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Chapter Text

You’d been in Jackson for almost three years now. You’d come stumbling through the snow, half frozen to death, delusional and starving. There’d been so many guns pointed at you, yet you still wouldn’t say it was the scariest moment you’d lived through in your thirty years of life. No, that was reserved for the moment Joel Miller came through that field with a teenager in tow. 

It had been almost ten years since you’d seen him. You were never supposed to see him again. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

“So pretty down on your knees for me.” 

“Such a good girl.” 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when someone clears their throat behind you, causing you to spin around on your barstool. You put on a fake grin as Tommy sits down next to you, beer already in hand. 

“Doin’ okay?” He asks, the look on his face far too sympathetic for you. You’d overheard him talking to Maria about Joel one day, the name ringing in your ears after not hearing it for years. You’d told them the basic details. You’d known Joel for a few months in the Boston QZ. You’d gone on a few smuggles with him, but nothing more than that. You didn’t, couldn’t, tell them about how many times you’d ended up tangled in his sheets. You were young then, certainly too young for a rough man like him…But you were naive, impressionable. 

Your grin drops, irritation taking its place. Of course you’re not okay. But it’s been too long, yet not long enough. You knew he was using you, you’d known it since the beginning. It was an offer at first, you’d gotten beaten by a FEDRA officer pretty badly, and Oxy was the best thing you could get. But at only twenty years old, you didn’t have much. So you’d given him your mouth. Down and dirty, no gentle touches or whispered words. Just the saltiness of him on your tongue and a baggie of pills in your pocket. 

“I’m hanging in there. Weird to see old friends.” You make your voice as nonchalant as possible, giving him a reassuring smile. “Who’s the kid?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“Dragged her from Boston, apparently.” Tommy says, giving a noncommittal shrug. “Takin’ her to Salt Lake in the mornin’. Says he isn’t gonna go, but I know he’ll change his mind.” 

You swallow back your disappointment and hurt, but it must be visible on your face.

Tommy’s features become more concerned, his lips parting as he readied to ask you something.

You shake your head.

He was going to leave without a word. He’d barely even looked at you and he was already leaving. 

You scowl against your own will, taking another heavy sip of your beer. “Well good.” You finally say, the energy behind your words not quite reaching. “Glad he’s finally doin’ something good.” That comes out more sincere, softer, as you stare at the bubbles in your beer, your eyes following the lines they create as they float to the surface. 

Tommy looks at you sympathetically. You know he knows. He has to. He doesn’t say so. 

You can feel the tears stinging your nose, and you have to bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. Not here, not now. You don't deserve to cry over him, not after all these years. You finish the rest of your beer and stand from the stool, patting Tommy on the shoulder once. 

“I’ll see you around.” Is all you can manage before you’re walking out the doors.

It’s started to snow now, the fat flakes landing on your jacket. You feel the tears falling on your cheeks, streaking like boiling water against your freezing skin. 

You manage to get to your home without fully breaking down, shuffling through the slowly accumulating snow as you sniff away your tears. 

You reach for your bottle of moonshine, traded for one of your quilts, settling by the fire. 

All you can think about is Joel. How he’s just a few streets away, likely packing to ditch in the morning. Without saying as much as a word to you. 

You weren’t even sure if he recognized you. You’d had your hat on, your scarf pulled over your mouth as your gun pointed to him out in the snow covered field. You’d watched with mild irritation as the dog left both him and the girl alone. And his eyes had merely glanced over you, not a hint of recognition from him. It had stung, a sharp pain in your chest. 

“Take the pills and get the fuck out. I ain’t got anymore time for a whore who ain’t nothin’ but a good fuck.” 

His words come flying to the forefront of your mind when a quarter the bottle is gone. Those gut-wrenching, soul-piercing words. 

He was never yours, not really. A means to an end. It was never supposed to end up like this. 

An ache that never went away. He really had ruined you. His words constantly echoing in your head as you lay alone night after night. 

You’d not been with anyone since. 

You didn’t want to be. 

Your frown deepens as you tip the bottle more and more, anger bubbling from a deep place you’d decided to lock away. You still weren’t sure if you were angry at him or yourself. 

Angry at him for abandoning you when you needed him. 

Angry at yourself for falling for him. 

You’d gotten addicted to his pills and his cock. 

————————————

“I was told you could get me pills.” Your face was swollen, you were sure the officer chipped a couple of your teeth too. All because you’d had a bad day and his attitude had set yours off. 

You watched the man beside you stiffen out of the corner of your eye. You’d held your breath, hoping that you’d gotten the right person. 

“Depends on what you’ve got.” His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine, both out of anxiety and general attraction. 

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye again, your brow furrowing. “Not much. Couple cigarettes, a few rations.” You finally say, sighing softly. You were almost shocked when he turned his head toward you. 

“What’s a kid like you need with pills?” His eyes glanced over your face, over the black eye and split lip. 

“Why do any of us need them?” You ask, bristling a little bit. “And I’m not a kid. I’m almost 20.”

He laughs, bitter and biting, at you. “You’re a kid to me.” 

You bristle further, grinding your teeth and wincing at the pain that radiates through your jaw. “Yeah, well, who’s got the chance to be a kid anymore.” 

He simply shrugs, his eyes forward again. “Area four. Building 10. Apartment 17. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Your eyes snap back to his face, a little taken aback. “Okay.” Is all you can manage, your heart stuttering in your chest.

He walks away without another word, leaving you lost in your own thoughts and anxieties of what was to come. 

You arrive the next day with a few cigarettes stuffed in your jacket pocket and nerves upsetting your stomach. You lift your hand to knock, but before you could the door was wrenched open. 

A mean looking woman appears on the other side, staring you down for just a moment before her face softens just the slightest. “Ice‘ll help that.” She says after giving you a once over before slipping past you. 

You make eye contact with Joel on the couch. He stares at you, unmoving. “Well?”

His voice shocks you from your trance as you tentatively walk inside, closing the door behind you. You shove your hand into your pocket, holding out the foil wrapped cigarettes. “I’ve only got two.” You say, suddenly aware how small your voice sounded. 

Joel eyes the packet for just a moment before sighing heavily, standing and leaving the room. He comes back with four pills in one palm, holding his empty hand out to you once he’s close enough. 

You glance down at the pills, then up at his face. “Only four?” You ask, frowning softly. 

“Lucky it ain’t two.” He says gruffly as you place the cigarettes in his palm. 

“I need more.” You say, quickly in one breath, your voice wavering slightly. “What can I do to get more?”

“You an addict or somethin?” He asks, his eyes narrowing. 

You shake your head, blinking a few times. “No…Just in pain.”

He huffs in response, pressing the pills into your palm. “Don’t come back.”

You almost see a hint of compassion in his eyes, but it’s gone before you can figure it out. You leave without another word, the pills safely in your pocket. 

——————————-

He was gone in the morning like Tommy had predicted. It was almost a relief but you still felt the aching need to talk to him settle deep in your chest. A back and forth war within yourself of your past and present, hating him and needing him. 

Maria found you at the bar this time around. 

It had been two weeks since he’d left, and you felt as if you were dealing with the first loss all over again. You knew you were spiraling, feeling like you were going through the five stages of grief. Just a few days ago you were arguing with yourself, promising that the next time you’d say something. Now all you wanted to do was cry because he left you… again. 

“You need to talk to someone.” Maria said as she sat down at the table you were at. 

Your eyes meet hers for a moment before you take another sip of your homemade mead. “I don’t need to. I need everyone in this town to stop worrying about me so much and just let me work through it.” You hadn’t meant to sound so tense, your hand tightening slightly around your glass. 

Maria just shook her head at you, her lips thinning. “We’re worried about you, honey. I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Joel, but I can tell you that this…” She gestures to you, her hand trailing up and down. “…isn’t worth it. And I’m sure a smart woman like you knows he isn’t.” 

You groan softly, setting your glass down to run your hand through your hair, the other arm resting across your stomach in a protective gesture. “If I tell you anything, it stays between us.” 

Maria nods, her face serious for a moment. “I protect my friend’s privacy.”

You can’t help the warm feeling that floods your chest, a small smile finally gracing your lips before dropping it. “Not here though. Could you come by my place later to talk?” You sound hesitant, still not sure if fully confessing to Maria what happened was a good idea. But she is right, you do need to talk to someone. 

——————————-

Three weeks in a row you’ve come to him almost every other day, eyes pleading for the pills. 

There was something about the way they made you float, unfeeling, for just a little bit. 

This time, though, you had nothing. 

“Please, Joel. I’ll do anything. I just need a couple more.” You hated begging, it felt degrading and made your skin crawl, but you were starting to feel less and less floaty every time. 

“I gave you an extra one last time. Fuck off, kid.” Joel gruffs at you, 

You wrap your arms over your chest in a defensive manner, a habit of yours, a crease forming between your brows. “Please.” You say again, your voice breaking a little. “I’ll do anything.” You take a chance, stepping closer to him. You’ve never offered anything like what you were offering, what you hoped he knew you were offering so you didn’t need to say it out loud. 

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” Joel says, taking a step away from you. “Don’t go offerin’ stuff like that around here, kid. Gonna get yourself hurt.” 

You bristle slightly at the supposedly endearing term, only coming out vicious on Joel’s tongue. “I’m not a fucking kid.” You bite back, irritated you have to snap about it again. You slump a little as the devastating realization of what you were offering finally hits you. “Please.” You say again, swallowing thickly. “I don’t have a choice.” You add softly, looking down at your own feet as you try to avoid choking on your own voice. 

Joel stiffens slightly at your admission, a flash of something dark in his eyes. “I’ll give you five for a ration card.” He knew it was a loss on his part, but he wanted you out. He didn’t want to give into his own desires when he saw you. Your wide, innocent eyes that glimmered with appreciation whenever he handed you over the pills. He should feel guilty, watching you slip slowly into the addictions he himself fought. You’re too young, far too young. 

You step closer to him, your heart rate picking up. “Ten if I suck your cock. Won’t come back for a week.” You rush out the words, your tongue feeling thick and heavy in your mouth. 

Joel tenses further as you come closer, the smell of something sweet wafting off you. Vanilla? Flowers? He’s momentarily distracted by the feminine smell of you, failing to see your hand come up to his chest, his muscles jumping as you place your hand over his sternum. 

You look up at his face, searching his features for any type of severe discomfort. You swallow again at his silence, stepping even closer as you slide your hand across his chest to his shoulder. He shudders under your touch, his gaze hardening on you. “It’s not as if I haven’t thought about it before.” You say, your voice quiet still as your eyes follow your hand. You startle when his hand grasps your wrist, stilling your movement. 

“You’d better have payment next week. Proper payment.” His voice is low and gruff, his grip tightening. “Ain’t gonna do this more than once.” You almost gasp in surprise when he yanks your hand in between the two of you, pressing your hand against the bulge in his jeans. 

You suck in a breath through your nose as you palm his slowly hardening cock through his jeans, swallowing the saliva building in your mouth. You’d blown boyfriends in the past, sure, but never for something like this. 

He huffs out another breath as he pulls away from you, and you almost ask until he’s flopping onto the couch, spreading his legs wide and jerking his chin at you. 

You’re far more nervous than you’d like to be as you slowly walk over to him, kneeling down in between his legs. You tentatively reach up, palming him again as you lean forward to nuzzle against the outline of his cock. 

“Jesus Christ.” Joel breathes as he lays his hand heavily against the top of your head. “Really wanted this, huh?” It sounds half amusement, half wonder. You blink up at him as you pull his belt from the buckle, opening it and working open the button of his jeans. He lifts his hips as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough, another small gasp escaping you as his cock slaps up against his flannel. Your eyes flick between his eyes and his cock as you lean to grasp it by the base, leaning forward enough to take a tentative lick of the precome beading at his tip.

The taste of him immediately has you craving more, and you finally admit how much you really did want this. You hum softly as you shuffle closer, placing your other hand on his still covered thigh to ground yourself as you finally take the head of his cock into your mouth. He groans above you as you swirl your tongue around the bulbous tip, licking through the slit. His low noises spur you on as you lower your mouth on him, starting a steady rhythm as you start to raise and lower your head. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”  He groans as his head falls back, his hips twitching as he bumps against the back of your throat. 

You swallow around him as you fight your gag reflex, your eyes welling with tears as your throat constricts. He practically whines as you swallow, the noise causing an involuntary moan to bubble up your throat as you hollow your cheeks, focusing your tongue on the underside as you feel him pulse against your tongue. His hand is still heavy on your head, not guiding, but simply resting. 

“Gonna come in that pretty little mouth.” Joel grunts, his eyes boring into yours as you begin to bob your head again, your fingers digging into his thighs as he begins to softly thrust into your mouth, going deeper than you’d had him yet. You gag around the intrusion but he continues, forcing your throat to relax as he continues thrusting into your mouth. “Made for suckin’ cock, huh?” He asks, his voice pure gravel as your mouth brings him closer to climax. “Just a little slut who loves having a cock down her throat. Was your plan from the beginning, wasn’t it?” 

You whimper and try to shake your head “no”, but his tightening grip in your hair keeps you still. His words sting a little bit, but there’s a part of you that sings praise at his word, your clit thrumming in your soaked underwear.

“Right, mouth too full to speak. Gonna swallow it all? Fuck-” His words get cut off as you moan around him, sucking more harshly now. “Jesus Christ.” His hips are bucking into your mouth a little harder now, his cock punching the back of your throat, tears leaking steadily from your eyes as you moan around him again. “God, such a good girl, takin’ me so well. Gonna- Fuck, gonna come. Look so pretty cryin’ on my- Fuck!” And then he was, a choked gasp forcing its way up his throat as his cock pulses in your mouth. 

You’re gone less than 10 minutes later, the precious pills tucked in a plastic baggie in your front pocket. 

——————————-

So you tell Maria every little detail. How it all started, why it all started. About your drug addiction you’d fallen into being around him for almost 6 months. 

“I almost overdosed the day he left.” You tell her, silent tears now falling down your cheeks. You let out a wet laugh, wiping at your face. “It’s fucking pathetic , Maria. Even ten years later, I think I might still love him. And I hate that I do. I’ve never said that out loud.” You’re feeling a little past tipsy now, trying to ignore the way she frowns when you reach for the bottle again. 

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” She says sadly, her eyes following your hands as you fill your glass again. “You never got closure. It only makes sense. But really, honey…Joel?” She grimaces playfully, lightening the mood immediately. 

“Oh believe me, I’m mad about it too.” You laugh, self deprecatingly.  “Of all of the men in this godforsaken world we’re living in, it just had to be him. ” You take another drink, watching as Maria’s eyes follow the movement. “I’m working on it.” You say as you lower your glass to your knee, your eyes downcast. “One thing to the next. I’m really trying.” 

Maria’s mouth sets in a tight line before she sighs. “I want you to be careful with him.” She says your name, low and serious. “I know you think you know him, but Tommy told me what they used to do. Joel is not a good man.” 

Your face drops into a frown, uneasiness crawling through your veins like ice. “I know what he’s done. I was there for some of it.” You snap, your hand tightening around the glass. “It’s not like I wanted to fall in love with a man like him.” 

Maria leans back on the sofa, giving you physical distance. “No, I know you didn’t. But I don’t want you to think he’s changed-.” 

“Has Tommy?” Your harsh words cut her off, the words out before you could even think them.

Maria shakes her head at you, her mouth immediately opening to defend her husband, but you cut her off again.

“No, you know what. I shouldn’t have told you anything. Jesus, everyone is so judgmental and acts as if he isn’t just a human being. We’ve all done fucked up shit, Maria. That’s just the world now.” You stand and snatch the bottle from your coffee table, sending her one last glaring look. “You can see yourself out. I need to be alone.” You know you’re being immature, storming out of the room like a teenager throwing a tantrum. But quite frankly, you don’t care. You finally want to feel, you finally want to let go.

You fall onto your bed, screaming into your pillow and anger, frustration and pain course through you. You turn over onto your back, sighing heavily as you close your eyes to try and ground yourself. Try to prevent yourself from thinking about all those afternoons you’d spent with him. 

It, as usual, didn’t work. 

——————————-

The first time he fucks you because you beg for it. Not for his pills, not for his fingers. For his cock. You could never admit it was for him. You’d never admit to him that after just three months of knowing him, you wanted him around forever. It was a hopeless thought in a world like this, dog eat dog and love never lasts. 

He had you backed against an alley wall, his fingers pumping in and out of you. 

“You did so good, baby girl. So damned good.” He breathes into your ear, pushing you closer to your release. You’d smuggled a ton of pills into the QZ for him, managing to pass the guards unnoticed. 

You whimper and whine as you grab at his shoulders, digging your forehead into his chest. “I need more.” You whine, tilting your head to nose at his neck. “Joel, please fuck me. Been so good for you. Please.” You feel him press his fingers hard into you, curling them against your front wall as his palm grinds against your clit. 

He groans into your ear, huffing out a couple short breaths. “Yeah? You want my cock?” He accentuates his words with a harder grind into your cunt. Sure, he’d been dreaming about fucking you, wishing he was coming in your cunt instead of your fist or your mouth. He pulls his fingers from you, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick your slick from his fingers as he usually did. “Turn around.” He says gruffly, already reaching for his belt. 

You turn around quickly, anticipation curling and burning at you as you work your pants down, bending slightly as he pushes at your shoulders. He isn’t kind when he shoves into you, pulling an agonized yelp from your lungs as he stretches you open. He almost immediately sets a sharp rhythm, the pain mixing and melting into pleasure the longer he’s inside you. You can’t do anything but whimper and whine as he practically destroys you, one of his hands clamping over your mouth while the other wraps around your waist. He pulls you back against his chest as he lifts you up, pinning you against the wall. “Shut the fuck up.” He hisses into your ear, his hips slapping sharply against your ass. “Gonna get us caught. You want the guards to know what a little whore you are? Fuckin’ dirty old men like me just to get a fix?” 

His words cause you to clench around him, used to his degrading words now, used to the way they make you gush instead of cringe. You shake your head against his palm, breathing hard through your nose as he cock reaches deeper inside than you’d thought possible. You close your eyes against his onslaught, the rough brick of the building scraping against the front of your body as he fucks you impossibly harder. You come with a sob into his hand, your entire body shaking. 

“Oh, fuck, good girl.” He praises you as he fucks you through your orgasm, grinding hard into you. “Makin’ me wanna fill that pretty little pussy up. Make you walk outta here dripping with me.” He practically growls in your ear, the first shiver of fear making its way down your spine. 

Your eyes widen as you wrench your mouth from his palm, panting hard. “No, please, not inside.” You whimper, the fear of what that could mean making panic rise in your throat. 

He groans in your ear, pulling from you before he steps away from the wall, spinning you around and pushing your head down. You immediately give into his request, dropping to your knees as you take his hard cock in your mouth, sucking on him the way you know drives him crazy. 

“So pretty down on your knees for me.” He grunts, his hands tangled in your hair so he can thrust into your mouth. 

He’s coming down your throat less than a minute later.

That was the first time you went back to your apartment and cried. The almost full pill bottle that still rattled in your jacket was the harsh reminder of exactly what this was getting you. You weren’t sure if the tears were from anger or devastation, but soon the three pills in your palm made you forget even him. 

——————————-

You eventually make it back to live life as normal. Took a few more weeks, but you picked up the bottle less and less each day. Tommy was proud of you, but you still weren’t talking to Maria. Something had fractured between the two of you that day, something you weren’t sure you would be able to fix. 

But life goes on. It always does.

You get back into your routine, up before dawn every morning. Usually to the stables to greet the horses before you got to your chores. You hadn’t been on patrol duty for weeks now, Tommy giving you a break, or rather, distance from handling a gun too much right now. It irked you, being treated like you were broken. But you rationalized it to yourself, you knew he just had your best interest in mind. You weren’t unstable, not at all, just on edge. 

Everything was shifting back to normal as spring came around, the trees slowly starting to wake up, the snow starting to melt. 

A loud, pounding knock on your door startles you awake just as the sun came up on the horizon. Your hand reaches for a knife that’s no longer there as you open your front door, Tommy on the front step. 

“He’s back.” 

——————————-

“You stupid girl.” Joel hisses in your face. He’s got you pinned to his front door, his forearm across your chest, crowding you.

“I’m sorry, please, Joel, I’m sorry.” You whimper, more tears falling from your face. 

“Couldn’t keep that stupid little mouth shut and fucked everything up. I should kill you right here.” He growls, pushing you harder into the wall.

You cry out in pain as your body goes limp, the fight slowly dying in you. “I didn’t think she’d tell anyone.” You blubber out, your eyes closed in complete submission. 

“No, you didn’t, did you?” He spits at you, his teeth grinding in anger. “You got FEDRA sniffin around my door because you couldn’t wait to tell someone what a whore you are. Bout the bottles every time I fuck ya.” 

You shy away from his angry words, guilt and shame bubbling in your stomach. You hadn’t known your friend was a snitch, the daughter of a higher officer. “I didn’t know.” You whimper out, feeling the pressure on your chest release as he steps away, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. You keep your body pressed against the door, crossing your arms over your stomach. “A-am I still gonna get my pills today?” You ask, more shame causing bile to rise in your throat. 

He lets out a bark of disbelief, his fists slapping against his thighs. “Ain’t that rich. Still beggin’ for a fix.” He swipes the bottle of pills off the table next to him, pouring them into his palm as he counts them. Less than 20 this time, he just wants you gone. “I’m done. This is it.” He says, his eyes finally looking up at you. 

You shake your head in panic, your eyes trained on his hand and the small amount of pills. “No, no, Joel, please. I need them. Where am I gonna find more?” You ask, panic constricting your voice. “Joel, I need you.” You say, the words choking you on their way up from the depths of your soul. It wasn’t the same admission as you needing the pills. Six months of this and you were in love with him. 

You knew he didn’t solely fuck you for the pills anymore. It became more frequent that you’d seek him out when you were craving him. The past month slowly dissolving into something that felt less like fucking. 

“Joel, baby please. I lo-” You start toward him, but slink back against the door when his face hardens and he speaks up. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He growls, his nostrils flaring. “ Take the pills and get the fuck out. I ain’t got anymore time for a whore who ain’t nothin’ but a good fuck. Makin' off with my pills as if a sloppy thing like you means anythin'  to me.” 

You can’t help the sob that raises in your gut, bubbling up and out in an inhuman sound. “Joel, no, please, don’t do this to me.” 

He crowds you again, the anger in his eyes causing you to cower this time. “Fuckin’ pathetic.” He shoves the pills in your hand before yanking you harshly away from the door and throwing it open. “I aint gonna say it twice. Don’t. Come. Back.” 

You’re tossed out the door before you can fully think, fully process what had just happened. 

You show up at his place the week after, shaking from the slight withdrawal, and from nerves. You knock but no one answers. It’s late, much too late for Joel to be out. You lay down on the floor to look under the door for any signs of life.

It’s empty. Bare. Abandoned. 

You find one of his “buddies”. 

He’s gone. For good. Never coming back to Boston. 

You buy the pills from his acquaintance, using the rest of your ration cards. 

You almost don’t make it to the next day. 

But you move on after your brush with death. You become stronger. 

But you don’t think you’ll ever stop missing him. 

He’s ruined you for anyone else. You knew from the very first moment he had.

Chapter Text

You weren’t exactly prepared to face this today. Not this far into your “recovery”. Recovery from loving him, recovery from the alcohol, recovery from…life. 

You stared at Tommy like he’d told you he’d shot your puppy. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, even though you knew this wasn’t something he’d joke about. 

He gives you a nod, his expression a mix of concern and caution. 

“He’s okay?” You ask, your voice wavering a little. 

“A little worse for wear, but yeah, he’s fine.” Tommy sighs, his lips a fine line as he looks over you. “Maria told me, about all of it.”

Your heart fractures just that much more. She promised not to tell. But Tommy is her husband. You’d never keep anything from your own. “I’m sure you think less of me now.” You say dejectedly, avoiding his eyes.

“‘S not my place to judge you. My brother on the other hand…” He trails off, frowning at you. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

You cringe outwardly, your lips turning to a grimace. “He didn’t do anythin’ I didn’t ask for.” It comes out harsher than you mean. 

“You still love him.” He says it as a statement, not a question. 

You deflate further, a sigh ripping its way from your chest. “Yeah, well I really don’t want to, but here we are.” You snap, irritation rising as he reads you too well. 

He raises his hands, his expression placating. “He’s different now. You should talk to him.” 

“Is this why you came here? To try and fix my poor broken heart? I’m not interested right now, Tommy. I need time.” The thought of even seeing him now made you stomach turn, 

Tommy shuffles in place, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Come by for dinner this week.”

“Will he be there?” It’s accusatory, sarcastic and bitter. He’d heard what you said; ignored it. 

Tommy shakes his head, sighing heavily. “You can’t avoid him forever. I just want what’s best for you. Both of you.”

“Yeah, well I will as long as I can.” Your hand is on the door, ready to shut it. “He was never supposed to be back in my life, Tommy. I need to move the fuck on.” 

“It was ten years ago.” His voice bites back, fueling your anger even further. He was tired of seeing the sadness in your eyes, especially now knowing his own blood had caused it.

You want to scream at him, terrible words you’d never be able to take back. You settle for something less. “I was a kid , Tommy. But this is on me, too. Let me deal with my own shit and keep the fuck out of my business.” You close the door without another word. You hear him sigh on the other side of the door before his footsteps sound down the porch. 

Alone.

Again.  

——————————-

He knew he’d fucked up the moment you walked out his door the first time.  But those big beautiful eyes pleading with him for an escape had made him a weak man. Those beautiful eyes with a bruise forming under one of them, a split in your lip where the blood was still drying. 

He tried to be mean, tried to get you to see this wasn’t the path you wanted to go down. Tried to give you cold looks, make himself bigger to intimidate you. But of course, it hadn’t worked. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

And then you’d kept coming back. Offering more than someone so young should be offering him. And he’d gotten weaker. 

He’d given you enough pills that he was starting to come up short on ration cards and cigarettes and booze. You’d offered him everything you’d had. 

Then you’d offered your mouth. How was he supposed to say no when you looked so desperate. He cursed himself internally as you begged. 

“Please, I want to.” You said, your eyes so wanting it made him weak. Yet his cock still stiffened in his jeans, his throat still dried at the thought of those pretty eyes looking up at him while you took him into your mouth. 

And he tries to talk you out of it; he wants to talk you out of it. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he doesn’t want to taint something so innocent. But then you step closer and palm his cock and it was all over for him. 

He’d hoped his mean words would be enough to drive you off, but he watches as you shift, your pupils dilating when he calls you a slut. Like you liked it. 

He paced his apartment after you left, anger and guilt bubbling in his chest as he replays the way he’d come down your throat, the vision of your watery eyes sending another wave of lust through him. 

He didn’t want to get attached, he knew you were too young. Yet he’d still handed you those pills with the harsh reminder to have a proper payment next time. 

Next time. 

He didn’t want there to be a next time, but he did. He’d felt powerful and wanted. Not that Tess didn’t want him, but not the way you did. Tess knew too much about him and yet not enough. And he loved her in some sort of his own way, though he’d never admit it and neither would she. He craved something sharper, something with a blade instead of comfort. Something that made his gut churn and his cock harden. 

Maybe he was sick. Maybe the fungus had somehow wormed its way in without actually taking over. Making him want to be mean, be horrible. Making him want to tear you limb from limb and watch you come undone under him. But of course it hadn’t, not the way he wished it had. He wanted his lust, his need, to be out of his control. Not proof of how lost he was in the harshness of this new world. 

——————————-

You fall back into the bottle like an old lover, drowning in it until you can't think. 

But you still think about him with bile rising in the back of your throat at the mere thought of him being so close. 

You were never supposed to see him again. You keep repeating that fact in your head as you tip the bottle to your lips over and over.

You’re brooding now, your lips set in a fine line as you mull over the options in your head. You could leave, but giving up the safety of Jackson was not an option. You could stay and ignore him, but knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. The only option that made sense would be to stay and confront him. Tell him you’ve moved on and want nothing to do with him. 

You stop with the lip of the bottle pressed to your lower lip, ready to take another drink. 

The sick thought of a life with Joel slams into the forefront of your mind against your own will. Being tangled in the sheets with him again, much older and wiser now. 

Early mornings, the sun barely shining through the kitchen window. You’d be at the stove making breakfast while he tends to the baby. A life filled with so much warmth it greys your memories.

You’re up and running to the bathroom before you can process it, violently rejecting half the alcohol you’d drank. You rest your head against the cold porcelain, panting heavily as your head spins. 

You don’t realize you’re crying until you have to catch your breath, sucking in a lungful of air as you sob. Every fiber of your being feels sharp, your body overestimated and hot. 

You’d never broken down like this, you’d never allowed yourself to fall into the dark hole that is your future. Especially scenarios that involved Joel. 

You try to collect yourself, taking a  few deep breaths, but the tears won't stop. 

You curse out loud, a broken and angry cry. 

You don’t want to feel this way. That weak, pathetic girl who gave into heartbreak so easily. That wasn’t you anymore. 

You push yourself up off the tiled floor, finding your balance, making quick work of brushing your teeth clean.  You make your way back into your living room, a determination you’d never felt before swelling up in your chest. 

Youpre going to talk to him. 

Today. 

Right now.

You grabbed your coat off the rack, almost angrily shoving it on as you build your courage. 

One arm in. 

You’re going to tell him what, exactly? 

The thought causes you to pause halfway putting your arm through the other sleeve. 

What were you going to tell him, exactly?

Going into this blind wasn’t a good idea. You shove your arm the rest of the way though, slowly zipping it up as the options rattle though your head. 

——————————-

The sickness inside him grew the longer he used you. A darkness that consumed in him the inside out. 

He craved you. Well, not you, exactly. The release, the power, the need. He was addicted to the way you started to relax further around him. 

It made his head spin. Alarm bells in his head anytime you were around. 

Then he’d seen that look in your eyes. 

A dangerous, all consuming heat. 

The first three months were easy. Two to three days a week with his cock down your throat. On your knees with such a pathetic look in your eyes it made him sick with need. 

So sick he needed to see you undone to ease the pain. 

You fell back onto your heels, wiping the cum from the corner of your mouth as he stared down at you, his heart twisting in his chest. 

“Up here, girl.” He pats his thigh after he tucks his cock away, watching the bewildered look in your eyes as you stand on shaky legs and straddle his thigh. His hands grip your waist like a lifeline as he pushes you down on his thigh harder, pushing the muscle up into you. 

You double over, your head falling against his shoulder. The whimper you let out almost breaks him. “Needy little thing. Bet that little pussy is just drippin’ for me, ain’t she?” He mutters as you begin to grind yourself against him, your breath fanning over the thin material of his tee. 

“Gonna come just from humpin’ my leg like the dog you are?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he refused to be kind. Knows a delicate thing like you couldn’t take the kindness from him without running with it. Because despite what you were doing, he still wanted to keep some semblance of innocence. 

He rocks you back and forth, his grip tightening as you gasp and moan into his ear, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It unfortunately brought him peace knowing you were just as affected as he was. 

His name slips past your lips and you’re coming, your forehead digging into his shoulder blade as you cry out. 

No words exchanged after, just the baggie of pills, one less than he’d usually give you. 

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. 

——————————-

Your feet carry you down the streets as you get lost in your thoughts. You aren’t exactly heading for Joel’s, you’re just walking. Thinking.

You’re lost in your own memories of the times you spent with him. You’re playing them over and over again, playing the look in his eyes over and over. He’d never looked at you with softness, never with care. 

Not until the day he’d fucked you properly the first time. You’d seen the flash of something in his eyes as he’d come, staring down at you. 

A flash of adoration, of care. A softness that jarred you so deep you had to choke back your tears. 

You swallow as you shake yourself out of the memory, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Anxiety pulling at your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You realize where you are a moment later. Three houses away from his . 

You steel yourself as you straighten your jacket, the cool summer night chilling you enough it sends a shiver up your spine. 

You march ahead, the alcohol you’d consumed early slowly leaving your system. You had a clear head now. 

You knew what you wanted to say.

You’re knocking on his door before you can think, stepping away as you hesitate. You can only hope he isn’t home. 

The door swings open, and suddenly you can’t breathe. You feel your throat tighten, your eyes widen, your stomach drop. 

He stares back at you with as much shock, his lips parting as he takes you in. Your name leaves his lips on a breath, a question that’s gone unasked. 

“Hi.” You say, your eyes flicking up to his after studying his face for a moment, your voice soft and unsure. 

“I thought you were dead.” He says, his voice sounding more angry than he means it. It almost sounds like an explanation. But all the regret and guilt bubbling in his chest made him choke on his words. 

It almost physically jostles you, your eyes flashing with a multitude of emotions. Anger, hurt, fear. A looping cycle until you can speak. “Well, huge disappointment, ain’t it.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” He sighs in exasperation, running a hand down his face. “Tommy told me you were here.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” You admit, scuffing your shoe across the coir mat in front of his door. 

He stares at you for a moment more, his mind processing finally seeing you after so many years. Of course he’d had a few days to prepare, but never did he think you’d show up at his door. 

Not after everything that happened. 

“Do you want to come in?” He finally asks, breaking the silent tension. 

You visibly relax, looking up at his face again. “If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to talk.” 

“S’what you deserve.” He adds quietly as he steps aside. 

Walking into his bare home felt too much like walking into that apartment all those years ago, anxiety rising in your throat. It wasn’t exciting anymore, not like it had been toward the end. 

You pause in the foyer, turning back to him as you swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry.”

The words stop him in his tracks, back turned to you, his hand still on the doorknob. When he finally turns around, his eyes don’t leave yours. “It’s not you who should be apologizing.”

You shake your head at him, wrapping your arms around your waist. You want to scream at him, want to cry. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m still gonna.”

He takes a step forward, and it takes everything in you to not do the same, your body still somehow drawn to his after all these years. “I was- I’m still an awful man, darlin’. I don’t deserve your apologies. I should be the one grovelin.” 

He sounds…broken. It tears you apart against your own will, there’s something in his voice that speaks of even greater loss than the last time you’d seen him. Expected in this world, but never an invited experience.

“Guess we both got things we regret.” You say, a slight bite to your voice you don’t mean. 

It’s like you physically watch him build his walls, his body stiffening as the silence stretches. 

“That’s not what I meant, Joel.” You say, the few seconds of silence becoming too much. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” You can feel the panic rising, knowing that if this was it, this was it. 

“But I do.” 

——————————-

“You’re destroying that girl.” 

He sets his coffee cup down harder than he means to, his eyes flashing up to Tess. “I ain’t doin’ anythin’ she ain’t askin’ for.” It’s been close to six months of this mess now. And he’d had his cock buried your cunt more times than he could count. He’d claimed it had been for him the first time. And it had, but the thought of having you come wrapped around him had pushed that sickness to the forefront of his mind. He needed it now. 

Tess just shakes her head at him, her arms crossed under her breasts. “You know that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?” He bristles, clenching his jaw. 

She knows this isn’t a fight she’ll win, but she still needs to make the point. “She needs to start paying.” 

“She is.” He snaps, his eyes down on his cup, his chest tightening. 

“No, Joel, you are.” She practically snarls, discontent rising in her throat. “You’re gonna hurt her, Joel. Shit, you already are.” She’s watching her best friend, her practical other half, slip to a place she knows she can’t pull him from. 

His anger rises further. She’s right. He knows she’s right. But he can’t bring himself to let you go. “She’ll start paying.” He says with finality, meeting Tess’s eyes. 

But they both know you won’t. 

“I’m going to end it.” The words come out before he can stop them. “Gotta job.” He adds gruffly. “We’ll be gone at least a month. We leave next week.” 

Tess stares at him for a moment, her brows furrowing further. “You need me for this one?” 

He’s taken aback by the vulnerability in her voice. His eyes flick back up to hers, seeing that sad look in her eyes. A look of forgiving admiration. “I’ll always need you, Tess.” 

——————————-

Those two little words send you spiraling in an instant, your world suddenly shifting. Your eyes flick back up to his, the same pain reflecting in them. “You don’t mean that.” Your voice is weak with tears you refuse to let fall. “Please tell me you don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t you?” He asks, his voice lowering just enough it’s almost a growl. He doesn’t know where the anger is coming from. Guilt piles on his chest like a thousand bricks after he sees your face drop. 

“I don’t.” Your eyes don’t stop searching his. “I did, at one point. Only thing I regret was not doin it right.”

“There was no right way.” He says; cracks in his walls. He steps toward you again, continuing past you to the kitchen. He’s pulling a beer from the fridge when your brain catches up and you follow him. 

“So you regret it all?” You ask, your voice steeled as you try to swallow your emotions, the conversation going a way you’d not thought it could.

His beer bottle hits the counter hard when he sets it down, his eyes landing on yours in return. “I regret the goddamn exchange. I don’t regret fuckin’ you.” He’s frustrated, you see it in the tension in his shoulders. “Christ.” A rough hand musses his curls as he threads his fingers through them. “I regret lettin’ it get so far that you got hurt.” 

His admission almost startles you, watching his forehead crease as he realizes what he’s said. “That was inevitable.” You both know it’s true, but it’s the first time you’ve heard it said aloud. 

His sigh is laden with guilt, self deprecation. “I was awful to you. I don’t get it, why’d you keep coming back?” 

It’s progress; the question. It’s talking. It’s admitting it wasn’t all about the pills.

“It was an escape. You knew that from the beginning.” You admit, shuffling a little, putting space between you again before he’s tilting his head toward the fridge, lifting his beer, your small nod enough of an answer.

He’s pulling out what looks to be a bottle of mead, the silence stretching as he contemplates your answer. You happily accept the glass he pours. 

“I wasn’t expecting it to end the way it did. I don’t think either of us did.” You break the silence as he leans back against the counter, still caught up in observing each other. 

His shoulders rise and fall in a slight shrug of agreement and acknowledgment. It’s all you get. 

“What are we doing here, Joel?” Your words are defeated, fingers clutching your glass like a lifeline. “I just want to know where we stand.” 

“You came to me, darlin’.” He points out rightfully. You had, but you were at least expecting something from him too. 

So you tell him that. 

“I don’t know what I want.” He says gruffly, his eyes flashing with an emotion you can’t identify. Something you’d never seen in him before. 

“Friendship?” You offer, but then grimace. “Sounds like we’re breaking up.” 

His answer is too quick for you, your throat constring. 

“We weren’t ever anythin’ to break up.” 

You swallow thickly, your courage swelling. “Why do you deny it? Even all these years later. We know it wasn’t just about the pills anymore.” You watch him stiffen, shuffling on his feet. 

“I’m not the type of man for that. I don’t do love, I don’t do relationships.” He’s harsh, the words biting at you and tearing you apart. 

“You did Tess.” You want to get a rise out of him, get him mad. You want him to yell, you want to yell. 

His eyes flash with something that nearly knocks you off your feet. A deep regret mixed with longing. You’ve seen that look in so many others. It instantly deflates you, your face falling in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Joel.” You mutter, sincerely. “Look, I don’t want to fight, I just want to figure this out so we can move on. I need closure. I never thought I’d get it, but I’m getting a second chance and I need you to just talk to me.” Your voice edges on desperation as he empties his glass, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

“What do you want from me?” 

You heave a sad sigh, sitting down at his kitchen table, he does the same after a few moments. “I don’t know, Joel. An apology? An explanation? I know I said something I shouldn’t have said, but why’d you leave?” 

“I had a job. Took me out for nearly three months. Wasn’t supposed to be that long.” He grumbles, his eyes watching his glass as he swirls the alcohol around in it, not taking another drink. “I looked for you.” There’s a thread of vulnerability in his voice. 

Your eyes snap up to his, shock registering on your face. You’d given up after two months, sneaking out with a group to try to find a better life. It had somehow worked, it had eventually led you here to Jackson. 

“Why?” 

The question leaves him quiet for a few long moments before he finally looks up at you. “I don’t know. I still don’t. I’m bad for you, darlin’. Nothin’ good can come of stayin’ ‘round me.” A heavy sigh before he continues. “I fail everyone. People get hurt around me all the time. I can’t do it to you. Again.” 

Your stomach flips at the sadness in his voice, the way his eyes won’t meet yours. You want to reach for his hand, you want to comfort him. But you’ve never been that for him. Comfort.

——————————-

You’re a mess, grinding your hips down onto his as he slaps your ass again. 

He’s got you bare from the waist down, grinding against his erection in his jeans. 

He wanted you like this, dripping and needy, begging for him to fuck you. 

And you love every second of it. The imbalance. Him still fully clothed while you’ve only got your ratty t-shirt on. 

“There ya go, good girl.” Joel growls into your ear, lips barely brushing your skin. “Know how much you like ridin’ me. Make yourself come and you can have my cock.” 

Another whimper, a pathetic little sound as your clit catches on the seam of his jeans just right, each roll of your hips skyrocketing you toward your orgasm. 

“I’m so close.” It’s mumbled against the fabric at his shoulder, your nose digging into his collarbone. 

Another slap to your ass sends you careening over the edge, practically soaking the front of his jeans. 

“There ya go, baby.” He mutters, his hands on your hips dragging you through your mess. 

You preen at his soft tone, your body shuddering as you ride your high. 

He’d gotten kinder in the five months you’d been doing this. He still held harsh words over you, but there would be flashes of moments where you saw flashes of something softer. 

There’d be days like today. 

Harsh movements and words melting into softness. He’d even started taking you to his bed. 

You curl yourself around him when he stands, nuzzling your nose into his neck as he carries you to his bedroom.

Thankful today was one of those days. 

You bounce on the mattress when you let go, trying to hide how much it was affecting you. How it made something warm swell in your chest, slowly growing with each passing day. 

You’ve got your shirt off in record time, watching him remove his clothes. He was meticulous with it, making you wait as he neatly undoes every button. 

You know he likes watching you squirm. Likes having that much power over you. 

He tuts at you when he goes to pull off his belt. “Made a goddamn mess on me.” 

You can’t help but smirk, letting your legs fall to expose yourself more to him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.” 

A snort leaves him before he can stop it, a cocky smirk on his face. “Quite the mouth on you today, darlin’. Need me to stuff it full?” 

A shake of your head as you scoot up the bed while he kicks off his boxers and jeans is enough of an answer for him. He kneels on the bed, tapping your ankle. “Uh uh, pretty girl. You’re riding it tonight.” 

You waste no time clambering to your knees, too eager for your own good. 

He clicks his tongue at you again, his eyes filled with mirth. “Little slut likes ridin’, don’t she?” 

You gnash your teeth playfully, straddling his hips when he finally lays back. You sink down with no preamble, taking him to the hilt. 

It always hurts, but you crave it now. A cruel reminder of how this man was carving his way to your heart. 

He lets you move the way he knows you need, his hands finding their home against your hips. With only the sound of skin on skin  filling the room. 

You’re the first to break the silence when pushes his hips on one of your downthrusts, a gasping cry of his name. 

He grits his teeth as your pussy flutters around him, thrusting up harder into you. “That’s my good girl.” He pants, his teeth against your neck. 

You’re coming before you realize you’re about to, your head falling back as you cry out his name over and over. The single word repeating in your head through your bliss.

His. 

His good girl. 

He’s shoving you off of him before you can register, your back hitting the bed. He kneels between your legs, his cum painting your pussy and lower stomach with just a few pumps of his fist. 

He cleans you up with his mouth, bringing you to orgasm three more times. 

You both know it’s for selfish reasons you’re doing this now. 

But you don’t talk about it. He’s given you the same amount of pills for almost two months. Since the first time he’d fucked you properly. 

It’s the first time you fall asleep in his bed, curled up.

Alone.

Again.