ladybird

It was (and is) a well-known fact that one in three marriages ends in separation. And of course, you—being the lucky duck you were—found yours rapidly accelerating toward that destination.

You and Joel had agreed that you’d be better off apart. Joel got his own place while you kept the house. And Sarah lived with you every other week.

All you needed to do was send your attorney the signed divorce papers.

Outside of the sympathetic comments you received from acquaintances and relatives almost daily, you were doing just fine.

In fact, tonight you had a date.

A date. The kind that made you choose a tight-fitting dress that hugged your curves just right. The kind that inspired you to wear your hair in something other than a claw clip. The kind that provoked you to shave places you haven’t shaved in a long time.

The lucky bachelor was a fellow divorcee named Mark, whom you had met on a single-parent dating app. He had a full head of hair, a decent sense of humour, and two rescued Labradors. He offered to bring you to his favourite Italian restaurant, bringing up the fact that he’d pick up the bill no matter what, much to your protests. Needless to say, you had a good feeling about him.

After one last check in the mirror, you grabbed your coat and slung your purse over your shoulder, ready to head out the door.

Then, you heard it.

A faint gurgling. 

You blinked twice, trying to zero in on the sound. Proceeding a few moments of intense concentration, you followed the sound into the ensuite bathroom.

The faucet was running. Had you forgotten to turn it off?

You reached for the handle. Twisted it. It spun freely, and nothing happened. 

You tried and tried again, but all your efforts were in vain. You could only watch the tap stubbornly defy you as the handle jutted uselessly, loose in its socket.

“Shit.” You breathed.

The faucet sputtered out a particularly heavy spurt of water as if to say: shit, indeed.

You sighed, staring helplessly at the sink as it stared contumaciously back, water that couldn’t be swallowed by the drain toppling over the edge of the sink.

A quick Google search informed you that you needed to turn off the principal water pipe—the mains. Which you didn’t know how to do. 

So, you resolved to delegate the problem to more capable hands. Like, a twenty-four-hour plumbing service. No, they could easily overcharge you. You could call your dad? No, he was too far.

Or…

Sighing, you dug out your phone from your purse and called your only remaining option. Someone who was a seasoned contractor, someone who dealt with this sink before, and someone who you just so happened to be divorcing. 

He answered on the third ring.

“Hey—everything okay?” Joel’s concerned voice filtered through your phone.

“No.” You inhaled. 

“No?” Joel echoed hesitantly, then waited for elaboration.

When nothing came, he cleared his throat.

Slightly confused, slightly wry, he continued, “This is the part where you tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Um, my sink’s busted.”

“Your sink… is busted?”

“Yeah. Faucet won’t turn off. It-It’s a lot of water.” You bit the inside of your cheek, leaning on the wall. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

A moment of silence, then:

“You need me to fix it?” 

Was that annoyance? Exhaustion? It definitely wasn’t exhilaration at the prospect of doing manual labour at eight o’clock on a Friday evening.

“You know what? Forget I called. This was stupid. Sorry to bother you—”

“I’m on my way.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, after he hung up, the smallest of smiles began forming on your face. 

Fifteen minutes later, a knock came from your front door.

You swung the door open, and there he stood. Tool bag in hand, flannel shirt stretching tightly over his broad shoulders, salt-and-pepper hair just a little bit unkempt.

It had been a good few months since the two of you went your separate ways, but there he was—still at your beck and call. What that meant, exactly, remained to be seen. 

But you were glad to see him, nonetheless.

“Hi,” You said breathlessly.

Upon seeing you, Joel’s brows shot up, and he blinked a few times.

“Hi.” He said back slowly, then cleared his throat. “Am I… interruptin’ something?”

You glanced down. Right. Tight dress and makeup.

“I have a date in…” You raised your left wrist and winced as you looked down at your watch. “Five minutes ago.”

“A date.” He clicked his tongue, nodding to himself. “Well, I’ll try to make this quick, then.”

You hummed a noise of agreement, pivoted, and, with a wave of your hand, invited Joel inside.

He stepped through the doorway with a quiet grunt. And, as he bent down to undo his boots, his coffee-brown gaze landed on a pile of unopened mail by the entryway table. A few envelopes had slipped to the floor, and he crouched to gather them without thinking. 

But, as he straightened up to his full height, his eyes lingered on the recipient line.

“Mrs Miller?” Joel read aloud.

“What?” Your breath caught in your throat, and you spun around to meet his stare.

Joel wordlessly held the envelope up with two fingers, the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

“Oh.” You cringed inwardly. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t, uh, realise that you were keepin’ the name.” He shrugged offhandedly, tossing the stack of mail onto the entryway table.

“I’m not. I just…” You ran a hand through your hair. “Paperwork isn’t final.”

For the divorce.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together. “I sent you my signed copies, if—” 

“I know you did. I just haven’t sent the papers to my lawyer yet.” You pressed your lips into a thin line and avoided his gaze. “Just got a lot on my plate, recently.”

That was very unconvincing.

Joel hummed a noncommittal noise.

“Well…” He huffed sheepishly. “You know I always liked my name on you.”

You swallowed, feeling your stomach do a funny flip and your ears burn up. Why were your ears burning up?

“C’mon. The problem is upstairs.”

The faucet, to your dismay, hadn’t stopped. It was worse now, if that was even possible, spitting little rogue sprays of water alongside the main stream. Great.

You checked your watch again. Fifteen minutes late. You would no doubt have a few missed calls from your poor suitor if you had the guts to check your phone.

Joel sank to one knee as he inspected the sink, squinting at the appliance and shaking his head. Miraculously, he reached in and, a few rusty squeaks later, the water stopped.

“You fixed it.” You blinked.

“Far from it,” He muttered, frowning. “The cartridge’s shot. And the valve stem’s stripped. Who installed this?”

Without missing a beat, “You did.”

“…Right.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest. “So?”

“So, this isn’t a quick fix. I need to pull out the whole assembly. Maybe replace the handle, too. And judging by the corrosion around this nut—” He held up a discoloured metal hexagon like it had personally offended him. “You’ve probably had a leak back here for a while.”

You blinked. “And you didn’t notice that when you lived here?”

Joel turned to shoot you a look. “I was your husband, not your handyman.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn I married you for that toolbox of yours.”

“And here I thought it was ‘cause of my radiant personality.”

“Definitely not that.” You huffed out a laugh.

Despite his back being turned to you, you could just about make out a reluctant smile forming through his slightly greying stubble.

You watched as he rolled up his plaid sleeves, exposing tanned forearms that were entirely too bulky for someone in his mid-forties. He then dug into his bag, fishing out an Allen Wrench.

“You can go on your date,” Joel added, not looking at you. “I’ll be out of here in an hour. Two, tops. But… if you feel like gettin’ frisky, maybe do it at his place. Just in case.”

Right, your date.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you took out your phone. Six missed calls and a flurry of concerned texts.

Decidedly, you typed out an apologetic message mentioning a water-related emergency and stuffed your phone back in your purse.

“I’m staying with you.”

Joel froze and turned to look at you from over his shoulder. “No, you ain’t. I’ll take too long.”

“Well, I can’t leave you to fix my problems while I’m out eating overpriced ravioli.” You shrugged and, with a soft grunt, took a seat against the wall near him. “You’re not a plumber, you’re a… you’re my…”

Ex-husband.

You cleared your throat, then emphasised, “You’re not a plumber.”

Joel let out a slow exhale. “Do whatever you want, but I doubt watching me fix your sink is gon’ be as fun as your date.”

“I’ve got a full bottle of Pinot Noir in the fridge.” You tilted your head. “We can make it fun.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not—not in that way.” You rubbed a clammy hand down your face.

To your surprise, that earned you a small, gruff laugh from Joel, his eyes crinkling momentarily the way they only did when he was truly amused.

His voice was soft when he responded. 

“Go on and get the wine, then, sweetheart.”

Two crystal glasses and a little while later, Joel had put down his wrench and opted instead to sit beside you on your tiled bathroom floor, his shoulders brushing up against yours in the cramped space.

Efforts to tame the defiant sink had long since been forgotten. He did the best he could, but retired upon discovering that you had no spare sink handle lying around—how very unprepared of you.

The bad news was that you weren’t going to be able to wash your hands in the master bedroom ensuite tonight. The good news was that you were having a surprisingly good time with Joel. The conversation evolved from discussing your stood-up date (you showed Mark’s profile, Joel was convinced he was lying about his dogs being rescues), then to how his company was going, and then, reminiscing about the good ol’ days.

“All I’m sayin’,” Joel continued through a laugh. “Is that she did it on purpose.”

“My mom has always been bad with names!”

“Bad enough to still call me ‘George’ after a year of us datin’?” He scoffed.

You stifled a giggle. “In her defence, it’s a very similar—”

“Like hell it is. And your dad? He was worse.” Joel chuckled, finishing the last of his wine. “How is he?”

“Fine. Just called him yesterday, actually.”

“He still callin’ me–?”

“He still calls you ‘porn stache’, yes.”

Joel snorted into his hand, his shoulders bobbing up and down with laughter. Real, genuine laughter.

You smiled and turned to steal a glance at his profile.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his hooked nose scrunched mid-chuckle, and his laugh was exactly as it was before—low and rough, but somehow boyish and unguarded.

You had almost forgotten how his whole face lit up when he laughed.

And, you didn’t mean to stare. But you did. 

God, you missed this.

“I think I prefer George.” Joel ran a hand down his face, still smiling.

You cleared your throat and leaned over to retrieve the almost-empty wine bottle, refilling your glasses.

“Sarah told me to say hi to you, if I got the chance, by the way.” You said, pouring the Pinot Noir into his glass. “She’s with my parents at the lake house.”

“The lake house?” Joel hummed, taking another sip of his drink. “Still disappointed I didn’t get that in the settlement.”

You snorted, amused. “You don’t even like lakes.”

“No, I don’t like the mosquitoes that come with the lakes.” Joel corrected you, pointedly. “But, I don’t know, I guess I just miss it. A lot of good memories there.”

You felt yourself smile. “Yeah. Yeah, there were.”

A beat.

“Hey, at least you kept the cars. And the boat. And the frequent flier miles. And, well, you see Sarah every other week.” You turned to look at Joel, but he was already looking at you.

A certain vulnerability swam in the brown of his eyes. Something you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Yeah, well… there were more important things I couldn’t keep.”

The air thinned. The wine, the laughter, the conversation—everything dissolved in the quiet admission, hanging thickly in the space between you.

And suddenly, there was only you and Joel and the mistakes that had wedged you apart yet somehow brought you back together again; on a random Friday evening on the floor of a bathroom you used to share.

“Joel…” You swallowed, your hand falling from your lap onto the tiles.

But you couldn’t form any semblance of a sentence. How could you? 

There was nothing to say. Yes, you missed him. ‘Missed’ was an understatement. 

Sometimes you’d roll over in the night, wishing to feel the weight of his arm resting on your waist, reassuring you that these past few months had only been a bad dream. Sometimes you came to pick Sarah up early, just to get a few more minutes with him. Sometimes—no, a lot of the time, memories of him came rushing back, cleaving your heart into two, further and further each time.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t let go of the man you spent so many years loving. 

Joel’s eyes still bore into yours. And nothing in the world could have torn you away.

He exhaled slowly, then set down his glass with care. His hand barely brushed yours, but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

“I think about it,” He said softly. “More than I should.”

“Think about what?”

A quiet, almost sad laugh escaped from his throat. He leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“How things used to be.”

“Oh,”

A moment passed, marked only by the metre of your incessant heartbeat pounding in your ears.

And then, “Do you ever miss us?” Joel asked.

You faced him once more. The answer was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Because that was too complicated. Because that would break you.

Joel didn’t need you to say it. He found the answer in your eyes.

All the time.

Instead, you asked, “Do you? Miss us, that is.”

“Of course, I do.” He said softly. “More than you can imagine.”

You held your breath.

Joel heaved a sigh.

“I think about calling,” He added, voice low. “Just to hear your voice.”

“I’d answer,” You said, barely above a whisper.

He smiled in a bittersweet, melancholic sort of way and leaned in just slightly. Unconsciously, you mirrored him.

And then his eyes flickered down to your lips. It was only for a second, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter.

This was dangerous. You should’ve told him to leave ages ago. Or, maybe you should’ve left yourself and gone on your date.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“Can I ask you something stupid?” You whispered.

Joel whispered back, “Always.”

“Do you…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Do I what?”

“Do you—does even a part of you… want what we had back?” 

You knew what he was going to say. You just wanted to hear it for yourself.

And you did.

“Yes,” He admitted earnestly.

You searched his face for any sign of deception, but found none. The only thing in his coffee-brown eyes was regret. And, maybe, something else, too. Something softer.

Your eyes widened. “We fought a lot.”

“We did.”

“And we probably said some shit.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, as if all the answers were written there. Joel did, too.

His voice came softly, sadly, “We did.”

Silence again. Thick and fragile and charged with so many unspoken words.

Joel’s knee brushed yours, neither of you pulling away. It was nice to have him close, to feel his familiar warmth, to see him—really see him. Bare and raw and vulnerable. No facades of indifference. No hiding behind closed car doors. Just Joel, your Joel, there beside you; soft-eyed and quiet, like maybe he was seeing you, too.

Your fingers twitched on the floor beside his. You wanted to reach for him, but you wanted him to reach first. Absently, you fiddled with your left ring finger, suddenly aware of its bareness.

He looked at you then. Not a glance, but a full turn, slow and deliberate. His dark eyes searched your face, pausing on your mouth, your cheek, your lashes, then settled on your eyes again. He looked at you like you were something he’d spent months trying to forget, and only just now remembered why he couldn’t.

You held your breath.

Joel’s voice, when it finally came, was low, cracked around the edges.

“I know it was bad in the end, but I meant what I said.” He breathed. “I miss us. I miss you.”

Your heart twisted. And there went that cleaver again, slicing further.

“I miss seeing your keys on the kitchen counter and knowing you were home. I miss kissing you before work and smudgin’ your lipstick. I miss watching stupid movies with you that we’d fall asleep to halfway.”

His throat bobbed. He leaned back against the wall, like it hurt to say it out loud.

“Yeah, we fought and said some real mean shit. But God help me, I’d give anything to go back in time and fight for you like I should have. Because you were it for me. You were everything. Still are.”

His eyes glistened as he held your gaze, fierce and unflinching.

“Because, no matter how hard I try to ignore it,” He smiled to himself, shaking his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I love you.”

He loves you.

Those three simple words rang in an echo in your mind. He loves you, he loves you, Joel loves you.

“You love me?” You could barely hear your voice above the deafening thrum of your pulse.

Your faces were barely an inch apart, now. You could smell the familiar scent of his laundry detergent, and traces of his cologne, and wood, and tobacco, and something that was so uniquely him.

Joel nodded.

“I never stopped.” He whispered.

Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance, smashing your lips against his. Joel grunted in surprise, but quickly gave in, exhaling through his nose like he’d been holding a breath in for years. 

He returned the kiss with equal fervour, reaching out to cup your face and pouring all his pent-up emotions against the haven of your lips—longing, relief, desire.

You pushed yourself closer against him. Closer, impossibly closer, until you were straddling his lap, moving against the tent in his jeans, feeling his big hands instinctively settle on your hips, and tasting the Pinot Noir on his lips.

Shit. Was this even a good idea?

You pulled away suddenly. A tiny whine came from Joel, who tried to chase your mouth, but you were insistent.

“Wait,” You panted.

His eyes opened fully. His brows were knitted, his lips were kiss-swollen, and his chest was heaving slowly.

“What?” Joel asked quietly, his thumbs idly tracing circles on either side of your hips.

“This…” You breathed. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I don’t want it to mean nothing.”

Joel smiled softly at your words.

“Means a whole lot to me, sweetheart.” His hand went to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek in his wake. “We can talk about what this means, if you w—”

“Okay, good. Means a lot. Talk after.”

“After?” His eyebrows rose.

“After you fuck me.”

A breathy ‘Jesus Christ’ slipped from his throat, but Joel didn’t spend a second refusing your bold assumption.

With a hand on your nape, he leaned forward to capture your lips in another searing kiss, which you happily accepted, sighing against him.

His big hands then travelled to the back of your thighs, and the next thing you knew, he carelessly swept away whatever was decorating the base of your faucet, and carried you with ease to perch you atop the sink.

“Joel.” You mumbled urgently into his lips.

“Mmm?” He hummed back, not wanting to break your mouths apart for even a second. 

“Might break the sink again.”

“Don’t care. I’ll fuckin’ fix it again, then. Just… need you,” Joel groaned. “Look too fuckin’ good,”

And he pulled away. His half-lidded, cloudy gaze drank you in, sweeping down the snugness of your dress, and lingering on the generous amount of cleavage it revealed. His hands drifted higher and higher up your thighs, until they reached the hemline—dipping under just slightly.

“Too fuckin’ good,” He snarled.

You smirked. Knowing him, he was definitely going to ask if—

“How much was this dress?”

Sighing amusedly, “It wasn’t cheap.”

“How attached are you to it?” He mumbled, a hand reverently skirting up to your hip.

“A moderate amou—”

“Can I rip it off you?”

There it was.

In the many years you were married, Joel shredded more than enough articles of your precious wardrobe in similar heated moments. If you were to count the offences, you’d likely run out of fingers. Your wedding dress had been among the few survivors of his destructive tendencies, though not for lack of trying on his part.

You stifled a snort and shook your head, reaching up to caress his face. 

“No.” You smiled. “Because I’d like to wear it again.”

Joel held your hand against his face and huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “Next time.”

And then his hands found the zipper on your side, pulled it sharply down, and tugged the dress off you.

His eyes darkened.

You had chosen to don an intricate, black, lacey number underneath your dress that teased just enough and only hid the bare minimum. Of course, you had. You hadn’t had an opportunity to wear anything vaguely provocative in ages and were expecting some luck after your date.

You certainly didn’t expect that your ex-husband would be the one seeing it.

“This for him?” Joel’s lip twitched.

Heat rose in your cheeks. “Well, I—”

“Yeah, these don’t get a pass.”

With a sharp tearing noise slicing through the air, Joel ripped the flimsy lacey bra clean in half, watching intently, hungrily, as your tits spilled out.

“Joel!”

“I know, I know,” Joel grunted. “I’ll buy you a new set… buy you all the fuckin’ sets.”

You were about to object, intent on citing the price attached to that particular pair, but Joel had sunk back on his knees and spread your legs apart.

He pressed his lips on your inner thigh, scruff tickling your skin as he slowly, softly trailed his mouth upward, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

His face came to a stop in front of your core, noticing how heavily you were breathing, and his eyes flicked up to yours, smirking. Smug fucking bastard.

“Joel.” You gritted your teeth.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Don’t fucking tease me.” 

And he leaned his forehead against the lower part of your navel, taking a second to breathe in the unmistakable scent of your arousal seeping through your lingerie. 

He was practically salivating, now. 

“I’ll try not to, ma’am.” 

Without another word, he took the lace into his teeth, yanked his head sharply, and tore your panties open.

Confirming his suspicions, you were absolutely soaked. Slick drooled freely out of your puffy folds, taunting him and draining every ounce of self-restraint he had. 

Fuck, you were gorgeous.

“Tell me,” Joel said lowly, meeting your gaze once more as a thick finger swiped lightly through your lips, collecting your arousal. “This for him or me?”

“You.” You breathed without a second thought.

“Louder, sweetheart. My ears ain’t what they used to be.”

“You.”

Smirking wider, “Damn fucking right.”

Then, he happily hitched your legs over his shoulders, leaned forward, and dove in.

His tongue prodded into your heat, dragging down your walls and sending jolts of electricity down your spine. He worked fast and sloppily, sliding through your folds and flicking into your walls, urgently tasting you like he wouldn’t get another chance. 

Your arousal coated the lower half of his face, his eyes were almost black with desire, obscenely wet noises echoed in the silence of the tiled room as his tongue eagerly devoured you whole—

“Fuck, almost forgot how good you taste. So fuckin’ sweet.” Joel mumbled against your sex, entirely, wholly bewitched. “She missed me, too, huh? Just drippin’ for me…”

He continued to furiously lap at your entrance, scruff rubbing against your inner thighs. And then he moved up, planting messy kisses higher and higher until he reached your swollen clit.

You gasped brokenly, flinging a hand to grasp his curls as his lips alternated from pressing messy kisses along your seam to greedily sucking at your bundle of nerves, latching onto it almost desperately.

After a particularly delicious drag down the roof of your core, you rolled your hips up into his mouth and brought him closer to you with your grip in his hair.

“Shit—sorry.” You panted, breathing heavily.

He barely pulled away to look at you.

“Don’t fuckin’ be. I can handle it, you know I can.” Joel all but growled, before returning to attend to your needy fucking pussy.

He was like a man possessed; lapping frenziedly, groaning lowly into your sensitive skin, curved nose swiping through your folds as he worked.

Very soon, a familiar tingle in your lower stomach introduced itself.

“Joel,” You called urgently, attempting to warn him.

He knew you were close. Oh, he knew. So, he went faster and harder, pressing himself further against you, suffocation be fucking damned.

His low, wrecked voice came slurred and slightly muffled by your sex, “Y’gonna come? Go on, baby, all over my face—thaaat’s it.”

A shattered moan escaped from your throat, and you felt your release take over your body almost violently. You couldn’t help the way your legs clamped down around his head, but Joel loved it, letting you smother him and humming happily into your heat as he worked you through your climax, swallowing your release and eating like a man starved.

Finally, he pulled away with a wet squelch, softly pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and gently let your legs down.

And you were immediately greeted with the sight of his lower face shining with your slick.

A good look on him, if you’d say so yourself.

He smiled lazily, eyes blown-out and absolutely fucking pussydrunk. 

“That good for you, sweetheart?” He mused.

“You, Joel Miller, are what we call a munch.” You smiled back.

Pride bloomed across his face. “Gladly, sweets.” 

And you pulled him up by the collar of his flannel shirt into a filthy kiss, tasting your arousal on his lips.

He let his eyes fall shut and reached up to curl a hand around your jaw as he returned the kiss, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Not wasting any time, your hands flew to his belt, blindly fumbling at the leather material to slide it out of the loops of his jeans.

Joel chuckled, leaning forward to trail his lips down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses.

“Need somethin’, baby?”

“Wanna return the favour,” You glanced down at the bulge in his lap.

“Mm-mm. That was more for me than you. Missed your sweet fuckin’ pussy.” Joel mumbled against your pulse point.

“Munch.” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel sighed, lifting his head and undoing his jeans just barely enough to pull himself free from his boxers. 

You heard yourself swallow.

Joel Miller was a big man, and you were very aware of that fact. It was written all across his body; from his impossibly broad shoulders, to his beefy arms, to his thick fucking cock.

He stroked himself, once, twice, as his eyes fell to your pulsating, slick core. Beads of precum leaked from his flushed tip and down his length as he did so.

“Spread those legs wider for me, baby. Let me see you,” He breathed lowly.

And you very willingly obliged.

“There’s my girl,” Joel hummed.

With a hand around his base, he guided himself closer to your drooling cunt, nudging his swollen head against you.

Sighing, “Deep breath, baby.”

And he slowly forced himself in, one hand on the small of your back, the other on the underside of your thigh, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he steadily fed you his cock.

You gasped some variant of a plea.

Needless to say, he was a tight fucking fit.

“Takin’ me so well. That’s it, baby, let me in.” He blabbed mindlessly as he continued to sink deeper inside. 

Deeper, deeper, deeper…

He winced. “Shit—there you go.”

When all of him was nested inside your welcoming channel, he let out a gasped expletive at the sensation.

Full. You felt so full with him inside. You always did.

“Fuck, missed this.” Joel panted, resting his forehead against yours. 

You tried to echo the sentiment, but the only thing you were capable of doing was letting out an incoherent groan of his name.

Joel got the message, though.

Maintaining an unhurried tempo, he rolled his hips back and forth, slowly dragging his thickness against your walls, making you painfully aware of every last inch of him.

“How’s that feel, baby?” He mumbled, voice airy.

“Good. Feels so good.”

And, fuck, he did. 

He felt amazing.

His tempo soon picked up, leaving your mouth to fall open as you took every inch of him again and again, stretching you open with enough pleasure to dull the slight pain.

“Tell me,” Joel hummed as he continued to drive ceaselessly in and out of your tight channel, adopting a false lilt of indifference. “Who’s fuckin’ you so good, huh?”

An incoherent syllable slipped from your lips.

“Who, baby?” Joel urged you, unrelenting in his pace. “Sure as hell ain’t fuckin’ Mark.”

Dumbly, you shook your head.

“You, Joel.”

Your words were almost drowned out by the symphony of your own moans, which were accompanied by the obscenely wet slaps that sounded every time his hips fully met yours.

“Louder.” He snarled, punctuating his response with an intentionally rough ram. “Neighbours can’t hear you yet, c’mon.”

“You, Joel!”

Satisfied, his hands went to hold you by your waist, keeping you as still as possible as he drove insistently into you, his tip now kissing your cervix with every thrust.

You cried out at the feeling, nails raking down his back.

Heat pooled in your gut, your vision blurred, a high-pitched ringing almost deafened your ears.

“Joel, Joel, I’m…” You babbled.

“Close? Go on, gorgeous. Let me feel you choke my dick.”

With his blessing, his name left your mouth in a high-pitched scream, and you felt yourself clench around his throbbing length as your orgasm rippled across your body like an earthquake.

Joel, being the overachiever he was, didn’t stop for even a second until your breathing slowed and your eyes fluttered open again.

And, once he saw that you had recovered, he leaned forward to slant his mouth against yours, swallowing your sighs.

“You okay?” He mumbled into the kiss, barely breaking away.

“Yeah.” You exhaled. 

He smiled against your lips.

“Good. Almost there, baby. Gonna take you against the sink, now, and you’re gonna give me one more, how’s that sound?”

You nodded dreamily, feeling him slowly pull out.

He leaned back and, with his hands on your waist, delicately set you down.

“Turn ‘round for me, sweetheart.” 

You acquiesced without hesitation, bracing yourself on the porcelain countertop.

Joel hummed, kicked your legs open even wider, and, not long after, sank the entirety of his cock into you in one deep thrust.

A sharp breath hit the air behind you, and an airy ‘fuck’ followed it. This angle made him feel bigger, if that was even possible.

He didn’t wait long after that. He couldn’t. Overcome with the need to feel you, he started moving. The first thrust was slow. Experimental. The second was hard. The third was harder.

Before you knew it, his big hands found a home on your hips, and he began to drive roughly into you, as if making up for lost time.

He certainly proved he was willing to atone for his absence, thrust after thrust.

“Oh, look at you.” Joel tutted and pulled your hair to tilt your head upwards.

You came face to face with the woman in the bathroom mirror.

Somewhere in between thrusts, your mouth had fallen agape, letting loose a long whine of pleasure, which was stuttered by every slam of his hips against yours.

Your hair was frizzy, your face was flushed, your hooded gaze was flooded with desire, and a light sheen of sweat doused every inch of your skin.

You were a wreck, thanks to the man fucking you so well behind you.

“Eyes up here.” Joel sighed. “Keep ‘em open. Gotta watch how well you take me.”

Joel was even more of a sight. 

The top few buttons of his flannel were undone, his sleeves were haphazardly rolled up, his hair was wild, and the look on his weathered face was nothing short of territorial as he held you to him and fucked you with reckless abandon.

Your eyes fell to where your bodies were connected, hypnotised by how easily his tanned cock disappeared in and out of your puffy cunt.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The corners of his lips were coyly upturned when he cooed, “Don’t we look good, baby?”

You could only respond in broken syllables.

“Yeah,” He grunted. Then, after a particularly forceful thrust, “we do.”

He continued to ram into you, finding your cervix with each thrust, keeping his eyes trained on the mirror, fixated on how your tits bounced so prettily for him.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, jaw tight.

If your brain hadn’t been turned to mush after the two orgasms he forced out of you, you would’ve heard him. But all you were focused on was the rush of another climax approaching.

You gripped the countertop harder and gritted your teeth, feeling warmth collecting in your stomach and bracing yourself for impact.

As if reading your mind, Joel’s hand moved from your hip to your front, trailing down until he brushed your clit, rubbing sloppy semi-cricles and whispering sweet things as you whimpered.

“You gonna give me one more?” He murmured encouragingly, his nose nudging the side of your face.

You could only manage an open-mouthed nod.

His fingers sped in their motions, swiping at your clit feverishly as he continued to rut into you, grazing your cervix each time.

Again. And again. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.” He whispered gently.

Your jaw slackened, your heartbeat quickened, and, in a blinding flash of pleasure, you came with his name on your tongue, helpless to the throes of your climax.

“There you go. Shit… so good for me.” Joel groaned. And then, urgently, “Where—where do you want me to–?”

Not even a full second later, “Inside.” 

“You sure?” He panted, starstruck. 

“I have an IUD, just—please.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he pressed closer, his chest flush against your back, letting you feel every shaky pull of his breath as he caged you in. His hands found yours at the edge of the sink, lacing over them gently. His head dropped beside yours, his forehead nearly touching your temple, and a warm breath fanned across your skin as he sighed. 

And then he resumed his earlier pace.

He rammed into you hard and fast, chasing his own release as if it were a life-or-death situation. And all you could do was take it.

After a dozen more jerky thrusts, his breath caught in his throat and, with a low curse, he came. Hot ropes of his spend spilled inside you, and he rode it out until he couldn’t give you any more, which took a few more lazy rolls of his hips.

His breath evened not long after, warm and steady against your browbone. Soothing, almost.

Gently, he pulled out of you, and you felt his come slowly drip down your thighs.

“Fuck,” He breathed, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, scruff rubbing against your crown as he did so.

And he bowed his head to rest it on the crook of your neck.

“That was great, George.” You panted.

Joel snorted tiredly. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

“Nope.”

He huffed out a chuckle.

Then, he languidly pressed a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips could reach—the underside of your jaw, your throat, your neck, and down, still.

A warm, fuzzy sort of feeling radiated from his touch, lulling you into a state of bliss. It felt like love; it felt like coming home.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face.

Joel mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder.

“What?” You replied, breaking free from your trance.

“I said,” He pulled away and, with two fingers on your chin, tenderly turned your face to look at him. His voice was wrecked and so very earnest when he finally repeated himself. “Don’t send the papers. Please.”

He held the rest of his plea in his eyes in the way they shone with a certain sincerity.

You smiled softly and shook your head. Because you knew you never really had any intention to. Because you wanted to hold on to him. And you were glad he wanted to hold on to you, too.

Your lips found his. Gentle, delicate, a reassurance. He gave in to the kiss almost immediately, sighing into your mouth.

“I won’t.”

And you meant it.

thanks for reading!!! reqs are open, if you wanna send an idea or anything over :)

the elevator doors close with a soft click suspended above the city.

you stand beside him. close, but not touching. not yet.

to the cameras, to the world, you are nothing more than business allies. but here, in this pocket of silence, every heartbeat says otherwise.

his pinky brushes yours.

you don’t look at him. you don’t need to.

“i spent that whole board meeting pretending not to look at you and all i wanted was to reach over and touch your hand.” harry whispered, voice low and strained with restraint.

your lips curve, slow and sweet.

“one more minute and i would’ve kissed you in front of all of them,” you murmured, barely turning your head.

that draws a quiet laugh from him. soft and disbelieving.

“you’re dangerous,” he said, looking at you now.

“so are you,” you replied with a little tilt of your chin. “but at least i admit it.”

he watched you for a moment, like he was trying to memorize you. eyes tracing your cheek, the curve of your mouth, the slope of your shoulders.

harry reached for you slowly, one hand rising to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers grazing your jaw.

then, gently, like he couldn’t help himself anymore, he leaned in.

your noses brushed. you closed your eyes.

and when his lips finally touched yours, it wasn’t rushed or frantic. it was reverent. warm. the kind of kiss that lingered long after it ended.

his hand cupped your cheek as your fingers curled into the front of his suit, pulling him just a little closer, just a little longer.

when you finally parted, breathless and smiling, you whispered into the space between your mouths.

“tonight. come by. back entrance. no security.”

“and what would the heiress of the sorelli family say if i just showed up unannounced?”

“she’d say she missed you,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his.

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“and what would her father say?”

you tilted your head with a small, knowing smile.

soft and spoiled all at once.

“he wouldn’t know. he still thinks i’m too busy running empires to fall in love.”

the elevator chimed.

as the doors slid open, harry’s hand found the small of your back. he guided you out like nothing had happened.

like he hadn’t just kissed the one woman he wasn’t supposed to fall for.

your pulse was still racing as you walked through the lobby and his fingertips lingered against your spine.

the house was quiet. jazz floated lazily from the record player.

you wore nothing but silk and bare skin, the cool floor beneath your feet grounding you as you padded down the hallway.

you heard the door open and close with care. no knocks. no voices.

his footsteps.

you stepped into the hall, standing where the shadows met the light.

“took you long enough,” you said with a small smile.

harry looked up, still wearing his coat, hair tousled from the wind, eyes warm and tired and completely focused on you.

“i tried not to speed,” he said quietly.

you walked toward him, slow and barefoot, letting your eyes drink him in.

he reached for you without thinking, his hand finding your wrist, thumb brushing the inside of it like he needed that touch to breathe.

“you’re late,” you teased softly.

“i didn’t want anyone to follow me,” he murmured, gaze sweeping over your figure with something that looked like longing and something that felt like relief.

you stepped into his space and curled your arms around his neck. he pulled you close without hesitation, one hand sliding along the curve of your back.

“good,” you whispered against the side of his throat. “because i don’t want to share you tonight.”

he closed his eyes as your breath warmed his skin.

“you never do,” he said, and you could feel the smile in his voice.

when harry kissed you again. slow, lingering, his hands gentle on your waist, it felt inevitable.

the way his lips explored yours with aching care.

the way his body fit perfectly against yours when you leaned into him, silk against wool.

now, you’re in your bedroom.

he’s standing between your thighs as you sit on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a fresh silk slip.

one he hasn’t seen yet. midnight blue.

he looks at you like he can’t believe you’re real.

his blazer drops to the floor with a quiet thud.

you reach up, undoing each button of his dress shirt with slow, steady fingers, your palms skimming over his chest, tracing muscle and hair.

he exhales shakily, leaning into your touch like he’s been starving for it.

then his hands slide to your thighs, the silk beneath his fingertips.

he lifts the slip just slightly.

you see the shift in his expression: confusion, surprise, then a wicked sort of delight.

he looks up at you slowly, voice low and thick.

“you’re not wearing any panties.”

you smirk, all sweet mischief.

“i got comfortable.”

he huffs out a soft, dark laugh, shaking his head as his hands skim higher, cupping the backs of your thighs.

“you’re a naughty girl,” he murmurs, his voice turning rough with arousal. “sitting here like this. waiting for me. silk and nothing else.”

“i knew you’d appreciate it.”

“oh, i do,” he growls softly, dropping to his knees between your legs. “now lie back, sweetheart.”

you obey, easing onto the pillows as your slip pools around your hips, exposing soft, bare skin. your legs part for him without hesitation.

he kisses your knee. then your thigh. his hands stroke the length of you with reverence and hunger.

and then his mouth is on you.

the first flick of his tongue is light, teasing and barely there.

he watches you as he licks, eyes dark and focused, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.

you gasp softly, back arching when his tongue grows bolder.

stroking you in slow circles, licking deep and firm. his hands spread your thighs wider as he settles in.

“you taste like heaven, baby,” he whispers between strokes.

you moan, one hand tangled in his hair, the other clutching the sheets.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, lips brushing your slick skin. “just relax. let me make you feel good.”

he flattens his tongue and drags it from your entrance to your clit in one long, devastating pass, then circles your clit again and again.

his pace is slow, relentless. he draws out every whimper, every trembling breath.

and he doesn’t stop when your legs start to tremble. he doesn’t stop when your hips lift off the bed, chasing his mouth.

in fact he grins against you, fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still.

“stay right there for me, sweetheart.”

your body builds with pressure, pleasure curling tighter, hotter. his tongue never letting up over and over and over until you’re writhing, whimpering his name.

“harry—please—”

he groans, licking faster, more focused now. his tongue flicks, presses, circles your clit with maddening precision, keeping you right on the edge.

“let me feel it.”

your body goes taut. it’s overwhelming.

your thighs clamp around his head, your voice breaks on his name, and he holds you through every wave.

but he doesn’t stop.

even after your orgasm crashes over you, his tongue keeps moving, slow and soft, then quick and pointed. overstimulation licks at your nerves, making you twitch beneath him.

“too much—harry—”

he lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“shh. one more, baby. just one more. i’ve got you.”

his fingers slide inside you. two.

his thumb replacing his tongue to rub your clit in tight, perfect circles.

you sob a breath, overwhelmed and shaking.

“you’re soaked,” he murmurs, pressing deep. “so fucking tight. let me see you fall apart again.”

his name spills from your lips like a prayer as your body coils again trembling around his fingers.

you come harder this time, vision going white around the edges.

he kisses your thigh, then your stomach, then pulls you up gently into his arms.

you’re panting, limp and trembling against his chest.

“you okay?” he whispers into your hair, brushing it back.

you nod, clinging to him.

“too good,” you manage.

he kisses your temple then your lips.

“not done yet, i still need to be inside you.” he murmurs.

his lips press to your jaw, then lower along your throat, over your chest.

you’re still trembling, but you don’t want to stop. you want more. all of him.

he knows. he always knows.

“you want to ride me?” harry whispers, his large hands sliding down your sides before gripping your hips firmly. “take what you need?”

you nod, breath caught in your throat. you push lightly on his chest, urging him to lean back, propped up against the headboard.

slowly, you straddle him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs.

his cock, flushed and slick with your arousal, stands hard between you, glistening with precum.

it’s already leaking for you.

you reach down, your hand wrapping around him, sliding along his slick length to line him up.

his dark eyes lock on yours, full of heat.

“look at you, my spoiled little heiress… sittin’ on me like you own me.”

“i do,” you whisper, lips brushing over his.

you sink down slowly, every inch filling you, your silk slip sliding and clinging to your curves.

harry’s hands find your hips first then they trail up your sides until his fingers curl under your slip.

cupping your breasts with hunger thumbs tracing circles around your swollen nipples until they pebble, hardening beneath his touch.

your breasts bounce, pressing into his chest and palms with each slow, deep roll of your hips.

a strangled groan escapes him.

“you’re gonna fucking kill me,” he groans, eyes darkening as he drinks in the sight of you riding him, your tits trembling in his grasp.

you lean down to kiss him. messy and desperate. his mouth claims yours, teeth grazing your lower lip.

your thighs tremble, your body slick with need and silk.

“turn around for me,” he pants, voice low and commanding. “on your hands and knees. let me take care of you.”

you whimper but obey, sliding off and flipping over onto the pillows, chest pressed down, ass raised in the air.

his eyes darken as he takes in the slick heat between your thighs.

“look at you,” he growls. “so fucking wet. so fucking ready.”

his cock lines up with your entrance, and then he presses in slow.

you cry out, burying your face in the sheets, your body arching involuntarily.

harry’s hands grip your hips hard, but one slides up your side, slipping beneath the silk slip to cup and knead your breast.

with every deep, powerful thrust, your breast bounces, the silk sliding and catching, heightening every sensation.

skin slaps, slick moans, and harsh breaths fill the room.

“that’s it,” he hisses. “take it. take all of it.”

your nails rake the sheets as you moan, your body trembling under his relentless pace.

“harry—fuck—”

he growls your name, pulling your hair lightly, arching your back. his hand moves between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit as he pounds into you harder, fingers curling into your hip.

one hand slides back to your breast with a desperate worship that sends hot jolts through your core.

“you gonna come like this? stuffed full of me?” he pants.

you nod, breath ragged.

“i’m so close—”

“come for me,” he demands, voice rough. “now.”

your orgasm crashes through you like thunder, whole body trembling, muscles clenching hard around him as you scream his name.

harry pulls out, flipping you over again, lips pressing feverishly to yours.

now he’s on top. his mouth claims yours. kissing you deep and hungry, he presses back into you, slow and full. his other hand cups your face, holding you close, eyes dark with need.

“you’re mine,” he whispers against your lips. “every inch.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist, nails sinking into his back.

his thrusts grow more urgent, deeper, chasing release.

you’re right there with him, heat and pleasure crashing through your veins.

“come with me,” he begs, forehead pressed to yours. “one more, baby.”

your bodies lock together as he spills inside you, hips jerking, whole body shaking with release.

he stays buried deep, panting against your neck.

then soft kisses trail from your jaw to your shoulder to your lips.

So i'll start with ones I have written in the past.

No Soul to Sell is exboyfriend's dad!Joel and is dubcon into full noncon, with some optional bonus pisskink. Very dark and fun (to me).

All You Wanna Do was my first noncon series ft. a creepy neighbor!joel and entirely comprised of full non-con, no dubcon at any point.

Hostage is extreme dubcon, borderline noncon with serial killer!joel. Reader is the initiator at threat of her own life and is attempting to "control" what happens to her by trying to buy more time using her pussy lol.

Exposed is a dubcon dark!professor!javi pena fic I wrote about blackmail. Reader ultimately consents to everything, but only under duress and pressure and risk of her life and academic career being ruined.

Now for the recs I have:

@toxicanonymity is great for dubcon/noncon content. She has a raider!joel series that is noncon into dubcon (stockholm vibes). She also has slasher!joel which is very dubcon-y and has that violence element to it. Toxic has a LOT of dub/noncon you can check out on her masterlist, all marked accordingly.

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill is one of my favorite stories on the platform ft trucker!joel and some noncon-y dubcon. Very animal, very gritty, really fucking hot. Incredible shit by @netherfeildren but who is surprised, everything vic touches turns to gold.

Red Light by @kiwisbell is dubcon but it's DELICIOUS stalker!landlord!joel and just so well-written. I blazed through it, it's so captivating.

I'm recc'ing Truth or Dare by my love @joelscruff because even though it is just dubcon, this fic lives rent free in my head. I love a good dark!joel and...god. this is good. anyway.

I have been looking for this fic and the lovely @iamasaddie was able to find it — Every Man Gets His Wish by @thatmrmiller !!! But reader is sarah's best friend (girlfriend?) and they're having a sleepover and she goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night and joel r*pes her (takes her virginity?) over the sink.

Sorry I don't have a plethora of like TRUE TRUE noncon recs. I honestly haven't found a whole lot of them in general, let alone ones that I really love and recommend. So most of them fall into the dubcon category but they're still yummy!!

“He’s a bastard,” Sarah says as you cry into your hands in the emptying dorm rooms. She rubs your back gently.

“I was with him for five years,” you say through sniffles. “I lost my virginity to him for fuck’s sake.”

Thanks to a cruel twist of fate last night you thought you were getting engaged, turns out you were just getting dumped. Conrad had made it clear that while he loved you, he had no intention of settling down so soon, especially not with the first and only woman he’d ever slept with.

You’re almost twenty three and already your life feels pitifully over. You had just wanted Conrad so much, wanted that sweet feeling of family his provided. And now at the worst time of year, you’re alone. Christmas is hard enough when you have two work-obsessed parents who don’t care to see you during holidays.

Conrad’s family had always been warm and kind. They had fancy Christmases that involved skiing in Vermont and chalets. For the past five years you had enjoyed those alongside your handsome, loving boyfriend.

Now your ex.

“Now I get to stay here depressed while Conrad goes and finds some new girl to fuck in Vermont,” you say pitifully as you rub at your eyes. “I’m such a loser.”

Sarah is your roommate of two years and she has been nothing but a continual support. She listens and gives advice and is never ever too busy to talk with you about Conrad. Even now she sits perched at the end of your bed, looking you over and then deciding.

You watch as she begins to dig in your dresser for Texas appropriate attire (versus your very thick, warm Vermont wear).

“Sarah, what are you-“

Sarah opens your suitcase, pulling out the old clothes shoving in the new.

“You’re coming home with me for Christmas.”

=====================

When the plane touches down you feel the first flush of nerves. Of staying somewhere for a week that you’ve never been. What if Sarah’s house smells weird? What if it’s messy? What if her dad is rude? What if her stepmom is a bitch?

When you finally admit your worries Sarah laughs and assures you that her house usually smells like the bergamot candles Tess is obsessed with, its clean, her dad is super nice and Tess is not a bitch, though she does have a hard time connecting with the woman since she and Sarah’s dad got married last spring.

You do get one piece of information from her – she has a boyfriend back home in Austin. One her dad doesn’t know about.

“His dad is friends with my dad,” Sarah explains to you as you both take your rolling luggage out of the overhead bins, heading for the arrival gate. “I don’t want anyone to know. So cover for me if I take off for a few hours every now and then.”

“Is that why you invited me?” You tease as you walk out into the throngs of waiting people at the gate. “So I can be your cover?”

Sarah gives you a playful wink before you hear her name being called. You glance over to see a tall woman giving Sarah a wave.

“This is Tess my stepmom,” Sarah says when you approach. You shake the woman’s dry hand gently, intimidated by Tess’ severity of expression.

“Sarah says such wonderful things about you,” Tess says. “I’m so glad you could join us this year.”

“Oh, well, Sarah’s the best. Thanks for having me.”

Tess nods and you stand there awkwardly. You know that Sarah is having a hard time adjusting to Tess as a stepmother. It’s been years since she even saw her biological mom, but Tess is a strong personality.

From out of nowhere a tall man wraps his arms around Sarah from behind, pulling her into a bear hug. Sarah gives a good-natured shriek before turning around and throwing herself into the broad-shouldered man’s arms.  

“Sorry had to feed the meter.”

“Dad!”

You smile at the scene as Sarah and her dad (Joel you think she said his name was?) embrace. Your mind travels to Conrad and how his parents always hugged you like that when the two of you came up to the chalet. You miss them more than expected.

“Your flight okay babygirl?” he asks, his warm eyes scanning her face before he bends down to pick up her luggage.

“Totally fine. Here, this is my friend-“ Sarah motions to you, introducing you both. Joel’s warm eyes slide to your face and he cracks a smile that shows his dimple. His mouth is lush and his jaw is dusted in a closely shorn beard that matches the dark brown of his curls.

“Nice to meet you.”

His voice is a low rasp that makes your hello in return sound shaky. He’s attractive, his biceps curling under his t-shirt as he tucks Sarah under one arm and grips the luggage with the other. As he walks ahead of you and Tess chatting amiably with his daughter, his tight ass showcased through his jeans, you’re struck with just how good –looking Mr. Miller actually is.

==============================================

You’re going to fuck him.

You don’t know when or even why you decided to seduce Joel Miller, but it sits in your mind for the next two days. The thought of turning this strong man into a whimpering mess has you slick between the legs as you fall asleep in his guest room.

Maybe its Conrad’s talk about you both having such little sexual experience? Maybe it’s in the gentle way he treats Sarah but the devastating way he looks as he’s moving lumber into his truck for his job? Whatever it is, he causes your pulse to spike every time he’s near.

Since you’ve arrived at the Miller home (which is just as Sarah described) you’ve watched Christmas specials, drank eggnog and even helped Sarah and Tess to wrap gifts. You’ve done this all while studiously avoiding the male Miller, even going so far as to ignoring him unless he speaks directly to you. If you don’t you’re sure Sarah will see the way your eyes linger on his body, the way you can’t stop looking at his hands over the dinner table.

You muse it’s just a passing fantasy, one borne of heartbreak and lust.

But then the opportunity arises to act on it.

“Tess wants some mother/daughter bonding time,” Sarah tells you the morning of the third day. “Wants to go to the mall to get some last minute gifts. Any chance you wanna join and save me from this?”

“Not really,” you say with a small shrug, laughing. “I wanted to finish the book I brought. It’s a good one.”

“Nerd.”

She and Tess leave a short while later, waving to you as they pull out of the driveway and you assume that Joel has left for the day as well. It might be nice to have some quiet, some time to read and actually relax during this vacation. The Millers have been very kind, very welcoming. 

You pass the hall to go to the guest room when a sound has you paused. It’s a rhythmic pounding noise and you realize belatedly that its coming from Joel and Tess’ bedroom.

You’re not this kind of girl. You don’t barge into stranger’s rooms. You don’t spy on them. You’re a rule-follower, a good girl. But you don’t have to be yourself here. Joel doesn’t know you. This is a role you want to play and you want to play it with him.

You quickly take off your panties, throwing them onto your bed in the guest room and returning back to Joel’s door. You try the door, thankful that it isn’t locked. Holding your breath you slowly open it a crack, holding in a moan when you peek inside.

Joel is in bed, his body arched. His hand is stroking his cock hurriedly, his head thrown back. His hair is tousled and his mouth is parted as he groans his hand broad and moving furiously around the thickness of his cock.

You watch from the crack in the door for several seconds. Seeing his chest flush, the way his hands are moving up his length to circle the head, palming it as you see a glazed trail of precum spanning the length after a few vigorous strokes.

His face is scrunched tight, his brows saddled and his full mouth quivering with need.

He's so pretty. 

You can’t help yourself. You whip open the door and stride into the room, dropping your book theatrically as if you’ve just stumbled upon him by accident.

"Mr Miller!" you say with faux surprise. 

Joel jerks his hands off his cock so quickly you're sure he hurt his wrist. He pulls up his boxers hastily, covering his beautiful erection and you frown. Joel is furious, pinking in his cheekbones as he glares at you. He’s been all smiles and kindness since you arrived, so this dark thunderous glare takes you by surprise.

"Close the fucking door!"

You nod, closing the door sharply, but remaining on the inside with him. Joel watches as your body jolts against the shutting door. 

"From the other side," Joel hisses. He's trying to remain composed but it's hard to do when his erection tents his boxers almost comically. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"I'm sorry," you say with forced sincerity. "Everyone left to get Christmas stuff at the mall. I thought the house was empty."

"So you came in here?"

"Thought this was the spare room," you lie. “Just wanted to read my book.”

Your eyes linger over his body, feeling heady from the illicitness of the act. This is your best friend's married dad. Then you notice he's doing the exact same to you, his eyes falling over your tits and face. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt you.” You walk towards to bed, almost laughing at how Joel's brows raise abruptly. “You can keep going if you want.”

"Get out," Joel tells you simply, his jaw tight. "I don't know what you're playing at but this is fucked up."

He says this and yet as you approach he does nothing to stop you. He doesn’t threaten you or move off the bed away. He sits there, hard and waiting to see what you’ll do next.  

Your knee comes to press up on the mattress.

"I think they'll be gone for a while," you observe, putting on your most charming smile as you start to lift the hem of your skirt. 

"I don't give a shit," Joel replies with a deep rumble, even as his eyes drift to take in every inch of flesh you're exposing to him.

You smile broadly, letting out a small chuckle at the situation before you drop the skirt and move to your hands and knees on the mattress. You crawl up on the bed, like a jungle cat, slow and sultry. Joel watches this, his eyes unreadable but hard. 

You come to crawl to the vee of his legs, your eyes dropping to his boxers before you kneel there between his knees. You sit back on your feet, tilting your head and then moving your fingers to trace along his inner thigh. He flinches away from you, scowling.  

"This is disgusting."

"Then why’s your cock so hard?" you dart a glance to his boxers. "Looks like it's twitching under there." 

"I'm serious," Joel warns. “You need to leave.”

Is it just you or is his voice a fraction less certain?

"Can I just look?" you ask over his threat. Joel looks at you dumbfounded.  

"Of course not."

"Just a little peek," you offer, looking at the tent in his boxers almost reverently. "Looks big from here. Wonder if I could take it all in my mouth.”

"Keep wondering," Joel snaps. "Now get the fuck out." 

This isn’t going how you thought it would. For some reason you’d thought it’d be easier to seduce him. So you know it’ll have to be different, you’ll have to make him want it more.

“Who were you thinking about when you were stroking your cock just now?”

Joel blinks, about to formulate an answer but stalling. That’s when you know you have him right where you want him. Because while you’ve been studiously ignoring Joel the entire duration of your visit, you’ve noticed he doesn’t do the same.

Like when he presses up against you when he grabs something from a cupboard. Or when he passes you in the hallway as you exit the shower, your body damp and wrapped in a towel and his eyes linger just a bit too long on your collar. 

"I think you were thinking about me," you murmur, dipping forward to press a kiss to his knee. His body twitches.  

“Wasn’t.”

“Okay,” you reason, giving a theatrical sigh, coming to rest next to him on the bed on your side. He seems to relax at this, thinking that maybe you’re easing off.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his dark eyes scanning your face. “A prank?”

“No.”

“Why then? You know I’m married. You’re friends with my daughter. So why say this stuff and act this way?”

“Wanted you when I saw you,” you answer honestly, your finger drifting along his side. “Needed to know how it felt to fuck you.”

"I'm not gonna fuck you," Joel promises you and you can see the resolve in his eyes. 

"You don't wanna fuck me?” you ask as your hands drift under your skirt. Joel watches silently as you begin to lift the hem. He swallows, his lean neck bobbing.

 "Said I’m not going to.”

"But I'm already so wet for you," you pout, pulling the hem of your skirt up. Now you lift it high enough for him to see the start of your pussy, puffy and needy. 

Joel holds in a whimper, you’re sure of it.  

"See?" You tilt your head to your cunt before looking over at Joel. His eyes are so heavy lidded they almost look closed. 

“I see.”

“You don’t like it?” you purr, nestling a bit closer to him on the bed. He’s stopped inching away from you. Joel doesn’t answer you. Instead his brow is furrowed and his eyes are closed.

You take advantage of this and your hand snakes down his taut belly, past the dusting of hair leading under his boxers to his pulsing shaft. He tilts back, instinctively going to pull out of your grip but you're stroking him so well that his hips jump.  

“But you like this don't you?" you urge, your hand moving quicker along his shaft, tugging and stroking. 

"'Course I like it," Joel grunts, his head tilting back. “Your hand is on my cock.”

A shudder of desire goes through you at this minute surrender on his part.

"I like doing it," you insist.

"Doesn't m-mean we should keep going," Joel groans helplessly, trying to shuffle back."We gotta st-"

 He doesn't even get the word out before you’ve slithered back between his legs and pulled his boxers down to free his cock. It springs up in front of your mouth, thick and tantalizing. 

"It looks so good,” you say with a soft smile. "I just need a little taste."

Joel stares at you kneeled there between his legs, his breathing shallow and ragged.

"Please let me," you say batting your eyes up at him. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Your mouth inches to the weeping head, your eyes trained on him.

"Please let me suck your cock, Mr. Miller."

Joel lets out a low moan as you flatten your tongue and lick from the base of his shaft to the tip.

“Fuck,” Joel groans, his hips jumping again. Still he doesn’t pull away as you take his throbbing cock into your wet mouth. You suck him slowly, bobbing your head in his lap languidly until he lays back on the bed, his arm thrown over his eyes. 

You feel his resolve crumbling under your ministrations, emboldened when he lets out a ragged moan. You slowly ease him out of your mouth, your fist moving along his cock now coated with your saliva. 

"Don't I make you feel good?" you ask, your hand jerking him off with such ease you doesn't even have to think about it. 

Joel gulps for air, nodding rapidly. "Y-yeah."

"You want me to stop?"

Joel doesn't answer with words. Only gives a jerky shake of his head to indicate the negative. You smile to yourself, satisfied with your victory before your mouth returns to his cock.  You’re delighted when his broad hand is on the back of your head, forcing you to take him deeper. You groan for him, your tongue circling the mushroom head of his cock as you blow him.

Joel makes a sinfully deep rumbling noise. One that has you positively sopping. You realize this may be your only chance with him and who knows how long until Tess and Sarah are back. You ease him out of your mouth once more before slowly crawling up the length of Joel's body.

His arm is removed from his eyes just in time to feel you crawl onto his hips, shimmying against his cock with your slick pussy. Joel is suddenly curving up, pressing your shoulder away from him.

"My wife-" Joel begins weakly. 

"Our little secret" you say with a wink, preparing yourself to slide down his length. "I can keep a secret. Cuz I need to feel you in me."

Joel lets out a strangled ‘no’ sound, his eyes glazed with lust even as he protests. Even as his hands dig into your hip keeping you in place. You rub against one another, his hard cock sandwiched between the lips of your pussy.

"I'll feel so tight around your cock," you promise. "Never had one so big." 

Joel is panting now. You drag your sopping pussy back along the head of cock, circling over his erection before pausing.

“Don’t make me fuck you,” Joel grimaces, his body tightening.

“Can’t make you do anything,” you reason. Your hips increase tempo, gliding along his shaft but not letting him inside of you.

“You’re fucking cruel,” Joel hisses, and you feel your body tingle as his eyes are glued to where your sexes rut against one another, both desperately seeking relief.

You wonder if you’ve taken this too far. There is a sobering moment when you think that he’s going to actually drag you out of his room. You've had your fun. You’re about to get off of him, looking at his disheveled hair and wide eyes.  

And then suddenly his hands are fisting through your hair, pulling you up and back. You lift off his cock and he watches this, seeing the slick you leave behind.

Something in him snaps and the sweet Joel Miller you have known is replaced with a man whose eyes seem darker, sharper.

“Take off the skirt.”

He releases your hair so you can do so without question, shimmying out of it awkwardly before posing yourself on his lower abdomen. Your knees are spread on either side of him.

“Show me your tits,” Joel commands. And then he waits, watching you scramble to take off your shirt. It joins the skirt at the side of the bed. You’re completely naked on his abdomen, your nipples tightening under his gaze.

“No bra,” Joel muses, his eyes on your hardened nipples.

You watch in dull amazement as Joel’s broad hands come to cup your tits, squeezing gently. You whimper, fucking electric because Joel is finally touching you. Only his calloused palms and you’re already so fucking close.

“You want this cock?" Joel says through gritted teeth. "You're gonna take it all like a good girl?"

Good girl.

Noted.

“Yes.”

He groans before he urges you up and then finally down the length of him.  You slide down the slick thick of his cock with a contented sigh, straining to take all of him. Your clit finally presses against the coarse hair at the base of his cock as he bottoms out.

“That’s it,” he murmurs in a sinfully low voice. “Such a pretty cunt stuffed with my cock.”

"Joel," you groan, as he fills you deliciously. 

"Mr. Miller," he corrects you sternly.

"Mr. Miller," you whimper, finding it even hotter. 

"Bounce on it," he orders breathlessly. "Be a good girl and bounce on it."

You nod, bouncing up and down his cock with ease and delight, accommodating to his girth. It feels good taking him like this.  He slams up into you, his dark eyes on your face the entire time. You lean back, feeling your tits jumping with every slap of his hip.

His full mouth is parted and you wonder what it feels like to kiss him. His hands are behind his head and he stretches back, laying there as you bounce up and down on his hips. He smirks up at you, almost arrogant as you drip all around him.

"You like my pussy?" you whisper as you swivels your hips along his.

"Yeah," Joel rasps out, his focus on your glistening cunt riding him. “Takes my cock so well. My good girl is so nice and tight.”

You groan at the pet name. Your hands move to brace themselves on Joel’s chest. Your hips and ass still raising and dropping, bouncing on his cock and making little rattling noises as your body jerks with the friction. As the pleasure between your legs increases, your jaw slackens and your eyes glaze. All you can focus on is getting there, coming on Joel’s cock.

“Oh good girl… are you’re getting drunk off this cock?” Joel muses with a wide grin as he bucks his hips up into you. “I think you are. Can see it in your eyes.”

You feel your body react to this, an internal challenge being set. You refocus, trying to remain present.

"Maybe I should come back more often," you suggest with a breathy laugh. “We could fuck everywhere.”

"You stay away from me after this," Joel warns you with a growl, the humor leaving his face.  

“Bending me over in the kitchen,” you muse, your eyes closing as you imagine in. “Eating me out in your truck.”

Joel grunts, his fingers digging into the jerking flesh of your hips as he thrusts up into your aching pussy. You tilt back, your hands coming to cup your own tits, thumbs running over the stiffened peaks.

“Fucking my mouth while your wife makes dinner,” you continue, turning yourself on with the scenario. “Would you like that, Mister Miller?”

Joel makes a noise between a grunt and a groan. You know that means he does, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. The sensation of Joel’s cock hitting at just the right angle and the illicitness of what you’re doing combine and you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head as you flutter around his cock.

“There she goes,” Joel breathes up at you. “So fucking gorgeous coming on my cock.”

You preen in the warmth of his words and his tone. You don’t want to stop, you want to make him feel just as good. “I love your cock, Mister Miller.”

“Fuck yeah you do.” Joel’s eyes flutter at the honorific. “Good girls get my come.”

You’re flushed and pink and about to say something when Joel stills beneath you. His hips cease under you and you frown at him.

“What is it?”

“I can hear the truck,” Joel says, terror in his dark eyes. “Comin’ up the street. They’re coming home. Get off of me.”

You’re so turned on its insane. The thought of narrowly being caught is making you so wet you take him even deeper. Joel grips your hips, trying to move you off of him but he can’t stop from thrusting back into you.

"I can't go, Mr. Miller," you groan, still bouncing against his hips. "I gotta make you come first."

"No you don't," Joel insists, his panic clear. Yet his cock remains stiffened inside you, hitting you deep. "You gotta go."

"Uh uh," you say, your clit dragging along his shaft as you continue to ride him languidly. "You said I was your good girl."

"You are," Joel tells you quickly. "Such a good girl."

You shake your head, hearing as the car is pulling into the driveway.

“You said good girls get your come.”

His hands are tightening on your hips trying to get you off but you relax, boneless against him. Your hips shift, and you tighten around him.

"I want your come," you repeat, tilting your head back. He comes to grip you around the throat, a warning. 

"You get off of me right fucking now," he growls. 

"Gotta come fast Mister Miller or they’re gonna catch us," you coo, your voice a rasp around his tightening fingers. "Imagine your wife comes in and sees me like this? Full of your cock?" 

The garage is opening, the metallic clank sending Joel into a state of full blown panic.

“Need your come,” you whimper down at him, still bouncing.

"Crazy fucking bitch," he snarls. And then suddenly he's tipped you over, pinning you beneath him and now he fucks you hard and deep. 

His hands are curled over the headboard and he's using the momentum of the angle, thrusting into you so deeply, the head of his cock is kissing your cervix. You jolt underneath him, holding in the delighted giggles of having him fuck you so fast, so deep, so terrified of being caught.

“Feels so good,” you groan, feeling your eyes roll into the back of your head. “So fucking good.”

Without warning he’s pulled himself from you, leaning over your body with one palm on the pillow beside your head, the other gripping his cock, stroking himself in a frenzy.

“You gonna be my good girl?” he grunts, the stroking becoming stuttered. You know he’s close. “You know what to say.”

"Please, Mister Miller. I want your come." 

That triggers something in Joel because he suddenly comes with a muffled groan. Thick ropes of come land on your tits, your chin, stripes of lust across your body. You don’t even get to enjoy the moment before Joel is pulling you from the bed, tossing your clothes into your arms as he pulls on his boxers.

The key is hitting the lock to the front door as he quickly grabs you by the elbow before dragging you out into the hall and into your guest room. There he shoves you backwards, still covered in his seed.

"Not a word," he warns you. "Get yourself right."

"Joel? You home?"

You hear Tess entering into the house, the sound of the alarm system chirruping.

"Just hopping in the shower," Joel yells at the voices downstairs, his eyes on you. You watch his bare ass twitch away from you before you close the door, trying to understand why that was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

Something to Fight For (COMPLETE)

For readers 18+ only please!

After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever. The only problem is your best friend Maria is dating his brother and their construction company has been hired to renovate where you work. In an effort to support your friend, you’re thrust into the unwanted job of babysitting Joel’s young daughter one night. As time goes on you’re not expecting to find a confidant in Joel Miller but when you do, you wonder how you ever survived without him.AU LOU universe with no outbreak. A slow burn slice of life love story with smut.

Please, Mister Miller? (COMPLETE)

for 18+ readers only!

Summary: After being dumped by your longtime college bf, your roommate Sarah Miller invites you to her hometown for the holidays. There you meet her dad and decide you need to know if he’s as good in bed as he looks. (General warnings: Infidelity and unprotected p in v)

Code Broken (COMPLETE)

for 18+ readers only!

"You broke into my house," Joel says moving his gaze from your eyes back down to your mouth as his wide hand grazes his belt buckle. "Moved my shit around. Least you could do is be polite."You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this? [AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

Dare to Surrender (COMPLETE)

for 18+ readers only!

You can’t stand Javier Pena but when Steve Murphy makes an off-hand remark that gets both you and Javier’s competitive sides going, there’s no telling how far you’ll go.

So Much to Lose - ONGOING

For readers 18+ only please!

summary:

Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart. note: Featuring Dark!Joel

SLEEP (COMPLETE)

When you meet Joel Miller beside his blue truck one hot, sweltering day you're not expecting a bloody adventure to await you.

Part 1 / Part 2

A Little Sun (IN PROGRESS)

for 18+ readers only!

As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way. (plot prompt inspired by 'Daddy Dieter' by @absurdthirst on Ao3 - read their story, its really wonderful!)

BRAVO! TAKE A BOW Series - ONGOING

Summary: As a struggling actress you’re amazed when you land a role in an indie film you’re dying to be a part of. What you’re not expecting is to develop feelings for your mega famous and often exasperating co-star Dieter Bravo rated 18+

1- Audition

2- Chemistry Read

3- Table Read

4- Rehearsals

5- Lights, Camera, Action!

WINDOW DRESSING - (ONGOING)

Rated 18+

Resolving to achieve professional success within the CIA you embark on a ruthless game of one-upmanship against your work nemesis Dave York, a rivalry that is complicated by your growing attraction to him. [loosely based on The Hating Game] (AU universe - Dave is divorced and still working for CIA)

Chapter 1: Codebook - COMING FEB 14th

Chapter 2: Black Bag Job

Chapter 3: Clandestine Operation

Chapter 4: False Flag

Chapter 5: Raven

Chapter 6: Burned

Chapter 7: Compromised

Chapter 8: Window Dressing

Someone to pass the time with -(ONGOING)

rated: 18+

Feeling guilty about so often being out of town on business you encourage your loving boyfriend to find someone to pass the time with. When he does, you're not expecting for things to get so out of hand. Pairings: Reader x Javi G x Dave York

Part 1 - It's a He

Part 2 -For you, Javi

Part 3 - Meeting Dave

Losing our Minds Together - ONGOING

For readers 18+ only please!

summary:

As an artist by trade it's only natural that you'd agree to give your young neighbor Ellie drawing lessons. You just weren't counting on her stoic father Joel Miller getting under your skin... or becoming your muse. [AU LOU universe with no outbreak. A slow burn slice of life love story with smut, romance and more.]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Please, Mister Miller?; THE SEQUEL ONGOING

for 18+ readers only!

After a Christmas holiday you won't soon forget, you find yourself unable to move past your time with Joel Miller, your best friends married dad and the man you think you may just be in love with.

Phone Calls with Mister Miller

Dinner with Mister Miller

Talking with Mister Miller

Spring Break with Mister Miller

Long Distance with Mister Miller

Graduation with Mister Miller

Texas with Mister Miller

THOSE WHO CANNOT DO

Summary: Frankie and Santiago have been through a lot during their friendship and have always come out the other side. But when both of them fall for the pretty new schoolteacher (YOU), it pushes them both to their breaking point. for 18+ readers only! pairings: Frankie x f!Reader / Santiagoxf!Reader

Chapter one: Acceleration

Chapter two - coming soon

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter Seven

Chapter eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter ten

Daddy Morales - (COMPLETE)

for 18+ Readers only!

Summary: A distraught Frankie drives you home after babysitting. You cheer him up.... and then you keep cheering him up all over town. [General warnings: Infidelity and Daddy kink]

Part 1 - Drive Home

Part 2 - Pit Stop

Part 3 - No More

Part 4 - Too Late

Part 5 - The BBQ

PALPATION (rated 18+)

You need a massage and thankfully a new place opened up a few blocks away… There you’re introduced to the deliciously professional RMTJoel!Miller. He makes you feel good… maybe too good?  (AU - NO OUTBREAK)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

AS LONG AS YOU WANT (PG-13)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 - coming soon

ONE SHOTS

A Secret Kind of Pain [Frankie Morales x f!reader] (rated 18+)

Poker night over at Benny’s tests the amazing burgeoning relationship you have been hiding with Frankie Morales.

Say, Thank You. [Dave York x F!Reader] (Rated 18+)

After driving you home from babysitting his kids, Dave York has a proposition for you that you just can’t refuse.

Joel's Eyes (rated 18+)

based on the prompt by ashleyfilm: I don’t know if you take requests but I love your writing and I’m dying for a slow burn in post outbreak Jackson. Joel and fem reader strangers to friends to eventual lovers. Reader is in love with Joel from the beginning and is like him strong silent type but with a heart of gold. Lots of pinning and then a surprise when it turns out Joel pines for her too and Tommy and Ellie know that he loves her. Maybe some jealousy thrown in before soft dom Joel to sub reader smut. Then a snippet of them together after confession of love so you can hear what other towns folk think about them. Anyway, if you don’t take asks that’s totally cool and I look forward to reading whatever you write! :)

Untitled (rated 18+)

Summary: Dave York's college-aged babysitter (you!) rides him after his wife leaves him high and dry. 

FALLING IN LOVE SERIES

How I imagine these characters fall in love. Rated: G

Joel Miller

SO MUCH TO LOSE CHAPTER 10

You visit Maria the following week with a plate of cookies in hand. She’s the one to answer the door and you are relieved when you see that she is showered and dressed. Things must be improving. She brings you into a tentative hug when you arrive, urging you inside out of the fresh dusting of snow.

“Tommy has Douglas out for a little walk. I’ll make you a coffee.”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Just came to drop off some baking. I’m heading to Ellie’s later this week and needed to get some practice in. I haven’t done much baking lately and wanted to make sure I wasn’t rusty.”

You join her on the couch, watching as she wraps her hands tightly around her coffee mug. She takes tentative sips between munches of cookie. At the first bite she literally moans.

“This is so good.”

“Thanks. They were Charlotte’s favorite.”

Maria licks the crumbs from her lips before leaning back on the sofa. She’s always been slender and she looks almost as she did back before she gave birth, except for the small pouch at her lower belly. You think she looks better with it.

“Was Charlotte your daughter?”

“Oh no. I never had kids.”

“We’re you ever married?”

“Me?” you almost laugh. “No.”

“Oh,” Maria blinks and her mouth tugs to the side. “I thought you might be. You have a nurturing quality about you.”

 “I think you give me too much credit.”

Maria grins, taking another bite of cookie. The two of you chat amiably a bit about the changing weather, of the way the inhabitants of Jackson City get along so well. Of how she feels the pressure of being Jacksons’ ‘First Lady’. Of how the bandits that fuck with the dam that supports the city stresses her daily.

“It’s a fucking nightmare some days,” she cites with a grumble. “Thank goodness for Tommy.”

“He’s a good man,” you tell her.

“He is,” she smiles indulgently before shooting you a lingering look. “What do you think about Joel?”

“How do you mean?”

“You do patrols with him, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say I was always his biggest fan,” she says, taking another sip from her mug. “But he’s grown on me.”

You hold in the scoff that’s already begun in your throat.

“My friend Jennifer seems to think he’s pretty wonderful,” you offer instead. “She was delighted to help him repair the window last week.”

“She the blonde one? Used to do textiles?” Maria knows everyone thanks to her position.

“Yeah.”

“Not his type,” Maria insists with a shy grin. “She’d eat him alive.”

Jennifer doesn’t seem like she would eat anyone alive.

“Joel is all harsh edges,” she explains when she sees your confusion. “He needs someone soft to balance him out. That Jennifer girl is hard.”

You don’t think that you would consider Jennifer hard and you don’t fight Maria on it because the conversation quickly turns to Jackson’s continued increase of population, the place swelling with new life.

“Plenty of single men,” Maria says with a quirked brow in your direction. You give a soft laugh.

“Not really interested.”

“Single women too.”

“No no,” you laugh again, cheeks pinking. “I like men, I just . . . I don’t think I’m the partnering type.”

You think of Luke and his sweet features and his muscled forearms. For him you could perhaps be the partnering type. Perhaps. The thought of romance appeals to you; it just doesn’t seem realistic at times. A crush feels fun and safe.

“You must have had your share of dates,” Maria insists. You can see her relaxing and you think she must be enjoying what she views as girl time. You think she must not have had much of it lately.

“Normal crushes and stuff,” you shrug. “But I was a late bloomer and then the outbreak started when I was a teenager so I didn’t have a chance for a lot of firsts back then.”

“Sex,” Maria nods.

“Uh yeah… that…” you say, trying to appear nonchalant. “And uh, kissing, dating, all that stuff.”

“But you did eventually,” Maria cites smiling.

“Sex? Oh yes,” you nod. You weren’t a monk or anything in your time before Jackson City.

“What was your first time like?” Maria settles back against a cushion, nibbling at her cookie looking at you eagerly. “I remember mine was all fumbling in the backseat of his truck before curfew.”

You laugh and think Maria must be starved for company to be intrigued by your limited romantic experience.

“Uh… fast,” you say with a laugh before allowing yourself to be transported back to that time. “He worked at one of the bakeries that I assisted in. I remember he had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. They were so blond you could only see them if he turned at a certain angle. He made me laugh. One night he invited me back to his apartment and… that was that.”

“How old were you?”

“Uh, twenty two, twenty three?”

“And you didn’t date after?”

“Nah, my family left that QZ kinda in a hurry.”

You aren’t expecting your voice to hitch on that last sentence, but it does.  Maria grows somber, her dark eyes expressive.

“Can I ask why you left?”

You blink back the sheen of tears starting and gaze around the room, trying to land on something that will steel you. You find it in the small carving of a horse on the bookshelf nearby. You tell your story to that delicately made creature instead.

“We moved east through the QZ’s for about ten or eleven years. Stayed in a few of them before we’d pick up and keep moving to the next one. Hard to make connections and date with all that. I didn’t trust that I’d have the time.”

Maria looks like she wants to ask more when the door is opened and Tommy’s cheerful voice rings out announcing he and Douglas are home and ready for lunch.

“We have company!” Maria says cheerfully.

Tommy turns the corner to see you and he greets you. He wears Douglas strapped to him with fabric, snuggled under his large jacket. Jackson is sleeping soundly and barely notices when Tommy unwraps and hands him off to his mother.

Douglas squirms, his tiny head burrowing into Maria’s neck. She smiles and for the first time you’ve known her it looks sincere. There is a lightness in the house you realize, something that had been missing before.

“He enjoyed being out in the fresh air,” Tommy announces. “Everyone who saw him wanted to kiss him.”

“Tommy!” Maria looks horrified.

“But I didn’t let ‘em,” Tommy finishes, pressing a gentle kiss to his wife’s worried brow. “I’m gonna make some soup. You two want a bowl?”

“I’m alright,” you say. “I just brought by dessert. I’m actually heading over to Ellie’s to do some baking.”

“Joel’s letting you use his place to bake?”

You still, brows raised. “Uh… yeah. Is that… should I not be?”

“No, I’m just surprised,” Tommy admits after a pause. “I don’t think he’s ever let anyone in that house aside from me and Maria. Think the only reason he and Ellie don’t kill each other is ‘cuz she’s in the garage.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know what else to offer besides that.

Tommy nods and for a moment you see something in his expression, a pinched look when Maria looks away from him.  You realize that Tommy looks harried, running a hand through his glossy curls.

“What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” Tommy replies too quickly.

You see the panic in his eyes as his gaze darts from his wife back to you. You understand immediately. Maria is doing well, if there’s something stressful in Jackson City he doesn’t want to bother her with it.

“Thanks for the tea Maria, but I better head out,” you inform them both.

Maria wraps you into a side hug, one arm around your shoulders, the other holding her son. You run your knuckles down his spine gently.

“Come back soon,” she whispers.

“I promise.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Tommy says, feigning manners. The two of you walk to the front door around the corner. As you toe on your boots you look up at him expectantly.

“Well?”

Tommy looks over his shoulder anxiously before dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper only you can hear.

“Rumor is Raiders were spotted by A Patrol this week,” Tommy says with a sigh. “Up by the traps.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Really?”

“Not positive. A Patrol isn’t always the most reliable. They spook easy and are overly cautious. But I’d rather that than the alternative.”

“Of course.”

“Just make sure you and Joel are extra cautious,” Tommy says. “I know you’re both responsible but, you know…. Just be extra responsible.”

You nod, feeling your heart thrumming in your chest as you make your way to Rancher Street.

///

You didn't really want to go to Joel's house today. But Ellie had found you last night heading home from The Tipsy Bison and had guilted you into it when she told you that Joel had brought back all the supplies needed. 

You'd tried to sway her into baking at your place but only the burners on your oven work. You'd never really considered getting the main oven fixed, since you take most of your meals in the dining hall.

But in moments like this, you heavily regret that choice. 

You feel like even your footsteps sound timid as they make their way up the wood steps. 

Ellie is at the door, pulling it open before you can even knock. She must have been looking for you at the window, counting down the seconds until your arrival. The thought warms you. She gives you a broad smile that lights up her face.

"I got everything set up!"

She takes off down into the kitchen and you venture into the Miller home tentatively, still anxious about what happened last time.  

A sound to your right draws your attention and you take in the tall form of Joel coming into the room. He's dressed in jeans and a sweater, obviously feeling the chill despite the cheery fire that roars behind him. 

"Mornin'," he greets. 

"Morning." You lick your lips nervously. "Thanks for letting me bake with Ellie."

"'Course. She's been looking forward to it for weeks. Can't stop talkin' about it.'

Joel gives you a whisper of a smile but the thing that really throws you about this interaction is that he looks almost nervous. You've never seen Joel look nervous. 

He'd been so stiff after last patrol, not even saying goodbye to the group after you'd all disembarked off the horses. 

It had been embarrassing. Him storming off like you'd all done something wrong. Only Jennifer seemed to still be under Joel's spell citing that watching him hammer the window would fuel her fantasies for months to come.

You're still really irritated with him but it's lessened slightly because his greeting isn’t hostile. You could almost relax if it weren’t for the intense way he’s staring at you.  

You hear your name being called by Ellie in the next room so you toe off your shoes and head into the kitchen. She's got an apron on, borrowed from the kitchen or Joel because it's far too big for her small frame. 

"Alright," you give her a warm smile as you enter. "You got everything?"

"Yep."

You place the bag you brought on the counter. You remove your own apron, baby blue with ruffles on the end. A recent gift from Jennifer who told you “since you’re a real chef you need your own apron”. You tie it as you speak to Ellie.  

"So what I like to do is set up all my supplies on the counter just to double check I have everything. Nothing worse than being halfway through a recipe and finding out you you’re missing ingredients."

The sentence isn't even out of your mouth before Ellie’s opened up her cupboards and ice box and begun to take everything out. Flour, eggs, bowls, milk and more, all the items you gave Joel on the list. She places them on the counter before looking at you like a proud student. 

"You'll need measuring spoons."

The two of you turn at the same time to see Joel standing by the entrance to the kitchen, lingering. His hands are in his jean pockets, standing like a chastised student outside the classroom.

"I brought some," you inform him, trying to hold in your irritation. You pull them from your bag, putting them next to the eggs. 

You feel Joel's eyes on your back and you're sure he's silently judging you, eager to point out what you're doing wrong. You stiffen under the perceived scrutiny. Ellie must sense the change in the room because she whips around to shoot him a jeering look. 

"Joel you don't need to supervise," Ellie says rolling her eyes. "We won't break the damn stove." 

Joel looks at his feet mumbling something about needing to do stuff upstairs anyway before he's making his way out of the kitchen. 

You go back to your lesson with Ellie who turns out to be a very focused student. 

She asks smart questions, measures everything perfectly and takes her time. It's only when you put her in charge of cracking three eggs into the bowl that she gets frustrated. 

"Fuck, it cracked wrong. Shell got in."

Her fingers pinch into the egg bowl, trying to grasp the fallen eggshell. Of course the viscous nature of the raw egg makes it impossible and it’s not long before she pushes at the bowl angrily, her face is set into a deep frown.

“S’fucking bullshit.”

"Happens all the time," you tell her kindly. "Don't stress about it. I’ll show you a secret my mom taught me and my sister to get ‘em out."

Ellie watches as you take the empty shell half still in her hand. Her brows knit in confusion as you lower it into the bowl, using it as a scoop. Unlike with her fingers, the egg shell piece floats easily into the makeshift scoop. You pull the shell from the bowl, tossing the mess into the garbage.

“Holy shit that actually worked.” Ellie smiles at this and it transforms her pale pinched features into that of a warm, approachable teenager. 

You smile, feeling strangely proud. You’ve never baked with anyone else before, aside from the kitchen. But that was following the same boring recipes given by the head chef. You were usually boiling rice, cutting onions or apples. Baking is a different beast, a calmer, more relaxing one.  

After that hiccup Ellie is more patient with herself. She's keen to learn about baking but she's very eager to talk to you about you. When you pop the formed pastries into the oven and set the timer she decides that now is the time to chat. 

"What kind of music did you used to listen to before?"

Memories of Joel’s warning float in your mind. The reminder not to tell her too much. To make her long for a life that he can’t give her.

"Enough about me,” you deflect. “I want to know about you."

At this Ellie balks slightly, the smile wavering just a fraction before the mask is replaced and she nods. Her mixing increases but now her eyes are on the batter.

"Whadda you wanna know?"

"What was your life like before Jackson?"

"I was in the QZ back in Boston,” she says slowly, as if she's trying to make sure she doesn't give too much away. "Hated it."

"Parents?"

"Never met 'em."

"What brought you to Jackson City?"

"Joel."

She doesn't offer you more or less than that. You understand it, you don't push it.

"How'd you end up here?" She asks, mixing the dry ingredients.  

You realize the stupidity of you asking her those questions. How easily you opened them to be doubled back on yourself. 

"You asked me what kind of music I listened to before?" You smile, hoping that this will distract her. "I remember I saw Chicago about a billion times," you laugh. "I was obsessed. I listened to the soundtrack over and over."

"Chicago," Ellie says slowly as if trying to recall before a light seems to go on. "Oh, I've heard of Chicago. Joel likes ‘em."

Them?

It takes you a minute to understand what she's talking about. You finally answer giggling. 

"Chicago the musical, not the band. The musical had great songs. And dancing." 

"Do you dance?"

"Not very well." 

Your dual laughter combines and you can't help but enjoy the sound. Ellie really does make you laugh. She reminds you of how life was before. When everything seemed new. 

You can tell Ellie wants to know everything about your life before the outbreak. And you want to indulge her but Joel's words rub their imprint on your the inside of your skull.

"Hey I promised your D- Joel that I wouldn't keep talking about this stuff with you," you explain quietly. "He's worried it makes you want stuff you can't have."

"Jesus," Ellie says rolling her eyes. “Overprotective much?” 

"No he's right," you insist truthfully. "I mean, I get where he's coming from. He doesn't wanna keep disappointing you."

"Joel could never disappoint me."

The timer goes off and you peer into the oven. The pastries are a golden brown. You smile before taking them out with the oven mitt. Ellie closes her eyes, inhaling.

"They smell so good."

"Just wait until you put icing on them," you encourage with a grin. "Delicious." 

The two of you get to work making the icing while the pastries cool. 

"It's gonna snow," Ellie comments out of nowhere as she peers out the window, mixing idly. 

"Hate to break it to you, El, it's already snowing."

Ellie gives you a smirk along with her side eye. You don't know if it's from your sarcastic comment or the fact that you called her El. 

"I mean I think it’s gonna snow a lot." She explains. "I heard some of the other kids talking about it at school."

"Huh," you offer noncommittal as you look at the consistency of the icing. "Wonder how they can tell."

"They said they could smell it," Ellie says with a grin, pushing up the sleeve of her shirt so that it doesn't drip into the icing bowl. "They said tha-"

You can't hear anything she's saying after that. All you can focus on is her now bared arm and the ugly bite mark. Blood rushes in your ears and you cry out before giving a blood curdling shriek. 

“No!”

Ellie jumps, startled at your sudden screams. She throws herself back against the wall, eyes wide and glancing around as if she expects hordes of infected to come streaming in. 

"What? What is it?"

You know she's never seen you be loud, never seen you scream and the sight must terrify her. 

But all you can focus on is the clear outline of bite marks on her forearm visible after she rolled up her sleeves. The clear sign of an infected’s mark. She’s going to turn into a clicker before your eyes. She’s going to become soulless and inhuman and you need to go. You need to get somewhere safe.

Joel. He’ll be so devastated.

You can hear the heavy footsteps of Joel approaching the kitchen but all you can think of is escaping and getting yourself safe. You have to warn the town. You run towards the front door, your socks slipping over the smooth floor. 

You're still screaming incoherently, your voice cracking as you lunge for the doorknob, tears in your eyes. Your hand closes around the brass knob just as two muscled arms go around your waist, pulling you back harshly. A hand covers your mouth and a deep voice is at your ear. 

"Quit," he repeats, shaking you slightly in his arms. "Stop screamin'."

There's an increasingly paranoid thought that believes this was all a trap. A way for Joel to get his daughter fed. You feel it, Joel's arms wrapped around your entire body, pinning your arms to your sides. His body is warm and solid behind you, terrifying in its strength. It takes you to a time you've tried to forget. 

"Get the fuck off of me!" You shriek against his palm, trying to wriggle out of his grip but he holds firm. You're screaming expletives, trying to kick out. You shake his hand off your mouth. "She's bit, Joel! I saw it!"

Ellie hasn't moved from where she stands cowering in the corner of the kitchen. But you can only imagine how soon it will be before she turns. You can't be here for that. You can’t watch that sweet girl turn into one of them.

"I know," Joel rumbles against your temple, hands still gripping you tightly. 

"You know," you repeat and now a dread begins in your feet and floods the rest of you. 

Joel knows she is bit. Joel welcomed you into his home knowing she was bit. 

You are going to die. 

"Let me go!"

High on fearful adrenaline you give a frantic kick backwards, elbowing into Joel's abdomen at the same time you thrust the ball of your foot onto his socked toes. Joel gives a strangled grunt and his arms loosen in pain momentarily allowing you a chance to break free from him. 

You tug open the door and speed out without your boots. You feel the snow on the porch under your feet, freezing your toes immediately. You throw yourself down the porch stairs, feet slapping the wood as you hold back sobs. The street is deserted; the houses all empty as they usually are on bright Saturday afternoons. You go to cry out for someone, anyone, when Joel's arm bands around your waist.

You give a devastated howl of defeat before Joel is dragging your struggling frame back into the house, telling you to calm down. 

Ellie is by the sink, her eyes on the ground. 

But you still struggle, trying to get away from this house. Joel gives a frustrated growl before he pushes you up against the wall, pinning you there with his hips. His hands hold your wrists on either side of your head, pressing them into the wall. 

"Stop fuckin' strugglin'," Joel seethes when you jerk against him, his chest pressing you so tightly to the wall you can't breathe. 

"Please let me go," you beg brokenly as you continue to struggle in his arms. "Please I just-“

"She's immune," he rasps in your ear. "She's fucking immune! Stop!"

Immune. Immune. 

"What?" You stop your screaming just long enough to twist your head to face him. "Immune? That's not possible." 

But you’ve stopped struggling as hard.

You take a closer look at Ellie’s arm from where you stand, noticing that it doesn’t look particularly fresh. In fact it looks scarred. And yet something in you is still terrified. So terrified that you yelp when you feel Joel's wide hands go to either side of your face, forcing your face up and eyes to his. 

"Everything is okay," Joel tells you in a husky rasp. "You're safe, I promise. I've got you. You're safe." 

His eyes are locked with yours as he says this and you don't know how those words work their way into your body, but they do. The same way they wind around you as you allow yourself to get lost on patrols with your mouth on him. That sense that someone else is in charge, someone else is protecting you.

You're safe.

Your entire frame goes boneless in his arms and when he finally releases your face your head drops to your chest. He continues to press you gently against the wall with one heavy hand holding you there.

"What if it's slow acting or -" you whisper quietly, "or what if you can still pass it on with saliva or-"

"The dogs don't detect it," Joel tells you, his hold on you not lessening. "Ellie and I've shared drinks plenty a' times. She's immune."

You stare at the girl at the table, her entire countenance shifted. You can see the devastation, the fear and anger floods out of you immediately, like a deep sigh. You sag in Joel's arms, feeling as he slowly loosens you. 

"She's had it for months," Joel tells you, no longer pinning you to the wall. 

"Months?" 

You're still stunned by the developments but it doesn't stop your eyes from traveling over to Ellie. You see now that tears are slipping off the end of her nose as she silently cries. She’s pulled her sleeve back down, covering the scar.

Your heart immediately breaks because it's you who did this to her. This girl who trusts so few. You treated her like she was a monster. 

"Ellie I'm sorry, I just..." You trail off, your heart still beating wildly. 

But Ellie has tears in her eyes, her neck blotchy. She's raced to the garage, slamming the door after her. You flinch at the sound of it. 

Then it’s just you and Joel in the quiet kitchen.

"How long have you known?"

"Since I met her," Joel explains quietly. "Was bringing her to the fireflies with a friend in exchange for a battery. Rumor was there was a cure."

"Guess not if you're both here," you say absently, missing the pain in his dark eyes when you say it. 

"Not a lot of people know about it. We'd like to keep it that way."

You nod, your mind whirring. You realize you've never seen Ellie in anything but long sleeves. Never seen her wearing bracelets or anything that would draw her attention to her arms. She’s been hiding in plain sight. You think of the friendships she hasn’t made, the way she keeps to herself, the hostile way she is with most and it all clicks into place.

"We were thinking of gettin' her a tattoo to cover it up,” Joel continues. “Haven't found anyone to do it yet." 

You nod again, eyes falling on the pastries now lying squashed on the floor, the warm berries oozing out onto the wood.

“I’ll take care of this stuff,” Joel mutters, dropping to his knees and starting to pick up the supplies you brought. You think of how excited Ellie had been to recreate the pop tarts, how devastated she’ll be when she realizes they’re all ruined.

"I- I think I should go talk to Ellie."

"She doesn't wanna talk. Trust me."

"Just lemme try."

Joel looks as if he's about to protest but you're already walking quickly until you've reached the door to the garage. You knock gently.

"Ellie? It's me. Please don't be upset ... I was just startled."

There's a pause, then a sniffle that makes your heart lurch. 

"Can we talk? Please, Ellie?" 

You hear shuffling and then finally the door to the garage is opened a crack and you see Ellie peering through. Her eyes are swollen and red, the end of her nose pink. She glares at you through the small slit in the door. 

"Fuck off."

"I just want to explain. Just let me explain and then I promise I'll leave."

She doesn't move, doesn't attempt to close or open the door. She just stands there like some sentry. 

“Five minutes. That’s all I need.”

"You think I'm a freak."

"I don't," you insist, palm on the door as if you could transfer your emotions by osmosis to her. "Ellie I was having fun right before all this. I really was. Can we talk? Please? I want to explain properly." 

Ellie’s glossy eyes scan your body and with a labored sigh she steps back, opening the door and allowing you entrance. 

"Come in."

You follow her into the warm space, watching as she drops onto her made bed. Ellie hugs her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as you look at her. Ellie's eyes drag from the floor up to your face and you see her chin trembling as she holds in tears. 

“Can I sit?” you ask motioning to beside her on the bed. She nods, shuffling to give you room to perch there.

“I know you’re not gonna come back after this,” Ellie says, eyes wide with a quiet pleading as you look over at her.

“Of course I am.”

“No you’re not,” Ellie says shaking her head and rubbing angrily at her eyes. “You’ve seen my arm. You think I’m a fucking freak.”

"Ellie I swear I don't think you're a freak," you emphasize as you shuffle on the edge of her bed. "I was just... That bite took me back to a really scary time."

"Yeah," Ellie says with her chin balanced on her kneecap. "No one wants to think about... All that stuff." 

You see the desolation there in her eyes. She's hurt and even though you didn't mean to do it you did. You feel responsible for her sadness. Your eyes go to her closed door, wanting to make sure you have privacy before you turn back to her.

"Ellie, can I share some stuff with you?"

"Yeah.”

"It's not happy stuff," you tell her. 

"Figured." Ellie shrugs again like it doesn't matter. Like she's seen it all. Maybe she has, but you doubt it. She doesn’t make eye contact with you.

“It’s just. . . I’ve never told anyone this stuff before. Ever.”

Ellie’s eyes go to your face now. She can see how serious you are and she straightens slightly. She goes from being hunched and holding her legs to sitting cross legged across from you on the bed.

"Okay..." You take a sharp inhale. “So, I was about your age when Outbreak Day happened. I was with my Dad and my sister. My mom was visiting my Aunt in Wyoming-“

“How come?”

“Ellie you gotta let me get this all out quick okay?” you say gently. “No interruptions.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you breathe deeply again. “She was visiting my aunt because my aunt was getting a divorce and my mom wanted to support her. Anyway, about ten years ago my dad and my little sister and I were travelling between QZ’s. We were looking for my Mom because my Dad was convinced she was still alive and she’d be out in this direction.”

You swallow; hating talking about this but knowing that Ellie deserves this truth. So far she looks intrigued, her eyes wide.

“So one night we were exhausted. We’d been travelling for days and we were low on food and water. We see this old cabin and it looks like it’s abandoned. We figure it’s a good spot to hunker down and get some energy before we keep going.” You exhale a shuddering breath.

“Except it wasn’t abandoned. It was a trap set up by this group of Raiders. I called them The Group. They killed my dad and they were gonna kill me and my sister when one of the guys had the bright idea that they could use us as bait.”

"Bait?"

 Ellie seems to remember she’s not supposed to say anything because she ducks her head slightly.

"Yeah. they made us go into new places first," you explain detached, as if you’re talking about another woman in another life. "So if there was anything dangerous it would get us in enough time to give The Group a chance to escape.”

Ellie is staring at you wide-eyed, all her teenage ambivalence lost as you detail the most terrifying years of your life. You omit lots of the more gruesome details and you definitely don’t tell her about Rock River.  

"Once they hung me from a tree," you tell her, trying not to sound emotional. It's not hard. Years of hiding how that part of your life affects you makes you good at it. "They tied me to a rope and hung me on a branch to attract clickers."

"Jesus."

"Yeah," you nod. "It worked really well. There was a big group and they piled underneath me, trying to grab at me, their mouths all black and their teeth gnashing and...” you stop yourself when you see Ellie’s eyes widening. “Anyway, The Group got ‘em all and managed to get some good supplies in the town because of it. I just... It just left me kind of..."

You wince when you realize you’ve trailed off, your focus blurred.

"The point is that when I saw your arm it just all came flooding back and I reacted out of instinct. Not because I think you're a freak. I could never think that about you.”

Ellie is quiet, digesting all that you've told her. You think you hear a creaking outside her door, but you're not sure. Your attention is drawn back to the girl who’s eyes hold such a myriad of emotions; pain, empathy, fear, anger.

"How did you end up here?" 

You think about not telling her. But it feels so good to be getting some of this information out, like you’re coughing up a thick black piece of flesh that’s been festering in your lungs for years, making it so you can now finally breathe.

"One guy, Chiyo, he joined up with our group a few years after I was taken. He owned a shooting range before everything.... You know…. Well, he'd broken his ankle in a recent raid and couldn’t really move much. If we hadn't come upon him when we did he probably would have been killed by another group of raiders. But as it was he had this giant stash of weapons and The Groups ranks were thinning so..."

You trail off, thinking of how you'd come upon him first when you and The Group got to town. How the leader you thought of as Red due to his hair (you never learned their real names), shoved you brutally by the shoulder.

Always the bait.

But after what had happened only the week before you didn’t care anymore. Red pushed you and you entered willingly, your feet not even dragging as you walked. It was either be shot by one of The Group attempting to escape, or see what resided inside the shop with the boarded up windows.

Chiyo’s gun was trained on you the second you walked in. The way you held your hands at your eye level when he told you he was going to shoot.

“I’m gonna blow your head clean off if you take another step.”

And suddenly you’d decided that you were done. You were so tired. And at least this way it would be quick and it would be away from The Group. And so you’d taken another step towards Chiyo, hands still raised.

You can still recall the furrowing of his thick brows and the lowering of his weapon as he stared at you.

"You want to die?"

You hadn't answered him but that had been answer enough for Chiyo. He'd hobbled over to you, dragging his lame leg, dark eyes fixed on your face. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

And when he'd said it, you'd believed him.

You remember the way you'd convinced the rest of The Group they needed someone like him. A crack shot, you told them. You'd had no idea of knowing if it was true. But there had been warmth in Chiyo's eyes that was missing from the rest of The Groups. Something that you clinged to in the coming months.

"Thankfully he was a really good shot,” you explain. “He joined up and we stripped his shop of his guns and eventually his ankle healed thanks to the medic in The Group and he was suddenly part of the team.”

“Was he nice to you?”

“Yeah. He was really kind. Whenever they used me as bait he insisted on going with. He said it was so we could save me for really bad missions, but I knew it was to protect me. They let him get away with it because he was such a good shot, I think.  Everyone liked him. When the rest of The Group was asleep we'd talk by the fire. Chiyo was afraid of horses," you tell Ellie with a small smile. “Was about the only thing he was afraid of.”

You don't tell her everything. You don't tell of the tender way he fucked you in the wee hours of the morning before The Group rose most mornings. How he whispered that he missed his dead wife and would never dishonor her memory by kissing you. But you hadn’t minded, you understood and you’d both been gentle with each other.

You’d enjoyed getting lost in the sensation of him. Of his cock in your mouth, of your cunt stuffed full of him. The rhythmic sensation of sex that took you out of your body and away from your every day horrors.

You remember how he would hold you, tears sliding onto your collar as he spilled himself onto your belly whimpering his dead wife’s name. How he would thank you over and over with your hand at the base of his skull, mouth against his shoulder while you quietly sobbed your own gratitude.

"After a few months he told me he was escaping. He'd heard about Jackson City and that's where he was headed. He wanted to bring me to see if we could find my Mom."

"Holy shit,” Ellie breathes. “Where is he now?"

"He didn't make it," you tell her tightly.

And now the shield is back in your voice and eyes and she must sense it. Ellie doesn’t press this, seems to understand that there is more there. With a teenagers’ sensibilities and a teenager’s romanticism she asks you her next question.

"Were you in love with him?"

Chiyo is a faint memory, a watercolor blur if you think about him in too much detail. When you try to recall things like the scar over his left eyebrow or the dragon tattoo on his inner thigh. But these are just pieces of him. They aren't him. 

When you think of Chiyo there is a warmth. But it's the warmth that comes from having a benevolent savior. One who never told you that you were in his debt. Yes, you cared for him. Of course you did. He was gentle and he was kind and his heart was soft.

"No," you say firmly. "He was nice though and I cared about him. Probably as close to love as I'll ever get." 

You and Ellie are quiet for a long time.

“I tried saving a bit boy once,” she finally offers. “His name was Sam. Tried rubbing my blood on him. Thought it would save him. It didn’t. He turned and his brother had to kill him before he killed himself.”

You don’t allow yourself to cry. You know that isn’t what Ellie needs right now.

“I’m the reason so many people are dead,” Ellie explains when you say nothing in return. “My Mom died having me. Riley… Tess… Sam…Henry... Ellie’s voice is doing that same detached thing yours does. “Sometimes I honestly think it would be better if I was never born.”

You can’t help the way your arms leap out in front of you to gather the girl into your arms. She tries to fight you on it, flinching from the contact before your unrelenting arms pull her into a tight squeeze, tugging her into your lap. Angry tears slip down her red cheeks, her cries breaking free as you wrestle her into a bear hug.

“I’m so glad you exist, Ellie.”

And then all the fight is gone from her body and she’s sobbing quietly into your shoulder, her tiny frame shaking. You hold her against you, wanting your adoration and affection to move through your body into hers so she knows how much she’s wanted.

“The world would be so much worse without you in it,” you assure her honestly. “You’re special, Ellie. And not because you’re immune. Because you’re smart and brave and funny and you make people like me feel like we’re worth something.”

Her arms wrap around your neck, face in your shoulder and she allows you to continue holding her, rocking her gently in your lap as if she were your own teenage daughter.

“And yes you’re stubborn and you can be annoying,” you add, trying to lighten the mood. “But there’s no one I like talking to as much as I like talking to you. You made me look forward to breakfasts in the dining hall because it meant I got to speak to you.”

“You’re just saying that,” she sniffles, arms loosely circling your neck.

“You don’t like liars, right?” You remind her. “Well I’m not lying. Plus, I know Joel loves you and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that loves many people so you must be pretty great.”

Ellie gives a shallow huff of amusement in your shoulder.

“And I know Maria and Tommy adore you just as much if not more than I do. And if you opened up a little more with the kids around here I know they’d love you just as much as we do because you’re a wonderful person. The world would be so much worse without your light, Ellie. You bring light to the darkness.”

You continue rocking her for several moments, waiting until her sobs turn into hiccups and then gentle swallows. Finally she pulls back from you, almost embarrassed at the emotional display. She shuffles back onto the bed, picking at the loose string hanging from her pillow.

“I think I’m cursed.”

“Hey now that’s not true,” you insist. “I’m here aren’t I? How is that a curse? If anything it’s a blessing.”

She gives you a weak smile that you return.

“C’mon, let’s go and finish the pop tarts.”

“We’ll have to start all over again,” Ellie almost whines.

“Then I guess I’ll be staying here a little longer.”

Ellie wipes at her blotchy face, running her hands down her cheeks before nodding and standing abruptly.  You two make it back into the kitchen, surprised to see Joel standing there. His broad shoulders ripple as he works on something in front of him, his back to you.

Ellie sails over to him, her eyes wide when she sees what he’s done. “Wait are those the pop tarts?”

“Yep.”

“I thought they were ruined.”

“Yours were,” Joel shrugs, spreading icing onto one of the homemade pop tarts. “Mine went okay.”

You feel as if you’ve been physically pushed.

Joel baked?

Ellie snags one of the still warm pastries from the plate as Joel starts running the cloth over the counter and wiping the crumbs into the sink. You look at the joy on Ellie’s face as she takes a bite.

“Holy shit, Joel, these are so fucking good.”

“Language,” Joel admonishes over his shoulder, though there’s nothing harsh in it. He turns around, hip resting against the counter.

“I’m gonna have you do all my baking,” Ellie continues as if she hasn’t heard him.  “I’ll just be your taste tester.”

You want to grin at this but all you can do is stare at Joel and the soft way he’s smiling down at Ellie. This open look of adoration you so rarely see. Like there’s this secret Joel inside the mean Joel shell that the privileged few witness.

Joel could never disappoint me.

Joel seems to feel your eyes on him because he blinks over at you, dark eyes darting around your face. His expression is unreadable, but there’s nothing cruel or cold in it. He’s just looking at you, almost as if he’s trying to figure you out as well.  

“Well looks like we’re all set here so I should go,” you start awkwardly, suddenly feeling strangely light headed. Joel steps towards you, brows rising.

“You could stay for a dr-“ Joel begins, but you’ve already made your way to the front door, pulling on your boots and jacket.

Your hands are trembling for some reason and you think it must be all this emotional turmoil you’ve shared with Ellie. It has you feeling vulnerable and exposed and you want to escape home to the safety of your bed, away from soulful brown eyes and soft smiles.

“Ellie you wanna grab breakfast before patrols?”  you ask, studiously ignoring Joel who stands next to her looking at you. You don’t want her to think you’re rushing off and forgetting about her.

“Sure,” Ellie says brightly before motioning to the plate of pastries. “You want any of these to go?”

“Nah, you enjoy them,” you insist with a flash of a smile. “You worked hard.”

You don’t look backwards as you rush out the door of their home and down the sidewalk of Rancher Street, convinced you can feel Joel’s dark gaze on you the entire way.

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

secondary a/n: The other parts I wanted to include in this chapter were gonna bloat this installment into over 10k and I wasn't even finished so I had to break it up!

CHAPTER 11 SPOILERS BELOW THE JOEL

in chapter eleven there be smut.

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