tloujoel56

[tloujoel56]

Wild Hornets | Tommy Miller x F!reader

Word Count: 7.9k Warnings: tooth aching fluff, p in v sex, oral f receiving, that's it I think. If I missed something let me know MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Summary: She is looking for peace, and she finds it in Jackson. A/N: I want to thank @mypoisonedvine for listening to me ramble on about this fic for several hours as I was writing it. I swear it's because of them that it go finished at all. Gif by NetworkLuna <;3 Please reblog if you like it! It would mean so much to me!

Buy me a snack or w.e?

It’d been a long time since she’d seen anyone else, the roads were barren, even the hunters were few and far between. There were more infected near QZ’s than there were out beyond the large cities, never as many runners.. but it didn’t mean she didn’t have to be careful. Cutting through the woods she found herself overlooking at, what looked like, an abandoned cottage. Rough exterior, rotting wood, and vines overgrowing between each log. It was perfect, it’d do the job for now, and maybe she’d get to stay long enough to fix it up. Though a part of her felt like that might just be wishful thinking - it’d been a long time since she’d ever let herself do anything of the sort.

As she approached the cottage she checked the windows, pleased they were still intact. Making her way to the arched door attached to the old hinges, it looked recently repaired with the fresh coat of spray paint covering them.. either that or twenty years half touched it… which seemed unlikely. Suddenly on edge, she pushed the door open slowly, truly, she needed a place to sleep for the night at the very least but the concern now was that someone had had the same idea as her.

People were just as dangerous as the infected. Sometimes, they were worse. She’d seen the best, and worst of human beings. They often paraded themselves as kind, only to try to kill her when she wasn’t expecting it. So far, no one had succeeded – thankfully. As the door creaked shut behind her she froze, listening for any sign of life within. Nothing. Still, she moved from room to room making sure it was clear, checking closets and cabinets just to be sure. It wasn’t till she got to the last bedroom that she realized that someone had been here, quite recently. There were embers in that bedroom's fireplace, a cup of hot tea still sat on the bench. She backed up then turned to leave, she did not want trouble and that's all this could spell for her if she didn’t get the hell out of dodge now.

Click

She froze. The barrel of a gun pressed to her back she closed her eyes, “hey now… no need to be hasty.. I’m leavin’,” she spoke softly as she held her hands up. Not wanting to spook the person with the weapon, she’d been shot before and most certainly didn’t want a repeat. “I didn’t know anyone was here, I’ll just be on my way….”

“What do you want?” the male voice asked, a slight southern drawl enunciating his words.

“Was just looking for a place to rest … get out of the rain, wanted to dry out my socks and shoes… just for a few days,” she spoke gently as she closed her eyes trying to keep her wits about her. The funny thing is, when a gun is pressed to your back that's incredibly difficult – all she could do was hope he wasn’t trigger-happy or a creep.

The barrel of the gun left her back, he sighed, “you can stay, I was doin’ the same,” he mumbled as he moved around her then took his seat. It was then she got a good look at him, dark wavy hair fell just past his chin – he had a bit of facial hair - looked to be in his late thirties to mid-forties.

“Are you sure?” she asked him gently and he nodded motioning for her to have a seat, she didn’t hesitate. It’d been so long since she’d been comfortable enough with anyone, but he could have killed her – or worse, with ease. He had had the upper hand, he likely still did but she’d take any moment of rest she could get.

“Where you headed from?”

“Albany,” she sighed a bit then shook her head, "I swear just about every QZ has fallen, I’ve seen a lot of empty ones on my way here.”

He whistled then nodded, “Long way from home then," he sipped his drink again before continuing, "some lasted longer than others, some fell quick...guess it just depends on how strict they were or how bullheaded the people were. You've come a long way, should be proud of that.”

Looking at him she spoke her name and he lifted his eyes, “Tommy,” he gave a small smile then sighed, “You been alone this whole time?”

She shook her head, “was with a few people but they went their own ways about two weeks ago, haven’t seen anyone since. It’s kind of surprising how peaceful it is on the road, considering how bad it was when it all first started.”

“How old were you?” he asked her as he offered her a fresh cup of hot tea and she took it.

“Eleven,” she told him sighing a little, “was so scary because I didn’t know what was happening, my parents were divorced and I was with my mom. She made it but… she passed from a heart attack several years ago and my dad," she shrugged a bit not knowing where he was but knew he might be out there somewhere if he kept his wits about him. 

“My sister is still alive that I know of, she moved with her husband north – we spoke via radio about… a year ago, she was safe then I’m assuming she is now too.”

“That's good...I’ve been in radio contact with my brother too. On and off for about...12 years,” he related to her as he thought about it. She sipped the tea and the flavors brought her back to a world where she didn't have to be so scared. Chamomile, green tea, and a hint of something.

“Honey?” she furrowed her brow and he smiled then nodded. “I haven’t had that in a long time.”

“I uh… I have a community not far from here I was just making rounds… you’re welcome to join us if you want. We’re not fireflies, we’re not cultists… just a community of people.” he assured her, and she wanted so badly to believe him but she was skeptical.. how else would he have honey though? She wasn’t sure, hell, she didn’t even know what went into harvesting honey.

Finishing off the drink, “I’d like to go,” she revealed to him softly, “you understand my reluctance, right?”

“Of course I do, hell, I know it sounds sketch at best everything has a price these days.” he told her shrugging a bit., “but I promise you it’s not whatever your mind is thinkin’ up. Lots of good people in Jackson, we’d love another set of hands.”

A part of her wanted to give in, but she was unsure. This could spell disaster if he was lying, but so far he seemed okay. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “no pressure – hell, you can stay here in this cottage as long as you want.”

Comforting. At least it settled those wild hornets in her stomach that was often her queue that something was very wrong. Hopefully this time they weren’t right. “I might do that… just for a while, how often do you come out here?” she queried as she finished off the hot tea then set the mug down.

“Every couple of weeks, just to make sure no clickers made their way this far. We usually run a whole group but it’s been pretty quiet lately so I decided to come on my own,” he explained with a small smile then rested his arms on his legs leaning forward. “This storm doesn’t seem like it's going to let up any time soon, get comfortable – let those shoes and socks dry by the fire you can rest on the bed.”

Tommy motioned behind him to the mattress and she looked at it, “Fancy sheets.”

He chuckled, “Brought’em from home, if you wanna wash up I’ve got some soap – the rain should be collecting in that barrel if you wanna take advantage of it.”

A laugh of disbelief escaped her, “that's a nonquestion, pretty please hand over the soap.” she gushed to him and he laughed fishing the bar out of his bag and tossing it to her. She caught it and then smiled a bit. “Won’t take me too long, I’ll be right back.”

The room adjacent to this one had a barrel with a gutter leading into it, she filled a basin with the water before stripping down to her tank top and underwear so she could wash up. Tossing the used water out the window every so often till she was clean. When she redressed a part of her wished she could have washed her clothes but she wasn’t going to push her luck – she’d just have to wash them later when Tommy left.

It was about an hour later when she returned, “I feel human again…. Thank you.” she spoke handing the soap back but he shook his head.

“Keep it, I have plenty more where that came from. Consider it a good faith gift,” he told her chuckling a little, “I remember washing up the first time after a long bit felt like heaven.”

“Something like it,” she replied then sighed setting her shoes and socks out by the fire before walking over to the mattress. She yawned tiredly before collapsing down onto it, groaning. “Oh man, this is fucking amazing… thank you, Tommy.”

“Don’t worry about it, rest. I’ll wake you up when dinner is done,” he told her and she hummed, already lost to the sound of the rain and her own exhaustion.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder shaking her awake, “Hey… cooked up some rabbit and some rice… figured you’d wanna eat. Could hear your stomach growling as I got cookin’.” he chuckled and she groaned in embarrassment.

“It’s been a while since I ate,” she admitted softly then wet her lips a little, “thanks, again… you’ve been so kind… I very much appreciate it.”

Tommy seemed to shrug it off, that seemed to be how he worked. Letting things go like water off a duck's back, and she wondered how he could feel so content giving things to a stranger. As she ate her food she sighed, closing her eyes - hell, it'd been nearly two days since she'd had any food. A part of her worried it might make her sick but she didn't concern herself with it for long. The food warmed her from the inside, and it made this whole trip worth it. Maybe she should go to Jackson, she could put in help there and make her own life - make friends… be safe. 

"Whats Jackson like?" she queried softly as she lifted her eyes from the food to Tommy. 

A small smile curved his lips, "well we have electricity from the dam, we have running water and hot water. We're expanding our growing fields, it's now two acres of grain everyone harvests that together, no one goes hungry but everyone pitches in if they can.  Kids and the elderly do small tasks that they're able to handle; kids go to school after chores then can play the rest of the day."

"There are kids?" she whispered, she hadn't seen any in so long. Her community had been made up of mostly elderly people, and the cold just wasn't suiting them anymore, so they opted to go south. Though, she wasn't entirely sure that was the best idea,  not with how fast the cordyceps seemed to spread down in the heat of the south. 

"Yeah, not a lot of'em but there's enough," he revealed as he looked at her, his dark eyes holding an emotion she couldn't place - at least not one that had ever been directed at her. "A couple recently had a baby this year, a few more expecting in the coming months - we're safe. So, it breeds comfort amongst other things," he chuckled then shrugged a bit.

A small smile curved her lips, "what about you - do you have any kids?" she asked curiously and he shook his head.

"Never found the right one I suppose, maybe one day, got nothin' but time," he told her as he continued to eat his food. It seemed like he was content, not like he'd been scorned or if he was missin' someone. Part of this world was her not letting anyone get close enough for her to miss them. After her mother died she just didn't know if she could handle the loss of another loved one. 

"Did..did you have anyone?" he asked cautiously and she shook her head. 

"No, never let anyone get close enough - not really worth it with everything going on. Besides I had a hard enough time keeping myself alive, a kid? or a partner? Seemed like it'd cause me more stress than I'd need," she murmured thoughtfully as she wet her lips a little then set the plate to the side huffing out a deep breath. 

She was going to Jackson with Tommy, there was no question about it. 

The following morning she put on her dry socks and shoes, loaded up her bag then watched as Tommy moved around the room to gather his own things. It wasn't methodical in any sense of the word, he would constantly backtrack for things he forgot then stuff it haphazardly into his backpack.  It was amusing to see how unorganized he was but she didn't say anything, it was a miracle he didn't lose his head even though it was attached. 

"Ready?" he asked as he lifted his bag to his shoulder.

"As I'll ever be," she replied softly with a small smile. "How far is it?"

Tommy led her to the front door and out of the cottage before speaking, "not fair, probably about four miles. Tend to go further and further to look for infected so we can clear them out before they get close."

Couldn't knock that logic, hell she hadn't seen any infected in so long. She wondered if this area even had any, lots of burn piles but no living infected. Not even a screech or howl in the distance, the sound that truly haunted her nightmares. She took solace in the silence between them on the trip, as filling it might have made things weird. Forced conversation, was not really something she was into. She found herself admiring him, maybe it was just the close proximity of another human after so long. One that wasn't ancient and was quite handsome, well she was sure that played a part too. Forcing herself to look around every once in a while not wanting to get caught staring, it'd have been awkward, to say the least. 

Four hours later they stood in front of a gate, huge metal and creaking as it opened. There he was greeted and he began to speak to a blonde woman then motioned to her; he seemed to be vouching for her. The woman nodded with a small smile before approaching her, "We're happy you decided to join us, we don't have many houses for singles these days but we're working on it… for now you can share with Tommy. He lives in a two-bedroom, and we'll get you some more clothes." 

"Oh, okay thank you so much," she laughed a little then nodded, "what about work?"

"We'll worry about that later, give you some time to settle in." she explained to her reassuringly, "there is plenty of work to do, no need to rush into it. Though, is there anything you're interested in?" 

She thought on it for a moment, "before all of this I liked being in the garden.

Maria smiled, "Perfect, we always need more help with the garden here. You'll be a welcome addition, in the meantime just relax and recoup from life out there for the rest of the week." 

"Rest of? I don't even know what day it is… much less month…" she sighed a little. 

"It's April fifteenth, twenty twenty-three," her eyes grew wide and she took a deep breath.

"I'm thirty one.." she murmured softly, "well, not yet… but almost," 

"Go rest, trust me you'll feel better for it," Maria told her and she nodded then looked over to where Tommy called her name. She walked over to him and he smiled leading her down one of the roads. 

He cleared his throat, "we live just here on Jenkins," he explained to her, "first house on the left." The house was a grey color, nothing spectacular. It was small but held a certain charm to it, it looked well cared for. It most certainly had been recently patched up, some of the wood looked newer than others. The railing on the porch was hand carved then screwed in place certainly giving it a rustic vibe she'd not seen in the QZ.  Inside the floors looked smooth, probably with some kind of sealant on them to prevent them from rotting. Removing her shoes at the door like he did, she took in the space that was now hers as well as his. 

"Feel free to help yourself to a hot shower," he encouraged her, "I know after mine I'm going to lay in bed for a bit. Those runs always get the best of me," he huffed at the thought. He could've been out there longer for all she knew, she'd only known him less than twenty-four hours. 

Placing a hand on his arm forcing him to look at her, "Thank you, Tommy…pretty sure you saved my life." Even though the act of him bringing her to Jackson was one he'd probably done before with other people; it brought warmth to her. This kindness was unlike anything she'd experienced outside of her immediate family. With them gone, well, she didn't have a whole lot to look forward to. 

Tommy shook his head in response, "Nah, just…doin' what's right…never wanna leave someone behind when I can help them. For all the trouble I caused in the beginning, it's the least I can do."

Definitely curious about the trouble he had apparently caused - she didn't ask. It was bad enough he felt the need to help everyone he could, making up for wrongdoings she was sure - they all had them, and no one's hands weren't bloodied in this world. She motioned to the stairs with her hand, "yeah, upstairs to the right is your room, the shower is connected there… we share a bathroom," he told her smiling, it was almost cheeky and she wondered what kind of trouble ( the good kind ) he had gotten up to before the outbreak. 

"I'll be quick," she called as she made her way up the stairs and she swore he watched her the whole way. Brushing off the tingling over her skin she walked into the bathroom before realizing she didn't have any clean clothes. She opened the door making a startled noise when Tommy stood there with a small pile of clothes. 

"Just some sweats and tee shirt to tide you over till we get you something better. Maria will be by with a good set of options for you before the day is out for sure," he offered a boyish smile as she took the soft clothes.

"Thanks... I was, just about to ask," she admitted to him and he nodded before stepping back. God, she'd never get those dark brown eyes out of her mind now. She shut the door breaking into a small awkward smile of her own, what the hell was she doing - never had she been this stiff around another person before.  If washing in the basin had been nice, this was downright orgasmic. The feeling of hot water on her skin was a rare occurrence in the QZ, hell, once a month if she was lucky.  The dirt swirled down the drain and she didn't stop till it ran clear, by then she knew she looked like a different person.  

She wiped the mirror when she exited the shower, looking over the foreign plains of her face. This was the part she hated, how she never seemed to recognize herself anymore. Always seemed to look like she was looking through a window, rather than a mirror. Exhaling deeply she dried off and used the lotion that was in the cabinet before getting dressed. Tommy's clothes were big on her, but she didn't mind it was cozy. Taking her dirty clothes up off the floor she walked out of the bathroom and dropped them next to her bedroom door unsure what to do with them.

Looking around the nearly empty room she couldn't help but wonder who this all belonged to before things went south. The bed was a full one, it had yellow sheets and a green comforter with white polka dots. In the window there were lace or some kind of thin cotton curtains hung blocking the view from outside, but the way the sun filtered through reminded her of her childhood room.  It was a narrow room, barely fitting her own full mattress in there with windows high up on the walls - curtains never fitting it properly. The colors were the same, the white walls and green comforter that she'd picked out with her mother.

The silence of this room filled a void with memories she'd been long trying to stuff down, she covered her face with her hands taking deep breaths. Soothing the ache she felt that her mother would never experience this kind of peace, the world was unfair but it had been unfair to her long before then. A knock on the door caused her to turn as it opened, she wiped her eyes quickly but she saw concern etched into Tommy's face once he noticed. 

"Everything okay?" he asked softly, but she shook her head a little before sniffling. Tommy moved close to her rubbing her arm gently, "It's gonna be alright… I know it's a lot."

"I just keep thinking about my mom… how it's so unfair she didn't get to see this," she whispered then clenched her eyes closed before shaking her head to push the thoughts away. It was all she knew how to do, but the warmth of his hand was comforting. Hell, the last time someone had touched her had been when she got the butt end of a rifle to face, not quite as comforting as this was. 

He moved closer, rubbing her back gently. "She'd be happy knowing you're safe. You can honor her memory here however you like.  If we have the means to, I'll even help." The genuine words from his mouth made her suck in a few rapid breaths to stop herself from crying.

"Can…can I give you a hug? I think you need it," he murmured gently. 

Without hesitation, she nodded, and she was enveloped in his arms. She clutched onto him her face buried into his chest, eyes closed. He was so warm, it caused skin prickles up and down her spine. She needed this much more than she realized, hell, she didn't even know how long they'd stood there as he rubbed her back. He hadn't said a word, but part of her thinks he needed this too. 

"Thank you," she murmured, pulling out of his embrace looking him in the eyes. "You were right… I did need it…don't know how long…" trailing off but he got the point. 

"Anytime, I mean it…" he reassured her, "you come to me and I'll hug you as long as you want." again that cheeky smile formed on his face making him look twenty years younger. 

That night she cooks dinner for the both of them, he'd gone out and gotten them some pork, potatoes, some fresh bread, and a host of seasonings that had been crafted up for his kitchen.  It had been delicious, there wasn't much room for talking. Both of them were still quite tired, and she didn't even really know what to say. Hell, they'd done just about all the talking they could while in the cottage. 

Maria had let herself in and smiled. "I have about a weeks worth of clothes here for you, when it gets cooler we'll make sure you have all the things you'll need to stay warm." The backpack was stuffed to the brim, and she wasn't sure what she'd do with all that. "this bag has shoes, sneakers and repaired boots, a few pairs of socks I'll get you more of those tomorrow." 

"Wow…" she murmured, the abundance of items that she was being given was just not what she was used to. "thank you, so much…" 

"Don't worry about it. Tomorrow Tommy is going to give you the grand tour and you'll meet some people."

Tommy nodded in agreement, "It'll be good for you to know your way around, but everyone here is nice you don't gotta worry about much. If you get lost just ask for help," he told her. 

At a loss for words, all she could do was nod to the plans for the following day. It was easy to see they had a way about how they accepted new people, and she knew she likely wouldn't be going on scoutings or on watch for several weeks - if not months.  The kindness they had bestowed on her was worth the wait for such a task, she didn't want to make them regret bringing her to Jackson.

"Great, I'll leave you two to dinner… welcome to Jackson," Maria beamed at her before she walked out the front door. When it latched shut she exhaled a bit, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. 

"she makes me nervous," she admitted sheepishly making Tommy burst out laughing, his head tilted back as he covered his mouth.

He sighed before nodding then laughing weakly, "me too," which caused her own laughter to fill the room.  Something she hadn't felt in a long time was happiness, but for some reason, Tommy managed to pluck it right out of her. The little crinkles beside his eyes as he smiled, the sound of his laugh vibrating off the walls, he was easy to talk to. Easy to be around in general and she hoped that never changed. 

They'd both gone to bed around the same time, after washing dishes and brushing her teeth - which felt foreign but so good. Falling into bed covering herself with the green comforter, it was like lights out. Well, until the thunderstorm rolled through and she swore she heard the sound of a clicker. Sitting straight up in bed she looked around the room, the only light being sourced from outside with every flash of lightning. Her heart rattled against her rib cage, she hated thunderstorms. Getting up she lit a few candles in her room to get rid of the dark corners, the ones that kept forcing images of the monsters she was so afraid of. 

Time had passed, and the candles were getting lower but the rain still powered on. Something she didn't know was possible.  The door to her room creaked open, and she saw Tommy with a concerned expression again. "Storm woke me up," she spoke to him and he nodded a little as he walked over setting his candle down on her bedside. 

"Do you want me to stay with you? Or are you okay?" he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

For a moment she thought about it then looked at her hands as she fiddled with the corner of the blanket, "could you stay?" she asked him with furrowed brows. "Just till it stops?"

Tommy offered a small smile before nodding, he got up blowing out the candles. She scooted over so he had room to lay next to her,  she pulled the blanket over them then sighed. He rolled onto his side putting his arm around her, and for once she didn't feel scared. Tommy caged her against him and she gave in with her face against his chest - the warmth and security that came from him was the driving factor in her falling asleep in exactly five minutes. 

Neither of them moved for the next eight hours. Both of them had had the best sleep of their entire lives, and she wasn't sure she wanted to go back to sleeping alone after that. 

A week had passed since her arrival in Jackson, and she spent a good majority of her time in the garden or the greenhouse. There was a big shortage of workers there, and she rather enjoyed it. Five hours a day there, and then she was able to do whatever her heart desired. Though she did ask around if they needed help elsewhere, it brought her peace to know the few things she learned in the QZ and gave her an edge here in Jackson. Learning how to fix things on the fly was the only way since FEDRA wouldn't be giving anyone anything. 

At home, the friendship between her and Tommy had only grown. In fact, it had grown so much that they now cuddled in her bed every night. Neither of them slept great when the other was away, whenever he had watch she'd lay in bed and read till he got home. It wasn't lost on her how domestic it was, but nothing had happened, but it didn't stop her from wanting something too.  Tonight when he crawled into bed they had the windows cracked to let a breeze in, the shorts she wore really helped her stay cool and they were only covered with a flat sheet. The comforter was just too much these days, even if it was only into April. 

"Patricia asked about you today," he told her as he laid back in the bed while she read her book. 

Humming she turned to look at him, "Oh? what'd she ask about?" she queried before putting a piece of paper in between the pages to mark her spot. 

"Something about wanting you to meet her son properly," he smirked a little causing her to roll her eyes. "Yeah, said you two would be a great match." 

Making a face she sighed, "Her son is weird, can't put my finger on it but he's just strange. Definitely not my type," she asserted as she looked at him from where he was laying. His hands were under the back of his head, "what did you tell her?" 

"I'd let you know," he cackled making her groan. 

"You're supposed to tell her I'm emotionally unavailable," she whined then shoved him playfully but he caught her hand and pulled her close to him.

"Whys that?" he asked as he looked at her, a crooked smile forming on his lips. 

"You know why," she whispered as she looked at him and he nodded pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand then placing it over his chest. 

"I know," he murmured, "I want to hear you say it though." He was notorious for teasing, it was clear only after a few days of being there that it was just an integral part of his personality.  He'd even gone about tickling the hell out of her one night when she teased him back, and she'd say she hated it - but that'd be a lie.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek she took a deep breath, "because I don't want anyone else, I want you." she murmured and she swore his eyes lit up like the fourth of July. It brought the heat to her face and she looked away unable to meet his eyes as they burned into her skin. Her heart thudded in her chest as he pulled her down turning her face back to his. He caught her lips with his own, she gasped against his mouth then relaxed as his lips moved on hers. 

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't imagined this, fuck, she'd imagined it more often than would be right to admit. Only knowing him for a week and wanting him to touch her in ways that might be considered sinful if she were religious.  When they parted he stroked her cheek gently before speaking, "ain't no one ever made me feel like this… like we got some.. magnetic bond or something," he murmured as he looked into her eyes. 

"I thought it was one sided but…" she trailed off causing him to shake his head, "I didn't want to ruin whatever this was." 

Tommy grunted, "never, even if you hadn't felt the same.. I'm not goin' no where. Stuck with me.."

"Wouldn't really call it stuck," she murmured with a small smile curving her lips as she laid down next to him. He leaned over capturing her lips again, his hand sliding down her back pulling her thigh over his hip.  A soft sigh escaped her when he pulled back again, "we should slow down… right?"

"If you want to," he murmured reassuringly, and she nodded in confirmation. She hadn't been with anyone in over ten years, and that alone scared her to think that it might be like losing her virginity all over again. With him being so much older she assumed he had a wealth of more experience than she did.  It took her an hour to fall asleep that night, but she didn't wake until morning when Tommy moved to get out of bed and their day began like it had for the last week.

Coming home early from her shift at the garden, it didn't need much work right now. They were mostly seedlings and root vegetables that would need to be pulled by the end of  May.  She'd gotten some stew from the big kitchen and some mashed potatoes to go with it for dinner; blessing whoever had killed that hog because the meat was coming in use more than anything else.

"Got us a movie!" Tommy called as he walked in with a grin on his face, he approached her pressing a kiss to her cheek making her smile. 

"What is it?" she asked him curiously as she looked at the DVD in his hand.

"The Others… came out in like 2001 I think… never saw it," he shrugged a little, "but Derek said it was good, scary but good." 

"Scary?" she sighed then whined as she handed him his plate, "I don't handle scary well."

"I'll protect you," he grinned at her, "don't worry so much. We'll eat then cuddle up on the couch to watch it." 

"Fine, but if I just hide my face the whole time it's your fault." 

"As long as you're next to me," he grinned at her setting his plate on the dining table, "This smells good, been smellin' it all day. My stomach hasn't stopped growling." 

"Mine either, I could smell it all the way in the green house," she huffed, "just happy to not have to cook tonight." 

They ate in relative silence, with a few comments here and there but mostly they just relished in being comfortable with each other's presence.  When she finished eating she washed the dish then headed to get a few drinks set up for their movie night then a blanket. With her vague memory of how to even work a DVD player, she managed to get to the main menu as he walked into the room. "I got it!" she proclaimed before standing to go sit on the couch.

"These things work just like new, found'em in boxes in a truck outside of Salt Lake City," he murmured to her as he sat next to her. He fixed the blanket over their legs then hit play as she got comfortable nestled in his side. 

Turns out the movie was terrifying. Not a lot more to say about it than that other than the fact that Tommy reveled in the fact that he got to hold her close the whole damn time.  She wasn't as happy with how scared she was, even before the infection she hated scary movies. Luckily, now she had Tommy.

"This is so, so stupid," she huffed as she looked at the screen. "How could you do this to me?"

A laugh escaped him and he put his arms around her, "it's not that bad it's more psychological than real horror," he comforted her kissing the top of her head as he rubbed her legs that were in his lap. He rubbed her thigh gently to comfort her but all he managed to do was send her mind spiraling, his hands were rough from his time spent in this world. It evoked some kind of emotion in her that had been all too common lately, especially when he gave her those cheeky smiles.  The sensation shot right between her legs and she hated herself for it. When the movie ended she continued to hold onto him, he didn't seem to mind so much. In fact, he took it as a moment to bring his lips to hers. 

Soft. Sensual. All-encompassing. That's what his affection was, his fingers dug into her thighs forcing a whimper to escape from her lips. She'd never wanted anything so bad as she did him, he was more than willing every time she initiated anything. He moved his hand from her thigh to cup her face, he leaned her back on the couch and moved over her. His lips not once leaving her own. They adjusted her legs so he could comfortably lay between them, neither of them could help but grind against the other. 

"Fuck," he whispered softly then trailed his lips down her neck, "god that feels so good." His breath on her skin as he grinned her thighs rocking his hips into hers slowly, murmuring words she couldn't hear because she was too far gone. Soft moans and whimpers escaped her, but he never stopped talking. "Is this okay, sweetheart?" he asked gently causing her to nod. 

"Can we go upstairs?" she asked him gently, and he cursed before nodding. 

"Fuck yeah we can," he murmured reluctantly climbing off her and helping her to her feet. They both seemed to take two steps at a time, and he'd pulled her shirt off by the time they go to the room.

"M'gonna be real honest…if you want this I'm gonna have to take care of you first 'cause there is no way in hell I'm lasting longer than a few minutes." 

A smile broke out on her face as she pushed her hands under his shirt, "If you think I'm going to last longer than a few minutes then you're sorely mistaken," she murmured then removed his shirt tossing it to the floor before kissing him again. Tommy grasped at her hips then led her to the bed, only stopping when the backs of her legs hit the mattress. Helping her lay down he grinned as he pulled the sweats down her legs revealing the cotton underwear, he swore softly then pressed open-mouth kisses to her abdomen as he hooked his fingers into her underwear pulling them down too. 

"Fuck, sweetheart, look at you," he murmured softly swiping his thumb over her damp folds, "is this okay?" 

The question was asked but she barely heard it, "yes, Tommy.. fuck.. don't stop," she whimpered as he pushed her legs open. He dove straight him his tongue between the folds and a moan choked in her throat, her fingers threading his hair as he flicked his tongue over the bunder of nerves. She was certain everyone on the block knew what was happening but couldn't bring herself to care, she was on the verge of seeing stars and never wanted it to stop. 

He sunk a digit into her then moaned against her at how wet she was, grinding his hips against the mattress to alleviate some pressure. "m' so close," she gasped bucking her hips, he doubled his efforts. He knew that not being touched for a while would definitely make her more sensitive this time but he planned on ruining her for all others. Tommy figured it might be selfish but he didn't care. The sounds of her pleasure echoing off the wall, paired with the heady taste of her in his mouth he was close to cumming just by default. He knew once he was inside her he'd last an embarrassing three minutes before it was over.  Then he felt it, on his fingers first, the fluttering and then the vocal silence as her body arched off the bed, he shoved her back down and captured her clit between his lips sucking to ride her through the peak of her orgasm.

She tapped his arm gently and he lifted his head, she was covered in sweat just like him. "So sensitive," she whispered as he rubbed his thumb over her clit again with a grin. 

"Do you want me to stop? I want one more," he murmured as he curled it with the digit causing a whine to escape her. Her thighs trembling at the thought.

"Don't think I can," she whispered honestly.

"Guess I'm not doing my job right if you can think then,  one more," Tommy nodded then lapped at the swollen bundle before moving his fingers in her again. He knew he'd never tire of her sounds, and she felt as if she were on could nine - her body taking flight to the heavens as his tongue worked its magic on her. Something told her this was the kind of trouble he'd gotten up to before the infection; she couldn't help but feel jealous. 

"Fuck," she gasped feeling it build, he could too, the way his eyes would look up at her every once in a while took her breath away. They were a dark abyss with no end in sight with how blown out they were, what she wouldn't give to have him in his mouth begging the way she was. It pushed her over the edge and she felt as if she were on another plane of existence, her body trembling, twitching as soft whines and whimpers escaped her. 

"Good girl,' he whispered then crushed his mouth to hers rubbing his clothed lower half against her, "fuck you did so good, sweetheart so fucking beautiful," he murmured gently then nibbled on her neck. "we can stop here if you want…"

"Fuck….Tommy, I'm not stopping till you come in me," she whispered softly, her hands cupping his face, "Take me how you want…I won't break." 

All sense of control seemed to leave Tommy as he flipped her over onto her stomach, he removed the rest of his clothes not daring to touch his cock. It was red and needy for release, hell, the sight she got of it made her gasp - he was bigger than she expected. Though, she truly didn't know what was normal these days. The feel of him sliding between her folds almost sent her again but she gained some strength parting her thighs as he slowly pressed himself inside of her. 

The sound that left him was unholy, and the fact that it was right in her ear caused her to tighten around him, "oh don't do that," he whispered softly then slowly rocked his hips, "want to enjoy this, fuck you feel so good.. I ah… fuck," he gasped as he began to thrust faster and harder into her. Each snap of his hip drove them both more and more toward their end. Her whimpers gasps that matched his, his whines buried in her neck as he bottomed out with every thrust. 

"Like fucking heaven, so good for me.. all for me," he murmured as he worked his length into her, but he felt her walls fluttering again and her body trembled as she came for the third time and he lost it. He saw white coating his vision as he twitched inside her coating her walls with his release.

"So, good Tommy.. so fucking good," she gasped quietly as she pressed herself further back against him as he did his best to bury himself as deep as he could. 

Tommy eventually pulled from her then grunted  as he rolled her over looking at her fucked out expression, stroking her cheek. "You okay?" he whispered lightly. 

"Leaking out," she whispered making a face.

He sucked his teeth then shook his head, "can't have that," he murmured shoving what he could of his cum back inside her. 

"Are you okay though?" he asked her softly, and she nodded. He kissed her softly then stroked her neck. "Ya' never getting rid of me now, you know that right? Not ever." 

"Guess that's fair since you're not gettin' rid of me ever either," she told him softly as she looked at him then smiled a little bit. "Does this mean you'll tell Patricia that I'm not interested in her son?"

"Yeah, figure we can tell everyone in our own way," he murmured as he walked over to the dresser to grab a hand towel to clean her up.  

A laugh escaped her, "You mean if they didn't hear us tonight?"

"Exactly," he murmured then kissed her knee gently as he parted her legs to gently wipe her.  "You should do the thing girls do after, don't want you to get sick." 

"Mhm, in a minute," she murmured tiredly, "just till my legs work again,"

A prideful smile curved his lips as he looked at her, "I'm never gonna get enough of you, and this weekend we're going to have the work on my stamina that was pathetic."

"Can't wait,' she murmured as she sat up and brought his lips to hers. The dark eyes belonged to her now, his lips, his smiles, all hers. Something about it felt surreal, and she knew somewhere if heaven was real that her mother was happy she found someone who evoked such peace in her.  Tommy saved her in more than one way, and some might think it a savior complex but hell before he even offered up Jackson he was good company, he didn't kill her and she liked those dark eyes of his.  She'd fought for too long for people to try to take this for her, hell, she was sure he felt the same way. 

The following morning everything was still, the world was still going but she felt more at peace than she had in years. He slept next to her on his back, and she smiled kissing his cheek softly then his lips. "If we don't get up now we'll be late," she whispered and he grunted cursing softly. 

"Yeah, I know," he murmured gently, "you feelin' okay?"

"Little sore, but I'm fine…" she nestled into his chest closing her eyes content as he rubbed her back gently. "I'll get used to it." 

He grunted, "Lets… not go there I'd rather not be on watch for six hours hard as fuckin' granite." The laugh that erupted from her made a huge smile break on his face, she couldn't help but wanted to see it so she turned to look at him.

"You're so beautiful, Tommy." 

"should be the one sayin' that to you," he looked at her with an amused expression, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards  at the comment. 

"Well, no ones stopping you…" she bit back teasingly, her hand rubbing his chest affectionately.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart, damn i don't deserve you…" 

She hummed, shrugging - "Not even wild hornets could keep me away," she told him pressing her mouth to his. 

[tloujoel56]

screaming 🫠

[tloujoel56]

Via Paul Mescal

[tloujoel56]

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it,  never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core. 

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can. 

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.  

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel. 

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more. 

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has. 

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine. 

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.” 

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.” 

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do. 

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it. 

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you. 

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length. 

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay. 

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.” 

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket. 

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink. 

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale. 

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers. 

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week. 

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context. 

You shake your head, no. 

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort. 

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.  

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!” 

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch. 

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through. 

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket. 

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late. 

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb. 

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street  hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest. 

“Why didn’t you say no?” 

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor. 

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin. 

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway. 

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern. 

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all. 

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait. 

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life. 

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand. 

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved. 

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up. 

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb. 

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers. 

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday. 

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side. 

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down. 

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs. 

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now. 

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?” 

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.” 

“Why not?” 

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?” 

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat. 

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw. 

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep. 

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths. 

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs. 

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches. 

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to  let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.” 

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist. 

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life. 

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop. 

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel. 

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning. 

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

[tloujoel56]

No Time To Die

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, no explicit smut but sexual themes, whump, a lot of angst, blood, graphic wounds and procedures (?) probably not medically accurate, could be almost gore if you squint, hurt/comfort, two dorks in love, canon-typical violence, near-death experiences. Not based on the game, I don’t know anything about the game and I don’t want spoilers please.

PAIRINGS - Joel Miller x fem!reader

WORD COUNT -  9.6k.

SUMMARY - The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

A/N - I honestly don’t know what this is. I tried to look for angsty and whumpy fics and couldn’t find any that hit the spot just right; so I wrote my own. This story is set in some time between 2010 and 2020, or so. Bill and Frank are still very much alive. The only warning apart the amount of blood in this, it’s my own knowledge of the English language.

’Breathe’

  With a shiver, you try to comply with your own command. The action itself confuses you, and you don’t know where exactly in your mind that thought came from; or why. All you know is that a moment ago you were nothing, absolutely nothing, not even human. You forgot your own existence in a still ocean made of black thick ink. The ink is now backtracking, though, but the remnants of it stay in your foggy mind, clouding it as your consciousness comes back in waves.

Waking up from a dream is easy, you just come back into yourself from a nice trip to your own imagination. Regaining consciousness, however, is a little more difficult. Instead of going somewhere, you go inwards into yourself. Your overworked mind, already tired and busy with keeping you alive, doesn’t care much about bringing you to any other place so you can die peacefully. No. And the awakening is not as it should be either.

Keep reading

[tloujoel56]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

**stunning gif made by @pedrorascal 🧡🧡🧡

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

additional notes: Joel is 36 and since I saw Tommy's age nowhere, I decided to give them a five-year age gap which will make Tommy 31 in this story. Reader is in her late twenties.

warnings will be given before every individual chapter

chapters marked with ** indicates smut

⠀MLISTS .  LIBRARY . PLAYLIST . AO3

𝑴𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

Prologue - Somewhere New

Chapter One - Pizza Day

Chapter Two - Rueful

Chapter Three - A Day In the Life of Tommy Miller**

Chapter Four - Like Highway Signs**

Chapter Five - Ostensible**

Chapter Six - Kinesthesia**

Chapter Seven - Helpless

Chapter Eight - Satisfied

Chapter Nine - Show Me How**

Chapter Ten - You Belong With Me**

Chapter Eleven - Hi, How Are You**

Chapter Twelve - Sui Generis**

Chapter Thirteen - Sarah

Chapter Fourteen - Conversations With**

𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

Art Deco**

if you were wondering how Joel took his spicy picture for Asha, this is how. Takes place between chapters four and five

Mirror Lake**

Joel takes you to a cabin for the weekend, there you propose he pay up the bet he lost to you and that the two of you should have some roleplaying fun.

As It Was**

you decide to host a New Year's party and when Joel shows up soaked to the bone thanks to the rain, you lead him to the bathroom to dry him up.

Chapter Sneak Peeks: six | eight | nine

𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔

Stunning artwork by the most talented Maia (@mjpens) commissioned by me depicting a scene from chapter six

Amazing moodboard made by the lovely @johnwatsn

Lovely moodboard & playlist made by the amazing @saradika

[tloujoel56]

'i know who you are' masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

-or-

Joel has to make you fall in love with him all over again.

Series Warnings: smut MDNI (18+), post outbreak, language, angst, hurt/comfort, graphic depictions of violence, amnesia, slow burn, minor infidelity, smut - more warnings will be stated for each chapter

Status: in progress

I started a notifications blog in lieu of a taglist: @punkshort-notifs

1: the beginning

2: the journal

3: the accident

4: the others

5: the dinner

6: the fight

Extras/Asks/BTS/Inspo:

Floor Plan

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[tloujoel56]

demigods.

synopsis: summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.

pairing: 00 line x reader

genre: fluff, angst

author’s note: back at it again with another 00 line series because i like pain! i recently discovered my old copy of the last olympian in the depths of my messy room, and i knew i had to do a camp half-blood au (edit: percy jackson is getting a disney+ series so i guess i’m psychic). i wanted to make the fic names resemble rick riordan’s chapter titles, and they’re kind of cringe but i tried my best. like my avatar series, the fics are standalones and can be read in any order (though you might miss a couple of easter eggs here and there)! 

important: this may not be 100% accurate to the camp halfblood in the books because i needed to bend some rules/traditions for the flow of the story. hardcore stans, please don’t get mad at me!

credit for the template used in my edits ( x )

my best friend wants to be abducted by aliens | son of athena!renjun x daughter of aphrodite!reader

as the self-proclaimed matchmaker of camp half-blood, you have had a 100% success rate with all of your matches. your current project is finding a date for your best friend, huang renjun—a prickly smart aleck that perfectly fits the child of athena stereotype. unfortunately for you, he seems to be hellbent on tarnishing your perfect record. his refusal to get a girlfriend prompts you to come up with all sorts of conspiracy theories (alien abduction, ghost possession, lizard people etc.) in an attempt to crack the code that is renjun. even though you’re able to create these insane scenarios inside your head, you can’t seem to realize the glaringly obvious: renjun is in love with you.

i become attracted to seaweed | son of poseidon!donghyuck x daughter of athena!reader

ever the perfectionist, you take your job as the head counselor of the athena cabin very seriously. unlike others, your summers at camp half-blood are when you are at your absolute busiest. you don’t have a moment to rest, constantly running around to make sure everything is perfect. but the gods seem to have a twisted sense of humor, throwing a wrench into your meticulous schedule in the form of an unconscious boy right in front of the entrance of the camp. because you’re the one who discovers him and the fact that he’s taken a liking to you, you’re tasked with looking after him—donghyuck—until his godly parent claims him. you become a sort of mentor to him, despite your initial protest. his presence eventually goes from a nuisance to a solace to you, and you find yourself wishing he could stay by your side.

captain sparkle fingers revives me from the dead | son of apollo!jaemin x daughter of hades!reader

after a mission gone awry, you’re severely injured and rushed to the infirmary. you have an extremely close brush with death (and your father), but you manage to somehow survive. once you come to, you find out your life was saved by the camp half-blood’s golden boy, na jaemin—the unspoken favorite son of apollo and the infirmary’s most talented healer. you want nothing more than to get back to your mission, but you can’t get past jaemin. even though everything he says is delivered with a sweet smile, you find him to be quite terrifying. during your recovery period, he does his best to try and befriend you, but you’re making it quite difficult for him. you really don’t want anything to do with him, in fear of misunderstanding his kindness for something else. but you know, and so does he, that it’s only a matter of time.

i suddenly realize my archnemesis is hot (during a battle to the death) | son of ares!jeno x daughter of nike!reader

being the daughter of the goddess of victory, winning is literally life or death for you. when it comes to battle prowess, you’re close to unmatched. the only one who can give you a run for your money is lee jeno—the frustratingly handsome son of ares, who also happens to be your greatest rival. you’ve been duking it out with him since your first meeting, turning everything into a competition. the two of you easily cement yourselves as the top two warriors at camp half-blood, which is why you get paired together for a top secret mission: to retrieve the stolen golden fleece. both of you reluctantly agree to a truce for the sake of the camp. however, the more time you spend with him, the more your hatred for him seems to dwindle. you tell yourself that the fog of war is just getting to you, but deep down, you know it’s something more.

finished reading? check out the sequel series, demigods: electric boogaloo!

[tloujoel56]

Gabriel Luna

THE LAST OF US

Season 1 - Episode 6

[tloujoel56]

thank you to everyone who liked my lil tommy miller headcanonns post i was honestly expecting it to get 3 likes 🫶🫶

[tloujoel56]

the last of us was supposed to be a zombie apocalypse action tv show but instead it's a 200k hurt/comfort fanfic about a father and daughter that i read until 4AM while sobbing my eyes out

[tloujoel56]

The Sweetest Kind of Trouble

Well, here it is! My fluffier-than-fluff Tommy Miller fic. Seriously, this is so soft, y’all. I just didn’t have the mental capacity to go dark for this one. Sometimes it be like that! I just really wanted to write a very tender Tommy Miller fic without the looming threat of the end of the world. 

Word count: ~8.3k (my longest fic lol who am I what is happening)

Summary: You meet Tommy when he comes in looking for flowers for a first date. He’s trouble from the start.

Tommy Miller x f!reader, AU, no outbreak. 

Warnings: Some spice at the end! I think that’s it?? Let me know if I missed anything but I mean…this is SO FLUFFY. 

I hope you enjoy. I just want to give Tommy Miller all of the love he deserves!!

Keep reading

[tloujoel56]

i may or may not be taking one for the team and writing something

don’t expect much i never said it would be good

the world needs more tommy miller fics gabriel luna didn’t eat up the role for nothing

[tloujoel56]

tommy miller head-cannons

couldn’t get gabriel luna and his slutty little moustache out of my head

the biggest ladies man!! pre-outbreak tommy was a playerrrrr not necessarily on purpose but he just has a charm to him that people are naturally attracted to

a natural flirt! he definitely does that thing where he’ll tease and lightly mock you just to see you get flustered

PROTECTIVE AS FUCK we all know that Tommy is a bit of a trouble maker so it wouldn’t be a shock if he packed a punch at a sketchy guy or two

does that thing where he’ll always have his hand resting on the small of your back or loosely around your waist

likes to keep you close or atleast within eyesight he knows you can protect yourself but is still weary

grew out his hair for you because you commented one time on how you liked when you could see his natural curls

if you didn’t already know how to use a gun he would teach you whilst doing that super cliche move of standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you so you can “shoot properly”

a total gentleman

would always be opening doors for you even if you tell him he doesn’t have to

NICKNAMESSSSS

would call you everything you could imagine sweetheart, darling (with his texan accent kill me), sunshine… you name it

a total cuddler

he’d never admit it but he loves when he’s the baby spoon

dies and comes back to life when you run your fingers through his hair while he rests his head on your chest or lap when he’s tired/upset.

the first person he goes to when he gets injured or hurt

i don’t want to get into details but the sex would be amazing that man knows what he’s doing

he’s definitely the type to talk you through it if you know what i mean wink wink

i feel like he’s the type that likes to sleep shirtless

speaking of sleep he’s definitely not a morning person either you practically have to drag him out of bed to do his patrol

#i’m obsessed with gabriel’s performance of tommy #i’m disappointed there’s not more content for him #tommy miller #tommy tlou #tommy miller x reader #tlou show #gabriel luna #tommy miller headcannons #tlou headcanons #tlou x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller fanfic #joel miller fanfic

[tloujoel56]

Gabriel Luna

THE LAST OF US

Season 1 - Episode 6

[tloujoel56]

Gabriel Luna and his slutty little moustache have me in a chokehold and i know i’m not the only one

#gabriel luna #the last of us #tlou show #tlou #tommy miller #joel miller #tommy tlou #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou x reader

[tloujoel56]

STRANGERS - Chapter 3

Summary: You meet the stranger. Again. Two times was silly, but now three times? And of all places, you really had to meet in a laundromat in the dead of night. Although, something is changing, You fear you might no longer be strangers, after all. 

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader. 

Notes/Warnings: Eyyyy no warnings, just a lot of deep talks and slight fluff. I say fluff but these two have basically just touched hands like ONCE so. I did put a bit of characterization onto the reader I hope ya’ll don’t mind, it’s for story sake. Also by now im fully convinced the reader is just blind cuz there is no way you wouldn’t recognize Pedro right away. Humor me though.

Word Count: 3.5k

Please read Part One and Part Two before proceeding.

~*~

STRANGERS - Chapter Three

 The one thing you hated about living in New York was how hard it was for apartments to come with washers and driers. Now you weren’t picky, a washer by itself would’ve been enough, but not having either? It was hell. Mostly because you had to walk down the street from your apartment to the closest laundromat there was, pray that not all the machines were occupied, and that by some miracle your clothes didn’t get ruined halfway through the wash. You hated laundry day.

Or more like night. You were hauling your big plastic grocery bag filled with all of your dirty clothes over your shoulders, the slightly chilly air making you see your breath clearly in front of you. You didn’t mean to lose track of time but as soon as you clocked out from your day job the sun was nowhere to be seen and dinner time had passed. And if you didn’t wash your clothes before the day was well and gone…you’d be ruined. Your fate may very well be hanging in the balance.

It was quite funny actually, as you made your way clumsily through the street you saw the yellow sign of your usual laundromat and you were filled with comfort. Your mom used to tell you how laundromats were a place where you were destined to meet people. Other people just like you, who were broke or had no washer, who were just trying to get by in such a big, lively city as this. Or maybe it was a place where you were destined to waste two hours of your time waiting for your clothes to get washed, only for them to freeze in the night air on your way back home.

Maybe she was right, you had always thought that the most mundane places held beauty within them, that any story could begin in a dull, brightly lit laundromat. Maybe it was the hour and maybe you were a bit sentimental but there was something magical about how the blinding light shone out of the windows and onto the damp street as you approached. The empty benches inside making you ease up, at least you didn’t have to deal with spending two hours meeting people as your mom romanticized you would. There was something about the contrast from the windows and the dark streets that held a suspense in the air. As if once you’d click on the machine time would stop, the songs playing in your headphones the only proof of time passing. And for a moment, a brief, eternal moment you’d be the only person in the world. Alone. Sitting in a laundromat.

As you opened the door, struggling to get in with the huge bag on your shoulders the bell that hung above you rung, signaling your entrance. Why a self-service laundromat even had a bell was beyond you.

Unfortunately, the sound was ultimately what ruined your expectations for the night. Because for some crazy reason you weren’t alone. And as soon as the bell had rung the head you saw peaking from behind one of the rows of washing machines looked up. You had to double take.

“No fucking way.” You spoke, the silence that had engulfed the small self-service store broken by your disbelief “Are you stalking me?” You asked as you looked at the all too familiar stranger with concern.

He looked at you from under his…again his sunglasses and squinted, as if he couldn’t make out your face from the other side of the cramped room. Once he did realize who you were his brows lifted, also looking completely and utterly dumbfounded.

“Are you stalking me?” he countered.

“This is my laundromat!”

“I don’t see your name on it.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” You sighed, dragging your overflowing bag until you reached one of the tables, lifting it up in a huff and letting it fall with a low thud. “What are you even doing here at this hour?”

“My washer broke, what are you doing here at this hour?” The way he repeated your questions with a small smirk irked you, but then again you were glad it was him and not some other strange man. Of course, the one standing in front of you in what looked like his pajamas wearing those godforsaken glasses was looking stranger by the second. But even with his ridiculous clothing and his even messier hair you couldn’t help the feeling that settled in your stomach when you locked eyes.

There had to be something wrong with you. You thought the second time you spoke not even a week ago was just a silly coincidence. A beautiful silly coincidence in which you wished you had stayed longer, but as you recalled it a small feeling of anxiety settled in you. If you had stayed then the night would have ended differently. Very differently. The mere thought of it making you shudder.

These coincidences were getting a bit too numerous for it not to be weird. Then again he did look like a man who’s washer had broken.

“I happen to not own a washer, thank you very much.” You answered finally, looking at him with suspicion, as if he had planned this whole encounter all along.

“Don’t look at me like that my washer really did break! In the middle of a cycle too, I couldn’t just leave dirty wet clothes laying around the house.” He laughed nervously; he was probably worried you actually thought him to be a stalker. Little did he know you were very good at reading people, you knew he wasn’t ill intentioned. You could tell by his absolute puzzled look he had on his face when you walked it. That or maybe because you noticed the slight glee that came afterwards when he realized it was you.

He watched you pull out your clothes and stuff them in what seemed to be the cleanest washer there was, as you hummed, unconvinced by his plea. “I suppose. But I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“No complaints from me.” He smiled, but when you sent him a look it just dropped, and he averted his gaze.

You really didn’t mean to be so defensive, but it was really late, and the whole situation was really weird.

“What about you?” he asked after a moment, and you sighed again.

“I told you I don’t have a washer.”

“And you had to wash your clothes tonight did you?” He arched his brow, this time he was the one who was unconvinced. You pursed your lips, if only he knew why you so desperately needed to get this done. The reason for your nightly adventure happened into your hand then, a beautiful dress, one that was gifted to you. He noticed the way you hesitated when you pulled it out and saw how fast you threw it in the washer with the rest of your clothes.

“That looks pretty, is that why you need to wash your clothes so desperately?” He chuckled, you hadn’t noticed he had gotten closer until he sat on the bench next to you, looking up at you in interest.

“No.” You replied quickly, then huffed “Yes I – I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“What is?”

“Me. Being here at this hour, trying to wash a stupid dress I probably won’t even get to wear.” You didn’t realize just how much the whole thing disturbed you, and your dear stranger was looking at you so utterly confused. If he could’ve chosen the worst moment to come to your laundromat, it was this. You were probably on the verge of breakdown; but you’d be damned if you’d let anyone, let alone him, see.

“When were you going to wear it?” His voice was soft, not amused by your little fit of emotions but almost…concerned? It was warm as it rung low, and somehow you had instantly felt better. Or worse, you couldn’t decide.

“Tomorrow night. I have…” You hesitated, looking at him as if choosing your next words carefully “an event to attend. I was going to get it washed properly but I lost track of time, knowing my luck it’ll probably get ruined halfway through the wash.” You placed the rest of the clothing inside the machine and shut it well, inserting the coins and detergent it needed and then pressed the button to start it up.

Then you plopped down next to him, not caring if you were sitting a tad bit too close to the stranger, a distance no two strangers would ever sit at. He just watched you as you did.

“I’ll just wear something else. It’s not that important.”

“It sounds important.” He nudged, his words letting you know you could find solace in speaking with him. You smiled tiredly.

“It’s just a hobby. I shouldn’t even get so worked up about it.”

“A hobby can still be important.” He mused.

“Not if you’re like me. Not if you need to have infinite things to do or else you feel completely meaningless.” You exaggerated, even though it was mostly true. He just chuckled, looking at your frustrated expression with affection.

“All my life they told me I had to pick one thing. One thing to do the rest of my life and be satisfied with it. Concentrate on one thing if you want to be successful.” You continued, his smile slowly fading as he heard the bitter tone you had.

“Who told you?”

“Anyone. Everyone. But did I listen? Of course not, I just had to move here and believe I could have it all, work on anything I desired and somehow be good at all of it. The best even.”

He hummed, his shoulder slightly brushing against yours as you let your head rest on the back of the window looking out to the street, the red bench was worn and uncomfortable under you. You could even see the paint chipping at its edges. Although somehow with him by your side, it felt like the most comfortable place on earth.

“Sounds like you’re ambitious. That’s one more thing I know of you now.”

“That and that I don’t own a washer. Or a drier.” You scoffed.

“Well at least you know mines broken. That makes us even.”

“I feel better already.” You quipped sarcastically, he nudged your shoulder playfully when you did, making you smile.

“I don’t think it’s wrong you know, doing many different things. I- I’ve done a lot of different things too.” He added almost shyly, and you turned your head to look at him, surprised by his sudden bashfulness.

“Are you any good at them?” You asked almost by default. He didn’t seem like the type to be ambitious, then again you didn’t really know what he seemed like.

“I- yeah. I am.” He sounded unsure, his words truthful but as his eyes met yours he squinted slightly, as if he couldn’t quite understand something. You just frowned. Choosing to ignore the exceedingly small distance between you.

“Well at least one of us is.” You sighed.

“Do you really not know who I am?” The question falling from his lips even before he could catch himself, your brows furrowed. And you remembered once again just how familiar he looked.

“I don’t think so, am I supposed to?”

“Not necessarily.” It was his turn to sigh, his shades dropped loosely on his nose couldn’t hide the fact he seemed almost…disappointed?

“Do you know who I am?” You asked, still unsure if he might be stalking you or not. But your very sincere question was met with a bark of laughter.

“I wish. But no, I don’t.” His answer made your heart skip a slight bit faster, he wished he knew you? Or maybe he wished you were exactly as you appeared to be. Expectations could be a dangerous thing.

“So, what is this hobby that’s got you so down? Doesn’t sound like a good one.”

“It’s not the hobby that is the problem,” You chuckled finally, feeling the heat that had rose to your cheeks slightly subside “it’s the fact I can’t dedicate as much time to it as I’d want.”

He waited patiently for you to continue, even though you had hoped he’d let the question drop. For strangers’ sake and all that. But you were too tired and, just as you suspected, time seemed to stand still in the brightly lit laundromat. If you sat still enough you could hear the light buzz of the lamps illuminating the both of you. They never flickered but the sound made you think that at any moment the light would just go out. And you’d be there, in the dark, sitting awfully close to the stranger until your shoulders touched. Feeling the heat emanating from him pass on to you. The line you both had chosen not to cross the only thing keeping you both in your place. But you wondered if in the dark you’d risk it all, maybe in the darkness you’d feel less accountable, less exposed. Maybe you had already crossed the line a while ago, you weren’t really sure when.

“I- it’s a student film screening. It’s some sort of small film festival that’s gonna be held tomorrow night.”

“You study film?” He seemed surprised, you laughed nervously at his question.

“No…I actually- am in it.” You admitted shyly, your hands rubbing on your knees as you pulled them to your chest, you don’t know why but every time you admitted you acted on the side it sounded so stupid. But you loved it, even if it was just a hobby you dedicated little to no time in.

“You’re in the film? You act?” He sounded so astonished you had to lift your head from its resting position and look at him curiously.

“Yeah? I mean, I just dabble in it.” You shrugged, “Stupid isn’t it?”

“No, of course not! It’s good to have hobbies like that.” He reassured, you felt the small knot in your stomach loosen as he did, you don’t know why but his approval seemed important to you. Even if you didn’t know his name. It was comforting, that much you knew.

“I guess,” you lulled, not convinced but much more at ease that he didn’t laugh at you “I guess I just…feel like if I don’t do things I won’t matter. I’m terrified that if I try my hardest I still won’t be good enough. I’m terrified that if- that if I don’t give my life a meaning then there’s no point to all of-” You stopped, looking around yourself, word failing to meet your thoughts “this.”

“And maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m wrong to think I can be satisfied only by pursuing whatever fool-hardy thing that pops into my head, but what should I do? Not try?” You continued after a moment. And you worried you said too much. You worried that no matter how you twisted the words around your sentiment you would never get it across. The feeling in itself was not something you could explain, it was nothing and everything. It was an overwhelming desire for everything and nothing. You weren’t even sure what you wanted in the first place.

His gaze had softened as you rambled, he didn’t see you as the type to get so lost in questions of meaning or importance. In fact, when he had met you in the two separate bars you seemed like the only person who knew your place, enjoying the vibrance of the lives all around you. Yet here you were, spilling so much uncertainty he couldn’t help but look at you with sullen eyes. How he wished he could comfort you, but to you he was no one, and he liked that he meant nothing to you, but hated it at the same time.

“To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong.” He cited, and you hummed. Your thoughts dying down and blurring with the sounds of the machines. “Who said that?”

“Can’t remember. But it’s true. If you’re afraid that what you’re doing is wrong you’ll never get to where you need to go. I think it’s amazing when someone can wake up each day and reinvent themselves, and who said you can’t? Whomever it was only knows what they have lived, and if they’ve lived a life doing one thing then good for them, but that doesn’t mean you have to.” You looked at him as he finished, as if you couldn’t really believe he was there. He was the first person who told you anything of the sort. The first to say you didn’t have to do what everyone else was doing if you didn’t want to. It made you want to keep him there, with you. You wanted to hear his low voice whisper into your ear all night. Feel his hands feverishly caress your skin.

But you pushed the feeling aside.

“The world is your oyster.” You snorted, and he huffed out a laugh alongside you, nodding. It was funny, but you didn’t really know when you had reached the point where you two could joke after spilling intense thoughts about life. But maybe that’s what it had always been from the start. Just two strangers contemplating notions they would rather share then keep to themselves, only to tease and joke about it after. Maybe it was a way to cope with the fact that you’ll never have the answers. You’ll never know if what your doing is right or wrong, and maybe that was okay. Maybe you didn’t need to know. Maybe just existing, in this space as time seem suspended, next to a stranger in an empty laundromat was enough. For the first time, you felt okay simply existing.

“Can I come?” He asked finally, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear him over the sound of the machines. You had gotten lost in your thoughts, your eyes following the swirling of the washer in front of you, until he spoke, and they snapped to his.

“What?”

“Can I come- to the event. Tomorrow night.”

You looked at him incredulously, this was uncharted territory, and it was making your heart pick up in your chest. “I don’t even know if I’m going. My dress will probably still be drying by tomorrow night.”

“I bet you it’ll dry in time.” He smirked, and you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes in amusement.

“Oh yeah? What’re we betting then?” You whispered, leaning in slightly. You could’ve sworn his eyes had lowered for a moment to your lips. But when you blinked they were looking straight into your eyes again. You must’ve imagined it.

“Hmm…” He clearly pretended to think about it for a moment, turning his head and placing a finger on his chin in thought. For some reason you knew already what he was going to say.

“If your dress is dry by tomorrow nights’ event- you’ll tell me your name.”

You froze. You knew it was coming yet you did nothing to stop it. Maybe you didn’t want to, because the way he gazed at you while your brain processed the bet was enough to convince you. Maybe it would be different, this time. Maybe you didn’t have to play a game just to keep things interesting. Not everything had to be, and certainly not with him. He was always there in the perfect moments, the perfect encounters. It was like meeting someone that had nothing to do with you and talk as if you had known each other forever. Granted you did most of the talking, he tended to just sit there and tease.

You didn’t mind. And you didn’t think he did either.

“Fine. But if my dress is not dry by then I win, and you’ll have to tell me yours.”  

He didn’t answer, just shrugged, and extended his hand for you to shake. You lifted yours and clasped it gently around his, once again relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours. You’d never figure out why he had that effect on you. He just did.

After you shook hands gently, competing in one of your many staring contests, you both shared a moment of comfortable silence looking at the two washers moving out of sync in front of you, one with his clothes, one with yours.

“You’d really come to see my film?” The way you asked, your voice full of disbelief, made his heart break a little.

“Of course.” He answered, never meaning something so much as he did then. You weren’t looking at him, and he wasn’t looking at you, but he could see the small smile that had formed on your lips from the corner of his eyes. No matter what it took he was going to that event, and if he could, he’d win the bet.

Even if it was utterly out of his control.