jason todd loves so tenderly. | fluff | soft, sweet smut
on multiple occasions, youâve found him doing mundane things, with tears welling in his eyes.
with the softest expression on his face, you still notice. when youâre walking down the street, hand in hand and you catch a glimpse of the way his lip trembles. you squeeze his hand a little tighter to remind him youâre here and he smiles down at you with a crinkle around his eyes that said enough.
this morning, heâs wiping down the dinner table after both of you had a long night and waddled to bed instead of cleaning up. jasonâs awake before you too, already having washed the dishes and put leftovers into containers in the fridge.
distant memories of giggling in his arms while he stroked your hair and told you another story until your breathing evened out. you didnât hear him when he whispered soft things into your ear like affirmations about how lucky he is to have you.
by the time youâre up, heâs got damp paper towels clenched in his palm, disassociating at the table with slow tears going down his face. its alarming the first couple of times you see him like this of course, so you pad over to your sweet boyfriend and touch his shoulder as you lower yourself next to him.
âbaby, whatâs wrong?â you ask as you crouch next to him, watching his lips curl into a small smile.
he gives a chuckle and cups your cheek, âi just didnât think iâd get this, normalcy, in my life.â
everything in your face turns into emotional understanding as you stand up and kiss his sweet face. salty tears dampening your lips as he continues quietly sobbing.
he just drowns in the intensity of his love.
and during sex heâs just as sweet.
hands finding their way up to yours, gripping like a lifeline. fingers intertwined and locked as his eyes stare lovingly into yours. reverence in every movement he makes, he watches what makes your breath hitch and what makes your mouth gape. he is so focused on you and on what makes you tick.
youâre everything heâs ever desired and been to afraid to admit he wanted that he doesnât know what to do with it now that it steals his sanity.
the way he fits inside and the way you feel around him, itâs overwhelming. he's kissing your cervix with every thrust he makes, but its so slow, so sensual, that it makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back. you don't have to open your eyes to know hes still watching.
youâre too lost in the sensation of him, of every push and pull of his hard body on yours, that you donât notice heâs crying until a warm drop hits your cheek.
furrowing your brows and opening your eyes, you whisper his name like your voice could bother him somehow.
âjason? baby? are you okay?â
slowing his hips but remaining buried deep, he bites his lip and nods down at you. âyouâre just so perfect ma, i can't believe you're here with me of all people.â
thereâs no chance to return his words and reassure him as emotions boil over and he leans down to capture your lips. the warmth of his mouth on yours as he gasps into you steals your breath.
how could you blame him?
the joint part of you both was overwhelming on its own but his beauty and his grace took you in for a ride. heâs making love to you in a way that you never thought could ever be possible and was only something talked about in books and movies. jason displayed the touch of sacredness while his eyes worshipped you as the very thing that could start wars.
heâs told you as such, said heâd start a war for you. not that youâd want him to, but the genuine seal of his words, it showed you how much this meant to him, and from how hard you chipped away at his walls you knew he meant it. his words could cut through stone and his passionate need for you, it yanked you under with him.
before you knew it, tears were flowing out of your own eyes from his tender touch. he sucked soft spots around your jaw, leaving the slightest red mark in his wake, coaxing soft moans that he diligently returned.
heâs still crying as your sweat slicked fingers remained interlocked and his hips met yours with the deepest of emotional weight behind them. before you gasp out his name and reach your climax, he cups your cheek and whispers the softest, i love you.
(Right after cutscene 12(?), I imagine he had the habit to hum lullabies around her after they grew more comfortable around each other, which reminds her of her mother)
i love your fics sm⊠could i request tyler galpin x gn reader where he goes to readerâs house after he escaped and itâs soft and fluffy bc readerâs so happy to see their boyfriend againđthank you
Crawling Back To You | Tyler Galpin
Summary: If there's ever a place and a person all worth escaping to Tyler, it would be for you, all over again.
Pairing: Tyler Galpin x GN!Reader
Warnings: angst, long distance, mentions of Laurel/Thornhill manipulation, I HATE HER SM OMG, possessiveness, fluff
W.C: 854
A/N: Thank you to the lovely person who sent this. I was already thinking of writing something like this, but this already helped put me to work!
Want a request for Tyler Galpin like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!
The day Tyler had been taken to Willow Hill, is a day you'll never forget. You couldn't eat or sleep for a while when he was taken. It had been a certain amount of months and days you stopped counting and accepted the fact that you may never see him again.
Anything of him that reminds you of Tyler would make your mind think he's still there with you. Coffee, autumn, sheriff cars. The worst part is that he's not dead or the fact that you guys didn't break up. He's just gone. Away to a place where they possibly don't see him as human.
In a way that wasn't fair but was to protect people. The news released of him being a Hyde and killing multiple people, put you in a difficult light too. People would come by to your house, asking for interviews or if you somehow knew.
You were even asked if you were involved in it. Cameras and security alarms have been set up at your house, to let you know when someone has come by.
Paparazzi and news companies stopped coming to your house because of this, but the only person you want to come home to, was Tyler himself.
The memories of him were starting to fade away, his voice, his touch, and his smile. Photos of him and videos helped you, but it wasn't the same.
But that wasn't the case for Tyler. He still dreamed about you and waited one day, just one day. Even if it took years to see your face again.
If there ever was hope to get out, it's to see you. He didn't care if you moved on or not, knowing that you were safe, even if it was from himself brings him a sense of melancholy. It's bittersweet, him stuck in a room with no light and chained up all day, but the thought of you is like home to him.
Laurel, really Thornhill known to him when she came to see him by the supervision of two other Winston Hill nurses, tried to take you out of his mind. Saying things like "they probably forgotten you" or "you would go for someone more normal."
Those words, he heard, knew that it wasn't true. You will be the one he comes back to, no matter how many years it takes or if he dies while doing so.
Fate called upon a night. The electricity at Willow Hill has been shut down. All the gates of every patient were opened and every one escaped. Thornhill coming to free him, he knew his second chance to see you again will never come again.
After killing Thornhill and escaping shooting cops, he stumbled in the rain, going to your home. It took him at least 30 minutes to an hour to reach your place. He unknowingly set off the alarm at your place. Panicking, he opens a window and goes inside your home. You wake up at this and try to check your cameras quickly.
Creaking from the floorboards downstairs came and you wasted no time grabbing a bat. Checking each door upstairs to see if there was someone in your home. The alarm still ringing in your ears. Flashes of thunder would light up the house
In the dark, faintly you see a person. It was hard to tell. A thunder lit up the house and you thought you saw a person quickly move out of the reflection of the window.
The grip on the handle of your bat was hurting your hands, but you weren't letting go now. Another thunder, you saw the silhouette again.
"Come out and show yourself"
There was silence.
"I won't say it again. Come out right now, or I'll knock you out right now"
Thunder happened again and you standing face to face with Tyler. You stepped back, tears started to brim at your eyes. There he was, in your home, in the middle of the night. His hair is longer, no shirt, only sweatpants and soaking wet from the rain.
"Tyler?"
Before you could question how he made it out of Willow Hill, he goes towards, grabs your face and kisses you. The clattering sound of your bat drops as you hold him, not caring if he was wet from the rain. Your tears dripped down and went between your guys lips.
Both of you parted to catch your breath, but he was still holding your face. He wiped a tear from your face with his thumb.
Everything he rehearsed in his mind suddenly vanished, the second he was in your arms again.
"People are looking for me, I can't stay here long... I'll put you in danger."
You shook your head and quickly gave him a peck on the lips. Both of your foreheads pressed together.
"Stay"
"Y/N-" His breath fell more heavily.
"Please stay, just for the night."
"Ok, ok" The last ok turning into a faint whisper, he nodded and held you close.
The rain was still pouring but he's dry and home again. Back in your arms, like he knew he would be. The rest of the night was holding each other and no words spoken. You couldn't help the tears falling down to the fact he's really home with you.
Nothing and no one will take you from him or change his mind-not even tonight, in your own bed.
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blurb - Joel knows you deserve better. A closed-off, stubborn, fifty-eight-year-old man is the last thing you need. But when youâre this close to slipping through his fingers for good, he canât bring himself to let you goânot when holding on feels like the only thing he still knows how to do.
warnings - nsfw, mdni 18+, jealous, yearning, second chance romance, love birds, hurt, angst, relationship help, happy ending, insecure!JoelMiller, oldman!JoelMiller, Jackson!JoelMiller, implied age gap, some plot before the porn, emotional sex, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, SPITTING (hey we're the freaks tonight), face fucking, creampies (don't try this at home!).
One shot requested by: @ anyomous
wc: 10.1 k
Joel didnât want to be here.
Didnât want to sit at this goddamn table in this goddamn bar, pretending he gave half a shit about whatever livestock report Tommy was tryinâ to show him. Didnât want to make small talk with Maria, who kept giving him those sideways glances like she was bracing for a storm.
And he sure as hell didnât want to look across the room again.
But he did.
Every few seconds.
Like a fucking compulsion.
There you were. Sitting at the end of the bar. Back straight, drink in hand. Your laugh was softer than usualâhe could only hear it in flashesâbut it still hit him like a punch to the gut.
The man beside you? He was new. Joel had seen him around, helping out with the fencing crew. Young. Maybe thirty. No older than thirty-five. Sharp jaw, easy grin. The kind of guy who didnât creak when he stood up. The kind of guy who could keep up with someone like you.
You were smiling.
Not the way you used toânot that quiet, tired smile you saved for Joel when you were curled up in bed, wearing one of his shirts and tracing old scars on his chest with your fingertipâbut still. It was real.
You were smiling.
And it wasnât for him.
Joelâs jaw flexed. He took another drink, fingers clenched so tight around the glass that the joints ached.
âJoel,â Tommy said cautiously. âYou okay, man?â
He didnât look at him.
Didnât trust himself to.
Maria shifted in her seat beside Tommy, hands laced neatly on the table, watching Joel with those calm, sharp eyes that always saw more than they let on.
âWe can go,â she offered gently. âYou donât have to sit here and torture yourself.â
âI ainât torturinâ nobody,â Joel muttered, staring down into the amber swirl in his glass.
âRight,â Tommy said. âThatâs why youâve been starinâ holes through the side of her head since we walked in.â
Joel didnât answer. Just rolled his shoulders, tried to act casual. Failed.
Because the truth was, he couldnât stop looking at you.
Not since the moment he saw you walk in.
Hair brushed and curled, your favorite sweater hanging soft off one shoulder. Lip gloss catching the light. You didnât look like someone trying to prove a pointâyou didnât look like you were out to make anyone jealous.
You looked like you were trying to feel normal again.
And that cut deeper than anything.
Because Joel had spent years convincing himself he was the one who knew how to keep you safe. How to make you feel steady. Loved. Even if he never said it aloud, never gave you the words.
Even if he kept his past locked up behind his ribs and only ever let you peek at it in pieces.
He thought itâd be enough.
But it wasnât.
You left.
And you didnât slam the door. Didnât scream. Didnât throw a single fucking thing. You just⊠packed a bag, folded one of his shirts, and said I canât keep giving you everything and getting silence in return.
He didnât stop you.
Didnât say what he shouldâve said.
Didnât say Donât go.
Didnât say I need you.
Didnât say I love you.
Because he thought he had time. Thought youâd cool off. Thought youâd come back.
But here you were. With someone else.
And Joel had never felt older in his life.
His knuckles were swollen from last weekâs patrol. His back ached from the cold front. There were lines on his face he hadnât noticed before, deepening around his eyes and mouth like time had finally caught up.
What the hell did he have to offer you anymore?
What could he give you now, at fifty-fucking-eight, that you didnât already deserve from someone younger? Someone untouched by twenty years of blood and grief and failure?
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, suddenly too warm in his coat, suddenly too loud in his head.
âI shoulda said somethinâ,â he mumbled. Barely audible.
Tommy raised a brow. âWhat?â
âI shouldaââ Joel cut himself off. Exhaled hard through his nose. âNever mind.â
Maria leaned in, voice low. âItâs not too late, Joel.â
He shook his head.
âIt is,â he said. âSheâs movinâ on.â
Tommy sighed. âMaybe. Or maybe sheâs just tryinâ to remember what itâs like to feel somethinâ. After you spent months makinâ her feel invisible.â
That one landed.
Joel flinched. Visibly.
He deserved it.
He knew it.
But the truth wasâhe didnât make you feel invisible because he stopped loving you.
He did it because he loved you too fucking much.
Because loving you meant dragging you into all the wreckage of his life. It meant you knowing how deep the damage went. How fucked up he really was underneath the surface. And heâd spent so long building walls, burying thingsâSarah, Tess, everything in betweenâthat letting you in felt like peeling his skin off.
But youâd already seen him, hadnât you?
You saw every goddamn thing. And you stayed.
He had just forced your hands until you couldnât stay.Â
And he let you go anyway.
Now here you were.
And that man beside you? He leaned in to say something. You smiled. Shook your head. Looked down at your drink, then back up at him with a softness that wasnât flirtation, not yet, but it could be.
It could become something.
Joel swallowed hard.
He needed something stronger.
The bourbon wasnât cutting it. Not tonight.
Not with that manâs hand still resting a little too close to yours. Not with your laughter trailing through the bar like a ghost he couldnât catch. Not with every goddamn ache in his body echoing the one in his chest.
Joel pushed up from the table, muttering something half-formed to Tommy, who just gave him a look. One of those you sure youâre alright? looks that Joel didnât want to deal with right now.
Maria said something too, something soft, but he didnât catch it.
Didnât care.
He moved through the crowd like a man with a mission. Eyes forward. Shoulders tight. His boots thudding against the floor louder than they needed to. He kept his jaw clenched the whole way to the bar, biting down the burn rising in his throat.
He wasnât drunk. Not yet. But he wanted to be.
Not sloppy. Not out-of-control.
Just⊠numb.
He flagged down the bartender with a lift of two fingers.
âSomething rough,â he said gruffly. âWhateverâs got the most bite.â
The man behind the bar nodded and poured something dark amber into a glass that looked too clean. Joel wrapped his hand around it, let the chill seep into his palm.
He didnât drink it. Not yet.
Just stared at it, watching the way the light fractured through the liquor. The way the ice cracked against the sides. It reminded him of tensionâof pressure building until it finally snapped.
He was so tired of pretending this didnât hurt.
So damn tired of holding it all in.
And thenâ
A tap.
Faint.
Right on his shoulder.
He turned sharply, half-expecting some drunk asshole wanting to start something. Maybe the guy you were talking toâhell, maybe Tommy, coming to drag him home before he embarrassed himself.
He opened his mouth to growl something uglyâ
He stopped cold.
You.
You were standing there, looking up at him like you hadnât just shattered his entire evening. Like you hadnât carved him open just by walking into the same room.
Your eyes were soft. Cautious.
Like you were bracing for the wreckage too.
Joelâs spine went stiff. His mouth opened, then closed. His first instinctâto glare, to cover the bleeding with angerâflickered and died the second you tilted your head.
âHey,â you said gently, barely audible over the buzz of the bar. âCan we talk?â
He blinked.
His throat worked around a knot that hadnât been there a second ago. Talk? Here? With him?
You gestured vaguely toward the back of the room, where a few couples were swaying in the open space cleared for dancing. The music was slower nowâsome old Willie Nelson track playing softly on the speakers. You looked like you werenât sure what to do with your hands. One of them lifted. Reached for him.
Not quite touching.
Not until he nodded.
ââŠSure.â
The word felt jagged in his throat. He downed his drink in one brutal motionâfelt the liquor burn down to his ribs. It wasnât courage. Not really. But it was something. Something to help hold back the goddamn shake in his hands when you stepped closer.
You reached for his hand.
And Joel, without thinking, gave it to you.
His fingers closed around yours instinctively, like they remembered this. Like theyâd been aching for this. You turned, tugged gently, guiding him through the bar. He followed.
And it was so easy.
Too easy.
Thatâs what scared him.
Because thisâyour fingers threaded with his, the scent of your shampoo drifting back as you walked ahead of him, your thumb brushing once against the side of his handâthis felt like home.
And home wasnât something Joel had let himself believe in for a long damn time.
Not until you.
The dance floor was dim. Sparse. Only a few couples moving in lazy circles under the fairy lights strung up overhead. Your steps slowed. You turned to face him, your expression unreadable. Something sad flickered in your eyes, but you didnât speak right away.
Instead, you pulled him a little closer.
Joel stared at you.
Then at your hand.
Then back up.
âYou wanna dance?â he asked quietly, unsure, half-hoping heâd misread this whole thing.
You didnât answer his question with words.
You just stepped in close.
And slowlyâtentativelyâyou lifted your arms and draped them over his shoulders, like youâd done a hundred times before, in moments far easier than this one. Joelâs hands hovered awkwardly in the space between you for a second too long before they found their way to your waist. The fit was still there. Muscle memory. His palms curved around you like they remembered every inch.
You started to sway.
No rhythm. No flourish.
Just⊠movement. Just closeness.
The kind that ached.
Joel exhaled, slow and quiet. His forehead didnât quite touch yours, but you were close enough that your breath ghosted across his chin when you spoke.
âI need to get my stuff back.â
It wasnât angry. Wasnât even cold.
Just a fact.
Something real to ground all this softness.
Joelâs grip tensed, just slightly. A beat passed. Then another.
âYeah,â he muttered, eyes unfocused. ââCourse. Figured youâd ask.â
You didnât say anything.
Joel tried to hide the way his throat worked around the words he wanted to say.
The way his chest tightened at the thought of your toothbrush still tucked in the bathroom drawer. Your sweater draped over the back of the chair by the window. That dumb mug with the cracked handle you always reached for first. Your handwriting on the notepad by the fridge, where youâd scribbled half a shopping list before storming out five weeks ago.
Heâd left it there.
Still did.
Your stuff was everywhere.
It wasnât just stuff. Not really.
It was the only proof heâd managed to build something with warmth.
And now you wanted it back.
Joel cleared his throat.
âI can drop it off,â he said. âIf you want. Save you the walk.â
You pulled back just enough to look at him. Not all the wayâjust enough for your gaze to meet his. Joel hated the way his stomach dropped when he saw the flicker of sadness in your eyes.
âOr I can leave it on the porch,â he added quickly, like he didnât care. âWhateverâs easier.â
You didnât answer right away.
You just looked at him.
Like you saw through every defense he was scrambling to raise.
âJoel,â you said softly. âHow are you?â
He blinked. Pulled his gaze away. Let it drift over your shoulder, toward the corner of the room where the shadows were quieter.
âIâm fine.â
He said it too fast.
Too clipped.
You didnât buy it. He knew you wouldnât.
You always had a way of getting him to drop the act.
You leaned in a little closer, your arms shifting slightly around his neck. âThatâs not what I asked.â
He closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
Because he was so goddamn tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of swallowing everything that shouldâve been said when it mattered.
His hands tightened gently on your waist. Not pulling. Not holding on. Just⊠needing.
âHow am I?â he echoed quietly. âI wake up, and your shoes are still by the door. That sweater you always wear when you're coldâitâs still hanginâ on the back of the chair like youâre gonna come grab it in the morninâ. I make coffee and pour too much âcause I forget you ainât there to drink it.â
You blinked hard.
Joel looked down at you again. There was no anger in his face. No heat.
Just exhaustion.
And grief.
He paused. His voice dropped to something near a whisper.
âI left your favorite vinyl on the turntable the other day. Just⊠forgot to change it.â
Your eyes shimmered in the low light. You didnât interrupt. Didnât say Iâm sorry. You didnât owe him that. You didnât owe him anything anymore.
Joel swallowed hard.
âIâm not great,â he admitted, finally. âThatâs how I am. Iâm not great.â
The silence between you pressed in heavy. Not suffocating, but weighty. Like truth always was.
You shifted your arms, one hand rising to thread your fingers into the back of his hair. Joel closed his eyes at the contact. His grip stayed steady at your waist, but he swore he felt his legs go weak.
âIâm not great either,â you said softly. âThought I would be.â
Joel gave a breathy laugh through his nose. âYou seemed happy earlier.â
âI was trying,â you admitted. âI was pretending I didnât still feel you in every room.â
Joelâs eyes opened slowly.
Met yours.
And there it wasâthat thing he thought heâd lost. That unspoken current. The pulse of something still alive between you, flickering just beneath the surface.
You swayed in silence again.
Neither of you said a word.
The music faded into the background, just soft enough not to matter. Just enough to give the illusion of rhythm while you swayed together in the quiet middle of a too-loud room.
Joel leaned in, forehead brushing against yours. Barely there. But it felt like too much and not enough all at once.
You smelled the same.
Like soap and skin and something faintly sweetâsomething that lived in your sweaters and in his sheets. Something he hadnât been able to scrub out no matter how many nights heâd tried to sleep alone.
Five weeks.
Five fucking weeks.
It didnât sound like much. Not in the grand scheme. Heâd gone longer without food. Without rest. Without safety. But this?
This was something else entirely.
And for a secondâŠ
God.
For a second, he let himself pretend you were still his.
That youâd be there in the morning. That when he turned over in bed, heâd feel your bare thigh brushing his, your palm resting lightly on his chest, your breath rising and falling in that easy rhythm he used to memorize.
He missed waking up to you.
He missed the sound of your yawn when you stretched beside him. The way your hand always found his under the covers, cold and shameless, like you knew heâd warm them for you.
He missed the shuffle of your slippers down the hall. The smell of toast. That little click of your coffee mug against the counter.
He used to grumble, pretend he hated it when you cooked breakfast like he couldnât do it himself.
But he fucking loved it.
Youâd hand him a plate with that quiet smirk, always fussingââEat it before it gets cold, Millerââand heâd do exactly that. Because it tasted like care. Like you loved him even when he didnât ask for it.
He missed coming back from patrol and finding you stretched out on the couch in one of his flannels, legs bare, book cracked open on your chest, a throw blanket half-falling to the floor.
Youâd look up when he walked in, and thereâd be this softness in your eyes. This quiet little smile, like there you are, like the whole day had been waiting for him.
He missed that look.
Missed you tossing your book aside just to sit beside him, curl up under his arm, legs thrown over his lap like you belonged there.
You did belong there.
He missed passing the bathroom after a shower and catching the scent of your soap in the steam. That faint citrus smell. The one that lingered on his pillows. On his shirts. On his goddamn skin.
He hadnât smelled it in days.
He left the bar of it sitting in the shower anyway. Stupid hope.
Like maybe if he didnât move it, youâd walk in again. Humming. Smiling. Telling him to get out 'cause you needed the mirror.
Joelâs hands gripped your hips a little tighter.
He swallowed hard.
And thenâGod help himâhis thoughts slipped lower.
Because it wasnât just the comfort. Not just the routines. Not just the domestic quiet you brought into his chaos.
It was the heat of you.
The need.
He missed the feel of your hands on his chest, tugging his shirt off impatiently. The way your mouth dragged across his jaw with purpose. Like you knew exactly what he needed and werenât shy about giving it.
You were never shy with him.
Not once.
He missed you pulling him in with a handful of his belt, whispering against his mouth, Come on, baby, take care of me, like you werenât the one unraveling him.
He missed the way you straddled him on the couch, kissed him deep and slow while your fingers dragged down his stomach. How youâd rock your hips against his, lazy and teasing, like you had all the time in the world to ruin him.
He missed how you bit him when you came.
Soft, quick, right against his shoulder.
Like a secret you couldnât keep.
Joel breathed out slowly through his nose, trying to steady himself.
But it didnât work.
Because you shifted against him then. Innocent. Barely a move. But enough to bring your chest flush against his, enough for your fingers to tangle a little deeper into the hair at the nape of his neck.
You were warm.
So fucking warm.
And soft.
And his whole body was screaming for more.
He missed your thighs clenching around his hips as he buried himself inside you. The way your breath hitched when he pressed deeper. Slower. When he held your wrists above your head and whispered all the filthy things heâd never say anywhere else.
He missed the mess of it.
The sweat. The gritted teeth. The way youâd cry out his name like it meant something. Like you trusted him to break you apart and put you back together again.
He missed your skin. The taste of it. The scent of you in his sheets. The way you said Joel like a fucking prayer when he brought you over that edge again and again and againâ
He missed being needed.
Physically. Completely.
He missed being yours.
Not just in the daylight. Not just in casual moments or shared coffee or post-patrol silence.
He missed being the man you reached for at night, when you were desperate and aching and honest in a way the sun never got to see.
Joel opened his eyes.
And you were right there.
You were still swaying with him.
Still close.
Still holding onto him like this moment mattered. Like it meant something. Joel could feel your breath against his throat, warm and even. You hadnât spoken. Neither had he. And part of him wanted to stay in this silence forever.
But it wasnât real.
It was borrowed time.
And he couldnât keep pretending.
Not with you so close.
Not with the memory of your smile already fading from his house, from his mornings, from the quiet in the shower.
So he forced himself to speak. Quiet. Raw.
âI wonât stop you,â he murmured, barely louder than the hum of the song.
You blinked.
Pulled your head back just slightly, brows drawn.
âWhat?â
âIf you wanna go.â He swallowed hard. âIf you wanna be with that guyââ
âJoelââ
ââI get it,â he cut in. Not harsh. Just final. âYou should. Heâs younger. Smoother. Probably better at sayinâ all the right things. Probably ainât spendinâ half a day tryinâ to get up from a chair.â
You stared up at him, clearly not amused by his joke. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.
Joelâs heart ached.
âAnd if thatâs what you want,â he said softly, âIâll wish you the best with it. With everythinâ.â
You shook your head, once. Like you didnât understand.
Joel held your gaze.
âI mean that. Iâll always be your biggest supporter. Even if I ainât the one beside you anymore.â
Your breath hitched.
The tears came fast.
You let go of him like youâd been burned.
Took a full step back. Then another. Shook your head again, more violently now.
âStopââ you choked, voice cracking. âDonât say that. Donât fucking say that.â
Joelâs throat closed. But he couldnât take it back.
You looked down at the floor like it hurt to meet his eyes.
And then, just like that, you turned.
You pushed through the crowd with both hands, shoving someone out of the way, rushing for the back doors like you couldnât breathe. Joelâs stomach twisted.
He stood frozen for half a second too long.
Then he moved.
The air outside hit him like a slap.
It was cold. Windy. Crisp.
You were standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around yourself, back to him, shoulders trembling.
He could hear the sharpness of your breathingâhiccuped, fractured, like you were trying not to fall apart again.
âHeyââ Joel called softly. âWait.â
You didnât turn.
Didnât speak.
Joel stepped closer, slow.
âJustâlet me say this,â he said. âPlease.â
You finally turned. Tears were streaked down your face. Your eyes were red. You looked like you hated him and missed him all at once.
âYou always do this,â you whispered. âEvery time. When it gets hard, you freeze up. You disappear. You shut down and Iâm left talking to a fucking brick wall.â
âI know,â Joel said. Quiet. Barely there.
âYou donât fight for me,â you said, voice cracking again. âYou never fight for me. And now youâre telling me to go be with someone elseâlike thatâs what I want? Like I left you because I didnât love you?â
Joel shook his head. âThatâs not what I meantââ
âThen what did you mean, Joel?â you snapped. âBecause it sure sounded like you were giving me permission to leave like it doesnât matter. Like we donât matter.â
He was breathing hard now.
âI meant I want you to be happy,â he rasped. âEven if it kills me.â
You blinked.
Hard.
Joel took another step closer.
âI didnât know how to love you right. I never got it right. But Godâdarlinâ, I love you.â
You didnât answer. Just stood there, trembling, tears tracking down your cheeks like you couldnât stop them even if you wanted to.
Joel didnât know what to do with his hands. His chest ached like a bruise, sharp and sore and tender all at once. He reached for you, slow, cautiousâhis arms wide like he was afraid youâd vanish if he touched you too fast.
But before he could pull you inâ
You grabbed him.
Fisted your hands in the front of his jacket.
And kissed him.
Hard.
Messy.
Desperate.
Joel froze for half a second. Shocked. Breath stolen clean from his lungs.
And thenâ
Goddamn.
He kissed you back like a starving man.
Like he hadnât tasted anything real in five whole weeks.
His hands flew to your face first, palms cradling your jaw with a tenderness that didnât match the pace of his mouthârough, hungry, grateful. Then they dropped, skimming your waist, your ribs, your back. Like he needed to touch every part of you to make sure you were real.
You gasped against him, lips slipping, teeth clashing just slightly. Joel groanedâdeepâfrom his chest, like something inside him had just cracked under the weight of everything heâd been holding in.
The kiss broke for a secondâbarely.
You caught your breath.
Then grabbed him again.
You didnât speak with your mouth. You poured it into himâevery ounce of pain and love and fury and longing youâd been biting back since the night you left.
Joel didnât care who saw.
Didnât care who was still in the bar, or if Tommy looked out the window, or if Maria came after you.
None of it mattered.
Not when your mouth was on his like this. Not when your hands slid under his coat, under his shirt, gripping his waist like you never wanted to let go again.
He pressed you back against the side of the building, brick cold under your spine, his body flush against yours. His hands roamed like heâd earned it. Like he needed to feel you again, every inch, before it all disappeared.
You broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against his lips.
âTake me to our home.â
Joelâs chest clenched.
Not a home.
Not your home.
Just ours.
His.
Yours.
Ours.
Something hot twisted in his gut. He buried his face in your neck, breath shaky, lips brushing the skin just beneath your jaw.
âYou sure?â he murmured, voice low and wrecked and so goddamn soft.
You nodded, nose brushing his. âJoel. Please.â
That was all he needed.
He didnât wait.
Didnât think.
He just took your hand, gripped it tight, and started walking.
The streets of Jackson were still.
Quiet. Cold. Empty.
Winter was still holding on by its teethâfrost clung to the edges of porch steps, old snow gathered in shadowed corners of roofs and fences. The moon was low and yellow, clouds creeping over it slow like they didnât want to interrupt.
But Joel didnât notice any of it.
All he could feel was your hand in his.
Still there.
Still warm.
Still real.
He didnât look back at youânot directly.
Not yet.
He glanced, sideways, just enough to watch the shape of you in the corner of his vision, like if he turned too fully, the spell would break. Like if he looked too hard, youâd vanish all over again.
It felt like a dream.
No, not a dream.
A story.
Something ancient. Mythic.
Like he were Orpheus, and he was walking you out of the underworld. Back to him.
Except this timeâhe wouldnât look back. Wouldnât ruin it.
Your fingers stayed locked in his, tight but calm. You didnât speak, and neither did he. The silence wasnât heavy. It was sacred. Like everything unspoken was too delicate to be named just yet.
He was scared.
Not of you.
Not of the cold.
But of what came next.
Scared of what he might say when the door closed behind you.
Scared of what you might see when you stepped inside and realizedânothing had changed.
He hadnât moved your book off the coffee table. Hadnât folded the blanket you always used. Your mug was still beside the sink. He didnât touch the turntable. Didnât fix the curtain you always claimed was crooked in the bedroom.
He hadnât let himself forget.
Not a single goddamn thing.
When you reached the porch, Joel fumbled for the key.
The lock stuckâlike it always didâand his fingers were stiff from the cold, from nerves, from you.
And then he opened the door.
Let you step in first.
He followed, closing it gently behind him.
And then⊠you stood there.
In the soft dark of his home.
Your home.
Your eyes moved slowly.
He could feel itâyour gaze drifting across the living room, catching on the blanket you left draped on the arm of the couch. The open book Joel had kept exactly where you left it. The throw pillow you always used, still shaped to your body like it remembered better than he did.
He stood behind you awkwardly.
Cleared his throat.
âI, uhâŠâ His voice cracked. He tried again. âI can make you coffee. If you want. I know itâs late butââ
But you were already turning.
Already closing the space between you with three sharp steps.
And before he could finish the offer, you were on him.
You gripped his shirt in both hands and crashed your mouth to his like you were making up for all the time lost in the silence.
Joel reeled.
He gasped against your mouth, caught off guardâbut only for a second.
Then instinct took over.
He kissed you back hard. Messy. Like he needed to taste every second of the last five weeks heâd spent alone.
Your hands were greedy, tugging his shirt free from his jeans, palms sliding underneath to find his skin. He groanedâloudlyâinto your mouth, arms locking around you, pressing you into him like he couldnât stand even an inch of space.
Your coat hit the floor with a thump, and his followed soon after. You both knew what the other craved.Â
Your lips moved down his neck, open-mouthed and reckless.
Joel swore under his breath. âShit, babyââ
Your teeth scraped his pulse point and he hissed.
He couldnât think.
Couldnât breathe.
The adrenaline, the grief, the reliefâit all crashed together like a wave breaking in his chest.
âI missed you,â you breathed against his skin. âI missed you so much.â
Joelâs hands were everywhereâyour back, your waist, the curve of your ass, your thighs, your jaw. He couldnât decide what to touch first. Couldnât hold enough of you, not all at once.
He wanted you in his arms. In his bed. In his house.
Where you fucking belonged.
You pulled back just enough to look at himâcheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair wild from his hands. And Joel?
He stared at you like you were the only goddamn thing in the world that ever made sense.
He didnât let you walk.
He couldnât.
You were back in his arms, and Joel Miller was not taking a single goddamn risk.
He carried you to the bedroom like something precious. Sacred. Like if he set you down too soon, the moment would vanishâjust another dream heâd wake from, soaked in sweat and aching with loss.
Your arms were around his neck. Legs around his waist. Mouth on his jaw, his neck, the hinge of his throat. Joel groaned every time your lips brushed skin. He was hard already. Had been from the moment you kissed him outside the bar. But he ignored it. He could wait. He would wait.
He stepped into the room and kicked the door shut behind him with his boot.
You looked at him like he was everything.
Like home.
He couldnât take his eyes off you.
He sat you down on the edge of the bed with careful hands, just for a second. You started to reach for his belt, desperate, and Joel caught your wrists againânot rough, not punishing. Just still.
âSlow,â he rasped. âLet me.â
Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and breathless. You nodded.
He exhaled, like heâd been holding his breath for five weeks.
Then he knelt in front of you. Not to tease. Not to play.
To worship.
His hands came to your ankles first, callused thumbs brushing just under the hem of your pants.
âYouâre shakinâ already,â he murmured. âMissed me that much, huh?â
You gave him this broken smile. âJoelââ
He slid his hands up your calves, your thighs, slow and sure.
âI know,â he said. âI missed you too.â
He leaned forward and kissed your knee.
Then your inner thigh.
âYou been thinkinâ about this?â he asked, voice low and rough. ââBout me undressinâ you like this? Slow?â
You swallowed hard. âEvery night.â
Joel smirked. âYeah? Bet you touched yourself. Got all needy in that big olâ empty bed.â
Your breath hitched.
âThought about me,â he said, dragging your pants down inch by inch, pressing a kiss to every new strip of skin. âThought about my hands on you. Mouth on you. My cock inside youâdeep. Slow.â
You moanedâloud and brokenâand Joelâs chest ached with it as he tossed your pants over his shoulders.
âGod, I missed that sound,â he growled. âYou sound like heaven when you want me.â
You took off your own shirt and bra. God, those breasts. He loved them. Beautiful and tight. Another classic example of you. He stood, hooked his thumbs in your waistband, and pulled your underwear down next. You lifted your hips willingly.
He didnât look awayânot onceâas you were revealed to him again. And fuckâhis knees almost gave out.
Pretty. Pink. Folds swollen and wet to the point that he knew you would be embarrassed about it. But never him. He loved how messy you got when you wanted something, like your body was speaking for you when your mouth clamped shut.Â
He stared up at you from below, chest heaving, eyes dark with something deeper than lust. Something older. More carved in. More earned.
âGoddamn,â he muttered, voice hoarse. âYouâre so fuckinâ gorgeous like this. Laid out for me. All soft and warm andâmine.â
Your breath caught.
Your thighs trembled.
He kissed your inner knee, the inside of your thigh. His hands rubbed up and down your calves, your hips, his thumbs digging into the softness like he was grounding himself.
âI missed this more than I missed anythinâ,â he rasped. âThis right hereââ he kissed the crease where thigh met hip, ââwas all I thought about. Woke up some nights with your name in my mouth and nothinâ but air in my fuckinâ bed.â
You whimpered.
Joel leaned in, closer. He kissed lower.
And thenâ
He devoured.
There was no preamble. No soft, lingering kiss meant to ease you in.
No, this was hunger. This was over a month of tension, weeks of near-misses, days of unsaid things and glances that scorched.
His mouth met your cunt like it belonged there. Like heâd been born for this, for you. His tongue parted you, slow at first, just to taste. Just to sample the mess youâd already made for him. But thenâ
Then he groaned. Low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest like thunder.
âJesus Christ,â Joel muttered, voice rasped and reverent, breath hot against your folds. âYou taste better than I remembered. Sweet fuckinâ heaven.â
Your thighs twitched at the sound, at the praise, at the pressure of his tongue licking a long, deliberate stripe right through your center.
You cried outâsharp and breathlessâyour hips jolting off the mattress. And he grinned against you. Like the bastard he was.
His hips jolted forward against nothing, instinctively, like his whole body couldnât take being this close to you without burying himself inside.
âFuck,â he growled, lips still brushing your soaked skin. âSheâs drippinâ for me already. Look at her, baby. So fuckinâ wet.â
Your thighs twitched at the sound of it. The way he said it.
âYou miss this?â he rasped, voice low and dangerous, eyes locked between your legs. âMissed my mouth on her? On this sweet little pussy?â
âY-Yes,â you gasped, breathless. âGodâJoelâyesââ
He chuckled darkly. âThought so.â
Then he sucked your clit between his lipsâslow at first. He knew exactly what to do, knew exactly what made your voice catch. Then harder. Focused.
Tongue flicking over you in tight, calculated strokes until your back arched and your hand flew to his hair, fisting tight.
You werenât quiet.
You couldnât be.
The noisesâyour moans, the wet suck of his mouth, the low sounds he kept making like he was drinking you inâfilled the room like heat.
âFuckinâ perfect,â Joel muttered. âSheâs so goddamn soft. So sweet. You feel that?â His voice rumbled against your clit as he flattened his tongue and dragged it up through your folds. âThatâs what I missed. The way she opens up for me. So greedy.â
You whinedâbroken and desperateâgrinding your hips against his face.
He didnât stop you.
He loved it.
âGo ahead,â he murmured, licking into your entrance, tongue fucking shallow and slow. âUse me, baby. Rub her all over my face. I can take it. I need it.â
âJoelâfuckâIâm gonnaââ
âNah.â
Joelâs voice came from low in his chest, ragged and breathless. He pulled back just an inch, his mouth flushed and glistening, his eyes wild.
âNot yet,â he said again. âDonât come yet. She ainât done with me, is she?â
You barely shook your head. Couldnât even speakâ
 Not before he fucking spit.
It landed right on your clitâhot and thickâand he watched it hit like it was the sexiest thing heâd ever seen. You jolted, crying out, already grinding into the airâ
And then he licked it up.
Groaning as he did, slow and deep, mouth dragging through every soaked inch.
âJesus fuck,â he muttered, thumb spreading you open wider. âLook at her. So wet sheâs fuckinâ shininâ for me.â
He spit again. Lazily this time. Watching it trail through your folds, mix with everything else heâd already coaxed out of you.
âJoelâ your mouth,â you gasped, trembling beneath him. âGodâ I canât fucking think when your mouthâs on me.â
Joel looked up at you, pupils blown, face shining. âThen donât. Let her do the thinkinâ.â
You moaned loud and shameless. âSheâs not the one begging. I am.â
Joel grinned, tongue flicking out to catch the mess before it could drip too far. âThat right? Then tell me. What do you want?â
âI want more,â you said, voice wrecked. âI want every bit of you. Tongue, fingers, cockâall of it.â
He growled, face diving back in like youâd just set off a fire in his brain. His tongue swirled, mouth suctioning hard around your clit, then easing off just enough so he could spit again.
âFuuuck,â he groaned, watching the new mess drip over your cunt. âShe loves it. Fuckinâ sloppy for me.â
âSheâll take everything you give her,â you breathed, chest heaving. âYou know that. You trained her. Broke her in.â
âOh, I know.â
He sounded proud. Possessive. Obsessed.
âShe knows who she belongs to.â
Your body shuddered.
âI love her, you know that?â he said, fingers spreading you open for his tongue again. âLove this pussy. Love how she feels, how she tastes. I could fuckinâ die between her.â
Your fingers twisted tighter in his hair, thighs squeezing around his head, desperate and overwhelmed. But he loved itâgrunting low, letting you pull him in deeper, tighter, closer.
âSheâs got me fuckinâ obsessed,â he muttered against you. âGet hard just thinkinâ about her. Wake up fuckinâ leakinâ âcause I dream about the way she clenches around my tongueââ
He slipped a finger inside you. Thick. Rough. Curling just right.
Your whole body snapped.
âOh my god, Joelâ!â
âThatâs it,â he groaned, voice low and ruined. âCome on. Let her come. Give it to me, babyâI want it. Want to feel her pulse on my fuckinâ face.â
You shattered.
Your thighs locked up, your body bowed off the bed, and your pussy clenched hard around his finger as you came with a cry that echoed off the walls. You said his name like it was the only thing you knew. The only word that mattered.
Joel didnât let up. Not even as you started to tremble.
Not even as your legs threatened to close.
He held you openâpinnedâand kept licking, kept sucking, kept claiming.
He moaned into you, letting you ride it out on his face, licking up every drop you gave him like he needed it to survive.
Joel could still feel your pulse on his tongue.
He still had your slick all over his mouth and beard. The taste of you burned into himâsharp and sweet and sacred. It had knocked something loose in him. Something primal. Something that made him want to tear the rest of his clothes off, drag you into his arms, and finally sink into the place heâd been dreaming about for five long, lonely weeks.
He staggered up from the bed, breath ragged, belt undone with trembling fingers. His body was flushed, hair mussed, lips still wet from your taste.
âYou donât know what you just did to me,â he muttered, voice hoarse like it had been scraped from the inside out. âI canât fuckinâ wait anymoreâI gotta be inside you, baby, now, Iââ
But you moved.
Slid off the mattress like smoke. Like fire under silk skin and bare thighs. A slow, molten kind of hunger.
And Joel froze the moment your knees hit the floor.
You looked up at him with heat in your eyes, mischief in your mouth, and a hunger that dared him to stop you.
âWhaâbabyâwhatâre youââ
âShh,â you said, voice like velvet dragged over flame. âLet me.â
His hands fisted at his sides. His chest rose and fell in hard, shallow pulls. He looked down at you like he wanted to stop you, like he should stop youâ
But didnât. Couldnât.
You undid the rest of his belt slowly, methodically. Let the tension stretch between you like something alive. The button popped. The zipper dragged down with a slow hiss.
And through it all, your eyes never left his.
âYou know how many nights I imagined this?â you murmured, kissing the strip of skin just above his waistband. âHow many times I touched myself pretending it was your cock between my lips?â
Joel groaned, hips jolting forward, instinctive and needy.
Your fingers slid beneath his boxers, confident and sure. And you didnât tease.
You freed him. Let him fall heavy into your palm.
Fuck.
So thick. So hard it looked painful.
You looked at him like he was a goddamn revelation. And the sound that spilled from your lipsâlow and reverentânearly knocked Joel off his feet.
âOh, baby,â you whispered, wrapping your fingers around the base. âYouâre perfect.â
Joel shifted, self-conscious in the way only time could teach. He wasnât young anymore. He was never young, even when he met you. But you fed him well, and with all the labor, he bulked up, bringing out his stomach.
You slapped his thigh. Not hard. It was like you knew where his thoughts were heading. Just enough to snap his gaze back to you.
âDonât do that,â you said, low and sharp. âYou donât get to hide from me. Not here.â
Joelâs throat worked. âYou donât gotta say thatââ
âIâm not sayinâ it to be nice, Joel,â you growled. âIâm sayinâ it âcause Iâve been fucking starving. And now I get to taste what Iâve been dreaming about since the second I walked out that door.â
Joelâs eyes darkened.
You leaned in and kissed the base of his cock, slow and reverent. His body shuddered.
âYou taste like him,â you whispered against the skin. âLike the man who used to own me without even trying.â
And then you licked.
From root to tip.
Deliberate. Worshipful. Filthy.
Joelâs head dropped back. âJesus Christ.â
You opened your mouthâwideâand took him in.
Hot. Wet. Deep.
Joel moaned, sharp and sudden, a sound dragged straight from his spine. His hips jerked, but your hands were already tight on his thighs, holding him in place.
You worked him slow. Rhythmic. Purposeful.
You werenât just giving headâyou were consuming him.
Joel didnât know where to look. The way your lips wrapped around him, the hollow of your cheeks, the spit starting to drip down your chin? It was sickeningly gorgeous.
He looked down, saw your eyes staring back at him. Saw your jaw straining to take more.
You pulled off just far enough to speak, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to his cock.
âMaybe I want to ruin you,â you whispered. âMaybe I want you thinkinâ about my mouth every time you jerk off alone in the dark.â
Joel hissed through his teeth. âYou got a mouth on you.â
Your tongue traced a slow circle around his tip.
âAnd you love it.â
âI do,â he growled. âFuckinâ love everythinâ about that mouth. But you keep goinâ like that, baby, and Iâm not gonna last.â
âGood,â you said, licking along a bulging vein. âI want it. All of it.â
And then?
You took him again.
Deeper this time. Throat tighter. Drool messier. Your spit sliding down his cock in obscene trails.
Joelâs hips stuttered. His hands fisted at his sides like it physically hurt not to touch you. Like he was barely hanging on to the dominance he always carried.
âYou like that?â you said when you pulled off again, spit smeared on your lips, eyes glazed with hunger. âYou like seeinâ me like this?â
Joel groaned, barely coherent. âLook at you. Mouth fullâa cock, begginâ for more.â
âI am begging,â you whispered, licking the tip and smiling like the devil. âSo donât hold back, Miller.â
Something inside him snapped.
He gripped your hairâtight, firm, not rough but definiteâand held you right there.
âYou want me to use this mouth?â he asked, voice low and filthy. âThat it?â
You moaned again, eyes fluttering closed as your throat worked.
Joel cursed. "Fuck."
And then he started to move.
Slow at first. Testing.
Your hands gripped his thighs harder, anchoring yourself now.
Joel watched the way you took him. Let him own your mouth. The way your lips stretched, the obscene squelch of your throat as he pushed in and out. He could hear every inch of it. Wet and raw and real.
You looked up again, and he nearly came on the spot.
âYouâre so fuckinâ good at this,â he gasped. âJesus, sweetheartâyou take me like you need it.â
You blinked up at him, teary-eyed and eager, your throat fluttering around him again.
Joel growled.
âYou like it when I fuck your mouth like this? Like a goddamn filthy man?â
You nodded, or tried to, and he felt the motion around his cock.
His knees nearly gave out.
He was panting now. Full-body trembling. His hands threaded deeper into your hair, tugging at your scalp in a rhythm that matched his hipsâthrusting in, slow but hard, dragging against your tongue and hitting the back of your throat again and again.
You whimpered, gagged just a littleâand Joel lost it.
âOh, fuck, babyâdonât do thatâdonât you do that unless you want me to come right fuckinâ nowââ
You pulled off, gasping, spit connecting your mouth to him in a slick string. His cock was flushed, angry-red, twitching in the open air, gleaming with your spit.
You licked your swollen lips, then backed toward the bed slowly.
Kneeling there.
Waiting.
Like a fucking vision.
Hair messy, skin flushed, mouth parted, chest rising and falling like you were starving for him. Like you needed him to get over there and do what he was made to do.
Joel stared.
Didnât speak.
He dropped his flannel to the floorâthen his shirt, then his jeans, his boxersâand crossed the room without breaking eye contact. He was breathing like a man chasing down his last chance. His thighs ached from how tight theyâd been clenched. His stomach wasnât flat anymore, body worn down by age and timeâbut you looked at him like he was everything.
Like he was still the man who could ruin you with just one touch.
He crawled up onto the bedâslowly, knees sinking into the mattress, palms planted on either side of your hips.
And you?
You laid back, legs parted, eyes heavy-lidded, the picture of wrecked devotion.
Joel hovered over you, arms caging you in.
For a second, he just looked at you. Like maybe this was a dream. Like maybe if he moved too fast, it would disappear.
Then he kissed you.
Hard. Deep. Tongue sweeping into your mouth like he needed to taste every part of you again. Like he didnât just want to fuck youâhe wanted to live inside you. Breathe with you. Lose every broken part of himself in the warmth of your skin.
Your hands gripped his arms. His back. Anywhere you could reach. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tight.
And then Joel reached down, slid the head of his cock through your folds.
Up. Down. Just to coat himself in you.
He pushed in slow.
The first inch had his breath catching. The second had his eyes closing. And by the time he was all the way inâseated deep, buried inside youâJoelâs soul had already left his body.
You were everything.
Everything.
Warm and soft and tight, like youâd been molded just for him. Five weeks apart, and stillâyou welcomed him like nothing had changed. Like he belonged there. Like heâd always belonged there.
You gasped, mouth falling open, fingers clutching his arms like they were the only steady thing in the world.
Joel couldnât move.
Not yet.
Not when it felt like this. Not when it had been five goddamn weeks of aching and silence and empty rooms and dreams that ended in nothing but sweat and a hollow bed.
His eyes opened slowly. Just to see you.
Your brows drawn together, lips parted, a soft shine in your eyes that had nothing to do with pain.
You werenât crying.
But it was close.
So was he.
Joel braced himself above youâone forearm pressed into the mattress, the other hand gently pushing your hair backâand kissed you.
It wasnât messy. It wasnât greedy.
It was reverent.
He kissed you like he needed you to understand. That he never wanted to be without you again. That no oneâno person, no place, no damn argumentâcould ever replace what you were to him.
When he finally moved?
It was slow. Careful.
A pull, and a push.
He exhaled, voice breaking. âYou feel so good, darlinâ.â
You whimpered beneath him, nails pressing into his shoulder blades.
Joel didnât rush it.
Every movement was like worship. Like penance. Like he was apologizing with his bodyâsaying all the things he hadnât known how to say before.
He rolled his hips again.
Your mouth fell open. âJoelââ
âI know,â he breathed. âI know, baby. I missed you. Missed this.â
Your eyes met his. And for a moment, everything went still.
Just heartbeats.
Breath.
Bodies pressed together like theyâd never come apart again.
Joel kissed you again, deeper this time, hand slipping under your back to hold you closer. And then?
He moved faster.
Not rough. Not harsh.
Just urgent.
Like he couldnât stand the space between your skin and his.
You moanedâhigh and sweet and wreckedâand that sound went straight to his chest.
Joel groaned low. âThatâs it,â he rasped. âThatâs the sound I been waitinâ to hear. Five weeks without it, and I thought Iâd lose my damn mind.â
You clung to him harder. Wrapped your legs around his hips, anchoring him there.
âDonât stop,â you whispered. âPlease donât stop.â
Joelâs rhythm shiftedâdeeper, harder, but still loving. Still present. His forehead dropped to yours, eyes half-lidded, breath hot on your lips.
âNever gonna stop again,â he muttered. âNever lettinâ you walk out that door.â
You arched beneath him.
His name left your lips again, this time softer. A plea. A promise. A prayer.
Joel held you tighter.
âYou fit me,â he panted. âLike you were made for me. Like you always fuckinâ have.â
Your breath hitched. Your eyes fluttered shut.
And Joel watched every second of it.
Because thatâs what heâd missed most.
You. Just like this. Not just the sex. Not just the body. But the way you looked at him like he was worth it. Like you saw him, even when he couldnât stand to look at himself.
He fucked you like it mattered.
âThat what you needed?â he asked, thrusting again, a little harder. âNeeded me to fuck you like you belong to me?â
You noddedâwhimperedâand he growled.
âSay it.â
âI belong to you.â
âLouder.â
âI fucking belong to you, Joel!â
That was all it took.
He grabbed your thigh, hitched it higher on his waist, and slammed into you. Again. Again.
The bed creaked. Your cries filled the room. Joelâs voiceâlow, hoarse, reverentâwas in your ear.
âMissed this pussy so bad,â he panted. âMissed how tight you squeeze me. Missed how you fuckinâ moan when I hit that spotâright thereâyeah, you feel that?â
You squealedâa sound so pure and broken it made Joel want to cry.
He couldnât stop.
Didnât want to stop.
Not when you were wrapped around him like this, clinging to him, crying out his name like it was the only word you remembered. Not when you were looking at him with that shattered kind of love in your eyes. Like youâd missed him just as much.
Your thigh was hooked high on his hip. Your hands were in his hair, on his back, gripping, clawing, grounding yourself. Joel could barely thinkâcould barely breatheâwith how tightly your body hugged his.
âFuck, baby,â he panted, voice strained. âThis feel good to you?â
You nodded fast, desperate. âSo goodâso good, Joel, I missed youâI missed thisâIââ
He caught your mouth in another kiss. Swallowed the words. Gave you everything in return. His thrusts hit deep, perfect, the way only he knew how to give. And he listened for itâthat cry you made when he angled just right. When he found that spot and pressed into it, unrelenting.
âThere?â he murmured, dragging his hips again.
You sobbed. âThere.â
Joel grinned against your cheek, even as sweat ran down his back, even as his muscles ached and trembled.
And then you were saying thingsâsoft, half-broken, whispered against his ear like confessions.
âI love you,â you breathed. âI never stopped. I never stopped.â
His heart clenched.
He pulled back just enough to see your face, still moving inside you, still holding your gaze like it was holy.
âI love you,â he said, voice breaking. âBeen lovinâ you since the start. Been waitinâ for you to come back so I could say it again.â
You kissed himâmessy, desperate, teeth clicking.
âDonât let me go again,â you whispered.
âNever,â Joel swore. âNot a fuckinâ chance.â
Then he slid a hand between your bodies. Found your clit. Pressed two fingers to it, circling slow, firm, just the way you needed.
You screamed.
Your whole body arched beneath himâtaut, electric, unraveling. You came hard, pulsing around him, your voice sharp and open in his ear.
And JoelâfuckâJoel lost it.
You clenched down, and he was gone. Buried deep, his body locking up, breath stalling in his throat. He groaned loud, raw, like the release had been dragged from his bones. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he came inside you, holding you as tight as his arms would allow.
Everything was you.
Your scent. Your breath. Your body. Your voice still saying I love you like a prayer.
Joel stayed there, wrapped around you, chest heaving against yours. The room was warm nowâsweat-slick skin, tangled limbs, the sheets pushed down and forgotten. Your bodies were still joined, hearts thundering in time.
You didnât speak.
You didnât have to.
His breath slowed against your shoulder, nose tucked into the crook of your neck, and you ran your fingers through his hairâsoft, slow strokes. He could feel your pulse beneath his lips, steady and alive. Like you were anchoring him there. Like if he let go, the world might slip again.
He didnât want to move.
But eventually, he had to.
Joel exhaled slowly and began to pull away, his hands careful at your hips. He didnât want to hurt youâdidnât want to lose that closeness, not even for a second.
Still buried deep, he paused.
Then he slid out of you, slow and reverent.
You whimpered softly, body shivering at the loss. Joel glanced down, and the sight of itâhis cum, white and hot, spilling from youâhad his throat going tight. His stomach clenched.
âJesus,â he muttered. âLook at that.â
You shifted on the bed, stretching slightly, and the movement only made more of him leak out of you, trailing down your thighs.
Joel cursed again. His voice was raw with wonder and regret.
You looked at him, flushed and glowing. A lazy, content smile pulled at your lips.
âGonna gawk, or you gonna hold me?â you teased gently.
He huffed a breathâhalf a laughâand climbed back into bed, gathering you into his arms like you were something fragile. He tugged the blanket up over both of you, let your head rest on his chest, one hand smoothing over your back, the other tangled in your hair.
For a while, it was just that.
Breathing.
Touching.
The afterglow wrapped around you like another blanket, and Joel held you tighter, like maybe he could trap time. Keep it from moving forward and tearing this moment away.
But it did move.
And eventually, you spoke.
âCan we talk?â you asked quietly.
Joel stiffenedâbarely. He nodded. Cleared his throat. âYeah. Yeah, of course.â
You lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes. âI didnât leave because I stopped loving you.â
âI know,â he said softly. âIâfuck. I know.â
Your eyes searched his. âBut I needed more, Joel. I needed you. Not just your body, not just your actions. I needed your voice. Your thoughts. I needed to know what was goinâ on in your head when you shut down like that.â
Joel looked away.
The guilt was sharp. Cutting.
He exhaled, rubbing at his face. âIâve always been like that,â he admitted. âSince⊠since Sarah. Since everythinâ after. When shit gets too much, I just⊠just go quiet. I donât know how not to.â
You laid your palm over his chest, right above his heart.
âIt hurt,â you whispered. âWhen we fought, and you walked away from me with silence. It made me feel like I didnât matter. Like I was yelling into a void.â
Joelâs eyes flicked back to yours. Pain settled behind them, low and heavy.
âI donât want you feel that way,â he said hoarsely. âI just⊠I didnât know what to say. I didnât wanna make it worse. Didnât wanna say the wrong thing and ruin everythinâ.â
âYou not saying anything was the wrong thing,â you said gently. âThatâs what hurt us.â
He nodded slowly. Took your hand in his. Pressed his lips to your knuckles like they were sacred.
âI know. I see that now.â He swallowed hard. âI want to fix that.â
Your expression softened.
âI donât expect you to change overnight,â you murmured. âI just want to feel like youâre in this with me. That when things get hard, you donât disappear.â
Joelâs grip on your hand tightened.
âI wonât,â he said. âYou have my word.â
Silence fell againâbut it was warm now. Comfortable. Like a sigh through the sheets.
After a moment, you nestled closer.
âI missed this,â you whispered. âNot just the sex. Just⊠this. You. Me. Quiet.â
Joel pressed his lips to your forehead.
âI missed you every damn day,â he said. âHouse was too quiet. Coffee didnât taste right. Nothinâ did.â
You smiled. âYou make shitty coffee anyway.â
He chuckled. âHey now. Itâs improved. SlightlyâŠâ
You laughed softly and tucked yourself against his side, a perfect fit.
Joel stared at the ceiling for a while, then turned his gaze down to you.
âIâm gonna try. I want thisâyou. For long as youâll have me.â
You looked up at him, eyes shining again.
âForever sound okay?â
Joel kissed you, slow and soft, like it was the easiest vow heâd ever made.
âForever sounds perfect.â
Guys, it feels really good to be writing something different, other than terms & conditions. I love t&C, I really do, but something new never hurt anyone once in a while!
cw: valentineâs day ANGSTTTTT, implied sex at the end, steamy/fluffy ending bc thatâs the only way to end an angsty fic
joeâs a busy man. you knew that. itâs what pays the bills, itâs what allows you to live the life you live. doesnât mean you like it, though.
especially not when youâre spending valentineâs day all alone.
you stared at the text he sent you, glaring at your phone. you were sure if you stared any harder, the screen would shatter into millions of pieces.
back home late :( loveyou
you rolled your eyes and swiped out of the app, opting to scroll on instagram instead.
you watched your friendsâ stories; the ones in relationships were out with their significant others and the single ones gathered to celebrate galentineâs.
you were the only one all alone.
you swallowed back a scream of frustration and opened tiktok instead. the first tiktok you saw made you throw your phone on the other end of the couch.
how joe keery would treat you on valentineâs day.
you paused. how would he treat you on valentineâs day?
you crawled to your phone and scrolled through the tiktok.
heâd kiss you awake
youâd wake up with flowers overflowing your room
youâd spend most of the day eating peanut butter pretzels and watching your favorite movie
you two would get distracted (if yk what i mean đ)
heâd take you out to a ridiculously expensive restaurant and buy you a ridiculously expensive gift. diamond ring maybe?
heâs totally the type of guy to propose on valentineâs
you shut your phone off. you couldnât even get through the stupid slideshow.
you didnât expect much, but you also didnât expect absolutely nothing.
at least a bouquet of flowers. at least a card.
nothing.
when he got back home, it was 10pm. you were curled up in the couch watching my girl.
you needed an excuse to cry and that movie always did it for you.
âmy girl?â his voice pierced through the silence. it stabbed you in the heart. âkinda sad for valentineâs day, donât you think?â
you felt the anger bubbling up in your chest. âseriously?â you shot up, shooting daggers his way.
he froze mid-step. you saw his body tense up.
âyou are the last person to talk about sad on valentineâs day.â you pointed an angry finger towards him.
his throat bobbed. he saw the mascara streaks on your cheeksâtoo aggressive to be just from watching a movie. he noticed you wearing one of your own hoodies for the first time since you two got together. the pint of ice cream on the coffee table made his knees weak.
he was done for and he knew it. âbaby, i told you iâd be late-â
âten pm is not late, joe.â you huffed. âitâs-itâs beyond late! itâs bedtime.â
âwe can go to bed-â
you scoffed. âi will go to bed. you are gonna sleep on this tear stained couch.â
âthatâs not fair.â he said softly. âyou know how hard iâve been working on this album.â
âyou canât take an hour or two out of your day? have lunch with me? watch a movie with me? joe, people have mind blowing sex on valentineâs day.â
âwe have mind blowing sex everyday why is it so different today?!â his hands flailed around.
âbecause!â your eyes widened. âcupid or some shit!â
âcupid?!â he repeated, scoffing exasperatedly.
âyeah, joe, cupid!â you were well aware your argument sounded dumb, but you hoped he would read between the lines a little. âyou know i donât expect much from you-â
âwhatâs that supposed to mean?â his voice was sharp. defensive.
âyouâre always busy. i never complain. all i wanted was two hours with you, joe. two hours.â you emphasized.
when all he could do was blink back at you, you took your blanket in your arms. âiâm taking my blanket with me.â you stomped to your room and locked the door behind you.
you hated how much of him was in your bedroom. to be fair, it was also his bedroom.
the sweatpants he took off this morning were on the floor, his jacket was draped over a chair, the cap of his perfume had rolled on the floor and resided under the vanity. you saw him everywhere.
you slid down, back to the door, and buried your face in your hands.
you heard knees popping and a grunt, followed by his back hitting the door with a thud.
you felt that familiar lump form in your throat and you tried your best to swallow it back down. you pushed the palm of your hands into your eyes to force the tears back. none of it was working.
you sniffled and you could practically feel him tense up on the other side of the door.
âbaby?â his voice was gentle and soft, the defensiveness it previously held long gone. âiâm sorry, donât cry. i was a douche. i am a douche.â
your bottom lip trembled, wanting more than anything to open the door and crawl into his lap. you wanted to seek comfort in the very thing that hurt you.
you didnât budge. you didnât unlock the door or acknowledge his presence, only letting another sniffle ripple through the air.
âplease, y/n, i swear iâm so sorry.â you could hear the desperation in his voice.
you shook your head, not bearing to hear his voice any longer. your own knees popped as you got up and slid into bed. you hugged his pillow, inhaling his scent until it lulled you to sleep.
when you woke up with your head pounding and an empty bed, you were instantly taken back to last night. you rubbed your eyes, only smearing your mascara around some more.
you were certain you looked absolutely horrifying.
you trudged to the door and slowly unlocked it.
the sight made your heart rip in two. joe was curled up on the floor asleep. his jacket was draped over him.
it was february in new york. he probably froze to death on your hardwood floor.
âoh my god.â you whispered, eyes wide in realization. âiâm evil.â you said slightly louder.
he jolted awake, scrambling to his feet upon seeing you.
âiâm actually evil.â tears were taking over your eyes.
âno, no, no,â he shook his head. âiâm evil. iâm an idiot. iâm an evil idiot boyfriend that didnât even think about spoiling his girlfriend on valentineâs day.â
âi made you sleep on the floor.â you were absolutely horrified.
âi made you spend valentines all alone.â he retaliated. âi deserve to sleep in a dog kennel.â
âi honestlyâi donât know what i was thinking.â he admitted. he held your hands and brought them up to his face, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. âi love you so much, iâm so sorry. you donât deserve what i did to you. please, forgive me.â
âi didnât even give you a blanket or anything.â you were still in shock. you woke up in a daze and it has yet to wear off. you stripped him of the comfort and warmth of his own bed and you didnât even give him a blanket to compensate.
that was not like you at all.
he tugged you to the living room, hand on the small of your back.
your lips parted once you took in the absolute garden he made of your living room.
there was a vase stuffed with flowers covering every inch of the room. the largest teddy bear you had ever seen was sprawled on your couch, a huge red heart-shaped box of chocolates tucked neatly next to it.
a big rectangular velvet box was also tucked next to the comically large teddy bear. it was expensive looking.
âwhen did you do all of this?â you manage to whisper.
âbaby, itâs well past noon. i just made a couple of calls. you deserve way more.â
you tore your eyes off of the setup and turned to look at him. âyouâre not real.â
âin a good way or bad way?â
you chuckle breathlessly and cup his face, tugging him down for a bruising kiss. you let out a pleased sigh at the proximity. you missed him.
he hoisted you up, hands gripping the plush of your ass to keep you from falling. you wrapped your legs around his waist and peeled your lips off of his. you buried your face in the crook of his neck and inhaled. âmissed you.â you mumbled against his skin.
âhow much?â
you tilted your head, lips grazing the skin on his neck. âso much.â you whispered. you wasted no time, your lips reconnecting with his skin. when you got to that place right under his ear you felt his knees buckle. your teeth grazed his skin and he instantly moved, feet taking him to your room.
he laid you down on the bed and started littering kisses on your neck. you tilted your head, giving him better access.
when you felt those purple bruises forming, you tugged on the hair on the nape of his neck. you needed him in a way that was aching.
âiâm gonna take such good care of you.â his teeth tugged on your earlobe before pressing a kiss right under. âeverybodyâs gonna know how good i make you feel. i donât wait for some stupid holiday to fuck you dumb.â
âjoe.â you whined, the throbbing in between your legs growing painfully unbearable. âshut up.â
