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macfrog · 10 months

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state-of-the-art sex on fire chapter two

*chants* ceo joel ceo joel ceo joel

part 2 to you shook me all night long!!! massive credit to @whore-4-pedro again for the concept this is SO much fun. work trip coming soon babies!!! masterlist here, ao3 here 💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel’s had a rough week at work. you figure you know the perfect way to relieve some of his tension

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) more teasing and touching, oral (m receiving), getting handsy in public + fingering, unprotected semi-public piv sex, creampie, daddy kink, softdom!joel, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship

word count: 6.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

The stretch is too much; he’s all the way in down to his knuckles, curling and then uncurling his fingers deep inside you. Your hips are slowly circling by instinct, rutting against his hand as it fucks you, sending fluttery waves of pleasure all over your body. You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer. You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

The black mug. Not the one with the gold handle – that’s one of Martha’s. She doesn’t use it much – at least not as much as the one with her granddaughter’s face printed on it – but she once left you with a stack of paperwork to shred all by yourself just ‘cause you made yourself a tea in it.

No. Just plain black all over. No words, no pictures. Plain. Black.

Few spoonsful of coffee into the filter, hard granules sprinkling over the white paper. Close the lid, flick the switch, and then wait for it to brew. Once it’s done, fill the mug almost to the top – until the coffee kisses the bottom of that one chip in the ceramic. No sugar. No sweetener. No nothing.

Just plain black.

“Thanks, darlin’.” Joel takes the mug carefully from your hands as you wander over, then you perch yourself by his side on Martha’s desk. He takes a sip and nods like usual, confirming what you already know.

You make a damn good cup of coffee.

“You’re worth, what, a few hundred million? You can’t buy a better coffee machine?”

“’s wrong with that one?” he asks, mug on his bottom lip.

“Works like it’s from the eighties or something.”

Martha clears her throat behind you both. “I am gonna give you five seconds to explain what you mean by that.”

“I mean…it’s not exactly state-of-the-art, is it?”

Joel’s jaw drops dramatically. His head wobbles like it’s about to implode, hearing what you just said. “You hear that, Martha? We ain’t state-of-the-art anymore, you ‘n me. We’re older ‘n that coffee machine, you know.”

Martha’s shaking her head, clicking away at her computer.

Joel nudges your arm with a soft chuckle and you sigh, turning away to watch the four men in his office; stood an awkward distance apart, small talking, pacing, adjusting their suits. One of them is messing with some trinket on Joel’s bookshelf.

“You think they’re nervous?” you ask, and he laughs from behind you.

“I reckon they’ve a lot to be nervous about.”

“Was it that bad? On Monday?”

Joel had spent the better part of four hours locked in that conference room, right after you two – you know. He was late for lunch by the time he was ushering them out, collars loose, jackets slung over arms. It was probably a good thing you’d tired him out a little beforehand, or he’d have been way more unforgiving than he was.

Three departments in Joel’s company have gone over budget. It isn’t a huge deal. He has the money. Just, he wants the right people in charge of it, and right now…he clearly doesn’t have that. Honestly, you hate to admit it, but it makes sense. You’re kinda on Joel’s side.

He’d given them to the end of the week to come up with action plans, figure out how to undo the mess. This is the end of the week. This is supposed to be the big reveal.

Joel runs a hand through his hair, palm hooking around the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t great,” he mutters.

You knew that much. You’d asked what he wanted to eat as he passed your desk en route back to his office, and he’d waved his hand and told you to order whatever you wanted with his card. When his door closed, you glanced over to Martha, who shrugged, and went back to playing solitaire.

You figured he wasn’t down for more sex. He didn’t reappear until five o’clock, when he walked you down to the street, carrying your jacket for you, and helped you into your cab.

The elevator dings and the brass doors separate, revealing a figure behind.

George Mackley. Short. Stout. Obnoxiously bright red tie. Head of marketing.

He waddles in a hurry toward the three of you, nodding curtly to Joel as he passes. His shaking hand fumbles around the handle of the office door, which he pulls on instead of pushing, and gives an awkward chuckle before rushing inside.

“Fuckin’…finally,” Joel grunts, passing you his mug and standing up.

“Should I order my own lunch again?” you ask, looking up at the man stretching his arms out before you. Like he’s about to go in and punch sense into them all.

You’d probably love him to do that. It’d make for some great sex afterward.

“I’ll be takin’ a lunch break,” he replies, tapping your knee, “whether we’re done or not. Be out at one.”

You nod, and he stalks off to his office. His mug’s still warm in your lap. You’re still staring when he enters the room, watching how all five men immediately file into the couches across from his desk just at the sight of him. Watching how Joel’s lean figure sits back against his desk, his ankles crossed. His arms folded at his chest. His broad shoulders beneath that tight white shirt.

He has that way about him. Commanding, confident. Strong. It’s probably what convinced you to fold, if you’re honest. Sure, he’s kind, and he’s a good boss, all things considered. He’s funny. But he’s cool. It takes a lot to shake Joel.

This meeting? It’s not shaking him. He’s barely even giving these guys enough attention to sit up straight. He’s so damn breezy, so laidback that when he pushes off of his desk and stands up, you give a small gasp.

You lift his mug, drinking from the same spot his lips touched only minutes ago.

“Thought you hated black coffee,” Martha murmurs.

“Stress sipping,” you reply. “Fucking hell…”

Joel’s erratic. Waving his arms, pacing around the room. You swear the men cower as he approaches; shoulders hunched and heads low until he’s past them.

He looks…Yeah. Fuck it. He looks a little shaken.

Martha tuts. “Shouldn’t be idiots with his money.”

“He has money, though,” you offer. “Like, this ain’t that big a deal, is it? He can afford to go over budget sometimes.”

“Joel doesn’t like anyone messin’ with what’s his,” she tells you. “Doesn’t like other hands on his toys. It’s not the overspending he’s pissed about. It’s the crossin’ the line.”

Your eyebrow cocks. She can’t see your expression, and good thing, because it’d probably give you away. Doesn’t like other hands on his toys.

A flash of movement from Joel’s office drags your eyes from the dregs of his coffee back to the transparent wall between you. He’s whipping the shades closed one by one, putting a barrier between his office and the outside world.

It can’t mean anything good, right? It doesn’t look like they’re about to sit in a circle and braid each other’s hair. Sure as hell aren’t about to see Joel’s good side.

“I gotta go in,” you declare, lifting off of Martha’s desk like you’ve taken flight.

She calls your name, almost tired of your antics. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you’re already scooping up a notepad, slipping it under your arm and fishing a pen from your desk. Already walking over to the office door, hearing the dangerous hum of Joel’s voice through the wood.

Your knuckles rap three times. You don’t wait to be called inside. Just push the handle down and slip in.

He’s stood against the frame of one of the windows, hands in his pockets. When you materialize from behind the door, his face relaxes. Brows loosen, jaw slackens. Lips almost tug into a smile.

“Sorry I’m late.” You sidle over to his desk and sit down in his chair, biting on your bottom lip, casting an unsure glance around the room.

Five pale faces turned to you. George Mackley looks like he’s about to weep.

Joel thanks you and then steps forward. “So, Ken, we were at last month’s sales.”

“Uh, yeah…” Ken draws his gaze from you when Joel moves in front of the desk. As he waltzes by, he spins slowly, giving you a look as he passes.

Kill me, he mouths, rolling his eyes. You smile, looking down at your blank notebook. You’re not here to take the fucking minutes. You know that, Joel knows that. You’re only here so he has something to keep him from losing it. Something to sit and look pretty, and calm him down.

Also: you kinda want the gossip. What the fuck did these guys do with all of Joel’s money, right?

Almost two hours in, a dozen games of tic-tac-toe against yourself, and one very crude drawing of Monday morning’s activities, Joel startles you by slamming a file down onto his glass coffee table.

“And you think that’s a solution?” he spits, voice laced with fury.

“Joel, you gotta see it from my side. I’m managing thirty people down there, it’s–”

“’n I’m managing five idiots from up here. Mackley,” he turns to the face as red as the tie below it, “you got anythin’ else for me?”

George Mackley shakes his head. His hair’s unkempt; it was gelled flat to his head when he arrived, but his hands have been through it more times than Joel’s lapped the office.

“Alright. Y’know what,” Joel seethes, backing up and motioning for them to stand, “everyone out. Meeting’s over. Go.”

“Joel–” A tall man with blue eyes stands up.

“If you ain’t about to offer me somethin’ that can fuckin’ fix this mess, then shut your mouth and get out of my office. All of you.”

The men sheepishly collect their briefcases, their documents, themselves, and stand, filing out of the door one by one. You rise from Joel’s chair, taking your notepad between your fingers, and slowly wander around the desk.

He’s standing with his head in his hands, shoulders swelling with his breathing. Does he want you to leave, too? You don’t want to rile him more; certainly don’t want to be the first face his angry self sees. But you want to make sure he’s okay. Want to check on him.

Plus, he’s kind of hot when he’s pissed.

You’re tottering toward the door when Joel drops his hands from his face, notices you, and says, plain as the coffee in his mug, “Not you.”

You turn back, pushing the door closed behind you.

“Didn’t mean to yell.”

You don’t reply. Your hand lifts to find the lock blindly behind your hip, and you click it. Now there’s nobody, no one to disturb you both. No one to walk in, no one to see.

You approach him.

He’s still talking: “Didn’t want you to have to hear all that. I spoil your morning?”

Your head shakes and you mutely take his hands, leading him around to his chair and pushing him back into it.

“Baby, what–”

You part his legs with your own, his fingers still interlocked with yours. Then you think he gets it. Understands where you’re going.

You sink to your knees between his thighs.

“They were bein’ idiots,” you say, fingers undoing his belt. “’n you didn’t spoil my mornin’. You gave me a little bit of excitement.”

Joel’s breath shudders as he watches you tug his belt through the loops of his pants and drop it to the floor. Still, he laughs, and asks, “Is that so?”

“N– Oh, fuck. Not like that. Like–” You pause, breathing out a sigh.

Yeah, okay. Like that, if you want. I’m down if you are.

His pants are open, lying loose on his hips. The waistband of his boxers visible. You hook two fingers over it and peel it down a fraction, following Joel’s happy trail as it grows thicker and darker, when he puts a hand over yours and breathes your name.

“Relax,” you mutter back, nudging his hand off of yours. “Just let me take care of you.”

His head falls against the back of his chair and his shoulders sink into the leather. You pull on the elastic and take hold of the base of his cock, already stiff, slipping it out from beneath the black cotton.

Joel’s knees fall slack when you take a hold of him. Two hands, because he’s so fucking big. Your fists pump him a few times, feeling him harden in your grasp, warm skin rock solid in your hands. You lean forward on your knees, thick bead of saliva falling from your lips onto his head, dribbling down his smooth shaft.

Joel’s watching through hooded lids. Caressing your hair, petting you. Your fingers collect your spit and drag it up and down him, and you swear he almost fucking whines.

Almost isn’t enough. You want to really hear him. So you slacken your jaw, part your lips, and slide them down, tongue flat against the underside of his length as he fills your mouth. Joel’s fist tightens, pulls harshly on your hair for just a second, until he’s breathing out again in relief, body relaxing to the feel of your wet tongue around his hard cock.

“Don’t need to – do this, babygirl.”

“Mhm,” you mumble around him.

“Fuck…” he whispers.

Your elbows are hooked over his thighs, holding yourself up in place between his legs. He tastes salty; skin warm, smooth. Your tongue flickers over his head, collecting precum, and Joel groans.

You pull off of him and lick your lips.

“What you gonna do?” you ask, fingers squeezing and dragging saliva and Joel’s arousal up and down. “About the budget stuff?”

His chest is heaving, hips lifting out of the seat almost like he’s trying to put himself back where he belongs. “What…can I do?” he asks through desperate pants. “Can’t – fuck – can’t drum sense into ‘em.”

You wrap your puffy lips around his tip, kissing it, tongue playing with him again. Swirling around, gathering him on your tastebuds. “Why don’t you cut ‘em loose, then?”

Your head dips again, lips sucking around his shaft, tongue still darting around his swollen head.

He can barely fucking answer. His eyes close over and, with a groan either side of the sentence, he replies, “’s not that easy, baby. Fuck. Keep doin’ that.”

You loosen your lips enough to let your reply pass them. Your voice is muffled, thick. “Sounds easy to me.”

“Shut up,” he grunts. “Keep fuckin’ – usin’ your tongue.”

You obey, running your tongue up and down his length and coming to rest to pay more attention to his tip.

“Yeah, just like that. Good girl.”

You hollow your cheeks and let your lips trickle up and down for a bit before releasing him with a pop. Joel’s writhing underneath you, leaning almost horizontal in his chair.

“Gonna cum, daddy?”

He nods, eyes still screwed shut. “Yeah, pretty girl. You want it down your throat again?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck – dirty girl.”

It’s all the encouragement you need. You widen your jaw, taking him in your mouth in full, until he’s choking you down to what feels like the bottom of your fucking neck. You fuck him with your throat, bobbing up and down, his fist in your hair pushing and pulling even though you don’t need him to. Your mouth meets the skin at the base of his cock over and over, dark hair brushing against your glossy lips.

Joel’s moaning each time, when his cock kisses the back of your throat, when you involuntarily choke around him, when your tongue drags along his length as he pulls you up and down. And soon his breathing loses rhythm, hips tense, and you know he’s there.

He cums, hard, at the back of your mouth. Warm release spilling out over your tongue, neatly running down your throat as you wait for him to still. His cock throbs with each shot of cum, swelling and jerking between your lips. When Joel sinks back into his chair again, you slip him out of your mouth and back under his boxershorts.

Your head lulls to the side, resting on his big thigh as you swallow him with a smile on your lips. His grip on your hair loosens, turns instead back to soft stroking, chest still panting as he comes back down. You watch him through glazed eyes; his shoulders rising and falling, breaths passing his lips like waves at the beach.

He’s twirling your hair gently around his finger, looking down at you like you’re made of twinkling gold dust.

Eventually, Joel takes a deep breath and sits up straight, beckoning you to do the same. He tucks his shirt back in, redoes his pants, then leans forward and hooks both hands under your arms, pulling you up to him.

You giggle as he lifts you onto his lap, straddling him with your knees either side of his waist. Your elbows rest on his shoulders, hands linking at the back of his neck.

His jaw turns upward, and you lower yours, your lips meeting in a soft embrace. You laugh against him, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, pushing yours into his.

“Better?” you ask once you part.

“Better, darlin’. Thank you.”

He kisses you again, a little more rushed, little less tender. Then his hands squeeze your ass and you squeal into his mouth, jumping up off of him.

You pass him his belt and lift the empty coffee mug off of his desk. “Refill?”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” he says, slipping the leather through his belt loops. His shoulders are lifted, tummy sucked in as he feeds it through. He almost looks cute.

You smile and then turn on your heels, wiping the corners of your mouth as you emerge from the office.

—————

“Is he comin’, or what?”

“Huh?”

Martha jerks her head in the direction of Joel’s office. She’s stood at your desk, hands on her hips, bag over her shoulder.

“He’s…Yeah, he said he would be. Let me go check.”

You close over the budget report file you’d been reading through and shimmy out from behind your desk, trying to amble as casually as possible over to the shuttered blinds.

You turn the handle, poking your head around the door.

He’s stood at his desk, raking a hand through his hair, top button of his shirt undone. Tie sitting loose around his collar. He spots you and gives an apologetic smile.

You comin’? you mouth.

Joel points to his phone. Some panicked voice fills the silence between you both.

“…so I gave the two of ‘em a tellin’; they shouldn’t make any more purchase orders without my permission. Without your permission, Joel, I mean…And about last month’s sales, too…”

You step over to his desk, slow, suspicious. Mischief on your mind.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

You cock your head, brows furrowing. You’d been looking forward to lunch with Joel all day; something to take his mind off the meeting this morning.

Martha had called his favorite restaurant, they’d told her they had no space, she’d mentioned it was for Mr. Miller, and a table had magically opened up. Then you’d encouraged her to ask Deb, knowing she’d inevitably ask James, her admin assistant, and, before you knew it, your small lunch was a party of five.

Worked for you. You and Joel would probably be too caught up in each other’s company to notice the rest.

Except, the way things are looking, Joel isn’t getting off this call anytime soon. Soon meaning within the next thirty seconds, given the reservation is in ten minutes.

You’re growing desperate. Running out of time, knowing if you don’t do something to shut this guy the fuck up, your little daydream of sitting side by side with Joel, so close you can feel the heat off of him, feel his chest vibrate when he talks, maybe even feel his hand trailing up your thigh…won’t come true.

“What if you just…” Your fingers walk along Joel’s desktop, heading for his phone. “…lost…connection…?”

He doesn’t say a word, but the smirk that forms across his lips grants you all the permission you need. Your fingers clutch the receiver, lifting it barely an inch, then drop it back into its cradle. The panicked voice cuts.

“Oops.” You shrug, straightening up in front of Joel.

“Oops,” he repeats, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him again. You lift your jaw to kiss him only quickly, before you’re pushing yourself off of his chest and dragging him away from his desk.

“Sorry, Ken!” you call as Joel yanks the door open, the pair of you laughing like schoolkids.

You meet the others outside the building, huddled together at the bottom of the concrete steps. Deb puts her cigarette out on top of a trashcan when you both approach.

“Well, we thought you weren’t comin’,” she utters to Joel.

He lifts his eyebrows in response, hands slipping into his pockets, and glances around the group. “We goin’?”

“Waiting for your driver, Mr. CEO.” Martha winks.

“Aha,” Joel replies, face unmoving, “funny.”

“It’s, like, two blocks, we can walk,” you say, setting off down the street. Joel’s quick to follow, strolling at your side, but there’s a chorus of groans from the rest of your party. “Come on!” you yell over your shoulder.

“We’re supposed to be dining with the head of the fuckin’ company!” Martha cries, and Deb cackles.

“I gotta live like the rest of y’all sometimes,” Joel shrugs, walking backward, “keeps my feet rooted, doesn’t it?”

“I hate you,” you mutter, and he knocks into your shoulder with his own.

The Courtyard is bright, modern, and…beige. It’s only Joel’s favorite because it was a buddy of his from grad school who opened it, but you’re the only person he’s entrusted with that information. It’s decent food – they do a great chicken risotto – and it is always busy, so Drew must be doing alright with it.

You walk under a fake ivy plant covering the entrance, past twinkling fairy lights and to a rustic wooden reception area. Some hyper server comes bounding over and introduces himself as Jake, before Martha gives the name of the reservation and he batters it into a keyboard.

“Lopez?” you ask Martha, screwing your face up.

“Yeah. Comma Jennifer. I like to make it exciting.”

“If you wanted exciting, go for Beyoncé, or something. Lopez?”

“You really think Beyoncé is gonna come eat here?”

“You really think Jennifer Lopez is?”

She bats you away, turning her attention to Deb, who finds the JLo joke hilarious. When Jake springs off, beckoning you all to follow him, Joel leans in close to you.

“She used to use Pamela Anderson. Glad she’s evolved a little.”

You snort and follow Jake toward the same table Joel always sits at: the very back of the restaurant, quieter, separated by screens of more fake greenery. Windows looking out over the busy streets. Bare lightbulbs hanging from unnecessarily long wires over the tables.

Joel pulls your chair out for you and slots in beside you, on your right. Martha, Deb, and James – who hasn’t said or done much more than chortle at anything Joel’s said – sit opposite. Jake borderline frisbees the menus at you guys and tells you to give him a shout when you’re ready to order.

You turn to Joel who shakes his head, hand cupping his chin.

The five of you scan down the menus – at least, you, Joel and Martha pretend to. You’ve been coming here regularly enough for long enough that you know what you’ll inevitably end up ordering. James is asking Deb if the steak might fill him up too much before his squash practice later on tonight when you feel a familiar heat on your leg, and look past your menu to see Joel’s hand curving around your thigh.

You hold back a smile, pretending to be really into the laminated sheet in your hands. So long as he keeps it PG, and James keeps rabbiting on about squash being good for your hand-eye co-ordination, this is fine. This is…enjoyable.

This is exactly what you fucking wanted, when you organized lunch.

But when Jake returns to collect the menus under his arm then scurries back off, and Martha and Deb start discussing some TV show they’re both hooked on, Joel’s hand begins to rake higher. Taking the hem of your skirt with it. You suck in a deep breath, pretending to watch the two women and trying your best to listen to the words they’re saying, but he’s getting dangerously close to your–

“You ever try squash, Joel?”

“Huh?” Joel’s hand halts instantly. You exhale.

James is sitting forward, elbows on the table, nodding with a perfectly innocent smile on his face. “Squash. Yeah. I play every Friday evening, straight after work. It’s fantastic for shakin’ off that week-long stress, y’know? Not that workin’ here is a stress, but sometimes it can build up, sometimes you just need something to…” He balls his fists and jerks them, gritting his teeth.

You choke on a laugh and play it off as a cough.

Joel shifts a little in his seat, his palm still clamped around the top of your thigh. “Never played squash. More of a golfing guy.”

“That what you’re gonna do this weekend? Burn off all that stress you’ve had with a round of golf?” you ask Joel, lips almost trembling with the effort it’s taking you not to burst out laughing.

“Not what I had in mind, naw,” he almost spits back.

“Well, if you ever wanna try it, you know who to call. Squash, I mean. I mean – sorry, I don’t mean call squash. I mean call me. To try squash. You won’t find a better stress reliever.”

“Thanks, James,” Joel mutters, fingers fumbling with the cutlery on the table in front of him.

You could fucking burst. No better stress reliever than squash, right Joel? Nothing like it. Not even the one sitting next to you, her thigh under your grasp. Nope.

You’re thankful when Martha calls your name and averts your attention.

“You have got to watch it. I reckon she’d really love it, right?”

Deb nods eagerly.

“What’s that?” you ask.

They both start chirping away, describing the plot of some mystery thriller. It’s hard to keep up, what with them both speaking over one another, deciding which parts are safe to tell you and No, we can’t tell her that, that’s a spoiler, which actors are in it and how many episodes it took for them to really get into it.

Not to mention Joel’s hand, which has resumed its climb up your leg.

“There are three seasons,” Martha says, finger drawing shapes on her placemat, “and do not go lookin’ online for anything, because at the end of season two, there’s a massive death, and…”

Your thighs are bare again, skirt rolled up and held at the top of your legs by Joel’s wrist. He’s squeezing as he goes, massaging, driving you fucking insane as he adds more and more pressure. Still, your legs part for him the higher he goes.

“W-what– where can I watch it?” you ask, your eyes closing over as Joel’s fingers loosen their grip.

Deb says something, but it’s muffled. Drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Joel’s right hand sits under his chin, elbow propped on the table as if he’s musing over the weather or considering what to do with his weekend.

His left moves swiftly over to run along the elastic of your panties. Sift his thumb down below them. Fingers drop to cup you over the lace fabric. Suddenly, you’re sitting upright, your arms propping on the table, then falling to your lap, then one elbow up, then both down again.

What the fuck– how the fuck do you make this look casual? Being touched by your boss at lunch, with three colleagues sat opposite you?

Joel seems to be enjoying watching you squirm. You hear him breathe a laugh into his hand, and then his fingers begin to travel even further south, moving your panties to the side to sift through your folds.

Which are, regrettably, fucking soaked.

“Hm,” you hear Joel hum, and you can’t look at him. Knowing he’s found exactly what he was looking for. Knowing he’s achieved exactly what he set out to do.

You sit stunned, staying completely still for fear you might draw attention from your company. But then he’s dipping a finger in, pushing deep inside you, and your jaw falls loose, a silent moan escaping in the form of a sigh.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Martha addresses you and Joel, “as requested, flights organized. You leave for Paris next Friday morning, fly home Monday afternoon.”

“Yep,” you reply, shuddering slightly. “Sounds good.”

You’re not fucking listening to a word she’s saying.

“Thanks, Martha,” Joel says, as casual as if he were telling her the time. Almost bored.

You drop your hand and it clamps around Joel’s wrist; you’re sure you’re scratching him, but you don’t care. Not only does he deserve it, but it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming out when he inserts a second finger.

You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer.

You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

It’s the last push. The last fucking shove.

Your walls clamp around his fist, your entire body screams, a scream that forcibly dies out in your throat as you lean forward and –

You slam your fist down on the tabletop, the sudden jolt of cutlery and glass making the three opposite you jump.

“Are you– what’s wrong?” Martha asks, leaning closer.

“Cr– fuck– cramp,” you mumble, eyes screwed shut, hand still gripping Joel’s wrist. He slowly drags his soaked fingers out of your tight cunt, casually maneuvering his arm back where it belongs whilst the table’s attention is still on your head and shoulders.

“Cramp?”

“My – fucking – leg. I’ll be – right back.” You’re almost hyperventilating as you shakily stand, shoving your chair back with your legs only for it to be caught by the hand Joel had inside you seconds before.

You waddle off to the front of the restaurant, nearly breaking out into a run when you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The door to the ladies room bursts open and you throw yourself against a sink, gripping onto the ceramic, chest heaving, shoulders hunched. Your cunt is still throbbing, waves of your orgasm slowly losing power and retreating.

You wave your hand under the faucet and cold water automatically flows, filling your cupped hands, cooling your blood, cooling your skin when you dab it onto your cheeks. You sigh with relief, leaning against the sink, catching pathetic glimpses of yourself in the mirror.

And then, the door pushes open. And his silhouette sneaks inside. He leans back against the wall, hands in his pockets. Face with a smirk you want to slap off of him.

“How’s the cramp?”

“Are you fucking–” You flick your hands toward him, splashing him with water as he throws an arm up to dodge it, laughing. That fucking laugh.

He wanders around you, looking your shaking body up and down, and comes to a halt with his chest against your back. His chin leans into your shoulder, and you look at each other in the mirror.

It takes everything in you to fight the smile growing on your lips, but when Joel mirrors it, you can’t help it.

“Fucker,” you whisper, and he kisses your shoulder. You lean back into him, ass pressing against him, feeling something you already suspected would be there.

“Feel what you did to me?” he asks, voice muffled into the cotton of your shirt.

“Mhm,” you reply, and you drop your hand to take the outline of him through his pants.

“You wanna fix it for me?”

Your head rolls back against his shoulder, smutty grin melting across your face. “Yeah, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he tells you, lips dragging across your neck, hands at his belt.

Your fingers clutch your skirt, still hiked halfway up your thighs, and pull it further. Joel’s hands replace yours on your hips and he shoves his pants apart, lining his bulge up with your core. Then his palm is at the bottom of your back, pushing you forward into position. Your knuckles whiten around the ceramic sink.

“Fuck,” you whisper when you feel his tip at your entrance. You’re already soaked through, no need for him to take his time. Not that you have time, anyway, with three coworkers out front waiting for the two of you.

Joel thrusts forward, entering you in one go, filling you up so fast you nearly double over. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, dragging you up and down the top of his cock a few times before slamming all the way into you again, eliciting a cry from your lips.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, low, dangerous. “Just gettin’ you warmed up.”

“Your hand wasn’t enough of a warmup?” you throw over your shoulder, and he takes your arms and pulls you flush against him.

“You gonna run that pretty mouth the entire time we’re in here, or you gonna let me fuck you?” he breathes around the shell of your ear.

“Both.”

You bite back a whimper when his hips buck into you painfully. A telling: don’t start.

Joel establishes a pace quick enough, both of you aware you can’t take too long in here. His grunts match the rate his body snaps against yours, your panting matches the rate you bounce up and down on him.

You’re watching the sight reflected in the mirror: Joel hooked around your shoulder, lips against your ear, whispering praises and filth, and you, leaning back against him, rutting on his hard cock with a thick smile on your lips.

“Daddy…” you whine, and Joel’s vice grip tightens even more.

“Good girl,” he pants, “so fuckin’ good for me.”

It’s not long before that heat is swirling around your core again, sparks of lightning jolting through the whirlwind of pleasure Joel’s hips create between yours. You take a hold of his arms for stability as you begin to feel your orgasm crest the horizon, knowing by the sounds he’s making in your ear that Joel isn’t far off, either.

“Cum in me,” you whimper, watching for his reaction in the mirror.

He pulls a face that’s almost…defeated. Groans like you’ve given him an impossible problem to solve.

You plead with your eyes. “Cum – in – me.”

It’s like you’re pressing on the weakest part of a porcelain vase; daring it to break. Daring it to fall apart. Joel knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s more sensible not to. But the way you look, body against his, whining and whimpering and fucking smiling right back at him – the way you feel, so warm and wet, squeezing him so tight he’s surprised he’s even lasted this long…

He can’t fucking help himself.

He moans and his hands clamp on your waist, forcing you forward as he ruts into you once, twice, three times before he’s twitching deep inside, warm seed spilling out and coating your walls. Your release floods over you, then, too, your head falling forward as your legs give for a few seconds, Joel’s grip the only thing keeping you upright.

Stars in your eyes, you pull the strength to lift your head and look at your reflection; Joel behind you, face to the ceiling as he slowly stills between your legs.

Your cunt throbs, and you move your hips back and forth gently, drawing a noise from Joel that you wish you could never stop hearing.

“Baby,” he lulls, looking down to watch as your dripping cunt rocks back and forth, taking him all and then letting him go again.

It’s a minute or so before you both return to reality. Bodies still connected, Joel places a steady kiss to your cheek. You lean into him, turning to place your lips against his. You’re both hot, sweaty, it’s probably pretty noticeable you just fucked.

And you don’t care.

Joel slips out of you and backs up, letting you fix yourself in the mirror as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

“You think you can walk back to the office?” he asks, smirking.

“Call Rand,” you reply, and his head tips back in a laugh.

He nods toward the door and the pair of you slip out discreetly, you first to check the coast is clear, and Joel right behind. You walk along the hallway, heels clicking, like you’ve just come across each other right outside the restrooms.

“Hey, Joel,” a voice says from behind you both as you wander past the bar.

“Drew,” Joel replies, and shakes the hand of a tall blonde guy in all black. His t-shirt’s so tight you can make out his pecs underneath it.

“How’s it goin’? You been in long?”

“Just waitin’ for our food,” Joel says, “it’s probably out by now.” He glances over at you and your legs clench subconsciously. He introduces you then, says, “My assistant. Best assistant I could ask for,” and your lungs close up.

Drew shakes your hand and then turns back to Joel. “Don’t go without catchin’ me, ain’t lettin’ you pay a thing. How’s business?”

Joel nods. “Good, good. We’re, uh, we’re heading out to Europe next week, so.”

“Jean-Marc?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. Place is lookin’ good, same as always.” Joel glances around, pointing randomly to the light fixture above your heads.

Drew does that thing men do when trapped in a dry conversation: folds his arms, looks to the floor, and nods some more. Waiting for Joel to say —

“Alright, well. Great seein’ you again. Thanks for lunch.”

He puts an arm around your back and guides you off back to the table.

“Nice meetin’ you.” You smile at Drew as you pass and he returns it, turning back to the bar.

Once you’re out of earshot, you look over to Joel.

“Something going on there?”

“Huh?”

You scoff. “You two couldn’t wait to be away from each other. Why’d you always come here if it’s so awkward?”

“Well, if I see ‘im, I get free food.”

You slap his arm as he pulls your chair back out for you.

“Feelin’ better?” Deb asks, pushing French fries around her plate.

You nod, pulling your seat in beside Joel, who’s still laughing at himself. As you settle, you feel the warmth he left behind spill out of you a little, pooling in your underwear. And Joel seems to notice, whether from some sexual sixth sense he has when it comes to you, or just the way you awkwardly shift in your seat. He hands you a smug smirk, nudging you with his elbow.

You narrow your eyes at him and turn back to Martha.

“So, you were saying you fixed the flights for Paris?”

----------

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proxima-writes · 11 months

Text

the last great american dynasty

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.8k (whoops)

summary:

He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream

author's note:

inspo board this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.

tags/warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!

August 20, 1948

I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.

I just hope it will be good for me.

-R

PRESENT DAY

If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.

Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.

A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes.

“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly.

“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”

“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”

He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.

My Dearest,

You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have. She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.

In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.

-R

You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully.

“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them.

“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”

“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”

Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer.

“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”

“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site.

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”

“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe.

The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.

He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story.

He just hopes he’ll get his chance.

You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.

“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”

“Actually—”

“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“This is—”

The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”

The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.

His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.

“You were saying?”

Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street.

He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.

“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you.

He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.

“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”

“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places.

“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”

“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”

Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”

“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”

With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.

November 12, 1948

There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters.

His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.

-R

“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening.

“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.

“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks.

“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him.

Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.

You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.

“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you.

You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face.

“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.

“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”

He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”

“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”

“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”

You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.

“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”

Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”

It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.

“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.

In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.

“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.

“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.”

Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”

“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”

“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”

“Hell yeah.”

August 23, 1949

William and I have just been married.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.

I must be dreaming.

-R

Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.

It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning.

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”

“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch.

“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.

“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”

“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”

“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”

Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.

January 3, 1950

Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all.

The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.

-R

“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.

“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”

You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue.

“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”

“What were you thinking for in there?”

“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”

“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.

Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”

February 2, 1956

William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him.

I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.

-R

Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.

He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins.

“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”

Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”

“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.

You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.

September 23, 1956

Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

I love them both with my whole heart and soul.

-R

Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries.

Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.

In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate.

“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake.

“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”

She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.

“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”

July 16, 1958

William…

William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me.

I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him.

But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.

-R

When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside.

“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”

He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”

“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”

You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.

“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.

Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”

There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.

“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”

“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands.

It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age.

“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”

Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open.

May 17, 1974

We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do?

-R

May 18, 1974

Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.

It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.

-R

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”

“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza.

“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”

“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”

You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.

“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce.

October 29, 1976

I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.

My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address.

As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.

-R

Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color.

You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.

You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.

“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him.

“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.

“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.

“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.

You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.

“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.

He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.

Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.

“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.

“What’s my prize?”

Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”

With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.

His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.

“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”

“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”

You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”

“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.

Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.

Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.

Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.

“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please.”

His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar.

He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.

“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you.

You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.

Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.

“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.

“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs.

“What do you say to a shower?”

You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway.

“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”

You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.

June 27, 1993

The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.

Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.

-R

ONE YEAR LATER

The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover.

When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”

You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.

“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head.

“It’s even better.”

June 29, 1993

I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.

Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.

Imagine that.

-R

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #tlou fic #taylor swift folklore #folklore anthology #joel miller folklore

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alt-vera · 4 months

Text

— whiskey girl ⁀➷

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joel miller gives his whiskey girl a gift.

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✿ | joel miller | 1.06k | ❛ whiskey girl - toby keith ❜ | part one

warnings: pre outbreak!joel miller. drinking. allude to sex. age gap.

note: who knows when im gonna post again lol stay tuned for part two tho

❝ just ain’t enough good burn in tequila, she needs somethin’ with a little more edge and a little more pain ❞

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JOEL MILLER LIKED HIS GIRLS LIKE HE LIKED HIS DRINKS.

　Strong, neat, and not cheap enough to make him gag.

　That’s why he liked you: a farmer’s granddaughter majoring in agriculture who worked hard for what she had and knew the value of respecting those around her without being walked over. A little ragged on the edges, but Joel liked ‘em rough.

　Same could be said for you. You liked Joel for the same reasons he fawned over you. He was charming, and assiduous, with enough edge worn into his features to draw you in at the drop of a dime.

　So, when you invited Joel to a local dive bar on an eventless friday night, he sure as hell wasn’t going to say no. It was rare for you both to be free; usually he was working late, or you had classes, or tests, or were helping on the farm.

　He saw your worn mustang parked by the entrance, and spotted you instantaneously as he walked inside. A welcoming aura surrounded you as you chatted with some old men, presumably other farmers who knew you from your last name and came in for a drink after a sweltering day of plowing fields. Your smile gleamed under the warm lights of the bar, and Joel couldn’t help it as his lips curled into a smile just from looking at you.

　“Haven’t been making you wait long, have i?” He drawled as he sauntered up to you, hand making it’s way into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you closer to him.

　You directed your smile his way before bidding your goodbyes to the old folks. “‘Course not, Miller. You know that if you did, i would’ve given you hell as soon as you set foot in the door.”

　Joel chuckled, running his free hand through his messy hair. “Fair enough, darlin’. You need a drink?”

　“Please,” You replied, and Joel put two fingers in his mouth, throwing a loud whistle at the bartender.

　“Can i get a beer and a, uh,” He glanced over to you for a moment, deep eyes meeting your own, before a smirked danced across his features, “…a whiskey, neat, for my girl, please.”

　You couldn’t help as your cheeks warmed at his words. My girl. You rolled your eyes, turning your face away from him so that he couldn’t see the ruddy heat spreading across your face.

　The two of you didn’t have a label. You drank together, you kissed, you fucked. You’d make dinner for him and his daughter, and he’d take you for drives at sunset down empty country roads, radio blasting through the open heat waves as you yelled gleefully out the windows.

　Still, anyone who looked at you and Joel knew there was something there, even when his hand wasn’t in your back pocket or your fingers were grasping his forearm. You were his girl. And he was your guy. No denomination necessary.

　One whiskey turned to three before you were singing along to the jukebox in the corner of the bar, holding up invisible microphones to random folks who’d join you in your performance. Joel watched, amused, as you twirled around to the twang of the guitar blaring through the speakers. His smile grew as you crept closer to him, pretending to reel him in to dance with you like a fish caught on a worm.

　Little did you know that you already had him from the moment he met you. Hook, line, and sinker.

　His hand found yours as he gave in, not much of a dancer, but eager to spin you around. You let him lead you, swaying to the pace of the music, pulling you closer to him as the tempo continued on.

　He pulled you flush against him. Forgetting the music, forgetting the dancing, forgetting the watching eyes. He kissed you, a passionate catch of the lips that left you craving more, the dull glow of amber above you acting like a spotlight that shone on you and Joel solely.

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　Joel couldn’t help himself as reached a hand up and drew a sloppy happy face on the fogged up windows of your mustang. Your head laid on his bare chest as you both fought to catch your breath, crickets chirping loudly in the farm field, audible even through the barrier of your car.

　You felt him bury his nose in your hair, breathing in the smell of you. Vanilla, and sweet musk, and whiskey. He felt you smile against his pec, eyes stealing a glance up to meet his.

　“I have a present for you,” He spoke suddenly, voice worn and husky.

　“Better than the way you just fucked me?” You joked with a light chuckle, feeling his arm move as he went to fish something out of his jeans that had fell on the floor of your backseat.

　He held the gift in his large hand before opening his palm to you to reveal a small wooden box. His fingers inched it open, and inside was a thin-banded ring with a dainty diamond in the middle.

　You turned dreadfully quiet as you stared at the band, and an anxious prickle crept over Joel’s skin.

　You raised yourself off his chest, turning to look at him. “Joel, if you’re proposing to me before even asking me to be your girlfriend, then i’m going to chuck this out into the field.”

　“What?” He laughed, inching so that he was sitting upright. “No, no, it’s a promise ring,” He said, plucking the jewellery out of the box and grabbing your hand, pushing it delicately onto your ring finger.

　“Ever since Sarah’s mom up and left, datin’ has been hard. I didn’t even wanna look at another woman—“ Joel’s deep eyes met yours, and you felt your heart swell, “—Until i met you.”

　“I don’t want t’distract you from your studies,” He continued, “But you’re my girl, and i want everyone to know it.”

　There it was again. My girl. Your pulse raced as you kissed him eagerly, full of adoration. Joel could still taste the smooth relish of whiskey on your breath.

　You smiled at him euphorically as you pulled away, words leaving your lips before you could even register the weight of them. “I love you, Joel.”

　Joel’s thumb stroked your cheek affectionately, returning your grin. “I love you too, my little whiskey girl.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #smut #joel miller self insert #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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joons · 3 months

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This may be a prickly subject, and I'm sorry if so. But I'm trying to learn more about Elvis, and every time I bring him up to people I know, they try to tell me he was this terrible person, and point me toward Priscilla's book, the movie made on it, and the discourse. Idk if you've talked about it on here (I tried searching your blog but couldn't find anything on it). If you're willing, I'd love to hear your take on it so I can see a more nuanced view.

The film Priscilla was greenlit roughly a month after Priscilla herself was informed that she was close to becoming financially insolvent in 2022. With a business partner, Brigitte Kruse, who allegedly helped broker the film deal, she established a limited liability company called Priscilla Presley Partners that was supposed to use her image and likeness to create several lines of merchandise to coincide with the film's release. That business partner is now suing Priscilla because she did not have the rights to her image or likeness, or any ability to use the Presley name, because she had already sold all of those rights and was no longer considered in good standing with Graceland or Elvis Presley Enterprises. The entire business deal, then, according to the lawsuit, was built on her misrepresentation of how much her image was worth.

The deal between the two of them fell apart after Riley Keough, Lisa Marie's daughter and Priscilla's granddaughter, settled with Priscilla to give her a lump sum of $1 million from Lisa Marie's estate and yearly amounts of $100,000. Priscilla sued very shortly after Lisa Marie's death because she thought Lisa Marie's signature on a will had been forged because Priscilla was not included in it. All of the assets were supposed to go directly to Lisa Marie's son, Benjamin Keough, who died in 2020, and her three daughters, two of whom are still teenagers. Now, part of those assets have been claimed by Priscilla and her other son, Navarone, who has no connection to the Presley family and has stated he is glad Lisa died.

Four months before Lisa's death, Lisa wrote to Sofia Coppola and made it clear she had strong concerns about the Priscilla film and was suspicious of the intentions behind it:

"As his daughter, I don’t read this and see any of my father in this character. I don’t read this and see my mother’s perspective of my father. ... I will be forced to be in a position where I will have to openly say how I feel about the film and go against you, my mother and this film publicly."

Lisa was enormously grateful for efforts put into 2022's Elvis to find her father's soul and to restore his dignity in a world that often turns him and his family into a joke:

"You can feel and witness Baz’s pure love, care, and respect for my father throughout this beautiful film, and it is finally something that myself and my children and their children can be proud of forever."

It is such a strong and powerful statement, to see how much Lisa valued family, not just her father but her own children and their legacy, and how willing she was to speak up no matter what was going on in her personal life to say what was right. On this and many other things, Lisa and Priscilla's values have rarely been in alignment. A friend and EPE business associate, Joel Weinshanker, said of her, "Lisa couldn't be bought, she couldn't be pushed. If she felt that something wasn't in Elvis' best interest, it was never about money. And she really is the only Presley that you could say that about."

Priscilla, though, has adjusted her stories about her time with Elvis almost every time she discusses it. For a quick example, she said in her book, which was released in 1985, that Elvis insisted she do her hair and makeup a certain way, that he had control over her look and would get upset if she didn't dress how he wanted. But in an interview with Ladies' Home Journal in 1973, she said that she made a deliberate choice to attend makeup school so that she could learn how to style herself, and that it was her idea to wear big, black hair and big, black eyeliner. She said she was embarrassed for going overboard. She said, "I wish that Elvis had said something, but he must have liked it because he never commented." This lines up with recollections from Patti Parry, a platonic friend of Elvis' and a hairstylist, who said Priscilla always wanted Patti to do her hair in a "big boombah," but that Priscilla would then get upset when Elvis didn't notice or didn't like it.

These changes are impossible not to notice if you follow her for any length of time. At the film premiere, she said it felt just like watching her life and said she was consulted on everything, since she was an executive producer. After the film came out, she said she couldn't understand why Coppola had changed so much about the story and misrepresented events. In the '70s, she said she and Elvis lived almost totally separate lives, that she came and went as she pleased, and that she loved this freedom. Later, she said she felt completely stifled and trapped and never left the house, even though she had friends she went out with all the time. In 2019, she tweeted a forceful denial about a National Enquirer story: "This is the Enquirer folks... please don't believe everything you read. ... Never planned on being buried next to Elvis. What will they come up with next?" But part of her settlement demands in her lawsuit against Riley in 2023 asked "to be buried next to Elvis." This year, she said in two separate interviews that Lisa was with her when Elvis died and that Priscilla had to break the news to her, despite the fact that Lisa was at Graceland when it happened. She has said she gave Elvis the idea to wear belts on his jumpsuits, to have a lightning bolt as his logo, to sing "An American Trilogy," though none of that is true. She retells the story about forcing Elvis to burn all of his spiritual books to prove he loved her as an almost funny anecdote about debrainwashing him, while Elvis later said it was the worst thing he ever agreed to, a desperate attempt to make her happy by giving up the things he valued the most. (For the record, this is my opinion about their relationship on both sides: thinking they could change themselves and each other to make it work. It never did.)

Every secondhand Elvis account has to be treated lightly and only valued for its consistency with known facts and other witnesses. I try to give enormous benefit of the doubt to anyone in the Elvis world because they often only have partial knowledge of what Elvis may have been thinking at any given time, and there are numerous examples of people who were taken advantage of by unscrupulous journalists who changed the story they wanted to tell. But Priscilla's stories sometimes are not even consistent with her own statements, which makes them very poor options indeed to base anything on. However careful we are about noting potential biases and inaccuracies in other memoirs, we have to be triply, quadruply careful with anything in which Priscilla involves herself because she has a vested interest in generating discourse today in order to make money. Unfortunately, Priscilla has a habit of stifling other accounts or making sensationalized statements each time there is a possibility that she will lose some of the cachet that comes with being an Elvis Source—after Elvis' death, when she believed she was going to inherit his airplane and disinvited everyone that Vernon said could fly in it to his funeral; when she sued the parents of one of Elvis' ex-girlfriends after he died because he had allowed them to live rent-free in a house he bought for them; when she claimed that Elvis wanted to reunite with her before his death, despite the fact that he was engaged to someone else and told many people he couldn't see a reunion ever happening with her; before Vernon's death, when she convinced him to make her an executor of the Presley estate until Lisa came of age; after Lisa came of age, when she convinced Lisa to let her stay on as partner; when Lisa accused Priscilla of misspending Lisa's money, during which time anonymous sources cropped up to say Lisa was in debt and drug-addled; when Priscilla was removed from her position as an EPE spokesperson but kept collecting $900,000 a year from the company; when Lisa died, and Priscilla sued once she learned she wasn't in the will; when Priscilla was no longer associated with EPE and decided to do another adaptation of a book that she has since recanted parts of and has contradicted before and after its release.

When Priscilla thinks there is a threat to her image and position, she does new interviews and projects to muddy the waters and stir public interest, whether it is true or false, positive or negative, laudatory or defamatory. She gets corrected by Elvis' surviving family members, girlfriends, friends, and fans, but these stories do not get the same reach no matter how much they are backed by contemporaneous documents and witnesses, or how many resources there are to educate the public on how Elvis' and Priscilla's attitudes about marriage and relationships changed—along with the rest of society—between 1960 and 1970.

I think almost any single-source project is not going to advance our understanding of Elvis in any way because no one individual can speak for him, and we are kind of obligated to include all the context we can in order to appreciate his character, his successes and failures, flaws and virtues—and to treat both himself and those around him as fully three-dimensional people who have their own blind spots. Priscilla is far too aware of her own image, and far too willing to change it to suit the audience, to be particularly valuable here.

She is next scheduled to appear at the Lexington (Kentucky) Comic & Toy Con.

#please know that for each of these stories i have tried to see things from her perspective #and then something happens again #and again and again #so i have simply stopped trying and accepted that i don't like her or find her credible as far as these things go #i don't imagine i should be privy to all their family drama so of course some of this may change over time #but there are far far far better sources for learning about elvis!#an easy gateway would be ashley's adventures and elvis fans matter on youtube!#ashley does a lot of fun documentation of graceland and efm is the family channel of billy and jo smith #they are elvis' cousin and his wife who were with elvis a lot and they have good human stories #same caveat goes for them: they might not know everything #but i just like the format better than books

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j0elmill3r · 1 year

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babygirl teaching her daughter how to say grandpa so they can surprise joel 🥹

"Sarah, baby, look at mama," You crouched down in front of your daughter, grinning back at her as she smiled at you widely. "Can you say grandpa?" You spoke the last word slowly to try and get her to follow along with your speech.

"G'a'pa!" She cheered, pleased within herself at her attempt at the very complicated word you had asked of her. You giggled, you were happy enough with her attempt, so held your hand out for her to take and help her get down from the chair. "We goin' to see him?" Sarah asked you hopefully, her wide, innocent, eyes looking up at you. You smiled as you nodded.

"Yeah, and when we see him I want you to yell out his name as loud as you can, baby, okay?" Sarah nodded, skipping along with you as you walked down the street to your dads house. You smiled softly to yourself, hearing the gentle plucking of guitar strings coming from the porch as you made your way up the side enterance steps. You looked down, hearing your daughter gasp in excitement and let go of your hand. "Sarah!" You called out after her in a futile attempt to get her attention.

"G'an'pa!" She called out, making her way to your dad, who set his guitar aside and await the imminent arrival of his granddaughter. Joel grinned, but faltered a little as he let out a groan as he bent down to pick her up and sit her on his lap. "Hi!"

"Hey, sweetheart," He greeted her, placing a small kiss on her forehead. "Where's your mama, huh?" Joel smiled as Sarah shrugged, a wide smile on her face.

"I dunno, but mama old and slow," She smiled, making Joel chuckle at the thought of your daughter thinking that you were old. "Always sayin her back sore." Sarah gave Joel a dramatic re-enactment of you cracking your back.

"Well your mama has a sore back sometimes because when you were in her tummy you were heavy on her back from carrying you," Joel explained to her. Sarah made a small 'oh' sound and nodded, smiling as you came out onto the porch, holding a cup of juice out to your dad to take for her. "Hey baby girl. You know, Sarah called you old." Your dad told you, making you laugh.

"Oh really? Well wait until she finds out how old you are, grandpa."

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#joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller hbo #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller #grandpa!joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller requests #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hbo the last of us #the last of us #x daughter reader #x daughter #x daughter!reader

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angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

we fell in love in october

abby anderson x reader x ellie williams

cw : fluff, tears, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of birth, grandpa joel and grandpa jerry.

a/n : literally so short but i needed to get this out of my brain before i died (of baby fever)

Abby held the tiny bundle in her arms as Ellie and Joel crowded around her to catch a glimpse. She’d only been in the world for twenty minutes before the village of a family poured in itching to see their newest addition, gasping in awe as they took in her tiny blushed figure swaddled in a thick layer of blanket to counteract the cool fall air that drifted in from the open window.

You smiled at the sight, looking over to Jerry as you nodded towards the group. “Go see your granddaughter, worry about me later.” He had been hovering by your side the entire time, watching you carefully just in case anything went wrong at the last minute but you couldn’t bear seeing Abby experience this moment without him. “I’m fine, trust me.”

For a moment you thought you heard Dina and Jesse outside, awaiting their turn to see the baby- but Ellie’s soft voice caught your attention, drawing you back to the moment at hand.

She was all tears, kneeling by your bedside now as she broke away from the group. “Oh, baby. You did so well.” She hiccuped, brushing the hair from your face. She had slight dark circles around her eyes, showing just how long she had spent pacing around your room, the hallway, the bathroom, and even the courtyard as she waited patiently. “She looks just like you.”

Abby handed the baby off to Joel, letting him and her dad coo over the angel as she came to rest beside Ellie, intertwining her fingers with the brunette before ghosting her free hand over yours- nervous to be too rough after the day you’d been through. “God, she is so beautiful.” She stated, a small sigh leaving her lips as she peered up at you through her thick lashes. She never thought she’d see the day she’d make her dad and grandpa, yet here it was, and something inside of her knew she’d never be able to live without this. Without the family the three of you had created.

You nodded, moving a weak hand to grip onto hers. “She’s ours. Our baby girl.” You reminded them, through the entire pregnancy- your biggest fear had been either of your girls feeling less than the other when it came to being your daughters mom. Yet as you saw the tear streaks that adorned both of their faces, you couldn’t deny their claim to her parentage. Maybe biologically, you were her only connection, but emotionally the women before you had taken on the role of mother long before she’d ever even seen the sun.

“Thank you.” Ellie breathed, resting her head on Abby’s shoulder.

The two held each other close, Abby being as gentle as she could as she peppered soft kisses on your knuckles. The sound of soft laughter and sniffles filled your ears as you let yourself finally begin to relax for the first time since you went into labor. There was nothing as sweet as the love that pulsed through the room, spilling out the windows and into the depths of Jackson, swallowing up the dangers that waited outside the walls and allowing the world to feel a lot softer than it had in a very long time.

All it took was a little girl born on the first of October.

#abby anderson x reader x ellie williams #abby x reader x ellie #abby anderson x you #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #abby tlou #ellie tlou #joel miller #jerry anderson #polyamory #lesbian #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou part two #tlou x reader

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

Text

Lavender No Outbreak AU - Ch. 3

Things change for the Miller family. A continuation of Lavender No Outbreak AU Ch. 1-2 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Just a lot of fluff. Whole fic as smut and some mature themes so Minors DNI 18+ only. No use of Y/N.

Length: 3.3K

Friday, January 16, 2004

“Last chance, Miller,” you smiled, elbowing him playfully in the side. “Think Tommy would drive the getaway car if you need…”

“Nope,” Tommy shook his head. “That idiot’s on his own if he takes off now. He fucks up again though, Kid, just gimme a call…”

He gave you a wink.

“Language Uncle Tommy,” Sarah looked scandalized. “There are children present!”

“Just you,” Tommy winked. “You don’t count.”

“Thank you,” Joel said wryly. “Thank you for both of those things, Tommy.”

“Any time, brother,” he clapped Joel on the shoulder with a smirk before leaning around him to talk to you. “His feet are plenty warm, Kid.”

“You think a little formality is gonna scare me off now?” Joel tugged you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Thought the bureaucracy might do it,” you teased, fidgeting with the small bouquet that Cass had brought you. “Feel a little silly wearing white though.”

“Don’t look silly,” he said. “Most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen…”

“You’re biased,” you said.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to run off and start a commune?” Cass asked. “I’ll leave Josh right now.”

“Hey!” Josh protested.

“Oh hush,” she waved him off.

You laughed.

“I think we’re making it down the aisle, folks,” you smiled.

“About time,” Sarah smiled.

The door to the court room opened.

“The Miller wedding?”

Joel looked at you and smiled.

“Ready Baby?”

He offered you his hand. You smiled and took it.

“Ready.”

You’d never been the type to dream about your wedding day. You never even really wanted to get married, not until you met Joel. After that, you’d thought a lot more about what it would mean to be his wife than the day itself.

But standing at the courthouse with Joel, Sarah, Tommy and Cass? It was exactly the day you wanted.

Joel was right, it really had been more of a formality than anything. When he left a few days after he showed up at your school, things felt a lot more real.

The two of you told Nan together. That you were pregnant, that you were engaged, that you were moving back to Austin. Her cancer had been in remission for more than a year at that point and leaving her alone felt, while not quite right, doable at least.

“I supposed there’s no way to change your mind,” she’d sighed, sounding resigned. You just shook your head. She turned her attention to Joel. “Are you marrying my granddaughter out of some archaic notion that you should because you got her pregnant? Because if you’re only going to leave her in five years, I’d rather you cut to the chase.”

“No ma’am,” he said before looking at you. “I’m marrying her because I love her more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. Love someone like that, you marry them. If they’ll have you.”

You flew down over Thanksgiving break to tell Sarah and Tommy the news together in person. Tommy just pulled Joel into a tight hug and clapped him on the back when he came into the kitchen to get a drink as you basted the turkey, your bump a lot more noticeable than it had been when you were in town a month before.

“Could’ve fuckin’ told me, man,” Tommy clapped Joel on the back. “Good for you. Finally lockin’ that down?”

“That’s the idea,” Joel smiled.

“About fuckin’ time,” Tommy said.

Sarah, on the other hand, got a bit of a softer introduction to the idea. You wore a bulky sweatshirt on the plane and sat down with her in the living room as soon as you were home from the airport. Joel’s hand was laced in yours, Sarah sitting on the couch while you both stood in front of her.

“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?” She frowned. “Because I swear I didn’t do it.”

“Not in trouble,” Joel laughed a little. “We have some news. You know we got back together…”

“Yeah,” her frown deepened.

“Well, we decided to get married, too,” he said.

“What!” She shrieked, leaping off the couch and launching herself at you. You caught her with a laugh, Joel grabbing you to help you stay upright. “Ugh FINALLY!”

“OK well let’s be a little more careful,” Joel said, Sarah’s arms still around your neck. “Because she’s pregnant, too…” “What!” She let you go and looked between the two of you. “I mean ew, don’t want to think about WHY but oh my GOD! You’re having a baby?”

“Yup,” you nodded. “It’s your last Christmas as an only child, kiddo, enjoy it while you can.”

You moved down at the end of the semester, Joel flying up so you wouldn’t be driving or doing any heavy lifting. You settled in quickly, life so much like what it had been before you moved back to New York. You signed up to work as a substitute teacher at the local school district - Sarah even giving you her blessing to teach at the high school where she went - and studied for the MCATs. Life felt so natural, you hadn’t really thought further about the wedding.

“Did you want to do something big?” Joel asked one evening in late December, your feet in his lap as he rubbed them, an MCAT study book on your lap.

“For what?” You frowned.

“The wedding,” he said. “Should do it soon, make sure you’ve got health insurance…”

“Oh,” you frowned. “That’s true. I hadn’t really thought about what to do for it, I don’t really know that many people…”

“Me either,” Joel smiled a little.

“Want to just go to the courthouse?” You shrugged. He frowned.

“You sure you don’t want something better than that?” He asked.

“Well, if I leave your wife,” you shrugged again. “I don’t think there is anything better than that.”

You took the MCAT on the 10th and applied for your marriage license on the 12th. Nan said she didn’t want to be there for it, regardless of the date. That stung. But, with time, you hoped she’d come around.

The vows were simple but you weren’t sure you’d ever heard anything better than Joel promising to love and cherish you for the rest of his life. You had to remind yourself that your new brother-in-law and step-daughter were there when you kissed him. You would have been happy to kiss him for hours.

For a celebration, the six of you went to lunch downtown, Joel getting a bottle of real champagne for the table. You and Sarah split a glass during the toasts.

“Couldn’t imagine a better woman to welcome into the family,” Tommy smiled. “You’re already the best Miller I know. Besides Sarah.”

Everyone laughed and your husband kissed your cheek.

“And you’re sure you want to take my name?” Joel asked as he drove to Galveston for your first weekend as a married couple. “Your degrees have your name on them…”

“I’ve never had anyone that loved me enough that they wanted me to have their name,” you smiled, watching him drive. “I want to have your name, Sarah’s name. Our baby’s name. The degrees can deal.”

You checked into the hotel room, a view of the gulf from the balcony and chocolate covered strawberries waiting for you when you got there. You squealed, grabbed one and stepped outside to watch the waves. Joel came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you a few minutes later, his hands on your stomach.

“Found the only downside to not having a big wedding,” you leaned back into him.

“Hm?”

“We’re going to have to try really hard to make sure the next thing we dance to isn’t something stupid,” you smiled. “Otherwise our first dance is going to be a let down.”

“Well,” he kissed your temple. “I might have thought of that.”

You frowned, looking back at him.

He tugged you back into the room. The boombox from Sarah’s room was set in front of the TV, Joel stretching over to press play. You heard the opening notes and laughed.

“Joel!” You put your arms around his neck. “Really? Wonderful Tonight?”

“If you hate the song choice I did bring other options,” he said, pulling you against him but not moving yet.

“Just dance with me, Mr. Miller,” you smiled.

“Anything you want, Mrs. Miller.”

Tuesday, April 6, 2004

“Baby, you are in active labor,” Joel ground his teeth. “The applications can wait.”

“My contractions aren’t close enough together to be that big of a…” You stopped talking for a second, clenching your teeth as a contraction hit you. You waited for it to pass, gripping the bed. You spoke again when it did. “Problem. And I’ll never get these done with a newborn at home.”

The doctor came in, snapping on her gloves. “Alright Mrs. Miller,” she said. “Let’s see how we’re coming along…”

“Dr. Baxter,” you said as she lifted the blankets and your gown. “Can you please tell my husband that the sooner med school applications are in, the better?”

“You’re at eight centimeters,” Dr. Baxter said. “Almost there! And Mr. Miller, I’m afraid your wife is right, early applications are pretty important.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Doesn’t mean I think you should be filling them out right this second, Mrs. Miller,” she raised her brows at you. “I think I need to side with your husband on this one.”

“But I’m almost done!” You protested. “I just got my MCAT scores back yesterday, I couldn’t finish any sooner…”

“Finish that one,” she said. “Then I’m confiscating them. Orders from one current doctor to a future one.”

“Fine,” you muttered, going back to the form. “But I still think you’re overreacting.”

Joel held you as you pushed, doing everything the classes had told him to do. The man had practically been a star student, paying close attention to everything the lamaze teacher had said.

“Didn’t know what the fuck I was doing last time,” he said after your first class. “Making sure I get it right this time.”

You weren’t sure you’d ever been as exhausted as you were on the last push but you knew you’d never been as happy to hear anything as you were to hear the sharp, cracking cry of your daughter as she came into the world.

“Congratulations Mom and Dad, it’s a girl,” Dr. Baxter dropped her tiny, wriggling body into your arms, the cord still attached. You stared down at her in wonder, her little eyes scrunched closed, her small mouth open in a wail.

“Hi beautiful,” you breathed, looking at her. You’d never seen anything quite so perfect. She already had thick, dark hair and Joel’s nose. “Welcome to the world, Evelyn.”

Joel reached around you to cup her tiny head in his large hand.

“So proud of you, Baby,” Joel kissed your wet cheek. “You did so good.”

“Thank you for her,” you whispered, unable to take your eyes off of her. “Thank you.”

Wednesday, April 6, 2005

“Hey Mom,” Sarah called in a bit of a singsong voice. “Something came in the mail for you!”

“For me?” You called back before blowing a raspberry on Evie’s tummy. She giggled. “Can you bring it over? I’m in your sister’s room…”

You weren’t really sure if Sarah had made a conscious choice to start calling you Mom or if it was something she just fell into but you hadn’t fought it. The first time it happened was about six months after Evie was born.

It had been a particularly hectic morning in the Miller house. Evie was teething, Joel couldn’t find the phone he needed for work, Sarah had overslept and had misplaced her homework, you felt like you were inches away from crying from stress, it was not a great combination.

“Mom, you’re sure it didn’t get moved off the kitchen table last night?” Sarah poked her head into Evie’s room where you were getting her dressed for the day. You just looked at her for a second, a bit dumbstruck. “Mom. Homework? Purple folder?”

It still took you a moment to respond.

“Last place I saw it was the kitchen table after dinner,” you said. “If it got moved, it was either by your father or the ghost that haunts this house and all its inhabitants.”

“Stupid ghost,” she sighed, calling after Joel as she went down the hall.

When Joel went to kiss you goodbye, you grabbed his arm, Evie propped on your hip.

“Sarah called me Mom,” you said, eyes wide.

“Oh,” Joel blinked for a second. “Is that… is that OK? If it’s not…”

You stretched up to kiss him before he could keep talking. He kissed you back, deeply, and you had to fight the urge to put the baby in the crib and start ripping his clothes off. He pulled back from you eventually.

“You’re not helpin’ me be OK with leavin’ the house with that, baby,” he smiled. “But are you OK? With her callin’ you that?”

“Of course I am! I want her to do nothing BUT call me mom for the rest of my damn life now!”

“Think we can work with that,” he kissed your forehead. “Love you, take care of all my girls. Including yourself. See you tonight.”

You beamed, your morning suddenly so much brighter.

You closed Evie’s onesie and pulled on her little jeans.

“You’re getting too big too fast, girl,” you muttered, scooping her up as Sarah came in, a thick envelope in hand.

“OK you, give me the birthday girl,” she said, setting the envelope on the changing table in front of you. “Because I think you have to open that like… immediately.”

The University of Texas logo was on the corner and your breath caught.

“It’s a big envelope,” Sarah said, bouncing her sister on her hip. Evie reached her fat fingers out for Sarah’s curls. “Pretty sure they only send big envelopes for good news.”

Your hands still shook as you opened the envelope. You’d been so distracted planning a birthday dinner for Evie that you hadn’t been thinking about the looming threat of med school acceptance or denials. Inside the envelope was a thick booklet and a piece of paper on top. It said your name and then the word “Congratulations!”

You shrieked and dropped the envelope, jumping up and down for a second before throwing your arms around your daughters, crying as you squeezed them tight. Evie gurgled and Sarah laughed.

“Knew you’d do it, Mom,” she said.

***

Joel was later leaving the job site than he wanted to be. Well, it was always later than he wanted it to be. He’d get there in the morning and want to leave, to turn around and go home to you and his daughters. But today, he had a plan. Leave by five. It was 5:20 before he made it to the truck.

“She’s not the type to bite your head off about it man,” Tommy said as Joel drove to the house. “Don’t think you need to be this stressed about it.”

“I know,” Joel said. “But she’s been busting her ass to plan this dinner, I don’t want to cause her any more stress…”

“Hate to break it to you but I think she’s stressed just by bein’ married to you,” Tommy elbowed him in the ribs. Joel rolled his eyes.

Thankfully, the job site wasn’t far and he was home before six. He opened the door to see Sarah sitting on the floor with Evie, his younger daughter using the older one’s hands to help balance as she stood, stomping her tiny feet.

“She’s getting so close, Dad!” Sarah beamed at him. “She’s going to be an athlete, I can tell.”

He just stood there for a moment, watching them, his heart hurting from just how fucking happy seeing them together made him.

“Oh, Mom’s in the kitchen,” she said. “You should go see her, she really wants to see you.”

“Might have been wrong on that,” Tommy smirked a little, going to the living room, his hands out to pick up his niece.

You were putting something in the oven when Joel came in, you bending over giving him the perfect peek down your shirt to your breasts.

“Hey Baby,” he said and you looked up, closing the oven and wiping your hands on your apron. Your hair was in curlers and you were still the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen. “I’m so sorry we’re late, we got held up at the site…”

“Oh,” you waved him off. “I kinda figured you would, we’ve got a good 45 minutes before anyone should be getting here anyway, I’ve got it under control.”

You grabbed something off the counter and came over, pressing yourself against him, stretching up to kiss him.

“You know,” he said between kisses. “I was thinking, in honor of Evie’s birthday, we should seriously consider getting her another sibling.”

“Oh really,” you smiled against his lips.

“Oh yes,” he said, his hands going around to the back of you, cupping your ass and pulling your hips tightly to his own. “Watching you mother my girls might just be the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, can’t help but want to see you do it again. Plus you were a fucking gorgeous pregnant woman…”

“Might want to hold that thought there, Daddy,” you took the envelope you’d picked up from the counter and put it between his lips and your own. He frowned and took it, pulling the papers out.

“Congratulations!” It said. It took him a moment to figure it out but when he did, he gasped and gathered you into his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around and kissing every part of you he could reach.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Baby!” He said as you laughed against him. “I knew you could do it, I fucking knew you’d do it…”

He put you back down and you laughed for another moment before looking at him more seriously.

“We should still really look at whether or not I should actually go,” you said. “It’s expensive, it’s time consuming, it’s going to be years of insane work schedules and bad pay before I start making good money, especially since I think I might want to be a pediatric surgeon…”

“You’re going to be the most incredible surgeon,” he cut you off. “You’re going to be so amazing, you are so amazing. We’ll figure it out. It’ll be OK, we’ll figure it out. You’re going to be amazing.”

You smiled like he’d just given you a gift and he pulled you against him again, kissing the top of your head.

“C’mon,” he said. “If we hurry I think we can squeeze in a quickie and still have time to get dressed before anyone shows up….”

You giggled and he took your hand, leading you to the bedroom as Tommy played with Sarah and Evie on the floor.

“Da!” Evie reached for him. “Dada!”

You and Joel both froze, looking at each other for a second.

“Has she…” Tommy asked.

“Nope,” you said, staring at your daughter. “That was her first word. Oh come ON kid, I literally feed you with my body and it’s Dada? I know he’s the best but some consideration!”

Joel pulled you along with him to pick your daughter up tucking her small body between the two of yours and kissing her plump little cheek. He didn’t think he’d ever been as happy as he was in this moment, surrounded by love and his girls.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Note

Heya. Love the work, could we please get some Joel with the twins?

Hi! Thanks for the sweet words!! I hope you like this!!

Beautiful Girls

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: oh I love them

Summary: Your first night at home with your twins

Warnings: slight description of birth complications, NICU stay :(, new parent exhaustion, mention of Sarah’s husband!!, breastfeeding, idiots in love

When Sophia and Violet are born, they're small. Of course, you knew they would be. They're twins, and they were likely to be born earlier. Besides, Sammy was small too. You thought you had it handled. Sophia is born first at a whopping five pounds three ounces. Small but not too scary. She cried on your chest the second she entered the world, her little hands feeling your skin for the first time as she got acquainted with being outside your body. But Violet weighed four pounds eight ounces, and she didn't immediately cry. Your doctor put her on your chest, rubbing her back, as the nurses suctioned fluid out of her mouth, but she was silent. You looked at Joel, terrified, before looking down at her and watched those big brown eyes open and heard her wail. You sighed in relief and kissed her head, and you thought that was it.

To make a long story short, Violet spent a day and a half in the NICU because her lung function wasn't what it was supposed to be. Chump change compared to some of the babies that have been there for months, but seeing her hooked up to oxygen to stabilize her breathing ate you and Joel alive. Meanwhile, Sophia wouldn't breastfeed because she had a lip tie which made the entire process difficult for both of you and required intervention. You both cried for a long time, bouncing back and forth between the NICU and your recovery room as you scrambled to make the best decisions for your daughters. Needless to say, by the time you're discharged to go home a whole four days later, you're both exhausted.

Sammy falls in love with the girls and takes turns holding each of them even though he barely looks big enough to hold a baby. Daisy cautiously smells the girls' heads before giving them the gentlest kiss on the cheek and lying back down. She never was very interested in Sammy when he was this small. You give it six months before the three of them are partners in crime. Sarah, Ethan, Ellie, and Dina come home to meet the girls, which is no small feat considering how busy their own lives are. Hank and Lucia are scheduled to fly in later next week to help around the house and meet their newest granddaughters. Your house is a mess, and there's basically nothing in your fridge besides dinosaur chicken nuggets and apple sauce packets, and you would stress out about it if you didn't watch the love of your life interact with the lives you created.

After the older kids settle in their bedroom and Sammy begs to crawl into bed with Sarah and Ethan, you and Joel stay in the living room where you've sat since you came home from the hospital. He's holding Sophia on one knee and Violet on the other, and he just looks at them. You don't say anything because you're watching him watch them, but you wonder what he's thinking about. You wonder if he's memorizing their features to see if they're truly identical or not. You wonder if he's remembering when Sarah and Sam were babies. You wonder what he sees when he looks at them. Does he see the way their noses curve exactly like his? Or the way their cupid's bow bends like yours? Or the way that you can already see the wavy pattern in what little patch of dark hair they have?

He's gorgeous like this. His hair is a beast from all his worried tugging and playing, and the bags under his eyes are dark even though his frames cover them. He's wearing a loose flannel so he can unbutton and do skin-to-skin with the girls if he so chooses, and his soft smile is almost gentle enough to make you forget about the pain throbbing through your body.

The trance breaks when Violet fusses and wakes up Sophia. Like clockwork, you and Joel step into action. You take Violet in your arms, already unbuttoning your shirt to feed her, as he snuggles Sophia to his chest to get her back to sleep. There's a mess of tangled limbs and caught fabric, making Violet cry in that shaky newborn tone you were so used to when Sammy was born. You shush Vi and get her latched while Joel hums a song you can't make out. In seconds, both girls are content and quiet again, but Joel is still humming. You tune into the melody and try to place it, smiling when you can, even through the baby-shaped fog in your brain.

"Are you humming Van Halen to our daughter?" You ask, and he smiles, all bright and shy. You can't help but smile too.

"Gotta start 'em young, right?"

"Whatever you say, Miller."

Being a family of seven was never on your radar when you met Joel, but now that it's here and it's real, and you're each holding a perfect baby girl while your other three kids are sleeping upstairs, you can't imagine anything else. You're almost positive you would take this as sleep-deprived and pain-ridden as you are over anything someone could ever offer you. How could you not when Joel looks at you like you made the oceans and the stars while holding one of your newborns, his wedding band catching the lamplight as he hums Van Halen to her? And you're almost positive this is what love is meant to look like— not just perfect dates or surprise flowers but the long, hard nights spent rocking babies to sleep and still finding ways to hold each other even when you're on opposite sides of the couch.

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel miller #rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader #tlou au #the last of us au #Sophia being Baby A makes so much sense in my head

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ruinedbylanadelrey · 1 year

Note

Okkkk ceilings request cause the other one your did got my brain going

Readers dad meeting his grandchild ?

I thought about this while writing my previous post.

Definitely by accident since she cut off contact with her father. Joel doesn't work with him any more. Him and Tommy started their own contracting company.

WARNING: dbf!joel, pregnancy, doctors appointment, if u think of anymore lmk:)

ceilings

masterlist

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Domestic bliss. Something you've always wanted now have to cherish. You and Joel have a beautiful girl, Gisele. She is your entire world, she has Joel wrapped around her finger. She's a spitting image of you.

At first you felt like you were a bad mom because you didn't know what to do and you didn't have your mother around to help you. Joel reassured you that you were doing everything right. He was such great support for you entering parenthood.

"Good morning beautiful girl," You kissed the top of her head as you brought her out of the crib. "We have a big day, your doctor's appointment and then the grocery store and come home and play." You never did the baby talk with her, you saw her as you. A person. Joel loved how you just talked to her like she could understand you.

The doctors appointment was just a routine appointment, seeing her weight and growth and the last round of her shots. You look at her and wonder how she is already almost one.

"I swear she is the healthiest baby I've had." The doctor cooed while taking her weight. You felt another piece of weight chip off your shoulders. "That means she is getting a lot of love," of course she was. She is just everything to you and Joel.

"Baby doll?" the voice your father called out while you were in the produce section of H-E-B (it's the best grocery store ever. Only in Texas and one in Mexico). You whipped your head towards him and felt your stomach turn. You haven't seen the man in 2 years, he looked older and seemed like a ghost.

Your daughter babbled at you and pulled on the necklace you had on. "Hi." you breathed out. "Oh my god..." His eyes danced to Gisele in the cart. "Dad, this is Gisele your granddaughter." You pick her up and hold her. Her eyes sparkle and she reaches out to her grandfather. "Can I?" he asks before you hand her off.

"Yes." You watch him hold her and you saw the look on his face. He's studying the faces she's making. "She's looks just like you but she has Joel's hair." you laugh and noticed that she does. “She’s just beautiful.” Your dad smiles at her.

“I’m sorry for everything…I don’t expect you to let me back in your life but I just wanted you to know.” You looked at your father and his face seemed genuine but you can’t trust him. Life has been easier without him. “I know…” You choked back tears, kissed his cheek, and took your daughter back in your arms.

“How was the appointment?” Joel asked quietly as he put Gisele down for her nap. You were debating on telling him that about your dad meeting her. He could be mad or not care.

You both walk out of her room and to your bedroom. You made sure you had the baby monitor on before you got undressed and into your house clothes. “She’s very healthy and everyone loves her at the doctors office.” You talk to through the mirror as you take off your jewelry. “Of course she’s healthy she’s a Miller.” you giggled at his pride for his family. “Joel…” you decided to tell him. He has the right to know.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Joel stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist. You melt into his touch “Don’t get mad.” you warn him, he tensed up and a worried look grew on his face. “I ran into my dad today and he met his granddaughter…” you looked into his eyes to figure out what he was thinking.

Joel let out a deep breath and shook his head. “I knew I should’ve went with you today. I had a feeling that something would happen.” Joel unwrapped himself from you and started to pace. “Joel, it was harmless.” “He could’ve hurt you, he could’ve hurt our child.” you were taken back by his thought of your father ever trying to hurt you. “He would never hurt me, and if he tried something I would protect her. God you’re unbelievable.” You grew frustrated by his outlandish comments.

“You don’t know that man anymore.” you looked at Joel like he grew a second head. To you it seemed like a harmless interaction, after all he is your father and meeting his granddaughter.

But to Joel, it was a threat to your life with him. To his family. “He never was a violent person. He never laid a hand on me. I can’t believe you would think he would hurt me or her. I’m done talking about this.” You storm out your room and went to check on the baby.

Joel knew he upset you by his hyper imaginative thoughts. He knows your father, he was his best friend for over 6 years. He knows he wasn’t that kind of person. He follows you to the nursery and you were sitting on the rocking chair next to the crib. Joel could see the tears staining your face.

“Darlin’, I just worry about the two of you whenever I’m not with you. I’m sorry.” Joel knelt down to meet your eyes. You turn your head and look at your daughter sleeping away. “Look at me, little girl.” He takes your chin into his finger and turns your head to look at him. “I’m not helpless…” you whisper, Joel chuckles at you trying to be tough. “I know, baby. You know how protective I am of you, you’re still my little girl.” Your heart just melts at him reminding you that nothing has changed between you guys.

#anon request #joel miller #tlou #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller drabble #ceilings!joel

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final-girl96 · 1 year

Text

Firefly Chapter Two

《----Previous | Next ----》

Thursday 7:30 AM

September 25, 2003

"Are you watching Sarah today?" I looked over to Nonna where she stood in the kitchen. I nodded my head, "as always," I said, smiling. "Such a lucky girl you are to be around Joel Miller. He's a very good looking man. Has a nice ass." My eyes widened at the words that just fell from my grandmother's lips. "Nonna!" She had a devilish smirk on her face when she looked at me and winked.

"You know…" she sat down at the kitchen table with me. "I met your grandfather when I was just a year older than you," she said, placing a plate in front of me. "Oh yeah?" I asked. She nodded, smiling fondly. "He was in the Navy. Look great in those white bell bottoms and that little hat. He was the sexiest man I had ever seen. Made my lady bits tingle," she said and winked. My eyes widened, "Nonna!" She chuckled, "oh, don't be a prude, my little firefly. I know you're not so innocent." I huffed out a laugh. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

"He was ten years older than me. You're grandfather. Proposed to me six months later after meeting that night. We had your father three years later. We were together for almost forty-five years. Besides, older men do it better," she said. "Oh my God, Nonna. Joel is going to be 36. That's a seventeen year difference. And that was a different time. It was the fifties. It's 2003 not 1953." She swatted her hand at me and scoffed. "Your grandfather was thirty and I was twenty and we were happy. Didn't care what anyone said!"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Nonna, ten years isn't bad, sure, but seventeen years… that's a lot. Besides, I am not into him like that. And he definitely isn't into me like that," I said. "Oh please, I see the way you check him out. I don't blame you my sweet girl. His ass is to die for," she said, smiling. "Don't you have a plane to catch?" I asked. She sighed and came over to kiss the top of my head. "I will see you Sunday night, firefly. I love you," she said. I walked her to the door and watched her get into the car that was already waiting for her. Her and her friends were going to Atlantic City for a few days.

She was about to get in the car until she saw Joel, Tommy and Sarah. "Give me a minute, girls, I have to go over here and talk to Joel." She strutted her way over and I sighed before going after her. "Joel!" He had been walking out of the garage when he saw her coming. "Hello, Tommy!" He smiled and waved. "Sarah, look at you. Growing up so quick." She pulled her into a hug. "Hi, Nonna!"

"Joel, dear, I have something to ask you," she said, going up to him. Sarah ran over and hugged me as I said hello to Tommy. "Can we watch Harry Potter tonight?" Sarah asked, looking up at me. Smiled at her and nodded my head, "of course." She hugged me again before getting in the truck and I walked over to Nonna and Joel.

"What can I do for you, Carla?" Joel asked. Nonna pulled me to stand closer to her. "I am going to be away until Sunday night. I was hoping you could make sure my little firefly is safe until I get back," she said. Joel looked at me and then smiled at her. "Of course. That's no problem," he said. "Oh good. Because she means everything to me. I can't have anything happening while I'm gone. And I only trust you to take care of her." I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

"Of course, Clara. I'll make sure she's safe until you get back." She smiled up at him. "She's single you know." My eyes widened. "Nonna! I think your friends are ready to leave without you. So…" I grabbed her gently by the arm and tried to pull her away. But she swatted my hand away. "Age is but a number you know. Me and my Charlie were ten years apart." I wanted to die. "Nonna!" She sighed in frustration. "Oh alright! Alright! I'm going. She looked at Joel one more time and winked, "think about it. My granddaughter is a very beautiful young woman," she said. I felt sick.

"I'll see you Sunday night!" She said over her shoulder as she walked away. I watched her get in the car and then watched as they drove off. "She's something else." I nodded my head, "I'm sorry," I blurted out. Joel laughed and clasped me on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. That's like the fifth time this week." I looked up at him in shock. "Oh, my god! I'll pick Sarah up after school today. I'm gonna go crawl into a hole for a little while before my first class." I heard him laughing as I walked away.

2:30 PM

I just got done with my last class and was walking to my car when a hand wrapped itself around my arm. "Hey, wait up." I looked over to see it was the guy I had gone on a date with, Lukas. The only reason I want is because my friend was going on a date with Lukas friend and she begged me to go on a double date so she wasn't alone.

I pulled my arm out of his grip and backed away a little. "Lukas, what's up?" I asked. I looked down at my watch not wanting to be late to pick up Sarah. "I wanted to know if we could maybe… go get coffee or maybe dinner?" Oh God. This is going to be awkward. "I can't, I'm sorry. I have to go pick up my neighbor's daughter from school," I said. I started to walk towards my car again hoping he would take the hint but he didn't.

"Well, we can still go out tonight," he said. I shook my head, "I really can't, I'm sorry," I said. I unlocked my car door and opened it. "Tomorrow then?" I got into the car and went to close the door but he stopped it. "Look, Lukas, I'm busy. I have classes and then I watch my neighbor's daughter until he comes home. I don't have the time." I yanked the door, closing it, and then pulling out.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #the last of us x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou show #tlou x reader #tlou hbo #tlou series #tess servopoulos

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typewriter83 · 7 days

Note

you’re gonna throw me to your cubs, I just know it.

why? Seriously why? That’s his daughter. She is literally young enough to be his granddaughter. I don’t understand - I have curiously peeked at the tag - I read some of your coffee and donut stories, but she’s an adult, so it’s a little different. I just can’t see how you - readers and writers - can see what you claim to be able to see.

it’s his daughter.

I’m not gonna throw you to my cubs - but I’m not gonna hold them back either 😏 we protect each other.

Let’s address the father/daughter issue first - y’all get that she’s not his daughter, right? I’ve had this conversation with people: is it possible for Joel to be Ellie’s biological father? Yes, but the possibility is so small, it’s negligible. Joel and Tommy were likely still running out of Texas or up the East cost when Ellie was conceived.

Could Ellie be Tommy’s daughter? Yes, but still negligible. The people I’ve talked to agree that Tommy was with Joel for longer than without him during those 20 years. Tommy knew Tess, so he was still with Joel in Boston. He was running around with Marlene and the fireflies before leaving to run out west, but could he have been with Anna less than six years into the outbreak? Probably not.

So, now we’ve eliminated the likely chance of Ellie being biologically related to Joel, let’s move on. But she’s like a daughter to him. Fair enough, but that’s the daddy kink, right? (You’re either gagging or smirking right now, right?)

So, why? Damned if I know, seriously. Some of us just see what we want to see because we enjoy taboo subjects when we’re reading and writing. I can’t explain it if you can’t see it, because you don’t want to. We’re not talking about normal, everyday circumstances - we’re talking end of end world stuff here. Two humans, out in the middle of a destroyed country, reluctantly getting to know one another before they start to bond - what if he didn’t see he like a daughter? What if she didn’t want him as a father figure?

Also, it’s fiction - we’re just having fun, we don’t mean any harm to any real people.

🫶🏻

#mama bear speaks #ask away!#tlou #fanfiction #joellie #ellie x joel #joel x ellie #the last of us

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proxima-writes · 1 month

Text

✧*̥˚ my muses, acquired like bruises *̥˚✧

a collection of my fics inspired by taylor swift songs/lyrics, in honor of the release of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

JOEL MILLER

cruel summer | au | explicit | chapters: 6/6

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise. He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

crimson red paint on my lips | post-outbreak | explicit | connected work

Joel Miller is an asshole. You should have known better than to show up at his door with your lips painted red. Connected to me and the devil and marked me like a bloodstain

↳AO3 | Tumblr

marked me like a bloodstain | post-outbreak | explicit | connected work

You save Joel’s life when the two of you are attacked on a smuggling run. He has an interesting way of saying thank you. Connected to crimson red paint on my lips and me and the devil

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karma is my boyfriend’s dad | au | explicit | connected work

Your boyfriend, Sean Miller, is an asshole. The one redeeming thing about him? His dad, Joel Miller. And he's just invited you along on the family vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida.

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in a feud with her neighbor | au | explicit | connected work

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

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bonus scenes: in a feud with her neighbor | au | PG-13 | connected work

Fluffy bonus scenes for "in a feud with her neighbor" as suggested by anon!

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toyin’ with them older guys | au | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder. But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation. Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

help me hold onto you | post-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

Joel always tries his best to keep his mind from wandering to its darkest corners, but occasionally, the frayed threads holding him together with sloppy stitches start to unravel. Sometimes you need to give him something to hold onto.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

seven | post-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller has spent twenty years pushing the grief and guilt surrounding the death of his daughter, Sarah, to the darkest recesses of his brain in favor of survival. Living a more quiet life in Jackson means the ghosts of his past have returned to haunt him. He finds his solace in you, the town librarian.

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the last great american dynasty | au | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up. He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream.

↳Tumblr | AO3

TOMMY MILLER

wrong place, right time | pre-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

What if Joel didn’t answer Tommy’s call from jail? And what if the waitress he’d been defending that night bailed him out instead?

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JAVIER PEÑA

i can see you (javier peña's version) | au | explicit | one-shot

When Javier Peña takes credit for your lead, you take revenge. Good thing you know Javier can't resist a girl in red lipstick.

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FRANKIE MORALES

my tears and my beers and my candles | au | explicit | one-shot

It’s been a bad week and you just need to have a good cry. You didn’t expect Frankie Morales, best friend and unrequited crush, to crash your pity party. He’s got some interesting ways of making you feel better. Maybe it’s not so unrequited after all.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

invisible string | au | explicit | one-shot

After fifteen years, the invisible string that ties you to Frankie Morales pulls you back together

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MIGUEL O'HARA

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version) | au | explicit | one-shot

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man. But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

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EDDIE MUNSON

the mark you saw on my collarbone | vampire au | explicit | connected work

A snippet of life with your human and your monster. A oneshot in the bat out of hell series

↳AO3

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wonderlandleighleigh · 7 months

Note

Trick or treat!

It's not done, but here's part 1 of this year's spooky Midge story.

“You know you don’t have to go.”

Rose Maisel huffs out a sigh as she packs her bags. She’s well aware that she doesn’t have to go. Not only has her father been reminding her for a month, but her mother and grandfather as well.

“I’ll be dead soon, you know,” Zeyde Joel had complained to her the last time they spoke on the phone. “Wouldn’t you rather spend the summer with me?”

Rose hadn’t said no, exactly, but it was relatively clear that she wasn’t terribly interested in spending the summer after her senior year of high school in Chinatown, doing the same old things she always did with her grandfather.

Her paternal grandmother is rarely around long enough for a visit, but to Rose, the woman is fascinating. Famous and glamorous, and funny, but lonely, too. Her father and aunt don’t have much to do with their mother, and Rose’s own mother thinks the older woman is a monster.

To Rose, Grandma Miriam just seems lonely. Even with a slew of famous friends and a schedule so packed she hasn’t made it to a Passover Seder since Rose was little, there is something solitary about the woman, and Rose feels like maybe she can help with that.

“I know I don’t have to go,” she tells her father. “But I want to. I want to get to know her before it’s too late.”

Her father sighs, a hint of sadness washing over his strong features. “There’s not much to get to know. If you’ve seen one of her comedy specials, you kind of know all there is to know about her. That’s just who she is now.”

“But maybe it’s not,” Rose offers.

“That’s very sweet of you to think so,” he says, before letting out a deep sigh. “Okay. But if she drives you crazy, you call and your mother and I can come and get you.”

She huffs out a soft laugh. “Okay, Dad.”

*****

Midge Maisel’s house is enormous, and beautiful. Right on the Long Island Sound. You can smell the salty on the air from the water, and off in the distance, Rose can see ducks heading for the beach.

Her mother takes her hand as they stand in front of the house. “Call regularly,” she orders. “And don’t let that woman push you around.”

“I won’t,” Rose promises. “She really lives here all by herself?”

“Her and her ghosts,” Chava Maisel responds.

It’s an odd sentence and Rose tilts her head, ready to ask about it, but before she can, the front door swings open and her grandmother rushes out.

“You’re here!” the older woman cries, rushing up and hugging Rose tightly. “Let me look at you,” she says, pulling back to take account of her granddaughter. “Ugh. You’re gorgeous. Look at this curly hair, and those cheekbones. To die for.”

Rose hears her mother grumble something that sounds suspiciously like ‘go right ahead,’ and grins at her grandmother. “Hi! How are you, Grandma?”

“I’m fine,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “Just taking a little time off, and I’m so glad I get to spend it with you! I have so many plans for us. We’ll get our hair done, and our nails, and we can go shopping.”

Chava clears her throat loudly before Midge can keep talking, and the older woman whirls to look at her daughter-in-law.

“Chava! You’re here, too!”

“Hello, Mrs. Maisel,” Chava responds with a tight smile.

Grandma Miriam nods slowly, her lips pursed. “Still haven’t discovered conditioner, I see. I’ll have my hair stylist send you an email with some recommendations. Don’t you worry.”

“Okay!” Rose cries, trying for a big smile. “Thanks for driving me, Mom. I will definitely call.” she hugs her mother tightly, before tugging on her rolling suitcase. “Bye!”

“Is that all you brought?” Grandma Miriam marvels. “How do you pack so light?”

Chava sighs heavily, watching them go, before getting back into her car to drive away.

*****

The inside of the house, like the outside, is beautiful. Decorated in warm tones, with imported marble floors in the front hall. The living room holds a grand piano with a slew of framed photos settled atop.

Oddly, there are very few family photos that Rose can spot. Her father’s baby photo in a small frame. Her aunt’s wedding day photo. Rose’s own school photo from the first grade, and a few older photos of her sister and cousin, but nothing recent.

“Wow, Grandma, your house is really something,” she comments as she’s given a tour through the first floor.

“Thank you,” Grandma Miriam beams. “I love this place. I loved it when I first saw it, and I love it even more now that I’ve spent so many years making it my own.”

Rose smiles as she’s showing the beautiful dining room, and the enormous kitchen, which she wanders around, inspecting ovens and stoves, refrigerators.

“You like kitchens?” Grandma Miriam asks.

“I do!” Rose enthuses with a grin. “I’ve been accepted to culinary school.”

“That’s wonderful!” Grandma Miriam crows. “I used to love to cook, you know.”

“You don’t anymore?” Rose asks.

The older woman shrugs and gives her a sheepish grin. “There’s not really anyone but me to cook for, so I don’t really have a reason to. And I have a cook who makes most of my meals now. It’s just easier that way.”

“Well, maybe we can cook together while I’m here,” Rose suggests.

“Maybe,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “It might be fun.”

Rose is about to respond, but gets extremely distracted with the pink Kitchenaid stand mixer in the corner. “Ohmygod.”

Grandma Miriam laughs. “Note to self: leave Rosie the stand mixer in the will.”

“It’s so pretty,” Rose breathes.

“I never really had a chance to use it,” Grandma Miriam shrugs again. “Come on. I’ll show you the upstairs.”

Rose nods and follows her up the back staircase to the second floor, where, presumably, the bedrooms are. “Do you have a lot of staff here?”

“Not really,” Grandma Miriam tells her. “A cook or two. A couple of housekeepers. Nothing too extravagant.”

Rose purses her lips, mulling that over. “Her family doesn’t have any of that. It’s just the four of them in the brownstone in Brooklyn. Rose, Mom, Dad and Shira. They do all the housework and cooking. It feels strange to have people do those things for you, but Rose supposes that with Grandma Miriam being so much older, and living by herself in such a big place, it only makes sense.

“This is going to be your room,” Grandma Miriam tells her, opening up a door at the end of the hall.

It’s another lavish room; the canopy bed is enormous, and soft-looking and there are bay windows with a perfect view of the Sound. There’s even a little TV sitting on top of the dresser.

Rose looks around, stunned, as she takes it all in. “Whoa…”

Grandma Miriam beams. “I’m glad you like it. My room is just around the corner, near the stairs to the basement.”

“What’s in the basement?” Rose asks.

“Nothing, really,” Grandma Midge responds, waving a hand. “Just some old things. I use it for storage.” She beams at the young woman, reaching out to brush her curls away from her face. “You get settled. I am going to talk to the cook about what we’re having for dinner.”

“I could cook,” Rose offers, watching her.

Her grandmother waves a hand. “You just got here. Relax.”

Rose watches her grandmother bustle away, before looking back at her new room.

“Right,” she breathes out. “Relax.”

#Fic #au #tmmm #Midge Maisel #Rose Maisel #spooky Midge

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the-orange-tabby-cat · 8 months

Text

Wings Of The Dawn | Chapter 5

AO3 link🐾 | chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

GIF by loregifs

listen to the fic's playlist

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader Rating: 18+ (no smut in this chapter) Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Age Difference, Small Town Dynamics, No use of y/n Word count of the chapter: 7,5k CW for the chapter: described self harm (burning) Next chapter will be posted: October 12th (You can find a sneak peek of the next chapter at AO3)

Summary of the fic: You are Jackson’s librarian, a doll with a good heart, that has your life changed when a handsome man decides to take his kid and start again in your small town after completing their cross country journey. Having a hard time ignoring Joel’s dark brown eyes, you find yourself wishing to have him close as you both navigate through love triangles, teenage drama, city gossip, and ghosts from both of your pasts. This is a comfort fic filled with slow burn and small town dynamics. Chapter summary: Elie's actions make everyone faces their own demons.

｡˚🐾₊˚

CHAPTER 5

Laid down on the ground, a blonde girl observed the other side of a valley with her binoculars. In her back, a rifle carefully put just waiting for any signal of trouble. Her eyes scanned the site, meter per meter, trying to find an intruder between the trees.

"C'mon, Pawpaw, you got this." Her teenage voice was no more than a murmur. A few seconds passed and a louder bang resonated. Getting the rifle in her hands in one quick move, Nath closed one eye and watched with the other through the receiver sight.

An old Asian man appeared in her perimeter, making a loud birdlike sound with his mouth as he stared at the top of a mountain searching for her. Exhaling the breath she didn’t know she had taken, Nath put the rifle on her back and sprinted in the man’s direction. Getting there fast, he smiled as soon as she arrived.

“The cabin is ours, bug. It’s mostly intact, raiders haven’t come this far yet.” He hadn’t smoked a cigarette since the outbreak happened two years ago, but his voice was still hoarse in the memory of the man he once was. His small brown eyes were so similar to his granddaughter, only changing the color.

Pulling Nath gently by her shoulders, they walked to the cabin in a comfortable silence. The 15 year old was proving to be fiercer than her size and gaining her grandpa’s respect, or at least that's what she hoped for. They had been living in the woods since the summer of 2003, mostly due to the fact they were already camping at the outbreak eve.

Alcohol had been in the family's DNA, with her parents owning the winery after Pawpaw decided to retire and move to Montana. Mom and dad were in France promoting their brand as their teenage daughter spent a summer weekend in the north with grandpa and grandma. Camping was grandma's idea and she was also the first to turn, after eating a 7-Eleven sandwich. Nath’s parents never got able to say their goodbyes.

The cabin became Nath’s temporary favorite home from the ones they lived in over the years. The color of the wooden walls, Pawpaw’s shadow play late at night, his loud snore that echoed from his room to hers. Everything at the cabin made her forget that once they walked through the front door she was holding a rifle and shooting every son of a bitch who crossed their path. It was far from comfortable, but it was theirs in a world where she had to grow too fast.

At early hours in the morning, a 34year old Nath couldn’t think of anything except the wooden walls of the cabin as she observed Ellie and Joel leave through Jackson’s gate. It was the morning of Ellie’s fifteenth birthday, they went out for a little trip that was expected to last four days. She couldn’t remember Pawpaw’s exact age when she was fifteen, in her hazy memory he could be older than Joel, but it didn’t matter: she was thinking nonstop about her past these days.

Ellie was always in a ponytail, teenage Nath had her short hair in a baseball cap. Ellie liked Converse, teenage Nath too. Ellie was constantly delivering puns, Nath had a collection of graphic t-shirts. Joel traveled the country getting rid of everything and everyone that could hurt Ellie, Pawpaw made a huge effort to keep Nath alive. Joel had blood on his hands, Pawpaw too.

Pawpaw’s face was slowly getting blurred inside her head. Without a picture of him, it was hard for her to remember all of his features. Was his nose a button or slope? Were his eyebrows sparse or dense? She couldn’t see it anymore, it was mostly gone, except for his eyes.

Whenever she looked in the mirror she could see him if she focused on the eyes. The face of her mother was long forgotten, a ghost she couldn’t place anymore in her life, Nath knew that the sand blonde hair and dark blue eyes were from her side of the family tree. But the thick layer of straight lashes and monolids that made the blue of her iris unexpected, as if it shouldn't be there, was her grandpa's features. She almost wanted to see dark irises in herself, not the blue from her mother’s heritage, perhaps like this she wouldn’t forget his face. Pawpaw had eyes so dark they were almost black, just like Joel’s. Nath felt she was so similar to her grandpa from her quick thinking to her cruel ways when hurt, Ellie was Joel’s mirrored image in both want and need.

Maybe this is why she felt unsure as the girl left the city for another road trip. Now that she was an adult, the weight of the years they spent having blood on their hands in the name of being safe and sound became bittersweet. Did Pawpaw kill those people to protect her or to feed the beast inside him? Did she kill for safety or because something was wrong with her? She wasn't sure anymore.

She didn't want to find out.

You had said goodbye to Joel and Ellie with a smile, the museum was your idea of family bonding after a tough week for them. Ellie, of course, had no clue of the surprise on her way, but seeing her happiness of roaring the wild again filled you with love. Joel wanted to make a big thing, fifteen was an important age to be. You saw it as an opportunity to reinforce Jackson as their home and he took it with tenderness from the planning until the execution.

Everything seemed in place until you started to walk in the Bison's direction with Nath by your side and noticed the silence.

“Is something wrong?” You tried but Nath was in another world, not paying attention. With your hand on her shoulder, you intended once more. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah,” she shut it and walked a little ahead of you. Three years in Jackson and it was the first time you saw Nath like that.

“Are you sure? You are quiet.” Jogging a bit, you got closer and spoke with a soft tone. Her eyes weren’t watching what was in front of you, but far away.

“I’m good, Doll. I need to work.” She left you as she entered the Bison, slow pace and shoulders down.

As you were alone, you analyzed all the recent events searching for clues.

A week ago, on a Saturday morning after the movie night, the council meeting had Nath’s blood burning, she was unable to contain herself. The last ten minutes were a back and forth of loud arguments.

"Esther? She doesn't live inside the city walls, why her?" Her eyes were full of rage at Maria's, who didn't back down and devolved with the same intensity.

“She is my friend and we share similar points of view, from everyone here, you should be the one understanding it." She raised her voice and moved her eyes at you, who blushed timidly.

“Dolly lives inside the city, we must have some rule about it. Edwin?” Nath crossed her arms in front of her, getting angrier.

The old man opened a notebook with the council rules, the town’s only official document. Gliding up his glasses, he shook his head. “It says all citizens, not a word about their living condition.”

You weren’t sure that you wanted Esther for the next months as Maria’s interim, it meant she would move to town and see Joel more. Not that he ever mentioned her, but their first meeting was still on replay inside your head whenever someone said Esther’s name, his questions about sheep made you uneasy. Oh God, he only questioned the woman about her occupation, why were you so upset? It’s just sheep.

“Great. When will she start?” Nath rolled her eyes, frustrated at the lost battle. Maria still hadn’t opened the smuggling route, forcing you and Nath to preserve the resources you had.

“Next week. She knows all my opinions on our current topics and will keep me updated, so don’t try to take her to your side ‘cause she won’t fall for your bad schemes.”

"Maria, enough," Alfie spoke in a baritone getting looks from everyone, including Maria and Nath. “Can you both stop attacking each other like that? We have more important things to do than whatever this is.”

For the first time in a while, you looked at Alfie for more than a moment. He was different, wasn’t gleeful or with a smile on his lips. His facial hair had changed with a strong mustache above his lips that seemed out of place. His sweetness was not so evident giving you a shiver up the spine, what had happened to him?

"Let me get crystal clear then: Esther is my interim, but she'll be my eyes. I expect all of you to treat her if she was me, this includes you, Nathalie." Maria's tone was firm and decisive. Her eyes stayed aimed at Nath for a second, who just sighed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Nath’s words finished the conversation.

You didn't understand how or why, but Maria was getting angrier as time passed by. From the pregnancy announcement to the seventh month, she was gaining more weight on her body as well putting some in her words. Feeling your eyes on her, Maria glared at you in a silent “don’t try me” that you promptly accepted.

After the meeting, you were at the library’s main room updating the board with all the current lending. Still thinking about the council’s mood, you turned around to face Joel, who was putting the last shelf he made together.

“Is Maria okay?” You asked chewing your bottom lip, the lines between Joel’s brows got deeper.

"I think so, why? Something happened at the council?" Closing the distance, he walked to the balcony and put his hands on it, somewhat near yours.

“It might be nothing, but I feel her getting more…” You searched for words while moving your hands in the air. Joel kept looking at you with curiosity. “Intense. Makes sense?”

“Pregnancy can be tough, if she wasn't acting like it then it would be worrying. Those final months are the worst."

"Huh, you seem to know a little too much about it." Walking back to the shelf, Joel stopped in his tracks as if he got caught, but you continued without noticing it. “Have you been pregnant yourself?”

“Very funny. Don't you have books to separate to put on this thing? I'm almost done." He cut the subject, hoping you wouldn't dig too much into it. You just smiled and got a book pile on your arms.

He hadn't paid attention to Maria but would watch Tommy up close. Joel left the library and met Tommy for a patrol together. He had finished the dam amends and was ready to be his brother’s partner. It would be his first real patrol, once again in the role of the protector.

You said to him, as he walked to your doorway last night, that he "must be used to the patrol's routine after so much time on the road with Ellie", but you were oblivious to his fear of completing the journey. The motif for the cross country travel or why Ellie kept using a bandage on her forearm, you saw what he wanted you to see. In a Miller way, Tommy was doing the same with him.

The plan was easy: take a look at an old hotel a few miles off Jackson, make an inventory of what they found, eliminate some runners, and travel back. From the gate opening to the woods up the mountain, Tommy was nonstop speaking.

“I like William or Loretta, like grandma, but Maria needs more convincing." The man was babbling with a smile on his lips, one that didn't reach his eyes.

“William Miller sounds a little off, too much Ms," Joel replied waiting for his brother’s reaction as they dismounted their horses.

“Hum, I guess so. I also like Dylan, from Bobby. Maybe we could have a first and middle name, why not?” He kept going, not looking Joel in the eye, an old childhood habit whenever he was lying.

“Still quite early for it. Maria is what now, entering the third trimester?” With their guns in hand, the brothers were about to enter the first block of the hotel. Joel opened the door for Tommy, who hesitated a little before entering.

Following behind, Joel took a good look around. It had been at least months since someone walked by the area, let alone stayed long. A rich dust layer was all over the place making the air dense, breathing was hard as they went further from the door, but didn’t stop Tommy from speaking still. Opening every door in a long corridor, the brothers found nothing until the kid’s playroom. Tommy was mute.

At the corner, Joel saw something shine under his flashlight. A guitar. He crossed the room and examined the instrument and its shoulder strap, just to see that it was in good condition. He made a promise to Ellie that hospital day, to teach her how to play, he could now pay at least one of his debts. Tommy was apathetic as he walked from toy to toy, forcing Joel to observe a little further and recognize what was behind his eyes: fear.

"Let's head back to the main room, c'mon," he jerked his head in the direction and Tommy silently followed.

Tommy was sat with his gun in his lap, while Joel started to search for a rag inside his backpack. Unable to ignore the tension in his brother’s shoulder, he started.

“The feeling won’t go away, it’ll stay with you forever.”

“What feeling?” Tommy asked with one elbow resting on his knee.

“Fear of fuckin’ it up. Don’t bullshit me, I can see in you.” The brothers shared a glance. Tommy sighed and scratched his mustache.

“I thought I had it in me. That I was so sure I was a natural.” Shaking his head, the younger Miller continued. “Third trimester, I didn’t know how to name it before you said it. It’s roughly seven months, anytime soon my child will be here and I feel like one. Guess you were right when you said we would find out if I’m a good dad. I already know: I’m not.”

“Parentin’ isn’t about perfection. You’ll learn as you go. It’s about love, keep ‘em safe.” Joel retorted calmly, taking the rust chords of the guitar. “Sometimes we need to make hard choices for their own good, even if it means to sacrifice ourselves for it.”

“What happened at the hospital?” Joel hadn’t spoken about Salt Lake City with Tommy. He knew at some point they would have to talk about it, but the memory was too fresh. His hands were still stained from all that blood. His brother gave him time to process it, but now the scenario was different.

The guitar fretboard had a silver butterfly engram at the third fret. Even if a butterfly, the intricate design was much more realistic than anything Sarah had. It didn’t belong to the smiley girl from his memory. Joel started to clean it up, making himself comfortable in his chair.

"I don't know what happened," he started with a huff, like an anecdote. "I was supposed to take her to the Fireflies and walk away. You go halfway across the country with someone... She needed her immunity to mean somethin'. Maybe I was starting to buy into that whole cure business. Maybe I just wanted to do right by her.

"And then we made it. We found the Fireflies. And because of her they were actually going to make a cure." Still cleaning the fretboard, Joel nodded his head down looking at the ground. "The only catch, it would kill her."

"Jesus Christ, Joel." After a second, Tommy stared at Joel, in his eyes a deep sadness. "What'd you do?"

Joel lifted his eyes from the ground to meet his brother's. His brows furrowed with an intense gaze, just to be once more soft as he got back to his previous task.

"I saved her." Joel had meant when he said that sometimes sacrifice is necessary. In that hospital he sacrificed the last part of his soul to allow Ellie to keep hers.

"Goddamn," Tommy exhorted with his head down. "That's... Huh, that's a lot. What does Ellie know?"

"I told’er they just ran some tests." Joel pondered for a fraction of a second, just to say in the same direct tone. "I told her... Her immunity meant nothin'."

"And she believed you?" Tommy asked trying to picture the scene.

Joel stopped cleaning, shook his head a little and got back to the task.

"Didn't say otherwise."

Ellie was outside Cat's house not sure what to do. Should she knock? Wait until she crosses the door at some point in the day? There wasn't a manual on how to date when immune. She wanted to see if the girl had turned, she hadn't slept thinking a “what if” in the back of her head.

Riley was her first kiss and turned during the night. She mixed her blood with Sam's and he also turned. What if they hadn't turned because of a bite, but because of her? Seeing Cat alive and well was all she wanted. She couldn’t care less that it was so early in the morning with the birds chanting still.

She waited outside the house until Maria came by the corner. To avoid further questions Ellie hid in the front yard bush. The woman stayed inside for a long time, making her feel beyond uncomfortable in her hiding spot. When she finally left, Ellie got up on her feet and stretched.

“Most people knock, you know,” Cat said behind her with a playful tone, gaining a scream from Ellie. The girl chuckled happily. “What are you doing here?”

Fuck, she hadn’t planned that far. “I freaked out at night because I’m immune and not sure if I can give you cordyceps through a kiss, came by just to check if you’re alive” wouldn’t be a nice move. Thinking fast, she opted for a regular.

“I’m following Maria. Nath asked.” Cat eyes lingered a bit on the floor, her smile no longer genuine, but she accepted the excuse. “Gotta go, tell her what I saw.”

“Wanna hang out later?” Ellie turned around, thinking a second too long about the proposal. Cat was fidgeting with her hands as she waited for a response.

“Yeah, why not? See ya,” she quickly said and strolled down the pavement, not seeing the big smile on Cat’s face.

Joel went on a patrol with Tommy, so the only place left for her on a Saturday was the Bison. The bar was crowded, most people waiting for their orders. Seth was grabbing one by one as Nath was somewhere in the kitchen. Crossing the counter, Ellie found the blonde woman trying to unclog the sink.

“Goddamn, shit.” Nath cursed twisting her lips and moving the siphon, or whatever she was doing. Ellie had no clue what was going on. When the woman got up, she smiled. Across her chest, her t-shirt said "University of your mom, 1969", she was in a good mood. “Please tell me you came here to say you got scared last night, had nightmares and shit.”

“Scared? Nah, but yeah about the nightmares part. What the hell are you doing?” She leaned against the kitchen wall and observed. Nath had gloves on while maneuvering a white galloon by her side.

“This is caustic soda. It’s an acid, burns shit. I have a little from the previous bar owner, when the sink gives me hell I put it and boom, all solved.”

“Why gloves?” Ellie saw how carefully Nath moved around the galloon, almost afraid of it.

“It burns skin too. Not the best feeling in the world, I got burned smaller than you. Trust me: you don’t wanna see it." She answered while she poured the acid down the sink.

“You have a scar? Show me!” Nath rolled her eyes at the response but took her gloves and moved close to Ellie.

"We need to find you a hobby, you're a weird kid." On her back, a small scar with irregular skin. It was a little puffier than the rest, but mostly imperceptible when not looking at it. Ellie’s mind flashed a thought.

“That thing did this?” Nath nodded, wrinkling her nose.

“Believe or not it used to be on my stomach, not my back. I was maybe five or six, don’t know. My dad was using this bad boy in the sink, I got too curious and some spilled on me. I can still remember the smell.”

“Did it hurt?” Ellie insisted, but Nath didn’t notice her tone, too focused on getting back to the normal service velocity of the Bison.

“Like a bitch!” She shouted going back to the counter, leaving Ellie alone. “Alright folks, Seth cooks and I take your order. We’re only two so keep that in mind, especially you Sam. I swear to God, if you order a salad I’ll kick your ass out of here and straight to Chad’s garden.”

Using the crowd in her favor, Ellie took the gallon with her and walked faster back home.

Cat was alive, which was good, at least someone wasn’t affected by her curse. But if her body didn’t make others get cordyceps, how would other people react when she remove her bandage? Would they freak out or understand? Nath’s scar was fine, the irregular skin pattern was different from the smoothness of other areas.

Ellie wanted to not live in fear of getting caught. She knew the risk she had only existing in this world, she saw people being murdered for less. Joel made her sleep with the bandage too, in case something happened during the night. He was constantly worried about her safety.

At the kitchen sink, Ellie remembered Nath said it would hurt. Making a quick plan, she got something to bite so she wouldn't be heard, a gag. She took all the bandage off and put it aside, taking a final look at her bite marks. They were over a year now, from Boston still. She thought that if she took those marks from her body she could also start over in Jackson.

Feeling courageous, she prepared the scene. Gag herself, extended her right arm above the sink tub, and counted from five to one before pouring the acid. As soon as the liquid touched her skin, she screamed in pain.

The teeth marks leaving one by one as the skin burned, the acid danced around hurting every part of it. Her screams were evident, but so was her pleasure of not being able to see the old scar. Behind her, the door opened, but she didn’t notice.

Joel stepped inside and felt right away the eerie atmosphere of the house. Screams entered his ear channel, he moved as he tried to find the sound’s origin. He could hear Ellie behind it.

The screams were muffled, but still there. Joel increased his pace, trying to get to her faster. Finally, he entered the kitchen to his horror. Ellie was holding out her arm, some acid burning her skin with a sizzling sound.

"What are you doing, baby girl?" He pleaded as he saw in her forearm where once were marks of bites now third-degree burnings. Opening the faucet, he forced her to stay put down the water.

"I'm leaving this behind!" Ellie took her gag out with the other hand and cried out, loudly and fast.

With heavy tears down her face, his stomach churned seeing how far she went to forget about her immunity. He kept her arm under the water flow, sure that his gripping would leave bruises behind, all because her smile wouldn't fade away.

The nurse came searching for Nath at the Bison late in the afternoon. When she heard "Ellie" and "burning" it was enough to make her sprint to the clinic. Joel was in front of Edwin's door, looking like a kicked dog. Next to him a white galloon that she recognized right away.

“Why is that here?” She questioned already knowing the answer, just to be cut by Edwin taking Ellie out of his office. The girl had unshed tears in her eyes. “What have you done?”

Ellie looked down, and went to Joel’s side, finding refugee in his arms. The man had puppy eyes, Nath wondered how her face was at that moment.

"She might have a fever, it's normal in burn victims. Chad will make a paste for it, use it at least three times a day. The bandage must be changed every time she uses the paste. The skin is too sensitive, it has bubbles and pus, it might leak, but under any circumstance she can peel it off." Edwin vomited his words, or did Nath want to vomit? Her mind was blurry.

“Thank you. We’ll follow it.” Joel confirmed, Ellie still quiet and looking to the ground.

When Edwin left, Nath walked to them. She could hear Joel speaking something, but her eyes were focused on Ellie who looked so small.

“Nath, did you hear me?” Joel tried again, in his voice rage. “I said you need to lock down these things. It’s too dangerous.”

“Got it. Can I speak with Ellie? Please.” She asked not knowing why. The kid was still looking down, avoiding her gaze.

“I think you already did too much. We’re heading home.”

With Joel pulling her by the shoulder, Ellie left the building, but not without locking eyes with Nath seconds before the door closed. She tried to remember where she saw those eyes and their emptiness, just to remind of her own mirror reflection.

The soft breeze caressed your face, gently waking you up. Near you, the orange tabby cat slept in a C shape, softly snoring. You petted his fur while humming, Sunday mornings were the best for a long time, it was your time to be lazy. As a kid, you hated Sundays because it was the day of the Lord, the longest day for you.

Susan, your mom, would dress you up in your best Sunday dress, doll you up with a ribbon in your hair. The morning would be for sermons and church devotion, no one could escape. Jason would get a brief relief when playing his guitar at the church’s band, but you had only your imagination to help you out.

From your bed, you wondered if your imagination would be enough to ignore the fact you would only see Joel the next day. Most nights you would daydream about a future with him before sleep. His body searching yours through the night, waking up with his strong arms around you, curling his hair between your fingers… Your mind was always drifting to him. You could spend a day without him, right?

Wrong, a little after lunchtime you found yourself walking to his house thinking about every possible excuse. “I made more food than needed because I’m used to have lunch with you”, “I was nearby and decided to say hi”, “just checking if Ellie needs more books” etc. You had it under control but forgot all about it when Joel came to answer the door with puffy eyes.

“Are you okay?” Your hand was cupping his cheek in an automatic move, he closed his eyes for a second before looking anywhere but your face.

“Now isn’t a good time. You should go.” His tone was serious, you understood right away he wanted to kick you out. And you would respect him, if his hand hadn’t clasped your wrist in a soft move, not a rough one.

“Tell me about it during lunch, you need to eat.” His fingers were still on your wrist, holding you close. Your thumb caressed his cheekbone. “Please.”

His eyes saw yours and allowed you to get in. You took the lead and went to the kitchen, hoping he would be right behind. Preparing the table from the memory of the candle night, you made a motion for Joel to sit down, which he did quietly.

“Start from the beginning. What happened?” Joel inhaled and stayed quiet for a few seconds. You could see the engine inside his head choosing how vulnerable he could allow himself to be. Trying to act naturally, you served him a plate and sat next to him, not in front.

“Ellie got burned really ugly during my patrol with Tommy.” His brows deep furrowed, mouth corners chewing nonstop.

“Is she alright? Do you need anything? I’m so sorry.” Your voice was delicate, doing your best to not get Joel startled, despite the urgency to get the puzzle pieces.

“She’s resting at the guest house, Chad made her a paste. She’s okay, tough kid.” Joel said to you, but it was clear he tried to assure himself of it.

“Joel,” you started and he looked at you with those puffy eyes. Your heart broke a little. “How did that happen?”

“She found some acid,” he didn’t offer you more as he avoided your eyes.

“She did this to herself on purpose?”

With a small nod, Joel made your mind race. You didn't insist on it but remembered Ellie's bandage and tried to connect the dots. Why a smart kid like her would do something like this? Joel was beyond sad, there was something he wasn't telling you. Accepting the level of vulnerability he was willing to share with you at the moment, you placed your hand on his knee.

“I don’t need details, just to know if you both are okay. She is medicated and resting, what about you?”

“What about me?” He asked you back as if he didn’t matter. Your hand squeezed his knee.

“You’re stubborn as a mule. C’mon, eat.” Removing your hand from his knee, you and him fight in a staring contest. Feeling defeated, Joel got his fork and started to eat, gaining a smile from you. “My brother used to tell me that we need to be healthy in order to take care of the sick. Eat, be healthy.”

"Your brother seems smart." Joel's eyes were a little less dull watching you smile.

"He is, most times, at least. Old brother, gives nice advice, but uses none." You shrugged while looking up. "Bet Tommy would say the same about you."

“You here to help or to roast me?”

Laughter filled the room as you both banter. At some point, your legs touched under the table and no one made a move, enjoying each other proximity. You wanted to pet his hair, to kiss his temples and say that everything would be alright, but you knew better than that. Instead, you washed the dishes for him in a small gesture of tenderness.

"You have a week until her birthday. Already got all the items you need?" Drying your hands, you posed next to Joel who was drinking coffee while standing up near the sink. You tried to ignore how domestic the afternoon was.

“Yes, even the tape with the Apollo 11 launch. Still not sure how you got it, but thank you.” It was Eugene, but had you omitted this detail. “We won’t take the trip no longer, but I appreciate your effort, sweetheart.”

You took a second too long to understand the meaning behind his words, focusing on his southern accent saying a pet name. It made your cheeks get hotter, Joel was a man of direct words, most times not even saying your name. You were sucking your bottom lip when realized everything he spoke.

“What? No, why not? You put so much effort into it, she'll love it!” Joel shook his head at your words. Stubborn motherfucker.

“Too dangerous. Can’t hike with her like that.” His tone was dead serious, not giving space for a retort, but you opened your mouth anyway.

“Is her feet burned? Her eyes?” You asked seriously, he shook his head again. Putting both hands on your hips, you continued. "You took her all the way from the East Coast to Wyoming and now, when you both have a roof above your heads, family, and friends will you deny her mundane actions like a birthday surprise? You kept her safe before, you'll do it again. Fuck, I can go with you if it means you'll do it."

Joel raised his eyebrows ready to argue back, but you pointed a finger in his direction. You had no real intention of traveling with them, wanted to be their time together, but maybe it would help to convince him. After a few seconds, he accepted defeat.

“If she gets worse or something happens in the meantime, we’ll stay here. Final words.” Taking another sip of his coffee, Joel was still worried.

Embracing the intimacy you had developed with him up to this point, you got closer and put your head on his shoulder.

“If, if, something happens I'll be here still to help you think of a plan B. But I want to see you leave through that gate with her next Saturday.”

“Want a rest from me at your library?" He teased with a smile. You raised your head from his shoulder to look into his eyes.

"Who said I won't be at the gate waiting for you to get back?" Your tone and grin were playful, teasing, but the weight of his eyes on yours showed something more. Deciding to not see too much between the lines, you put some space between your bodies. "I have to go, need to feed the cat. See you tomorrow, okay?"

Joel nodded, taking the final sip from his coffee as you walked fast through the backdoor. Taking a gulp of air, you saw Nath leaving Ellie’s guest house. Paler than normal, she was trembling a little. You made a motion to go to her, but she ran away quickly before noticing you.

In a weekend full of emotions, you were left with your thoughts: what happened to your small town where everyone was always aware of each other business? You wanted answers, not just questions.

A week later, a few hours into hiking, Joel tried to clear the air with Ellie.

She had spent the week between the burning and her birthday healing, both her body and spirit. You came once more to the house, this time to visit her with Cat. He pretended not to see Nath there two times as well, despite his momentary anger towards her Ellie liked the woman’s company. Tommy and Maria kept dining with them, his sister-in-law even tried to light up the mood with jokes. Ellie was getting better, but the kitchen scene was in a loop inside his head.

“Why did you do it?” Joel started, just to notice how directed he was. Heart talk wasn’t his forte.

“Do you really wanna know?” Fortunately, Ellie was just like him, bad at translating her emotions into words. He stopped walking and nodded in her direction.

Ellie looked at his chest, her brown eyes a little lost. Joel did the same when under pressure.

“My immunity doesn't mean anything, right? The fireflies didn't find a use for it, so why have its scars permanently on my body? I wanted to feel normal. Free.” Joel’s heart sank.

His lie made her hurt herself. She mutilated her body in the hope of forgetting her wish to have a meaningful life. He felt ashamed for keeping his lie for so long.

“How are you feeling about it now?” He pointed at her right arm.

“I’m free. My body won’t hold me back anymore.” Her smile was so big, her eyes shining bright at him.

He wanted to hug her, to say sorry and tell her the truth about that day at the hospital. To ask her forgiveness and reinforce that he did to protect her, that none else mattered at that moment. However, the only thing he could hear from his mouth was:

“Let’s keep walking.”

Saturday at the Bison was the busiest, but Nath couldn’t care less. Since the moment she said goodbye to you, after watching Ellie and Joel leave the city's gate, her body was on autopilot while her mind kept going back and forward on seventeen years of memories with her grandpa. She lost count of how many sandwiches she made, of the faces that came to the bar, nothing else had space on her mind.

She avoided her reflection all day, ignoring her eyes in particular. The day went slow or too fast? Not a clue, except that when she went back to the bar lounge the doors were closed. Seth was putting the chairs above the tables, getting ready to clean everything.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Nath asked angry, no longer in a playful manner with him, just pure anger in her body.

“Protecting you. Go home, kid.” He ignored the venom behind her words, still cleaning the place.

"I don't know what are talking about. You have five minutes to put everything back in its place." She started to march towards the door, but Seth's voice made her stop.

“He was the same, letting everything simmer inside until it was no longer possible to ignore. It wasn’t your fault.” Unbothered, he didn’t glance at her once. Nath could feel her throat getting tighter.

Not saying another word, she decided to go to the bathroom to throw some water on her face before opening the bar again. When she turned around, her eyes passed by the counter and saw a small package with an “N.” written. She opened in a tentative to ignore what was inside her head, but the moment she saw Pawpaw’s baseball cap the tears rolled down her face.

"He wasn't perfect, but he loved you." Seth was next to her, with a broom in his hands. She looked into his eyes and saw acceptance and a safe space. He had listened to all her grandpa’s stories, he knew the other side.

She threw herself at Seth’s chest and allowed herself to mourn for her younger version, to what happened to Ellie. He held her tight until there were no tears left to cry.

You hoped Tommy's calculation was right. Cat was covering you at the library while you waited in front of Jackson's gate for Joel and Ellie. Four days went fast, especially with Nath’s good mood back. She was using an old baseball cap every time you saw her without further explanation, but you learned to accept odd behaviors from day one.

It was the afternoon of the fourth day of their travel, at any time Joel and Ellie would cross the gate. You wanted to validate what you said in their kitchen, it seemed important. Your impatience was evident, walking from side to side until the gate opened.

Ellie was in a good mood, laughing at something, but Joel didn't care much, his eyes focused on yours as soon as he saw you. Sprinting to them, you hugged Ellie before talking to Joel, knowing it would be a longer conversation by the weight of his stare.

“How was the birthday surprise? Did you like it?” You asked biting your lower lip, Joel’s hand at the top of Ellie’s back. Once more you felt strange with how domestic it was.

“Dinosaurs, man! They were massive! And the space section? Blew my mind!” She spoke fast, laughing, but then something crossed her mind and made her run from you while shouting to Joel. “I have to talk with Nath about the movie night! Jurassic Park!”

You chuckled, but when your eyes met Joel’s there was the same weight back.

"Hi," you tried and he said back. Somehow, your bodies moved in sync as you walked down the street. He told you with a little more detail about Ellie's reaction to the museum, filling your heart with joy.

You had been there two times, once prior to the outbreak on a family trip where your father used this moment to explain how the science went against the Bible’s creation story. You wanted to see the dinosaurs, but Albert’s lecture became your only memory. The second time with Nath and Eugene, a year before, to erase the first visit of your head. It worked.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower, have some sleep. Talk with you tomorrow, okay?” He stated leaving you at the library door. You agreed without a trace of doubt: he spent the week between Ellie’s burning and the actual birthday seeing you more than before, if it was possible.

Before heading home, Joel got closer and kissed your cheek so low his lips touched your mouth’s corner. Goosebumps appeared at the back of your neck, a wave of pleasure went through your body. Not thinking twice, you grabbed Joel’s wrist and gave him a peck before he could take another step.

He replied by putting his hands on your waist and kissing you back. Your hands traveled up to his shoulders, palming his broadness. His mustache tickled your face, the softness of his lips made a gentle pressure in yours. It was everything and more that you hoped for.

As he broke the kiss, the weight of his stare became something else. Tenderness, maybe? Or lust? You weren’t sure, except that you wanted everything held there behind his dark brown eyes.

“I have that Springsteen album you’re crazy about. Want to come by tonight and listen to it?” With a smile, you hoped for a yes while his hands were still at your waist. Joel nodded, his smile dimple showing up.

When you entered the library, you would still feel his body impression in yours. You were too blissful to notice Cat walking back from the window.

“My dad's mustache makes so much sense now," she stated looking at you. Shit, Cat was playing cupid between you both. As you opened your mouth to say anything that could save you, she continued with a grin. "The heart wants what it wants, am I right? He’ll survive and grow a better facial hair, I hope.”

Your heart wanted Joel and no one else.

Leaving the library earlier than usual, you made your way to the house in quick steps, feet almost floating above the pavement in such a hurry. Trying to focus, you organized one, two, and too many times the house. The orange tabby cat was looking at everything curious, unaccustomed to your rapid pace.

You put your favorite Beatles song on replay while you showered, still in a good mood. Another album that Jason got you growing up, I've Just Seen A Face was a song that you would hum to yourself while moving from site to site, much to Jason’s despair. “I got you their whole discography and you choose this one to be your favorite? I failed to raise you", he would tease.

Your hurried moves of getting ready for whenever Joel showed up (you forgot to settle a time) mimicked the song's fast rhythm, just like the lyrics translated everything you had built up since that first meeting at the Tipsy Bison. Jason didn't understand the ways to someone's heart, but you did. At least you hoped for it.

Separating Springsteen's Born In The U.S.A., you took another look around the house and realized you would have to wait, impatiently, for Joel. Checked your breath, your hair, your underwear – even if you weren’t planning to go that far tonight, ate something and kept humming the Beatles’ song until a knock at the door echoed.

Your heart sank as you opened the door, green eyes staring at you instead of the dark brown eyes you wanted. Alfie stood at your door with his brows furrowed.

“Hello, Dolly.”

“Alfie, what are you doing here?” Your politeness forgotten, what if Joel saw the man there? Could he see something more behind it? He would show up at any given moment.

“Need to talk with you. It’s important.” He tried, hard on the eyes and making a motion asking permission to come inside. “It’s about Maria. She is up to something with Nath, I need your help with it.”

"Wait, what do you mean?" Your curiosity was piqued, a split second forgetting about Joel.

“I mean she’ll try to take Nath’s spot at the council. Now, can I come in?” A chill went down your spine. You remembered Maria's words about Esther's presence at the council, of how she wouldn't fall for Nath's "bad schemes".

Making space for him to get inside, your eyes scanned the street once more in search of the dark brown eyed man. It was still somewhat early in the night, you knew Joel wouldn't forget your invite, but for this moment the only pair of eyes inside your mind was blue ones.

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