#jackson!joel

Summary: You’ve confessed your feelings to Joel.

Warnings: Spoiler Alert- Rejection. Jackson!joel. No aged specified for reader. No description mentioned.

a/n: So this is a little four part series I found in my Google docs, they need a little tidy up and the other chapters may have had some things added or removed. Rather than leaving them to rot, I’d thought I’d just share them. Part two, three and four will be longer and do include some—adult themed things ;) pinv, m!masturbation. Dirty thoughts etc (tags will be added)and I maaaaay have changed the ending. ;) There’s no real deep meaning for this series…think it was something I wrote while I was drunk or something 🤣I had re edit this as it didn’t make sense🤣if you noticed I’m sorry but hopefully it’s all correct now 🤣

The sun shone through the blinds. The birds tweeted their little songs. The neighbours started their day.

You were lying bed, eating a box of chocolates watching Steel Magnolias. You needed to watch a sobfest of a film, starring some of the best—Sally Field, Dolly Parton, Shirley MacLaine, Olympia Dukakis for fucks sake and you needed words of wisdom, a kick up the ass—to remember who the fuck you are—because the other night, was agony. ‘Men are the most horrible creatures honey…they will ruin your life.’ Best quote ever.

However, it was an ordinary night at The Bison—for everyone else, anyway. Tonight was the night you were finally going to work up the courage to tell Joel how you felt. You knew he felt something too. But he was just…a man about it. Never going to be the one to say it first or make the first move, which meant it was all on you.

The New Year’s party was only a few days away, and you’d asked him to go with you. He’d said yes so quickly, so confidently, like it was the most obvious thing. It should’ve made you happy, but instead it left you wondering if he thought it was just two friends going to a party together.

So you were going to make yourself clear. You were going to tell him what the invitation had meant to you and hope—pray—he’d tell you he felt the same.

He didn’t.

Near the end of the night, you asked him to come outside for a cigarette. Standing beneath the cold night sky, you finally found the words. “Hey…when I asked you to go to this party with me…” you said quietly, “…I meant it as—more of a date.”

Joel didn’t answer straight away. He didn’t even look at you. The silence stretched long enough for panic to creep in. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “I don’t mean to, ya know… put you on the spot. But I had to tell you how I feel about you, Joel.” You continued to tell him that for months your crush turned into something deeper—but you darent tell him you love him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. He admitted—modestly as he could—he’d known for a while. He’d just hoped you wouldn’t act on it—he didn’t want to have to watch your face while he turned you down.

It felt like the ground disappeared beneath your feet, no…not just the ground—the whole fucking planet. The tears came before you could stop them. You stood there sobbing while Joel remained completely still, and for once you were grateful for it. If he’d tried to comfort you—if he’d reached for you—you were certain whatever was left of your soul would’ve shattered completely.

He offered to walk you home. You told him he didn’t have to—he ignored you of course but stayed a few yards back, never saying a word, making sure you got home safely. When you reached your street, he stopped at the corner and watched until you disappeared through your front door.

You never looked back.

So that was two days ago. The next morning, Joel knocked gently on your front door, careful not to disturb you too much. The house was lifeless. No No noise. No movement. He called your name a few times, hoping you’d answer.

Upstairs, you lay curled in bed, crying. You heard the knocks. You heard him call your name. But you didn’t want to move. The knocking stopped.

A few hours later, another set of knock echoed through the house. You’d spent the last five hours staring blankly at the ceiling. The loud growl of your stomach forced you to think about the last time you’d eaten.

Just before you’d confessed your feelings to Joel last night, you’d had the best damn burger of your life. With a tired groan, you finally dragged yourself out of bed, but you waited until the knocking had stopped before pulling on your robe and heading downstairs.

You were only halfway down the stairs when a sheet of paper slid beneath the front door.

The figure on the other side lingered for a moment. Through the glass, it looked as though they rested a hand against the door before quietly walking away.

You waited another minute before crossing the room and picking up the note. The handwriting gave it away immediately.

Joel.

The first thing you did was crumple it up into a ball and throw it across the room, but not knowing what he’d written would’ve eaten away at you. With a frustrated sigh, you carefully smoothed the paper out on the kitchen table. You still couldn’t bring yourself to read it. Instead, you made yourself some scrambled eggs on toast and a coffee.

When you sat down, you didn’t eat.

You just stared at the coffee. Joel had given it to you a few weeks ago as a gift. Suddenly, you didn’t want it anymore and the way you were feeling…you weren’t sure you wanted any of it anymore.

Finally, you took a deep breath and leaned over the table to grab the note. His handwriting was atrocious—you could barely make it out—but eventually the words came together.

-Darlin, you know I’ll always love you, but it can never be more than that. I don’t hate you for tellin me. If anythingI think it was brave of you to make that first move. I don’t want you to hate me either. I want us to talk face to face. Ellie’s stayin at Dina’s tomorrow night, and i want you to come over so we can talk properly.

Talk soon.

Joel

You slowly straightened up from the table, letting out a quiet, defeated sigh. Some stupid, secret part of you had hoped…that maybe he’d changed his mind.

You went back to bed, leaving your eggs and the letter discarded on the table and went back to bed. And stayed there until around 4 am when your belly grumbled in protest and you needed a good cry that wasn’t related to Joel miller. You grabbed snacks and booze and went back to bed.

You’re still watching the movie, you haven’t been bothered to change it to something else. You could help but just dress this day and this talk with Joel later.

Sawdust And Six Strings - Epilogue -

Summary- One year later…

Warnings: Swearing. Pinv. Joel cums inside. Tiiiniest breeding kink. Establishment relationship. Committing. Alcohol consumption.

“Joel -fucking- miller—you promised me that on our one year anniversary, we were gonna sing together.”

Sitting across from you-Tommy and Maria laughed behind their glasses. “Yeah Joel, you promised.” Tommy kindly reminded him. Joel dipped his head defeated. “Okay I’ll remind you I was drunk and—happy when I agreed to that—you totally took advantage of me.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ It was a few months into your relationship. The two of you had spent the entire day together before heading home to do what had quickly become your favourite thing—curling up on the couch, sharing food, holding each other close—fucking. You’d been intimate before, but that night felt different. Between whispered confessions and half-spoken dreams about the future, everything felt a little more serious, a little more real. You came home, both drunk off your asses but you were celebrating. You both did your first “I love you’s” at the bar, during a slow dance. Both of you were hammered, how you two managed to have sex is a fucking mystery.

“Gonna make you all round, baby,” Joel murmured against your skin. “You’re gonna look fuckin’ beautiful.” His arm is wrapped securely around you, resting a hand against your lower back-guiding your body into a slow rhythm with his. Your movements felt secondary to the way he looked at you—like you were already everything he’d ever wanted.

“Tell me I’m yours, Joel.” You whine out into his neck as he stabs at your cervix again and again.

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “You’re all mine, baby.” His voice was rough, muffled as he buried his face against your neck. “Love you so much.”

The words hit harder than anything else could have. Your fingers curled into his shoulders as you clung to him, crying out as you cum, clenching around his cock. Body spasming, beads of sweat dripping down between your tits. “Ah fuck. Fuck—me.” You breathe it out while Joel grips hold of your waist his peak clearly in sight. His fingers feel like they’re bruising your skin as he grits his words, grinding you down on his cock. “Ah fuccck-love you, baby.” He dips his head on your chest jerking his hips more. “Makin sure you get it all, baby—” You can’t help but laugh as you catch your breath. “So we’re starting our family tonight then I take it?” Insinuating the obvious, looking down where you both join.

“Looks that way, darlin.” He runs his nose up and down your cheek, wrapping his arms around you squeezing you tight. “come lay down with me, baby.” His words are slurred, poor man was still outta it. You both lie there, he’s on his way to La La land barely making sense when he tries to talk. You took the opportunity…

“Hey Joel…?” You start to run a finger up and down his body, “—one day will you sing with me, like on stage? We’ll pick a song we both like and play at The Bison. Whatcha think?”

He does a low “hmm”, eyes still closed, he so close to falling asleep. “Huh, what’s that baby? You wanna sing?” There was a long pause—did he fall asleep? You nudge his arm. “Hmm wha?—oh sure, baby, we can sing—for all those stupid bastards.” You pumped your fist into the air in celebration, making the bed jolt beneath you.

Okay, yes—you might have taken full advantage of the situation, his state…but so what? As if you were ever going to admit that out loud. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Thinking back…“Oh, I did no such thing,” you scoff trying SO hard to be serious. “C’mon, it’s one song. We’ve practiced it a bunch of times—we sound awesome. If you do this, I’ll never ask you to perform again. Well, in public, anyway.”

Joel huffed. “I’m not gonna hear the end of this, am I?” You glanced down at your swollen belly, rubbing a hand over it. “Um, I think you kinda owe me.”

Seven months pregnant. You’d convinced yourself that kids with Joel just weren’t on the cards for you, and honestly, you’d made peace with that…then came your little surprise.

“Knowing Sarah was a tiny baby is a relief,” you continued, blurting out the change of subject. “I was a small baby too.”

It was a trick you’d learned over time. Mentioning Sarah was one of the few ways to get Joel talking, but you always followed it up with something about yourself so he wouldn’t retreat so much into his own head.

“Yeah, she was the size of a peanut,” he said with a small nod.

You smiled. “So…c’mon. We doing this?” You knew damn well he couldn’t say no to those sad eyes of yours. Joel let out an exaggerated sigh before patting your thigh. “Come on, then.” The grumble in his voice was undercut by the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You let out a loud squeal, making Joel flinch. Grabbing your belly, you laugh. “Okay, the baby didn’t like that so much—”

“—Joel, it was just a kick—I’m fine,” you add quickly, already spotting the familiar look of concern spreading across his face. It was the same expression you’d seen throughout the entire pregnancy-protective, worried, and ready to panic over the smallest thing. God help you when it came time to actually give birth.

Before Joel can fuss any further, Tommy appears at the side of the stage and claps his hands. “Well? You two comin’ or what? Crowd’s waitin’, aren’t ya guys?” The patrons gathered in front of the stage. Families sat at tables, kids ran between rows, and Maria was grinning far too knowingly from the front.

“I’m gonna throw up,” you mutter. “You ain’t gonna throw up,” Joel says. “besides, this was your idea!”

“And?” You say eyes wide. “I’m allowed to be nervous and wanna throw up.” He just laughs, clutching his guitar and taking your hand, his little squeeze settles your nerves—a little.

Tommy gestures dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen—please welcome, Grumps and Sunshine”

The cheering starts before he even finishes. Joel sighs heavily beside you. “I didn’t settle on our bands name, darlin.”

“Too late now, Grumps.”

He shoots you a look, you grin back, then together, you step onto the stage. The applause is warm and encouraging. Jackson wasn’t judging you, these were your people—friends, family. Still, your palms sweat as you settle onto the stool beside Joel, he adjusts the guitar on his knee and glances over.

“You ready?”

“No.”

“Tough.” His fingers brush the strings, the opening notes of Johnny Cash’s, Jackson ring out. A few people in the crowd immediately start cheering. You and Joel had practiced this song dozens of times. It was playful and teasing, full of back and forth banter between two people pretending not to care about each other. Just how you and Joel started, but after a while you both started to understand each other. And just like Johnny and June Carter Cash, neither of you could pretend anymore.

You traded verses, throwing smirks and little challenges at each other, the audience laughed at all the right moments. Joel’s confidence grew with every chord and your own nerves melted away.

By the second chorus, people were clapping along, you caught Maria nudging Tommy with an expression that made you suspicious. Every time you looked back to Joel, he was already looking at you. Not at the audience, not at the guitar. At you.

Something shifted, the song was still lighthearted, still fun, yet beneath it ran something quieter. The room seemed to narrow until there was only the two of you and the music between you. You finished the final line, Joel strummed the last chord, the note faded.

For a heartbeat, nobody moved, then the room erupted into applause. You laughed and looked out at the crowd then turned back toward him, ready to stand. Instead, you found him staring at you. The applause continued around you, people whistled, somebody shouted something you couldn’t make out. But Joel never looked away.

Your heart kicked hard against your ribs. “Joel?”He looked nervous, which was somehow more alarming than anything else. Before you could ask what was wrong, he reached out and cupped your jaw.

The crowd immediately went silent, Joel ignored everyone. His thumb brushed your cheek, then, in a move so uncharacteristically bold it nearly stopped your heart, he leaned in and kissed you.

Right there. In front of everybody.

Cheers. Whistles. Hollering—you barely heard any of it, all you could focus on was Joel. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. The man looked almost embarrassed by what he’d just done—almost. His ears turned faintly red.

You slipped your hand into his, for once Joel didn’t seem to care who was watching. He squeezed your hand and gave you a smile that belonged entirely to you.

Jackson Williams Miller was the tiniest baby.

He arrived just after midnight following thirty-six hours of blood, sweat, tears, and more than a few threats about ripping Joel’s balls off. But finally, your little bundle of joy was here.

Secretly—and a little shamefully—you were relieved you didn’t have a girl. More than anything, you wanted a healthy baby, but part of you had hoped for a boy for Joel’s sake. He’d already been a father to a daughter, this way, he got to experience both. And maybe, it helped quiet the fear that having another baby would feel like replacing Sarah.

You chose Jackson as the baby’s first name, and insisted his name included Williams. “You’re gonna carry on a strong woman’s family name,” you’d told your son, making sure to say it loud enough for Ellie to hear. “Her mama, Anna, was strong. And so is she.” Ellie had burst into tears on the spot. Eventually, Ellie had to leave. She claimed she couldn’t handle the cuteness anymore.

Joel sat beside you in bed, gently stroking his son’s impossibly soft hair. “Good mop of hair, son. Take after your papa, don’t ya?” he murmured, twirling one of the tiny curls around his massive finger. The size difference was ridiculous.

“Here, can you take him? I need to pee.” Joel immediately stood and helped you stand up. The movement pulled at your fresh stitches, making you hiss through your teeth. “Fucking hell, it huuuurts.” You straightened as much as you could and pointed at him. “You are not going anywhere near my vagina for, like, a year, Joel Miller…this hurts so much.” You didn’t even have the energy to sound dramatic as you carefully transferred the baby into his arms. “I may be a while,” you joked, taking painfully slow baby steps toward the bathroom, and of course you swat away any help from Joel. “I just gave birth, I can pee on my own, honey.” He kissed your temple and let you be.

Joel adjusted his hold on the newborn, cradling his tiny head against his bicep before wandering over to the window. For a few moments, he pointed out random things through the glass, as if the baby could understand a word he was saying. Then he paused. “Ya know what’s funny, little man—me and your mama couldn’t stand each other when we first met” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over the baby’s head. “She was all mouth.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “But truth be told, it was like lookin’ in a mirror…but she was prettier.” The baby yawned. “She just needed a friend…” Joel smiled to himself. “And sadly, she got me.” He laughed under his breath.

God, he remembered those first few weeks after meeting you. You’d argued with nearly every decision he made on patrol. Half the time he was right. The other half, you were right. You never took any crap from him—or anyone else, for that matter. Stubborn, loud, fearless, but you were also sweet, funny and such a charmer. Joel couldn’t pinpoint the moment those feelings started changing. Couldn’t remember when annoyance became fondness, or when fondness became something he couldn’t imagine living without.

Suppose it didn’t matter now.

Not when he was standing here holding the proof of everything the two of you had built together.

Wym! Thank you so much for the asks!

Wingman 4 (will get a proper title at some point) picks up 2 months after reader and Frankie’s first date and reader is still struggling with her self esteem and hasn’t worked up the courage yet to sleep with Frankie despite really wanting to. And of course Frankie just wants to help her and be supportive because he’s the best.

the warmth of his palm on your temple was a grounding contrast from the coldness he'd brought in from the ridge, a rarity that you hadn't felt the weight of in almost two weeks.

your fingers caught the large spread of his hand as he began to pull away and you anchored it back into place, shamelessly stealing all his warmth. even when he still had yet to actually settle into the house.

he let out a low breath, his large frame relaxing slightly once he felt the wrap of your fingers around his. he knew exactly how you felt about the scheduling. he'd felt the weight of it every night when he came home and saw you spread alone on your bed, sleeping with your back turned away from his side, figure ushered to the furthest end. he felt it in the coldness of your spot when morning came.

there was a quiet fear that haunted you every time he went past the gates. he knew it and he saw it in your face each time he prepped his gear and perched right onto a horse with whoever was working patrol or scouting with him. you’d admitted that sense of fear to him too many times to count in the past.

it was the same he felt when tommy had you working out there, too.

but it lived between you, knowing that the need for him and you didn't only belong to either of you. you were both needed by the town and by the people and there was no fighting it. there was hating it, there was absolutely loathing it with every ounce of your being, but it was a fact.