koshkamartell

[koshkamartell]

Feeling inspired to write! Anyone have an idea and a line they want me to write a Joel drabble/one shot of?

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joelmiller

[koshkamartell]

summary: DDDNE one shot. You run away from Joel Miller after he holds you captive.

warnings: dark! Joel, physical abuse, verbal abuse, noncon PIV, degradation.

You should've known you couldn't beat him. You should've known that it was hopeless. He was Joel Miller, after all. He had made a living off hunting and killing people. You didn't stand a chance.

"Come on out now, little girl," his voice sang out, echoing through the quiet darkness of the forest. "Ain't gonna hurt you."

He had already hurt you in so many ways; now that you had tried to escape, there was no telling what he would do to you. The mere thought of returning to his cabin and facing the consequences of running made you tremble with fear. You covered your mouth with your hand and tried to concentrate on steadying your breathing, hoping to God that he couldn't hear you.

"Just wanna talk to you, is all," Joel's placating voice called. "Let's work this out together, darlin'."

Rivulets of tears ran down your cheeks as you silently wept. Your heart was pounding in your chest so fast you thought you'd have a heart attack. You dare not move despite the itching bark of the tree on your back and the pine needles on the ground poking so uncomfortably into your bare legs and feet.

Joel was walking around the forest in slow, calculated steps, a hunter stalking his prey. You could hear the faint crunch of leaves under his boots. He wasn't close but he was in the vicinity of your hiding spot.

"Come on, don't keep me waitin'."

You could recognise the underlying impatience in Joel's tone. He would stay composed just long enough to hunt you down and snare you - for he loved the thrill of the chase - then he would unleash his wrath. You had witnessed the brutality of his anger many times.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to stop your body from quivering but it was futile.

"Come out now and I won't go hard on ya."

You struggled to suppress the sob clawing it's way up your throat. There was no such thing as 'going easy' with Joel; the purple rings around your neck and the many bruises and scratches littering your body were testament to that. He was a man not capable of being gentle. He took too much sadistic pleasure in dominating you to be gentle.

"Okay girl, have it your way." Joel hollered.

The forest surrounding you seemed to go eerily quiet. You held your breath as you strained to listen to any sign of life around you. Nothing. You couldn't hear any movement.

Had he gone?

Surely not?

There's no way Joel would give up that easily. You were his, his property since the very first day he ambushed your group and slaughtered everyone for their supplies. However, he had decided to spare your life, when he spotted you cowering by your best friend's bloodied corpse. Joel's hungry eyes had trailed all over your face and body, a smirk slowly forming on his mouth. Staring up at him, helpless and terrified, you could not possibly imagine just how much your life would change. From that moment on, you belonged to Joel.

Now you were huddled behind a massive tree in the middle of the forest, waiting for any sign of his presence. You opened your eyes wide to try adjust your vision to the darkness of the night but your tears made everything blurry. There was no movement before you, and still no noise.

You couldn't tell how long you stayed hiding for but the aches throughout your body screamed at you to move. It must have been a long time. Maybe Joel really did leave you alone. Perhaps he thought you weren't worth the exertion of his energy - he often called you a "worthless slut".

Your body still shaking, you slowly rise from the ground and take a tentative step from out behind the tree. Your heart thunders in your ears as you whip your head around to survey the area. There's no one about. You need to keep going, gain more distance between you and the cabin that Joel must have returned to, empty handed and defeated.

You are far too weak to properly run, so instead you take leaping strides. You try to ignore the pebbles and twigs that dig into the soles of your feet. You manage to keep moving continuously for several minutes, becoming more confident with each step.

You're safe. Finally.

No more chains or rope around your wrists and feet. No more slaps to your face or bites to your flesh. No more being suffocated by his weight while he fucks into you mercilessly. No more tears shed as he degrades you and violates every one of your holes.

You are free.

But then ---

A loud bang suddenly thunders in the air, scaring you and causing you to trip over a stone. The gunshot reverberates throughout the woods and rings in your ears. You gasp and try to push yourself up from the dirt with the little strength remaining in your body.

You somehow manage to pull your body off the ground. But you only blindly stumble a few steps forward before you come to a crashing halt. You knock into something large and firm that propels you backward.

It is him.

Joel.

He stands infront of you, his tall frame towering over you, still and stoic as ever. In the moonlight you can see the terrifying snarl on his face and the fury glinting in his eyes. He holds his rifle in one hand. The other swiftly grabs hold of your throat and squeezes.

"Gotcha," Joel mutters.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry and your eyes widen in horror. Your stomach roils.

It is over. He caught you.

Your eyes are locked on his and your body automatically goes limp in his grip like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf.

"Where were you gonna run to?" Joel sneers. He leans down so that you are eye level with him. "You got no one but me. Ain't nobody left in this world who gives a shit about you."

Tears cascade down your cheeks. He's right. You have no one.

"Little bitch like you wouldn't survive ten minutes by herself," Joel gives your head a rough shake. "Think you can fight off an infected or a raider, huh?"

He releases you and tosses you down onto the hard forest soil. You land on your ass and instinctively shuffle away from Joel, sobbing and shaking your head.

"Show me," he growls, staring down at you with menacing ire. "Show me how you'd fight."

"N-n-no," you weep.

Joel bends down and captures a fistful of your hair in his hand. He uses it to pull you up so you're kneeling before him. The sting of your scalp makes you hiss in pain.

"I said show me!" He roars, slapping you firmly across the face with an open palm.

Your head jerks to the side and you wail loudly. Your vision goes blurry for a few seconds. He backhands your opposite cheek, then slaps you once more. You teeter from side to side like a ragdoll and your ears ring from the force of the blows.

"Run away from me?" Joel spits. "How you gonna do that when you can't fight, baby?"

He untangles his hand from your hair and lets you drop to the ground again. You are too exhausted to move; all you can do is weep.

Joel removes the strap of his rifle and places it down against a nearby rock. You can hear him hurriedly unbuckling and unbuttoning his pants before spitting in his hand.

You aren't surprised. You've come to know that Joel gets turned on by your cries and your fear. The adrenaline from the hunt would have excited him even more. He is like a feral animal possessed with the need to claim every inch of you.

His large hand wraps around your ankle and drags you to him.

"Open your fuckin' legs," Joel barks. "Or I'll tie you up and throw you to the infected."

You know it isn't an empty threat. There is no use in denying him. With your tattered dress already rucked up to your hips, you part your shaking legs and show Joel your naked pussy.

He dictated everything in your miserable life and never allowed you to wear underwear.

Joel sinks to the ground and spreads your thighs wider with his knees. You stare up at the moonlight filtering in through the treetops above you. Joel doesn't bother preparing you - he likes to see your face contorted with the pain he inflicts upon you. He lines the blunt head of his cock to your entrance and pushes himself inside you quickly.

Despite Joel using your body constantly, sometimes several times a day, you have never gotten used to the burning stretch of him. Combined with your lack of wetness, the feeling is overwhelming and agonising. You wince and cry out raggedly, digging your fingers into the dirt beneath you.

Joel sheathes himself fully inside of you and groans wantonly from the sensation of your tight heat around his fat cock. His hand finds your neck and wraps around it once more.

"Look at me," he grunts.

Joel squeezes once in warning and your eyes shift to gaze at his face. His dark eyes bore down into yours, his mouth curled into a snarl.

"Ya can't escape me. I'll find ya every fuckin' time."

He begins rocking his hips back and forth, gradually building up to a hard, pounding rhythm. The hand around the column of your neck tightens until you can barely get any air. Joel's hips snap into yours. His torso presses down onto your body and makes your pelvis ache.

"Hunt ya down and take ya apart bit by bit like the fuck pig you are."

Your nostrils fill with the smell of Joel's sweat and the scent of gun powder and leather. The skin of your backside scrapes against the twigs and pebbles beneath you as Joel violates your pussy over and over. Your brows knit together as his thrusts become more powerful, making your walls throb.

"Dumb slut should be thankin' me for keepin' this cunt full."

You begin to disassociate, just like so many times previously, your mind floating up from your tortured body. Joel hates it - hates the mental escape you are able to delve into, the reprieve you can find from his punishing hands and cock. He recognises it now and starts to crush your throat even more, completely restricting your breathing. Your fingernails claw into the soil and your legs thrash. Your mind is cruelly pulled back to reality and races with panic, but your limbs are heavy and weak, your body completely incapable of fighting.

You're going to die.

Joel's broad body brackets you as his thick cock pummels into you relentlessly. He continues to stare down at you with intense focus, panting and groaning while you spasm around him.

"Already told ya - ain't no escapin' me."

Your vision rapidly turns fuzzy and your lips go numb but your lower half still feels every spearing thrust, every savage crash of his hips against yours. Joel spits a wad of saliva onto your face.

"Go ahead and thank me, slut."

Then you black out.

#dark! joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller x reader #dddne

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

You walk with Joel back to his house without saying a word. After the confrontation at the mess hall there is a sense of exhilaration flowing throughout your whole body; you feel so light and free like you're walking on a cloud, with your heart thumping but your mind blank, still not having processed just what happened. All you can focus on is Joel's firm hand against your back and how safe and protected you feel in this moment.

You huddle closer to Joel to shield yourself against the cold night wind that whips against your cheeks. The cold weather has not eased and the amount of snowfall that has graced the landscape recently most likely indicates that it will continue for a while yet. The warmth of Joel's body radiates onto you and you whimper, feeling like a kitten yearning for somewhere soft to sleep. When you press your face into his side and inhale, taking comfort in his familiar scent, Joel's arm wraps tightly around your waist.

At the house Joel shuffles into the living room and flops down onto his arm chair with a grunt. He bends forward to remove his boots while you slip your shoes off at the front door. Now that you are surrounded by the quiet privacy of the house, away from the din of the mess hall and the prying eyes of other people, your high begins to evaporate. The weight of reality sinks ontop of your head and pours a flurry of questions down into your brain.

You need to talk about it, you need to know.

"Why did you do that?" You ask quietly as you unwind the scarf from your neck. You hang it on one of the coat hooks by the door. "And for Rhi, too? I thought you hated my friends."

Joel manspreads and leans back into the chair, the muscles of his body visibly relaxing as he settles against the cushion. You watch him while you remove your coat, your eyes falling to the way he dangles one of his hands by the inside of his thigh, close to his crotch. It is so effortlessly and distractingly sexy - why does Joel have to be so handsome, so strong, so beautiful?

He tilts his head to the side slightly and regards you with an almost scornful air.

"You really think I'd let some asshole talk to my woman like that?" Joel scoffs. "Or to any woman, for that matter?"

You stand still by the door contemplating his words. You couldn't ever deny that Joel was overprotective, but to witness him defend you publicly - and your friend, who he had expressed disdain for in the past - had left you astonished. It was exciting to witness him assert his authority over someone else for your sake, to reprimand someone for merely speaking about you disrespectfully. It was also undeniably arousing.

"Didn't see no one else pull him into line," Joel added.

You bow your head and scuff your socked foot back and forth over the floorboard. The mention of this observation stung you more than you expected, perhaps because it was true. Oscar had not defended you; he hadn't even noticed what was happening because he was too busy flirting with Gayle. You knew you shouldn't feel disappointed. You had no right to feel failed by him, not when you and Oscar weren't even together, but especially because you were still technically with Joel. You needed to suppress these useless emotions, these feelings that were pointless to cling to when they seemed so nonsensical.

Joel had done what he vowed to do. He was trying to fix the damage he had caused, trying to show that he was sorry. He had finally given you what you had wanted all along. And although deep down in the depths of your heart you believed the destruction to be irrevocable, you now felt you had little choice but to carry on. You had a family with Joel and Ellie, and he had proved he loved you and wanted to protect you.

And Oscar, your sweet, kind Oscar...he had found someone to love, someone to spend his time with, someone who was actually worthy of him.

You had to accept that this was your life. You had to try rekindle some of the lost love you had for the man infront of you.

"Yes, that's true," you admit quietly without looking up. You toy with the end of your braid that hung over your shoulder, awkward and unsure what to say next.

"Don't matter, though. Only matters that I was there, baby." Joel assures you gently, as if offering you comfort from something that had upset you.

You glimpse at Joel from under your lashes and see how his large puppy dog eyes stare at you with sincerity, serious yet soft, silently beseeching you to understand his devotion. In this instant you can't help the endearment that tugs at your heart.

"Now come here," Joel urges with a pat of his large hand against his thigh. This command and your subsequent subservience is a well practiced dance for you and Joel now, and the resulting gratification has conditioned you to want it. You want to sit in Joel's lap, you want to feel close to his broad chest and soft stomach and hear his praise.

You saunt over to the armchair obediantly and demurely slide into his lap without saying a word. His big mitt comes to rest on your lower back to support you.

"There's my good girl." Joel murmers as his opposite hand reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Despite having been in this exact position many times, your lower belly still flutters with arousal every time you are perched on his thick thigh.

"Tell me somethin'," Joel cooes in his honeyed Texan accent. "Did you like what happened back there tonight? You liked me tellin' that cocky piece of shit to fuck off?"

You did, and he knows it.

You bite back a smile and look down at your fingers fiddling in your lap. Joel is watching your reaction intently, focused on every microexpression that passes over your features. It makes you feel exposed and far too self conscious to answer his question or look at him, but in this situation you know he doesn't mind too much. Joel is savouring the flirtatious tension buzzing between you both - all part of the addictive, intoxicating game of seduction that he loves to enact with you.

Joel strokes his thumb over your chin and smirks proudly. "Yeah, my baby girl liked it, ain't that right?"

The gesture combined with the timbre of his voice makes your inner thighs clench together and a tiny whimper slip from your mouth. It is shameful, you think, how easily Joel can coax such a response from your body with just the pitch of his voice. Joel must be thinking along the same lines because he lets out a soft chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way they do when he's genuinely amused by something.

"Just needed daddy to take control and keep you safe, huh?" He croons. You nod, certain that a pink tinge is now spreading across your cheeks.

"Show me them pretty eyes."

Joel's thumb and forefinger angle your chin upwards, directing you to look at him. The beguiling spell he's weaving has already begun to hypnotise you; your eyes are large and dreamy with desire while you chew your bottom lip, one of your hands now trailing up his chest to fist the collar of his flannel in a way that seems to beg him to keep going. Joel hums knowingly and shifts his hand to cup your jaw in his calloused palm.

"Want everyone to know you're mine, huh?Don't you worry, baby, I'll tell 'em," Joel purrs seductively, his hooded eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again.

"Tell 'em you're mine and I'm yours. That I'm the only man who can take care of you and fuck you like you need. What do ya think of that?"

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you whimper softly. You are hardly aware of the way you're already squirming in his lap from being so turned on. Joel chuckles darkly and nuzzles his nose against yours.

"Reckon you'd love that," he whispers. "Everybody in town knowin' it's me who gets this pussy wet and beggin' to get fucked. "

You are so desperate for some kind of relief from your throbbing clit that your hips unconsciously grind down into his thigh.

"Bet you're fuckin' soakin' through your panties right now," Joel rasps.

His hand snakes down your neck and your breasts and roams over your belly to the waist band of your jeans. You exhale a breathy sigh and lean back into his chest, parting your legs instinctively and angling your hips the tiniest bit upward.

"Yeah, I know, sweetheart. Know how desperate that little pussy gets for me."

Joel's fingers slip under your pants and past your underwear, the pads of his fingers immediately meeting with your slick arousal. He groans into your neck and dips two fingers lower toward your opening to collect the wetness seeping out of you. Joel brings them back up to rub your clit in slow circles, the sensation of his lubricated digits making you moan softly and buck your hips. You can feel the hardness of his huge cock in his jeans underneath your ass.

"Yeah," Joel breaths. "So needy and I've barely touched ya."

Your eyes roll back and your hand reaches up to run your fingers through his hair "Yes," you whisper back. "N-need you so much."

Joel hums, a deep rumbling in his throat. He massages your clit at a steady, leisurely pace, occasionally stopping to plunge his fingers down into your pussy hole.

"I know, babydoll, I know. Need daddy to touch you and make you feel good, huh?"

Your eyes fall shut and you nod eagerly, your fingers tugging at his crown of greying curls.

"Please, please," you beg. "Make me feel good."

"I will," Joel murmers. His voice is now rough and husky with his own desire. "Get upstairs and strip, wait for me on the bed."

He retracts his hand from your pussy and pulls out of your underwear, making you whine and pout at the loss. His fingers shine obscenely with your slick.

"Do as your told," Joel growls.

He urges you to stand with a firm push of his hand against your back, then heaves himself off the armchair. You obey and scamper up the stairs to Joel's bedroom.

••••••

Not even five minutes later you are completely naked and laying your back in Joel's bed. He lays on his stomach in the middle of your open legs, still fully clothed, still the one in control despite having his head buried between your thighs.

Joel starts by licking a slow, thick stripe from your opening up to your clit. The sensation of his warm tongue caressing the most sensitive spot of your body forces a long moan to escape from your lips. You shiver momentarily and your back arches.

Joel groans hungrily and slowly laps at your clit, his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs as he holds you open for him to devour. He continues the motion of his tongue over and over until you can feel the wet mess of your slick and his saliva drip down to your asshole.

Joel had always loved eating your pussy. But tonight he seems determined to take his time pulling you apart. His mouth works expertly to lavish you with such intense pleasure that you feel you'd float away if not for the tight grip of your fists in his hair.

You keen with every fat, languid stroke of Joel's tongue and then gasp when he occasionally stops to suckle on your sensitive bundle of nerves. The alternating actions have your whole body tensing and shuddering, steadily building up to what you know will be an explosive orgasm.

Joel stops and pulls his face from your exposed pussy to speak, his moustache glistening with your juices.

"Taste so fuckin' sweet, babydoll." He pants, his voice rough with lust filled hunger. "Want you to soak my face when you cum, alright?"

You nod, dazed and drunk, unable to form any words. Joel gives your inner thigh a firm swat with his hand to get your attention. You yelp and buck your hips, instinctively tugging on his hair that you still hold in your fists.

"Yes daddy," you gasp. "Yes."

Joel hums in approval and leans back in to continue eating your pussy. He presses his two thick fingers against your entrance and he swirls his tongue back over your clit, his nose bumping against your mound.

"Joel," you moan loudly. "Fuck, don't stop, please...f-feels so good."

Your hips rock in small circles, chasing the stimulation of his tongue, desperate for the tightening coil of your climax to hit its peak. When Joel slowly pushes his fingers all the way inside of you and curls them to hit your g spot, you cry out at the overwhelming pleasure. You are wrecked, totally devoid of any coherent thought and not able to utter anything but his name. Joel, Joel, Joel.

He begins to fuck you steadily with his thick fingers while sucking gently on your clit, making you wail loudly, your walls contracting tightly. It doesn't take much longer for your ecstasy to culminate in a fervent orgasm, heightened by Joel's unrelenting ministrations. You squeal and arch your back as you cum and gush into Joel's mouth, your vision bursting with stars.

"Oh my God, Joel," you choke out through panting breaths. "Fuck!"

Joel continues thrusting and sucking all the way through your climax, only letting up once your walls have stopped spasming and your moans are reduced to soft sighs. Joel cannot completely stop there, though; he prolongs your bliss with light swipes of his tongue over your throbbing clit until your legs shake and you mewl pathetically from the overstimulation. Only then does he stop and slide his fingers outside you, leaving your cunt a quivering mess.

Joel crawls ontop of your lax body and captures your mouth in a sloppy, passionate kiss. You are still delirious from your high but you can taste yourself on his tongue, can smell yourself on his moustache, and it is utterly intoxicating.

He kisses you and it is savage and desperate and loving all at once; nothing exists in this vacuum of carnality but you and Joel, just the heat of your bodies and the thundering of your hearts, seemingly forever entwined.

A week and a half had passed since the incident in the dining hall. Day to day life remained the same, although there were some small changes in your routine.

One of the other teachers, Mrs. Thompson, was entering her third trimester of pregnancy and had been experiencing progressively worsening morning sickness and swelling in her feet. She approached you before class one day and burst into tears as she recounted the agony of heartburn and regular episodes of vomiting, the pain of bearing weight on her swollen soles. Although Mrs. Thompson had three older children, the effects on her body from this pregnancy had been the most challenging. She confided that it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to persevere through the sickness in order to continue her work duties.

You understood right away that Mrs. Thompson needed your help in covering her shifts, and so you readily offered your availability before she could even ask. Mrs. Thompson was a good woman, always hard working and dependable, someone you looked up to in the community. You wanted to help alleviate her stress and make yourself useful, so you offered to swap your Wednesday at the library for her teaching shift at the school. You could switch your library day to a different day, perhaps even take on an extra work duty.

You ignored the sad ache in your chest and accompanied Mrs. Thompson to meet with Maria about your proposed roster changes.

Time to move on, you thought.

Joel wasn't supposed to see you tonight.

He was supposed to be spending the evening at Tommy's playing poker with a bunch of the guys that made up Tommy's social circle. Some were senior patrolmen, like Troy and Joel, while others were friends he had known since the early days of his arrival in Jackson.

Cocky, charismatic and idealistic, Tommy had always found it relatively easy to make friends and was a well liked and popular member of the Jackson committee. He cherished the commraderie of the community, ever grateful of the security and love it had bestowed upon him, and he did his best to nurture this brotherhood.

It was very clear that Tommy's personality was fundamentally different to that of his older brother's. Joel hated what he deemed as meaningless socialisation and avoided most gatherings, but for Tommy's poker nights he made an exception. Despite their differences and rocky history, Joel felt an undying loyalty to his brother and secretly treasured the time they spent together. He was also encouraged by Ellie, who threatened to kick his old ass if he didn't make an effort to participate for Tommy's sake.

Joel wasn't supposed to visit you tonight but with each passing minute he was becoming more desperate to see your face. He was falling more in love with you, losing more and more of himself in his obsession with you. He wasn't able to tolerate another night of giving you space. He refused to.

With the aid of a few shots of whiskey Joel was able to persist through three rounds of poker before making the excuse that he was tired and was going to go home. The men all protested and tried to persuade him to stay, playfully insulting his age and joking about his stamina in all areas of life. Tommy slapped him on the back with a knowing grin and told him to "get the fuck outta here".

Joel made his way directly to your place, stalking through the camouflaging vegetation on the makeshift path his boots had created from repeated trampling over the past year. He couldn't wait to see your pretty face and kiss you and run his hands all over your soft body.

Joel was about to sneak in through the side door of your cottage when he heard your voice floating along the late night breeze. He paused. It seemed to be coming from your front porch.

Why were you awake and who were you talking to?

Even with his good ear facing the direction of your voice Joel couldn't quite make out what was being said, so he skulked slowly along the wall toward the front of your cottage. He stopped at the very edge of the weatherboard exterior and peeked furtively around the corner.

Joel's entire body went rigid at the sight of Oscar standing at the end of your porch.

What the fuck is going on?

••••••

"I'm so sorry, I know it's late. But I just had to see you."

"No, it's okay, really. I wasn't asleep or anything." You sound slightly breathless.

The way you're self consciously tugging on the bottom of your sleep shorts and pursing your lips makes Oscar want to swoop in and kiss you. But he just nods and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Oh, good. Good." He mumbles.

There is a moment of silence while the two of you look each other up and down, soaking up the unfamiliar sight of the other in casual sleeping clothes. You crack a tiny smile at the fitted black sweat pants and loose grey sweater he wears, faded red block letters that spell HARVARD adorning the front. In turn Oscar's eyes scan over the length of your bare legs, the fuzzy mismatched socks on your feet, and the oversized pink sweater covering the top half of your body.

"Why are you here, Oscar?" You ask quietly. "Why do you need to see me?"

Oscar bows his head and swallows thickly, steeling himself for this very scene he had been dreaming of for weeks.

"I'm here because I just can't stop. I can't stop thinking about you. Because I hate myself for not telling you how I felt about you sooner."

Okay, this is it, he thinks. Oscar lifts his head to look directly into your eyes and the words seem to spill from his mouth before he can properly articulate himself.

Your eyes widen in shock and blink rapidly. "W..what? How you felt?"

"Yes, how I feel," he quickly corrects. "But please let me finish. I need to say this because it is eating me up inside." Oscar beseeches, his emotive brown eyes pleading with you. You nod your understanding and chew your bottom lip nervously as you wait for him to finish.

"I love you." Oscar confesses softly. "I've loved you since the first day I met you."

You gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. He sees the glimmer of tears welling just above your waterline and resists the urge to kiss your eyelids. It feels like an eternity that you are standing face to face on the porch of your cottage, gazing at each other in weighted stillness as if time has stopped.

The moonlight is the only source of illumination around you and its beams offer just enough light for Oscar to see your features. He didn't think it could be possible but you look even more beautiful under the soft glow of the moon.

There's a sudden crackling sound nearby that shatters the moment and causes you both to jerk your heads toward the street. A squirrel darts out from a shadow and scampers up a tree across the way. You let out a breathless, nervous laugh and Oscar turns back to you.

"I know you're with Joel Miller now and I shouldn't be here. But I just needed to tell you." Oscar says solemnly. "I came to the library today to tell you but you weren't there."

You sigh and wrap your arms around your waist, seemingly shrinking into yourself. "I changed my roster. I thought you wouldn't come, anyway." You mumble, looking out onto the street to avoid Oscar's gaze.

"Really? Why wouldn't I?" He questions, frowning with confusion. "I always meet you on Wednesdays."

You huff like you're close to exasperation.

"You stood me up the last time," you retort sharply. "And you're busy with Gayle now. I didn't expect you to."

His face contorts with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. Stood you up? Gayle?

"I didn't stand you up!" Oscar blurts out. "I left you a note saying sorry, that I had to fill in a patrol shift for Joel. Didn't you see?"

It's your turn to look puzzled now and when you speak your tone is significantly softer and borders on apprehensive.

"What note? And...you filled Joel's shift?"

"Yes, I slipped a note under the library door that morning apologising. Tommy was desperate to get someone to cover Joel." Oscar explains with calm sincerity. You're staring at him now and he cannot quite decipher why you appear so timid all of a sudden.

"And I'm not with Gayle. Why would you think that?" Oscar reaches out to cup your elbow, no longer able to resist touching you, needing you to see him and hear him. "I hardly know her."

You allow him to hold your arm while you sigh once more. He notices your body shivering and how your bare legs are now prickled all over with goosebumps.

Shit, you must be freezing, but you have yet to invite him inside your home to escape the cold. Maybe you're not pleased that he's knocked on your door. Maybe it's time to go.

"I promise you, I am not with Gayle. And I'm sorry, both for not telling you about my feelings earlier...and for coming tonight," Oscar mutters awkwardly, pulling away from you. "Uhm, so...have a good night."

He turns to go but before he can walk away from your porch he feels a tug at the back of his sweater, then your sweet voice uttering a plea.

"Oscar, please wait, don't go."

When he whips back around and sees your bottom lip nervously pulled between your teeth and your eyebrows dolefully knitted together he wants nothing more than to enfold you into his arms and kiss you. Oscar is positive that if he were given that opportunity, to have that moment with you as his last on this earth, he would die a happy man.

"I'm sorry, Oscar," you croak. "I don't know what to tell you. You don't know how much you've meant to me these past few months, how happy you've made me. You became the best thing in my life."

"Are you...is what you're saying true?" He murmers in stunned disbelief. "Me?"

When you sniffle and nod your head, Oscar's heart is flooded with an overwhelming surge of adoration and relief. He's made you happy. That's all he ever wanted - your happiness.

"Your friendship has saved me in many ways, you know," you whisper. There's a hard lump stuck in your throat causing your voice to come out thick and cracked. "And for that I will always love you."

Oscar takes hold of your hand and you interlace your fingers with his as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You give his hand a small squeeze.

"But I am with Joel," you affirm. "And although things...well, they haven't always been so good. They really haven't been good."

You are crying now.

"But we've been together for over a year now. And Ellie's even given us her blessing. We are a family now. I...I just can't leave that, even if I wanted to."

Oscar feels at a loss as you unleash your emotions onto him. He is torn between wanting to comfort you and wanting to tell you to forget it, forget everything he confessed to you, to forget him completely.

"Pease understand that I just can't, Oscar." You sob.

And despite his own heart beginning to crumble and perish, he unlocks his hand from yours and pulls you into his tight embrace. You fall into Oscar and bury your face into his neck and wrap your arms around him. One of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other supports your lower back, keeping you pinned firmly against his front.

"I want you in my life," he whispers. "As my friend, as my lover...whatever you give me, I want it."

Oscar isn't sure how much time passes before he eventually extracts you from his hold. He knows he needs to leave. He bestows a final kiss on your temple and bids you goodnight, forcing himself to ignore your little whimper of sadness. Oscar leaves you alone in the darkness and retreats from your cottage without glimpsing back at you.

••••••

The unbearable pain of betrayl and jealousy crush Joel's heart like a vice. He shuts his eyes and squeezes his shaking hands into fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches so hard that his head begins to pound.

For the first time ever, Joel is almost paralysed by an onslaught of emotion; he isn't angry or provoked into impulsive violence, but instead is genuinely hurt by what he has heard. He had given you so much, had tried so hard to change for you, and this is how you act? You're practically cheating on him right now, baring your soul to another man while bad mouthing him.

How could you?

Joel slumps against the side of the cottage and tilts his head back, trying his best to maintain control over his increasingly panicked breaths.

Fuck, not now, not now.

He loves you. You're his. When did you become so unhappy with him? Didn't you love him, too?

Joel shakes his head, willing his buzzing mind to silence itself, to allow him to breathe and rein in the hysteria that threatens to take over. He exhales a heavy, shuddering breath and feels some of the pent up pressure inside his chest disperse along with it.

He stays slumped against the wall while he rides through the wave of panic. It takes almost five minutes for the distress to abate enough for Joel to decide to abandon his plan to surprise you tonight. He goes back to his own house and gets drunk instead.

Joel meets you at your cottage for dinner the following night. You have made a lamb and vegetable stew specially for him as you've noticed it is one of the very few dishes that Joel consumes with zeal every single time. You still crave his praise - that groan of pleasure that rumbles in his throat as he takes his first bite always makes your tummy flutter and your heart beam with pride.

You aren't hungry but you join him at the dining table anyway, perched on the chair opposite him with a novel in your hand. You know Joel likes it when you are close by, keeping him company throughout even the smallest of tasks.

Joel is quiet during the meal, even more so than he usually is, but you don't pay much attention to his brooding. He is prone to sullen moods and you have become accostumed to the occasional bouts of grumpiness, now unfazed by Joel Miller's characteristic sullen sulking.

Maybe he had a bad day at work, or maybe he's just tired. Whatever the reason, you show no curiosity or concern, only paying attention to the book you're reading.

It's a paper back romance novel, a genre you had never really delved into before, but decided to take a chance on. The spine is worn and the cover is dog eared, but the picture depicted on the front of the book was enough to capture your interest. The artwork shows a woman dressed in a corseted gown collapsing into the arms of a handsome man above her. The swell of her round breasts peek out from the top of her neckline and her head is tilted back sensually as she gazes up at him.

When you had first spotted the book and studied the cover you felt a flutter inside the walls of your pussy. It was erotic, the way the characters were positioned, the passion and lust conveyed through their expressions. You thought there was a romantic quality to the scene, too, something in the way the man's hands cradled his lover, and that was what prompted you to give it a go.

You're so lost in the story that jumps to life from the pages of text that you don't even register what Joel says at first.

"Hmm?" You look up at him from the spot you were reading.

"Said I don't want you eatin' in the hall anymore." Joel says offhandedly as he scrapes his spoon against the ceramic of the bowl, not even looking at you, the words falling so casually from his lips.

Your brows crease at the sudden random remark and you look at him, confused. You lay your book open in your lap and clear your throat to speak.

"Uh, what do you mean? Why not?"

Joel doesn't respond to you right away, instead chewing the food in his mouth in an unhurried manner, then taking a long sip from the glass of water next to him. He still does not meet your eyes and it feels as though he is purposely ignoring you. You wonder if he is secretly enjoying the drawn out suspense from his lack of explanation, and irritation prickles your skin at his apathy.

"Joel?" You implore as you lean forward to catch his attention. "What do you mean?"

"Too many men there, don't want them lookin' at you." He states gruffly.

He scoops up the last bit of stew and eats it before dumping the spoon in his bowl and finally looking up at you. His expression is unreadable, almost blank.

You stare at him still frowning. As far as you are aware, no men look at you in the mess hall during dinner or any other meal times, and if they did then it did not perturb you as long as none of them spoke to you.

"No one looks at me, Joel," you say firmly.

"That's a lie and you know it," Joel spits out straight away.

The bitterness in his tone startles you. It makes you feel caught out and exposed.

Is he talking about someone in particular or is he just acting paranoid and possessive?

Regardless of what Joel is alluding to you still keep your eyes focused on him, not wanting to let him intimidate you. It seems impossible though, with the stoic way his eyes bore into you, and it takes all your will to not bow your head.

You do not want Joel to dictate what you can and can't do without a logical reason, and not wanting you to eat in the mess hall because there are other men around seems ridiculous to you. Well, it is ridiculous. Why had this not been an issue before?

Joel sits back in his chair and crosses his arms without breaking eye contact with you. He licks his tongue across his top teeth and clicks his tongue.

The atmosphere in the dining room is suddenly loaded with tension. You realise that whatever has been simmering inside Joel tonight is about to spill out from him. His jaw ticks.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say adamantly.

Joel scoffs and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, you don't? You didn't see how your little friend Estrada was starin' at you the whole damn time we were there?"

Shit.

That day at lunch time the dining hall had been teeming with people; among them were you and your friends at one table, Joel and Tommy at another, and Oscar and a few patrolmen sitting at another. You caught glimpses of both Joel and Oscar staring at you from time to time and you couldn't relax at all. At the time you had hoped the men hadn't noticed the other gazing at you, but now you knew Joel had.

You understand immediately that you will need to tread carefully with this conversation.

You look away from Joel and shake your head.

"No, I didn't," you lie.

You grab your book and push your chair back to stand, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floorboards. You turn away to walk out of the room and hear Joel's chair drag as he jumps up to follow you.

"Where you goin'?" He barks.

"To bed," you bite back at him.

You hurry to the bedroom and push the door open. Joel is so close behind you that you can hear the heavy breaths of frustration huffing from his nose. He grabs hold of your upper arm and whirls you back around to look at him, your face close to his.

"Did you tell him you already got a man?" Joel asks accusingly, his firey brown eyes darting back and forth between yours. "When you were spendin' so much time with him behind my back?"

"Behind your back?"

"You know exactly what I'm talkin' about," Joel bristles. "His visits to your work, sneaking around to see you on his fuckin' lunch break."

Your breath siezes in your lungs and you stare back at Joel, incapable of masking the panic that briefly glosses over your eyes.

He knows.

Joel clocks the alarm in your expression, what he interprets as a silent admission, and snarls. "Tell me, did you tell him you're mine?"

You're suddenly struck by the absurdity of what Joel is asking you. How could anyone have known you belonged to Joel when he was the one who refused to be in an honest relationship with you? He had dictated the terms of your relationship this whole time, and yet here he was now, criticising you for keeping it a secret?

You shrug your arm out of his grip and raise your hands in an exasperated gesture. Your resolve to remain calm and navigate the conversation had completely disappeared.

"Well, what did you want me to do?" You snap. "Tell him I am taken but my boyfriend won't walk down the street holding my hand? You didn't want to publicly be with me so why would Oscar know you're my man? Seriously Joel, that is so unfair!"

Joel lifts his eyebrows, surprised at your little outburst. Just when did you become disrespectful like this? How did you get the balls to speak to him like this? Where had his good girl gone? Maybe he had been giving you too much freedom lately, was too lenient in allowing you to call the shots.

Maybe it was time to rein you in a bit.

Joel's eyes darken and narrow at you. You instantly recognise that look - the look of stern intimidation that challenged you to quickly rethink your behaviour lest you wanted some kind of cruel reprimand. The palpable change in his demeanour is disturbing but you cross your arms over your chest and boldly hold his gaze, lips pouted defiantly.

Joel runs his hand over his face and chuckles mirthlessly. "Christ, baby. When did you become such a goddamn brat?"

"All I did was ask what I was supposed to do." You argue stubbornly. "You know what? Whatever, Joel. I don't want to have this conversation."

"You really think you can talk to me like that, little girl?" Joel asks cooly, voice low and bordering on ominous. His jaw ticks in irritation.

"Like what?" You heedlessly snip back.

"Like you're forgettin' who you're fuckin' speakin' to right now."

The foreboding tone of Joel's voice combined with his icy, piercing glare causes a stirring of the familiar knot of anxious dread in your lower belly. It's all so reminiscent of the past episodes of violence he's inflicted upon you.

Was this the calm before the storm? There was no way you could do this again, no way you could endure whatever nastiness he was going to impose on you.

Your confidence deflates rapidly and you realise you need to change tact to diffuse the situation. You sag your shoulders and drop your chin in an effort to appear more submissive.

"I'm just confused about how...what you expected of me, Joel." You reply timidly. "I'm just asking--"

"No, see...you ain't," Joel shook his head. "You're bein' downright disrespectful right now. I suggest you watch your tongue."

Your strategy hasn't worked. You were too bold, too rebellious, and now you will pay the price. You gulp and instinctively step backwards to maintain some distance between you and Joel.

"I'm not," you protest weakly, hating the pleading inflection that comes across in your voice. "But you're getting upset with me for something that isn't my fault."

"And leadin' him on wasn't?" Joel growls, his fists clenching by his sides. Your mouth falls open in shock.

Leading Oscar on? By being friends and spending time together? The shock fizzles away and is replaced by anger; anger at Joel for his unfair judgement, anger at yourself for not having told Oscar how you truly felt earlier, anger at the whole fucked up situation.

"Lead him on? How? By being friends?" You retort. "Talking about...about books and-and music and whatever else friends talk about?"

It was so much more than that, you know. You're purposely diminishing the beauty of what you and Oscar shared, downplaying just how important the friendship was to you. If Joel found out just what Oscar meant to you then you would truly dread what may happen.

"Why the fuck do you need him for?" Joel booms. "I'm not good enough for you to talk about that shit with?"

You almost scoff at how ridiculous he sounds. It is like he is mocking you. Joel had never initiated any kind of discussion with you about anything meaningful - no profound conversations about music or books, no questions about your work or your passions, no display of genuine interest for anything that mattered to you.

However, Oscar was the complete opposite. He asked question after question about you and listened intently to everything you had to say. How could Joel be so ignorant to your needs and feelings?

Had he truly never acknowledged you as an individual, as a woman with a personality and dreams and desires?

"You don't like to talk about those things with me! Infact you don't like to talk about anything with me!" You argue back, rage and frustration once again swallowing your sense of self preservation and robbing you of your better judgement. "All you want to do is fuck me, Joel!"

Joel's reaction comes faster than you could anticipate. He reaches out and snatches your bicep tightly into his grasp, making you squeal in pain and surprise. He roughly drags you toward him and brings your face close to his, his lip curled into a snarl and his chest expanding wide.

His eyes appear black, pupils blown wide with wrath. It elicits a deep seated fear from within your gut, that ever present primitive fight or flight mechanism, adrenals in overdrive from the previous times Joel has unleashed his vehemence upon you. All of your courage drains from your body and you tremble, tears quickly filling your eyes.

"You better fuckin' quit this before I make you regret what the fuck you just said," Joel hisses.

"Let go of me," you whimper, "let me go right now."

"Not til you listen to what I have to say to you, you cheating little bitch," he growls.

You flinch at his vemon laced words but his iron grasp on you keeps you from recoiling away. You hang your head and begin to sob pitifully.

"From now on, you will not talk to another man. You will not look at another man. You are going to live at my house and you will come straight home from your work duties. You hear me?"

Joel gives your arm a tight shake. When you don't say anything in response he squeezes your flesh between his fingers, causing you to cry out.

"Answer me!" He barks.

"Y-yes sir," you sob in defeat, your tears falling directly to the floor as your head remains bowed.

Joel releases his hold on your arm and leans down to whisper into your ear, voice low and menacing.

"And if I see you with that son of a bitch ever again, I'll kill him."

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @mandoloriancookie @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @missannfairy @bean-security

#joel miller x reader #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller #dddne

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

You woke up sweating and tangled in your bed sheets after another fitful sleep full of bad dreams that seemed so realistic. You had always suffered from the occasional nightmare, as every survivor did, but lately you had been plagued by them more often.

They were vivid dreams that always revolved around the deaths of your loved ones. Hordes of the infected, grostesque beings with faces mutilated by cordyceps, would chase you relentlessly through thick forests or abandoned towns. Sometimes Ellie was with you, sometimes your parents. The dreams always ended similarly, with one of you being caught and barbarically devoured.

Each dream was traumatic and so lifelike. But you found the worst ones to be the dreams involving Ellie. They seemed to be happening more and more lately. In the dreams you would both be running from the infected, your laboured breathing and the crunch of earth under your shoes loud in your ears. You were running so fast that it seemed like you were escaping from the mob after you and freedom was just on the horizon, so close and so tangible.

Then disaster would strike. Ellie would trip over and land heavily onto her chest, the fall knocking the wind out of her small body. You would scream at her to get up and try desperately to haul her back up on her feet. But she was so heavy, like a lead weight, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't lift her. She lay motionless with her big eyes staring up at you full of tears. You would be screaming and crying hysterically as the infected approached, their shrieks and screeches deafening in your ears.

You would look up to see the horrible creatures rushing toward you then you'd look back to Ellie. Except it wasn't Ellie staring back at you now. Her face had changed. Staring back at you now was you as a child, 12 years old and frightened out of your wits. Time stood still as you and your child self gazed at each other in anguished horror. You were paralysed. The screams would get louder as the horde closed in on you. You squeezed your eyes shut when they reached you and lunged at you. Then you were enveloped in black.

And that's when your conscience returns to the reality of living and you wake up in the safety of Joel's arms or alone in your bed, disorientated and close to hyperventilating. Having Joel's warm body enclosed around yours as he whispered soothingly during these moments of profound distress was a blessing. It was something that you missed on the nights he didn't stay with you and you startled awake. Truthfully, it was just about the only time you missed Joel these days.

It had been a week since you negotiated your return to your cottage. You reveled in the comfort of your home and the security of all its quirks and nooks; the squeak of the kitchen cupboard where the mugs were kept, the small watercolour painting that hung in your hallway, the missing tile in your shower alcove, the smell of your herbal teas on your kitchen windowsill.

Joel still visited most nights and slept in your bed, entangling you in his strong arms and long legs. He invaded all your senses at once; his sandalwood and pine scent filling your nostrils, his thick fingers sliding into your pussy, his plush lips pressing against your neck, his intense dark brown eyes gazing at your face full of desire. You still surrendered yourself to Joel but there was a niggling part deep inside your heart that wouldn't settle, that caused your body to instinctively flinch when he touched you or when he spoke.

Joel had been trying very hard to prove himself to you. He had been loving and gentle, affectionate and attentive. The sex was still amazing. He hadn't gotten angry or annoyed with you. Infact, Joel had changed so dramatically that you couldn't help a modicum of hateful resentment spiking deep inside you. Why had it taken him so long to change? After all the damage he had inflicted, why did he now try to be better? 

Joel had even uttered those three simple words that you had waited so long to hear. When you heard him say "I love you" for the first time you were left speechless. His voice echoed through your head for days to come. But that shock then morphed into indignation the longer you thought about what Joel had done. And then that softly spoken declaration of love dissipated completely, outweighed and replaced by the other things he had said.

Disrespectful little bitch.

Whore.

Slut.

The passion in his insults still stung. The phantom grip of his hands all over your body still haunted you. You were suffocated by his presence and had to retreat to your own safe space, not just physically but emotionally. And emotionally that safe space was Oscar.

Your weekly lunch date quickly became the highlight of your week. He never failed to show up, always with a meal and some fruit tucked in his satchel. That one hour of spent with Oscar was a blissful reprieve from the depressive spiral you had gradually been descending into. Just the sight of his smile was enough to pierce through the darkness smothering your existence, like a speck of guiding gold light offering hope.

Joel had snuffed the flame of your spirit, leaving you abandoned in darkness. But Oscar was the one whose hand had found yours, knitting his fingers through your own and offering you refuge in his light. It was he who gave you hope, a reason to strive against the oppression of Joel's dark side and the survivor's guilt and depression, a reason to want to be happy.

You still loved Joel. You are sure a part of you will always love him. But he cannot fix what he has broken inside you, no matter how dedicated he is in trying to repair the ruins between you. The more time passes, the clearer it becomes that you can no longer love him as you once did.

Oscar stands infront of the small mirror in his bathroom and runs a comb through his thick black hair. He hasn't shaved for the last three days and the stubble growing on his face is already prickly. He wonders if he should let it grow, if he looks better with a beard. He recalls the way you looked at him at the Tipsy Bison that night, the first time seeing him without the extra hair. Your eyes were twinkling with a mixture of something like intrigue and surprise, and what he believes - hopes - was a spark of attraction.

No, he decides. He will shave tomorrow.

Oscar splashes cold water on his face and brushes the sleep from his eyes. He doesn't take long to get ready for work, preferring to instead save enough time to eat a plate of scrambled eggs and have a cup of tea at a leisurely pace. He had spent far too many years on the brink of starvation to neglect his body's need for regular meals, and therefore he treats food with reverence. Once he's finished his breakfast Oscar washes his dishes and leaves the house for the stables.

On the walk there Oscar absorbs the sights and sounds around him. The snow on the trees lining the street look like powdered sugar, reminding Oscar of the donuts displayed in the window of the Jackson bakery. The sweet melody of chirping birds carries along the chilly breeze sweeping through the town, and the sounds feel like a warm morning greeting to Oscar. He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and continues on his way, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead of him.

Joel is already at the stables when Oscar arrives. They greet each other and saddle their horses together, then go to the patrol post at the community gates to sign the log book and collect their rifles. Joel mounts his usual steed, a brown stallion named Tex, while Oscar hoists himself up onto his favourite mare, Misty. They trot through the massive gates of Jackson and set off on the well established route they have been assigned to.

Joel knows this route like the back of his hand. He doesn't need a map to navigate where they are going; he already knows what directions to take, every landmark that acts as a measurement of distance and time. The men settle into a companionable silence while they ride, and it isn't until an hour has passed that one of them says more than a handful of words.

"Tommy said Troy needed a week off," Oscar speaks up. "Is it his knee again?"

"It plays up in the cold," Joel grunts. "Gives him hell."

Like Joel, Troy had survived through many battles and escapades with both men and mutants, and he had the scars to prove it. Troy was younger and stronger than Joel, his body solidly built with more muscle and fat, but he was often plagued with aches and arthritis from old injuries. Joel empathised with Troy; his own back gave him much grief, the pain stemming all the way back to his contracting days.

"Check point is just up ahead," Joel announces. "We'll stop and survey the area, but I gotta piss first."

"Alright."

Less than half a mile away was a clearing that served as the first stopping point in the route. Joel and Oscar steer the horses to the glade and dismount them.  Oscar stands and stretches his arms up over his head, sighing contentedly, then looks out over the small valley below them. The land is blanketed with snow and dotted with patches of green shrubs and trees. The vast Wyoming land is encompassed by the formidable grey mountains that sit in the distance. Oscar soaks up the sight before him, speechless by the panorama for a few moments.

"This view is surreal," Oscar remarks reverently. "Beautiful, like a dream."

Joel cracks his neck and pulls off the sling of his rifle from over his shoulder. "Speakin' of dreams, you been havin' any more bad ones lately?"

"Not many, actually. Work's been so busy that I just about pass out when I get home. And...well...I guess I've just been a bit happier lately," Oscar replies with a light-hearted smile.

Joel huffs a laugh and takes hold of his rifle. "Yeah? Finally got yourself a woman, huh?" He bends down to set the gun to stand against a large rock.

"I don't wanna say too much but...yeah, there's kinda someone," Oscar says, bashful as he rubs the back of his neck.

Joel tethers Tex's reins to a branch of one of the nearby trees before pacing a few feet away to urinate. When he finishes and ambles back to Oscar and the horses Joel resumes the conversation.

"What's she like?" Joel asks as he reaches down and picks his rifle up once again. Oscar strokes Misty's muzzle, his back facing Joel.

"Well, she's a real sweetheart. Smart, loves to read. Really cares about others, you know what I mean? Like kids and old people."

Joel's breath catches in his throat and his hand immediately tightens around the handguard of his rifle. Is Oscar talking about you?

Have you been cheating on him?

No, you can't be. You love him, not Oscar.

You'd never do that. Oscar must be talking about some other woman.

Joel knows he needs to appear indifferent if he wants to find out more information; getting angry when he doesn't have any details would do more damage than good. Joel slings his rifle over his shoulder, then reaches into his pocket and fishes out his flask. He carries out these actions slowly as he thinks of how to respond.

How the hell is he supposed to ask Estrada if he's fucking his woman? And goddamnit, it's not like he would have known you belong to Joel.

Unless you told him. Did you?

In this moment Joel wants nothing more than to show Estrada and every single person in Jackson that you are his - perhaps in some grand sweeping display of dominance. But for now he has to focus on what he can do, which is interrogating the younger man without scaring him.

Joel takes a deep breath to help compose himself enough to carry on the conversation.  "Yeah? How long has somethin' been goin' on between you two?"

Oscar flips open his satchel and rummages around inside it for some of the jerky he always has stashed in one of the pockets. "We have been friends for a while now, but it isn't been anything more than just hanging out, you know?"

Hanging out.

Have you been seeing him since he left working at the library?

Where? Why?

Joel watches Oscar's every movement, every expression, searching for the sincerity in his words, any telltale sign of dishonesty. But Joel already knows that Oscar isn't the kind of man who lies or showboats.

"You ain't told her you got feelings?" Joel asks impassively.

"Not outrightly so. Not yet." Oscar responds with a sigh that clearly conveys his chagrin. "Guess I've been too chicken shit to do it."

Joel pops open the lid of the flask and takes a swig of scotch. The burn of it helps calms his nerves. "She feels the same, you reckon?"

Oscar locates the small bundle of jerky and pulls it from the satchel. "Well, I think so. She said I'm the only guy she is comfortable with. And she gives me these looks, like she wants more."

Joel pictures you standing infront of Oscar and flirting with him, shyly batting the lashes of your pretty eyes.  Those same eyes that used to gaze at him with so much passion when he fucked you senseless. Joel's belly clenches with white hot envy at the thought of Oscar being the subject of your adoration instead of himself.

He shuts the flask and shoves it back into his jacket pocket.

"But she's not the kind to make the first move." Oscar explains earnestly. "She's quiet, shy. Would rather get lost in a book than be the life of the party."

It is you.

Estrada is talking about you. That he has feelings for you and you probably reciprocate them, and that he's the only man you feel comfortable with.

Joel whips around to avoid Oscar's gaze. Flames of jealous fury lick up the nape of his neck and burn into the back of his eyes. His nostrils flare as his breathing speeds up, his heart pounding in his ears.

Are you fucking Estrada?

Are you going to leave him and end up with this weak piece of shit and let him be the one to fuck you and own you?

Both of Joel's fists are balled so tightly into themselves that the skin of his knuckles have turned white. It takes all of Joel's might and willpower to suppress the poisonous wrath coursing through his body. The primal, more reactionary part of Joel's brain says to shoot Oscar in the face instantly, and if Joel were in his younger raider years he would have splattered the man's brains out onto the dazzling white snow without a second thought.

He could easily dispose of Oscar's body somewhere in the vast expanse of forest land surrounding them, no trace of him left behind to ever to be found. Joel imagines being surrounded by a large group of townsfolk on his return and delivering the tragic news that his patrol partner died while out on a routine patrol route. Maybe Joel would say Oscar was viciously mauled by a clicker out of no where, or maybe raiders ambushed them and fatally shot him. No one would question the validity of Joel's version of Oscar's demise; why would he lie? And after all, Joel was one of the very best patrolmen in Jackson and he surely would've done everything he could to save Oscar.

But by some miracle Joel is narrowly able to restrain the impulse to murder Oscar. He reminds himself over and over that he must control his fury. Control, control, control. He consciously regulates his breathing, inhaling through his nose and then exhaling through his mouth. The anger seems to slowly dissolve and leech into Joel's blood stream, icy and venomous as it flows through his veins, no longer imminent in its threat but nonetheless still alive.

Joel immediately realises he has to do something about this friendship between you and Oscar. There is no way in hell that he will allow this to go on, and behind his back, no less. Before all this bullshit happened on Jackson's birthday, Joel would've stalked straight into that library to teach you a lesson; he would have marked you all over with his mouth and teeth and then he would have fucked all your holes.

But things are different now, and Joel has to find other ways to deal with the situation that's been presented to him. He needs to come up with a plan that will tear you and Oscar apart without implicating himself in the destruction.

When Joel remains quiet and does not show any response, Oscar shakes his head and let's out a sheepish groan. "Shit, sorry for boring you with this stuff, man. I don't tend to talk about this kinda thing with anyone, I guess it's all come rushing out."

"Hope it all works out for ya, man," Joel says gruffly with his back still facing Oscar. "Now let's get back on route."

"Thanks, man." Oscar calls out.

Joel's jaw ticks. He has found benefit in Tommy's advice of controlling his temper; the discipline allows Joel the ability to strategically plan, to contemplate different courses of action in order to gain an advantage in a situation. And if executed effectively, Joel knows the repercussions of those plans could destroy you and Oscar.

The next morning Joel arrived at the patrol post for his shift earlier than usual. He flipped through the pages of the large hardcover log book where each ranger recorded their name, the day, and the starting time and ending time of their shift.

The first lined column of the page detailed the week of the day and in the next was where the times were written. The following columns showed the rangers names and their signatures, as well as a space for comments and notes about that particular shift.

Joel scanned along the name column in search of Oscar's name. He discovered that on average Oscar was working patrol three days a week, always on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. He also worked at the stables on Monday, Wednesday and Sunday, sometimes on the Saturday as well. Joel's tongue licked along the inside of his cheek as he contemplated what this meant.

If you and Oscar were spending time together, it would have to be during the day - night time would be impossible for you because you were with Joel or Ellie so often. Oscar wouldn't be able to see you during the day when he was on patrol, so that cancelled out Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. And you wouldn't be able to meet Oscar on the days you were at school without children and teachers gossiping. No, you needed more privacy than what the school environment was able to offer.

That left your library shifts. It made sense. It was the perfect place for more clandestine meetings and it was where you two had met. Joel's jaw clenched at the thought of you and Oscar alone together.

Joel deduced that the only day you worked there in which Oscar could possibly visit you was Wednesdays. 

Wednesday. Five days time.

Just enough time for Joel to make sure you stayed his.

That Saturday night Ellie came to Joel's for family dinner and movie night. Despite the limited range of movies available in Jackson, Ellie located a tape that neither of you had seen before. It was always exciting to watch a VHS movie on Joel's large analog television. It was an activity Joel and Ellie used to enjoy together, however it had become a rare occurrence in the last year or so that Ellie had become more independent and sociable. So although Joel grumbled about staying up late to watch a ridiculous movie, you knew he secretly loved the opportunity to spend time with Ellie in the comfort of the living room, snuggled by blankets and pillows and a big bowl of popcorn.

At dinner time the three of you sat at the dining table to eat the soup and freshly baked bread you had made that evening. As usual, Ellie was the centre of attention and was entertaining the two of you with stories of her work escapades and what her and her friends had gotten up to that week.

"Hey, you know that Oscar guy?" Ellie asks eagerly. "Works at the stables and does patrol?"

Your heart skips a beat to hear Oscar's name spoken and your head automatically turns to look at Ellie across the dining table. She grins and raises her eyebrows like she is dying to share some kind of secret with you both.

"Partnered on patrol with him this week," Joel replies casually before taking a fork full of potato into his mouth.

The throwaway comment surprises you and you momentarily freeze, your spoon stilling in the middle of scooping a spoonful of soup. The thought of Oscar and Joel working alongside one another makes you uneasy, like their proximity is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. You haven't cheated on Joel but he doesn't know how close you and Oscar are or how profound your friendship is, and if Oscar were to somehow mention you then you're sure Joel would not be pleased.

"Well, Uncle Tommy said he'd show me how to throw an axe, just like the competition we saw!" Ellie exlaims enthusiatically, looking from you to Joel. "So he took me today and Oscar and that Matt guy tagged along and we had our own competition to see who was the best."

You secretly glance at Joel to gauge his reaction but he appears apathetic as he eats, shoulders hulking as he leans over his bowl, eyes trained on the soup before him.

"Uncle Tommy was bragging that he would kick their asses but then Oscar beat him like, three times in a row!" Ellie snickered, shaking her head at the fond memory. "It was fucking hilarious."

You picture Oscar gripping the heavy wooden handle of an axe, its blade sharp and glinting dangerously in the sunlight. You imagine the determined expression on his face as he eyes the target ahead, how his stance shifts into the best position for him to pull back and launch the weapon. You imagine his shirt sleeves rolled up to his biceps, revealing the olive skin of his forearms.

Oh, how you wished you could have been there.

Joel remains quiet and does not acknowledge Ellie's anecdote, so you muster a little smile and nod at her to show you've been listening. "That sounds like fun," you supply.

"Yeah it was. You guys should come watch next time." Ellie slurps some soup before turning her attention to Joel. "So do you and Oscar like, chill when you're not on patrol?"

"Nah," Joel grunts, not meeting Ellie's eyes. "I'm too busy workin'." He pauses for a few beats before adding, "and he's busy with some mystery woman alotta the time, forgot what he said her name was."

Your spoon drops from your hand and clatters down into your bowl with a sudden clang. No one notices and Ellie continues talking, but Joel's words ring in your ears.

Oscar has a woman...and they spend alot of time together.

Why had he never told you? Is that why he was so busy for all those weeks, is that why he didn't visit you in the library when he stopped working with you?

Tears prick at your eyes and threaten to spill over your lash line. You hurriedly blink them away and discreetly wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

You stupid, stupid girl.

You have no right to feel like that, your mind hisses. How can you feel betrayed when you've done exactly the same thing, seeing Joel without telling Oscar anything? Oscar has every right to be happy with someone else and it's none of your business.

And you know this well. You want Oscar to be happy in any way he can be. He deserves it. And if that happiness is found with another woman, one you know nothing about, then so be it. You should wish him good luck and be glad that he's got someone to share his life with.

But why did it have to work out like this? Why hadn't I met Oscar before Joel?

You nibble on the inside of your lip and try to quell the deluge of emotions and thoughts flooding your mind. You raise your head to look at Joel and find he's already staring at you. He looks handsome in the soft light of the dining room with his fluffy greying curls and his rich chocolate brown eyes sparkling at you. You offer him a tiny smile, disguising the hurt swirling around your heart. Joel's lips curl into a little smirk in return and he winks at you, then turns his attention back to Ellie's rambling.

You glance over to Ellie and watch her speak animatedly to Joel, marvelling at how her eyes glint with mischievous charm, how the corners of her mouth curve into her endearing smile, similar to her adoptive father. Oh, how your heart aches for Ellie. You need to focus on the family you've created with Joel and Ellie, this precious piece of life that you have been given. It's what you've always wanted, after all. And now you have it, you cannot throw it away.

The following Tuesday morning Joel paid a visit to Tommy at his home. Maria had already left the house for the day to get an early start on the tasks assigned to her by the committee, which suited Joel fine. He never felt completely comfortable being around Maria. He always felt like she was judging his every word and action. Joel sensed it in the way she watched him like a hawk whenever he played with her and Tommy's two children, or how she seemed to incessantly quiz he and Ellie during every family dinner they attended.

Nosey bitch, Joel thought.

But this morning Joel was thankful to be able to relax without Maria lurking by. The brothers chatted in the kitchen as Tommy stood at the stove frying a pan full of eggs and strips of bacon. Joel leaned against the kitchen counter next to him and sipped on the slightly bitter black coffee Tommy had made.

"I tell ya, won't be long til Ellie gets the hang of that axe," Tommy chuckled. "Better watch out, big brother."

"Anyone gets hurt and you're responsible," Joel grumbled good naturedly. He slurped a mouthful of coffee and scratched the scruff along the side of his jaw.

"Deal," Tommy smirked and poked the sizzling bacon with the spatula in his hand. "So, how's everythin' goin' with your lady? She forgiven you yet?"

Joel rolled his eyes and shifted his weight on his feet, obviously uncomfortable with Tommy's candour. "Better. But I gotta favour to ask you."

Tommy glanced at Joel and raised his eyebrows. "What can I do for ya?"

"Need to swap my Wednesday shift," Joel said before taking another sip, purposely avoiding Tommy's gaze.

Tommy sighed and flipped one of the eggs in the pan. "Already had Troy off last week. It's been hard gettin' shifts filled lately, you know how sickness goes around."

"Yeah I know, but Tommy, I need tomorrow free," Joel explained firmly. "I'll owe ya one."

Tommy hummed thoughtfully. "You gonna tell me what's goin' on?"

Joel placed his coffee mug down on the kitchen counter. "Just wanna spend some time with her, that's all. Tryin' to change for the better, like ya said."

Tommy smiled to himself, seemingly pleased that his brother had listened to his advice. "Joel Miller, a romantic," he mused teasingly.

"Shut up," Joel muttered. "Now will ya cover me or what?"

Tommy nodded. "Yeah, okay. But I can't do a double shift - Maria would kill me."

"So ask someone else," Joel shrugged. He tried to appear like he was sincerely thinking of different suggestions for who might be available. "Well, who ain't rostered on Wednesdays? What about...Harry? Or....or Estrada?"

Joel knew Harry was already working at the blacksmith sheds tomorrow and wouldn't be able to swap onto a patrol shift. Joel also knew full well that Oscar was at the stables and would easily be able to fill in.

Tommy smoothed his moustache with his thumb and forefinger and clicked his tongue. "I reckon Oscar might be able to."

And there we go, Joel thought smugly as a triumphant glow spread wide across his chest. So fuckin' easy.

He clapped his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Look, leave it with me, I'll go arrange it with him. Save you the trouble."

"Good," Tommy laughed and nodded along. He turned off the burner on the stove and gave his brother a wry grin. "Cos I don't need anymore headaches, asshole. Now get the plates and let's eat."

It was your day at the library and also the day of your weekly lunch date with Oscar. You were nervous to see him, having spent the last few days contemplating if you should bring up the question of whether or not he was now seeing someone.

It is not your business, you kept reminding yourself, you need to let it go.

Each week on Wednesday, like clockwork, Oscar arrived at the library at noon. But today he didn't come strolling through the door at the expected time. You watched the clock intently as the minutes progressed. When he still hadn't shown by 12.15pm you reasoned that there must be a mountain of work to do at the stables and he's just running a little late. You continued to wait patiently, still taring at the ticking hands of the clock on the wall opposite where you stood.

At 12.30pm you began to panic. Perhaps something had happened to Oscar. What if there had been an accident at the stables? Or maybe Oscar was sick? But then you remembered Joel's revelation at dinner last week and his words rang in your ears like a jeering jingle.

"He's busy with some mystery woman alotta the time."

You couldn't help the taunting feeling of rejection that came creeping into your mind. What if Oscar had stood you up to go see this woman instead? What if he had forgotten about you? You shook your head to rid yourself of the intrusive thoughts but as the minutes passed by excruciatingly slow, your spirit sunk lower and lower into the pit of your stomach.

When he hadn't shown up by 1.30pm all you wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed to wallow in your sorrow.

Then the door bell jingled. Your head quickly snapped toward the door.

But it wasn't Oscar who had finally arrived. Instead, you were met by the sight of Joel purposefully striding into the library with a satisfied grin on his face. His hair was slicked back, fresh from the shower, and he wore a black long sleeved shirt underneath his Carhartt jacket. You were even more unnerved by how gorgeous he looked.

"J-Joel?" You stuttered, completely dumbfounded. You couldn't even remember the last time Joel had been inside the library.

"Hey, baby," Joel drawled silkily as he approached you.

"H-hi," You mumbled dumbly, still awestruck by his presence.

Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and gathered you into his broad chest, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of your face tenderly in his palm. He tilted your face up at him while he stared down at you with a loving adoration in his gaze. Your tummy fluttered with nervous excitement, then Joel bent his head to kiss you softly on the mouth.

The smell of soap mixed with Joel's scent engulfed your nostrils as you surrendered to the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth and lapped at your own in slow rolling strokes, making you moan softly. Joel squeezed your waist and you reached up to run your fingers through his hair.

You forced Oscar from your mind. You had to, otherwise the pain of disappointment would be too much.

Joel continued to sensually kiss you and your whole body wilted into his strong chest. The familiarity of his warm body enveloping you somehow felt simultaneously comfortable and tantalising, so simple yet so arousing.

Maybe I do belong here, you randomly mused.

When you felt the thick press of Joel's hardened dick against you it caused an involuntary lustful stirring inside your belly. You soon forgot about Oscar and all you could focus on was Joel. The minty taste of his saliva with a hint of coffee. The light tickle of his moustache on your lips. The wide expanse of his palm cupping your face. How his aquiline nose fit so perfectly against your face.

Your clit throbbed with desire. You couldn't resist the way your body responded to him any longer. You were about to grind your pelvis against Joel's crotch when he gently pulled away from the kiss.

"Wait," you whined, confused and frustrated.

Joel stroked his thumb over your cheekbone as he looked down at you, smirking with cocky satisfaction. "Now babydoll, before we get carried away here, I got somethin' for you."

"Uhm, okay," you whispered, uncertain what to expect.

Joel released you from his grasp and took a step backward. You watched, intrigued, as he reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a white handkerchief folded into a small square. It had a delicate lace trimming along its edges.

"Open your hand," Joel instructed you softly. You obediantly held out your hand with your palm facing up and Joel carefully placed the handkerchief onto it.

"What is it?" You asked, your eyes flickering up to look at Joel uncertainly.

"Open and see," he said with a nod to your hand.

You carefully unfurled the pretty white material in your hand and found a delicate gold chain curled in the middle. You gasped. It was the necklace from the shoebox you had found while snooping through Joel's possessions. You swallowed and reminded yourself to act surprised in order not to raise Joel's suspicions.

You held up the necklace to study it closer and noticed just how pretty the attached jewel pendant was. As you dangled it infront of you the light reflected off the jewel, causing it to twinkle mesmerically. You hadn't remembered it being so attractive when you briefly spied it in the shoebox. Now that you held it close, you could appreciate just how beautiful it was.

"Wow," you breathed, eyes fixated on the piece of jewellery.  "Wow...this is amazing, Joel."

"Just for you, baby," Joel murmered. "You like it?"

You couldn't help giving him a shy little smile. "I do," you whispered truthfully. "Thank you."

Joel smiled back at you and leaned in to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. He watched the delight in your expression as you examined the necklace, pride bursting inside his heart at being the one to make you smile.

Joel ended up staying with you at the library for a while to keep you company and browse through some of the book titles. When a horde of noisy school children came barging in through the door, you looked at him and laughed, knowing that he would make a hasty escape.

As Joel was about to walk out the door he spied a folded piece of paper peeking out from under the welcome mat just inside the entrance. He discreetly bent down and picked it up before stalking away towards home.

Back at his house Joel made sure to tear up the paper into tiny irretrievable pieces. He needed to make sure that you could never read the apologetic note Oscar had written. He must have slipped under the library door before his patrol shift earlier that morning, Joel presumed.

It is busy in the mess hall that night. It's close to 8pm, the latter part of the dinner shift, so the families and children have already eaten and are now home, tucked up safe and warm in their beds. Most of the residents occupying the mess hall now are workers who began later in the day, such as the afternoon labourers that took over from the morning crews.

You and Rhi sit at one of the smaller tables amongst the throng of diners and pick at the food on your plates. You listen to her impassioned report about why her supervisor is a control freak, how the sewing machines at the haberdashery need maintenance but no one listens to her, and that she is sick of being condescended to because of her age. You nod along sympathetically. Although Rhi can be obstinate at times, you know she's a dedicated seamstress who takes her craft seriously and you dislike seeing her be treated so unfairly.

Joel is already seated and eating dinner with Troy, Tommy, Harry and Oscar. His gaze fell upon you the moment you walked into the mess hall and he found himself furtively glancing your way every so often. He only half listens to the trivial conversation going on around him, not really interested in the bantering and amicable debates the other patrolmen liked to engage in.

Joel wasn't the only one to notice your presence, though. He clocked the way Oscar's head turned in your direction and the way his back straightened when he spied you. Oscar wasn't adept at disguising his feelings very well, Joel had come to learn. He could see the yearning on Oscar's face as clear as day.

Christ, the bastard had really fallen for you.

Sometime later, when the men had almost finished eating their meal, Tommy excuses himself and disappeares to the kitchen. Joel lazily picks at his teeth with a toothpick and observes you and Rhi.

Damn, you're so beautiful, especially when you're so unaware that you're being watched, he thinks.

Tommy returns a minute later and throws a conspiratorial wink at his older brother as he sits back down at the table. Joel leans back in his chair and folds his arms and patiently waits to see his plan unfold.

It's only another minute before a woman approaches their table and shyly clears her throat. The men look at her expectantly but she seems to zero in on Oscar.

"Excuse me," she speaks, voice silky and polite. "Oscar, I was wondering if I could have a word?"

Oscar raises an eyebrow at the woman. "Me?" He asks her, confounded.

She nods coyly and hitches a thumb over her shoulder. "Maybe over this way, for a bit of privacy?"

The patrolmen give each other teasing smirks while Oscar stands up and follows the woman. Their eyes watch Oscar and the woman as they walk to an unoccupied space a few tables away and stand to talk.

"Whose she? What's that all about?" Harry pipes up.

"Tryin' my hand at a bit of matchmakin'," Tommy answers with a cheeky grin. "Joel figures we should get him set up with someone."

"Why, Joel Miller," Troy laughs heartily. "Regular ol' cupid, huh?"

Joel rolls his eyes and mutters. "Shut the fuck up."

The men all laugh and glance back over at Oscar.

It is in the same moment that you catch sight of Oscar for the first time tonight. Seeing his face sends a shameful pang of dejection spearing into your heart. He stood you up and now here he is without a care in the world. He doesn't appear to be injured or unwell, either. Infact he looks really good.

And he's also with a woman.

You swallow thickly.

This must be the mystery woman.

You watch them intently and realise you recognise who she is. Her name is Gayle. You had known her from your time on cleaning and food prep duty. Gayle was a friendly woman and easy to talk to. She was also beautiful, with long blonde hair and light blue eyes and a wide smile. She was probably around Oscar's age, perhaps even a bit older.

You watch the interaction from where you sit, hating the wretched bubbles of envy simmering in your guts. Oscar is facing away from you but you have a clear view of Gayle and the bright smile plastered on her face, aswell as the enthusiasm in her body language. You wish you could hear their conversation and what he's saying to her.

It doesn't matter, though. The scene is too much for you to bear. It hurts to see him but it hurts your heart even more to see him with another woman.

You're such an idiot.

You quickly mumble to Rhi that you are done eating and want to go home. Rhi feels the same. When you both stand up to leave the table you are suddenly blockaded by three men. They stand tall infront of you with their arms crossed, exuding an intimidating air of arrogance. They leer at you and Rhi with taunting smirks carved on their faces.

"Hey babe, where'd you disappear to?" The blonde ranger chuckles to Rhi.

Oh, this must be that asshole who touched her.

"Anywhere you wouldn't be, apparently." Rhi spits back. "Get out of our way, Beau."

He shakes his head and grins down at her. "Nah, I want another chance. What do you say, baby? Ya didn't even let me get a proper turn."

Rhi growls and stabs her forefinger into his chest. "Listen here, dickface. I don't want anything to do with you, so fuck off."

The three of them snicker. The Beau tuts at Rhi leans closer to her face, now completely invading your space. "Maybe I'll just have to fuck your little friend here, then she can tell you what you're missing out on."

Suddenly you're aware of the loud thud of boots stomping against the floor, but before your mind can register what's happening, Joel's meaty hand grabs onto Beau's shoulder and wrenches him backwards. He stumbles.

"What the fuck?"

Joel shoulders himself past the men and stands himself past the men and stands beside you and Rhi.

"Think the ladies made themselves clear the first time, boys," Joel barks. "They ain't interested."

The young men seem to recognise Joel and the obnoxious smirks fall from their faces immediately. One of the dark haired men visibly loses all his confidence and shuffles back a few steps away from Joel and his friends. Beau is clearly the ring leader of the group as he remains standing where he is, chest puffed out and glowering petulantly between Joel and Rhi.

"She's being a tease," the blonde ranger argues back indignantly "Flirts with me from across the room and then acts like a bitch when I try talk to her!"

Rhi scoffs loudly and rolls her eyes. "Yeah right, Beau."

You glance up at Joel to see his steely gaze pinned to the young man, his furrowed brows and clenching jaw signalling his aggravation. Beau was almost as tall as Joel but no where near as imposing in strength and presence. He looked foolish standing infront of Joel trying to justify himself. The hall has fallen silent and everyone has turned to watch the confrontation unfold before them.

"That should tell ya she ain't interested." Joel said through gritted teeth.

"Well, her friend hasn't said anything," the other ranger quips, gesturing to you. "You don't speak for both of them."

A seething wrath blazes in Joel's eyes when the arrogant words fall from the young man's mouth. The air is uncomfortably thick with tension. You shuffle backwards a little and press against Rhi's side and, sensing your unease, she slips her arm around your side.

"Matter of fact, I do. And she ain't interested, either. Now get the fuck outta here before I break your jaw." Joel growls.

Joel steps closer to the younger men, challenging them to dare defy him. You swear you can feel the collective suspense of the townsfolk all around you. Your heart beat pounds in your ears as your eyes darting back and forth between Joel and the others.

All the self assured macho arrogance drains from the three men's faces at the threat of Joel Miller beating the shit out of them. Their shoulders slump in defeat and then they begin to walk away, scoffing and sneering as they leave, their anger at being rejected now exacerbated by their humiliation. One of them mutters "whatever, man" under his breath and Beau glares at Rhi. She sticks her middle finger up at him.

"You okay?" Joel asks.

He's addressing both you and Rhi but his soulful brown eyes are trained solely on you. His brows are furrowed with worry. You stare back up at him and nod, dumbstruck by such a public display of his concern.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Joel." Rhi answers with a smile. "I reckon they won't be a problem anymore."

Joel glances at her and nods curtly, then looks back to you. You feel captivated by the expressive beauty of his features, like how his mouth parts ever so slightly, as if he is breathless, and the almost sorrowful way his gaze roams all over your face. There is no trace of anger reflected in Joel now, only a gentle protectiveness that makes your tummy feel fluttery. The intimacy of the moment between you and Joel makes you forget about the rest of the townsfolk surrounding you. You feel the sudden urge to kiss him.

"Can I walk you home?" Joel asks you, his voice soft but gravelly.

"Yes, please," you whisper back.

"Strong and chivalrous. I guess you'll be safe without me," Rhi chuckles as she slips her arm from around your waist. "Go have fun."

You flash a shy smile at her and she gives you an enthusiastic nod of encouragement. Joel steps aside and holds his arm out, gesturing for you to stand and walk next to him. You sidle up beside Joel and feel his hand come to rest possessively on your lower back. The magnitude of this exhibition is profound - no one has ever witnessed Joel Miller actually touch a woman before, and doing so with such reverence and familiarity. It is a statement, a declaration. Joel has claimed you.

He escorts you through the mess hall to up to the door.

"Come on baby, let's go home," he murmers close to your ear.

He pushes open the door and pulls you close against him in order to squeeze through the threshold together, and you giggle.

You don't look behind you, not even to check if everyone is still watching you (which they are). You don't see Rhi proudly grinning after you, or Tommy smirking quietly to himself. You don't see Oscar or his crestfallen expression, or how his orbs swim with woeful disappointment to see you walk away with another man.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @mandoloriancookie @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff

#joel miller x reader #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller #dddne #joelmiller

[koshkamartell]

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

Despite standing up for yourself, Joel was able to convince you to spend most of your free time at his house. Fortunately for you, your friends rarely visited your cottage so you didn't have to worry about explaining your absence if they came knocking on your door. You still sneaked undetected through the back door of Joel's house, coming and going to and from work like some sort of ghost.

He had gotten what he wanted, as usual. But over the next few weeks Joel had noticed subtle differences in your behaviour toward him. One of the main changes that he could distinguish was that you had become less physically affectionate. You no longer ran your fingers through his hair spontaneously, or stood on your tiptoes to kiss his nose to greet him after work. You didn't slip into his lap and curl against him like a kitten seeking warmth. As this crucial part of the relationship faded away, Joel came to realise just how much he craved the contact and connection with you. He felt like you were both lost in the dark and he couldn't reach you.

You still washed his clothes and cooked for he and Ellie, still cared for him and fulfilled household duties, but there was an unmistakable lack of emotional intimacy in how you interacted with him. You no longer initiated conversation and when you did speak, your voice was hushed. You rarely looked him directly in the eye. Sometimes Joel would catch you quietly staring at nothing, your eyes dull and sad. You just didn't seem disheartened; your spirit seemed to be completely broken. It began to worry him.

Joel would still fuck you most nights and he would still make you cum on his dick or his mouth or his fingers. Your body was still receptive to Joel's touch and he could feel how hungry your pussy was for him by how wet you got. The sexual chemistry between you had always been explosive and Joel still took smug pride in his ability to manipulate your body and pleasure you. But your moans and cries were no longer wanton. The submissive role you always assumed during sex somehow became more impassive; several times he noticed the disconnected blankness in your eyes, and his palm itched to slap your face just to illicit some kind of reaction from you.

For the first time ever, Joel had consciously stopped himself from taking advantage of you in order to dominate and hurt you. He was careful not to verbally demean you as he fucked you. Joel didn't demand blowjobs and when your period came he settled for your hand jerking him off until he shot a load of warm sticky cum onto his soft stomach.

Joel would be lying if he said he didn't care, that it didn't bother him. Throughout your time together he had never worried about your feelings for him, never needed to panic about whether or not you wanted him. Now, however, Joel felt a sickening panic deep inside himself that you no longer loved him and needed him.

It was impossible for Joel not to worry or ruminate. It was in his nature. And he had spent more time contemplating the night of your confrontation than he would ever care to admit.

You were right. Joel could concede to that. It was just something that had never crossed his mind. And so when you raised the question, it rocked Joel to his very core.

You had made the point when you brought up Ellie in that arguement - what if Ellie had been the one who had been violated instead? It was a rhetorical question, ofcourse. It was obvious what Joel would do; he would go on a rampage of carnage and torture whoever was responsible for hurting her. He would be so blinded by rage that he would slaughter anyone who got in his way. Even the mere idea of something so vile happening to Ellie made Joel's skin crawl with fury.

But what gave him the right to do what he did to you? You had asked that question during the argument too, and now Joel asks himself the same thing. At the time Joel was so incensed that he lost all sense of rationality. The jealousy and wrath had overtaken him. Heart and mind, body and soul.

I don't want my woman behavin' like that when she belongs to me.

Joel had taught you what he expected of you as his woman. All he had needed to do was take your naturally demure and meek character and shape you just as he wanted, and that had been so easy. As far as Joel was concerned you belonged to him from the moment he saw you, and you still did. But now, with an anxious sense of dread, he's not so sure that your heart still belongs to him.

Joel didn't know how to deal with the situation. He had intended to overlook whatever was happening to you until it passed. But when Ellie pulled him aside after dinner one night and expressed her concern, Joel knew he had to do something.

"What's wrong with her?" Ellie whispered to Joel in the kitchen when you had excused yourself to go to the bathroom. "She's acting weird. Like really sad. What happened?"

"Nothin' happened," Joel muttered. "She's just tired. Been missin' her parents and not sleepin' too good."

"Well, do something to cheer her up, asshole," Ellie hissed. "Fix it."

Joel grunted and started filling the kitchen sink with hot water. He gripped the bench and watched the water blast from the faucet. He wasn't sure what to do, how he could fix it, but he needed to do something before you completely disappeared from them.

When Joel and Tommy were assigned on patrol together, like they were the following week, Joel would meet Tommy at his house and the two brothers would walk to the stables together. It was early morning and Joel didn't feel fully awake just yet. He scrubbed at his eyes with his fists and yawned. He hadn't slept much the previous night - you had been whimpering in your sleep on and off and had somehow repeatedly slipped from his arms to roll to the edge of the bed. Joel would continually wake without you curled up to him. He would pull you back to his chest, only for you to escape from him and return to precariously balance on the edge of the mattress. Joel eventually got you to stay still in his embrace but you would still let out little sighs and gasps every so often.

Joel wondered what you dream about. Did you dream of horrible creatures like the infected? Or were you plagued by the memories of your loved ones' deaths? Joel wishes he knew. His own dreams could be so vivid and distressing, especially the ones of Sarah.

Joel's fingers fidgeted nervously by his sides as he waited for Tommy to saunter down the steps of his porch. The morning sun poured through the clouded sky but did little to diminish the bitter cold that had settled in overnight. Tommy tipped a nod to Joel in greeting before they began the walk to the stables for their patrol shift together. Anyone who saw the two side by side could easily tell they were brothers; they were close in height and shared the same gait, aswell as the same intense brown eyes and full bottom lip.

"Snow looks like it ain't gonna ease up for another few weeks," Tommy observed while glancing up at the snow capped mountains surrounding Jackson.

Joel only grunted in response. He was lost in thought trying to work out how to ask Tommy about his relationship with Maria and how they solve any issues that arise between them. Joel hated deferring to Tommy about anything, but he was desperate for insight into resolving conflict, and Tommy was the only person he could ask for help. Joel was struggling to find a way to segue the conversation, especially without revealing your relationship to Tommy.

"Maria's been like a crazy woman tryin' to knit all these sweaters for the kids," Tommy chuckled. "Balls of yarn everywhere."

Joel cleared his throat and tried to sound as casual as he could manage. "How're you and Maria goin'?"

Tommy gave him a sidelong glance. "We're okay. I mean, some days are better than others, but that's how it is in a marriage, ain't it?"

Joel rubbed his hands together to generate some warmth and kept his gaze fixed ahead of him as they walked. "You two disagree on much?"

Tommy's lips quirked into a small smirk. "Often. You know her well enough by now that Maria doesn't back down easy when she's got an idea in her head."

"How do ya deal with disagreements?" Joel asked offhandedly.

Tommy shrugged a little. "We work it out, we talk things through, compromise."

Joel nodded without looking at Tommy, but he could still feel Tommy's gaze on him.

Joel, unfamiliar with subtlety, struggled to come across nonchalant as he asked his next question. "Well, what if she was still angry at you for somethin', how do you get her to forgive you?"

Joel was still unable to face his brother directly so he didn't see the roguish twinkle in Tommy's eyes or the tiny smirk on his lips.

"Oh. Well, you know," Tommy tried hard to maintain his serious composure. "Depends what it is she's angry at me for. But in general I give her a bit of space and some time, tell her I'm sorry."

Joel was silent as he digested Tommy's response. He had apologised to you, told you that he loved you. But the idea of giving you space and time alone seemed almost unfathomable. Would that actually work?

Joel's focus is interrupted by Tommy's chuckle. Joel looks at him and grunts. "What?"

"Why you so interested in how I solve problems with Maria?" Tommy grinned at Joel. "Wouldn't have anythin' to do with that sweet gal who works at the library, would it?"

Joel stopped in his tracks and glared at his brother. "What?" He spat. Tommy came to a stanstill and chuckled, throwing his hands up in surrendering gesture.

"Come on, big brother. I know somethin's been goin' on between y'all for a while now. I ain't blind."

Joel's cheeks burned pink to hear Tommy's confession. Tommy had never given any indication that he knew about you and Joel; there had been no teasing jokes, no sly looks, no comments full of innuendo, all of which Joel would have expected from his little brother.

"How'd you...? Damnit, did Ellie-" Joel started to ask, then faltered. It didn't really matter how Tommy found out or when he did. He knew, and it wasn't possible for Joel to deny it.

"Ellie didn't tell me shit. How long did you think you could hide somethin' like that from me, Joel?" Tommy shook his head and began walking again. "I see the way you two look at each other."

Joel followed Tommy and grumbled lowly. "Don't tell nobody, Tommy. Ain't ready for that yet."

"Joel, I ain't head of the Jackson rumour mill, so relax. Don't know what a pretty thing like her sees in an old bastard like you, though."

The two men trudged along the snow laden ground in silence for a while, both occupied with their thoughts. Then Tommy cleared his throat and spoke softly.

"What's gonna happen with her, Joel?" He asked, turning his head to look at his brother. "You're old enough to be her father. Are you two gonna get married? Or you just havin' a bit of fun? What's your intentions?"

Joel furrowed his brows and seemed to deliberate the answer for a few beats, then muttered. "I don't know."

"Only askin' cos I know for a fact how soft that girl is," Tommy said earnestly. "She's different to alotta others 'round here."

I know, Joel thinks to himself. That's part of the reason why I love her.

Tommy glanced at Joel to make sure he was listening. "She's got a good heart, never causes any trouble. And she's smart."

"I know," Joel grunted.

"Don't take this the wrong way Joel, but you better not go and break that poor girl's heart over some bullshit," Tommy admonished.

Joel scowled at him. "What the fuck is that s'posed to mean?"

"It means you got issues," Tommy answered solemnly, staring right back at Joel. "I know you better than anyone else. There's alotta shit you haven't dealt with yet, stuff that's gonna make a relationship hard work."

Joel's jaw ticked with irritation but he said nothing. His silence made Tommy feel bold enough to continue speaking.

"I'm talkin' from experience, brother," Tommy admitted, his voice a little more gentle. "When I met Maria, I had alot of anger and sadness inside me. Didn't know how to deal with it, how to control it. Sometimes I'd just lash out, and it would scare her. One day she said she didn't like who I became when I lost control. Said she was going to leave if I didn't work on it."

Joel watched Tommy intently as he confessed this part of his private life. Since coming to live in Jackson, Joel had harboured an envious resentment toward Tommy for the seemingly perfect life he led with his own little family. Everything seemed so easy in Jackson. Tommy was physically strong, he was respected and well liked by the other residents, and he had a thriving family to share the fruits of this paradise with.

Part of this envy was because it still secretly pissed Joel off that Tommy had cut off communication with him back in Boston. Joel still felt a deep sense of betrayl and hurt stemming from the discovery of Tommy living in the luxury of Jackson, all the while Joel had agonised for his safety.

Therefore it never occured to Joel that his own brother, who had been both a raider and a Firefly throughout the collapse of the world, who now lived a healthy and happy existence in a safe community, could have ever struggled with similar internal battles.

"Realised I had to snap outta my bullshit quick, or else I would lose Maria forever. So I did." Tommy said with a heavy sigh. He looked at Joel with a hint of sorrow in his dark eyes. "I'm glad she said that, Joel."

Joel chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn't particularly like Maria and he knew that she didn't quite approve of him, either. Joel's immediate reaction to what Tommy had said was to blame Maria, call her a controlling bitch who has always kept Tommy on a short leash. But Joel could see the point Tommy was trying to make.

"You want somethin' serious with her, then you need to fix the shit inside your head. You have to treat her right, Joel."

How was he supposed to do that, after over 20 years of living this way? He was at a loss as to how he could begin unravelling the decaying threads that had kept him stitched together for all this time.

"But just how the fuck do I do that, Tommy?" Joel growled. Tommy sighed and ran his fingers through his long black curls. He was trying to remain cool and forgiving of his brother's prickly temperament, aware of how difficult this whole conversation would be for him. He chose his words carefully and spoke calmly.

"Talk. Learn how to control your anger. Be patient. Give her time and space. If she loves you then she'll come back to you."

They walked in silence for the rest of the way to the horse stables. Joel appeared his usual characteristically stoic self but he was distracted by the convulted jumble of thoughts inside his head. Tommy's words swirled throughout his brain - talk. Control your anger. Space and time. He could talk to you about how you felt, how he felt, listen to what you wanted to say. But how was he supposed to give you space and time? What did that even mean? Let you leave him or some shit?

When they entered the barn they found Oscar stroking one of the horse's muzzle and murmuring words of affection to her.

"Mornin'," Tommy greeted him as they marched in. Joel only nodded to Oscar and then went straight to his horse to get loaded up.

"Hey Tommy, hey Joel," Oscar tipped his head in greeting. "Got Misty and Tex saddled and ready for you."

"Thanks," Tommy said, clapping a hand on Oscar's shoulder. "Listen, Troy needs me to cover some of his shifts startin' tomorrow." He lowered his voice a little. "You alright to fill in for me and work with Joel?"

"Yeah, sure," Oscar smiled. "Been a while since we worked together on patrol. A change will be good."

Tommy smiled back. "Yeah, well, I think some change will be good for him, too."

After work that evening Joel stopped into the Tipsy Bison with Tommy, Troy and a few others to have a drink. He needed to unwind, to let the burn of alcohol distract him from his woes. He let the whiskey wash over him as he only half listened to the men's conversation. Joel scanned his gaze across the bar and observed the different groups of people milling around the place. His eyes locked on a couple of women sitting on stools by the bar. They were around your age, hair styled and wearing what he guessed were their best clothes. They were both undeniably good looking - he's sure every man in the room would be dying to fuck them if given the chance. One of them, a dark haired beauty, was looking back at Joel and smiling coyly, a mischevious twinkle in her eye. He knew that look - the fuck me eyes and the fake innocence, a bold invitation for whatever the fuck you're up for. And he hated it.

It didn't interest Joel in the slightest bit. All he was interested in was you. Not a single woman could tempt him to betray his loyalty to you. He turned away from the women and threw back the last of his whiskey, then unceremoniously stood up and farewelled the men goodnight.

"Come on Miller, one more round!" One of them protested. Joel just shook his head and stalked to the entrance then disappeared through the saloon doors.

When he arrived back home the house was shroud in darkness and not a sound could be heard. Panic creeped up his spine. Where were you? Why weren't you waiting for him? Joel bound through the downstairs of the house to check each room, not bothering to remove his boots or his coat. The kitchen was still and empty. The living room was devoid of life, as was the laundry. Then he raced upstairs, two steps at a time, hoping to find you laying in bed asleep.

When Joel hurtled into the bedroom he did find you, but awake, sitting cross legged on his bed, a book open in your lap. Relief flooded over him and his body sagged against the doorframe as he caught his breath.

"There you are," Joel huffed.

"Why do you look so scared?" You asked, staring at him with unease.

Joel shook his head. "Nothing, don't matter." He heaved himself off the doorframe and plodded over to the bed. He couldn't wait to settle under the covers with you and melt into a deep sleep. You shifted over from the edge to give him room, and he fell back on the mattress with a heavy groan.

There was silence in the room for a minute, then both of you started to speak at the same time.

"Joel I--"

"Baby--"

Joel lifted his head to look up at you but you were staring at the book in your lap. "What is it? What were you gonna say?" He asked.

"I want to stay at my place tonight," you said quietly. The unexpected admission surprised Joel so much that he quickly sat up and shifted his body to face you head on.

"Why? You're not happy here?" Joel was unable to disguise his vexation and the question comes out accusatory. He sucked in a sharp breath and quickly tried to rein in his irritation, remembering Tommy's advice.

Joel exhaled through his nose and gently took your chin between his thumb and finger and angled your head to look at him. He studied your beautiful face and absorbed the set of your features; your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, a lock of your hair swept over your forehead (why did you never wear ribbons in your hair anymore?), the vacant and weary expression in your eyes that made you appear ill.

Control your anger. Control. Control.

"I'm not happy anywhere right now," you whispered. Joel had to turn his head slightly so that his good ear was closer to you.

"I said I was sorry," he rasped, throat suddenly dry. "I'm takin' care of you, ain't I?" He hated the inflection of slight panic in his voice; it made him feel desperate and weak.

"Yes, you are," you replied flatly, moving your head so he had to release your chin.

"So what, you wanna leave me?" Joel snapped suddenly, overwhelmed with his  conflicting emotions. "That it?"

"No, Joel," you spoke calmly, almost mechanically. Your voice sounded tired. "I just need some space. I'm not ready just yet to properly live together. I need some time to....to just heal. And I can't do that if I don't have space from you."

Joel sighed with frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He understood that you weren't prepared to live together officially after what he did to you, but he was going to force you anyway. Well, that had been his plan initially, before speaking to Tommy.

Joel was at a crossroads; he could coerce you and watch as you continued to deteriorate or he could be patient and wait for you to get over everything. If Joel wanted to keep you in his life then he had to prioritise your needs and wants over his own.

"Is that...is that somethin' you'd really want?" Joel asked, the deep timbre of his voice close to cracking. "That'll make you happy?"

You stared at him with large glassy eyes and slowly nodded your head. "Yes, Joel. I really do want that."

He huffs out a shaky breath and rolls his eyes up, shaking his head ever so slightly. It takes all his might to not argue with you and raise his voice and fiercely deny you. Joel wants nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and hold you tightly to his chest, to withdraw his permission to give you the space you seem to want so dearly. But he knows that it isn't possible and that he risks everything by forcing you.

"We can still spend our time together," you said softly. "Nothing will change...I just need to be in my own house."

Joel looked back down at you with dejection and grief swirling in his soulful brown eyes. He swears he can feel each and every tiny fracture that strikes at his heart in this very moment. He sniffed and brought his hand up to tenderly stroke your cheek with his thumb.

"Okay, babydoll," he whispered. "Just...tell me you ain't gonna leave me, yeah?"

You pressed your hand up to cup the back of his and nodded. "No, I won't."

The lack of warmth or sparkle in your eyes does nothing to reassure Joel. He still feels lost in darkness.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee

#joel miller x reader #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller #dddne

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

*chapter warnings* - talk of rape, sexual harassment

You didn't reveal what had happened to Oscar, or to anyone else. You kept your word to Joel and did not speak about it. You were still afraid of what he was capable of doing if you did tell someone, if he somehow found out that you told the truth. You felt ashamed and dirty, as if you were deserving of Joel's wrath, that what he did was justified. Maybe you shouldn't have been dancing and drinking so much that night, maybe Joel was right about the men at the bar and their lecherous intentions. After all, you had to defer to Joel's knowledge and extensive life experience when certain subjects were concerned, and this time seemed to be no exception.

Ellie and her happiness were also at the forefront of your mind. You knew that she would be devastated if she discovered how Joel had treated you; the security of her world and a happy family life would be shattered and her heart broken. You couldn't do that to Ellie. Not when you could see so much of yourself reflected in her, that same yearning for a stable and loving family.

Yes, you still loved him, and perhaps a small part of you always will. But he has broken something inside you and you know it can never be repaired or compensated for in any way. Joel had pushed you too far for you to be able to forgive and forget. A bridge has been crossed and there's no returning to how things once were. Where do you go from here? Do you leave him? Joel hadn't accepted that the first time you tried to leave him - would he relent this time?

You tried not to show the inner turmoil you were facing when around others. Working at the school proved to be a good distraction from your thoughts; the young faces of the children, their innocence and wonder at the world, always managed to motivate you to be collected and calm.

However the library shifts proved to be more challenging at times. You were alone more often than not, only the occasional visitor popping in to seek out material on a specialist subject or children wanting to peruse the comics and picture books. Left alone with the whirlwind of introspection inside your head could be tormenting.

Does he really even love me?

What if he does it again?

He's been so sweet and loving lately, maybe he's changed?

Maybe he's realised how much I mean to him?

This fruitless cycle of thoughts was interrupted by the surprise appearance of Oscar at the door, a grin on his face as the bell jingled above him. You felt startled, like you had been caught doing something you weren't supposed to, but you quickly composed yourself.

"Is it weird that I miss that sound?" He chuckled.

"Hey stranger," you greeted him, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes . "Didn't expect to see you here. How can I help you?"

Oscar smiled at you, his clean shaven face boyish and handsome, and you suddenly felt warmth spread all over your cheeks. Surely you weren't blushing because of Oscar?

He walked to the counter where you stood and plopped his satchel on the counter top. "Mhm. It's lunchtime, so I figured I'd stop by for a visit and we could pretend it's like old times - us eating together, hanging out. What do you say?"

"Oscar, are you sure you wanna spend your work break with me?" You asked dubiously, making a face at him.

"You're kidding me, right?" Oscar arched a thick eyebrow in question. "As far as I'm concerned you're the only person I wanna eat lunch with."

He didn't wait for you to speak any further before he flipped open his satchel and took out some sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and a few pieces of fruit. You looked away from him bashfully and shuffled your feet. You could definitely feel your cheeks glowing now.

"Oh Oscar," you murmur, sighing a little. "I don't deserve this."

"Don't deserve to eat lunch? C'mon," he scoffed.

"No, you know what I mean," you said while smoothing your hands over your skirt, still unable to look at Oscar. "You coming here specially for me."

Oscar proped his elbows ontop of the counter and leaned forward so that his head was craning closer to you, tilting his head in an attempt to catch your gaze.

"Hey, look at me," Oscar implored softly.

You obeyed his request and slowly raised your head up to face him. He was gazing at you with a mixture of confusion and pity on his features.

"Why do you think so little of yourself, when others think so much of you?" Oscar asked quietly.

The question is too raw for you to actually answer. It makes you feel bare, like your insides are being dissected. How can you possibly explain to Oscar that you've carried this low self worth all your life, that it has been rooted into your very core since your parents died, left to pullulate and fester like a disease?

Somehow, you believe Oscar already knows that he isn't actually asking for an answer.

All you can do is shrug awkwardly and look away from him. Oscar sighs and extends his arm over the counter to take hold of your wrist. "Honey, what is it going to take for you to believe just how important you are?" His thumb begins to stroke the fragile spot where your pulse and veins intertwine under the thin layer of skin.

You close your eyes and savour the sensation of his soft hand wrapped around your wrist. "Important to who?" You murmur.

"The children at school. Ellie. Me." Oscar whispers silkily. "Look at me."

You raise your head once more to gaze back at Oscar. He studies your face, his eyes roaming over your features longingly. The tip of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. "You're a beautiful person, and I'm lucky to have you in my life." 

The the lilt of his voice and the passion in his gaze penetrate your heart and send electric like shivers up and down your limbs. "T-thank you, Oscar." You stammer.

He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He gently releases your wrist and stands back upright. "Now, enough of this nonsense. I'm hungry and I want you to tell me everything that's been going on here since I left. Didja finish Bug Science? What about that paperback that old man stole and refuses to give back?"

You can't help but laugh at Oscar's light hearted way of breaking the tension in the room. When he sees you finally smile genuinely, he smiles back with a mix of relief and adoration.

After you finish eating and Oscar has to go back to work, you both agree to a regular lunch date at the lunch every week.

That night you were pacing around Joel's kitchen preparing dinner for when Ellie arrived. She was making a dedicated effort to spend more time with Joel without making him feel awkward; you had suggested that regular dinners together were an uncomplicated way to achieve this, and so naturally Ellie had invited herself over.

You alternate between stirring the pot of stew on the stove and shuffling to the dining room to set the table. You carefully arrange the bowls and cutlery in their places, mindful to give Joel a slightly bigger bowl than you and Ellie, knowing that his appetite was more voracious than either of you, especially after a patrol shift.

The setting reminded you of a tale you had loved as a child - a papa bear, a mamma bear, and a baby bear, all with porridge bowls and furniture corresponding to their sizes. Three bears, a happy family with food and a comfy house. Until an intruder comes and disrupts their carefree life.

What was it again? Ah, yes. Goldilocks and The Three Bears.

Silly stories and fairytales created to entertain and teach children morals and valuable lessons. You only vaguely remember some of them from your childhood. Just like the innocence and curious wonderment of youth, your happy memories had been destroyed by the end of the world, shattered to smithereens.

You want Ellie to be able to experience the things that had been so brutally ripped away from you. You know she's suffered her own share of trauma and horrors in her life, things she hasn't shared with anyone but Joel. You know their bond is what has given them both reason to endure and survive for so long. But Ellie was still young, and now she was safe from whatever was still left in the wild of the world. She deserved her own fairytale.

You know you will have to try your best to mask your melancholy for the upcoming evening. You are about to turn off the stove when you hear the front door rattle open, then the sound of boots stamping at the door. It seems Joel and Ellie have arrived home at the same time.

"Good evening!" Ellie trills as she floats into the kitchen. "What did you make? It smells fucking amazing!"

Your heart lights up to see her bound over to the stove and lean over the pot to take a big whiff of its aroma. She lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sooooo hungry!" Ellie groans. "Work sucked today."

You chuckle and pull her into a hug, brushing a little snow flake from her head. "The goats giving you trouble again?"

Ellie was assigned as a farmhand for her work duties and tended to the goats, chickens and sheep. "It was the sheep this time, lazy fuckers wouldn't listen."

"Didn't do what they were told, huh?" Joel chimes, walking into the kitchen with a smug smile tugging at his mouth.

"You callin' me a sheep, old man?" Ellie pretends to square up into a boxer's stance and raises her fists. You watch the interaction with your fingertips pressed to your lips, hiding your smile. No matter how low you were feeling, being immersed in the domesticity of Ellie's and Joel's company was always entertaining.

"You know what insolent means?"

"Uh, nope," Ellie says with a crinkle of her nose. "Why, that what you're callin' me?"

"Damn right."

Ellie punches his shoulder playfully and then begins a hasty exposition on just why her job is so taxing and why Joel should shut up. You shake your head at her theatrics and slip on some oven mitts before carrying the pot of stew out to the kitchen table.

"And if you actually let me go on patrol I could show those assholes just how badass I am," she laments as she follows behind you and Joel.

"No." He takes his seat at the table. "Too dangerous outside the gate."

Ellie just scoffs loudly and flops down onto her chair. You ladle the stew into the bowls and hand them to Ellie and Joel before serving yourself.

"You gotta teach me how to make this," Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of stew. "Tastes amazing, dude."

You settle into your seat and dip your spoon into the bowl. "Yeah, I can do that."

"How'd you learn how to cook?" Ellie asks between another slurp.

You occupy yourself with slowly stirring your spoon through the vegetables and chunks of lamb floating in your bowl. "I picked up some things from working in the mess hall but I mostly taught myself, through cook books and experimenting. More so experimenting."

"Cool," Ellie says, sounding sincerely impressed. "What's your favourite thing to make?"

"This kind of stew, I guess," you respond quietly, still not meeting her eye. "It's hearty, so it's good for when you're sick. And it reminds me of a dish my mother used to make when I was a kid, so...I find it comforting..." Your voice trails off at the end of your sentence. You never spoke of your mother or father but the words had come rolling from your tongue without thought, leaving you to feel as though you've said too much, been too vulnerable infront of both Ellie and Joel.

"Oh," Ellie murmers. "Well, that's good that's it's good for when you're sick, right? You've been sick alot lately so--"

"Ellie," Joel says low and warning.

A tense silence falls over the dining table. You are sure Joel can read your mind, the automatic internal response that you dare not utter aloud - "I wasn't sick last time, Ellie, I was just hiding my face."

You are thankful when Ellie fills the silence once again and starts talking about her friends and the different adventures she's had lately. You listen but do not talk much, only sometimes expressing a hum of agreement or a noise to indicate your interest. To your surprise, Joel makes an effort to engage with her to ask questions or make comments; it is unusual but refreshing, and you can't help but think Joel is doing it for your sake.

When Ellie excuses herself to go to the bathroom, Joel outstretches his hand to you and tenderly clasps it over yours. He lightly squeezes your small hand in his large one and leaves it there, his thumb making tiny circles over the knuckle of yours, soothing and supplicating. You glance up at Joel but he's staring down at his lap unmoving, and you wonder if it's because he feels too ashamed of himself to look at you.

When Ellie returns to the table Joel doesn't move his hand from yours.

It feels like forever since you've joined the girls for a meal in the mess hall. A few days after Ellies visit, you were greeted by Kate waiting outside the school to surprise you after your shift. Despite being exhausted from the days work her cheeky grin made you laugh.

Truthfully, you hadn't thought much about your friends since the night you had all celebrated Jackson's birthday at the Tipsy Bison. It seemed like the time between then and now had stretched infinitely, the events of that night like a vivid dream that was not real but of which you still could not shake from your memory. Seeing Kate in person and so excited to you makes you feel guilty for not being more involved in your friendship circle.

You sit side by side with Kate and Cassie at one of the dining tables, Rhi and Jess opposite you. You have little to no appetite and even the delicious dinner menu doesn't inspire any hunger from you; you mostly move your spoon aimlessly around your plate, only occasionally taking small bites of food. Rhi has lowered her voice and is recounting a recent incident between her and the blonde ranger she has been pining for.

"Can you believe it? He actually stuck his hand up my skirt right then and there!" She hisses with disgust. "Without even kissing me!"

The four of instantly you scrunch up your noses in revulsion.

"Gross!" Jess gags.

"Who the hell does he think he is?!" Cassie fumes.

"What did you do? Did you slap him?" Kate grumbles. "God, please tell me you slapped him!"

"Ofcourse I did!" Rhi answers haughtily, primly running her fingers through her hair. "No bastard touches me like that without my say so."

"He's was cute but boy, did he turn out to be an asshole," Cassie tuts, then adds sympathetically, "I'm sorry, Rhi. I know you liked him for a long time."

Rhi shrugs dismissively. "Eh, better I find out now than after six months of dating and wasting my time."

"Very true," Jess chimes in. "You deserve better than that shit."

"Ofcourse I do! I'm staying out of the dating game for a while, men are so not worth it." Rhi concedes, scooping up some potato and carrot with her spoon.

You watch the airy way Rhi speaks, how the words spill so confidently from her mouth. She's so self assured - in her capabilities, in her worth, in her beauty. You are simply in awe of her. You have often found yourself wishing you were more like Rhi; someone more bold, stronger willed.

You're sick of being timid. You're tired of never standing up for yourself. You're exhausted with hating yourself.

It was becoming more and more difficult for Joel to ignore the fact that he was in love with you. Obviously he knew you belonged to him, but he hadn't really examined just how deeply his own attachment to you ran. The concept of romantic love was something so foreign to Joel that during his pursuit to conquer you he hadn't even recognised how much he loved you.

It hit him when he returned to his house after a gruelling double patrol shift while you were still at work. The inside of the house was still and lifeless and seemed so much bigger and colder than usual. Not a  trace of your pretty fragrance or your soft voice to greet him. Joel hated it.

It was you who Joel wanted to see when he ambled through the door after work, aching and weary and hungry. It was your face that he wanted to see when he opened his eyes every morning. And it was your lips that he wanted to kiss goodnight before each time he went to sleep. Joel needed you as close as possible, so it was a natural conclusion that you start the process of living together.

It wasn't part of Joel's plan - he hadn't expected things to have progressed so quickly, but then again he couldn't deny just how much he needed you. So for the first time since living in Jackson he had decided to follow his heart.

One night after his patrol shift, a week and a half after Jackson's birthday celebration,  Joel slipped through your front door and toed off his boots.

"I been thinkin' about somethin'," Joel calls out as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hook by the door. "I want you to come stay at my place. Got plenty of space for your things. Can even turn one of the spare rooms into a library for your books."

When you didn't answer him he turned around and stepped into the living room. You were sitting on the couch with your feet tucked under you, staring down at your hands as they fidgeted with a loose thread on the cuff of your sweater. Joel put his hands of his hips and clears his throat.

"Baby, you hear me? What do you think?" He asks with a tilt of his head.

He was trying to temper the irritation that was pricking at the base of his neck, but when he properly looks at you it quickly disappears. He clocks the despondent slouch of your shoulders and the pensive expression on your features.

You sigh softly and then tilt your head up to meet his gaze. You look tired, and the tears swimming in your eyes alarmed Joel enough for him to stride over to the couch and sit down beside you.

"What's goin' on?' He asks with genuine concern, his soulful brown eyes darting up and down your form.

Joel had seen you cry many times before, and it was he who was the reason for your tears more often than not. It usually did not perturb him or discourage him. He knew from the beginning that you were sensitive and soft hearted, the opposite of himself. But something about this instance was totally different.

You swipe the sleeve of your sweater across your eyes to brush away the tears that have spilled over.

"Nothing," you mumble, downcasting your eyes back to the loose thread on your cuff as your fingers toy with it. "Just lonely...missing my parents alot today."

Joel hums and smooths his hand over the back of your head tenderly. "Come to my place, babydoll, stay at my house. You'll never feel lonely there."

"Like, live there forever?"

"Well, not just yet." Joel smirks as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "We can move your belongings gradually."

"What do you mean?" You question him with a side eye glance.

Joel leans into you and nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. One of his arms snakes around your middle and he effortlessly drags you closer to his body like a scolded kitten tugged by its scruff.

"You can move into my place permanently later, aint no rush. But for now I want you close by, always. In my bed waitin' for me after work. Sittin' pretty on my lap while you read." He inhales your scent and places a soft kiss on your neck. His breath is hot against your skin and his whiskers tickle you. It makes shivers crawl up your spine.

"I don't know Joel," you whisper hesitantly. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

Joel's body immediately tenses at your words. He slowly draws his face away from you and loosens his arm from your waist. Your first instinct is to cower away from Joel and curl into yourself, to distance yourself from any potential outburst of wrath that he might choose to rain down upon you.

"What d'you mean?' Joel asks in a low, dangerous tone.

"I just...want to stay here, I don't want to go anywhere," you mumble, not meeting his gaze but still feeling the heat of his scathing glower nonetheless.

"Don't wanna go?" Joel growls harshly. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to you."

You cannot control the automatic reaction that his sharp tone commands from you; your head whips up to look at him obediantly. You feel small and vulnerable under Joel's glare.

"You don't wanna live with me in my house?" He hisses. "I thought that's what you wanted."

You sigh helplessly as you feel the tears begin to well in your eyes once again.

It is what I wanted. But now I'm not so sure.

"I'm ready to give you everythin' and now you wanna throw it away?" Joel spits bitterly, scowling. There is an inflection of dejection in his words, and the disbelief and hurt reflected in his glistening eyes causes a small stab of guilt in your chest.

"I just...don't think it's the right time," you explain with slow deliberation. "I'm not ready for that."

Joel takes a sharp inhale and scoffs. "So you changed your mind? Just like that, you changed your goddamn mind?"

"Joel," you speak calmly in order to placate him. "I want to keep my place. I don't want to live at your house."

"Why the hell not?"

The pressurised anxiety and woe that has been gradually constricting around your organs finally explodes, rapidly surging through your veins and your limbs and up into your skull.

"Because you raped me!" You snap suddenly, your voice hoarse and choked with emotion. You haul yourself off the couch and storm to the other side of the living room. "Because you hurt me worse than you ever did before!"

The word rape hangs heavily in the air, shocking and weighted in the way it tears from your throat. Joel's mouth falls open and shut, like he's too shocked to form a response.

And truthfully he is. He's speechless at your outburst, at seeing you so impassioned that you have raised your voice at him for the first time in your relationship. He wonders where this argumentative side of you has come from so suddenly. This kind of back chat and disrespect would usually warrant a punishment, but the near hysteria of your demeanour has thrown Joel off completely.

And then it clicks. He really did hurt you. He hurt you so much so that you are expressing anger at him for the first time, aswell as rejecting him. His throat feels dry. Joel swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing.

There had been times in the QZ when the women Joel fucked had been desperate enough to acquire something he smuggled in that they let Joel use their bodies however he wanted. He had readily accepted the trade conditions but had never taken any woman unwillingly before, had never forced himself upon a woman or abused her. He openly despised the men that did - the FEDRA officers, the perverted assholes that roamed the streets, the raiders on the outside that thought nothing of gang raping a girl and leaving her bloodied and broken for the infected and wild animals to devour.

But when it came to you, Joel seemed to lose his sense of morality and rationality. He was blinded by the intrinsic need to dominate and possess you from the moment he saw you. It was something feral and biological inside his brain, his heart, his loins. You were his, you belonged to him, and he had to assert ownership over you in any way possible in order to never lose you. That included having to punish you at times to remind you of your place beside him.

Joel knows he's been rough at times. But rape?

Rape. A disgusting and violent violation used to assert control and cause one of the worst kinds of pain possible.

And that's what he did to you. He hadn't stopped once to think exactly what he had done, but now you've said it outloud he has to acknowledge it. He raped you.

Joel heaves himself from the couch and steps towards you but you flinch, wrapping your arms tightly around your waist and shrinking into the corner.

"I...I know what I did wasn't right. I just got carried away." Joel confesses. "Got so angry I wasn't thinkin' straight."

"Angry for what?" You sob, glaring directly at him. "For having fun with my friends like every other person in town?"

"I don't want my woman behavin' like that," Joel declares while shaking his head firmly, his mouth downturned in a scowl. "Not when she belongs to me."

"So you call me a whore and rape me?" You cry with exasperation, the tears pouring down your face.

Joel sighs and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "I told ya I didn't mean to go that far, but you know I got a temper."

"That doesn't give you the right!" You argue back, secretly thrilled by your surge of self confidence in confronting Joel. "Imagine if someone did that to Ellie, what would--"

"Don't." Joel grits fiercely, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching. "Don't you dare mention her."

"Why not?" You ball your trembling hands into fists and stare him down. You can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface of Joel's restrained exterior, the mannerisms that signify an imminent danger. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your stomach feels sick with trepidation but you won't back down. Not now. "So it's okay if you do it to me but if it's El--"

In a flash Joel storms toward you, his boots thundering heavily on the floor boards. He grabs a tight hold of your wrist and yanks you to him. You squeak with fear and collide into his chest. His eyes bore down into yours with steely reproach.

"Better listen to what I say, little girl," Joel warns lowly. "Mind your fuckin' manners."

You stare back up at Joel, tears of outrage and hurt stinging your eyes. Neither of you move during the tense stand off and time seems to stand still. There's a loaded intensity emanating between you two that is intoxicating, like both your souls are being forcefully pulled together despite fighting tooth and nail to resist. Amidst the anger and pain is something primal, a kind of hunger that is magnetic and electrifying. You can see it burning in Joel's orbs as his gaze flits between your lips and your own eyes.

Before you do something you'll regret, like kiss him or slap him, you try to pull away, but Joel effortlessly keeps you pinned to him. You shake your head despairingly and a sob escapes from your lips.

"I l-loved you," you whisper brokenly. "S-so much. And you have d-done nothing but hurt me."

Joel's expression softens and his grip on your wrist looses a tiny bit. The hardness leaves his dark eyes and is replaced by a helpless kind of sorrow. He blinks and clears his throat.

"That ain't true," he whispers back. "I been tryin', you know that, don't you? Been tryin' to show you how I feel and make it up to you."

"You broke my heart, Joel," you confess in a barely audible whisper.

Joel appears almost pained when the words leave your mouth; his brows furrow and his eyes shut tightly for a second. Then he releases his grip around your wrist and instead cradles your hand in his rough palm. The gentle way his paw engulfs yours is beseeching, as though your very being is the elixir that sustains him, something vital to his life yet is also so fragile. It brings you no comfort and instead makes the situation feel even more gut wrenching. Why can't you always be like this? You want to scream at him. Why now, when it's so late?

"I'll fix it," he says definitively. "Lemme fix it."

"I don't know if it can be fixed," you whisper truthfully.

You move to pull away from Joel again but his other arm wraps around your waist and holds you firmly against him. His emotive puppy dog eyes search yours beneath the heavy frown of his brow.

"Please," he whispers.

You shut your eyes and your breath hitches in your throat. You are so empty that you cannot evoke any words to describe the maelstrom of emotion inside you. Your legs feel weak and you feel like sleeping. Without speaking a word, you feel Joel dip down and lift you up into his arms like a child, and then carries you to bed. 

Joel lays you carefully on the mattress, placing your head delicately on the pillow. You pull your knees up to your chest and curl up into yourself, wanting nothing more than to drift off and dream of alternate realities that you had read of in your favourite books, of imaginary places and people that you longed to visit. Joel climbs over your legs and plonks down behind you with a grunt.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear. Joel slips his thick arm around your waist and presses his front flush against your back. You hate yourself for the way your body has become conditioned to crave the heat of his body, how you still relish the sensation of his skin on yours even after he's defiled you.

"I'm nothing more than a whore for you, aren't I?" You whisper back wetly.

"What?" Joel breathes. "What? N-no, God, no." He props himself up with an elbow and uses his other arm to flip you onto your back. You stare up at the ceiling ans blink away the tears threatening to pool in your eyes.

"You said that," you warble.

"I know," he says with a sigh. "I didn't mean it." Joel splays his large hand over your belly and leans down to press his forehead to yours. "I'm sorry," he whispers. The two simple words stun you -  it is the first time he's ever apologised.

Joel nuzzles his nose against your cheek tenderly, his eyes falling shut.

"I ain't lettin' you go," he whispers against your lips. "I'll prove myself to you. You'll see. You're mine, babydoll. I love you. You only belong to me. No one but me."

taglist - @@sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee

#joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller #dddne

[koshkamartell]

Yours For The Night

Chapter 1 - Strangers In The Night

Chapter warnings - mentions of drug use, alcohol, and sex work, reader suffers from anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment.

The town was quiet tonight, even more so than usual. There was some kind of event in the next town over (a carnival or festival, you weren't entirely sure) and a lot of the townsfolk had travelled there in search of entertainment, a distraction from the dreary mundane day to day life of living in a small country town. The usual popular nighttime haunts, like the Bullhorn Bar and the Gin Lounge, still had a steady trickle of regular patrons slink through their doors, but everywhere else was lifeless and somber.

You lean back against the gas station wall and take a sip from the straw of the the slushie cup you are holding. It was around 11pm but you weren't in any rush to go home. You were living with your alcoholic cousin in a trailer park on the northern edge of town and half the time she was passed out or missing for days at a time. There was no warmth to return to, no hugs or smiles to greet you, nothing luring you back there except the guarantee of shelter and a bed. Your small circle of friends have equally shitty living circumstances; you all spend the majority of your time roaming the streets and haunting secret hideouts that have been sacred territory for runaways and strays for as long as the town has existed. The 24 hour gas station was one of the places you frequented and you felt comfortable to loiter there at such a late hour.

You're alone tonight. Some of your friends hitchhiked to the neighbouring town to check out the event. Another was spending the night with her much older boyfriend, the guy who often plied you all with weed and alcohol. Two others had been missing for a week now, rumoured to have disappeared after going to score drugs from a local dealer with a sordid history. With no company and no point in going home you chose to just drift for a while. You didn't mind being alone though. You learned from a young age to appreciate solitude.

You lower yourself to the ground with your back upright against the wall and your knees bent. You put the slushie next to you on the cool concrete and fish in your jacket pocket for the small rectangular tin you had grabbed from your cousin's bedroom a couple days ago. Smoking wasn't a vice you indulged in all the time, but you liked to smoke when it was available to you; cigarettes took the edge off the anxiety and it gave you something to focus on, the nicotine offering you just the right hit of dopamine to keep you afloat.

You retrieve the tin from your jacket and flick open the lid to reveal a thin hand rolled cigarette, the last remaining one from your cousin's stash. You pop the end inbetween your lips and reach back into your pocket in search of a lighter.

"Come on," you mutter lowly in annoyance, the cigarette dangling from your mouth.

After a second of searching it was clear your pocket was empty. Fuck. You must have lost the lighter somewhere during your travels today. You had no money left, either, and the guy working behind the counter at the gas station was nice but you knew there was no way he would give you a light.

You sigh heavily and bow your head, crestfallen. It may have just been a shitty stick of tobacco but you really needed it right now. You needed the comfort of chemicals filling your lungs and decompressing the pent up tension threatening to burst right out your body. Especially today.

"Needa light?" A baritone voice spoke suddenly, shattering the haze of your despair.

You lift your head up. A man stands just a couple feet away from your sitting position on the ground, but his height makes him tower over you. Where did he come from?

He was alot older than you, evident by the crowsfeet and wrinkles etched on his face and the salt and pepper colouring of his patchy beard and in the curls ontop of his head. You guessed he was 50 years old, maybe more. He was also incredibly handsome, with an aquiline nose and plush lips. His dark brown eyes seemed troubled as he stared down at you underneath his furrowed brows.

You were too preoccupied with openly staring at him that you did not respond to his question.

"Well?" The man gruffed, raising his eyebrows and tilting his face slightly downward. There was a hint of authority in his gesture.

"Oh," you mumble, eyes blinking rapidly. "Shit, sorry. Yeah, a light would be good."

The man took a small step closer to you, his boots scraping on the dirt of the concrete, and then crouched down to your level. His broad chest and large arms strained under his green flannel, his gorgeous face less than a foot from yours. You instantly felt crowded and overwhelmed.

The man held out a lighter in his large hand and downpresses the ignition button with his large thumb, sparking a flame. He stares at you closely as you lean in and ignite the tip of your smoke on the dancing blue-yellow flame. You pull back and his thumb slips off the button.

"Thanks," you say quietly, your eyes staring into his.

The man just nods and stands back up, his knees cracking audibly as he ascends. He takes a step backward, his eyes never leaving you. You tilt your head to gaze at him while you inhale.

"'S bad for you, ya know," he murmurs, looking back at you with a kind of gentle intensity that causes a tiny pull of desire to whirl in your belly.

"Mmm," you hum softly. You exhale through your mouth and give a little shrug. "Gonna die someday, anyways."

His jaw ticks and something unidentifiable shifts in his expression, a flash in his eyes that comes and goes in a split second. There's a few moments of silence while you regard one another. It isn't awkward but the air between you is loaded.

You have been flirted with since you were 12 year old, been persued by both boys and grown men since you were 14, learned how to use your body to your advantage soon after. You know when someone is interested in what's under your clothes. But this seems different. There is no flirty banter or coy smiles. It make you feel a bit unnerved to recognise that you can't tell what he is thinking, only that he looks like he's struggling with something internally.

You break eye contact first and look down to examine the chipped nail polish on your fingernails. His hands come to rest on his hips and his head turns to look left and right, scanning the area around the gas station. The place has been deserted tonight save for an occasional customer. The man's eyes land back to your face.

"What's your name?" He asks. You glance back up at him and tell him your name, then ask for his.

"Joel."

You nod to indicate you've heard him and take a drag of your smoke. Joel watches you.

"What're you doin' out here so late, all by yourself?" Joel asks. There's a twang to his words - he sounds Texan.

"Haven't got anywhere else to be," you answer nonchalantly. "Why are you out here so late, by yourself?" You parrot back to him with a slight smirk.

"Wanted to get a cup'a coffee. But that ain't a problem cos I'm a grown man, ain't no one gonna cause trouble with me." Joel replies with matter of fact confidence. "But you, well..."

You roll your eyes a little and inhale another drag. Ah, there it is. That is probably his deal - the upstanding citizen showing concern for the safety of today's youth running wild on the streets. You have had similar interactions with strangers before - mainly with self righteous religious do-gooders trying to offer words of wisdom and free meals at their church, which you and your friends declined.

"I ain't jokin' around, little girl," Joel warns. The stern edge of his voice makes you meet his gaze. "It's dangerous out here for someone like you."

You scoff and shake your head. "I can handle myself, so save me the speech, dude."

Joel sighs heavily and runs a hand over his beard. He seems genuinely concerned, almost exasperated by your indifference. You watch him, secretly delighting in how harassed he looks.

"Why do you care, anyway? You don't know me." You sweep away a lock of hair that's fallen infront of your eyes.

"I don't know, guess I feel bad seein' someone so young alone on the streets," Joel mutters quietly. "Where are your parents, they ain't worried about ya?"

You turn your head to the side and pretend to be distracted by a passing car in the distance. "Don't have parents, they're dead."

You hear Joel inhale a deep breath and then exhale long and heavy. You can tell he feels bad. You've gotten used to this reaction; the pitying sadness in the person's eyes, the apologies that spill from their mouth, the awkward tenderness in their need to hug you. You hate it.

"Shit," Joel drawls. "Sorry to hear that."

You take a final puff of your rolled cigarette and then flick it over the pavement. "It's fine," you say flatly. You push yourself up from the ground to stand, taking the sushie as you rise. "Thanks for the light, Joel."

"Where you goin'?" He asks, frowning. You shift the strap of your compact purse further up your shoulder.

"Phone's almost dead, gotta charge it."

You turn to walk away but Joel's hand, warm and so big, touches your shoulder to stop you. "I gotta charger in my room. I'm stayin' at the motel across the road, room 15."

You let out a little gasp at the sudden soothing heat that blooms under the unexpected weight of his hand. You stare at up him and he's gazing down at you, his dark brown eyes roaming over your face, and you think you can detect an underlying urgency in his expression, something pleading.

You step away from Joel and look down at your shoes. He pulls his hand back and clears his throat. "'S up to you," he mumbles. "Just offerin', ain't gonna push you."

You kick at some pebbles on the pavement and fiddle with the straw of your slushie. Joel's gaze is intense and you still can't quite decipher what he's thinking. In your experience older men approaching girls your age have little else on their mind but sex. But you don't get that vibe from Joel. There's no hungry lust in his eyes, no sleazy charm in his words.

Maybe he's too shy to outrightly proposition you for a quick fuck in his motel room.

You look back at him and study his face. He's handsome, there's no doubt about that. You'd probably fuck him for nothing, if you were in the right mood. He doesn't wait any longer for your answer.

"'M goin' to get a cup of coffee," Joel murmers before spinning around on the heel of his boot and walking toward the convenience store entrance.

He's only gone for a minute but you've found yourself glued to the spot he left you, unable to muster a answer to decline his offer. You would never admit it outloud but you're lonely. You don't want to return to the trailer and it's dingy mess, the dirty crumple of sheets on the couch you sleep on, the stale smell of beer that permeates the whole place. Just thinking about it makes your belly gnaw with a low level anxiety that you refuse to acknowledge.

Joel's hulking figure strides back out of the store with a paper cup of coffee in his hand. He doesn't show any sign of surprise or satisfaction at seeing you waiting for him and he doesn't stop as he approaches you.

"Room 15," Joel reminds you quietly as he passes by. He takes a sip of his coffee and stalks across the road towards the seedy looking motel, not looking back once. It's neon pink sign glows like a beacon in the night.

You watch him, admiring the broadness of his back and his shoulders, the confident masculine way he carries himself. He reaches his room on the bottom story of the motel and disappears inside.

Fuck it.

You scamper after Joel, your heart hammering in your chest.

The room is what you would expect it to look like given the tacky, run-down exterior of the motel. It contains a queen sized bed complete with a faded patterned comforter and matching pillows, a bedside drawer, a small table with a single chair, an ancient looking television, and a cramped ensuite. There are no pictures or paintings adorning the shabby off white walls, only a broken air-conditioner with dust caked on its vents.

A duffel bag sits underneath the only window in the room, the one that looks out onto the road. The bed is made and looks untouched, as if Joel has just checked in.

You are aware that this situation looks sordid - a young woman in a seedy motel room with a man much older than her, both of them strangers to one another. You know of other girls who have been in this exact situation before after being lured with the promise of drugs and alcohol and money. You've heard the rumours of how cruel men can be, how despite the bruises and the blood the police department don't give a shit about girls who are stupid enough to whore themselves out to strangers.

But you have learned to trust your gut instinct over the tumultuous early years of your life, and your intiution is telling you that you aren't in any danger with Joel.

He crouches down to rummage through his bag while you linger awkwardly by the door. He pulls out a phone charger and stands back up, his knees cracking as he straightens. You are suddenly taken aback by how imposing his figure is in such close proximity and in such a confined space.

"Should do," Joel mumbles, holding out the charger for you to take.

When you reach out to take it from his proffered hand, you can't help but stare at how thick his fingers are. They are rough and calloused. He must work with his hands, maybe doing some kind of labour. For a second you wonder what it would be like to have those fingers kneading into your soft flesh, or sinking inside you to stretch you open. A tug of yearning pulls in your belly and snaps you out of your imagination. With flushed cheeks you clear your throat and gingerly pluck the charger from his grasp without meeting his eye.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

"Thanks," you mutter.

"Can use the outlet by the bed, if ya want," Joel gestures to the socket under the bedside drawer.

You sit on the stained carpeted floor and plug the charger into the wall and connect your phone. Joel sits at the table and drinks his coffee. The only sound in the room is the occasional slurp that comes from his lips. You busy yourself with your phone but there are no new texts or calls for you to respond to and you soon get bored. You toss your phone to the side and sigh. When you look up at Joel, he is already watching you, a pensive expression written on his features. His beautiful hooded brown eyes look tired. He is still wearing his boots and his legs are spread wide, his thighs straining against the denim of his jeans.

"Why are you drinking coffee at night?" You ask. "Isn't that more of a morning kinda thing?"

Joel looks down at his coffee. "Didn't feel like drivin' around lookin' for a bar. Felt like a coffee instead."

You tilt your head to the side and study him. "Won't it just keep you up all night?"

Joel scratches the side of his face and sighs a little. "Nah. Don't sleep too good anyway."

"Is that black coffee?" You scrunch your nose. "You don't even take milk?"

Joel rolled his eyes and takes a sip from his cup. "You always ask this many questions?"

"You always invite girls to your motel room?" You bite back without thinking.

Joel freezes mid sip. He frowns and looks at you with a hint of sad reproach in his gaze. "No," he mutters, lowering his cup. "No, I don't. You can go, if you want."

"No," you blurt out, "no, I wanna stay."

Joel just nods curtly. Neither of you know what to say next. You idly scroll through your photos and old text messages in silence. After a minute Joel clears his throat and lightly raps the tabletop with his knuckles.

"So, where do you live?" He asks softly, his head tilted slightly to the side. You glance up at him and stretch your legs out infront of you, sighing.

"About two and a half miles from here, at the Twin Peaks trailer park. It's near the Chalfont diner."

"You live alone?" Joel quirks an eyebrow.

"With my cousin. But she's not around much." You reply quickly, matter of factly. You don't really want to discuss your cousin's drinking habits or just how depressing your living circumstances are to somebody you just met.

Joel hums his understanding and doesn't question any further about your cousin. Silence falls upon the room for another minute or two before he speaks again. "You got a job?"

"Nope," you mutter. "Worked at the supermarket across town for a while, until my boss showed me what a creep he was. Said I had to give him 'special attention' if I wanted to keep my job."

You aren't really sure why you're being so open with him when you're usually reserved with people you don't know. Maybe it's because his questions aren't prying and they lack judgement, but for whatever reason you find the words come tumbling out of your mouth without any thought.

You don't see the way Joel's body tenses at your revelation, how his fist flexes or the annoyed tick of his jaw.

"Sounds like an asshole." He gruffs.

"Mmhm," you nod in agreement. "He was. That was a few months ago, haven't really found another job since. What about you?"

Joel runs a hand through his salt and pepper curls. "I'm a contractor. Build houses and things like that. I live in Fallsview but got a project in the next town over. I'll be stayin' there for a few weeks."

"Cool," is all you can say in reply. You knew his hands weren't those of a man who worked in an office. Your eyes flicker to them now and you notice his ring finger is bare. "Are you married?"

"No," Joel answers with a small shake of his head. "Divorced."

"Oh." You purse your lips and frown a little down at your lap. You are concentrating on trying to construe just what Joel's intentions might be now that you have this tiny morsel of insight into his life. He's not married. He doesn't seem like the churchy self righteous type. And he is staying at this shitty motel alone. Maybe he really is looking for some action from you.

Joel can see you are clearly conflicted by your thoughts. He looks at you expectantly with a raise of his eyebrows.

"What is it?" He asks. "Seem to have somethin' goin' on in your mind over there."

"Dunno if I should ask it," you mumble and chew on the tip of your thumb sheepishly.

Joel makes a 'come on' gesture with his fingers. "Ask what? Let's hear it."

"Uhm," you clear your throat awkwardly, somehow mustering the courage to look at him as you speak. "I just wanna know...did you offer me the charger, like in exchange for something?"

Joel stares at you with an uncomprehending frown that makes you feel even more self conscious.

"You know," you blurt out. "Like maybe you were inviting me here for the charger but also expecting me to give you something in return.....you know, like sex?"

"Hold on a minute," Joel groans, pinching his eyes shut and holding his hand up to signal for you to stop talking. "Please."

You stop speaking. You spy a small tinge of pink on his cheeks and think he must feel as equally embarrassed as you do. But despite his discomfort, Joel's gaze is focused on you, commanding your attention.

"No," Joel answers with conviction. "I don't expect nothin' from you, just offered the charger to help you out, that's all."

"Okay," you reply meekly. "I just didn't know, so..."

Joel shakes his head dismissively. "'S okay. I know it might look that way, but I don't...do those kinda things."

"Okay." You whisper once more.

Joel sighs heavily and scrubs his hand over his face wearily. You are about to say something else, possibly to apologise for your curiousity, but are unable to stifle the yawn that forces its way out of your mouth. You hadn't realised how weary you were, and now it felt like sleepiness was beginning to settle into your bones. You weren't ready to leave Joel's company just yet but the walk home was going to be a struggle. You deicded that you had better leave while you were still awake enough to move your legs.

"Tired?" Joel murmers.

"Mm," you hum. "Guess I better get goin'. Thanks for the charger." You push yourself up from the floor and stretch your arms above your head, yawning once more.

"Where's your car?" Joel asks as he rises from the chair. You hear the joints in his knees cracking.

You chuckle sardonically. "Oh, you didn't see my red Ferrari parked outside the gas station?"

Joel shoots you an unimpressed look in response. "You ain't got a car? How you plan on gettin' home?"

"Same way I get anywhere," you say nonchalantly. "By walking." You unplug your phone from the charger and slip it into your handbag before pulling the strap onto your shoulder.

Joel reaches out to you and lightly touches your arm - it's a respectful gesture to gently command your attention, and it causes a tingle to dance up your spine.

"Let me drive ya home," he implores.

"I walk all the time, it's okay Joel." You assure him. Truthfully you wouldn't mind getting a ride home but he's been generous enough already and you feel uncomfortable at the prospect of receiving any more charity. You are not accustomed to accepting help from anyone; something that has become entrenched in your personality from the myriad of times you were left to fend for yourself, a part of your mentality born from self preservation.

"No ya ain't," Joel states definitively. "Ain't safe. I'll drive ya."

He doesn't wait for your reply, already having swiped the keys off the table striding to the door.

You acquisese with a little shrug. "Okay okay, wait up."

You sit in the front passenger seat of Joel's truck and glance curiously around the interior. The centre console is littered with some gum wrappers and silver coins. Apart from this and the tracks of dirt on the floor of the car, it is relatively clean. The faint smell of pine, leather and mint is pleasant as it wafts into your nostrils. You hear the rattle of a tool box somewhere in the back seat.

You tug the sleeve cuffs of your sweater over your hands and snuggle back into the car seat. It seems to cushion you in a way that makes you feel small and childlike; your mind conjures a nostaglic memory of you as a young child laying in your father's car at night, the enveloping blackness of the sky and the vibrations of the vehicle lulling you to sleep.

How you are able to curl into the seat is a stark contrast to the way Joel occupies the drivers side. His body fills his seat completely, thick thighs spread and knees touching the steering wheel. The width of his shoulders leave little room for his arm to rest without encroaching on your space, and the sleeve of his flannel is close to brushing against your arm. His hand practically engulfs the gear stick when he clutches it.

The radio plays some old fashioned country tune, low and crackling. You and Joel are silent during the ride and the only time you speak is to give him directions to the trailer park. There is some kind of tension in the air between you that you can't quite distinguish, and you wonder if Joel feels it the way you do. He seems a little unsettled - you notice his large mitt flex on the gear stick every so often and how his thumb taps almost nervously against the steering wheel as he grips it.

You brave a few glances in his direction out the corner of your eye. He stares ahead at the road and you are able to admire the attractive shape of his profile and his facial features. The fluffy salt and pepper crown of curls that sit atop his head, his aquiline nose, the plushness of his bottom lip below his moustache, the smattering of hair along his distinct jawline.

He's so handsome, you think. Especially for an older guy. How old is he, anyway? You hadn't asked him how old he was, but he hadn't asked for your age, either. It seemed a little awkward to ask now.

Joel clears his throat suddenly, startling you. You hurriedly tear your eyes off of him and stare at the road, hoping he hasn't noticed you watching him.

Joel drives past the Chalfont Diner and you turn your head to gaze at its broken neon sign flickering in the parking lot. The familiar sight signifies that you are almost home, and you feel a strange pang of disappointment in your stomach.

The entrance of the trailer park comes into view after another minute. Joel turns off the main road and drives down the dirt road that leads to the park. When he enters into the lot he slows right down, letting the truck roll as unobtrusively as possible as you direct him to your cousin's trailer.

Immediately you can see that there are no lights on inside the trailer and that your cousin's car is gone. You aren't sure where she is or when she will be home again.

Joel stops outside your home and parks the truck, but doesn't turn off the engine.

"This it?" He asks, peering through the front windshield to look at where you live. Although he makes no comments, you can't help but feel a little embarrassed that Joel is seeing where you live. What does he think of the peeling paint on the exterior of the place, the wire door hanging off its hinge, the milk crate of empty beer bottles haphazardly discarded on the partially dead lawn out the front?

He probably thinks I'm trash.

"Yep," you say unenthusiastically as you unbuckle your seat belt. "Thanks for the ride, Joel."

You aren't sure why you want to linger in his truck, why you feel a pull to stay with him just a bit longer. Are you really that lonely? You do your best to suppress the confusion inside your head and grab the handle to open the door of the truck. You give Joel a nod before getting out.

"Welcome," Joel nods back. "G'night."

You don't turn back to look at him as you trudge over to the trailer and up the couple of steps to the door. You don't turn back after opening the door and going inside, either, but you sense that Joel is waiting for you to safely enter before driving off.

The next few weeks pass by uneventfully. You and two of your friends hunt for different ways to earn some money - the three of you make a little cash by hand washing cars for a couple days, then the next week you peddle cartons of bootlegged cigarettes for your friend's uncle.

One of the girls, Lacey, tells you that the strip club where your cousin works is looking for waitresses. She suggests you both apply for a job there but you aren't sure you want to. Your other friend, Tiana, wants to be a hairdresser and has tried finding a job in town at the salons but has had no luck.

Life seems hopeless in this dead end piece of shit town. Your plan is to get work and save up as much money as you can and then leave and never come back. But judging by the way things are going that dream looks like it'll never come true.

When you aren't hanging out with your friends you sit on the steps of the trailer and write in your journal. It's a binded hardcovered notebook covered in a pattern of pretty galactic swirls of purple and silver. You have spent hours filling it with your innermost thoughts, your hopes and aspirations, aswell as poems and sketches you consider amateurish and at times silly. It's a piece of your heart on pages of paper, something precious and personal; journaling has been the only dependable companion you've ever had in your life.

Your cousin comes and goes, sometimes with a man you deduce is her new boyfriend. His name is Trent and he always wears a cap and a white wifebeater underneath a flannel shirt. He works at the steel mill just outside town. Whenever Trent is over he eyes you with smug lechery that makes you want to gag.

They are usually high or drunk when they return to the trailer and don't bother to restrain the sounds they make when they fuck. Now whenever you hear his truck rumble noisily outside you snatch up your handbag and escape to the streets in town.

Tonight is one of those nights. You scurry out the door and down the steps to escape before they even open their car doors. They don't seem to care though.

You leisurely walk along the back dirt roads into the cenrre of town, listening to music through a pair of old earphones that still manage to work. The twilight sky twinkles above you while you walk, and your path is beautifully illuminated by the round pale moon and the nearby streetlights. A slight breeze cools the bare skin of your legs. It is tranquil, soothing. You consider what you will do for the night. Maybe some of your friends will be out and about too and a group of you can get high under the bridge like you sometimes do together.

A sudden growling in your stomach makes you wince. You haven't eaten all day - you know if you get high when you're hungry you'll feel nauseous and want to vomit. Shit. Maybe you will try sell the last pack of bootleg smokes you have left so you can skim a bit of funds from the total and then treat yourself to something cheap from the gas station.

You head to the Bullhorn Bar where you know you'll have a good chance of finding a buyer to sell to. Unlike an establishment like the Gin Lounge, which mostly caters to business people and more self important members of society, the people at the Bullhorn Bar would be more inclined to purchase something off the street. The usual patrons are steel mill workers, rednecks and the occasional biker gang, and while the bar has a rough reputation you know it'll be easier to hawk something there than anywhere else in town.

You don't go inside but stay outside instead, casually leaning against the wall of the building by an adjacent alleyway. The muffled thump of the country music inside the bar reverberates through the brick wall behind you. It must be busy tonight, you muse.

You take out one of your own rollies from the pocket of your jacket and light it up. You smoke as you watch the occasional customer walk by to enter through the saloon style doors of the place. You wait a while before initiating conversation with anyone, patiently fishing for the right buyer.

Soon enough a man comes ambling along the sidewalk in a crumpled grey suit, his tie loose around his neck and his face flushed. He already looks half drunk. This should be easy.

"Hey," you greet him smoothly.

The man stops and looks at you blankly, his eyes bloodshot. "Evening."

"You smoke?" You smile a little, holding up your cigarette.

"Uh, sometimes," the man mumbles non-committally, unsure what you're getting at. "Why?"

"Well, I gotta brand new pack of smokes right here," you reach into your bag and pull out the box. "I don't need 'em. Wanna buy?"

The man shakes his head rapidly, making his jowls quiver. "Oh no, no, no thank you, young lady," he mutters, "none of that for me tonight."

"Come on, man," you soothe cunningly, "I gaurantee you haven't tried these before. They are smoother than those bullshit Malboros you probably smoke, and they are half the price. You can't say no to this deal."

The red faced man just continues shaking his head and raises his hands up in refusal, then quickly walks away from you towards the saloon doors.

"Oh, for fucks sake," you groan with annoyance. Oh well, that was only the first try. Plenty more to go. You pop your rollie back into your mouth and deposit the cigarette packet back in you bag.

"Those'll kill ya, you know." A deep voice speaks suddenly behind you.

You squeak, startled, and fling around. The voice belongs to Joel, ofcourse. He is standing tall infront of you with his arms crossed. He is so close that you can smell his scent from where you stand - a mixture of pine, mint and coffee. His hair is slicked back and he wears a green flannel shirt with a black t shirt underwear. You notice how his biceps strain the fabric covering them.

Joel looks down at you with the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes, and you notice how the tanned skin around them crinkles. "Forcin' strangers to buy some smokes?"

You shake your head a bit and snicker. "No," you say, "I'm just trying to make an honest living, thank you."

The corner of Joel's lips quirk into a tiny smile. "Sellin' bootleg cigarettes 's what you call an honest livin', huh?"

You grin sheepishly and give a shrug. "I'm working with what I got, man." You tap the ash at the end of your cigarette onto the sidewalk and take another puff. "What're you doing back here?"

Joel looks down at his boots and kicks at a pebble on the ground. "Finished work for the week and got some time to kill. Thought I'd drive through, see what's goin' on."

"In this town?" You scoff teasingly. "Not much to do here, Joel." You drop your rollie and crush the ember with the toe of your shoe.

Joel lifts his head and looks at you, the light from the streetlight overhead creating the illusion that his dark brown eyes are sparkling.

"You remembered my name?" He asks softly, sounding like he's both surprised and pleased at the fact you hadn't forgotten him.

You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows inquisitively. Ofcourse I remembered, you want to say. "Yeah," you reply simply instead. "Did you remember mine?"

Joel stares at you intently and nods, his jaw ticking once. He speaks your name then to prove himself, the rich timbre of his Southern accent sounding smooth and honeyed to your ears. You feel your cheeks blushing in response and you have to internally scold yourself for being so ridiculous.

"Yep, that's me," you murmur shyly, looking down at your shoes and fidgeting with your hands, unsure of what else to say.

After a few moments you hear Joel clear his throat and then you feel the heat of his large hand as he gently cups your elbow in his palm. "You wanna go get somethin' to eat? I'm starvin' and got no idea where to get a good steak around here."

You peer up and smile at him,  "Uh, sure," you whisper. "That would be nice."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #soft joel miller #joel miller fic

[koshkamartell]

Yours For The Night

summary - You are young and lonely, barely existing in this depressing town. Then one night you meet a stranger called Joel.

warnings - drug use, alcohol consumption, sex work, sexual harassment, reader suffers from anxiety, slow burn romance, age gap, eventual smut, soft Joel.

Masterlist:

Chapter 1 - Strangers In The Night

#joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

You can't be sure what time it is when you awake from the slumber of the night before. The morning sun peaks through the curtains in your bedroom, beams of bright light streaming across your floor.

You are laying on your side and there is a throbbing in your head. You try to lift it off the pillow and are immediately struck by the heaviness of it, as if there is a weight inside your skull. You open your eyes and blink away the sleep crusted along your lash line and a bolt of pain shoots up the side of your face. You wince. Your whole face feels tender.

Then you are hit with the memory of Joel's hands all over you, the cruel violence his body inflicted upon yours. It comes flooding back to you in an abrupt wave of terror, causing your breathing to hitch.

Is he here right now?

You cannot feel the burning warmth of his body beside you or the weight of his limbs ontop of your own. Holding your breath inside your lungs, your pulse quickening rapidly, you very slowly roll your head to face behind you.

But his side of the bed is empty. You're alone.

You exhale a long breath of relief. You really cannot handle seeing Joel right now, not until you properly assess whatever damage he has caused, not until your brain can piece together just what had happened. You debate whether to stay laying in bed to rest or to brave the confrontation of whatever happened last night when you rise. With every progressing minute you become more cognisant of the injuries inflicted on your body, your mind becoming aware of all the different parts of you that throb.

You eventually decide to get up and go to the bathroom.

It takes you several minutes to sit up at the edge of the mattress and attempt to walk. As soon as you stand a gush of semen spills from between your thighs and runs down your legs. You spy the dress you wore last night crumpled on the floor, and you pick it up to clean yourself with before the evidence of Joel's rampage drips onto the floor. You clench your teeth and hiss at the burning sting when you move your legs - you must be torn.

You enter the bathroom, steeling yourself before peeking into the mirror. You aren't prepared for the reflection that confronts you, how the bruises correspond accordingly to each and every painful pulsation that you feel.

The ache of the right side of your temple and the left apple of your cheek are reflected by a smattering of purple bruises. Faint red imprints in the shape of fingertips on your face. Your bottom lip stings from where it is split at the corner of your mouth, a smear of dried blood blooming around it. Your hair is knotted and messy atop your sensitive scalp. Nasty purple bruises cup your sore kneecaps.

You assess yourself with clinical detachment, almost as if you have disconnected from your physical self once more. It is impossible for you to think coherently about what your body had suffered through; piecing together the events of the previous nights would have to wait. All you want to do is shower and rid yourself of the invisible grime and smells that cling to your skin.

You start the shower and spend the next ten minutes scrubbing every inch of your body with the lemon myrtle scented soap you splurged on at one of the boutiques in town. You lather yourself generously with the bar and rinse off under the steady stream of warm water, then repeat it all once more. You scrub at your skin harshly, desperate to shed the filth you swear you can feel itching you.

Your hands roam between your thighs and gently wash your vulva with the warm water. You aren't brave enough to look down there just yet but the swelling around the entrance to your vagina tells you enough. You are equally tender when you wash your hair, trying to avoid irritating your scalp even more.

Ten minutes later you are sitting on the bed with your legs extended, wearing a sweater and underwear, your wet hair wrapped in a towel. In an attempt to distract yourself you have started reading the book that was sat on your nightstand, one of several novels on your to read list. You are about to turn the page when you hear the sound of foot steps in your hallway. You freeze at the sound, the familiar feeling of panic seizing your insides.

Joel strides into your bedroom, dressed and wearing his boots, seemingly ready for the day. He's holding a mug in his hand. When you see it is him you quickly lower your head and fix your eyes to the book in your hands, hoping to God that he can't hear the pounding of your heart. You can't bear to look at his face, to see whatever emotion is projecting from his dark brown eyes.

He clears his throat and speaks your name quietly, his voice gravelly but gentle. You don't respond or even move an inch to indicate you have heard him.

"Made ya a cup of your green tea," Joel murmers.

The floorboards creak softly under his heavy footsteps as he sets the mug of tea down on your nightstand. The gesture astounds you - he has never made you tea before - but you remain still, as if you cannot hear him. Truthfully, you are scared stiff by his presence.

Why is he being so nice?

You hate yourself for the tears that begin to pool in your eyes, blurring your vision and obscuring the letters on the page infront of you. The springs in the mattress squeak as Joel sits at the end of your bed with a small sigh.

On impulse you bend your knees and pull your legs back, but Joel wraps his hand around on of your ankles and tugs it back towards him. His touch isn't aggressive or forceful but it startles you, causing a brief jolt of fear to rip through your body. He guides your foot to sit on his lap and he begins rubbing your heel in tender circles with his thumb.

"Darlin'," Joel sighs. "Are you okay?"

No, Joel. How could I possibly be okay after what you did?

You remain silent. The tears break free from your eyes and trickle down your cheeks. Your fingers are trembling; you curl them tightly over the corners of the book.

You wonder if he actually cares whether or not you are okay. What is going on with this uncharacteristic gesture of kindness, making you tea and asking if you're okay? Can he sense how broken you are, just how far he crossed over the line, how irreparable the damage is that he caused?

Your nose starts to drip along with the tears that wet your face. You sniff and wipe your nose with the cuff of your sleeve.

"No, I'm not okay," you whisper.

Joel sighs and runs his hand over his face. "Look, I already told Ellie that you're sick and you'll need a few days off work. She's gonna tell Tommy."

It is then that you look up at him with an incredulous expression. "What?"

Joel's eyes look solemn and weary as he stares back at you, his brows knitted together. Why does he look so sad?

"Til the bruises heal." He explains quietly. "Won't be more than a couple days."

You can't stifle the sob that claws up your throat. Oh. Right. That makes sense. How on earth could you explain your face without telling the truth? There's no plausible excuse for the marks on you.

You drop your book onto the mattress and look down at your lap. Your tears flow freely now, the pain of betrayl and your broken heart too profound to suppress. You are sure you look pitiful and weak but you don't care. You drag your sleeve over your face and your snotty nose.

"Look," Joel began in a serious tone. "I know I went hard on ya last night, maybe hurt ya worse than I was supposed to." His thumb rubs along the heel of your foot gently, almost like a supplication for you to understand his perspective. "But when you disrespect me you break my rules. That's why I gotta discipline you, otherwise how is this supposed to work?"

You shake your head a little, wanting to show your disagreement but the throbbing in your head is getting worse. "But I didn't do anything wrong," you whisper, a small part of you hoping your words don't come across as defiant.

"Babydoll," Joel says sternly. "Look at me. Now."

The authority in his voice is unsettling enough to make you look back up at him.

"You're my woman," he states plainly. "I ain't sharin' you with anyone else. And I don't want any other man lookin' at you the way I saw 'em last night. They see you actin' wild with those girls and think you don't got a man takin' care of you, that maybe you're askin' for somethin'. So you behavin' that way disrespects me."

You don't have enough experience with men to know if what Joel says is true. Do men really think that way?

"You gotta trust me, baby girl. Men like that see a pretty girl like you and they'll do whatever it takes to get a taste." Joel speaks earnestly. "I've seen what these men can do to a woman first hand. If anything like that happened to you...." Joel sighs heavily and shakes his head. "I gotta protect you from that."

You watch the almost mournful arrangement of Joel's facial features, the slightly pained regret and sorrow in his brown eyes. He looks so soft this like, when a glimpse of his inner sensitive side appeared. This is the Joel you love. Maybe he really is just trying to protect you

"I don't like it when you get so angry," you whisper, looking down at your lap. "And you hurt me."

"I know I can get a bit carried away, my amger gets the better of me. But that's because I get so worried about ya," Joel admits solemnly. "I can't lose you, baby. And that's why you gotta listen to me. What I do is for your own good, sugar."

You understand Joel's worries and concerns. You understand how the trauma from losing his daughter would always haunt him, cause him to cling tighter to those he loves. But how are you supposed to have a healthy relationship when Joel hurts you for any perceived threat of losing you?

But you can't bring yourself to argue with him right now. You are confused by his contradictory actions and words, your mind too muddled and tired for you to properly debate him or articulate yourself.

While you are silent Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a folded white envelope. "Now, I want you to take this medicine. It'll help with the pain."

You peek at him from under your brow curiously. He unfolds the envelope and carefully shakes three little white tablets into the palm of his hand.

Did he really trek to the pharmacy in town just for you, because he knew you would be in pain?

Joel takes two of the tablets and holds them out to you, motioning with a nod for you to take them.

"Take 'em now." Joel commands you quietly.

Your head feels heavy and pounding once again. If these are pain killers, you would happily devour them to rid yourself of this misery. You concede to Joel's wishes and slowly reach over to accept them in your own hand. You then obediantly pop the mecidine in your mouth and swallow them down with a big gulp of green tea.

Joel watches you intently. "Good girl," he murmers. "One more."

He holds the last tablet in his outstretched palm for you to retrieve. It is smaller than the others, with some kind of letter or number embossed on its face. You don't bother studying it. You swallow it, encouraged by Joel's hand stroking along your ankle. You don't know just why his touch feels so soothing, or how your guard has slipped enough for you to even accept his hand on your skin without flinching, but it feels good. You and Joel stay like this for some time and it isn't long before you're on the verge of being lulled to sleep.

Joel stops his ministrations when you yawn and rub your eye with your fist. He gives your shin an affectionate pat and then shifts your leg from his lap.

"I gotta get to work." He tells you. "I'll be back later. Stay in bed and rest."

Joel stands up from the bed with a groan, his knees creaking as he straightens up. He comes to stand beside you and places his calloused fingertips under your chin.

"Listen to me, sugar." He tilts your head up slowly, forcing you to look at him.

"You aren't to answer the door if anybody knocks. Don't matter who it is, you are to stay put in this room." Joel instructs you matter of factly, a stern edge to his voice. "I'll be the only one comin' and goin'. I'll be back when patrol is finished."

"Okay," you answer quietly.

"When you're feelin' better.and back to work, there'll be some rules. Now, our business is our business, you hear me?"

You nod, but Joel isn't satisfied with your muted response. He shakes his head and frowns down at you.

"Repeat it.' He commands softly.

"Our business is our business," you whisper back.

"And you ain't goin' to tell anybody about this...disagreement...we had. Unless you need a reminder about what can happen when you don't listen."

Joel is calm as he speaks, almost gentle in his tone, but the underlying warning in his words is unmistakable. He could easily hurt you if he wants to, for whatever reason he sees fit. After what he put you through last night you are petrified at the prospect of further discipline carried out by Joel.

"I won't tell anyone." You mumble, your eyes glassy with tears once again.

"We're gonna move past this, be a happy life. And I'll take care of you, babydoll."

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead, the hair of his moustache tickling along your brow.

"You rest now. I'll see you later."

Joel turns and stalks out of the bedroom. You listen to the heavy footsteps of his boots as he walks away, the slam of the front door, the forboding clink of your key turning in its lock. Then you bury your head in your pillow and fall asleep.

You fall in and out of sleep throughout the day, succumbing to the fatigue that has followed the trauma you have endured over the past 15 or so hours. The pain had subsided considerably thanks to the tablets Joel gave you.

Sometime in the afternoon you lay awake, curled under your blanket and reading your book when there comes a loud knock at your front door.

Oh no. Who could that be?

You strain to hear any further noise from outside. It must be Kate, or maybe Ellie, you guess. But you can't risk them catching sight of you in this condition.

There's silence for a few beats, then another succession of knocks. You hear your name being called, but can't quite make out whose voice is speaking. Gingerly, you slip out of bed and pad out of the bedroom and down the hallway. You creep over to the front door when the voice speaks again, almost pleading in its timbre.

"Please open up, it's Oscar."

Your hand shoots up to your lips to instinctively stifle your gasp. Oscar? Why on earth is he here, outside your cottage?

"Please, I need to see you." He calls, softer now.

Oh, Oscar. I want to see you too. But not like this.

You slink to the door and press your forehead against the wood. You clear your dry throat nervously before speaking. "Oscar, I'm here."

••••••

Oscar presses his forehead against your door and sighs with something that sounds like relief at hearing your soft voice speak his name. He whispers your name with tender reverence.

"Are you okay? I went to the school and they said you were sick today."

There's a pause on the other side of the door. He's about to ask if you're still there when you reply.

"I'm okay, just a bit sick with a cold."

Oscar closes his eyes and turns his head so that his ear is leaning against the wood. "Can I please see you?"

He needs to see you. He needs to tell you how much you mean to him in your life, in whatever way he can have you. But not through barrier like this door. He needs to stand before you for you to look into his eyes and witness his sincerity.

"Not right now," you whisper. There's a tiny tremble in your voice.

Oscar slumps against the door dejectedly. He doesn't want to push you or pressure you in any way, especially when you're sick.

"But when I'm better, yes, ofcourse." He hears you amend. "In a couple of days. At the library."

Oscar flattens his palm against the wood, wishing you could sense his yearning. "Okay," he says. "Can I get you something, some food, or medicine?"

You decline his offer. He feels helpless, hates that he can't do anything for you when you're unwell. But ultimately he accepts your answer and says goodbye, telling you he will see you again in a few days.

He isn't able to hear your muffled cries when he walks away from your porch and onto the street.

The next two days follow the same routine. Joel returns to your cottage in the evening after his patrol shift. He brings you sandwiches, fruit, jerky and soup to eat. You have little appetite but manage to take a few bites and spoonfuls of food to keep up your strength.

Joel doesn't attempt to make awkward conversation but he does linger around the bedroom, as if he wants to remain close to you but doesn't want to impose on your space.

In truth, Joel doesn't want to be apart from you for even a second. He wants to stay close to you as much as he can. But he knows you are scared.

Joel knows he has frightened you. He knows he's hurt you. He knows he has damaged you in ways that he could never fully understand. He was only able to even acknowledge the possibility that he went too far when he saw your face the next morning. When he woke up he saw you laying next to him in bed, your eyebrows were pulled into a faint frown as you slept, as if you were in pain or having an unpleasant dream. When he registered the bruises and marks across your features, the aftermath of his rage, his heart dropped.

It was the first time Joel Miller had felt some semblance of guilt for the suffering of someone at his hands. It was like a knife twisting in his guts. He doesn't regret confronting you or reiterating your position in his life, but he knows he went too far. He knows he made you suffer more than necessary, and he feels guilt for that. And shame.

There had been times in this world, mainly as a raider, when Joel had murdered innocent people just to inflict senseless pain onto someone else. He never felt remorse for his actions, justifying them to himself and Tommy that it was imperative for their survival.

It was only at this point in his life that Joel had felt some kind of guilt for the suffering of another. He had believed himself to be incapable of emotion towards anyone else besides Tommy and Ellie. But now here he was, struggling with so many different feelings for a woman so much younger than himself, simply elicited by the raw sight of your wounded face.

You are so beautiful and so pure.

Joel hates himself. He thinks of Ellie and her reaction if she saw you and found out the truth, the real cause of your injuries. She would come to hate him, too, then demand that you leave him. The thought engulfs him with dread and dismay.

Joel knows he isn't able to verbalise what he's thinking. He cannot tell you he is sorry, that he loves you, that it'll never happen again. So he tries to show you his apology in different ways. He consciously tries to be more attentive than he has ever been before. He is gentle and mindful in the little tokens of affection he bestows upon you;  featherlight strokes of your cheek with his thumb, trails of sweet kisses along your shoulder blade, his fingers slowly tucking lose strands of hair behind your ear.

He spoons you each night with his arm securely encircled around your waist. He nuzzles his nose into your sweet smelling hair and whispers goodnight baby into your ear and then you both fall to sleep snuggled together.

Whenever you have a bad dream Joel's right there beside you to cradle you in his arms and soothe you back to a peaceful slumber, coaxing you with ssshhhs and his hand rubbing your back in comforting circles.

Joel resists the urge to fuck you until the third consecutive night of him sleeping at your home. In the still and quiet of the late night hour, Joel is aroused from sleep by the throbbing of his hard cock. He can't restrain himself from rutting his crotch against your ass, and when you moan softly in your sleep, he feels emboldened enough to slip his hand down the front of your pyjama shorts. He lightly rubs your clit through your panties with his thick fingers while grinding his hips into yours.

It doesn't take long for your pussy to become wet and soak through the material. A groan of desire rumbles in Joel's throat and he sucks at the side of your neck. You whimper and moan and slowly stir from sleep as your orgasm builds, your body unable to deny the power Joel holds over it when he pleasures you so expertly. Joel continues to rub tight delicious circles over your clit until your climax hits you and your body quivers and you gasp breathlessly. He places soft kisses all along the column of your throat while he coaxes you through your orgasm.

When your tired body slumps back into his chest Joel yanks down your shorts and underwear and pushes them off your legs. He takes his cock out from his underwear and presses it in the space between your ass and your inner thighs.

"I need you, babydoll," Joel grunts into your ear.

You arch your back and tilt your hips wordlessly. Joel slips his arm underneath your knee and hikes your leg up to spread you open, then pushes the head of his cock into the tight heat of your wet pussy. He fucks you in a slow and deep rhythm so that every roll of his hips makes his cock touch your g spot. The sound of your sweet moans and the squelching of your pussy around him intensifies Joel's own pleasure.

He rocks his hips and fucks you faster, his heavy balls smacking against your ass with each thurst. But Joel's movements are not frenzied or rough as he chases his own orgasm; he is more reserved than usual, as if he is being careful not to hurt you.

When he is about to cum he swiftly withdraws from you and jerks his cock against your lower back, and then shoots his hot semen onto the flesh of your ass cheek. When Joel has recovered from his climax he goes to the bathroom and returns with a wet towel to clean you up. It is the first time he has ever done this on his own accord.

You soon fall back to sleep cuddled in Joel's embrace exhausted and satisfied. It is only when Joel can determine for sure that you are properly asleep that he whispers "I love you."

After three days of resting in bed and waiting for your face and body to heal, you return to work. Joel patiently helps you dress.

"You look perfect, sugar. Pretty as ever." He purrs in your ear.

He places a soft kiss on your temple, gliding his hands over your upper arms. You cannot help but lean against his chest a little to savour the distinct scent of sandalwood and his skin. Just before you leave Joel sneaks out of the back door to go to his patrol shift.

You depart and begin walking to the library with a niggling sense of apprehension and anxiety digging inside your stomach. You feel conspicuous being outside the quiet refuge of your home, as if you are parading around naked in public. You try to squash it down and assure yourself that it is a short distance to your destination, but by the time you turn into the main street and see the library you are almost completely overwhelmed.

You are so relieved to reach the library and so eager to enter into somewhere quiet and safe that your hands are shaking as you fumble to retrieve the keys from your pocket. You drop them twice, cursing under your breath, before successfully unlocking the door. You hurry inside and slam the door shut, not sure why exactly your heart is pounding so loud in your ears.

You shut your eyes and try to regulate your breathing with deep, slow inhales through your nose and exhales out of your mouth. It takes roughly five minutes for you to fully compose yourself and for the panic to subside. You chide yourself for being so weak. You are just feeling a little fragile right now, that's all. It's just something you will just have to get over.

You don't consider the reasons why you feel so vulnerable; your brain is still switched into survival mode and you are somewhat still in a state of dissociation. Instead, you just resolve to be productive and you get to work.

You potter around the library doing small jobs. Although your bruises are almost completely faded you don't want to interact with anyone at all, and fortunately you are granted the solace you need when no one visits the library.

Until just after the clock strikes noon.

You know your luck will run out eventually and you will have to somehow muster the energy to socialise with another person. When the chime above the door finally tinkles, you inwardly cringe and do your best to conjure a smile on your face.

When you walk out from the book shelves to see who is there, you gasp and freeze in the spot.

It is Oscar.

He immediately perceives your alarm and hastily comes to a halt by the counter. He holds his palms outward like you are a frightened animal, trying to convey that he means no harm. He frowns and his eyes show concern and worry.

"Are you alright?" He asks tentatively.

You stand still and stare at him. His presence has caught you so off guard that you are robbed of speech and are incapable of articulating yourself.

No, Oscar, I'm not alright, you wish to say.

Why has Oscar disarmed you so profoundly? Why are you so affected by seeing him?

But you know why, even if you could never quite comprehend it, even though you have never been able to acknowledge it before this moment. 

He's your safe place, the only man who has ever made you feel respected, worthy, appreciated. Because you knew that if you needed him, he would come to your rescue straight away. Because he possesses so many attributes that you desire in a friend and a lover; qualities that you wish Joel had.

But you are so unworthy of him.

The realisation hits you so hard that you become breathless and dizzy and have to grip onto a book shelf for stability. Panic seizes your lungs and your heart and your eyes go wide and glassy. You are no longer disconnected and your brain is no longer tuned to static.

Joel raped me.

A ragged sob escapes your throat, tortured and sorrowful.

Oscar rushes over to you. "Hey hey," he whispers, "what is it, what's wrong?"

You shake your head tightly, lips pressed together as the tears ran down your cheeks. You could never admit the truth to Oscar.

You hate yourself for being so weak and emotional, for breaking down infront of him. You can't bear to meet his concerned gaze. You sink down to the ground and hug your knees into your chest. Oscar drops to his knees beside you immediately.

"Are you hurt?" He asks gently. His brown eyes scan over your frame in search of any sign of injury.

You shake your head once more and a sob hitches in your throat. Oscar was so close to you now that his knees were touching your legs.

"What is it?" He whispers desperately, frowning.

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper. It was like you couldn't speak at all, no longer had the ability to verbalise your thoughts and emotions in any way, the ball of despair in your throat too cloying to communicate through. Tears run down your cheeks and drip down your chin.

"It's okay, honey," Oscar cooes. "You're okay, I'm right here with you."

You begin to cry harder, your body wracking with sobs. Oscar places one of his hands up to rest on the space between your shoulder blades and starts to rub soothing circles over your back. His other hand reaches down to clasp one of yours. His skin is smooth and warm.

"Let it all out, I've got you." He whispers. "I got you, honey."

And so you do. You weep openly, the dam of suppressed emotions breaking free and pouring out of you.

After what feels like ages, you gradually relax and allow him to comfort you, surrendering to his peaceful presence. Your sobs become small hitches that eventually die down and turn into sniffles. He stays by your side the whole time, continuously rubbing your back with his gentle, warm palm.

"You don't have to tell me," Oscar confides. "But I'll always be here, whenever you're ready."

I am ready, you think to yourself. I'm ready to leave.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee

#joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #joel miller #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #the last of us #dddne

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

*chapter warnings* - noncon oral and piv, degradation, assault, unhinged Joel, alcohol consumption.

Oscar sits on the edge of his mattress and watches the snow lightly falling outside his bedroom window. Without an official measurement to accurately mark dates of the month, Oscar always relied on the first snowfall of the season to guess how early into December it might be. When the delicate flakes of white began fluttering in the air, he knew it would be nearing Christmas.

This time of year was laced with bittersweetness for Oscar. Prior to the ending of the world there had been beautiful moments in his life that were borne in the month of December, framed by the magical glow of seasonal snow and Christmas spirit. One of the greatest of those moments was when Oscar proposed to Elvie, his true love, the woman who would later become his wife.

It was etched into the recesses of his memory, playing in his imagination like a vintage black and white film reel with no sound. Oscar and Elvie gathered infront of a decadant Christmas tree. Oscar lowering himself to one knee infront of her, a small black jewellery box in one hand, his adoring face beaming up at her. Elvie weeping tears of joy and nodding enthusiastically before Oscar stands to kiss her passionately.

Then the memories fade abruptly, the image of Elvie's face dissipates into black, and Oscar is once more transported back to the bleak reality of life as a survivor of the apocalypse. It always takes a few moments for him to acclimatise back to the present, for both his mind and heart to connect back to consciousness. The residual aching inside his rib cage has become a familiar consistent throb, one that eventually passes once he is distracted enough by reality.

Oscar rubs his hands together to generate some warmth against the chill that has seeped into his room. Although he finished his patrol shift over an hour ago, he is still dressed in the same clothes he wore, too tired and apathetic to bother changing into something more casual.

Oscar likes his work as a patrolman and stable hand. He revels in asserting his value as a community member in any occupation, but his role as a patrolman is of particular merit. It has given him many opportunities to demonstrate his physical strength and combat abilities, aswell his problem solving skills. The work keeps him sharp, he finds.

But nothing Oscar does gives him the same level of contentment he felt while being at the library with you. The days aren't as bright or exciting without you around. You aren't there at the stables to greet him with your pretty smile, or to share pockets of emotional intimacy with him during lunch breaks. He misses telling you the entertaining things that have happened to him during the week and the endearing chortle he earns from you, the tiny bubble of pride that rises inside him to be the one whose made you laugh.

Oscar has wanted to visit you. He's thought about spontaneously popping into the library or the school when you're almost finishing for the day but the timing is never right; he either returns from patrol soon after you finish your work, or he's due to begin just before. He considered going to your cottage to say hello but he's too shy, too afraid of possibly making you feel uncomfortable. So instead he looks for you at every mealtime he attends at the mess hall, desperate to capture even the briefest glimpse of you somewhere amongst the clusters of residents. You're never there, though.

Are you eating lunch without him? Oscar wonders randomly. When you had unexpectedly crossed his path the other week, he was startled by the change in your appearance - your face looked sharper and there was something about your eyes that unsettled him...there was a distant and dull sort of quality to your orbs that he hasn't seen before. Depleated is the word that came to Oscar's mind.

How he wished he could have taken you in his arms and held you tightly, confessing how he missed everything about you, from the smell of your skin to the ribbons you wore in your hair, the absent-minded way you'd chew the end of a pencil when you were deep in thought, your never ending patience when helping someone find a book they were in search of.

Do you miss him? Even a little?

Oscar cards his fingers through his curly hair and sighs. He feels pathetic pining for something he isn't even sure is reciprocated, an affinity on his behalf that could just be a superficial friendship to you. But no, that can't be right, not when he's been witness to your tears and emotions, not when he's held you in his arms like your body pressed against him is the most natural thing in the world.

Oscar watches the snow fall and thinks of Elvie and what he told you when Maude had died; "We owe it to them to continue living. To live as best as we can to allow ourselves happiness and love."

Oscar closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The echo of his own words in his mind grant him consolation. When he exhales and opens his eyes once more, Oscar feels the warm rush of clarity from within his heart. He vows to be bold, more courageous. He vows to no longer hide away from his feelings, to allow himself happiness and love.

Joel stood in the small space of his closet, the white shoebox balanced in his hand while he sifted through its contents with the other. He peeked into the envelope and counted the tablets safely nestled at the bottom. Still all there. His emergency stash. For any 'just in case' incidents.

He shuffled out of the closet and over to the bed with the box. He's had a hidden chest of goods for quite a while now, very gradually adding items as he discreetly procures them from scavenging expeditions and the seized bounty of defeated raiders. Things he viewed as necessities for survival, like a couple of small handguns, stacks of ammunition, a hunting knife, rope, and duct tape.

But when Joel and you had first begun seeing each other, he knew he needed a box specifically for you; a place to keep mementos and sacred things of you safe. Like the pretty gold necklace he had found six months ago during a supply run, the pendant he had been waiting to gift you at the right moment. Beside it sat the pink ribbon he stole from your cottage, as well as a pair of your dirty underwear that he managed to pilfer.

Joel's fingers skim over the simple soft cotton material of your panties with a kind of reverence. He reflects on the last couple of weeks with you as the thick pads of his fingertips caress your underwear.

Things had been going a whole lot better than he expected, Joel mused to himself. It had been easier than he initially thought, coaxing you back into his strong arms and his salivating jaws like a weak little lamb. You seemed to slot back into his embrace so easily, easily enough that it solidified Joel's belief that you needed him. That you were destined to be his.

Joel did not ascribe to any religion. He had lost faith in any kind of God long before Sarah had died. He did not believe in concepts like karma or reincarnation. But what he did believe in to some degree was destiny, and Joel believed that you were destined to belong to him. From the very first moment he laid eyes upon you, he knew you must be his.

Joel was well aware of his obsession for control and domination over the things he cared about. He knew the driving force behind this preoccupation was the debilitating fear of losing what (or who) was precious to him. The crux of it all was that Joel was incapable of admitting just how fiercely he loved; as a result, his efforts to protect and preserve were over zealous and ruthless. It was easier for Joel to capture and cage you, to deprive you of the freedom to roam this dangerous world, than to stand by your side and navigate it with you.

Joel had tried to be patient in his pursuit of ensaring you. It felt like when you had first begun giving yourself to him, when things between you were still coy and gentle. He had tried so hard not to frighten you away, to keep control of his anger, instead bestowing praises and affection on you rather than cutting words and rough squeezes of his roaming hands. And it was working well.

Now that Joel knew your body and mind so intimately, now he knew the euphoria of having you weak inside the palm of his hand, it was near impossible to restrain himself for very long. But luckily for Joel, he wouldn't need to be patient for very long.

You were changing once more, Joel observed. The more time you were spending together, the more you were  reverting back to the shy little thing you always had been. Someone a little less talkative and humorous, with cheeks no longer tinged pink and healthy, with evidently less sparkle in your eyes.

Lately you were more inclined to quietly curl up against his chest rather than talk idly about your day, the little kids you taught, or whatever book you had been reading. And that was how he preferred it; you finding contentment in his arms, pouring him his nightly whiskey, massaging his aching shoulders and neck. It seemed you were finally submitting to your purpose of being his woman, his property. You even let him take those filthy polaroids. It exhilarated him to know that he was the only man privy to this side of you.

Joel looks at the handful of small square photographs now, all strewn around the box. He chooses one at random and picks it up, bringing it to his face to study closer. You are laying on your back in this one, completely naked, smiling seductively as your hands spread the lips of your pussy open for the camera to see. It is lewd, debauched. And it immediately sparks a feral need in Joel.

He reclines back on the mattress and hastily tugs his sweatpants down under his balls, releasing his hard cock. He wraps his fist around it and squeezes, a drop of precum beading at the head. He groans lowly and stares at your picture, savouring every detail of the image with obsessive vigour; the glistening wetness reflected on your pussy, the soft curve of your belly, your round breasts, your pretty eyes that stare back at him.

Such a gorgeous cock slut.

Joel begins fisting his dick while keeping his gaze focused on your image. He feels ravenous at times like this, unable to reign himself free from this carnal obsession of you. He's been fucking you as often as possible and it's still not enough. He needs to taste you, sink his teeth into your flesh, bury his cock inside you all the time. He needs to hear your whimpers and moans, how your holes spasm around him while he takes you apart.

It only takes a couple of minutes for Joel to finish. It hits him hard and sudden, his balls tightening just before ropes of milky white cum spurt over his knuckles. He grunts and pants through the high of his orgasm, sinking further into the mattress as the tension leaves his body.

When the wave of ecstasy passes and his cock grows soft in his hand, Joel takes one last look at the polaroid before he flicks it back into the box.

He knows that you let him takes those pictures because you love him and wanted to please him. Joel understood quite early on that declarations of love come easy to you, that you actually enjoy expressing your emotions. That the desire to proudly share a life together is natural for you, biological and innate. And that is where Joel and you differ significantly.

Joel knows that confessing his love for you publicly would only invite trouble into your private sanctuary. Your friends would be the worst, he suspects; he could easily imagine the jealous little bitches scrutinising his every move, trying to pressure you to behave more like them.

He could imagine how people would gossip amongst themselves, whispering behind his back that he was far too old for you, far too irredeemable for an innocent thing like yourself. No doubt they would plead with you to be careful and warn you about his murderous past - hell, he was sure that Maria, his own sister in law, would be the first one to beg you to leave him.

No, it was safer to keep this all a secret, atleast for now. Just like the contents of this shoebox.

It had become a tradition at Christmas time each year for you to bake a small assortment of cakes and cookies to gift to your friends. You would use all your monthly butter, flour, sugar and egg rations for your labour of love, happy to exhaust your allocated staples for the giddy reactions your friends bestowed on you when you gifted them their share. With a laugh you remember last Christmas, how you had run out and Kate and Ellie were kind enough to give you their own ration supplies, eager to offer assistance in exchange for the promise of their favourite baked treats.

You would spend a whole day shut up inside your kitchen preparing trays of gingerbread cookies, butter cakes and sugar cookies. When they were finished baking and cooled, you would then arrange them on squares of spare fabric and gather the edges together, then tie them into tidy little bundles with string.

But this year you didn't bake for anyone. You didn't even step foot in your kitchen. You had become ill with a cold just a couple days before Christmas and could barely summon the energy to leave your bed. Despite the horrible headache and running nose, you were disappointed to miss out on celebrating Christmas in the ways you usually did. You were unable to have dinner with your friends or gift them their cakes and biscuits.

Instead, you spent five days curled up under your blanket drifting in and out of sleep. On the second day Kate dropped in to give you a pot of soup she made, while Ellie came over armed with honey and an array of teas under Joel's instruction. Although you were miserable and too sluggish to enjoy their company, you were grateful for their care and consideration.

Joel visited you each night after patrol, quietly creeping into your cottage and sliding under the blanket to cuddle up behind your body. You were so physically exhausted that you slept through his nightly visits, and it was perhaps because of this that Joel found the confidence to squeeze you close to his chest and soothe your hair with gentle strokes of his large hand.

Two weeks after your recovery, Ellie had insisted on organising a family dinner at Joel's house for just the three of you. Ellie was eager to show you and Joel the new cooking skills she had acquired since moving in with two of her girlfriends. You could tell it was also a gesture of kindness toward Joel, a reminder that he was still her father and she still cherished his presence in her life.

Although the three of you had eaten meals together before, this was the first dinner you'd all shared since Ellie first learned of your relationship with Joel. You couldn't help but feel slightly awkward sitting at the dining table. Although Ellie approved of the relationship, you were unsure if open affection toward Joel would be inappropriate or if it would make Ellie uncomfortable. You avoided looking at Joel and focused on interacting with Ellie instead.

She had surprised you both with the dinner she had prepared; honey glazed carrots, mashed potato, omelette, and buttered cobs of corn. You could imagine Ellie spending hours in the kitchen getting everything ready, swearing loudly at every inconvenience, burning the tips of her small fingers when she was distracted, trying her absolute best to recreate whatever assortment of food she had eaten with her new housemates.

During dinner Joel was mostly silent, hardly engaging in conversation as he ate. It didn't matter much though, as Ellie was her usual talkative self and filled the silence easily with anecdotes and jokes.

"So there's gonna be this big celebration for the town," Ellie said through as she shovelled a spoonful of mashed potato into her mouth. "Like a big birthday party for Jackson."

"Oh, really?" You asked, your interest piqued.

"Yup!" Ellie confirmed, voice muffled by the hunk of potato in her mouth.

"Ellie," Joel murmered disapprovingly.

She rolled her eyes and made an exaggerated show of chewing and swallowing the food with a loud gulp. You gave her a small shake of your head and chuckled.

"Anyways, as I was saying, there's gonna be a big party and I think we should go, the three of us." Ellie looked from you to Joel, an impish expression spread across her youthful face.

Joel cleared his throat and glowered down at his plate. He busied himself with stabbing his fork into a piece of carrot. "You know I don't I like parties."

"Really?" Ellie piped loudly, feigning shock. "You? Joel 'life of the party' Miller? No way!"

You giggled. Only Ellie could get away with teasing Joel like this. It made you happy to see their interactions, the dynamic of their relationship in the privacy of their home, how the pair fell into the roles of father and daughter so naturally. And now here you were between them, a welcome presence in their lives. Like a real family, just as Joel had said you would be.

"What about you?" Ellie asked you with a raise of her eyebrows. "Wanna go?"

You brave a glance over to Joel. He chews the inside of his cheek and stares down at his plate but you know he's listening to everything that's being said. He isn't going to express his disapproval infront of Ellie. There was no need for Ellie to know the level of authority Joel had in your relationship. But you wonder if he would be more inclined to grant his permission because it was Ellie's idea, not your own.

You don't want to disappoint her, and you are already excited by the very idea of Jackson celebrating something. So you take advantage of the situation and the fact that Ellie asked first, and infront of Joel.

You give her a smile and nod eagerly.

"With you? Sure," you replied. "But wouldn't you rather go with your friends?"

"Eh, I can catch up with them later. I thought it would be cool for us to go....like family time, ya know?" Ellie said quietly, giving a small shrug to appear nonchalant.

"Oh, for sure," you murmered, not wanting to make a big thing out of her moment of vulnerability.

"Yeah, except this jackass never wants to do anything fun," she scoffed and tipped her head in Joel's direction.

"I'll be workin' till late," Joel muttered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You two go have fun."

"Oh! And I heard Maria tell Uncle Tommy that there's gonna be a separate party for just the adults at the Bison." Ellie grinned. "Maybe you can sneak me in with you?"

Joel's head snapped up immediately and he glared at Ellie across the table. She shot a defiant smirk back at him. Joel grunted, unamused.

"Well, that's not going to happen, El. But I'm sure there will be plenty of other stuff we can do on the day." You assured her.

"Like maybe we can spike the punch and see who gets drunk first?" She grinned.

Over the course of the next week banners and signs advertising Jackson's birthday celebration were hung up around the main streets. Residents began the preparations for the different activities and food stalls that would be on offer on the day, while a committee of volunteers decorated the town hall. It was evident that this event was to be bigger than any other festival or celebration.

You had planned to spend the afternoon with Ellie at the town hall, then catch up with Kate and the others later that night at the Tipsy Bison. Joel was working patrol until late and would meet you back at your house when he was finished.

That Saturday you and Ellie spend the afternoon together exploring the festivities taking place throughout the main street. You make your way through the crowds of families and children wandering up and down the street, submerging yourselves within the collective carefree gaiety and their lively chatter and laughter.

Several of your students spot you and approach you to say hello. Your heart swells to see them buzzing with so much happiness and excitement. They need this, you think. We all do, but especially them.

Ellie is eager to check out the activities set up along the sidewalk. You both meander along, awe struck at the effort the committee and volunteers have put into creating the event for the benefit of the community. For the children there were games such as bottle knock down and ring toss, aswell as a marble competition and sack races. There were designated areas further away from the main street for more adult activities, like axe throwing and wood chopping. Amongst the flurry of action were stalls offering candied apples, sugar biscuits, fry bread, roasted corn cobs, and mugs of pumpkin soup.

You and Ellie play the ring toss and knock down games together and make your own game out of trying to distract the other so they would fail. You both double over with laughter at each other's attempts, unfazed by the other people around you.

Afterwards you sit down and munch on candied apples while watching the axe throwing competitions. Ellie is captivated by it, wide eyed and amazed at the mastery of the more skilled participants who wield the tool and launch it at the bullseye target with astounding ease. You eventually move on to spectate the wood chopping competition. Watching the row of men hacking away at thick logs of wood, their thick arms and broad backs flexing with each powerful chop, makes you think of Joel. It would've been nice to have him here with you and Ellie.

When the wood chopping finishes you stop at one of the food stalls for fry bread and a cup of soup. The soup is a welcomed nourishment from the biting cold of the wintery air and the snow still covering the ground. You're almost finished eating when three of Ellie's friends suddenly gather around you, squawking like chicks about the dance being held at the town hall. They tug on Ellie's flannel in an effort to cajole her to go along with them. She glances at you with uncertainty in her eyes, as if she's nervous to say something to you. You smile at her gently, understanding what she is unable to say.

"Go, have fun with your friends. It's okay." You pull her in for a tight hug. "I had a great time with you, kiddo."

Ellie squeezes you back. "Thanks for hanging with me."

Without further hesitation Ellie slips from your embrace and joins her friends, disappearing into the sea of people around you. You secretly hope she doesn't get caught up in too much mischief, but you knows there's not much you can stop Ellie from doing once she has her mind set on something. So you just smile to yourself and start the walk back to your cottage to get ready for the night ahead.

••••••

The night is cold, the chilly wind nipping at your cheeks and the bare skin on your legs as you walk to the bar. You're wearing one of your best dresses, a simple light blue linen swing style dress with short cap sleeves that falls just above the knee. You are thankful for the thick padding inside your coat that keeps you warm as you stroll through the streets.

There are pockets of people milling around outside the town hall where the dance is being held. You can hear country music coming from inside, intermingled with laughter and voices, the noise carrying along the cold breeze.

You arrive at the bar around 8.30pm and find Jess, Kate, Rhi and Cassie already waiting out the front for you. They wolf whistle and chortle when they see you approaching, and you laughcat their antics.

It's going to be a great night.

••••••

Rhi and Jess sashay up to the bar to order a round of beers while you, Kate and Cassie sit at one of the tables dotted throughout the place. It's a full house tonight with pockets of men and women mingling together as they chug beer and whiskey and vodka, some dancing and some playing rounds of darts and pool. The music blasts from the old jukebox in the corner and you find your foot tapping along with some of the songs.

You spend the next hour drinking beer and dancing with your friends. The high you get from the music and moving your body is exhilarating and you can't wipe the smile from your face. You cannot remember the last time you felt so weightless, so euphoric. You are too absorbed by your high to notice the appraising looks a few men are throwing your way.

It's not long before Rhi has been pursued by one of the men watching your group, some of them openly hungry in their gaze while others are more covert in their admiration. She flirts and touches his arm as she leads in to whisper in his ear. You and your friends giggle as you watch Rhi's charm in action. You adore her boldness, how unapologetic she is in her feminine sexuality, how effortlessly she chugs a glass of beer before rejecting suitors and hitting the dance floor to be with her friends.

After a while you take a break and stand in the corner by the bar to catch your breath. Yiu are in the middle of Kate and Cassie, who have to raise their voices to be heard over the music. Your eyes travel around the bar, taking in all the movement around you, and it is all so close to being too stimulating for you. You look over to the front doors and consider going outside for fresh air when Oscar walks in at that exact moment.

When Oscar enters through the saloon style doors of the bar, you almost don't recognise him. He looks dashing, dressed in dark blue jeans and boots and a snug fitting black sweater that clings to his biceps. But it isn't what he's wearing that makes you do a double take.

He's completely shaved his beard. He has cut the length of the curly hair on his head. His features are no longer obscured by unruly locks. And just as you suspected, Oscar now looks even more handsome than usual.

The angle of his jawline and the shape of his chin are strong, sharp. With the lower half of his face now naked, he appears more masculine and youthful. His lips, tugged into a confident grin, seem fuller. The shorter length of his hair highlights the thickness of it and the attractive way his hairline borders along his temples.

You are mesmerised by him.

It does not go unnoticed by your friends. Kate nudges you with her elbow and Jess makes a teasing purring sound next to your ear.

"Damn," Rhi murmers. "He's hot."

He's with Kate's brother and another young patrolman. Oscar's eyes scan over the bar but seem to settle on you almost instantly. Your stomach flutters with nerves when you see warmth fill his gaze, the crinkles form around his eyes as he gently smiles. He tilts his head slightly in greeting. You feel your cheeks blush immediately.

Oh, how you missed him.

He's so beautiful.

You give him a small nod in return, smiling shyly. For what feels like an eternity but in actuality is only a few seconds, he doesn't take his gaze away from you. Then the two other men pull him along to the corner of the bar where the dart boards are and the moment is lost. You have to tear your gaze away from him.

"Wow, Oscar looks so different!" Kate exclaims. She bumps your hip with hers softly, playfully grinning at you. "What do ya think?"

You hum quietly in agreement. Yes, he looks different. And gorgeous. Mercifully the subject of the conversation changes quickly.

••••••

You're here. He's actually seeing you. Finally.

Oscar's heart pounds when he sees your pretty face across the room. He was hoping you would be here, hoping to finally speak to you and let you know how he's been feeling these past few weeks without you in his life.

His friends pull him to the games area and he plays a few rounds of darts and a couple games of pool. He drinks beer, his eyes searching for you in the crowd over the glass rim. You look you're having fun with your friends - it's the first time Oscar's really seen you interact with your peers and it fills his heart with joy to see you laugh so much, to see you dance and sway to the music, so free and beautiful in your sensuality.

It's another hour or so before he gets the courage to approach you. He finds the opportunity when you and Kate sidle through the patrons on your way to the toilets and pass him by the pool table.

Oscar speaks your name and you turn to him, gracing him with your warm smile, the one he's missed so much recently. He notices your eyes trail over his face, taking in the details of his new appearance.

"Hey," you respond with a bashful tilt of your head. "How are you?"

"Great," Oscar raises his voice a little to be heard over the noise of the bar. He can't take his eyes off of your face. "You look beautiful."

Your cheeks flush at the compliment. "You do, too. I like your hair. Very handsome."

Oscar grins at you. "I felt like a change." It was true. He needed something to change, something cathartic to encourage him to be more daring, to live a with a little more passion. Cutting his hair and beard felt like he was shedding some kind of armour, except it did not leave him feeling vulnerable.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink with me, or maybe a dance?" Oscar asked, leaning in closer to your ear.

"Uhm, okay," you reply shyly. "Maybe in a little while, yeah? I just need to go to the bathroom."

Oscar feels a little foolish. Maybe he should have found the balls to walk over to you soon, like when you were dancing. He hides his disappointment well and nods ofcourse, and steps back from you and your friend to let you pass.

He doesn't get the opportunity to dance with you or drink alongside you though. When some time has passed and he can't spot you in the throng of people, he wanders to where your friends are standing at the bar. Kate drunkenly shrugs and tells him you left already.

Oscar's heart breaks a tiny bit.

••••••

You weren't sure how long Joel had been standing with Troy and Tommy by the entry of the Tipsy Bison. He stood with his arms crossed, jaw set squarely as his dark eyes watched you. When you caught sight of his tall figure out the corner of your eye, you whirled around to take a glimpse at him. It must be late if he's knocked off his patrol shift, you think.

You're tipsy but not drunk. Tiredness is starting to seep into your body. And seeing Joel makes your tummy swim with butterflies and ignites an aching want between your legs. You're ready for him to take you home.

And he must see the look in your eyes and know because he signals you with a subtle jerk of his head. Let's go home, it says. He doesn't wait for your response before saying goodbye to Troy and Tommy and stalking out of the bar.

You say goodbye to your friends. Rhi is too preoccupied making out with the blonde ranger to notice. Kate, Jess and Cassie stumble off the dance floor, drunk, to hug and kiss you goodnight.

Ten minutes later you leave the Tipsy Bison and head home, knowing Joel will be waiting for you at your cottage.

When you reach your cottage you twist the doorknob and enter. It is dark at first and you stumble into the living room blindly, but when you flick on the light switch you see that Joel is standing in your living room, staring at you with an iciness that startles you.

"What the fuck were you doin' tonight?" He barked at you.

The venom in his words makes your blood run cold and your stomach drop.

"What?" you ask meekly. "What do you mean?"

"Dancin' like that infront of everybody, showin' your ass off to the whole damn town." Joel snaps.

"I w-was just having f-fun with my friends," you respond timidly.

You take a couple of steps backward and Joel advances on you, his fists clenching by his sides. Your heart thunders in your chest and dread begins to roil inside your guts.

"Fun?" Joel spits, scowling with disgusted fury. "Dancin' around with your slutty friends, around all those men...that's what you think is fun?"

"I-we, we just," you stammer nervously. "It was harmless, we weren't doing anything wrong.'

"This what you do while I'm at work?" Joel booms as he towers over you. "I'm out riskin' my life while you're being a whore for every fuckin' man in town?"

"No, Joel, no, I sw--"

Joel's hand shoots out and snatches a handful of your hair. He quickly winds your hair tightly around his fist and hauls you across the living room. You shriek and sob loudly as you stumble, your boots dragging over the floor, your hands clawing up at his uselessly.

"No Joel please don't!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Joel growls. He shoves you roughly to the ground on your knees. Your knees hit the floor painfully, making you yelp.

"Wanna act like a whore, I'll treat you like a whore," he mutters bitterly.

He holds you immobile by your hair, forcing you to watch his large hand work quickly to unbuckle his belt and undo the button of his jeans. The rage radiating from Joel and the sight of his belt by your face is frighteningly reminiscent of the night he punished you; panic surges wildly through your brain and your body as you're pushed into flight or fight mode.

"Joel I didn't do anything, I swear!" You plead, voice shrill with distress. The high from alcohol has disappeared.

Joel ignores you and wrangles his cock out of the confines of his jeans. He wraps his hand around the base and it bobs infront of you, already hard and wet with precum. He tugs tightly at your scalp and yanks you closer towards him so that the head of his cock is almost touching your lips.

"Show me how you use that whore mouth," Joel commands. "Open."

He glares down at you with something that looks like hatred in his dark irises and it makes your whole body wrack with fearful shivers. You're frozen still, unable to move.

"I said open your fuckin' mouth," Joel barks.

His hand leaves his cock and comes to swiftly slap you across the cheek. You sob loudly from the unexpected pain. Joel quickly thrusts his hips forward and nudges his cock head past your lips and into your mouth. You want to jerk your head away at the intrusion but his hold on your hair keeps you firmly in place. He gives you no time to protest, anyway, roughly shoving your head down onto his length and making you sputter.

"Thhhhere we go," Joel mutters. "Get it right in there, little slut."

Joel stills just before the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. It sits thick and heavy in your mouth and you struggle to breathe around it. He gives your cheek three firm, rapid smacks.

"Open wide, now." Joel drawls.

Your lips are already stretched around Joel's thick girth but you have no choice but to obey and open your jaws wider. Saliva is pooling on your tongue on the underside of his shaft, a shameful automatic response that your body has been conditioned to from the many times your mouth has pleasured Joel.

You stare at the patch of dark hair on his pubic bone and focus on breathing through your nose, your fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs in an effort to bare the torture. Joel sees this and tugs at your hair roughly.

"Fuckin' look at me," he growls. "Look at me while I fuck your face, don't you dare look away."

Tears well in your eyes as they roll upward to meet Joel's steely glare. He nods and sucks in a deep breath, then begins fucking your mouth in fast strokes. His cock head knocks the back of your throat repeatedly and makes you gag, your tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. You have to fight to keep your eyes open and trained on Joel, but it is torturous when your jaw begins to ache and you are struggling to breathe. The saliva drips messily out the corners of your mouth and over your chin.

Joel's hands hold the sides of your head to keep you still as he fucks your face. He pants while watching you intently, uncaring as you struggle to breathe beneath him, satisfied to see your nose now dripping aswell.

"This what you been doin' behind my back?" Joel sneers.

You know he doesn't expect a response - it's impossible for you to utter even a word with his thickness fucking into your mouth so savagely. The only noise you make is the wet, filthy gagging sounds coming from your throat. His hips continue thrusting into your mouth for another minute and you feel like you will pass out any moment. When your eyes start to flutter and your body begins to sag, Joel pushes down on your head so his cock slides all the way into your mouth and down your throat. He holds you in place and your nose presses flat into the hairs on his pubic bone. You are practiced at deepthroating Joel but his grip on you is so absolute, your face buried so tightly against his crotch, that you begin to panic. You reach up to claw at his thighs, your throat constricting around his shaft. 

"Yeah, gag on it, baby, come on," Joel groans. He is totally lost in his own pleasure, uncaring and merciless about your pain.

You can't breathe at all now. He's never been this cruel before. You pound your fist against his thigh and try desperately to retreat but his iron like grip keeps you still. Joel moans at the sensation of your throat spasimming wildly around him.

"Yeah," he cooes, accent thick and rough with desire. "Right there, babydoll."

Joel releases you after a few more seconds, abruptly pulling you off of his dick and shoving you backward carelessly. You fall back onto your ass and cough violently as air fills your lungs back up.

"Alright now, get on ya hands and knees." Joel says breathlessly.

He stares down at you, pupils blown wide with animalistic lust, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His erect cock, fat and throbbing, is slicked and shining with your spit. "Hurry up."

You are still choking as you catch your breath, but you somehow muster the courage to dare to shake your head, your eyes downcast, vision blurred from your tears. Your throat is too raw to verbalise your defiance.

No. Enough is enough. You cannot endure any more.

You can't see the way Joel's lip curls in disdain at your disobedience, or how he raises his hand back. Then a cracking sound echoes around the room when his large palm lands a hard slap against your face. Your body falls to the floor like a ragdoll. Your vision goes black for a second.

"Never fuckin' learn, do you?" Joel mutters.

His boots thud on the ground as he steps over your crumpled form. He crouches behind you and hikes your dress up over your ass.

"Always gotta be a disrespectful little bitch."

He tears your underwear apart with both hands and the shredded material falls from your backside. Your lower half is now exposed. You are no match for Joel. There is no possible way for you to defend yourself against the torment he plans to reign on you.

"Joel, please, don't, just stop." You whisper hoarsely.

Joel wedges his knee between your legs and spreads them open. You hear the sound of Joel spitting into his palm and covering the head of his cock in his saliva before it presses against the entrance to your pussy.

"Joel," you cry pathetically. Your head is dizzy and swimming.

His hand forcefully pushes down on your lower back, pining your hips to the ground. You squirm weakly under his hand but it's pointless. The inevitable burn of his cock pushing into your hole engulfs your whole body, followed by the intense stretch of him penetrating you.

"Fuck!" A guttural scream rips from deep in your wrecked throat.

He moans as his hips press all the way forward until they are flush against yours, his fat dick sheathed all the way inside your pussy, filling you to the point of discomfort.

"When you gonna learn that this is where you belong, baby?" Joel growls.

He rolls his hips to work in and out of you with slow, powerful thrusts. Your hands scramble blindly for purchase on the hardwood floor. Gasps and sobs rise from your sore defiled throat with each stab of his dick.

"Right here," he drawls above you. "Right here with your whore pussy full of my cock."

Joel lowers himself and reaches to gather your wrists in one of his hands and then pins them to the ground above your head. His other hand grips your hip possessively to keep you in place. His broad body is now caging you so that your torso is flattened over the floor. Your thighs are pushed wide apart as he continues assaulting you.

You did nothing wrong. All you had done was just danced with your friends. You hadn't danced with any man, not even Oscar. Why is Joel doing this? You love him so much. He had been so sweet and loving.

Joel was spearing his cock into you with an unrelenting, rhythmatic force. Your pussy was being abused so recklessly, but your entire body was screaming in pain. The joints of your hips and the muscles of your inner thighs ached from the pressure of being split open. Your wrists were stinging from Joel's nails digging into them.

The weight of his body was trapping you so that you couldn't even squirm underneath him. He clamped his heavy hand across your mouth and pounded into you mercilessly. Your screams were muffled against his palm, the streaks of your tears trickling over his fingers.

"Fuck," Joel snapped his hips against yours. "Take what I give ya," he panted, "and shut the fuck up."

When a particularly sharp punch from Joel's cock knocked against your cervix you wailed into his hand, screwing your eyes shut in agony.

"Too much for ya?" Joel spat. "Too fuckin' bad, baby. Gonna shoot my cum so deep in that pussy, it'll be drippin' outta your fuckin' mouth."

He continued to defile you, his pace so grueling that you thought you might pass out. Robbed of sufficient breath and overcome with immense anguish, you couldn't respond. Even if you were not held down by his body weight, you felt too broken and lifeless to say anything back. You closed your eyes and hot tears streamed down the sides of your face.

You had began to dissociate, too far gone to register the telltale throbbing of Joel's cock against your walls. His hips stuttered and he let out a ragged moan as he came deep inside your pussy, filling you with his warm load for the very first time. Joel rocked his hips inbetween shuddering breaths, slowly milking every last drop of his spend into you.

You were totally disconnected from reality when Joel pulled out of you and hauled himself up from the ground. You couldn't feel or think at all, your mind blank, your body numb. You didn't know he bent down to bundle you up in his arms and carry you to your room like a limp ragdoll. You couldn't mentally comprehend Joel haphazardly stripping you of your dress, pulling off your boots and then laying you down in bed.

At some point in the night the adrenaline had drained from your veins and you succumbed to the bone crushing fatigue that had replaced it. Joel's solid body was enveloping you from behind, his thick arms wrapped around your middle to keep you close. He was sleeping solidly as if nothing had happened, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm in line with his quiet snoring.

Your body went lax and you fell asleep.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows

#joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #joel miller #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #dddne

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

*chapter warnings* - manipulative Joel, oral, piv sex, degradation

The older townsfolk mourned Maude's passing with solemn reverence. In accordance with the directives created by the community council, all events and celebrations were postponed by two weeks out of respect for the departed individual. This meant that Cassie's wedding, which was supposed to take place in three days time, had to be rescheduled.

Once you knew Maria had broken the news to Cassie you and Kate went to visit her, knowing she would be devastated. The both of you perched on a couch in the living room of the house Cassie shared with her adopted family - fellow survivors who Cassie had known from when she had first been orphaned.

"I really don't want the wedding so close to Christmas," Cassie groaned as she flopped down on the couch. "Plus, it'll be so cold, it is going to start snowing any day now!"

You could appreciate Cassie's frustrations about the forced postponement of the wedding, yet the grief you felt for Maude's death was still raw, and so your capacity for commiseration was very limited. But you still dutifully listened to her lamenting along with Kate.

"I won't be able to have the ceremony in the orchid like I wanted, either." Cassie grumbled and hugged one of the couch cushions tightly to her chest. "I can't believe the council is doing this."

"It has been the town rules since the beginning," Kate said with a shrug. "Yeah it is disappointing, but it's reasonable."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Cassie muttered.

"Maybe you could postpone it until the spring?" You suggested. "That way the orchid will be in full bloom and it won't be snowing. It's only a few more months away."

There was a short silence between the three of you while the merit of your idea sunk in. Just when you were about to regret voicing your idea, Cassie suddenly sat up straight and turned to face you, her features lit up with excitement.

"That's...a great idea," she grabbed one of your hands and grinned widely. "It's actually perfect!"

You chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze. "Really? You like it?"

Cassie nodded eagerly. "Yes! It is amazing! Oh my god, I need to talk to Maria about the new date and the plans will be!"

Kate laughed and patted Cassie's shoulder. "Okay, slow down, there's still plenty of time for that. Matt's with Maria and Tommy today organising the new rosters for patrol, so she's probably too busy to talk about planning your wedding today."

Cassie let out a little huff of indignation and rolled her eyes. "Alright! I guess it'll have to wait. But in the mean time, let's talk about seating arrangements. Who are you girls bringing as dates?"

The question had caught you off guard. You hadn't thought about who you were inviting to the wedding since you asked Joel that night, the night when you had initially broken up with him (or rather, tried to). Kate answered first, rambling about trying to find the right opportunity to ask one of her colleagues she fancied, while you pressed your lips together in a tight line, body going rigid. How were you supposed to answer?

My older secret boyfriend doesn't like socialising and practically hates everyone and thinks stuff like this is a waste of time?

Cassie tapped your knee to get your attention. "What about you? Have you found someone yet?"

You give a small noncommittal shrug, hoping desperately that Cassie won't interrogate you any further, but you know she won't be so easily placated.

"Oh come on!" She swats you playfully. "There has to be someone that you want to ask out. I don't get how you don't have a boyfriend or at least someone to have some fun with!"

"What about Oscar?" Kate prompted.

You went stiff at the mention of Oscar and shot a glare at Kate. When she smiled at you, you recognised that there was no teasing inflection in her words or expression. Her suggestion had been completely innocent and genuine.

"He's a nice guy, and you must have gotten to know him well while he's been at the library." Kate reasoned.

She was right. Oscar was a nice guy. In fact, more than nice - he was actually the most kind and sincere man you had ever met. And yes, you had gotten to know Oscar quite well recently, well enough to admit that he was a great friend (and would probably be an even greater partner, you secretly admit to yourself). And you knew without a doubt that he would jump at the prospect of accompanying you to an event like Cassie's wedding.

The total opposite of Joel.

Your cognisance of this reality causes a deep rooted pang of disappointment to rear up inside your chest.

But even if you wanted to invite Oscar as your date, there was no way that could happen. Joel may have refused to go alongside you but it was an impossibility that you could go with any other man, not unless you wanted to potentially lose Joel or face his wrath. There was nothing you could do, you deduced.

Unless you asked Joel again. But you weren't sure if you wanted to risk the heartbreak of his rejection again. After all, he had said that your relationship should be kept private, away from gossiping and prying eyes and those who wished ill on the happiness of others.

You snap out of your thoughts and drag your eyes up to look at Cassie and Kate. They exchange a glance and look back to you expectantly.

You breathe out a sigh and shake your head. "I don't know," you finally answer. "Maybe."

"Well, you guys are lucky you've got some extra time to find someone!" Cassie teases while rising to stand. "Now, I want your final opinions on my veil."

You're grateful for the change in subject, for the attention to be redirected away from you and the topic of dates. You stand up with Kate and make your way to follow Cassie to her bedroom. As you trudge up the stairs behind your friends, you try to reassure yourself that Joel is right to protect you both, that his need for secrecy is for good reason. That perhaps one day soon he will decide it is safe enough for you to openly declare your love and become a family, just like he said you would.

Joel snuck over to your cottage late that night as soon as his patrol shift finished. He had been impatient to see you, practically starving for you all day. You hadn't so much as cracked the door open and greeted him before he slipped through the door to shove you against the wall and kiss you ferverantly.

Just five minutes later Joel was sitting on your couch, stroking his hard cock as he watched you with hooded, lust drunk eyes. Still wearing his jeans, his legs were spread wide and his boots were planted firmly on the living room floor.

Under his direction you stood opposite him across the small living room in only your panties. Your hands hang loosely by your thighs, fingertips brushing close to the hem of your underwear as you await further instruction from Joel.

Your arousal was seeping into the scant crotch of your underwear, making it stick to your core and causing your clit to throb. The juxtaposition of Joel fully clothed while you were stripped down to your panties made you feel exposed and dirty. You knew Joel could easily see the shame written on your face, and how it was just barely eclipsed by the overwhelming desire for him. He seemed to take pleasure in coaxing these opposing emotions from you, a proud satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he watched you clench your thighs and whimper.

"You missed me, baby?" Joel rasped.

You are too fixated on the sight of his thick fingers squeezing around his cock to verbally respond. It looks so fat and delicious in his grip, enticing enough that your mouth begins to salivate in anticipation. You don't speak, but instead just sigh softly and nod. Joel smirks and rubs his thumb over the bead of precum that has leaked from his slit, smearing it over the head of his cock.

"Yeah?" He cooes smugly. "Bet you've been missin' this cock all day, too."

Joel has teased you enough. You are so desperate to touch him now, and equally desperate to feel his big calloused hands roam over your own body. Unable to hold back any longer, you take a tentative step forward with the intention of approaching him, totally forgetting the rules of this little game you and Joel play.

He is quick to halt you, though.

"Don't move," he barks a warning and shakes his head at you. "Stay right where you are until I say you can move."

"Please Joel," you whine with frustration. "I need you."

"Tell me how you need me, baby doll," Joel murmers, "tell me how much you missed my cock and I might let you have it."

The mixture of arousal and shame was something you'd grown accustomed to over the months you had been intimate with Joel, but there was still a tiny sense of unease that lingered in your stomach each time you submitted. In the heat of the moment you push it aside, just as you do now.

"I really need you," you sigh."N-need to feel your cock and taste you. I missed it so much today. Missed how you fuck me so good with your cock."

Joel smirks, pleased with your admission. "You want it so bad, baby? Come get it. Crawl to me."

"Huh?" You squeak.

"Ya heard me," Joel growls impatiently. "If you're so desperate for my cock, get on your hands and knees and crawl to me."

You don't need any more persuasion. You lower yourself to your knees and plant your palms on the living room floor, your gaze never leaving Joel's. There is a gleam of cruel satisfaction in his large dark eyes that makes him look like a hungry wolf gleefully torturing its cornered prey. Joel beckons you with two fingers.

"Keep those eyes on me," he drawls.

You obey, staring at him as you start slowly crawling across the space of the living room, the hardwood floors uncomfortably into your kneecaps. Joel leans back into the couch and watches you like a hawk, his jaw clenched. You feel the heat of shame colour your face but you try your best to keep your eyes on his. You cross the floor and come to kneel a foot before him in between his spread legs.

"Good girl," Joel croons. Your pussy throbs from his praise and you bite your bottom lip to stifle your moan. "Did just what daddy told ya."

"Yes, sir," you whisper.

Joel grips his dick at the base and gestures to it with a small nod of his head. "Come on, take it. Show me what you've been wantin' all day."

You shuffle closer to him and slide your hands up the length of his legs and over the thickness of his strong thighs, staring at the fat head of his cock glistening with precum. Joel releases his hold and slips the palm of his hand along your jaw and to the back of your head. He threads his fingers through your hair and tangles a handful into his fist, giving it a tight tug. It hurts but causes a tingling to surge from your belly to your pussy, and you mewl pathetically.

"Show me," Joel urged, the tone of his voice rough and close to cracking, betraying the depth of his own desire. His pupils were blown wide already. "Open your fuckin' mouth."

You stare up at him and flutter your lashes as your hand snakes up to wrap around his shaft. You part your lips and stick out your tongue then lean in and swipe it over his slit, tasting the salty musk of his skin. Joel catches his bottom lip inbetween his teeth and lets out a groan.

You lick a thick stripe up the underside of his shaft and then wrap your lips over the head of his cock, giving it a teasing suck and then popping it back out of your mouth. You jerk your fist up and down the base of his cock while you repeat the action several times, letting your saliva run past your lips and drip down Joel's girthy length.

"That's it," Joel drawls, his eyes appearing black while he watches you intently. His hand flexes in the tangle of your hair.

You dip forward to slide his dick inside your mouth until you feel him touch the back of your throat. You welcome the familar way he stretches the corners of your lips. You then bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks and sucking around him while simultaneously breathing through your nose.

You had very little experience sucking cock before you started sleeping with Joel. The idea used to intimidate you and you worried that your lack of experience was laughable, that you were incapable of giving pleasure to anyone. But your inexperience only seemed to excite Joel, a wolfish gleam in his eyes and a smug twitch on his lips when he casually suggested he teach you how. Eager to learn, you agreed. And so he did.

Joel was patient as he taught you how to take him in your mouth, how to properly breathe through your nose while maintaining suction, the importance of eye contact, how he liked your small hand jerking him off at the same time.

To Joel's immense satisfaction you learnt how to please him quickly, and he learnt how eager you were to hear his praise. Taking advantage of this eagerness and need for his acclaim, Joel slowly pushed you a bit further each time, nudging boundaries and inching closer to your discomfort. He eventually introduced you to the concept of face fucking, confessing his preference for rougher blow jobs, how he loved the seeing your face wrecked and covered in his spit and your saliva. You were intimidated at first but Joel was able to coax you into trying. He was just patient enough to guide you through your hesitations, careful to not push you too far too quickly, always encouraging you and praising your efforts. It thrilled Joel to experiment and test you, to force you to deep throat him longer, to endure more forceful thrusts.

Joel's dedication to your training had paid off; now you were skilled at sucking his cock just how he liked, and he knew you enjoyed it as well, conjuring an almost Pavlovian response in your loins.

So now, tonight, Joel sits on your couch and revels in you worshipping his cock with your tongue and your throat. His breathing becomes heavier and his fist pulls tighter in your hair as you continue to pleasure him.

"Fuck, baby," he grits breathlessly. "So fuckin' good for me, tight little throat takin' me so well."

His praise goes straight to your pussy and you moan around him. Your eyes are glassy with tears as you stare up at Joel. His plush lips are parted as he pants, hooded puppy dog eyes fixed on you, his crown of greying dark curls touseled.

You deepthroat him for another minute, his moans and groans filling your ears alongside the sloppy gagging noises coming from your thoroughly fucked throat. You gasp for air when Joel suddenly wrenches you off of him, making your scalp sting.

"Don't wanna cum just yet," he pants heavily. "Wanna fuck you. Bet that little pussy is drippin' for me, ain't it, baby?"

You whimper and nod as best as you can with his tight hold on your hair, your eyes wide and wet, your lips puffy. The sight of you so wrecked on your knees before him makes Joel feel crazed. 

"Sit on my cock, little slut." He growls. "Come on, get up and ride it."

Joel doesn't wait for you to rise before yanking you up to stand on your feet by your hair. You squeal and wobble unsteadily but he ignores you. He then takes your panties and rips them down your thighs and down your legs in one swift, impatient motion. His hand grabs your ass cheek and squeezes roughly before using the grip to move you to straddle his legs.

You're like a rag doll, pliant and acquiescent, allowing Joel to manhandle you to hover above his cock. You spread your legs wide over his thick thighs and moan when you feel the wet blunt head of his dick press against your pussy. Even though you're so wet you're still apprehensive about taking Joel without at least having his fingers inside you to stretch you a bit. You open your mouth to voice your concern when suddenly Joel slams you down onto his dick.

You scream at the burning stretch. His cock impales you, seeming to part your insides as he buries himself completely inside your pussy. He watches you closely as your face contorts in pain, untangling his hand from your hair to slide down your spine and cup your other ass cheek. Your body shudders and your opening throbs painfully around the base of him.

"Ow, ow! F-fuck, Joel," you sob. Your hands claw at his shoulders for support.

"So full of me, babydoll," Joel whispers huskily. You can feel the rough skin on his palms when he slowly rocks your pelvis back and forth, his cock dragging out a few inches and then back in, forcing your walls to adjust around him.

He's right, you are so impossibly full of him. You choke out a series of stuttering moans and whimpers while he continues manovuering your hips in shallow thrusts. He's so fucking big you can feel him deep in your stomach. The pain eventually lessens in intensity and is replaced by overwhelming pleasure, although the sensation of fullness remains. Your pussy is getting wetter and wetter, making the the movement smoother. Joel notices your slick start to drip down his shaft and down to his balls and a growl of approval rumbles in his throat.

"Takin' daddy's cock like a good little bitch," Joel moans. "Such a good fuckin' girl."

His words make your pussy clench. God, he makes you feel feral. You start to wind your hips and bounce on top of him in a fervent rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"That's it," Joel murmers against your lips. "Ride me, baby, ride this fat fuckin' dick."

He licks at the corner of your mouth teasingly before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth, still bouncing and grinding on his length and digging your nails into his shoulders. When Joel slips one hand inbetween your bodies and starts to stroke your clit with his thumb, your legs quiver.

Joel's tongue dances around yours as he skillfully circles your bundle of nerves. Your eyes roll back, the coil in your lower stomach swirling and contracting. Your soft body feels wholly possessed by Joel, every inch of you captured and devoured by him. You're lost in the ecstasy you share with him, and within a few minutes the coil reaches a crescendo and snaps. You climax, legs shaking and body shuddering. Joel helps you through it with upwards thrusts of his hips and his thumb still circling your clit.

When your orgasm fades and your body is overcome with fatigue, Joel grabs tightly on to your hips and fucks up into you. He slams you up and down like a ragdoll as he desperately chases his own climax, reaching it in less than a minute. At the last moment he hauls your body up off him. Joel's groans are loud and animalistic as his cock pulses and spurts ropes of his warm seed over your lower belly and your mound. You mewl wearily into his chest.

You feel sleep creeping closer and you slump further against Joel. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, running a hand through his untamed curls and tilting his head back. You both remain that way quietly for several minutes. You are just beginning to drift off to sleep when Joel taps your hip to signal you to get off his lap.

You begrudgingly slide off of him and flop onto the couch. He stands and leaves you to curl up alone against a couch cushion. You can feel the stickiness of his cum drying on your skin but you're too exhausted to care. Your eyelids flutter shut and you yawn into the cushion. You hear the rustle of clothes, the clunk of his boots on the ground and some kind of movement near you, then Joel reappears above you naked from the waist down. You don't open your eyes as he scoops you into his arms wordlessly and carries you to your bedroom. You are almost completely asleep when he tucks you into your bed and slides under the covers next to you. And when he slings an arm around your middle possessively and gets comfortably snuggled against your body, you're already lulled into slumber.

The next day you were back at the library with Oscar.  The weather outside was awful; thick grey clouds filled the sky with the threat of rain while a bitter wind whipped mercilessly throughout the streets of the town. The inside of the library was cosy and warm though, and you had to agree with Oscar when he said  that snow would be arriving soon.

Sometime after lunch, when there was a lull in residents visiting the library, Oscar cleared his throat before uttering your name.

"Hm?" You hummed in reply without looking at him. You were focused on recording the details of each book in a small stack of hardcovers beisde you.

He said your name once more, louder this time, commanding your attention. 

"I won't be working at the library anymore," Oscar spoke quietly.

The weight of his confession hung heavy and resounding in the air. You froze, the hand holding the pen pausing halfway through writing a title. Your throat went dry instantly. Surely he hadn't just said he would be leaving the library?

A frown creased your brow. Yes, you must have misheard him. There was no way he would leave you and abandon the comfortable niche you had created together. Right?

You felt flames of panic start to lick the inside of your sternum. You looked up at Oscar with alarm, hoping for reassurance. But he was already staring at you with an apologetic expression that immediately told you that you had indeed heard him correctly.

"W-what?" You stammered. "What do you mean, why not?"

Oscar propped his glasses on top of his forehead and brushed the corners of his eyes with his fingertips, and you weren't sure if he were sweeping away weariness or tears. You had never seen Oscar without his spectacles before, and when he shifted his gaze back to you you were struck by how enchanting his sultry hooded eyes were. Even consumed with an expression of helpless regret, you couldn't help but marvel at how handsome he looked.

"Maria says it is time for me to go back to patrolling and the stables now my ankle is healed." Oscar said softly.

You sucked in a breath of air and shakily exhaled. "That's not fair," you mumbled petulantly, looking down."The library needs you."

Oscar smiled, a small sad quirk of his lips.  You both knew the library no longer needed two people to manage it. Oscar had painted and renovated the building as best as it possibly could have been, and all that was left now was general cleaning and the maintance of books - the tasks you had easily completed alone.

"You've got it," he reassured you. "This is your library now."

Tears well in your eyes and blur your vision. You feel ridiculous for being so emotional, for the disappointment and sadness cruelly curling around your heart. You aren't even completely sure why you feel this way, either. You knew Oscar wouldn't always be around in the library with you, but you couldn't ever anticipate this sense of loss at him leaving. Why was the prospect so hurtful?

All you manage to do is shake your head gently, unable to voice your disagreement. This is yours too, you want to say, we made this together. You bow your head and shut your eyes tightly.

Oscar seems to read your thoughts. He moves slowly toward you, the whisper of his shoes against the floor being the only sound in the room. You're startled when you feel his hands tenderly settle on your shoulders and he says your name once again. You raise your head and turn to look at him, unable to hide your sadness, you are sure you find a similar glint of emotion reflected in his own beautiful eyes.

"Do you have to?" You whisper, searching his eyes.

Oscar gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze and nods. "Yes, I do. Everyone has their roles in the community, and I have to go wherever Maria and Tommy need me. And after that mission we need as many capable people as possible on patrol."

You sigh and nod your head slowly to show you understand. And you do. You have even seen Joel work himself to the bone at times when there have been shortages within patrol groups. But you can't help feeling selfish right now.

"We can still be friends," Oscar offers you a smile. "Have lunch together when I'm not on patrol. What do you think? I mean, only if you want. Do you?"

The air between you feels thick all of a sudden, tense with the intimacy of your proximity. He's so close to you now, his body almost caging yours, but somehow it doesn't feel claustrophobic at all. Instead, it is comfortable, it feels safe.

"Of course I do," you find yourself answering immediately. It is the truth, yes, but it is one that you know isn't realistic.

"Okay. Good." Oscar breathes out. It almost sounds like he is relieved by your answer. Maybe he is. He opens his mouth to say something more but the moment is abruptly shattered when the bell above the door tinkles, signalling someone's entrance. Instinctively you both take a step away from each other, Oscar readily greeting the handful of children that have materialised while you compose yourself.

For the rest of the afternoon you try not to sulk, trying in vain to savour the enjoyable moments of your last shift with Oscar.

Three weeks pass by quickly. The weather has turned bitingly cold and snow has settled into the mountains of Wyoming. The snowcapped peaks surrounding the Jackson village create a beautifully picturesque backdrop to the flurry of activity happening in the town.

Everyone is preparing for Christmas. Decorations are constructed and displayed in windows and shop fronts. Strings of fairy lights are hung in the main street and the glowing yellow bulbs illuminate the darkness of night. The townspeople are more cheerful and animated than usual, the children especially excited by the celebratory atmosphere and the wafting sweet smell of baked goods that carry from the bakery.

You continue to work at the school and the library. The library is so different without Oscar's laugh and his stories and the warmth of his presence. You force yourself to trudge through each shift without thinking about him too much, although reminders of him pop up here and there and it is impossible not to.

You haven't spoken to Oscar in three weeks. You know he has been busy back on patrol but his absence still stings. You still hope he will come walking through the door to visit, even just to say hello.

You have glimpsed Oscar twice throughout that time though, both in the main street as you were walking home and he was headed to the mess hall after his shift. You spotted each other at the same time and your heart skipped a beat to witness a flash of tender affection pass over his features. Both times he was with two other patrolmen though, and it was clear that he couldn't stop to talk.

As you passed each other Oscar gave you an apologetic smile, disappointment tugging at his lips. You smiled back and nodded once, hoping to convey your understanding.

I miss you, you wanted to tell him.

But you couldn't. You continued the trek back home, forgoing dinner at the mess hall as usual, preferring the quiet comfort of your cottage and your books. Joel would be over later.

Joel had started spending more time at your home recently. On the nights he wasn't on patrol he would skulk through the darkness to slip through your door and into your bed. It wasn't every night, but you made sure to always be home before 8pm in case he showed up.

Until a few days before Christmas.

It was just after dusk when you were startled by a knock at your front door.

It must be Kate, you thought, coming by early to go to the movie screening together.

When you opened the door you were surprised to find that it wasn't Kate on your porch, but Joel. He had just finished his patrol shift; his hair was windswept and his lips were chapped, and the lines around his eyes were accentuated by weariness. He must have come straight to your place after leaving his horse at the stables. Even with the evident exhaustion written on his features, Joel still looked as rugged and handsome as ever.

His eyes scanned up and down your body, clocking the fact that you were wearing your best pair of jeans and your hair was neatly combed and tied into a braid with a ribbon. You were too caught off guard by his unexpected appearance that you missed the way his eyebrows creased.

"Oh, Joel!" you exclaimed. "Why are you here?"

You stepped aside to allow him to enter the cottage and he swaggered in. As he squeezed past you could smell the mix of gunpowder, sweat and pine on his clothes.

"What d'you mean?" Joel glowered, watching you with an air of suspicion as you shut the door behind him. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

You turned around to face him and pressed your back against the wooden door. "Well, I didn't know we were meeting tonight."

Joel folded his arms and glared down at you with furrowed eyebrows. He looked annoyed with you.

Oh no, he's upset. Did I really forget he was going to come over?

"I mean, I don't remember us making any plans." You quickly amend. "Did we?"

"I can't just come over and see you when I want to?" Joel bristled. "What, you busy all of a sudden?"

Okay, he is really annoyed.

A tiny niggling anxiety began to stir in your stomach - a biological remnant of trauma that you weren't entirely conscious of but of which had entrenched itself throughout your nervous system. You needed to quash this feeling as quickly as possibly, and assuring Joel that you weren't too busy for him and still loved him somehow seemed like the best way to make it better.

"No, I'm not busy" you murmer soothingly. "I always want to see you."

You weren't lying, either. Since his return, you really did want to see Joel as often as you could. Within this short span of time there had been a shift within your relationship, mainly precipitated by changes in Joel's actions. He had become more generous in his affection and praise, causing you to become putty in his hands at every cuddle, caress and compliment he lavished upon you.

You had loved Joel for all these months now and had been so starved of the security of knowing his feelings, that these displays of affection had totally bewitched you. It was as if Joel had weaved an intoxicating spell over you. A spell you were powerless to resist and of which made you constantly crave his skilled touch and the weight of his body and his low baritone.

Simply, you were falling deeper in love with Joel.

You gather the courage to step toward him and lay your palm delicately against the curve of his jaw, hoping to pacify him.

Joel's eyelids close briefy while he savours your soft touch, and his head dips ever so slightly to press heavier into your hand. He's so beautiful when he's soft like this, when he lets his guard down and opens up a little.

Joel visibly inhales and exhales through his nose. He opens his eyes and glowers down at you once more, but you detect that his irritation has lessened somewhat, the hardness in his orbs not as amplified. Relief floods your body and the niggling knot of worry dissipates.

"Where you goin' dressed up like that?" Joel grunts, his hand moving in a vague gesture over your body.

"Dressed up?" You chuckle. "Joel, I'm just in jeans and a shirt. The girls and I are going to watch the movie screening in the hall tonight." You slowly stroke the patchiness of scruff on his jaw with your thumb.

"Baby, why do you wanna waste your time with that? I got a TV and video tapes at my place that you can watch anytime."

"I know, but--"

Joel takes your hand from his face and shifts away from you, sighing heavily. "Girl, I had a long day dealin' with the bullshit the last patrol shift left for me to clean up. I'm tired, back's killin' me, but I came straight here to see you."

"Oh Joel, I'm sorry," you sigh guiltily. You knew how the pain in his back troubled him, the affliction sometimes so bad that he would grit his teeth and snap like a vicious dog nursing a nasty wound. You often gave Joel massages to ease the tension in his muscles, especially after long strenuous shifts. Your heart ached to know he was in pain.

And you feel torn. You wanted to comfort Joel and support him, to show that you care for him and love him. But you were also so excited to see the movie with your friends tonight. You hadn't really had a fun evening with the girls for a long time and you were all eager to take advantage of any opportunity to enjoy your youth, to gather in public and gossip and joke. After the screening you'd all probably go to the Tipsy Bison for some drinks, of which you guessed Joel wouldn't approve of.

You approach him now and wrap your arms around his waist, trying to cuddle him, but Joel doesn't move.

"The movie won't go for too long. Why don't you stay here, have a shower and relax. And then I meet you back here?" You suggest cheerfully. "Spend the night with me, please."

"Not tonight," Joel mutters, detaching from your hold without looking at you. "I'm goin' home."

Your heart sinks. "Joel, please," you plead, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. "Stay here."

Joel gives a tight shake of his head, his eyes avoiding your face, and paces to your front door. You are about to omplore him one last time but he quickly strides out of your home without saying anything.

When Kate arrives to walk with you to the town hall, you try your best to swallow the lump in your throat and adopt a happy facade. But it is a lot more difficult than you anticipated.

At the town hall you can't concentrate on the movie at all. It is impossible to focus on the moving images on the massive projection screen when your stomach is twisting into knots thinking of Joel. You're surrounded by Jess, Rhi, Kate and Cassie, in their chatter and giggles, but you can't hear them. It is as if you have been submerged underwater and everything is blurred and muffled.

Joel's scowl of displeasure flashes in your mind and an involuntarily shiver rushes up your spine, causing you to twitch in your seat. He had looked so disappointed and aggravated by your unavailability for him. It suddenly struck you that he needed you; he had come to you at the end of his bad day, had chosen you to share his complaints with, wanted you to comfort him. But instead you had chosen to attend a stupid movie night rather than be with Joel. You had prioritised something so meaningless over Joel's feelings; guilt had lodged itself inside your throat, heavy like a stone.

You can't stay. You need to leave and talk to Joel.

You feign feeling ill to your girlfriends. Kate offers to walk you home but you decline, not wanting her to miss the movie she had been so excited to see. Rhi protests and argues that they hardly ever see you anymore but Kate defends you and calms her down. Although disappointed, the girls encourage you to go home and rest.

You leave, but you don't go home.

Instead, you secretly make your way to Joel's large two storey house under the clandestine cloak of the dark night sky. It is freezing and you regret not wearing more layers.

When you reach his house, you spontaneously try jiggling the door handle and discover it is unlocked. As if he knew you would come. Were you so predictable, or did Joel just know you too well? You twist the knob and slowly push the door ajar just enough to poke your head through.

"Joel?" You call out hesitantly.

"Yeah," the deep timbre of his voice responds soon after. You can tell that he's close by, probably in the living room. You slip into the house and push the door closed.

As you creep into the living room, you feel sheepish, like a scolded dog crawling back to its owner with its tail between its legs. The whole house is dark except for the dancing flames in the fireplace and a single lamp that sits in the corner of the room that emits a dull yellow light. Joel sits slumped in his arm chair nursing a glass of dark amber liquor in his hand. He has showered and changed into a clean black shirt and sweat pants. You instantly feel the welcoming heat coming from the crackling fire in the fireplace.

"Movie no good?" Joel grunts, raising his eyebrows.

You are too embarassment to meet his gaze so you stare at the ground instead. You scuff the toe of your shoe against the floor while you fidget absentmindedly with the hem of your shirt. You have to clear your throat before you answer.

"It was fine. I just...I missed you. I wanted to be with you instead. You are more important."

"Look at me," Joel commands softly. You obey and drag your eyes up from the floor to look at him. "That the truth?"

"Yes sir." You reply quietly with a single nod.

Joel seems to accept your answer and nods back. You don't realise you're holding your breath as you wait for him to say more. You study Joel's unhurried movements as he takes a leisurely sip of his whiskey and then deposits the small glass on the table next to him. He runs his hand over his face and grunts, but says nothing more. You suck in a breath of air before blurting out your next sentence.

"Is it alright I'm here?" You ask timidly.

Joel stares at you for a few moments, his weary eyes raking up and down your body. Then he jerks his head slightly to usher you over.

"Come 'ere," Joel murmers as he pats his thigh.

There it is. His permission. His forgiveness. You can't hide the relieved smile that breaks out on your face. You prance over to him and climb onto the thick muscle of his thigh, positioning your legs across his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You rest your head against his chest and sigh contentedly as Joel slips an arm around your waist and cups his large hand over your hip. You inhale his scent, the familiar musk of Joel and sandalwood and pine, and hum appreciatively. You adore the way you fit into his lap and how his frame cradles you, making you feel so small.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I wasn't thinking. I should've just stayed home."

Joel doesn't say anything. He drapes his other hand across your knee and strokes the area with his thumb. You nuzzle into his neck lovingly and Joel places a light kiss on the top of your head.

He is immensely pleased that you showed up - he knew you would. He's proud that you're starting to learn and accept that your rightful place is with him. Not with your friends or around any other frivolous things to distract you. You belong here, with him.

He wishes he could whisk you away from Jackson and leave all this bullshit behind. If it weren't for Ellie, he would find a way to do it.

But for now Joel has to be content with this. Just like training you to surrender your body to his every whim and desire, he was going to make sure you would surrender your life to him, too.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows

#joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #dark Joel miller #dead dove do not eat

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

previous chapter

masterlist

*chapter warnings* - character has a panic attack, death of a side character, manipulative Joel, mention of pregnancy

When Joel had returned to Jackson and trudged through the door of his house for the first time in weeks, he immediately smelt the sticky sweet scent of honey in the air. Ellie had made him shut his eyes as she tugged him through to the kitchen by the cuff of his sleeve, demanding he not peek or else he would ruin the surprise. And although Joel grumbled about hating surprises and just wanting a hot shower and some rest, he was holding back a smile. He had missed Ellie so much that he would do just about anything if she asked him to.

Then Ellie instructed him to open his eyes, trilling a theatrical "Tada!" She lifted the tea towel that lay on the kitchen counter to unveil the cake she had made with you. "Welcome home!"

Straight away Joel knew that you were involved in the creation of this surprise. Ellie could not have done this alone and you were the only person Ellie would have felt comfortable enough to ask for help with learning to bake something. He also recognised that it looked exactly like one of your honey cakes - his absolute favourite.

Joel felt a twinge inside his chest cavaity upon seeing the pretty cake perched on top of his kitchen counter. It was an overwhelming mix of emotion that he couldn't quite identify; something akin to gratitude and love and pride. All because his adopted daughter cared enough to make him a damn cake to welcome him home. Because it was you who helped teach her.

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat and gave a short laugh of astonishment before gathering Ellie into an embrace.

"Thanks, kid," he whispered into the crown of her head. "Looks good. And ya didn't burn the kitchen down."

"Yeah, ha ha, so funny," Ellie rolled her eyes. "Your lady friend supervised me so I didn't forget to turn off the oven or some bullshit. Which, by the way, happened to Mrs. Myer last year and almost torched her whole house."

Joel and Ellie cut two slices of cake and ate them standing in the kitchen, Ellie rambling about the random mundane happenings that had occurred in Joel's absence. He looked at Ellie as he slowly chewed bites of the delicious spongey cake, only half listening to her. Although Ellie could be exasperating at times, Joel enjoyed seeing her like this - garbling about Maria's houserules around a mouth full of sticky cake, animated facial expressions embellishing her story.

When they finished eating, Joel went upstairs to shower before going to sleep. He stood infront of the mirror to undress, his limbs feeling progressively more leaden with each passing minute. Despite his body aching with fatigue, his mind was overrun with ceaseless ruminating.

With sadness in his heart, Joel thought about how quickly Ellie was growing up, how time was slipping through his fingers and stealing away more moments of their life lived together. Ellie was still the same sarcastic, witty girl she had always been, but living in a safe and equitable community had given her the opportunity to grow and thrive in ways that would have never been possible in the QZ. She had blossomed into an optimistic and confident young woman with goals and aspirations, a daughter Joel was incredibly proud of.

But with Ellie's advancement in age and maturity came fear and dread that seeped into the marrow of his bones.

The fear of his own ageing, of his own inevitable demise slowly approaching. Joel was acutely aware of his age and the increasing limitations that it came with. His joints and muscles ached from a lot less physical strain these days. He was self conscious of the hearing loss in his right ear and worried that it would worsen. Joel dreaded becoming an old man without family surrounding him, with nothing to live for. He dreaded the possibility of experiencing the devastating agony of loss again.

Sarah. Tess.

He couldn't handle losing Ellie, too.

She was already exercising her independence and slowly detaching from the exclusive life they led together - and it fucking hurt him so bad. She was even spending more and more time out with her friends and at sleepovers, leavong Joel alone at home most of the time.

But Joel still felt guilty for lying to Ellie about what happened at the hospital with the Fireflies; so there was no way he could deny her the right to the pursuit of happiness in Jackson however she saw fit, including distancing herself from him. However, the gradual distancing still felt heartbreaking.

The notion of Ellie not being in his life made Joel's brain buzz with panic. A tightness seized his chest suddenly and seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs. He had to grip the edge of the bathroom sink with both hands in order to steady himself.

Fuck, no, not again.

Joel bowed his head and screwed his eyes shut in an effort to concentrate on keeping his knees from buckling underneath him. He gulped in breaths of air and expelled them in shuddering puffs while swirls of dread surged through his mind and body.

It's okay everything is alright Ellie is still here safe just keep breathing---

The internal monologue blurred into one continuous train of thought and quickly became a comforting sort of mantra to Joel. He remained still with his large hands wrapped around the porcelain of the sink while the dialogue rushed through his brain. He stayed like that for several minutes, until the tense coil inside his body slowly lessened and the panic eventually drained from his mind.

When Joel opened his eyes and his vision settled into focus he was confronted with the haggered image of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual and his lips were chapped from the cold wind. His crown of curls were tousled and smudges of dirt marked the tan skin of his face. He looked wrecked. Like an old man.

It was at times like this that Joel wished he could swallow a cocktail of pills and chase them down with whatever liquor he could get his hands on. Anything to knock him out for a few hours, just like he did at the QZ. Joel hadn't experienced a panic attack for quite some time - infact the previous one, precipitated by you trying to leave, had been the first one in more than a year. 

Joel would never admit it, but he had spent a great deal of time thinking about you while he was away from Jackson. It was always in the quiet hours of the night, after the patrolmen had settled somewhere to sleep until daybreak. He struggled to fall asleep in the open wilderness, both his body and mind too wired with adrenaline to ease into a state of slumber, and so he spent alot of time reflecting.

Joel dreamed of your pretty face, the sensual curves of your body, the sound of your breathy voice saying his name when he fucked you. Fuck, he couldn't wait to get back to you and kiss you all over and fuck you again. He imagined slamming into you over and over until you screamed and begged him to stop.

Joel recalled how needy and anxious you had been the night he left, how perfect you looked crying when you heard he had to go. He knew you loved him still, even after hurting you with the belt, sweet little thing you were. Yes, you had tried to leave. But you were his and you belonged with him. He had managed to make you stay and you still loved him. And he loved you, truly, in the deep rooted core of his splintered heart. Even if he thought he could never confess it to you in this lifetime.

The elation you felt when Joel returned to Jackson was short lived. It was eclipsed by the passing of Maude, the librarian and your friend, just four days after the team had concluded their mission. She was found laying in her bed by her housemate, having died peacefully in her sleep at the age of 73. Her death was unexpected but not altogether surprising, given her age and the ailments she dealt with each passing year.

Maria had knocked on your door that morning to deliver the sad news. She sat with you on your sofa as you cried, encircling you in her arms as the waves of anguish hit you. You had known Maude since you had first arrived in Jackson as a young teenager and her enduring presence in the periphery of your life gave you a sort of comfort that you never consciously acknowledged. She had come to symbolise consistency and normalcy just by being visible in everyday life; like the baker who you saw display buns and loaves of bread each morning, or the man who sat outside the barbershop and whittled wood each day.

To you, Maude's death signified more than just the loss of her as an individual. It was also a harsh reminder that the shadowy hand of death could come to claim anyone you cared about at any time. Just like it had stolen your parents away from you, leaving you orphaned and all alone in the cataclysmic nightmare of the apocalypse, so distressed that you wonder how you hadn't died of a broken heart.

You never allowed yourself to ruminate too much on this truth, though. The pain was far too complex for you to willingly analyse. Instead, you simply cried for Maude and the fact that you'd miss her.

Maria held you silently, patient and gentle, until your cries eventually died down to shuddering sniffles. She asked if you would prefer to stay home from library duty for the day, in order to give yourself space to grieve. You shook your head stubbornly.

"I'll be okay," you assured Maria as you wiped your nose with a tissue. "I need to keep busy and the library will help."

So will seeing Oscar, your mind randomly chimed. You hadn't seen him for the last few days and you missed him. The soft cadance when he spoke, the crinkles around his eyes when he laughed, his stories and jokes. You needed Oscar right now, positive that he could lighten the weight on your heart with nothing but his mischievous grin.

When you pushed through the library door later that morning, Oscar was standing infront of the counter with his arms crossed, his mouth downturned with melancholy. He was already looking at you when you finished kicking off your boots and you glanced up at him. The sorrow reflected in his brown orbs was so raw that you couldn't suppress the sob clawing up your throat, or the impulse to rush over to him.

Oscar spoke your name softly and opened his arms open to catch you. You crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. Oscar enveloped you against his body and squeezed your frame. You wept into his shirt while he cradled the back of your head tenderly.

"I know," Oscar whispered into your ear as you cried. "I know."

You stayed like that for what seemed like forever, basking in the warmth of his embrace as your tears poured relentlessly from the cracks of your heart. Oscar held you tightly, seeming to absorb every single drop of sorrow you expelled without complaint. It felt comfortable, so natural.

But Oscar knew your cries weren't just for Maude. Without you admitting so, he knew that there was a torrent of emotion inside you that had been desperate to break free for so long. He could identify it in the way you hesitated before revealing something about yourself, regardless of how trivial it was. He saw how quiet you became after the mention of certain subjects, eyes glazing over as you fell into contemplative silence, the gears in your brain working tirelessly. Grief plagued your soul, just like it did with all survivors, just as it did with himself. Oscar wished he could express that he understood, that he wanted you to share your secrets and fears with him and he would keep them safe, tucked securely inside his own wounded heart, just to give you some kind of solace.

Oscar knew but he did not speak, not except for the occasional whisper of comfort, hoping to God you couldn't hear the pounding of his heart in your ear. Your tears eventually subsided and you composed yourself enough to detach from his body, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. When his eyes met your beautiful watery orbs, he was sure he felt a zap of electricity between you. But then you went rigid and your eyes widened, almost like you were panicked. Oscar wondered if you were embarrassed, either by your display of emotion or the realisation of your physical proximity, or perhaps both.

"I better get to work," you quickly mumbled, averting your gaze.

Oscar smoothed his warm hands over your shoulders, willing you to look at him. He said your name and when his voice escaped his lips it sounded like a plea. But you pulled away from him wordlessly and disappeared into the solitary space of the storeroom to resume the job you had been working on lately. Oscar sighed and scratched the side of his cheek, his fingernails rasping over his beard.

He didn't want to pressure you or push you in any way, but he wanted you to share your feelings with him. He wanted to hear about your worries and fears and sadness. But maybe it was time for him to share himself with you as well.

Oscar kept his distance from you for the next few hours, letting you have some space to relax until you felt ready to talk. At around 12.30pm Oscar went to the mess hall for and returned with a small sack filled with sandwiches and fruit. He gave a small knock against the doorframe of the store room as not to startle you. You were knelt on the floor with some books and cleaning rags scattered around you.

"Got us some lunch," Oscar said tentatively, leaning his head against the doorframe. "Ready to come eat?"

"Thanks," you said without looking up. "But I'm not really hungry."

You hadn't said that for months, not since that first time working together when you insisted you weren't hungry but he served you food anyway - food that you ended up devouring with gusto. Lunch time then became something you both looked forward to on your subsequent shifts, a designated time when you could take it easy for a while and enjoy the companionship you built. While your resfual to eat concerned Oscar, he did not want to overstep any boundaries.

"Would you like to be left alone today?" He asked gently. "I have some odd jobs to do, so if you wanna have some peace and quiet I can work in the corner of the library."

You sighed and shook your head slowly before looking up at him. "Oh Oscar, you're so lovely. I'm sorry, I'm just...really sad."

"I understand, you don't need apologise." Oscar offered you a little smile.

"But I'd like you to stay close by, if that is okay?"

Oscar tried not to show just how relieved he felt to hear your request. Ofcourse he could stay close to you. He would happily remain by your side for as long as you wanted. But he just nodded and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Of course."

"Thank you," you whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap. "I haven't....lost someone, for so long. It brings up a lot of memories."

Oscar slipped into the storeroom and lowered himself to the ground to sit a few feet away from you, directly opposite the spot where you were kneeling. He hummed to convey that he was listening, to encourage you to keep speaking. You had never spoken about these things to anyone before - death, mortality, your parents, your own grief - but now it seemed like the words and emotions wanted to tumble from your mouth on their own accord.

"Maude...." you began, voice wavering, your gaze focused on your fidgeting fingers. "I knew her since I came to Jackson...everything always seemed so safe here. I guess I just never really...thought about someone dying inside the gates."

Oscar watched you silently with his chin resting in the palm of one hand. He waited for you to continue.

"And it makes me think of my life. Like what if I end up alone? What if I die without starting my own family?" Rivulets of tears were beginning to stream down your face and you speak so softly that Oscar has to lean forward and strain his hearing.

"J-just like my m-mother and father, how they didn't escape...but I did," you wept, gently shaking your head. "I survived but I didn't want to without them. I survived but I'm so scared."

Oscar's soulful brown eyes watched you intently as the raw emotion poured from you. He longed to cradle you in his arms but he knew you needed this, this cathartic like confession without any disruption.

"I shouldn't have." You croaked, covering your eyes with your hands like you were hiding from the truth of your own words.

"Shouldn't have, what?" Oscar reached over and gently touched your forearm.

"I-I shouldn't have lived," your throat was thick with your tears. "I don't deserve to. I should've d-d-died."

Oscar whispered your name and fell forward on his knees to crawl close to you. "Hey, listen to me. Don't ever say that, okay?"

He enveloped you into his arms gingerly and cradled the back of your head with his palm. "You do deserve to live. You deserve to live here, safe and happy. You were meant to survive. And your parents would be so happy that you made it here. They would be so happy and proud of the woman you are today."

You continued to sob and sniffle miserably but you allowed Oscar to hold you. The vague scent of cinnamon filled your nose when he pressed you closer to him. You both stayed like that for a long time, until your cries died down and became tiny sniffs and sighs. Oscar remained still as he embraced you. It was only when he was sure that you were somewhat tranquil that Oscar chose to speak.

"I survived, too," Oscar whispered. "And I spent so many years hating myself for it."

You pulled away from his arms just enough to peer at his face. His mouth was down turned in that pensive frown from earlier and his eyes, usually so warm and twinkling, were now downcast and full of woe.

"She...my wife..." Oscar's voice choked. "She was bitten before I could stop it, before I could protect her. I should've been right by her side but I wasn't." He swallowed thickly.

Without thinking you instinctively raised your hand up to Oscar's face and gently cupped his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact and a single tear slipped out from under his thick eyelashes.

"Oh, Oscar..." You whispered, staring at him closely.

He shook his head ever so gently and sniffed, then brought his own hand up to enclose over yours. He opened his eyes and met your gaze.

"But I came to learn that hating yourself for surviving isn't the right way to live." Oscar stated solemnly. "There's no point in living if it is in misery. It kills your heart and your peace, slowly."

Oscar slowly removes your hand from his scruffy cheek and lowers it to his chest, where he cradles it reverently with his own, still looking directly at you.

"We owe it them to continue living. To live as best as we can, to allow ourselves happiness and love - because that is what they would want, and because it honours their memory. And those feelings we have...that hate for ourselves...that guilt...it does nothing to help us. It may never really go away, but holding onto it so tightly...it makes life impossible to live."

You nod ever so slightly, totally enrapt in the truth of Oscar's words and the conviction in his tone. You've never heard someone speak in such a way that penetrates your heart like this, never identified with someone else's insight so deeply before.

"If we let the hate and hurt eat us alive, then we won't ever be able to remember the good memories. I will never forget my wife, I promised myself a long time ago that I would keep her memories close to my heart. Her smile...her laugh..."

Another tear rolled down Oscar's cheek but he did nothing to wipe it away. Your eyes were still locked on each others.

"And they remind me that life can be worth living, that she would want me to keep going. I bet your parents would, too. And so would Maude."

You can't stifle the sob that escapes your lips and you find yourself lunging into Oscar's body to hug him once again. He hugs you back, sure that you can both hear each other's heartbeats.

That night you sat crossed legged on Joel's bed cocooned in his blanket. Just as he had requested (or rather, ordered) the previous night, Joel wanted you waiting at his house for when he finished his patrol shift. As he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots, you told him the news about Maude's death.

"She lived til an old age," he said brusquely, letting his boots drop to the floor with a clunk. "Longer than alotta people. Ain't not use mournin' someone whose time is up."

You knew he was right; Maude had lived a long life by apocalypse standards, and many of them had been spent within the comfortable confines of Jackson,

but the coldness in his words still stung. Joel's pragmatic nature was clearly vastly different from your more emotional disposition, but he also had more life experience than you, you reminded yourself. Maybe it was better to be a bit more like Joel for the sake of self preservation.

You sighed and hummed a halfhearted agreement.

The mattress creaked as Joel stood to undress. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders and watched Joel wordlessly as he removed his jacket and flannel shirt. Your eyes wandered over the expanse of his thick shoulders and broad back - you could see the light scratches on his flank from where you'd dug your fingernails into last night when he'd pounded into you. You smiled softly to yourself.

You loved to watch him in various stages of undress; whether it was after a long day at work or right before he fucked you, the display of his bare body evoked a hunger inside your lower belly that made you ache for his cock. Even with the litany of scars covering his skin, nothing could detract from how sexy he was.

Joel pulled off his t shirt and tossed it and the flannel onto the floor by his dresser. He glanced at you and caught you shamelessly gawking at his half naked body. He smirked ever so slightly.

"What're you starin' at, little girl?" Joel teased.

You blushed and hid your shy smile behind the tips of your fingers. "Just you, how sexy you are.

Joel chuckled under his breath padded over to the closet to hang up his jacket. When he returned from the closet and slowly paced toward the bed, your heart skipped a beat to see that he's cradling the Polaroid camera in his hands. It's the same one from the shoe box that was hidden in his closet. The one you snooped in.

Shit, you hope he hasn't found out that you went looking through his stuff. You were sure you had returned it to the correct spot, had it angled in the same position you'd found it in on the shelf.

You swallow thickly and watch Joel's face cautiously. He is quiet and concentrated as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over the plastic black exterior of the camera, examining it as if he has never used it before, as if he's not entirely sure if it even works. It is worn but in good condition; a relic from the past, now a rare tool that was used to capture and eternalise scenes and faces before the end of the world. You briefly wonder who it belonged to once upon a time.

You chew your bottom lip as you watch him come to stand a few feet away from the bed. He looks up at you and holds the Polaroid up in his hand.

"Know what this is?" Joel asks.

You nod, and even though you do know what it is, you still sound slightly dubious when you respond."It's a camera, right?"

"'Thats right." He nods and turns it around to study the front of the lens. "Found it a while ago on a mission. Was gonna give it to Ellie but seems she's...more interested in her comics, or somethin'."

His voice trails off into a mutter at the end. He almost sounds sad, or disappointed. You feel bad for him, knowing he would be struggling to accept Ellie wanting to move out of home.

"It's a very thoughtful gift to give someone." You smile at Joel, trying to appear upbeat. "I think it is really cool. Have you taken any pictures with it?"

Joel shakes his head. "Nah, ain't tried it out yet." His eyes flicker up to you and he tilts his head, regarding you with a kind of curious contemplation. You raise an eyebrow at back at him.

"What?"

Joel's lips quirk into a sly little smile. "Wanna give it a go, see it in action?"

You can't hide your intrigue as you sit up straighter. The blanket slips off your shoulders. "What do you mean? Do I wanna take a picture?"

"I mean, how 'bout I take your picture?" Joel explains. The tone of his suggestion sounds more decisive and less of a request. He sees the uncertainty on your face and quickly clarifies his words. "A picture of you for me to remember you by. For when I'm at work, or you ain't here."

The sentiment behind his idea makes your cheeks warm. The idea is sweet, romantic. Perhaps Joel is more sentimental than he appears, you think. Your eyes light up and you smile eagerly.

"Okay!" You giggle. "Lemme stand up and get dressed."

"Nah," Joel shakes his head. "Just stay like that. Don't need to wear anythin'."

Your brow creases with confusion and you gesture to your body, still clad only in your bra and panties. "But Joel, I'm almost naked."

Joel sighs - a small sound that borders on mild exasperation. He looks at you with an expression of reproach that makes you feel small and a bit foolish, like you can't quite comprehend something and it frustrates him. You expect him to reprimand you or revert to being curt, like how he spoke about Maude just a few minutes earlier. However, when goes to speak next his voice comes out gentle.

"'S just me, darlin'," Joel assures you smoothly. "Ain't no one gonna see these pictures except me. And I think you look perfect just as you are right now."

Your lips curl into a tiny smile at his praise but you cannot disguise the indecision in your eyes. It isn't that you're ashamed of your body - it is the idea of being half naked and captured, eternalised in a physical medium like a photograph, that makes you slightly uneasy. It almost seems obsence and lewd, as if you're giving a sacred piece of yourself away permanently.

Joel can see your hesitation as clear as day. He narrows his eyes at you and speaks in that rich Texan drawl that sounds so sweetly coaxing, firm yet loving. "Babydoll, you got no reason to be shy. I just wanna have a picture of my pretty girl to look at whenever I want, that's all."

He smirks and gives you a cocky wink. It sends a hot rush of desire to your pussy and you giggle shyly. That's all it takes to win you over.

"Okay, okay, hold on." You clear your throat and wiggle a little to get comfortably posed, back straight and shoulders relaxed, fingers toying nervously with the blanket that covers your legs. Joel watches you, still smirking.

"Good girl. Now show me that sweet smile."

You look directly at Joel and manage a coy smile. He holds the camera up to his eye level and presses the little button to take the picture.  The camera flashes for a second and makes a short whirring sound. You're momentarily stunned but laugh. A square strip of white film slides out of the camera and Joel pulls it out.

"That's it? It's all done?"

"Takes a minute to show up," he explains. He sets it on the window sill to develop. You grin and lean back on your palms.

"I hope I look okay."

Joel turns back to you and there is now a hungry, dark look in his eyes. One of his hands still hold the camera while his other hand hangs by his side, flexing slowly. He stares at you silently for a few beats and his jaw ticks.

"How about we try somethin' a little different," Joel murmurs. You recognise that sultry lilt in his voice, the silky drawl that you know means he is thinking of something dirty. "Somethin' a bit more...private, just for me."

You chew your bottom lip, not really sure where his train of thought is leading to. Joel swaggers the few paces over to the bed. You watch the softness of his tummy as he moves, the growing bulge at the crotch of his jeans. You can feel yourself starting to get wet.

Joel stands before you and tilts his head down at you. His hand reaches down and he drags his thumb over your shoulder in soft circles, his eyes roving from your face down to yours breasts, then back up again.

"Uhm, what do you mean?" You ask hesitantly. You're not quite sure what he's alluding to.

Joel smirks. "Well, when I don't got you around, I get a little lonely. I start missin' what we do together...start missin' more than just that pretty face."

You tilt your head to the side so your hair hangs over your shoulder and you grin playfully at him. "Ooooh," you giggle, "what else do you miss?"

"Well, I miss those perfect tits." Joel purrs, his fingers toying with the strap of your bra. "I think about how they feel in my hands, how gorgeous they look bouncin' around when I'm fuckin' you."

His hand shifts down and cups your breast in his palm, his thumb brushing over your nipple underneath the material of your bra. A shiver skates over your body and you moan softly.

"Let me see 'em, baby," Joel commands, slightly breathless. "Take it off and show me."

Joel seems to possess you in these moments, robbing you of rationality and lucidity, consuming and devouring your body until all that is left is a soulless vessel completely fucked out and used. You reach your hands behind your back and unclip your bra. You slide it off your shoulders and discard it on the side of the mattress. Joel inhales audibly and groans lowly at the sight of your bare breasts.

"So gorgeous, sugar." He ghosts the pad of his calloused thumb over one of your nipples, making it pebble. "And all for me, ain't that right?"

"Mm-hm," you nod. Joel gives your nipple a light pinch and you moan again. Your cunt throbs with rapidly growing desire.

Joel takes a step back and nods to the camera. "Gonna take a picture of these pretty titties, baby girl. Play with 'em, want you to feel good while I'm doin' it."

You obey and bring your fingers to tease your nipples, staring up at Joel with your eyes glazed with lust. Joel's own pupils are blown wide as he watches you intently. He grips the hard outline of his cock straining in his jeans.

"Fuck yeah, thats it."

Your heart swells to witness Joel in this moment. It is because of you, because of your body and actions, that Joel looks how he does right now. Hungry, feral, undeniably aroused. The knowledge of this makes you feel powerful and sexy and wanted. It also deepens your own desire for him.

"Take the picture," you purr seductively to Joel.

A growl rumbles in his throat and he holds the camera up once again and directs it at you, then clicks the button. It flashes again and deposits another white square of film out for Joel to accept. This time he holds the picture and watches as the image slowly develops on the page. A wicked grin eventually spreads over his face and he licks his bottom lip.

"Hot little slut for me," Joel rasps. His eyes lift from the photograph back to you. "You like makin' me happy, don't you, babydoll?"

You nod eagerly and squeeze your tits in the palms of your hands. "Yes, daddy, I do."

"Look how pretty you are." Joel holds the picture out towards you and you sit up on your knees to reach over and accept it from him.

You gasp when you see it. You are instantly shocked. But God, you're also so turned on. The photograph shows you sat on the bed but only from the waist up, omiting the blanket covering your lower half so it appears you're completely naked. Your eyes twinkle and your mouth is parted slightly, somehow exuding wanton sensuality and natural sweetness all at once. Your breasts look round and soft while your fingers play with your nipples. It's fucking hot.

"I look good," you whisper incredulously.

"Told ya, baby." Joel chuckles. "Don't stop now. Gonna prove how fuckin' sexy you are, how crazy you make me."

You would have never dreamed of doing such a thing before. It is debauched and so exciting, like a dirty secret, and you feel emboldened by the boost of dopamine. You toss the picture on the bed and flip your hair over your shoulder.

"Show me, daddy. What do you want me to do now?"

Joel does not reply. Instead, he strides to the bed and swiftly grabs a hold of the back of your head to pull you into a passionate kiss. It takes you by surprise but when he pushes his tongue into your mouth with desperation, you moan with pleasure and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. Joel's tongue laps at yours in thick strokes, moaning low and growly as he savours your taste. You crumble against him, surrending once more to his will.

He is more than happy to show you, to prove to you how much he desires you. How you will always belong to only him.

In the couple of days following his return, Joel noticed subtle differences about you that had developed during his time away. He noted the tint of colour on the apples of your cheeks. He could feel the slightest bit of extra softness to your flesh, as if you'd been eating a little more lately. You were smiling more often, too.

If Joel didn't know you, he would've guessed you had been fucked really good and had some kind of post orgasm euphoria. But he did know you, and he knew that wasn't a possiblity. You were his good girl.

You couldn't be pregnant, either. Joel loosely tracked your cycles along with you so he knew when you were ovulating and when he would have to settle for a blowjob instead of risking impregnating you. He knew the changes in you weren't due to any kind of pregnancy glow.

So just why you were more spirited than you had ever been before, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was because that stupid wedding you were so excited about was happening soon. Or maybe it was because Christmas was approaching. Joel remembered how much you liked baking during the festive season, how much you relished gifting your friends homemade treats like gingerbread men. Whatever the reason, it didn't really matter. Pretty soon, Joel was going to make sure you wouldn't be preoccupied with anything else except pleasing him.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101

#joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #joel miller #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joelmiller #oscar isaac

[koshkamartell]

part 9 of No One But Me coming soon? 👉👈 (i'm obsessed)

Uploading it in the next five minutes!

[koshkamartell]

Training Day

summary: set in AU, no outbreak. You get more than you bargained for after trying to make Joel jealous. My first submission for @romanarose's Dead Dove December fic event, I'm so excited for this challenge!

warnings: degradation, noncon oral sex and DP, talk of anal, forced training, slut shaming, unspecified age gap between reader and the Miller brothers, manipulative Joel, mean Tommy, good cop/bad cop dynamics, brat taming, mention of pregnancy.

You had a long day at work, forced to work overtime to complete the workload left by several colleagues that were out of the office on sick leave. Your feet were aching from tottering around in your heels all day. You had spent the whole drive home fantasising about the luxurious bubble bath you were going to have once you reached the house you shared with Joel. He had finished work early today and you couldn't wait to cuddle up with him and order take out, maybe watch a movie until you passed out on the sofa curled against his chest.

But when you arrived home and walked through the front door, you were immediately met with the unmistakeable sound of company. Male company. The intermingling of loud voices, laughter, clinking of bottles, and the obnoxious commentary of some sports program playing on the television. Suspiciously similar sounds to guys night. 

You frowned. Joel hadn't said anything about seeing the guys tonight. What was going?

You trotted down the hallway and into the living room, the clicking of your heels along the ground alerting whoever was there of your presence. When you appear at the entrance of the loungeroom, your heart sinks with disappontment.

Joel was sitting on the sofa, manspread with a beer in one hand, inbetween his brother Tommy and one of their friends Mike. There were two more men in the armchairs and one sprawled on the floor by the couch. When they saw you they all turned to greet you warmly. 

"Hey baby," Joel said, glancing from the television to you. He took a swig of his beer. "How was work?"

"Hey." You gave him a small, tight smile. "It was long."

"Hi sweetheart," Tommy sang out, tilting his head up in a gesture of acknowledgement. He gave you one of his charming smiles, his brown eyes dancing with a hint of mischief. You always liked the younger Miller brother, the more charismatic and sociable one of the duo. "How are ya?" 

"Pretty tired," you sighed softly.

You catch Tommy and two of the other men look you up and down discreetly, and you know they are checking you out. You feel strange, oddly on display. Your black skirt sits just above the knee, displaying the smooth length of your stocking clad legs. Your white blouse is fitted and accentuates your breasts, the buttons straining against your chest deliciously. You wear a smartly tailored black jacket that doesn't hide anything, instead complimenting the curves of your body. Despite not being overly revealing, you know the outfit tends to have a favourable effect on most men. 

Tommy is more bolder than the other men, letting his gaze rest on your eyes as he lifts his hips ever so slightly to readjust his crotch. You blush and look away from him and clear your throat. "Uhm, so, did I miss something? Is it boys night tonight?"

"Game's on," one of the men said vaguely, as if that explained anything. You roll your eyes.

"Joel?"

Joel turns from the television to you and sees the unimpressed confusion on your face. He quickly gets up off the sofa and takes ahold of your elbow and leds you to the kitchen.

"Baby, the game's on tonight." He whispers, as if it's a secret.

"Yeah, I know. But why are the guys here watching it?"

Joel frowns slightly before a sheepish expression passes over his face. "I invited 'em here to watch it. Wanted to show 'em the new flat screen."

You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him. "We were supposed to be having a quiet night together. I wanted to get dinner and just hang out with you. We talked about it this morning, remember?"

Joel sighs deeply and rubs his palm over his face. "Shit, baby. I'm sorry, I forgot."

"Gee, thanks Joel," you grit out. "Didn't even fucking consider me before you just make plans with the guys."

"Sugar, it ain't like that," Joel says calmly, gently. "Come on now, don't be mad. You go relax and take it easy, have a bath or somethin'. I'll be up when the game is finished."

"What about dinner? I'm hungry." You pout.

Joel stares at you blankly for a moment, then clears his throat and looks at the ground.

"What? Joel?" 

He rubs the back of his neck and winces as he mumbles. "We got some pizza delivered. Didn't know what you wanted, figured you might wanna make somethin' else."

"Oh," you say flatly. A mixture of anger, disappointment and hurt swirls in your chest, and it takes every bit of restraint for you not to slap Joel. 

"I'm sorry, baby. I wasn't thinkin'." He says softly, looking back at you and reaching out to cradle your face. You pull away from his touch and he sighs again.

"Yeah, no problem, Joel," you mumble, wrapping your arms around your waist, feeling small and worthless. Yeah, fuck you, too. 

"Can I make it up to you tomorrow night? Maybe we can go out somewhere fancy and you can wear one of those little summer dresses I like." Joel purrs at you. He's trying to be soft and placating now, his way of apologising and trying to right his mistake, to sooth the sting of his lack of consideration. 

But it just makes you more angry. 

The thought of you dressing up for Joel's pleasure so he can whisk you off to some restaurant to wine and dine you as a consolation prize doesn't entice you at all. Joel making a show out of seducing you into forgiving him for his lack of attention isn't what you want. Especially not after him neglecting you over the last few weeks because of a big project his company has been working on. 

But now isn't the right time to argue, so instead you appease him.

"Yeah, sure, sounds great." You flash him a fake smile before turning away to go to the fridge. Joel smiles back, seemingly relieved with how the conversation turned out, and walks back to the living room. You seethe alone in the kitchen.

You hate that Joel didn't grovel for your forgiveness. You hate that he doesnt kick the guys out in favour of spending time with you, even though you know how irrational it would be. You feel spiteful and jealous. It makes you want to show Joel that he is being a neglectful asshole, prove to him that you are hot enough to get another man's attention, that if you really wanted to you could easily fall into the lap of someone more caring, more attentive. 

Then an idea comes to you. 

You take a serving tray from the cupboard and set a single bottle of beer on-top of it. Then you take the clip from your hair and let it fall over your shoulders, combing your fingers through the locks to give it more volume. You remove your jacket and then unbutton the first two buttons of your blouse so your cleavage spills and the lacy black trim of your bra peek out. You hurriedly search through your hand bag and retrieve one of your more expensive brands of lipstick; the vampy shade of red that you've only worn a handful of times. You carefully apply the crayon to your plump lips and smack them together.

Perfect.

A moment later you sashay from the kitchen to the lounge balancing a tray on your palm, the click of your heels echoing through the hallway.

When you enter the room once again all of them, including Joel, are too occupied by the game to divert their gaze to you. Except Tommy.

His eyes widen when he sees you. His dark brown eyes lock on yours, then slowly wander down to the swell of your breasts on show. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip slowly as he stares, a slow smirk spreading across his mouth. He spreads his legs a little wider. You notice how he is clutching his near empty beer bottle on-top of his crotch, and the way his thumb is slowly sliding over and circling the mouth of the bottle.

"Well, hello again, honey," Tommy drawls. "You playin' hostess for us tonight?" 

You smile sweetly at him and bat your eyelashes coyly. "Something like that. Are you feeling thirsty, Tommy?" 

"As a matter of fact, I am, little lady," Tommy purrs. He's actually fucking enjoying this, you realise. And you are starting to find that lazy, mischievous grin of his quite seductive. "How about you pass me that drink you got there?" 

Here's your chance, you think. You straighten your posture so your tits pop out. You slowly slink across the living room towards him, your eyes focused on him. Tommy watches your every move intently.

You stop in front of Tommy and lean down to place the bottle of beer on the coffee table by his knee, the plush of your tits on display for him. His hand reaches out to gently caress your wrist.

"Thank you, sugar," Tommy murmurs, gazing up at you with that grin that makes your knees weak.

"Welcome, Tommy." You smile brightly.

You were too concentrated on Tommy to notice that Joel and the other men are now staring at you, too. You straighten up and walk back across the living room, not bothering to glance back at the other men in the room. As you're about to enter out into the hallway, you're shoved from behind.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin'?" Joel hisses.

You can't even turn to see his face before he manhandles you down the hallway and to the stairs. You don't need to see him to know he is pissed off, though. Joel grabs your wrist and pulls you up the stairs with impatient ire.

Shit. You didn't expect this reaction. You weren't even really sure what reaction you were wanting from Joel, or to what extent you were going to flirt with Tommy. You suddenly feel silly for the impulsive idea.

But knowing Joel, you should've really thought it through before taking such a risk. You knew he could be possessive and jealous, occasionally irrational, always quick to anger. Maybe if you'd apologise and explain yourself he would understand.

"Joel, I'm sorry, okay?" You plead desperately. His large hand is wrapped around your wrist as he drags you to the bedroom, and you try not to stumble over your own feet. "I didn't mean it."

"Too late for that now, don't you think?" Joel spits angrily. 

He hauls you through the door and shoves you onto the bed roughly. The force pushes you onto your back on the mattress with a thud. You scramble to sit upright and look at Joel with wide eyes, willing him to listen to your apologies and see you're truly sorry. He slams the door shut and  rounds on you.

"I didn't mean it to go that far," you blabber. "I'm sorry, really--"

"Shut up," he snarls, glaring at you with any iciness in his dark brown eyes. "Shut the hell up." 

With tears welling in your eyes, you purse your lips and look down in your lap, gingerly rubbing the stinging red skin of your wrist. You know you're in deep trouble. The rage radiating off of him is palpable, filling the room with an electric kind of energy that makes your gut anxious. Joel stands with his hands of his hips, his nostrils flaring, his face twisted in a scowl.

Oh, he's mad, alright. Really fucking mad.

"Just what did you think you were doin'?" He growls. "You think that little fuckin' stunt you pulled was funny?" 

You quickly shake your head and a tear slips and falls into your lap. You can tell by the harsh drawl of his voice that he won't accept your answer anyway, too consumed by his anger to even try go comprehend the reasons behind your behaviour tonight.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Joel barks. "So hungry for attention you gotta go flirt with my goddamn brother? Is that it?" 

"I just wanted your attention, Joel," you argue back.

"That mean you gotta act like a slut infront of all my friends?" He retorts sharply.

A slut, seriously? Just from a little flirting? You scoff and get up off the bed, slightly unsteady on your heels but prepared to storm out and leave the house for the rest of the night. 

But you don't get that far. Joel doesn't let you even reach the door before he lunges and wraps his hand firmly around your throat. It stops you in your tracks and you gasp in shock. Joel yanks you back to face him. You squirm and try to escape even though you know you can't; the strength he possesses in one hand far outweighs the strength you have within your entire body. 

"Stop," Joel barks. "Fuckin' stop movin'."

He squeezes your pulse point in warning and you quickly obey, stilling in his grasp like captured prey. His dark eyes wander carefully over your face, as if assessing you. His jaw ticks in irritation.

"You know I love you, baby," Joel scowls with reproach. "But goddamn, why do you provoke me into hurtin' you?"

Joel releases your neck from his grip and you swallow thickly, the bundle of tangles nerves thick and cloying in your throat. You love when Joel is dominant, when he is a little rough and commanding during sex; but his demeanour right now, coupled with the menacing way he towers over you, has your thighs trembling. He is so close and he's never looked so pissed towards you. It scares you.

Joel's fingers skate over your collarbone and down to the crease of your cleavage. "Thought you'd get your pretty little tits out, huh? Show the guys how lucky I am to have you?" His voice is soft but there is no gentleness to it. It is taunting, dripping with cruel condescension. 

You shake your head. No, you want to say, I just wanted to show you what was waiting for you. 

"Nuh-huh," Joel tuts, "no lyin' now." 

"I wasn't lying." 

Joel grabs a handful of your hair at the base of your scalp and tugs it so that your head tilts back. The move is swift and painful and has your eyes pricking with tears instantly. You sob loudly. 

"Yes, okay!" You admit. "I was trying to make you jealous! I was angry at you!"

Joel scoffs. "What? Ya think showin' off your body like some kinda whore is a good idea? Just cos you're angry with me?" He sneers at you.

You shake your head tightly.

"So what, you like men lookin' at you? Seein' what's mine?" 

"No, Joel," you whimper. "Just want you."

Joel huffs a laugh. He releases your hair and takes a step backward to let his eyes roam over your body. All you can do is stand still, frozen on the spot, your eyes brimming with hot tears. The darkness in his brown orbs is disconcerting as he studies you, causing a stab of fear twists in your stomach. Whatever is going on in his mind is not wholesome or loving or kind.

Joel grabs onto the collar of your shirt with both his hands and rips it apart with alarming agility, the buttons flying off and the material ruined. You squeal. He wrenches the shirt from your arms and it falls to the ground, leaving you in your skirt and lacy black bra. 

"Joel, what're you doing?!" You shriek. He gives a little shrug and cracks his neck. 

"If you wanna act like a slut, you can dress like one." He says matter of factly. 

The coldness in his voice spurs you to move. You try to weave past him and spring to the door to escape, but Joel wraps his strong arm around your waist and captures you. He is so powerful that bringing you to a halt is easy, like he's swatting a fly. You squirm and yell and beat his chest with your fists but it's no use. 

"Seems like I gotta train you to act right," Joel mutters. His hand holds you steady at the waist while you struggle. "Walkin' around here flirtin' with whatever man will look your way, right in front of me, fuck sake. Like a little bitch in heat."

His words sting. How dare he say these things about you when he was the one to provoke you, to ignore your feelings and needs so selfishly? 

You reach up and slap him. "Fuck you, Joel!" 

Joel's face turns slightly to the side from the impact of your smack. 

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

That was a mistake, and you realise it straight away. 

His jaw ticks for a moment. Joel slowly turns his head back to the centre to face you. His eyes appear black now, glinting with a sadistic iciness that makes you whimper and shrink away. He lets go of your waist and you quickly back away from him. 

Joel momentarily shuts his eyes as he inhales a deep breath and then exhales, as if trying to centre himself. "Fuckin' knew it," he mutters to himself. "Too fuckin' young and stupid to know how to behave."

He opens his eyes again and narrows his gaze down at you. 

"This is what's gonna happen. You're gonna listen to what I say and do exactly what I tell you." He commands firmly. He doesn't wait for you to respond. "Take off your skirt." 

You stare at him defiantly. 

"Do it," he says through clenched teeth. 

When you don't move, Joel reaches out and lands a slap across your face. You wobble on your heels. Your head jerks to the side and you cry out in shock, your ear ringing from the impact. You cradle your stinging cheek.

"Take off the fuckin' skirt.' 

The tears are cascading down your cheeks now. Dumbed by the shock of Joel's slap, you shakily unzip your skirt and let it fall to your ankles. You are left only in your bra and matching thong, along with your stockings and heels. Although Joel has seen you naked many times before, the energy and emotion surrounding this moment is starkly different - you feel weak and exposed, not at all sexy or aroused. You stare down at the carpet with your palm still cupping your cheek.

"Good girl," he murmurs. "Now, where's that cute lil cheerleader outfit you got?"

You frown and lift your head to look at him. He's surely not talking about the costume you brought last year, the sexy cheerleader costume you  surprised him with one night?

Joel looks at you with raised eyebrows expectantly. 

Oh. He does mean that costume.

"Its in the closet, to the left." You whisper.

Joel slides open the closet and rummages through your clothes until he finds the set. It hangs neatly on the coathanger; a tight white crop top with the words "babygirl" written in pink block font, and a very short pleated pink skirt to match. You remember how crazy it had driven Joel to see you dressed and roleplaying as a slutty cheerleader, something he'd always fantasised about. It was exciting and fun. But now, as Joel holds it out for you to take from him, there's nothing fun about wearing it again. Not in this situation.

"There. Put on that skirt." Joel orders you. You dare to look at his face.

"I dont want to," you say weakly.

"Aint got a choice in the matter, sweetheart." Joel clicks his tongue. "Gotta suffer some kinda consequences for your bratty behaviour. Gotta teach you some life lessons. Can't have the boys thinkin' you're a cock starved little slut whose daddy can't control her."

"I don't care what they think!" you snap at him.

Joel suddenly clutches your face inbetween his thumb and fingers and squeezes your cheeks, silencing you. "Stop fuckin' arguin' and put on the damn skirt. Now!"

Joel gives your face a tight shake before letting go. You are weeping freely now. You take the hanger from him and put the skirt on, stepping into it and slipping it up and over your legs. It is incredibly short, only covering a few inches of your thighs, the bottom of your ass cheeks exposed. You go to remove the tank top from the hanger but Joel stops you. Even with your blearly vision you can recognise the lust written on his features, the feral hunger in his eyes.

"Don't need it," he mutters. "Look like a perfect lil whore just like this."

Your cheeks heat at his words. "What now?"

"Look at the mirror." Joel growls.

When you dont move fast enough, Joel grabs your upper arm and hauls you towards the full length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. He stands behind you and positions you directly infront of the mirror. Joel's front is flush against your back and you can feel his hard cock poking your ass through his jeans. With horror, you realise he is actually fucking enjoying this, and what's more, he finds it arousing. His hand snakes around your front and palms one of your breasts.

You watch your reflection. Mascara is streaked down your flushed cheeks, your lipstick is slightly smeared around your mouth, and your lips are swollen from Joel's slap and the tears you've shed. Your vacant expression coupled with the scant outfit you wear makes you look like a cheap whore, you think. Joel smirks at you when your gaze meets his, as if he can read your exact thoughts.

"Pretty little thing," Joel whispers, his mouth close to the shell of your ear, his beard lightly tickling your skin. His large calloused hand squeezes your breast roughly. "'Specially when you're bein' obedient. Shoulda been more tough on ya from the beginnin', trained you properly from the first time you took my cock."

You glare at Joel in the mirror. "I'm not your damn dog, Joel."

He suddenly bites the side of your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin. It is painful and sharp, making you scream. Then he relaxes his jaw and begins sucking hard, bursting capillaries and bruising your flesh.

"Stop!" You beg. You thrash around and his grip on your breast tightens. Joel's other hand tangles in your hair and wrenches your head backwards. "Fucking hurts, Joel!"

Joel breaks the seal of his mouth on your neck with a wet pop, then licks at the dark reddish purple spot that is left in its place. "Needa know whose boss here, baby," he rasps. "If I gotta treat you like a dog for you to learn, then I will."

You sob helplessly. The strength has drained from your body and you subconsciously relax back against him. Joel hums in approval, taking this as a sign of you accepting defeat, of your submission to him. He loosens the hold on your hair so your head flops forward and your eyes meet his in the mirror.

"So here's how this is gonna go," Joel says cooly, "If you don't do what I say, then you'll be punished. Simple as that."

"Punished how?" You dare to mumble, wondering what could be worse than the slap or his bite. Joel chuckles darkly and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"Trust me, darlin', you don't wanna fuck around and find out. I got no problem turnin' you into my own personal fucktoy and violatin' every one of your little holes. And when I'm through punishin' ya, you're gonna wish you never opened your fuckin' mouth."

This cannot be happening, your mind screams. How could this possibly be Joel, your Joel, who is usually so soft spoken and caring and kind to you? Has he been hiding his true nature this whole time?

"And so when I say kneel, you're gonna drop to your knees. Aint that right?" Joel murmurs.

You nod halfheartedly. A smile of satisfaction spreads across his face and he smooths his hand over your hair affectionately.

"Now, turn around and get on the ground and kneel."

Your mind is muddled, unable to process just what is happening and unable to move your body quick enough for his liking. Joel sighs and twists your nipple through the lacy material of your bra, causing you to squeal and buck your body forward.

"What'd I just fuckin' say?" He growls lowly, impatient.

The pain snaps you into action. You weep as you turn around and carefully lower yourself to kneel on the carpet. You bow your head, meek and dejected, while Joel unfastens his belt and unbuckles it.

"I'm the only man you look at, the only man you serve." He tells you while pulling his belt from the loops of his jeans. "You'll keep your eyes to the ground whenever Tommy or the guys are over. And you'll speak only to me. You got that?"

You nod miserably. It's only when you feel Joel's warm calloused hands on your neck that your head snaps up to look at him, panicked and confused. He bends down and deftly slips the leather strap around your neck and pulls it tight, taut enough that it isn't cutting off your oxygen supply but still serving as a threat. You whimper and your bottom lip quivers.

"Joel, what are you doing?" You whisper through tears. You are desperate to know what his intentions are for making you dress this way, why his belt is around your neck, what is he planning on 'teaching' you.

"Gotta do it, baby," he murmurs and strokes your cheek with his large thumb. "This ain't just for my benefit, either. I'm doin' this to protect you, sugar. There's plenty of guys out there that won't hesitate to abuse you and throw you away once they've got what they want. Ain't no other man who will protect you and love you like I do. And I'm gonna prove it to ya."

He gives the belt an experimental tug. "Come on, we're goin' downstairs."

You want to protest and refuse, to put up a fight, but you also don't want to face the wrath of defying Joel. So when he moves toward the bedroom door with the end of the belt firmly in his hand, you crawl on your hands and knees behind him. He takes you to the stairs, and you feel more and more degraded with each burning shuffle of your knees across the carpet.

Downstairs the house is quiet. The low hum of the football game is the only thing audible to your ears. It's as if everyone has left. You're not sure what is going on, but when Joel leads you to the living room you stop suddenly.

"Joel, no!" you whine. You can't face the men dressed like this, crawling on the ground like an animal on a leash. Joel wouldn't really force you to do that, would he?

"You're okay, baby, just trust me." He says calmly. He jerks the belt tightly and you have no choice but to continue behind him.

When you both enter the living room, you're surprised to find that the only person left is Tommy - the other men have disappeared, no where to be seen. When Tommy sees you and Joel he quickly jumps up from the couch.

"What the hell is goin' on here, Joel?" Tommy demands. He frowns as his eyes dart from you to Joel. You stare at the floor, ashamed.

"Had to have a bit of a talk with my girl," Joel grunts. "Where'd the guys go?"

"I told 'em to go to the bar and we'd meet 'em there. But her," Tommy gestures to you. "Bit of a talk, Joel? About what? You got a belt around her neck like a damn dog!" Tommy snaps at the older brother. "Why's she dressed like that?"

Joel gives a slight shrug of his thick shoulders. "She didn't give me a choice, Tom. Said she was flirtin' with you and puttin' on a show cos she was pissed off with me. I had to put her in her place. "

Tommy's mouth drops open and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Joel mutters resolutely.

There's a few long moments of silence as Tommy seems to process the reality of the situation before him.

"Can't let her be doin' that shit," you hear Joel whisper. "Gonna need your help here, Tommy."

You glance up to see the men looking at one another as if in mutual contemplation, like they are silently communicating with each other.

"I hear ya," Tommy whispers back. Then he shakes his head and let's out a wry chuckle. He no longer looks concerned for you or outraged at Joel. Infact, he looks amused, and it makes you feel sick.

"Tryin' to get you jealous cos you made her angry?" Tommy muses with a smirk.

"Yeah. So I told her I'll be teachin' her a few things. Like how she can't walk around actin' like a desperate slut, unless she wants to be treated like one." Joel mutters. He sounds so nonchalant and cold, speaking about you as if you were a disobediant pet. It's humiliating.

Tommy tilts his head to the side and smiles down at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming with roguish excitement. "So you were just teasin' me? Can't say I ain't disappointed. Was startin' to think I finally had a chance with ya, sweetheart."

Shame heats your cheeks and you look down at your fingers as they figet with the hem of your skirt.

"But my big brother's right, you know," Tommy adds conversationally. "Ya can't be showin' off your goodies to just any guy for attention. Wrong person could really take advantage of you."

Despite not looking at Tommy you're listening intently to every word he's saying. Joel hums in agreement.

"And ya know what? I'm feelin' generous today, sweetheart. I'm gonna help you remember to be a good girl, okay? Show ya just what could happen if you're not careful."

"What...what are you going to do to me?" You ask meekly.

Tommy chuckles but there is no mirth or warmth in his tone. "Don't you worry about a thing, Joel knows I'm a great teacher."

Your mind screams at you to run but you can't.

A minute later Joel is standing with his back against the wall and his arms folded, his biceps straining under the material of his shirt. His eyes are fixed on you, his expressjon unreadable. You are still kneeling, but this time you're positioned in front of Tommy. He has sat back down on the couch with his legs spread wide, only now his jeans are pulled down his thighs and his hard cock stands naked. He fists himself with languid strokes as he stares at you. His other hand holds the end of Joel's belt.

"Come closer and suck my cock, honey." Tommy croons. "Show me what that sweet lil mouth can do."

You turn your head to look back at Joel. "Joel," your voice warbles, "please, I'm sorry, don't make me do this."

He just shakes his head stoically. Tommy jerks the belt sharply to redirect your focus back to him.

"Come on, I'm bein' gentle with ya right now," Tommy admonishes. "But I ain't playin' around, kid. Suck my dick."

He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and angles the fat wet head slightly downwards toward you.

"Do it, baby," you hear Joel encourage you softly. "Show me how sorry you are."

You sniffle and let out a shuddering sigh. You're still not exactly sure how this is supposed to be teaching you a lesson, but you're determined to prove yourself to Joel. Because you love him too much to let him go, because you'd do anything to make him happy, even if that means letting yourself be degraded by him and his brother.

You creep forwards a little more so you're right in between Tommy's legs and close to his cock. You purposely avoid meeting his stare; you want to get this over and done with quickly, and hope that by treating it like a chore, a task without intimacy, it will be easier to endure. You open your mouth and give the head of Tommy's cock a kitten lick.

"Come on, no more teasin'," Tommy drawls.

You obey and lick a long stripe up the underside of his length, making him moan lowly. He isn't as big as Joel but he's still well endowed, still thick and veiny. You press a few wet kisses along his shaft, your red lipstick smearing across his skin.

"That's it, sweetie," Tommy sighs, his voice rough with lust. "Put it in your mouth now."

You open your lips and take the head into your mouth, then begin to suck. Tommy brings his hand to your head and grasps a hank of your hair to gently coax you to bob further down. You follow his silent instruction but feel yourself start to zone out, your mind drifting.

You can do this.

Then the warm touch of Joel's hands slide over your thighs and your ass, his rough skin prickling along the sheer nylon of your stockings, and you realise he's now crouched behind you on one knee. You freeze. What's he doing now?

"It's okay babydoll," he cooes. "Keep goin', you're doin' so good."

Tommy bucks his hips a bit to puntuacte Joel's command. You continue to suck around Tommy's cock, bobbing your head up and down lazily, only taking him halfway inside your mouth. You're too absorbed with Joel's hands caressing your ass to really pay attention to Tommy. You still don't look at him, instead focusing your gaze on his stomach.

Then you hear the tearing sound of your stockings as Joel suddenly rips the material apart with both hands, leaving a large hole at the crotch. He yanks your thong to the side and you feel his fingers splay open your pussy lips from behind. Your pussy clenches involuntarily and your body tenses. You make a muffled noise of alarm.

"It's just me, baby," Joel whispers soothingly.

"Think I've given her enough time, brother?" Tommy interjects above you, the amusement in his voice evident. "Think I've been plenty patient."

"Yeah," Joel mutters in response. "She's ready."

Ready for what?

Your mind buzzes with dread. You start to pull off Tommy but his grip on your hair tightens.

"Hey, where you think you're goin'?" Tommy laughs. "We're just gettin' started, sugar. Now open your mouth wide like the little whore you are."

Tommy suddenly pushes your head down onto his cock forcefully, stuffing your mouth full of his girth. You splutter and choke on him, tears immediately pricking your eyes. You flatten your palms on his legs and try to push away from him but he holds your head still.

"Fuck yeah, there we go," Tommy groans. "Right in there."

He restrains you for a few more moments, then yanks you off of him. You gasp and cough, lungs burning. You barely have a moment to recover before you feel the head of Joel's cock prodding the entrance of your pussy. Joel gives you no opportunity to protest; he pushes himself inside your pussy in one swift, agonising stroke, stretching your hole so painfully that you scream raggedly.

Tommy laughs. "Aw, that hurt ya, sugar?"

Joel remains buried fully inside you as he sinks his hands into the flesh of your hips to stabilise himself. "Always so tight," Joel grunts. "Usually work her open first."

"You're a lucky man, brother," Tommy grins. He takes his dick and rubs the tip over your lips, smearing more of your red lipstick. "Me and the guys still can't believe you get to fuck this sweet lil thing."

You sob and screw your eyes shut. Joel slowly rocks his hips back and forth in an effort to stretch you out, gradually letting you adjust. Your body trembles uncontrollably while you whimper loudly.

"You're alright, baby," Joel murmurs. "It's okay, you're doin' so good for me."

You hear Tommy scoff.

"Stop bein' soft on her, man," Tommy barks. He gives you a sharp slap on the side of your face and you wail. "She's gonna finish what she fuckin' started."

Using both hands to hold your head in place, Tommy shoves his dick back into your mouth and begins pumping his hips rapidly. He fucks your face with short brutal thrusts, the head of his cock knocking the back of your throat with each stroke. You struggle to breathe around him and clutch the bunched material of jeans around his thighs. Your eyes are still shut tight as the tears run freely down your face.

Joel continues to fuck you at an unhurried pace, your pussy slowly adjusting to the unexpected intrusion. Although his movements are not anywhere near as rough as Tommy's, the mere sensation of fullness borders on overwhelming. You feel surrounded by them, your body possessed by them, split open and violated like you're an object, a toy. The room is filled with the sounds of Tommy's panting, Joel's heavy breathing, and the obscenely wet gagging noises your throat makes. If your stomach wasn't empty you'd surely vomit all over him.

Tommy is rentless as he fucks your mouth. He doesn't give a shit that you cannot properly breathe, and you fear you may pass out.

"Oh shit," Joel moans, his voice deep and rumbling. "Pussy fuckin' squeezin' me so good."

Tommy slams his hips into your face so that his entire cock is buried down your throat, and stills. Your throat constricts around him as your body is robbed of air. Joel's fingernails dig painfully into your flesh.

"How about now?" Tommy asks Joel with a breathless laugh. "She get tighter?"

"Uh-huh," Joel moans. "Chokin' me like a fuckin' virgin." His hips start to move faster and he begins to slam into you with more force, getting lost in the intense pleasure of defiling your body.

"Yeah? Well she's chokin' on my dick like a fuckin' pro." Tommy releases you with a sigh.

You cough miserably and try to suck in gulps of air. Tommy gathers the saliva dripping from your abused mouth with his fingers and rubs it over your face.

"Stop!" You manage to screech through the rawness of your throat. You use all your might to rear your upper body back. "Stop it! Joel, please!"

Joel slows his thrusts hesitantly, but doesn't halt altogether. You wish you could see his face, wish you could read his expression; maybe he would take pity on you if he could see how wrecked and sorry you are. His thumbs stroke your hips lightly, as if reassuring you he's still there, that the man you love so much is still with you.

"Joel," you sob pathetically, hoarsely.

"Baby," Joel drawls. His voice is thick and slurred, the way it gets when he is engrossed in pleasure while fucking you. "Ain't finished yet. Just a little longer, I promise."

"I can't!"

"Oh no," Tommy suddenly growls. "I ain't done with you yet, bitch. Joel might be soft with ya, but I don't give a fuck how much you beg."

He grabs the back of your head and manhandles you back toward his cock. He takes advantage of the split second when you open your mouth to take in a breath of air and then shoves his cock past your lips. He begins brutally fucking your mouth again, simultaneously pumping his hips and moving your face in a punishing rhythm.

"Won't be lookin' for another man's attention now," Tommy pants heavily, "not after I fill that throat."

Joel's hips pick up speed and he drives his cock faster in and out of you. He doesn't speak though, seemingly too preoccupied with fucking you doggystyle to add to his brother's words. The slap of his skin against yours echoes around the living room. He isn't fucking you as hard as he usually does; this tempo feels almost tender and loving, like he's going easy on you, a small gesture mercy. A few groans and moans slip from his mouth, but otherwise he remains a quiet dominating presence behind you.

You can't do anything but allow Tommy to violate and bruise your throat. It only takes couple of minute for him to reach his climax, although it feels like forever to you. He grunts loudly, like an animal, as his dick pulses and a warm load of semen shoots into your mouth. When he pulls out you are quick to swallow it, desperate to be able to breathe unobstructed once more. You splutter and sob, your windpipe thick with cum and tears and pleghm.

Joel orgasms soon after. You feel his cock throb and then spurt hot ropes of cum deep inside your pussy. You clench around him and moans rumble through his chest.

"Good girl," he says breathlessly. He pats your hip.

Tommy rolls his eyes and shoves you backwards to stand up from the couch. He pulls up his jeans and underwear and tucks his softening dick back into his underwear. He tsks as he wipes his red stained fingers on his jeans.

"Messy little whore," Tommy mutters to himself.

Joel removes the belt from your neck gingerly and lets it fall to the ground. He then withdraws from you and stands, his knees cracking as he straightens up. The abscence of his large frame bracketing you makes you collapse on the carpet, body weak and wracking with shivers, wanting so badly to be swallowed up by the ground disappear completely.

Tommy scoffs and stares down at you with cold hate in his eyes, a frightening juxtaposition to the sweet Tommy you have always known.

"Stupid cunt," Tommy snarls with disgust. "Next time ya even think about playin' up, remember how I wrecked your mouth." He fastens his belt, the large metal bullhead buckle glinting. "Joel's the only man who'd ever put up with your bullshit. If I were him, I'd throw ya out on the street, let the fuckin' dogs have you."

He steps over you, uncaring as his boot treads on your hair, and murmers something quiet to Joel. Joel responds but you can't hear what is said. Then Tommy walks out of the room and leaves the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

The house is deathly silent apart from your heavy breathing and weeping. Your throat feels raw and scratchy, and your lips feel puffy and sore. Joel's cum is beginning to seep out from your pussy but you can't bring yourself to move.

"How ya feelin', baby girl?" Joel asks as he crouches down beside you. His large hands smooth the hair from your face and his big puppy dog eyes roam over you, studying you closely. "Are you okay?"

When you don't move or verbally respond, Joel slips his hands underneath your body and lifts you into his arms. He grumbles with exertion and his joints crack when he stands up to carry you out of the room. Your head rests instictively against his broad chest and one of your hands clutches at the collar of his shirt.

"I want you to get in the shower and get yourself clean," he instructs you sternly. "But don't take too long."

Joel carries you up the stairs and you feel like a broken doll in his strong arms. He reaches the bathroom but just before he is about to set you down, you whine pitifully.

"I'm sorry," you croak tearfully. "I won't do it again."

Joel sighs and carefully deposits you to stand on the tiled floor. You wobble like a newborn foal on your heels and he steadies you with his hand around your arm. A gush of his cum runs down your inner thigh.

"I know you won't," he admits. "Because if you do, I'm gonna fuck your ass so hard you won't be able to sit for a week. Might even let Tommy or one of the others have a go, too."

"No!" You grip his shirt tightly in your fist and shake your head vehemently. You stare at Joel with wide, panicked eyes. The thought of either brother punishing your ass terrifies you. You've only tried anal once with Joel, and his dick was too thick and fat to even breach your asshole. He was understanding when you cried and told him to stop. He has been wanting to try again but you haven't been ready yet, and although he has been patient, you know deep down he desperately desires to claim your ass. And after tonight, you know Tommy wouldn't hesitate to stick his cock in without any preparation. He would most likely get off on your screams, the mess, the blood. It sends a shiver up your back.

"You've learnt your lesson?" Joel cocks an eyebrow at you inquisitively.

You nod eagerly. "Yes Joel, yes. I swear, I promise I won't do anything like that again."

He nods, satisfied, and gives you an affectionate slap on your ass.

"Get cleaned up and wash your mouth out. I'm stayin' home to watch the game. And I want you downstairs pourin' me a glass of whiskey in ten minutes. Understood?"

"Yes, Joel," you whisper timidly. His jaw ticks as he gives you one last, lingering look.

"Good girl," Joel drawls. Then he stalks away, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You start the shower and stare at your reflection while you unclasp your bra. Your red rimmed eyes are glassy. Your cheeks are filthy with the remanents of smudged mascara and lipstick. Your lips are swollen and bruised.

You look used and broken.

Your eyes wander down to your stomach and you have to bite back a sob.

It has only been 6 weeks. Joel doesn't know yet. You wanted to tell him tonight, but obviously that plan didn't end up happening.

You have to wonder if Joel would've still let Tommy hurt you like he did, if he had known.

You quickly dismiss the question and step into the hot shower. You scrub your body zealously with a soapy loufa and wash your mouth out thoroughly with water and mouthwash. You worked quickly, mindful not to be any longer than necessary, just as Joel had instructed you. He needed you to serve him and you couldn't keep him waiting.

After all, you had learnt your lesson.

The end.

I hope you guys liked it! A massive thank you to the legendary @romanarose for coming up with Dead Dove December and for giving dark content writers a safe space to explore and share their work.

#joel miller dark #dark!joelmiller #dddne #deaddovedecember2023 #tw noncon #dark!tommymiller #joel miller #dark! joel miller

[koshkamartell]

Obsesseddddd with Nobody But Me, just read it all in a day. Can u add me to the tag list pleaseeeee <3

Of course, thank you so much for your support!

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

*chapter warnings* - possessive Joel, manipulative Joel, gaslighting, piv sex, oral

The group had radioed that they estimated they would be arriving back within two days. The day before their estimated return, you and Ellie had gathered in your kitchen to bake a welcome home cake for Joel. You were patient and encouraging as you taught Ellie the method of baking a simple honey cake, standing next to her and instructing her on creaming the butter and sugar, beating the eggs, and how to properly fold the flour.

Ellie proved to be a good student; she listened to you carefully and took her time measuring each ingredient and completing each step slowly. She was eager to learn and filled with fascination for the art of baking. When she insisted on staying in the kitchen to watch the cake rise in the oven, you laughed.

The smell of sugar and caramelised honey filled your cottage. At the end of the afternoon, together you had created a round golden brown honey cake topped with a thin layer of icing. With painstaking dedication Ellie had selected some pretty little flowers from your garden and arranged them in a circle ontop of the icing.  You both stood side by side in your small kitchen and admired the finished product.

"Thanks," Ellie said. "For teaching me this stuff."

"You're welcome. I'm sure he will love it. And now you know how to bake, you can do it yourself."

Ellie scoffed. "Nuh-huh, that's your department."

"I thought you liked baking," you elbowed her playfully.

"I do," Ellie confessed. "But I like the eating part more."

You shook your head and laughed. She grinned and tilted her head to rest on your shoulder in a rare gesture of affection.

"But really, thanks alot," she sighed. "I need to learn this stuff for when I move out."

You frowned and pulled away from her to search her face for any sign of jest. There was none but a contented little grin on her young face.

"What do you mean, move out?"

"I gotta be an adult and grow up sometime, right?" Ellie said with a little shrug. "Me and some of my friends wanna get our own place, and I'm not at home that much anymore anyway."

"Oh, Ellie," you breathed out quietly, your eyebrows pinched in worry. "Are you sure? Joel's going to be so sad without you."

You carefully reached out and swiped a finger over the dusting of flour that had gotten on her cheek during your baking session. She smirked and tilted her head to the side.

"He'll be fine. He has you now."

Your mouth dropped open in shock but you quickly composed yourself. "W-what? What do you mean, 'has has me'?"

Ellie rolled her eyes. "As if I didn't know you two were making out on the couch whenever I snuck out of the house."

You clamped your mouth shut in a tight line, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Ellie cackled and threw her arm around your neck affectionately.

"Relax! I'm happy for you guys. Maybe Joel won't be such a grumpy asshole if you guys have a little privacy."

"Uhm," you stammered, "I, uh, we are just friends right now. I don't know what....I'm not sure what Joel wants. Please don't say anything to anyone about that....idea...right now. Okay?"

You loved Joel and wanted to be with him, but Ellie was always a point of concern. You and Joel had never wanted to involve her in your relationship, didn't want to burden her in any way lest she get hurt. You had been so careful to keep those clandestine night meetings secret but it wasn't realistic to assume Ellie could be too naive to know what was going on, atleast not for so long.

But what would Joel think? Would he be more receptive to being in a real relationship with you now? Even though he had fucked you and told you he was coming back for you, everything was still so undefined. You also had no idea what Joel was comfortable with Ellie knowing. It was safer and easier to let Joel deal with it.

"Yes, sir," Ellie saluted you teasingly. When you didn't laugh and instead shot her a warning glare, she held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, okay, jeez. I won't say a word."

"Thank you."

"On one condition," Ellie grinned mischievously.  "You don't do that gross shit when I'm around, like, atleast wait til I'm out of the house, 'kay?"

You groaned and threw a hand towel at her. "I got it, Ellie. Now be quiet and help me clean up this mess."

*****

The next day you were working with Oscar in the library when word spread that the men were close to Jackson. A small herd of children had burst into the library cheering and dancing around as they announced the news.

You and Oscar had laughed at their fanfare and watched the boisterous children with amusement. When they ran out of the library and back out into the street your laughter died down, leaving a long silence between you. It was neither uncommon nor uncomfortable. However, today Oscar broke the silence with a question that shocked you.

"Is there someone special to you on the patrol team?" He asked softly.

Your head snapped up from the books you had on the counter infront of you. Oscar was leaning with an elbow propped against the counter beside you, his head cocked to the side slightly, his hooded brown eyes searching over your face. His brows were creased ever so slightly into a frown and the tip of his tongue swiped over his bottom lip. You knew that this was the expression Oscar assumed whenever he was concentrating on something, usually when someone else was speaking. He wasn't scrutinising or teasing you; there was no sign of taunting, just an inquisitive softness in his features and voice. And even though the question could be considered ambiguous, even though it could only be a reference to friendship, you were unsure how to perceive it.

Embarrassed, you realised he had seen your reaction to the news, that the relief and joy you felt must have been evident on your face. You cleared your throat and shook your head.

"Oh," you mumble awkwardly, looking back down at the books. "Not really. I'm just, you know...happy that they are coming back safe. It's good for the community."

Oscar observed you quietly for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, it is good." He conceded.

"So, how's the stables going?" You asked him, hoping it wasn't obvious that you were wanting to change the subject.

"It's okay," he sighed. "Pretty busy restocking the feed, grooming the horses, cleaning the stables. Try not get kicked by Roscoe."

You smiled at his joke. You knew Roscoe was one of the more temperamental horses in the stables and could be unpredictable in mood. Over the past few weeks Oscar had regaled you with anecdotes about Roscoe that made you cackle with laughter - such as the time Roscoe had unknowingly escaped from the paddock and Oscar had found him eating carrots in the vegetable garden. You still giggle to yourself  whenever you eat carrots, remembering the tale.

You relished the way Oscar told stories, how he was able to recreate the entertaining scenarios he had witnessed through his use of words and comical gestures. You found his voice soothing and calming, and sometimes you felt as though you could fall asleep listening to him speak.

"How's your ankle doing?"

"All better, back to normal." Oscar pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "When the guys return from this mission I'll be going back on duty."

"Oh," you whispered. "I almost forgot you were a patrolman."

Oscar chuckled. "Yeah, it's a been a while since I was on shift. But these guys who went out there - they are heroes. They'll need a break after what they went through."

When silence fell upon you both once again, you found your gaze wandering back to Oscar. His attention was focused on a scrap of paper - a list of supplies he was writing. You secretly studied his profile - the prominence of his nose, the thickness of his unruly hair, the structure of his face that was somehow a perfect balance of masculinity and elegance. You knew Oscar was beautiful but in that very moment you were able to really look at him and appreciate just how alluring he was. You wondered what Oscar looked like without his facial hair - you liked it on him but you guessed he was probably even more attractive without it.

He was older than you and had no partner, no family.

Why is he still single?

"Oscar." You murmured. You found the delicate, almost sensual lilt of your own voice surprising,

"Hmm?" Oscar looked up to meet your gaze. His eyebrows were raised slightly, curious.

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

Oscar's eyes momentarily widened in surprise at the question. He then gave you a small smile, one that did not reach his eyes. It was one born of fortitude, a pretense that was hiding something sad buried deep within the vessel of his ribcage where his heart sat. You knew that kind of smile all too well.

"I guess it is difficult to find someone you connect with on an intimate kind of level," he admits quietly. "I'm not sure if I would be so lucky to have that in my lifetime, after the outbreak."

You opened your mouth to speak but found no words to formulate a response. You could never imagine the heartbreak of losing a spouse, but you were sure that it was a similar kind of pain to the one of losing your mother and father. Your parents - the mere thought of them squeezed your heart so tightly that it felt like it would burst. You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat.

"Oh," was all you could manage lamely.

Another short silence before Oscar spoke.

"And you?" He questioned gently.

You couldn't meet his eyes. The moment was too intense, too intimate. You couldn't speak the truth even if you wanted to. How could you articulate just how lonely your heart had been for so many years, how you fell for a man so much older than you, someone who wanted to dominate your life without giving you what you needed and yearned for the most? You couldn't even admit it to your closest girlfriends. Admitting the reality of your private life to Oscar seemed absurd, impossible.

"Me too, I guess," was all you could mumble in reply.

"I figured you'd have plenty of people around here to choose from," Oscar murmured.

"Why would you figure that?" You laughed half heartedly, both bemused and feeling awkward.

"Come on," Oscar chides you lightheartedly.  "You're beautiful - gorgeous, even. And you're well read, you're kind, you actually care about everyone else around you. You're a dream."

You know you're blushing wildly at his words. No one has ever complimented you or praised you so openly or directly before, not even Joel. You could feel a glowing kind of warmth flow and course throughout your tummy all the way up to your chest.

You were quiet as your brain processed his accolades, but Oscar must have mistake your silence for discomfort, and it was then his turn to be bashful.

"Shit. I'm sorry," Oscar babbled. "I hope that wasn't too much, like I hope I didn't make make you feel uncomfortable. I was just, you know, just--"

"It's okay," you whisper, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. You found his self consciousness endearing. In an uncharacteristic and bold move, you touched his forearm and gave it a small reassuring squeeze. "It's fine Oscar, really. Thank you."

The rest of the afternoon passed by uneventfully with you and Oscar focusing on the tasks you needed to complete. The words of his praise echoed in your head throughout your shift. That swirl of elation continued to swim inside your belly and distract you from finishing your work quicker. Why did his compliments have such an effect on you? You couldn't really understand why, but all you knew was that it felt good.

******

After locking up the library and venturing home, Oscar couldn't stop thinking about you and what he said about you being a dream. He sounded like a loser. He felt like a loser. Like a kid with a school yard crush.

And that was the problem. Over the past few weeks of working with you and getting to know you better, he had developed something of a crush on you. Well, to be honest, he had felt something for you since the first day he met you, when he first saw your smile and heard your voice. It was something tiny and fragile flickering like a candle flame. And over time it had developed and strengthened into something more solid.

Oscar had tried to extinguish it quickly though. He told himself there wasn't even a remote chance that you could ever feel the same and so there was no use daydreaming about it. No use in imagining you wrapped in his arms on a cold rainy day, or snuggled up in bed next to him as you both read books.

Even if you would never be his, Oscar wanted you to be happy. He knew you hid something underneath that cute smile of yours, something dark and sorrowful that you couldn't let escape. He recognised it but never pushed to know more. Managing his own trauma throughout the years had taught him to always treat others with respect and compassion, and to grant others patience and privacy. If you were ever ready to talk about your feelings, he would be there for you.

You had ignited a desire inside him to nurture and protect you. And so it was with great satisfaction that Oscar had noticed subtle changes in you since you first started working together. He noticed the light shone on your face more often, how the laughter he provoked from you actually reached your eyes. Your appetite slowly increased and you were actually eating more and with more gusto. It was as if you had been denying yourself comfort and gratification for so long, and now you were finally allowing yourself some kind of joy. And it was being reflected in the way you giggled unabashedly, how you threw sarcastic quips at him, how you initiated conversation so easily now, as if you two had known each other for years.

When you touched his arm, had established that first point of physical contact, Oscar felt like he was floating. He had wanted to brush the strands of hair from your face and kiss your soft lips. He wanted to gather you in his arms and--

No. No. He shouldn't be thinking about it. He couldn't think about it.

Oscar knew it was best that he resign himself to just being a good friend and a good work colleague. Because you deserved to be cared for and respected and loved. And fuck, whoever you ended up falling in love with would be the luckiest bastard in this world, even if you would never believe so.

******

It was just after nightfall when the patrol team came trotting through the huge gates of Jackson on their horses. They had been gone for almost four and a half weeks. A month of tracking, stalking and hunting the band of raiders that had been spotted near Jackson. The mission had culminated in several skirmishes between the groups until eventually the raiders were all wounded and killed. All of the patrolmen returned to Jackson safely with only a few injuries between them. The worst of the injuries was endured by Tommy, who had been struck with a bullet in his upper left arm. The group had tended to the wound as best as they could, creating makeshift bandages and changing the dressing every few days.

You had just finished eating dinner with Kate, Rhi and Jess when you heard faint cheers and whistles float through the mess hall doors. A crowd of townsfolk had congregated around the guarded gates of Jackson to welcome the band of fatigued heroes back home.

Not one to miss out of any kind of excitement, Rhi proposed you all go and see the event unfold. Jess and Kate were quick to agree to the idea, but truthfully you didn't share their enthusiasm. An inexplicable feeling of overwhelm and nervousness had suddenly overtaken you.

Yes, you missed Joel and wanted him back. But now that time had come, the thought of seeing Joel after this long made you jittery and on edge. What the fuck is wrong with you?

You let your friends pull you away from the dining table, through the mess hall doors and out into the cool night. Their exuberant voices trilled around you as you all sashayed through the streets towards the Jackson gates. You wrapped your arms around your waist as you walked, regretting the decision not to wear a jacket this evening. The chilly bite of the breeze signified the impending arrival of snowfall, and along with it the association of Christmas, warm fires and hot chocolate.

The atmosphere surrounding the large throng of townspeople was buzzing with energy. Rhi, Jess and Kate were soaking it all in and chatting with eager animation while you surveyed everyone around you. You all agreed to stay a short distance from the edge of the crowd as you were able to see what was happening without being too entrenched in the chaos of the event.

"There, they are there!" Jess squealed. She pointed to the middle of the crowd where a semi circle had been formed around the group of patrolmen.

Standing on your tiptoes you were able to see glimpses of emotional scenes of the return; Tommy and Maria in a tight embrace, Troy's wife and children clutching onto his shirt as he hugged them all, the town doctor examining an injury to one of the men's temple.

But were was Joel?

Your eyes darted around the area in search of him.

Where are you, Joel?

You were started to panic, different possibilities running through your mind in a distressed blur.

What if he had an accident? Was he wounded? Did he get left behind? What if an infected got him?

And then your eyes finally landed on him, his head of dishevelled salt and pepper hair identifying him from the rest of the men. You couldn't see his face clearly but it was him.

He was standing by his horse. Ellie was hugging him with her face pressed into his middle. His arms were around her. Thank God, it was him.

You exhaled a silent breath of relief.

He was home and safe.

******

The next day was torturous. You were thankful that you had a teaching shift at the school, otherwise you would've probably spent your whole day pacing your home or cleaning obsessively, doing anything to occupy your mind as you waited.

You had finished up teaching your class and returned straight home to clean. Once your cottage had been sufficiently tidied, swept and scrubbed, you showered and washed your hair with a sweet green apple scented shampoo, a luxury item sold at one of the boutiques in town that you allowed yourself to indulge in.

You hadn't even realised that you had not eaten lunch. You ended up forgoing dinner at the mess hall aswell, staying home instead to absentmindedly chew an apple and drink a cup of tea.

You sat on the couch with a book that night, unable to properly focus on the words infront of you and rereading the same lines, when the knock came. You jolted up from the couch and sprang to the front door. When you opened it the light of your living room lamp projected a strip of illumination onto the dark of your porch.

It was him.

Joel was standing at your door, leaning forward with a forearm up against your doorframe. The thumb of his other hand was hooked through the belt loop of his jeans. His stance exuded a thrilling mix of self assurance and bold masculinity that made you feel slightly dazed. His proximity, coupled with his height and posture, felt so imposing; however it was mostly because of his eyes that you felt so caught off guard.

Those large dark brown eyes, like puppy dog eyes, staring down at you intently, something akin to worry reflected in his orbs. Although you had expected his visit eventually, you were unprepared for just how delicious Joel looked.

Appearing as handsome as ever, infront of you once again after so many weeks apart, a fantasy materialised into reality. He looked well rested after having finally slept in a comfortable bed. He was freshly showered and wearing a clean pair of jeans and a green flannel shirt. His hair was combed and slicked back in that way you found so fucking sexy.

"Hi, baby," he murmured, the timber of his Texan drawl causing your inner thighs to clench together.

You realised you had been holding your breath.

"Hi, Joel," you whispered back with a breathy exhale. Your heart was galloping in your chest. You were so intimidated by his towering figure that you were frozen in place, your eyes mesmerised by him.

"Gonna let me in, sugar?" Joel smirked.

You nodded wordlessly and stepped to the side so he could enter into your cottage. You quickly closed the door and fumbled to lock it, the anxiety coursing throughout your body making you feel clumsy and foolish. You followed him into your living room and clasped your hands behind your back to hide their slight shaking.

Joel stood in the middle of your living room and watched you stop just a few feet away from him. He scanned over your body brazenly, drinking in the sight of you in your oversized sweater and short pyjama bottoms, his fists curling and uncurling as they hung a the sides of his body.

"W-welcome home," you managed to say, your voice breathless.

Joel acknowledged your greeting with a curt nod. His eyes flickered from your bare legs up to your face. It was as if you were on display for him, like a dish being served to a starving man, and if you had to be honest to yourself, it made you feel both uneasy and aroused.

"Did-did you see what Ellie and I made for you?" You asked hopefully, desperate to fill the silence that stifled the room. "The cake?"

"I did."

You waited for him to say something more but he didn't. He was still gazing at you with his eyebrows knitted together and his jaw ticking, as if he were deep in contemplation. His eyes betrayed none of what he was thinking.

The air in the room was thick and you felt more and more self conscious as the silence dragged on. After what seemed like forever, you were about to open your mouth and speak when Joel cut you off.

"Told you I'd come back for ya," he stated matter of factly.

"Yes, you did," you agreed in a small whisper.

"Ellie knows about us," Joel stated abruptly. "Said she wants us to be together."

"Oh," you said quietly. And then, a little more louder, "and what did you say back?'

"I told her when the timin's right, we are gonna be a family." Joel answered you, his expression and tone serious and calm.

Your brain took a second to register his words, the significance of what he said not quite sinking in. Your mouth fell open, speechless.

Did Joel really just say you'd all be a family? Was he actually admitting that he wanted you? When you had confessed wanting a relationship with Joel on the night of the town dance, he had rejected you, hadn't he? Your mind had replayed Joel's cruel words so many times since then. Surely you weren't mistaken ?

All you could do was shake your head in confusion. Joel's eyes narrowed at you, a glint of darkness briefly flashing in his brown eyes.

"What you shakin' your head for, little girl?" Joel murmured, his voice calm but punctuated with a hint of irritated displeasure.

"Going to be a family, Joel? But, it's just, you said..."

The pain in your voice was evident as tears of shame welled along the rim of your eyes. You took a deep breath and exhaled, gathering the courage to repeat the hurtful words he had spoken to you.

"You said we weren't anything more than...just sex." You mumbled pathetically. "I thought you didn't want me."

"Now darlin', that ain't what I said," Joel corrected you firmly but not unkindly, as if you were a child he was trying to teach something to. "You're mine. Told you so many times. What makes you think I'd ever let you go, let someone else have ya?"

You stared at him in puzzlement. "But Joel, you said you didn't want me--"

He held up his hand to signal you to stop talking. "You misunderstood me. Didn't say nothin' about not wantin' you. You didn't let me finish."

"Oh," you mumble meekly. You brushed away your spilled tears with a flick of your fingertips. You felt ridiculous.

"I want you, babydoll." Joel continued resolutely. "Want all of you."

The admission that you had been yearning for for so long made your stomach flip. It felt so good to hear him say those words, to know he wanted you, to feel wanted. You bit back a smile of relieved elation and willed yourself not to interrupt him again, forcing yourself to stay silent to wait for him to finish explaining.

"But I don't like everybody in town knowin' my business. Just cause I live here don't mean I trust anyone. I didn't survive this far in this godforsaken world because I trust people."

Okay, you could understand his point. Joel had alot more life experience than you, and certainly more experience with surviving the horrors of the apocalypse in the wild. It made sense that he didn't readily trust other people, that he wouldn't want to share his personal life with anyone.

"You understand what I'm sayin'?" Joel asked sternly, narrowing his eyes at you.

You nodded quickly in confirmation. "Yes, Joel."

"Good. I've come to learn that some folk don't like seein' others happy."

You had never seen Joel speak this earnestly before, his voice quiet and soft. His beautiful brown eyes were focused on yours almost hypnotically. It was completely beguiling.

"They see somethin' they don't have and so they wanna spoil it. Seen people do bad things to destroy another's happiness."

"That's horrible," you utter.

"Mmhm," Joel nods in agreement. "And I don't want that to happen to you and me. Don't want noone tryin' to interfere with what we got, and the less people know our business, the better."

You agree. Ofcourse you wanted to be happy with Joel. Ofcourse you didn't want someone else to ruin the special relationship you two had.

Joel approached you with deliberate steps, his boots heavy on the creaky wooden floor of your living room, his eyes still glued to yours. Your skin was prickling with goosebumps in anticipation of being close to him after so long, to finally feel his touch that you had been craving for the last month. You bit your bottom lip and watched him cross the space towards you, the dim lamp light casting dancing shadows along his face that somehow just accentuated his handsome features.

"You wanna be with me then you gotta listen to what I say," he continued. "I wanna protect you, and not just from infected and raiders. Gotta keep you safe from people with bad intentions, too. But you gotta be a good girl."

His words, spoken in that smooth Texan drawl, made your pussy tingle. Joel stood close to you now, so close you could smell his usual sandalwood scent mixed with soap on his skin. You stared at him with doe eyes, completely entranced by him. He took your chin inbetween his thumb and forefinger and leaned down to press a tender kiss onto your lips. Your knees felt weak and your body instantly melted against his chest.

He pulled back just enough so that his lips hovered over yours. "There's gotta be rules, baby. My rules. You wanna be my good girl?"

You nodded eagerly. "Yes, daddy, I do."

Joel snaked his arm around your waist and splayed his hand over your back to press you firmly against his torso. He leaned back in to kiss you once more. Your arms stretched up to wrap around his neck as you let his tongue lick over your bottom lip and slip into your mouth to meet your own tongue.

Joel's large palm cupped your cheek and his breath intermingled with yours. Your tongues rolled together with increasingly passionate strokes. You were quickly becoming consumed by his familiar smell and taste, as if his presence had awakened a primal need in you that had been starved for far too long. Joel must have felt the same because you could feel his hard cock straining under his jeans and press into your belly. 

Joel eventually broke away from the kiss to growl breathlessly, "fuck, I missed your sweet lips, babygirl."

You exhaled a small noise of satisfaction, something between a giggle and a hum. Joel's hand shifted down you back and groped your ass. His thumb stroked your jaw and he nuzzled his nose against the corner of your mouth. 

"Me too, Joel," you said softly.

Joel's lips shifted down to press gentle kisses along your jawline, slowly trailing down to your neck. His moustache tickled lightly against your skin and made you giggle. You ran your fingers through the crown of his curls and hummed with contented pleasure.

"I missed this," you sighed. "I missed you, Joel."

Joel licked at your pulse point before softly biting the skin there, eliciting a moan from you.

"Me too, sugar," he whispered into the crook of your neck. "All I thought about when I was away."

"Really?" You whispered back breathlessly.

"Bet your sweet little ass," Joel rasped.

His hand on your ass squeezed and massaged your flesh hungrily. He wedged his thigh inbetween your legs as he sucked on the sensitive skin of your neck, and the friction of material against your clit was making you wet with arousal. You moaned and tilted your head to the side, your body becoming pliant and relaxed as the pleasurable sensations overtook you.

Joel's mouth detached from your neck to growl into the shell of your ear. "Couldn't stop thinkin' about that sweet little cunt and how wet she gets for me, how good she looks wrapped around my cock."

His words inflame a feral desire for him to be inside you, making your pussy clench around nothing and your hips rock against his instinctively. His hand moves down from your face and gropes your breast through your sweatshirt.

"Joel," you moan and tug lightly at his hair. "Want it so bad."

"Yeah?" Joel murmurs in your ear, the timbre of his deep voice causing shivers to run up and down your back. "You want my cock, babydoll? Want me to fuck you?"

"Mm-hmm," you hum.

Joel straightens up to look at your face. He smacks your ass hard suddenly, the sting of his palm landing with a loud crack. The impact forces a squeal from your lips and makes you squirm.

"Ow, fuck, Joel!" you whine.

"You know to use your words when you're speakin' with me," he warns sternly. "You gotta tell me what you want, darlin', and I'll give it to ya."

You whimper and nod. "Yes sir."

"Now," he says, more gently, his breath fanning against your face. "What do you want?"

"Want you to fuck me." You purr, smoothing your hands over his flannel shirt, desperate to feel the bare skin of his broad chest. "Please, daddy."

Joel hums in approval and licks at the corner of your mouth. "Take off your shorts and get on the couch. Now."

He releases his hold on your breast and your ass and you pout at the loss of contact. He tips his head toward the couch to signal for you to move. You obey, feeling stupefied by Joel's touch already as you totter the few paces to the couch. You hook your fingers on the band of your sleep shorts and look at him coyly as you slowly push them down your thighs. Joel stands in the centre of the living room and watches you with a wolfish stare. The cast of his shadow on the wall behind him is huge and tall.

"Show me that pretty pussy, show me how fuckin' wet she is for me already," he drawls. One of his hands move to loosely hold his hard cock through the crotch of his jeans.

Your eyes lock on Joel's as you let your sleep shorts fall to the ground, revealing your nakedness underneath, leaving you just in your sweater. You sit down on the couch so that you ass is on the edge of the seat and then spread your legs wide. You tug up the bottom of your sweater so that your pussy is exposed. Joel's eyes travel down to the middle of your parted thighs and lets out a low groan.

"Fuck," he growls. "Open her up, baby, I wanna see everything."

You bring your hands to your pussy and spread your lips, the tips of your fingers catching some of your slick. Your lower half is completely exposed and on display for Joel. He watches you intently, his eyes hooded and dark with lust, his large hand flexing to grip the thick outline of his dick.

"That's it, darlin'," Joel murmurs, "can see how desperate you are for this fuckin' cock. She's soakin' wet already."

Joel steps towards you and crouches down to kneel before you on the hardwood floor, his knees cracking under his weight. He positions himself inbetween your legs and brings his hands to rest on your inner thighs, holding them open so that his face is in line with your bare pussy. Joel's tongue swipes over his plush bottom lip.

"Gotta taste this sweet little pussy first, babydoll."

Joel leans in and places a wet open kiss onto your clit, his tongue warm against your sensitive flesh. A shiver of pleasure trembles through your body and you moan. He repeats the action several times before licking a thick stripe over your clit with the flat of his tongue. Your hands come up to clutch at the curls on his head and your hips rock forward ever so slightly in pursuit of more. Joel laps at the small bundle of nerves languidly as his thick fingers dig into the meat of your inner thighs.

It feels like fucking heaven.

Your upper body slumps back into the couch and you tilt your head back to let out long, soft moans of ecstasy. Joel continues licking and sucking your clit leisurely; each movement performed with unhurried yet purposeful strokes that slowly build and twist a coil of intense pleasure inside your loins. He continues this for several minutes, gravelly moans rumbling in his throat that you know are an expression of his own pleasure, his own enjoyment. You love Joel fucking you, love how his thick cock pounds into you, but you really fucking love how he eats your pussy. And it's clear that Joel loves it, too.

You can feel Joel prodding at your entrance before sliding two of his thick fingers inside you. The mixture of his saliva and your slick make his digits glide smoothly into your pussy. He expertly curls then against your g spot while he eats you, instantly heightening your pleasure. He looks up to watch your reaction; your hands tighten their grasp on his head and you moan wantonly, your toes curling. It doesn't take long for the pressure to reach close to its peak in your lower belly.

"Gonna cum," you pant out between moans. "Daddy, I'm going to cum."

Joel doesn't stop. His mouth maintains the same tempo and pressure as he licks and sucks your clit, all the while stimulating your g spot with his fingers. He has come to know your body so well, knows what makes you squeal or scream or have you begging for more, knows just how long it will take for a certain action to bring you to orgasm, exactly how tender or hard you need him fucking you from the depths of your moans and keening.

Your body soon tenses and your orgasm reaches a crescendo. When you cum, you throw your head back and let out a long, shuddering moan, your thighs quivering by Joel's ears. He helps you ride out the high by gradually slowing his movements, allowing the sensation to draw out without overstimulation.

It is only once your body relaxes and your orgasm dissipates that Joel stops. Your eyes flutter open and you look down at him. Joel sits back on his haunches and pants. You see that his lips and moustache are glistening with your juice. 

"Oh my god, that was amazing," you say with a blissful smile.

Joel stands up from his kneeling position, his knees cracking once again. His gaze is fixated on you as he unbuckles his best and unzips his jeans. You stay half slumped on the couch, reveling in post orgasm exhilaration, the energy sapped from your body.

"What do you say?" Joel asks. His commanding tone is rough and deep with passion.

"Thank you, daddy," you reply breathlessly.

"That's right, babygirl. Now it's time for me to tear that little pussy up." Joel pushes his jeans and underwear down to his meaty thighs. His erection springs out, the head of his cock already wet with precum. "Get up and turn around."

You weakly sit up and turn over to kneel on the couch, somehow managing to obey him despite the sound of blood pounding in your ears and fatigue setting into your body. You shuffle to spread your legs and Joel's hands grab onto your hips to roughly jerk them back so that you are bent forward and your ass sticks out. Once he is satisfied with the position he's manipulated you into, his hands grip your ass cheeks firmly.

"Look at that," he whispers to himself. He pulls them apart, digging his thumbs into the crease of your upper thighs, both your pussy and asshole now lewdly exposed. "Such a dirty little whore, just dyin' to get ruined."

Joel releases one of your ass cheeks to guide the tip of his cock to your wet entrance. He doesn't waste anymore time, quickly sinking it into your hole and thrusting into you smoothly. The stretch has you gasping and moaning loudly, the knock of his hips propelling you forward into the couch. Joel groans as his dick slides deep inside your tight cunt.

"Fuck, that's it," he pants.

He pulls his hips back almost all the way before slamming back into you. You cry out shrilly, the sensation of fullness overwhelming you entirely. Joel does it again and again, holding tightly to your hips while he pounds his cock in and out of you. You're pinned immobile against the couch, trapped by the weight of his strong frame snapping into your body.

"Take it just like that, little bitch." Joel snarls. His fingers dig painfully into your hips.

"F-f-fuuuuck, Joel," you cry loudly.

He increases his pace and begins to fuck you with savage fervour. Your cries and moans intermingle with the filthy sounds of your skin colliding and his heavy balls slapping against your pussy. Joel pants from the exertion, the veins in his neck straining. He stares down at his cock disappearing in and out of your tight heat.

"Who do you belong to, babygirl?" Joel barks out. "Who fuckin' owns this pussy?"

"You, daddy!" You squeal, your fingers curling tightly over the sofa cushion. "Only you."

"That's right," Joel groans, "no one but me."

You feel his cock throbbing just before he cums. He swiftly pulls out and jerks himself as thick ropes of cum shoot over your ass. He grunts and moans as he fists his dick and empties his balls, marking your skin like a territorial animal. You heave deep breathes inbetween small whines, your thighs quaking.

When Joel's finished he yanks your head back by your hair and engulfs your mouth with his, kissing you passionately. He is greedy as he swirls his tongue around yours, as if he's still hungry, still needs to ravage you and swallow you.

In this moment, this sweetly intoxicating instance of physical and emotional intimacy, you feel utterly euphoric. The tangle of disquiet inside your brain had become static once Joel's hands were on your skin, instantly pacifying you and moulding you into something completely docile, like a doll. It was an all consuming state of rapture.

He breaks the kiss and you stare into one another's eyes. He smirks, then you feel his calloused hand rubbing over your ass, smearing his cum over your skin possessively.

"Welcome home," you whisper.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101

I'm sorry the spacing is weird on this chapter - I've copied it from my Wattpad and don't have the energy to format it properly.