Tumgik
#every other group has one and joel has one too so it was about time
hraesvelg-r · 1 day
Text
His favorite
Teacher Joel x f!reader
Tumblr media
Summary: You’re a needy girl who needs to be taken care of, the pressure of studies weighting on your back making you sleep deprived. He is a reserved man in his 40’s thinking his age can’t attract a love interest into his life. And he’s needy too.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI . Unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, Possessive Joel, reader is in her 20’s, No specific description of reader body except the gender and outfit. Age gap, no outbreak, porn w/plot, very slightly mean Joel ( he just doesn’t show much fluff ), dirty talk, no use of y/n
w/c: 2.1k (this is short, see a/n )
a/n: this is my first smut hence why it’s short !!! PLEASE GIVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, I wanna learn !! Also give ideas if you have any <3 If this gets a few likes and some appreciation I might keep going with this so tell me if you’re intrested !!!
Tumblr media
His eyes makes you shiver every time he looks at you, like thunderbolt sliding along your spine all the way down to your core making it ache so bad for him. Your head hurts like hell, the sound surrounding you feeling like a bell ringing constantly in your ears as the students around you chats in group, thinking about their projects.
“Hey ? Are you okay ? You seem distracted.” The girl next to you interrupting the bell
“Yeah, head hurt that’s all” you feel your heart pumping in your head, and hear your blood stream in your ears.
“ You better focus, I don’t want my art grade to go down just because of you” she spits
You can’t stand the people around you. Ever since you started university a few years back, everybody turned into unfriendly assholes thinking having a second of inattention can ruin their whole year
They’re not wrong, in a way. You’ve been distracted since the start of the year by your art teacher, Mr.Miller, and you can’t think of anything but his brown hair with a pinch of white snow on the roots, his messy beard with a visible growth along the neck and his square glasses makings his jawline stand out more. You want to kiss it, bite it.
There you go again, not paying attention, but at least you forgot about your headache for a second.
You take a box full of pills and a water bottle half empty out of your handbag and put one in your mouth, swallowing it with the mid temperature water making you grin.
“ Is everythin’ okay here ?” He say, him, Mr Miller. “ Noticed you were making faces and didn’t seem to focus too much, need’a hand to the nurse office ?”. You can feel your cheeks turning red, a burning sensation matching with the burning between your thighs. That’s how bad your attraction to him is.
“ I’m okay, I took a pill but thanks” you nod, putting your head back between your hands.
You suddenly feel a large hand on your shoulder, making you lift your face again.
“You’re going to the nurse office, right now” he say with a harsh tone.
Tumblr media
He is now next to you, walking you to the nurse office. You start walking a bit wobbly, feeling his eyes on you making you forget how to walk normally. As you get near the office, his pace speeds up a bit to walk in front of you, reaching for the door to open it. He lets you in with a small gesture of his hand telling you to go in.
“Hi Mr. Miller, what’s the matter ?” The nurse says, giving him a huge smile showing her bright white teeth.
“student here lookin’ sick, I’m worried it might get worse with everybody around her chattin’” he says while putting a hand on your back between your elbows.
“I already took a pill, I’m going to be fine, just need a few minutes” your voice low, trying to avoid your head to hurt even more.
“Well I’d be happy to help but I’m going to close soon and you already took a pill, I’m afraid I can’t do anything else to ease the pain darling” she looks at you with a soft smile
She has always been so nice to you, and other people in general. All the times you came in with a bad migraine after a busy night drinking shots of vodka, or for period cramps, she’s been extremely helpful.
“I could take her in my office for the next 30 minutes. Class is ending in 5 minutes and I don’t have any class for half an hour”
You get taken aback once again from your thoughts, your eyes widening from what he just said. You can’t possibly stay in a room alone with just him, HIM, the man who haunts your day dream. The one who’s looking at you in class silently, while you wished he was touching you, feeling you right here on your desk
You’re out of the nurse office and on your way to your teacher’s office two hallways away. You can’t think straight because of your headaches. The both of you reach his door, he take the keys to his office from his back pocket on in his pants and open the door.
“ You wait here, don’t touch anythin’. You can sit on the couch or the office chair, whatever you prefer”
He leave the office, looking back at you when closing the door behind him, catching your gaze.
His office is well decorated. Plants sitting almost everywhere. A succulent on his desk and a few on some shelves with books; a monstera in the corner next to a small CD reader with a disk already in, and other plants you can’t name. His office is mostly brown with wood furniture. His desk is near the back of the room in front of tall windows with black curtains giving the room a dim light, a leather chair tall enough to support his broad back. The couch is near the door, it’s small but there’s enough space for two. The book shelves are on the left of his desk, on the other side some closed shelves with the CD reader on it and a box filed with disk in it. There’s a Lamp at the far end that is turned off.
After a few minutes of contemplating the room, the door opens up again with a large figure coming in.
“I brought you a hot chocolate, didn’t know if ya liked coffee so I went the safe way”
Your headache went down a bit, probably from scanning the room around you that is weirdly relaxing and cozy.
“Thanks, my head feels better by the way” you sit down on the couch.
“That’s good news” he says, putting the hot chocolate cup down on his desk. “ So uh, I didn’t wanna make this too embarrassing so I wanted to talk to you about the project we’re currently doing in class.” He leans on his desk, his butt on the edge of it.
“ ‘Noticed you didn’t seem to fit in well with your classmates, but this is a group project and you need’a work with them, or I’ll have to grade you down.”
He takes the cup from his desk, stands up and hands it to you. You reach for it when your fingers accidentally brushes his, making the hair on your arms and neck rise. He stands a few inches in front of you, crossing his arms.
“I know, sorry. It’s just that my friends aren’t in the same classes as me and I kinda struggle to make friends.” You sip from the cup.
He hasn’t moved, his eyes scanning your body before he notices his own movement and looks away.
“Still. You need to be careful, this could be bad for your grades” he goes back to his desk and turns your back to you, reaching for something on his desk and stars fidgeting with it. Rays of sun are peaking out from the curtains, highlighting his figure. A minute goes by, the both of you staying silent until-
“I noticed you looking at me during class, and this almost every time. Are you being distracted by me ?” He turns around.
Your eyes meet his, a hint of panic in yours.
“l uh…haven’t noticed” your heart pounding in your chest. You’re sure he can hear it. You stand up, anxiety making your legs feel numb.
He walks to you, standing close to your face.
“I’m warning you, this is not appropriate, you know that right ? “ his eyes on your lips, almost devouring them.
“Well, what if I am ? “ you look in his eyes, hoping that this is going the way you want it to go. If not, you will just keep dreaming about him in class and in your bed with your hand down I’m your panties
“I wouldn’t wanna risk anything if I were you darlin’” his breath hitting your face. You know he wants to touch, feel your whole body against him.
“We can just…be careful” your eyes almost begging
“Yeah, you’d be my little secret huh ?” his hands grips your waist, making you gasp, the burning sensation between your thighs growing bigger.
His lips suddenly crash onto yours, teeth touching as he brings you closer to him making your hips grind against his. Moans escape his mouth and yours between kisses.
He pushes you to the nearest wall keeping his lips on yours, reaching to lock the door with a swift movement.
“I’ve been waiting for this for so fuckin’ long “ he grabs your shirt and takes it off, while you zip off your skirt and toss it away.
“Fuck Mr. Miller…are you sure you wanna do this ?” You say while trying to catch your breath.
“I’m more than sure Angel, as long as you’re down for it I’ll do anything you want”
At this point your headache is long gone and forgotten and all you think about is him, him him him.
“Also please, call me Joel” he say as he grips your left leg and put it around his waist, making it easier for him to slide his hand down your cunt.
“Fuck you’re so fucking wet…Been’ wanting me the whole time huh ? “ he grins as his fingers rub against your clit, slowly building up your arousal.
“Please, please just fuck me already” your moans becoming louder and your breath going faster as your hands try to unbuckle his belt.
“Jesus you’re so needy, but you need to be quite, or else we’re gonna get caught, you don’t want that huh ?” He ask as he slides two fingers into your cunt, making you gasp.
“Fuck Joel, “ hearing you say his name is making him go feral. He lift you up in his arms, your legs around his waist as he turn around to put you on his desk, tossing some of his stuff to the ground including his poor little succulent plant.
“When’s the last time someone fucked your pretty cunt, huh ?” He takes his belt away, unzip his pants and take his hard growth into his hand, then slowly rubs it against your wetness.
“It’s been way too long, that’s why you need to stop waiting and fuck me already “
He obeys and starts grinding against your cunt, until his length slips into your core , stretching you out
“fuck you’re so tight Angel” he pants as his hips starts trusting into you, going deeper and deeper.
Your hands grips to his desk, desperately searching for hold as your body moves up and down.
“Shit Joel I think im gonna cum already” you say as his trust are getting deeper touching your sensitive spot inside.
“I wanna taste ya’ on my tongue” he comes out of you, leaving you empty, pussy clenching around nothing as he comes down on you. His breath hits the inside of your thighs, hot and fast until his tongue finally touches your swollen clit.
You gasp loudly, the fleshy part of your hand in your mouth to cover the filthy sound of you enjoying the tongue of your teacher on yourself.
“You taste so good baby, I’m gonna need this as a dessert every fuckin’ night”
He pushed two digits inside of you moving slowly to build your high until you finally cum, covering his fingers with your slit as he takes them inside of his mouth and licks it off.
“Fuck” you pant, coming down of your high with your heart racing maybe too fast
You know he probably ruined you for any other man, as short as it was, his cock was surely way bigger than you thought.
He stands up, putting his pants and belt back on.
“wait you didn’t finish, maybe I can help you out” you say, grabbing his tie making him come closer to your face, nose almost touching.
“Maybe for next time, sweetheart.”
Next time ? Oh. My. God. Next time.
“You wanna see me again?”
“Why not ? ‘s long as we keep this secret then I’m fine in fucking your here ‘n there in my office” the side of his lips lifting.
“ I’m down but, I’m not sure I just want to be some kind of doll to you.”
Your love for him is growing, there’s no doubt. But you want more than just sex here and there. You take a pen from a cup on his desk and a note from the note pad to write your number down and put it in the pocket of his buttoned up shirt.
“Well, was scared to ask but yeah, maybe we can go further than just some filthy sex” you look in his eyes, a smile showing on your face.
“What about going out to the restaurant just down the street then maybe I’ll let you suck me off ‘til I cum”he say, smiling back at you, exiting the room.
54 notes · View notes
polaroidpascal · 20 days
Text
paradise city || joel miller
Tumblr media
AO3 || MASTERLIST
pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader
summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.
tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc
fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol (picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)
WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)
a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3
Tumblr media
You and your friends have had a week. 
Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.
Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them. 
“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”
The complaining did help them destress a bit.
You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers. 
You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.
“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.
You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.
“No. not yet,” you tell her.
“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.
“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.
Tumblr media
The bar is crowded. 
You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show. 
Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.
The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music. 
The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest. 
Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion. 
The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.
But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well. 
He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…
Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place
I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white
But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth
…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?
And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—
“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.
You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?
You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.
He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.
He put on a show. All just for you.
Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.
The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.
You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you
The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.
I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself
He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.
I wanna fuck you like an animal  // I wanna feel you from the inside  // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God
He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.
You have to have this man.
Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.
When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.
“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.
“So…?”
“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.
You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”
“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.
“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”
“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”
You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.
Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”
As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.
You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.
“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”
“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.
“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.
“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.
“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.
You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”
“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.
Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.
You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.
He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”
“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”
“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”
You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”
“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”
You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.
“How so?”
“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”
His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”
“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”
He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.
You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”
You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.
“No, we took an Uber.”
“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”
Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…
You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.
“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.
A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.
Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.
He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.
“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”
You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.
The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.
You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”
He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.
You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you. 
He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.
Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.
He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.
His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”
Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.
His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.
His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there. 
“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”
You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.  
You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.
You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.
He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.
His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right. 
“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.
He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.
Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down. 
His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly. 
“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.
You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink. 
“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.
He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.
Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.
When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.
When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.
Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”
“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”
“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”
A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”
Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”
Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”
His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.
You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”
He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”
He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side. 
He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart. 
You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.
Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.
He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”
You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.
You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.
“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself. 
But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth. 
Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”
You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”
“You sure, darlin’?”
“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod. 
He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.
His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.
He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”
You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.
“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.
His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.
You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—
He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.
You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.
“Get back on the bed,” he demands.
So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp. 
He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”
You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.
He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”
You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.
“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.
You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.
You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.
“What d’ya mean?”
“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”
He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.
You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.
“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.
You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”
He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed. 
“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.
He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.
“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”
The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.
You need to find a way to keep this man.
The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.
You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek. 
He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”
“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.
He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”
You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.
“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.
“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat. 
“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust. 
“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.
“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it. 
“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you. 
You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.
You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…
“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.
“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.
“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”
“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.
You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.
My good girl…
That one little word finally hits you after a minute. 
My.
His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.
“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.
“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.
“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.
He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.
Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.
When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.
You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”
You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.
“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.
“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.
“Want you to come for me… Please…”
“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes. 
“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.
“Where, baby? Want it inside?”
“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.
“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”
You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.
“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.
Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.
“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”
Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.
Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.
Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.
“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.
You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”
“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”
You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”
“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”
“But I made a mess—”
“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”
You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.
He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.
“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.
“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”
“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.
Tumblr media
When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.
He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.
Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...
You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:
You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.
All yours.
Tumblr media
a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!
569 notes · View notes
joelsgreys · 11 months
Text
a safe haven l six
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
Tumblr media
series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter
summary: Joel opens up to you about a very traumatic loss; he makes a confession about his feelings towards you; you make a confession of your own and it leads to something more.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. fluff, infidelity, Joel and reader are having a full blown affair at this point, angst, talks of child loss (Sarah), lots of feelings come to the surface, two idiots realize they are in love. SMUT. oral sex (m receiving), size mention bc i will always be convinced our man is packing) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up pls), reader discovers she likes praise, creampie.
word count: 8.4k
Caught up in a web
I was gettin’ kind of used to stayin’ there
and out of the blue, I fell for you
now I remember what it feels like to fly
you give me butterflies
August 2024
The next two and a half weeks that had passed by had done so without major incident, but things had taken a somewhat complicated turn.
You and Joel still manage to see one another a handful of times even with the exhausting amount of hours he’s been putting into his patrol duties, though it isn’t nearly as often as either of you wanted or would have preferred. But there’s no other choice.
After numerous sightings of a group of potential raiders earlier on in the month, Tommy has no choice but to assign every last competent, able bodied patrol person, including himself, to work double shifts to ensure the safety and security of Jackson. He and Joel had come across the remnants of a campsite just about fifteen miles south of the settlement and they worried the group was hiding out, planning a violent, ambush attack on the community when it was least expected. Tommy had done his absolute best to keep the word from spreading throughout the commune to avoid causing a panic, but he found himself having to fess up when people went up to him and all but furiously demanded to know the truth—the real reason behind why their loved ones were now being asked to be on the other side of wall twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.
Joel, who you’d come to learn is one of the sharpest and strongest shooters out of everybody in Jackson besides his younger brother, reluctantly took on the role of lead patrolman. He had been assigned an absurd amount of double shifts to work, making it almost impossible for you to see each other. You’d understood he had no choice but to comply, but still—that didn’t make the situation any easier to deal with. Both of you tried to make the very best of what little time you managed to get together, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. As if not being able to see Joel wasn’t agonizing enough for you, the fact that he was out on the other side of the wall scared the hell out of you. The only way to keep yourself from losing your goddamn mind was to distract yourself.
You did everything that you could to keep your mind off Joel being out there. Burying yourself deeply into your work helped for the most part.
Besides that, Joel had asked you as a favor to him to keep a watchful eye on Ellie in light of his absence. You’d spend most of the day with her in the stables, you would have lunch with her in the mess hall along with Dina—in the evening, you would go home and make dinner early enough to fix an extra plate of food for her so she had a nutritious homemade meal to enjoy instead of two decades old canned ravioli. You would take it over to her place and drop it off before Luke came home from the clinic. Ellie waited until it was late in the evening and he was asleep to return the plate back to you, and the two of you would take a lengthy, late night stroll through the town, keeping each other company for a while before heading off to bed. She hadn’t seemed to be all too concerned about Joel, but then again, Ellie had known better than you did that he could take care of himself out there just fine. If anything, you spending so much time with her had been more for your benefit than hers, and you started to suspect that just like Joel had asked you to keep an eye on Ellie, he had also asked her to keep an eye on you too. After all, you had made it abundantly clear to him that you were nervous about him being out on patrol while there was a possible threat looming in the shadows.
By the time the middle of August came around, no additional traces of the group had been found—they seemed to have vanished into thin air, causing a wave of relief to sweep through the town. Tommy and Maria finally decided to ease up and end the double shift assignments, allowing every single patrolman and woman to return to their normally scheduled work rotations. Joel went back to his usual early morning and afternoon patrol hours, which meant that the both of you could resume your clandestine meetings out behind the barn underneath the stars.
“I missed you,” you say, sighing out contentedly as you lean back against him.
You and Joel are sitting out on the large, vacant patch of field behind the barn, his soft, green flannel blanket acting as a barrier between your bodies and the itchiness of the grass the animals would graze on during the day. You’re nestled in between his long legs, your back against his warm chest as the two of you share the delicious, ripe peach he’d brought along with him as a surprise for you.
“Mm, probably not as much as I was missin’ you, sweet girl,” Joel replies with a hum before taking a bite of the fruit. Noticing there’s only a couple bites of it left, he reaches his arm around and holds it out for you, his bulging bicep straining against the sleeve of his faded black t-shirt. “Here, darlin’. Want you to go on and have the rest.”
“These will be out of season in a couple of months.” Giving a sad little pout to nobody in particular, you sigh again and sink your teeth into the peach. Through a small mouthful, you realize, “Who knows when we’ll ever get peaches around here again.”
Joel’s lips meet the spot on your neck right behind your ear and you feel him grin. “S’alright with me. I’ve got my sweet, perfect little peach right here. And I’ve got her all year round.”
You playfully elbow him in his chest. After polishing off the rest of the peach, you lick off the pit and toss it out into the distance.
“Didn’t think you’d be the type to litter,” he teases.
“It’s biodegradable,” you retort with a tiny laugh as you leaned your head back against his shoulder and gaze up, admiring the stars that sprinkle the velvet night skies. “Or at least, I think it is. Come to think of it, I never paid much attention in life science when I was in FEDRA school. It was my least favorite subject.”
You gather your hair in your hand, bringing it over your shoulder to keep it out of Joel’s face. 
“Mm,” he whispers, licking his lips as his eyes fall to the delicate flesh of your exposed neck. He ghosts his mouth over your pulse point and his warm breath fans against your cool skin, prompting your eyes to flutter closed. “Temptin’ me on purpose now, ain’t you, baby?”
“I would never do such a thing,” you object in an innocent tone and he immediately clocks the smirk behind it. A comfortable silence falls over the both of you and while you’d normally welcome the peaceful, tranquil moment with him, tonight it feels impossible. You had gone so long without Joel over the last couple of weeks—at least, it had certainly felt long—and you realize one of things you’d missed most about him was the sound of his voice. “Ask me a question, Joel.”
“What kinda question can I ask, darlin’?”
Feeling brave, you offer, “You can ask me anything you want. No limits.”
Humming curiously to himself, he tries to think of something he hasn’t asked you before. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Really, Joel?” You snort, trying to mask your laughter as he rests his chin on your shoulder, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin as he presses his cheek against yours. “I just told you that you can ask me anything you want and that’s your question? What’s my favorite color?”
“Yeah,” he answers, simply. “I wanna know what it is.”
He turns his head, lifting it off your shoulder to brush a gentle kiss to your temple. Joel could not, for the life of him, even remember the last time he’d shared this kind of physical tenderness with anybody. Forehead kisses, holding your hand, all sorts of little tokens of affection he didn’t think he could still be capable of giving to someone came to him so naturally with you—you had brought out an entirely different side of him, one that had been buried beneath his rough exterior for well over two decades and the part that Joel still can’t quite wrap his own head around is that you’d done it with such ease. He’d go as far as to say that you had done it without even trying.
“So?” Joel prompts you. “What is it?”
“It’s brown,” you answer. 
“Brown? Why brown?”
“Because. It’s earthy, it’s warm—and your eyes are brown,” you state, grinning to yourself as you feel his loud laugh rumble through his chest and against your back. “What about you? I mean that’s if Joel Miller even has a favorite color,” you giggle teasingly, placing a hand on one of his denim clad legs. You then add, “Actually, I’m kind of curious now. Do you have a favorite color, Joel?”
Joel hesitates, momentarily holding onto his answer.
“I do. It’s purple,” he finally responds after a brief bout of silence. “Purple’s my favorite color.”
“Purple,” you repeat after him, unable to mask the surprise in your tone. “Really?”
Joel chuckles. “What? That weird or somethin’?”
“Uh, sort of. For one, you just don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would have a favorite color in the first place—and even if you’d told me you did I would have never guessed that it was purple,” you admit, sheepishly. You trace a small circle around his knee with your finger and curiously ask him, “Why is purple your favorite color?”
“‘Cause. That’s my daughter’s favorite color.”
You scoff playfully. “Come on, Joel. Ellie’s favorite color sure as hell isn’t purple. Her favorite color is green. But red’s a close second.”
When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear him despite being in such close proximity. 
“I ain’t talkin’ about Ellie.”
At first, it doesn’t quite register, but after a moment of processing, the pieces click together in your mind. Joel has another daughter. Your smile vanishes and you slowly turn around between his legs to face him. Looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, you utter, “What?”
“Her name was Sarah,” he confesses, softly. 
Was. 
Your throat dries at his use of past tense.
Because you know exactly what that means. 
Opening your mouth to speak, words fail you and you close it. You suddenly remember the way he would tap dance around certain details of his first life in Texas. Whenever he would speak about his life before the outbreak, he would be cautious, careful to watch himself and his words. You’d known Joel had been keeping something from you, something he wasn’t ready to disclose to you for one reason or another—but never would you have guessed that him having a daughter would be the secret he had been hiding.
By now, you’ve turned your body around and you kneel in front of him, sitting back onto your heels. Not wanting to push him too hard or too fast, you clasp your hands together in your lap and wait silently—patiently—for him to continue when he’s ready.
“Sarah’s favorite color was purple. She’d wear it all the time. Her backpack, her school supplies, they all had to be purple or she wouldn’t use them. When she was nine years old, she begged me to paint the walls of her bedroom purple. One day, I took her to Home Depot after school to look at all the different shades.” He laughs, musing, “Didn’t know there could be so goddamn many of them. Anyhow, I told her I’d think ‘bout it. I went back to the store the next day while she was at school, bought a couple cans of the lavender shade I knew she’d like the best and by the time she got home, I had it all painted for her,” he explains, a sadness glazing over the fondness of the memory. “She loved purple. It was the color of the t-shirt she was wearin’ the last time we were together on the night of the outbreak.”
Your heart sinks. “Joel, you don’t have to tell me—”
“S’alright, peach. I wanna tell you ‘bout her,” Joel assures you, reaching out for your hand and taking it in his own. “I trust you, baby. Trust you more than enough to tell you ‘bout Sarah.”
Nodding, you lace his fingers together with your own. 
“I was never married,” he starts to say, knowing whether or not he’d also had a wife before the world ended would be a question on your mind—that’s if it wasn’t already. “I was never with Sarah’s mom. I met her in high school and we’d been friends up through senior year of college. We started to date then, but after a year, we realized we weren’t a good fit together. We broke up and a couple months later, we found out she was pregnant with Sarah. Her mom and me, well we both made an agreement to co-parent her as best as we could. Just a few months shy of our daughter’s first birthday, she realized she couldn’t handle raisin’ a child at our age. I tried real hard to convince her to stick around and keep tryin’ but I couldn’t get her to stay. She bailed out on me, but the worst part of it was that she bailed out on Sarah.”
He stops for a moment and you give his hand a gentle, but firm, encouraging squeeze.
“As if bein’ a father to a baby girl didn’t scare the shit of me, being a single father made it all feel so much scarier, y’know? I was young, in my early twenties. I was always workin’ so damn much, tryin’ to build my construction business with Tommy. Now I had this tiny little person to take care of, and I honestly didn’t know how the fuck I was gonna do it.” Joel pauses, his sixth sense detecting that your knees have started hurting from the position you’re in. He closes his legs together and pulls you to sit on his lap. “It wasn’t easy and I probably made a lot more mistakes than I’d like to admit. But somehow, I made it work and it turned out alright. Sarah was my best friend in the whole entire world. Hell, I loved her more than fuckin’ life itself. She could be a handful, but she was perfect in every single way. She was my sweet little butterfly, my ray of sunshine on even the darkest of days.”
Swallowing harshly, you ask, “What happened to her, Joel?”
Joel sighs, resting a hand on your bare thigh. His fingers skim the scalloped hem of your floral shorts. “It was the first night of the outbreak. We were tryin’ to get out of Austin—me, Sarah, and Tommy. We didn’t know where the hell we were gonna go or what we were gonna do, but we just needed to get far away from the city. We got separated at one point when our pickup truck got into an awful wreck. I had Sarah in my arms ‘cause she couldn’t walk—she’d broken her ankle in the crash. Tommy told me to get her to the river where she’d be safer, said he’d find his way over there to meet us.”
Your heart begins to pound. Part of you almost doesn’t want to hear how his story is going to end—because in a way, you already know how it’s going to end. But if Joel is telling you about Sarah, it’s for a reason. He’s opening up to you, the way you’ve opened up to him. He’s sharing his heartbreaking loss because he trusts you—and Joel Miller doesn’t trust anyone that’s not his family.
Draping an arm around his shoulders, your fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck as you anxiously wait for him to recount the event that follows next, the event that will surely shatter your heart into pieces.
“The streets were crawlin’ with infected. One caught us in its sights and chased after us. Tried to dodge it through a buildin’ but it followed us, runnin’ us out into a field just a mile from the river. I didn’t think we were gonna make it—then, a soldier came outta nowhere and shot it dead. It felt like some kinda fuckin’ miracle. I thought we were lucky. I thought we were gonna get some help.” His voice grows hoarse, thickening with emotions he’s not too sure he can hold back this time. “I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was given the order by his command to kill us both, even though we weren’t sick. I tried tellin’ him over and over we weren’t infected, but it didn’t matter. He shot at us. He grazed me in my side, but Sarah—he got her. Got her multiple times. I was foolish enough to think it hadn’t been fatal. I tried gettin’ her up, begged Tommy to help me—but it was useless. Sarah died in my arms. Took her very last breath in some field outside of Austin.”
“God,” you whisper shakily, a sharp, painful ache shooting through your chest at the thought of him cradling his daughter’s lifeless body in his arms, her purple shirt soaked in crimson. “Joel, I don’t—I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.” Willing yourself to keep it together for his sake, you hold the back of his neck in your hand, fingers coaxing him to look up and meet your gaze.
“After that, I just didn’t see any point in carryin’ on anymore. I’d lost the most important thing in the fuckin’ world to me. I couldn’t see in the darkness now that my little ray of sunshine was gone. So, a couple nights later, I picked up my gun and tried to end my own life,” he confesses. Even though it’s been over twenty years, traces of shame still linger behind. “Put the barrel of a pistol to my temple. Told myself it was what I wanted to do and I pulled the trigger.”
Without thinking, you reach towards the scar on his right temple with your opposite hand, the one you’d noticed for the first time before he had kissed you in Ranger’s stall. You lightly brush your fingertips over the jagged, raised patch of skin. You’d wanted to ask him about it on several different occasions, but never had the courage to actually do it. Now that you know he’d gotten it from his own hand, it just makes the entire thing all that much more heart wrenching.
“M’sure you’ve guessed it by now, but I missed. I flinched and I missed. For twenty fuckin’ years, all I could do was wish I hadn’t missed. Spent a long time hatin’ myself for missin’ what should’ve been the easiest goddamn shot of my entire life. Then, Ellie came along.” Joel moves his hand, gingerly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “And not long after her, I met you, sweet girl. The two of you came at me outta nowhere.” He can’t help but chuckle, remembering his first encounter with Ellie, the way she had flown at him with her switchblade clutched in hand only to end up thrown against the wall. “You both came outta left fuckin’ field and brought out sides of me I thought had been dead and buried for years now. You and her, you mean more to me than I can fuckin’ explain. You’re the most important things in the world to me now.”
Your breath catches in the back of your throat at his declaration. It’s not like you didn’t know Joel cared about you—of course you do. But the extent to which he did had been something of a mystery, at least up until this very moment.
“I didn’t know I could feel this way ‘bout anyone again,” Joel admits. He slides his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “Openin’ up my heart to Ellie, that was one thing—but openin’ it up to you has been somethin’ else, peach. I don’t think you even realize the hold you’ve got over me and my heart. What really fuckin’ gets me is that you don’t even gotta try. All you gotta do is look at me with those eyes and give me that pretty smile of yours and I’m fuckin’ done for. You’ve got me wrapped all the way around your little finger and then back again, baby. Y’need to know that I’d do just ‘bout fuckin’ anythin’ for you. You understand that?”
You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.
“Joel,” you stammer his name, your nerve endings feeling like they’ve been lit on fire. “You really need to stop talking like that.”
“Why’s that?”
You don’t even think—you just blurt the words out before you can stop them.
“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”
The tables turn and it’s now Joel who is at a complete loss for words.
Embarrassed by your own admission, you begin to ramble nervously. “Look, I know it’s ridiculous. We haven’t known each other long, but I can’t help it. And maybe it’s for the best if you know where I stand and how I feel. You still have time to back out of this—”
Still holding your chin, Joel carefully brings your face toward his, silencing you by slotting his lips to yours. He moves to cup the side of your face in his palm, forgetting about any kind of softness as he greedily licks into your mouth. He’s kissed you plenty of times before and you thought you knew all of his kisses well enough by now, but you’d been wrong. This one is different from all the rest. His lips move against yours in a possessive manner, but not the kind of possessive you’re used with Luke. No, with Joel, it isn’t a possessive stemming from control and abuse, rather, it’s out of pure need, want, and desire. Even as his mouth devours yours, there’s still a sweet, loving tenderness to it.
“Joel,” you whimper against him. “I—”
You falter, unable to say those three words. There’s something holding you back—maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s knowing that once you say them, you can’t take them back. Not that you would. But it’s a big step, and you’re not quite ready to say it, even if it is how you feel.
And he feels the same.
He deepens the embrace.
I love you.
Joel might not be ready to say it either, but he hopes the way he’s holding you and swelling your lips with his puts your mind at ease and reassures you that you’re not the only one who’s falling.
You shift yourself in his lap, moving to straddle him, your legs on either side of his thighs as your mouths remain fused to one another. He reaches and grabs for every single part of you that he can, running his hands all over you from your shoulders down to your hips, dragging lower until they’re unabashedly cupping the delicious curves of your ass. You whimper in his mouth again and the moment your lips part, his tongue takes advantage, darting inside to start the heated, unhinged dance with your own.
You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers curling around tight around fistfuls of his t-shirt in an attempt, and a very desperate one at that, to keep yourself planted on the ground. You hold on trying to keep yourself tethered to planet earth, but with the way his searing hot mouth moves with yours in perfect unison, it’s impossible. You’re free falling without a safety net, and you don’t even care. 
Seating yourself completely on his lap, you feel the bulge of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans and the wetness pools between your thighs.
Letting go of his shirt, you reach around him and bury your fingers in his curls, lightly tipping his head back as your tongue explores his mouth like it’s the first time all over again. Joel tastes like the sweet fruit you’d shared, a strange mix when combined with the mint from his toothpaste. But there’s something else he tastes like and you’ve tasted it several times before, however even after all this time, you still can’t figure out what it could be. It tastes like Joel. That’s the only way you can think of to describe it. It just tastes like Joel and it’s addicting and you want it on your lips for the rest of your life.
After a minute, you and Joel finally force yourselves apart, your lungs and his begging for oxygen. 
“Joel,” you choke his name between heavy pants for air.
“Baby.” He’s about as breathless as you are, possibly even more. “Baby, please. I’ve gotta have you,” he pleads, hands now splayed on the small of your back. “Please. I fuckin’ need you. Or else m’gonna lose my goddamn fuckin’ mind.”
“Barn,” you rasp out, releasing your grip on his hair. 
Confused, Joel’s eyebrows knit together. “Barn?”
“Barn,” you repeat as you climb off of him.
You’re unsteady—incredibly unsteady. Knees wobbling, legs trembling and feeling like they’re seconds away from giving out underneath you. But you hold a hand out to Joel, exhaling a tiny, labored grunt as you help him up off the ground. Grabbing his blanket, you give it a shake before taking his hand in yours and leading him around to the front of the barn. Dropping his hand, you use both of yours to slide one of the double doors open an inch or two and take a peek inside to make sure the coast is clear. You then slide the door open a bit further, just wide enough for you and Joel to slip inside. 
“Wait a minute,” he chuckles as he watches you slide the door closed. “How’d y’know it would be unlocked?”
“I didn’t know it would be unlocked. I was just hoping we’d get lucky,” you admit, beckoning him for him to follow you. “Come on.”
Through various cracks and gaps and open windows, enough moonlight filters into the barn, shining a decent amount of light into the structure—enough so that it’s not pitch black and you two are left stumbling around in complete darkness.
Joel glances around. The last time he’d been inside the barn was back in June for the summer party. He remembered it having been cleaned and cleared out for the event and now, two months later, it’s packed to the rafters with countless bales of hay. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But as he walks, piles of loose dried grass and herbs crunch underneath his boots and he remarks, “There is fuckin’ hay everywhere, darlin’.”
“Um, yeah. What else do you keep in a burn?” you jeer lightly, earning yourself a small scoff from him. “Hey, at least they don’t keep sheep and other livestock in here, Joel. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers, right?”
Joel snorts, masking his laughter at the thought of walking into a barn full of animals instead of an absurd amount of hay. “Yeah, guess that’s fair enough,” he concedes. “Might kill the mood if that were the case.”
You lead him over towards one of the far corners of the barn, your eyes falling to a large, almost bed sized pile of loose hay. Draping the blanket over it, you stand upright and then freeze, your body flooding with nerves once you realize what’s inevitably about to happen between you and Joel.
You hadn’t done anything with him since the night he’d pleasured you out on his front porch. Of course you wanted more, so much more, but that doesn’t make you any less nervous. You’re so much younger, hardly have any experience—you’ve only ever been with one man, and even then, it hardly counts. It’s been such a long time since you’d found sex something you wanted, something you enjoyed. Whenever Luke touches you, it makes your skin crawl, but when Joel Miller touches you?
It sets you ablaze, leaves you needing more of it. Of him.
Part of you wonders if your touch makes him feel the same.
What if it doesn’t?
His arms wrap around your waist from behind and you exhale the shaky breath you’d been holding.
“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Joel murmurs softly into your hair, sensing your pensiveness. 
“I’m just really nervous,” you blurt out.
“S’okay,” he says, quietly. “M’kinda nervous too.”
You’re slightly taken aback. “Really? What are you nervous about?”
Joel rests his chin on your shoulder. “We’ve both crossed a lot of lines already, peach. But this one? S’gonna be the one we can’t come back from,” he tells you. “Might be what seals the deal between us, y’know?”
Slowly, you turn around to face him. “Yeah, I know,” you respond, peeking up at him through the thickness of your eyelashes. “And I know I should care, but I don’t. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“S’wrong,” he agrees with a tight nod. “But I don’t care either, sweet girl.”
Before you can utter another word about it, Joel crashes his mouth onto yours. He snakes one of his arms around you and lifts the other, cupping the back of your neck as he ravages you with his lips and tongue, kissing you with such urgency, such desperation that it melts you into a whimpering mess in his arms. Your mind is hopelessly lost in a thick, cloudy haze—all you can focus on is breathing him into your lungs like he’s the air you need to stay alive. His hands fall down to the hem of your white camisole and his mouth abandons yours to pull it over your head. He discards it, tossing it over his shoulder somewhere behind him. He then pushes your shorts and underwear down your legs and you kick them off along with your shoes. You’re now standing before him completely naked. Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you take the hem of his t-shirt and clumsily tug it over his head, eliciting a laugh from him. You throw it somewhere over his shoulder to join yours and your hands eagerly meet his warm, bare chest for the first time. Biting down on your bottom lip, your trembling fingertips brush over several bumps and rough, raised patches of skin that you know have to be his scars. He has so many, and all you want to do is kiss each and every single one of them, but Joel has other ideas. He pulls you into his arms, flush against his chest, and he holds you tightly.
More often than not, Joel feels as if you’re not real—worries that you’re just a perfect, flawless figment of his own imagination. He doesn’t know whether or not you’ve caught onto what he’s been doing, but he steals moments like these whenever he can, moments where he stands there and takes you into his arms and holds you without saying a word. It’s his own way of reminding himself that not only are you real, but you’re real and you’re his. Joel doesn’t care about the fucking ring on your finger. He doesn’t care that you’re promised to another man. He doesn’t care that he can only hold you in secret, that he can’t walk next you down the streets of Jackson in broad daylight and hold your hand while doing so. He doesn’t get to share a roof or a bed with you and he doesn’t get to join you for dinner at the table every night—maybe this isn’t how he preferred things to be, but he just doesn’t care. 
It doesn’t matter to him.
Nothing matters to him except for one thing.
Your heart belongs to him, it bleeds with his name.
You’re his. You’re all fucking his, and only his, in all the ways that truly matter.
And he is yours. 
Joel chokes out a strained groan as you press your plush lips softly against his neck, your tongue swiping across his pulse point. You firmly suckle his flesh, hard enough to break the tiny blood vessels underneath his skin and once you’ve left your mark, you trail your lips down his neck, eliciting another strangled noise from him. You sweep them over his collarbone, then down the length of his chest, showing each scar you come across with the affection it deserves. Your teeth nip and scrape at the softness of his belly and you quickly discover that it’s one of your favorite parts of him. Lowering yourself to your knees, your nose skims over the trail of hair below his navel and your fingers suggestively skim the waistband of his jeans.
His eyes widen. “You ain’t gotta do that—”
“I already told you, Joel. I want to,” you assure him, your voice low, sexy, filled with a lust for him and only for him. You make yourself comfortable, a challenging feat since you’d overshot the blanket and are now kneeling directly on the itchy, dried grass. It doesn’t matter, though—you’re more than willing to deal with discomfort for him. You place a hand on his hip and peer up at him. Your eyes meet his in the milky white moonlight. “You made me feel good. Please, just let me do the same for you?”
The nod he gives you is so subtle, so quick, that you almost don’t catch it.
He’d grown tense beneath your touch. 
You can’t help but laugh softly—not at him, but at the fact that he doesn’t realize that pleasuring him isn’t a want for you, it’s a need.
Gently, you pat his hip. “Relax, honey,” you encourage him, surprised at how the pet name rolls off your tongue with such natural ease.
Your hands reach for the button of his jeans and you swiftly undo it, then tug at his zipper. You start pulling the denim down his legs. Joel helps you, kicking off his worn, black leather boots before stepping out of his jeans, kicking the article of clothing off to the side. Heart racing in anticipation, you slide his dark boxer briefs down his legs, but stop short, breath hitching the second you feast your eyes on his cock. You’ve felt him through his clothes before, knew he was well endowed, but you’re still shocked to see just how big he really is. The mere thought of his hard, thick length filling you up and stretching your cunt makes your entire body ache with need. You can’t be certain how he’ll fit, but truth be told, he could tear you in half and you would thank him for it. 
Joel draws in a quick, sharp breath when he feels your small hand wrap around his base. Just as fast as he’d breathed it in, it’s knocked back out of his lungs when your other hand joins in and you run your fingertips along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock. He twitches in your hands—you’ve hardly touched him, haven’t even put your mouth on him, and he’s already teetering on the edge.
“Christ, baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, I hope y’know that,” Joel croaks, tilting his head back to look up at the rafters as he silently wills himself not to explode too soon. His hips involuntarily jerk forward as you lick his tip, collecting his leaking precum on your tongue before wrapping your soft lips around it. Another loud, ragged groan tears from the back of his throat as you take him in slowly, inch by inch, further into your warm, wet mouth. Your own moaning around him causes a vibrating sensation, making it harder for Joel to keep himself from spilling into your mouth.
“Fuck, peach,” he curses, feeling the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat. He’s more than a mouthful for you, but you accept the challenge with eagerness and take him in further, gagging around him as drool dribbles down the sides of your chin. You, the same woman who just moments ago had said she was nervous about being intimate with him—whoever that woman had been, she was long fucking gone.
Joel’s eyes flit down and he sinks his teeth hard into his lower lip. He can see your silhouette as you work him with that pretty little mouth of yours—one glance is all he can handle before he’s squeezing his eyes shut, the pressure building in his lower abdomen and already dangerously close to reaching its peak. If Joel so much as looks at you again, he’ll come down your throat—and that’s not where he’s planning on finishing tonight.
You bob your head back and forth on his cock, your eyes watering each time he slips past the back of your throat—your cheeks hollow as you suck him greedily and you alternate between that and stroking his long, thick shaft, your tongue swirling around his head.
Without opening his eyes, Joel reaches down with his hand and cradles the back of your head in his palm. The sounds that fill the barn are nothing short of obscene. His grunts and groans mixed together with the sounds of the moans you’d release in between your wet and sloppy slurping. He forces his eyes open and bravely takes another look at you, his heart slamming painfully against his sternum as you move your head faster, chasing his release as if you’re chasing your own.
“Fuck, baby—wait, stop. Need you to stop.” Joel’s hand leaves the back of your head and he cups your jaw, gently, but firmly, forcing you to release his cock from your mouth with an audible pop. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, not if you keep on like that.”
“Isn’t that the whole point?” you ask, smirking up at him as you wipe the mixture of his precum and your saliva away from your chin with the back of your hand.
Joel leans over and takes your arms, effortlessly yanking you up to your feet. His hand dives between your thighs to get a feel—to find whether you’re ready to take him or not. He slips two fingers between your soaked folds without so much as a warning, causing you to gasp out and grip his biceps, your fingernails digging into the firm muscle. Joel withdraws his hand from your cunt, admiring the way his digits come back coated with your slick. He looks at you, his eyes locking with yours as he lifts his hand to his mouth and slowly licks his fingers clean.
That alone nearly makes you come undone, almost makes you melt into a pathetic, whimpering mess at his feet. 
“Joel,” you say his name pleadingly. “Please.”
Sliding his fingers out of his mouth, he steps forwards and curls them around your wrist. “What is it, my sweet little peach? Hm? What do you want?”
“You. I want you,” you answer. You’re quick to correct yourself. “No, I need you. I fucking need you—I need you more than anything I’ve ever needed in my life, Joel.”
Leaning down, Joel skims the tip of his nose against your cheek before bringing it down along your jawline. “Where, darlin’?” he whispers huskily, sending a shiver up your spine. “Where do you need me, baby?”
Your mouth falls open slightly unable to say it. You don’t know why you’re suddenly shy, flustered as if you just hadn’t been down on your knees gagging around his cock.
“Tell me, peach,” he coaxes you gently with another low whisper. “Tell me where you need me. Tell me where you need my cock, sweetheart. Need to hear you say it.”
“Inside me.” Blazing heat floods your face. “I need you inside of me—I need you to fuck me. Please, Joel.”
“So polite ‘bout it, too,” he remarks. “What a good girl.”
Though he says it in a teasing manner, his praise nearly makes you collapse.
“You like that,” he realizes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Yeah, baby? Y’like it when I call you a good girl?”
“Fuck, I—yes, I do,” you confess.
“C’mere.” Joel wraps an arm around your waist, hand splayed over your back as he lowers you down onto the blanket. He follows suit. You both let out breathy laughs at the way your naked bodies sink down into the pile of hay. Propping himself up with his arm, Joel looks down at you, his smile fading as a serious expression crosses his features. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, finger grazing the silkiness of your cheek. “Y’sure ‘bout this, peach? Ain’t too late to stop.”
Smiling softly, you lift a hand to the side of his face, your fingers stroking his graying beard. “I’ve never been so sure about anything, Joel,” you promise him. “If you could take a peek into my mind, you would see how bad I want this, how bad I need this—how bad I need you. I don’t want to stop.” And you don’t just mean the sex. You don’t any of this to stop—the secret, late night meetings, the stolen kisses, the illicit affair. “I’m sure about this. I’m sure about you, Joel.”
That’s all he needs to hear.
Joel reaches down between your bodies, gripping his base, pumping his throbbing cock in his fist before lining himself up at your sopping entrance. Adrenaline courses through your veins—every nerve ending in your body is going up in flames. You spread your legs wider for him, hoping he’ll understand the nonverbal cue. He does. He begins to ease himself into your cunt and you hook a leg around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper. The barn fills with the sound of his grunt and your loud cry at the initial stretch. He sinks his cock further into you until he bottoms out and you cry out again, feeling a delicious burning sensation as he cradles his hips between your thighs.
“M’gonna need you to relax a little sweetheart,” he whispers gently, ceasing his movements to give your body a chance to adjust to him. Joel takes advantage of having you pinned underneath him with your head thrown back and his lips latch onto your neck, hungrily. He fervently kisses his way down the column of your throat, nips his way to your collarbone—but unlike you, he’s careful to do so without leaving any kind of mark behind. He would give anything to have the freedom to leave traces of his loving all over you. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment and the way he’s buried inside you to the hilt that brings out the primal in him, but Joel wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around Jackson covered in his love bites. He wants everyone to know he’s the one who’d left them behind, needs them to understand that you’re his. But that isn’t possible. Joel lifts his head from the hollow of your neck and nibbles lightly at your chin. “You alright, baby?”
Forcing your eyes open, you lift your head and bring yourself to look at him. At first, you feel discomfort, but after a minute, your body finally relaxes around him and it subsides. It’s replaced with the burning desire to feel more of him. The pretty glow coming in from outside the barn illuminates his face and you smile. “I’m better than alright. I’m perfect,” you assure him. You place a hand delicately on his chest, feeling his heart thrum hard against your fingertips. “This is perfect.”
Joel kisses the tip of your nose. He slides out of you slowly, then right back into you in an experimental thrust that brings your body off the blanket, your back arching in sheer pleasure. It’s such a deliciously tight fit, and he almost can’t believe how fucking good it feels to be sheathed in your taut heat. He drops his head, taking your breast into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple as he bucks his hips once more. He’s being careful. Too careful.
“Joel—I need you to move,” you gasp. You drag a hand down his chest and over his soft stomach, letting your fingernails rake lightly over his flushed skin. It’s warm to the touch, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Joel, please. Fuck me.”
Thankfully, you don’t have to tell him twice.
Joel releases the pebbled flesh from his mouth with a loud, lewd pop. He pulls his cock out of your dribbling pussy, then slams back into you with such force that he places a hand on the crown of your head, keeping you in place underneath him on the blanket. You wrap your own leg around him, locking your ankles together, your heels digging into the firm curve of his ass. You lift your hips just as he rolls his own right into them. The new angle gives Joel the opportunity to fuck you even deeper and he hits the sensitive, spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold onto him, moans you’ve never heard come out of your own mouth before ringing in your ears and in his. He starts picking up his pace.
“Baby.” He’s breathless and speaks between every snap of his hips. “Fuck, y’feel s’good—s’tight around me—”
“Don’t stop, Joel. God, please don’t fucking stop,” you plead him, your finger burying themselves in his hair. “Keep going, just like that—fuck, you feel so fucking good inside me—”
You bite down on your bottom lip, adoring how Joel squeezes his dark eyes shut each and every single time the head of his cock brushes that one particularly deep spot inside of you. Knowing that you and your body has this kind of an effect on him, it gives you a boost of confidence. You’ve spent the last couple of years allowing a pathetic excuse of a man—if one could even call him that—pick on you, say things about your body and make you feel like your inability to conceive a child made you defective. Worthless, even. And here’s a real man, one who makes you feel beautiful with the way he talks to you, the way he kisses you, touches you, and fucks you. You’re not perfect by any means, but Joel Miller makes you feel what your own husband doesn’t.
He makes you feel like you’re enough. More than enough.
The barn fills with a combination of moaning, panting, and the sound of damp skin slapping against damp skin.
Glancing down at you, Joel shakes his head and warns, “Ain’t gonna last much longer, baby. M’so goddamn close.”
An unexpected wave of courage washes over you. Planting your hands firmly on his chest, you take him by complete surprise and slide out from underneath him. A small grunt escapes him as you push him onto his back. Amused, you can’t help but giggle at the shocked expression on his face as you guide him to lie down on the flannel blanket. Eager to see his reaction, you keep your eyes trained on his face as you straddle his lap. You grip the base of his cock in your hand and then slowly sink down onto him, your cunt greedily squeezing him as you slide down until you’re fully seated.
Joel’s jaw falls slack. It’s the most stunning sight he’s ever seen.
You, completely naked on top of him, your pouty lips plump and swollen from his kisses. Your smooth, supple skin glows in the moonlight shining through the open window behind you. All while every inch of Joel’s cock was buried deep inside of you, head nudging at your cervix. Eyes glimmering devilishly, the sexiest little smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Like what you see?”
He tries to speak, but he can’t.
You’ve rendered him speechless. 
Grabbing his hands in yours, you guide them to your hips. His blood roars in his ears and his fingers dig into the pillowy soft flesh, holding on as you begin to rock them back and forth. You throw your head back, your hair spilling over your shoulder. The friction of your clit against his pelvis heightens your pleasure. Joel had thought he would be the one to topple over the edge first, but he’d been wrong.
Eyes pinching shut, you start bouncing yourself on his cock, your desperation mounting. You feel the tension between your hips coiling back tightly, ready to snap forward.
“Fuck, Joel—I’m gonna—I’m so fucking close.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ come for me, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers digging even harder into your hips. One of his hands abandons your side and he reaches up and gently takes your slackened jaw in the palm of his hand. He coaxes you to look down at him. “Need you to be a good girl and look at me, peach,” he instructs you, slipping his thumb between your parted lips. “Need to see that pretty face of yours when you come all over my cock, sweetheart.”
“Oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck!”
Crying out, you unravel and fall apart all over him, the ecstasy blurring the edges of your vision. 
It doesn’t take Joel much longer to follow. He lets out a low, guttural growl, choking out a string of profanities as he slams you down onto his lap, spurts of warm cum coating your velvet walls. Your pussy squeezes him, draining him of every last drop.
You collapse forward onto him in a sweaty, whimpering mess and he wraps his arms around you. With him still inside you, you both lay there and try to catch your breaths as the high slowly but surely begins to wear off.
After a few minutes, Joel pulls out of you and he shifts your bodies, moving you so you’re now laying beside him. Tucking you against his side, he slides his arm around your shoulders and pulls you even closer. His other hand finds one of yours and he takes it, bringing them both to rest on his chest.
“You alright?” he asks you, lacing his fingers together with yours.
“I’m great,” you answer him tiredly, prompting him to chuckle. “What about you?”
Joel strokes at your hair. “Never been better, sweet girl.”
You groan. “Joel, don’t do that,” you mumble into his shoulder. “You’re going to put me right to sleep.”
He laughs again. “We’ve still got a bit more time, y’know. If you’re tired, you can take a quick nap. I can wake you up in ‘bout an hour when it’s time to head home.”
“No, that’s okay,” you decline the offer, worried he would accidentally fall asleep too. “I really wish we could sleep together—I mean, actually sleep together. In an actual bed. Not having to worry about anything. Just like normal couples do.”
“Well, we ain’t exactly a normal couple, darlin’.”
“No, we’re definitely not,” you murmur. You don’t even realize how sad you’d sounded until you feel Joel give your shoulders a comforting squeeze. 
Neither of you say anything else about it as you spend the next hour laying there, tangled up in each other’s embrace, waiting until it was time to go your separate ways.
Tumblr media
lyrics: Butterflies - Kacey Musgraves
1K notes · View notes
cruelfvkingsummer · 1 year
Text
Joel x Reader: cherries and wine (one shot)
Tumblr media
Plot: You and Joel are wrong but greedy for each other.
Tags: age gap (implied), possessive love, borderline unhealthy, no use of the word "daddy" but the dynamic is there, smut, oral (m receiving) implied p in v, joel is mean to everyone but you, slight violence, saliva kink (idk how else to phrase it), lots of swallowing body fluids, unbeta'd, minors dni
Playlist I listened while writing this
Tumblr media
There was a lot of wrong in this world.
A lot more wrongs than right ever since the apocalypse started.
But Jackson was supposed to be normal – a semblance of normal in the crumbling world around them.
And yet smack-dab in the middle of the main street of town was something that just looked … wrong.
Because you and Joel fucking Miller were definitely wrong for each other.
Everybody knew who he was. If he wasn’t Tommy’s brother, he would’ve gotten shot the moment he stepped foot outside the walls of Jackson. He had that face – asshole face, Ellie calls it – that just showed he was one of those who had lost most if not all of their humanity to the apocalypse.
And the more people knew about him the worse it had just gotten. He was from the QZ and by the looks of it he was one of those smugglers that only got away with it because they were nuzzling the guards shut with more drugs than they knew what to deal with.
The people in Jackson typically were wary of his kind of people.
But apparently not you.
“Joel!” you ran towards him, waving your hands as if he would miss your bright summer dress, the moment he was in view from the opening gates.
The new patrol group with him turned, eyes looking in combined confusion and slowly trickling horror when they realized who you were and what you were to the old man who had damn near fed them to runners as part of their ‘training’ when he looped his gun to his back and caught your jumping form with open arms.
It couldn’t be.
Of course, they knew who you were. You were one of the first people everyone met as you were tasked with helping newcomers settle into the town. It was you that tended to their wounds and made sure they ate with that sweet smile and gentle voice that could make a horse fall asleep in the middle of a lion’s den.
But as you looped Joel into a kiss so deep and inappropriate and wrong, they could only stare in horror. You were damn near humping the man, your gasps and coos so clear in the absolute silence that befall on the crowd as they watched you welcome him back so earnestly.
It wasn’t until the kiss was finished with a lewd smack and Joel turned back to them with the same wrinkle of annoyance in his stone cold face that they all scrambled.
“The fuck are yall lookin’ at?”
In under a minute, everyone cleared out.
In under two, he was already carrying you back home.
Tumblr media
Peace doesn’t fit Joel Miller – not anymore anyways.
It’s not that he doesn’t want it but he simply doesn’t belong to it– especially not in Jackson. The half-deaf ear that couldn’t help but eavesdrop on friendly chatters in the dining hall in suspicion, his weary joints that are always ready to jump into a run away from danger, his scarred hands that are always itching to reach for the gun always tucked in his jeans, his nightmares that only grow worse and worse the deeper into the quiet winter it becomes.
He swears he slept better with stalkers chasing him.
But he grits through it.
Suffers through every nicety, forces himself to at least reply whenever Maria or Tommy calls for his attention in a group conversation the second time.
For one, this is the best place for Ellie to grow up in. There was a semblance of normalcy she was clearly craving and here she has a chance to become human – unlike her scarred father. Two, this is probably the safest place left in the entire country, and no matter how much he tries to deny it he knows he only have a couple of years left in his prime before he gets too sloppy and find himself as clicker dinner.
And then three, there was you.
The first time he saw you, you were plucking the cherries growing at the edge of the community garden.
“Would you like some?” you asked but you were already in your tiptoes, hand leaning into him for balance as you pushed the circular fruit into his mouth. He grits his teeth, about to say no, but it only burst the sweet fruit inside his mouth and you beamed so sweetly up at him. “I grew them myself!”
He wasn’t even aware that his hands were already on your waist until his fingers dug into the soft fabric of your dress, lifting it and exposing an inch more of your skin. And an inch more of his control.
It could be your wide eyes that just begged for approval – or maybe despite his old age his weakness for pretty, kind women stayed the same but he managed to utter out the nicest words he could say. “’s sweet.”
To this day he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the cherry.
It was not until you had somehow convinced him to stay a bit longer that you told him you were assigned in growing those cherries to turn them into wine. It may seem superfluous to think about growing fruits during a deadly global pandemic but he didn’t question it. You seem to have a liking to fruits and it was the only thing you asked for as compensation in exchange for your work here in Jackson. Plus, you were all too willing to share your spoils to the community so it’s not like they can complain much.
He doesn’t know how or why or what got inside your head that made you drop by in his house damn near every week to ‘pick him up’ for gardening duty but you did and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t say no.
It was your eyes, he concluded. The ones that don’t glance at him in fear or glare at him in disgust as he passes by. The eyes that look up at him as if he was still the man that he was 20 years ago and he was just egotistic enough to play along.
Or it could be those fucking dresses you wear no matter where you go.
“I made them myself,” you giggled when he couldn’t hold his tongue and asked. You even gave him a spin as if he was genuinely interested in the fabric and not how your ass looked in it and how harder should you spin so he can take a peek underneath it.
He remembered having to look up at the sky, never feeling so old and goddamn perverted his entire life but it was no use as you immediately jumped up at him, hands wrapping around his neck as you pouted up at him.
It was then he realized you were fishing for compliments and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Bending down, the hitch in your breath made his cock harden.
“It looks pretty, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Give me one more hard turn, won't 'cha?”
Tumblr media
“Where are you going, Miller?”
He ignored him, breaking off from the group and going West but a hand made him stop his tracks which he quickly turned the wrong way until it creaked in protest and the boy connected to it was kneeling in the ground.
“SHIT –”
“Joel, come on, man!”
“Calm down –"
“W-Were supposed to stay together,” the boy gasped in protest when Joel only turned his hand harder to shut him up. “R-Rule one!”
It was what he taught them.
Always stay in the group. Don’t break off unless the leader calls for it.
“That rule is to keep you from dying,” he scowled, letting go of the hand and turning back. “So stay out of my business.”
Everyone stared at his back, quiet and terrified, until it disappeared behind the overgrown trees and bushes.
“What the fuck is his problem, man,” The new guy, Vince, winced as he checked his hand and bruised ego.
“It’s alright, we go back to Jackson, no detours,” Roman, the second in command of the patrol ordered, already filling up the leader’s place. Tommy warned him about his brother and had already told him to stay out of his way.
“We’re just gonna let him be?!”
Roman gave him a look before letting his eyes stray to where Joel was headed. “He’ll be alright. He’s just going up ahead since there’s a mall in that direction. We’ve checked it up a lot of time and it’s clear.”
“Mall?” Vince was incredulous, chuckling. “What’s the fuck is he gonna do there?”
The older man shrugged, pushing the boy forward hard. “Shopping.”
Tumblr media
“AAH!” you screamed into his ear as you hugged the fabric into your chest. “I love it Joel!”
Scattered on the table were the five dresses he had managed to scourge up the backroom of the department store, two sandals (although one pair is a bit too big), and a small palm-sized teddy bear keychain he snatched on the way back.
You sat on his lap, showering his face with kisses as he grinned down at you. In secret he pulled out one more from his bag that had your eyes bulging and Ellie finally losing the last of her patience as she stood up from the sofa with a groan of disgust.
It was lace and red.
“That’s it! I’m staying with Dana tonight!”
“You want this, kid?” Joel raised the bear in his palms which only earned him a middle finger.
“Ellie, come back home tomorrow, kay? I’m cooking your favorite for dinner!” you called and she gave you a thumbs up and even threw mocking flying kisses to the two of you before she slammed the door shut with a:
“Happy anniversary, lovebirds!”
“You think Petra’s kid would like this?” he looked at the bear in question.
“I …”
He looked at you fidgeting in his lap before you quickly snatched it away from him and nuzzling your face in his neck so you wouldn’t see the teasing smile you know was growing in his face. “’want it.”
Deciding not to push his luck, lest’ you decide you wouldn’t want to play dress up tonight so he just hummed, hugging you into him tighter.
“Greedy girl.”
Tumblr media
You weren’t a greedy girl.
At least you think you’re not. Not until he arrived in your life.
You met Joel Miller and you felt this ugly, ravenous, feeling in your heart that made you want to wrap your entire body around him and just not let go.
You tried to hold it back – tried not to feel jealous at the reminder that it was Gena who tended and welcomed him to Jackson when it was supposed to be your job just because you somehow got sick the same day. You tried not to stare as Maria showed him around as you kept reminding yourself that she was married and to his brother for Christ ‘sake.
Tried to keep your eyes and tone friendly when you realized that there were some women in his patrol group.
You don’t know why you have this overwhelming urge to have his attention, his love, his body – you want all of him – just for yourself.
That despite the hushed warnings and disappointed glares you received for pursuing a man like him you still dove in head first. Always wearing your pretty dresses, ignoring his blunt rejections, and pretending you were a nice, quiet, kind girl that he can love easily.
But as time passed you realized it was all useless.
He saw through you – saw through all of you.
“Greedy girl,” he’d mutter, thumb wiping the dripping drool on the side of your lips as you suckled the tip of his cock. You were so drunk in pleasure, eyes rolled, that you didn’t realize you were making a mess on the floor as you kneeled, hands on his knees for support. The flimsy lace lingerie he had found just for you doing a poor job of soaking up your dripping juices.
You were a sight, with one of your boobs spilling out of your lingerie, hair messy from the way he held to it as he destroyed you from the back, and your mouth so, so full of his cock.
He sucked on his thumb before he hooked your hair behind your ears, leaning down to press a kiss at the top of your head. “That’s it, baby. Take it all.”
It wasn’t only that he saw your greediness but he reveled in it. Because if someone as young and sweet and beautiful as you could want him so bad then maybe he isn’t all that bad. Because if someone like you could love his violence, his scars, his demons – love him for it – then maybe he still has something to live for.
“You really love it, don’t you sweetheart?”
You nodded as best as you could, pulling out his cock with a lewd pop as you rubbed your checks on it. “Want it so bad.”
He nodded, chest puffing at the sight of his precum dripping on your cheeks.
He had fucked you not 10 minutes ago and yet here you were dripping again at the combined taste of you and him.
“Then don’t play with your food, baby.”
He pulled your hair into a ponytail and guiding you back into his cock, “That’s it. Good girl.”
You preened, ass shaking in the air as your core searched for something to ease the burn in your core.
“Almost there,” he grunted, now fucking your face recklessly. The tears in your cheeks that only served as more wetness for him to easily abuse your throat made him even harder. “Don’t swallow yet, okay?”
You sniffed, moaning and eyes rolling as he finally tipped over in pleasure. His cum filling your warm mouth and you damn near instinctively swallowed it but his hand was quick to press on your cheeks to forcible open it.
“Open for me, sweetheart. That’s it, good girl,” he whispered, eyes inspecting the insides of the cavern of your mouth before he let his eyes wander at the sight of your face. “Beautiful.”
“Thwank wu,” you tried to talk despite his hand still holding your mouth open.
Satisfied he removed his fand from your face, fingers now, wiping the tears and snot off your face. “Go ahead, baby. You can have at it.”
With an audible gulp, you sighed in satisfaction. Laying your head in his lap and giggling deliriously.
His hands were running over your hair, splitting them into three parts before he quietly started braiding it. Your heart swooned.
He takes care of you so well.
With one last knot with the small scrunchie that was once stretched thin over his wrist he carried you up and placed in the middle of the bed. The abused lingerie off your body and used as a rag to clean the inside of your bruised and irritated thighs.
The memory had you clenching which definitely didn’t slide past Joel’s attention.
He laughed quietly, shaking his head at you. “What am I gonna do with you, hm?”
You had half the nerve to look shy as he slid beside you, already opening his arms so you can use his chest as pillow.
Cupping his cheeks you roped him in one last deep kiss, letting him angle your face the way he wants it so you can suck in his drool and swallow it, the act that should be lewd but only felt intimate in the quiet of your bedroom. Like you were swallowing him whole – that in some way or another he was going to be a part of you.
“Love you so much. Love the way you taste.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded, playing with his salt-and-pepper beard. “Like wine.”
He laughed, leaning down to press a deep kiss into you, sucking your tongue into his mouth. “I like the way you taste too.”
You peered up at him, waiting for his revelation.
“Like cherries,” he concluded, finally finding the answer he had been looking for a year ago. “The sweetest cherries.”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I wrote this entire story in under three hours I'm so down bad for that man.
This story is partly inspired by @ghostfanwriter and their kissing one shot it was sooo good, host and, nasty and partly to this song was inspired by "Cherry by Lana del Ray". I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!!
xoxo
tia
1K notes · View notes
heartpascal · 22 days
Text
hoping there’s somewhere to go
Tumblr media
▹— joel miller x platonic!reader + tommy miller x platonic!reader
▹— summary: you try to navigate life after the rejection of the only family you’d ever had (part two of weight too heavy to hold alone)
▹— a/n: the song too much time in my house alone by leith ross inspired this <3 longer A/N at the end!
▹— warnings: angst (as always), isolation, and then self isolation, mention of christmas time but it’s not christmas, a winter’s dinner that isn’t christmas dinner, fears being proven correct, very little self worth, it has been a long while since i have written/posted/needed to put warnings so let me know if something is missing!!!
▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915  @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa  @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being (pedro) — please let me know if you want to be added/removed
MASTERLIST
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Jackson is cold in winter.
And it’s not just because of the weather.
There’s winter festivities, holidays that you had never really had any experience with. And because of the weather, patrols were undertaken by smaller groups, leaving crowds of people wandering the streets, or trying to find work within the small community. So, not only was it cold and miserable, but it was about ten times as crowded in the communal spaces, with everybody packing into every space possible in order to preserve their warmth.
That’s not even the worst part — there’s the whole focus on family, or whatever a person in the apocalypse might have that’s close enough to it.
Holidays bring people together, Tommy had told you once, about a year ago. It wasn’t long after you had first arrived in Jackson, traipsing through the gate alone, aside from the patrollers who escorted you there.
The thing was, though, that you didn’t have people.
And it wasn’t as if you were wanting them! That definitely wasn’t the case — you couldn’t bear getting close to anybody, after what had happened last time — but you couldn’t help the more prominent feeling of isolation. You knew you weren’t alone in your feelings, after all, there were plenty of Jackson residents who had nobody, or resented the holiday season for one reason or another, but you felt alone.
You’re allowed to feel bitter about it, even if you do want to stay that way. It’s not like you had always felt this way, there was a time when you had thought yourself close to having a family — whatever the hell that was. In spring, if somebody had told you that you might feel this way, you might have disbelieved them, might have had faith in Joel and Ellie, despite your reservations. But then everything there had fallen apart, and you were left like this.
Living on your own, halfway across town, closer to Tommy, but further away than ever.
It was like that gaping hole in your chest had reopened with a vengeance, sucking any amount of trust or affection you had for the man into a void where it couldn’t be found. If Tommy hadn’t stuck you with Joel and Ellie, you might not be feeling like this — feeling so cold, and alone, and frozen despite the world moving around you. If he had just minded his business, or even, maybe, if he had just looked after you himself, rather than passing you off as nothing more than a chore, you could’ve been something at least close to happy.
Instead, you’re here. Making the short trip back from the school he had forced you to start going to, heading back to the little space you were supposed to call home. It wasn’t home, though. You had never occupied a space that had felt anything even close to that before, other than Joel’s. You’re pretty sure you’ll never live anywhere like that again.
You’ll probably live here, in the shitty garage that Tommy had someone convert for you, for the rest of your life. Either that, or until they finally have enough of you, and kick you out. Whichever came first.
Really, you should be used to being on your own. To having to do everything yourself, be responsible for every aspect of your own life, but strangely, after Joel’s, you find it hard to go back to that. Balancing things has never been your strong suit, and this only goes to prove that. And it’s aggravating, feeling as though something within you had changed, feeling as though you’re no longer capable, when you had spent your whole life looking after yourself.
Feeling like this has had you thinking some incredibly stupid things, your mind at one point trying to convince you that the only way to prove that you were capable, was to go back out into the big open world. Luckily for you, your survival instincts are stronger than that, and you’re able to remind yourself that Jackson is the best possible place for you, regardless of whatever thoughts and feelings you were having.
Besides, you wouldn’t want to give any of them — them being Joel, Tommy and Ellie — the satisfaction of your leaving. If they wanted you gone, they’d have to tell you as much, this time.
It was clear to you now, that they hadn’t wanted you there in the first place. And given the distance between you and Ellie since Joel had gotten rid of you, you gathered that, despite what you believed to be a close bond, she had never wanted you around either. She seemed happy enough, gallivanting around the town with her few friends, friends she had never even bothered to introduce you to. At least that meant you weren’t missing anything. Maybe she had actually done you a favour. Although given the way she avoided your gaze like her life depended on it, every time you happened across her, you somehow doubted that.
You’re not sure which loss was worse. Despite how close you had grown to Joel, how attached you had become, Ellie was the first person your age who you had ever trusted. You had told her things that you had never spoken aloud to anyone before. And now, you were left with a constant weight of regret, of dread, in the pit of your stomach.
Selfishly, you wanted Ellie to be angry at Joel for getting rid of you. You wanted her to fight for you, wanted her to remain in your corner when everybody else opposed you. What you really wanted, though, was for somebody to choose you. You wanted to feel important to somebody.
Though, now, you think you’ve outgrown that childish desire. You don’t want anyone around you, anymore.
Not even Tommy.
“Kid, would you just open the damn door?” Tommy asked, speaking to the plain face of your front door. He had knocked three times before opening his mouth, growing exasperated by your cold shoulder. He knew you were in there — had seen you walk home after school, when he was finishing a job just around the corner. Besides, where else would you be?
You stayed silent, sitting on the unmade sheets of your bed, staring at the door as Tommy knocked once again.
“C’mon, open the door. Please?” He repeated, and you could practically picture his stance outside, one arm resting against the doorframe and one hand resting against his hip. “Just wanna talk, alright? Then I’ll be on my way.”
You heard the heaviness of his sigh from your space across the room. But it didn’t change anything for you. How could it? Tommy had sent you to his brother, he had known what his brother was like, and he had sat idly by while you were uprooted and sent across town like you didn’t matter. Just another inconvenience. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was also forcing you to go to Jackson’s community school, run primarily by an almost 70 year old woman, who was meant to retire a year after the outbreak.
It was ridiculous and unfair.
Ellie didn’t have to go to school.
It just felt like another method of getting you out of the way. After all, what did you need with writing and reading? Mathematics and history? The world had ended before you were even born.
Besides, you knew for a fact that Tommy had volunteered to take Ellie out shooting soon. Despite her avoiding you, you could still hear her boasting about it in the canteen to her friends.
You couldn’t help but feel like it should’ve been you. After all, weren’t you the one without anybody? Weren’t you the one who would be alone, should Jackson fall apart? Ellie would have Tommy and Maria. She would have Joel. Who would you have? Nobody.
If Tommy Miller had ever actually cared about you, perhaps he would’ve helped you work on the issues you’d been facing when you went to him for help, rather than passing you off to his older brother. You had spent your entire life depending on only yourself. Tommy had no idea what it had taken for you to approach him, for you to want help. To have that thrown back in your face, you knew, had done damage. As if you weren’t already damaged enough.
It was something you had been aware of for a long time — that there was something wrong about you. Something rotten. Like something had crawled into your chest, into the gaping cavity between your ribs, and died in there. It had been decaying over the years, leaving an air about you that told everybody exactly what you had always known: you are unsalvageable. Nothing in this world could reverse the decomposition that had occurred inside of you, just like nothing could reverse the infection that had taken the family you had never known.
The whole thing made you feel foolish, really. Your whole life, a voice inside of your head had been telling you that nobody could help you. Nobody would help you. And when you had finally gathered the courage to prove that voice wrong? It was proven right instead. It was a kick in the teeth. A thorn underneath your fingernail. Something bothersome, painful.
Tommy Miller had proven that you were just as alone as you had always felt.
He knocked against your door again, apparently content to wait you out. You had nowhere to go, but the knocking was irritating, the knowledge of his presence outside of that door was grating.
Before you could think better of it, you made your way over, and opened the door.
He looked the same as he always had done. Dressed for the weather, his favourite pair of boots on, and hair pushed away from his face, which held a surprised expression.
“Hey, kid.” He said, finally, after a moment of just staring at you in shock. It had been a while since Tommy had seen you up close. You looked more tired than he remembered.
“What do you want?” You asked, forgoing any sort of greeting towards the man. Opening the door was about as generous as you were prepared to be towards him.
His face morphed slightly, shock ebbing away, regret flowing in at the creases by his eyes, the grimace of his mouth. “Right, uh,” He paused, looking into your converted garage through the gap between you and the door. You pulled the door closer, so only you fit into the gap. “Alright, so, I know things have been… tense, between everybody, but I was hopin’ that you might join us. Me ‘n Maria are doin’ a winter’s dinner, not exactly Christmas, but it’s a day to be with family, y’know?” Tommy rambled on a bit, trying to spit all of his words out before you could decline, or shut the door in his face.
“We’re not family, Tommy.”
You watched his expression fall, which provided you with a sting that you hadn’t expected. But the sentiment remained the same — you weren’t family. Your surname wasn’t Miller. And even if it were, with the state of things between you, Tommy and Joel? It definitely wasn’t something you’d call family.
Honestly, you weren’t sure why he was coming to you with this now. Maybe before Joel had rejected you, before Tommy had watched on as any trust you had was shattered, but now? Now, he was lucky you even opened the door. You didn’t have a family, and it wasn’t a big loss to you. You’d gone this long without one, so what did it matter?
Tommy’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He was at a loss for words.
“Go home, okay?” You said, when his words continued to fail him. He swallowed, jaw clenched as his teeth gritted together. He was frustrated, though you doubted that was directed at you. More likely, was that it was directed at Joel. You knew things had been tense between the two of them recently, too.
He paused just as he was about to turn away. “Will you think about it, at least?” Tommy asked, though he didn’t look like he wanted to hear your answer. It wasn’t much of a question anyway.
You nodded, with no real intention of thinking about it. Well — no intention of thinking about attending. Thinking about the offer was a different story.
His shoulders deflated as he turned away, hearing you shut the door as he followed the path away from your place.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Even a full twenty four hours after Tommy had approached you with his invitation, you couldn’t let it go.
It felt as though something within you had snapped, falling from a great height and landing in the pit of your stomach. For whatever reason, one that you couldn’t get into now, maybe ever, you were filled to the brim with dread. It bubbled over, pooling in your limbs and making everything feel far too heavy.
You couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just let you be? Couldn’t he see that he had done more than enough, when it came to you?
Logically, you know it isn’t fair to blame him. Tommy wasn’t in control of anything his brother or pseudo-niece did. He had always tried to look out for you, and deep down, you know that he had truly believed that his brother would be good for you. He must have thought that, given Joel’s pre-outbreak experience, and now post-outbreak too, of being a father, he could’ve been that for you. Tommy couldn’t have known that Joel didn’t want another kid.
But that illogical part of you, the part that cowers away from everybody you meet, the part that was hurt, reminds you that it was his job to know. It was his responsibility to know what he was dumping you into. And more than that, Joel was his brother. How could he not have known?
You were the one who had ended up well and truly hurt from the encounter, not the other way around. So why did you feel guilty, every time Tommy’s expression at your scathing words popped into your mind? You hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, and you hadn’t said anything that he didn’t deserve to hear. So why? Why did you feel this unending twist of dread and guilt, eating away at your bones, your tissues, your organs?
Even now, as you worked a late night shift at the canteen, washing dishes, every time the water rippled, you could see his face. Distantly, you hoped Joel had felt like this, after what he had done to you. You hoped he remembered what he said, remembered your expression when you relayed his own message to him.
If you were honest with yourself, you think that if it had been Joel, you would’ve revelled in that expression. There’s a part of you, a part that is mean and bitter and full of resentment, that wants to hurt Joel, just like he had hurt you. You settle for staying as far away from him as you possibly can.
Joel had tried to see you a few times, back when it was fresh, with no luck from you. There was nobody in this world that you wanted to see less than him. At the very least, he got the message. Sometimes, you wonder if he had only shown up those few instances just for appearances. To make himself look better. It was no secret to the people of Jackson that Joel Miller was a questionable man, with an even more questionable past. But he did more for the town than most, so it wasn’t spoken about. Nothing more than whispers, anyway.
There had been a few whispers after your outburst at the Tipsy Bison, especially when somebody shared the news of your move across town. But it was chalked up to teenage dramatics, the youth, as if there really was such a thing.
Regardless, Tommy’s invitation to dinner was coming up in a mere two days. The knowledge of where and when it was happening made you uncomfortable, like an itch underneath your collar, it was stifling. Because that part of you, the one that wants to hurt Joel, also wants company. It craves a family, and that was a craving that had only ever come close to being fulfilled once. Still, it was a natural instinct within humans. Safety came in numbers, and there was comfort in having people you could trust. You wish that part of you could just be satisfied being solitary, because you’ll never go to that dinner. Not if you have anything to say about it.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Two hours until dinner, and the sun was beginning to set.
And here you were, axe in hand, staring down at the dwindling pile of wood that you needed to cleave into pieces. It wouldn’t last two hours. In reality, it wouldn’t even last one. Still, you stare as though the logs might multiply, hoping for the excuse out of a dinner you didn’t want to go to. And you know that you have no obligation to any of those people, you do know that, but it’s hard to believe it. Partly because you don’t want to. Because you’re torn between the satisfaction of succeeding on your own, and the fear of cutting off all ties to the only people you think you’ve truly cared about.
Being alone is a lot easier in theory.
In practice, it’s harder than you had thought. You were doing okay when they all left you to it, left you to live your own life. But an invitation means something, and that’s hard to ignore.
You bring the axe down, letting the severing of wood distract you from all thoughts of invitations and dinners and meanings.
It’s about the most physical task they’ll let you do — courtesy of Tommy, you’re sure — but you relish in it. Something about it is rewarding. Reminds you of your capabilities, your survival. The cold air burns your lungs, and each swing of the axe makes your muscles ache, but in a satisfying way. And doing it like this, alone, makes you feel unmistakably powerful.
You hear the crunch of footsteps behind you, not heavy enough to be Tommy’s or—God forbid—Joel’s. You paid them no mind, leaning down to move the chopped wood into the pile you had already assembled. You grabbed another log and placed it down, and just as you were preparing to swing the axe back up, you heard somebody clear their throat.
“Hey,” Ellie said, when you turned around. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet as you failed to reply, fiddling with the gloves on her hands. “So, uh, you having fun chopping wood?” She asked, apparently trying to clear some of the tension that surrounded the two of you, that clung. You leant the top of the axe blade on the ground, and sighed. Your breath clouded in front of your face.
“What do you want?” You asked, repeating the very same question you had asked Tommy, feeling all the more certain about your adamancy about not going to that dinner. Ellie’s brows furrowed slightly, but she quickly deflated as soon as you could see the defensive air starting to rise within her.
She shifted again, before speaking. “Just wondering if you’re coming to dinner? Tommy said he wasn’t sure.”
You did your best not to scoff, mostly succeeding, as you turned back to the wood awaiting your axe. With practiced ease, your axe rose, and swung down at the wood, separating it with a satisfying crack. “Wouldn’t count on it.” You said, as polite as you could say: no, no, I’m not fucking coming to dinner. You’re not my family. You don’t care about me. I don’t care about you. There’s nothing left here.
It was ridiculous for them to send Ellie to come and convince you to attend, of all people. Their best bet would have been Maria, who had never technically done anything that had hurt you. No, all of the fault laid with the Millers, and with Ellie.
The two of you could’ve remained friends, could’ve been something close to a family, but she didn’t want that. She chose to cut you out, to isolate you even further, to disappear from your life completely, despite being the only reason you had ever opened up to Joel. It was like she had taken a knife, and cut you open, let you warm, simmer, before leaving you out on the counter to cool. To rot.
“What happened to you?” Ellie asked, as if she didn’t know, as if she hadn’t been a part of it. Like there was no reason for your shift from being warm around her, to being ice cold. She had done this to you. At least, in part.
You didn’t say anything at first, choosing to finish chopping the wood in front of you, and piling it off to the side. Finally, you turned to her as she watched you, brows furrowed, lip curled defensively. “You people happened. You all fucking happened. Is that enough for you? Is that enough for why I don’t want to go to some stupid winter dinner?” You said, not raising your voice, but hearing more anger and irritation seep into your tone as you spoke.
She looked like she wanted to take a step back, but she stayed firm. “We all have our own problems,” Ellie told you, voice harsh and unrelenting as she spoke, and her expression hardened. “Everybody does! It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, okay?”
It would have been so easy to continue arguing with her, to descend into childish taunts and quips, to disguise genuine hurt with ridiculous arguments, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You said nothing, turning back to the depleting supply of unchopped wood.
Ellie seemed ready to burst. “Me and Joel have our own fucking problems! It’s not always good. But you can’t just give up on someone!” She said loudly, stepping towards you, ignoring the snow crunching underneath her shoes. It seemed to you that she was trying to convince herself, more than anything. Whatever she came to you with, now, wasn’t really about you. It was about her.
“I’m not the one who gave up, Ellie. You and Joel are more alike than you know. But at least he had the decency to tell me why he was giving up on me.” You told her, staying calm, despite the way your blood was rushing through your body, carrying so much adrenaline you felt like your heart may just burst.
She gaped at you, seeming more stuck on the concept of her and Joel being alike than on how she had hurt you. You figured it would go like this, though, if the two of you ever spoke again. It wasn’t a surprise to you. Everything in your life always turned out the way you expected it to. Even Joel and Ellie, in the end, had done as much, despite surprising you at first. It was inevitable. Your every worry, every fear, even the ones that Tommy had once labelled as irrational, had turned out to be true.
You wouldn’t go to the dinner.
Everything between you and the extended Miller family was in ruins, and like you, it couldn’t be salvaged. It was over with. Done.
Now, all that was left to do was wipe your hands clean of them.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
A/N: hello if you made it this far! it has been a WHILE. but in honour of ITDWS being posted a year ago today (!!!!!!!!!) i thought i’d give y’all SOMETHING!!! it’s not amazing but i hope you enjoy!!! life has been crazy + i haven’t been writing much but i still love and appreciate every single one of you <3 i think of you often.
392 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Grumpy Joel Miller loves him some Cornbread - A Valentine’s one Shot
Joel Miller is the grumpy guy everyone avoids; you don’t care one way or another. You always liked a grump and he doesn’t intimidate you one bit. Fuck that guy, sure it’s the end of the world, everyone’s lost someone, something, everything. Valentine’s Day is coming up, maybe Joel is going to surprise you.
Jackson Joel – Post outbreak.  Fluff, mostly fluff. Mentions of trauma, death and thoughts of suicide. Reader is 52 but otherwise no description other than short. This is very self indulgent Valentine’s Day stuff.  Way longer than I imagined it would be and took so much time.  Sorry if it’s a mess.
Words – 15,619 – Yeah, you read that right.
Masterlist
The day Joel Miller had stumbled across you and your small group of stragglers attempting to find a new place to settle was something you’d never forget. Him and one other resident were on patrol near a ridge that was frequently found to harbor refugees looking for shelter.  By frequent, maybe once a month, but that was frequent out in the middle of nowhere.
Your group was only five people, but among the hordes of infected, the miracle was the fact that you had managed to survive as long as you had trying to escape the collapse of your last settlement. Nothing had lasted for very long, everything crumbled eventually.
The reason you’d never forget meeting Joel was because your lookout had fallen asleep, just fucking dead asleep and when you’d been woken up, it was to the barrel of Joel’s gun at your temple. The steely glare that was at the other end offered zero assurance that he wasn’t going to pull the trigger at any second.
“Just sit still sleeping beauty and no one gets hurt. We just want to make sure none of you are a danger here. Can you show me your hands?” All you can think is that your hands are shoved into your sleeping bag and in your sleeping bag is your gun, tucked up under you, as it always is because you’re not an idiot.
Trying not to sound too sarcastic, you breathe in steadily, “I’m going to take my hands out very slowly, but I have to tell you, there is a gun in my sleeping bag.  I always sleep with gun, I find it to be, shall we say, calming to my nerves.” 
Joel snorts and looks over at the four other people in your group, “Your friends here warned me about you. They also said you were a heavy sleeper. How you’ve survived so long is beyond me. Just move slowly and we shouldn’t have a problem. I’ve been assured that you’ll cooperate and none of you are looking for trouble.  This is just standard procedure.”
“Of course. Completely understand.” You slowly bring your hands out of your sleeping bag and raise them above your head, as much as you can since you’re still laying down. Joel removes his gun from your temple and leans back a bit. “Can I get myself out?  This isn’t very comfortable.”
“Sure, do it slowly, like real slow sleeping beauty”. And he can see you wince at his pet name.  He now is going to never stop call you that because Joel has taken to being as annoying as possible. He doesn’t care how many people he pisses off, it’s his new hobby. 
That was it, that was the day you met Joel Miller and he has been about as sweet as that first day, calling you sleeping beauty every time he sees you.  You’re not sure if he’s even tried to learn your name and if he ever cares to, he’s just a grouchy motherfucker. 
It doesn’t take you long to settle in Jackson although you don’t know where you will wind up since you were the only single person in your group. You had had a family when everything went to shit, but you had also lost them a long time ago. You had made another family, but they were gone too. You had given up on family but still somehow had managed to stay unbroken, at least you thought you had you were now.
Well, you knew how, it wasn’t a secret, it was part of your purpose. When Maria had come to you to find out how you would fit in and help in Jackson, you explained how you had fit in and become part of your other communities. You wrote down people’s stories. In your other life you had been a novelist and your life’s passion had been writing stories. Someone had to keep a history, had to write down what people had gone through, lived through. That’s what you did, you wrote down every word you could about how people survived, how they lived and lost, and you tucked those stories away in large volumes to be found by anyone who would care. You also gave copies to the people who wanted to keep them for themselves so they could pass them down if they wanted to. Imagine having your own written history that you could have to yourself?
Even thought it could be time consuming it made you feel whole and gave you purpose. The catharsis it brought the story tellers couldn’t be measured by their tears but you could see it in how they carried themselves more lightly by the end of the process. Sometimes a darkness receded from their eyes. And not all the stories would be bleak, they would share their lives before outbreak day, tell you about who they’d lost, how they had lived and loved. You gave them the choice of what and how to tell their stories, because they weren’t your stories, you were merely the conduit, the vessel with which to transfer from them to the paper.
It also helped you put your own loss and pain into perspective. Everyone had immense losses, as much as you had lost, no one had been left behind unscathed. The added burden of others would sometimes make it hard to get up at the end of your day, the weight of those words scraping at your bones, seeping into the very marrow. You would sometimes wake up in a sweat, the details of others harrowing tales running through your brain, how could you not?
But the stories had to be preserved, these lives that hung by a thread, you were weaving them together and putting people back like a tapestry. It was one of the best things you could do with what skills that were available to you. You were so grateful to be of use.
You also could handle yourself with a gun, something your father had insisted on since he knew he’d not always be there to protect his girls. He taught you himself and was sure you knew how to handle various kinds of weapons, he didn’t even really like guns, but he knew you needed to know how to defend yourself. Your father was practical and logical, it was about knowing how to do things on your own, so you didn’t have to rely on others if you there was no else that you could depend on. Your father wanted you to have the ability to leave if you needed to, that you would not be at the mercy of someone who wasn’t good for you. Too many women had found themselves at the mercy of unworthy men.
You were also not a very big fan of guns, but you’d never know how much it would help you later on in life. And since you had heard everything in all those stories, so much violence, you were fearless at times, at your own detriment. For some reason, you weren’t afraid of dying. You had witnessed so much dying through the lives of others, it just felt like something you knew would eventually happen. If it was going to come, it was going to come. It comes for us all.  That doesn’t mean you were stupid, you didn’t want to die, you didn’t look for death.
Maria didn’t know what to do with you and when she wasn’t sure where someone would stay, she would put that person up in her house, which meant you were closer to Joel. Maria loved the idea of you hearing the people of Jackson’s stories and she would never decline another hand at patrolling. When she heard how you had handled Joel’s gruffness, she knew right away she would like you. 
It was your first morning at Tommy and Maria’s, sitting at their kitchen table. Joel arrived just as grumpy as usual and surprised to find you there, smiling in the morning sunlight.  Maria was handing you a cup of coffee, “Joel, do you want any? It’s the last of what we have.” 
Joel shuffles his feet at the entry while closing the door and eyes you with a short grunt, “Sure.” He sits across from you at the table and jabs a finger in your direction, “What’s sleeping beauty doing here?”  Maria sets a cup of coffee in front of him and raises an eyebrow at you in confusion, she’s not familiar with the nickname he’s given you but finds it amusing, nonetheless. She pulls out a chair and sits between you, knowing that this is going to be entertaining.
Reaching for your own cup, you swipe your finger around the edge “Good morning sunshine, I’m happy to see you too. Maria, you didn’t tell me you knew the town grump.”  You wink at Joel and stick your tongue out at him then look at Maria and grin. She’s a little shocked at your audacity, just a little.
You’re not expecting her answer and when she responds, you feel sorry, “The town grump is my brother-in-law. He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”
Her response causes you to wince, “Are you sure? I’ve already had a few people warn me to stay away from him. I’m not kidding, they said, ‘Welcome to Jackson, everyone is friendly here, except for that asshole, Joel Miller.’” You’re not even looking at him now and you can see he’s starting to fidget, his hand tightening around his coffee mug.
Joel clears his throat, “I’m sitting right here for fuck’s sake. I can hear you.” 
“Can you Joel?” You speak a little louder, “That’s not what I’ve been told. Aren’t you hard of hearing? Like, you’re grumpy and old?” Shaking your head, you click your tongue. “I guess I’d be grouchy too if everyone knew I was deaf and an asshole.”
Joel grumbles under his breath and puts his coffee cup down, “I don’t need this bullshit, she can find her own typewriter Maria.” The anger bubbling up in his voice is noticeable, he’s quick to light a fire under and you note his temper. 
Having come from a long line of grumpy old men, you’ve always found it endearing. There’s something about winning the hearts of a grouch that you find challenging. When they liked you, you knew it was genuine, they never hid how they felt.  But it wasn’t just seeing it as a challenge, it was about the fact that someone like Joel, who didn’t love easily, once he did, he would die to keep you safe. He didn’t take loving anyone lightly. But you still weren’t going to put up with his shit attitude either.
“I guess you heard that didn’t you? Look Joel, you don’t have to help me, I’m sure there are plenty people here who can help me find what I want.  I’m quite capable of scouting for my own typewriter.” Shifting in your seat you look at Maria who is captivated by your dynamic with Joel.  Granted, she doesn’t put up with him either, “Maria, I don’t need Joel’s help, I will figure something out.”
Nodding his head, you can see he’s agreeing with you, “See, she doesn’t need me.  And what do you need a typewriter for anyway?”
Oh, she hasn’t told him what you plan on doing.  Well this doesn’t help.  You know right away Joel is going to be one of those people who won’t understand at all why people would want to share their stories. He would probably rather cut off one of his limbs before he opens up to anyone about what he’s been through. “What do you think I need a typewriter for, Joel?”
Joel rolls his eyes at you, “I know what a typewriter does, but why do you need it here? It’s not an essential. It’s not going to feed anyone or shelter anyone.  It’s certainly not going to keep anyone from dying.”  Maria is sitting and listening, she’s just intrigued that you’ve gotten Joel Miller to talk as much as you have.
Putting your hand under your chin, you look at him thoughtfully, “Joel, there’s one thing that we all share here.  We’ve all gone through hell and back and we all have stories to tell.  A lot of us don’t want to tell those stories or just aren’t ready, even after all these years.  But some of us, some of us are ready and even some people, they have to tell their stories in order to move on. That’s what history is, is telling stories of what’s happened basically.  And so, I want to record that.  I want to give them an outlet. It’s cathartic and for many, it’s healing. That’s part of being able to survive. It actually does save lives and gives people the ability to go on or want to go on. I know it might not seem like something we need, but for some, it’s exactly what they’ve been needing for a long time.  So, I give them what they need.  And some day, if human beings actually fucking survive this nightmare, there will be a written history of what’s happened.”
Sitting back in your chair, picking up your coffee, you look for a reaction in Joel’s face. He’s thinking, the lines of the past twenty years hiding any sign of emotion, but it’s rippling under the surface. “That sounds like a nightmare, sharing what happened to me. Reliving that. But I know I’ve met people who can’t shut up about what they’ve been through, and I’ve seen the look of relief on their faces when they’ve been able to tell me about it.” He closes his eyes, and you can see him struggle, “I understand.”
Joel abruptly gets up and turns to you and Maria, “I’m not making any special trip for this, but if I find one, I will be sure to bring it back.” 
Nodding, you get up and walk over to Joel and gently touch his arm, “Thank you Joel, I appreciate that.” Joel looks down at your hand and grunts, then leaves. 
Maria wants to get you set up as soon as she can, word has gotten around that you will be recording people’s lives before and after outbreak day, and many are eager to do so, more than she ever imagined. The list you had asked for is growing by the hour and people have already started to ask for when you would be available. Her first instinct was to put you somewhere central, but instead, she decided closer to her was right.  She wanted to be a resource to you and make sure you had everything you needed. Because so many people were clamoring to tell their stories she could feel how important you were going to come to the community, and you had already grown on her since you were able to deal with her brother-in-law better than most grown men around here. Joel just clammed up or overly testy when confronted by other men, she needed someone who pushed him but didn’t provoke him.
Luckily there was a small house that she could put you in not far from her and later that week she asked Joel to meet you both there. Joel is waiting outside on the porch, puffs of his breath showing up as he stands with a hand on his hip looking as grumpy as ever.  “You’re late, it’s cold out here. Did you forget your alarm Sleeping beauty?”
Smiling brightly, you walk up the stairs and nudge Joel in the arm with your elbow, “Good morning sunshine, I was awake at dawn, I couldn’t even sleep knowing how excited you’d be to see me.” You then look at your watch, “We’re right on time anyway, you’re early.” Reaching into your jacket’s large pockets, you pull out a substantial hunk of cornbread from the batch you’d just taken from the oven, “Here, hope this helps. I also got my hands on some butter and honey. It’s really good.  Together?  Magic in your mouth.” 
Joel looks a little confused as he takes the bread and butter wrapped in their tiny pieces of cloth. The recipe was from your father, the grumpiest of them all, but he loved to dote on you and your mother. Baking was one way he did it and you had some of his favorite recipes memorized. Cornbread and chili was a staple in your house on a Sunday evening and when Maria had said she indeed did have the ingredients to make it, you almost cried. 
Maria unlocks the door while holding back a snide remark and lets you both in, Joel still puzzled as what to do with the bread in his hand. “Thank you.” He holds the two bundles up and nods, then slips them into his own jacket pocket to turn and scan the bottom floor of the house. “So, what’s the plan here, why do you need me?”
“That’s a good question Joel, we need a space so our town historian here can meet with people and write their stories. Rather than give her a shop, we thought it best to make a space for her here in her home. This house has a den, which is perfect. Maybe you can tell Joel what you want?” Maria turns to you. You were listening to her, but not completely, you had gotten lost in thought, wandering around the different rooms.
The house wasn’t very large, the bottom floor was typical for Jackson with a living room, dining room and small kitchen.  This house however had a den to the other side of the living room. The house wasn’t furnished, so one of the things they needed to do was find you some furniture. Most of the homes they had came with furniture, but this one needed to be cleaned out completely. You hadn’t wanted to know anymore details than that. There was a built-in bookshelf on one side of the den, which as perfect for storing anything you wrote, and the process was complicated one.
Not realizing that you’d been quietly thinking longer than what was polite, Joel cleared his throat, “Hey there, you fall asleep standing up?” He moves a little closer to you and bends a little to meet look into your eyes. “Anyone in there?”
The thoughts going through your head were fast and more floundering than furious. The house reminded you a little of the one you’d had with your husband and kids. The den was like your office but yours had a door. You would write your books from there when you could get the time after you had your daughters. You think about the times their little fists would pound on the door and ask when you’d come out and play with them, it was time for tea with their stuffed animals or they needed you to watch their favorite Disney movie. How such big memories could fit in such a short amount of time was creating an ache in your chest, it was so long ago but it felt immediate.
“Funny Joel. I was just thinking, sorry.” Sighing heavily, you walk over to the den and try to put your thoughts into words, but the memories keep invading your clarity. It’s frustrating.
Maria heads for the door, “I’m sorry I can’t stay, I have to get to a morning meeting, but you two can sort this out, right?” Joel looks a little distressed at being left alone with you and you shrug but before either of you can respond, she’s already left.
“I guess we don’t have a choice, do we Joel? I’ll be as quick and concise as I can be.  It wasn’t my idea, so sorry that you’ve been dragged into this. I really don’t need much. Maria is doing her best to help me feel settled, that’s all. She seems to like volunteering you for my sake.” Which has occurred to you but you don’t know why. There’s zero benefit for either of you, Joel Miller needs you in his life like he needs a rose in his asshole.  
You walk over to the built in bookshelf in the den and go to start explaining your needs when Joel raises a hand. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s my job to help here, just let me know what you need. I’m sure I can figure out how to make the space work for you.” He moves closer and looks around, “What is it you need from the space? Tell me what you hope to accomplish? How much time you plan on spending here? Is there a mood or a feeling you want from the space? Do you need to store anything? You know?”
Joel’s questions surprise you a bit, they’re thoughtful and help you organize your thoughts better. “Joel, it’s like you’ve done this before. Um, those are really helpful questions, thank you. Shit, I feel completely unprepared for this.” Leaning into the corner you’ve gotten lost in width of Joel’s shoulders, all of a sudden you see them. He’s standing in the opening of the den, and it looks smaller than it should. Fuck, you are not going to get smitten by a grumpy old man. But who are you kidding, you’re old too.
Joel can see you’re almost lost again in thought and starts to speak, “You aren’t the first one to be unprepared, that’s for sure. I was a contractor in my previous life. Sometimes you just have to ask the right questions when people look as lost as you do.” Joel looks around again and thinks for a second. “How ‘bout I take some measurements and sketch out a floor plan? In the meaning time, how ‘bout you think about those questions and answer them.  We can meet up and go into more detail then? It will be easier than me breathing down your neck while you try to figure things out.” 
He walks to the other side of the built-in bookshelf and rubs a thumb over the edge, admiring the workmanship, “It’s too bad they had to paint this wood, I bet it’s beautiful underneath all this eggshell crap.” The warmth in his voice melts some of the rough edges in the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. His genuine love of the craft takes him out of his shell and the energy in the room shifts a bit. “I’m a little jealous you get this house. I noticed some other nice details in the living room and the dining room. Someone really loved this place.”
Dragging your eyes from his hands to your own hands, you rub your thumb over the edges, mirroring his movement and it’s smooth under your touch. You squint and try to see what he’s seeing, feeling a little dumb for not getting it. Joel is watching in amusement, noticing that you’ve mimicked his examination of the wood.  He steps over to you and grasps your hand softly, “Feel this? Feel how smooth it is? When the wood is this smooth, it means it’s been worked well and it’s a high-quality wood.”
His hand is rough, it’s been working, and you didn’t expect him to just reach out and touch you. This gruff man was so gentle too, and yet he had seen you were curious. “Hmmm, I was noticing how smooth it was. I didn’t think much of it. Is that it?” As you speak, you need to steady your breath and focus on the wood, not the fact that he’s so close. The fact that you’re a little flustered doesn’t escape Joel either. 
Joel doesn’t let go of your hand and moves even closer, “You see where the shelves meet? Those corners?  Look how tight they are and even? There’s no glue, there’s no nails, that’s got to be some kind of dovetail joint to be that neat. I’m a man who loves a tight joint.” He looks up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he’s really laying it on thick now. 
Wiggling your hand from his, you brush your hair out of your eyes and try to step back, but you’re already against the wall. “I can see that, Joel. I’m feeling like I’m stuck in a little tight right now. Maybe you could back up a bit, you’re going to give a girl the wrong idea and make her think you like her or something.” You know Joel hasn’t done anything wrong, it’s you who’s uncomfortable with his closeness, with feeling his breath on your cheek and his eyes so close you can see the gold flecks mixed in with the deep chocolate brown of his irises. 
“You don’t have to worry about that darlin’, I don’t like anyone. I can’t have my reputation marred by that getting out there.” He turns and walks towards the door.  “Make that list of yours and let me know what you need, and I will set up a time for us to sit down.”  He pats his pocket, “Thanks again for the cornbread.” And with that, he’s gone.
A couple of days have gone by, and Maria passes a message to you to meet Joel at the local “watering hole” in town. You hadn’t heard that phrase in a long time. Who says that? Of course, Joel Miller would say something like that, you can hear him saying it in your head as you walk through the streets of the small town. You’re bundled up in your heavy wool lined trucker jacket, faded red and well loved with the signature high laced Doc Martens, thankfully you could find those anywhere. The end of the world didn’t mean the end of fashion. Sure, there weren’t any new clothes being made, but there were a lot less people to wear what was left. 
You were bundled up in not only your favorite clothes (they were the only two things you’d been able to hold onto for the past couple of years) but the quiet only brought on by a snowy day. There weren’t many people out because the temperature had dropped quite a bit, and the only ones out were those who only had to be out to get the essentials done. It was a perfect day as far as you were concerned, you weren’t running or hiding, and you could stand perfectly still while snowflakes fell on your lashes. It felt magical and serene, so much so that you had spent a few minutes outside the bar since you were early, eyes up to the wide-open sky. Every moment was a gift for you, a revelation and you didn’t hesitate to soak it in.
“What are you doing ding bat standing out here in the snow? For fuck’s sake, how have you stayed alive all this time? Or is it just recently that you got a head injury or something?” Joel is standing against a post with his hands in his pockets glaring at you and going on about something. You’re not sure you should pay attention since it doesn’t sound very important but an old man complaining about nothing.
Realizing the tip of your nose has gone a bit numb, you shake off the snow from your cap and walk into the bar, ignoring Joel altogether. Joel doesn’t follow you right away, he is still outside and is a bit stunned you just walked away and completely ignored his snark. Nothing, you didn’t even look at him. 
The Tipsy Bison is warm and inviting even though completely empty at the moment. No one wants to brave the cold to even meet for a drink, although what you really want is a hot toddy, the thought makes you almost giddy. But you know it’s probably impossible as you go behind the bar and start to look through what’s on the counter. 
Joel finds you leaned over looking at all the alcohol behind the bar, your butt sticking out the side, your jeans tighter than you’d like but making them hug you in the way Joel thinks is perfection. He stands there caught up in watching you wiggle in excitement and almost forgets himself.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing??” But Joel really doesn’t care, he’s just fucking with you now, at least he thinks he is, he’s not sure if you’re annoying or if he’s on edge because Maria keeps insisting that he help you with something he doesn’t even understand. 
Jumping, you almost knock over some of the liquor bottles and swear under your breath, “Joel, you really need to take a chill pill or get laid, something. Just dial it back, okay?” Coming out from behind the bar you sit down at an empty table.  “Where is everyone? I would think someone would be here?” 
Joel sits down, takes off his gloves puts them on the table, he glares at you and brushes the snow off his shoulders. “No one is really going to be out right now, and I unlocked it before stepping out to grab something. And I don’t need to “Chill or get laid”. You’re almost as bad as my 14-year-old and that’s saying something.”  Joel then pulls out some paper and a pencil, flattening it out before you.
Maria told you about Ellie and rather than ask, you just shrug. Grumps don’t like too many questions and you’re not going to provoke Joel.  It’s enough that he even brought Ellie up, so let it lie. You take out your short list and put it on the table, “Here’s my list of questions, I’ve been marinating with them so I could offer some thoughtful answers.”
“I thought you said you’d be prepared this time; you just have questions and no answers?” You can hear the annoyance in his voice. It’s been five minutes and he’s already running out of patience. Your instinct is to reach out and touch his arm, to make some kind of physical contact to reassure him, but Joel isn’t warm, he’s put his battle armor back on before you’ve even been able to get your footing. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?” 
It’s only been two days, but something feels different and rather than push you pull, “Hey Joel, sorry about being behind the bar, I haven’t seen anything like that in a long time. I was curious and you know, all I could think in this cold weather was, a hot toddy sounds amazing. I sometimes let my curiosity get ahead of me and my cravings.” You wink and poke Joel’s hand with your finger, making him scowl back at you.
“People just get caught up in the novelty of things. We took a lot for granted, so now everything feels new again. Maybe I’m more like your 14-year-old than I’d like to admit. I’ve spent so much time listening to the fucking horrific things that have happened to people I have to find some joy in the smallest things. Especially when there are times I don’t know if I’m going to see them again.” 
Shifting and shrugging, Joel wraps his meaty fingers around the paper on the table, he’s measuring you up, he’s curious, which infuriates him, but he won’t let it show in his face. “How old are you? Were you actually ever in a bar before outbreak day?” Your laughter is louder than you meant it to be, because you can’t believe he just said what he said. You almost fall out of the booth, grabbing at your middle you fold over and gasp for air, you even snort.
“How old do you think I am Joel? It’s been twenty years since outbreak day, do you actually think I’m younger than forty?  That’s a joke, right?” You continue to laugh, “Joel, you never ask a woman how old she is, not that I give a fuck.  But how ungentlemanly of you. I’m 52 Joel. I just look younger, I’ve always looked younger, even through this nightmare.” You continue to laugh and shake you head at him as he rolls his eyes, “Can we just do this?” 
“Why? Why are you doing this?  I don’t understand why people want to talk to you.  I’ve seen the list of names, it’s people who told me they understand why I don’t want to talk about it, why people are angry and bitter, but they want to talk to you?  Why the fuck would they want to talk about this? While I was looking at the list, more people signed up, they wanted to know if I was going to tell my story.  It would help me open up! Heal me, be cathartic.  I don’t need a fucking catharsis.”
There it is. “Joel, it’s not for everyone. And it’s all not all negative, people also share their good memories, before outbreak day, of people they loved so they can hold on to that too. But for some reason, for those who choose to tell me their stories, whatever kind they want, it helps. And it is a process. I take this very seriously. Look, let me explain to you what I need, okay. Let’s go back to that, can we?”  There’s a bead of sweat that starts to trickle down your back forcing you to remove your jacket. Setting it to the side, you look at Joel and gulp, almost as if you’ve shed a layer of protection and are trying to be vulnerable in more way than one.
Joel bites back his response and looks at the questions on your paper but doesn’t see anything more.  “Where’s your list?  I just see questions. Did you not answer your questions? I thought you’d be prepared today?  What the hell?”  You can see he’s frustrated with your methods, but he’s actually just frustrated altogether because he doesn’t understand how YOU work.
The grumpiness is growing and your feeling raw because you hate that you have to defend yourself when all you want to do is help people. It would have been easier to do this yourself rather than struggle with Joel. Why would Maria keep putting you together if she knew you would just keep pissing him off?
“The reason I didn’t write anything down is because I would just read it to you and that would be it.  I would only focus on that. I needed to marinate, I had to think about it.  I took your questions and I’ve been thinking, like just sitting with it. I’ve not really had the opportunity to have a space like this, or even my own place. To be honest, the whole idea of it is overwhelming. So much space to myself? I don’t think I will know what to do with myself. I will probably want to sleep under the bed rather than on top of it. I have times where I already want to do that at Maria and Tommy’s place.  I constantly feel exposed and alone. God, I feel so alone. But you know, you just gotta fucking keep going.”  When you get emotional your nose itches, so you start to rub it, and it’s been warming up, so it’s also a little drippy. Looking around, you hope there’s something better than your hand to wipe your nose with, there isn’t.
Joel gets up and goes to the bar to grab a small dry towel and hands it to you. “I’m listening.”  He takes the paper he has in front of him and smooths it out and looks at you studiously. “Go ahead.” His head nods towards you and he urges you to keep talking.
Wiping your nose you continue, “What do I need from the space?  I need the space to be warm and inviting. I need to somehow to be able to write or type but that the person speaking to me feels like I’m not siloed behind a barrier. But I also want a desk so I can then write separately when I finish up what I’ve taken notes on, a separate area to edit, etc. I need storage for everything that’s finished. I know that sounds obvious, but when I would write my novels, it was a lot simpler for me.”  You grab the paper from Joel and show him “I would have a desk here and that was it.”
Joel nods and grunts and waits for you to continue. “How much time do I plan on spending there?  Probably eight-hour a day or more. It’s time consuming. And I want it to be something comfortable but not too comfortable, I also want people to feel like there’s a time limit to their stay. I would only have appointments in two-hour increments.  Since it is an emotional process, it takes a lot of time. I’ve gone longer and put a buffer between people so I can organize my notes and thoughts.”  You’re now just running at the mouth; Joel puts his hand on yours and breathes in.  That’s it, he just breathes in, no words.
“I get anxious thinking about it.  It can be an overwhelming feeling, thinking about all those words and feelings. I haven’t listened to anyone’s stories for a few months now since we’ve been traveling rather than in one place for a bit. Can I pick any colors? Style? I mean, how detailed is this going to get? Do we have the supplies for this? We really can keep it simple, maybe I really don’t need any help. I don’t need much. I’m not trying to be a bother, this wasn’t even my idea Joel” And just like that, you take your list and crumple it up and shove it in your jean’s pocket. 
Joel’s eyes widen as he grabs your hand, “Woah, that’s the most confusing conversation I’ve never been involved in. What just happene? Look, I don’t know why, but Maria has insisted that you get everything and anything you’d want and seeing as though she calls a lot of the shots here, the skies the limit Sleeping Beauty. Just because I don’t understand doesn’t mean I’m not going to help.  Just don’t hold your breath when it’s time to start talking.” 
Pulling your hand out of his, you find yourself more and more confused.  It’s like you both don’t know what to do with each other. You step back, he steps forward, you step forward he steps back. You’re in this odd dance of wills and no one recognizes the song that’s playing. 
Joel returns his attention to the floor plan and starts sketching a bit.  “And why are you doing this if it’s making you so anxious? I don’t fucking understand any of you people. Why can’t you just leave well enough alone? Isn’t there enough in this world that already causes enough suffering?”  He continues to draw while you just sit in silence, you’re actually fuming because you can’t believe he’s scolding you. “You’re one of those people who thinks you know better, aren’t you? Maybe you should find something useful to do rather than something that just makes you upset?” He’s continuing to sketch out an idea he has. He really doesn’t understand why you would do something that adds more trauma to your trauma, why would you do that to yourself?
“Why is everything such a fucking fight for you Joel? You know there aren’t any monsters here? Do I have to check under the tables for you? Listen.” You stop and catch his gaze as he looks up at you, incredulous at your words that accuse him of being, dare you imply, dramatic. But it’s quiet, still and there’s nothing else happening around you.
“Do you hear that? There’s nothing to fight here and yet you’re battling at every chance you get. You want to fight anyone and everyone and it’s exhausting. Maybe some of us want to stop carrying all that shit around and stop fighting unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t know what you lost but you’re not the only one who lost loved ones. You’re not the only who’s seen some shit motherfucker. And let me tell you, so many lost parents, spouses, brothers and sisters. Everyone copes in a different way and all I’m trying to do is give people one way to cope and hopefully a written history of what happened to all the people who are gone.”
It’s so hard to think straight.  There are a lot of people who don’t understand what you’re trying to do but you’ve never met someone as resistant as Joel Miller. “The first story I wrote?  It was my own.  It’s in three spiral notebooks that I’ve been carrying around for years and I’ve just added to recently.  They’re yellowed and tattered, and I want to type it all up so I can bind it because it’s all I have left of my family Joel, that’s it.  It’s all I have left of my daughters and my husband, of my father and mother, is three FUCKING NOTEBOOKS.”
You really can’t do this right now, you’re tired and everything hurts. Even though you’re sleeping beauty you haven’t been able to sleep since your got to Jackson because it’s too comfortable, everything feels TOO good, and you don’t know what to do with that right now.  Every time things got too good you lost it all eventually. And just because you say you can deal with it, you’re not ready yet.  You need a transition and that takes time, but you hadn’t bet on having to deal with such a gigantic asshole like Joel so soon.
Joel is sitting and looking at you, he hasn’t quite caught up with your anger and you can see he doesn’t know how to react. The impact of your words are still seeping in, he’s not felt it all and he’s not sure how to respond. You’ve grabbed your jacket to stand and are buttoning it up. You take the scrap of paper with the questions back out of your pocket and leave it in front of him, “Here Joel, I don’t need your help.  I can do this on my own. It’s obvious you don’t really want to help.  I will talk to Maria and make sure she knows it’s okay to stop bugging you. It was nice meeting you, asshole.” 
Turning on your heels, you’re the one to leave, Joel just sitting with scraps of paper before him and a blank stare on his face. 
The next few weeks pass quickly, you’ve moved into the house and try to settle in although it’s hard. Some furniture is assembled downstairs, and the upstairs is just as sparse, but you don’t need much to feel at home. There’s a depot in town with a lot of decorating supplies from the homes around town that people didn’t want, and you’ve found yourself digging through them to take what strikes your fancy. What at first sounded daunting, a space to yourself is now your very own haven. You hadn’t had something all your own since graduating college. You could do whatever you wanted and with the odds and ends that you’d been scraping together, the project felt like a baptism, a fresh start in something that had always been so dirty and gross.
The dim morning light wakes you as you try to get your day going.  You have a list of people you’re sitting down with today to listen and write with, which is always taxing. Thankfully you learned shorthand so you could record things more quickly, but a typewriter would save your poor hands. It’s really difficult to ask people to speak more slowly when they’re pouring their trauma and hurt out to you, or their most beloved memories. But because people are so grateful to be heard and to have some kind of memorial of their life before and after breakout day, they are happy to oblige your slow as molasses process. 
And it is a process. You use very precise words from their stories and record feelings as well and their reactions. It’s so heart wrenching because you then take what they share and write it in their words using what they’ve given you, but you craft something fuller and more real. You would think people would read and hate what you’ve written but because you put so much detail while you listen, you’ve never had anyone reject your retelling of their pain but you have had gone back and done some editing for them, which can be a pain in the ass. You do it with such love and care, so much time and reflection that they’re grateful.  
You try to limit people to small vignettes and short pieces. You have to guide them to be brief and treat it like a play with acts rather than long novels with endless chapters. The whole process is a dance, and you lead people up to talking as well because you prepare them for how it’s going to make them feel, letting them understand what kinds of emotions it will uncover, what kind of ache and bruising it may reveal. It’s never easy and you have to carry them through, which is also emotional labor you extend without cost or worry for your own mental health.
This is why it’s so important for you to have a safe space. And this is why people are so grateful to you when it’s done. And you haven’t finished one story yet, only a handful are in the works. But the few you’ve been working with are already grateful, they’re sharing their experiences with people all over the settlement, even one Joel Miller. 
Joel and you have kept a wide berth since that afternoon in The Tipsy Bison, but he has been watching you from afar. Rather than you let him design a space for you, you found a couple of tables to mush together and create an L shaped desk with some comfortable chairs haphazardly pushed up against one side so you can lean when you need to and write faster. You used some of those abandoned materials to dress it up and make it more hospitable with soft colors and warm hues, lots of pillows and makeshift handkerchiefs crafted from the softest of the materials you could cut and sew hems around them.  You had so many of them because people would go through them so quickly.  They were easy to hand wash and leave out overnight. There were so many details you thought of to make things easier.
What you don’t know is that Joel’s been reading your writing on the sly. Maria had asked to read your story so she could get a glimpse of the outcome. The tattered notebooks sat out on the kitchen table and when there was no one around, Joel would sit and read them. 
Even though most people thought Joel wasn’t paying attention, he was. Joel traveled through the settlement like a ghost most days, his eyes would gaze over people like they didn’t exist and only lit up for a handful of people, especially Tommy and Ellie. As much as he had wished their love had healed his heart, he still kept himself locked away and hardened. He couldn’t afford to lower his guard, he couldn’t lose anyone, he couldn’t afford to slip or let what he had now slip away.
But to his surprise, those who were speaking to you sounded a little bit lighter, they talked about how patient and kind you were.  They were taken aback by your light hand, sweet temperament and in awe of how careful you were with their memories. It was the reverence with which you held their loved ones as if you loved them just as much as they had. Even if they had gone in skeptical, they came out as full converts, prosthelytizing everything about it. 
They even loved how you were available to them 24/7 if they were having nightmares, regrets about the process or just needed to talk about how it made them feel. Joel hated how much it made him think about you, how it was shifting his mind regarding your work. It fucking infuriated him since he was so dead set against it in the first place, but he couldn’t deny how happy it was making people and the fact that you were going above and beyond to make a safe space for them, that you had the capacity to protect anyone that came within your sphere even made him envious.
And that’s when he started to open your notebooks. Your handwriting was neat and compact as if you were trying to fit in as much as you could in the space provided. And when you had said you had suffered loss, you had suffered so much loss. Reading about losing your youngest daughter the first day tore at his insides and brought him to tears. The helplessness in your words, how you had felt so incredibly powerless to save her while you held your older girl against your chest, shielding her from the sight of her little sister’s death. How she cried for her father because he was struggling to get to you from across town knowing he might not make it, none of you might make it.
Joel kept reading a little everyday, learning more and more about you, how you’d grappled with the loss of your second daughter and husband on the same day as he had tried to save her life and you couldn’t save either of them. The burning hurt that engulfed him was overwhelming. Every time he read your words, he would swear no more, that he couldn’t take anymore, especially without your consent. But because you always came back with something bright, you always found your way through, which fucking made him angry at the same time, he felt your voice calling him, he wanted more. 
Joel couldn’t help but find himself enraptured by your grit and your softness.  He didn’t think it was possible to be so fucking strong and yet so damn vulnerable and open. Tess never came close, but she really let the world harden her to the point that the two of you had come to some unspoken agreement to swallow a jagged pill together in order to make it.  You on the other hand would talk of “sunlight on dew dappled leaves” that went untouched by the hordes roaming around you. There was magnificence that still existed without being sullied by the putridness of death and destruction. Joel had let himself be swallowed by it, he reveled in it, he knew if he cracked the shell, he may never be able to force himself back in, so how did you do it?
Then came your second family, the man you go on to love for another fifteen years up until just five months ago, that was the end of your last notebook and what he had read yesterday. You had loved him so very much and yet lost again. You had gotten pregnant twice, miscarried in your second trimester with the first and had your baby die the first year with the second. A little boy named Jacob. You’d named him after your father. That was the time you’d gone somewhere really dark, you had let yourself just die a little. Nathan, your partner, was so patient and gentle with your grief that you know you would have died without him because you had wanted to. Grief was more like a lover now than anything else, it slept with you each night, wrapped in your arms and so entangled, you didn’t know how to escape.
When Jacob died you spent days on end in bed. Thankfully at that time you were in a somewhat safe place even if it were a little makeshift.  Jacob was still breastfeeding which was the easiest and best way to feed a baby if a little painful with his teeth coming in. But he had gotten sick and fast and due to the lack of immunizations, something that was easy to prevent and cure turned out to be deadly for him. And the loss broke you. You wouldn’t give Nathan his little body for two days. You just lay with him, cuddling and cooing, telling him you’d never leave him alone, your breasts aching and leaking milk that had nowhere to go. The thought of leaving him alone and hungry was agonizing to you.
Then when you did finally relinquish his tiny body, you couldn’t get up or function because all you could think about was him being alone in the dark and how you’d failed him.  How could you have brought a new life into this world? You were irresponsible and selfish.  It was so thoughtless of you to let your love grow inside you, to let lust and want create new life when all around you was death.
And you cried, all you could do besides sleep was cry. There were times that your wailing would scare others in the camp so much so that they wanted to kick you and Nathan out, tell him he had to get you under control.  Your grief was selfish and caustic, it wore at everyone, but Nathan. He told you that you could grieve as long as you needed, you could grieve for the both of you. You thought it was a miracle that you’d met your first husband, John, but Nathan was a whole new miracle because he put you back together with his love and kindness.  He let you mourn, and he encouraged you to write. 
That is what healed you, writing about the good and the bad and about your life before and all the loss and it sewed you back together like a childhood teddy bear that had been loved so much it was fraying at the seams. Nathan refurbished you like that bear, with new stuffing and a brand new heart.  That’s how you got the idea to write other people’s stories.  First yours, then Nathan’s and then others.  You still had Nathan’s tucked away as well, you would read it now and again because of how much you missed him.  
Joel trusted you after reading about your loss, he understood what you meant now, and he saw how you were helping others. He still was angry at you, and he still hated that you were right. Joel Miller hated to be wrong about anything, but he also knew when to admit he fucked up.
It was a bright Sunday morning, cold as fuck but clear too. You were coming back from an early walk to find Joel Miller standing on your porch looking bored and a bit annoyed. He was holding something in his hand and tapping his foot anxiously.
As you walked up to your home, he turned to leave, startled to see you standing there. “Hey, I was just waiting for you, but it’s fuckin’ cold out here.” He’s squinting his eyes and trying not to look too happy to see you, it’s taken a bit to work up to coming over knowing he’s going to have to eat some crow, not his favorite meal.
Your first instinct is to be a smart ass, you know, ‘Yeah it’s cold, it’s winter asshole’.  But you refrain since he’s bypassed “sleeping beauty” assuming he’s trying not to be a sarcastic dick. “Good to you see you, Sunshine. Do you want to come in? I was going to make some tea.”  You walk past him and open your door.
The living room is filled with a few items to make it seem livable. You found a mid century modern couch somehow and put throw pillows on it with a comforter that you found and spent hours washing.  It reminded you of something you owned in college and had spent weeks living under during finals. At least it felt like weeks. The geometric patterns in blues and greens made you feel calm even though someone else might disagree, it just soothed that part of your brain that liked order. 
The couch was also blue and had worn rather well even though it was probably older than you. It was comfortable and you had spent many a night with tea and a book reading under the lamp curled up with that blanket, feet up and comfortable. 
Joel was quiet for a moment as he looked around, “I like what you’ve done, it’s simple and clean.” His eyes drift to the den where you have tried to make it workable and a gasp escapes from him as he strides over to the shelves. “Did you start to strip these?  What the fuck? Did a wild raccoon break in and do this?”  He’s actually angry, his hands balled up in fists.
Fuck, here you are again, fighting with Joel and it’s only been a minute. You haven’t said anything, and you want to kick him in the shin. Why is he like this? “Joel, please don’t. I wanted to strip the shelves, so I asked for help in town and Larry said he could do it.  As soon as he started, I could see he didn’t have a clue and told him to stop.  Then he asked me out, it was horrible. What men will do to get a date. It’s been like that since.” Grabbing a book on one of the shelves you hand it to him, “I’ve been reading about how to strip and refinish wood, but I just haven’t had the time since I spend so much writing and I’ve been setting things up so I can LIVE here. The last thing I need is you telling me it’s fucked up, okay?” Turning on Joel you leave the den and walk to the kitchen to put on water to boil, you need some chamomile tea.
Joel puts the book down and follows you with a sheepish look on his face.  The package that is still in his other hand lands on the counter. “You know I said I would do that for ya. You didn’t have to ask some jackass like Larry. He has no idea what he’s doing. If you need some plumbing done, that’s his specialty, wood, no. And he’s always trying to get into every lady’s pants. What a jerk. I wonder if it ever works?” Joel can’t help but huff and smirk.
“Joel, I don’t want or need your help. You don’t support what I’m doing or approve.  Which I don’t need your approval, by the way. I can do it myself.”  As your speaking, you grab the bag Joel’s left on the counter, peaking inside to see what’s in it. “I don’t know why you would want to help me anyway.  Is this cornmeal?”  You look in the bag again and up at Joel.
“That’s a lot questions at once sleeping beauty, which one do you want me to answer first?” He chuckles and tries to diffuse your anger with charm. Joel knows he’s an asshole, but he also knows he’s a charming one when he wants to be. 
“Since I’m still pissed off, lets start with why you want to help me.  The corn meal seems self serving.” You close the bag and push it away in frustration.
“Fair enough.” Joel leans against the counter and props himself on his chin, looking at you rather intently.  His eyes fixed on you in such a way that you want to squirm out of your skin. Joel has looked at you before, but you don’t know if he’s seen you as he’s seeing you right now. Every time you see him, he keeps seeing you in a new manner, it’s annoying.
“Did you know that being quiet makes it so you can hear a better? I listen and I’ve been hearing what you’re doing is making people feel better about being alive. It’s helping them. There aren’t a lot of things right now that brings people closer to wholeness and if that’s something you can do, even if I don’t understand, I should support it. I’m sorry I was such an asshole about it. And it sounds like you do it in a way that doesn’t cause more harm. You actually care and you give people the support they need and deserve. I don’t know how you do that, but they are grateful. I hear that in their voices.” Joel stands up without losing eye contact with you, it’s like he wants to sear that into you. Joel Miller doesn’t give out compliments like this often. You know this is uncommon and he’s letting you know in his expression.
“I don’t want your help, Joel. I can do it myself.  I’ve been doing it. I’ve already went out scouting for a typewriter. I’m sure I’ll find one on my own. And what I have here is working fine. I appreciate your apology, I’m sure that wasn’t easy, but I’m good.” The tea kettle starts to scream at you both and so you turn to take it off the heat so you can make your tea. Now you can feel his eyes on the back of your head, confusion wafting off of him.
Joel is just as frustrated as you, who’s battling now?  Why can’t you just accept the help? Who turns down help when offered? Although of course, he knows he would say no to help if offered to him because he’s as stubborn as a mule and the fact that your both asses makes it twice as infuriating. “What do you mean you’ve gone scouting?  Are you seriously going out there looking for a typewriter?  By yourself?”  He almost can’t believe, almost.
Holding the warm mug of water in your hand, you look at him and shrug, “I’ve survived for twenty years Joel, yes, I go out on my own. What are you going to do?  Tattle on me? Are you going to run to Maria and snitch? I’m old enough to know what I’m doing and what risks I’m taking. You go out alone and no one bats a fucking eyelash.”
“Yeah, I do, and I get a lot of shit for it. But I go out for actual supplies and not something frivolous. Do have a death wish? Do you want to die?  Is that it? Do you just not care?”  And his words shock you, the man who seems to care about no body but himself and less than a handful of people is asking you this.
Of course I care but death comes for us all. Have you not been paying attention to the theme here?  Death is inevitable and we’re all going to die some day. I’m not afraid of that. And who would care anyway?  It’s not like I have someone to come home to? Everyone I’ve ever loved is fucking dead Joel.  DEAD. Do you know why I’m so happy all the time? Why I try to find happiness and joy in every little minute, because I know it could be my last. Any second could be my last and I welcome that. I live every day like it’s my final because you know what, it is. I sometimes think I’ve already died, and this is just hell, so hey, might as well enjoy hell rather than try to escape. You know, tell the devil to fuck himself, you haven’t won, I WON.  Fuck you motherfucker, YOU CAN’T BREAK ME ASSHOLE.”  You try not to cry because crying doesn’t make it better no matter how good it feels, you are not crying for Joel, he doesn’t deserve your tears.
“Every beautiful moment with them was worth it. Every heartache without them was worth it because I loved and was loved. I want to know that I did everything I could to be the best person, friend and human being possible. That’s it Joel. And you carry this cloud around you like pig pen from Charlie Brown, it’s dark and ugly and it makes me feel dirty. I don’t want to be under your cloud because I fight to keep mine at bay.”
Joel is looking at you, he can see you fighting your tears and rather than be angry, he feels sorry for you. You’ve bought your own bullshit but can’t smell it. “Okay, so you think no one would care if you died?  Seriously, you say you live every day to the fullest, but you don’t think anyone would care?  Which is it sweetheart? Of course, people’d care if you died.  All the people you’ve already helped, they would care.  You have taken them and put them back together, they would be devastated if something happened to you. Maria would care, Tommy, this whole town would care because there are so many people who are eager to tell you their story.  The people who’ve met you and sat with you, I’ve heard them talk about your kindness and generosity of spirit, fuck, I hate everyone, but they made me want to like you.”
Joel stops and thinks, he closes his eyes and pinches the space between them, he’s trying to think of a way to say his next few thoughts without sounding sentimental or trite, but he can’t find one. “I would care. I would absolutely care if you died because I’ve just started to get to know you and I want to know more. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve wanted to know someone more or even cared to? Darlin’, why are you breaking my heart before I’ve even had a chance to try to give it you?” He hangs his head and sighs. Now he’s done it. Joel can’t believe he just said it. 
The gravity of Joel’s words is not lost on you, not one bit. It hits you so hard, you start to feel the tears rolling down your cheeks. You keep silent and let it soak in.  You know what he’s done is huge. It’s bigger than huge, it’s everything. Grumpy men don’t lay themselves bare like this without a reason and it’s like he’s just stripped and jumped into an icy river.  The waves of discomfort that’s coming off of him is bristling around you, but you want to soothe, not bristle back.
Gently setting your cup of tea back on the counter, you pull the cornmeal back to you, lean in and open it. “I take it you liked the cornbread I made?  This looks pretty fresh, what’d you have to do to get your hands on it in the middle of winter?” You turn and open your fridge to see if you have the other ingredients to make cornbread.
Joel looks around and wonders if you’re going to respond and realize this is your response. It’s a relief to him, the softness in your voice, the way your body has gone from fight to calmness and your eyes are relaxed and somehow you’ve managed to bring calm to him as well. He breathes in deeply, his muscles in his shoulders relax and he’s all of a sudden calm. A stillness has settled between you too as if the battle has ended and a subtle truce had been called without a word.
When he meets your eyes, you nod as if giving him permission to speak. “Yeah, best cornbread I’ve ever had actually, I can’t stop thinking about it. Not too sweet, not too dry. And that honey butter, you were absolutely right, magic in my mouth. I think I even dreamt about it.” he smiles and points to the bag, “I had to really finagle to get my hands on that, I wanted to make up for my shitty behavior. And yes, maybe see if I could get some more. So definitely self-serving.”
As you take stock and remove the ingredients from shelves and the fridge, you realize you have everything you need. “Joel, the recipe is my fathers, he got it from his mother, who got it from her mother. It’s old and my father would make it for us on most Sundays with his favorite chili recipe. It makes me think of him. He was a grumpy man with the biggest heart I’ve ever known. The way he loved my mother, they way he would do anything for her, even by making Sunday dinners when she had had a long week, he set the bar way too high for any man in my life. I’ve never met anyone who lived and loved like my father. His name was Jacob and he will always be the first man I loved.  I know that sounds creepy, but it’s not like that.  He just taught me what I should expect from the men in my life, what I should expect to be treated like.  I’m who I am because of him, I’m strong because he showed me what that meant. So did my Mother. She was tough too.” 
Joel moves closer to you and surveys the ingredients, he touches the bag and runs his hands over the outside, he examines everything then looks up at you, “Your father sounds like an amazing man. Sounds like the kind of father I’d wanted to be. It also sounds like he loved you very much.”
Nodding, you whisper a quiet yeah and pull out a bowel from one of the higher shelves, on your tip toes, brushing against Joel’s arm “Joel, you want to make some cornbread with me?”.  You can see Joel chuckle at your gesture and nod back. You also sensed how he stopped himself from grabbing your arm to stop you and get the bowl himself.
“I could have gotten that for you.” But then he thinks, of course you wouldn’t ask him. “Let’s make cornbread.”
You and Joel spend the next twenty minutes mixing the ingredients while chatting about nothing very important, making him do everything as you explain how your father would have made you do the same thing. It felt so good, watching his big hands grip the ingredients, mix with the wooden spoon you’d boiled ten times to get as clean as possible. His hands remind you of your father’s, his gruffness, Joel embodied some of the things you’d missed about Jacob. You would never tell him that, but standing next to him made you want to lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist. You wanted to just push your face into his chest and try to smother yourself in his very being.
Joel listens intently, but ever since he’d decided he wanted to get you know you better, he found himself distracted. You were so pretty and delicate and yet at the same time steely and determined. The fact that you were so intent on not letting anyone take care of you made him want to even more. He wanted to fight you for it, struggle for the right to take care of you. He wanted to make you see how much you deserved to let someone take care of you like your father had taken care of your mother.
Joel was certain Jacob would be disappointed how big those walls had gotten, how you’d actually fought to keep any man outside like him. You had earned the right to put your head down and rest for a bit. He was realizing that he wanted to be that person. You were the balm that others had been seeking, who was going to be your elixir? Who was going to hold you together while you stitched everyone whole?  Why did it all have to fall on you?
Joel puts the cornbread in the oven and turns to you for your approval.  You nod and smile warmly at him, a calmness settles with a stillness that feels like that hug you both want to surrender to. “Joel, it’s going to be at least an hour. You don’t have to wait here if you don’t want to.” You start to clean up as you look over to him, waiting for him to leave. For some reason, you expect he’d want to skedaddle as soon as humanly possible and all he can think is for a reason to stay as long as he can, and as close.
Rather than leave, Joel takes the bowl from you and nudges you away from the sink, “First, I’m going to clean up, not you.  Go do some writing or something.  I gotta pay for my share of cornbread some how.” He can see you start to protest. “NO, don’t even start with me missy, I’m not gonna argue with you.  I’m bigger and grumpier. You know and your father knows he wouldn’t put up with you not letting a man clean up after himself. You shared enough for me to know better now. Go write, go do something for yourself now. I got this.”  He turns and pretends to kick you, playfully.
“That’s not fair using the memory of my father against me Joel Miller. Not fair at all, because you’re right.” You start to giggle thinking about it, “My father would make John do the dishes after dinner with him whenever we had dinner together.  The girls weren’t allowed in the kitchen. Real men do dishes. He even had an apron that said that. I loved him so much.” And even though you’re laughing, you’re also crying because seeing this big grumpy man do dishes reminds you so much of your father it aches right through to your soul. Joel didn’t intend for that to happen, but he’s glad he could make you laugh.
Joel sees you’re tired too, he can see it in everything about you. “Hey, have you been sleeping?” You actually have dark circles under your eyes, “You look tired.” He doesn’t care that you should tell a lady she looks tired, he realizes his faux pas but also remembers how much you yawned in just the last twenty minutes.
“I’m okay, I haven’t been able to sleep much, I think I’m just getting used to having so much room and sleeping alone. I mean, being in this house alone is hard.  I’m so accustomed to having someone around, looking out, you know?” A heavy sigh escapes you and you smile weakly.
“Well, we can’t have sleeping beauty missing her beauty sleep, can we?  How about you take a nap and I can watch for when the bread is done?” 
Shrugging, you look at him with a bit of doubt, “I don’t know…”
“Darlin’ don’t argue with me.” Joel puts the last of the dishes in the rack and guides you to the living room, just lay down here on the couch and I will sit here. Will that help?” 
That’s when it hits you, you don’t know who Joel Miller is. Who is this man? What happened to the Joel Miller you met a few weeks ago, because this isn’t him. “Have you been snatched by Aliens? Who are you?” 
Joel furrows his brow and you can tell your words sting. “Let me be nice. I want to, just let me do it. Please?” He walks over to you and at the please, he tucks some hair behind your ear, his eyes soft and pleading. It’s genuine, he wants to do this for you, he’s dying to do this for you, and you decide to let him.
“Okay, of course. I’ll take a nap.  That sounds really nice. I can’t remember the last time I took a nap.”  You’re still in your jeans and decide to change into something softer and run upstairs. In your “thrifting” you’d found some pink thermal underwear that fit perfectly and put those on. And since you didn’t want to sleep in a bra, you took that off, not thinking what that might look like to Joel. Scampering down the stairs with your pillow, you can feel your excitement at the thought of a nap, even if it’s just a half hour.
You hit the bottom stair and look up at Joel who’s sitting in the chair next to the couch, his eyes widen at the sight of you, thermal underwear and without a bra. Dear god, this woman is going to fucking kill me right here, isn’t she? The pink of the matching set is pretty, and you’ve taken your hair down.
Joel gapes at you walking to the couch to bundle up and get cozy.  He doesn’t want to, but he does, obviously caught up in how the thermal underwear clings to your figure. You ignore him, at first not thinking what you’d do to him, but now you’re glad he’s actually acting like a man that’s interested in women (Not that there’s anything wrong with a man interested in men, but there’s not a lot you can do with that), that you can have this effect on him. Good. “Wake me when the bread is ready.  And thank you Joel.”
You turn and wink and Joel just nods, he’s still a little stunned but manages a sly smirk after closing his mouth. You look cozy wrapped up in your blanket.  He can’t take his eyes off of you but does so to check his watch for the time and when to take out the cornbread.
When it is time to take the bread out, he lets you keep sleeping because he doesn’t have the heart to wake you, you look so peaceful and serene.  In fact, he decides to sit at the edge of the couch and look at you more closely, your lashes brush the top of your cheeks, your lips are relaxed and so ridiculously kissable he wishes he could but knows he can’t. Instead of doing something he’d regret, Joel goes to the other end of the couch and bends down to kiss your forehead. He softly presses his lips to your warm skin, holding it there longer than he should, but he knows he won’t wake you. His lips buzz and his thoughts get cloudy with how much he wants to kiss you more. You smell clean and of nothing more than the handmade soaps that anyone can get in town and the obvious smell that’s purely you. 
Breaking away, he goes to the kitchen and takes a portion of the cornbread now that it’s cooled a bit and leaves a short note. “I couldn’t bear to wake Sleeping beauty, just too beautiful to disturb. I took my share of cornbread.  Hope to see you soon. Joel.”
It’s February and you see Joel off and on for the next couple of weeks, quick smiles and glances. He’s managed to talk you into letting him strip the wood in your den and refinish it, which you do reluctantly.  You seem to have found a truce in your bickering. Grump vs. cheerful grumpy. Your denial of your own grumpiness is something that makes Joel snicker when you chide him over the smallest thing.
Joel has also confessed to reading your story, which at first made you angry.  You hadn’t given him permission, but you also know you would have said yes if it meant changing his mind, which is part of the reason why he did. It also explains his change of heart, he’s seen parts of you that so few have here in Jackson. No one learns about that kind of hurt and comes out looking at each other the same, no one. You hope you can sit and talk with him about it sometime but know it’s not the time yet.
It’s a late afternoon and you’re saying good night to one of your clients at the front door.  There’s a note tucked away in the doorway with Joe’s writing waiting for your attention. As you say goodbye you grab it and sit cross-legged on the couch. What could it be?
“Sleeping Beauty, as you may know, no princess should spend Valentine’s Day by herself, so I thought I would take it upon myself to invite you to spend your night with this grumpy non prince. I won’t kid you, I’m no prince. Just bring you and your beautiful smile to my house at 7pm on Valentine’s night and I will take care of everything else. See you then.  Joel”
Doesn’t feel like you have a choice, but you wouldn’t think of saying no, so you now have a Valentine’s date with Joel Miller. 
It’s Valentine’s Day and you’ve found a modest red dress to wear for your date with Joel.  A date, you can’t believe you said yes to. But you also can’t believe he asked. The dress has an empire waist with a bodice that emphasizes your bust in the best way possible without being too much. It was cold out still, so you wore the thermal under bottoms with your trucker jacket and docs.  It was still all you. You couldn’t think of what to get Joel, but on one of your scouting trips a little too far away from the settlement, you came across some woodworking tools. You took them back with you and cleaned and refurbished them by removing any signs of rust or wear. They were so well made, and you hoped he would appreciate them. You also hoped he doesn’t think it’s too much.
Joel is frantically trying to get ready.  Ellie is staying at Tommy and Maria’s; her constant snark had been driving him crazy all evening and the last thing he wanted was to have to listen to her mouth. Not that he would let her stay.  She had already started to give him shit about talking to a woman, any woman was cause for her to give Joel shit. She wanted him to pay attention to someone else other than her, he could be suffocating at times.
Joel looked in the mirror, smoothing down his clean shirt and checking his jeans to make sure they were presentable. His hair was brushed back a little and neat as well as his facial hair groomed just right. He smelled freshly showered and had managed to get his hands on some cologne. He felt like a proper man about to wine and dine a beautiful woman, minus the wine unfortunately.
The soft knock on his door made him jump a bit before he rushed to get it, not wanting to make you wait. He opened the door and had to keep himself from gasping, you looked so pretty in the red jacket, but he could see the red dress peaking out from under it and couldn’t wait to see the whole thing.
Ushering you in out of the cold by pressing his hand into the small of your back, Joel took your jacket and gloves and hung them for you, “Sleeping beauty decided to skip from beautiful to stunning I see. What am I going to call you now?” He steps back and drinks you in, his eyes crinkling in a big smile, the warmth of his gaze embracing every part of you, “Thank you for choosing to spend your night with me, I bet you had men knocking your door down darlin’.”
You walk over to the couch and sit down with the bag you have with you, “No Joel, no one was clamoring to make me their Valentine’s, just you. But that’s all I needed.” Joel sits down next to you and blushes a little. Joel Miller blushes.
“Glad to hear that because I only asked one person too. Would’ve sucked if you said no.” 
“Would have absolutely sucked.” Smiling you put the bag on the coffee table in front of Joel. “I have zero patience, I got you something. Well, I found you something. I hope you don’t mind.”  You look really proud of yourself, because you are.
Joel isn’t sure what to think because he didn’t mention gifts, but not even knowing you well, he should have guessed you would have brought something, and he’s heard you’ve still been going out scouting by yourself.  He hasn’t told Maria, but he’s been following you without your knowledge because he also doesn’t want you to get hurt. It’s the happy medium that he can live with, unless you find out and then you might fucking kill him.  It’s a risk he’s willing to take.  But he doesn’t remember you bringing this back, so he knows he’s not got you on every trip.
“Of course I don’t mind, this is great. Although I know this means you’ve been going out on your own? I thought you weren’t going to do that?”  Joel crosses his arms sternly and glares at you, he’s trying not to be stern, but he can’t help himself.
“I never promised to stop doing anything Joel. And you never asked.”
“What if I asked? Would you stop going out?” He sounds hopeful and puts his hand on yours to emphasize how much it would mean to him, “Because I would really feel better if you stopped going on your own. I know you’re capable, but I don’t understand why you would risk it.” 
Slipping your hand from under his, you point to the bag, dodging his question, “Open it Miller.” 
Joel puts his head back and sighs, he’s not going to get you stop and he doesn’t try to push it, it’s useless and the last thing you both need is to start your evening with an argument. Joel leans closer and opens the soft leather bag to see a matching set of woodworking tools, neat and clean. He starts to take them out and lay them on the table until the bag is empty. “These are absolutely beautiful. Real professional, not cheaply made.  How the hell did you find these? I’m impressed.” Joel is holding a wood chisel and feeling it’s weight, it doesn’t look as big as it did in your hand.  “I can’t believe they’re in such good shape.”
Brushing some hair out of your face, you pick up another wood chisel in the set and hold it up to him, “They were rusty in some places, and I had to remove that.  It was kind of a pain, and I got some help, but did the work myself. I wanted them to look as perfect as possible. I think they turned out really well. I’m glad you like them.” You set the tool down and look at him, so happy to see he’s pleased. 
“Like them darlin’, I love them. I mean, I don’t love how you got them, but the fact that you refurbished them yourself, you took the time to learn how to and the care to do it yourself. I admire how much love you put into everything that you do, it’s so...fucking sexy.”  He laughs this low beautiful laugh that rumbles in his chest, he’s just smitten, you can tell, and it fills you with so much warmth that it bubbles up and through you simultaneously. 
“I’m so glad to hear that.” 
“You were worried I wouldn’t like these?  Are you crazy?  Aren’t you just the funniest little thing?” And without even thinking, Joel lifts your chin with his hand rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip, “What makes you think I wouldn’t love anything you would give me?”  He’s beaming at you, just beaming. “Hold on, I got you something too” and his hand drops from your face as he jumps up and leaves the room.
The way your heart is thudding in your chest makes you worry, has anyone died from this feeling?  You’ve felt it before, but you actually thought it was the last time. You’re 52, you’re in the middle of the world crumbling and the last man you loved died in such a horrible way, you thought you wouldn’t be able to feel butterflies in your stomach or your heart is trying to escape out of your ribcage like a rabbit in a fur trap. It was wild and scared, and you prayed your eyes weren’t a reflection of just how panicked you were at this moment.
Joel walks back in with something rather large in both hands, covered in gray plastic with a big red bow on it.  He doesn’t even have to take the cover off for you to know what it is, and you gasp.  “Now now darlin’, let me put it down before you get excited.  I want to be able present it properly.” He pushes aside the bag and tools with his elbow and sets the lump in front of you, his eyes sparkling ing with such pride.  You can tell just how proud of himself he is.
Before you can even reach to open it, Joel grabs your hand, “Wait, I want to say something.” And he holds your hand in his lap. “I know I apologized for how I had doubted you, but I want to emphasize how sorry I am. I know we’ve already said some things to each other, but this is important because I’m learning how important words are to you darlin’.”
“Reading about how you lost your girls, and you kept going made me feel weak” You go to speak, and he puts his finger on your lips. “Now can you just shut it for a couple of minutes?”  He lowers his finger and waits for you to nod in agreement. “I felt weak because you showed me what it was like to lose just as much as I had and that you understood what that loss was like. Then you lost your husband and your second child. But when you lost your son, little Jacob, I actually don’t know how you managed to keep going.  I don’t understand how you are sitting here right now, and I feel even less of a man in front of you at times. Then Nathan and here you are sweet girl, you smile, and it lights up a room. And you keep giving and giving and you give so much that I can see it makes you ache because you know that so many people have lost as much as you and I have, and you can’t imagine a world where people stop caring. You put me and others to shame in how much you can bear and still keep going.”
Joel takes your hand and kisses it.  “Even if I don’t understand, I want you to know I support you doing what you need to and I’m here for you darlin’. IN fact, I want to be the man your father wanted for you, if you’ll let me?”  Joel jerks his head towards the present as if saying, now you can open it.
You pause and turn to the gift on the table and untie the ribbon slowly then lift the cover. Underneath is a typewriter that looks to be in as good condition as you’ve ever seen.  It’s a pretty blue and an Olivetti, one of your favorites. You run your hand over it slowly, like you’re falling in love, and you can’t believe she’s your, all yours. And Joel found her for you, he found her and here is he supporting you like Nathan had, like John had and just how your father hand. 
Turning to Joel, you bring your hands to his face, “Joel, you grumpy motherfucker, of course I’ll let you. I can’t believe you found the prefect typewriter, she’s so pretty and perfect.”  You’re crying now, you can’t stop it, your so incredibly an incandescently happy it makes your toes curl. 
“There’s one more thing darlin’, which I think is going to be the hardest of all.” That’s when you squish your nose at him skeptically, knowing he’s going to ask something impossible. “Let me take care of you sometimes? If you can’t sleep, let me come stay so you can? Or let me come make you some cornbread or come on a scouting trip with you. I won’t ask you not do something, but let me help you? Let me be there for you like you’re there for others?”  He takes your face in his hands again and before you even get a chance to answer, he kisses you, so lightly, as if the kiss is part of his ask, as if he’s asking you to let him take care of you in all kinds of way, to let him love you.
And you can’t help yourself, you let him kiss you, his hands cupping your face is question enough, the roughness of his thumb as it brushes your cheek forces a tiny sigh from the back of your throat. It’s not enough of a question though as you take his hand and bring it down to your side, pressing it into your waist while snaking the other hand behind his neck to grab his neck and curling your fingers through his hair. You had thought about him kissing you since that day you’d made cornbread.  He thought you’d been sleeping but when he’d kissed your forehead, you’d been awake, and the way his lips and felt on you had sent a fire through your body. You knew then that you couldn’t stay away from Joel Miller, if he asked you anything, you wouldn’t be able to say no.
So the answer was going to be yes, no matter what and as you leaned yourself into him, pressing your body closer, deepening the kiss then breaking it so you could whisper in his ear, “Yes, you can take care of me Joel, I don’t think there’s anything in the world I want more right now.” And you can feel his grin against your neck as he begins to kiss up your throat and nuzzle into your cheek.
Joel breathes you in, he’s bursting, pulling you into his lap, kissing any part of you that’s not covered in clothing and you’re giggling because of how playful he’s being. His hands wandering up your dress, fingers pressed into your sides, one hand flattening into your back so he can guide you closer, “Darlin’ I think I’m gonna have to take care of you and me as soon as possible and it ain’t gonna be on this couch if I have anything to say about it.” And with one swift movement, Joel Miller, the grumpiest man in Jackson, pulls you up on your feet and lifts you over his shoulder and takes you upstairs as you both laugh and giggle.
Joel also doesn’t let you do the dishes the next morning after he makes breakfast. In fact, he never lets you do the dishes again.
199 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Wednesday
joel miller x fem!reader
Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾
read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n Word count of the chapter: 3,7k
A/N: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾
Tumblr media
I. LILAC
Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm. 
His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.
Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.
As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.
7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.
8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.
At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?
“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text. 
You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?
The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony.  The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.
As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.
“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.
He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.
“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”
“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way. 
You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.
Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.
“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”
“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.
“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”
Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”
“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.
“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”
“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.
“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”
The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.
Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.
Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.
This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.
“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.
“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.
“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.
“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.
The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.
Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back. 
Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.
Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.
People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.
His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.
It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.
The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.
“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.
Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.
“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.
“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”
“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.
“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.
“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.
“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.
“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.
“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”
“Sam,” Henry says firmly.
“Abigail,” you speak loudly.
Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you. 
“Teresa,” Tess points at her.
“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place. 
You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.
You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.
Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.
“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.
“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”
“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.
“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.
“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.
“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.
The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.
“Who is Sarah?”
“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”
“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.
“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”
Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.
“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”
He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.
“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.
“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”
“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”
That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.
“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.
“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”
“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.
“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.
He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy. 
The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.
Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.
“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.
“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.
“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”
“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.
“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.
“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.” 
And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.
“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.
“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard. next chapter
167 notes · View notes
ellieluvr420 · 1 month
Text
Friends? Never. Pt.12 (Ellie Williams x reader)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.
SMUT MDNI !!
Hello beautiful people, I finished planning out the whole story and Friends? Never is going to wrap up after 25 chapters! I am so excited for you guys to see what I have planned and I really hope you're gonna love it as much as I do because you have all been so kind so far so THANK YOU SO MUCH and if anyone has any requests I would love to hear them <3
“Hey Joel.” 
“Hey kiddo, come on in.” Ellie’s smile mirrored Joel’s lopsided one as she walked into the living room of his cabin.  
“Ugh what is that smell?” 
“Coffee.” 
“Smells like burnt ass.” 
“Well burnt ass tastes pretty good.” Ellie chuckles as she grimaces. 
“Ew... how did you get that anyway?” 
“I’m ashamed of what I had to trade to get it.” He bowed his head in shame before beckoning Ellie into the kitchen. “I didn’t have much on me when you said about coming over so er sorry the food isn’t as good as last time.” He gestures to the plates of pasta and Ellie notices the can still sitting on the side. 
“Oh shit, chef boyardee... throwback.” 
“Yeah no kidding, tastes a lot nicer warmed up though I swear.” 
“I’ll take your word for it.” Ellie grabs her plate and follows Joel to the living room where he sits on the sofa and presses play on the film he had put on. They eat in silence as they watch the film until Joel sighs and puts his fork down.  
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re here but is everything okay? Seemed kinda out of the blue.” 
“Oh er yeah everything’s fine. I just- I know I’ve been distant since... everything and It’s taken me a long time to understand why you did what you did but I think I’m starting to, at least I’m trying to anyway. I want us to be able to move on you know?” There was quiet for a long while after Ellie finished speaking, the only sounds in the room were that of the ones playing on the TV until Joel sucked a sharp breath in. 
“I- I’d like that. A lot.” She could see the glassy sheen of his eyes as he placed his hand over her knee and squeezed. “This anything to do with that girl your roommate executed a few weeks ago?” 
“So Maria told you huh?” 
“Yeah... I appreciate what she did for me.” 
“Yeah me too, about that actually... Er she-” 
“She’s your girlfriend.” 
“Wha- How did you...” She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Yeah, she is.” 
“Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.” 
“Well that makes one of us.” They both chuckle and go back to eating, Ellie commenting on the film every few minutes and being met with a mix of chuckles and scoffs.  
“So he knew already?” 
“Yeah probably guessed after he walked in on us in the kitchen.” 
“Ha! He knew before us then.” 
“Yeah sounds about right.” You and Ellie were riding next to each other at the back of your patrol group, Ellie had got home from Joel’s after you fell asleep last night so now was the first chance she had to tell you about it. As you both chuckled, Rita who was up front signalled to dismount the horses because you had reached the factory building you needed to clear. Everyone tied up their horses and began moving inside. The second you walked through the doors you heard the foreboding sound of groans and clicks, you glance at Ellie to see she’s already looking at you, you nod and she reciprocates the gesture before you all start to push forward, the quiet doesn’t last long as your teams bullets start ricocheting all throughout the building.  
You fired your gun twice and sent a runner and a clicker to the ground before you’re tackled to the ground by a runner, you can feel its hot, rancid breath on your neck as he desperately snaps his mangled teeth at you. You struggle with all your force to keep him away from you and as you feel your body being plagued with fatigue a gunshot rings out and the body falls limp on top off you. You groan and struggle to push him off as Lex offers you a hand up. You immediately scan the room for Ellie and see her savaging a clicker with her switchblade before Rita calls for everyone to move, you wait to see Ellie start running and then you follow, fleeing the dozens of infected that were on your tail. You can see the exit of the building you’re being led to and you see three people climb through the opening before Ellie gets to it, she turns back and as you make eye contact, she pauses.  
“GO ELLIE I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU!” You scream to her and you breathe a sigh of relief when she reluctantly goes through the opening only to immediately suck it back in as the building shakes and rumbles and debris begins to fall all around you, right in front of the opening Ellie had just climbed through. “Fuck, we gotta find another way out.” You say as you bash yourself against the debris that wouldn’t move an inch. 
“NO!” Ellie screeches as she watches you disappear behind the fallen debris that was now blocking the exit. She throws herself against it in vain as she only causes a dull ache to ring throughout the right side of her body. “Fuck fuck fuck.” She screams your name in a panic. “Please tell me you’re okay!” Her voice is shaky and desperate as her stomach churns and drops.  
“I’m okay but we gotta find another- AGH!” Your sentence is interrupted as a clicker lunges at you sending you both crashing to the floor, you can hear Ellie screaming your name and the repeated thuds of her throwing herself against the wall but you can’t reassure because you’re not sure if you are okay. You jam your knife into the clicker’s skull and grip your gun to deliver two shots straight through the fungal crown growing out of its head. As it falls on top of you, you climb out from beneath it and scream a quick ‘I’m okay!’ to Ellie before shooting at the three runners that were speeding at you. You and the two other people still stuck inside with you empty out all of your magazines, use every bit of ammo you had, you’re sure your knife is blunt from the amount of infected it had slaughtered. As you’re running from a clicker you notice a large hammer on the floor and grip it tight enough that your knuckles turn white before turning and slamming it into the clicker until it laid in a crumpled pile before you. You take a second to catch your breath before you hear the muffled screams of help from the others as you run towards the sound. You bash the brains of a runner that had tackled Raphael to the ground before stabbing your knife into the back of a clicker and dragging it down as a blood-curdling screech fills the room, you slam the hammer into its head until it’s unmoving on the ground and Lacey can bounce back up with the same enthusiasm she always magically had. “Fuck that was bad. We all clear?” They nod and you begin moving forward desperate to find a way out now that the immediate threat was neutralised.  
All Ellie could hear was a symphony of gunshots and shrieks until everything goes quiet. She feels her eyes sting with tears as the panic overtakes her as she continues to slam herself against the unmoving debris blocking the exit she had crawled through without you. “I should’ve waited... fuck why didn’t I wait?” She mutters to herself until she feels a pair of hands wrapping around her and yanking her away from the wall.  
“Ellie, that’s not helping, we just have to trust they’re okay.” Rita tries to reason with her as she thrashes in her arms. 
“No! Get the fuck off me. I have to get in there, I have to help her!” Ellie pushes a stunned Rita to the ground with a crazed look in her eyes before running off to try and find another way in as everyone calls out to her to stay put, she can hear their footsteps following but she doesn’t care, she needed to know if you were okay, she needed to find you. “Come on, please be okay.” She whispers as she frantically searches for another entrance until she sees a window a floor up that was open. She immediately starts looking for a way to climb it and as she manages to get a footing on a pipe running up the building she feels someone pulling her down again, sending her crashing to the ground on top of Ben. She immediately punches him and then squeezes round his neck with all her strength. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? WE HAVE TO HELP THEM!” Ben claws at her as he thrashes in her arms and she only loosens up when she hears a thump only to see Lacey dropping to the ground from the window, she lets go of her grip around Ben’s neck as she immediately runs over to Lacey. Then Raphael drops to the ground also, her heartbeat quickens as there’s no sign of you, she storms over to Raphael and pushes him hard enough that he stumbles back to the ground. “WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?” 
“I- I don’t know, she was right behind me when I went out the window.” She looks up only to see no sign of you and the lump in her throat returns making it hard for her to breathe. She calls your name and is met with silence until a minute later, although it felt like centuries, your head pops out of the window before you throw yourself out of it, smacking onto the ground with a whine. She runs over to you immediately cradling you in her arms as the tears that had been threatening to spill over, cascade down her cheeks in waves. You smile up at her flushed face as you attempt to catch your breath, the fall winding you slightly. 
“Oh my god, I thought you were dead, you’re okay, you’re okay.” She pulls away to look down at you. “You’re okay right? You’re clear?” 
“Yeah, I’m clear.” Your voice comes out as a wheeze and the relief flooding through her pushes her forward to attach her lips to yours in a passionate kiss before she remembers her surroundings and stands, pulling you up with her. You both turn to see everyone on patrol staring at you both with dumbfounded expressions before you roll your eyes, sick of the undivided attention on you both. 
“What? You ain’t ever seen two girls kiss before? Shut your traps, you’re catching flies!” You snap and everyone immediately averts their gaze from you both as you all collect yourselves and get ready to keep moving. The thought that you still had four checkpoints to go through send a shiver through your body but feeling Ellie’s hand slip into yours and squeeze grounds you enough to continue your assignment. 
“Fuck I was so worried- ugh- I- I thought you were dead.” Ellie breathes out through grunts and moans. 
 You had barely made it through the door of your home before she was attacking your body with kisses, sucking bruises on any skin she could find.  
“Just let me take care of you please, I need to feel you.” She was almost pleading with you as if you would actually say no. She squeezed at your hips to prompt a response from your panting form.  
“Take me upstairs babe.” At your words she immediately pulls you away from the wall that your back was against and led you upstairs, her lips never leaving your skin. You both tumble into her room and clumsily fall down onto her bed as you both desperately try and rid each other of the clothes that were preventing you from feeling your bodies press together. As you rip her top over her head your mouth waters at the sight of her already erect nipples, you lurch forward attaching your lips to her pink bud and swirling your tongue around it as she grips onto your hair and hisses at the sudden stimulation. You pull away as she lifts your top over your head, grabbing a handful of each tit and squeezing them together then pressing her face into them and leaving tiny, ticklish kisses over them. You giggle at her actions before she pushes you down flush with the bed, you whine a little at the distance between you two but she shushes you as she stands to yank her jeans and briefs off in one motion before tapping at your hip so you’d lift them, allowing her to strip you naked to match her. 
Her hands run all over your naked form as she consumes you with her kisses, the dance of your tongues taking over your every thought. The warmth of her body pressing against yours feels like heaven as she slots herself flush with you and begins grinding herself down onto you. This was your favourite way to have sex with Ellie, the grinding of your bodies together felt like your hearts were merging into one and every thought that wasn’t her left your mind as you feel your core tightening and pulsing as her movements became rougher and rushed. The room was filled with your heavy breaths and groans until she swallowed them into her mouth as she once again attached her lips to yours before sucking a line from your jaw to your collarbones. “I love you so much, you can’t scare me like that again.” She says through kisses and pants as her hips stutter. 
“Oh Ellie, I love you too. I’m sorry, all I could think about was getting back to you.” You cry out as the knot in your stomach tightens, you can tell from the scrunch of Ellie’s face she’s as close to finishing as you are. You lean up to whisper in her ear. “Cum with me babe, please. I love you, I love you, I love you- ugh Ellie oh my god!” You chant your words as they’re the only words ringing throughout your mind. You loved her and she loved you and it was the most important thing to you, you used to get stir-crazy when you hadn’t gone on patrol in awhile, you used to look forward to patrol but since your relationship with Ellie had blossomed, those feelings had changed, twisted into feelings of panic and fear because the worst thing you could imagine is being ripped from her or her you because the only thing you cared about was getting to love with her and be with her. As Ellie gazed at your beautiful face, slightly shiny from the sweat that was generated from the heat between the both of you, she realised she hated how patrol had made her feel recently because all it did was increase the risk of her not getting to grow old with you and that was all she wanted, to grow old and die in your arms because the thought of losing you sent her into a spiral she felt she’d never escape. 
As you both finish with whines and moans, you expect her to slow down but she doesn’t which elicits a scream from you at the overstimulation. “Come on baby, give me another one, please, I just need you to give me one more.” She breathed out and the desperation in her voice was enough for you to fight through the urge to squirm and shy away from the feeling of her slick clunt gliding against yours roughly. It wasn’t long before her pace was faltering as she leant down to hold onto you for leverage as her body trembled as both of your second orgasms washed over you, your toes curled and you bit down onto her shoulder hard enough to draw blood as you felt lightheaded and dizzy from the force of your second release. As both your bodies relaxed and she collapsed fully onto you you released from her shoulder and kitten-licked at the wound before kissing her so she tastes her blood on your tongue, she moans into your mouth, a high-pitched moan that had both your eyes snapping open, her cheeks flush even darker than they already had before she cracks a small lop-sides smile and that you gigglle at. “Sorry about that...” You mutter sheepishly as you glance at the bite mark on her shoulder. 
“It’s okay, that was hot.” She kisses your forhead before lying down on top of you once again as your heartbeats and breathing sync, her thumb drawing circles on your hip and your hands scratching at her back. She sighs into you before squeezing at your hip a little. “I think I might wanna do less patrolling, try and pick up some jobs in Jackson-” She was ready to explain herself, thinking you’d call her a pussy and tell her to stop being silly but your soft tone shocks her. 
“Me too, today made me realise we’re so lucky to live in Jackson, where it’s safe and where we can have a pretty normal life and every time we leave those walls voluntarily we’re taking it for granted. We already lost 3 years, I don’t want our time together to be cut short.” 
“Fuck you’re so perfect.” You giggle and press a kiss to the top of her head as you both relax into the comfort of your bodies being pressed together without anything between you both, her soft skin caressing yours. “We’re kinda becoming the pussies we used to make fun of.” 
“Oh god don’t remind me.” You whine before sighing. “It’s all your fault though.” 
“My fault?!” She gasps and pinches you as you squeal. “You know if I wasn’t so wiped we’d totally be fighting right now.” 
“Mhm sure.” You reply monotonously not believing a word that leaves her pretty lips. 
“No I’m so serious, you wouldn’t know what hit you.” She barely gets her sentence out before a loud yawn leaves her causing her to glare at your smug face.  
“I believe you babe, get some sleep, it was a long day hm.” She nods and lays her head back down on your bare chest with a content sigh as you both feel the tiredness consume you and drag you into slumber. 
tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699 @lil-elliesgf @isitadinosaur @amberputh
216 notes · View notes
noxturnalpascal · 2 months
Text
Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 3)
Tumblr media
CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader
Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?
Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.
*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*
LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS
I. Stronger Together
CH 3 (5.3k) One afternoon you come back with Bianca from your baths and Tess informs you that you’ll now be accompanying Joel to one of his weekly community meetings. There are the three nights a week that you all leave the house, but Joel also goes out after dinner the other four nights of the week, interacting with different groups in The Valley. Tess has always accompanied him to his Thursday meeting and she lets you know that you’ll be taking her place.
At the meeting he introduces you to the group, which is comprised of farmers who live further down the Valley, outside the safety of the town. You learn that they come together every Thursday to bring in the animal products, take away food, trade supplies, discuss safety issues, and spend some time socializing. The evening meeting with Joel is the last thing they do before they head back to their land.
With each passing week, he watches you come out of your shell more and he’s impressed by your demeanor. You assist the older folks with getting a drink and a bite to eat. You make conversation with them, easily giving them your time and attention. You nod and listen when they speak with Joel about their concerns. Most importantly, you don’t overstep. You allow him to speak, giving them his practiced lines, finding solutions to their issues and pacifying their fears.
You however, feel like you’re struggling to find your place at the house. In your attempt to fix the holes in Joel’s socks you accidentally sewed the socks shut, leaving Tess to pull the stitches and mend them properly. Tess gives you some rags and asks that you clean all of the surfaces in the house. She stops you ten minutes later when you can’t stop sneezing from the dust. She assigns you to the laundry instead, but the cold, soapy water makes your hands break out in hives. She makes a joke about you being allergic to hard work, but she doesn’t laugh. You think she was joking.
Sometimes you work outside with Rosie in the mornings, but you hate getting all dirty and smelling like earthworms. You pull up too many weeds that aren’t weeds and she sends you inside, urging you to use your talents elsewhere. What talents? You tag along with Sasha sometimes, and listen as she tells you how to set a trap for small animals, but you feel completely useless at her side. She’s good at so many things and you feel like a clumsy oaf, even more so when you trip in the woods one afternoon and scare off the deer she’d been tracking for an hour. She doesn’t attempt to hide her irritation the way Rosie did.
Kerri and Bianca try to use your help in the kitchen, but you burn all of the chicken on the grill your first night cooking. They switch you to helping with preparing the meals, but you cut yourself so badly with the knife that Joel threatens to take you back to the clinic and give you more of his blood. You stand against the doorframe with your arm above your head for forty five minutes before it stops bleeding and he calms down. No more kitchen work for you, he mutters as he holds you on the couch later, letting you rest while everyone else cleans up the meal.
All of the women are too nice to give you the dirty looks that you think you deserve. They all earn their place here and what can you do? Nothing. You try not to be sad the day that your only friend at the house, Bianca, moves out. Is she actually your friend, or is she just too timid to tell you off? You go up to the attic to help her pack up her few belongings before Tess sends you downstairs to help Kerri pack up to leave the room she’s been sharing with Sasha. 
You’re nervous that with Bianca gone you’ll be expected to take over her chores, which are a little bit of everything. You seem to mess up every chore you’re assigned. What the fuck are you supposed to do with yourself? As you walk down the stairs you hear Tess tell Bianca that this is for the best, and that she’s just getting bigger. You’d noticed Bianca gaining weight but you didn’t know that was a problem. Did Joel say something about her weight gain? Why would he care? 
You let your thoughts spiral a bit, wondering if Joel cared about your weight, if he would ask you to leave if you put on more pounds. Fat and useless, what a combo that would be. You’re not exactly skinny as it is, and you’re not even as nice looking as Bianca, with her kind, warm, brown eyes and her long, chestnut hair. She’s very shy and nearly silent but she’s very pretty. You see men look at her. Most people don’t give you a second glance, but that’s the way you prefer it. There’s a reason you chopped all your hair off and wore tight bindings across your chest for months.
You don’t want men looking at you. When a man looks at you he’s only thinking about one thing. He’s thinking what he can get out of you, what he can take from you; except Joel, you tell yourself. Joel doesn’t look at you like that. Joel doesn’t take, he wouldn’t do that. He still looks at you with wonder. He still has so many questions in his eyes about you that you’ve been slowly trying to answer. Maybe if you let him in, show him you’re trying to trust, he won’t care that you aren’t as useful in the home as the other women. 
Joel’s schedule is packed, making up for meetings he missed while he visited with you all day, every day in the clinic for nearly two weeks. It means you have less reading time together during the week, so your time together dwindles to holding hands under the table at mealtimes, quick smooches as he pulls you into his office between meetings, and nuzzling into each other outside your bedroom door in the mornings. 
Your only real alone time now is walking to and from the meeting on Thursdays. Each week after the meeting ends the group members filter out, some staying back to help you put away the folding chairs. As a group, you all walk together to the town square before splitting up; them heading out of town while you and Joel head back to the house. Each of these evenings allows you two a few stolen moments alone on the porch of the house before returning inside.
First you just spend them with your foreheads touching, noses brushing, and shared giggles between your pressed together lips. The second week Joel drags you onto his lap on the front porch bench, kissing and licking at your neck while you card your fingers through his hair. You start to panic when you feel him getting aroused underneath you, but the terrified voice in the back of your mind is muted when the front door opens and Sasha comes out for firewood, interrupting and ending your time alone together.
The following week is Thanksgiving, one of the few holidays The Valley celebrates. Joel makes sure you’re sitting next to him at the head table. There is so much going on, almost every single person – save for a small patrol – is gathered together for this feast. Everyone joins hands above the table while someone makes a prayer, but Joel doesn’t let go of yours for a long time afterward.
Even though you haven’t been getting as much alone time together, Joel feels like you’re still growing ever-closer. He has you next to him for this holiday meal so he can show you off. He wants everyone in The Valley to see that you trust him, that you’re becoming his. He notices your wide eyes scan the room, overwhelmed by the very large crowd of people and the raucous event. He leans over and whispers in your ear.
“What are you thankful for, baby?”
He sees your eyes cast down, trying to hide a shy smile. You squeeze his hand and meet his eyes. He squeezes yours back to ground you, to reassure you, like he’s taming a feral little animal.
The following week as you and Joel put away the chairs after the meeting, you hear a man call out a goodnight and you look up just in time to see the last farmer heading out the door. You turn in a circle to confirm there is no one else in the room with you and Joel, and your eyes come back to the door just as it clicks shut. The silence that follows is deafening. You’re completely alone with Joel. Completely.
What strikes you is not the all-encompassing fear that grips you; what strikes you is how this is not the usual fear you have come to know from being alone with a man. For once, you’re not scared of what Joel might do – by now you trust him not to hurt you. You have been mostly alone with him so many times in the last two months and he has always been gentle and respectful, never crossing your still-unspoken boundaries.
After he told you about his daughter, something inside of you shifted. For the first time in your whole life you thought that perhaps you belonged somewhere. Being here with him feels right, it feels like your destiny. You’re not scared of him doing something, you’re scared of him doing nothing. What if he doesn’t want you as badly as you want him? What if he got tired of waiting for you? What if he rejects you?
Joel sees you staring at the door with that look in your eye, the look like you want to run right through it, leaving behind a cartoonish hole in the door in your wake. 
“PJ”, he says, and your eyes find his, “Let’s put away these chairs and we can go.” 
He doesn’t try to hold your hand on the way home, worried that you’re too skittish for him to touch, sure that you’d bolt if he tried. You’ve never done that, you’ve never run from him and yet it’s always in the back of his mind. He’s so worried about losing you. He thinks about it all the time. It terrifies him.
The hour is late when you return to the house and you find it dark, everyone already in bed. You both head upstairs but instead of heading into his room as he usually does, he turns with you and stands outside your door. You tilt your head back to look up at him. Your hair has been growing out, looking more like a pixie cut now. He can just see the wet of your eyes twinkle in the darkness.
“Do you wanna come in?” you ask, your voice faint even in the silent house. 
A deep rumble emanates from Joel’s chest. He can’t enter your room. It’s been one of Tess’ rules since the beginning and it’s very important to her. The position he holds in The Valley, the way that everyone looks up to him, she said they’ve put him on a pedestal. And once on a pedestal you have to be very careful because everyone can see you. 
Everyone knows he lives with all of these women, and everyone knows that he sleeps with most of them. Everyone but you. He’s kept this knowledge from you on purpose. They are consenting adults, they each have their own space and their own autonomy. If they want to initiate sex with him, they come to his room. He doesn’t go to them, keeping it entirely on their terms. 
But how does he reject your offer to come into your room without telling you the rest? Without revealing all of his half-truths and omissions. It’s taken so long for you to trust him, he can’t destroy that trust. But won’t saying no hurt you too? He wants to say yes but he can’t. How the fuck does he say no to you? Shit. He’s already waited too long to answer, his silence has gone on for too long.
“We could… close the door,” you offer. His eyes clench shut.
Jesus Christ you’re going to kill him. His dick is aching in his jeans right now. He’s been waiting for you to make an offer like this for so long. Waking up every morning hard, having to jerk off like a teenager before he can even start his day. None of the women have even tried to come to his room for sex since he brought you down off that mountain. He didn’t ask but he’s sure they see him preoccupied with you. Hell, he’s damn near drowning in you.
He’s never been like this with a woman he’s brought into the house. Never kissing them in the kitchen or touching their knees under the dinner table. He’s never made out with one of them in his office between meetings or woken up early just to smell their hair in the hallway. He’s gone off the fucking rails and it’s all because of you. But he can’t break the rule, he can’t accept your invitation into your room. He also can’t tell you about the rule.
Your heart is going to beat out of your chest, you’re sure of it. Joel reaches one hand forward to grab yours, finally touching you. His calloused fingertips trace the inside of your wrist, gently moving across the delicate skin. You can barely see in the dark but you know he’s moved closer because you can smell him, feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His clothes smell like sunshine, line-dried in the crisp autumn air. You smell the day wafting off his skin, a hint of sweat and leather hits your nostrils.
Your knees begin to knock together and you’re so afraid that they’re going to give out under you when he rejects you. You reach your free hand up to brace yourself, placing it on his chest, feeling his own heart thumping wildly underneath. You barely hear him say not tonight PJ over the pulsing beat in your ears, but before you can react to his refusal you feel his arms snake around your waist and he’s pressing his lips onto yours, hard. 
He pushes you up against the open door frame of your room, his feet planted securely in the hallway. You immediately grant his tongue access to your mouth and he begins to explore it, for the first time. You’ve never felt his hot wet tongue against yours, and you think it just might be the thing that kills you. You moan into his mouth as you throw your arms around his neck.
He continues to kiss you with moving lips and licking tongue, your hands moving to twist in his curls – curls that are a bit longer than when you first met him. His arms roam freely up and down your back, pulling you close to him and pressing your hard nipples against the broad planes of his chest. You’re lost in the heat of him, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressing to yours. You’ve waited so long for this. You don’t know how long it’s going to last but you never want it to end.
Driven by lust, madness, or both, you cup your hand over the zipper on his jeans, palming his erection. It feels so big in your hold. He exhales a moan into your mouth and clutches his hand overtop of yours, pressing you into him more firmly, curving your fingers around the heft of it. Fuck, it’s so hard. You feel wetness dripping out of you into your underwear. Holy fuck you’re getting dizzy. 
Unable to even think straight, you don’t notice he’s let go of your hand until you feel it cupping the front of your jeans, and the noise that leaves your mouth is sinful. He slams his mouth overtop of yours to muffle your wail but it still echoes down the silent hall. You know he must feel the heat radiating off your core, he must already feel how embarrassingly wet you are. He brings both hands to the front of your jeans and undoes the button, pausing to look you in the eyes and wait for you to nod him on further. You do.
As he takes down the zipper you close your eyes and think this is finally it, you’re finally going to feel him where you need him the most. But instead of feeling his fingers skirt along the waistband of your underwear, you feel them touching your lips. You open your eyes and his face is inches from yours. He nods his head and tells you to open, and lets his index and middle finger pass over your lips and touch your tongue.
He doesn’t have to tell you to close your mouth, you do it on your own, closing your eyes again and letting your pooling saliva coat his digits. You lick your tongue between them, along his knuckles and the pads of his fingers, then you gently suck, running your tongue flat along the underside as if it were another part of him in your mouth instead. You wish there was more light in the hallway because when you open your eyes to look at his face you’re pretty sure he looks the way you feel.
He takes his fingers out of your mouth slowly, a trail of saliva connecting them to your tongue briefly, before he dips them into your underwear and slides them right over your clit. He wouldn’t have known of course, but he didn’t need you to wet his fingers, you were already soaking wet from just his touch. The state he finds you in sends jolts of electricity surging down his cock. 
He gently rubs his finger alongside your bundle of nerves, dragging them down to collect even more of your ample wetness. You scramble your hands up the front of his shirt, longing for skin-to-skin contact with him. You shuffle your fingers through his sparse chest hair and drag your nails over his hardening nipples, causing him to crash his lips against yours to silence his own groan this time.
He pushes his middle finger towards your hole and feels you nodding as he does it. His finger slides inside you so easily; you’re so fucking wet. He’s never felt anyone this wet before. You reach around behind him and shove your hands down the back of his pants, grabbing handfuls of his ass, squealing against his mouth when you discover that he’s not wearing underwear.
He continues to work his middle finger in and out of your tight hole, spreading his index finger to run it up alongside your exposed clit. He knows you like it because you’re whimpering and clawing at him non-stop. It’s so loud in the otherwise dead-silent house but he can’t bring himself to give a single shit who else can hear you. Every sound you make goes straight to his leaking dick.
He pulls his mouth off yours and brings his face to your hair, inhaling deeply. Today was your bath day and your hair smells like soap and lavender. He likes it but he prefers when it smells slept-in, smells like you. He lowers his mouth and sucks a dark mark into your skin just below where your neck meets your shoulder, then he brings his lips to your ear, biting and kissing your earlobe. 
He whispers in your ear; you’re so fucking wet baby, you’re so tight, can feel how wet you are, can you feel it baby?, I’m gonna smell like you after this ya know, you’re all over me, can you hear it?, you’re gonna feel me for days baby, for days.
You yank on his arms, pulling him as close to you as possible and orgasm with a squeal, shuddering in his hold and panting his name over and over into the hollow of his neck. He takes his hands out of your pants, glistening with your release, and greedily shoves his fingers into his mouth above your head. Once clean he brings his face to the side of your neck, nuzzling you and nipping at your skin there and breathing in your heady scent.
Before either of you get a chance to give any due attention to his painful, raging erection, Tess’ door opens and she comes out of the room to head towards the bathroom. You yip in embarrassment and cross into your room, closing the door in Joel’s face. Joel shoots Tess a pissed off look and Tess shrugs her shoulders.
“Sorry, it sounded like you guys were done,” she says flippantly as she closes the bathroom door.
Joel knocks lightly at your door a few times and you open it a bit, mortified at being caught acting like a couple of horny teenagers. 
“Don’t be shy, baby,” he coos. “We didn’t do anythin’ wrong.” 
That’s true. He made sure to stay outside of your room so Tess has nothing to be upset about. He leans his face into the crack of your door and you give him several kisses on the lips but then you hear Tess coming back out of the bathroom and you shut the door in his face again, muttering a flustered goodnight from the other side of the wood.
He turns to Tess again, visibly angry and she suppresses a smile. She resists teasing him verbally and instead kisses him on the cheek and wishes him a goodnight also, closing her door behind her. Joel takes himself into his room and fucks his fist – again – to thoughts of you.
The week passes quickly, alone time together still nonexistent as Joel’s responsibilities increase. He always seems to be out of the house on patrols, having meetings, and visiting community members. He argues with Tess about his schedule being too full and she tells him winter is hard, and that people need extra reassurances to make it through. She also reminds him, in a whisper, that he has spent a lot of time focusing on one person and ignoring the rest, and he needs to make up for that. His only response is a growl before he leaves the room.
Joel finds you outside the bathroom door one morning and you blush, realizing you’re wearing one of his button-up shirts, ready to defend yourself for pilfering it off the laundry line. Instead of admonishing you, he wordlessly pulls the open collar over your one shoulder a bit, observing the fading mark he’d sucked into your skin. He kisses over it gently and you think he’s having regrets about marking you like that, but you say nothing, a little embarrassed by the fact that you stare at it every morning in the bathroom mirror.
When Thursday comes around again you find yourself alone once more after the meeting, entering a house that is dark and quiet. Instead of going upstairs you both go into the kitchen for a glass of water, slowly taking sips from your glass before you lose all control and launch yourself at him. This might be your first time instigating this kind of behavior but your need for him fuels your boldness.
You grab at him everywhere you can reach, pulling him tight to you, feeling the hardness of his shoulders under your hands and the softness of his belly against yours. You pull on fistfulls of his hair and shove your tongue into his mouth, eliciting groans from him. You don’t even care how desperate you appear as you writhe against him, whimpering. You are desperate for him. 
You need him to hold you tight, to kiss you hard, to make you feel like a woman. You need to belong to him, to matter to him, to make him happy. You need him to give you purpose, to bring you joy, to make you whole. You need him to make you forget every man that came before him, every hand that touched you with bad intentions. You need to feel his body enveloping you. You need him to consume you.
He pulls you into the dining room and lifts your legs up to place your butt on the table’s edge but instead you wrap both legs around his waist. He growls at your aggressive move and pushes your back down firmly on the dining table, keeping himself against you. He begins to grind himself against your core, unable and unwilling to hold himself back.
Feeling like feral animals, you lick and moan into each other’s mouths as the table creaks beneath you. You shove your hands up the back of his shirt, clawing marks down him. He moves his face along your neck, taking deep inhaling breaths and nipping at your skin, debating on whether to give you a fresh mark. Fisting your hands in his hair, you tug on his locks and interrupt his thoughts, earning groans that he muffles into the crook of your shoulder. 
Suddenly the lights in the kitchen flip on, and Tess is standing in the doorway.
“Please,” she says calmly, “Not on the table where we eat.”
You clap your hand over your mouth, silencing your loud yelp. Joel pushes himself off the table, also startled by her appearance. You take the opportunity to scramble away and run up the stairs. Hearing your door slam closed, Joel turns to Tess, snarling.
“What the fuck, Tess? What the fuck,” grabbing the edge of the table in a splintering grip. 
“Why don’t you two just fuck already?” she chuckles, trying to rile him up.
“That’s what I’m fuckin’ trying to do,” he growls, slamming his fists down several times. 
“Don’t break my fucking table,” she snaps at him. 
Joel grabs her by the hips and pushes her face down bent over the table, slamming his body into her ass. Tess just lays there, letting him rut into her for a moment. He grabs her by the hair, yanking her up, and takes a big inhale into the back of her head, continuing to grind his pelvis into her. He takes a few more breaths and stops moving his hips, calming down. Eventually he releases her, pushing her away from him harshly.
“Yeah, I don’t smell like her, do I?” Tess says. 
He mutters something she can’t quite make out, still pissed off. She can see his softening erection but a wild fucking look remains in his eyes. She watches him point to the table several times before he opens his mouth. 
“That’s my fuckin’ table. I’ll do whatever I fuckin’ want to it,” and with that he goes up to bed. 
He jerks off in his room alone. Again.
Once again the interim week is relatively tame, as you don’t have much chance to be alone together. You manage to sneak in kisses and touches when you can, but your stolen moments are no longer innocent. There’s no more playful giggles or gentle caresses. You exchange lustful glances over the table, your kisses are laden with tongue and your touches are now groping and needy. 
You wake up every morning having dreamt of him all night, and spend every day wet and wanting, full-body shudders running through you at the memory of his hands and lips on you. Everytime you pass him in the hallway you ache for him, fleeting touches never fulfilling the longing you feel. You can’t get to sleep at night without touching yourself, covering your face with your pillow to muffle your pleasure. 
You don’t remember being this wound up over anyone in your whole life, especially not since the world ended and every day became a fight to survive. Touching yourself never brought you such relief before, but imagining it’s Joel touching you ignites a spark deep inside and your desire is driving you mad. Joel makes you forget how miserable things are, how scared you’ve been. He makes you feel safe.
The next Thursday you come back from the meeting much later than expected, Tess is waiting up – drinking tea in the dining room, a bit concerned. She sees you both enter, him practically carrying you inside and up the stairs. When he comes back down she goes to make some commentary about you two “finally” doing the deed when she sees a fresh wet stain high inside the thigh of his pants. Did he come in his pants?
“What the fuck?” she can’t help it from slipping out. 
He doesn’t meet her eyes, just shrugs his shoulders and shuffles into the kitchen for a drink. He doesn’t seem agitated like he was when she interrupted him before so she thinks he must at least be satisfied with whatever happened tonight. He passes back through the room and mutters a goodnight, heading upstairs without elaborating on the state he’s in or what kept you two so late.
She’s known Joel for many years and has felt a lot of things for him, but at no point did she let herself believe that he felt anything close to love for her. She had actually convinced herself that he was incapable of feeling love, and is pretty sure he’s convinced himself of the same thing. But what is this if not true intimacy?
She wasn’t sure about you at first, especially given your penchant for fucking up your chores. But you are friendly to your housemates and giving in the community. You’re kind but reserved, and although it takes you a while to warm up to people, Tess firmly believes that you’re a genuinely good person, and – most importantly–- could be truly good for Joel. She sees that Joel lets his guard down around you, and that you like Joel for who he really is, which is something he doesn’t show to anyone.
She knows he’s kept things from you, and wonders how much he’s been manipulating you in-between letting his true self show. Maybe that’s not the right word for what Joel does, manipulate. It doesn’t feel like that’s what he’s doing when you’re the target of it. It feels good, amazing even, because when Joel makes you feel like you matter to him, it’s intoxicating. It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.
She wonders if things are going to change, and how they might change. She thinks that if Joel can admit his true feelings and commit, then his relationship with you could change the very trajectory of this community. She and Joel worked very hard to build this community up but she knows that it’s stable enough now that a change like this won’t topple it. She quietly hopes it will change significantly.
She doesn’t love how subserviently women are treated in this community and has always wondered if it would transform if Joel took a partner. For a while she hoped that partner would be her, but that thought died out long ago. If Joel is seen in public showing love and affection for an equal female partner, it could benefit women and the community as a whole going forward.
She lets herself envision that future, where Joel embraces his feelings and makes changes in his home and the community, and the positive effects are felt all across The Valley. But the biggest hurdle will be getting Joel to admit to himself – and everyone else – the softness and vulnerability that you bring out in him. Letting himself love someone means opening himself up to loss, and if there’s one thing that Joel Miller does not do, it’s lose.
🖤
NEXT
Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.
TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin
146 notes · View notes
cavillscurls · 6 months
Text
Burlesque | Joel Miller (Part II — round here buzz)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x showgirl!reader
Chapter Summary: You run into Joel unexpectedly at a bar in town. Despite your better judgment, you just can't keep your hands off of him.
Chapter Warnings: MDNI. Foul language. Alcohol consumption. Pet names. Dirty talk. Lots of banter & flirting. Sexual tension and scenarios. Exhibitionism, sorta. Heavy petting. Fingering. Unsanitary environment (public bathroom smut, you’ve been warned). Joel is a little menace. No mention of age, race, or body type; Joel does lift reader at one point. Moodboard for aesthetics only.
Word Count: 5.4k
a/n: thank you for everyone who has been so patient awaiting this update! HUGE shout out to @morning-star-joy, @cupofjoel, and @darkroastjoel for their help and letting me scream non stop about these two.
my kofi linked here if you’re interested in supporting my work further!
part I. | series masterlist.
Tumblr media
Monday night. Your night off, and somehow, you still ended up spending it with the same people you saw every other evening of the week.
In a dive bar of all places.
When you asked Bridgette about her questionable choice of venue, she looked at you like you were actually stupid. “The Rangers are playing the Astros, it’ll be crawling with honeys, and I bet’ya plenty of them are single.” She winked at you then, as if this was meant to be the best news you heard all week.
There was no good reason for why you weren’t excited at the prospect of meeting someone. In fact, the only reason you could think of was the most pathetic, idiotic one. Outrageous and unattainable, you could hardly even admit it to yourself. That the last three days had been completely and utterly consumed by the thoughts of your scandalous, wildly unprofessional moment alone with your Friday night stranger.
Not a stranger, a Joel. A dark headed, broad shouldered, chocolate brown eyed, voice dripping like honey, smug son-of-a-bitch, Joel. You knew nothing about this man other than his name and the frighteningly easy way he had reduced you into a puddle on his lap without even putting his hands on you. Large, calloused hands that had gripped so dutifully onto the cushions instead of touching you. The image of what they would look like, feel like on your skin was the only thought your mind could conjure since you left that room. The chances of ever seeing him again, though? Slim to none. You knew that. You were a rational human despite your momentarily laps in judgment.
With that reminder, and perhaps a bit of pride, you thought perhaps Bridgette’s idea of finding someone wasn’t the worst. Just a blip, a momentary instance to numb the loneliness and take your mind off other unrealistic obsessions. You were no stranger to the one night stand.
You thought maybe the reason you hadn’t had a proper fuck in so long was because of how picky you were, because as your eyes slowly casted over the permitter of the bar, you found yourself scrunching up your nose at the disappointing options. Packed to the brim with Texan gentleman, and not a single one caught your eye. You noted the way some of them talked too loud, boisterous and boastful, or how others already had their lecherous gaze set on another girl across the room, whispering what you presumed to be downright filthy words to their friends beside them. Others just looked clueless, or they were far too enamored with the game to care about you or anyone else for that matter. There was, of course, the matter of physical attraction, but you tried to put your vanity aside for the time being.
Taking another healthy sip of your rum and coke, you swiveled your gaze to the other side of the room, analyzing the bar top. It was difficult to make out features amongst the chattering groups smashed side by side to get the best glimpse of the television screens.
Then suddenly, as if the devil himself could hear your thoughts, your eyes came to a halt towards the end of the bar top, practically spitting out your drink. Because you saw him. You actually saw him. Scruffy beard, broad shoulders, and tanned skin. Nursing a bottle of beer to his lips in the same fashion he did in the lounge, smirking cheekily at whatever the man in front of him was speaking about. You blinked rapidly, as if the clearing of your eyes would somehow change the sight before you. There was no fucking way.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, loud enough that it garnered the attention of the women around you.
“What?” Bridgette asked, giving your gawking expression an odd look.
“That’s him,” you whisper-yelled, leaning in partially to block your view of him and giving the girls a chance to hear you without screaming. “That’s fucking him!”
Alice’s eyes flitted around, trying to catch path of where your own were looking so intently. “Who?!” she asked, almost as hurriedly as you.
You opened your mouth to speak only to immediately shut it. You had given the girls some information regarding your previous Friday evening, but not all. Not the guy whose thigh I fucked at the club all. They asked you how the session went, as they always did, and you were unable to stop the wide look in your eyes and the clear guilt on your cheeks. They had huddled around like a pack of dogs, eagerly awaiting the dirty details. You kept it simple, telling them of his suave nature and teasing words. How he openly wondered aloud about your own pleasure working in a place like that, to which they all responded with an obnoxious scream of delight.
You cleared your throat before you spoke, worried the lump growing in it would prevent you from articulating. “Jo— that…that guy. That guy from the club on Friday,” you clarified. As if one cue, their heads whipped around towards the bar. “Oh my god, don’t all look at once!” you screeched, the perpetual anxiety of being seen by him growing by the moment.
There was no guarantee he would even recognize you like this; natural hair, significantly less makeup, casually adored in your ripped blue jeans and sage flannel atop a lace trimmed, black bralette. In fact, you chanted it like a prayer. That the persona away from the club was somehow incognito enough to draw less attention. You found yourself torn between the fear of having to face him and the thrill of him noticing you.
“Holy shit,” Bridgette exclaimed as she turned back in towards the table, jaw hung open in delight. “You didn’t tell us he was a fucking stud. You have to talk to him!” The rest of the bunch squealed in agreement, to which you rapidly began to shake your head.
“Nope. No. Absolutely not.” Your protest was followed by a string of disappointment, muddled chatter that increased your already forming headache. “Can we please just drop it?” you seethed over them, not even bothering to entertain Bridgette’s scoff of disapproval. If it was her, she would jump on the opportunity in an instant. You knew it. But that wasn’t you. You were much better at setting boundaries for yourself, even if they manifested in the way of becoming the ultimate buzzkill.
Alice, ever a saving grace, was quick to jump in, telling the girls to let up and that if you wanted to approach him, that was your call. She swiftly changed the subject while you continued to feverishly sip at your drink. You were not use to feeling this level of unbridled anxiety, the sliver of desire laced into it all the more frustrating.
Nonetheless, it happened. Like goddamn clockwork. You managed another five minutes of uninterrupted peeking, only half focusing on Alice, while the rest of your attention studied his profile. His sturdy build, that deliciously curved nose, the way he would nod along diligently to whatever the man in front of him way saying. But eventually when you looked up, he was no longer looking towards his companion, but out into the open bar. Eyes studying the crowd in a similar fashion your own had done while he sipped carefully on his beer. He seemed unfazed, relaxed.
Until he spotted you.
Your body went rigid, and you thought for a split second that you had gotten away with it when he gazed just passed you, only to snap his attention back. You knew you should’ve looked away, should’ve ended what was bound to be the very eruption you were looking to avoid, but a deeply rooted part of you just couldn’t help yourself. Not when his brows crinkled in subtle confusion, blinking a bit more rapidly, as if he was deciphering the sight of you. Searching the confines of his memory for where he may have known you.
You wouldn’t — no, you couldn’t let it get that far. As quickly as the moment started, it ended with you snapping your gaze back down to your drink, fiddling with the straw to avoid your hands from shaking. You leaned in closer to the circle of girls, hoping to be perceived as smoothing your way back into conversation, not playing stalker eyes across the room.
You waited a good few minutes before you even dared to assess the status of your situation. When you willed your eyes up again, slow and cautious, it seemed karma was on your side. The spot he had been occupying was empty; as if he had never even been there, a ghost, a figment of your lust driven imagination.
He’s gone. He didn’t recognize you.
Repeating that mantra was the only way you could bare to get through the rest of the night.
Tumblr media
Forty-five minutes later, Alice had bid her goodbyes, and before you knew it, you were alone. Well, not alone, but you may as well have been. Somehow, Bridgette and Trixie had sparked up a conversation with the two young men at the table beside you, leaving your panic to be old news. You could leave, but Bridgette was your ride, and you did not feel like dealing with her attitude if you attempted to pull her away from her flirtatious antics.
It was then you noticed how depleted your drink had become, your only saving grace in the nightmare that was this evening. Taking a careful peek around, you assessed the coast to be clear. He disappeared long ago. There’s no way he’s still here. At the very least, nowhere near the bar top.
Carefully, you slipped away from the table as to not draw questions on where you were headed. Luckily, the girls were far too engrossed in their likely painstakingly mundane conversation, and you were able to weave your way to an open space at the bar without so much as a glance from anyone.
You ordered yourself another, leaning against the bars edge and wrapping your fingertips against the smooth counter while the bartender got to work. You had gotten good at this. Remaining hidden in places like this, never wanting to give the men around you any indication that you wanted them to talk to you. You didn’t.
As soon as the bartender returned with your order, a warm body slipped in beside you. You didn’t think much of it, lost in your own world. Until you heard his voice.
“Another beer, please.”
You would recognize that deep drawl anywhere.
Your body stiffened instantly in response, a soft gasp leaving your lips. You kept your eyes drilled forward despite the incessant curiosity telling you to take a peek. Maybe it wasn’t even him? And if it was, maybe he didn’t recognize you? He hadn’t given much indication of it when he saw you earlier. Just pure coincidence he would pick this spot to order. No, you wouldn’t even take the risk. Take the chance. You wouldn’t look, you wouldn’t —
You were so fucking weak.
Slowly cocking your head to the side, you dragged your eyes upward. First came the sight of dark blue jeans held tight by a black belt. Then, the undeniably beautiful way his sung navy t-shirt clung to his firm chest. Until you were brave enough to find his eyes; leaning against the bar by one elbow, the other hand on his hip as he peered down at you.
Fucking Joel.
His lips were pulled into a tight, closed lip grin. Dark eyes seeming to twinkle a bit under the dim light. It was brighter than the club, though, making it easier to mark out the pattern of his masculine features. You must’ve looked pathetic gawking up at him, because a chuckle rumbled through his chest not even seconds later.
He shook his head. “Mhm, thought that was you.”
Fuck. You snapped your eyes back straight ahead, as if ignoring him would make him go away. Don’t engage, don’t engage. But he was persistent, turning this frame to mimic your stance, leaning both forearms against he bar. His shoulder was centimeters away from brushing yours.
“What? Thought I wouldn’t recognize ya, angel?” he questioned, the low drop of his tone accompanied by the nickname setting your skin aflame. Like at the club, when he spoke it, it was unlike the others. He wasn’t giving you a title, he was calling you as such. An angel.
“Was counting on it,” you quipped in response, still looking forward. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He laughed again. Not the reaction you were hoping for, which only made you more infuriated. You had only been around this man twice, and already you were noticing a pattern of frustration and short fuses. Where exactly that stemmed from, you couldn’t quite pinpoint yet.
“Kinda hard to forget those eyes.”
Those same eyes snapped back to him, finding a smug smirk on his cheeks while heat filled yours. Maybe it was the way he talked, you thought. The cool sort of confidence, genuinely interested in discovering what would make you cave. You felt the same sort of power over him in the club; it was foreign to relinquish it here.
You were saved only momentarily by the bartender sliding Joel his beer, to which he thanked him before returning his attention to you. Clearly, he wasn’t going to let up.
You took in a deep breath, raising your brows at him. “I’m not supposed to engage with customers,” you said plainly, lifting the rim of your glass to your lips.
Joel’s grin only spread, the look of amusement across his face making the lines of his eyes and the soft dimple in his cheek stick out. “Well, I ain’t a customer right now, am I?” he retorted.
He got you there.
Your face must’ve shown your defeat, because Joel was breathing out another snicker before carefully eyeing the space around you. “You here alone?” he asked, furrowing his brows.
It was your turn to laugh, the sort of scoff that suggested awe. “Not a creepy question at all,” you countered sarcastically.
He rolled his eyes. “Just figured you weren’t here for the game on your own, s’all. Friends, boyfriend—?”
“Friends,” you clarified, perhaps a bit too quickly.
He caught this, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as if the amusement was too much to handle internally, it manifested outwardly. When he bit at his bottom lip, you already were preparing yourself for whatever sly remark was coming.
“No boyfriend, huh?” Real smooth. Though certainly not as crass as you expected.
Yeah, I just rode your thigh into next week and then showed up at the bar with my boyfriend days later. It crossed your mind to say, but for once, you bit your tongue.
“Nope,” you said smoothly instead, popping the p and fiddling with your straw absentmindedly. You flashed him a sour grin. “Aren’t usually interested much after they find out what I do.” A sad truth, but the truth nonetheless.
Only then did you notice his expression really change; suave relaxation morphing into what looked like distaste. His nose scrunched, brows hanging low over his eyes.
“Huh. S’damn shame.”
You shrugged. “I guess I understand it.”
“Understand what? That they’re too insecure to watch ya succeed at somethin’ you’re good at?”
Okay, that one really got you.
You looked at him, then. Really looked at him. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to find a damn thing wrong with him. Except for the way the thought of him alone set your skin on fire, but that wasn’t really his fault, was it? It was just easier to blame someone else other than yourself.
“You’ve just got all the right things to say, don’t you, Joel…?” you trailed, raising your brows in questioning.
His lips quirked up again, clearly satisfied with your wordless inquisition. He tilted a hand up off the bar top for you to shake. “Miller. Joel Miller,” he finished for you.
You took his hand, though with minor reluctance, and much to your surprise he simply…held it. Wrapped those deliciously thick fingers around it, much more delicate than the way he had gripped the seat in the club. His eyes flickered off of your face then, trailing to the place where his thumb ever so gently ran over your knuckles. You studied the connection too for a moment, realizing then that it was the first time, despite your endless thoughts of this man, that he had touched you.
The intimacy of it all, however brief, frightened you. You quickly withdrew your hand from his palm, covering up the rigidity of your movements by reaching for your drink again.
“So?” he suddenly spoke, still eyeing you carefully.
You raised a brow. “So…what?”
His smirk was back. “So, you gon’tell me your name? Or should I just keep callin’ you angel?” he asked, his countenance an indication that he probably wouldn’t mind. The sickly sweet way he spoke the title having a visible effect on you that you were certain he noticed.
You took a deep breath, toying your bottom lip between your teeth. The longer you stood there, the more sips you took, the easier it was to relax into his presence. He didn’t off put you, and that in itself was the problem. He intrigued you, enticed you, and you knew how dangerous that game was to play. A history of attachments you were looking to avoid falling into again whispering at the back of your mind.
But one more slip couldn’t hurt, could it?
Bridgette would be proud of you.
He was patient, and you noticed it, only fueling your interest in him. Tentatively, you offered him your name, and his lips curled into a proper smile. He nodded to himself, glancing off towards the liquor lining the walls in front of you as he tested it out in his own voice. Hearing it made your stomach flutter, and when he dragged his eyes back to your face, you noted something you hadn’t picked up on before. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it; fascination, adoration, perhaps pure, mutual lust. But whatever it was, coupled with the way your name sounded drawling off his lips, something inside of you snapped. You couldn’t take it anymore.
You groaned to yourself, pushing your drink away in front of you and standing upright.
“Goddamnit,” you muttered under your breath. This was surely to be your downfall. “You—just, fuck, come here.”
“What are ya? — oh, okay then—“ he didn’t have much time to protest before you were grabbing at one of his wrists, yanking him away form the bar top in a fit of crazed rage and arousal. He didn’t hesitate, following in your strut through the crowded bar and weaving carefully towards the back corridor.
You were hot. Scalding. The suffocating crowds only heightening your predicament. But voices began to dim the further you pulled him down the hall, two single restrooms on either side. Without much thought, you pulled him into one, letting him stumble in first before slamming the door shut behind you. When you faced him, wide eyed and heavy breaths, he was looking at you with a clear display of shock.
“You, you are so—you’re so frustrating!” you bellowed, throwing your hands up reflexively.
Joel blinked at you, as if he was trying to process what had just happened. You couldn’t even really decipher it yourself. “I’m frustrating?” he asked, pointing to his chest.
“Yes!” you continued, now running your hands back over your head to clear some of the sweat from your brow. Hot, so fucking hot. “At the club, and then just… just showing up here and talking to me. Making me think about what I did all fucking weekend—”
“Oh,” he suddenly cut you off. Now when you looked at him, shock morphed into amusement. He licked his lips slowly, folding this arms over that broad chest, the reflection of his shoulders in the mirror behind him just as inviting. “So, you were thinkin’ about me?” he questioned, pompous as ever.
You rolled your eyes. “Trying not to.”
“And lockin’ me in’a bathroom is helpin’ with that how?”
You didn’t have anything to say to that. In fact, you hadn’t even thought this far ahead. What were you thinking? Joel must have known, because his raised brows were lowering, features growing softer but eyes darker. You didn’t even notice the way your limbs trembled until he was raking his gaze over your entirety. The same admiration he had for your body at the club translating into the tiny bathroom.
Then, he was moving. Taking slow, calculated steps towards you. You took your own backwards, gasping when your back hit the door. You craned your neck back to look up at him towering over you now, hands clenched into fists at your sides, digging your nails into your skin for some sort of relief of the torment that plagued you.
He studied you, and you him in return. He was so close you could smell him; whiskey and manly musk, inundating every bit of you. Then, it happened. Slow and barely even there, he lifted one of his hands, running the back of his knuckles along one of your arms. Goosebumps prickled your skin, and you heard your breath catch in your throat.
“If you want somethin’ from me, darlin’….” he started, the rough drop of his voice only increasing the ache between your thighs. “All you gotta do is ask.”
Right before your very eyes stood the beautiful picture that haunted your dreams for days, your self control hanging by a thread, dwindling every moment he spent looking at you. God, you knew his eyes so well by now. But you wanted more, needed more, needed him to—
“Touch me.”
He didn’t hesitate. His hands were at your waist, engulfing you in the size of them, flushing you against his warm chest. You clambered after him, desperate hands seeking refuge at the nape of his neck when his eager lips found yours.
The kiss was manic, sloppy, but inexplicably deep; hands running over the expanse of your back, your shoulders, your hair, until they eventually sunk down to your ass, kneading the flesh firmly in his palms. You moaned into his mouth, his skillful tongue catching every sound. And when his hands dropped lower, finding the tops of your thighs and squeezing, you heeded his indication. With a careful push off your feet, he lifted you by the bottom, thighs wrapping snug around his waist, pinning your back against the door with a thud.
You wrapped yourself around him entirely, trying to take a moment from your chaotic lust to enjoy the feeling of his hands on you; warm, steady, and oddly secure. It was only when you gave a sharp tug to his curls that Joel broke from your lips, both of you struggling to find your breath. He didn’t waste much time in knocking the wind from you again, though, latching his mouth onto your jaw, your neck. Your head fell back against the door, thighs clenching impossibly harder around his hips as he graced your skin with his lips, a sharp inhale coming when he dug his teeth into the spot below your ear, sucking generously.
A deep groan reverberated in his chest to your response to him; latching your ankles around his back and pulling him further forward, close enough that you could feel the evident outline of his cock through your jeans. The fog he had clouded you with at the club had returned, every fiber of your being set alight.
“Joel,” you sighed, giving the strands of hair at the base of his neck another pull. Just saying his name aloud, not buried in the confines of your memory, had you whimpering. More, you needed more.
He grunted in response, peeling you from the door and doing a one eighty to prop you up against the sink. You leaned one hand behind you to brace yourself on the edge of the counter, the other still firmly planted in his hair. He was buried in the crook of your neck, nipping at skin and bound to leave bruises. For some reason, the thought of him marking you posed no aversion.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he rasped, finding your lips again. “M’gonna take care of ya.”
You remembered his words from the club, then:
“You’re good at pleasin’, aren’t ya, angel? Like takin’ care of people?”
You hated how quickly he had read you.
“When’s the last time someone took care of you, huh?”
But he was so right, felt so right, and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have your needs met for once. To have someone bring you pleasure, for once. And he seemed so fucking willing.
He made good on his promise, a steady hand coming down between your bodies to fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.
“This alright?” he murmured hurriedly between hot kisses, popping the buttons much too slowly for your liking. Any other time, you would’ve been grateful for the check-in. But today, you were far too gone from sanity to acknowledge it.
You groaned, squeezing your thighs tighter around his hips. “Fuck, yes. Just do it,” you gritted, unable to care how needy or insistent you sounded.
This had Joel chuckling, low and delicious, and he pulled back from your lips only far enough to raise a badgering brow up at you. “Eager now, aren’t ya darlin’?” But before you had a chance to quip back, he had your zipper pulled down, sinking his fingers into the front of your jeans.
Your hips bucked off the sink in response to his warm palm cupping your mound through your cotton panties, followed by a breathy sigh of relief. The buzzing you had felt all through your veins dimmed to throb, hyper focused at your core that was undoubtedly dripping through your underwear.
Joel hummed. “Fuckin’ soaked already,” he grumbled against your cheek, confirming your suspicions.
You couldn’t help it if the torment of this man manifested in physical evidence; and you couldn’t bring yourself to care that he discovered it. His hands were on your burning skin, soothing the fire with their touch. You had gotten what you wanted. That was enough to ease fraying nerves for a little while.
He didn’t keep you waiting much longer. The pads of his fingertips toyed with the band of your panties before slipping inside. This time, when his hand made contact with your bare heat, your body jolted forward, chest brushing up against his own. You brought your arm fully around his neck, holding yourself steady and keeping him close. He worked in a fashion that reminded you there was no telling how much time you had, the impending chance of a knock at the door growing more likely by the second. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care.
Not when he was sinking the satisfying stretch of two digits into your cunt, curling his knuckles upward, and flexing his forearm in calculated thrusts. You hissed through your teeth, bringing your sweat clad forehead against his, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted in quick breaths. He needed no guidance to find the sensitive spot inside of you, something about the way he curved his fingers within your walls telling you it was a seasoned motion.
It made him terribly sexier.
The attention may have been on you, but Joel was breathing just as heavy. His hot breath hit your face with every thrust, and your hips began to buck off the sink to meet him each time. You were gasping when the heel of his palm began to brush against your aching clit, nails digging crescents into his shoulder.
“Mm, right there,” you whimpered, hardly recognizing the winded, needy thrum of your own voice. You couldn’t remember the last time you directed a man in your pleasure. And you certainly couldn’t remember the last time one listened. “Fuck, right there. Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. Instead, he kept the same, constant pace in the exact, perfect spot that sent a coil tightening all the way from the pit of your stomach through the course of your thighs. The graze of his teeth returning to your jugular sent you rearing towards the edge, and when he sunk them tenderly into the flesh, you went hurdling over.
“Joel—!” you yelped as you began to clench around his digits, slick coating your thighs. You tightened your legs around his hips, fearing you’d fall right off the sink.
His free hand found the base of your back, keeping you steady. “S’alright, angel. Go ahead. Cum for me,” he purred, coaxing you forward with his encouraging words.
You gave way to them, throwing your head back with a prolonged, high-pitched moan as the wave of euphoria crashed over you. You were grateful for the music in the near distance, likely to drown out your cries. But if anyone was outside the door, there was no hiding what was ensuing behind it. You still didn’t care.
Joel was peppering kisses along your neck the entirety of your release, the coarseness of the patchy hair on his jawline heightening the sensitivity on your skin. He worked his fingers into you despite the push back of your release, making sure to bleed every last bit of satisfaction out of you.
When he finally pulled his fingers from you, the sound was obscene. You watched in a daze as he lifted them to his own lips, meeting your eyes while he sucked them clean. A feeble whimper escaped you at the lewd display, living in the lull of post orgasm stupor, encapsulated by his dark eyes. The way they watched you, admired you.
Then, he was pushing his torso between your thighs again, not bothering to shield his clear erection from brushing up against your thigh. This was it. The feeling you had craved for months. And you had it readily at your fingertips; you could take it further, and you knew he would comply.
But then, his hands were coming up to cup your cheeks. Those same, intent eyes taking a full once over of you before he was leaning in to capture your lips again. But before he could get close enough, your palms found his chest instinctively, stopping him. Like the snap of your fingers, the haze cleared. Reality set in. You took it in, where you were, what you did, who you did it with. This wasn’t any one night slip — this was a repeat. A repeat of someone who already had you crossing all your boundaries. Suddenly, the bliss of your orgasm was replaced by the severity of your mistake. The intimacy of his closeness too much to bare.
You quite literally pushed him away from you, hobbling off the sinks edge and frantically pulling your underwear and jeans back to their rightful places.
“Hey, what…what are ya—?” You couldn’t see the confusion on his face, too hellbent on getting yourself straightened out, but you could hear it in his voice.
“Move,” you breathed, shoving passed him while you frantically worked to push the hair out of your face.
Joel turned on his heels to stalk after you, reaching for your hand as soon as your other met the door handle, speaking your name again in that fucking drawl of his. “Hey,” he said again, gripping at your wrist. “What just happened? I—”
“Don’t!” you barked, startling him slightly when you spun back around and yanked your hand out of his. His brows furrowed tight over his eyes, and the blown lust that once overtook them melted into inquisition, worry. “Just, just— I need to — don’t, okay?”
You couldn’t find the words, could barely find your own thoughts. All you knew was that you needed to get out of there, and you needed to do so now. So you did, turning back towards the door, and making a beeline back to the bar without looking back. You didn’t even bother to see if Bridgette and Trixie were still around, not having the mental capacity to face them or explain your clearly flustered state.
You entered the evening air looking for a taxi, fleeing the building with the echo of Joel Miller calling your name and the reminisce of his hand between your legs. It was a sound that would permeate your dreams for nights to come, all the while knowing you weren’t brave enough to give into the temptation.
At least, not yet.
Tumblr media
tag list: I am no longer doing tag lists! please follow @cavillscurlsupdates and select “get notifications” to be notified when i update!
348 notes · View notes
futureman · 11 months
Text
living in a state of dreaming
summary: it’s been a year since you, joel, and ellie returned to jackson, and you’re finally starting to feel a sense of security. but when the sun goes down and joel closes his eyes, the horrors beyond the walls still hunt him, out to take back the family he’s worked so hard to protect.
pairing: joel miller x reader
warnings: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), nightmares, sleepwalker!joel, language, minor injury, mention of panic attacks, ellie struggles, post-season one
word count: 1.5k
a/n: inspired by my own sleepwalking adventures :') i've loved tlou since the first game came out, but the hbo show really made me wanna start writing again, so this is my first fic here! thoughts and feedback are super welcome and appreciated! 💕
Tumblr media
“You still mumble in your sleep,” she says, worry lines marring her face as Joel shoots up and off the couch. His eyes are much too alert for someone who was dead asleep moments before. 
You meet Ellie’s gaze from across the room, her concern mirrored in your own. Joel had always suffered from nightmares, for as long as you’d known him, but it was so much worse now. Of course, Ellie notices. She may have moved into her own space out back, but she still watches Joel like a hawk, a side-effect of traveling together, of looking out for each other for as long as they had.
You can’t even begin to pinpoint the cause. Sure, he hadn’t loosened up much since your little group arrived in Jackson—he was still Joel, after all—but it had been a year. Ellie was safe, you were safe, and the delusion that nothing could ever harm you again was almost believable. 
But still, there he was every night, tossing and turning, mumbling evolving into screaming as he reached out for you in the dark. 
You do what you can, but your presence alone isn’t enough. You hold him in your arms, the warmth of his back against your chest a reminder that he's still here with you. "Joeljoeljoel," you murmur into his hair. He smells like suede and wood oil, and you squeeze him a little tighter. "I'm here, see? Go back to sleep, we're safe. Nothing here but you and me." 
He’s still trembling, but you can feel his heart rate calming. Just a brief respite until the monsters come for him again.
For a while, Joel tried not sleeping at all. He occupied his nights woodworking, your home slowly filling up with small statues of animals and cowboys, neatly sanded and coated in a fresh stain. He’d let the bite of guitar strings on his calloused fingertips distract him from the burning behind his eyes, the headache blooming in his temples. 
This isn’t sustainable and you both know it. But he’ll keep going, excuses falling from his lips that you and Ellie pretend to believe.
There’s not enough time in the day, he’d say. How do you expect me to finish fixin’ Ellie’s guitar, I made her a promise.
Ellie smiles for him, treads lightly as if she’s dealing with a child, and you think it’s probably a habit she picked up from the little time she had with Tess. It’s okay, Joel, there’s plenty of time for you to teach me. We’ve got forever, and she means it.
Ellie catches you before your shift one morning, her small hand circling your wrist. 
“We should probably talk about Joel,” she lets go and wraps her arms around herself like she always does when she’s upset. You let out a sigh and it feels like you’ve been holding it in for days. She shouldn’t have to worry about things like this. Joel would be furious with himself if he knew.
“Something’s freaking him out. I dunno, maybe you should ask him about it?” She sounds frantic now. “I mean, what if he starts getting those panic-things again and can’t breathe, or he has a fuckin’ heart attack and dies?” You do your best to reassure her.
“Kiddo, I promise he’s not going to die,” your thumb smooths the wrinkle in her brow. “I think he’s just been through a lot. We all have.” Ellie doesn’t look like she believes you; she wants a better answer than that.
“...Do you still get nightmares?”
Your mouth tips down and you glance away. The front door is open and the chill of the air makes you shiver. 
“Yeah, I do. But when I wake up, I know they can’t hurt me anymore,” you reply. She must still have them too, after the horrors she’s seen and lived. So much and yet so little time has passed, but Ellie’s scars are healing. 
The friends she’s made here make her smile and she laughs more. Her cheeks are fuller and her eyes are less clouded. But scars never fade completely.
She nods stiffly.
“I’ll talk to him, see if something happened.” You hug her and she thaws just a little. Ellie hasn’t really warmed up to physical affection, and you won’t push it. But sometimes she welcomes it when she needs the comfort.
“It wasn’t like this out there, I-...I don’t know,” you continue. “I don’t know what changed, but we’ll figure it out.”
Tumblr media
You don’t, and it escalates.
Sunday is the first day Joel sleepwalks. He wakes up halfway out of bed, his foot catching on the sharp, wooden bed frame—the one he built himself, close to the ground just like you wanted—and he can feel the skin of his ankle twisting and tearing. 
He catches himself before he can crash to the ground and you’re on him in an instant. “Christ, Joel, are you okay?” 
“S’nothin’,” he grumbles, bleary-eyed and dazed. You move to check the damage to his foot and he swats your hands away, which doesn’t surprise you at all, but hurts nonetheless. 
The few times he let you patch him up were less a choice than a necessity, to say the least. A memory of Ellie with a syringe of penicillin, and you with a roll of duct tape and the cleanest rag you could find comes to mind, and so you let him go. “I got it, jus’ go back to sleep. Sorry for wakin’ you.” 
The door to the bathroom closes and you follow behind, resting your head softly on the door. It’ll get better soon, you tell yourself. It’s getting colder, winter’s on its way, and Joel’s just stressed about sorting out patrol duties; infected are more unpredictable this time of year. Once Tommy and his crew are back from the dam, it’ll be better.  
On Wednesday, his eyes are vacant as he grabs for the doorknob leading out of your bedroom, but it's gone, stolen away in the dark. He pounds his fists against the wood, desperately fitting his fingers in the gap between the door and the frame in a futile attempt to pry it open. 
You don’t fully comprehend what’s happening until the yelling starts, low grunts becoming frantic pleas. He’s calling out for you, for Ellie.
The lights flicker on, enough to make him aware of his surroundings, of reality. Joel’s chest is heaving, eyes sad as your hands take his, leading him back to bed.
It's Saturday when the front door slams open, startling you awake too early in the morning. The other side of the bed is still warm, frighteningly so, as your hand slams down on the sweat-dampened sheets where Joel should be. 
You’re too late to stop him from running out of the house into the cold, barefoot in the snow, as if something was chasing after him.
Joel can feel his heart pounding in his chest, hear the blood rushing in his ears like white noise, and he can’t seem to draw in enough air. He can't remember what he was running from, but its eyes in the shadows still haunt him. It’s all too much and his body finally reaches its breaking point.
It’s a terrifying sight, Joel dropping to his knees. His eyes are blank and he’s gone so, so quiet.
“Joel, please. You have to tell me what to do, tell me how to help you.” Resisting the urge to shake him feels so hard, but you have no idea how else you’re supposed to bring him back from this. He’s sinking into himself, hands tensing and untensing as he battles the urge to fight. 
You wonder if he can even hear you. 
The commotion hasn’t woken Ellie up, and you’re grateful. You don’t want her to see him like this.
“I let my guard down,” his gravelly voice catches you off guard. “This place is makin’ me weak.” Joel’s eyes are wet and your heart shatters. “Once you stop moving, it hits you all at once. The adrenaline’s gone, there’s no gettin’ it back.” His eyes find yours, and you’re frozen. “The fuck am I supposed to protect you like this?”
You sink to the ground to wrap your arms around him and the snow burns as it seeps through your threadbare pajama pants.
“There’s nothing coming for us, the Fireflies are gone. We got her back, okay? She’s ours now,” you murmur, words gentle even as you grip him tight, tethering him to right now. “And sometimes you have to let me protect you. Even from yourself, especially from yourself. That’s what we do, we keep each other going.”
Joel slumps, exhausted. His forehead drops to yours and his nose is cold as it bumps your own, breath warm and humid in contrast. 
“Trust us,” you hum against his lips, and the remaining tension leaves his body.
It’s not enough to stop the nightmares; they’ll never stop. But it’s enough for tonight. And when the monsters come again, you’ll be there to turn on the light.
Tumblr media
thanks for reading! 💕
476 notes · View notes
seralyra · 1 year
Text
Grian is an enigma in the Life Series. He’s playing to win. He’s ruthless. But he’s also fiercely loyal and the dichotomy of those two aspects messes him up so bad every time.
He is the victim of his own nature. Grian forges alliances out of necessity. Because that’s what he needs to succeed. But he stays because he’s growing attached to his allies every time. No matter how hard he fights against it. How much he rebels against the bonds he creates. He always ends up staying. And he always ends up alone.
The most obvious is Scar. Grian is his ally in 3rd Life. He bonds with him out of obligation and stays because he can’t find it in himself to leave. And in Double Life he tries to get away from Scar, but let’s not forget that he is the one to seek Scar out in the first place. And He’s not the one to use that golden apple. It’s Pearl. Even though he was the one who suggested creating an item to break bonds.
He’s the one to talk Scar into basing together. And while he is secret soulmates with BigB he always comes back to Scar. In Limited Life it is obvious, too. Grian never really attacks Scar without being provoked first. Whenever the two are alone together they just talk and tease each other. And while Grian desperately tries to keep his distance, to make sure they are not allied. He ends up becoming family anyway.
Last Life was a bit of an outlier. But Mumbo was in Last Life and Grian will always fixate on Mumbo first. And even then Grian still couldn’t help but go to Scar after he turned red to give him his stuff back and comfort him.
Jimmy is another case. Whenever he is allied with Grian there will always be an attempt at kicking him out of the group. But it never feels too serious. Grian is used to teasing Jimmy. And ultimately Grian tends to be the voice of reason in the groups he ends up in. The Southlands fell apart as soon as Grian turned red and was kicked out. And the Bad Boys would have died of stupid stunts much earlier if Grian didn’t give them a few things to focus on instead.
Grian is constantly in denial. Yes, Grian, this game as no rules. Now who are you bending those rules for, hm? Oh, allyships don’t matter? Then why are you chosing to stay when all you do is complain about your partners?
It’s because he can’t decide what’s more important to him: Winning or friendship.
His very nature kicks him in the butt every time. He’s so lovely undecided in what he wants. He’s a bastard. He loves chaos. He shoves people off bridges and pushes buttons and is surprised when people die because of it.
He also hates betrayals. Grian doesn’t much care for accidental deaths, but he won’t stand for any backstabbing. And so he’s ruthless in his judgement. He kills Mumbo for it. And Jimmy. And he would have killed Scar for it in 3rd Life, too, had Scar not proven to him that he had not betrayed him.
They are all their own curse. Jimmy and Joel and Grian. They fail because their nature always gets the better of them. Jimmy picks fights he can’t win and let’s himself be strung along crazy missions. Joel falls for his own funny, but oftentimes dangerous ideas and let’s panic consume him once he’s confronted with his consequences.
And Grian is always the downfall for his partners because he can never decide whether he wants to go or stay and just has to cause mayhem wherever he goes.
I think all of that shines through so clearly this season because they are all more careless. They can die more often and that, funnily enough, makes them all have more time to actually act on their nature.
Of course, I know in the end they are just a group of friends having fun playing a game. But in a narrative sense this tickles my brain so bad.
428 notes · View notes
xdaddysprincessxx · 7 months
Text
Scarecrow
Tumblr media
Serial killer Farmer Joel x f!reader
(Part of the In every lifetime universe, takes place before so like 1965 making Joel early 40s in this)
Warnings: Dead Dove : Gore/horror, Joel is a serial killer = he kills ppl, smut, noncon, virginity loss, inappropriate use of farm equipment, death/no survivors, oral (f receiving), dead bodies, dismemberment, slapping(face & pussy), 1 head flying, i believe that’s it, again Joel is a very bad man in this.
Summary: It’s almost Halloween! You and your friends decide to go to Farmer Joel’s corn maze for some spooky fun! Except your boyfriend is being a dick and starts to poke fun at Joel, ruining the fun. For you and your friends at least.
A/n: @multiversed-daydreamer this one’s for you babe! I took heavy inspo from Texas Chainsaw Massacre and elements from various slasher movies. This is very much a horror movie in words. This is dark and fucked up. ⚠️ Proceed with caution ⚠️
‘Two more bodies found’ ‘The fifth victim found in connection to string of disappearances’
The headlines of every newspaper and the topic of every whispered conversation around town has you on high alert. There’s been a total of what? Seven victims now? You think. No one’s sure who’s doing it but every other day it’s the same story. Someone goes missing, a few days later their body pops up, tied to a post in a field, dressed up as a scarecrow. Only except these “scarecrows” have their throats slit, multiple stab wounds and more times than not, missing limbs. To say you are terrified is an understatement. These murders have been happening for the past three years, always during the fall too.
As you sit at your kitchen table, sipping your morning coffee, your phone starts to ring. Getting up to go pick the phone up off the receiver, phone still attached by a curly cord, you answer.
“Heyyyy girly!! You already know who it is!! So guess where we are going tonight!” You hear your best friend Lucy shout into the other end of the phone.
“Lucy what are you talking about? Going where? Do you not see the news? I’m not about to go anywhere and risk dying.” You reply with a giggle, knowing damn well these murders aren’t going to stop you or her from going out and having fun.
Laughing out loud, “Well we’re going to drum roll please!” Clap,clap,clap sounds through the phone, “We’re going to Farmer Joel’s corn maze!!” Lucy all but shouts. “Annnddd you should totally invite your little boy toy Brad!” She adds with mischievousness in her voice.
“Lucy! Oh my god stop!” You giggle, “Brad and I aren’t even official yet! We’ve only gone on one date.” You say as blush begins to cover your cheeks. You all used to go to high school together. Brad was the star quarterback on the football team. You and your group of friends kept to yourselves. So when you moved back after college, you were surprised when you ran into Brad at the grocery store and started talking. That’s when he asked you out on a date. Nothing crazy special just dinner and the two of you catching up. Afterwards he awkwardly kissed you goodnight as he dropped you off at your house.
“Ooh and I think Frank and Janet are also coming too! It’s gonna be so much fun! Okay be ready by 7!” Lucy exclaims.
“Okay ill see you then!!” You say before hanging the phone back on the receiver that’s hanging on the wall.
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
By the time 6 o’clock came around, you’d already been ready to go. Your anxiety never allowing you to just chill. Dressed in your favorite knee length blue floral dress and white cardigan paired with your favorite pair of Mary Jane shoes. You were ready for a fun night with your friends and potential new boyfriend.
Before you knew it, you heard knocking on your door. Standing up from the couch, you smooth out your dress and grab your purse that you place across your body as you go to answer the door.
Opening the door, you reveal Brad standing there wearing his high school lettermen’s jacket, looking quite handsome. “Hey Brad!” You say as you walk out the door, shutting it closed behind you.
“Well hey there cutie pie. You ready to go out to Farmer Joel’s corn maze? Maybe we’ll get lost in there.” He says, winking suggestively at you.
You slap him on the shoulder playfully, “Oh my god Brad you are so silly. Even if we do, we won’t be alone!” You say as you try to let him down easily. As much as you do like him, you aren’t ready to do anything sexual with him. After all you’re still a virgin. The two of you walk hand in hand to his car where your other friends Lucy, Frank and Janet are waiting.
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
The sun is starting to set as you pull up to Farmer Joel’s place. He lives out in the middle of nowhere with tons of acres. He moved to Chesterfield about 5 or so years ago and ever since, every fall he always does a corn maze and hay rides for everybody. The hayrides ended about an hour ago and soon the corn maze will be closed for the night as well. You and your friends have about an hour to enjoy the maze and make it out before closing. Most of the families that came out tonight are leaving already probably due to the chill in the air. Still you can’t help but notice how sparse the crowd is as you and your friends walk up to the corn maze.
Joel’s standing off to the side of the maze entrance, looking rather intimidating in his overalls and steal toed boots. He’s chatting with a couple who just came out of the maze when he looks in your direction. For a split second you swear he was looking into your soul. You couldn’t help but feel a chill creep up your spine.
“Hey buddy! How are you doing old farmer Joel? Looking good for your age. How old are you? 65?” Brad says as he starts laughing expecting everyone to join in. Your friends give a tiny giggle, not really sure why Brads picking on Joel for his age.
The couple Joel was talking too just rolled their eyes at Brad and said their goodbyes to Joel before walking away.
“Very funny kid. I see you’ve got jokes. Tell me, how’s life post high school? Do anything worth mentioning or are you still stuck reliving your wonder years?” Joel bites back, not taking this stupid punks shit.
“Hey man fuck you. I was the best damn quarterback Chesterfield High has ever seen! What the fuck have you ever done? Huh?” Brad retorts back.
“Brad stop it. You’re being an ass. Come on let’s go through the maze before it closes. I’m so sorry Mister Joel don’t pay him any mind.” You chastised Brad while also apologizing to Joel for brad for being such a child.
Joel just stares at you again, seemingly penetrating your very soul. You swear he can see inside your mind. He just grunts and lifts his chin towards you as you grab Brad by the hand and drag him into the maze.
The maze itself isn’t terribly long but the aisle you have to walk through is rather small. You and Brad lead the group while Lucy is to your left just slightly behind you and Frank and Janet side by side in the back. After a few minutes you come to a fork.
“Let’s go right guys. This way we can get out sooner.” Janet suggests, having the hebbie jebbies ever since Brad and Joel had their little showdown.
“No no let’s go left, come on guys let’s take our time and have fun. Old man Joel can wait on us.” Brad tells the group, trying his best to take charge.
“No Brad I don’t feel comfortable doing that. Come on let’s just go right and get this over with and we can go to IHOP and hang after.” Janet begs Brad and the rest of the group.
“How about this? Me and Janet will go right. You guys go left. Lucy pick who you wanna go with.” Frank says coming up with a neutral solution.
“I’ll go with these guys. We’ll meet y’all at the end!” Lucy says to Frank and Janet.
The group splits off, Frank and Janet going right and you,Brad and Lucy going left. The three of you walk in silence for a few minutes before you hear what sounds like a scream. All three of you jump. You quickly grab onto Brads arm as Lucy grabs onto your arm.
“What was that?” Lucy whispers. Scared to be louder than a whisper so she’s not heard by whatever that was.
“I dunno girl. That’s super creepy. Do you think it was Janet? I hope they’re okay. M-maybe it’s just Frank scaring her.” You whisper back, trying to remain logic even though your heart is about to beat out of your chest.
“Girls. You guys are so easily scared.” Brad says, rolling his eyes. “You can’t scare me bro!” He shouts to the void.
By now the sun has set, leaving you, Brad and Lucy shrouded in darkness. There’s a couple of lights behind you at the entrance and you can see a couple more closer to the exit but that’s it. Complete darkness. And now that you notice, complete silence too. All of the other guests must have left by now leaving you and your friends here by yourselves. The three of you keep on walking when you hear snapping of a corn stalk before you feel Lucy’s grip on your arm leave. Looking back to see what she’s doing, you see that Lucy is gone. Literally vanished into thin air.
“Lucy? Lucy? Where are you?” You say in the loudest whisper you can manage. Frightened you grip onto Brad even harder, “ Brad let’s get out of here. I’m scared.” You tell him.
“Babe come on there’s nothing to be scared of. They’re playing a stupid little prank on you I’m sure of it.” He says with an air of confidence.
Terrified, you just nod your head holding onto him for dear life as the two of you continue walking through the maze. Soon enough you two are walking out of the maze.
“See babe I told you everything is fine.” Brad says.
Letting go of his arm, you shake out your arms, stiff from the tight grip you had. “Whatever Brad let’s find the others and go.” You say as you look at him.
Before he can answer you, a pitchfork shoots out his chest causing him to gurgle on the blood now flooding his mouth. The pitchfork slides back through his body as you let out a blood curling scream. Brads body slumping over and falling to the ground revealing Farmer Joel standing behind him, pitchfork in hand.
Paralyzed with fear, all you seem to be able to do is stand there with eyes wide and your mouth still open. Joel throws the pitchfork down, practically gliding over to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder in one smooth motion. Immediately you start banging your fists on his impenetrable back, flailing your legs.
“Let me go!! Please! I- I won’t go to the cops or anything! Just please let me go!! I don’t wanna die!!” You scream at Joel, begging for your life.
Joel just grunts at your begging,swatting you on your ass as he takes you into his barn in the back, a good ways away from the maze. And for some reason your body absolutely betrays you because why on gods green earth should that give you such a good feeling in your lower stomach. A tiny part of you hoping he does it again. Once inside, Joel drops you like a sack of potatoes onto a hay bale that’s been placed against a wooden post. Before you can even make a move he grabs your arms twisting them behind you and tying you to the post.
“No use in screaming honey. Nobody can hear you out here so it’d be in your best interest to keep quiet.” Joel finally says as he finishes tying you and walks around to face you.
“Please mister Joel please I promise I’ll do whatever you want just let me go! I don’t wanna die! Please . .” You sob, hoping this man has a sliver of mercy inside his body for you.
Joel just stands there, staring at you for a quick second before walking back out of the barn. As you sit there you notice your body betraying you further as you feel yourself start to get wet. Between him spanking you and now being tied up, a part of you is excited from the treatment. You’ve always found Joel to be handsome. Big, broad shoulders, rough hands from working on the farm, those gorgeous brown eyes. But you saw him kill Brad! He probably killed the others too you just didn’t have any proof. It must be the adrenaline rushing through you, that’s it. That’s why you’re feeling like this.
After what felt like hours being stuck inside the barn, you hear Joel’s boots thudding on the cold, hard ground followed by what sounded like wheels? That’s when you see Joel pushing a wheelbarrow piled high with your friends. On the other side of the barn, directly across from you, Joel dumps all the bodies of your friends into a pile. The bodies make a sickening thud when you notice their arms and legs have been severed from their bodies, Brads head rolls away from the pile and lands up right, staring at you.
Terrified, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. He cut brads head off!!! All of your friends have been dismembered!! You were already scared for your life, if that’s what he does to them, what’s Joel gonna do to you?!
Your scream hurts Joel’s ears, the high pitched sound causing him to flinch. After dumping the bodies he drops the wheel barrow and stomps over to you. Picking up that punks head by the hair, he throws it back to the pile. Once he reaches you, he can’t help but to slap you across the face before covering your mouth with his hand. His other hand going to the back of your head, grabbing a fist full of your hair, yanking to make you look at him.
“Be quiet girl! I already told you ain’t nobody can hear you! I don’t wanna hear that shit!” He growls in your face. You shut up immediately. He continues to cover your mouth and keep his fist in your hair as the two of have this stare down. After a few seconds, Joel breaks first and drops his hands as he looks away. Grunting he starts to untie you from the post. Once untied he unceremoniously throws you back over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind out of you. He leaves the barn and starts towards his house. As scared as you are, you decide your gonna do what he says and stay quiet, hoping he’ll take mercy on you if you behave.
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
Slamming the door closed behind him, Joel makes sure to lock all three locks and the chain to ensure you can’t get out. Still carrying you, he can’t help but notice how your ass sticks out from your dress being pushed up from being thrown over his shoulder. It’s been so long since he’s last had a woman. And a man has urges you know. Deciding in a split second to change his plan, he instead takes you up upstairs to his bedroom.
Soon enough Joel is flinging you onto his king sized bed. Sitting up you can’t help but stare up, wide eyed at Joel as he towers over you. You’ve never really noticed how tall he is. It’s almost intimidating how he looms over you. The way he’s manhandled you has caused your slick to pool in your panties. All of these emotions have left you so puzzled; he’s a murderer. You saw your friends dead. But yet you find yourself wanting to look deep in his eyes before he bends you over his knee to spank you as punishment before making you take every inch of his cock in your tight virgin pussy. Joel begins to bend down and take his boots off, throwing them one by one to the side. Nervous, you slowly scooted back towards the head board.
“You a virgin girl?” Joel asks in a gruff voice as he places a bended knee on the bed. You shake your head yes nervous as to what he’s gonna do with that information. He slowly makes his way onto the bed, now on both of his knees, crawling toward you with a hungry look in his eyes and a creepy smirk on his face making you scooch back even more. Feeling like an animal about to be attached by it’s predator.
“Good. Just how I like my women. Pure. And all mine.” Joel says in a low baritone voice, “Don’t worry darlin’ you’ll like what I do to you. I’ll make sure your untouched pussy can take my cock before I fuck you.” As much as you try to feel reassured that he’s not gonna make it hurt, you’re still scared. You’ve never been touched. The most you’ve done is some light kissing and hand holding. And now this scary man who turns you on and frightens you is going to take your virginity. Your back hits the headboard forcing you to acknowledge you have no where to go. Joel reach’s his hand out and grabs your calf, pulling your leg causing you to slide down leaving you on your back and his face directly in front of your cunt. He bends down, his nose going up and down your covered slit as he breathes in your soaking wet pussy. The feeling of his nose on your most private part sends tingles throughout your vagina and up your whole body. You can’t help by shiver from the feeling.
“Mm you smell so good baby” Joel says, breathing in deep before laying a chaise kiss on top of your mound. Joel looks up at you, You are frozen, unable to move or say anything but lay there and watch this man. The two of you hold eye contact for a few heartbeats before you feel Joel’s rough hands grab your hips and begin to peel your panties off of your body. You lift your hips to help him reveal yourself to him, wanting to feel his touch down there again.
Once your panties were off and flung to the side, Joel looks back down and let’s out a low whistle, “Damn baby looks like you want this. You want my cock pretty girl? Need a man to show you how to fuck? How to suck cock? Need me to make this cunt feel good?” He says as he takes his thumb up your slit, putting a little pressure on your clit and holding it there.
You sigh at how good that felt. Starting to feel all your thoughts melt away when you felt a slap on your cunt, making it sting, “Ouch!” You exclaim
“Answer me when I’m talking to you girl!” Joel barks at you as he slaps your pussy again.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll answer, I-I’ll be good, I’m sorry!” You sob after a third slap. Joel reached up with his other hand and grabs your cheeks causing your face to be smushed as he pulls you towards his face, “Tell me you want this. Tell me you need my hands, my fucking cock or I swear to god I’ll take you back to the barn and leave you to rot with your friends.” Joel demands, you nod your head yes, “Yes. Yes I- I need you Joel . I-Joel please, please I need you, I-I I need your cock.”
Joel leans forward, meeting your face, causing his nose to press into your nose, “Good baby. That’s what I wanna hear. I don’t wanna hurt you darlin’ but I will. I need you to be good okay? Be my good girl.” He says, shaking his head yes as he said those last words, closing his eyes. Inhaling deep, as if he can’t get enough of your scent. You shake your head yes with him, “I’ll be good Joel.” You whisper, causing Joel to open his eyes and look deep into yours. His lips part in awe as he glances down at your lips. Even though your mouth is squished, he still looks at you like your the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. That’s when he presses his lips on yours. Kissing you deeply, taking your breath away. It’s not a soft kiss by any means. He is putting a good amount of force into the kiss while also keeping your head still so you have no type of give in your neck. Soon you feel his tongue lick your lips, unable to keep his tongue out of your mouth, you have no choice but to open your lips a little wider than they already are and accept his tongue on your mouth. Joel roughly sticks his tongue in, licking all around the inside as though he’s trying to eat your face.
After a few minutes of a sloppy makeout session, Joel pulls away, letting go of your face. Moving down your neck, leaving a trail of wet open mouthed kisses. His large hands roaming all over your body, caressing up and down your sides before he raises one hand and grabs your tit giving it a squeeze. You let out a moan at that, having never been felt up before, it feels so good. Your moan spurs Joel on and pulls your dress down, revealing your breasts to him. Looking down at your boobs, Joel smiles, looking quite pleased with himself before darting his head down and capturing a nipple in his mouth.
“Ooh o-oh. Joel t-that feels so good.” You say breathlessly, looking down at the man suckling your breast. He twirls his tongue around, flicking your nipple with his tongue causing them to harden before he lightly bites down. Letting go of your tit, Joel gives you a smirk before he makes his way back down your body. His face back in between your thighs. Poking out his tongue, he gives your slit a light lick as if he was testing out to see your reaction. You couldn’t help but suck in air, completely entranced to see what he does next. That’s when Joel dives right in, holding your lips open with his thumbs as he licks a wide stripe from the bottom of your pussy up to your clit. The wet muscle then begins to flick and twirl all around your clit but never on it. He’s so close to where you want him. But the feeling of his tongue all over your pussy is the most exquisite feeling you’ve ever had. You can’t help but roll your eyes back as you reach down and card your fingers through his hair, intertwining your fingers in his brown curls. The slight tug of his hair has Joel whimpering into your pussy. Joel lives for praise, he needs to be told how good he is so feeling you let go and hold onto him has him even harder.
You’ve never felt like this before. It’s almost as if your on a roller coaster about to go over the drop. That’s when you feel a thick finger probe your opening. Joel tests your cunt to see just how tight you are, barely able to get his finger inside of you, “Relax baby ‘sokay it’s supposed to feel good.” He says as he works his finger into you more. Once he’s able to insert his finger, he lets it sit there for a beat before he starts pumping his finger in and out. The feeling causing your whole body to heat up, at first it hurt but now. Oh fuck now, it feels so incredibly good. You start breathing harder, moaning more, legs start to shake as Joel begins to finger you even harder. You feel your wetness gush out of you and soon you feel yourself go over the drop of a roller coaster you’ve found yourself on.
“Fuck that’s it baby fuck yea you’re ready for me now” Joel says breathlessly, excited to pop your pretty little cherry. Taking his finger out, he quickly gets off the bed and takes his overalls off revealing his thick, hard cock that’s already weeping with precum.
Joel takes himself in hand, giving his dick a few pumps, “This is all for you angel. Gonna make that cunt mine.” He says as he gets back on the bed, pulling you down so your on your back, underneath him. Still high off of your orgasm, all you can do is lay there. Your whole body feels like jelly. You feel Joel swipe his cock through your folds a few times before you feel him start to push the tip in. That’s when your whole body seizes up from the sharp pain.
“Ouch! Wait! Please, it hurts!” You try to plead with him, your words cause him to stop for a second as he looks down where your bodies are connected.
“Shh baby it’ll be over soon. The pain doesn’t last long. Just take it like a big girl.” He says, “just relax f’ me”
Joel watches you take a deep breath and he plunges his cock all the way in your freshly popped pussy. The shock of it all, the pain is almost unbearable. After a few seconds of his cock being inside of you, Joel being nice enough to give you some time to adjust to him, it begins to feel . . good? You can feel his cock throb inside of you, making your pussy get wetter.
“M-move. Please” you stutter. Joel grunts at that, pleased you relaxed enough he was able to fully get inside of you in one swift thrust. He starts to thrust, going hard with no real build up to the pounding he is now unleashing on your cunt. After a few minutes of Joel thrusting on top of you, grunting and sweating in your face, his movements start to stutter.
“Oh fuck oh fuck baby I’m gonna cum I’m gonna c- uuuhhng!” He grunts as he fills your pussy with his huge load. Ropes and ropes of cum shooting deep into your womb, so much so that it starts to leak out of you.
Joel pulls himself out of you and sees his cum leaking, tsking “Now we can’t have that. Nah that needs to stay right in there.” He says as he gathers his cum on his fingers and pushes it back in your sore pussy. Once satisfied with his work, Joel sits back on his calf’s admiring you.
“So fucking pretty like this baby. But you made a goddamn mess. My sheets are all wet and bloody. You know why it’s all bloody baby?” He says in a sarcastic tone, “because I fucked you. I popped your pretty little cherry and now you belong to me.” he says snarling at you. Still, you haven’t moved a muscle, continuing to lay there scared of what he’s gonna do next now that he’s had his way with you. Joel grabs you by your arm, dragging you off the bed. Dumping you on the floor he goes to tug the sheets off his bed. Throwing the soiled sheets on the floor next to you, Joel turns and walks out of the bedroom to grab fresh sheets.
When he walks back in, that’s when you finally get some strength and stand up. Shaking like a leaf behind him as he struggles getting the fitted sheet onto his bed, you start to slowly inch you way towards the door, ready to run for your life.
All too soon, Joel finishes with the sheets and turns around only to see you standing close to the door. Staring at each other you break your eye contact to glance at the door and back at him. Joel then glances at the door and back at you right as you lunge towards the exit letting out a scream as you do so. Except Joel manages to slam his body into the door before you get there, shutting it with his body as he grabs you by the arm again, “aht now what do you think your doing sugar? Just gonna ride me hard and put me away wet? You’re mine now, you’re gonna keep your sweet little ass in my house. Warm my bed!” He tells you, shaking you with each word as if it’ll shake some sense into you.
“I wasn’t leaving! I promise! I-I I need to use the bathroom! I wanna clean myself up for you! Yea yea I wanna clean up so I smell good and look good. All for you Joel.” You try to sound convincing knowing damn well he sees right through your words. Joel just purses his lips and gives you this ‘do you think I’m that dumb?’ look. Yanking you over back over to his bed he shoves you on it.
“Get your ass up there. I’m fucking tired so we’re going to bed now. I’ll give you the grand tour of our house in the morning baby.” He says as he gets in bed next to you. Terrified you do as he says, there’s a good chance he’s a heavy sleeper and you’ll be able to sneak off once he’s asleep. Joel pulls the blanket over the two of you, you on your back and him on his side facing you. Once under the blanket, Joel wraps his arm around you, giving you a tight squeeze.
“Sweet dreams sugar and welcome to your new life.” He says in a sleepy voice.
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
Joel managed to keep his arm wrapped around you all night long. The sun is starting to come up and you haven’t been able to get away all night. That’s when Joel grunts in his sleep and rolls over, releasing you from his grasp.
This is it! This is my chance! I gotta go before he wakes up! Oh my god oh fuck okay I can do this. I will do this, you think as you slowly slip out from underneath the blanket and pour yourself slowly out of the bed. Joel continues to snore, oblivious to your actions. Walking on tip toes you make it to the door, stopping to check to make sure Joel hasn’t heard you yet. You manage to crack open the door just a little before it starts to creek. Scared, you stop all movement. Staying absolutely frozen to the spot, you hear Joel stop snoring and start to move around. After what felt like a century, Joel begins to snore again. Your heart has never beat so fast in your life. Taking a deep breath you continue on your top toes out of the bedroom into a hallway. Moving as quickly and quietly as you can, you walk past a couple of bedrooms before making it to a set of stairs.
Oh my god I’m doing it! I’m so close! Thank god!! Okay okay I’ve got this! You give yourself a pep talk in your head as you make your way downstairs and over to the front door. Fucking hell. There’s so many locks!! Shit shit okay calm down! Start with the first one and work your way up. You begin to unlock the bottoms lock. Click. Whew! Okay now next lock. As your turning the lock you hear the floor creek behind you. And that’s when you feel him at your back.
“Now where the hell do you think your going?” Comes the gruff voice of a man who woke up to his new woman sneaking out.
🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
“A new body has just been discovered. This is coming a week after the discovery of four new victims of the Scare Crow killer. A female, believed to be in her twenties, has been found impaled by a wooden post, her body dismembered and limbs sown back on and gutted, dressed up as a scarecrow.”
Joel sits down at his kitchen table with a bowl of cereal, watching the little tv he has sitting on the counter to keep him company. Huffing at todays news as he digs in, “It’s a shame. I liked that one. Really hoped she keep my bed warm for a lot longer.” He says out loud as milk drips down his chin.
A/n: whew! Okay this is a hefty boy! This literally came from @multiversed-daydreamer going “I need farmer Joel to be a serial killer and chase people in the corn maze” as soon as I read that, Farmer Joel was born. Obviously this is very much horror, I took inspo from horror movies. I kept returning to the 2003 Texas Chainsaw Massacre and the 1995 Texas chainsaw: the next generation while writing this, while also using other slasher movie elements. This is a one shot. I doubt I’ll ever return to farmer Joel but I did have fun writing this and just going balls to the wall with the horror lol
I’m not going to tag anybody just because of the nature of this. 💜
198 notes · View notes
seventeenpins · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
violet pairing: older qz!joel x f!reader
word count: 5.8k
summary: follow-up to forget-me-not. it's been seven years since you last saw joel in the boston qz, and a lot has changed. you find yourselves reunited in jackson.
warnings: smut, actually contains a lot of plot (sorry), tommy, maria & ellie all exist, allusions to/discussion of abortion, reader has a kid, joel is insecure about being an old man (you're only 63, it's ok buddy), reader is mid-thirties to early 40s, lil bit of daddy kink, face sitting, multiple orgasms.
a/n: okay first -- header or no header? like, it's a bit ridiculous but i also kinda love it? instead of packing up for a move, i've been writing this 🤷 thanks for all the continued love on my fics, it's so sweet and means a whole lot. working on a few other stories, and i hope to have more out soon!
this chapter is dedicated to the dumbass at the club who didn't quite manage to ruin a first date i was on by asking us what we thought about gay rights (as two fem-perceived folks caught smoochin) and then telling us "you're clearly so in love, i respect that" before yeeting off in the moonlight.
you could have sworn the terrain had been totally empty only moments before, but now in the blink of an eye, you’re surrounded by a small group of riders, armed, their horses huffing down at you. 
“shit,” you gasp, trying to shield your girl, but realising there was little use. can’t put your body in front of hers when there’s people on every side of you. instead, your hands grip tighter on the shoulders of your daughter and you take a breath, trying to steady your breathing.
“you been near infected?” a man calls down at you, and his accent reminds you of joel, so much so that your heart flutters for a moment at the memory. you’ve met lots of people on your travels, a few of them from austin, too, and every time you think of him.
“no,” you call back, “last we saw them was back in the dakotas and there weren’t many there. that was weeks ago, haven’t encountered any since.”
the man nods, and you’re not sure what he’s thinking under his stetson, but the fact you’re not shot yet seems like a good sign. hopefully.
"frankly, we've had much more trouble from people than from infected on our way. but we've been able to take care of ourselves," you say, and you're hoping your words have an underlying edge of danger, but you're pretty sure you just come off as scared and defensive.
the man nods, and looks you up and down. “well, we've gotta make sure,” he says, almost apologetic, and you tense. it takes a moment before you see the dog, but then a dark blur comes bounding towards you, snarling. You tense and pull your girl close, but after a few moments of incredibly stressful sniffing, the dog leaves you alone and trods back to his owner, panting happily.
“good,” the man says, “now we've got that cleared up, what’s your business here?”
it's a good fuckin question, but not one you have a direct answer to.
"we came from boston," you tell him, "it was okay for a while, but the qz changed--got worse. more bombings. more hangings. if it was just me i might have stayed put, but i have my daughter."
there's so much you could say, but you're pretty sure you're advocating for your own life right now, so you keep it short and simple.
"we're just trying to find... somewhere better. travelling through all the places i've ever known people, to see if there's somewhere safe out there at all."
he nods, and the group surrounding you seems to back down a little.
"come with us. i think we might have what you're looking for," he tells you, and then one rider jumps down from their horse, mounts another, and the first man helps you and your daughter onto the vacated horse.
you follow the group, cantering along, and the man keeps an eye on you, and a woman in the group rides up next to you.
"so, you're from the boston qz? that's quite a journey," the man says, and nods his head towards the young woman, "she and i both travelled here from boston, years ago. i left back in, oof, '13? remind me, when did you leave?"
the woman nods, "left when i was fourteen, in '23."
"oh wow," you say, "i honestly didn't expect to meet anyone from boston round here"
there's a pause.
"what did you say your name was?" he asks, and you tell him.
"and this is violet," you say, giving your daughter's shoulder a squeeze, and she nestles back into your chest, ever shy around strangers.
"nice to meet you both," the woman grins, "i'm ellie"
"and i'm tommy," the man says. you're sure it's just a weird coincidence, a common name, just cos he happens to share the same name as joel's brother it doesn't mean anything, but you can't help but ask-
"this is probably silly, but you're not tommy miller are you?"
both tommy and ellie halt, so you do to, as they communicate something through quick glances and furrowed brows.
"wait," you say, "are you? tommy miller?"
he stares you down, and all of a sudden, you see it in his eyes. joel's eyes. violet's eyes.
"i-" your heart is pounding now with the realisation, "i knew your brother. i knew joel. he was a-" you hesitate for only a split second, "friend."
"well shit," tommy says. he caught the hesitation when you landed on friend, and he's looking at you, brows furrowed. "when was the last time you saw him?"
you shrug. "guess it was seven years ago." you look at your daughter, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then back up at tommy. "it was when he'd stopped hearing from you, actually. he came out to find you. did... did he find you?"
tommy doesn't answer, his eyes widening, and you can see him put the pieces together as he looks at you and then at your daughter, to you, and to her again.
"how old did you say she was?" he nods at violet but keeps his gaze fixed on you.
"i didn't."
"humor me."
"she's six."
"huh," he says, and ellie's looking between you two now and you can see realisation dawning on her, too.
"wait a second--holy shit," ellie cackles, "joel's gonna lose his fuckin' mind."
a sudden flare of panic and excitement floods through you. "wait, you know him too? he's nearby? i'm sorry- he lives around here? he made it?"
ellie snorts and tommy lets out a noise that's almost like a cross between a deep exhale and a strangled moan.
"yep, he lives in town. made it here with ellie a few years back. been living here a while now."
you don't know if you're thrilled or terrified. to be honest, your brain suddenly feels like it's filled to the brim with bees that were muffling out any thought more complex than AAAAHHHHHHHH.. you'd always hoped you might see joel again, but it wasn't till now you realised you never really believed you would.
he's alive. he actually made it.
as if sensing your racing thoughts, tommy pulls up beside you and claps a strong hand on your shoulder.
"one step at a time, sweetheart. seems like y'all have a whole lotta catchin' up to do."
after you're brought through the gate and finish up at the dining hall for a bite to eat, tommy and ellie take you both on a tour of jackson. you'd seen lots of things in the time you'd travelled, but this is the first real community you'd seen. it made you think of the old days, or rather, your ideas of the old days. you were too young when the world ended, but the idea of people living together and supporting one another without bombs going off on street corners and scheduled hangings was something else.
"we've been workin' on makin' a functioning society here. we get energy from the dam, so actual, non-fedra electricity." tommy points along the main street at the street lighting (actual street lighting!!)
"most of the shops are along here," he continues, pointing out each place as he lists them off, "necessities, like a cobbler and a tailor over in that space. greenhouses and farms over in that direction as well as a clinic. we've got a bar, a couple o' bakeries, house of worship, stables back that way- couple fellas opening a barbershop in that space over there pretty soon. and, of course, the residential area just down here. we've got a lotta houses, and we're working on refurbishing a whole lot, too. most families have their own homes. you're welcome to take some time to decide if you would like to stay here, but y'all seem like decent people and at the very least, we can put you up in some of our temporary housing 'til we have a better grasp on what you need. we got families of all configurations here. we did that a whole lot better after the world ended. and this is a home for a lotta people."
"oh-!" ellie says, suddenly excited, "and the school's over there, if you guys wanna stay. fedra school fucking sucked but this one was actually pretty cool. we actually got to learn stuff!"
violet giggles a little, and ellie shoots her a bright smile that makes her giggle little more. it feels safe here. you don't remember the last time things have felt safe. you're trying to take it all in, memorise every storefront, every person, every moment, when the aroma of fresh-baked pastries suddenly assaults your nostrils and you let out an involuntary moan.
"been a while, huh?" ellie asks and snorts, and you nod. "i grew up in the qz so i never had one of these till the shop opened up a couple years ago. but i hear it's just like the old days!"
"mama, it smells really good," violet says, and it's the first thing she's said since you've come through the gates.
"it does, doesn't it?" you ask her, "and look at all these shops. see those clothes in the window there?"
her eyes are as wide as saucers, and you're so overwhelmed with joy that she gets to experience this that you don't notice ellie bounding up the steps to the bakery and running back a minute later with a paper wrapped something in hand.
she holds it out to you and you take it from her gingerly. you kneel down to let violet unwrap the paper and inside is a perfect strawberry danish. you're stunned.
"that's cream cheese and butter from our cows," tommy tells you, "strawberries and wheat grown here, too. all fresh. all cordyceps free. we don't risk using any of the old stuff that might be contaminated"
that's amazing. that's fucking amazing.
"here, baby," you tear off a piece for violet, and she clutches it carefully and sniffs at it warily before popping it into her mouth, chewing with furrowed brows, and breaking out into a grin.
"welcome to jackson," ellie says, and now you're laughing too.
by the evening, tommy's given you a tour of the whole settlement and left you, ellie, and violet at the tipsy bison with an invitation to join him and his family for dinner. there was a strong likelihood that joel would be there and you were shitting bricks.
what if he's totally different from how you remember him? what if he isn't?
what if he wants nothing to do with you? what if he wants nothing to do with violet?
what if he's forgotten you?
you pinch yourself to pull out of your spiral. ellie winks at violet, who's sipping at her juice, and clinks her glass against yours. together, you take large swigs of your beer.
she tells you a bit about herself. she's vague about how she and joel met, and you're not sure if it's because she doesn't want to talk about it or if she's trying to spare the gory details around violet, but she speaks of him fondly and blushed a little when she mentioned i've kinda become, like, a surrogate daughter to him. and he's my old man.
before you could gather your thoughts and ask any follow-ups, she's already blowing through different topics, grinning as she tells you about her girlfriend, about her tattoo and how she wants another one, about her favorite horse, and the way patrols worked around here, and you relax into the conversation. into the peace. into taking a break.
before you know it, the three of you are walking towards tommy's house and right as you're about to knock at the door, ellie barrels past and swings the door open with a bellowed "we're here!" reverberating off the walls.
as you step through the door, delicious food smells waft through the hallway and you hear laughter and music coming from the kitchen. ellie makes a beeline through the door on your right and you take it all in for a moment.
"you coming?" ellie calls, and you follow her.
and stop dead in your tracks.
illuminated in the light of an antique shaded lamp, sat on a rocking chair, was joel.
he's greyer and more tired, but he also looks- happy? and he's got reading glasses on as he peers at what looks to be a picture book as he points out the illustrations to the kid on his lap. your jaw drops.
the kid's probably around the same age as violet.
ellie is stood in the corner of the room, half-heartedly pretending to examine a bookshelf while she blatantly eavesdrops.
joel looks up and smiles in a way that you've only seen a few times before. it's... unguarded. he extends a hand, "hi there, you must be our guests, i'm jo-"
and then recognition flickers over his face and he stops. stares at you, wide eyed, and then his eyes flick over to violet, and back to you.
"hi joel," you say.
if you're honest, you're expecting him to be the asshole you remember. grouchy. closed off. sweet only in private, intimate, brief moments.
what you don't expect is for him to gently call over to ellie with a "we need a minute here, could you take your cousin and see if tommy and maria need a hand?"
cousin, he'd said, and you can feel your heart slow down a notch, calming down a little. oof. one step at a time, you remind yourself, one step at a time.
"sure thing," ellie nods and helps the kid down from joel's lap, holding his hand as they walk through to the kitchen.
you're stood, frozen, as joel takes off his readers, rubs his eyes, and stands up. you've forgotten how imposing he can be, but even now, he just feels like a big shield between you and the rest of the world. you stare at each other for just a moment, and then strong arms are wrapping around you and joel is laughing?
"fuck," he snorts, "i can't believe it's you. after all this time!"
he pulls back but keeps his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down, studying you.
and then he looks back down at violet and you see his face contort from joy to something almost like fear. maybe dread, even? or anticipation.
"mama, who is this man?" violet asks, tugging at your sleeve, and you kneel down to her.
you meet eyes with joel one more time before answering her, and you see building panic behind them.
this was, admittedly, a lot. one step at a time. "his name is joel, he was a friend of mine. i knew him before you were born!"
violet extends her little hand out towards joel. "my name is violet, it's a kind of flower. i like your hair. it's sooo silvery."
you snort involuntarily, and joel gulps audibly, wide-eyed, before taking her small hand in his large palm, cradling it as if holding something precious, and shakes it. "i'm joel. it's nice to meet you."
you all have dinner and it's actually a pretty good time, as long as you don't make too much eye contact with joel, who looks as though he has an electric current running through him, keeping him wide eyed and twitchy. he's clearly trying to appear unfazed, but he's jumpy and not at all subtle, to the point that the kid who'd been on joel's lap earlier, rowan you'd learned, prods at joel at one point in the meal. joel jumps a mile and rowan furrows his brow asking why are you being so weird, uncle joel?
despite the tension, it's so domestic. this was a joel who folded his napkin on his lap before starting to eat, who minded his manners, and obviously pressed ellie to mind hers, too. the joel you patched up when he came to you bloodied and bruised felt like a shadow long since past.
after dinner, when you've made it through unscathed, tommy's watching the little ones as they conk out on the couch. maria's going over paperwork, and ellie's tuning a guitar.
joel pops his head into the room and makes a vague gesture indicating outside. "wanna chat on the porch?" he asks, and you nod and follow him.
there are a pair of handsome adirondack chairs and you each take a seat. you don't say anything, don't even look at one another. you just sit there in comfortable silence.
but then joel takes a deep breath and you know the question that's coming.
"violet?" he asks, "is she mine?"
you smile sadly.
"yeah," you say, "you're her daddy."
he chokes out a strangled noise and tries to cover it with a cough, badly.
he doesn't seem like he's gonna say anything, and you reckon he's not gonna, so you try and breeze past it.
"i know- i know it wasn't part of the plan." you exhale, "but it's okay, joel. she's only known one parent her whole life and it's common enough these days that she doesn't think it's strange. and i don't know if you ever want her to know that you're her dad, but i'm not ready for her to know. i'll tell her, but i want her to settle in here before any big life revelations come up for her. jackson's enough of a change as it is."
he nods slowly, coughs out a low "i understand. and i respect it. i just never thought-"
"neither did i," you cut him off, "and when i realized i was pregnant i didn't intend to keep it, but fedra had raided the last underground clinics that i knew about. most of the staff got hanged, and i was out of options."
he lets out a sharp exhale.
you're silent for another minute before joel speaks again.
"i'm sorry-" he says, "i'm sorry that your choice was taken from you. and i'm so sorry i wasn't there for you."
he still doesn't look at you, but he rests a hand on your knee.
"i can't believe- all this time and i have another daughter and i had no idea."
"she's such a cool kid," you tell him, "and don't get me wrong, i felt like the worst person in the world, bringing a kid into that fuckin'- fedra plague world," you admit, "but she's so funny, shy when you first meet her, but she has so much personality. every day, she's more and more of a tiny person! and she's just started doing this thing where i'll tell her something and she'll just scowl at me and she looks just like you-"
"hey, i don't scowl that much-" joel argues, scowling, and there's the joel you remember. all of a sudden you're hysterical with laughter, and then joel cracks too and he's laughing with you.
after a while, you fall into another comfortable silence. it gets later and later, and then joel's standing up and offering you a hand.
"'fraid i've got patrol in the morning, so i'd best be going to bed soon, and i'm guessing y'all are exhausted?"
you nod, feeling as if acknowledgement of it suddenly made it true. good god you were tired.
"you know what house you're staying in tonight?" he asked, and you tell him the number.
"sounds good," he nods, "can i walk ya home?"
"sure," you smile.
you head back inside, scoop up violet, and then the three of you are heading towards your temporary lodgings.
when you arrive, joel bids you goodnight at your doorstep and bobs his head a little as though he was about to lean in to kiss your cheek but then thought better of it, and instead takes your hand for a moment and mutters without looking directly at you, "it's really great to see you, baby. glad you made it here safe."
you go to bed. an actual bed, mind you.
you dreamed of joel miller.
you'd pretty much decided you and violet would stay here in jackson from the first minute you walked down the main street, but you gave it a few days before letting the council know. this is what you've been looking for, though. a home. a community. safety.
violet starts going to school. she's in the same year as rowan and apparently thrilled about it, so you're at tommy and maria's home more often than you'd imagined. you start patrolling, too. just short routes to begin with, but you didn't make it through this much without knowing how to survive, and you're good at it.
and then there's joel.
he's different.
he's aged, but he still looks great. the salt and pepper of his hair has turned more salt than pepper, and the crinkles by his eyes are deeper. you're still attracted to him, so attracted to him, but you don't wanna make any rash decisions. he seems lighter, clearly taken by ellie, and cautiously friendly towards you and violet.
he's made it clear he'd like to get to know her, but is happy to take his time, waiting until you're more comfortable with it. which is so beautifully, frustratingly thoughtful.
you never expected that cold, angry joel could be so warm and open, but he seems like such a doting family man, keeping an eye out for ellie, always there for tommy, being a good uncle for rowan. there was clearly some tension between him and his sister-in-law, too, but one evening you walked in on them doing dishes together, singing along to some old dolly parton cd. you slipped out the door before either of them saw you'd seen.
one night, violet and rowan are having a sleepover, supervised by tommy, and you have a rare night to yourself. you make your way over to the tipsy bison and relax at the bar, letting the whiskey warm you.
you chat with the bartender, and decide to put a song on the jukebox, but as you get up from your stool you knock the whiskey bottle over and watch tumble seemingly in slow motion before being caught by- "joel?"
"easy now," joel smiles, "don't want a repeat of last time."
it takes you aback for a moment, and then your face is burning with the memory.
"can't believe you remember that," you say, and he snorts.
"course i do. that was the last night i saw you."
he pulls out a stool and sits down next to you. gestures at the bartender for a glass, and pours himself a healthy finger of whiskey.
"how do you remember that night going?" you ask.
joel scratches at his cheek for a moment, pondering, and smiles, sipping his whiskey. "i was gonna be leavin' town, and i wanted to say goodbye so i checked out all your usual spots. walked in to see you smash a bottle and then try and flirt your way out of it with that weedy little bartender."
"i remember that bit, too," you say, "though on my end, i'll remind you, i was drinking because i was preemptively missing you and didn't realise you were leaving so soon."
"i do remember you saying that," joel nods, "and i was so mad because i'd spent so much time that night trying to find you, and that was time we wouldn't get back."
your eyes widen at his words. you didn't know this part. suddenly, you feel a warmth rising in you that you hadn't expected.
"do you remember what happened next?" he asks.
you nod. "yeah, you yelled at me a little, implied i was a whore, yelled at me more, and then told me you were leaving in the morning."
"jesus, i'm an asshole," joel says, and you smile.
"yeah, you are. neither of us were at our best though. but then we had one last night."
"one last night," he echoes.
neither of you say anything for a minute, and then joel breaks the silence.
"i'd be lying if i said i hadn't replayed that night over and over again in my head."
you smile. "me too," you admit, "it's honestly been a while since i've been with anyone, and when it's just me and my hand, that night's the first thing that i think of."
joel inadvertently chokes and splutters, dabbing at his mouth as he tries to collect himself. he's flushed a beautiful shade of pink and it makes you giggle.
"shit, girl, i forgot how blunt you can be."
"i think this might be the first wholly honest conversation we've had since i got to town," you ponder, still smiling, "we're always dancing around each other. in orbit but never colliding."
he looks at you with a curious expression on his face, like he's enjoying the task of trying to parse you almost as much as he's seeking an understanding.
you pour yourself another glass of whiskey and knock it back in one. you're gathering your courage. you're plotting plots now, and sure it's been a long time, but you figure it's worth a shot.
"i've been thinking, joel," you tell him, and his eyes are so focused on you, "i wanna say up front i don't have any expectations, and i won't be offended if you'd rather not-"
he raises an eyebrow at you and you could swear you see flirtation behind it.
"but, if you wanted-"
"spit it out"
"that last night doesn't have to be the last night."
your eyes are locked and don't speak, don't move, don't breathe.
and then joel miller's lips are crashing into yours, and you moan into him, one hand clutching at your shoulders, the other cupping your chin, and you melt into it.
"my place," you tell him, "violet's with her cousin tonight."
you realise that's the first time you said those words like that, so casual and normal, and you know you'll need to unpack that later but joel, shockingly, takes it in stride.
before you know it, you're walking up the porch steps with joel right on your heels and unlocking the front door.
you've barely gotten the door open before you're on the other side of it and it's slamming shut, joel pressing you against the threshold and kissing you deeply. one of his thighs presses between your legs and without thinking you rub up against it.
"shit, i've missed you baby," he says, and you're moaning against him as he helps you pull off your shirt, and you start to unbutton his. he continues, bashful, "didn't think you'd want an old man like me, anymore."
you scoff, "you've aged well, joel, and more than that, you've aged. you're still here and i can't even begin to tell you how much that means."
you tug the flannel from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind him before you pull off his undershirt.
"besides," you tell him, "you're the best lay i've ever had and i don't believe for a minute you've lost your touch."
he snorts, but then he's kissing on your neck again and you know you'll need to talk about things properly at some point. for now, though, you'll get lost in the feeling of him.
you're lost in the dizzy haze of touch. joel's hands are all over you, grabbing, stroking, caressing. you stumble to your bedroom, stepping out of your jeans and helping him shuck off his pants along the way. then he's laid out on your bed, bare except for his boxer shorts, chest heaving and cock straining.
you yank off your panties and climb on top of him, straddling him so your bare pussy rubs up against his hardness. he groans and grabs you by the hips, rocking you up and down his length.
"feel so good, baby," he breathes, and his eyes are fluttering closed in pleasure. "come here," he tells you, and he pulls you down for a kiss.
you take him in. look at his body. his chest hair has greyed, and he's got more scars than you remember including a nasty-looking one that must've been a close call. you run a thumb over the one on the side of his chest, still pearly but less pink these days, from the time you patched him up.
joel watches you watch him. "i never thanked you properly for that, sweetheart," he says, "but thank you. you saved my ass that night."
"of course," you tell him, as you dip down and lick a stripe up from his happy trail, all the way to his throat.
"fuck," he whines, and you shut him up with a kiss.
when you finally break, he strokes your cheek. "sit on my face," he tells you, and you don't need him to ask you twice.
you hobble up on your knees and then rest your cunt on his open mouth. he lets out a strangled moan and hmmms into you, the vibrations hitting your clit deliciously, before grabbing onto your hips and eating you like a man starved.
his clever tongue finds your aching clit and flicks against it, hard. once you're nearly overstimulated, he senses it and starts to lick long strokes, back and forth, dipping into your drooling pussy with each pass.
it's heavenly. addictive. you've hooked with old flames before, years after you'd slept with them last, and not only does joel not disappoint? he blows your fucking mind.
you come on his tongue and instead of pulling away, he pulls you closer. licks you deep. takes a breath and tells you "one more, baby, gimme another one."
you do, using his face to get yourself off, taking your time to build back up, rocking your hips over him, his nose covered with your slick, his cheeks, lips, and chin glistening so pretty when you finally shudder and spasm all over him.
"taste so good, baby," he tells you, "i wanna make you come on my tongue all night long."
"as much as i'd love that," you say, "i need that cock in me right fucking now. it's been seven years, joel."
he smirks, but doesn't need persuading.
he flips you over and presses his cock head at your entrance. before he slides in, though, he takes a moment to look you over.
you know you look older, and your hair has a few grey strands throughout. you've got more wrinkles, and stretch marks, and more than a few new scars.
before you can second-guess yourself, though, joel is stroking a hand along all of your perceived imperfections, adoring.
"so fuckin' beautiful", he whispers, "after all this time- i can't believe-"
you let your hand lace through the hair at his nape and give it a gentle tug. he closes his eyes, focusing only on the sensation, before opening them again. looking directly at you.
you're already so wet and worked up, he slides into you easily in one stroke, making you both gasp, and he just rests there for a moment, fully sheathed in you.
you clutch one another as he starts to thrust into you, pressing you open in a delicious stretch.
he fucks into you and then pauses and readjusts. moves your legs so they're on his shoulders, rather than wrapped round his waist. then he presses into you again, tentative, and your eyes practically roll back. it's the deepest thing you've felt.
"takin' me so good," he praises, "i feel how wet and ready you are, you've been needing this a while, huh?"
you can barely speak, only enough to breath out a whiny uh-huh that makes him chuckle.
"touch me", you beg, and he does, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, gripping your waist, your hips. he grabs at your ass and jiggles it before giving it a swat that makes you giggle, but he looks positively feral.
"this fuckin' body," he groans, and you squeak as you take a particularly deep thrust and he eases up just a little.
you reach up to grab his jaw and kiss him, and he kisses you back, deep and lovely. you drag your tongue along his jawline and pepper kisses down his neck, trace your fingertips along his pearlescent scars.
"god, joel," you moan, "so fuckin big, you feel so good."
"you even feel better than i remember, too."
"don't you dare stop, don't you dare stop fucking me-"
"never, baby. wanna have you like this always."
you can feel your eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed with the sensation, with the tenderness and the care and the big cock fucking deep into you, it's all so good.
"yes baby," he grunts, "keep it open for me, good girl, letting me fuck you so nice."
you can see how his eyes are glittering and know he's emotional, too. he's staring at you with reverential awe that might embarrass you if it didn't feel so right. this isn't the rough, hair pulling, choking, biting sex you remember from him. he presses a hand over your belly and rubs gentle circles against it. his touch is electric.
"can't believe you made it," joel whispers, "made it all the way here, and you still want me. we've got a kid, and i left you all alone, and you still want me."
"always, joel," you tell him, and you realise it's the truth. whatever life you make for yourself, you want joel miller in it.
he lets out a growl and starts fucking you harder, deeper.
your orgasm builds quickly and soon you're clutching at his shoulder, leaving half moon crescents in his skin where your nails dig in, holding on for dear life.
"i'm gonna come," you tell him, and he holds you through it, his pace steady as your walls clench around his cock.
his hips begin to stutter as he loses his rhythm, nearing his own climax. he chokes out, "where do you want it?"
"my chest," you say, "come all over my tits."
he pulls out and strokes himself twice before spilling out on your chest, his cum landing on you in hot ropes.
after you catch your breath, he gently cleans you up and then pulls you into the crook of his arm, holding you close. you lay there together, just breathing.
"so gorgeous, momma," he says.
"not too bad yourself, daddy," you tell him, and he snorts.
you know you have a lot of things to talk about. the past seven years. the future. loss and love. violet getting to know her father.
for now, though, joel miller is in your bed and you're going to cherish every minute of it. it's more than enough.
186 notes · View notes
dustydaddyyy · 11 months
Text
no strings attached | joel miller x fem!reader
Tumblr media
pairing: joel miller x fem! reader
summary: you can't deny there's always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?
warnings: swearing, unspecified age gap (reader is her late 20s and joel is canon age) canon-typical descriptions of violence, some good old fashioned pining, fluff, mentions of grief/death, implications of sex/smut, no actual smut, joel is disgustingly gentlemanly, no use of y/n
a/n:…………I know this isn't the next chapter of flashpoint guys, I know. But this has been in my drafts forever and I had some inspiration to finish off the final part. and now here it is, so please enjoy!! don't forget to let me know what you thought through reblog/likes/comments/asks, I love to hear all of your thoughts aka pls interact with my work or my motivation to write shrivels and dies inside
Tumblr media
You had never been a fan of cold, which was funny, considering it was cold in Jackson almost all year round. Even the summers were mild, but you still found yourself aching for them every time the winter came around, nights getting longer and the days getting shorter. 
You're standing on the main square in Jackson, hands clasped around a steaming mug of something as you look up at the building in front of you, but more specifically, the men standing on the makeshift scaffolding, working on the building. In your other hand you're gripping a large thermos, almost too large for your single grip, but you manage to keep it between your fingers.
They'd been working on the outer façade of the building for the past two weeks, after part of it had collapsed after a particularly rough storm.
There's a presence to your left as your eyes sweep over the scaffolding, and you turn your head to look at Maria as she lets loose a sharp whistle.
"Come have some coffee," she shouts at those working, and you chuckle slightly to yourself as they start to come down.
"Like dogs," you say jokingly, taking a sip of your mug, "Man, I need to learn how to whistle like that,"
"Don't say that to their face," Maria warns you jokingly, "There's much too much ego to go around in that group to take that with any kind of grace,"
You let out another chuckle, shaking your head with a laugh as you look away from her and towards the people walking in your direction. It was a relatively small group, maybe 5 or 6 men, and as they approach, you recognize Eugene's smile.
"Finally came out of your cave, eh?" he asks jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at him as you lift the coffee thermos.
"I'm happy to take this home with me," you inform him, and he laughs, before he extends an arm and pulls you sideways against him, almost spilling your drink.
You'd been in Jackson for 3 years now, having arrived at their large wooden gates early one morning in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, severely hypothermic, dehydrated and covered in injuries. You'd been barely conscious, almost collapsing onto the snow but managing long enough to explain your situation to the guard on patrol, who had been Eugene. You'd come from California, more specifically Santa Barbara, where the Rattlers, a group of militaristic slavers, had pillaged your settlement. You'd barely escaped with your life, and it had been a damn near miracle that you'd managed the two-week trek on foot with nothing but a handgun and a limited supply of bullets. Your only advantage had been that you'd had to walk across large parts of Nevada, the state in which you'd grown up and spent the first 9 years of your life before the world went to shit.
Hence the disdain for cold weather.   
"She's cute when she gets all frowny, isn't she?" Eugene jokes again, and you roll your eyes, albeit jokingly.
"Let's see how cute I am when I shove my boot up your ass," you half-threaten, and Eugene lets out a booming laugh as the rest of the men arrive where you'd been standing, and he looks down at you. 
"Cute and violent. . . " he muses, before turning to the group with a raised eyebrow, "Any takers?"
"I'm not cattle," you say with a scoff, shrugging him off of you with a sideways shove, before straightening out, "Now you better drink this coffee before I spit in it, Eugene,"
"I hear ya," he says with a chuckle, taking the thermos from you as you move your gaze towards the group of men talking.
You know most of them pretty well, and you watch as they huddle, taking cups from Maria. Only the two at the back are standing a little away from the group, talking to each other animatedly under their breath.
The Miller brothers had been an interesting addition to Jackson.
Tommy had been here when you'd gotten there, but only a few months himself, and it had been nice to talk to someone who hadn't been living in the settlement for years, already. You'd been fast friends, Tommy's open personality and kind heart matching with your own personality well. You'd watched him fall in love with Maria, even been the one standing by his side as a witness when they'd gotten married. Tommy was easy; and open book, you could almost always tell what was going in his head.
Joel, however. . . Joel had been an entirely different story. You'd only been in Jackson 2 years when he'd first arrived. It had been strange, watching as Tommy had reconnected, albeit not smoothly, with someone he'd only ever told you about. You'd heard stories of Joel, though not many, and so when he came to Jackson, you found yourself slightly disappointed by him. He'd been the most regular man you'd ever laid eyes on, not some superhuman killing machine, and together with Ellie, they'd felt like two feral cats waiting to be rehomed.
Then they'd gone again, only coming back a few weeks later, and you'd known something wasn't right. Ellie had been muted, almost a ghost of the person she'd been when she'd first arrived, and Joel had been. . . you hadn't quite managed to put your finger on it at first, but after a few weeks observing him, some things had started to make sense. He'd had a wound, on his left side, which had been stitched horribly and gotten infected, and hadn't been healing right. You'd never been much of a healer, but when you'd first arrived in Jackson the sick bay is where you'd originally been assigned, to work under one of the few doctors in Jackson, and so you'd been in charge of dressing the wound and making sure it healed, despite Joel's vociferous protests.
You hadn't taken it personally, ignoring his cold exterior and treating him the same way you had everyone else, until finally, he began to accept your help, and your tentative friendship. Still, you hadn't managed to put your finger on what had happened to Joel and Ellie, and every time you talked to him, it felt as though he was holding back, keeping something from you, from everyone.
It wasn't until you'd brought a pair of Joel's pants, which you'd found stuffed into a bag under his bed, to the laundry, and you'd cleaned the spatters of blood running up the side of Joel's pant leg that you'd figured it out. Well, about half of it, anyway.
You'd been discreet, washing the blood off the clothes quietly and without attracting attention, before bringing them with you one day when you had to change his dressing, and dumping them out in front of him.
"Explain," you'd said, your voice calm and your gaze open, raising an eyebrow.
He'd been angry with you at first, eyes widening in shock at the idea that you'd been snooping around in his house, but you had paid him no heed and sat patiently in the chair until his anger subsided and he was ready to talk. 
You hadn't judged him as he'd spoken, and when Joel had told you everything, all the way from Ellie's immunity down to what had gone down in Salt Lake City, you'd sat in silence for a second, processing, before you'd nodded and moved onto treating his wound.
You hadn't talked about it past that, but Joel's attitude towards you had changed that day; he'd been expecting you to yell and scream at him, to be horrified at what he'd done and the fact that he'd probably doomed all of humanity to hell in one split-second decision, but you hadn't.
"I understand," you'd told him, as you cleaned his wound, "We all do horrible things in the name of love,"
In that moment, in the face of his horrible confession, you were calm, collected and accepting, and it was the first time Joel had felt comfortable around someone in Jackson that hadn't been Ellie or Tommy.
What Joel doesn't know, is that the minute you came home, you had hurled the contents of your stomach into your sink.
You didn't know what you'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that.
Maybe it had been a combination of the cold-blooded violence you knew he'd committed, and the idea of a cure so close within the world's grasp, but it had been such a deeply visceral reaction you were shocked you had managed to keep your face so impassive for the time it took for you to finish treating him.
Then again, you did understand. Joel Miller was not the only one who had committed atrocities for the people he loved; god knows your own hands were far from clean in that regard.
"Hey. . . you still with us?" comes a voice through your thoughts, and you shake yourself out of your mind, eyes moving up to look straight into Joel's.
It had been almost a year since his first admission, and since then, despite your initial reaction, you had found yourself getting closer to Joel. You didn't talk about it, and nothing had ever happened between the two of you, but it didn't take a genius to know something was there. Not acting on it had been a conscious choice from your side, and Joel had just never initiated anything either, which you supposed was in character for him.
"Yeah," you say, blinking a few times as you clear your throat and give him a weak smile, "Just zoned out a little,"
"You look tired," he offers, his eyebrows knitting into a slight frown, "You sleeping okay?"
"Gee, thanks," you let out in a scoff, and he gives you a look as you cover your exhaustion with a chuckle, "I'm sleeping fine, but it's good to know I apparently don't look that way,"
Joel lets out a breath through his nose at your tone, rolling his eyes slightly at your joke. "You ain't funny," 
The truth? Joel was right, you hadn't been sleeping.
You'd always suffered from night terrors as a child, sometimes waking up in all hours of the night screaming and crying and inconsolable for long period of time until your parents would wake you up and snap you out of it. You'd grown out of them, though, or so you thought.
They'd started up again a few months ago, ranging anywhere from waking up in the middle of the night in your bed with tears running down your face, to bouts of stomach-churning sleep paralysis that would leave you so shaken you wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. 
"Miller!" comes Eugene's voice from your left, "You want some coffee, or do you get your kicks out of chatting up younger women?"
"He's doing it a right sight better than you ever did," you fire back, almost immediately, "So you really shouldn't be saying shit,"
The men around Eugene burst into raucous laughter, and you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth turn up into the hint of a smile as his gaze moves down to his feet for a second, before he clears his throat and looks back up at you.
"Nice," he comments, and you give him a smirk, raising a confident eyebrow and bowing your head.
"Why thank you," you say jokingly, your chest blooming with the compliment, and he shakes his head slightly with a chuckle, before stepping away from you for a second to get some coffee. You watch him go, eyes following him as he pours himself a mug, eyes running over the expanse of his large hands–
You hadn't even noticed Maria coming to stand next to you until she'd cleared her throat, forcing you to look away from Joel hastily and to her. She's giving you a look, raising a single eyebrow as her eyes move between you and him.
"Not a word," you tell her, and purses her lips with a smile, shaking her head.
"Wasn't going to say anything," she muses, and you roll your eyes, before taking a deep breath.
"I think I'm gonna go,"
"Already?" comes Tommy's voice as he steps towards the both of you with a steaming cup in his hand, "You just got here,"
"I did what I came to do," you tell him, before raising a brow, "I ain't got all day,"
Maria's nose crinkles. "Ain't?" she repeats, before raising her eyebrows at you, "Some of that Texan charm rubbing off on you, kiddo?"
"I resent that nickname," you inform her, actively avoiding answering her question, your underlying tone humorous, "As if we aren't only a decade apart,"
"Hmm," Maria hums sarcastically into her cup, "That's a generous definition of decade,"
"You not sleeping well, kiddo? You look tired," Tommy asks, brow creased in concern as he looks at you, and you let out a groan, hands coming up slightly in exasperation.
"Jesus Christ," you mutter, just as Joel steps back towards your group, his ears picking up the tail end of your sentence, "What is it with you Millers? You really tell it like it is, don't you?"
"You look radiant," Maria supplies, and you give her a false, sweet smile.
"Oh, thank you," you half-mutter, before shaking your head with a smile, "But I'm wrecked. . . I worked the double shift for Seth last night and again tomorrow night, so I need to just take a day and sleep,"
"That's fair enough," Tommy says with a grimace, before he gives your shoulder a pet, "Sweet dreams,"
"Thanks," you breathe through a laugh, before you look at Joel with a small smile, "I'll see you later,"
He gives you one of those rare smiles of his own, and it makes his features only more handsome, "See you later,"
Your gaze tears away from him to nod at Maria, who gives you a strangely knowing smile which you ignore, turning on your heel and trudging back through the snow.
Tumblr media
Joel had never meant to be standing on your doorstep later that day. Yet, here he was, fingers twitching nervously at his side as he knocks on your door.
He's not even sure you're awake, but it's evening now, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon and darkening the sky, so he guesses you might be. He's holding a plastic bag of groceries; it's nothing much, just some fruit and vegetables and some sausages he'd managed to trade for yesterday because Ellie loved them so much. But Ellie hadn't been in when Joel had got home that afternoon, leaving a note that she was spending the evening with a friend, but would be home for the night. He'd sat in his living room for a few hours, reading and trying to occupy himself, before deciding he didn't want to eat alone, and packing a few things from the fridge into a bag.
And now, here he was.
At your door.  
After almost an entire minute of silence, Joel thinks to himself that you're probably still passed out somewhere, and just as he's about to turn and leave, the door flies inward.
The first thing Joel notices is your eyes. They're wet, as if you'd been crying, but somehow still filled with a groggy sleep at the same time. Your chest is moving quickly as your eyes focus on him standing on your doorstep, and some of the concern in your features melts.
"Joel," you let out his name, and your voice small, and tired, before you clear your throat, "Hi,"
"Are you okay?" he asks almost immediately, frowning slightly at your appearance, and he sounds alarmed, "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine," she reassures him, shaking your head slightly, "I was just having a nightmare. . . I'm kind of glad your loud ass knocking woke me,"
You say that last part with a weak chuckle, voice lightening slightly as you try for a smile, "What can I do for you?"
Shit, Joel thinks to himself, and he finds himself rooted to the spot.
"I uh–" he clears his throat, "Ellie isn't in tonight, and, well. . . no one's seen you all day, so I assumed you didn't have any dinner plans,"
"You're not wrong. . . if I have my way it's going to be some stale crackers and cheese," you comment with a grimace. 
"Not very nutritious," Joel hums, and you chuckle, nodding, "I'm no chef but I can definitely do better than crackers and cheese," 
Another beat of silence passes, before your eyes go slightly wide and you open the door further. "Sorry, sorry. . . forgot this was the part where I invite you in, I'm still half-asleep. . . come on in, please,"
Joel doesn't need to be asked twice, following you through over threshold of your front door as you disappear down the hall and into the kitchen, back of your hand coming up to wipe your eyes.
Joel isn't often in your house; it isn't entirely your own, and he'd heard from Tommy when he'd first gotten here that houses in Jackson were often shared to maximize space. He'd met your housemate, Bonnie, only a handful of times, including most of that handful when he'd fixed the wobbly bannister of your staircase a few months ago.
The house looks different since the last time he's been, and he can't help but notice new paintings hanging on your wall. They're strange, a haphazard mix of colored strokes with no particular pattern or purpose, but they're nice nevertheless. 
"Where'd you get those?"
"You want the honest answer?" you ask, as you step out of the kitchen and watch him looking, and Joel frowns jokingly as he looks at you, waiting for you to go on, "Bonnie and I got high last month and painted them,"
Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead. "You what?"
Your smile becomes bashful as you purse your lips, Joel's inquisitive look making you squirm slightly.
"Yeah. . . " you say, clearing your throat with another bashful smile, before you try to shrug it off, "Eugene has–. . . anyways, it doesn't matter,"
You disappear back into the kitchen, and Joel looks back at the paintings, considering the new bit of context you'd supplied him with.
"You want a drink?" you half-holler, and you hear Joel's footsteps enter the kitchen as you reach into one of the cabinets, "I have tea or. . . gin, honestly. I know you're more of a whiskey man, but Bonnie makes it in the basement, and it isn't even half-bad,"
"You make gin in your basement?" Joel asks, and again you hear the same surprise in his voice as earlier, "Do you also run an undercover gambling ring, or. . . ?"
"Oh yeah," you respond, playing along as you step onto your tip toes reach into the back of the cupboard for two clean glasses, "We also occasionally organize cock fights, they're a big hit," 
Joel chuckles, setting the groceries down on your kitchen table, before he notices you struggling.
"Jesus Bonnie," you mutter to yourself, "Why do you always have to put the glasses in the back?"
"Here," Joel says, and he doesn't even think as he steps towards you, arm extending over yours to reach the glasses you're aiming for, the front of his chest brushing up against your shoulder as he grabs them, "I got it,"
The sound of his gravelly voice so close in your ear, and the feeling of his breath on the nape of your neck, makes you fight an urge to shiver, deciding instead to take a deep breath as you swivel around, facing him just as his arm comes down, two glasses clamped between his fingers.
"Thanks," you say with a soft smile as you look up at him, and Joel nods, eyes looking down and resting on yours for a second. You're standing almost face to face, the front of his flannel ghosting your own shirt. Then, he clears his throat, stepping backwards and away from you.
"I'll try some of that gin," he tells you, and your smile widens knowingly.
"I promise you won't go blind," you tell him with a laugh, and then you're on the move around your kitchen again, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out what looks like an old milk bottle filled with clear liquid, "Bonnie's good at it, believe it or not,"
"How do you even start brewing gin?" Joel asks as he sets the glasses down, and you chuckle slightly.
"We went on patrol once, in Grand Teton?" you explain, "She'd been making vodka by then already, but she saw a juniper bush and almost shit herself with excitement. . . it took us an hour to strip the damn thing clean of berries,"
"She a big drinker?" he asks as you unstopper the bottle, before pouring some of the stuff into both glasses, and you shake your head.
"Not more than me," you tell him, "But it keeps her busy, gives her something to do that isn't just patrol, y'know?"
Joel nods silently, before you hold the glass out to him. He takes it from you, ignoring his fingers brushing over yours and the way it makes his heart skip in his chest. You're not done with your drink, reaching into the fridge to grab another bottle, which looks like juice. It's a rich, dark pink color, and the little sticker on the side has a hastily scribbled 'Cherry' in your cursive handwriting.  
"Takes the edge off," you say with a sigh as you watch him read the label, and Joel nods, before he takes a sip of his gin.
It's quite pleasant, much smoother than the bootleg Whiskey he used to drink in the QZ, but as it travels down his gullet, it brings with it a burn Joel knows is going to make him regret drinking it, later.
"You weren't wrong," he notes, clearing his throat after having swallowed it down, "That's actually quite pleasant,"
"Right?" you ask, before you take a sip of your own drink. A sip is generous, and before Joel knows it, you've downed the entirety of your glass, frowning for a second as the liquid burns down your throat.
You can tell he wants to open his mouth and say something, but you're grateful he doesn't, instead putting his glass down with a breath and grabbing the bag of groceries.
"Sit," he instructs you, motioning towards the chair at the dining table that's in the middle of the kitchen, and you don't protest, only moving to pour yourself another drink.
It's silent for a moment as he unpacks the vegetables, but after a second, Joel speaks up as he runs the carrots under the tap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Joel asks, "That the reason you haven't been sleeping? Nightmares?" 
Your response isn't immediate, and it's only when Joel looks back at you and sees your expression that he realizes this may be a sensitive topic. You give an uneasy smile, before shaking your head.
"Yeah," you manage to bring out, pursing your lips, "They're nothing too serious, I just wake up and then I can't sleep anymore, don't know why," 
You do know why. You know that sometimes the dreams are so intense, so scary, that you don't dare close your eyes again, at least not by yourself. Sometimes, you'd go downstairs, and crawl into bed with Bonnie. She'd been there, once, waking you from the middle of a dream while you'd been screaming the house down, and she'd not hesitated in taking you downstairs with her to sleep in her bed after you'd confessed to being scared out of your wits of being left alone.
Joel hums, nodding as he turns back towards what he'd been cooking, and you can't tell whether or not he's bought your lie.
"Ellie not home tonight then?" you ask after a second, and Joel nods, clearing his throat as chops some vegetables on one of your two cutting boards.
"She'll be home later," he informs you, "But she's out now, yeah,"
You give an agreeing hum, and for a second there's another silence that weighs heavy in the room.
"Joel," you let out, your voice a half groan, and he hums in question, peering over his shoulder, "The silence is killing me,"
Joel can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he goes back to dinner, shaking his head with a joking air. "Forgot you couldn't handle that,"
"I really can't," you agree, taking another sip, and Joel chuckles again. You watch the expanse of his shoulders and his back under the denim shirt as they move with his laughter, finding your fingers itching to just reach out and run your hand over the smooth lines of his muscles.
"You're in the wrong company for that then, darlin',"
The nickname jars you out of your thoughts, but it does absolutely nothing to quell the desire that had reared its head in your chest just seconds ago.
"I digress," you declare, trying to distract yourself from staring at him too much, "You're a good conversationalist when you want to be, Miller,"
"I'm so flattered you think so," Joel retorts sarcastically, and you smile into your drink, letting out something that sounds halfway between a giggle and a chuckle.
The sound bounces off the walls of the kitchen, and it makes Joel smile, aware that he's turned away from you and you can't see his reaction to your laugh.
"How was your day?" you ask after a second, your voice exaggerated.
"It was good," Joel says simply, aware that it's making you want to tear your hair out, "Fixin' the barn,"
"That was six words, Joel," you say, voice jokingly incredulous, "This is seriously like pulling teeth,"
Joel chuckles again, shrugging his shoulder, before he turns to look at you, grabbing his glass as he leans against the counter.
"Sounds like you got a decent challenge ahead of you then," he tells you, raising a teasing eyebrow as he takes a sip of his gin, corner of his mouth pulled into what can best be described as a troublemaker smile.
You love this side of Joel. Underneath all the rugged, surly exterior, he has something else to him; a witty remark, a teasing smile, a flirty comment. . .he has more depth to him than you'd ever expected at first glance, and something that spells trouble, something that drives you absolutely crazy.
"Never one to shirk from an honest challenge," you say, raising your own eyebrows, before you clear your throat.
Another silence fills the room as you look at each other, waiting for the other to say something.
"Okay," you say in a breath, rolling your eyes, "I guess it's up to me. . .but you actually have to answer some of my questions, okay? You can't just give me a wall of silence," you tell Joel, and he raises a joking eyebrow.
"Wall of silence?" he asks, and you give him a look.
"You know exactly what I mean," you tell him, pressing your lips together in thought, before you give a victorious expression, ". . . in fact, every time you pass on a question you have to drink," Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning against the counter.  "I can do that," "Okay. . .what is-. . .," you trail off as your eyes sweep across the kitchen as you think of what to ask Joel, "-your favorite color?' "My favorite color?" Joel repeats, and he gives you a mocking impressed face, "Those keen conversational skills really helping you along aren't they?' "Joel," you warningly, and he sighs, arms uncrossing. "It's green," he tells you, "My favorite color is green. . .what's your favorite color?" "I'm asking the questions!" you say with a small laugh, and Joel gives you a furrowed brow, corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. "Come on, you really think I'm going to let you interrogate me without at least getting to return the favor?" he asks you, eyes boring into yours You press your lips together as you let out a joking scoff through your nose. "Fine, you can ask me questions, too–"
"And If I have to drink when I pass–" he muses, to which you roll your eyes again.
"–so will I," you assure him, before grimacing, "Though with my tolerance, I might not make it to dinner,"
Joel snorts, eyebrows raising slightly in agreement as he turns back to the counter. "You didn't answer my question,"
"My favorite color is yellow," you inform him, and you watch as the back of his head nods.
"That makes sense," you hear him say, as your fingers tap nervously on the table, thinking of what to ask.
"Dream job?" you ask, before adding, "And you can't say contractor,"
Joel is silent for a second. "Farmer,"
You don't say anything, despite your eyebrows raising in surprise, and Joel peers over his shoulder when you stay quiet.
"Favorite season?" he asks, and you smile, giving him a pained look.
"Summer," you say in a groan, and he laughs, shaking his head as he continues chopping, "Which sucks because Jackson mostly has winter,"
"The summers here can be nice," Joel notes, and you let out a breath.
"Sure," you agree, "They can be nice. . . nothing compared to the ones we used to get in Nevada, though,"
"I bet," he notes, and you let out another wistful breath.
"Do you need help?" you ask him, and he shakes his head.
"Think I can manage some dinner,"
"But it'll be faster if I help," you protest, "Come on, I can chop some vegetables, or something,"
"Alright," Joel eventually agrees, and you get to your feet, making your way over to stand next to him, before holding out your hand.
"Put me in chef," you tell him half seriously, but the corners of your mouth are pulled up into that smile.
You're standing close to him, but not so close that you're crowding him. Your smell nevertheless tickles Joel's nostrils in a pleasant way.
Joel's own mouth twitches in mild amusement as he hands you the knife, handle down, and slides the cutting board over. "You chop these, then. . . I'll get started on the onions,"
"Good thing, too," you say with a nod, before getting to work as Joel moves away from you, "Onions make me cry like a baby. . . cutting board is in the third drawer under the stove,"
Joel chuckles as he rummages around for another cutting board and a knife, grabbing an onion from the bag.
"Okay," you hum, nothing but the sound of chopping filling the kitchen, "Any hobbies?"
"I thought you were helping," Joel comments pointedly, and you snort.
"You're not getting away from me that easy," you tell him, "I can help and interrogate, at the same time,"
"That so?" Joel hums as he chops the onions, eyes moving to you for a second and meeting your gaze.
"Yes," you tell him, nodding as a mischievous smile overtakes our features, "I'm a very good multitasker. . . now. . . hobbies,"
Tumblr media
Almost the entire bottle and an entire dinner later, you and Joel are sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. You'd just stood up to reach into the cupboard for another bottle of something to replace the almost empty one on the table, reaching up into the cupboard. The shirt you're wearing rides up as you do, and Joel finds his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of your waist.
"I got one," you declare as you pause from reaching in the cupboard "Any tattoos?"
Joel actually laughs, head tilting back for a minute before he returns with his eyebrows raised but his smile intact. "An old man like me?"
"I'm sure you were young once," you counter with a laugh, and he shakes his head with another chuckle.
"Very funny," he tells you as you pull a bottle of wine from the cupboard, "Where'd that come from?"
"Emergencies," you tell him with a cheeky smile, before pursing your lips, "Or nice dinners,"
"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Joel tells you, before downing the sip of gin that was still in his glass, and you hum as you come to sit back down.
"It was," you tell him, and when Joel looks at you, you give him an expectant look, "You never answered my question,"
"I have one," Joel says with a sigh, "But I got it when I was drunk, with Tommy. . . it's a stupid one,"
You let out a laugh as you open the bottle of wine. "No way! Where is it?"
"That's two questions," Joel reminds you, and you snort sarcastically, raising a single eyebrow.
"Didn't know we were actually keeping count, Miller," you retort, and Joel just smiles as he shakes his head, before he clears his throat as he sits up a little straighter.
"It's on my thigh," he tells you eventually, and a grin spreads over your face as you shake your head, before pouring him some wine.
"Classic," you say in a laugh, "I bet it was popular,"
"It was," Joel says in a humorous tone, nodding as he watches you pour yourself a drink, "What about you?"
Your eyes look up at him as your put the bottle down, tongue kissing your teeth.
"I do," you say, deliberately not elaborating, and Joel's eyebrows raise a little.
"I shared, darlin', now it's your turn," he tells you, and you laugh a little, teeth chewing into your lip as you look away, maybe a little bashfully.
When you look back at him, you speak. "I have four,"
Joel's eyes go a little wide as he looks at you in surprise. "Four? How come I haven't noticed four tattoos?"
"It's not that many," you defend, before shrugging nonchalantly, "Besides, they're not in places I usually show a lot of people,"
"Like exclusive access?" Joel jokes, and you give a full laugh, head tipping back slightly as your shoulders shake.
"Exactly like exclusive access," you return in between laughs, and for a second, it's just the two of you, sitting in your kitchen, laughing.
It feels almost normal, like you're just two adults, having dinner; no Jackson, no cordyceps, no apocalypse.
You take another sip of wine, eye calculating as you think about your next question.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you ask him finally, putting down your glass.  
Joel thinks about this one, leaning back in his chair, legs parting slightly in such a way that makes you fight the desire in your belly, pressing your legs together slightly as your heartbeat skips slightly. You fight an urge to blush at your own thoughts, chastising yourself for sitting here drooling over a man that's nearly twice your age.
"Yes," he says eventually, nodding, and your mouth parts slightly in disbelief, mouth curling into a teasing smile.
"You believe in love at first sight? You? Ice King Joel Miller believes in love at first sight?"
"Ice king?" Joel asks, raising an eyebrow, "You're giving me a bad rap, darlin',"
"You did that all by yourself," you note, half under your breath, taking a sip of your drink, and he frowns slightly.
"What do you mean?" he asks you, his interest peaked, and something bashful crosses your face.
"Nothing," you say in a nonchalant voice as you pour yourself more wine, the bottle already emptying way faster than you intended it to, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair again. It's taking a lot of willpower for you not to stare at the way his legs spread or his arms cross, making the biceps under his t-shirt bulge.  
"I'm going to try that again," he tells you, and his voice is almost chastising as his eyes pierce yours, "And this time you aren't going to lie to me,"
"Or what?" you ask him, shaking your head with a small smirk, drinking again. You don't know why you challenge him, but you feel some enjoyment at the way Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise and he kisses his teeth in mild annoyance as you let out a sarcastic chuckle into your glass, "You going to put me over your knee, grandpa?"
"Who says I won't?" Joel retorts swiftly, and he raises a single eyebrow as his eyes bore into yours.
It makes your heart skip, and something about his level, raspy tone sets something alight in your lower belly, which you try desperately to ignore. Joel enjoys the way your eyes flash with surprise and something he thinks he recognizes as lust, but it's gone so fast he can't say it with any certainty.
You're silent as you press your lips together, before you eventually let out a breath. "It's nothing major. . . just a bit of a reputation you have going,"
"As what?" Joel asks, frown deepening, but eyes still alight with curiosity as he scrutinizes your face.
"Emotionally unavailable, I guess?" you supply, and you try your hardest to keep your tone as neutral as possible, despite the knots of unease in your stomach.
Saying it about Joel was one thing; saying it to Joel? Awkward as fuck.    
Joel seems to think about that, staying silent as you fight an urge to wring your hands.
"Listen, it's nothing too bad," you tell him, giving him a tense smile, "I mean, it could be worse. . ."
"Worse?" Joel asks you, almost jokingly, and you grimace.
"Eugene's blacklisted for being selfish," you offer, "That's pretty bad,"
"Blacklisted?" Joel lets out in a splutter, putting down his glass with a thunk, "By who?"
You shrug. "Women talk, Joel. . . this is a small community, word gets around,"
Joel seems to consider this, before he reaches over the table and grabs the bottle from where it had been standing in front you.
"And," he says, pouring himself another glass, "Is he?"
"Is who?" you ask, frowning quizzically, and Joel looks up at you as he takes a sip front the glass.
"Eugene," he tells you patiently, eyes curious, "He really selfish?"
"How am I supposed to know that?" you ask him, before you narrow your eyes at him, "You asking me if I've slept with Eugene, Joel?"
Joel stays still for a second, shrugging. "Just wonderin' whether you have any proof to back up these claims,"
"I have plenty of proof," you retort, giving him a look, "He went on a few dates with Jeannie last year and she told me he barely even touched her when they–"
You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut and pressing your lips together, before you shake your head. "We're getting off topic,"
"Off topic?" Joel asks humorously, "I'd say we just got on topic,"
"I'm not talking any more about this," you tell him, but the corners of your mouth pulling up into a smile betray you.  
"You can't just bring it up and leave me guessing," Joel replies, and you let out a frustrated breath, "Now I sort of want to know how selfish Eugene is,"
"Didn't have you pegged for a gossip, Miller," you tell him, raising your eyebrows, and he shrugs.  
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, darlin',"
"Hence the game we were playing,"
"Mmh," Joel hums non-commitally, "Still waiting on that answer,"  
"Listen, all I know is that when Bonnie slept with him a few months ago, he didn't reciprocate much. . . apparently it lasted all of 5 minutes and not one was spent on her,"
Joel grimaces, nodding in agreement. "That sounds pretty bad,"
"I told you," you say victoriously, and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.
"You sound entirely too pleased about it," he comments, and you snort.
"I'm not surprised, is what I am," you inform him, taking a sip of your wine, "Eugene is. . . well, Eugene,"
"You seem pretty close," Joel notes, and you don't know if you hear something else in his voice other than curiosity. You raise a single eyebrow.
"You asking something?" you ask him. 
"I'm not asking nothin'," Joel denies, putting his hands up, and you shake your head, corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Then, you let out a small breath.
"When I first got to Jackson, Eugene's the one that let me in. . . I was a mess. . . hypothermic, covered in blood, barely alive, and for all he knew I could've been part of some elaborate raiding scheme, or infected. He had every reason not to let me in, but he did. . . he's the reason I'm alive," you explain to Joel, before clearing your throat, "Maria was furious with him, which I guess I understand. . . she has her own people to protect. . . but he never let up. He didn't even know me, and he stood up for me when they were still considering throwing me back out,"
"I didn't know that," Joel comments, and you let out a small chuckle.
"You know the old bank building?" you ask, and he nods.
"Maria said it worked as a jail but they'd never used it,"
"Oh, they used it alright," you say with a curt smile, "They hadn't learned to train those nifty dogs yet when I got to Jackson, and I was covered in so many cuts and scrapes they couldn't figure out whether or not I'd been bitten. . . didn't matter what I said. I was in there for two whole weeks while they waited it out, and Eugene came to see me every single day. . . Tommy, too, but it took him a few days before he started showing up. . . he'd only been there a few months himself, and I guess he wasn't keen to step on anybody's toes, which I understood,"
"Jesus," Joel mutters, and you can see the flash of unease in his eyes at the thought of you locked up in one of the makeshift cells of the bank, "Not the warmest welcome,"
"I can't blame them," you remark, raising your shoulders in a half-shrug, "It's a miracle this place has survived as long as it has. . . I would also have been apprehensive,"
"But, to answer your earlier question–" you say, clearing your throat as you sit up straight.
Because we both know what you were really asking.
"–Eugene tried to kiss on me once, and I laughed at him, so safe to say we are friends," 
Joel makes another grimace, trying to hide the pleased expression on his face as best he can, but you can still see it in his eyes. "Nothing like laughter to crush a man's ego,"
"Some egos need crushing," you tell him with a single raised eyebrow, before taking a sip of your drink.
"That's true enough," he agrees, before a silence falls over the two of you. After a second, you let out a breath, looking at the pile of dishes in your sink.
"I better do those before Bonnie comes home," you tell him, getting to your feet, "She has a thing about dishes in the sink,"
Joel gives a rare, knowing smile. "I'll help ya out,"
"Thanks," you say with a small smile as you reach the sink, turning the tap on as Joel comes to stand next to you, "Grab that towel? You're on drying duty,"
"Yes, ma'am," he jokes, grabbing one of the towels hanging off the handle of the cabinet.
"Ok, your turn to ask questions, now," you inform him as you start cleaning off some of the plates, "I'm out of ideas,"
"Alright," he says with a nod, before pausing to think, "You never told me what your tattoos were,"
"Now what did we say about exclusive access?" you retort, turning your head to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and he turns to look at you, corners of his mouth twitching slightly. You're practically standing shoulder to shoulder like this, his arm and leg brushing against yours from time to time, sending shockwaves up your spine.
"You tellin' me I gotta find a way to figure it out for myself?" he asks you, and his tone is lower than it was before as he looks at you, his eyes dancing with humor in the light of the kitchen as you give an innocent shrug, sucking some air between your teeth in a teasing sound, lips pulled into an almost-smile.
"Can't just go around telling everyone, now can I? Kinda defeats the whole 'exclusive' point," you muse, and he lets out something that sounds like a chuckle as he raises his eyebrows, nodding slightly as his tongue runs alongside the inside of his cheek.
Joel is so close to you now, you can smell the gin and wine on his breath. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, his gaze saying enough for the both of you as it briefly moves from your eyes to the other features on your face, lingering on your lips a second longer. You feel something which you think are his fingertips, ghost the side of your hand, which is resting on the edge of the sink, and you swallow as you look up at him.
"What?" you ask him, quietly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs slightly. 
"I didn't say anything,"
"You're looking at me," you say pointedly, and Joel's mouth curls into a gentle, but teasing smile.
"Is it illegal to look at a beautiful woman?"
You swallow, hard, your chest thumping underneath your shirt.
"Are you calling me beautiful?" you ask him, and to your surprise, he nods.
"Yes," he says simply, confidently, his breath fanning over your lips, "Is that a problem?"
You're silent for a second, eyes looking into his as he watches your reaction. "No,"
The smile on Joel's mouth widens slightly as he leans closer to you, lips getting closer to your.
"Good," he whispers, before he moves to kiss you.
Except he doesn't.
Joel doesn't kiss you because at the last minute, heart beating furiously against your ribcage, you turn your head slightly to the side. His lips barely brush over the corner of your mouth before Joel freezes, which makes you cringe.
Stupid.
Joel pulls away from you slightly to look at you, and despite the amount of drinks you've had, your heart is beating a million miles per hour as you and Joel stare at each other, embarrassment dawning in his eyes as he pulls away from you more, closing his mouth and swallowing.
It's at that exact moment that you hear the front door swing open.
"Hello? You home, hot-stuff?"
Your eyes widen slightly as Bonnie's voice travels through the house, her nickname for you making your cheeks burn. Joel fully steps away from you now, putting quite a bit of distance between the two of you as he steps away from the sink and the counter, putting the towel down on the counter.
"Joel–" you start as you move away from the counter, but Bonnie's voice interrupts whatever you were going to say.
"I was working in the fucking school all day, and then we had movie night," she continues as her voice gets closer and you try and catch Joel's eye, but he isn't looking at you, "I know everyone loves the kid, but I swear little Johnny Raster is such a little cun– Oh, hello,"
Bonnie is a tall and broad-shouldered woman, and even though she looks relatively imposing to those who don't know her, she happens to be one of the friendliest people in Jackson. That's not to say she takes shit; quite the opposite, really, she has an even lower tolerance for it than you do, and you wouldn't recommend pissing her off.  She's standing in the doorway, dark hair pulled into a ponytail behind her head, green eyes observing the scene carefully. "Didn't know we were expecting company,"
"I was just on my way out, actually," Joel says, clearing his throat as he gives a slight, curt smile, "Ellie will have gotten home by now,"
"Yeah, I thought I saw the light at your place," Bonnie tells him, and Joel nods, still not looking your way.
"Right, that's my cue, then," he says, clearing his throat again, demeanour beyond awkward, before he looks up at you very briefly, "Thanks for the drinks. . . good night,"
"Good night, Joel," you say, your voice soft, and you try to disguise the undertone of pity.
You want to explain yourself desperately, but something about the look on Joel's face makes you think that wouldn't go down very well right now, anyway.
He grunts out a 'Bye' to Bonnie as he practically flees out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the hall before you hear the distinct noise of the front door opening and closing.
"What's with him?" Bonnie asks, one eyebrow creasing down quizzically crunching her face as steps into the kitchen, "He seems even surlier than usual," 
"Don't know," you say airily, and she directs her scrutinous gaze at you as she picks up the bottle of wine, sniffing it.
"That's a pile of bullshit," she tells you disbelievingly, "What happened?"
You're silent for a minute, before letting out a sigh. "He tried to kiss me,"
"And you didn't want him to. . .?" Bonnie suggests, her tone confused as her sentence hangs in the air, before she frowns slightly, "He's hot,"
"I sort of dodged him," you tell her, grimacing.
"Ouch," Bonnie groans out, sucking some air between her teeth, "Well, that explains it,"
"Yeah," you agree, chewing on your lip, "It was really stupid,"
"I mean you're allowed to say no," Bonnie reassures you, "But did you want to say no?"
"I don't know," you tell her honestly, chewing on your lip as your stomach swirls with conflicting feelings, and she hums.
"Well, you better figure it out fast, hot-stuff," she tells you, putting the glasses in the sink, "Because if we can't call Joel when the banister in the hall acts up again, I'm going to need to learn to be a contractor real quick,"
Tumblr media
You don't see Joel at all the next day; not in the town, not at the small market in the square you know he usually goes to on Saturday mornings. You think you spot him working on the scaffolding with the same group as yesterday, but you don't go and investigate, partly out of your own embarrassment, and partly out of respect for the fact that he's probably avoiding you for a reason.
Instead you spend the day cleaning the house, and helping Bonnie with her projects, and before you know it the sky is darkening again and you're on your way to the Tipsy Bison for your shift. You don't mind bartending, and there was no doubt you were a right sight better at it then you were at healing.
The bar is relatively empty when you arrive at 6pm, and doesn't start to fill up until around half past seven, when people typically finish up dinner and the patrons start trickling in. To make matters even more crowded, it's Saturday, and given the Tipsy Bison is the only bar in Jackson, Saturdays are usually the busiest nights of the week. Not that you weren't used to it; when you'd started a year and a half ago, Seth, who ran the place, hadn't hesitated to put you on Saturdays almost immediately, because, to quote "Who doesn't like to be served beer by a pretty girl on their night off?"
The people didn't really bother you, and to be honest, you'd gotten used to it pretty quickly, becoming a near expert in warding off any unwanted attention in a graceful way.
"Can I get a whiskey?" comes a familiar voice from behind the bar just as you're filling up a beer, and you look to meet Tommy's kind eyes, your face breaking into a smile.
"Whiskey?" you ask, frowning jokingly as you set the beer down for another patron, "That isn't your usual order,"
Tommy's eyes flash with something that looks like unease, and it takes a second for your eyes to move from Tommy over the bar, eventually falling on the one person you know likes himself a whiskey. Joel is sitting at one of the tables with the rest of the guys, observing your interaction, but when your eyes move towards him, he pretends to busy himself talking to Eugene. Your stomach sinks.
"Ah," you let out, your tone awkward as you look back at Tommy, your smile having dropped from genuine to half-disappointed as your eyes flash with something akin to sadness, "That's because it's not for you,"  
Tommy clears his throat. "Look, I told him to just–"
You raise your hand to interrupt him, giving him a small smile as you shake your head. "It's okay, Tommy. . . you don't have to explain anything to me,"
"Right," he says, clearing his throat with an awkward smile as you pour the drink.
"Can I get you anything?" you ask him pointedly, and he nods, swallowing.
"Just a beer for me, thanks,"
It takes a second for you to make the drinks, and you strike up a conversation with him as you do. "You guys finished fixing the building yet?"
"Almost," Tommy says with a nod, "Though we missed your usual coffee delivery today,"
"Sorry," you grimace slightly, eyes flicking over to Joel for a second before they fall back on Tommy, "I, uh–. . . didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable, y'know?"
You're almost positive Tommy knows what went down between you and Joel last night; either his brother told him, or he guessed it when Joel sent him over here to order him a drink, but you can see it in the way his expression morphs into one of awkward understanding.
"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but you could never make me uncomfortable, kiddo," Tommy informs you, and the smile you give him is genuine.
"I appreciate that," you tell him, laughing slightly as you put down the two drinks, "here you are,"
Tommy nods as he picks up the drinks, before he seems to hesitate.
"For what it's worth, I told him he should talk to you about it, at least,"
"Well, you can lead a horse to water. . . " you say with a tight-lipped smile, and Tommy nods with a snort.
"Too fucking right you are," he notes, which makes you chuckle.
"Have a nice night, Tommy,"
"You too, kiddo. . . anybody gives you trouble we'll be right over there,"
"Thanks," you say with a small chuckle.
The rest of the evening goes by relatively smoothly, save for a few over-zealous customers near the end of your shift that you manage to handle, but not before you notice from the corner of your eye how Joel straightens in his seat, eyes boring into the side of your face as he gages the situation.
You weren't surprised; ever since that incident with Sean Mixon a few months back, when you'd first started doing closing shifts on busy nights, Joel had stayed close by. It hadn't been anything too serious, but you'd ended up on Joel and Ellie's porch after closing time on the verge of tears to ask if he'd had any antiseptic for a grizzly looking cut on your arm. You'd gotten it after Sean had flown into a drunken rage and hurled a glass at your head when you'd asked him to leave, and one of the ricocheting shards had caught your skin. It hadn't necessarily been the worst of cuts, but you'd been pretty shaken up nevertheless, and given Bonnie had been away on a night patrol at the time, you'd ended up sleeping on their couch. 
After that, Joel had been there every time you worked a closing shift, come rain or shine, always staying all the way until the end. Even though he'd generally leave along with the last customer, you could always see Joel's living room light on and the curtains open as you walked home, sat in a chair reading or playing guitar but always keeping an eye on your porch as you got home.
This evening was no different, and it felt admittedly comforting to know Joel wasn't so angry with you he wasn't here as usual.
You'd spent the last 10 minutes doing most of your cleanup so you could corner Joel on your way out. You'd had pretty much the entire night to think and watch him, which had culminated into you talking yourself into what would probably be a relatively awkward confrontation about what had happened yesterday.
You wait and watch as Joel leaves, not looking in your direction, before you grab your coat off the chair and flick the light off, hurrying out of the door after him.
"Joel!" you call, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns back towards you, "Wait a second,"
You turn back to the door, locking it hastily, almost afraid he'll have taken off by the time you turn back, but he hasn't. He's standing still, half-facing you, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and shoulder hunched against the cold as you give him an awkward smile, jogging to catch up with him.
"Look, about earlier. . . " you start as you level with him, and Joel has to admit to himself he's surprised by the fact you get right to it. He had at least been expecting an attempt at some uneasy small talk.
"It's okay," Joel assures you quickly, hands still in his pockets, "I promise I can handle getting rejected. . . I was just a little caught off guard, yesterday, I thought–. . . well, it doesn't matter,"
"It's not that I'm not interested," you offer, almost timidly, and Joel feels a jolt in his chest at your words, despite himself, eyes moving from the ground to meet yours, "I just–. . . I want us to be on the same page,"
Joel raises his eyebrows slightly, his look urging you to continue.
You wring your hands slightly, letting out a breath that curls into the cold night air as your turns and start walking home, Joel falling into step with you. "Look, I'm not really a dater. . .um–. . . I lost someone I loved a few years ago and it was the most pain I think I've ever felt in my life,"
Joel is silent as you walk, hands in his pockets as he listens to you speak, patient, open.
He can see the grief in your eyes, but also a peace, one he'd longed to find for so many years and had only partially regained when he'd met Ellie. Sarah was a part of him he would always miss; the pain had only gotten less frequent, but it was never gone entirely, lingering within him like a smouldering flame.
"I'm just not eager to feel that again," you explain, giving him a watery smile, "So I just don't really get, er, involved. . . with, people. . . that's why I kind of dodged you, yesterday,"
Joel watches as your brow frowns slightly as you seem to cringe at your own words, taking another nervous breath as your fingers hang by your side, tapping your leg uneasily.
"At all?" Joel asks after a second, and your eyes shoot up from where they'd been on your feet to meet his.
His gaze is earnest, and you can tell he's genuinely curious, too. There's something else there, too, which you can't identify but gives you the nagging feeling you might've read Joel Miller wrong, after all.
"I mean, not at all," you bring out, frowning slightly as the corner of your mouth pull up into a slight smile, "I might be emotionally unavailable, but I'm not a nun,"
Joel lets out a small laugh, steps slowing as they come to a stop, and you look at him with a smile, stopping to face him. It's not very close to him, but Joel's steps carry him a little closer to you, closing the gap further until you're standing face to face. 
"Good to know you're still open to enjoying the finer things in life," he jokes, and now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as Joel watches the smile on your features.
"Yes, I am," you say with a remaining chuckle, clearing your throat slightly as you look up at him.
"So–" he speaks after a second, swallowing as his eyes draw you in, voice slightly deeper than it had been a second ago, "If I were to kiss you, say, right now–"
His gaze moves for a split second from your eyes down to your lips, "You wouldn't object?"
"Joel. . ." you say his name in half-warning, but you can already feel the pads of his finger ghosting the fabric of your coat, and you swallow, "We can't get involved. . . this can't become a mess,"
Joel hums slightly, and you feel his hand move, pressing his palm over the curve of your waist as his eyes look for yours, "Heard you the first time, darlin'. . . I can be casual. . . that's what you're saying, ain't it?"
You look up at him, into his eyes, and Joel can tell you're fighting with yourself.
You are. Parts of you are protesting that this is a slippery slope, that this is dangerous, and then the other parts of you are drawn to him; his presence, his smell, his eyes. . .god, those eyes. He has an almost irresistible look in his eyes, coupled with the beginnings of that troublemaker smile he has that's oh so rare – but oh so attractive.
It's like a moth to a flame, and when you feel Joel's hand move under the hem of your coat, thumb pressing a gentle circle on your lower waist over the fabric of your t-shirt, you can barely stop yourself from throwing yourself at him right then and there. You draw in a sharp breath, and feel the corners of your mouth pull up into a coquettish smile as you give in to him.
"Well then," you say, and your voice is almost a whisper, your breath fanning Joel's lips, "You going to kiss me then, Miller? Or are you going to wait around for the grass to grow?"
He chuckles, and it's low in his chest as you feel his hand flatten against your waist, pulling you flush against him so your lips are mere inches from his, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. "You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?"
"Trust me, it's good for other things, too," you suggest, your voice half teasing, and Joel chuckles again, his nose bumping up against yours as his eyes dive deep into yours, rich and intoxicating and darkening slightly at your words.
"Well, in that case. . . "
Joel doesn't finish he sentence before he leans in, pressing his lips firmly to yours.
It's everything you imagined kissing Joel would be like, and as your lips move, reciprocating, you feel his other hand come up, fingers ghosting the side of your neck before you feel the pads of his fingers on your jaw line. When you press further against him, his hand moves to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing the hair at the base of your skull, under your ear, pulling you closer to him as you melt against his chest.
Finally, after a second, you pull away from each other to catch your breath, but as you do, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth gently, tugging on it slightly as you pull away from him. You feel his hands tighten around your waist, and it makes the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smirk as you open your eyes to look back him. He's looking down at you, pupils blown wide and a half-conflicted look in his eyes.
"What?" you ask him, voice almost a whisper, and he shrugs.
"I'm trying to decide if it's too crass to ask to take you home tonight," Joel says, almost carefully, and your smile grows slightly as you chuckle, before you lean in and kiss him again.
This one is longer, more inviting, and your hand moves Joel's from your waist down to the curve of your ass. Joel lets something akin to a groan against your mouth as his fingers dig into your ass, and you pull away from him with another teasing smile.
"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't take me home, Miller," you muse, and now Joel's mouth curls into a genuine smile as you feel his hand take yours.
"What are we still standing around talking for, then, darlin'? Let's go home,"   
Tumblr media
374 notes · View notes
atinylittlepain · 1 year
Note
Could I request a Joel and F/reader where the reader is scared of Horses, but really wants to pet one, but is worried it will bite her, so one day Joel shows her they are friendly and soft as well as telling her he likes her and wants to be with her.
I just need some soft Joel after everything that has happened.
this is such a sweet and tender idea, i had to write it <3
Tumblr media
gif by @a7estrellas
Spring Foals
Joel Miller x f!reader
Joel Miller masterlist
She's not so sure about horses. He shows her there's nothing to fear.
warnings | 18+ the mildest angst, fluff abounds
......................
He doesn’t mind patrol shifts, but given the choice, Joel would always prefer working at the stables in town. He had grown up with horses, spending weekends at his grandparents’ ranch outside of Austin, riding hard alongside his brother just for the sake of it, joyous yelps as they bounded over the land. His grandfather had taught him how to take care of the animals, how to set horseshoes, how to birth foals, and how to treat those wild creatures with respect. So any chance he got to take a shift at the stables in Jackson, he jumped at it.
It’s a lucky spring day that he does get to work at the stables, warmth starting to thread through the afternoons that coaxes people into t-shirts and out onto their porches. They had three successful births over the winter, and he’s helping out with training the foals in one of the smaller pens. He’s a bit distracted though, watching what must be a class of school kids being led around the stables on a makeshift field trip. His eyes keep darting over to her, the pretty schoolteacher who lives two houses down from him and Ellie. 
They had shared some friendly conversation with each other, at community meetings and whenever they ran into each other around town, and she always offered him a smile that made his heart squeeze. Ellie had been giving him endless shit for the so-called “dopey look” he got every time he talked to her, and had also been hounding him to “make a move already.” He’d been staving off her pestering with noncommittal grumbles. The truth was, he wanted to make a move, more than anything. But it was clear to him that this was a complete pipe dream. She was her, younger and lovely and liked by everyone in town. And Joel was– well, enough said. So, he resigned himself to the reality that it was never going to happen, stealing glimpses of her when he could, trying to tamp down his ridiculous crush.
He’s broken out of his swimming thoughts by the sound of shrieking kids coming his way, being led by another teacher and one of the stable hands . She’s pulling up the rear of the group and Joel has to look twice to confirm the furrowed look of worry across her face. He’s always been good with kids, and has no problem holding court as he explains to the small group what it takes to train the young horses up so they’ll be ready for riding. As he finishes speaking, two of the other people working at the stables offer the kids buckets of grain to feed the foals, guiding them into the pen. They take to it with obvious enthusiasm. She however, hangs back along the railing of the pen, biting her lip as she watches her class. Still in the pen, Joel sidles up next to her, offering her a crooked smile.
“Not a fan of horses, huh?” She shakes her head, a small smile across her lips.
“I think they’re beautiful, really. I just– ugh it’s embarrassing– but I guess I’m a bit afraid of them.” Joel raises his eyebrows at her and she bites her lip again, looking down at her hands where they rest along the railing.
“Have you ever been near one, up close?” She sighs as she looks up at him, squinting lightly in the afternoon sun.
“Only really when I first came here. I’m sure you’re familiar with the, uh, welcoming committee.” Joel hums at that, indeed remembering the ring of riders he and Ellie had encountered, what had really been an ambush of terror.
“I can see why you’re not too keen on them then. But I promise you, that was more the humans than it was the horses acting tough. Here– can I show you?” That furrowed look settles across her face again as she bites her lip, but she nods. He murmurs a quiet “be right back” before stepping back into the middle of the pen in which kids are still petting and feeding the foals. He grabs one of the buckets of grain and coaxes one of the foals along with it, back over to the edge of the pen where she’s standing. 
She jerks away from the pen just slightly as the horse comes closer, a breathy laugh leaving her lips as she looks to Joel questioningly. He nods, an easy smile across his face as he holds his hand out to her. When she takes it, stepping closer, Joel’s mind goes hazy for a moment with the feeling of her palm in his. He clears his throat, letting go of her hand to offer her the bucket of grain. She takes a handful and stiffly holds it out, but the instant the horse comes closer, she shuffles back, letting out another nervous laugh. Joel can’t help but chuckle a bit.
“It’s ok, I promise. Here–” He holds out his hand to her again and she very tentatively steps forward. This time, Joel slides his palm under the back of her hand, encouraging her to hold her hand out flat with the grain in the center of her palm. He lightly curls his fingers around her wrist, guiding her hand down as the horse shuffles closer. He can feel the muscles in her wrist jump as the horse sniffs at her palm, but he holds her steady with his thumb lightly stroking the side of her hand. She laughs, eyes crinkling as she looks between Joel and the horse. He grins watching her.
“If I’m remembering right, they named this one Dolly.” She whispers the name to herself, smiling lightly.
“She’s so pretty.” Joel can’t take his eyes off her, the wonder clear in her expression.
“Yeah, she is.” The words leave his mouth before he can even think about them, and from the way she looks at him, a shy grin on her face, it’s clear she knows that Joel wasn’t talking about the horse. They look at each other for just a beat too long, but are quickly snapped out of it by the snuffling whinny of the horse. She jerks her hand away and out of Joel’s hold, letting out another nervous laugh.
“Well, um, thank you, Joel. I think you may have just proved me wrong about horses.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as they watch Dolly trot away. He looks back at her and she offers him a grin.
“You were right, the humans make all the difference.” Before he can respond to that, she’s already moving away to call her class to come back together. The other teacher on duty starts leading the group away as she brings up the rear. Joel sighs, turning to get back to work with the foals, but he’s quick to twist back around when he hears her call his name. She jogs back to the pen, pressing up against the fencing as he walks over. Before he can say anything, she’s lifting onto her tiptoes to lean over the railing, laying a fluttering kiss to his cheek. He’s pretty sure his heart stops for a few beats as she leans back, a small smile across her face.
“I’ve really gotta go. But would you like to come for dinner some time? I’d like to repay you for the, um, free exposure therapy.” All he can do is laugh, he’s so stunned by her question. She glances over her shoulder to her class that’s continuing to walk away before turning back to look at him. He’s pretty sure if Ellie were here right now, she’d be laughing at the “dopey look” that’s definitely plastered across his face. He clears his throat, nodding at her.
“Um, yeah, yes. Dinner– I’d like that.” Real smooth. She offers him a broad smile, laughing lightly as she starts to walk back toward her class.
“I’ll see you soon, Joel.”
Ellie was smugly excited to hear that night that Joel had finally made his move, with just a little help from a horse.
386 notes · View notes