#there might be some typo's i'll fix them tomorrow x

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

Not Alone Part 3 (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

joel miller x fem!reader

when you find yourself completely alone, you might just have to look up to realize you aren't.

warnings: mentioned death of family members; injuries; soft!joel; typos lol

author: sj

materlist

part one / part two

---

The next few weeks went by, a routine forming. Ellie would come knock on your door for breakfast and dinner, chatting your ear off until you both made it to her and Joel's house for the meal. You adored her. She never ceased to make you smile and giggle. She reminded you of Luke, but not in a depressing way, in a joyful way.

This dinner was different though. Your wrist was almost completely better. You didn't need the sling any more and you were able to do most things with it, your strength almost fully back. You still went easy on it, but it was time to start pulling your weight again. So, after dinner, once Ellie went upstairs to her room to do homework, you collected the dishes and went to the sink to wash them.

Joel, got up immediately, collecting the dishes right out of your hands and situating himself in front of you at the sink so you couldn't wash them.

"Joel." You sighed.

"You're not fucking washing them." He grunted. There hasn't been many exchanges between the two of you with out Ellie, or even with her to be honest.

"Joel, my wrist is better now." You insisted.

"Okay. And? Does it look like I'm gonna let you wash 'em still?" He asked while continuing to wash the dishes. You sighed again. After a few minutes of silence and only hearing the water running, you spoke up.

"I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me these past few weeks. I owe you so much. I talked to Tommy and he got me some shifts that shouldn't be too hard of labor for the rest of the healing process so I won't need to mooch off of you guys any more." You said, sitting back down in the chair at his table. He shut off the water.

"You don't owe me anything. Ellie has enjoyed your company and that is payment enough." He said, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. You looked away from the forearm porn that was happening, knowing you would just stare. You had always been attracted to Joel, but it was getting to the point recently that you couldn't even look at him too long without blushing. Man. What you would do for a vibrator.

"I do owe you. You're providing for two and I only have myself to feed," your heart twisted at the reminder, "I'll give you some rations when I start earning them tomorrow, I promise."

"No. You won't. You'll keep them to yourself so you can eat properly." Joel huffed out, disgruntled by the thought of you thinking you owe him. In reality, he was more than happy to feed you. He actually got great joy from seeing you come in the house every night and routinely ask, 'what's for dinner' while sniffing the air with a big smile on your face.

When you left that night, you thanked him before walking across his back yard to yours and entering through the back. You knew you'd need a good sleep before your morning shift and tucked in early that night.

The next morning, Ellie got out of bed like normal and went downstairs to see Joel in the kitchen fixing breakfast. "I'll go grab Y/n." She said, pushing out the back door.

"Wait!" Joel grumbled. She paused at the door with an expectant look on her face. "She has a shift this morning at the stables. Tommy told me. Her wrist is doing a lot better and she won't be eating with us now." Unbeknownst to you, after you left, Joel went across the street to Tommy's and practically interrogated him about the jobs you were taking. If they were safe, what time, and if they were light on lifting.

Tommy just smirked and told him the information with a knowing smile on his face. He told him that you were going to be working in the stables and on the janitorial staff at the school. Joel took a big breath of relief, knowing you'd be safe. Tommy still had that dumb, knowing smirk and Joel left muttering at him to 'shut the fuck up'.

A few days later, you had started making meals by yourself again. You weren't quite sure why, but every meal came with dread knowing you'd be eating alone. You didn't want to think that you were attached to Joel and Ellie, but after such a big loss as your brother, you knew that you probably attached to them a little soon. You still saw Ellie quite a bit, especially with working some shifts at the school. She would always make it a point to say hi to you in the halls and find you in the cafeteria for lunch instead of sitting with her peers when you were at the school.

You saw Joel every once in a while when you were working in the barns but there was never much chit chat between the two of you. You would just give him a smile and he would slightly tilt his lips up at you and give a nod.

This morning, you were working in the barns when Joel approached you. "Hi Joel!" You smiled brightly. How someone who is shoveling shit at 9 am could be this smiley, he would never know.

"Hey. I was just... um... wondering if you would want to come over for dinner tonight?" You smile widened and he got some more confidence. "Ellie misses you and we thought we would see if you'd wanna join us tonight?"

"I would love to. Its kind of depressing eating alone for every meal." You said, the truth cracking through your words like thin ice.

"Well, we'd love to have you. For as many meals as you would like. We really don't mind." Joel said, hoping that you'd hear the words trying to show through. He misses you in his house. Misses your smiles at the table and wants you stay in his house as long as you'd like. "You're not alone ya know. You've got us."

Dinner that night was different. He was more giving with his smiles. The hardness in is face was softening. It was like looking at the sun. He was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. Little did you know that Joel was thinking the exact same thing about you.

The next night, after your school shift. You were getting out of the shower and had just put on clothes to make dinner. Your back door opened and you turned, expecting to see Ellie, instead, seeing Joel. You gave him a smile, excited to see him in your place.

"Hi Joel."

"You leave doors open for people to walk in?" He grumbled. He walked towards you with his hands on his hips and that signature pinched eyebrows. You giggled.

"I don't normally, no. But I got into the habit of leaving it unlocked for Ellie. I don't want her to feel like she isn't welcome here. She always is." His pinched eyebrows pinched less and his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Angel, thats sweet of ya, but you're gonna get killed." He said casually. Your heart had seemed to leap out of your throat and you wouldn't be surprised if it was beating on the floor at his feet. Your cheeks turned pink and you busied yourself around the kitchen doing absolutely nothing.

"Honey. come over. We miss you." Joel's voice seemed to have gotten more gravelly in point two seconds.

"I was just over last night Joel. I don't want to intrude and steal more of your food." You said glancing over your shoulder at him. In all honesty, you'd love to but you felt too guilty taking advantage of his hard work like that. He walked towards you and you turned around, hips resting on the counter behind you.

"You could steal all my damn food and I'd say thank you. It makes Ellie happy to have you round and it makes me feel like I'm fucking 16 again eating dinner with a pretty girl. Please. I miss you." Your jaw was on the ground. What was this alternate universe. You stepped towards him and into his arms, you head meeting his chest and wrapping him up in the biggest hug you could muster. He hugged you back, running his calloused hands over your shirt.

"What has gotten into you, you sappy man." You laughed.

"Tommy told me that some guy at the stables was flirtin with ya and that really got my ass in gear. Couldn't let you eat in someone else's house now could I?" He grinned over your head.

"I would love to come eat with you." You leaned back, looking into his eyes.

"Good. Cause theres a lot meals a head of us." He said, gaze flickering from your eyes to your mouth. His lips met yours in a soft but powerful kiss. Never did you think Joel Miller would be so gentle with you.

"Ew. Get your asses over here. I'm fucking starving." Ellie complained from your back door, hand dramatically covering her eyes. You and Joel both breathed a laugh, grabbed hands and headed over to their house.

#joel miller #joel miller hbo #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader fluff #joel miller x you #the last of us #soft!joel miller #joel miller soft

[calif0rnia-lovers]

big boss.

1a/n: i don't always write smut driven plots, but when i do it's for daddy losa. set in s2 before the shit hit the fan. unedited might be some typos.

pairing: bishop losa x bratty!reader

warnings: 18+ rating: 💦

requested prompt: "What's wrong? I thought you liked teasing."

words: 2.4k

sum: bish has a sit down with the sons scheduled. it's the fifth night in a row that you've gone to bed without your husband. so you try your best to get him home early.

Bishop’s mind is split, torn into what feels like a million pieces. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice your arrival at the clubhouse.

You find him seated at the bar, fingers massaging his temple, his gaze fixated on his never-ending vibrating phone. For the majority of the day, you were responsible for the vibration.

He'd received a barrage of messages from you, all in response to the words he mumbled as he placed a kiss against your forehead this morning.

“I gonna be home late tonight. We’re sitting down at the table. You don’t have to wait up.”

Now, his phone is going off for club related matters.

“There’s my husband,” you smile as you sit his wrapped dinner on the bartop. Your lips press a kiss against his cheek as he reads an incoming message. “I almost forgot what he looks like. I brought your dinner.”

“Thanks,” he sighs.

“All these late nights,” you mumble against the warmth of his skin. “I had to check and make sure you weren’t meeting up with your girlfriend.”

Bishop's eyes roll, a chuckle leaving his lips. "Between you and the M.C., I wouldn't have the energy."

He doesn't object to your hands guiding his lips to yours. The kiss pushes the incoming messages out of his mind, his hands finding your waist. Guiding your body closer, he smiles as you leave a second kiss against his lips.

"I miss you."

The admission comes out soft against his lips. The kiss you leave behind this time tightens his grip, his lips chasing yours as you pull back.

"You too."

"Kinda hard to tell," you sigh, a smile finding your lips as Bishop presses a kiss against the warmth of your neck. "The only time I see you is over breakfast."

"Shit's been--"

"Crazy." You take a step back, slipping out of his grip. The dramatic roll of your eyes brings a smile to your husband's lips. "I know. So crazy, I can't even get in a quickie with my own husband."

Although he chuckles at your teasing, Bishop knows you're right. For the past week, he's gone before you can finish your morning coffee. Only to return when you're already asleep. It's not something he's proud of.

He's in the process of opening his mouth to apologize when you take a second step back.

Bishop’s brow arches, his eyes taking in your appearance--specifically the skirt you wear.

“You went shopping?”

Your eyes drop, your fingers flattening the fabric.

“I did, actually." You smile. You watch as his eyes travel the entire length of the grey pleats. "I stopped by the mall today. My husband hasn’t been around lately, so I had to find some way to keep myself busy.”

Shrugging off his jacket, you lay it across the bar. Taking a step back, you turn in a circle giving Bishop a full look at the mini skirt. By the time you come full circle you dawn a wide smile.

"I figured I try something new."

"It’s definitely...new."

"What?" You fix your lips into a pout as his gaze lifts. "You don’t like it? I was thinking of you when I got it."

Before your husband can string together another word, you turn to catch the eye of a passing Angel.

"What do you think, handsome?"

The question freezes the Mayan in his tracks.

The quest of finding another beer slipping through Angel's mind as he takes in your smile. "About what?"

"My new skirt."

Angel's mouth opens. Thankfully, his brain stalls as his gaze passes over the length of the skirt. His eyes linger on the length of your legs. The inability of his brain to string together a coherent sentence saving him from saying something stupid.

Heat rushes to his face as Angel clears his throat.

"I think you look nice, don't you Bish?" Angel manages as he reaches around you for a beer. His eyes avoid Bishop's as he grabs a second before quickly dismissing himself.

"Well," you smile. "At least somebody thinks I look nice."

"I don’t have time for this," Bishop admits knowing exactly where this will lead.

"What’s new?" you release a dramatic sigh as you step between his legs. "You never have time for me anymore."

"I have this meeting with the Sons--"

"Oh, is that today?" You ask, the heat of your touch seeping through the chest of his shirt. "I thought you said it was tomorrow night."

"Which is why I’d appreciate it if you put your jacket back on."

Although it doesn't drastically improve your appearance. The oversized jacket is enough to distract from the length--or lack thereof--of the skirt you wear.

"No."

It’s a word Bishop Losa rarely hears.

It’s also your favorite word to use against your husband.

“No?”

You shake your head, taking another step back putting a distance between the two of you.

"Then, wait for me at home where the entire club can't see your--"

“Nope,” you say allowing the end to pop, before turning on your heels. “I think I want to stay.”

You reach out, taking the cue stick from a passing Ezekiel.

“You have your meeting. I'll wait for you out here. I’ll just play some pool.” You smile as Bishop's jaw tightens. “Zeke here can keep me company. Right?"

The prospect's gaze lifts from the grey pleats of your skirt.

“Uh—yeah, I mean. I guess if that’s what you want—”

Ez clears his throat as he takes in your wide innocent smile. He glances in your husband's direction. The look in Bishop’s darkened gaze causes the prospect to quickly divert his eyes.

Ez's hand rubs against the back of his neck. “I mean, if it’s alright with Bishop--”

“He'll be fine. You don’t have to ask him for permission, Ez."

Ez quickly retrieves the second cue stick, suddenly focused on lining up a shot.

“Stop playing with the kid,” Bishop’s voice drops as he comes to a stop before you. “He’s my prospect, not your new toy.”

It doesn’t take a genius to understand where this is headed.

Your husband is well versed in your antics, as you are his. The firm squeeze of your hip is a silent warning. A warning that reemphasizes his previous statement

I don’t have time for this.

Between the upcoming meeting, your pouts over breakfast, and round-the-clock sassy texts, his patience is wearing thin.

“Or what, Obispo?” You huff, your weight resting against your cue stick. “You’ll spank me?”

The taunt is enough to lift Bishop’s gaze from the tip of the cigarette he lights. His brow arches as he catches sight of your playful eyes. The unimpressed look on your face earns you the tiniest reaction, the twitching of his lips as he pushes the smoke from his lungs.

“Because if that’s all, let me bend over and make it easy for you,” you laugh as you turn.

Bishop takes a step back as you lean forward, bending over the pool table. The drawn-out act of lining up your shot gives an up-close view of just how short the skirt really is.

His double-take at your arrival was highly warranted.

You can feel the heat of his darkened gaze as it travels along the length of your legs, your new position dragging his tongue across his lips. His eyes pass over your shoulder to the opening door, signaling the early arriving Sons. Releasing a huff, you straighten before turning to face Bishop.

“Put your jacket back on,” he says.

“Is that what you're bringing to the table tonight? I expected a little more intimidation from el Presidente.” Your finger trails down the leather of his kutte, your touch lingering on the worn patch. “What will the boys think if you can’t even handle an old lady? Thought they said you were the big boss.”

For a brief second, the sight of you looking up at him through your lashes, push his arriving brothers out of Bishop's mind. His hand finds the base of your throat, his thumb tipping your chin back so that your gaze meets his.

The look you find weakens your knees. It’s what you’re looking for, the sight of it pulling your lips towards his. A pout settles on your lips as Bishop leaves them cold. Instead, he pauses to place a kiss against your forehead.

“Behave.”

There is one cardinal rule your husband expects you to follow when the doors to Templo are closed.

Do not interrupt--unless it is life or death.

This is why Bishop stops midsentence when the doors slide open.

Bishop wishes he could say he's surprised, but he's not when he glances away from Hank to find you standing in the doorway.

“I just figured the boys might want a drink after making the drive here.”

Ez stands behind you, a case of beer in his hands. His face is visible over your shoulder. He hopes the telepathic message sent to your husband is received.

I told her no--or, I tried to.

One moment Ez was shaking his head and chuckling, "I don't think it's a good idea, you know how Bish gets--" the next, he was carrying a case of beer into the lion's den for you.

“We are the hosts after all,” you smile, not waiting for your husband’s permission.

Ez distributes his beers as fast as he can. You take your time, your husband's eyes following you with each passing second.

By the time you’ve reached the head of the table, there is one drink left to distribute.

“And something special for the boss.”

His eyes study the sweet, innocent smile on your lips as you place the shot of whiskey down alongside the gavel.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

All of the men throw in a word of appreciation. A mixture of "thank you" and "appreciate it" filling the air as you cross the room. Not a single man is foolish enough to glance up from the beer in their hands until they hear the door slide shut.

Hank is the first to file out. He has a mixture of humor and pure admiration on his face as he meets your gaze. It is a look you’ve both grown accustomed to over the years. The one that comes each time he sees you are bold enough to push his best friend's buttons. Which is entirely too often.

“He wants to see you,” he shares, his head shaking as you pass.

You find your husband in the same spot you left him fifteen minutes prior. Seated at the head of the table. Only his whiskey is gone, and he’s got a freshly lit cigarette between his lips. His eyes lift from the zippo in his hand as you pull the door shut.

“I’ve been summoned?” Pushing your weight off the door, you start your journey around the table. Your finger traces over the wood, your gaze lifting to his. "I take it the meeting went well. It didn’t last long."

"Thought you'd sound a little more excited now that it's over."

"Only if you got what you wanted," you respond coming to a stop alongside him.

"You got something you wanna show me?” He asks, tossing his lighter onto the table.

"What makes you say that?"

Instead of answering your question, he nods to the table.

"Bend over."

Your head shakes as you take a seat on the table before him. Your palms rest against the table, your left foot settling on his armrest. A wave of heat covers you from head to toe as Bishop's gaze travels the length of your leg.

A smile finds your lips as his touch ghosts the curve of your calf.

The response is premature. Bishop takes a drag of his cigarette before repeating his previous demand.

"Bend over."

You heed his order, a smile finding your lips as the legs of his chair drag across the floor. The heat of his palm drags the length of your outer thigh, a smile finding his lips as he puts out his cigarette.

"Tell me," he asks, his touch drifting between your thighs. "What couldn't you wait, till I got home, to show me?"

Your teeth tug at your bottom lip as his thumb teasingly pass over the lace covering your clit.

"It's gotta be beautiful," he continues, his touch sending shockwaves through your body as he traces the pattern of the fabric. "The way you were trying to show it off in front of the whole fucking club."

"Why don't you see for yourself?" You breathe, your hips shifting to increase the pressure of his touch.

The red fabric brings a grin to your husband's lip. It is a color he can never resist when paired against your skin.

"Do you like it?"

Bishop doesn't rush to answer your question. Each roll of his thumb meticulous, as he unzips his jeans.

"I do," he places a soft kiss against your shoulder.

Your body tenses in anticipation as the head of his cock teases your slick folds. A soft whimper fills the air as he denies you what you want. Instead of pushing inside, he allows his tip to rub the length of your folds. He repeats the process until your mind has lost count, the trembling of your thighs arching his brow. As you shift your hips back, he pulls a grunt of frustration from your lips.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he chuckles, his grip presses against your spine pinning you in place. "Hm? I thought you liked teasing...this isn't a reward, you don't get to pick how you get it. "

He slides into you in one fluid motion. Bishop's thrusts are not as sweet as your pet name. They are deliberate, pushing into you at a fast and harsh pace. His hips snap into you with a relentless force, his grip bruising your skin.

The edge of the table is the only anchor you're able to find as your body succumbs to the pleasure only he can bring. It doesn't take long for the muscles of your body to tense.

"You wanna cum, sweetheart?" he grunts, his words rasping with every thrust.

“Yes--fuck, Bish,” you manage. The words pass breathlessly, your mind struggling to string together a coherent plea. “Please--”

The pleas spilling from your lips are lost to a gasp as he pulls out of you.

“Since you’ve been trying to get me there all day,” he breathes. “You can wait till you get home.”

Your husband’s chuckle drowns out your whimpered protest. He catches your wrist as you attempt to finish where he’s left off, pinning it flat against the table.

“You don’t have time for that,” he assures you, the wave of pleasure he’s built already slowly beginning to ebb away. “You got something else you need to do first.”

He releases your wrist, his hands moving to pull your skirt back into place. The moment he’s finished, Bishop steps back allowing you to stand.

Turning to face him, you watch as he settles back into his chair. The smile on Bishop's lips morphs into a grin, his playful gaze watching you bite your lip. The desire to disobey his demand only seems to increase with each slowly passing second. The shifting of your weight pulls a chuckle from his lips.

“For making me cut my meeting short,” his head cocks to the side. His eyes pass over your heaving chest before he smiles. “I think that pretty mouth of yours owes me fifteen minutes.”

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