know if he's alive."
She nods and opens the door, then goes outside and shuts it behind her. You hear the deadbolt slide back into place.
You burst into tears.
--
Ellie returns with Maria about ten minutes later, both of them looking at you with kind and sympathetic expressions when they find you standing in the middle of the room sobbing your heart out. Without hesitation, Maria walks forward and wraps her arms around you tightly.
"It's okay, sweetie," she says softly in your ear, rubbing your back gently, "Steve's okay, he's gonna make it."
Ellie looks down when she says this, and part of you knows that she knows you're not crying about Steve.
--
They walk you home slowly, Maria on one side and Ellie on your other. You complain a bit, telling them you're okay to walk on your own, but neither pay your stubbornness any mind, just keep their arms linked through yours as they walk you to your house.
You're on your street when you see two figures up ahead, and your heart starts to pound harder and harder in your chest the closer you get. Because you know who it is.
Joel and Tommy are leaning against the banister of Joel's front patio, talking quietly to themselves. You grimace at the sight of Tommy's black eye but feel relief flood through you when you see that he's smiling at Joel, clearly no animosity present.
"Look who's up!" Ellie says loudly, and they both turn to look in your direction.
Joel freezes, staring at you for a few brief seconds of recognition before he's suddenly throwing himself from the patio and sprinting toward you. You feel both Ellie and Maria release you from their grips, right before you're suddenly enveloped in the warmest, sweetest, most sincere hug you've ever received in your life.
Throughout all these months of knowing Joel, he's never truly touched you. Sure, he's touched your hand, shook it during your official introduction, helped you stand up here and there. He's touched your face once, your lips twice. And he's touched you where you longed for him to, begged him to, but only for a moment, just one touch. Gentle, tender, but never long enough for you to really feel him the way you've wanted to.
Now he pulls you close without any hesitation, no rules, no consequences. He presses his lips to the top of your head and whispers your name over and over until it sounds like a mantra, a prayer.
"Joel," you breathe, and you feel the tears start up again as you shut your eyes tight and just feel, listen to him say your name and hold you like you'll fall apart if he lets go.
"I thought I lost you," he says, voice rough and emotional, "Before I could even tell you how sorry I am."
"Shh," you squeeze him tighter, burying your face in his strong chest, "Don't worry about that, I'm here. I'm okay."
He holds you impossibly tighter and you hear the unmistakable sound of a sob rip through his teeth, tears dripping from his face into your hair. You pull back just enough to look up at him, see him peer down at you with an expression on his face that you've never seen before, impossibly soft and fond, eyes bright and yearning. Love.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, inhaling shakily, "For everything."
You shake your head furiously, "Joel, it's oka-"
"It's not okay," he interrupts, voice breaking again, "I'm so sorry. Not just for what I said yesterday, but for everything else. For pushing you away, making you feel like it was your fault, I'm so fucking sorry," he pulls you in again, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, "God, you have no idea how bad I've wanted to just hold you like this. I was such a fucking coward."
"You were afraid," you whisper, shaking your head, "I understand, Joel, I get it."
He lets out another sob, squeezes you tighter, "Don't let me go," he breathes, "Please don't let go."
For the entire hug you'd thought he was the one holding you, but you now realize that for him it's the other way around. You feel yourself start to cry harder as you pull him in tighter and just stand there, arms wrapped around his middle, face pressed against his chest as the beat of his heart thrums steadily in your ear. You both inhale and exhale deeply, moving as one being, one solid force. He kisses your head again and you melt further into his touch.
"I'm gonna head back to town," you hear Maria say softly nearby, probably to Tommy and Ellie, "Tommy, can you go check on Steve, make sure he's still doing okay?"
Joel stiffens at the name, suddenly pulling back from you to look over at Maria, "He alright?"
Maria nods, "Yeah," she turns to look at you then, expression serious, "He told us that when you didn't come back to switch patrols, he got worried, went out looking for you. Ended up running into a group of raiders, the same ones who set that trap you fell into. They stabbed him a couple times but nothing critical, he managed to get a few hits in himself before he got away, led them in the opposite direction."
"Jesus," you mutter, feeling guilt rush through you, "Are they still out there?"
"No," Tommy replies, shaking his head, "We took care of it. Steve knocked 'em around pretty good but we made sure none of 'em were breathin' by the time we left."
You nod slowly, still in Joel's embrace, "Tell him I'm sorry," you say quietly, "It's my fault."
"Shhh," Joel pulls you close again, rubbing your back gently, "Don't worry about that, let's get you inside."
"Make sure she has a bath," Maria says quickly, "Keep her warm, give her some food."
"I'm not a hamster," you groan, and you're surprised to hear Ellie laugh behind you. You'd forgotten she was there.
Joel suddenly pulls out of your embrace, still holding you with one arm while he reaches toward Ellie, "Come here," he says softly, "Please."
She shakes her head, taking a step back, "I'm going with Maria," she bites her lip, looks down and then looks back at Joel who's still staring longingly at her, "But I'll meet up with you later, okay?"
"Okay," he says quietly, voice still shaky, "Promise?"
She nods, gives him a small smile, "Promise."
--
"Where do you wanna go?" Joel had asked you softly, "Mine or yours?"
"Yours," you'd whispered immediately, no hesitation, "Please."
You now find yourself in Joel Miller's house, somewhere you never really ever pictured yourself. It's pretty similar to yours but there are a few differences, namely the amount of books and art. You hadn't known that Ellie was an artist; there are drawings all over his house, some in frames, some just laid around, all signed by Ellie, all beautiful. There's a picture she drew of him that he has framed on his fireplace, and you find yourself picking it up with a smile.
"Bath's almost ready," Joel says quietly behind you, and you spin back around. He looks at the picture in your hand, smiling softly, "Ellie drew that."
"She's really talented," you reply with a smile, "Wonder where she gets all this artsy fartsy stuff from?"
He chuckles, still standing a few feet away from you, "It's a mystery."
You place the picture back down and turn to look at him, feeling a nervousness in the pit of your stomach that you haven't felt around him in a long time, not since that first night together. Things are different now, it's palpable, and both of you are aware of it.
"Will you take a bath with me?" you ask quietly, unsure.
He nods slowly, eyes trained on your face, "Of course I will."
--
The bath is warm and welcoming. Joel had told you to strip down, get in, and that he'd be back momentarily with some food for you. You can't help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn't stuck around to watch you undress, but maybe it would've been inappropriate considering the circumstances.
You ease yourself under the water, a satisfied moan escaping your lips as the bath completely envelops you. He's put something in the water to make it smell good, lavender or vanilla. It instantly relaxes you, the heat of the water and the delicious smell making you feel completely at ease.
You lay there for a few minutes in silence, eyes closed, focusing on your breathing and bringing things back into perspective. You're okay, you're safe. Steve is okay, he's safe. You're both back in Jackson. You're with Joel, you're in his bath tub, he's downstairs making you lunch. Everything is okay.
Ellie's words filter through your brain again, distant but present; He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about.
A light knock on the bathroom door shakes you from your thoughts. You smile, "Come in."
Joel enters the bathroom, bowl of soup in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. He places them on the chair next to the tub, eyes avoiding you as he focuses on the task at hand. He kneels by the tub and spoons some of the soup carefully, then finally looks at your face as he brings the spoon to your mouth. You open, letting him feed you, letting him take care of you.
"Good?" he asks softly, gaze still on your face, ever the gentleman.
"Good," you say with a smile.
He feeds you a few more spoonfuls, smiling fondly at you as you eat. After a few moments of this you put your hand up, shaking your head, "That's enough for now, why don't you get in with me?"
His gaze finally falls then, looks at your body beneath the water, sees your nipples poking through the surface. He sighs, leans back a bit on his knees and shakes his head.
"I don't know if that's a good idea," he says quietly.
"Joel," you say quickly, voice steady, "Don't pull away from me. Not now. Not anymore."
He looks at your face again, expression sad and distant, "I'm afraid," he admits, "I'm afraid of being close to you."
"I know," you whisper, and you reach over to place your hand over his, stroking him gently with your thumb, "It's okay. It's okay to be afraid."
"I've lost a lot of people," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I thought...I thought if I let myself get close to you, if I gave you what you wanted...I'd get attached. I'd fall for you," he says it earnestly, voice breaking slightly on the last few words, "But here I am, fallin' for you anyway."
You smile at him, soft and loving. You squeeze his hand and slowly sit up in the bath, putting yourself on display for him. His eyes don't leave yours, but he swallows and tenses his jaw at your movement.
"Bad things have happened to the people I care about," he says quietly, barely a whisper, "And you're young, you're beautiful, you have this whole life ahead of you and I'm-" his voice breaks and he looks down again, tears cascading down his cheeks, "I'm scared you'll end up like those people, dead and gone because of me."
"Joel-"
"And I'm scared I don't deserve it," he interrupts, looking up at you again, mouth trembling, "I don't think I deserve love. I don't deserve someone like you 'cause of everything I've done."
"What about Ellie?" you ask softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "She's alive and she loves you."
He scoffs, shaking his head, "She hates me."
"She doesn't hate you," you mean it, leaning forward to cradle his hand in both of yours, "I talked to that girl for the first time today, really talked to her, and I can see it plain as day. She loves you more than you could ever know, Joel."
"She stayed with me today," he whispers shakily, nodding slowly, "She sat with me 'til we knew you were safe."
"And you think that's hate?" you ask softly, "Joel, that's love."
He looks at you again, expression pained. You bring his hand to your lips, press a gentle and tender kiss to every knuckle, showing him how much he's worth, how much he means to you.
"I'm afraid," he repeats through his tears, watching you kiss him, "I'm afraid to want you the way I do."
You release his hand and lean back slightly in the tub, extending your arm for him to take, gazing at him with all the love and care you can muster, "Get in with me," you whisper, the splash of water the only sound in the room save for your heartbeats, both of which you swear you can hear, "Don't be afraid."
His eyes cast downward to your lips and he swallows again, then looks back up into your eyes, "Okay."
You watch as he stands up and starts to unbutton his shirt. You can tell that he's extremely nervous, his fingers trembling as he fights to get each button open.
"I'm gonna close my eyes," you say tenderly, "And when you're ready, tap my shoulder and I'll let you in behind me, okay?"
He nods slowly, fingers frozen on the third button, "Okay," he repeats.
You close your eyes and lean back, listening to the rustle of clothes beside you as he undresses. You're not used to this Joel, the one who seems powerless and submissive. You're not usually the one giving him orders, it's always been the other way around. You know he's just nervous, afraid of being close to you like this, and all you want is for him to feel relaxed again in your presence, feel like himself.
After a moment he taps your shoulder; you lean forward in the bath and feel him ease in behind you, his legs entrapping yours along the edges of the tub. He seats himself down, places his hands around your middle and pulls you in close. You feel his groin press against your lower back; you've never felt his cock before, and somehow the casual intimacy of his softness pressed against you makes you smile.
"You can open your eyes," he whispers, then presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.
You do as you're told, immediately seeing the way his legs are splayed out in front of you, long and strong beneath the water. You've never realized how small you are compared to him until this moment, completely enrobed in his body, heart thrumming against your back.
"This is heaven," you whisper, leaning back against him and closing your eyes again, "This is what I wanted, all along."
"I think you wanted a bit more than this," he replies with a chuckle, kissing your neck again, "And you'll get it, I promise. Let's just...let's just sit here for a little while first, alright?"
"As long as you need to," you murmur, and you swear you feel him smile against your skin.
--
You bathe together for a long time, just laying in each other's embrace and enjoying the company. Being this close to Joel truly is everything you could have ever hoped for, his strong arms wrapped around you as he noses your neck and breathes you in, holds you against his naked body like you're meant to fit there. He's so big and warm; you've never felt more safe.
At one point you scooch back a bit in this embrace, feel your ass unintentionally rub lightly against his cock beneath the water. Neither of you say anything, but you both slowly become aware of the way he hardens, begins to grow larger against you.
A few moments later the head of his cock is pulsing against your lower back. Your eyes are lidded, heavy, head bobbing backward to nestle at the base of his neck. His hands on your belly move upward to cup your breasts, holding you firmly and securely against him.
"Joel," you whisper, "Touch me."
The words bring both of you back to the ski lodge, the power he holds over you there, the way you're always at his mercy. You hope, despite the new situation, he'll be that person again for you. You crave it, need it.
"Not yet," he murmurs in your ear, "Be patient, pretty girl."
There he is.
You swallow, close your eyes and submit completely as he palms your breasts, tweaks your nipples between his fingers gently. You whimper pathetically, shuffle back against his cock again, feel the hard length of it along your back.
"You were a bad girl yesterday," he whispers in your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, making you shiver, "And today. Gettin' lost like that, makin' me worry..."
"M'sorry," you murmur, hands moving down to grip his thighs as he brings your earlobe into your mouth and sucks it, "Didn't m-mean to make you worry."
"I think," he whispers, breath hot against your skin, "I'm finally gonna have to punish you."
The words send tingles up and down your spine, eyes almost rolling back in your head when he sucks your earlobe again, eliciting sounds from you that only he knows how to generate. You squeeze his thighs tighter, feeling your pussy begin to pulse beneath the water.
"How?" you breathe, voice weak.
He releases your ear and noses your cheek, brings one of his hands from your breasts and rests a finger against your chin. He turns your face to the side, urging you to look at him. His eyes are dark, full of want and desire, and you know you're completely at his mercy.
"I'm gonna fuck you, baby," he whispers, "Gonna fill that pussy up with my cock."
The words send you into a tailspin, a guttural whine escaping your lips as your fingers press into his thighs, rubbing your own together to seek some purchase against your heat. He smiles, presses a gentle kiss to your temple, drops his hands and places them over yours, big and strong.
"I know that's what you want," he whispers, entangling his fingers with yours over his thighs, "But I'm gonna give it to you over and over again, gonna make you come as many times as I want, 'til you're begging me to stop, tellin' me it's too much, that you couldn't possibly come again," he squeezes your hands, licks a stripe up the side of your neck, "And then I'll give you another one."
"Please," you breathe, voice broken and full of desire, "Please, fuck me, Joel. I need it so bad."
"I know you do, baby," he whispers, "So be a good girl for me and do as I say, okay?"
"Okay," you whimper, leaning back in his embrace, feeling his cock prod your back.
"Say it."
"I'll be your good girl," you whine, trembling under his gaze, "I'm your good girl, Joel. Only yours."
He groans softly in your ear, "That's right, baby," he releases your hands from beneath his and cups your breasts again, squeezing gently, "Now, open yourself up for me."
With trembling fingers you reach beneath the water and pull your lips apart, using both hands to spread yourself for him. The water tickles you, makes you quiver in his grasp as you slowly push your middle finger inside.
"There you go," he whispers, "That feel good, pretty girl?"
"Y-yes," you whimper, throbbing around your finger.
"Add as many as you like," he tells you, "Need to be nice and open for my cock."
The very thought of finally having him inside you makes you whimper again as you add a second finger, feeling his familiar gaze on your cunt. It's so different this time, feeling how hard he is against you, being in his naked embrace while you obey his commands. This is nothing like being in his lap when he'd been fully clothed, holding you open for him. This is sex, pure sex that you know is going to last hours.
"Look at that," he murmurs when you've started to pump three fingers in and out of yourself at a steady pace, "So full for me, already ready to come, huh?"
You whimper, leaning back against his chest, feeling his wiry hair rub against your cheek. Without any hesitation he suddenly reaches down and presses his index finger to your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.
"Remember when I touched this clit for the first time?" he murmurs in your ear, circling it softly over and over, "Remember how you came just from a little touch? So sensitive, baby. Such a good girl."
His words send you over the edge, making you squirm and shake in his embrace as he gives you your first orgasm of the day, coaxes it out of you easily. You whimper when he touches your wrist, pulls your fingers out to replace them with his own.
"That's one," he whispers, sliding his index finger inside your heat, and you're not sure if he's talking about the orgasm or the digit. You're too blissed out to care, head bobbing against his neck again as he fingers you, adds a second and presses his lips to your ear, "Baby, she's so tight," he breathes, teasing a third at your entrance, "How's my cock gonna fit?"
"Mnnhnngg," you can't make words, looking down beneath the water at where he's fucking you relentlessly, fingers so big and thick compared to yours, his thumb toying with your clit.
"Can't even talk, huh?" he whispers, "Need to come again, I bet."
You don't think you'll be able to, not yet; you're so overstimulated but he just continues to fuck you with abandon, rubbing your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You arch back against him, his cock throbbing against your ass. Your fingers dig into his thighs again and he chuckles in your ear.
"Can't do that, baby," he whispers, "Play with your pretty little nipples for me, show me how hard they are."
You bring your trembling hands to your breasts, squeezing your tender nipples between your fingers and feeling another orgasm start building in your tummy. How? It's so soon since you had your last one, how the fuck can he give you another one so quickly?
He pumps his fingers steadily in and out of you, watching as you play with your nipples. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the skin of your left breast, inches away from where your fingers are pinching.
"Put it in my mouth, pretty girl," he murmurs against the skin, nosing the little bumps and dropping his jaw. You whimper at his words, squeezing your breast and dropping it downward so he can wrap his lips around the sensitive bud. You groan, feeling his tongue dart out and begin to lick tiny circles around it.
Seconds later, you're coming again. You shake and shiver and then go completely still in his arms, eyes rolling back as he continues to suckle at your nipple. He removes his fingers, thumbs your clit one more time, then releases your breast with a light pop.
"Two," he says quietly, smiling at you, "Good girl."
--
Somehow you make it to his bedroom. Exactly how, you're not sure. You're so wrecked from having two orgasms in ten minutes that you feel like jelly, but you're vaguely aware of him picking you up from the bath and carrying you to his room, putting you in his bed. You lay there like a starfish, arms up and legs wide as you breathe heavily, chest heaving.
"So sleepy," he says tenderly, stroking your cheek, "You ready for bed, baby? Wanna stop?"
Your eyes snap open and you shake your head frantically, only to see him standing there with a wide smile on his face.
"I'm kidding," he says with a laugh, "Don't worry."
You roll your eyes and look up at his ceiling, "Ass."
"There she is," he replies warmly, "Missed my feisty girl."
"She never left," you say with a wink, turning to look at him; he's shuffled closer to the bed, standing over you with his cock in his left hand, slowly stroking up and down. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes going straight for the plump and wet head.
"Yeah, you wanna suck it, huh?" he says quietly, thumbing exactly where you want to place your tongue, "Tasted my come twice but never had me in your mouth, how naughty."
You look up at him from under your lashes, smiling playfully, "I'm a good girl, promise."
He smirks, "Are you? Then show me how a good girl sucks cock."
You don't need him to ask you twice. You sit up on the bed and slide forward, watching as he releases his cock and lets it bounce upward toward his stomach, big and thick. You've never been so close to it, never seen it in broad daylight like this; he's huge, so wide and girthy with a big vein trailing along the underside all the way to the head, fat and leaking. With a shiver you lean forward and suck the tip into your mouth, trying not to smile when you hear him release a deep sigh.
"'Atta girl," he groans above you, his hand immediately coming up to cradle the back of your head, "That's my good girl."
You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, swallowing down everything he's leaking and then starting to bob your head along the shaft, reaching up to grasp the base firmly in your hand. He tastes like the bath; lavender and vanilla, mixed with a salty and masculine flavor that makes your mouth water.
"Oh, baby," he murmurs, watching as you take his entire length in your mouth with barely any hesitation, the head hitting the back of your throat without even making you gag, "That's it, take the whole fucking thing, just like that."
You're aware of the fact that you don't have a gag reflex; you'd thought about telling him a while ago, thought maybe it'd convince him to let you blow him, but you'd never been brave enough to say anything. Now, you're glad you never did. Hearing his absolute wonder as you take his entire length is more than enough.
"Oh, fuck," he groans, watching as you pull back almost all the way and then push yourself forward again to fully envelop him, the tip repeatedly prodding the inside of your throat, "Jesus fucking Christ."
You swallow around him and look up from underneath your lashes, eyes wide and burning. He looks down at you and immediately slips his cock out of your mouth, taking a step back and putting his hands up in surrender.
"Okay, okay," he says quickly, hissing through his teeth, "I'm gonna come if you keep goin'. Fuck."
You look at him with faux-innocence, eyes wide, "Did I do something wrong?"
He shakes his head, inhaling deeply and taking another step backward, "You're gonna kill me, baby," he curls his hands into fists, and you swear his cock bobs again completely on its own, like he's about to come without even being touched. The thought makes you shiver, "I know I say that all the time, but I mean it. You're gonna kill me."
You giggle, falling backwards on the bed again and stretching out your arms and legs, closing your eyes and listening as he does a quick pace around the room to distract himself from the orgasm his body is threatening to have. You just laugh and rotate your legs back and forth, feeling an immense amount of pride that you're not the only overly sensitive one in the room.
"You think that's funny, huh?" he asks you, and your eyes snap open to see him kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed.
"N-no," you say, but your smile betrays you. He looks at you darkly and suddenly grabs your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your thighs apart, "Oh," you whimper, looking down at yourself, seeing where he's looking, where you're wet and dripping all over the sheets.
"Messy," he whispers, "Such a messy little pussy."
"It's yours," you tell him, as if he doesn't already know, "It's your little pussy."
"I know, baby," he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I've wanted to taste her for so long."
You quiver at his words, brow furrowing as he presses another soft kiss to the opposite thigh. He licks a stripe along the inside, just outside your lips where you're puffy and swollen. He kisses your mound, drags his tongue down and down and down until it swipes lightly against your clit.
"Joel," you moan, throwing your head back and fisting the sheets. He pulls back and you look down again to see him smirking at you, eyes suddenly bright and playful again.
"Tastes like heaven, baby," he says softly, then ducks his head down and pushes his tongue inside you with no warning.
You let out the loudest moan of your life as he begins to eat you out, tongue alternating between twisting and licking your insides and then suckling on your clit like he'd done with your nipple, circling it inside his mouth relentlessly. You writhe beneath him, so much that he has to press his hands firmly against your belly to hold you down.
The noises you're making are practically inhuman, uttering almost a completely different language under your breath as he coaxes more ridiculous sounds out of you. You quickly realize that looking down at him is a mistake; the sight of his greying curls splayed across your pubic bone and the shape of his curved nose pressed into the hair on your mound, his eyes closed in pleasure as he sucks and licks and devours, just the image alone brings you close to the edge.
"I'm gonna come," you manage to squeak out, and he pushes his hands harder against your belly, the added pressure making you groan louder than ever.
He pulls his mouth away.
"No," you breathe, shaking your head wildly with wide eyes, "No, no, no, don't stop. Please don't stop!"
He smirks at you, removing his hands and leaning backward to release you completely from his grip. You stare at him, completely bewildered.
"Joel," you cry, real tears starting to form in your eyes, but not from sadness or anger - this time, you're just horny. "Joel, why?"
He still doesn't speak, just sits there and watches you groan in disbelief, your hands coming up to cover your face. You buck your hips into the air, seeking some kind of pressure, but nothing helps.
"Joel," you repeat, "This is mean."
"I told you I was gonna punish you, baby," he says it with faux-disappointment, like he's not the one who makes the rules, "I'm the one who decides when you come. And what I just did is exactly what you just did to me."
You pout, sitting up on your hands and giving him a dirty look, "That's not fair, you told me to stop, I would've kept going."
"But if you'd kept going, how would I have been able to do this?" he asks, and suddenly he's standing up and leaning over you on the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he hovers above you.
"W-what?" you ask, but you know the answer as soon as you feel the wet head of his cock gently prod your entrance.
"This, baby," he murmurs, and pushes himself all the way inside.
You almost let out a scream, squeezing his sheets in your hands as his huge cock practically rearranges your guts, feeling him in your stomach as he reaches his hands up to entwine his fingers with yours, plying them away from the sheets.
"Oh, she wasn't ready, was she?" he asks quietly, nosing your neck and smiling at the incoherent noises coming from your throat, "Poor little pussy, never had something so big inside of her, huh?"
He stays still inside of you, letting you get used to his wide girth and thick length, so large within you that you feel like you're going to burst. You continue to make odd noises, twitching under his grasp, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you're coming. You're coming, just from having his cock fully sheathed inside of you.
"Three," he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, "That's three times now, baby. Such a good girl for me."
Your pussy pulses and throbs around him, aching and burning in the most perfect way. How does he know exactly what you need? How does he know exactly what'll get you there?
"You're okay, baby," he murmurs, stroking your hair gently as you convulse around him, "You're doing so well, takin' it all so good."
You've never felt so full in your life. You've only ever had sex a handful of times, only ever actually been with two other men. If you had to compare them to this, you'd laugh in their faces.
"Big," you finally find your words, barely a whisper, "So big."
"I know," Joel kisses your temple, pulls back to look down at you with a gentle smile, "I'll wait 'til you get used to it, don't worry."
It's only then, looking up into those big brown eyes, that you realize you still haven't kissed him. He's got his enormous cock inside of you, stretching every inch of you open, and you've never kissed him.
It's like he's suddenly thinking the exact same thing. You watch as his brow furrows, lips parting slightly as he leans down and presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips, your eyes closing as you kiss him back with a hunger you've never known. You slip your tongue inside his mouth and he grants you entrance immediately, breathing deeply against your face as he sucks you in, lets you taste him. You can taste your own wetness on his tongue and it makes you moan against his lips.
"You're so fucking perfect," he breathes against your mouth, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against yours, "My perfect girl, always so good for me."
"I'm yours," you remind him, voice weak and shaky, "I'll do whatever you tell me to, Joel."
He inhales deeply, removing his hands from yours and trailing them down your body to hold you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso and trailing his fingers up and down your back.
"You can move now," you whisper, still pulsing around him, "I can take it."
"I know you can, baby," he murmurs, "Such a good girl."
It takes a few slow thrusts, your mouth still eliciting the most unhinged sounds as he fucks you at the slowest pace imaginable, but eventually you build up a rhythm. He's so big, it's hard to believe he's actually fitting inside of you. You'd only ever seen his cock from a distance, in darkness, never realized how fucking huge he was. You can't believe you'd even managed to fit all of him in your mouth.
"I'm close," you groan in his ear, your own hands coming up to grip his back tightly, loving the feeling of having him pressed so close to you as he fucks you, "Give me my fourth, Joel, fucking give it to me."
He laughs lightly in response, pulling back to look down at you, "Not much of a punishment anymore, is it?" he says with a smirk, shaking his head, "Now you're begging for it." He slows down his thrusts, eventually stilling inside of you and pulling almost all the way out, letting the head of his cock sit inside your pulsing hole.
"Look at that," he says softly and you sit up to follow his gaze, looking down at your already fucked-out hole, his cock only connected to it via the fat head that sits nestled at your entrance, "Look at all your come on my cock, pretty girl."
You notice the white and glistening spots along his cock, feeling your cheeks go red at the recognition that it's all from you. You bite your lip, chest heaving breathlessly as he carefully pulls the tip from your hole and places it against your clit.
"Oh, fuck," you whimper, watching as he gently rubs the head in circles on your clit, his tip continuing to leak and making you even more slippery than you already are.
"Here's number four for you, baby," he murmurs, and pulls back his cock to lightly slap the head against you, the pressure immediately making you moan. He slaps it again, a little harder, and you have to bite down on your lip again to stop the onslaught of little whines you're threatening to make.
"Come," he says firmly, deliberately an order, and slaps the head of his cock against your clit one last time, delivering the final push.
Your eyes roll back again and you fall back on the bed, body twitching as you come for the fourth time, feeling his eyes on your pussy as your hole pulses and throbs around nothing.
"Good girl," he whispers, and seconds later you feel his cock slide back inside of you, exactly where it belongs, "There you go."
You lay there completely limp for a few seconds, body only moving with the thrusts of Joel's steady pace. You finally open your eyes again, see him kneeling on the bed above you. He's holding your lower half upwards, hands digging into your hips and thumbs splayed across your tummy.
"Use me," you breathe, eyes closing again, "Just use me for a few minutes."
He groans, a guttural and fierce noise that rips through the silence of his bedroom. You relax completely, melting into the sheets and letting him take what he needs, take and take and take, using you like his personal fuck toy, something you'd only dreamed about and never thought would ever actually come to fruition. Your arms hang limp and loose off the edge of his bed as you inhale and exhale, trying to get your energy back as fast as possible so you can come again.
Because you know he's not gonna let you off at number four.
After a few more steady thrusts you slowly sit back up on your elbows, looking at him through hooded and tired eyes. He can see that you're close to being completely done, smiles gently at you and slows his rhythm.
"Welcome back," he says softly, leaning down to pull you up so you're level with him. He repositions the both of you so his legs are circling you, yours coming up to wrap around his lower back as you sit on his cock. He pulls you closer, cradling the back of your head and pressing kisses along the side of your face, "I know you're tired but I'm gonna give you one more, baby, just like I promised."
"I know," you whisper, voice shaky.
He holds you in his wide arms, completely envelops you as he fucks up into you steadily, nose and lips pressed against the side of your face as he brings himself closer and closer to release, continuously whispering a thread of dirty things to you, building you up.
"Such a tight fuckin' pussy, all for me," he murmurs, "So wet and pink and perfect, takin' me so good, so fuckin' full of cock."
"Joel," you whimper, leaning further against him and letting him fuck you mercilessly, letting him push you closer and closer to your fifth orgasm, "Keep talking."
"Okay, baby," he whispers, brow furrowed, "Okay, pretty girl. So fuckin' good to me, so fuckin' pure and perfect, lettin' me fill this little cunt, lettin' me fuck it so deep," you scratch at his arm, tension building in your belly, "Waited so long for me to give it to you, begged for it for months, and now you have it. It's all yours, baby. You get this cock whenever you want now, just say the word."
He reaches down and rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling you tense against him as your orgasm overtakes you. You shake in his embrace, moaning out his name one final time before you start to come, heart pounding and chest heaving as he releases your clit and hugs you close to him. You tremble beneath him, feeling completely spent, almost boneless in his lap as he keeps fucking you.
"Where do you want my come, pretty girl?" he asks you through clenched teeth, "You still want it in your mouth?"
"Yes," you say immediately, eyes widening, "In my mouth, please."
Without another word he pulls you from his lap, watching as you fall backwards on the bed weightlessly.
"Christ, I fucked the shit outta you, baby," he says, genuinely shocked at how blissed out you are.
"You did," you reply softly, feeling a smile cross your face, "Can't move anymore."
He gives you a gentle smile, walks around the bed and aims his cock toward your face, "Here's your reward, baby, open up, nice and wide."
You do as you're told, feeling an immense amount of pride and satisfaction as you finally get what you've been craving for months. He strokes his cock once, only once, and suddenly ropes of thick white come are painting your tongue and lips, your cheeks, your chin. He groans, long and low, watching as you close your eyes and take every drop he gives you, watching it all pool on your tongue, dribble down your chin.
"Fuck," he breathes, and you open your eyes again to see him staring at you, eyes still dark and pupils blown wide, "Swallow it, pretty girl."
You close your mouth and swallow all of it, reveling in the salty taste on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You bring a trembling hand to your mouth, push the leftovers from your cheeks and chin past your lips, swallowing a second time.
"Good girl," he whispers, leaning down to push your hair out of your eyes, "That's my good girl, did so fucking well for me. Did everything I said."
"I'm yours, Joel," you whisper, voice completely wrecked, "I'm your good girl."
--
He cleans you up tenderly, pressing kisses to your skin every now and then as he takes a warm washcloth and wipes you down, pays extra attention to your sensitive spots and lets you lay there in peace. He's so sweet, so gentle, you'd hardly know it was the same Joel who walked out on you back at the ski lodge.
But it is the same Joel. He's just finally let himself have what he wants, finally let himself give you what you want. When he climbs in bed beside you and wraps his arms tightly around you, you've never felt so desired in your entire life. He kisses your face all over, whispers praises, tells you how beautiful you are, makes you feel wanted.
"You asleep?" he asks you softly, hands running up and down your arms soothingly.
"In and out," you murmur back, "You really did a number on me."
He chuckles quietly, kisses your cheek and holds you tighter, "I know. It was okay, right? I didn't go too far?"
"It was perfect," you reply sincerely, leaning back into his touch, "It was everything I ever wanted, better than anything I imagined."
He smiles against your skin, "Good, I'm glad."
You both lay there in the silence of his bedroom for a few more moments, listening to each other's breathing. He kisses the back of your neck, noses your skin and inhales your scent.
"Are you still afraid?" you ask quietly, "You can tell me, I want you to be honest."
He takes a few moments to reply, sighing deeply and bringing one of his hands down to hold tightly to yours. You squeeze his back, quietly reminding him that you're here, that you're not going anywhere.
"I am," he says softly, voice barely a whisper, "But not so much anymore. I think it'll be easier now."
"It will be," you reassure him quietly, tightening your grip on his hand, "I'm here for you, okay? Every step of the way."
He nuzzles into your hair, presses himself against you and sighs contentedly, "Okay."
You close your eyes, focusing on the perfection of this moment, the feeling of his body so close to yours, warming you up and keeping you safe. You can't help but notice how perfectly your bodies fit together, how right it feels to be lying together like this.
"By the way," he whispers suddenly, "You'll be my patrol partner again, right?"
You grin, tilting your head back slightly so his cheek brushes against your temple, relishing in the feeling of his stubble against your skin, so natural, so easy.
"I thought you'd never ask."
i can't believe how long this took me to write but i'm so glad i finally finished it. this isn't the end of soft!dom joel, but i would consider it the end of their story, most likely. i'll probably write some more smutty one-shots for them, but i doubt i'll write anything for them again with this much detail. i feel pretty satisfied with this.
let me know what you think!!! i love hearing yalls feedback, it makes me so happy. i also have a kofi if you'd like to leave me a tip. thank you so much for reading 💖
Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)
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pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: E 18+MDNI
summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.
contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.
wc: 9k
a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.
Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young
You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you.
You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller.
Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely.
Her words still ring in your ears.
“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”
“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life.
“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said.
You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.
So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you.
But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart.
“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder.
“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says.
“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask.
She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room.
“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”
It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid.
You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you.
You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better.
It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now.
“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say.
That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture.
“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say.
Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”
“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”
You both laugh.
“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles.
You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades.
“I’m sorry,” you tell her.
“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”
Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.
You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there.
At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time.
Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face.
“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy.
She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen.
Dread settles in the pit of your stomach.
“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself.
A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze.
“Mercy?” Sarah asks.
You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass.
Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air.
“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.
“Where’s your dad?” you ask her.
You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around.
“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.”
Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night.
The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller.
Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away.
You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.
“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands.
What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor.
You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.
“Help me,” he rasps.
He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something.
But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies.
As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral.
Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break.
Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster.
When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk.
Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground.
With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence.
This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you.
“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged.
Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete.
For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her.
“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.
There’s a thud and then quiet.
You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill.
Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway.
Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers.
“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says.
“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her.
“But she’s hurt!”
She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle.
Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck.
“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”
You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away.
You wait for a long time.
As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now.
You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes.
Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine.
For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare.
No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you.
He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family.
But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope.
The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning.
You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday.
You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt.
They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you.
He left you to die but you just go on living.
It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night.
You’re on your own.
A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.
At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone.
On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her.
You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.
Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead.
When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head.
It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk.
You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north.
You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival.
By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you.
They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal.
It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.
Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven.
You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached.
Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall.
It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table.
You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home.
Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you.
He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright.
“Uncle Tommy?” you manage.
“That really you?” he asks.
Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.
You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope.
“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”
He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife?
“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner.
And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller.
He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.
It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up.
He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become.
“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up.
He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel.
You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival.
“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago.
You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath.
“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall.
There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened.
At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks.
You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out.
“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes.
“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says.
It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you.
But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious.
“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself.
“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder.
“You should’ve saved her,” you bark.
Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back.
“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say.
You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing.
You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall.
The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel.
Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today.
It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine.
“You okay?” Ellie asks.
She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much.
He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall.
“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers.
It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken.
“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says.
She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out.
Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache.
Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted.
He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you.
The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded.
So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves.
“Want some company?” you ask.
He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in.
Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him.
“Surprised you remember,” he says.
“My best friend’s birthday?”
He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”
“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.”
You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living.
You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything.
You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck.
“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down.
“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.”
“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him.
“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says.
He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”
Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.
“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.
Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.
“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”
“Shit,” Joel says.
“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”
“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”
You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear.
“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him.
A thick knot forms in his throat.
There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment.
He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch.
The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end.
“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”
You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out.
It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky.
The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen.
“How’d…”
“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”
You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well.
“You sure?” he asks.
You nod. “I know where to find it.”
He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect.
“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask.
“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains.
You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates.
You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since.
“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes.
He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile.
“How’s she look?” you ask.
He can’t help but chuckle. He nods.
You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair.
You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.
Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?
The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library.
Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor.
He’s still Mr. Miller, after all.
Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”.
He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved.
Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.
“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly.
You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.
You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”
“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink.
He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy.
“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze.
He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing.
You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.
You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet.
You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago.
It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek.
“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.
“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours.
It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it.
“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say.
He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went.
You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night.
That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.
He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.
He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning.
And then you kissed him.
Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing.
You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone.
The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you.
That’s when he heard it.
It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong.
She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you.
He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again.
If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself.
He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you.
Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you.
“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon.
Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth.
“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table.
“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.
“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”
“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs.
“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says.
“Dentment is not a word,” you reply.
“Neither is thoard,” Joel says.
“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.
This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life.
But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.
When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.
The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there.
Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips.
He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open.
“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers.
“Stay,” you murmur.
He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back.
But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?
He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress.
Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well.
When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further.
You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could.
It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.
After a while, though, it happens.
Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them.
He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light.
You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment.
The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him.
You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper.
You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up.
It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes.
You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever.
You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want.
You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul.
When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass.
You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him.
Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him.
Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.
Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply.
You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this.
You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories.
Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.
Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before.
But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.
You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back.
It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.
Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?”
You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft.
“Pretty,” he says almost to himself.
He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all.
Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart.
You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection.
Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years.
In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you.
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Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader
Chapter Summary: It goes without saying that your first overnight patrol in years happens to be with Joel Miller. But the conversation doesn't flow easily like it normally does, with your haywire emotions and his unintentional eavesdropping...
Word Count: 7.5k
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, unrequited feelings, joel a little daft in this, reader is a little daft in this, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, reader snaps at joel, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, jealousy, three (3) instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, protective joel, minor injuries, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov
A/N: i just really got caught up in these two after work yesterday. i hope this chapter reads as well as the first one, i'm super nervous bc i want to keep it soft, but i did say there was slight angst in this! love y'all ♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
You were minding your own business walking back from the mess hall when you caught wind of the conversation.
It was a hushed thing, between two people right outside of the turn for the main street. Two women standing close to each other. You had been passing them by when your ears caught your nickname. And then your real one.
“Olive? What kind of grown woman willingly goes by such a silly nickname.” One quiet voice uttered.
“Tommy Miller gave it to her, on account of the trees in her backyard. Surprised she even knows what to do with them.” Another one, both of them faintly familiar. While Jackson was small, only a few hundred people, it was easy to recognize them. They were the ones you often heard while helping out with the gardens, offering trade with the owners as you all shared the spoils of your own personal ones tended to in backyards.
You knew you were intent on pulling your own weight to support and protect the town. Having been grateful for stumbling across the safe haven it provided all those years ago now. Partaking in the patrol rotation and helping out with anything around the town. You had made a life here, one that you had always wanted to try and salvage from the wreckage of the world.
But that didn’t stop people from being people. Rumors and gossip spreading as quickly as the virus that forced the world into small communities like this one. You just happened to be the star in the most recent bout, it seems.
“Yeah, but she does bring them to the markets and trade, so she’s not all that daft.”
“She’s going on the overnight patrol. With Joel Miller.” A whispered reveal, as if it was a death sentence, something that couldn’t be spoken at a regular volume lest it manifest into something.
“Hopefully she doesn’t get-“
“He’s so much more capable, they already saddle him with her for two of his mornings shifts.”
“And now they’re putting her with him for one of the most important ones, what are they thinking.”
“She’s a dear, truly, but she’s going to lose it. Just like she did all those years ago.”
“If she’s the only one that comes back…”
“Marsha, hush, you can’t speak that way. He’s capable enough for the both of them.”
Oh, they weren’t just talking about mundane stuff. They were talking about that. Your chest tightened as you realized they didn’t have any faith in your skills, in the risks you took every time you went beyond the gates to ensure their safety.
Turning back the way you came, not able to face walking past the two women huddled close together and talking so casually about the things that kept you up at night and made sleep hard to come by. You walked straight into a broad chest smelling far too familiar. Smelling like Joel. A grunt that sounded way too baritone and way too close sprung into the evening air at the contact much like your wheezing gasp.
“Woah there, sweetheart, where’s the fire?” Large hands skimmed over your back, arms encasing you, and making you feel a little light-headed, righting your balance as you began to waver from the sudden contact. Oh no, not that honeyed drawl, not that voice, not that tender nickname, not him, not now.
Your composure was already slipping, and you didn’t think you could hold on to what little you had left if he were to ask you if you were alright. The need, the want to answer his questions always winning out.
But you couldn’t, not this time.
“I-I’m fine, just forgot- something.”
“Hey.” And you stopped trying to step back. His hands came up from around your arms where he had grabbed you, cradling your face and tilting you to look at him. His features were softened, the wrinkles beside his eyes and in his forehead creased as he looked you over, making sure you were okay. But you weren’t and you didn’t want him to know. Spurred on by the sound of two voices that had caused all this rounding onto the street, you ignored the fluttering of your heart, the way your breath had caught in your throat, the way he had been touching you and fled.
“See you to-tomorrow!” You managed to squeak out as you stepped away from him, avoiding looking at him directly, his arms falling back to his sides. You weren’t sure if he was trying to catch your eyes, not raising them past his chest as you walked around him. His gaze was heavy on you, following you as you took off down the street in a roundabout way to get back to the streets lined with houses.
“Tommy, please.” Your voice was small, an imitation of what it normally sounded like, and Joel stopped in his tracks. He had a bag of things for Maria, for his brother that he had wanted to drop off before retiring for the night. He tried to quiet his breathing, standing as still as a statue in the back part of the hallway of their house, your voice carrying in from the open sliding door that led out to the sunroom.
He had just run into you down by the shops, or more accurately you had run into him. Literally. His mind had blanked at the feel of your body against his own, the soft press of you up against his chest, the feel of your warm breath fanning over the skin of his neck. And not for the first time, he thought of how well you would fit into him. How well his body could wrap around yours.
He had noticed that while around town you were hesitant to let anyone so much as clap a hand over your shoulder. Aside from the children, whose hands you gladly held with kind smiles and whose arms you welcomed around your shoulders with laughter. Tommy and Maria being the only ones he had witnessed you embracing in quick hugs.
He was always so careful with you, not allowing for direct contact to linger. It always made his heart thunder in his ears, and he wasn’t sure if you were okay with it, the casual touching. You never shied away from him, from the skimming of his fingers against your own or the more recent indulgences he had given into with the touch of his hand or the touch of his lips to minor injuries. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it delighted him to see the way your lashes fluttered and the feel of your breath hitching. He was a man after all, and he was one who was a fool for the jittery feelings you stirred in him. Even if he worried for them at the same time.
“Olive, you can’t let their words get to you.” His brother’s voice was calm, assuring you of the worries you shared with the man.
“But they’re right, Tommy!” Your voice rose to the highest volume Joel had ever heard and then wavered to nothing. More hiccups and sniffling sounding through the door. A particularly harsh hiccup sounded, startling him as he realized you were crying. Chest tight, Joel couldn’t even picture it. The thought of tears running down your upset face steeled his heart. He clenched his hands tight over the handle of the bag in his grip as he heard the shuffle of movement. He couldn’t see through the glass for the curtain fluttering in the evening breeze.
Joel was turning on his heel as your sniffles grew into sobs, moving as quietly as he could back through the house. He set the bag atop the kitchen counter and closed the front door behind him as gently as he could to not garner your or his brother’s attention. He had already heard more than he had meant to, the sound of your distressed voice beckoning him to you as he felt the need to console you. To make whatever it was better.
He knew you had been acting off earlier, just moments ago. From your wild eyes to the way you had been so distracted, the stutter to your voice.
But you were a private person, indulging him in his silly, earnest questions while out on patrol. But this?
This was something you definitely would not someone overhearing, and he respected that. He knew all too well the things people kept to themselves, things that were never exposed to the light of day, spoke of in front of others. And he didn’t want to betray the trust you seemed to have in him by hiding behind a curtain while you fell apart in front of someone who already knew of your struggles and ghosts.
He only hoped that one day…you would feel safe enough and comfortable enough with him to help you shoulder their weight. Because he knew not every patrol went smoothly, how could they, when the whole point of them was to keep up with any possible threats.
Once back in his own home, he found Ellie fast asleep on the couch with a movie playing on the modest television and a sketchbook dangling from her fingers. He removed his boots and then his coat, catching a whiff of the scent of you on his clothing. Light, slightly floral, sweet. You must’ve been tending to the garden he knew you kept in your yard earlier that day. Or baking something like you were apt to do.
With a sigh, he turned off the movie and closed the sketchbook to set it atop the table in front of the couch before moving into the kitchen. The slice of pie you had given him the other day was somehow still in the container you had fumbled for. Ellie must’ve known it was from you because she hadn’t said anything or tried to steal it. Knowing Joel liked to enjoy the treats you shared with him in the evenings with a cup of coffee.
So, he did, as he sat in his work room and began to sketch out some simple designs. He would fill your whole kitchen with whatever you wanted if it meant he would never have to encounter your tears again.
“They- they said I’m going to get him killed, that I shouldn’t even be on the no-normal patrol rotation.”
“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.” Tommy tried to console you, taking in the situation and your words a best he could. But you had rushed through them, explaining in bits and pieces. You were emotionally charged, worked up, and nearly trembling. You thought you had worked through this, at least enough to be okay on the day-to-day front. But those two women, Marsha and her friend, had taken you back to the wave of everything as if it had just happened.
You were scared. Because they were right, you were dangerous. There was the very real possibility that you could cause harm to Joel, and you didn’t even want to begin to entertain thoughts like that. He…he was good and you didn’t want to be the cause of the man’s downfall. A promise to his brother to fill a spot on patrol spiraling into the current situation and it hadn’t even happened yet. It was supposed to, first thing in the morning.
“No, it’s not, Tommy. Everyone in town thinks I’m going to get him killed. That I got Aiden killed.” The name was foreign falling from your lips after not speaking it for so long. It was something you hadn’t been able to do since that patrol so many years ago now. “I ca-can’t stomach the thought of him getting injured because of me, because I’m not good enough to protect him. He does so much more for this town, he’s important. He deserves someone alongside him that will be a help not a hindrance.”
“You listen to me, and you hear me,” Tommy’s voice was firm, wide eyes focused and mouth a thin line as he spoke to you. Soft undercurrents of assurance in his tone. And you knew what he was about to say. It was always the same thing, the same sentiment, reassurance that it hadn’t been your fault. It had just been the circumstances, the world operating as it tended to do now. Unfairly. “Honey, it wasn’t your fault that those people found you. You cover your tracks well, hey, you do, okay?”
“I had been so focused on him, I didn’t, Tommy I didn’t hear them come up on us. Not their horses, not their footsteps, I didn’t even hear the gunshot until he was falling over.” Footsteps on the wooden floor thudding as you pacing back and forth, arms crossed over your chest and shaking your head in the way that you did when the thoughts got too overwhelming.
“But it wasn’t your fault. It was a messy situation, they happen. Hey, honey, they happen even to the best of us.” Tommy reached for you, standing from the chair he had taken beside you when you arrived in a flurry. Ushering you to the sun room at the back of the first floor, furthest away from the main bedroom upstairs. Maria had been in bed all day, not feeling well and had finally found the peace of sleep after an early dinner. His arms were wrapping around you and you allowed him to pull you into his chest, face pressing into his sweater.
“I should’ve been looking! I should have been more aware…”
“Shh, it’s okay, the patrol is going to go okay.” He rested his chin on the crown of your head and felt your hands tangle in the front of his clothing. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“You, ah, you…been okay?” Joel tried to break the uncharacteristically tense silence in an easy move, with a relatively harmless question. He had been up all night, wondering and worrying about this being the first longer route with you. Not that he didn’t trust in your skills and ability, but that he didn’t trust in the secrecy around why you didn’t do the longer routes. Of the things he overheard in his brother’s house just last night. Tommy had claimed that if he was to know, it had to come from you. That it wasn’t the younger man’s story to tell and Joel was trying to respect that.
And if that hadn’t sent alarm bells to rumble low in his mind, then your behavior this morning would’ve.
You hadn’t been at your house when he went to pick you up, the windows dark and the door locked. He had knocked, thinking maybe you had overslept. He had found you at the stables, cursing at the clasps of the saddle that weren’t cooperating with your ministrations to secure them. The way that you jumped when he cleared his throat and greeted you, wide eyes settling on him and body tense as if having expected someone else. Someone you had to protect yourself against, if the hand flying to your holstered gun was any indication.
Definitely concerning.
The sound of twin sets of hooves the only sound for the last fifteen miles or so. You had been content, or as well as could be considering the circumstances, beside him. Wide-brimmed hat drawn low to shadow over most of your face, body on a constant swivel as you took in the new to you surroundings. The landscape covered in autumnal tones. It was beautiful, the warm reds, oranges, and yellows of the changing trees. But it was also deadly, threats hidden within the lush tree line, just over the rolling hills, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
“Been okay.” Was your short answer, not feeling like you knew how to hold a causal conversation anymore. Not since seeing the man’s craft had cropped up in his brother’s home and the way in which he had denied your part in the idea. That paired with the anxiety of being so far out from the settlement wasn’t sitting well. “You been okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Just busy, you know?”
“You hardly ever take a moment, see you and hear talk of you bouncing around so much. Everyone must really appreciate you willing to help. The skills you have, they mean so much. They allow us a better chance to not just survive, but to live.” You wished he could see it, the way children would stare transfixed as him and Tommy led a team of people through creating things the way that they did. From foundations to frames, tiling roofs and securing windows into place. It meant growth, the ability to rebuild, it meant anticipation of the future beyond just a few days. And he helped to provide that for the settlement with the use of his hands and the skills comprised in his head.
He only hummed in response, as if he was disbelieving of the sentiment behind your words.
And then, of course:
“Is…is there a reason why you don’t do the overnight routes?” It was a cautious one, though you could hear the undertones of concerns that coated his polite curiosity. And undercurrent of worry in his beautiful eyes that had turned amber in the sunlight you caught sight of with a quick glance when he had continued to speak.
But his question was ill timed, everything too raw in you to indulge in it at the moment.
“Joel, that’s none of your business.” You felt the easy smile fade from your face as you turned away from the man. You ignored the inclination to face him, feeling the weight of his eyes watch the way you squared your shoulders. Searching for signs of something you weren’t quite sure of. You were always willing to chat with him, about everyday stuff and the heavier stuff should one of you need to vent or rant. Never talking about it back inside the walls and surrounded by the people you went out to protect. But this?
You couldn’t. It was too much, and you know your voice had turned hard, sharp.
“Shit, I’m sorry- we just, normally you’re okay with my questions. I didn’t mean to overstep a line.”
“Well, you did. Just drop it, okay?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t-“
“I get it, just, stop please.” Snapping the reigns, you clicked your tongue to get Lowry to pick up the pace of her hooves. Moving ahead, following the path that was slowly coming back to you as the event you tried to block cropped up in your mind piece by piece.
“Okay.”
It was easy, comfortable to be beside him even in uncharted territory and land new to you after so many years. Because despite the rough start to the day, having reached the proverbial fork in the road that would take you farther from Jackson you had been in so long, it was easy to feel like things might just be okay with him mounted on his own horse ahead of you.
Even despite his rather invasive question.
You felt bad for snapping at him, for being too caught up in your own mind to enjoy the time beside him.
He was always so busy around town, but out here on patrol; he was yours.
His attention not being pulled in endless directions of so many who looked to him for help and advice, for his opinion on something or other. He was so willing to take the time and fix, mend, build, repair, anything that people called on him for. He had just been trying to do the same here, now. Ensuring you were okay. Because you knew your behavior wasn’t normal. You had jumped when seeing him this morning in the stables. You hadn’t taken the offered thermos, not wanting the caffeine to make you even more jittery paired with your anxiety and nervousness. And it was silly because you knew he meant well.
He couldn’t have known the question was a landmine.
He couldn’t have known it was the one, seemingly simple question that you were unable to answer him.
He had fallen quiet since you asked him to drop it. And you felt bad. There was tension about him, in his broad shoulders and the grip of his hands on the reigns in front of him. His legs shifting more than normal as the muscles tensed and relaxed in a pattern you couldn’t quite make out. You had bothered him, with your sharp words. And you worried that you had broken some part of what this was.
“Hey, Joel?”
A huff.
“Did you finish all the coffee?”
“No, got your thermos right here.” He patted the bag attached to the saddle. You couldn’t have known he meant that it was truly your thermos. Always nestled between his own and Ellie’s, in the cabinet, in the drying rack next to the sink. Yours, and not just while on patrols.
“May I please have it?” Nerves alight, you chanced a glance. He had to have been lost in his own head, his eyes coming back to the present slowly as he cast them toward you.
“Only because you asked so nicely, sweetheart.” He leaned down to retrieve it, holding it out to you. You were careful not to brush your fingers against his own. Thinking that maybe he hadn’t been too comfortable with the casual touching that seemed to have grown in occurrence, even if he had called on you and pressed his lips to your wounded head. Undeserving of the attention he had deigned to give you, you didn’t want him to think you were doing it on purpose. Trying to impinge on his personal space in such an intimate way.
“You-your from Texas, right?” Of course you were stuttering, nervous to interact with him, to try and bridge the divide you had caused. But you still tried, not wanting to lose the dynamic you two shared, even if you had been in your head. Even if you had no intention of physical contact, you still yearned for the easy conversations you two shared.
“Right.”
“Did you see a big change between the seasons?”
He seemed to deflate, the tension in his body ebbing just as the quick beat of your heart did as he turned to look at you for the first time in hours. Calming, reacting to each other, softening in the wake of what had happened.
The village was just as you remembered, as the horses came up on a hill looking over it. It was small, a collection of long abandoned houses and businesses on the cusp of the national park that once boasted large crowds and endless visitors who came to enjoy the views. The mountains surrounding it were breathtaking, covered in the changes of the season. Looking for all the world a quaint little getaway.
Another hour and you found yourself working silently beside Joel to clear the buildings, searching for anything that could be of use for the town, for its inhabitants.
Another hour and you found yourself stood in the kitchen of a small house, rustling through the cabinets in search of whatever may be hidden within them. With a delighted hum, your fingers wrapped around the soft casing of canvas and you pulled it out from within the depths of the one you had crouched down to inspect. Joel’s jacket hushed as he turned to you at the sound, his eyes watching, ever vigilant and ready to strike sound something be wrong.
But nothing was wrong, you leaned back on your heels as you pulled the object out into the light of your flashlight. It was a canvas pouch, rolled up and secured with leather straps that had seemed to stand the test of time and decay.
“Oh my gosh, Joel!” You looked up at him with a pleased grin, teeth flashing at him as you did so. Giddy with the discovery. You set it down over your thighs and unfastened the straps, rolling out the canvas to reveal beautifully crafted handles nestled into small, slim pockets. His steps were quiet as he moved closer, shining his own flashlight onto the find. With nimble fingers you shut your own off and tucked it into the internal pocket of your dark green jacket, pulling one of the handles carefully from where it rested to reveal a sheathed chef’s knife.
The sheath was a little worse for wear, the plastic cover faded and brittle, but when you removed it, the blade proved to be in pristine condition if a little dull.
“Joel, these knives are so beautiful.” Your words were practically a purr as you checked the others to find them nearly perfect. The whole set. Each blade crafted beautifully with a wavy design of darker metal inlaid into a lighter one, the blunt side fading from dark to light. “These are classic Japanese crafted, perfectly balanced. A bit dull, but with some care and a good sharpening block they would be as good as new.”
“Oh, so you didn’t just dabble in the kitchen then.”
“Hmm?”
“You were a chef, weren’t you?”
“Oh, um, yes. But that doesn’t mean much these days, so I tend to downplay it.” You stood, the pouch rolled back up and secured.
“You let me go on about jarred tomato sauce and cereal.”
“I meant it when I said those were balanced meals, I swear!”
“Uh-huh, sure you did. Entertainin’ me, is what you were doin’.” He was delighting in the friendly banter, no true hurt or dismay in his words if the upturn of his lips on one side was an indication. The smirk allowed for that endearing dimple to appear in the pocket of his right cheek, much like his brother’s.
“Joel, no offense, but hush. Food is food.” You tried to make it seem like you hadn’t meant any harm, because you hadn’t. Food was food, back then and even more so now. It was a way to survive, important and so scarce a necessity these days. The abundance of it within the settlement still something that amazed you. The ingenuity of people to create and cultivate agriculture as a base function of humanity and community.
“I’d bet my left arm you didn’t used to think like that. Back when we had the choice between organic and fresh to mass produced and cheap.”
“Hey! Junk food was important too! You know how many times I had a family sized bag of chips for dinner?”
“No, sweetheart, how many?”
“At least twice a week.” Flicking your hand with two fingers raised up, you couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that sprung up from your chest. Fighting the wide smile threatening to break out on your face at the faux shock he displayed with a hand to his chest and a roll of his eyes.
“Which ones?” His brown eyes glittered in the shine of his flashlight, following your movement toward your bag left atop the couch.
“I was rather fond of sour cream and cheddar.” You could practically taste the tang of the sour cream on your tongue as you made room in your pack for the pouch of knives.
“I was a salt and vinegar man, myself.”
You just pinned him with a teasing look, one eyebrow raised up in question.
“That’s just gross, Joel.”
“And there she is, the food critic I knew you were.”
“Go to sleep, mister judgement. I’ll take the first watch.” You stuck your tongue out at him, waving him away with your hands as you settled on the couch and leaned back into the dusty cushions. His chuckle was the only response as he retreated to the only room in the house, the bed springs creaking as he settled into an equally dusty mattress.
You were already back in the saddle on Lowry and moving when it happened. Joel was adjusting the saddle on his own horse and hadn’t heard the shuffle of the leaves. The tree line was just a few yards away. And a trio of infected had just breached the end of it.
“Joel! On your six!” You shouted, reaching for your shotgun slung over your back. Joel was reaching for his own laid out atop the saddle when the horse whinnied, kicking her front legs out at the infected. He reached for the reigns, quickly trying to console the amped up horse when he was knocked to the ground. Your shot missed, his horse freaking out too much and you worried for Joel on the ground.
Your own horse began to fidget, but you calmed her with soft whispers and a quick pat to her neck.
Rolling away to avoid being trampled on, one of the Infected left caught sight of him at the movement.
You were too busy leaning heavily to the left to get a good aim at the other two as they began to tear into the throat of his horse, cutting off the distressed cries of the creature. Heavy body thudding to the ground, you fired two headshots before searching for Joel. But he was blocked from your view by the downed creature.
Careening your body over the side of your own horse until you were practically hanging from the side of it with your feet secure in the stirrups, you used gravity to aid you in getting a clear view. Your middle burned with the effort as you tried to get vision of the man fighting against the Infected that had him pinned to the ground. When you did, your mouth went dry. The claws of the Infected had managed to rake down one of his cheeks, blood bright. Breathing in, you aimed and fired.
The shrieking of the figure fell silent, and its body went limp.
Grunting, Joel shoved it off of him and scrambled back away from it with a heaving chest. He looked over his shoulder toward you, his eyes nearly black from the adrenaline, his plush lips parted as he tried to get enough air in his lungs. Eyes frantically looking him over, you could see the split in his lip from the distance.
Slinging the shotgun back over your shoulder, you dismounted and rushed to his side. Your hands reached everywhere they could as you tried to sus out any more injuries. The intention to keep them to yourself short lived and fruitless. Joel was just staring at you, no words coming from him, only the sound of his panting breath as he pushed himself up on his arms.
“Are you okay? You didn’t hurt your back when you fell? Kiana didn’t step on you or kick you, did she?”
The questions flowed from you in quick succession, not giving the man a chance to answer any of them as you twisted to take a kerchief from your back pocket and began to dab at his cheek as lightly as you could. He let out a low hiss as the skin throbbed, but he let you do it anyway.
“I’m okay,” He finally croaked, sitting up completely when a few tears spilled from your lash line. One of his hands cradled your face, thumb brushing them away. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you did good.”
Through your tears, you worked at getting the blood cleared from his cheek, moving to focus on his split lip and the drops of blood that had trailed down his chin. He let you, his hand falling from your own face to your shoulder, anchoring him close. When you managed to wipe away what you could you sighed, blinking the tears from your eyes as best you could.
His eyes were so soft when you looked into them, watching. Your breath stalled for the barest of moments as you wondered if he would wear the same open expression right before a kiss. Heat flooded your face as you realized you had dug your other hand into the soft curls at the back of his head to help keep him steady and his eyes dilated at the sound. Your sore body protested as you leaned in impossibly closer, chest brushing against his.
The long travel had magnified the scent of him, cedar and sweat dizzying this close to him and it made you want to bury yourself in his arms. To burrow into him and just stay there, enjoying in the warmth and safety you felt when around him.
His eyes fluttered closed at the gentle press of your lips to the scratch on his cheek, tension leaking out of his own sore muscles at the feel. Nose brushing against his own, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to press your other hand to his chest and press him back to the ground, to straddle his thighs and show him how much he was beginning to mean to you. But that would be far too forward.
Heartbeat tittering, your eyes roved over his face, gauging his reaction to the uncharacteristic display. His face was so handsome, the trimmed scruff dusting his cheeks a mix of silver and gray complimenting the tan of his weathered skin decorated with sparse freckles, a patch vaguely resembling a heart low near his chin. And you fleetingly pressed your lips to it, unable to resist. The muscle in his jaw twitched at the pressure, but he didn’t move otherwise, eyes still closed shut.
Despite the journey from the day before and an overnight stay in an abandoned building, you still smelled faintly of the woody, floral scent. It was stronger due to the tense situation of a few moments ago, lingering in the sweat you had felt bead up along the back of your neck and the small of your back.
He seemed to breathe it in, his inhale catching in his throat when you couldn’t help the temptation of pressing your lips to where his bottom one was split in a chaste kiss, caught up in mingling of your scents and the effect he was having on you being so close.
“There,” You breathed against him, fingers clenching around the curls in your grip, surprised he hadn’t jerked away from the rather inappropriate move. His eyes remained shut, as you leaned back to look over the entirety of his face. You felt a nervous flutter of warmth low in your middle, mirroring the words he had whispered to you in your kitchen just a few days ago. “All better.”
Your body was alight with the feel of his body behind you. His chest bumping into your back on every jaunt of Lowry moving over the terrain. You hadn’t been able to look directly at him, keeping your eyes downcast in embarrassment as you had helped him up from where he had fallen. Your hands small in his as you had done so, but immediately dropping the contact once he had been back up on his feet.
It had been silent for a long pause, no words coming from either of you as he gathered what he could from the saddle of the downed horse and you adjusted your own belongings to make room. Lowry had been rather worked up, deservedly so at seeing her friend and own patrol partner taken out in such a gruesome way. The beginning of the journey back to Jackson started off on foot, you on one side of her and Joel on the other, guiding her back at her own pace.
But somewhere after the first couple of hours, you had begun to drag your feet. The adrenaline of the morning waning and leaving you utterly exhausted. That’s how you found yourself seated in the front of the saddle on your horse, Joel’s firm body behind you. His height, even while seated, allowed for every other breath to rustle the hair atop your head. The wide brimmed hat you donned while on patrol hanging from the front of the saddle so as to not bump him or obstruct his vision.
But he kept his hands to himself, save for when he gripped your hips when the horse tipped your combine gravity on the errant downslope of the route.
“Get some rest,” Joel’s words were a haze as you twisted to wave a parting at him. Safely back within the walls of the settlement and having completed the patrol write up. The loss of a horse something you were sure wouldn’t be overlooked, even in light of how it happened. You could’ve saved her, but had been too slow to find aim. But the only thing on your mind right now was a warm bath to wash away the day and then the comfort of your bed.
“You too, Joel.” You turned back to face forward, feet carrying you slowly even if the desire to be unconscious was a strong pull to pick up the pace toward your home.
“Hey, Olive?” Hesitant, the sound of your nickname was in his voice.
“Yes?” You pivoted once more, taking in the way he was looking at you. Concern in his dark eyes and softening his features. The feel of his lips sparking through you as you lingered on them. But you pushed it down, knowing it was one-sided and would always be so. He didn’t see you like that, couldn’t see you like that with all the attention he got from around town. So many other people to entertain and you were just another.
“You can always talk to me, you know, about anything. I’ll always listen to what you have to say.”
“Yeah,” The denial of you suggesting the cutting board washed over you, deflating you even more so in the late afternoon. “But I wouldn’t want everyone to think we do talk. Seemed pretty keen on hiding it from your brother the other day.”
“That- that wasn’t why I said it was my idea.” His jaw jumped, the muscle clenching and unclenching, his hands mimicking the motion at his sides. A heavy sigh deflated his own chest. “I was…embarrassed because it was the first one I made. It-it wasn’t very good.”
“Joel, everything you make is well done.” You assured even as you turned from him and walked away.
“I’m so glad you came back okay from that long patrol, Joel. We would’ve missed your amazing hands.”
Joel tried his best to tune the woman out, Marsha liked to ramble to him when he called on her to fix things in her house. She was about his age, an appropriate age. Headed the gardens and yearly plantings, helped out in the mess hall, and tried to help Tommy keep up with the holidays in order to make the town feel a little more comforted. But today, her words felt weird. Like a backhanded comment to something he intended to figure out. Because it felt like it was about you rather than just a well-meaning sentiment.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” Joel tried to keep his voice even, tempered. But he could feel tingles of anxiety come to life in his chest.
“Oh, I’m just saying, everyone was rather shocked that you got stuck with Olive for Teton. She hasn’t been on anything other than her two morning routines in, gosh, such a long time n-“ He surged up from where he had been underneath the sink. The steady beading of water from the cracked pipe measuring the tense passage of time as he stood to his full height. The wrench in his hand pressed into his stomach as he placed his hands on his hip and looked directly at the woman who had been hovering over him as he worked. She had been idly peaking potatoes on the counter beside the sink, making sure to stick close to him like she tended to do when he was in her home.
But she had fallen quiet at the direct attention, a flush visible on the tips of her ears and the swell of her cheeks.
“Did you say ‘stuck with Olive’? Because I can assure you, she’s capable enough to not be talked about that way.” His brow furrowed as his lips tugged downward in a frown, unsure where this woman got the gall to sling around talk of you like this. To him, of all people. He wasn’t completely daft, he knew the women around town fawned over him. Both the younger ones like yourself and those closer to his own age and beyond. But he ignored it, because he wasn’t here for that, his heart didn’t soften for just anyone. And the woman in front of him was bad mouthing the one it had without him even realizing.
“I just meant that- since she’s so much younger and doesn’t have as much experience as you-“
“Hold on, lemme stop you right there.” Joel held out a hand, the wrench acting as a barrier between their bodies. “Olive is more than capable of being my partner on patrol. It don’t matter what her experience is compared to my own. And I don’t like the insinuation of her not being anything other than a hardworking person who willingly puts her life on the line for this town.”
“She just- there was an incident a while ago-“
“I don’t care what happened a while ago, she’s good to me now.” Anger flared, tinging his eyes into the deep, dark tone of fresh brewed coffee. His grip around the wrench was pulling the muscles in his hand, causing an ache that was becoming far too familiar a sensation. But he kept his focus on the woman in front of him, the one who had felt like it was okay to talk about you in such a way in his company, to him.
He was always polite, always lending an ear to what the people of the town wanted to say, allowing for easy conversation most of the time, but this was something he wouldn’t allow and the tone of his voice had shifted. It was assertive and left no room for interpretation that he didn’t share the sentiment of the woman in front of him. And then he thought back to the other night before the route in question.
Tommy had been consoling you, telling you to ignore the things people were saying about you, the rumors that had cropped up once your name had been added next to his on the assignment sheet. This woman had apparently been the cause of your tears, the fuel to your already present insecurities flaring and making you close in on yourself. This woman had taken the teasing jokes, sweet laughter, soft smiles, and easy-going conversation typical of time spent with you and stolen it from him. Tainted the air so badly that you had been decidedly not yourself on the last patrol and so wound up that you had snapped at him.
“She’s done nothing to deserve the way you’re speaking about her, and I would like you to apologize.”
“Joel, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would upset you.” Her eyes shifted frantically over his face, realizing that she had offended him with her casual words. “I was saying that-“
“Not to me, to her.” He cut off her words with rough ones of his own. Past the point of caring about being polite and heeding everything the town needed his help with at the moment. All he cared about right now was you, and how you had been singled out as the most recent subject of town gossip. He tried to tamp it and he had gotten fairly good at keeping his frustrations to himself. Ellie being the recipient when she was particularly stubborn and bull headed, but she got that from him too. From traveling with him for as long as it had taken them, their entire journey now allowing for them to explore the softer and kinder parts of themselves within the safety of the settlement.
But right now? Joel felt like he was back outside of them, the need to protect and eradicate any perceived threat strong. Thrumming in him as he felt like what was his was being singled out and targeted.
“But-“
“We clear?”
Marsha squeaked out an affirmative, her hands wringing around each other over her middle. Without a glance toward the open cupboards beneath the sink, Joel gathered his toolbox laid open beside them and his flashlight.
“Need a new pipe, nothing else I can do at the moment. Tommy will be by before nightfall with a replacement.”
He didn’t bid her goodbye as he walked through the front of her house and out the front door. Leaving the shell-shocked woman standing in her kitchen with her heart beating rapidly in her chest at his rather uncharacteristic display of anger.
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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune
Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader
Chapter Summary: But what is there to miss at the end of the world? It depends on the person, but you? You would do anything for decent kitchen gadgets, something you let slip to your routine patrol partner, one Joel Miller.
Word Count: 5.2k
Warnings: canon typical violence (later chapters), canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, pining, unrequited feelings, joel a little daft in this, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, head injury, reader bonks her head, mild concussion, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, jealousy, two (2) instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting. fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name
A/N: home on bed rest today after a cortisone shot and i was reading through the draft for this when the words all came together for the first installment and i'm super excited to share it with y'all ♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
Joel Miller was a quiet man, not quick to engage in conversation beyond the pleasantries of greeting someone as he crossed paths with them, or asking after the issues people bring to his attention. Not quick to divulge his personal activities or words of his past. But he was willing to help anyone who approached him, the list on the spiral notepad in his back pocket never ending. Every single pair of the man’s pants held the same distressed markings, a testament to how he never left home without it wedged into the fabric.
But you wouldn’t admit to having noticed such a small thing.
The man’s pants were none of your concern, truly. As someone who regularly patrolled with him, would wave to him throughout the town’s streets and gatherings though he would seldom return it, his attention pulled toward someone wishing to interact with him. But that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of the faded lines along the denim stretched over his backside.
Almost as if were a secret you held to yourself much like the fondness you found pulling at your lips every time you mounted your horse alongside him and left through the gates.
The man in question held out a thermos to you, steam rising from the top of it where he had left it open to breath. The early morning carrying a slight chill despite the birds chirping happily and the buds beginning to bloom along the trees around the town.
“So, I know you’re good with a shotgun,” His rich baritone washed over you, warming you faster than the coffee he had taken the time to brew and the rising sun, barely cresting over the horizon now. “But what do you like to do to fill your time?”
“Like…for fun? Or to make the day go by?” You quirked an eyebrow, looking sideways at Joel as he rode a few paces ahead, he knew the trail by heart at this point. The same one you always did this time of the month, a routine set in stone that allowed you a pocket of alone time with him outside the town’s walls.
“Either. Both.”
“Um, well it’s not so easy now, but cooking, making things for people to enjoy.” You took a tentative sip, slurping accidentally as you realized it was still a touch too hot for the sensitive skin of your lips. You sputtered, droplets of the hot liquid flecking along the saddle and back of the appaloosa’s neck. The sweet mare startled, halting in her steps. The sudden stop causing you to knock the top of the thermos to your chin, more of the hot liquid finding your lips.
“Fu- c’mon Lowry, you know I didn’t mean to get ya!” You lightly scolded, tugging on the collar of your button up to wipe at your now throbbing face. You felt heat flood you, fluttering in your stomach as you realized how embarrassing a sight you just put on for the man beside you. But he wasn’t chuckling with that deep rumble he tended to do sometimes. Instead, he was calmly urging his own steed to come to a stop.
He dismounted, coming up beside you. He had a clean kerchief in his hand that he was holding out to you. You had no idea where he pulled it from, his jacket pockets were zipped closed. At least, they looked like it as your eyes had roved over his form ahead of you. Once you wiped the coffee from your face, he was moving closer, causing your heart to flutter.
“Lemme see,” His thick fingers were brushing your bottom lip and you froze. His eyes were focused on the way they looked irritated, catching the soft morning light. You tried to hide the way your breath hitched, but you were sure it puffed against his thumb, giving your nervousness away. He had never been so forward before, only spare instances of hands and thighs brushing against each other over the months you’ve been paired with him. “Doesn’t look too bad, sweetheart.”
As quickly as he had reached out, he was moving away with a lingering brush of his hand along your chin, an unreadable expression on his face. All you could do was nod an affirmative, feeling heat bloom in your chest and the swell of your cheeks.
Lowry knickered, bobbing her head. Joel’s hand then reached out and caressed the side of her face, gentle sounds humming from his chest.
“Were you a fancy, make it from scratch kinda cook or one that threw everythin’ in a crock pot and played the waiting game?” He turned his head to the side, catching your eye. A small grin you weren’t sure how to read pulling at his plush lips. “I was pretty hopeless in the kitchen, made a lot of spaghetti and had a lot of cereal.”
“Oh, um, from scratch.” You thought back to the meals you would create, the flavor profiles you would put together. “But that’s not so bad, sometimes routine is good, I’m sure you needed the carbs and protein to do….carpentry?”
“Contracting, actually.”
“I had a contractor scheduled to look into a re-do of my kitchen, but they never showed. It was such a letdown; he came so highly recommended. But I guess it was just too big of a project for him.”
“Nah, was probably just a matter of supply and demand.” He easily comforted you. “Kitchens are a lot of work. Especially if the design is for someone who spends a lot of time in the room. Need all kinda gadgets for that, hmm?”
“Typically, which is why it can be such a hassle nowadays. But it’s a small price to pay for being so safe in town. The loss of a good cutting board or sturdy utensils is a good trade for the life we have.”
Joel only hummed in response, and you felt like you had spoken too much. Opened up in the wrong way to the man back in front of you, his horse trotting along happily.
He didn’t ask you any more questions as the route was made and you didn’t try to bridge the gap, feeling foolish for voicing your rather naïve loss of kitchenware. You often has small conversations of a similar fashion, a simple question. Not too focused, general. Easy going subjects that allowed you glimpses of each other.
Later that night, Joel stood in the doorway of his workspace.
He had just stepped out of the shower, washing the long hours of the day from his shoulders. Ellie had left a plate of what she deemed dinner for him with a note before she had taken off for the night.
‘Gotta keep your mind sharp, old man. Here’s some dinner cause I know you didn’t stop to eat all day.’
She had even included a smiley face with downturned eyebrows, the little shit. And it made him realize he needed to set some time aside for another guitar lesson, just the two of them. A day on the porch in the warm sun while it was still the season for it. It was well into Autumn, the leaves changing into rich colors all around the town and in the forests beyond the walls.
But not seeing her didn’t feel like the worst thing because it had been a productive day. Patrol with you, then helping Tommy to work through foundation of a few new houses. The town was growing and he was glad to help, never having even dared to dream of a place such as this before he had quite literally stumbled upon it nearly a year ago.
Eyes trailing over everything he had neatly organized in the room. The different, albeit only a handful, types of wood he had accumulated with the help of the council. There was an ancient sawmill in one of the town’s buildings, used to help cut downed trees to turn them into lumber for construction. Tommy had been able to help them run diagnostics on it once he had become a part of the population, his shared past with his brother allowing for him to have the knowledge to maintenance it and get it in operating form.
He wasn’t sure what wood was typically used for kitchenware, nor was he sure he had a food safe sealant. But he was going to inspect everything in town, mind working overtime as he removed the small spiral notebook from his back pocket and began writing down his thoughts as they bubbled up.
Spatulas
Serving spoons
Rolling pins
Spoon rests
Cutting boards
Joel underlined the last one, knowing what a vision it would be to see you lovingly stood at the counter in his kitchen making a meal for a shared dinner. And excited smile on your face, explaining the details of the recipe you were working on. And he would listen to every word, even if he didn’t understand. To see the brightness of your soft smile as you shared parts of yourself with him. He rather liked that you had become his regular patrol partner, you could read the moods he felt. If he was open to conversation, if he needed little quips to keep him on his toes, if he had had a small argument or disagreement with Ellie and needed to either stew or hash it out.
You were good and he wanted to use his aching hands to not only provide for the town, but to provide for you as well.
The rest of the week passed easily, another patrol alongside Joel having occurred. But he had been rather quiet, in his head for most of the silent trip around the settlement. You hadn’t thought much of it, in your own thoughts as well. Made okay by the pair of thermoses of coffee he had brought along for you both indulge in. An easy-going rapport built up between the two of you, one where the sharing of such a commodity was matched.
Upon taking the first tentative sip, he had assured you it wasn’t as hot as last time.
The strong heat it lacked seemed to bloom across your cheeks, recalling the last time he had handed it to you. The whisper of his fingers against your lip as he inspected it for burns making it hard to look at the man watching you take a drink, ensuring that it really was cool enough to not harm you.
Smiling to yourself at the memory, you made your way through the streets and into the front of the town, toward the collection of shops with a list in your pocket. But all thoughts of productivity were halted when you spotted him.
Joel’s broad back was visible even from down the main street. Busy working on repairing a sign for one of the shops that fronted along it. The sawhorses he had propped up supported the new frame he was building according to predetermined measurements. You watched as he leaned down to read something along the wood, pencil tucked behind his ear, a tape measure carefully stretched out. His hand patted at his back pocket, the sound making heat bloom in your stomach and dive lower as suddenly as the sound.
Someone shouted his name before you could even form your lips around the sound of his name, his head lifting up and looking right past you to whoever it had been. Your half-raised hand feeling awkward, and a wave of embarrassment whooshed through you. You shoved your hand in your pocket and kept on your path, though you had no true reason to be on this side of town. The only one you had now occupied with someone else.
You didn’t dare look his way or see who it was who called to him as you crossed the street and began to inspect the fruit out on display. The first tentative crops of the season had done decently enough and then flourished. Apples aplenty. The trees so fruitful this year. Reprimanding yourself for entertaining the thought of ambling around, you decided to actually get a few errands done. You were out already, after all.
You had signed your name along the inventory and the weight of the apples you deemed worthy of being backed into a pie when a bark of laughter had you whirling around. He was working no longer, attention pulled to the woman standing closely in front of him. Joel’s hand cupped over her shoulder. His expression was so open, his eyes kind and trained on her. She reached up to brush some sawdust from his curls and you bolted.
But you hadn’t looked.
And you ran right into the end of the wooden boards Tommy had balanced on his shoulder as he walked down the street. Pain blossomed on the corner of your forehead at the contact, balance suddenly gone along with it. The canvas bag of apples flies from your grip, bouncing around the packed gravel of the street just as your body thumps to the ground.
A pair of voices pulled you back from unconsciousness. A dull ache reverberating from your temple and you groaned as you brought a hand up to gently prod at the spot. You were in your bed, a small thing to be grateful for. Not too fond of the small medical center set up in the middle of town, right off of main street. Tommy’s steps were quiet as they came down the hall, his voice preceding his entrance.
“You awake, Olive? What had you so distracted? You walked right into me.” His strong brows were furrowed, concern etched into his weather features. His curls bouncing with his steps as he came to rest on the end of your bed. He wasn’t teasing, question genuine and worry wafting from him as he reached a hand out to jostle your foot atop the covers.
“Shut up, Tommy. I was lookin’ at my feet.” You felt heat creep up your face, recalling the way you had been ogling his older brother and then gotten so worked up that the man had been touching another woman so causally. It shouldn’t have bothered you, it was really none of your business.
Sensing the serious hush of your words, Tommy regarded you with sharp eyes.
“It’s not like you to not be aware of your surroundings. Please tell me what happened?”
“Nothing happened.” You kept his gaze, eyes not giving anything away as you moved to sit up. But it was too fast a movement, the momentum of your balance thrown off as your temple throbbed. A hissed curse fell from your lips.
“…okay. Well, you’re off from patrol tomorrow, to rest that bump on your pretty little head, okay?”
“I can do patrol.” You felt panic flare hot in your chest, worried for the reason of losing your time with Joel out beyond the gates and not because the man in front of you thought your injury was serious enough to take you off of rotation.
“Honey, you smacked your head into some lumber. Don’t think you need to be on a horse right now, just take the day, okay? For me?” When you looked back up, he was making big eyes at you, knowing you couldn’t resist his kicked puppy routine.
“Tommy, do not look at me like that.”
“Can’t blame me for using it when I know it makes you crumble.” A upturn of his lips on one side allowed for a dimple to appear. Maria was a lucky woman, though you knew that for all the strength and seriousness she possessed, she was no match for the same look aimed her way.
“You’re a butt.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and settling into the pillows even more.
“Yeah,” He stood from the bed and walked over place a bottle of aspirin on the small table you kept beside it. “But you like it.”
“Not when it’s aimed at me.”
The apples you had tried to get yesterday were on the counter down the hall when you finally got up from the bed. It was late, well into the night but sleep wasn’t coming easily. The echo of Joel’s easy laughter and voice from across the street as he talked with the woman in your ears.
With the warm light of your kitchen, you washed away your worries and thoughts by beginning to mix together a dough. Letting it set to rise for a bit as you washed a circular pan, cut the apples into thin slices, and prepared a mix of seasonings. Creating something with the energy flowing through you that had no other outlet.
You had just made a kettle of tea, body tired from the out-of-routine events of the last twelve hours and allowing you to sleep well past the rising of the sun. A distant thought of now being about the time you would be approaching the gates and waiting for them to allow you back in.
Curling your legs up, you had just settled into the couch with a book and your mug when a knock sounded on your front door. Startling, you felt your heart hammer harshly a few times before you stood back up and moved toward it.
You weren’t sure who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Joel in his post patrol glory. His curls were windswept, some of them frizzing and creating a hallow around his head. His cheeks were a little dusty from the strong rays of the early morning sun, illuminating his golden skin in a rather eye-catching way.
“Hey, sorry, did I wake you?” One of his hands was resting on the doorway, his jacket pulled open as it rested over his shoulders unzipped. Broad, your mind helpfully pointed out. He took up nearly the entire doorway, the sun behind him and his face lit up from the open windows of your living room. Shadows making it obvious how big of a man he was.
“Oh, um, no. I was just starting to get up and about.” You stepped out of the way, a silent invitation for him to enter your home. He had only been a handful of times before. To fetch Ellie as she waited for him to return from a later patrol, not wanting to be in the main part of his house alone. Or to help fix something that had begun to have problems. There had always been a reason and you were trying to figure out the current one. “Do you want some tea? I just made a kettle of orange spice.”
He followed you through the living room after ensuring the door was securely sealed. As he did you were made aware of the oversized cardigan you had thrown on over a camisole, sweatpants that were too big fastened around your waist.
“Missed ya on patrol this morning,” He took the offered mug, taking a tasting sip before offering you a grateful smile. You knew he wasn’t big on tea, but this one you suspected would pass the test. His voice was low, velvety smooth in that drawl of his. It warmed you up, filling your chest. And for a second, you thought he meant it. “Jesse was the replacement. That boy sure does have a mouth on him, prattled on and on about I don’t even know what.”
Only for a second, because of course he would prefer you to one of the younger members of the settlement alongside him.
“I was just feeling a little under the weather,” You averted your eyes from his, roving up and down your form at your words. A glint of something behind them you couldn’t read. He didn’t buy it, the flimsy excuse. You could tell because one of his brows arched and that damned dimple appeared in his right cheek as his lips lifted up in a teasing smirk.
“Not tryna get away from me, are ya?” That same, syrupy drawl coasted you and made your movements slow. There was an undertone of something in his words that you tried not to read too much into. He was just joking, right?
As if you could even try. He was a staple of the town, from his physical presence at every important meeting to the things he fixed. Pieces of him, of the life he had created for himself and for Ellie prominent all around.
“No, ah- ha, this is so embarrassing but,” You busied yourself with finding a small enough container to send him home with a piece of the pie sitting uncut on the table. Having been left to cool after your late night baking escapade. Setting it down beside the pan, you picked up the knife you had taken out just before Joel knocked on your door, intending to cut into it at some point during the day. “I hit my head yesterday and Tommy insisted I take the day off.”
“Are you alright?” He was stepping close, one of his hands coming up to gently brush your hair away from your face while the other took the knife from your hand and set it back on the table. Eyes searching for any sign of the injury, his lips thinning when they landed on the bruise on your temple you had tried to hide. It had mottled overnight, into a dark purple, faded around the edges of the raised bump in the middle. His thumb whispered against it, causing you to suck in a deep breath full of the smell of him. His chest was so close that it brushed against your own with it, his face was so close that you could see the individual hairs of his salt and pepper scruff, the freckles decorating his weathered skin.
Dizzying, it was so dizzying to be that close.
Your eyes fluttered closed as he was suddenly leaning in even closer. His head ducking to allow for his lips to softly brush over the bruise, not wanting to agitate it but wanting to soothe.
“There,” His breath fanned over your face, the lingering scent of coffee along with it. And then he was stepping back, his hands dropping from where they had cradled you. “All better.”
The sunlight was soft, streaming in through the kitchen window. Illuminating a rich, thick cut of mahogany. Stepping closer towards the counter, your hands twitch as if to reach and run over the expanse of the smooth wood. It was carved to be a perfect shape and size, small feet propping it up from the counter directly. Little flowers engraved in the corners and protected by a sheen of sealant. It was beautiful and you blinked quickly to stave off the tears surging at the sight.
He did it. He listened to you.
Footsteps had you turned from it, hips meeting the edge of the counter as you tried to act like you hadn’t been admiring the new addition to the home casually laid out for people to see.
Tommy had a bottle in his hands, wine he had found on a recent patrol that he thought you’d like. But as soon as he entered the room, he clocked that you had gotten up from your spot, what you were next to.
“Who knew my brother would end up making decorative pieces in the apocalypse, huh?”
“I don’t know him well enough to agree, we only patrol together.” Smooth words didn’t betray the way you pictured the man seated and concentrating on carving into the block of wood to create something so beautiful. His large hands gripping the handles of tools you couldn’t even begin to name, brushes to wipe away the shavings, to slather the sealant over it. The striking sound of sandpaper fills your senses along with the scent of freshly carved wood.
A lingering one you could often catch if Joel was close enough, of rich cedar mingled with whatever he used to wash. Culminating into how he always smelled, signature, familiar. Easy to pick out in a crowd and no it was him. Blinking, you focused back in the present, reigning in your thoughts of a man you had no business thinking after in such a manner.
He was a patrol partner. An acquaintance.
“Oh hush, Olive, you know him more than most.”
You just hummed, eyes looking everywhere but at the man across the room. He busied himself pouring a drink into two glasses. Just as you took a sip, Maria entered the room with Joel right behind her, shoulders laden down with canvas bags. Seems they had been out, and he decided to walk her home, protective even on unsure ground with the woman deep into her pregnancy.
“It really is beautiful Joel, already have a few requests for them from some people around town.” Maria joined in the conversation, noticing the way that Joel’s eyes had zoned in on the piece of wood settled atop the counter. As if he was seeing each mistake and wrong shave of the wood even from across the room. He moved to place the bags he had taken from her atop the table, nodding a greeting at you as he realized you were right beside the thing he had tried his hand at creating. Spurred on by your little tangent weeks ago.
“Not really lookin’ to make that my pastime, yours was just a trial run.” Joel shrugged the words off, the praise off, like he so often did. Even when the haphazard crew he worked with completed repairs on a building or created a new one from the ground up, it was always the same response. A brush of the direct compliment to everyone who worked on it together, even if it was his plans and his hands that had played a part in the whole thing.
“Don’t even know where you got the idea, brother, such a random thing to think to make.” Tommy moved to press his lips to Maria’s cheek in greeting before helping her to put things away.
Your eyes snapped to Joel, willing him to admit that it hadn’t been his idea, but your own. It was silly, really, to want his immediate family to know that you two had talked, shared things with each other that resulted in an item that was now a part of their life. Pointless, no real connection except for the one made up in your mind and an overinflated sense of importance. Just a throwaway comment when you recalled the difference good cooking supplies could make. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulder hunched.
“Jus’ came to me, one night, is all.”
Your chest panged at his indifference; it didn’t have to mean anything. But it meant something: that he didn’t want to reveal that he had opened up to you once upon a time on patrol. That he had listened to you as you had done the same. Couldn’t let others know that he was open to genuine conversation sometimes. Or maybe just that it was with you, someone he tended to look over in the crowds of gatherings and events, more often than not You huffed around a mouthful of wine and set the still half full glass down.
“I’m shoving off, see y’all later.”
“Oh wait, I wanted to see if we could trade patrols. Kinda why I brought out the bribe of wine.” Tommy turned wide eyes to you, knowing the whole set up of his favor was being thwarted by the arrival of his wife and brother. It was easier to ask you of things alone, not that you were known to turn them down, but you preferred to stay under the radar. Avoid direct attention, direct recognition for the things you accomplished and helped with around town. For the way you always made sure the elderly got home safe after important meetings and children who got turned around were reunited with their guardians.
“….which patrol?” You tried to hide the suspicion in your voice, positive he was about to ask you to do the overnight route with Joel in his place that would happen in a few days’ time. Something you didn’t do. Ever. Overnight routes something you didn’t have the wherewithal to handle, not since you had lost your last connection to what the world had been before. It had been relatively soon after settling into Jackson when it had happened, a handful of years ago now, but Tommy nor Maria had ever even thought to ask it of you.
You supposed they figured with Joel having settled in nicely himself the past year, that it was time to consider broaching the subject.
“Teton.” Joel supplied when Tommy choked, unable to voice his request. Knowing they would all be standing there for a few moments for the younger man to find his words between your almost fearful look and the suspicious one Maria was pinning him with as she looked from you to the wine and toward to her fumbling husband.
“Oh, um, I haven’t done that one in a long while. I don’t do the overnight routes, you know that. Surely you wanna find someone who’s done it more recently? Someone who does it regularly.”
“Think-you, uh, you’re about ready.” He managed to get out, his body no longer relaxed but picking up and responding to the way you had tensed up. The way his brother had. Feeding off of each other’s energy in a way he couldn’t begin to understand, but wanting to assure you that he had confidence in your skills and knowledge. Despite the things that had occurred for you to only stick to the same routine of early morning patrols a week.
“Tommy…” You didn’t feel particularly comfortable being asked in front of Joel. You don’t think he knew, had any idea of how had lost yourself. Rumors ran rampant around the settlement, but you hoped that those surrounding you had dwindled down to nothing but recent events. You knew for a fact Marsha liked to say you put too much sugar in your pie fillings, trying to hook everyone onto them with a heavy hand. But it wasn’t your fault that her pies always got looked over when yours was set right beside hers.
“I know you have your reservations, Olive. And I understand,” Tommy watched the stilted way you downed the rest of your wine, setting the empty glass atop the counter with careful movements. “But it would mean a lot to me if you covered this one time.”
With a sigh, you agreed.
Ignoring the weight of Joel’s curious eyes as they followed you out of the kitchen.
Thoughts a whirlwind as you tried to flee the seen without it being obvious that you wanted to be anywhere but in that kitchen with two pairs of apologetic, concerned eyes and one that held curiosity.
next chapter
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune
Summary: Joel Miller is a gruff as they come, the world having changed him for the worst. But settling in Jackson with his brother changed him for the better. He's known around town as someone to help, whether it be with home repairs, construction, and hand carved trinkets. An offhand comment from you inspires him to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed with the man that had just begun to expand beyond patrols.
Word Count: 44.5k - ongoing
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, pining, unrequited feelings, joel a little mean in this, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, arguing, heated interactions, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), jealousy, more to be added as the story develops!
A/N: hinted at this back around the holidays, but will soon be committing time to bring this to life!
